Witches' Bane (The Soul Eater Book 2)

by Pippa Dacosta

  “Still in slumber?” Shu asked, placing the statue back down among its fake counterparts.

  “As far as I know.”

  Most of the old gods slept the eons away. Immortality takes its toll on the soul. The majority of the ancient pantheon waited, at rest forever or until something woke them. The location of the most ancient slumbering gods had been lost through the shifting sands of time, buried by the priests’ deliberate misdirection and fantasies. Then the generations of priests all died out, and the years turned into millennia.

  “Some days, I’m not sure what tales are real or spun from myth.” My gaze snagged on a crude glass skull. Many of the pieces in Maf’s store hummed and sang in the background, their magic alive and needy. But the skull’s tone was jagged and discordant. It wasn’t naturally infused with magic. The skull had stolen its song.

  “It’s a witches bane,” Shu remarked, seeing what had hooked my gaze.

  “Don’t they use them to anchor their rituals?”

  “Without it, their stolen magic would escape.” After a few moments with only the sound of Mafdet’s happy customer filling the store, Shu added with a snort, “Humans wielding magic. It’s not natural.”

  “It started with the priests,” I said, mostly to myself as I listened to the skull whine. I wanted to pick it up and throw it against a wall just to stop the nails-on-glass noise. “Some of the gods imbued their most devoted followers—pharaohs and temple priests—with magic.”

  “It’s always the gods’ fault. All the fuck-ups, right back to when Nut’s cunt squeezed out Isis and Osiris. And they call demons monsters. At least we don’t screw our siblings. Even demons know that’s a bad idea.” Shu noticed my frown. “What?”

  “Is nothing sacred to you?”

  She screwed up her face, my question having offended her. “Life is sacred. Mine, mostly. Not a bunch of inbred assholes with too much power. Take the witches. Gods let loose their magic, and now, conveniently, they look the other way while silly humans go chasing after power, but it’s not woven into their souls like it is with us, so the little people with their little lives don’t stand a chance. Once they get a feel for magic, they can’t go back. They hoard more and more until they’re overwhelmed and obsessed. And where are the gods, huh? Nowhere. Half of them are asleep. Who’s cleaning up their mess?”

  I waited a beat. “Me.”

  She clicked her fingers. “Exactly.” Picking up a pewter ankh, she weighed it and then replaced it on the shelf. “Is that why you hate the witches? The addiction?”

  “No.” I understood addiction all too well to hate anyone or anything for falling into its trap.

  Shu finally turned to me and asked what had really been on her mind since we left the office. “What did the witches do to you?” Her whispers had lost their usual cold-as-stone edge, softened into something more friendly, if such a thing were possible.

  I stared at the skull’s eyeless sockets, listening to remnants of an old world’s magic croon throughout the store. I hadn’t wanted Shu to know about my weaknesses or how bad it had been. Or maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want her realizing how, even today, I wondered exactly how far I would have slipped had Osiris not stepped in.

  “I was investigating an active coven from Portland. They’d moved their operation to New Jersey.”

  “I remember,” Shu said. “They were selling a batch of magically infused coins on eBay.”

  Just a few coins, but they’d been genuine and older than me. As far as Shu knew, the job didn’t pan out and the coven’s presence in New York disappeared. No coven, no investigation. Case closed.

  “It was a trap,” I admitted. “They lured me in, right over a summoning circle. I didn’t feel the spell snap until I was already inside. Once in, they summoned all my magic and yanked it to the surface.” My magic, dark as it is, is woven deep inside my soul. I can’t survive without it.

  “What did you do?” Shu asked, probably suspecting she knew the answer or at least part of it.

  Her words brought me back to the present, and with a tight smile, I said, “I slaughtered them and went right on killing.”

  The earth-shattering high and monumental sense of power—it had started with the coven but hadn’t ended there. Human souls, hundreds of them, and they’d all slipped down as if I were drinking a river of life. I remembered it well, the taste, the ecstasy, the sense of rightness, as though the killing—the devouring—was how my life should be, how everything should be. Just like it had been in the Hall of Judgment when I lied and feasted on life like the monster I was.

