Serpent's Game (The Soul Eater Book 5)

by Pippa Dacosta

  “I doubt she remembers much,” I added, aware my tone sounded flat, but I didn’t know how to fix it. “Not enough to make sense of it.” I wasn’t even sure if I was the one speaking. The street, when I looked up, was coming undone. Edges of houses blurred. Trees disintegrated, their leaves turning to ash. Was any of this real? I heard the howling storm like in the Twelve Gates and knew it would soon be upon us, tearing everything apart.

  “Hey.” Cat grabbed my arm and clamped her fingers hard enough to send a sharp dart of pain up my arm. “Ace?” She looked into my eyes, and whatever she saw hardened her expression. Maybe my eyes were black. Maybe they were golden. Maybe she saw the end of the world in their reflection, because I sure as hell saw it in hers.

  I shook her off. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you? You took whatever was killing her into you. I don’t think you’re fine.”

  No. No, I’m not okay. There’s a storm inside, and it’s about to break out. One more knock and I might shatter. “What do you want me to say?” I arranged my face into a neutral expression, but the suspicion on hers told me she wasn’t buying it.

  “Say anything, but don’t lie to me.”

  “Yes, I took the power into me. I expected the worst. Nothing happened. I don’t know what to tell you. Now get out of the way.”

  “Where are you going?”

  To see a god about a storm. “I’m not leaving town if that’s what you’re thinking. I still have something to do for Osiris.”

  I had to find the boy. Osiris’s threat hung over Cujo and his family. It wouldn’t be over until I told Osiris where he could shove his threats. With any luck, that would be soon, because at this rate, I wouldn’t last another day.

  Cat’s eyes narrowed. “I was there when you lost your shit with those witches. I’ve seen what you can do.” She grabbed the Ducati’s handlebars, bringing her in close. “I saw what happened in the yard with Isis. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I think you’re moments away from breaking down. That slave cuff you’re wearing has the others breathing easy, but not me. It might as well be a friendship bracelet for all the hold it has over you. Shukra looks at you like she’s about to unleash the serious mojo.” She paused. If she expected me to fill her in on why Shukra was wary of me, she’d be waiting for a while. She didn’t need to know what I was. It would be over soon anyway.

  Her lips skewed sideways. “You don’t wanna tell me, that’s fine. You don’t owe me an explanation, but I want you to know I’m here. I’m not running away from you. I’m not afraid of you, Ace Dante.” My name on her lips sent a jolt of reality through my veins, and the sand faded from my sight.

  “Thank you. Now get out of my way, Cat.”

  The challenge in her glare wasn’t over, but she stepped aside and let me fire up the Ducati. I sped away from the curb, from Cat, Cujo, his family, and human expectations with the sounds of all the souls I’d consumed screaming as loud in my head as the Ducati’s engine.

  I’d taken in the truth. I’d unlocked the memories from the box. It waited inside like a beast hidden just inside a cave. One wrong step, one wrong glance, and it would leap from the dark and swallow me whole.

  I had to hold it back. I wasn’t ready. Not yet. Still Ace Dante. Still a man. I still cared. I could still make a difference. It wasn’t over. Just another few hours. Another day… Just… I just needed to be a man for a little while longer. Needed to cling to Ace’s life because the second I let him go…

  What if the apocalypse was not an event, but a man?

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the motel lot and found Cat waiting outside my motel room. She leaned a shoulder against the door, making it clear she had no intention of leaving. I parked the bike, dismounted, and dug into my pocket for the motel key card.

  “You’re walking a dangerous line,” I told her as I climbed the steps onto the walkway.

  Cat straightened, blocking the door. “So are you.”

  I could show her exactly who and what she was dealing with, but if I did, I might not be able to pick up the pieces and put myself back together again.

  “What do you want from me?” I hadn’t meant it to sound like defeat, but tiredness had its claws in me. Five hundred years’ worth of lies, of hiding, of fighting.

  Stop fighting.

  “I want to help you.” She stood closer, looking at me with her head cocked, her hair loose and messy around her face. She smelled of wild meadows and warm grass, like lush temple gardens. There was no smile on her lips, but it hid in her green eyes for those who knew where to find it.

