Soul Unbound (Key to the Cursed Book 3) (2 page)

Present Day, New York

The wind screamed through the dark alley and
kicked up black rotten garbage. The debris hit the back of Bomani’s legs along
with the damp air clawing up the gap in his coat. He gritted his teeth.

Bast was late, again.

Bomani’s bounty cowered in the corner next to the
green dumpster. The exiler had been easy to find and subdue. Not unlike the
prior five he had caught, but this one sliced a damn hole through his wool
coat.

The exiler shifted.

“Go ahead. Run. It will only give me another
reason to beat your ass,” Bomani snarled.

The minor god buried his head in his knees and
sobbed. “I am innocent. You have the wrong god.”

Bomani stared at the scarab mark on the back of
the god’s neck. He did not know this exiler’s crime, nor did he care. In all
his years as the Underworld Legion Commander, he had yet to see one innocent of
the crime. “Yeah, I believe you.” Bomani snorted.

Memories of his former life inflamed the pain in
his chest. The warrior and leader he had once been died along with Kendra, the
first to capture his heart and the last to break it.

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 betrayed 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.

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.