Shu pushed out of the chair and blatantly dragged her gaze over Chuck from head to toe and back again. “There’s something familiar about you.”
“Leave it,” I warned, pushing the smallest hint of a compulsion into the words so she’d know to back off.
Her dark eyes caught mine. She didn’t ask, but she did circle around Chuck in a way normal people didn’t do unless they were psychopaths.
Chuck narrowed her eyes on the woman eyeing her up. “I thought I had issues.”
I peeled my coat off my mangled shoulder. The fabric tugged on scabs of dried blood, reopening the wounds. Dumping the coat on the bed, I asked Chuck, “You hurt?”
“No,” Chuck replied, and then added softly, “Don’t think so.”
Besides a few scrapes and bruises, she’d survived the warehouse relatively unscathed. I, on the other hand, hadn’t. My coat was torn, my shoulder was on fire, and the magic backlash still raked at my insides, turning them to mush. All I wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep it off, but the night wasn’t over yet, and those jackals would keep on coming.
I flicked my gaze up at the protection spellwork on the ceiling.
“Added some improvements,” Shu said.
She had. I could see the new hieroglyphs and how they complemented those already in place. It was fine work, worthy of a display in a museum, but I’d expect nothing less from a demon sorceress.
“I also cleaned out your vodka and finished the Chinese takeout in the fridge.”
That takeout had been a week old, but I’d seen her eat beating hearts. She could handle it.
“Did Bast drop by?”
“No. Just me, left behind, all alone.” She jerked her chin at my arm. “Looks like you could have done with an extra pair of hands.”
“We lived.”
Chuck watched Shu with hooded eyes, the girl’s young mind trying to wrap itself around what she was really seeing. Her skin was probably crawling off her bones.
“Are you two like…together?” she asked.
Shu barked a laugh. “You couldn’t drown me in souls to touch his—”
“Bye, Shu,” I butted in.
Shu snarled, and the temperature dropped a degree. She eyed me like she might argue. She’d grill me in the morning. Who was the girl, where had I been, what was really going on? It could all wait until the light of day.
Chuck continued to stand in the middle of the room after Shu had gone, eyeing my furniture like it might come alive and attack her. She’d seen some things back at the warehouse—impossible things. That had to make her take a fresh look at the people and things around her. She’d need time, weeks or months. Some people never adjusted to the truth.
“You can relax,” I said. “This is probably the safest place in the city for you right now.”
I eased Alysdair’s custom sheath off, over my head and down my good arm. The sight of the sword tempted Chuck a few steps closer. With the blade sheathed, she couldn’t see the glowing spellwork, but she couldn’t have missed it back at the apartments. If she listened, she’d hear its low-frequency hum.
She reached out a pale hand. “What is it?”
“Enchanted sword. It eats souls.” There was little point in beating around the bush when we’d already set the bush on fire.
A grin broke out across her lips. “That is so badass.”
“Badass, yes, and also extremely dangerous. It doesn’t discriminate. Good, bad, young, old—it’ll eat everything.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“My mother gave it to me.”
Chuck worried her top lip between her teeth. “I never knew my mother.”
I decided to leave that conversation well alone and busied myself with retrieving the first aid kit from the bathroom. Spreading the antiseptic wash and bandages across my desk, I pulled off my shirt and set to work cleaning my shoulder, keeping Chuck in the corner of my eye the whole time. She touched Alysdair but quickly pulled her hand back. She’d feel it, the slow pull, like the sword could suck the life right out of her bones.
She dropped her gaze to my coat and ran her fingers over the many ragged holes. “The sword and the long coat…some people who were kind to me back at the warehouse, they talked about a guy who scares off the undead. I thought they were nuts. Is that you?”
“Hard to tell. I’ve never met another guy with a sword who makes a living killing demons in New York, but hey, it’s a big city.”
“Is that what those dogs were? Undead demons?”
