What a poor bargain he had made when he commanded Hathor, the Goddess of Love, to join them together.
Too late for regret. Now was the time for vengeance.
As he walked the pathway, SET peered into each chamber, searching for the one he wanted. In the middle, situated between a Chthonic demon and a Sumerian, Khuket—Goddess of Darkness and Chaos—resided. Curled into a tight ball in the shadowy corner of the room, SET listened to her labored breathing. She suffered. Eternal hunger gnawed her insides and reduced her to this mewling being. He would never know that hunger. The abundance of evil precluded that possibility.
SET swept his hand along the hieroglyphics lining the doorway to her chamber. The glyphs hummed to life. Their patterns changed, realigned, allowing the barrier to thin and him to pass. Her breathing hitched and her head craned on her neck. Her dark pixie hair was at odds with her ashen skin. Red rimmed, pitted eyes glared at him before she rolled onto her back, heaved a breath, and rolled once more onto her side.
A pert nipple peaked through the tattered remains of a gown showing vast stretches of flesh. A tight abdomen, the curve of her hip lay bare. The gown dipped into the valley between her slim legs, outlining her sex. All would’ve stoked a fire in any man. Regrettably, SET wasn’t a man and his embers burned for one who cared naught. If he could, he’d kill Hathor, the Goddess of Love, for binding him to his beloved wife, even though she did so at his command.
The conquered Goddess of Ogdoad studied him with hostile eyes. No less than all he deserved for his part in her pantheon’s defeat. The desire for revenge swam in her jade eyes. A fruitless endeavor. Death held no advantage over him or him over the final judgment. Besides, there were worse things than death—defeat. A condition she should be well acquainted with.
“Forgive me, Great God SET, for not welcoming you as you deserve. What brings you to my palace?” she rasped.
He stopped a smile from forming. “You do, Goddess.” His vis’Ra ebbed from his pores and gathered in a murky ball, hovering in the center of the cell. Khuket lurched to her feet. Sparks flared briefly in her eyes as she tracked the energy.
“I thank you for the recognition, but I am no longer a goddess.” She trembled.
SET waited for her to crumble, crawl, beg. She didn’t. “Though caged, I will not deny your true station, Khuket, Goddess of Ogdoad, the kingdom that came before my own.”
She sank gracefully to her knees, then genuflected and stayed bowed in that submissive position. He wasn’t fooled. Energy depleted, she had not the strength to gain her footing once more. He palmed the ball of energy and hurled it across the cell. Vis’Ra coated her, soaked into her. Khuket collapsed onto the earthen floor. Body arching, mouth agape in a silent scream, she thrashed. Her fingers gouged the ground until she banged her head once, twice leaving flecks of tar-like blood quenching the dirt. A shudder raced from the tips of her hair to her toes. Then, she stopped. She dry heaved once, twice, gritted her teeth, and bore down. He knew his energy didn’t quite suit her, but she needed it. She wouldn’t regurgitate his precious gift.
Khuket, the last remaining deity of The Eidos, a race of elementals who thrived in the first eons, gave a last shudder and stood. A flame flickered in the depths of her eyes. No longer wan and pasty, a thousand candles seemed to illuminate her from within. Edges of the tattered gown seamlessly knit together. The threads of her power stroked him, subtly shifting his emotions. Her steady gaze cooled to a smoldering ember when she met his gaze and her slight smile washed over him. He threw back his head and laughed.
“You are exactly what I need. I will grant you your freedom now and forever if you complete one task for me.” Her startled expression pleased him.
“You would free me? Once your enemy?”
He nodded.
“What is the task?” Suspicion edged each word.
“I need you to kill a human.”
“Why can you not kill this human yourself?”
He suffered her questioning stare for a moment. He wouldn’t her tell that he couldn't leave Chemmis. By caging Osiris, he had caged himself. “You will find this human for me. Destroy him. Then bring him to me, alive.”
A feral, eager grin split her face. “Who is this man that has earned your wrath?”
SET pushed all the knowledge he had of his nemesis into Khuket’s mind. Her lovely face lost all trace of emotion. “Are you up to the task or do you doubt your abilities?”
