When he opened his eyes, the woman before him was far different from the one he’d imagined.
Lucifer scolded himself. Of course, he would see Diana everywhere. But this... was most truly not her.
The woman’s hair had not been vibrant red at all, but a muted strawberry blonde. Her figure, well hidden under the layers of her robes, was more rotund than what he’d thought he’d seen from the top of the hill. Her skin was ruddy with fine lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes. And her eyes were a dull, ordinary, medium brown to match her garment, not warm amber.
He’d imagined it all.
Funny how he was still susceptible to hallucinations of Diana.
The woman’s expression was a mixture of shock and fear. Her defensive stance was perfectly executed—one bent foot forward while the other was positioned for support behind her, and the sword held level at his throat with both hands.
He chuckled, causing the sword to pierce his skin again. “My apologies, madam.” Lucifer raised his hands in mock surrender. “You will find that I am harder to kill than you could possibly imagine, but I promise I am not here to do you any harm.” His gaze locked with hers then cut down to the sword. “I would appreciate it very much if you would lower that thing.”
He didn’t expect that she would. A stranger had appeared out of nowhere. She was alone and obviously could take care of herself. If anyone else but him had dared step into her domain, he was certain that person would already be bleeding out on the ground and chopped up for a delectable stew.
Without lowering her weapon, her eyes roamed up and down him, evaluating the threat. “Who are you and what is your business here?” Her voice was raspy, and a little grating.
“A stranger passing through. I did not mean to startle you.” His chin dipped to the sword. “Do you mind?”
The woman’s weathered lips pursed, but she lowered the weapon. “Then pass along your way. I am busy.” Her hands still clenched the hilt with chapped, white knuckles.
“Yes, I can see that. Do you mind enlightening me on what are you doing? This looks to be an altar of some sort. What god are you paying homage to?”
For some strange reason, Lucifer had no desire to walk away just yet. No desire to slaughter the poor peasant woman, either. Still, he was intrigued with the whole scene.
“That”—she cocked her head toward the fire pit—“is dinner, if you’re hungry. Won’t be ready until closer to dark, but you’re welcome to share our table.” Although the words were polite, the tone spoke her preference that he be on his way well before darkness set in.
“And those items on the stones...” he prompted.
“Herbs for medicines.” Brown eyes narrowed in aggravation.
“Ah. You are a healer, then?” The corner of his lips twitched up. For some reason, the annoyance in her features lit his mischievous side.
Sighing, she nodded. “I serve the folk of these woods as a midwife and healer. Some,” her voice lowered with contempt, “consider me to be something of a witch. But when their babes are breech, and their relatives cough blood, they seek me out.”
Lucifer nodded in understanding. That was a commonality among the mortals he’d encountered across the cosmos. Those that held respect for their healers were more enlightened and harder to manipulate for his evil purposes.
“Yes, I understand.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, raising one hand so his middle finger tapped against his chin. “And the altar?”
He forced his laughter down his throat as her hands fisted on her hips and she began impatiently tapping the toes of one foot.
“The altar is for the goddess, Brigid. It has been abandoned by most now.” She tilted her head to the side. “Is that all your questions, sir? I am quite busy, as you can very well see for yourself.”
Oh, Lucifer hadn’t even begun to get started antagonizing her. Why it was such a joy was a mystery, but he didn’t care. For once in forever, he was enjoying himself. “Please answer me just one more question.”
The exaggerated eye roll had him seeing only the whites of her eyes. “For the love of the goddess, what?”
When he could once again see her irises, he stepped back in shock. For a moment, he would’ve sworn the golden honey hue was back. When he blinked, it was gone, replaced once again by the dirt-brown color. “What is your name?”
“Kidada.” She offered no further information.
“Lovely name.” Lucifer grinned. “And how did you get this name?”
Her toes were now tapping double time and a flush sprouted over her cheeks. “It means archer’s bow. My father was a great hunter.”
“I wonder, Kidada,”—he made sure to overemphasize each syllable just to irritate her further—“have you ever seen a pooka in these parts? They can shapeshift, but prefer the form of a pale, male child with beady red eyes or that of a majestic horse. I heard tales of the creature and am anxious to discover one for myself.”
The woman flinched, but recovered quickly. “Only stories from my childhood, designed to keep my siblings and I inside at night and to not wander off into the woods alone.” Shrugging, she turned and made a show of inspecting the animal roasting over the fire. Her back still to him, she added, “Just tales, nothing more. I don’t believe such a creature ever really existed.”
