Soul Unbound (Key to the Cursed Book 3) (12 page)

Menthu paced among the shadows. His contact was
late. Trust was of no value, only greed, which this god had plenty. If not for
Menthu’s need of information, he would have killed the god on the spot. If he
did not get the information he wanted, he still might.

The wake of heat filtered against Menthu’s skin
before the god stepped into the garage. “You are late.”

Theris’ gaze swept the charred car and abandoned
workbench. “Are we alone?”

“Does it matter?” Menthu shifted out of the
shadows. The heat around the god intensified as a bright glow in the darkness.

“We have a problem.”

“We or you?” Menthu stepped forward, tightening his
grip on his sword.

Theris retreated against the far wall. “Sekhmet
has just befriended Asar’s Legion Commander.”

“Bomani is dead.”

“Well, your information is wrong. He is alive and
with your daughter.”

Menthu pressed the blade to Theris’ chest. “Do not
lie to me.”

“Bomani left the underworld. He has been here for
over a month. Bast is using him to track Sekhmet.”

“How do you know this?” Menthu growled, wanting
nothing more than to thrust his blade into Theris’ chest. If Theris spoke the
truth, then Nebt had lied to him.
Cunning bitch.

“Who do you think Bast came to first? She has been
gunning for Sekhmet since the day the Council put a stay on her execution.”
Theris sneered. “I, of course, declined. Bast has nothing that interests me.”

Menthu scowled. Bast had been a pain in his ass
for more centuries than he could count. Long before Sekhmet’s mother, Bast had
slithered her way between his legs with her lips wrapped snuggly around his
cock. Next time he saw the bitch, he would ensure she swallowed his blade
instead. “Your command has been secured, but
only
if you deliver my
daughter to me. Bomani’s presence is….” Menthu paused, wondering how Bomani’s
intrusion could work in his favor.

“Unacceptable,” Theris finished with flames igniting
from his fingertips.

Theris had no qualms burning opponents alive. Next
to his greed, it was his only other redeeming quality in Menthu’s eyes. Theris’
gift had been useful in removing obstacles. This had not been the first time a
warrior had gotten in the way.

Khalfani’s death had produced the results Menthu
had been hoping—proof his daughter’s control had limits. Pushed hard enough,
her demon broke free. She had a high propensity to be turned at Apep’s hands.

The pain in his chest tightened, but he pushed it
away. He would not allow the weakness to derail him from his task. The reward
would make up for any damage done to Sekhmet. Together they would bring the
Creations to their knees. Father and daughter as it should have been from the
beginning.

“Where is he staying?” Menthu asked.

“In her quarters.”

“Have they bonded?” Menthu pondered whether Nebt
had lied to him about Bomani’s origins as well. Half-god. Half-warrior.

“I do not think so, he just arrived. She is
searching for the youngling.”

“Does she suspect you?”

“If she did, do you think I would be standing
here?” Theris snapped.

Menthu smiled. Theris should be scared of his
daughter. If she found out Theris killed Khalfani, Sekhmet would have no
reservations gutting the god and feeding him his entrails. “Follow them.”

“It is not like I can just leave without anyone
noticing. She has me babysitting. I cannot follow her.”

Menthu grabbed the god and shoved him back. “I do
not give a shit what excuse you may have. Make it happen.” Sekhmet was going to
fulfill her destiny. “What of the younglings?”

“We will lose two more to transition.”

“When?”

“Soon,” Theris said, backing away from Menthu’s
reach.

“Are they still at the warehouse?” Menthu paced
the dirt floor.

“She has me inventorying supplies. For the moment
she plans on staying.”

“How is my daughter fairing?” Menthu asked but
already knew the answer. He could sense the growing chaos and instability. Her
pain floated in the air like blood across the desert. It took all his restraint
not to seek her out again when her pain was at its worst. But he had to keep
his distance—for now. All he had to do was shove a few more daggers into his
daughter’s soul to tip her over the edge. Only then would Sekhmet be his.

“Distant. Abrasive. Stubborn.”

“Tell me something I do not already know?”

“Ready to crack. Might need one more push, but I
fear the dear Commander may distract her from her pain,” Theris said.

Menthu stepped back into the shadows. If Sekhmet
drew comfort and solace from the Legion Commander, it just may be her tipping
point. He remembered how she suffered after Khalfani’s death. “The Commander
has over stayed his welcome. Get rid of him.”

“Gladly,” Theris replied with a smile.

The bright neon sign of the diner flashed across
the street. Siya kept her eyes down as if it meant nothing to her. Gods forbid,
if her father or Bast for that matter ever discovered her connection with Fay
and Earl. She glanced back at Bomani.

How long before he sold her out to Bast?

