Serpent's Game (The Soul Eater Book 5)

by Pippa Dacosta

  Her expression slowly crumbled. Her hard eyes widened and softened with tears. In five hundred years, I’d never seen her cry. A single tear crawled down her cheek, and still she searched my eyes for the lie. There wasn’t one.

  “I’m good?”

  I pressed my lips together to hide their downward turn. There was nothing I could do to hide the knot in my throat, or how I swallowed around it. I couldn’t hide the truth in my eyes. “Yes. You’re a good soul, Shukra.”

  She stood and walked out of the bar without so much as a glance back.

  I stayed, drink in hand. She’d taken a few days from me—days that were turning out to be damn important—but I was convinced she’d done it for the right reasons. Her soul was proof. She’d deserved to know how her choices over the past few years had cleansed her soul. And if there was hope for her—the darkest, most dangerous soul I’d ever hunted—maybe there was hope for a monster like Apophis?

  It felt good, doing the right thing, but telling Shukra her soul was no longer condemned might have been my last good deed. If it was, I could live with that.

  Alone, I silently raised my glass to Shukra, knowing we were still enemies. We’d just switched sides.

  Chapter 9

  I set Apophis’s box down on the rickety dresser in my motel room. Cujo, his daughter, and his ex-wife had returned to their home around lunchtime—while I’d been debriefing Shukra. Cat had been texting me updates. The Jones’s were fine. No more kurvords or locusts. I should have felt relieved, but the quiet only added to my feeling that something was about to break. I just hoped it wasn’t me.

  I should have probably called to update Cujo on the box situation, but seeing as I didn’t have a solution or a clue about why Chantal and Cujo were being targeted, I wasn’t in a hurry to reveal that my box might be at the center of our problems. Plus, I’d also finished off the vodka and was in no condition to call up Cujo.

  The room shifted sideways as I regarded my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. I hadn’t planned on drinking the bottle dry. Hadn’t planned on a lot of things. Shukra was good. That was a kicker. She’d turned herself around. She’d beaten the odds. And what had I done?

  Peeling off my coat, I dumped it on the bed and headed into the bathroom.

  A cold shower went a long way to stripping the fuzzy edges and lightheadedness. At one point, the water stream turned into sand that washed over my shoulders and down my back. The illusion was gone as soon as I’d noticed it, but I stumbled out of the shower, soap bubbles clinging to my skin. Soap, not sand.

  “Nice box.” Cat stood by the dresser, studying Apophis’s box in her hands.

  “We need to put a bell on you.” I finished tucking the towel tight around my waist, wondering how long she’d been standing there. I thought I’d locked the door. “Did you climb in through a window?”

  “If I had, I’d be as naked as you.” She studied the box, turning it upside down and over onto its side. The lid fell open. She poked a finger inside and swept it into the corners.

  “I could get you a larger box to play in, if you’d like.” I smirked at my own joke.

  Predictably, Cat didn’t respond.

  “I wouldn’t get too close.” I plucked the box from her hand and tossed it into a drawer. “It doesn’t look like much, but I suspect it held a god’s power.”

  “Which god?” Her gaze snagged on the bubbles on my chest before she settled against the dresser, arms crossed. She assessed me in her calculated but aloof way.

  “The worst.”

  “I thought Osiris was the worst?”

  I snorted and padded across the room to where I’d thrown my shirt. It was torn and bloody from the locust attack, so I balled it up and tossed it into the trash.

  Another shirt hit me in the arm, this one bunched in Cat’s fist. “Here. Don’t ever say I don’t think of you.”

  It still had the store tags attached. She’d bought me a shirt. I took it and shook it out. Simple cotton, dark purple, long sleeves to cover the slave cuff. “It beats a headless bird.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. Headless carcasses are second date presents.”

  “Are you asking me out?”

  She scoffed. “That is most definitely not what is happening.”

  I watched her head back to the dresser and allowed myself an indulgent observation of the way her hips swayed. I still hadn’t gotten over the sight of her blinding and gutting the Recka. Probably never would.