  I reached for the skull, noticed my fingers were trembling, and clutched the glass orb in my grip. Its stolen magic recoiled, peeling back, as well it should.

  “All I knew,” Shu said, “was that Osiris brought you back all beat up and drained. I thought he’d done it. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d dumped you on my doorstep.” She righted a small offering cup that had toppled over. “In seven years, I never asked what happened.”

  “It was all me.”

  Isis’s whispers rode alongside the haunting memories: Monster.

  After a few moments, Shu turned her head and tried to catch my eye, but I kept glaring at the skull.

  “The Englewood chemical spill,” she said, spiking my heart rate. “That was right around then.”

  The spill was what the authorities had pinned the massacre on, likely thanks to a lot of persuasion from Osiris.

  I squeezed the skull and watched veins crack through its glossy surface. “Nothing was left alive. Women, children, animals…anything with a heartbeat, gone. Just ash remained and a sand so fine it flowed like water.” I set the skull back down before I could crush that into dust too. “So you can see why I prefer not to work with witches.”

  I offered her something of a smile, and she bought it, returning one as equally shallow.

  “Does anyone else know about this?” she asked.

  “The witches know one of their covens encountered me and were never seen again. Osiris knows, but Ozzy isn’t doing this. Playing games, cutting off arms, it’s beneath him.”

  “He did send you a basket of body parts.”

  “With a note. Osiris doesn’t do subtle.”

  “A witch, then? Using remnants of your power their coven trapped seven years ago to create a ka? A ka could do this, and it would leave a touch of your magic behind.”

  A ka—a spirit double—was a very real possibility. A ka wasn’t intelligent, but it could carry out simple instructions, like killing a few witches. Kas didn’t usually last long and were notoriously unreliable, but they did look convincing. “It’s possible they captured something of me and built a ka.”

  “And now they’re killing and pinning it on you as revenge?” Shu asked.

  Killing their own to get back at me was extreme, even for magic-addicted witches. “First, we need to rule me out. I might not remember anything, but you’re telling me my magic is all over the arm, so that’s where we start. Memories can be tampered with. Mafdet will know if I’ve been compromised.”

  “She will?” Shu looked past me at the old woman ringing up the sale behind the counter.

  Mafdet smiled like she meant it, and her eyes, behind those large wire-rimmed glasses, were kind. She was chuckling at something her customer had said, her swollen fingers counting out the change. In her prime, long before my time, she’d walked the homeland alongside Thoth, her brother, as his advisor. But her godly ways were long behind her. Running this store, living this little human life, was her own kind of slumber.

  I smiled at Shu’s surprise. “Don’t let the old-lady act fool you.”

  The happy customer left with her newly painted papyrus rolled up in a clear tube. Shu followed her to the door, flipped the sign in the window to closed, and turned the lock with a heavy clunk.

  Mafdet huffed a resigned sigh and teased her beaded necklace through her fingers. The many lines crowding her lips and eyes hinted at a life well lived, b
ut now those lines were bunched with annoyance. “Well, don’t the two of you look intimidating? And before you ask, I haven’t seen any more of those scrolls.”

  “That’s good to know, but not why we’re here.”

  Her attention wandered to Shu hovering behind me. Shu and I often visited Mafdet’s store. Shu to purchase ingredients for the spells she was selling on the side, and me to keep an eye on Shu’s spending habits. A few good luck or weak love potions were harmless, but if Shu started selling more potent and potentially life-threatening spells, I wanted to be the first to know about it. Mafdet and I had an understanding. I let her sell genuine trinkets as long as she kept me informed.

  “There are some uncertainties regarding my whereabouts last night. I need to know exactly where I was and what I was doing. If it was nothing, I need to know that too.”

  Mafdet’s watery eyes turned shrewd. “You suspect someone has tampered with your memories?”

  “Or, for whatever reason, I’m blocking them. Can you do it?”

  “Yes.” Her gaze flicked to Shu again, leading me to wonder whether there was something she didn’t want to tell me in front of the sorceress. “Come out back with me.”