Bomani had communicated as much, telling her she
could not trust him. So, why was she taking this risk? Old sentiment. A debt to
pay on one level perhaps. The other—the opportunity to beat Bast at her own
game and win Bomani’s allegiance. Siya feared the last to be out of her reach.

Humans crowded the sidewalks and cars navigated down
the busy streets. Such a contrast to when the revens infested this area. No one
had dared be out past curfew. Now, they scurried about oblivious to the danger
to come. Worse than the last. At least you could see and smell a reven coming
even if it was too late.

Siravants, minions created by the breath and blood
of Apep, were much more lethal, mimicking humans, infiltrating without
detection and spreading sickness of the mind and soul. The thought that part of
Apep’s blood flowed through her father and her own veins, even if it was just a
small part, turned her stomach. It would consume her if she let it. Thankfully,
she had inherited enough of her mother’s gifts to maintained control.

Most of the time.

Everyone assumed the siravants had been banished
back to Duat at the end of the war. Staring at the drug dealer selling the
latest candy on the street, Siya was even more convinced the siravants had
never left. World wars, genocide, slavery. The being the other night left no
room for doubt.

None of the humans made eye contact but deflected
their gazes forward and down, raised only enough to avoid bumping one another. Siravants
had no fear—a strength, but also a weakness. Only when confronted by a god did
the siravant reveal its true nature. Large and swift, these winged creatures
could dismember a god within minutes or infect him as they did humans. It had
proved to be a troublesome nuisance during the war. The infected gods had not
realized their souls were tainted until it was too late. She had seen many honorable
gods fall to the temptations offered by Apep.

She glanced back at Bomani. He walked a few steps
behind, scanning the darkness from the cover of his hood. He appeared more on
edge than she. His enormous size drew a few shocked glances from the homeless
who sat on the sidewalk. All shrank back against the building as he passed.

The warmth of his touch still plagued her as did
the golden glow in his eyes. For the first time she saw them clear and bright,
as they should be. His tenderness, despite her want of it, scared her. Disgust
and loathing she could handle. Hatred, fear—she had grown accustom. She had no
room for anything else, not when it would inevitably be taken from her. What
awaited her in the future could not be stopped. She had accepted her fate long
ago. Yet, she wanted to hear him say her other name. If Dennu had not arrived,
she would have told him.

She returned her attention back to the street. The
next corner would bring them to the red light district, packed with scantily
clad women leaning in the passenger side windows of prospective clients. As she
rounded the corner, she slowed to a stop.

“Problem?” Bomani stepped up beside her.

Siya scanned the empty street. A chill straightened
her spine. “Too quiet. Human law enforcement raided this area prior to the
reven infestations but rarely patrols this street anymore. Even the doorway
lacks the resident pimp.”

“I ran into the youngling in the adjacent alley,”
Bomani said over her shoulder.

“Where were you standing?” The trail of his
previous touch flared hot again, despite her will to remain unaffected by his
closeness.

He proceeded across the street and down the alley.
She glanced back to the corner. Although the diner was not in line of sight,
the red light flashed against windows of the adjacent building. This was all
too close for comfort.

Shaking off her unease, Siya followed Bomani down
the alley. Positioned at an intersecting street, he pointed. “He came from that
way, chased by three human adolescents. The same group from the other night.”

She stooped down and scanned the road looking for
any residual heat signature. “The younglings mask their scent among the others.
Even more difficult to pick up when they are scared. Only thing left is energy,
if anything at all.”

He squatted next to her and hovered his palm over the
wet pavement. His eyes tracked down the alley. “This way.” He rose and jogged
to the next cross street.

She sensed a mix of hormones and strong
overbearing cologne. “The humans followed,” Siya said when she caught up with him.

Yellow and black tape stretched from one building
to the dumpster on the other side. Cars flashed by at the far end of the next
intersection with similar broken tape flapping in the wind. The coppery fragrance
of human blood filled the air.

She ducked under and jogged to the most heavily
scented area. A discarded pair of blue medical gloves drew her attention. She
lifted it to her nose. Although faint, a bitter odor mixed with the blood. A
human male and… The bitterness was too diluted to determine the source.

Bomani walked farther down the alley. “Three
adolescents’ scents end here and only two backtrack from where we came.”

“We should assume the deceased was one of the
boys,” Siya said, rising to her feet. The dumpster next to the murder scene was
empty. Her eyes tracked upward to the roof’s edge. The youngling would have
avoided the heavily populated street at the end.

“Would a youngling kill a human if cornered?”
Bomani asked.

Siya shook her head. “It is against their base
nature.”

“It is very possible something else was tracking
the youngling. Or hunting the humans,” he said. “I found an oily substance
smeared against the bricks.” He pointed to the opposite building. “Looks like
reven blood, but that is not possible. Can we assume it came from the siravant?”

