by Jean Murray
She glanced back at Bomani. He walked a few steps behind, scanning the darkness from the cover of his hood. He appeared more on edge than she. His enormous size drew a few shocked glances from the homeless who sat on the sidewalk. All shrank back against the building as he passed.
The warmth of his touch still plagued her as did the golden glow in his eyes. For the first time she saw them clear and bright, as they should be. His tenderness, despite her want of it, scared her. Disgust and loathing she could handle. Hatred, fear—she had grown accustom. She had no room for anything else, not when it would inevitably be taken from her. What awaited her in the future could not be stopped. She had accepted her fate long ago. Yet, she wanted to hear him say her other name. If Dennu had not arrived, she would have told him.
She returned her attention back to the street. The next corner would bring them to the red light district, packed with scantily clad women leaning in the passenger side windows of prospective clients. As she rounded the corner, she slowed to a stop.
“Problem?” Bomani stepped up beside her.
Siya scanned the empty street. A chill straightened her spine. “Too quiet. Human law enforcement raided this area prior to the reven infestations but rarely patrols this street anymore. Even the doorway lacks the resident pimp.”
“I ran into the youngling in the adjacent alley,” Bomani said over her shoulder.
“Where were you standing?” The trail of his previous touch flared hot again, despite her will to remain unaffected by his closeness.
He proceeded across the street and down the alley. She glanced back to the corner. Although the diner was not in line of sight, the red light flashed against windows of the adjacent building. This was all too close for comfort.
Shaking off her unease, Siya followed Bomani down the alley. Positioned at an intersecting street, he pointed. “He came from that way, chased by three human adolescents. The same group from the other night.”
She stooped down and scanned the road looking for any residual heat signature. “The younglings mask their scent among the others. Even more difficult to pick up when they are scared. Only thing left is energy, if anything at all.”
He squatted next to her and hovered his palm over the wet pavement. His eyes tracked down the alley. “This way.” He rose and jogged to the next cross street.
She sensed a mix of hormones and strong overbearing cologne. “The humans followed,” Siya said when she caught up with him.
Yellow and black tape stretched from one building to the dumpster on the other side. Cars flashed by at the far end of the next intersection with similar broken tape flapping in the wind. The coppery fragrance of human blood filled the air.
She ducked under and jogged to the most heavily scented area. A discarded pair of blue medical gloves drew her attention. She lifted it to her nose. Although faint, a bitter odor mixed with the blood. A human male and… The bitterness was too diluted to determine the source.
Bomani walked farther down the alley. “Three adolescents’ scents end here and only two backtrack from where we came.”
“We should assume the deceased was one of the boys,” Siya said, rising to her feet. The dumpster next to the murder scene was empty. Her eyes tracked upward to the roof’s edge. The youngling would have avoided the heavily populated street at the end.
“Would a youngling kill a human if cornered?” Bomani asked.
Siya shook her head. “It is against their base nature.”
“It is very possible something else was tracking the youngling. Or hunting the humans,” he said. “I found an oily substance smeared against the bricks.” He pointed to the opposite building. “Looks like reven blood, but that is not possible. Can we assume it came from the siravant?”
Siya tracked the black blood up the side of the building. Her stomach clenched knowing very well the possibility. Either the siravant or her father had found the youngling. Worst case scenario—both were true. “Perhaps the same creature from last night.”
“Would it risk revealing itself? And if it did, would it not have killed both humans to cover itself?” Bomani looked around. “A youngling would be no match for it, right? If the youngling did not kill the human, then who did?”
It was just two blocks from where she had run into Menthu. The day and time would match perfectly. “Another human?”
“If the youngling did survive, so much time has passed he could be anywhere,” he answered, looking up and down the street.
“I will take it from here,” she said, dismissing him. “It will be easier if I track him alone.” His gaze bore down upon her, but she refused to be intimidated. “Seeing you might make him run,” she added.
His eyes darkened and the muscles in his jaw twitched. He grabbed her arm and pushed her between the wall and the dumpster. “That is not reven or siravant blood. You know to whom it belongs.”
“Careful,” she hissed between clenched teeth. Her chest tightened in the cramp space, making it hard to fight the prickling that crawled up her spine. She shoved him back. “You need to leave. Now.” Before the side of herself she hated took control.
“I can help you.”
“You have been help enough,” she snapped, knowing she needed to protect him from not only Bast but her father. And, herself. “It is best you stay clear of trouble.”
“I have vowed to keep our truce,” he said, glaring at her.
“We both know you cannot uphold it, not without risking your stay here. Go back to base or better yet—go home,” she said with an ache in her chest. Her words struck a chord she knew would end this debate.
The air temperature around her plummeted with the fury building in his face. He sucked in the breathable air around them, leaving only the cold crystals of hatred she saw in his eyes.