“Your will shall prevail, but this will take time, my lord.” Her level gaze didn’t skirt away from his.
She challenged him with the truth. “What is time to a god? Do you accept?”
“Yes, my God SET. I agree to your terms for my complete freedom. There are many ways to destroy a man. Do you have a preference?”
He did. “Make him love you. Then use that love against him.” As Nephythys used his love for her. Khuket’s jade eyes assessed him, searching for a way in. As if she had a chance of discovering anything he didn’t want her to know.
“Is that all?”
Demure and acquiescent, she portrayed the model servant. He liked that. He told her the terms and she accepted without haggling. Not that she had a choice. SET moved his hand along the hieroglyphics, causing them to glow. The sealed glass doorway turned back into its natural state, collapsing to the ground as golden sand.
Khuket crossed the threshold and sighed deeply. He noted a different look in her eye. Amusement? Curiosity? Both danced within their depths.
“What will stop me from leaving this place and doing as I please?”
SET changed, turned into a Typhon, a jackal-like mystical predator Ra defeated when he’d first conquered earth. The Greeks learned of the legend, created their own beast, and named it such, though nothing so magnificent as he. Sleek, coal-colored fur covered his body. Multiple rows of canine teeth populated his mouth. Small openings for ears and four pitted eyes comprised his head. Eight claw-like feet and a forked tail, all ten feet of him surrounded her.
He batted her back into the cell. Khuket skidded to the middle of the room and didn’t move. In this form, he had to battle to keep his more primitive impulses under control. He wanted to pounce and play with her before devouring her in delicious bits. Instead, he stalked her and pinned her to the floor. He crouched low and brought his snout close to her face. He liked the fright in her eyes and the way she trembled.
“I am SET, the God of all Evil. Wherever evil travels, hides, lives, I am drawn to it and it to me. You, defeated goddess, will never be able to hide from me. Your dark chaotic essence is the very thing which will lead me to you. Run. I need a good hunt.” He growled, drooling onto her face.
Her fear seeped into him, satisfying the rage her challenge stirred. He retreated and returned to the SET who had greeted her earlier. “Follow me.” He turned and again crossed the threshold of the cell. He glanced once more on Osiris’s crypt, swearing the god’s eyes followed him. Khuket paused and studied the occupant of the cell next to her.
“Fail in your oath and this prison will house you again,” he said.
“My oath binds me to your will, Great God SET. You will have your vengeance and I will have mine.”
Her form faded into the foundation of the prison. SET didn’t give chase. He let her believe she had achieved some small triumph because it wouldn’t last. And in the end, victory was much sweeter when you destroyed your opponent’s dreams. Instead, he listened to the sweet chimes of her laughter ringing in his soul.
CHAPTER SIX
Alexis didn’t expect a warm welcome from Vice, but the silent treatment was more than worn out. The men of Vice had the sensitivity of a sea sponge and the women weren’t much better. Praise traveled slowly while news of a screw-up rode the bullet train. Jokes, everyone had jokes. Why couldn’t they talk behind her back like normal folk? Nope, cops got in your face, up close and very personal, so they could see when it hurt.
And she’d had plenty of hurt. A rookie and the youngest detective on th
e squad, she was a pariah. When the legal department threw out the last detective’s exam rather than face a lawsuit from the Justice Department for discrimination, they agreed to open the test to every applicant, regardless of time on the job.
She hadn’t studied but took the exam for future reference. Scoring in the top percentage drew attention she never sought or wanted. The department had to offer her a position while encouraging her not to accept. Her pride wouldn’t let her turn it down. And she was glad. She loved the job. Well, maybe not all aspects of the job.
From the back of the squad room, she listened to her new lieutenant drone on about tourist complaints, target zones, and the joint task force with other Vice squads around the city. No surprise they put her on the hoe stroll her first day. As a patrol officer, she’d had a few assignments with Vice when they were short on female detectives. She remembered the drill.
