Behind the witch, Shu lifted her hand, cupping nothing but air. Her lips moved and her magic stirred. Sprites of energy crackled at the tips of her fingernails. I gave my head a slight shake—a near indiscernible no—and her lips stopped moving, but her eyes shone with the emergence of power, as did the witch’s glare.
Kenny hadn’t looked like much at Cujo’s, just a wide-eyed kid without a clue, but desperation rimmed those wide eyes with rage, and what little juice he had fizzled in a thin aura around him. He might have stolen his magic, but it could still pack a punch.
Shu cocked her head, waiting for my signal. Kenny had no idea of the danger he was in just by showing Shu his back.
I carefully set my drink down, planted my boots on the floor, and slowly got to my feet. There was no easy way to tell him that I’d killed his girlfriend. I was guilty. I remembered her scream, the confusion and fear in her eyes, and I remembered how I’d cut her down as though she was of no consequence. Thanks to Mafdet, the memory was clear as day.
Should I tell him straight, like a slap to the face, or let him down gently? Dressing it up with pretty explanations wouldn’t help Kenny. I’d never been very good at the gentle approach anyway. “For what I did, you have every right to be angry.”
Kenny pulled back and straightened, as though surprised. “The coven says you made eight of us disappear a few years back.” Before I could reply, he begged, “P-please, I don’t care about that. Just…just tell me you found her?”
“I have—”
“Ace,” Shu interrupted, drawing my eye. She shook her head. Don’t tell him, her dark eyes said. But I had to. Not knowing, waiting for her to return, his hope false and brittle, was worse. I couldn’t look him in the eye and lie.
“Julie Carter is dead,” I said. “I stabbed her through the heart and stole her soul. Nothing of her spirit remains in this realm or the next. She’s gone, in the truest sense of the word.”
I’ve seen men crumble before my eyes, watched their faces fall and their fears widen their eyes, and I’ve heard men wail as grief tore out their hearts. Kenny did none of those things. He took a step back and looked me over, or as much of me as he could see behind the desk. Another step back almost brought him into contact with Shu. He muttered something guttural under his breath, and the next thing I knew, my back hit the wall and I fell to my feet, facing a man with murder in his eyes as magic boiled the air around him.
Kenny flung out his right fist, his instincts pulling on the man to fight with his fists, not magic. I saw the punch coming and could have avoided it, could have hit back, could have stopped him with a single word.
His knuckles struck my jaw, whipping my head back, and then a fist buried itself in my gut. I wrapped around the pain, letting it throb hot and deep. It wasn’t enough. A knee landed in my gut, driving the vodka back up my throat.
“More.” I spat to the side and met the witch’s eye.
Tears swam in his eyes, and finally, the pain started to feel real inside. He’d lost someone, someone he loved. I knew that feeling, the intangible pain of loss. I’d felt that grief claw at my insides too. My own pain grew heavy and twisted its barbs in deep. It felt raw, as though the grief was right there with me. So many years, so many dead. Time marched over the bones, turning them to dust.
“Ace?” The dark shadow that was Shu moved in behind Kenny.
I lifted my hand, palm out. She wasn’t to stop this.
“More!” I growled at Kenny. “I killed your girl. I’ve killed others, too, just like her.”
Tears fell in tacks down Kenny’s cheeks.
“Why?” he moaned like his heart was crumbling.
“Because I’m the monster everyone fears I am.”
His power burst to life, rippling the witch in a cool blue glow. His whispers started, building his power.
“Ace?!” Shu yelled.
Wind swirled around us, whipping up trash and papers as the spell gathered force. I stared deep into Kenny’s eyes, felt the heat of his vengeance burn into my gaze, and saw how bright the man’s soul was. More and more his spell poured inward, filling the witch’s mortal body. His chanting grew louder. He was gathering his power, building a spell that would hit like a truck once released. But his efforts were wasted on me.
My attention wandered. His soul glowed, a brilliance that summoned my instincts to take, to devour. I couldn’t deny it; the need in me was soul deep. As the witch’s fury crested, I sank mental claws into him, felt his stolen magic stutter, and spoke the words that would forever make him mine.
