by Jean Murray
“You will want to see this for yourself.” Bakari turned and jogged down the palace hall. Kamen waited at the top of the stairs.
“Where are the females?” Asar asked, alarmed he did not see Kit standing at Kamen’s side.
“Down on the beach with the legion,” Kamen said and followed him down the stairs.
The warriors parted in a wave around Asar. He targeted Lilly’s blonde hair in the distance. His wife and her sisters did not heed his warning to be careful. Asar pulled up sharply next to Lilly. “What is going on?”
“I thought you may have ordered them.” Lilly snickered and laced her fingers in his hand.
“Easy, big boy,” Kit said, snagging Kamen’s arm. “I do not think Menthu means to attack us with prepubescent teens.”
“Do not be mistaken, Kit. They are fully capable of inflicting harm.” Bakari moved in front of Kendra.
Asar stepped forward and stared at the fifty children littering his beach. Creation gods. Four of the oldest males knelt and the rest followed. The largest held a square object wrapped in burlap with a large saber sitting on top.
“What is the meaning of this? You may not enter this realm without my permission or risk death.”
“We humbly ask for your mercy and protection, Lord.”
Asar glanced at Kamen. The male could sense even the slightest hint of evil. Kamen stepped back, seemingly more relaxed with the situation.
Lilly’s grip tightened on his hand. “Asar.”
He followed her eyes to the package. “Take the weapon,” Asar said to Bakari.
Bakari turned the blade over in his hand. “It is one of ours, but I do not recognize it.” Bakari handed the saber to Asar.
Asar stared down at the weapon, barely able to believe what he was seeing. “Where did you come by this?”
The prostrated young god raised his gaze. “My Commander said to give it to you if my brothers and I ever found ourselves in trouble.” He raised his hands but stopped the minute Bakari pointed the Mevt dagger at his throat.
“I will take that,” Bakari said and slipped the covered object from the god.
“It’s a pyramid text,” Kendra gasped even before Bakari unwrapped the black book. “Do you know where the others are?”
Asar recognized it immediately. He had been there when the three books were hidden among those of their kind. He had received the Book of the Dead, the demotic text, containing the most powerful dark magic. The very book Kendra used to awaken Bakari. The sender had to be pretty damn important to carry this book. Only when the location was compromised was it passed onto another. “What is the name of your Commander?”
“Siya. You may know her by her given name—Sekhmet.”
“The Goddess of War,” Kendra whispered. “She exists, really exists?”
“Menthu’s daughter?” Lilly asked in a hushed voice.
“Sekhmet?” Asar scanned the god’s soul and found no deceit. He looked at the saber again, honing in on the symbol on the handle. An hourglass, half dark and half light. The symbol held many meanings, but first and foremost it represented the passage of time. The beginning and the end.
“What trouble has befallen you?” Asar asked, uneasiness settling over his soul.
The young god scanned the crowd of warriors. “Sire, may I have the privilege of your counsel—alone?”
“You do know to whom you speak?” Asar scowled down at the Creation youth. “You risked your life and the life of your brothers by coming here.”
“I am well aware of my actions and the consequences. I do not take the lives of my brothers lightly. We have no allegiances. We serve the goddess who saved us. She trusts you, so I must now. My request comes with urgency. The longer we wait—”
“Enough. Come. Bakari with me.” Asar turned and traced his steps back to the office. He palmed the blade made by a warrior’s hands in their ancient ways. His guardian detail fell in step around their guest. The male stood as tall as his warriors. No doubt skilled if Sekhmet raised him.
Asar passed through his office door and pointed to the seat in front of his desk. “You have my ear, Creation. Speak.”
“Will you care for them?”
“This is not an orphanage. Creations are not permitted here.”
Dennu narrowed his eyes. “Did I not see Creations on the beach? Three to be exact.”
Bakari advanced on the god and pressed his dagger to the male’s chest. “Do not think to threaten us.”
