Soul Unbound (Key to the Cursed Book 3) (15 page)

Siya strayed from her course, despite the urgency
to check on the younglings. Her feet touched down on the black sandy beach, and
she blurted out a whistle. A distant whinny and the pounding of hooves
announced Execution’s location. His long black mane and tail flowed behind him.
Based on his full gallop and stretch of his legs, he had recovered from his
injury. The horse pelted her with sand when he came to an abrupt halt before
her.

“Hey, boy.” Siya palmed his full velvety nose and
wrapped her arms around his neck. “I really fucked up this time, Ex.” The ache
in her chest had intensified since leaving Bomani. The scarab mark was a mere
splinter compared to the emptiness consuming her. Permission or not, a mating
bond could only be established when it was mutual and blessed by the gods for that
matter.

How could she have feelings for Bomani when only a
few days had passed since their first encounter?

How could he have feelings for her, someone he was
going to offer up to Bast?

Yet, the emotions stirred deep in her soul. They
had when she first laid eyes on him. She had just chosen to ignore them,
thinking it was a misplaced memory of Khalfani. But it was not Khalfani’s face
she saw when she closed her eyes.

She stepped back and pulled her shirt to the side.
The lion’s head and moon glyph stood out against her skin. Execution nuzzled
her chest.

“I know you like him, but we cannot keep him.” Her
father came to mind, as did the executioner’s mark on the back of her neck. She
had doomed Bomani to her father’s fate. She had to break the bond before Bast
enacted her sentence.

She had to find that demotic text. The one in her
vault contained creation spells. The demotic text in her father’s possession
had to be the Book of the Dead.

With her fingers on the clasp, she loosened the bridal
and pulled it over Execution’s ears. The bit fell from his mouth. She discarded
the leather and metal onto the ground.

The horse shook his head. In over five thousand
years, Execution had never been free of his bridle and reins. She petted the
areas where the leather had matted his hair and scratched between his ears.

“Get out of here,” she said through a tight
throat.

The horse reared up and landed his heavy hooves at
her feet. He clawed at the bridle with his front foot.

“It is time for you to be free.” She blinked back
the tears.

“Get out of here.” Her voice was harsh and strangled
with sorrow. She took several steps back. The horse circled around and stomped
the ground. His eyes flared a bright red before he turned and charged down the
beach.

Siya expected relief to flood her, but her agony
served to worsen the constant ache in her chest. Her first thought was to find
Bomani, but she resisted the urge.

He needed space, but she worried he would be
foolish enough to fight Nebt. Still considering himself a warrior, he had no
idea how to harness his powers and he would need them to face the goddess. Apep’s
darkness would only make Nebt stronger.

Siya pulled her energy in and reappeared just
outside the warehouse. Circling the complex, she detected no bitter scents or
dark energy. The spell she had placed on the warehouse camouflaged the energy
within its walls. So far it was holding. If her father passed by, he would not
sense their energies.

She entered the dim building. The soft sounds of
breathing drew her attention to the cots lining one wall. Forty younglings
slept while the other ten rotated patrols.

“Madame.” Dennu bowed.

“Where is Theris,” Siya asked, scanning the
warehouse.

The young god frowned. “I do not know.”

“He left?” She closed her eyes and pulled on the
energies within the warehouse again. Not one of them was Theris.

“I have not sensed him in several hours.”

Siya stared at the light through the window of
Theris’ quarters. It was unlike her Second to disobey her orders. She leveled
her stare on Dennu. “Is this the first time he has left the warehouse?”

The young god swallowed before answering. “No,
Madame.”

“Gather your officers. Review the evacuation plan.
Pack only what you will need to support the younglings and hide it in the
stable. Our threat has grown.”

“Madame?”

“First sign of trouble, humankind or otherwise,
evacuate to this location.” She reached for the paper and pencil on the table
next to her and scribbled the coordinates.

Dennu glanced at the paper and his eyes widened.
“Are you sure?”

“These are desperate times. Keep this between you
and your officers only. Orders come from me only.”

“Yes, Madame,” Dennu answered with a bow.

She grabbed the god’s arm. “You are ready for
this.” Her eyes strayed to the sleep quarters. “They will listen to you.”

His brows furrowed. “What about you?”

“I will be fine,” she said with a smile meant to
reassure him, despite feeling none of the confidence with which she spoke.
Things could not be more uncertain.

Except one.

The scarab mark on her neck.

She walked up to the office space and opened
Theris’ door. She scanned the room, looking for any clues to why he left. The
room was sparse, everything in its place. She had known Theris for four
millenniums. He had served in her unit in the war. Even with their occasional
intimacy, she had never made the attempt to get to know the male.