  Her reflection caught me watching. As a cat, she would have flicked her tail, given me the come on, and then sunk her claws into me the second I tried petting her. I knew this game. I’d played something similar with Bastet on numerous occasions. In Duat, the ferryman had told me Cat was a distant descendent of Mafdet, the Slayer of Serpents, which explained the nine lives and shifter abilities and why Bastet had taken an interest in her. It explained a lot, like her speed and ruthlessness. She wasn’t like other shifters. She wasn’t like anyone else I’d known in all the years I could remember, which, admittedly, wasn’t as many as it should have been.

  “You’re staring,” she said, flat and unassuming.

  I half smiled and shrugged on the shirt. “You make it difficult not to.”

  “In the months I spent researching Bastet’s disappearance, I tried to understand how my queen could fall for someone like you.”

  My half smile took on a sharper edge. “You mean, how she could stoop so low?”

  “How did you meet her?”

  “We crossed paths over the years.”

  “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” she said, reading more in my body language than I realized I’d let slip. “I’m trying to understand.”

  My sharp smile grew. “Is this an interrogation?”

  “Does it need to be?”

  “I didn’t hurt Bastet.”

  “So you keep saying, and I told you, I believe you believe it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Exactly as it sounds.” She blinked back at me, immune to my disquiet. Coming to some sort of resolution, she pushed away from the dresser and approached me. Cat wasn’t the sort to look away from my gaze. She never shied from a challenge, and right now, I was her challenge. It was written in her stride, in her uncompromising glare, and in the press of her lips. “You are a contradiction, Ace Dante, and a very dangerous one.”

  She’d seen me after I’d destroyed the locusts, seen the thing inside my eyes, and yet here she was, standing inches away, not afraid, but curious.

  “I hear curiosity killed the cat.”

  “Is that a threat?” she asked, somehow closer without having moved at all.

  I wet my lips. I wasn’t looking away, and neither was she. “Just an observation.” If I didn’t blink soon, I’d fall into her soul. The temptation was already great. My hands closed into fists before I could act on the urge to touch her face and taste her lips.

  “I think I know why she loved you.” Her eyes had shifted into that jewel-like glitter. Up close, I saw how the bottle green was more like a faceted emerald. “There’s something frantic about you, a fleeting sense of desperation as though despite being immortal, you know this could all end tomorrow. When I was with you in Duat, you were different. You were at home and in command. You were more there than you are here.” Her gaze dropped to my lips, and she studied the slightly upturned corner. “You fight like everything can be won, no matter the odds.” She lifted a hand and brushed her fingers over the corner of my mouth.

  I caught her hand in mine and stopped her before I did something we’d both regret.

  “Do you know how rare it is for a god to love?” She looked me right in the eyes and speared that question in deep.

  “Yes.”

  Everything in me wanted to break through those last few inches and pull her close, but she’d made it clear I was on her hit list, and she wasn’t wrong. Bastet had likely been with me when she disappeared. Cat was duty-bound to find and avenge her
queen. My missing days weren’t hiding happy memories. I didn’t want to lead her on or draw her in, knowing none of this was real. This would all end, and end badly. I couldn’t do that to Cat.

  She searched my eyes and saw something different. “Your eyes were black after the locusts…”

  I gently pushed her backward and released her hand. “You should leave.”

  “She didn’t talk about you often, but Bastet once told me you were a good man surrounded by the dark. Do you know what that means?”

  “It means she knew me better than I knew myself. Now go, Cat. Please.”

  She turned and headed for the door, but paused with her hand on the handle. “I think you’re hiding something from yourself, and I’ll find out what.”

  She left, and a moment later, I heard her car start up outside.

  By Sekhmet, Cat was good. And one thing was certain: I had to find out the truth about Bastet’s disappearance before Cat did, because if I had hurt Bastet, Cat wouldn’t hesitate in dispatching her kind of justice. The killing kind.

  Rain had threatened the city most of the day, dragging the clouds into the streets and fogging up the city. I pulled the Ducati up outside the MacDonald’s. Cujo and Chantal were inside, right where he’d texted me they’d be, finishing off their Happy Meals.

