by Jean Murray
Siya stopped breathing, long enough to make her head swim. “What?” Her mind flew with the possibilities. She could not believe it. “No.”
His sad golden eyes met hers. “I did nothing to stop her from taking it.”
“Her who? You said yourself, Kepi was dead.”
“I did not listen. I let her use me to…” He shook his head and looked away.
“Bomani,” she said and laid her hand on his chest. A sharp twinge echoed in her soul. Pain not her own. Gods, this was no place to talk, but she feared he would close up again. “Who are you talking about?”
“Have you ever been so sure of something, only to find out you were wrong?”
“I have,” she said, thinking back to her relationship with Khalfani. She had thought they could overcome all the barriers—love would win out.
Love only served to get Khalfani killed.
Bomani laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Now, I have gone and done the same damn thing.”
Siya shook her head. His jumbled words confused her. She grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at her. “What are you talking about?”
“I marked you without your permission.”
“What does that have to do with the book?”
“Nebt betrayed the Underworld and I helped her. She took the book.”
“Nebt is working with Menthu?” Siya knew of the goddess. Asar’s Second in Command of the Underworld with the power to read souls with the touch of her hand.
Powerful. Capable. Feared.
Kepi was nothing more than a master of deceit and manipulation. Nebt was on a whole other level. Was Nebt the reason for the dread chasing Siya over the last several months? “How did you help her, Bomani?”
His chest rose and fell heavily. “I did not stop her.”
Siya analyzed him. He spoke the truth, but his explanation lacked the details to match the agony deep in those golden eyes. “Is that why you are in the human realm?”
“Nebt is part of the reason.” He shook his head. “I did not see it coming. The clues were there, I just did not see it.”
“I imagine Nebt is pretty skilled at hiding her true feelings when all others are like open books to her.” Until recently Siya was a master at hiding her own emotions. Although, she would love to be able to read Bomani’s soul and know what he meant by, I have gone and done the same damn thing. He said he had not asked her permission. Had it happened before? To someone he knew?
In reality she was afraid to hear his answer. Unless it was related to war, it was of no use to her. Simply a distraction. Some things were best left unspoken.
“I need to get back to base.” With this new threat of Nebt, she feared they would have to move and very soon too. She looked at the chains hanging from the ceiling. How far did Menthu’s surveillance of her extend? Did he know of the base? How many siravants did he have under his control?
Their problems were mounting. She could not do this alone. The younglings would be picked off easily or possessed. What happened if an infected youngling matured?
“Let’s get out of here.” She grabbed his hand, intent on pulling him out of this place. He did not budge.
“I will meet you there.”
She released his hand and stepped back. “Yes, of course.” Part of her needed the distance from him. Her head was a jumbled mess. Things could not have gotten more complicated.
“Be careful,” she said, taking another step back. “Do not try to find—”
Without giving her a second glance, Bomani vanished into a cold mist.
“Nebt,” Siya finished on a sigh.
“Not yet.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Siya strayed from her course, despite the urgency to check on the younglings. Her feet touched down on the black sandy beach, and she blurted out a whistle. A distant whinny and the pounding of hooves announced Execution’s location. His long black mane and tail flowed behind him. Based on his full gallop and stretch of his legs, he had recovered from his injury. The horse pelted her with sand when he came to an abrupt halt before her.
“Hey, boy.” Siya palmed his full velvety nose and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I really fucked up this time, Ex.” The ache in her chest had intensified since leaving Bomani. The scarab mark was a mere splinter compared to the emptiness consuming her. Permission or not, a mating bond could only be established when it was mutual and blessed by the gods for that matter.
How could she have feelings for Bomani when only a few days had passed since their first encounter?
How could he have feelings for her, someone he was going to offer up to Bast?
Yet, the emotions stirred deep in her soul. They had when she first laid eyes on him. She had just chosen to ignore them, thinking it was a misplaced memory of Khalfani. But it was not Khalfani’s face she saw when she closed her eyes.
She stepped back and pulled her shirt to the side. The lion’s head and moon glyph stood out against her skin. Execution nuzzled her chest.
“I know you like him, but we cannot keep him.” Her father came to mind, as did the executioner’s mark on the back of her neck. She had doomed Bomani to her father’s fate. She had to break the bond before Bast enacted her sentence.
She had to find that demotic text. The one in her vault contained creation spells. The demotic text in her father’s possession had to be the Book of the Dead.
With her fingers on the clasp, she loosened the bridal and pulled it over Execution’s ears. The bit fell from his mouth. She discarded the leather and metal onto the ground.
The horse shook his head. In over five thousand years, Execution had never been free of his bridle and reins. She petted the areas where the leather had matted his hair and scratched between his ears.
“Get out of here,” she said through a tight throat.
The horse reared up and landed his heavy hooves at her feet. He clawed at the bridle with his front foot.
“It is time for you to be free.” She blinked back the tears.
“Get out of here.” Her voice was harsh and strangled with sorrow. She took several steps back. The horse circled around and stomped the ground. His eyes flared a bright red before he turned and charged down the beach.
