Sins of the Soul

Izanami was fucking with his mind.

With a snarl, he hauled back then flung the phone as hard as he could. It went sailing end over end to crash to the ground on the far side of the river.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN



The Underworld, the Territory of Izanami

MALTHUS KRAYL COULD see as well in the dark as he could in the light. But not here. Here he was running blind, and he didn’t like it. This was Izanami’s realm, a place Sutekh didn’t dare venture. Actually, Mal was more than a little cocky to think he could walk in and walk out himself. Sutekh’s progeny wouldn’t be any more welcome than the überlord of chaos himself.

But Alastor was here somewhere, and there was something wrong. Mal and Dagan had both sensed it. A quick visit to Sutekh had confirmed it. Alastor had come after Butcher’s darksoul. The only argument Mal had with that was that he’d gone without one of his brothers at his back. Had he learned nothing from Lokan’s death?

Mal had drawn straws with Dae to see who got to come after their errant brother. Dagan won. Mal argued. Roxy stepped in. Mal got to come.

He’d had to laugh at that. Amazing the things Roxy could do. Like get his arrogant older brother to sit down and listen to reason. It had boiled down to the simple point that Dae was an asshole and Mal wasn’t—or, at least, he knew how to give the impression that he wasn’t. Not-an-asshole stood a better chance of success in a negotiation. Period.

So he’d opened a portal, crossed his fingers and leaped. Perhaps not the most solid of plans, but hey, that’s the way he rolled. He wasn’t about to change his modus operandi now.

The thing was, he hadn’t gone directly to Izanami’s realm. Not the way he did when he’d followed Sutekh’s directive and gone to see Osiris. That time, he’d arrived at what amounted to Osiris’s front door: the long corridor that led to the Hall of Two Truths. No such luck trying to get an audience with Izanami. He’d stepped out of the portal into…he had no idea what.

He walked on, using sound and touch to guide his way. It was more than little unsettling, if he was honest.

How long had he been here? Hard to tell. There was something twisty about Izanami’s realm, not just the usual shift and dip that marked the transition from Topworld to Underworld. It felt like time was warped here, moving outside of any expectations. But maybe that was just because it was utterly and completely dark. Black as a gangrenous limb.

He thought he was walking on solid stone, but he couldn’t be certain. His footsteps didn’t echo. It was more the way his boots met the ground with each step.

After a time, he stopped, his senses searching for what was different. Something had changed. He felt as though he’d just pushed through Jell-O.

“Malthus Krayl,” a cultured, feminine voice greeted him. A beautiful voice. Like chimes. Like a soft wind dancing through branches. That voice lured and promised, and he didn’t trust it one damned bit.

He stopped dead, not wanting to accidentally land in her lap. “Call me Mal. And you are…?”

Laughter, so pretty it made him smile. He shook his head. Focused. Refused to be led.

Silence, and then she said, “I am Izanami.” He thought there was a hint of wariness, or perhaps surprise in her tone.

“A pleasure.” He almost teased her, almost tried his usual charm. It was on the tip of his tongue to make a flip comment about it being a shame to hide beauty in darkness. But something stopped him. Some gut instinct that warned that Izanami was not the sort of female to fall for his wooden-nickel charms.

She was a powerful deity. She would expect the respect due her.

“I brought you a gift,” he said, suddenly wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have. Too late. Done was done.

“A gift,” she echoed, and he thought he heard a faint note of surprise. “Moonflower. Ipomoea alba. They bloom at night.”

Silence, and then he felt a cold touch on his hand and the flowers were gone.

“Why are you here, Mal?”

“I’ve come for my brother.”

“And he came for something that does not belong to him. A darksoul that was pledged to me.”

He squinted into the darkness, trying to see her face. Her voice lured him, called to him, so soft, so soothing. But he could see nothing, and some honed instinct deep in his gut whispered that that was probably a good thing.

“He brought the girl, though. The one you asked for.” For some reason, Sutekh had been a fount of information, sharing the knowledge of the Shikome’s request. Mal had been a little surprised by that. Cooperation wasn’t his father’s strong point.

“Did he?” There was genuine surprise in her tone.