Pain sliced my heart.
I’d only be able to shift one more time—to revert to human form. After that, the cat in my soul would be stifled without me having my scarab, as a bulk of my magickal powers were housed within the amulet.
I sighed.
How I was going to fight Maahes and Selene without the ability to morph, I hadn’t a clue. In human form I couldn’t take on a leopard, lion, or other big cat.
Somehow, I had to get my sacred scarab back. But I needed to survive first, which meant everything else would have to wait.
I slid down from the barge’s side, wrapped my tail around my body and curled into a ball.
Sorrow filled my soul. I was leaving behind everything, my home, my mother’s treasures, even my three big cats—the lion, tiger, and panther my father had given me the day I’d left Rome to come to Bubastis. Everything dear to me was now lost.
I trembled.
Heat from the sun’s rays blanketed my fur.
Letting out a deep breath, I prayed I would survive in general, but hopes were not high on that front as the acrid taste of the omen of troubled times yet to come, still lingered on my tongue.
I closed my eyes.
The sun’s warmth vanished, a chill racing through my bones.
I fluttered my eyelids open.
A shadow loomed over me.
Slowly, I looked up and saw not one set, but three sets of sandal-clad feet.
Romans.
Raising my gaze higher, I gasped.
Three Praetorians stared down at me.
Wisps of gold smoke curled off their capes, though I doubted the average mortal could see the auras.
I swallowed.
The curses that had escaped my three feline mummies desecrated in my mother’s temple, had finally materialized with substance.
1
Keti
Manhattan, Present Day…
Not all curses are created equal.
Nor are they all bad.
Those were the first two lessons I’d learned the day I’d fled Bubastis, though I would have preferred to have had a little heads up on that front, as navigating the unknown is scary as hell.
But some curses truly are meant for good as some are put in place to protect the dead, while others are used to defend the living. I myself had cast three curses to purify the souls of a dead lioness, a pantheress, and a tigress. Though at the time I had no knowledge the three felines I’d prepared for Duat, had during their lifetime each coupled with a different mortal Roman and had each given birth to a Cat’Hu son. Those three half-cat, half-human sons grew up to become immortal Praetorians and eventually came to be my trio of guardians.
Those curses I’d cast were good.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for the ones hovering over the Cat’Hu cheetah now sprawled on my stainless-steel table. The cold body had come to me curtesy of my uncle Khonsu.
Like a loyal cat who brings its beloved human a caught mouse or mangled bird, the Egyptian moon god often left supernatural feline road kill on my door step. Though I doubted it had anything to do with me being Khonsu’s favorite person. The man was pragmatic. I was the only Cat’Hu veterinarian and mortician this side of ancient Memphis, which basically meant I was the sole person of my species in both professions, on the planet. Tending to the dead of my race took even more skill than did treating the living.
I turned the cheetah over and finished anointing him with a mixture of thyme, lavender, and rose oil, then wrapped him in linen.
I alone knew how to prepare and send a Cat’Hu’s remains off to Duat. And I had no choice but to get it right as I hadn’t the desire to be held responsible for a soul that failed in the Weighing of the Heart. The goddess Ma’at was ruthless with the use of her scales of justice, measuring a heart’s sins against the weight of an Ostrich feather. I mean, really, who the hell did that? It didn’t even make sense to the mortal side of my brain, but the rite existed for thousands of years, and somehow worked.
You either balanced the scales and your soul went on to be greeted by the god Osiris in the heavenly reed fields of Aaru, or you tipped the scales and fell to the crocodilian-jawed demoness Ammit who then devoured your heart, leaving your spirit to wander restlessly through the Land of the Dead, for eternity. To date, I hadn’t lost a single soul. But this cheetah was definitely moving on to the afterlife with darkness intact. I couldn’t break the curses shadowing it.
Saying a final prayer, I blessed the cheetah’s mummified body and then watched it vanish, though I did wish I could have sent his soul on to the afterlife in human form. But with no scarab found on his body, shifting him was impossible.