Siya expected relief to flood her, but her agony served to worsen the constant ache in her chest. Her first thought was to find Bomani, but she resisted the urge.
He needed space, but she worried he would be foolish enough to fight Nebt. Still considering himself a warrior, he had no idea how to harness his powers and he would need them to face the goddess. Apep’s darkness would only make Nebt stronger.
Siya pulled her energy in and reappeared just outside the warehouse. Circling the complex, she detected no bitter scents or dark energy. The spell she had placed on the warehouse camouflaged the energy within its walls. So far it was holding. If her father passed by, he would not sense their energies.
She entered the dim building. The soft sounds of breathing drew her attention to the cots lining one wall. Forty younglings slept while the other ten rotated patrols.
“Madame.” Dennu bowed.
“Where is Theris,” Siya asked, scanning the warehouse.
The young god frowned. “I do not know.”
“He left?” She closed her eyes and pulled on the energies within the warehouse again. Not one of them was Theris.
“I have not sensed him in several hours.”
Siya stared at the light through the window of Theris’ quarters. It was unlike her Second to disobey her orders. She leveled her stare on Dennu. “Is this the first time he has left the warehouse?”
The young god swallowed before answering. “No, Madame.”
“Gather your officers. Review the evacuation plan. Pack only what you will need to support the younglings and hide it in the stable. Our threat has grown.”
“Madame?”
“First sign of trouble, humankind or otherwise, evacuate to this location.” She reached for the paper and penc
il on the table next to her and scribbled the coordinates.
Dennu glanced at the paper and his eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“These are desperate times. Keep this between you and your officers only. Orders come from me only.”
“Yes, Madame,” Dennu answered with a bow.
She grabbed the god’s arm. “You are ready for this.” Her eyes strayed to the sleep quarters. “They will listen to you.”
His brows furrowed. “What about you?”
“I will be fine,” she said with a smile meant to reassure him, despite feeling none of the confidence with which she spoke. Things could not be more uncertain.
Except one.
The scarab mark on her neck.
She walked up to the office space and opened Theris’ door. She scanned the room, looking for any clues to why he left. The room was sparse, everything in its place. She had known Theris for four millenniums. He had served in her unit in the war. Even with their occasional intimacy, she had never made the attempt to get to know the male.
Would Theris betray her after all of this time? The invisible noose around her neck tightened. She rubbed the mark on her chest. Bomani claimed he did not know the bonding would happen, now she was uncertain. Maybe this was Bast’s way of torturing her further.
She rubbed a hand down her face, fearing her paranoia was getting the best of her. Is this not how all the great gods had fallen?
Anger. Isolation. Paranoia. Insanity.
With her demon blood it would be even easier for her to slip without realizing it was too late.
Was it?
She flipped the light off, withdrew to her quarters and locked the doors. With her back to the wall and knees to her chest, she gripped her saber. Theris’ energy refilled the space. He knocked on the door of her dark room.
She refused to answer, fearful of the truth.
And knowing what she would do to him.
After a moment, his energy lessened, leaving her to stew. She rubbed the hourglass tattoo on her wrist. Pressing the curved point of her blade, she cut into her skin next to the tattoo. Crimson blood beaded and ran down her wrist. The hint of Bomani’s energy mixed with her blood spurred her to repeat the process until her arm was covered in cuts. Her vision blurred and the world closed around her.
May Asar have mercy on her soul.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Bomani circled around the block, but the siravants’ trail had grown cold, and the prickling against his skin told him he had run out of time. The sun was on the verge of reclaiming the sky. Honestly, he had lost the trail hours ago.
He was stalling, not wanting to face Siya and more of her questions. Just when he thought his life had hit bottom, he dug himself deeper. The repercussions of his actions were far worse than he could have ever imagined. Nebt had the demotic text, the same one Kendra had used to release Bakari from his imprisonment. His brother, the epitome of everything Bomani despised about the gods.
Selfish. Self-centered. Narcissistic.
Bomani would use those words to describe himself at this moment. He had become everything he hated about his brother. Hurting Kendra when she chose Bakari over him. Letting Nebt leave with the book. Being a coward and running from his punishment. Getting mixed up with Bast.
Siya.
He was not sure where the Goddess of War fit into the disaster that was his life. He shook his head. How could he be so stupid? Warriors were not meant to be bonded. They served one purpose, their Lord’s will. Bomani had known no other life than serving the legion until Kendra entered the scene. The young demi-god’s warmth and gentleness had given hope for something more.
Hope, taken away.
His brother, Bakari, had marked Kendra as his own and Bomani hated him for it. Bomani had made it his mission to protect Kendra and expose his brother for what he really was—a liar, a wretch and an enemy to be destroyed. Kendra surely would have forgiven Bomani once she saw the monster.
So sure of himself, Bomani had failed to see his dissent into darkness. Hatred and anger had clouded his judgment to the truth, and he lost Kendra and far more in the process. Honor had been his greatest virtue. Without it, he did not know who or what he was anymore. He would have to answer for his sins. Just as Siya would.
