Dark Sins and Desert Sands

by Stephanie Draven

Jack’s voice rose an octave. “You’re gonna torture me? Make me scream like a stuck hog? That’s what you want?”

  “Isn’t it the least you deserve?”

  Jack’s chest actually stuttered, his fists opening and closing, then he went still. Looking past Ray he said, “Maybe I do deserve it. Just don’t do it in front of the girl.”

  The girl? Ray whirled around to see Missy standing at the top of the staircase. What the hell was she doing here? So, no one had grabbed her. Not Scorpion Group or the cops. That’d just been a lie Jack had told to get him to run. Just another lie like a thousand others. It killed him to watch Missy run down the stairs and put her body between him and Jack, as if to shield the fucker.

  “Don’t hurt him,” Missy whispered, staring at Ray, her shoulders hunched in fear. She’d seen him beat her pimp half to death; she knew what he was capable of. “Jack’s been great to me, Ray. He already got me a job working in a coffee shop and told me I could stay here until I get on my feet. Isn’t that what you asked him to do?”

  Ray shook his head, trying to understand, then decided he didn’t want to. “Missy, just walk out that door and keep going. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  “Yes, it does,” Missy said stubbornly, yanking the duct tape off one of Jack’s wrists. She was setting the bastard free. “I’m not going to let you hurt him. Jack’s your friend. You just have to remember that.”

  “Jack’s the anonymous informant. Now get the hell out of here before you get hurt.”

  That was when they both heard the click of a pistol, cocked and ready. Jack had managed to reach into his desk and pull out his old service weapon with an unsteady hand. Ray wasn’t about to let Missy stand between him and a gun, so he spun her away and shouted, “Run!”

  But she didn’t run, and Jack didn’t shoot. “I’m not gonna hurt her,” Jack said, his hand shaking. “You gotta understand, I never wanted to hurt anybody….” So this was how it was going to end, Ray thought, staring down the barrel of Jack’s gun. His best friend was going to shoot him dead. Visions of Layla passed before him, as if she were standing in the room telling him to breathe. As if her cool hands were soothing his face, as if her lips were open and inviting beneath his. If he was going to die, he was glad his last thoughts were of her.

  “I’m sorry, Ray,” Jack was saying, his face red and twisted with pain.

  “So what are you waiting for?” Ray asked. “Pull the damned trigger.”

  Instead, the barrel of the gun slowly swiveled as Jack turned the gun on himself. Suddenly, everything Ray knew—or thought he knew—changed. He hadn’t been able to stop his brother from killing himself, and now another man he’d called brother was about to do the same. “Don’t you fucking do it, Jack!”

  “Why not? You want me dead. That’s why you’re here, ain’t it?”

  No. Ray was here because he’d been blind with a killing fury that he couldn’t control. He’d wanted Jack to hurt the way he’d been hurt. He’d wanted justice, and when he realized he couldn’t have that, he decided upon revenge. But he didn’t want this. “Listen, you country-fried douche bag, do you think killing yourself is going to erase the shit you’ve done? Because it won’t.”

  Jack’s pupils were wide and eerie, like maybe he wasn’t listening. “There’s no way to erase what I did to those people. Don’t you think I’ve tried? There’s no way I can ever make up for what I did to you, either, Ray.”

  That much was true. There was no apology that would ever return the past two years of Ray’s life to him. There was nothing that could ever compensate him for the pain. That didn’t mean that Ray wasn’t just going to stand here and watch Jack blow his brains out.

  “Well, I’ve got an idea,” Ray said, inching forward as Jack’s finger hovered over the trigger. “Why don’t you man up, Jack? Tell the truth instead of checking out and leaving everybody else with the mess to clean up.”

  Jack’s throat bobbed with emotion. “You think anybody would believe me? Even if they did, what do ya think is gonna happen to you, Ray? They aren’t gonna throw you a ticker-tape parade. Trust me, nobody in Washington is gonna risk jail time to clear your name. They’re gonna bury this and bury you, too.”

  Ray took another step forward, aware of the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Aware of Missy’s bated breath as she watched the unfolding scene in silence. Aware of every beat of his heart.

  “I never meant to hurt anybody,” Jack said again.

