Soul Unbound (Key to the Cursed Book 3) (11 page)

“Honestly, I do not know. They are all Creation
descendants. All male,” she said, compelled to share her story. Maybe then he
would understand they needed to be protected and know she was not
all
bad as she was sure Bast painted her out to be.

Siya shook her head remembering the fifty she had
saved so far. She always worried about the ones she failed to find. “Every move
I find more. We have been in this city for six months. I have recovered over
twenty. Almost double from the previous century. Some are living with humans or
lost on the streets. It is not safe for them out there. Their powers awaken in
less than two decades. No Creation god matures that fast. With no control or
discipline, the younglings are a risk to themselves and humans.”

“Why do you think that is?” Bomani asked and
leaned forward.

Oh, she had her theories. Many of them. Until now
she believed the Creation Pantheon had degraded to the point of social
disobedience and moral ruin. Correction, she still believed that, but after Haru’s
meeting another theory was brewing in her mind. One solidifying her belief Apep
had found a way to breach the human realm.
The Mother Goddess has plans
,
Haru stated.

“You tell me?” She walked forward, willing to give
up her breathing room for any information. “My intelligence is limited. I only
see what is happening on the ground. Any information you can give will help.”

He frowned and looked away.

She knelt down before him. “I know you do not
trust me, Bomani. Understand, I am not asking you to betray your code. I just
need to prepare for what is coming. To protect them.”

“What have you seen?” he asked and closed the
space between them.

Her chest tightened again, but she forced a
breath. Could she trust him? She had already allowed him in too deep. She did
not have it in her to kill him. Gods, no. Not after what happened with
Khalfani.

“We found a huge reven nest. Thousands. All dead,
permanently this time. The curse has been broken. Some humans believe the
plague heralds the end of days,” she said.

“What do you believe?”

She hesitated. Talk of plagues, curses and the
Dark Lord was the surest way to lose his trust. He would think her crazed. “I
was there, Bomani. The decades before the ancient war. Famine, earthquakes,
plague, wars ran the rivers red with blood. I can tell you with certainty, the
reven curse is only the beginning. Apep will rise once more and all will
parish.”

He appeared neither shocked nor surprised, only
sad. “The leader of it all,” he whispered.

“Excuse me?”

“You are not the first to tell me.” He shook his
head and refocused on her. “The curse
has
ended because the one
responsible is dead.”

“Who?” she asked with disbelief.

“Kepi.”

“Someone actually ended that miserable whore’s
life.” She laughed, genuinely pleased with the news.

“You knew her?”

“Who did not know her?” she scoffed. “My security
detail found her in the warrior base camp. The
odjit
was sandwiched
between two warriors, not to mention the line out the tent. Not a week after I
banished her, she was back.”

“Kepi did not do the Underworld any favors. My
family has suffered dearly because of her.” His voice became distant again and
he leaned back. The color of his skin turned ashen.

Family? Is that what warriors were calling the
legions these days? To her knowledge warriors were solitary from birth. They
had no mates, let alone families. Their sole purpose was to the legion and their
Lord. Regardless, Bomani’s pain was real, resonating in her chest like a loud
drum. Siya reached out, but stopped short of touching him. “I am sorry. Truly.”

He rolled his head to the side and looked at her.
The sorrow in his black gaze cut through her. Although he did not speak a word,
the story of his presence here began to take form. Needing to know one thing, she
swallowed the lump in her throat. “Tell me, has your Lord taken a wife?”

Bomani pressed his lips together in a thin line.
He remained silent, but he did not need to answer. She only needed to look at
his face. “The demi-gods exist,” she said and stood up on shaking legs. Gods, Haru
had spoken the truth. “The Mother Goddess has seen the coming of the end.”

Siya grabbed the full liter of whiskey from the
top of her dresser. Ignoring the half empty flask, she cracked the new bottle
and tore the paper seal. “I think we are going to need this,” she mumbled and
sat down next to him.

“What do you mean by the end?” he asked, his eyes
half hooded as if he struggled to keep them open.