“Tra k-dae amcru-kak sra ksork, kosec amcru-kak esk kassrakamsk, omd kae kuir—”
A blast barreled out of nothing, slamming me from both sides and lodging the words in my throat. Harder and harder the burning power pushed, crushing my arms against my chest and the air out of my lungs. Steel-like bands closed around me, sealing in my power as it spilled from my soul.
Shu stepped around the now-quiet witch, one hand out, threads of power rippling from her fingers. Her voice wove her spell, turning it to steel and closing it around me. Her loose black hair lashed her narrow face, and her eyes glowed a deep, bruised purple. The spell was hers.
“Go!” she growled at the witch.
Kenny staggered, buffeted by warring magic he had no hope of competing against. “That son of a bitch killed Julie!”
“Walk away.” Shu pushed the demon equivalent of a compulsion, its touch thick and choking like oil. “And live.”
Kenny stumbled over his feet in his haste to get to the door. Cat was there, standing beside the doorway, braced to attack, but I only had eyes for Shu.
“This will not hold me, sorceress.” My voice—my old voice sounded like metal on glass, like the words were double-edged weapons. I could make them weapons. I could shred her human flesh and tear her to pieces. I had in the past.
“You know it will, long enough.” She came closer and lifted her free hand, twisting it in a way that drew my gaze and held it. Still the wind tore through us, but the power was all Shukra’s. “Someone got to you. I’m going to discover who.”
“And as soon as I’m free I’ll drink you down like I should have centuries ago. A blight on the worlds—you’ll cease to exist.”
Her soul was a fetid, rotted thing, but I wanted it. I’d take it all. Once I got free of the bindings, I’d take the souls of anyone who crossed me, of everyone. Wouldn’t that be delicious?
I flexed my power, breathing it in and sending it out, pushing hard against Shu’s restraints. Her magic held, but the strain showed around her eyes. This was all she had. It wouldn’t be enough. I was more than her, more than anyone in this pitiful world.
She came closer and lifted her left hand, this one cupping a small orb of green light. “Mokarakk Oma, imbirdam aeuir kuir. Orruv ka su vord vesr aeui.” Nameless One, unburden your soul. Allow me to walk with you.
I pushed against the pressure holding me still. In her eyes, her soul was a play of liquid black and molten greens—a slippery, poisonous stain filled with sin, and I yearned for it. Just like with the witch, I drilled in through her gaze, but Shu was no novice witch. She slammed her palm against my forehead, splashing the green light over my face and into my mouth, coating my tongue and throat with a thick, cool liquid. It tasted like decay and poison.
“Sra ruod ek rums. Aeui ora serad. Raks muv.”
The road is long. You are tired. Rest now.
I held her gaze as long as I could, but the spell sank in, numbing my need, my anger, and hollowing out the desire to devour. Beneath everything, a heavy tiredness dragged me further into the dark.
“Raks muv,” Shu said again, closer now, her gaze lost in mine, her words laden with power.
My eyes shuttered, sleep dragging me down.
“I roqa aeui.” I have you.
I fought the weariness, the binds forgotten, but the embrace of her words wrapped me in seductive comfort, and finally, I let go.
I woke up on my knees beside a lake
of flaming oil. This was no normal fire, nor was it a normal lake. The smell of hot oil and minerals reminded me of another time, another place: home. The kera lakes were abandoned and forgotten parts of the underworld. You couldn’t find them if you sought them out. They found you. Few got to see the lakes and survive.
“Still want to devour me?” Shukra said from behind me.
I turned my head and saw her as she truly was; not a human woman held together by business suits and the mundane nine-to-five job, but a seven-foot snake-like beast made of scales and two pairs of furred wings. Her eyes glowed green and black, just like her soul.
“Why are we here?” I scooped up the red sand and let it flow between my fingers. So fine, like wine. It wasn’t the type of sand you’d find on a beach. This was the same dust that had been left behind when I killed the witches seven years ago, the same dust and ash left behind when I spoke the word daquir. All around, as far as I could see, the red dunes made of the dead marched across the horizon in frozen waves.