She frowned, suddenly regretting her words. “Bomani—” A cloud of black mist pelted her face. “I am sorry,” she yelled into the empty air. Gods, she had the interpersonal skills of a reven. All teeth and no feelings. She waited a few minutes, hoping he would reappear. “I am sorry,” she whispered, hating he did exactly what she wanted of him.
It was for the best. Her reasoning did little to curb the growing pain in her chest. Damn it, stay focused on what is important here, she chastised herself. A youngling was in serious trouble.
She pulled her saber from her waist and jogged down the street following evil’s bitter scent. She may not be able to track the youngling, but instinct told her both would be waiting for her at the end of the trail.
She glanced back at the still empty street before rounding the corner. Her regret waned in favor of the hunt. After several turns, she stopped and stared down the next alley. A sweet sickly smell announced her target.
Going through the front doors would be suicide. She scanned the rooftop for scouts, but then again, large predators rarely required them. Needing to be unencumbered, she pulled off her coat and stuffed it behind an exhaust fan. With her grip tight on her saber, she leapt to the rooftop of the target building.
The lock to the roof access popped open in her hand. She descended down the main stairwell. The building remained silent as a crypt. Based on the smell, it had become one. Small beads of sweat rolled down her back and settled at the base of her spine.
Prickling and stinging, the dark energy crawled against her skin like scorpions. She edged forward with her weapon leading the charge. The stench of rotting corpses choked her throat. Human female bodies in various stages of decay littered the floor of the first room. Maggots writhed under the tissue, making the women appear as if they were moving. Sickened, Siya forced her gaze away and probed deeper into the building.
She leaned up against the door jam and peered into the next room. Bowls of what looked like spell ingredients consumed the large wooden table in the middle of the room. On the far wall, a large black text sat on another table. Her breath caught in her throat. She shifted into the room and ran her finger over the source of the heavy dark energy.
&
nbsp; A demotic text, book two of three. How had her father come across it?
Unlike the text under her care, this one’s pages were devoid of hieroglyphics. Instead of gold symbols, blood had been smeared across the black pages. Someone was trying to decode the text or break the spell binding it. A clatter in the hallway had her scrambling for the door.
A large room at the end of the hall opened up to the next story above. A dozen pale bodies dangled from the ceiling by their feet. Blood dripped into a large collection pan on the floor from gaping wounds at the throats.
Siya steadied herself and swallowed back the tears. Her father knew exactly where to hurt her, destroying the one thing she drew strength from. She recited a prayer to guide the souls to the afterlife, but she feared all were beyond saving. Apep would be waiting for them.
She walked past the lifeless eyes staring at her in contempt for not saving them. Flashbacks from years before the ancient war came to the forefront. After nightfall villages had been ravaged in much the same way. Bodies upon bodies had been bled out. Entire towns slaughtered. No one had heard their cries, as no one did here.
Movement flashed in the corner of her eye. Small and fast, she caught the glimpse of blond hair. She scanned the room again and risked following the youngling. They did not have much time before the siravants descended upon this place.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bomani had heard Sekhmet’s apology but was too furious to accept it. Her moods ran hot and cold. Every time he got close, she would shove him away. Her rejection infuriated him, not only for the fact he needed information, but he wanted her.
Desire rode him hard to the point he was willing to throw his freedom away for one taste of those lips. The more obstinate she became, the more he wanted to silence her scowl with a kiss she would not soon forget.
The gods truly had cursed him.
He shook off this growing infatuation and stared down at the bloodstain on the street. He regretted not intervening when he had first run into the youngling. Had he done so, the human male would probably still be alive. Another black mark against his already stained soul.
He tracked the blood up the side of the building and leapt up to the roof. The stench of rotten eggs wafted up from a large pool of black blood on the tar roof. An island of ash filled the center, surrounded by the oily moat.
A human and a siravant dead? Maybe the youngling got the upper hand? Very unlikely. Something did not add up.
He followed the blood trail to a large exhaust fan and leaned in closer. An iridescent liquid covered one of the fan blades.
Youngling blood? Had he followed Sekhmet, he would have completely missed this.
He searched the entire perimeter of the roof. The smell of death was stronger in certain areas than others. There had been more than one siravant on this roof. At least one at each corner. He stared down at the adjacent buildings. They were at the highest point on this block. He walked to the far corner closest to the busy street.
The heaviest concentration consolidated at this point, and the wall of stench hit him from twenty feet away.
“What in duat?” Bomani stared at the mounds of cigarette butts littering this section. He scanned the street and alley below. The yellow police tape flapped in the wind, as did the scent of human blood.
Did the siravants know to wait for the youngling here? Based on the number of cigarette butts, the siravants had been here for a while. Conducting surveillance? It was more likely the youngling had stumbled upon something he was not supposed to see. No, they were here for another reason.
Bomani lifted his gaze to stare at the gray city lights. Among the haze the dingy silver diner with its flashing red beacon appeared, like artwork framed between the buildings and the paved streets.