  Mafdet turned her substantial self around in the small space behind the counter and passed through a curtain of beads.

  “Stay here,” I told Shu.

  “Do you trust that old woman?”

  A small laugh slipped free. Trust a god? Last time I checked, I wasn’t an idiot. “No.”

  “Then let me do this.”

  Parting the beaded curtain, I called over my shoulder, “I trust you even less.”

  Chapter 7

  The back of Mafdet’s store appeared part living room, part storage room. Marked papyrus and ceremonial jewelry covered the walls from floor to ceiling. The one small window was stuffed with potted plants and herbs that soaked up all the natural light.

  “I can’t imagine anyone would be foolish enough to manipulate you, Soul Eater,” Mafdet said, already busy collecting various leaves and seeds from her countless herbs and containers. She retrieved several glass spice jars from high up on a top shelf and then took a pinch from each one and sprinkled it into a bowl.

  “I’m sure you can imagine a great many things, Maf.” I ambled closer, peering over her shoulder. “Any progress with the box I gave you?”

  “Rest assured, you’ll be the first to know when there is.” She snapped a twig in half and tossed the larger piece into her mixture. “It’s a puzzle all right. And that symbol…” A quick flick of her gaze was all I got before she refocused on her bowl. “It’s an unknown, and I don’t like unknowns. I like to know everything.”

  “Like Shu,” I mumbled, scanning the clutter. Finding the little box in a filing system that rivaled the disorganized chaos of my office would be impossible, especially since I couldn’t see it. “Is it here?”

  “It’s safe. I don’t leave sensitive items out for anyone to stumble upon, you know.” Plucking and pinching the contents of her jars, she didn’t pause while selecting her ingredients and hardly seemed to think about what she collected.

  “What ingredients are those?”

  “The young ones are always so curious.” She chuckled and met my expectant gaze. “It’s better you don’t know.”

  She grabbed a bottle with no label and added a splash of something red and watery, possibly wine, into her bowl. The liquid lifted the mixture of scents, tickling my nose.

  “How is this going to work?” I asked.

  “I’m going to put you to sleep. The subconscious knows more than our conscious minds. With your consciousness and all its baggage out of the way, you’ll discover what you’re looking for.”

  “Is my subconscious trustworthy?”

  “More than you are.” She swept her hand at me, shooing me away. “Stop crowding me, now. Let me work.”

  I eased back, but kept close enough so I could still see the powders she was adding. Different colors went in, and then a few spellwords fell from her lips. I’d never had a knack for spellwork. My magic was raw. It didn’t respond to incantations or potions, just spellwords and my will. But Shukra could do this, probably with her eyes closed. Letting Shu inside my head seemed a whole lot worse than letting Mafdet, the Slayer of Serpents. Last time I checked, I wasn’t a serpent and Maf had a healthy respect for me. Shu would probably eat my heart right out of my chest the first chance she got.

  “Do you ever think about taking your slumber?” I asked idly.

  “No.” Maf chuckled. “There’s too much still to do.”

  This store, her customers, that didn’t seem like enough to keep a god as old as her from resting. Bored gods were dangerous gods. But Mafdet had been on the straight and narrow for as long as I could remember. She sold a few hot items, and occasionally, I paid her a visit to remind her this wasn’t the glorious city of Waset, where you could summon dust demons in the street and get away with it. Different times, different rules.

  “Do you see much of Thoth?”

  Her chuckle quickly turned into a sharp bark. “He and I went our separate ways before the great sundering. I can only hear so many prophecies before they take away the specter of free will.”

  As the God of Law, Thoth collected prophecies like most people collected paychecks. I could see how having your future written before you decided it might dampen your will to live.

  “Thoth doesn’t believe in free will?”

  Her shoulders tensed, and I knew I’d asked too much. “Never you mind my brother. It’s Anubis you should be more concerned with. He’s looking for you.”

  My blood chilled, and on reflex, my gaze shot to the beaded curtain. Shu was out there. She’d alert me to any trouble.

  “He’ll have to grab a ticket and get in line.”

