Sins of the Soul

He wasn’t answering. And he didn’t have voice mail.

She wondered if the no-show deal was common. She had no clue. In six years, she’d never tried to summon him. She’d just gone about her business and waited for him to come to her. The longer he went between visits, the happier she was.

But right now, she wouldn’t mind having a little chat. She wanted some answers, and he just might be the one to provide them.

Feeling a bit frustrated by her lack of success in that arena, she’d decided to be proactive about the High Priest. She’d come looking for Djeserit Bast rather than waiting for her to come hunting. But it looked like her luck was running pretty steady. No demon. No Djeserit.

But, hey, at least the soul reaper hadn’t returned.

Which she ought to count as a positive. But she was kind of disappointed that he’d given up so easily. She’d enjoyed verbally sparring with him. And the way he’d looked at her, like she was an ice cream cone he’d like to lick, hadn’t exactly been unpleasant. And…

“See…that is exactly what’s wrong with my life,” she muttered. “I’m actually considering Sutekh’s son as potentially dateable.” Or, if not dateable, at least shaggable, to steal his phrase.

How long had it been since she’d thought of anyone that way? Years. Years and years. Because she was an all-or-nothing kind of girl. Love with her whole soul, trust with her whole soul, or not at all.

Yeah, well, a soul reaper wasn’t exactly a good candidate for that. Offer him her soul—which actually wasn’t even hers to offer anymore—and he was damn likely to take it. And not in a good way.

Kawara wa migaitemo tama ni naranu. A tile even though it be polished does not become a jewel. Her grandfather had told her that when her high school boyfriend dumped her the night before prom. And Alastor Krayl was no jewel. But then, he wasn’t exactly a tile, either.

She needed to just stop thinking about him. About the way he’d followed her home to make certain she was okay after she reburied Butcher. Sort of nice, in a creepy stalker, soul reaper kind of way.

“Not thinking about him,” she said in a singsong voice.

Kuso.

Glumly, she stared at the Temple of Setnakht, but there was absolutely nothing to see. Just a building, locked up tight. Anything interesting was happening inside, beyond her line of sight. She ought to head home. Get some sleep. But something inside her shivered and twitched, an insistence that she needed to be here.

Intuition was a powerful tool, one she’d learned not to disregard.

Might as well wait till the party broke up. How long could that be? Another hour? Two? If she was lucky, other opportunities might present themselves. She might even catch High Reverend Bast alone as she was leaving.

So she stayed where she was, her back propped against the redbrick building as the cold wind swept down the street, making her hair fly in her face and her skin prickle with gooseflesh. She watched and waited and pondered the whole demon/blood covenant predicament she found herself in. She didn’t know how she was going to pay down her debt. How did one go about nullifying the sale of one’s soul to a demon? She had no clue.

She could go to the Daughters of Aset, and their elite forces, the Asetian Guard. Ask for their help. But that would mean selling her soul all over again, to the exact group she’d run from in the first place because she hadn’t wanted to give up who she was, to be swallowed by a hierarchy of secrecy and twisted allegiances.

To kill on command, without question.

The Daughters of Aset had three lineages. The Adaptive, the Keeper and the Guide. Predatory, aggressive, Guides were the vanguard, the ones who made sure the path was clear and safe. The ones who killed when they had to.

Naphré was a Guide, on her mother’s side. She’d accepted that, trained for her post, even cut the dark mark—an ankh with wings and horns—into her skin. But in the end, she hadn’t taken the final step to fulfill her duty; she hadn’t tasted first blood. Which meant she hadn’t stepped beyond human.

She’d run so she wouldn’t have to kill just because the Asetian Guard told her to.

How fucking hilarious was it that she’d ended up doing exactly what she had been so morally opposed to. Only she was doing it for a different master.

Guess certain people were just born to do certain things.

Her attention sharpened and she pushed off the wall and straightened. Something had changed in the building across the street. For a long moment, she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what that something was, then she saw it. Light. There was light bleeding into the side alley, suggesting either headlights or a security lamp turned on behind the building. She’d lay dollars to doughnuts that someone was making use of a back exit.

Back exits were always interesting.

Shoving her nearly empty baggie back in her pocket, she took off at a jog, casting a quick glance in each direction before she bolted across the street and down the alley.