I capped the alabaster ointment jars I’d used to contain the anointing oils, and returned them to the counter behind me.
Khonsu knew exactly what he was doing by bringing me whatever recently dead or dying Cat’Hu he’d come across. His greatest priority was to keep Bastet on the winning edge in her battle with Selene. And since every Cat’Hu soul the Titan absorbed diminished my peoples’ powers by one notch, my uncle did all he could to prevent that decline. By delivering to me dying Cat’Hu so I could breathe in their energies which ultimately dispersed themselves back among my species, the Cat’Hu race remained empowered. And we needed to retain our strength to continue fighting Selene. Even cursed, the energy from today’s cheetah helped aid my people.
I gave a silent thanks to my uncle.
Khonsu was a great support to our cause. Though his help didn’t come without consequence as his actions irked my estranged half-brother Maahes. And recently the arrogant beast saw fit to cozy up to our grandfather Ra, so the all-powerful Egyptian deity would declare me ‘d’Ma’at’—outside the law—stripping me of the right to Bastet’s powers, treasures, and all else associated with her entailed estate, save for the war with Selene.
Ra’s verdict didn’t go down well with my mother based on the note that magickally appeared in my mail pile the other day.
Nor did it make things easy on me, though I did have Bastet’s secret texts thanks to Khonsu. And since those weren’t entailed, I had a good dose of magick still available to me. But it wasn’t everything I should have had.
Essentially, it all meant I was living with one bitchy Greek goddess breathing down my back and one pompous Egyptian god waiting to pounce the second I did something that violated my new status of being d’Ma’at. But I was smarter than both my brother and Selene.
Or so I’d thought until tonight when the dying cheetah ended up at my clinic with gashes around its neck as if a chain or collar had been ripped from his body, which explained why no scarab was found. Either it was lost in a fight or stolen on purpose.
The ninety-five-pound feline also suffered a Selenian freeze, the weapon of choice used by Selene’s beasts. Three quarters of the big cat’s blood had literally been frozen to the point no human method could thaw it. Its naturally enlarged heart simply had nothing to pump as Selenian ice can’t move through one’s veins.
Selene was upping her game.
Stealing scarabs was a new twist in the war, not that the amulets hadn’t ever gone missing in the past, but those incidents were rare, like the case of my scarab having been lost the day I’d fled Bubastis. But losing a scarab wasn’t the same as stealing one. Relics usually had curses attached—good and bad. And anyone who knew anything about ancient Egypt and their gods, specifically Bastet, knew my mother’s darker side was an entity whose curses you didn’t care to test. Thieves would pay a price for stealing a Cat’Hu scarab. Unfortunately, Selene being a goddess, wouldn’t. She’d get to absorb the powers within the scarab and suffer nothing for it.
I splayed my hands on the table’s cool steel surface, tried to quell the heat of anger rising in my soul.
The chaos that would ensue if this thieving kept up wouldn’t affect just felines. Maahes and Selene were vicious when it came to their treatment of humans. And if either of them won the war, the gods of old would return t
o power and they’d come back stronger and more ruthless than before.
The Cat’Hu were humanity’s last hope.
And I was the Cat’Hu’s last chance for a future.
I planned on fighting until I’d breathed my dying breath.
A knock sounded at the door.
I didn’t keep regular night hours at the clinic, so either someone had broken in or one of my three guardians had arrived. Though I was betting on it being the latter as I hadn’t ever met a thief polite enough to wait to be asked in.
“Come.”
The door creaked open and revealed a very smug Marcus standing in the hall dressed in a scarf and unbuttoned short coat, a black backpack in one hand, screwdriver in the other. For a curse, he was damn enticing. Who would have thought the lion, tiger, and panther my father had given me the day I’d left Rome for Bubastis to serve my mother, would have turned out to be the sons of the first three felines I’d sent off to Duat. For years, they hadn’t shifted form in my presence. I’d only first met the human side of them that day on the barge fleeing Bubastis. But they’d done their job of guarding me quite well, insisting their service went beyond just protecting my life.