Her eyes drifted to the wall safe where a sacred
text given to her by the Mother Goddess lay hidden for safekeeping. One of
three honed of black leather with a large gold buckle, holding the contents of
creation and some of the most powerful demotic spells within its black pages.
She never knew the location of the other two, nor did she want to know. The final
days would come soon enough.

“Have you ever wondered how we came into being?
Before the Pantheons?”

“Never gave it much thought,” he replied, his eyes
now closed.

“There were only two in the beginning. A male and
female, the god of the earth and the goddess of the sky. They gave birth to
four offspring, your Lord, Asar, being one of those children.”

“Asar?” His tired gaze drifted to her.

“Does it surprise you to know your Lord once ruled
the human realm before there was an Underworld? Sadly, his reign did not last
long.” Siya paused, remembering how Haru had captivated her with this very
story at a young age. She had always wanted to meet Asar, the Underworld god
who had become a legend above all other gods.

She would one day, but not the way she had
envisioned as a young goddess.

“Asar was murdered by his brother, Set, in a rage
of jealousy. Without breath or beating heart, Asar survived in a realm no one
knew existed. He became Lord over the Underworld and Afterlife, caretaker and
judge of the dead. For his crimes Set was banished to ferry the dead to the
gates of the afterlife. He will forever gaze upon Asar’s realm, but never pass.
Never know paradise. The Council is all about irony.” She sighed, knowing the
fact all too well.

“What does Apep have to do with Asar?” Bomani’s
tone hardened.

“No one knows for certain when and where Apep
appeared, but some believe he was conjured early in the creation of the world.
He was rumored to have influenced Set’s betrayal. Either way, Apep preyed upon
the world when the sun extinguished in the horizon. Each night he and his army
of siravants ventured out, raping and pillaging everything in their path,
creating chaos and devastation. After centuries of unrest, the Council
sanctioned the destruction of Apep once and for all. Shortly after the first
battle and heavy loss of life, the Council discovered Apep could not be
destroyed by force alone. The gods needed to call upon all the elemental forces
of nature and magic to weaken him. They could not do this without the gods of
death being at their side. Asar had seen the corruption and unnecessary deaths
flooding his gates. He agreed to join the Creation Pantheon to trap Apep
between the two worlds. Duat was created, a realm between life and death. A
nether region empty and barren, except for the very outer rims.”

“Only the sacred river runs through,” Bomani
finished. “A place where souls can get lost, never to reach the afterlife. One
of many final tests.”

“Yes, it is where Apep torments the dead, the more
souls he can trap the more powerful he can become.”

“You were part of this battle to banish Apep?”

Siya nodded. “Victory did not come without cost.
If not for the Underworld’s dark warriors the final battle would have been
lost.”

“That is where you met Khalfani.” His stare came
to rest on her again.

She expected to see disapproval in his expression,
but his face remained blank. Remembering the day, her scarab mark cooled to a
sharp ache. “Khalfani brought honor to the Underworld that day, but we had
little time to celebrate our victory. In the wake of Apep’s destruction the
Council’s fears grew when they witnessed the might of the Underworld legions.
Asar had grown more powerful in death than he had been in life. Paranoid and
fearful of darkness, the Creations banished Asar and his legions back to the
Underworld, the very god who had come to their aide.” She never did say a
proper goodbye to Khalfani.

Bomani exhaled heavily. His cold breath skimmed
across her bare arm. The sensation pulled her thoughts back to the present. She
became acutely aware of the large male consuming the space next to her. Her
anxiety warred with the growing comfort she gathered from his presence. Despite
being of different worlds, he would understand sacrifice and duty. Maybe
understand her. Troubled by that thought, she pressed the lip of the bottle to
her mouth. The liquid burned its way down to her belly.

She tapped the bottle against his thick forearm.
He had pushed the sleeve back to his elbow. Her eyes were drawn to the
beautiful scrollwork on his skin. She suppressed the urge to run her fingers
between the ridges. The maze of patterns formed a picture she could not quite
make out. The tattooing of the scars was a rite of passage Khalfani would never
permit her to see. One thing she did know was that the blade’s tip was dipped
in venom, a poison all gods feared as it would render them powerless.

