Dark Sins and Desert Sands (20 page)

Fragile enough to shatter, in happiness I soared.
Defeat brings me low but with love I am restored.

S
eth had crushed Layla’s petty rebellion and broken her spirit. He should’ve enjoyed his victory over his sphinx, but it left him cold. Why should that be? He looked over to where Layla lay upon the stainless steel table. He’d had his doctors examine her—more a function of his desire to humiliate her than for any true practical purpose—and he could sense her delicious misery.

Even in sadness and pain, Layla was still as beautiful as ever. So why didn’t he desire her? Perhaps Layla wasn’t truly worthy of him. What powers did the sphinx have except to riddle mortal minds? Layla couldn’t make butterflies and hummingbirds appear from the air. She had no dominion over plants or
flowers. She couldn’t seduce a man merely by looking at him….

The war god frowned, trying to shake off whatever madness had him thinking about the Aztec deity. After all, he’d had enough of goddesses. More than enough. His first wife, Nephthys, was as forceful a goddess as ever lived. Seth still sometimes thought about her sharp talons and hawkish features, but their shared ferocity hadn’t been enough to keep them together. His second wife, Taweret, was a savage demonic fighter who could take the shape of a hippo, a crocodile or a lion. But that relationship ended when she tried to chain him to a wall. His third and fourth wives, Anat and Astarte, were both war goddesses in their own right…. Yes,
all
of his wives had been goddesses, too powerful to tame. And each had betrayed or abandoned him in turn, which was why he’d created his sphinx in the first place.

The shape of Layla’s face was precisely to his liking. Her breasts the exact size that he preferred in his hands. He’d molded her from sand to be his perfect companion and he should enjoy having her back under his power. So why wasn’t he happier about it? What magic spell had Isabel—that painted whore goddess—cast over him that he couldn’t get her out of his mind?

It must simply be that he hadn’t truly reclaimed Layla yet. He could still sense the fingerprints of another man on her body and didn’t feel as if she belonged to him in the way she once had. She’d given herself to the minotaur. He’d just have to ensure that such a thing could never happen again.

Ray duct-taped Jack to an old rocker by the fireplace. Jack writhed beneath his hood. “Ray?”

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. You don’t get to say my name like I’m a friend.”

“Just take the bag off my head and we’ll talk.” Ray recognized the plaintive tone, the one they’d both used to calm down hostiles in the field, and it made him furious. Jack just kept talking. “Whatever kinda trouble yer in—”

Ray didn’t let him finish. Instead, he punched Jack in the face, not sure if he hit nose or chin or mouth, and not caring. Jack made a choking sound, as if tasting his own blood. “I’m your friend, Ray. Whatever you done, we can find a way out of it.”

“Like I helped you out of a court-martial? Or like you helped me when you told the government I was a traitor?” Ray slammed his fist down hard on Jack’s hand, the crack of bones reverberating under Jack’s howl of pain. It should’ve been deeply satisfying, but it wasn’t. Maybe Ray just hadn’t caused enough pain yet.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whimpered.

Red fury danced before Ray’s vision. “You’re fucking
sorry?
”

“I thought you were gonna tell the truth about what happened in Afghanistan. I panicked. I just thought that if I cast a little doubt on you, then nothing you said about me would ever stick. I just thought they’d question you but wouldn’t have enough evidence to do anything about it, so I spun one lie, and it became another…”

There it was, then. All the confirmation Ray needed. It really
had
been Jack who had betrayed him. Jack who had murdered civilians and condemned Ray to a dungeon. He could still taste the flesh that they’d told
him had been cut from his own nephew. Remembering it, Ray yanked off Jack’s hood, tape and all, taking some hair and skin with it. Then he stooped down to pull off Jack’s socks.

“What are you doin’, Ray?”

“I’m gonna show you a little trick I learned in a Syrian dungeon,” Ray answered, his boots crunching on broken glass as he readied the jumper cables that he’d taken from the trunk of Jack’s car. “I bet you don’t know how sensitive the bottoms of your feet are…”

Jack’s voice rose an octave. “You’re gonna torture me? Make me scream like a stuck hog? That’s what you want?”

“Isn’t it the least you deserve?”

Jack’s chest actually stuttered, his fists opening and closing, then he went still. Looking past Ray he said, “Maybe I do deserve it. Just don’t do it in front of the girl.”

The girl? Ray whirled around to see Missy standing at the top of the staircase. What the hell was she doing here? So, no one had grabbed her. Not Scorpion Group or the cops. That’d just been a lie Jack had told to get him to run. Just another lie like a thousand others. It killed him to watch Missy run down the stairs and put her body between him and Jack, as if to shield the fucker.

“Don’t hurt him,” Missy whispered, staring at Ray, her shoulders hunched in fear. She’d seen him beat her pimp half to death; she knew what he was capable of. “Jack’s been great to me, Ray. He already got me a job working in a coffee shop and told me I could stay here
until I get on my feet. Isn’t that what you asked him to do?”