Where to start? I really wasn’t in the mood for the big reveal, but when I looked at her face and saw her raw, needy expression, I couldn’t keep the truth from her. She’d probably known she wasn’t normal her entire life. If I didn’t tell her, she’d go looking for answers and get killed.
“They’re not undead,” I said. “Demons are—” I pressed a dressing against my shoulder and hissed as the antiseptic burned its way into the bite. “The underworld, where they come from, it’s brimming with souls. Some are lost, some like it there, and most are just passing through on their way to the Hall Of Judgment. But occasionally, a few stick around. They listen and they learn. They attach themselves to…” Gods just sounded too far out there, but what the hell? She was already looking at me like she might call the cops the second I turned my back. “Some devote their services to a few of the underworld gods. The influence of the gods, especially the darker demon gods, turns the souls into creatures like the jackals. Demons.”
“That’s how your sword was able to eat them?”
I nodded. “Then some idiot gets it into his head that ancient Egyptian spells look like fun, something to impress the girls with, and before you know it, you’ve got two demons possessing human bodies, contorting their DNA, turning them into creatures that shouldn’t exist, and unleashing chaos in midtown. I tidy up the mess and try to avoid getting arrested, or shot, or bitten. I’m not always successful.”
Her eyes couldn’t get any wider. “Did that happen?”
“Yesterday—or the day before. I’m losing track.”
“This is all real?”
“As real as the child you’re carrying.”
Her hand settled low over her stomach. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
“That is a very good question.” I dug out a fresh shirt from my dresser and worked it on without igniting my shoulder all over again. With rest, I’d heal in a few days. Until then, I’d make sure to play the sick card with Shu—make her buy me some slippers.
Chuck ran her trembling fingers through her short hair. Chewing on her lip, she lifted her gaze to me. “I’m not normal, am I?”
“Not in the least.” Leaning against the desk, I watched her process all the questions she had and whether she really wanted to ask them. “Being normal is all well and good until the demons are out to get you. You survived because you’re not normal. You did well out there.”
She looked again at my sword, its presence a constant reminder of how shit was as far from normal as it could get.
“Why don’t you take a shower,” I suggested. “Think over what you’ve seen and what I’ve told you. I don’t have much in the way of food, but I’ll whip something up. Once you’re rested and fed, we’ll talk some more.”
I gave her some space to adjust, busying myself by microwaving two batches of flavored noodles. I tried Bast’s cell a few more times, but each time it rang until her voicemail picked up. There was a chance she was deliberately ignoring my calls, especially after I’d brushed her off. Goddesses held grudges longer than empires reigned. But Bast would have set aside me acting like an asshole to know Chuck was safe. Something had happened to her between the modeling agency and the warehouse—something that was stopping her from getting in touch.
I returned to the lounge with two bowls of noodles. Alysdair thrummed, tempting me to pick her up and head back onto the street to hunt Bast down. But the goddess could look after herself. Chuck couldn’t—not yet and not with demons
on her tail.
I tucked the sword safely away in its slot wedged between the desk and the wall. When I turned back, Chuck emerged from the bathroom, hair knotted in a towel, wearing one of my shirts. She looked tiny, and pale, and vulnerable, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do with her.
I shoved the bowl of noodles under her nose. “Get that in you.”
She dropped onto my bed and dug in.
I retreated to my desk and ignored the spreading, heavy tiredness. I needed to rest, needed to see Osiris, and needed to find Bast, but above all that, I needed to keep the girl safe. I hadn’t expected to feel anything for her. Why would I? We were strangers. And yet there was something in me that had started to grow since Bast’s return. I knew what it was. I’d experienced it before: hope. Hope that this girl might escape everything I’d been through and that maybe I really was capable of more than darkness. If I could save her, that meant something. Didn’t it? I wasn’t expecting that one good deed could wipe away five centuries of sins, but maybe it was a start.
After inhaling half her bowl of noodles, Chuck asked, “Why’re you helping me?”
Because saving you is easier than saving myself. I hooked a shallow smile onto my lips, hoping it looked real enough. “Like I said, I get paid to help.”