Would Theris betray her after all of this time?
The invisible noose around her neck tightened. She rubbed the mark on her
chest. Bomani claimed he did not know the bonding would happen, now she was
uncertain. Maybe this was Bast’s way of torturing her further.

She rubbed a hand down her face, fearing her
paranoia was getting the best of her. Is this not how all the great gods had
fallen?

Anger. Isolation. Paranoia. Insanity.

With her demon blood it would be even easier for
her to slip without realizing it was too late.

Was it?

She flipped the light off, withdrew to her
quarters and locked the doors. With her back to the wall and knees to her
chest, she gripped her saber. Theris’ energy refilled the space. He knocked on
the door of her dark room.

She refused to answer, fearful of the truth.

And knowing what she would do to him.

After a moment, his energy lessened, leaving her
to stew. She rubbed the hourglass tattoo on her wrist. Pressing the curved point
of her blade, she cut into her skin next to the tattoo. Crimson blood beaded
and ran down her wrist. The hint of Bomani’s energy mixed with her blood
spurred her to repeat the process until her arm was covered in cuts. Her vision
blurred and the world closed around her.

May Asar have mercy on her soul.

Bomani circled around the block, but the siravants’
trail had grown cold, and the prickling against his skin told him he had run
out of time. The sun was on the verge of reclaiming the sky. Honestly, he had
lost the trail hours ago.

He was stalling, not wanting to face Siya and more
of her questions. Just when he thought his life had hit bottom, he dug himself
deeper. The repercussions of his actions were far worse than he could have ever
imagined. Nebt had the demotic text, the same one Kendra had used to release
Bakari from his imprisonment. His brother, the epitome of everything Bomani
despised about the gods.

Selfish. Self-centered. Narcissistic.

Bomani would use those words to describe himself
at this moment. He had become everything he hated about his brother. Hurting
Kendra when she chose Bakari over him. Letting Nebt leave with the book. Being
a coward and running from his punishment. Getting mixed up with Bast.

Siya.

He was not sure where the Goddess of War fit into
the disaster that was his life. He shook his head. How could he be so stupid?
Warriors were not meant to be bonded. They served one purpose, their Lord’s
will. Bomani had known no other life than serving the legion until Kendra
entered the scene. The young demi-god’s warmth and gentleness had given hope
for something more.

Hope, taken away.

His brother, Bakari, had marked Kendra as his own
and Bomani hated him for it. Bomani had made it his mission to protect Kendra and
expose his brother for what he really was—a liar, a wretch and an enemy to be
destroyed. Kendra surely would have forgiven Bomani once she saw the monster.

So sure of himself, Bomani had failed to see his
dissent into darkness. Hatred and anger had clouded his judgment to the truth,
and he lost Kendra and far more in the process. Honor had been his greatest
virtue. Without it, he did not know who or what he was anymore. He would have
to answer for his sins. Just as Siya would.

He dared to stare at the rising sun, the rays
burning his eyes. Some part of him wanted to bond with Siya and have something
to call his own. He was connected to her through Khalfani, and despite how
screwed up it may be, he did not want to lose her.

Fear was holding him back, like a lovesick mother.
Without knowing it, Siya had torn away the cage he had worked so hard to forge,
imprisoning the god-like part of himself. His powers writhed under his tattoos,
changing him on some elemental level.

The sun scorched his skin now, worse than before.
The curse had taken full hold of him.

Siya.
He needed her help to find himself.
He closed his eyes and focused on the warmth in his chest. Lilacs and vanilla
filtered through his senses, as did her emotions.

Pain. Loneliness.

They had more in common than he wanted to believe.
Maybe they did belong together.

Theris leaned against the railing on the second
level. The
not welcome
sign hung in the god’s stare.
Fuck you,
Bomani
thought and continued towards the stairs. He looked out over the training area
as he made the climb. Boys of various ages laughed and talked around the wooden
tables, unaware of the storm brewing outside. He wished they could be saved
from the raw reality of war.

Bomani’s gaze came to rest on Dennu. The young god
stared at Bomani for a moment before shifting his gaze to Theris. Ptah leaned
in and whispered in Dennu’s ear.

The whole vibe of the warehouse was off. Bomani
had no time to digest it before Theris blocked the metal walkway to Siya’s door.

Bomani flexed his fingers. “Move.”

“Siya wants to be left alone.”

“If you have any loyalty to her, you will move
now.”

Theris sneered. “
You
, a Commander who fled
his responsibilities, are asking
me
about loyalty.”

Bomani had seen Seconds like this in the past. All
mouth and no action. “This is going to end one way. Me on the other side of
that door. Either you step aside or I go through you.” Bomani stepped forward,
within striking distance, reinforcing his promise.