“My intent is not to threaten but to state the obvious.” Dennu leveled his gaze on Bakari. “I do not fear death, but I would prefer to die in battle at my Commander’s side.”
“Bakari,” Asar said, waving him off. “They may stay until more appropriate accommodations are made. Is that sufficient?” Asar glared at the youth.
“Yes, Lord,” Dennu said with a bow. “My Commander has befriended a male you may be familiar with.” The god’s gaze strayed to the scarification tattoos on Bakari’s arms.
“Bomani,” Asar said, stricken with relief.
“Yes. He is in danger and has engaged Theris, our Second, who I fear is working with the enemy.”
He turned to the sound of the door opening. Lilly ran into the room followed by Kendra and Kit. “Asar, we need to go now.”
“Yes, Bomani is in trouble,” Asar responded and moved around the desk.
Kendra stepped forward with her hand placed on the center of the ancient pyramid text. “Far worse than trouble.”
Asar stared down at the petite redhead and soon to be daughter-in-law. The young demi-god had the incredible gift to read the history of any object. “To what extent,” he implored.
“Nebt has broken the spell I placed on the demotic text. Menthu is intent on releasing Apep and his demons.”
Asar cursed. “Deploy the legions. Leave one behind to guard the palace and the younglings. Lilly, you need to address the Creation Council.”
“Yes, Kit and Kendra with me.” Lilly kissed Asar on the cheek, and then signaled for her sisters to follow. “Be careful.”
“Kamen stay with the women. I will call if we need you.”
Kamen nodded and jogged out the door.
“My officers and I will take you there,” Dennu said, stepping forward into the group.
“Fine. We are going to need all the help we can get. Let us hope it is not too late.” If anything happened to Bomani, Asar would not forgive himself.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Siya welcomed the caress of the warm breeze and the soft fern branches hanging from above. Her darker side quieted to the point she almost felt normal. At peace with herself. Floating and free.
Pain flickered along the edges of her dream, distant but annoying. She turned away from it, seeking again the warmth of positive energy saturating her mind. Her dreams were heavy and sluggish. She grimaced when a wave of pain shocked her system. Her eyes fluttered open, despite her mind refusing to release its unrelenting hold.
Her chest ached deep inside. She rolled on her side and struggled to push herself up. Resting her forehead on the soft moss, she forced the heaviness from her body. Disoriented, she scanned her surroundings. The reason she was in her mother’s temple escaped her. The importance skipped out of her reach.
She crawled to the turquoise pool and splashed cool water on her face. Her pain resurfaced, fresh and hot. She grasped the back of her neck. Her normally ice cold flesh was warm beneath her fingertips. The irregularity in her skin was soft and painless. No, the discomfort she was feeling ran much deeper, straight to her soul.
“Bomani.” She struggled to stand and ran towards the gap in the stone. Unsteady on her feet, she stumbled and crashed into the moss path.
What had he done?
She fought against the spell he put her under. Her head floated but her limbs were the weight of sandstone. Grasping onto the vines, she pulled herself up. Weak and disoriented, she weaved through the cavern and out onto the ledge. A wave of pain sent her tumbling over the e
dge. She dematerialized a fraction from the jagged rocks and slammed into the wood dock next to the warehouse.
White flakes floated lazily down around her, beguiling the inferno birthing them. Heat and black acrid smoke sucked the air from her lungs. A firestorm of red flames consumed the wood frame of the building. The metal glowed bright orange. She did not sense Dennu or the senior younglings’ signatures. Bomani remained hidden from her senses, as he always had, but the connection in her soul did not lie. Flames engulfed her heart, burning her from the inside.
“Bomani,” she screamed and lurched towards the door. The metal and heat scorched her hands and arms, driving her away from what she most desperately wanted to save. The structure groaned and snapped. The windows shattered above and rained molten glass on her head. She ducked as flames poured out of the opening. Siya ran around the building, desperate to find a way in. “Bomani.”