Siya tracked the black blood up the side of the
building. Her stomach clenched knowing very well the possibility. Either the siravant
or her father had found the youngling. Worst case scenario—both were true.
“Perhaps the same creature from last night.”

“Would it risk revealing itself? And if it did,
would it not have killed both humans to cover itself?” Bomani looked around. “A
youngling would be no match for it, right? If the youngling did not kill the
human, then who did?”

It was just two blocks from where she had run into
Menthu. The day and time would match perfectly. “Another human?”

“If the youngling did survive, so much time has
passed he could be anywhere,” he answered, looking up and down the street.

“I will take it from here,” she said, dismissing
him. “It will be easier if I track him alone.” His gaze bore down upon her, but
she refused to be intimidated. “Seeing you might make him run,” she added.

His eyes darkened and the muscles in his jaw
twitched. He grabbed her arm and pushed her between the wall and the dumpster.
“That is not reven or siravant blood. You know to whom it belongs.”

“Careful,” she hissed between clenched teeth. Her
chest tightened in the cramp space, making it hard to fight the prickling that
crawled up her spine. She shoved him back. “You need to leave. Now.” Before the
side of herself she hated took control.

“I can help you.”

“You have been help enough,” she snapped, knowing
she needed to protect him from not only Bast but her father. And, herself. “It
is best you stay clear of trouble.”

“I have vowed to keep our truce,” he said, glaring
at her.

“We both know you cannot uphold it, not without
risking your stay here. Go back to base or better yet—go home,” she said with
an ache in her chest. Her words struck a chord she knew would end this debate.

The air temperature around her plummeted with the
fury building in his face. He sucked in the breathable air around them, leaving
only the cold crystals of hatred she saw in his eyes.

She frowned, suddenly regretting her words.
“Bomani—” A cloud of black mist pelted her face. “I am sorry,” she yelled into
the empty air. Gods, she had the interpersonal skills of a reven. All teeth and
no feelings. She waited a few minutes, hoping he would reappear. “I
am
sorry,” she whispered, hating he did exactly what she wanted of him.

It was for the best. Her reasoning did little to
curb the growing pain in her chest.
Damn it, stay focused on what is
important here
, she chastised herself. A youngling was in serious trouble.

She pulled her saber from her waist and jogged
down the street following evil’s bitter scent. She may not be able to track the
youngling, but instinct told her both would be waiting for her at the end of
the trail.

She glanced back at the still empty street before
rounding the corner. Her regret waned in favor of the hunt. After several
turns, she stopped and stared down the next alley. A sweet sickly smell
announced her target.

Going through the front doors would be suicide.
She scanned the rooftop for scouts, but then again, large predators rarely required
them. Needing to be unencumbered, she pulled off her coat and stuffed it behind
an exhaust fan. With her grip tight on her saber, she leapt to the rooftop of
the target building.

The lock to the roof access popped open in her
hand. She descended down the main stairwell. The building remained silent as a
crypt. Based on the smell, it had become one. Small beads of sweat rolled down
her back and settled at the base of her spine.

Prickling and stinging, the dark energy crawled
against her skin like scorpions. She edged forward with her weapon leading the
charge. The stench of rotting corpses choked her throat. Human female bodies in
various stages of decay littered the floor of the first room. Maggots writhed
under the tissue, making the women appear as if they were moving. Sickened,
Siya forced her gaze away and probed deeper into the building.

She leaned up against the door jam and peered into
the next room. Bowls of what looked like spell ingredients consumed the large
wooden table in the middle of the room. On the far wall, a large black text sat
on another table. Her breath caught in her throat. She shifted into the room
and ran her finger over the source of the heavy dark energy.

A demotic text, book two of three. How had her
father come across it?

Unlike the text under her care, this one’s pages
were devoid of hieroglyphics. Instead of gold symbols, blood had been smeared
across the black pages. Someone was trying to decode the text or break the
spell binding it. A clatter in the hallway had her scrambling for the door.

A large room at the end of the hall opened up to
the next story above. A dozen pale bodies dangled from the ceiling by their
feet. Blood dripped into a large collection pan on the floor from gaping wounds
at the throats.

Siya steadied herself and swallowed back the
tears. Her father knew exactly where to hurt her, destroying the one thing she
drew strength from. She recited a prayer to guide the souls to the afterlife,
but she feared all were beyond saving. Apep would be waiting for them.

She walked past the lifeless eyes staring at her
in contempt for not saving them. Flashbacks from years before the ancient war
came to the forefront. After nightfall villages had been ravaged in much the
same way. Bodies upon bodies had been bled out. Entire towns slaughtered. No
one had heard their cries, as no one did here.

Movement flashed in the corner of her eye. Small and
fast, she caught the glimpse of blond hair. She scanned the room again and
risked following the youngling. They did not have much time before the
siravants descended upon this place.