I squeezed my legs together, the memory of our first fuck igniting a heat at my clit, even all these years later.
Marcus raised the screwdriver in his hand. “I’ve come to tweak the hinge.”
“Have at it.” I smiled. The hinge wasn’t the only thing my hunky Praetorian was going to have to ‘tweak’ tonight, though divulging my personal list of cravings at the moment would just keep my door from getting fixed and its creak did annoy me.
I gave Marcus the once over as he reached up and went to work on the loose brass plate. Even shielded by the black wool coat his muscled-form was evident.
For a former Praetorian, the man looked mighty fine in contemporary gray dress slacks and black turtleneck. Maybe it had to do with his six-foot-two height, or perhaps even his cocoa-colored eyes and deep brown hair, but regardless of the reason, after all this time, I still had a thing for him. Though I had to admit there was no turn-on stronger than a Roman Praetorian dressed in full regalia, ordering his cohorts to tie your wrists to the bed posts using their white focale scarves while he spread your legs and then stroked your clit with the feathers of his Galea helmet. Or grounded the smooth, rounded edge of his metal shin armor against your nub. I’ve been a sucker for men in uniform ever since. And thank the gods I had three guys, not just one. Though I did miss those Roman uniforms.
My cheeks warmed.
“Mind in the gutter again, sexy Keti?”
“As always.”
Marcus sauntered in to the room, screwdriver now tucked away in his backpack. “Well, you better stay in the mood because when we get home we’re going to have to do whatever it takes to rev up your energies. Selene is stewing again.”
I did not need to deal with that bitch tonight. “What now?”
“Word among the feline world has it the Titan dined with your grandfather last night, and during their intimate meal, managed to convince Ra that the only morticians who should be tending to feline shifters are those who bear proper credentials such as a Bastet-blessed scarab. Now Ra is challenging all burials to insure they’ve been handled by qualified undertakers, including Cat’Hu burials. He’s requiring proof.”
Proof, I of course, did not have. “Selene knows damn well I lost my scarab while fleeing her men. If I hadn’t shifted at that precise moment, I’d have ended up dead for killing her pompous Praetorian. A crime I did not commit.”
I hated recalling the traumatic event. “I don’t even know where my scarab is anymore. I’m certain it’s not still in the sand in Bubastis as I’ve sensed it nearer to me over the centuries, but every time I think I’ve made a definite connection, the preternatural tether snaps and I’m right back where I started.”
Marcus gave me a soulful stare. “There’s more.”
“Of course there’s more. There always is where my family is concerned because normalcy can’t exist in a clan of gods who live to conspire against one another.”
“Glad you understand because it’s only going to get worse.” A pained look crossed Marcus’s face.
Crap. When an immortal Roman thought something was bad, it had to be halfway down the latrine to begin with.
“Ra has put a three-day limit on the verification order. And it includes today, so technically you have even less time.”
Just frickin’ great. I had a little more than two days to find a scarab I’d lost in the sands of Bubastis over two thousand years ago. How the hell was I going to do that? “And the repercussions should I fail to produce a scarab?”
Marcus rubbed his chin. “Ammit gets the meal of a lifetime.”
My race would end. The peaceful rest of every soul I’d ever prepared for the Land of the Dead would be snatched by a vile crocodilian demoness.
I shook my head and grabbed a sterile cloth along with a spray bottle of disinfectant from the counter behind me. “If Ammit devours all those souls, then the energies I’ve absorbed from them will be ripped from my people. And I’ll bet my last denarius Selene will be the first in line waiting to suck it all in.”
For once, I just wished the gods would get tired of screwing me. But I knew that was a long shot. Somehow, I had to figure my way out of this mess or the entire Cat’Hu race would be gone for good, me included.
