Soul Unbound (Key to the Cursed Book 3) Read online

  Heat, as hot as the sun, rippled over Bomani’s shoulders and in through the new tear in his coat.

  It was about fucking time.

  A slender white hand pressed against his shoulder. He stifled his urge to rip it away.

  “Very good.” Bast patted him like he was some mangy dog who just retrieved the stick she had thrown. Her hot breath curled around his exposed neck, burning the skin between his scarification tattoos.

  “I hope he was not too much trouble,” Bast said, not to Bomani, but to the god quivering on the ground.

  The god raised his swollen face. The bruises had yet to clear even with the god’s innate healing powers. “Since when did the Creation Protectors have an Underworld warrior on their enforcement team?”

  Bast crouched, her white gown flowing out around her. She traced the purple egg-shaped bulge on the prisoner’s face with her sharp, pointed nail. “Mention this to anyone and you will lose more than your powers,” she hissed and dug her nails into his throat. “And that is after I let him carve those tattoos into your skin.”

  Bomani glared at Bast, hating she was his only option and the fact he would take great pleasure in doing exactly as she commanded. How things had changed. The male he had once been would have never done what he had to stay here, but he could not go home.

  Not now.

  A renewed fury burned in his gut. His honor had denied him so much. Otherwise, Kendra, the young demi-god, would have been his. He’d had his chance. She had offered herself to him, but he had taken the moral high ground and refused. What did his selfless act get him?

  Bomani turned away from the reality of his mistakes and the sorrow settling deep in his soul. He would not allow Bast to see his pain, let alone feel the extent of his losses.

  His home. His legion.

  Life as he had always known it to be.

  No, he would do whatever he damn well pleased.

  His gaze strayed to the Protector goddess who cuffed the god with venom laced restraints. Bomani had no sympathy for the criminal. Not unlike himself, the exiler had as much chance of escape as a half-swallowed rodent from a serpent’s jaws.

  Bomani had whored himself out to the Creation Pantheon. Servitude, the price for staying in the human realm, a place an underworlder did not belong.

  “Where is the Destroyer?” Bast grabbed the prisoner’s jaw.

  Bomani was grateful Bast’s attention was focused on the exiler and not him. His head swirled and pitched so he feared he would pass out. The smell of blood filled the air, tightening the cramp of hunger in his chest. His gums burned and his fangs threatened to descend. Only days out of the underworld, and he was already succumbing to the effects. He needed to get out of here and find something to silence his hunger. A five course meal or a soul would do just fine. To cover his distress, he leaned up against the cold brick of the building and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I asked you a question,” Bast hissed and dug her nails in deeper.

  Bomani had heard Bast ask the same question of the last five exilers. Either her interrogation techniques sucked or they did not know the mark.

  The prisoner chuckled through a strangled throat. “Even if I had seen the Destroyer, I am more afraid of her than I am of you.”

  Her? Bomani slid his gaze to the goddess.

  Bast glared at Bomani from the side. “Useless, all of you.” With a snap of her fingers a portal opened behind the exiler. She shoved the god through the vortex.

  Bomani shielded his eyes before the portal snapped shut in a bright flash. Bast’s face burned a bright red and her brilliant green eyes glowered at him. She wiped her hands down the front of her dress. The golden glow of her fury rippled out in waves of heat.

  He shoved off the wall and trudged down the street, not waiting for her dismissal or her excuse why it was all his fault.

  “Where are you going?” Bast’s protest chased after him.

  “Getting lost.”

  “I am not finished with you, warrior.”

  He pulled the hood up over his head and pushed onward.

  “Bomani!” Bast screeched, shattering the windows above him. The glass shards showered down around him, penetrating his coat and skin. Dusting off his shoulder he rounded the corner of the alley. A bright white flash greeted him along with the slam of her palms into his chest.

  “Have you forgotten the order of things, Commander? You are in my house. Follow my rules.”