She accepted that and twirled her noodles on her fork. “Who’s paying you?”
“Bast. The woman from the shelter.”
More noodles went in. She chewed and then asked around a mouthful, “I’ve seen her in there a few times. She stands out.”
“Yes, she does. Like a goth at a white wedding.” I kicked back at my desk and worked on devouring my noodles.
“What’s her deal?” Chuck dug into her bowl.
“She’s one of the good ones.” A little knot twisted tighter inside. Guilt and I were old friends. “There aren’t many good gods.”
Chuck’s head whipped up. “She’s a god?”
“Goddess Bastet—”
Her mouth fell open. “Goddess of Cats?” She saw my smile and said, “My foster mom taught middle-grade. She had a cool kid’s book about Egyptian gods. The cat…” She blinked. “Oh. The big cat I saw…holy shit, that was her?!”
“That was her.” I gave Chuck time to absorb that revelation and watched her look around the room as though seeing it for the first time. “She’s also the goddess of pregnant women and the protector of those in need. Some women she takes under her paw, like you.”
“This is insane.” Chuck laughed, shook her head, and continued stabbing at her noodles. “I mean, shit. I… I knew she was different. Yah know, you can feel it. I can feel it. Same as you…wait…what the hell are you, then? Are you an animal too? The eyes? You have—”
I waved her questions away, finished my mouthful, and said, “I’m not important. Don’t even have a name. But you and your unborn child, you are important. Important enough to want dead.” Setting the bowl aside, I brushed my hands together and leaned forward. “Chuck, I need you to answer me one question.”
She wet her lips and blinked wide, innocent eyes.
“Who is the child’s father?”
Her eyes clouded over. She looked into her bowl at the mass of noodles for answers and clearly didn’t find any because her little shoulders shrugged. “This is gonna sound crazy—and stupid. I mean, I think I was high…but I…” She wiped her mouth with the sleeve of the borrowed shirt. “I don’t know.” A nervous smile darted across her lips. “Maybe I was high, or maybe I was roofied, but I’m careful. I look out for that shit. I don’t remember anything. Maybe it was Immaculate Conception?” She laughed a nervous, tinkling laugh that held no humor.
There was another word for Immaculate Conception: Godstruck. She had been drugged, but not by any conventional means.
“You worked at the modeling agency?”
Her frown deepened. “Once, but they fired me when they found out where I live.”
“Do you remember that one time you worked for them? Do you remember where you went and who you were with?”
She set her bowl down on the bedside table and pulled the towel from her hair, ruffling her tangled locks. “Sure, it was just some guy. He hired me to hang around with him and look pretty on his arm. It was just a few hours. I smiled and kept my mouth shut. I figured he was lonely or something. Pretty dumb, but some people pay for weird shit.”
“Describe him.”
“Tall. Nice looking, really. He had pretty eyes. Dark hair, tanned skin, like he came from somewhere exotic. ” She frowned and scratched her head. “I dunno, just a guy. Nothing special.”
I was certain magic had eaten away at her memories. She remembered only what the magic had deliberately left her with. “Do you remember anything else? What was he wearing? Did he have any assistants or mention any events?”
She shrugged. “Nothing.” Her frown cut deeper. “Wait, there is something…”
My heart seized, already anticipating where this was going. “Go on.”
“He drove one of those fancy electric cars. Not the ugly ones, but those sleek, fast-looking things.”
“Color?”
“Black. Definitely black.”
A black Tesla. Osiris. Fuck. All the fucks. Osiris was the father of Chuck’s child, and he wanted my daughter and her unborn child dead. I’d suspected it, but the car, the car was key. Osiris. The one god nobody could touch. If he found Chuck with me, he would probably compel me to kill her, and I’d do it too. I slumped back in the chair and rubbed my forehead.
“You know who he is…” Chuck said, her voice small. “Was he someone important?”
