Divine by Choice (35 page)

A wordless sound flowed across my mind, tickling my senses like the sweetest laughter imaginable.

Joan was impetuous, too.

Oh, friggin great. I'm being compared to Joan of Arc.

“If memory serves me correctly, Joan didn't end up too well. You know,” I whispered into the air, “arrested and tried for heresy…blah…blah…burned at the stake.”

“Did you say something, Shannon?” Clint called over his shoulder.

“Just complaining about the weather,” I yelled back, scrambling to catch up with him.

We rounded another sharp right turn just as I rejoined Clint. The trail had widened a little and I could walk beside him again. He took my hand and we continued doggedly forward. Every few feet I'd reach out and let my hand brush against the nearest tree. I thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of warmth and homecoming. The contact with the ancient forest filled me. Looking around, I soaked in the beauty of the untamed wilderness. Just this one little path—we move off of it and we'd be smack in the middle of a forest as deep and thick as any I'd seen in Partholon.

Distracted by the joy I felt immersed within the forest, I didn't notice Clint's tense silence.

I drew in a deep breath. “Jeesh, even the air smells different out here. It's cleaner, more alive.” When Clint didn't respond I elbowed him. “Come on, you have to feel it, too.”

He responded with a preoccupied grunt. He's such a guy. Not letting him spoil my Marlin-Perkins-Mutual-of-Omaha-Wild-Kingdom moment, I gawked at the forest. The overhead tangle of snow-covered limbs lent us the facade of traveling through a canopied world. Even though some of the icy crystals escaped the clutching branches, it still appeared that we were encapsulated in a winter wonderland. Kind of like being trapped in one of those snow globes. Weird, but not altogether unpleasant.

“This place is just damn lovely,” I said with my usual delicate vernacular.

“Shush,” Clint shushed me.

“Wh—” I started to question him and his free hand covered my mouth.

I shut up but glared at him. He took his hand slowly from my mouth, and pointed off to the left of our path. Putting his lips against my ear, he whispered, “Snowmobile tracks.”

I blinked in surprise. Sure enough, not far from the path
were the clear tracks of two snowmobiles. They shadowed the path for a few more feet, before crossing over it and continuing into the forest to our right. Again Clint's mouth was against my ear. Not that I minded.

“This is where we leave the path. Those tracks are heading directly to the grove.”

I swallowed as we left the path, following the well-marked ruts. I thought back, trying to remember how long the walk had been from the path to the grove. It hadn't seemed very far. Granted, it hadn't been snow-packed and had been much easier to walk through a few days ago, but it couldn't be much farther. I glanced at Clint's stony profile. We needed to get something straight. I stopped and pulled at his arm till he bent so that his ear was close to my mouth, then I whispered urgently, “I want to be alone when I confront her.”

Clint sucked air and I was sure he was getting ready for some kind of Fighter Pilot Military Guy Tirade (if I were a guy this would be a pissing contest). I shook him and let him get a good look at my face. He stopped trying to speak and gave me the universal look for “Go ahead and say whatever you have to say, which will definitely piss me off.”

I continued whispering. “Let me talk to her face-to-face. You may be surprised at her reaction. Maybe seeing me will be such a jolt that I can talk some sense into her.”

He looked skeptical.

“Remember how egocentric and self-centered she is. Don't I look just like her?” Well, I added to myself, actually, she was looking lots better than I was last time I saw her, but…“She might be so shocked or intrigued or whatever, when she sees me that I can reason with her.”

He grunted the male sound for “I don't like it but you get your way.”

“You can hide at the edge of the tree line. If things get crazy
you'll be close enough to help me out of whatever mess I've gotten myself into.”

He smiled at my words and turned his head, catching my lips off guard with a quick, endearing kiss. “All right. We'll do it your way,” he whispered.

“Good,” I said.

“Your way at first,” he mumbled.

Mr. Have To Have the Last Word and I crept forward, moving slowly and trying to be as soundless as possible. When Clint stopped I didn't need any prompting to stay quiet. Silently he mouthed,
the tree line
, then he pointed to a thick area of trees only about twenty feet ahead of us. Through their tangled branches I could barely make out a break in the forest.

