Sins of the Flesh

Mal figured he missed them. The Nile. The fish. The Topworld he’d been ejected from millennia past.

“Your bed wasn’t safe. At least a dozen of Xaphan’s concubines know where you live.” Dagan paused and lifted a brow, as though waiting for confirmation of the number. When Mal said nothing—mostly because he wasn’t sure of the exact number—Dae continued. “We didn’t want to take a chance on one of them leading the rest in for a little payback. You roughed them up pretty bad.”

Mal gave a harsh bark of laughter. “They roughed me up pretty bad. And you, as well. But I see your point. So why didn’t one of you take me to your—” He cut himself off, not bothering to finish the question. He knew why. They both had mates now. Neither of them would bring danger to his mate’s door.

“You are fortunate that your brothers arrived so precipitately.” Sutekh glided closer until he stood over Mal, filling his vision.

“Yeah.” Mal scrubbed his palm along his jaw. “How did you find me so quickly?”

“Roxy got a call,” Dagan said, his tone carrying just a hint of question.

“A call.” Mal shook his head. There was only one person who could have made that call.

Calliope Kane hadn’t appeared to have any qualms about leaving him to burn like a torch while she made off with the prize. But apparently, she had. Fascinating. It brought a new layer to the game. He’d expected her to nab Kuznetsov. He’d expected that he’d find them both when he went looking. He hadn’t expected her to do anything to save his ass, and he didn’t trust the fact that she had. There had to be an angle to that.

And from the faint question in Dagan’s tone, he was wondering about it, as well. But it wasn’t something they’d talk about in front of Sutekh. He was prickly about the fact that two of his sons had mated with his enemies. No reason to stick pins in the already enraged bull.

“Speaking of calls,” Mal said. “Kuznetsov got one right before everything went south. He asked who was dead, and if the caller was certain. Whatever the answer was, it made Kuznetsov damned jumpy. I think we need to find out who died.”

“We already know,” Alastor said. “Djeserit Bast.”

“What?”

“Djeserit Bast is dead.”

“How?” Mal held up a hand, palm forward. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter. Who claimed her?” Whoever had claimed her soul would have access to her memories and the secrets she harbored. He wanted those secrets. She had to have information about Lokan’s death. “Can we get her darksoul? Get answers?”

“No,” Sutekh said, and when Mal opened his mouth to protest, continued, “I claimed her. And she had no answers to give.”





CHAPTER TWELVE



I have gone to make inspection and I have returned to speak; let me pass,

that I may report on my errand.



—The Egyptian Book of the Dead, Chapter 86

CALLIOPE LEANED HER HIP against the stone balustrade and looked out at the moon-drenched garden. The entire estate was surrounded by a ten-foot-high wall, topped by electrified wire. Outside of that was a second barrier, made of electrified high-tensile steel. The only break was the front gates. They were massive doors of solid steel, and they too were electrified. Dogs and guards patrolled the perimeter, both inside and out. Security cameras covered every angle. And the compound’s location was in itself a defense, the mountaintop perch inaccessible for any but the most tenacious.

But the Guard did not rely merely on physical boundaries and deterrents. There were wards in place and spells and magics of which only the oldest among their kind had knowledge. Isolated and inaccessible, surrounded by wilderness and danger, this place was the bastion of the Daughters of Aset, the hidden and protected headquarters of the Asetian Guard.

Twenty hours ago, she’d taken rope and gear from the SUV, a bottle of water and a couple of protein bars. The climb might have taken three or four days under other circumstances. Only the fading high of her serving of reaper blood made it go faster than it should have, but it hadn’t been any less grueling. She’d reached the compound, exhausted, hungry, only to be met with another challenge.

While she was allowed through the gates, the doors of the house were not opened to her. She was left here, on the stone balcony, to wait on the pleasure of her superiors.

Either they were occupied with things of greater import, or they meant her to worry. To stew. To weaken. And thus to spew all her secrets the second she was summoned into their presence.