“Shit.” Bomani was not the only one hunting Sekhmet. The monster had already found his mark. He shifted his energy and flew through the street. Sekhmet was heading into a trap, set by Menthu. Any anger he may have had dissipated, replaced by overwhelming dread he was already too late.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bomani materialized just behind Sekhmet with the intent of yanking her out of this place. He knew his mistake the minute the goose bumps rose on the back of her neck.
She whipped around and lunged at him with her blade.
Bomani blocked her wrist, but not before she nicked his neck—again.
“Damn it, look what you made me do.” She leapt and pressed her fingers to the wound. Her heartbeat pounded in his ears. “What are you doing here? I told you to leave. Can you not just listen?” Her fingers slipped against his blood slick skin.
He covered her trembling hand with his own. “You need to get out of here.”
“You should know better than to sneak up on me in a room full of dead bodies,” she said, ignoring his warning.
“I should know better than to sneak up on you at all.”
She glared at him, but the upturn of her lips beguiled her stern scolding. “The youngling is here.”
“I know.”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “You know?”
“This is a trap, we need to leave now.” He restrained her by the arms.
“I will not leave without him.” Her enticing green eyes begged him to comply.
Gods, she could distract him even in the most urgent of situations. “The first sign of trouble we are out of here. Youngling or not.”
She nodded. “Thank you for coming.”
There it was again, the nagging need to kiss her.
“What is this?” he asked, staring at the gruesome sight over her shoulder. It disturbed him that he felt nothing for the humans, several of which he remembered from the other night as he watched them poisoning their bodies with drugs.
“They are sacrifices in honor of Apep. The blood will draw his followers here.”
“Where do we start looking?” Bomani scanned beyond the bodies, wanting nothing more than to get out of this death trap.
She laced her hand in his and pulled him from one room to another.
The deeper they plunged into the building the more Bomani’s hair stood on end. He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her to a stop. “This does not feel right. Why would the youngling stay in this place? If only to keep you here.”
“Are you suggesting he is infected?”
“I found blood on the roof, both siravant and creation. You have to be honest with me, is your father behind this?”
A pained look washed over her face. “Did Bast tell you?”
“You are in danger. He is coming for you.”
Sekhmet bit her lip and looked away. “Do you think less of me?”
“What—no! Did you not hear me? Menthu is coming for you.”
“We all have our demons,” she said and glided out of his reach.
“Sekhmet,” he called.
She stopped and looked over her shoulder, just enough he saw the graceful outline of her face. He had an odd sense of déjà vu.
“My name is—”
“Siya.” The name slipped free from his lips. Relief ran through him to finally remember. Not his memory though. Khalfani had given her the name.
She turned to face him, eyes wide. “What did you say?”
Black shadows crawled against the ceiling behind her head. “Siya!” He launched forward and tackled her. He rolled with her against his chest and narrowly missed a siravant’s large jaws.
The demons descended upon the bodies with a foray of claws and gnashing teeth. Blood splattered across the room. A siravant’s red eyes targeted them. Malice and hatred rolled off the creature in dark crashing waves. Bomani rose to his feet and pulled Siya with him.
The youngling jumped from the room to their right. The light blue eyes were obliterated with black. Empty and soulless. The youth lunged at Siya. With her back turned she did not see the incoming blade. Bomani pivoted and shoved Siya out of the way. The venom burned straight through his flank and into his abdomen.
S
iya’s blade sang through the air and sliced the pale flesh of the youth’s neck. Black blood erupted from the wound. Sulfur filled the air around them. Bomani grabbed Siya and dematerialized before the real monster arrived to claim his prize.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bomani could not risk the siravants tracing them back to base, so he went to the only other safe place he knew. His feet hit the black sand beach. His stomach rolled and pitched with the venom filtering through his body. Over the years he had grown accustom to its affects. Not quite as severe as a full-blooded god, but damn if it did not make him sick.
He stumbled, but Siya gripped his waist to steady him. “Sit here.” She guided him down to the sand. Her hands worked to rip his coat and shirt off to expose the wound. “Lie back.”
She leaned down and palpated the wound. The sour scent of venom exited the cut flesh. The blade had cut through the skin between the tattoos. Any other location and the blade would not have penetrated.
“I will be fine.”
“It is not the venom I am worried about.” She sniffed and rubbed the red glistening blood between her fingertips. She ran to the shore and cupped the black water in her hands. Kneeling by his side, she dripped the water into the wound. He closed his eyes and listened to her recite a short prayer.
The liquid cooled the venom’s burn.
“It is not enough. We need to get you into the water.” She grabbed the buckle of his pants and unclipped it.
“I got it,” he said, grabbing her hands from his zipper. Injured or not, he did not want any unexpected surprises. He stripped off his pants and waded into the water until it covered the laceration on his flank. Then he turned his gaze out over the water.