  “Then don’t,” Ray said, summoning whatever was left of his powers. He tasted the blood in the back of his throat as he met Jack’s gaze and held it, reaching for Jack’s consciousness. “Don’t hurt anybody. Hand it over.”

  Missy knew exactly what Ray was doing, and she broke in with, “Stop, Ray. You’re going to fry your brain!”

  She was probably right, but better that Ray burn out this way than doing Seth’s bidding. “Give me the gun, Jack.”

  “I—I can’t,” Jack said, resisting Ray’s weak influence. “Can’t see a way out of this. No way, no how.”

  “But there is a way,” Missy insisted, her sneakers crunching on the broken glass as she came close.

  “Missy, get back,” Ray barked. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “My boyfriend’s dad is some famous reporter, Jack. You can tell him your story.” Then she looked at Ray. “Let him call Carson’s dad.”

  “I need people to know that I never meant to hurt anyone,” Jack said, shaking now like he might go into a seizure. That’s when Ray was able to capture his mind. Blood flowed steadily from both Ray’s nostrils, but he was able to hammer at Jack’s will like hot metal in a forge.

  “Give me the gun.”

  With a choked sound, halfway between a sob and relief, Jack shoved the handle toward Ray. The grip of the pistol slicked Ray’s palm with sweat as he pulled it away and released the clip of ammunition, letting it fall harmlessly to the floor. Fighting down the urge to pistol-whip Jack, Ray pulled him free of the rest of the duct tape and said, “Go ahead. Make the call.”

  Jack crouched down, hands in his hair, sobbing. “If I tell ’em what really happened, Ray, we’ll both go to jail. Me for what I did, and you—”

  “For covering it up. I know.” Ray leaned back on the arm of the couch, pinching his nose in a vain effort to staunch the bleeding. He just didn’t care anymore. Without Layla, he didn’t care about anything. Besides, Layla had been right. He’d told himself that everything he’d done so far had been in the name of justice, but the dead deserved justice, too.

  A few minutes after Jack called the reporter, Ray thought he heard rhythmic footsteps clicking across the wooden deck. Someone breaking into the house? Ray grabbed the gun. He was still fuzzy-headed and near collapse, but through the bloody fog of Ray’s mind, he thought he saw Isabel Flores gingerly lift one designer shoe over the broken glass door to step inside. “¡Ay, caramba! This better be worth ruining my espadrilles…” she said. “Rayhan, the first time I saw you, I said you were trouble in a tight black T-shirt. How right I was.”

  It was all pretty surreal, and Ray didn’t even know where Jack had gone with the phone at this point, but what confused Ray most was the way Missy jumped to her feet and ran toward Isabel, throwing herself in her arms. “It’s okay! He didn’t kill anyone,” Missy cried.

  “You did well, my little butterfly,” Isabel said, hugging Missy into an embrace. “¿Cómo estás?”

  Ray squinted at Missy, who looked as happy as he’d ever seen her. “Wait. You two know each other?”

  “How else do you think I found you?” Isabel asked. “Every goddess has her minions.”

  Isabel? A goddess? Normally, Ray would have asked a million questions but nothing surprised him anymore. All he managed to get out was, “But…how?”

  Isabel pressed a kiss to Missy’s forehead. “I wouldn’t have found this little American Painted Lady if you hadn’t sent her to follow Layla. You treated her well, so I’m willing to help you. I
s that what you want to know?”

  Ray was too exhausted to hold the gun and it wasn’t loaded anyway, so he let his arm fall at his side, trying to make sense of the surreal scene unfolding before him. There was only one coherent thought he could cling to. “What I want to know is…where’s Layla?”

  Isabel shook her head. “Layla went back to Seth to buy you the rest of what looks to be your very short mortal life.”

  Ray braced himself, shaking the fog from his mind. There was no way in hell he was going to let Layla keep that bargain. Staggering to his feet, he forced the words through his raw throat. “Hey, Goddess Cha Cha or whoever you really are, will you help me make another trade?”

  Chapter 20

  I hold you tethered, I hold you still, and until you

  slip me, you have no free will.