  Before I could think to stop myself, I pressed a hand to her cheek and whispered close to her lips, “Stay with me.”

  I couldn’t be alone. If I went inside that motel room without her, I’d find ash and sand waiting. Alone was where the dark closed in.

  Cat’s tantalizingly soft lips brushed mine. My breath hitched, but not from desire. I’d never been so afraid to live. Maybe Osiris was right. Maybe he’d been right all along. If you could stop the apocalypse by condemning one man, you would.

  Her light fingers settled against my neck and her kiss deepened. She couldn’t miss how I trembled. To hide the fear, I slid a hand around her waist and pulled her close. There were a million reasons why kissing Cat was a terrible idea, but I was beyond caring about reason. I needed to forget and to feel.

  Her kiss slowed. She nudged her chin against mine and brushed her lips down my jaw, pausing to whisper, “I understand.”

  I wasn’t sure what she thought she understood. Maybe all of it. She probably knew me better than I knew myself. She’d watched me with those keen eyes for months in secret. She’d stalked me down, hunting for the truth. And here she was. I wanted to tell her everything—all of it—but most of all, I wanted her. Her smell, her touch, her whispers—all of her. With her close, the storm receded.

  I fumbled with the keycard as Cat’s fingers played with my shirt buttons, and her tongue played with mine. The door flung open, dumping us inside. I kicked it closed behind us and eased a hand into Cat’s hair, cradling her head so I could kiss her the way I’d wanted to since showing her my home in Duat. No, long before that. My ragged human heart thudded hard, and the rest of me came alive as she clutched my ass and yanked me against her. I needed the feel of her in and on me so everything else could fall away. I wanted—needed the screaming souls silenced. I shoved her against the dresser, hands and mouth and tongue exploring, reveling in the taste of Cat, in the feel of her pulse, the beat of her blood, and how her hands scorched me where they touched. She hooked her legs around me and ground her hips in all the painfully right ways. I pulled off her top and pressed a kiss over her racing heart. I tasted her lips and her neck, and I swirled my tongue across her breasts. I felt her hands sink lower and work open my fly. In the rush of need, there wasn’t room for anything else. Just Cat. I could have drowned in the feel of her. I wanted to.

  She arched against me, letting out a low warning growl that sounded more feline than human. Her shuddering response, her quick breaths, I needed to feel and hear more. The nails of one hand dug into the back of my neck while her other hand tugged at my pants. When she focused on me again, her green-eyed glare told me I’d be lucky to survive what came next. I welcomed the challenge with a smile.

  “Bring me the boy.” Sands hissed, erasing the voice, the memory.

  I opened my eyes, expecting to see Duat’s withered stone, but instead blinked into thick gloom. Ash was piled high in the corners of the motel room. It spun like silk from the dull lights, but as the fog of sleep cleared, the ash faded away. A car alarm shrilled somewhere outside. Traffic rumbled by. Reality seeped back into my thoughts, dragging with it the sound of Cat’s gentle snoring.

  Turning onto my side, I admired her as she slept. The sheet had spilled down her arm and collected in the dip of her waist, leaving her top half and one leg uncovered. The little paw print tattoo on her ankle caught my eye. It had proven exceptionally ticklish
when I discovered it. Much like other sweet little parts of hers. Crisscross scars marred her body too. Battle wounds and those from the time she’d almost died when her truck careened off a freeway. Yet there was delight in her too, though she kept it well hidden. Her laugh was another treasure I’d uncovered. I couldn’t get enough of it.

  My cell rumbled nearby. I considered ignoring it, but as Cat stirred, I reached over and snatched it off the floor, noting the scattered bits of broken furniture and clothing tossed around the room. Scratches on my body throbbed warmly.

  Cujo, the cell displayed.

  “Hey, is Chantal okay?” I whispered and sat up.

  “She’s fine. Sleeping.”

  I righted the bedside clock that had been knocked from the toppled table. 4:00 a.m. “Why aren’t you?”