Clint elbowed me and pointed to a nest of what looked like wild black raspberry bushes. They stretched around the side of the clearing, just inside the tree line. They were only about waist high, but the snow had carpeted them so that they reminded me of blobs of cotton candy, only prickly.

“Those berry thickets are all around the outside of the grove.” Even though Clint's lips were pressed against my ear, I had to strain to hear his words. “I'm going to make my way around until I'm closer to the two trees. That's probably where she'll be. Doubt if she'll notice me in the shadows once she gets a bead on you.”

I didn't like the sound of that, but I stayed silent.

“I'll be close enough if you need me. I hope.”

I kissed him quickly and stood silently while I watched him step outside the snowmobile tracks and begin making his way stealthily around the tree line. When the forest swallowed him I squared my shoulders and marched forward, no longer making any attempt at silence.

“I'll be needing your help now, Epona,” I said aloud.

I couldn't be certain, but I thought I heard the limbs of the trees closest to me rustle in response.

I stepped through the tree line and into the knee-deep snow that covered the grove.

T
he first thing I noticed was the amazing green of the pin oaks. Even seen through the steadily falling snow, the vibrancy of their healthy middle-of-the-summer foliage was quite a shock. The eerie familiarity of the area clouded my eyes, and for a moment all I could see was how distinctly this place mirrored the grove in Partholon. Of course, the snow was all wrong, and the mechanical tracks didn't fit…

…My eyes followed those tracks until they found the two vehicles that had made them. They had been left riderless beside the little stream that twisted and spilled though the clearing. I looked beyond them and let my eyes travel from the green of the oak leaves down to the moss-covered trunks, and then to the two people near them.

Rhiannon stood close to the tree that grew on the left side of the brook just outside of the vague outline of what looked like the same kind of melted circle she had cast in the grove in Chicago. The circle encompassed both trees and the area of the brook that ran between them. The unmistakable shape of Bres huddled directly in the middle of the circle. He was on his knees, facing Rhiannon, whose back was to me. I could see that his chest was bare, which made me feel cold
for him. I peeked quickly down, hoping the rest of him was covered. I breathed a prayer of thanks to my Goddess; he had on a pair of jeans. If his head had been raised he would have easily seen me, but his head was bowed and his hands were clasped in front of him as if he was deeply in prayer.

The thought of what he might be praying to made my stomach clench.

Rhiannon wore the same red-fox coat she had been wearing in Chicago. Well, she'd worn it for a little while, anyway. I started walking toward her, muttering through gritted teeth, “Damn, I hope she's not going to get naked.”

Surprised she hadn't noticed me yet, I studied her as I approached. She, too, had her head bowed. Her hair was loose and stood out in an untamed mass that swirled halfway down her back. I touched my own wild curls, wondering if that's how I looked to other people. The beanie-like hat I had pulled down over my ears didn't allow for much hair flamboyance, though.

A furtive movement at the far side of the clearing drew my attention away from Rhiannon. I could just catch a glimpse of Clint's khaki green hat through the hedge not far from the two trees. I smiled, trying to telegraph silently to Clint that I appreciated his good positioning. Then I quickly recomposed my face. With my luck Rhiannon would choose that moment to notice me. She'd know instantly what that foolish grin meant. I wasn't entirely sure why I didn't want her to know Clint was with me, but I knew it was wise to trust my instincts; often a Goddess guided them.

My attention refocused on Rhiannon. Her hands weren't clasped before her, as were Bres's. Instead, she held them out from the sides of her body, fingers pointed down and palms open but slanted, like an upside-down victory V.

Upside-down victory. In Rhiannon's opinion that would be me triumphing over her.

“Hope that's prophetic,” I muttered.

The sound of my voice carried clearly across the silent glade. Rhiannon spun around. When our eyes met we froze. We were only separated by a few yards of space. Snow fell in sparkling crystal beads all around us, like a goddess was shaking white glitter from the clouds. Even though it was not yet noon the sky had darkened, intensifying the otherworldly feel of the ancient place.

Rhiannon and I blinked at the same moment. I was just thinking that she had on too much makeup when her bronze-glossed lips parted. The voice that emerged was mine, but it had Partholon's lilting accent.