Alexis squeezed into a pair of low-rise skinny jeans and stiletto heels. The racer back tee with shelf bra she had dug out from the bottom of her workout bag barely held in her rack—but she guessed that was the point—slutted her up. Pimped out by the department all in the name of lowering the crime rate. The principle behind the idea was great, until you dragged in the tight clothes and clear heels, and strolled up and down a seedy avenue hoping someone liked you enough to throw their family and career down the gutter. She loved catching the Johns with their lame excuses. She hated seeing the teary-faced wives bailing out their cheating spouses.
God, she never thought she’d be in this position again. Whether it was on the stroll or on stage, she despised being on display, judged for your body parts.
Raised in a family of military men, she wanted to wrestle, play baseball in the summer and basketball in the winter, not take ballet and piano lessons. She wanted to learn how to shoot and take karate lessons. Her life wasn’t about what she wanted. Forced to watch from the sidelines, to be the cheerleader instead of the jock, she did what she was expected to do, follow in Gloria’s Miss Florida 19-whatever footsteps. Why? Because Alexis Lever was the next Miss America.
Groomed from birth to be the epitome of grace, beauty, style, and class, she failed at each one. She was clumsy, awkward, and color blind so her clothes never matched. All she ever wanted was the respect of her father and brothers.
The disappointments in her failures were spread equally around. Her last stab at a title, any title, was at twenty when she competed in the Miss Westchester County pageant. She purposely gained weight, sang badly, and ate chocolate until her face looked like a pepperoni pizza. When it was over, she joined the police academy. Gloria didn’t speak to her for a year. Her brothers laughed. Her father was appalled at her joining the police academy one month after the pageant loss. He wanted her in the military, the family business. She didn’t need to walk the same paths her brothers had chosen and fail in comparison. Doing this job proved she was as good as any of them, brothers, co-workers, anyone.
Her father’s praise proved it. Finally, he acknowledged her accomplishment; she’d made it without using his name. Still, Gloria barely spoke to her.
Alexis shellacked on a thick layer of makeup and was surprised at the outcome. She hadn’t done a half-bad job. Maybe her time on the pageant circuit wasn’t a total waste.
No longer the fresh innocent girl teetering on the brink of womanhood that Gloria strove to portray, she looked like a woman with a story to tell. Too bad no one wanted to listen.
She snatched up her make-up and threw the kit into the back of her locker. It ricocheted before she slammed the door closed. A few catcalls were expected, not the stone cold silence following out the station and into the unmarked surveillance van.
“Hey, I need to place the electronics,” Delaney said.
She gritted her teeth and refused to meet his eyes when his chubby fingers slipped between her breast and his hand traveled up her shirt. How hard is it to place a strip of tape and a microphone? Three tries and he was still fumbling. He’d only been on the job fifteen years. She was sure he’d seen a set of tits in that time.
An arctic wind circled the interior of the van tossing papers into the air, sending goose bumps streaking down her spine. She glanced at the windows, but they were both closed.
“Done. Sorry about that.” Delaney murmured. He stepped away and wiped the sweat from his upper lip.
Damn. Delaney was a quiet and unassuming guy. Probably the nicest guy in the building. He didn’t deserve her unkind thoughts.
“Thanks,” she said and exited the van. Her heels clicked on the pavement like gunshots in her rush to escape. “Lever!” The lieutenant’s voice hissed in her ear. “Get your ass back here! You're too far to cover.”
“Yeah, Okay. Roger,” she mumbled into the mouthpiece.
Three hours later she had four arrests to Dalton’s nine. It’s not a competition; she lied to herself as she glanced at her partner. She had to admit Officer Dalton looked stunning in her Lycra catsuit with cutout abdomen. A petite woman at 5’4” 34-24-32. Ass high and tight, boobs pointing towards the sky. Her glossy blond hair glowed under the streetlights, which complemented her porcelain skin and pale hazel eyes. Standing next to her, Alexis felt every inch of her tall, inadequate frame. Her double d’s, freckled skin and hair that should have been wavy but instead was unruly and frizzy.
Swollen feet and an aching back had her leaning against a parking meter. The four-inch heels were not the Easy Spirit walking shoes she wore every day to work. She’d give anything for a massage.
Eleventh Avenue was usually a hodgepodge of denizens. Now, foot traffic had died down except for her, Dalton, and a few other brave streetwalkers on the stroll. Dalton glanced her way from the lamppost she had guarded for the last twenty minutes. They’d ignored each other all night.