Her tears mixed with the black soot and choking sobs. She closed her eyes and willed the water from the river. This could not be happening, not again. A large black wave crashed over the dock and rushed around her feet. Steam rose as the water mixed with fire and beat back the heat long enough for her to rip the door from its hinges.
Black thick smoke billowed out of the interior. A loud explosion rocked the foundation. The roof crumpled and collapsed at its center, slamming the backdraft of debris into her and throwing her out onto the wooden dock.
Her heart exploded with grief, along with the hope of Bomani’s survival. Sirens wailed in the distance, competing with the scream bursting from her lungs.
To have found Bomani, only to lose him was an agony above all others—another casualty among many. She had feared Bomani was doomed to her father’s fate, when in fact it was she who would become the beast.
Acid boiled in her chest with each heaving breath. Feeding on her sorrow, her demon emerged, seething and angry. The dock beneath her cracked and splintered with the flow of dark energy from her body. Digging her now pointed nails into the blackened earth, she bellowed an unworldly sound that echoed through the night.
Again, she was alone to suffer the wrath of her agony. No one to stop the transformation. Not that anyone ever could. Except—she stared over the burning wreckage. “Bomani,” she hissed, unable to subdue the dark malevolence from her voice. Her demon clawed at her hope that he may have survived until it was shredded and bleeding. In its place, vengeance took a bitter hold of her soul.
Lightning zapped and the smell of ozone rose in the air. Siya reared up, like a phoenix birthed by the fires of Duat. She snapped her reddened gaze at Bast. “What have I ever done to you? To the Council?”
“It is not what you have done, Sekhmet. It is what you represent,” Bast said flatly and swept her gaze over the rubble. The orange light of the embers reflected in the flat edge of Bast’s sword.
“Is that jealousy, I hear in your voice, or fear?” Siya hissed, knowing her strength and adaptability between their worlds was a threat to conformity.
“It is the law,” Bast snapped.
“Laws that forced apart a bond that bore a child of both worlds, drove my mother to kill herself and found me guilty without trial,” Siya roared. “And, Bomani. What law has he broken?” Siya stalked forward, weaponless but no less lethal for the fury scorching her veins.
“Bomani has fulfilled his destiny, just as you will. Both worthy sacrifices for the Pantheons.” Bast leveled her sword at Siya’s chest.
“Sacrifices, for what? You. The Council,” Siya scoffed. Her skin blackened with the hatred in her soul. Bomani’s mark was all but invisible but still weighed heavy in her heart. A life she would never have in this world.
“Do not make this difficult,” Meti said. The male god walked forward, his dark hair tied back with a thin leather strap. He looked the same as the day Siya was banished from the Order of Protectors. He rested his sword on his shoulder, a twin to Siya’s weapon buried beneath the molten metal and tons of concrete.
“I have swallowed your hypocrisy for far too long.” Siya’s breath sawed from her lungs along with the hate she had always fought to contain. She looked down at herself and held her arms out. “This is what you wanted, is it not?”
Haru appeared to her right. His blond hair waved with the updraft of hot air produced by the still burning fire. His light eyes scanned the darkness and returned to meet her gaze.
Siya fisted her sharp talons. Warm rivets of blood dripped from her palm as her fellow protectors shifted into position around her. “So this is what it has come to?” Siya leveled her accusing stare at Meti.
“You have always known this would come to pass,” Meti said, his tone neutral.
“Time has come to bring this to a close, Sekhmet,” Bast said curtly as if she was late for another meeting.
“The time is now, Siya,” Haru said, his stare weighted with significance. Her mother’s friend pulled his blade from over his shoulder.
Haru never used her pet name in front of the other Protectors. Dark energy ran up her spine. She turned to stare down the dock. Her father was coming. Based on the amount of energy, he was not alone.
Siya snapped back to the Protectors. They used her as bait. This was a battle they would not win. “Fools, are you ready to die today?” Siya lunged, knocked Bast’s weapon free and grabbed her by the throat. “You have meddled too far this time.”
“Release her.” Meti pressed the tip of his sword to Siya’s neck.