  “Had the cops around. Coroner left an hour ago. Isis cut Judith’s throat. It was quick. Cops are starting a manhunt…”

  A manhunt they’d never solve.

  “I haven’t told her about her mother yet…”

  A heavy silence settled between us. Whatever words I might say wouldn’t make a difference. Isis had killed his wife to get to me. I should have walked away years ago. This was on me. “It’s over, Cujo. You and me. We’re done. No more looking into all the weird shit. You have a kid who needs you.”

  “Yeah, you can keep telling yourself that all you like. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna listen. The girl. Chuck… Why are you whispering?”

  “Cat’s sleeping.”

  The snoring had stopped. A quick glance confirmed her eyes were closed, but she was probably listening. I threw the sheet back and set about collecting my clothes from where I’d tossed them, wincing a little where Cat’s affections had left their mark.

  “She’s good for you, yah know,” Cujo remarked. “She’ll keep you in line.”

  I admired Cat sprawled on the bed. Even while sleeping she looked ready to spring to her feet and slaughter her enemies. But I knew how to make her purr.

  “So, the girl—” Cujo said, dragging me back from my thoughts.

  “I’ll come by and grab the files. After that, you need to leave this alone.”

  “That’s some god complex you’ve got. I’m a grown man. You can’t tell me shit.”

  I cradled the phone against my shoulder and tugged on my pants. “I’ll put it another way. If you don’t back off, you and your daughter will die. Take a few weeks off work, stay home, and keep a gun close. If I’m right, the gods are gearing up for a showdown and the east coast will likely be their battleground. How’s that for telling you shit?”

  He grumbled something indecipherable. “The girl, Chuck. She lives at the Olde Towne development off Ruppsville Road,” he continued, ignoring my warning disguised as a threat. “There’s been disturbances in the neighborhood. Guess whose house is right in the middle of the weird shit. X marks the spot.”

  Cat hadn’t moved. The light from the window draped over her hips and pooled in her curves. It would have been easy to lie down next to her, draw her close, and explore her all over again. I’d been thorough the last few times, but I could have missed a ticklish spot. There was something delightful about making a killer giggle. The thought almost pulled me back down onto the bed.

  “Cujo.” I tore my gaze away from temptation and peered through the window at my waiting Ducati. “Don’t hang your hopes on Ace Dante. He’s a lie.” I could hear the screams creeping back in and the power of the truth feeling around my mind, probing for a way inside. If I blinked, I’d see the ash eating at the edges of the world.

  “Ace Dante saved my daughter.”

  This time, I lowered my voice and added an undercurrent of power, “Stay out of it or die.”

  In the quiet that followed, he’d be weighing all the things he thought he knew about me. But he’d also seen what the gods could do. They’d destroyed his life. His ex-wife was dead. He had a daughter to protect. He would do the right thing. Sometimes, being a hero meant simply being a father.

  “I hear yah.” He sighed. “And I’ll consider it. Come get the girl’s file.”

  I picked up the file as the clouds lingering over Allentown dumped a months’ worth of rain in twenty minutes. Cujo hadn’t said much, and I hadn’t asked. It was better that way. I’d taken Shukra aside and made sure she understood the situation. On my way out, I spotted her standing behind a rain-obscured window. Shukra eyed me warily. I gave her a nod. She returned it—instructions received and understood. Keep them safe.

  Back in the center of the city, I parked the bike up the street from a Starbucks, grabbed a coffee and a booth, and scanned Cujo’s file on the girl. Chuck was in her early twenties. Date of birth uncertain. She’d been in and out of foster homes and held down a few minor jobs, but she’d also spent a lot of time with no fixed address. A minor rap sheet brought up nothing unexpected for a girl living rough.

  Everything pointed to a life careening off the rails until I searched her current address on my cell. The apartment she lived in was part of a new development designed to attract New Yorkers with deep pockets to weekend apartments. The building had once been a mill. Now it looked like the kind of place an investment banker might spend his weekends, not somewhere I’d find a single mom. There was no indication of family money in her background, but someone had ensured she fell on her feet.

