Sins of the Soul

And not an hour ago, Mal had called to tell them he and Alastor had a lead on a guy who might have seen something the night Lokan was killed. Some guy named Butcher.

Now, what the fuck were the chances? Dagan didn’t trust coincidences. Yet here he was, swimming in them.

Alastor was following up the lead he and Mal had dug up, and Dagan was here to have a chat with Big Ralph, and through him, with Asmodeus. The demon was known for his lack of loyalty to any Underworld player other than himself. He offered information to the highest bidder.

Dagan was hoping that talk would lead to something—anything—to do with Lokan.

On the other hand, Roxy was hoping—

Fuck. He had no idea what she was hoping. She expressed sympathy over Lokan’s death, and he knew it was genuine. But he also knew that she had grave concerns about his brother being found and brought back to life and fingering his killers. Because that would open the door to vengeance, which in turn could start an Armageddon that would spill into Topworld and leave a swath of dead in its wake.

Roxy might not be a soldier of the Asetian Guard anymore, but she had been for ten years, and her mandate of protecting the Guard at all times, and protecting humanity when she must, wasn’t going to just disappear from her psyche.

He caught her arm again. Her gaze dipped to his hand, then rose to his face.

“Let’s not worry about what we’re going to do with the information when—”

“If,” she interjected.

“—if we get it. Let’s just find out what we can and then sort it out.” He paused. “I don’t want you going in there alone.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” He offered a self-mocking smile. “But I can’t handle waiting here while you do.”

She sighed. “At least make yourself unobtrusive.”

A decent compromise. Soul reapers could bend the bonds between molecules, refracting light and hiding themselves from sight. He’d go into Tesso’s with her, but thanks to his ability to be seen only when he wished, she’d be the only one who’d know he was there.

“Disappear,” she said.

So he did.

“That’s amazingly creepy.”

He supposed it was.

She loped across the street and stopped only when one of the two guys guarding the door stepped directly in front of her path.

“Hey,” she said.

He grunted. “Surprised to see you again so soon.”

She wasn’t a regular, but she’d been here often enough that he knew her face, if not her name.

“Just can’t seem to stay away.” She shoved her hand in her pocket and came up with a C-note. He palmed it then pulled the door open as she passed. The guy’s gaze never strayed from her. He had no idea Dagan was there, right behind her, a beat away from ripping out the guy’s heart if he didn’t stop staring at Roxy’s ass.





NAPHRé TOOK ALMOST AN HOUR to scour the grounds and make certain there wasn’t a trace left behind to link her to Butcher’s death. She knew she’d done her job exactly as she always did. No one would find him. Which meant no one would be looking for her.

Still, it was better to check twice than be sorry once. Goosebumps prickled on her skin. Her gaze flitted to the gates of the cemetery. She knew now that whoever had watched her bury Butcher the first time, it hadn’t been Alastor Krayl. And whoever had watched her do it the second time…again, not Alastor Krayl. He was long gone, the electricity he generated gone with him.

But she was still being watched.

She’d caught the quick flash of metal more than once. Binoculars or rifle. Her nature made her bet on the latter, but she didn’t rush the cleanup because she figured that if whoever was out there wanted to shoot her, she’d have been dead hours ago.

Guess it wasn’t her night to kick up her toes.

Which suited her just fine. She wasn’t in any hurry to leave this mortal coil. She’d sold her soul to a demon. Which meant that her death ensured an eternity in the Underworld, her soul bound in service to that demon.

Taking a last, quick tour around the grave, she verified that nothing was out of place. So she hefted the shovel and headed back toward Butcher’s car, eyes on the ground as she followed the exact path she’d taken when she’d dragged Butcher to the grave. She’d already done cleanup here and in the parking lot. This was her final check.

Along the way, she stopped and picked up a candy wrapper. March English Toffee Caramels. She blinked. The reaper. He’d smelled good enough to eat. She’d noticed that, but thought of it only now as she stared at the wrapper in her hand. She crumpled it and shoved it in her pocket.