The fact that Bomani’s body was entirely etched
was a testament to the warrior. Physical pain would mean nothing to him. No,
whatever drove him to the human realm hit deeper than just the surface of his
skin.

He grasped the bottle, freeing her hands. She
rubbed the small scarification tattoo on the inside of her wrist. She had been
foolish not to cover it in Bomani’s presence. He recognized it immediately.

Khalfani had insisted on carving the hourglass
into her skin. He would not let her watch, but the burn of poison was unforgettable.
She would welcome the pierce of a blade to her gut more so than relive the
fifteen minutes it took him to carve the simple shape. It was then he gave her
the saber, the day before the final battle.

Bomani’s gaze tracked her thumb’s trail against
her skin. Self-conscious, she grabbed her knees. He stared at her with those
caramel eyes, the color not quite deciding if they were brown or gold. His cool
hand wrapped around her wrist and turned it over. The ruff pad of his thumb tracked
over her scarification tattoo.

“A truce then,” he said.

She hid her surprise. She had not asked it of him
again, figuring he would not commit. Why should he? Regardless, she was
overcome by such simple words. She had an ally.

For the first time in five thousand years she was
not alone.

“Com’on. Let me introduce you to the younglings,
just try not to scare them.” Sekhmet opened the door to warehouse.

Bomani’s life was built on intimidation. It was
the only way to stay on top. At least until he came to this realm and crossed
this female’s path. Children were sure to push him over the edge.

He stepped out the door and onto the metal
gangway. The overhead lights dangling from the ceiling lit the lower level.
Fifty pairs of pale colored eyes rose to look at him. Training ceased, followed
by murmurs in their ancient language. Sekhmet’s footfalls clanged down the
stairway. All gazes tracked Bomani. Having worn sandals his entire existence,
his new boots seemed like lead on his feet, clapping with each step.

She turned to him at the bottom. “Welcome to the
pit.”

The largest and most mature of the younglings
spoke to Sekhmet in the ancient tongue and broke into English. “Is it him?”

“No, this is his Commander. Bomani, this is
Dennu.”

The god’s shrewd gaze raked over Bomani, and a suppressed
power shimmered behind his light blue eyes. Based on his size and energy
signature he had to be the first orphan.
Youngling
barely fit this now
mature god. Much to Bomani’s surprise, Dennu bowed low and subverted his gaze
to the ground, a sign of deference to a god. Did he mistake him for Asar?
Certainly not.

Bomani shook off the misplaced adoration and held
out his hand. Dennu eyed his Commander. She nodded and the god grasped Bomani’s
forearm in a warrior’s handshake. The grip was strong and respectable in
Bomani’s eyes. She had done well with this one.

“It is an honor, Sire, to have you in our house.”

“The honor is mine, Dennu.”

The god smiled and nodded his head. He relaxed his
grasp and released Bomani’s forearm. “Sir, this is Ptah and Min. My Company
Commanders.”

Bomani offered his hand to both substantial males.
In fact, all three appeared overly large for Creation gods. Bomani gloated—Theris
would have to look up to these three.

“We would be honored if you would spar with us in
the ring sometime,” Min said with a bow.

“Bomani will not be staying,” Theris said,
infiltrating the group.

The smiles on the younglings’ faces faded,
replaced by dark shadows. 

“I will consider your request, Min.” Bomani
squeezed the god’s arm one last time before releasing it. He glared at Theris.
“I think I can be of service locating the youngling you seek.” Theris’ face
burned redder, adding to Bomani’s satisfaction.

Sekhmet narrowed her stare at Bomani. He had yet
to tell her about his run in with the youth. She refocused on her Second.
“Theris, finish the inventory and watch the perimeter. Bomani and I are going
for a walk.” Her light green eyes flared bright when Theris refused to leave.
“Now.”