“Lever.” Dalton nodded and walked over to her.
Alexis returned the rookie’s nod.
“I hate details like this.” Dalton covered her mic and whispered. “This is a waste of time.” Dalton started. “I’d rather be looking for the Strangler.”
As part of the few who knew the truth, hunting down Daniel Nicolis, Roman Nicolis’s adopted brother, was what Alexis would be doing right now if she were still in Homicide. One moment he was splattered on the pavement fifteen stories below Stella Walker’s apartment. The next moment his body, vanished from the morgue. Well, headquarters told the world he had vanished, but she’d seen the video. Getting up and walking out of the morgue’s cooler is very different from ‘vanishing.’ Then there was the Egyptian guy that helped Daniel and then disappeared into a whirling vortex.
Alexis covered her mic. “Where do you think he is?” she asked, letting Dalton draw her into the conversation.
“Cozumel with margaritas in each hand.” Dalton laughed at her own joke. “He knows we’re onto him. He’s been smart enough to evade us so far. I don’t think he’s interested in killing.”
“What is he interested in then?”
Dalton shrugged. “Power, control, dominance, the usual things men want.”
She hadn’t said anything Alexis didn’t know already. Alexis walked away, but Dalton followed her.
“I’m right; it’s the same anywhere you go.” Dalton matched her steps.
“I think you’re wrong,” Alexis said. She couldn’t stop herself from correcting the rookie as they strolled down the street. “This isn’t the usual man. His motivations are different. Like all serial killers, he doesn’t just like killing, he needs it.” She remembered the eviscerated remains of his last two victims and fought to keep down the Big Mac she’d had for dinner. “Everything indicates he’s spiraling down toward a crisis or a mental break. But now he’s gone to ground. Daniel’s an extremely motivated, trained killer. Also, he doesn’t have a type which puts everyone at risk.”
“Was he a victim of child abuse?” Dalton asked.
“Not confirmed, but it doesn’t matter. Abuse doesn’t turn you into a killer. It’s a decision you make. But I’d like
to know what turned him. I’d also like to know how long he’s been killing. He didn’t start this spree this summer. He’s been killing for a while.”
“Then he’s hidden the bodies well,” Officer Dalton stated.
“He could’ve been killing bums, indigents, prostitutes. We don’t know where his job at Nicolis Security has taken him.” Once again, everything revolved around the Nicolis family. Damn, she wanted back in the chase. “But I’m sure the feds and the department have things well in hand.” They had stopped in front of a bodega. “I’m dying out here. Let’s get some water.” She tapped her microphone. “We’re getting some water.”
“Roger, we’re calling it a night,” the Lieutenant replied over her earpiece.
That gave them a few minutes before the van picked them up. The bell dinged when they entered the small corner store. Salsa played over the radio and the attendant watched them behind bulletproof Plexiglas. They were hookers, his usual clientele, so he watched for a second then turned back to his twenty-inch flat screen. She passed a mirror in the corner of the ceiling and stopped. Loose and wild, her hair resembled a mane. The clothes and a ton of makeup made her into another woman, a woman with a heavy past and dark future. What would Paul think of the re-made version of Alexis Lever?
He’d love it. She could see the smirk on his always-charming face. Ugh! She pushed the unwanted thoughts away and stopped herself from grabbing a roll of Bounty and wiping her face clean. She couldn’t wait to get back to the precinct and wash the goop off.
Reign had seen her without all this crap. By his smoldering gaze, he didn’t find her lacking. She thought of her missing criminal and her insides sighed and turned liquid. Impossibly tall, impossibly big, impossibly gorgeous. His face, all hard angles, and planes. His electric blue eyes. She never liked men with long hair but on him, it was a requirement. Everything about him made her want to come over and over and over again. What would he think of her dressed like this?
The bell over the door broke her concentration. Three men entered the store and spread out. One stood by the door, another went to the cash register where the attendant waited, and the third wandered back to eyeball them. His gaze flickered between her and Dalton, sizing them up.
Everlasting (Descendants of Ra: Book 2) Page 5