  Layla walked behind Seth like a beaten dog on a leash as he led her outside. Still groggy from whatever he’d injected her with, and confused, she squinted into the morning light as it lit up the grass and stone walkway at the entrance of the building.

  “Get undressed,” Seth said without even looking at her.

  She’d known it was coming, but her stomach roiled and the breeze brought goose bumps to her arms. It was a weekend, so the parking lot was mostly empty but for some of the security personnel. Still, she looked up to the darkened windows. “Here?”

  She knew from long experience the kind of room that Seth preferred for intimacy. Someplace like the one in which she’d awakened. A place that was white and steel that could be wiped down, all evidence of passion easily washed away afterward. She couldn’t imagine why he’d want to reclaim her here unless it was to humiliate her.

  “Stop stalling, Layla. You allowed other men to touch you, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t be eager to service me the same way.”

  Service him. It was a horrible thing to contemplate. It made her rebellious and defiant. “Just what is it that you want me to do? Do you want me to kneel before you and stroke your petty little…ego?”

  Seth’s eyes bored into hers, his power crackling in the air. “Did you kneel for the minotaur?”

  She looked away.

  “I think that’s an obscene custom, but you probably enjoyed it.” Seth removed his own jacket, folding it neatly and draping it over the stairway railing. “Now, don’t make me tell you again. Get undressed.”

  Layla yanked her cotton shirt over her head and threw it on the ground. She kicked her shoes off next and felt the grass between her toes. She didn’t do it for Seth, she told herself. She did it for herself. Better that she boldly bare herself before he took her hard-won love of her body and turned it against her.

  “You should glance up at the windows to see if anyone is watching,” Seth said. “I suspect they are. Security. Secretaries. Perhaps the janitorial staff… Isn’t this what you want? All you whores, prancing about in your provocative clothing want the same thing. To be looked at. To be admired and idolized. Isn’t that what you desire?”

  When she didn’t answer, Seth snatched her bra off and let it fall. She was keenly aware of her exposed breasts, belly, shoulders and back, but lifted her chin to say, “Every desire I’ve ever had was something you created in me. You made me a woman and yet you want me to be ashamed of it.”

  This seemed not to have ever occurred to him before. His brow arched and he paused. “Then perhaps now is the time for me to honor you in all your natural splendor.”

  Seth yanked her skirt down, panties and all, until she was nearly tripping out of them, twisting to hide herself. “Oh, no need for shyness now. You really are quite lovely. You’ve always been a potent symbol. An ornamentation upon my arm. And you will be forever, Layla. Death will never find you and I’ll ensure that you never give life to the child inside you.”

  Now Layla did stumble, falling naked onto the grass. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around all that Seth had just said. He laughed at her confusion. “Didn’t you know that you were pregnant? You can’t tell me that you hadn’t planned it this way, just to spite me.”

  Pregnant.

  The word hung in the air before her like some ripe pomegranate swaying in the breeze. Like forbidden fruit that she ached to pluck before it vanished. Instinctively, her fingers splayed over her belly then drifted lower, to the place that covered her womb. It was a spot that had been numb and barren before Ray came into her world. Now everything had changed. She was going to have a baby. Ray’s baby. Even if she never saw him again, he’d given her this….

  Seth may have created her, but she and Ray had created a child. She knew it was too soon for her to feel anything inside her, but just the idea of a child was precious to her. This was something beautiful and sacred. A little life that she’d die to defend. That she’d kill to keep safe. The hairs bristled at the nape of her neck as Layla understood just what Seth meant to do to her and to the baby inside her. “Stay away from me!”

  Seth grabbed her and she would’ve screamed but everyone in the Scorpion Group compound worked for Seth. She knew that none of them would raise a finger to help her. None of them ever had. Instead of a scream, it was a roar she felt at the back of her throat. It carried over the wind and sent a flock of pigeons squawking into the air. She held up her hands to fend him off and saw her nails grow into claws. Layla’s body grew sleek and heavy with the muscles of a huntress. She was a sphinx. Part riddler. Part woman. Part lion. And it was the lioness that came out of her now.