“You are not as attractive as I.”

That sure as hell broke the spell. “Really?” I quipped. “I was just thinking you have on too damn much makeup and it makes you look older than I look.”

One of her eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms in a gesture I automatically mirrored.

“Why are you here, Shannon?” She got right to the point.

“I think you and I need to talk.” Shit, this was weird.

She smiled, and laughed softly. “And why would I wish to speak with you,
schoolteacher?”
She drew out the title like it was an insult.

Don't get mad, I told myself. Take a breath. Cool down.

“Lots of reasons. We seem to have many things in common. I thought it'd be interesting to get to know you.” I hadn't expected to say that, but my intuition was telling me to get her talking.

She narrowed her eyes, making fine lines appear over her otherwise flawless face. (Note to self: don't squint.)

“I have no interest in getting to know you.” But something about the tone of her voice said she wasn't being entirely honest with me.

Or herself.
The words fluttered through my mind.

“Oh, please!” This time I laughed. “You have to be as curious as I am. Look at us! We're the same. Frizz out my hair, peel off some of your makeup, give me a big fur coat and we'd be mirror images.” I uncrossed my arms. “You have to have a few questions you'd like to ask me. I know I have a zillion I want to ask you.”

“What is a zillion?”

“There! That's a question. A zillion is an American slang term for lots and lots.” Before she could say anything I jumped in. “Now
I
have a question.” I motioned in the direction of Bres, who was still kneeling in the middle of the circle. He seemed totally oblivious to my presence. “What the hell is boyfriend doing over there?”

Rhiannon's expression, which had relaxed momentarily, shifted into sly guardedness. “Bres is not my boyfriend. He is my servant, bound to me by blood. He is doing my bidding.”

“That sounds very
Dark Shadows-
like, but you're not making much sense. How about putting it in current-day American English so I can understand you?”

I thought for a second she was going to explode into one of the Rhiannon fits I'd heard so much about from Alanna, but apparently she mentally regrouped because instead she simply said, “Very well.” With a bronze-tipped manicured nail she pointed to Bres then made a graceful, sweeping arch with her arm, like she was encompassing the area that surrounded us.

“Bres is readying himself for The Call.”

That didn't sound good.

“I still don't understand.”

“I forget that you are ignorant of the ancient ways, and that it is only in appearance you mirror me,” she said condescendingly. I felt my teeth set. “I am calling forth a protector, and Bres will be the vessel it inhabits.”

“Good God!” I sputtered as the meaning of her words came clear. “Do you think Nuada is a fucking bodyguard?” I felt chills shudder the length of my body.

“Nuada!” she snapped. “That is the name the spirit has used. How do you know this?”

“Because I helped kill him back in Partholon! He's not some kind of benevolent protector, he's pure evil. You've called alive the spirit of the leader of the demonic creatures that almost destroyed your old world.”

“Then this Nuada is very powerful?” Instead of being shocked she looked thoughtful.

“Rhiannon, he's evil. He won't be anyone's protector. He destroys lives not saves them.” I knew by the satisfied expression on her face that I wasn't getting through to her. I took a deep breath and added, “He killed your father.”

“You lie!” her voice snapped.

“I'm sorry. I hate telling you this way, but your father's been dead almost six months. I watched it happen. The Fomorians overran MacCallan Castle. The men weren't ready. They didn't stand a chance.” I paused to stop the shaking in my voice. Having almost lost my own father recently I empathized deeply with Rhiannon's loss. “Epona took me on a Magic Sleep and let me witness it. He fought nobly, taking down dozens of those creatures with him. He died a hero's death.”

Rhiannon's face had drained of all color.

“When you called Nuada into this world he came through this glade at the same time I did, so he found me instead of you. He went to my home.” I spoke the words clearly and slowly. “He almost killed
my
father.”

“Lies,” she hissed. “You tell these lies because you can not bear the thought of me being more powerful than you.”

“I don't give a shit how powerful you are, you moron!” I spit back at her. “I don't even want to friggin
be
in this world.
I'd be back in Partholon by now if you hadn't resurrected that damn creature and brought him here. The only reason I'm still in Oklahoma is because I need to clean up your mess. Again.”