“We aren’t.” Shukra slithered forward, her scales whispering across the sand. “This is your mind and your memory converging on one moment in time.” Her cheeks were sunken, her facial bones jutting. Silent lightning split the sky behind her. It had been centuries since I’d seen the real Shu, long enough to forget the beast she really was. I’d hunted and condemned hundreds like her. Twisted, corrupted, and molded into the foulest of creatures unrecognizable as souls: demons.
“What did you do to me?” I asked. The blanket of quiet had wrapped around us, sealing us in a bubble, reminding me that none of this was real.
“Stopped you from devouring a witch and cast the spell to trace whoever has their claws in you.” She swept a claw-tipped hand toward the burning lake. “Your mind brought us here.”
On the opposite shore, a black obsidian tower rose like an obelisk toward the sky. Its smooth surface shimmered, reflecting the firelight. I’d never seen it before. If this was my mind, I should know everything inside it. Shouldn’t I?
Rising to my feet, I brushed the sand off my clothes and walked along the edge of the lake. Thick, black water lapped at the shore, bubbling where the liquid ate at the sand. No wind, not a whisper. In the underworld, these lands were known as the mu moka—roughly translated as nothing or no lands—where restless souls were driven to face their fears. If those souls survived, they were ushered into the afterlife or offered rebirth by the active gods. Mu moka was my backyard.
“There’s no place like home,” I muttered.
“What do you see?” Shu asked, slithering beside me. She noticed my half frown and added, “I see nothingness. No air. No life. We see through different eyes.”
“I see the kera lakes and a tower, and you…as demon.”
“Interesting.” The forked tips of her tongue flicked out, tasting the air.
“I’d forgotten how ugly you are.”
“That must have been a blessing. I’ve had to look at your ugly face every day for five centuries.”
I chuckled and kept trudging through the sand. “If this is all in my head, shouldn’t I know that tower?”
“You do, you just don’t want to.”
“So, whatever is going on with me, it’s likely in there.”
“Do you see anything else?”
I swept my gaze around the barren lands. Lightning danced above and cracked the skies, but no thunder sounded, and farther away, the backbone of mountains rose up. Between here and there? Miles and miles of nothing. I’d tried to walk to those peaks once, determined to beat the land. I’d lost. The mountains had stayed stubbornly on the horizon, and all I’d gotten were sore feet. “Just the tower.”
“Then that’s where the answers are.”
After several minutes of solemn marching, I asked, “If there’s nothing inside?”
“There’s always something.”
She’d done this before. How many others had she guided toward answers—or whatever waited inside that tower? It could be a trap. I hadn’t forgotten Mafdet’s warning—how those who were damned may find a way to aid Anubis’s hunt for me—but Shukra hadn’t tried to attack or subvert me in centuries. Why go back to her old ways now, after years of peace between us? And yet my mind didn’t trust her, not the true demon sorceress—the creature that walked beside me. Only a fool would trust a corrupt soul like hers. She had patience and she had the knowledge, and her magic was strong enough to temporarily bind me.
But, if everything she’d said was true, she’d helped me get this far. She’d traced the witch’s arm while already suspecting I was the killer. Above everything else, I trusted her to be Shukra, nothing and nobody else. She’d never pretended to be anything other than an ex-demon packed into a human body—a breath of fresh air when you deal with gods who talk in circles.
“Where are our bodies while we’re on this metaphysical jaunt?” I asked.
“Back at the office. Cat’s watching over you in Cujo’s stead.”
An image flashed in my mind, clear and bright, of Bastet reaching across a table, her hand on mine. “More than darkness.”
My footing slipped on the loose sand and rocks, and in a blink, the image was gone, cut from my thoughts with scalpel-like precision. Bastet. After this, after the witches, after Thoth, I’d help Cat find Bastet and I’d tell my ex-wife the truth, that the problem had never been her. Loose ends. I hated them.
The tower loomed impossibly high ahead. Its black walls glistened as though they were wet, and there, at its base, was a broad, elaborately arched doorway.
“Any idea what’s in there?” I asked my demon companion.
“If I knew that, we wouldn’t need to be here.”
My hands clenched, seeking Alysdair, but the sword wasn’t here, and my imagination refused to throw me a bone. I ventured closer and noticed Shu was hanging back. “Not coming?”
