Sins of the Flesh

She had no idea when the Matriarchs would see her. It would be wise to take this time to rest. Despite her exhaustion, she knew she wouldn’t be able to curl up here and sleep, but she could meditate and offer her mind and body a small respite. Sinking to the floor, she crossed her legs and let go of the tension in her frame. She sought—and found—the warm light inside herself, a place of harmony and ease.

After a time, the energy in the chamber shifted, growing sharper, molecules vibrating faster. She opened her eyes and rose, knowing that substantial time had passed, but uncertain of exactly how much. She didn’t bother to look at her watch. She knew from experience that it had stopped the second she was sealed in the glass cage and would begin to run again only once—if—she left.

A dozen armed guards entered and formed a living wall around three women dressed in flowing red robes with cowls pulled up to hide their faces. It was ever this way. The elders were not to be seen. Their identities were guarded as carefully as their physical bodies. Calliope had always wondered about that. Why guard them so carefully when they were the most powerful and ancient of all Aset’s Daughters? Should it not be the other way around? Should they, the strongest, not be guarding the weakest among them?

On the other hand, she understood the need for the Matriarchs, above all others, to survive, no matter what. They were the mothers, Amunet, Beset and Hathor, the vessels of millennia of knowledge, the keepers of history.

They glided forward, postures erect, their movements so graceful that they appeared to levitate. Perhaps they did, in fact. The long gowns obscured their feet, so she had no way to tell with any certainty. Once they seated themselves, the other women—who were dressed in dark, supple clothing much like Calliope’s own—moved to flank them but stayed slightly behind, a mark of respect.

She was their kind. She was their sister. What were they all but Aset’s Daughters, gifted with the blood of the goddess and the ability to feed from the life force of others to live eternal?

Yet a cold slither of fear iced her veins.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN



I ward off the arm of the one who would oppose himself against the flame of the desert. I have set fire to the desert, I have deflected the path, for I am the protection.

—The Egyptian Book of the Dead, Chapter 151

“YOU HAVE BETRAYED YOUR kind.” The accusation, soft voiced and direct, came from the cowled figure on the left. Amunet.

Calliope blinked. She had expected a question or, more accurately, many questions. She had not expected a flat accusation. “No.” She didn’t elaborate. She would wait until they asked for more information.

“Your acolyte consorts with the enemy.”

So they already knew about Roxy. “She is no longer my acolyte. She mustered out, as was her right at the level she had achieved.”

“You let her.”

“More than that, I encouraged her.”

None of the Matriarchs offered an overt display of surprise at her words, but she sensed it nonetheless.

“Explain,” Amunet commanded.

“The soul reaper Roxy has taken as her mate is Sutekh’s son. To anger him is to anger his father. I could not allow the wrath of Sutekh to descend on the entire Asetian Guard. Had she remained one of us, she would have been required to forsake him. I was convinced he would not allow that.”

In fact, she knew with certainty that the reaper would have fought for Roxy with any and all means he possessed. That would have meant significant risk to the entire Asetian Guard.

“You chose to sacrifice one in order to protect us all.”

“I did.” She sincerely doubted that Roxy saw it as a sacrifice, but from the Matriarch’s point of view, and her own, it had been.

“And we allowed it,” Beset said. “There is a traitor amongst them. One who works against their kind. It is not unfortunate for one of our kind to know their every move.”

Uneasy with this revelation, Calliope chose her words with care. “The traitor, Gahiji, is dead. He was Sutekh’s general.”

The silence lengthened, and it was in the lack of reply that Calliope read the truth. They spoke not of Gahiji, but of another. Calliope shook her head. “As I understand it, Gahiji was the oldest of their kind. He had been with Sutekh for millennia. The only soul reapers higher in the ranks are Sutekh’s sons—”

The energy that crackled in the air ramped up a notch, and the Matriarchs bent their cowled heads toward each other as though communicating without speaking aloud.

Calliope stared at them. Could it be possible? Could the traitor be not only in Sutekh’s own ranks, but one of his sons? Which one?

Dagan? If it were, then that put Roxy at risk.

Malthus Krayl? His desire to take Kuznetsov could certainly be explained if he were the traitor. He wouldn’t want the High Reverend to reveal that to anyone. On the other hand, he would also want Kuznetsov if he were only seeking information that would allow him to have his revenge.

That left the third brother, Alastor. Roxy had mentioned his name.

“You must now answer a second charge,” Beset said. “Do you deny that you fed from a soul reaper? Do you deny that his prana and blood are only now beginning to fade from your body?”