  “You have your exiler,” Bomani snapped, hating to see her anger abated and replaced by a look that soured his stomach.

  She smiled and raked her unholy gaze down the front of him. “You have yet to fulfill our agreement. Until then, I own you.”

  “You know as well as I that cannot happen.” He snatched and squeezed her wrist.

  She flinched. The frigid temperature of his skin warred with the heat of hers. She jerked lose. A red imprint, the size of his palm, outlined her skin.

  “Not going to happen,” Bomani said, fisting his burnt white palm.

  “There are no absolutes. Conditions do change and you have little choice in the matter, unless you want to go back and face your Lord, Asar.”

  Shame weighed down on Bomani. He had failed his father and betrayed the very principles he had pledged his life to serve. Worse, his jealousy drove him to hurt the woman he claimed to love. The very reason among many that drove him to this world.

  “Do you think me powerless? That I cannot absolve your curse?” She slid her hand against his chest.

  Curse was an apt description of the so called law. He was relegated to hide in the darkest shadows. Daylight promised an unbearable pain he avoided at all costs. A clear message from the Creations—the dead were not permitted among the living.

  “For millenniums the Underworld has been subjugated to your rules and you, a Protector god, can wipe that all away?” He shoved her hand off his chest, not wanting to believe she could do it. His honor would not save him. Only this fine thread of incompatibility separated him from falling deeper into shame.

  “Bomani, you have no other choice. I will not let you remain here unsupervised,” Bast said and proceeded to stroke his chest. “I did warn you from the beginning. Kendra was made for Bakari, not you. I have offered you a new life and something enjoyable in exchange. You have nothing to lose.”

  His disgrace had driven him out of the Underworld and into a new master’s hands. His soul ached in his chest, resolved in the fact Bast was correct about one thing.

  He had nothing worth losing.

  “Fine.” He grabbed her arm and pushed her back against the wall, wanting to get this torturous deed done.

  Bast shoved him back. “No! It will be a time and place of my choosing. In the meantime, I have another mark for you to find.”

  Fury burned hotter in his gut. The fickle odjit was playing with him, like a cat with a mouse. Would her demands never cease?

  He thought not.

  “Who is it you want now?”

  “An exiler has been living among the humans, evading final judgment.” Her bright green eyes sparkled with a challenge. “I want to know who she is consorting with and why.”

  “Who is the mark?”

  “Who she is, is none of your concern. Do what I ask, and we will meet again to discuss your safe passage here.”

  “What does the goddess look like, and where in duat do I find this criminal?”

  “Her last known location was here in this city.”

  He ruefully chuckled. New York had more hiding places than a corn maze. “This is a gods’ damn big city. Care to be a little more specific. Hair and eye color? Her glyphs?”

  “She is the only god living among humans. She carries the brand of an exiler. You are a master tracker. Use that so-called skill of yours and find her. Do not make contact. Do not underestimate her. I want intel. Is that clear, Commander?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He stalked past the goddess and down the trash littered street before his voice betra
yed his last thread of decency. Honestly, he cared not, but it would buy him time. He had few options at this point, and it was wholly better than bedding Bast.

  “Do not make contact,” Bast called out.

  He raised his two fingers in a mocking salute. His life had not hit rock bottom—yet.

  Chapter Two

  The dampness of the autumn rain did little to cover the sweet sickening smell of death. Thousands of cursed human bodies littered the three levels of the abandoned textile factory, including the service elevator and stairwell down to the basement. Siya stepped over the gray-skinned corpse, scattering a cloud of black flies above the macerated reven torso. Red eyes stared vacantly from two boney orbits.

  “What do you think happened?” Theris asked, covering his nose and perpetual grimace with a linen cloth.

  Unable to answer, Siya leaned over the edge of the railing and scanned the lower level. Nothing moved except the colony of rats scurrying around the banquet of dead flesh. She had seen many gruesome scenes on the battlefields of war, but this churned her gut. So many dead humans, all beyond saving.

