Sins of the Flesh

Then she walked on and joined the eight Shikome standing apart from all others who had arrived. She offered only the barest nod to Sutekh, and no greeting at all to Aset.

“Who is she?” Calliope asked.

“Izanami-no-mikoto. Naphré Kurata’s progenitor.”

Calliope turned to him then, not bothering to mask her surprise. “Naphré is a Daughter of Aset.”

“On her mother’s side,” Alastor interjected. “She’s Izanami’s daughter on her father’s side. And I am the holder of the sins of her soul, which puts her under Sutekh’s protection, as well.”

“So whoever has taken her risks pissing off three of the most powerful Underworld deities,” Dagan said.

Mal glanced around at each of the three Alastor had named. “Unless one of them has her. Which means they also have Roxy.”

For some reason, his gaze slid to Sutekh, who was sitting on what amounted to a stone throne, accepting the embraces and condolences of each Underworld deity that approached as their boat arrived. Like Asmodeus had, Xaphan went directly to Sutekh, embraced him and offered words of condolence, making a clear statement of alliance.

Mal tried to figure the angles, and came up empty.

Why would Sutekh kidnap his sons’ mates? It made no sense.

At length, Sutekh rose and went to the broad stone table that sat in the center of the gathering. It was the elephant in the room. The remains of Lokan Krayl. The reason for this gathering.

“I extend a hand in peace,” Sutekh said. He spoke as though Lokan’s hacked-up body was not lying on the stone behind him, as though his son were not dead, murdered. Likely by someone here. “I thank each of you for answering my invitation in kind. I am not here to seek vengeance. I must preface all conversation with that assurance. Those of you who have had dealings with me in the past know that I would not make such a statement without every intent of abiding to my word.”

Mal tamped down the rage that surged in his gut. With those statements, Sutekh cut all of them off at the knees. If he said he would not seek vengeance, he was effectively promising that none of his line, neither sons nor servants, would go after Lokan’s killers.

He felt Calliope stiffen at his side. She leaned against him, ever so slightly, not enough to draw attention, but just enough to offer silent support. She got it. She understood. She’d spent most of her life living with a burning, tearing hate. She knew it wasn’t so easy to put it aside.

“I am here to offer peace. And to offer a chance to bear witness.” Sutekh raised his hand and beckoned Kai Warin forward.

It was then that Mal saw the box in his hand. Small. Made of lead. Carvings on the lid and sides. A memory flashed at him. He’d seen that box for a split second once before. That’s why the casket that Alastor and Naphré had found had seemed so familiar.

He remembered standing in Sutekh’s greeting chamber weeks past, talking with his father about being sent to Osiris as a hostage. The door had opened. Kai Warin had stood there for a brief instant. He had not yet been elevated to Sutekh’s second-in-command. That role had still been held by Gahiji.

Kai had said nothing. Sutekh had waved him away. And Mal had forgotten the entire incident until now.

Alastor and Dae had both gone stiff, and Mal felt it then. His gaze locked on that box, his every sense humming. And he knew even before Kai opened it what it contained.

Lokan’s heart.

They had all Lokan’s parts.

That was why they were here. It truly was a meeting of allies, an opportunity for peace.

“I have my son’s parts. His body awaits only a soul. I will make his body walk once more. And I make this vow. We will talk about other matters. We will solidify alliances. All will leave here unencumbered by my hate. There will be no vengeance for what was done to my son, to Lokan, the one who sat at my right hand.”

Mal’s heart slammed against his ribs as Sutekh laid Lokan’s heart inside his chest. This was it. This was what Alastor and Dae had been fighting for, believing in, all along. He’d given up. He’d lost hope. He’d wanted only revenge, believing dead was dead, that he couldn’t get Lokan back. Not ever.

But here he was.

His gaze shot to Dae then to Alastor. They both looked stunned. Jubilant. Awed and disbelieving.

Then he looked at Calliope.

Her brows were drawn in a frown, and her lips were moving though she made no sound. He had the bizarre thought that she was sorting through the possibilities, seeing things he was missing.

Around them, the other Underworld deities were buzzing, talking amongst themselves, discussing the ramifications of Sutekh’s revelations.

Mal thought he ought to be dancing a jig. But something, some kernel of unease, nagged at him.

Because Sutekh wasn’t the type to want peace.

Especially not with his son’s mangled remains lying on the stone before him.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR



The blood of Aset. The blood of Sutekh. And the God will pass the Twelve Gates and walk the Earth once more.