He dared to stare at the rising sun, the rays burning his eyes. Some part of him wanted to bond with Siya and have something to call his own. He was connected to her through Khalfani, and despite how screwed up it may be, he did not want to lose her.
Fear was holding him back, like a lovesick mother. Without knowing it, Siya had torn away the cage he had worked so hard to forge, imprisoning the god-like part of himself. His powers writhed under his tattoos, changing him on some elemental level.
The sun scorched his skin now, worse than before. The curse had taken full hold of him.
Siya. He needed her help to find himself. He closed his eyes and focused on the warmth in his chest. Lilacs and vanilla filtered through his senses, as did her emotions.
Pain. Loneliness.
They had more in common than he wanted to believe. Maybe they did belong together.
Chapter Thirty
Theris leaned against the railing on the second level. The not welcome sign hung in the god’s stare. Fuck you, Bomani thought and continued towards the stairs. He looked out over the training area as he made the climb. Boys of various ages laughed and talked around the wooden tables, unaware of the storm brewing outside. He wished they could be saved from the raw reality of war.
Bomani’s gaze came to rest on Dennu. The young god stared at Bomani for a moment before shifting his gaze to Theris. Ptah leaned in and whispered in Dennu’s ear.
The whole vibe of the warehouse was off. Bomani had no time to digest it before Theris blocked the metal walkway to Siya’s door.
Bomani flexed his fingers. “Move.”
“Siya wants to be left alone.”
“If you have any loyalty to her, you will move now.”
Theris sneered. “You, a Commander who fled his responsibilities, are asking me about loyalty.”
Bomani had seen Seconds like this in the past. All mouth and no action. “This is going to end one way. Me on the other side of that door. Either you step aside or I go through you.” Bomani stepped forward, within striking distance, reinforcing his promise.
Theris’ eyes strayed down over the training area. Fifty gazes had locked on them. Heat rippled off the god, burning the skin between Bomani’s scarification tattoos. “Shame what happened to Khalfani. You would be best to steer clear,” Theris said with a cold calculated smile and stepped to the side.
What in duat was that supposed to mean?
Bomani turned and tracked Theris down the steps. If not for his need to check on Siya, Bomani would have a little one-on-one with the god. The path of metal glowed bright red in his wake. Similar to other Creations, Theris’ modus operandi was not open confrontation, but ambush. Bomani needed to watch his back. Of all the memories he wished to have, Khalfani’s death was the one detail he was missing. Theris obviously knew particulars he did not, either way Bomani’s instincts screamed foul play.
He passed through the office and paused at the door to her bedroom. It was silent on the other side. He grabbed the handle but found it locked. He ghosted through and appeared in the dark closed room. The scent of blood drew his gaze to the wall next to the bed. Siya sat huddled in a ball. Around her, blood pooled on the floor.
“Siya!” He lurched forward but met the tip of her blade.
“Stay away from me.”
He dropped to his knees. Dark circles weighted her normally bright eyes. Blood ran down her arm and dripped from her elbow. “What is going on here?”
She shook her head. “I cannot protect them.”
“Siya.” He held out his hands. Isis, he had not been gone long. What could have possibly happened in that time? Or was it a culmination of all that happen?
“No, I cannot trust you. Trust anyone.”
He sat back on his heels, unable to find any comforting words. All he had was the truth. “You are right. I came here to secure my own passage. If I could give just enough information to Bast, I would not have to return home.”
He ran a hand through his hair. So much had changed since their first meeting on the beach. Siya provided him focus. In her presence he dwelled less on his pathetic life. “I was in a dark place, probably still am.” He covered his heart with his palm. “I do not know where this will all end up, but I do know—you will be part of it.”
“I am so tired of fighting,” she whispered. Her dull gaze slowly rose to meet his. Her hands trembled so. The goddess he knew was lost in a sea of agony.
“The pain is weakening you. Your father wants this, so does Bast. Do not give them the satisfaction.” He leaned forward. “Give me the saber, Siya. Let me help you.” He could only offer the one power he had control over.
He grasped her hand. She gave little resistance when he pulled the weapon free. Her honey colored skin had faded to dull beige. He picked her up and carried her to the shower. He set her feet on the floor and leaned her against the tile. Reverently, he stripped her out of the bloodstained clothes and washed away the evidence of her self-mutilation. Thankfully, the wounds were already fading.
She stared at the floor, unblinking. Fearful of leaving her alone, he stripped naked and washed quickly. He dried them both and picked her up to carry her to the bed. Dressing her in a t-shirt and panties, he covered her with several blankets.
She curled into the fetal position with her back to him. Her tangled wet hair draped over the pillow. He knelt by the bed and pressed his thumb to her temple. He absorbed the negative energy, sour and bitter as it was, until he could take no more. The pain shot through him, his own paling in comparison. Moisture beaded against his skin. Her eyes closed and her body relaxed against his touch.
It was a small reprieve. Exhausted, he staggered to his feet and found a clean pair of pants. He moved the chair next to the bed and collapsed down upon it. Despite closing his eyes, sleep evaded him, fearful her bunk would be empty when he woke.