  Fifteen minutes later, I parked the bike a block away from Chuck’s building and strolled up to it on foot, only to find Cat’s rental car parked outside on the street. I jumped inside the car. She was looking away, up at Chuck’s building.

  “What have we got?” she asked, turning her no-nonsense gaze on me.

  She must have overheard Cujo giving me Chuck’s address while pretending to be asleep. I couldn’t stop my lips from twitching up into a smile.

  Cat had always looked at me the same way, be it in cat form or human form. That same flat, assessing gaze that said she’d tolerate me for as long as I was useful. But after last night, her appraisal held a hungry, knowing edge. I knew what she sounded like when on the cusp of pleasure, knew what she felt like, her thighs slick under my hands. And she’d explored all the ways to make a soul eater crazy for more.

  I handed over Chuck’s photo before my wandering thoughts showed in my eyes. “I need you to pay her a visit, take a look around her place—apartment 3B—and report back.”

  Her green eyes met mine. “And how are you?”

  “I am fine.” And I was, for now. The rest, the memories, the power, the storm of sand, I couldn’t think about that. Not here. Not yet. I had a job to do.

  She nodded once, believing me, and scanned the picture. In a flash of too-bright light, human Cat vanished, replaced by her green-eyed, black-furred alter ego sitting in a pool of clothes on the driver’s seat. I leaned over her seat and shoved open her door. She dragged her erect tail under my jaw and hopped out.

  “I prefer your human ass,” I drawled. Her left ear flicked, a sign I took to mean she’d heard. A minute later, she trotted out of sight around the back of the building. An open window, a vent, she’d find a way inside. I never had figured out how she’d gotten into my office all those times.

  I settled in for the wait, focusing on the files and not the rousing memories of the wild Cat from last night.

  A scratching at the door signaled Cat’s return. She hopped up into the seat and was back in the flesh in a blur. She wriggled into her clothes in the space of ten seconds.

  “I’ve had practice,” she explained.

  I was very familiar with how flexible she was. Focus on the job. Not the Cat. “What did you find?”

  She flicked her hair out of her face. “Nice place. Looks clean. Lacks a personal touch like she’s not planning on staying long. Smells like paint and polish. The carpet has a treatment on it that sticks to my paws.” She licked at her hand. “What were you expecting?”

  “Kids’ toys?”

  Cat twisted in the seat and arched an eyebrow. “Kids’ toys?” She narrowed h
er eyes. “No. None. What are we here for exactly?”

  “I was sure…” Maybe Chuck had given the kid up at birth. That might explain the nice place and the money. “No cot? Nothing baby related?”

  Those narrow eyes adopted a frown. “Why are you looking for a baby?”

  “Osiris wants a boy.”

  Her frown deepened. “Can’t he make one like everyone else? He seems pretty liberal with his blessings.”

  “It has to be this kid.” The girl, Chuck, could have hidden the kid somewhere. But that didn’t explain why Cujo’s research had marked this apartment as the epicenter of weirdness in the city.

  “Are you planning to kidnap that girl’s child? If you are, that’s low, even for you.”

  “Yes.” She recoiled. “No. Look, it’s potentially a god’s soul in the body of a baby, okay?”

  “No, not okay. A what?” Realization dawned on her, and her eyes widened. She’d witnessed me stabbing Thoth in the chest right after the god had spouted nonsense about kids and prophecies.

  “Thoth is this baby?” she whispered as though the gods might be listening.

  “Maybe.” I told her about the unusual occurrences happening nearby and how they all pointed to this address and this girl. “Osiris thinks so, and he ordered me to take it to him.”

  “A child is not an it, Ace.” And we were back to disapproving frowns. “What are you, a few hundred years old? Haven’t you ever had kids?”

  I averted my gaze and focused on the papers. If I’d had kids, that would have made them the spawn of Apophis. I wouldn’t wish that on my enemy. “One soul eater is enough.”

  Cat sensed when to drop a subject and instead peered through the windshield up at the building. “Why don’t you go ask her about this kid?”

  Because you know those crucial last days when your queen, Bastet, went missing? The queen you’ve vowed to avenge. Yeah, this girl was involved, and I seem to have misplaced those memories. How careless of me.