Theris’ eyes strayed down over the training area.
Fifty gazes had locked on them. Heat rippled off the god, burning the skin
between Bomani’s scarification tattoos. “Shame what happened to Khalfani. You
would be best to steer clear,” Theris said with a cold calculated smile and
stepped to the side.

What in
duat
was that supposed to mean?

Bomani turned and tracked Theris down the steps.
If not for his need to check on Siya, Bomani would have a little one-on-one
with the god. The path of metal glowed bright red in his wake. Similar to other
Creations, Theris’ modus operandi was not open confrontation, but ambush.
Bomani needed to watch his back. Of all the memories he wished to have,
Khalfani’s death was the one detail he was missing. Theris obviously knew
particulars he did not, either way Bomani’s instincts screamed foul play.

He passed through the office and paused at the
door to her bedroom. It was silent on the other side. He grabbed the handle but
found it locked. He ghosted through and appeared in the dark closed room. The
scent of blood drew his gaze to the wall next to the bed. Siya sat huddled in a
ball. Around her, blood pooled on the floor.

“Siya!” He lurched forward but met the tip of her
blade.

“Stay away from me.”

He dropped to his knees. Dark circles weighted her
normally bright eyes. Blood ran down her arm and dripped from her elbow. “What
is going on here?”

She shook her head. “I cannot protect them.”

“Siya.” He held out his hands.
Isis
, he had
not been gone long. What could have possibly happened in that time? Or was it a
culmination of all that happen?

“No, I cannot trust you. Trust anyone.”

He sat back on his heels, unable to find any
comforting words. All he had was the truth. “You are right. I came here to
secure my own passage. If I could give just enough information to Bast, I would
not have to return home.”

He ran a hand through his hair. So much had
changed since their first meeting on the beach. Siya provided him focus. In her
presence he dwelled less on his pathetic life. “I was in a dark place, probably
still am.” He covered his heart with his palm. “I do not know where this will
all end up, but I do know—you will be part of it.”

“I am so tired of fighting,” she whispered. Her
dull gaze slowly rose to meet his. Her hands trembled so. The goddess he knew
was lost in a sea of agony.

“The pain is weakening you. Your father wants
this, so does Bast. Do not give them the satisfaction.” He leaned forward.
“Give me the saber, Siya. Let me help you.” He could only offer the one power
he had control over.

He grasped her hand. She gave little resistance
when he pulled the weapon free. Her honey colored skin had faded to dull beige.
He picked her up and carried her to the shower. He set her feet on the floor
and leaned her against the tile. Reverently, he stripped her out of the
bloodstained clothes and washed away the evidence of her self-mutilation. Thankfully,
the wounds were already fading.

She stared at the floor, unblinking. Fearful of leaving
her alone, he stripped naked and washed quickly. He dried them both and picked
her up to carry her to the bed. Dressing her in a t-shirt and panties, he
covered her with several blankets.

She curled into the fetal position with her back
to him. Her tangled wet hair draped over the pillow. He knelt by the bed and pressed
his thumb to her temple. He absorbed the negative energy, sour and bitter as it
was, until he could take no more. The pain shot through him, his own paling in
comparison. Moisture beaded against his skin. Her eyes closed and her body
relaxed against his touch.

It was a small reprieve. Exhausted, he staggered
to his feet and found a clean pair of pants. He moved the chair next to the bed
and collapsed down upon it. Despite closing his eyes, sleep evaded him, fearful
her bunk would be empty when he woke.

His eyes settled on the mark at the base of her
neck. Bast had said Siya was a gift to the Underworld. It did not make any
sense. His father, the God of the Underworld, had to approve all death
sentences. If someone as decorated as the Goddess of War was convicted, rumors
of the trial would have reached the warrior camp. As Legion Commander, Bomani’s
responsibilities had included the security and transport of prisoners during
the judgments. He recalled no such trial.

He leaned his head back on the chair, too tired to
think of the possibilities. Hours ticked by, stiffening his muscles. Siya
rolled onto her back. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Bomani leaned
forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Her arms were tightly wrapped
around her midsection. Her tired gaze shifted to meet his.

Her hand snaked out from under the covers and
snagged his fist. She shifted back along the wall and tugged his arm. He
willingly followed her request and consumed the small real estate. The mattress
groaned under his weight. He stretched out his arm and she lay her head down in
the bend of his elbow. He lowered the blanket around them and wrapped his arms
around her.

Her temperature fluctuated from hot to cold and
tremors traveled the full length of her lean body. He absorbed more of her
discomfort. Despite the pain, an extraordinary amount of relief and contentment
filled him.

He was needed. Wanted.

Pulling her tighter to his chest, she softened
into his embrace. If only for this moment, she filled a lost portion of his
soul, giving them both a brief respite from a lifetime of loneliness.

He closed his eyes, not waiting for fate’s cruel
punch line.