“Those are your answers, not mine.” She dissolved into dust, and a brisk wind swept the motes away before falling back into silence. A shiver trickled down my back. Mu moka was a lot more unsettling in my head than in the underworld.
I clasped the door’s large iron ring and pushed. Air escaped from inside in a smooth gasp, and the warm smell of old papyrus tickled my nose. The door gave way to a hollow chamber that spiraled too high to see its end. Unrolled scrolls covered the walls, their hieroglyphs aglow. Spells ready to be stoked and ignited anew.
I didn’t know this place, and the deeper I walked toward the center, the less any of this made sense. A staircase hugged the wall, winding higher above me. I stopped at the first step and ran my fingers over the nearest scroll. Dust lifted off the papyrus and whirled in the still air. The glyphs spoke of the mundane and looked like a list of household items.
Scrolls and towers? Shu had said there would be answers here, but if there were, how was I supposed to find them?
“My advisors warned me—”
I spun around and found Osiris standing in the center of the room, a shaft of light spotlighting him from above.
“—against taking you in. The Nameless One, they said, cannot be controlled, cannot be tamed, and he should not walk this realm or any other. He is beyond the influence of the gods. He is a force of nature.”
Designed to be seen on the battlefield, his traditional scaled battle armor shone like gold, but it wasn’t gold. It was a trap. The strength came from the god’s magic, not the metal. The armor could have been made of paper and it would still be impenetrable.
“Condemn him, they cried, for your sins were great. But to condemn such power, to destroy it and prevent it from living again? I could not. I do not destroy. I am the god of life, of rebirth and resurrection.” He cast his gaze high above us, and I caught sight of the bare khopesh strapped to his back. A deadly weapon, and unlike his armor, it wasn’t ceremonial. The edge could kill.
“You’re not real.” I’d hoped that saying it might dispel the apparition, but instead, he cast me a sideways smile and started a slow, purposeful walk a
round the room, admiring the scrolls as he passed them by. “I am your fear, your enemy, and the source of your soul-deep hatred. I guard that which you’re afraid to face.”
“This would be so much easier if you told me what I’m missing. What do these scrolls mean? How does any of this relate to my vendetta against witches?”
“I am not here to give you these answers.” He stopped several strides away from me, his armor almost blinding. “I’m here to prevent you from finding them.”
Great. Not only did I have to contend with Osiris in reality, but my imagination just had to concoct him kicking my ass in my subconscious too.
Osiris reached behind him and retrieved the khopesh. The blade had a hooked point, designed to rip away an opponents shield. I didn’t have a shield, didn’t have a sword either. All I had were my fists and my wits, which had been lacking lately.
“Is my imagination going to help me out with a weapon?” I called into the quiet, sidestepping Osiris as he began circling me.
I shook out my hands and rolled my shoulders. Maybe this was a good thing. I couldn’t die in my own head, could I? I curled my hands into fists, ready for his attack.
“You really want to do this?” I grinned. “Because I’ve been waiting five centuries, one month, two weeks, four days, and fifteen hours to kick the immortal shit out of you.”
Osiris charged, time slowed, and my heart pumped a too-fast beat. I knew he’d open his attack by swinging his sword left to right the way he always did in battle. I watched his stride, the slight tilt of his head, and the track of his gaze, and I shied right, swinging around and lifting myself out of the blade’s way at the very last second. He pulled up and tried to turn, but I sank my fingers down the back of his neck and yanked him off balance. My elation didn’t last. He pivoted, faster and stronger in this unreality, and clocked me in the jaw with a gauntleted left fist. Fireworks and heat exploded over the right side of my face, knocking the sense right out of me.
I staggered but still had hold of his back plate, and when he thrust his sword upward, I hooked his leg out from under him. We clattered to the floor in a messy scrap. Osiris slashed the sword through the air. The god was damn fast for a figment of my imagination. I thrust a hand up and locked my arm under his jaw, holding him back. His attack jolted to a stop. I punched up with a loose left fist. My knuckles struck home, jarring my arm. I hit him again, still holding his sword away from my neck, but my shoulder burned and was about to give out. Again, I hit him, this time delivering a few centuries’ worth of searing rage into the punch.
Witches' Bane (The Soul Eater Book 2) Page 9