I couldn’t hide her in the underworld. He’d find her. There wasn’t anywhere he wouldn’t find her. Goddamn gods. He was tidying up his mess, probably before Isis found out he’d been screwing escorts and planting seeds.
“Ace?” Her small voice trembled.
“He’s…” I wet my lips, met her frightened gaze, and tried again. “You don’t remember anything because he’s a god. If you spend any extended time in the presence of a god and they aren’t reining in their magic, you’ll end up godstruck. You won’t remember anything afterward. It’s how they get away with…everything.”
She swallowed hard. “He raped me?”
Osiris wouldn’t see it as rape. His perspective from up on his godly pedestal had been warped by millennia of worship. He’d probably consider it a gift that he’d chosen a lowly mortal like Chuck. “Yes.”
A dangerous glimmer sparked in her eyes. “That fucker. I’ll kill him.”
“And I’d be right alongside you, except I’ve tried.”
There was another way. I could bargain for her life. Trade something of worth. Osiris never could resist a good deal. Or I could trick him. Trick a god who’d lived seven millennia and seen it all? It’d be easier to bargain, but what did I have left to bargain with? He already had my soul.
“My baby is a god’s baby?” Chuck pressed her hand to her belly. Her face had lost all the color she’d regained.
“It’s a loose end, an unknown, and that’s something all gods hate.” I leaned forward, resting my chin on my steepled fingers. My gaze wandered to the protection spellwork above the bed. “There may be another way...”
Chapter 16
“Nameless One…kill the girl.”
Osiris’s mansion. Their bedchamber. The vast bed. I clawed at the memory—the dream—trying to tear it into pieces, but I couldn’t stop it.
The blade cut through the young woman’s throat like her skin was made of nothing but mist. I could hear myself screaming to stop, but the words never left my silent lips.
“I want to see you eat her soul.” Isis’s whispers poured into my ear. Her hand slid up my arm and over my shoulder until her fingertips fluttered across the back of my neck. My pulse raced so fast I could feel it beating on my tongue.
“Devour her soul.” Osiris’s compulsion tore through me, driving me to my knees. I caught the dying woman’s face in my hands. Her
brilliance shone, the light inside her welcoming and embracing me, like all good souls did. She looked at me, her eyes dulled by magic, and I fell into her as the two gods watched. The second I latched onto her soul, the consuming high gushed in. The deeper it flowed, the harder I pulled, so hungry for the light, until I had all of her embraced. And then, in that breathless, mindless moment, I wrapped the darkness around her and made her mine.
The liquid, intoxicating sound of Osiris’s deep, rich laugh caressed my mind.
Isis’s lips burned on mine. I thrust my tongue in, starved of her. She laughed and was gone, leaving me swaying on my knees, my soul burning, and the high riding me hard.
“Mm… our monster,” the goddess mused.
The room shifted, or I did, and settled again. Osiris was gone, and the dead girl’s body had vanished. Isis was lounging at the table, naked but for a gossamer gown. Blood clung to the edges of the crystal glass in her hand.
“Are you ever sated?” she asked.
I ran my gaze up her smooth legs, over her thighs and the curve of her waist, to where the wispy material clung to her breasts. I imagined my mouth there, my tongue running over her hard nipples. She’d arch under me, responding to my touch. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind a warning fluttered but soon died. Isis came alive under me—so smooth and so forbidden. I ran my hand lower. She parted her thighs, giving me permission. I kissed her lips, tasting honey and sweetness, and pushed my fingers between her legs as I drove my tongue in against hers. Breathless, I was mad for more.
A gasp—hers or mine—and I snapped open my eyes. My apartment, draped in shadows.
I darted my gaze around and straightened in the chair. The bed sheets outlined Chuck, asleep in my bed. Everything else was right where it should be. Nothing had changed. Nothing had happened. But my heart was racing, pounding its way out of my chest and pulsing hot blood through my veins. Adrenalin buzzed like an electrical current, as did magic too. Lust had me painfully aroused.
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