I proceeded to wash down the stainless-steel table where I’d rested the cheetah earlier. Cleaning helped me clear my head.
Marcus reached for my hand, stopped it mid-circle as I scrubbed the metal surface. “I know you’re upset.”
“You think?”
“We can do this, Keti.” Notes of spikenard and myrrh lifted from his turtleneck.
Taking a deep breath, I reveled in the spicy scent. The smell took me right back to Bubastis, to my mother’s temple, to the memories of the days when her priestesses mixed sacred oils and then stored them in painted clay jars. I wanted those carefree days back. But the past wasn’t the present and never could be.
I considered Marcus’s words. “Where do you propose we start?”
He pushed my hand away from the cloth. “It’s not the where we need to look at, but the who.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You need to dig into your gut instinct.”
My instinct is exactly what landed all the souls I’d shipped off to Duat, in jeopardy. “I don’t think that’s the best place to begin.”
“I beg to differ. When was the last time you sensed the scarab?”
“About a month ago. I was walking out of Central Park when an onslaught of energy slammed me full force. It was like anxiety on steroids. But as quick as it came, it vanished.”
“Why didn’t you mention this when it happened?”
“What was the point? It’s not like the experience actually led me anywhere. Besides, if I told you about every frickin’ time I picked up a vibe from an ancient artifact, we’d be zigzagging across this hunk of bedrock like a colony of house cats chasing those maddening laser lights.”
Marcus huffed. “But that moment a month ago wasn’t about just any ancient relic. It was about your scarab.”
“And it didn’t result in anything.” I loved Marcus, but dangle even the slightest hint of a problem in front of him and his feline curiosity kicked in. And I for one, did not care to lose any of my guys, even if satisfaction did bring the cat back. With battling the gods, I couldn’t count on that. “I’m sure it was nothing.”
“We should retrace your steps and see if it happens again.” With cloth in hand, Marcus finished washing the table. Beneath the layer of his turtleneck, his biceps flexed as he moved.
I might be caught up in this whole war with the gods thing, but somewhere along the lines I had to have done something right to end up with not just one piece of man candy, but three.
Not wanting Marcus to see me blush again, I turned away and focused on straightening up the cou
nter.
Without my scarab, shifting between human form and cat could only be accomplished if I had enough preternatural magick built up inside me. Something I’d learned only after fleeing Bubastis. And the most gratifying way to achieve that state was through sex. But I didn’t want to keep having those endearing moments with my guys just so I could roll out of bed and go slay some phantom Selenian or fiery Ra’ian.
I needed to find another solution to shifting.
“I don’t think me sensing my scarab that day had anything to do with where I was,” I said, folding strips of linen left over from the cheetah’s burial preparation.
“Could a passerby have been the cause?”
“Maybe, but no one stuck out to me, though being such a busy spot a Selenian thief could easily have blended in with the crowd. As could have a Ra’ian. Human energy alone is off the charts in that part of the city. Almost as bad as Time Square.”
“Yes, but if it hit you with that great of a force, then the culprit hadn’t blended in all that good.”
“True. But I doubt whoever it was will make the same mistake twice.”
Marcus gave up a slight laugh, revealed his bright white teeth. “You give your enemies too much credit.” He tossed the cloth he’d used on washing the table, into the laundry bin and then rested his hip against the counter. “I still think we need to take you back there, check out the area, and figure out what happened. Even if we do it solely on a mental level.”
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt. But with the Met being in Central Park, all three of Bastet’s colonies are attracted to the area. For all I know, it could have been a group of half-felines visiting the museum’s Egyptian collection. A bunch of scarabs together could have been the cause for me picking up on the energy.”
“I guess,” Marcus said. “But I’m thinking it was more than that. In the least we should investigate it.”
“You just want to get frisky with me, because you know to do this mentally, sex is a must.”
Marcus wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. “Guilty as charged, babe.” A wide grin crossed his face.
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