  Before I had a chance to sit down, Shukra sauntered into view, sucking on a thick red milkshake likely made from the blood of her enemies. She sat at the booth and slid up next to Chantal, then stole a few floppy fries from the girl’s lunch.

  “Hey, get your own.” Chantal snatched the fries back and stuffed them into her grinning mouth.

  The scene scorched itself into my brain. Shukra. Domesticated. The world really was coming to an end.

  Shukra’s glare raked over me. “You gonna sit or dirty up the place with your brooding?” One of Shukra’s eyebrows jerked, daring me to comment on her neat little family setup.

  Chantal smiled but politely refrained from laughing. Cujo grinned into his black coffee. Yeah, okay, so maybe Cujo and Shukra somehow made a fantastic couple and I’d missed the obvious.

  I set the box down on the table and slid into the booth next to Cujo. “We found this in your room, Chantal. Do you recognize it?”

  “Sure.” She beamed, likely hoping I’d solved everything so her life could go back to normal. “Mom gave it to me.”

  “Your mother gave you this box?” I glanced at Cujo.

  His expression must have mirrored mine, because Chantal frowned at us. “Why? What is it?”

  Chantal’s mother, who didn’t know anything about gods, monsters, or other worlds, had no good reason to be handling Apophis’s box. “Was it open when she gave it to you?”

  Worry knotted her brow. “No. I opened it.”

  “You opened it?”

  “Sure.” She shrugged. “It just… opened. Was it not supposed to?”

  “Where did your mom get the box?”

  “She bought it at a store that just opened on Main Street. Sells all sorts of crystals and incense. You know the sort. Dad always told me they sold crack out the back door…”

  “That’s not what I said,” Cujo quickly corrected.

  “You did!”

  “I said they’re often used as fronts to launder cash… Never mind. Ace, what’s the four-one-one on the box?”

  I’d get to the box real soon, but right now, I was more interested in how Chantal had opened it. “When you opened it, what happened?”

  “Nothing. It was full of dust.”

  “Dust or ash?” I asked.

  “Ash, I guess.”

  And magic, I figured. A shit-ton of magic that Chantal couldn’t feel because she was human and mostly oblivious to the gods and their power. I caught Shu’s eye. We were thinking the same thing. The magic inside the box had latched onto Chantal. Unleashed magic of that potency would have all the ancient beasties crawling out of the woodwork.

  Chantal glanced at each of us. “Did that box cause my dreams? It’s just a box.”

  “First lesson about Egyptian gods: nothing is what it appears.” I tucked the box away inside my coat and rubbed a hand over my face. “Okay… Your mother, I should know her name. My memory isn’t the most reliable—”

  “Judith,” Cujo grumbled.

  “Right. I could do with talking to her.”

  All three of them recoiled.

  “Not a good idea,” Cujo said. “No offense, but you’re the opposite of subtle. One look at you and she’ll call the cops. Judith doesn’t need to be anywhere near you or this. I’ll ask her about the box to see who sold it to her. Then we’ll go check out the store.”

  “You ask about the box, but take Cat with you. Shu and I will check out the stores selling trinkets they shouldn’t be.”

  I followed Shu’s beat-up Japanese two-seater sports car on the Ducati. We’d visited a few suspect stores selling nothing worse than medicinal weed and wind chimes.

  It was after five p.m. when we pulled up outside the last curiosities store on our list. Immediately, my instincts itched. A scarab beetle sitting in the window sung an old song as I approached. Around it, all the other uninteresting junk lay dormant, but that one little scarab could have fed a witch for weeks.

  Shu and I pushed inside. Evocative spices warmed the air. Racks of trinkets crowded the shelves from floor to ceiling. The sights, the smells, they all reminded me of Mafdet’s store, but the girl behind the counter, furiously tapping away on her phone, was not Mafdet. She looked up, judged us as time-wasters in two seconds flat, and went back to her phone.

  Shukra smiled, showing her teeth, and sauntered up to the counter. “I’m looking for anything Egyptian. The older the better.”