Heat flowed across Bomani’s skin as Theris
shouldered past him. The air around Theris rippled, like heat rising off the desert
sand. The younglings scurried back, giving the god a wide berth. Bomani frowned
realizing he had once again placed himself between a god and a female.

“Dennu, show Bomani the weapons cache. We leave in
five.”

Bomani followed the young god while surveying his
surroundings. All points were defendable. High ground on all four corners.
Sentries patrolled the upper and lower levels. No one could breach the
perimeter without someone being alerted. Not to mention multiple avenues of
escape if forced.

Again, Sekhmet did not disappoint him, but that
did not relieve the knot in his gut. The warehouse was unbreachable, if filled
with a legion, but it was filled with children. Menthu and Nebt would level
this place.

The cache of weapons was centrally located,
providing ease of access from any location within the warehouse. Dennu pulled
open the cage door and offered Bomani the spectrum of broad swords. All well
and good, he reached for a chest harness built to sheath two short swords
easily.

Fascination colored Dennu’s features. Bomani
smirked. “Size does not always matter.”

“I would not know.” Dennu frowned, looking at his
sword.

Bomani grabbed the god’s shoulder. “Do not wish it
because once it is here you will be sorry you did.” Bomani scowled at the words
he’d just spoken. When had he grown so old as not to crave battle? “Forget what
I just said. You will see battle soon enough, the likes you will not soon
forget.” He slapped the youth on the back and maneuvered back to the goddess.
He did not suppress his glare when he passed Theris and exited the warehouse.

She threw a hip length leather jacket. “Put it
on.”

He snatched it out of the air. One more layer and
he would be smothered.

“It is to cover your weapons.”

“I got that.” He shoved his arms through and
yanked at the soft animal hide, but his shoulders were too large. “I will never
understand humans’ need for so many clothes,” he groaned.

Sekhmet shook her head and strode forward. She
grabbed the collar and eased it over his shoulders. He stared down at her face
as she tugged the coat into place. The scent of lilacs filled his senses. His
body relaxed as her energy seeped into him. He did not intend to absorb her
essence, but it happened without him thinking about it. His soul just craved
it. Did she have this effect on all men? His mind wandered to Theris.

She reached behind his head, which brought her
even closer. “You did not have them running for the hills, I am impressed,” she
said as she slid his hood up.

“I try.”

“There will need to be ground rules.”

He shifted closer, suddenly up to the challenge of
her proposal. “I am at your mercy, Goddess.”

“No toying with Theris.”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head
slightly. “I know that look. He is my Second, and you will respect him as
such.”

“Respect is earned.”

“So is trust,” she countered, poking him in the
chest.

Her point hit home. Bomani was the last person who
should be questioning someone else’s values. His record as of late would attest
he had none. He looked into those stunning green eyes. If things were
different…

“Tell me your name,” he said without thinking. He
dared trace his fingers along her cheek. His skin tingled as he trailed them
down her neck. Lost in the sensation, he did not gauge her expression.

Dennu opened the door and brought out food wrapped
in the same brown paper. Her eyes widened and she retracted out of his reach. Turning,
she accepted the package.

Angered he had let himself slip, Bomani fisted his
hands. He did not need this, not now. Falling for an exiled goddess when he was
supposed to be collecting intel would only cause him more agony.

“Let us proceed,” she said and walked away without
looking back. Movement drew Bomani’s eyes upward. Theris stared down at him
through the thick glass pane. How long had he been watching them? With uneasiness
crawling up his spine, Bomani was hesitant leaving the younglings under Theris’
care. He forced himself to look away and found Dennu staring at him.

The young god’s expression communicated wariness,
either of him or the god above them. Bomani narrowed his eyes on Dennu as the
young god returned to the warehouse. If anyone knew what was happening and who
Sekhmet had been in contact with, Dennu would.

“Are you coming?” she called.

He nodded and jogged up to meet her. This hunt for
the youngling was far from simple and required extra vigilance. Bast’s outright
delight at Sekhmet’s suffering heralded something more than Creation business.
This was personal and promised to bring more pain. Pain that would draw the God
of War.