  I shrugged off Alysdair and sat on the edge of Mafdet’s plump couch, resting the sword within easy reach.

  “You’re safe in the city, for the moment.” Mafdet picked up a mortar and pestle and ground her ingredients together. “No matter the crime, he won’t breach this realm. But I’d be careful who you trust.” She turned, cupping the bowl in one hand. “Drink this.”

  I took the bowl and eyed the brownish, lumpy mixture inside. It looked like a hazardous puddle you’d step around on the subway. “Do you have any suspects in mind?”

  I sniffed at the concoction and wished I hadn’t.

  “Just because Anubis doesn’t walk this realm, doesn’t mean he can’t reach out to those who have a vested interest in the God of the Damned. Those who may be long damned and desperate.”

  Those like Shukra? I wondered.

  “You wouldn’t poison me, now would you, Mafdet?” I asked the old god, allowing a smile to pull on my lips.

  Shukra parted the beaded curtain and stepped inside the room. “If he dies, old woman, I’ll drag you back into the underworld with me.”

  The cool steel in Shu’s gaze guaranteed the threat.

  “Hush, sorceress.” Mafdet looked at me, her face as calm as always, but she’d heard Shu’s threat and knew it wasn’t empty. “Drink and discover what it is you lost from last night.”

  I upended the bowl and drank down its cool, slippery contents. The wine couldn’t mask the bitter foulness coating my throat, but it did make it easier to keep the liquid down.

  Besides the churning in my gut, I didn’t feel any different and certainly not tired. Mafdet took the bowl from my hand and started clearing away her jars. I waited for the weariness to hit, for my eyelids to grow heavy, but as the seconds ticked by, nothing changed. This wasn’t working. I raised an eyebrow at Shu. She returned a frown.

  Blackness rolled over me, sucking all life, all feeling from my bones, and then dumped me unceremoniously into a world without edges. Numb and silenced, I gathered what senses I could hold on to and scanned the room for clues. A cozy apartment. Women’s clothing draped over a drying rack. Something wholesome and warm was cooking while the TV chattered in another room, and
as I turned, I noticed the front door hung open. Dread kicked me in the gut. I’d been here before. I knew this little apartment, these smells, the noise. I’d walked through that door with Alysdair aglow in my hands. A memory.

  The lights flickered or the memories did, and in the next second, I saw myself in the kitchen, standing over the body of a girl. Her face was a blur, like I’d tried to erase her features from my mind or replace her face with someone else’s. She had snapped a nail while clawing at my coat. I hadn’t given her a chance to beg. Echoes of her screams sounded now from so far away.

  A witch. My thoughts burned from now and then. She’s a witch. She deserves it.

  The past-me lifted the sword above his head.

  “San!” Stop. I shouted, but the spellword fell flat. I didn’t have my magic. This wasn’t now; this was before.

  The sword came down and cleaved through the girl’s arm.

  I’d done this.

  I’d killed her.

  The sword sank in deep, and then the words came. My words, my gift. Alysdair fed, prying out the girl’s soul.

  “Daquir,” I heard myself say. Devour.

  The girl broke apart, turning to sand and ash. Gone, all but the arm.

  I watched myself stagger and fall against the kitchen counter. I remembered that too, the doubt peeling back to reveal the horror of what I’d done. That’s when I snatched a kitchen knife from the counter and cut the mark into her palm. A mark only I’d know. Proof of my crime. Evidence that I’d been here. A warning to myself in a moment of clarity. But the doubt fluttered away, and once more, the darkness inside my soul swallowed me.

  The world shifted, blurring like a melted painting, and I stood outside Osiris’s mansion. The darkness clung to me here, wrapping me up in power, and not just from the girl, but also from all the other witches I’d killed…so many others. I could feel them now, their bright souls fuelling my wrath and driving me on.

  I walked up the steps, through the door, and stole the souls of those inside. All of them. I left them alive but empty. I did it because it felt good, because this was how it was always meant to be, because this house and these people were Osiris’s and my hatred for him burned brighter than any soul. I couldn’t kill Osiris, but I could destroy everything that was his.