  I browsed the shelves, listening in while scanning the mountain of overpriced wellbeing items on display. Crystals to cleanse your mind, body, and soul. Right. If only it were that easy.

  “Egyptian?” The girl straightened and flicked her electric blue bangs out of her eyes. The rest of her hair was platinum blond. I figured the blue was a statement, but whatever that statement stood for was lost on me. “I don’t think we have anything Egyptian here… We specialize in meditation and wellbeing. Can I help you out with some soothing music? Have you listened to whales?”

  Shukra gave her a dry look. “If you don’t sell Egyptian goods, why is there a scarab in your window?”

  “A what?”

  “A bug made of topaz and jade.”

  “Oh, that thing.” Blue shrugged. “We had a rep come by and show us some exotic ornaments. Jasmine, the owner, bought a few to try out. Do you wanna buy it?”

  I’d completed my tour of the nonsense trinkets and arrived at the counter beside Shu. Blue’s gaze darted between us. She blinked too quickly, probably sensing Shu and I wouldn’t be buying her overpriced whale music, and plastered on a wide, fake smile.

  “Did Jasmine happen to buy a box?” I asked and watched the girl’s stare dart to where Alysdair’s handle peeked out over my shoulder.

  “Is that a sword?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is Jasmine around?” Shukra asked.

  “She finished early.” Blue reached under the counter. “I guess I could—”

  Shukra’s brand of oily magic flooded over us, overpowering the smell of incense. “I suggest you don’t.”

  A six-foot-long forked tongue was the last thing I’d expected to explode out of a bright young teen. Blue’s tongue shot out lightning fast and attempted to wrap around my neck. I got my arm up first, let her tongue coil around my wrist, and yanked her forward. Shukra picked up a pencil and stabbed it through the fat, meaty section, pinning Blue’s tongue to the counter. Scales rippled beneath Blue’s skin and a hiss rattled deep inside her chest. Just in case we hadn’t yet figured it out, Blue was mostly a snake in a girl suit.

  The store door rattled. Some guy stepped in, phone to his ear.

  “Store’s closed!” Shukra and me barked together. Phone guy t
urned on his heel, remembering he had somewhere else to be.

  I grabbed Blue’s tongue behind where the pencil had it pinned and pulled her forward, drilling my soul eater gaze into hers. “Do you know who I am?” Her snake eyes narrowed. If she did know me, then she needed a lesson in how not to piss off the Nameless One. “Shall we see how quickly my demon sorceress can skin a snake?”

  Her glare slid to Shukra, who was appraising Blue as though weighing up which pieces would make fantastic boots.

  Blue uttered something guttural. The fleshy weight of her tongue rippled in my grip. I let her go and nudged Shu. “She can’t talk without her tongue.”

  Shu yanked the pencil free and made a show of licking it clean. Blue’s tongue reeled back in. She was beginning to understand who it was she’d tried to lie to. I’d dealt with snake shifters a few times over the decades. They were rare, kurvord rare, and had a habit of being unreasonable in the truest sense of the word. This one didn’t look too bad, but neither did a cobra until you stepped on its tail.

  Blue gave her head a shake. Her slitted snake eyes remained, keen and sly—a reminder that Blue was a long way from being human.

  “Where’d you get the box marked with a snake-headed jackal?” I asked.

  She tipped her head one way, then the other, adding a rhythmic dip to her shoulder. “Not me. Jassssmine…”

  I didn’t have the time or the patience to pluck answers out of her one by one. “Here’s what I know. The box is one of a kind. The last time I saw it, Mafdet had it somewhere safe. It doesn’t belong here, so where did you get it?”

  Blue winced at the mention of Mafdet. I wasn’t surprised. Snakes and Mafdet—the Slayer of Serpents—didn’t get along.

  “I’m low down in the nest, understand?” Her now little tongue flicked out and back in almost too quick to see. “We went to Mafdet to see about worshipping her for what’s coming.”

  “You went to the Slayer of Serpents and offered to worship her?” Shu asked, beating me to it.