  “Give your master one little kiss,” Seth snarled, and she slashed at him, shredding open his dress shirt and tearing at his divine flesh. The war god howled in outrage as his blood spattered to the grass and turned to sand. Then he threw her as if she were a mere stone in his pocket, and she skipped hard on the ground, until she tumbled to a stop, her tail twitching as she gasped for breath. She hoped there’d be time for her nose to elongate into a muzzle, for her jaws to give her teeth sharp enough to rip him apart.

  Once, she’d have tried to run, but she’d been running her whole life. Instead, Layla launched herself at Seth and they tumbled together as she raked him with her powerful back claws. Somehow the war god managed to climb on her back, dragging her down, his arm locked around her throat. She was trapped now. Half in lion form, half in woman form. It’s how he wanted her, she realized. It’s how all the other sphinxes had appeared throughout the world. His mouth was drawing closer and closer to hers. “Don’t struggle, my pet. I’m finally going to give you everything you’ve always wanted. Imagine how all manner of men will admire you as they come into this building.”

  Layla thrashed against him, using her back claws to try to gouge out his intestines. But Seth was stronger. “Every breath you take is one that I gave you,” he whispered, holding her shaking face still for his ruinous kiss. “Now I’m going to take some of it back and you’ll breath no more.”

  In the distance, Layla thought she heard a crash, like some kind of truck hitting a barrier, but her world had narrowed to the air she could still breathe.

  “Sand you were and sandstone you’ll become,” Seth whispered, taking his lips away just long enough to inhale. “Think how you’ll enjoy it when strangers touch you. How they’ll take pictures of you. Think of all the photos the sphinx in Giza poses for….”

  Seth found her mouth again and his lips tasted like ash. Desperate to wound him, Layla gnashed with her teeth. Bit him. Seth’s divine ichor spilled over her tongue, but it didn’t stop him.

  “Bitch,” Seth said, wiping his mouth, but the damage was done. He was inhaling, taking the breath from her. Sucking it from her lungs. She was never going to see the face of her baby. She was never going to wrap her arms around Ray. Never spend the night cradled in his arms. Never feel safe, or whole, ever again. Crushing pain pinned her to the ground. Her bones were calcifying. She felt her tail go rigid. Layla could scarcely believe that even Seth could be this cruel. He would turn her to stone and her baby with her, so that it could never be born. He meant to trap her here for e
ternity.

  Layla fought for breath and could find none. She tried to get up, but couldn’t. Her hindquarters were already stone. Soon the rest of her would be, too. And her mind was already spinning away, caught up in a sandstorm of its own.

  Ray saw Layla on the ground at Seth’s feet and he didn’t think; he just reacted. Crashing Jack’s truck through the security gate, braving the hail of bullets that followed, he pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The thump of the god’s corporeal form against the bumper wasn’t as loud as the resulting crash. The impact sent Seth’s body rolling up the hood of the car and his flying limbs punched through the windshield, forcing a spray of safety glass into Ray’s face.

  “Basta!” Isabel shouted, and though Ray didn’t speak much Spanish, he slammed the brakes. He flung himself out of the truck, shaking off bits of glass as he ran to Layla. When he reached her side, his blood turned to ice. She was half herself, half lioness, all sphinx. Still as stone.

  Behind him, Scorpion Group security guards came running. Ray heard the zip and ping of bullets ricocheting somewhere near him and returned fire as Isabel climbed out of the wreckage of the car and went to her knees in front of Layla. The goddess knelt beside Layla, caressing her.

  “What’s he done to her?” Ray shouted, eyeing the security team closing in on them.

  Isabel raised her hands and held off the men by entangling them in a thick net of jungle vines. Ray had never seen anything like it, but right now he didn’t have time to be amazed. All he could think of was Layla, who was murmuring, “Baby…save the baby…”

  The baby? Surely he misheard.

  “She needs your breath,” Isabel said, standing up. “Breathe for her.”

  He’d given mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to enough wounded soldiers. He knew what to do, and yet his hands were shaking as he took Layla’s face and exhaled into her mouth. He was horrified by the chill of her skin. How had he let this happen? She’d always said there were worse things Seth could do to her than kill her, but Ray wouldn’t have believed it if he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes. Her tail and hindquarters were already carved like a statue. Stone was creeping up her spine. Seth wasn’t killing her—he was entombing her.