  Her band of rebels had been covertly exterminating small pockets of the revens over the last five years since the curse was released. A small effort compared to the human legions of Nehebkau huntresses, a group Siya avoided crossing paths with. The humans had discovered a spell of immunity to combat the plague of revens. To Siya’s knowledge, only women were receptive to the Snake god’s powerful magic, lending the females strength beyond their human abilities and immunity to the reven’s cursed bite. Besides Siya’s platoon, the Nehebkau huntresses were the sole defense against the outbreak of revens.

  Usually, Siya’s group would accidently stir up small pockets of revens as they moved from city to city. A few dead revens among a nest was not unusual, but all of them at once?

  Something had changed.

  “Do you think the plague has extinguished itself?” Theris asked, looking around.

  “Possibly.” Shit, she had no idea. They were disconnected from the Creation Pantheon. Siya had no intelligence on the situation. Her instincts told her this was not the end. Plagues always heralded something far more deadly. This one had lasted five years, almost to the date the cursed tomb was exhumed in Egypt. There could be only one god responsible for this devastation to humanity. If her instincts held true, a war would come again to this realm and bury it.

  “Burn it.” Siya turned on her heels and stalked out of the warehouse. Her black combat boots crunched on the cement floor as she walked back down the path she had come from. She ignored the stricken gazes of the younglings and the fact human flesh swished beneath the soles of her boots. Whether for shock value or not, she had brought all fifty younglings. The fledgling gods needed to see this. Sure, it would give the youngest nightmares, but they had to understand evil.

  Taste it. See it. Smell it.

  Theris caught up with her. “We need to inform the Creation Pantheon. This is great news.”

  She glared at her Second, angered he would even suggest it. The Creations had ignored the signs thus far, it was doubtful they would give it a second thought. “It will do no good. They likely know about this and have chosen to drink their tea instead. Burn it down before any humans happen upon this defiled place. We cannot risk the curse being transmitted to another innocent victim. Keep the smoke to a minimum. We do not need to draw attention.”

  “It is in a quarantined area. The humans would not dare cross the demarcation lines.”

  “They would send their choppers to investigate. Do as I say, keep it low profile.” Siya jerked open the door to the outside, effectively ending the conversation. Grateful to be out, she inhaled deeply and expelled the contaminated air out of her lungs. The sound of retching drew her attention to the side of the building where Geos, the newest recruit, expelled his lunch into the snow.

  She eyed the youth. If she had expected anyone out here it would have been him. The smell no doubt dredged up memories. Left on the street to fend for himself, a homeless lady of advanced years had taken him in. For over twelve months he spent with this woman, surviving the harsh winter and stifling summer on the New York City streets. The woman had died in her sleep. Geos never left her side, even as the body decomposed. It had taken Siya over two weeks to coax him away.

  The boy sat and leaned against the building with his head in his hands. A bright flash reflected out the cracked window above where he sat. She walked up to him and held out her hand. “You will want to get up from there.”

  The lightest blue eyes squinted up at her through a shaggy mop of blond hair. Geos grabbed her hand and she tugged him to his feet. She reached in the pocket of her cargo pants and handed him a stick of spearmint gum. “This will help.”

  He accepted her small gift and tossed the wrapper onto the mud soaked ground. Clearing her throat, she eyed the paper. With a frown he snatched it up and stalked off. Gods, she was never meant to be a mother, yet here she was raising fifty strays. Her fingertips grazed the saber at her waist. She was created for a much darker purpose.

  The door to the factory swung open and her charges filed out of the now smoke filled room. The last closed the door behind him. Siya motioned them back. Routine now, they took up formation in five ranks of ten. Youngest in the front, oldest in the back in perfect military precision.

  One look from her and the males fell silent. Out of habit she tucked her hands behind her back and paced the length of the first rank. It would not take her Second long to start the fires rolling in such a way the bottom level would collapse in on itself and the rest would follow to implode the building. Only small swirls of smoke escaped the cracks in the roof and sides.