“Menthu has raised the siravants. He has the demotic text,” Siya hissed, not caring about the blade biting into her skin.
“What is she talking about?” Meti’s gaze snapped to Bast.
Bast grappled against Siya’s hold.
“You already knew, did you not?” Siya pulled Bast close. “It is why you kept Bomani’s presence here a secret.”
“Bast?” Meti lowered his sword by a fraction.
Haru stepped forward but kept his eyes trained on the dock. “We need to leave. Sort this out somewhere else.”
“No!” Siya barked. “Let us have this out. Maybe then you will believe me.”
“I could not agree more, daughter.” Menthu stepped free of the darkness and into the firelight along with six siravants. Siya recognized the human hosts, only their vacant black eyes gave them away as something other than human.
Bast’s eyes widened and Siya reveled in her fear. “Is this what you imagined it would be? Did you think you would be the hero? Single-handedly saving mankind.” Siya pulled Bast in close. “I hold you personally responsible for Bomani’s death.”
“Siya, let her go,” Haru said.
“After all she has done?” Siya said, tears forming in her eyes. Her chest ached for Bomani. She wanted exactly what her father commanded—to end Bast’s existence.
“You do not know how long I have waited for this.” Menthu chuckled. Lunging, her father sliced a large wound across Haru’s chest and sent the protector to his knees. With his sword leveled at Haru’s neck, Menthu thrust the sharp blade forward.
“No.” Siya discarded Bast to the ground and slammed into her father. Menthu’s sword missed Haru by a fraction. Siya rolled onto her feet, but her father’s red eyes bore down upon her.
“I am disappointed, daughter.” Menthu snatched the base of her braid and forced her to watch as the siravants descended upon Meti. Ill prepared and overwhelmed, Meti staggered back, leaving Haru open to be picked off by the dark demons.
“This is only the beginning,” Menthu whispered in her ear.
Flashing red lights of the fire trucks illuminated the blood bath. The siravants descended upon the humans. The men were ripped from the cab and feasted upon.
Unable to save them she sagged against Menthu’s grip, her will to fight dying in the ruins of the warehouse.
“They deserve it, Sekhmet,” Menthu spoke. “It is time to reunite our family.”
“Family?” Siya asked, staring at the burned out wreckage. Any hope of a family had been lost among the ash.
Asar and an entire legion.
Minutes too late.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Bomani pushed the charred debris from his face. Several steel girders pinned his hips and lower legs. He grabbed the metal and shoved, but the weight would not budge. The effort only served to worsen his pain. Blackness crept around the edges of his vision, and he leaned back until the dizziness passed.
With his eyes closed he scanned the smoke filled void, searching for Theris’ energy signature. The structure had collapsed at the moment he had Theris on his knees. Damn it. The god was spilling his darkest secrets, confessing the ambush of Khalfani at Menthu’s order. Theris was another recruit, just like Nebt. The War god’s network went farther than they had ever imagined, possibly even among the Creation Council.
Bomani swore he heard Siya’s voice moments before he was hit from above by a slab of concrete. Maybe a figment of his longing for her before he blacked out. For how long, he did not know. A minute was too long when Siya was at risk. He needed to get back to the temple. Too weak to dematerialize he struggled, shifting the metal a few inches, but not enough to free him.
Shouts echoed from above, however distant and muffled through the wreckage of steel and cement. Bomani called out, but the smoke choked off his words. Time passed without an answer to his pleas for help.
“We found him,” a male shouted, closer this time.
Dust and ash fell down around him. The voices were getting louder. Larger pieces of concrete filtered down through the layers of broken metal. Bomani shielded his head. Grunts of males and groaning metal echoed beyond the large concrete wall leaning over him. A large hand snaked through a gap and grabbed Bomani’s shoulder.
“Bomani?”
Bomani recognized the voice and the scorpion hieroglyphic etched on the male’s forearm. “Bakari,” he said, filled with a sudden dread heavier than the weight pinning him.