“You will not speak to me like this.” Her voice had gone flat and dangerous. Even her expression had shifted into something that looked like no reflection my mirror had ever shown me. She was suddenly a very foreign being.

“Look, Rhiannon. You're not in Partholon anymore, and I'm not one of your bullied slaves. You don't scare me and I'll speak to you any damn way I want to speak to you. I wanted to be nice to you, especially after Epona showed me what happened in your past to make you so damn hateful.”

Rhiannon's body jerked like I'd struck her, but I kept talking.

“But you're not making this very easy. I think your problem is you've never been told no, so you blundered through your spoiled brat of a life screwing up at every turn. Now you're a selfish, hateful bitch. Under normal circumstances I'd leave you alone to plow your way through several divorces and hope you eventually come to realize you need some serious therapy, but the problem with that is you've gone over to the friggin Dark Side and somehow managed to unleash a malevolent, crazed being into this world. Shit, Rhiannon, in case you don't know it,” I said sarcastically, “it doesn't usually blizzard in Oklahoma. It's unnatural, just like the magic you've been working.” I took a step closer to her. “Now I want you to friggin send that damn creature back to hell or wherever so I can get back to where I belong.”

“I will send the creature—” Rhiannon's voice was cold and tightly controlled. “To where he belongs. Watch and learn, schoolteacher.”

Abruptly she turned from me and with a wordless shout she raised her arms over her head. Bres's silent prayer suddenly
became audible. The words were unrecognizable, but my body's reaction to them was intense. The hair on my arms stood on end and I felt power surround me as if we had been caught in the middle of an electrical storm. Then Rhiannon's lilting accent joined Bres's harsh, guttural voice. She stepped closer to him, but I noticed she was careful not to cross the melted circumference of the circle.

Without raising his head he reached toward her, unclasping his hands. An object nestled against his open palm. Even in the gray light of the snow-filtered day the blade glittered dangerously.

“Oh, friggin great,” I muttered, readying myself to either rush forward and knock the blade from his hand, or hide my eyes like I was watching a scary movie. While I was still deciding which I should do, Bres raised his face, and I was horrified to see his features change, shift, reform like he'd been incompletely fashioned from unfired clay. First his mouth and nose closed, appearing to be seared shut, and then his eyes glowed and glared. Then they weren't eyes anymore, but cavernous black holes, and his mouth was a fanged horror. His face changed again, and I was staring at the most incredibly beautiful man I'd ever seen. I blinked and swallowed bile, and he was once again skeletal Bres.

Rhiannon didn't react at all to his awful transformation. She took the knife from him, and in two quick, jerky motions like she was some kind of demented, bad-spelling Zorro, she slashed a huge red X across his chest. Instantly blood began seeping from the wounds and trickling down his bare skin.

At the appearance of the blood, the tempo of their litany increased dramatically. From the corner of my vision the movement of a dark shape flickered. Turning quickly in the direction of the shape, I felt my stomach clench. My own blood went cold.

The inky blackness surged forward. Rhiannon must have sensed his presence because she turned, too. When she saw the oil-like shape her eyes narrowed and the words of her litany changed, but still the only thing recognizable about it was the creature's name.

“Nuada eirich mo dhu! Nuada eirich mo dhu! Nuada eirich mo dhu…”

It went on and on, like a stuck record. I watched as the blackness that was Nuada began to rise up and solidify into a recognizable form. Talons grew from appendages that resembled hands. Legs separated with a quiver and took on humanoid form. And wings spread. His face rippled and a mouthlike maw opened to form words.

“Female,” the words gurgled from his throat. “I am here at your bidding.”

His attention was focused on Rhiannon. He didn't seem to notice my presence.

“I honor your obedience…” Rhiannon's voice was seductive. “And now I further command you to inhabit the body of my servant.”

Something that may have been laughter bubbled from his horrible mouth. “You have the power to awaken me, female. But your pitiful blood offering is not enough to command me.” He slithered closer to where we stood. “You have been a fool. I have no desire to be your servant, but I do desire to taste of you.”