  The smell of burning putrid bodies made her eyes burn and her throat close off. Forcing a breath through her mouth, she narrowed her gaze on Geos. Despite his face being the color of moldy bread, he did not waver or break ranks, but simply blinked his acknowledgement and gnawed on the gum she had given him.

  As the heat grew and the steam rose from the wet rooftop, fifty pairs of expectant eyes stared back at her. “Remember, the enemy wants to undermine your confidence through your emotions. Create fear and uncertainty. Exploit your weaknesses. A soldier must see past the devastation, stay focused on the mission objective.” And forget all the faces, she thought, but did not voice.

  So many faces.

  She blinked away the thought and turned to greet her Second, the aura of his power still alight in his blue eyes. “It is done.”

  “Good. Carry on with the plan of the day.” Or night as it were.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Theris turned to the squad. “Fall out and return to base. Stragglers will be cleaning up the dishes from evening meals. Fall out!”

  The ranks scattered, some sprinting down the alleyways, others leaping to the rooftops. The urge to compete surged through Siya’s bones, but she remained rooted to the ground.

  “Race you back,” Theris said with his most charming smile.

  She shook her head. The god had no sense at all. The thought he could ever beat her was laughable. Not to mention, he had stayed with her for all these years, acting as if nothing had changed. “Go ahead. The senior fledglings have been getting cocky as of late. Plus, it has been over a week since I went downtown.”

  “Siya, we do not have any more room. Not to mention all the enormous mouths we have to feed. The seniors are close to maturity. When they transition, we will be lucky to have anything left over.”

  “Tap into the reserves. Minimize the menu to just high protein items. I will be back by sunrise.” Siya left her Second standing in the rain, not wanting to admit the real reason she wanted to visit downtown. If she found any younglings along the way, then it was their lucky day.

  Chapter Three

  Bomani stumbled into the water at the edge of the pier. He had not eaten, slept or bathed since his arrival. Evading humans in this city was impossible. Did they never sleep?

  Fed up with Bast and her demands, h
e moved farther outside the city to a more remote area with burnt out warehouses along the water’s edge. Humans were still present but not the kind he needed to worry about. Thieves and drug dealers dominated this area. He kept to the shadows and the human traffickers went on with their business.

  In all his searching he had yet to come across the exiled goddess. Not that he was looking hard. He wanted to drag this out as long as possible and in gods’ good graces not have to see Bast anytime soon. The odjit was persistent and clairvoyant of all things.

  He pulled off all his clothes and scrubbed them in the not so clean water. He raked his hand through his thick tangled hair, a sharp contrast from his usual skull trim. After tossing the soaked clothes aside, he lowered himself into the water and scoured the dirt out of his hair and off his skin. Finally, he hoisted himself out of the polluted water, pulled back on his ragged wet clothes and sat on the aged wood. Small drops of rain pelted his head and dripped down his face. The cold bore into his tissues the longer he sat, but he had not the effort to move.

  “You’re going to have to get out of those clothes or you’ll get sick. Temperature’s dropping tonight.”

  Startled, Bomani whipped around and rose to his full height. A bearded human with too many layers of clothes pushed an overloaded steel cart on wheels up the wooden dock.

  “You’re a big one.” The old man’s scrutinizing glare raked over him.

  Speechless, Bomani stared back. He had been careful never to make direct contact with humans.

  Despite Bomani’s imposing size, the man addressed him again. “I’ve not seen you around before. You from out of town?”

  “Yes,” Bomani replied, knowing his accent would give him away.

  “You got a place to stay?” The man’s hazy eyes continued to measure him from head to toe.

  “No.”

  “Got any food on ya?”

  “No.”

  The old man swore and pushed the cart farther up the dock. The screech of a faulty wheel trailed behind him. Bomani could hear the man mumbling under his breath even after he turned the corner.