Ray shook his head, trying to understand, then decided he didn’t want to. “Missy, just walk out that door and keep going. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Yes, it does,” Missy said stubbornly, yanking the duct tape off one of Jack’s wrists. She was setting the bastard free. “I’m not going to let you hurt him. Jack’s your friend. You just have to remember that.”

“Jack’s the anonymous informant. Now get the hell out of here before you get hurt.”

That was when they both heard the click of a pistol, cocked and ready. Jack had managed to reach into his desk and pull out his old service weapon with an unsteady hand. Ray wasn’t about to let Missy stand between him and a gun, so he spun her away and shouted, “Run!”

But she didn’t run, and Jack didn’t shoot. “I’m not gonna hurt her,” Jack said, his hand shaking. “You gotta understand, I never wanted to hurt anybody….” So this was how it was going to end, Ray thought, staring down the barrel of Jack’s gun. His best friend was going to shoot him dead. Visions of Layla passed before him, as if she were standing in the room telling him to breathe. As if her cool hands were soothing his face, as if her lips were open and inviting beneath his. If he was going to die, he was glad his last thoughts were of her.

“I’m sorry, Ray,” Jack was saying, his face red and twisted with pain.

“So what are you waiting for?” Ray asked. “Pull the damned trigger.”

Instead, the barrel of the gun slowly swiveled as Jack turned the gun on himself. Suddenly, everything Ray knew—or thought he knew—changed. He hadn’t been able to stop his brother from killing himself, and now another man he’d called brother was about to do the same. “Don’t you fucking do it, Jack!”

“Why not? You want me dead. That’s why you’re here, ain’t it?”

No. Ray was here because he’d been blind with a killing fury that he couldn’t control. He’d wanted Jack to hurt the way he’d been hurt. He’d wanted justice, and when he realized he couldn’t have that, he decided upon revenge. But he didn’t want this. “Listen, you country-fried douche bag, do you think killing yourself is going to erase the shit you’ve done? Because it won’t.”

Jack’s pupils were wide and eerie, like maybe he wasn’t listening. “There’s no way to erase what I did to those people. Don’t you think I’ve tried? There’s no way I can ever make up for what I did to you, either, Ray.”

That much was true. There was no apology that would ever return the past two years of Ray’s life to him. There was nothing that could ever compensate him for the pain. That didn’t mean that Ray wasn’t just going to stand here and watch Jack blow his brains out.

“Well, I’ve got an idea,” Ray said, inching forward as Jack’s finger hovered over the trigger. “Why don’t you man up, Jack? Tell the truth instead of checking out and leaving everybody else with the mess to clean up.”

Jack’s throat bobbed with emotion. “You think anybody would believe me? Even if they did, what do ya
think is gonna happen to you, Ray? They aren’t gonna throw you a ticker-tape parade. Trust me, nobody in Washington is gonna risk jail time to clear your name. They’re gonna bury this and bury you, too.”

Ray took another step forward, aware of the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Aware of Missy’s bated breath as she watched the unfolding scene in silence. Aware of every beat of his heart.

“I never meant to hurt anybody,” Jack said again.

“Then don’t,” Ray said, summoning whatever was left of his powers. He tasted the blood in the back of his throat as he met Jack’s gaze and held it, reaching for Jack’s consciousness. “Don’t hurt anybody. Hand it over.”

Missy knew exactly what Ray was doing, and she broke in with, “Stop, Ray. You’re going to fry your brain!”

She was probably right, but better that Ray burn out this way than doing Seth’s bidding. “Give me the gun, Jack.”

“I—I can’t,” Jack said, resisting Ray’s weak influence. “Can’t see a way out of this. No way, no how.”

“But there is a way,” Missy insisted, her sneakers crunching on the broken glass as she came close.

“Missy, get back,” Ray barked. “What the hell are you doing?”

“My boyfriend’s dad is some famous reporter, Jack. You can tell him your story.” Then she looked at Ray. “Let him call Carson’s dad.”

“I need people to know that I never meant to hurt anyone,” Jack said, shaking now like he might go into a seizure. That’s when Ray was able to capture his mind. Blood flowed steadily from both Ray’s nostrils, but he
was able to hammer at Jack’s will like hot metal in a forge.

“Give me the gun.”

With a choked sound, halfway between a sob and relief, Jack shoved the handle toward Ray. The grip of the pistol slicked Ray’s palm with sweat as he pulled it away and released the clip of ammunition, letting it fall harmlessly to the floor. Fighting down the urge to pistol-whip Jack, Ray pulled him free of the rest of the duct tape and said, “Go ahead. Make the call.”

Jack crouched down, hands in his hair, sobbing. “If I tell ’em what really happened, Ray, we’ll both go to jail. Me for what I did, and you—”

“For covering it up. I know.” Ray leaned back on the arm of the couch, pinching his nose in a vain effort to staunch the bleeding. He just didn’t care anymore. Without Layla, he didn’t care about anything. Besides, Layla had been right. He’d told himself that everything he’d done so far had been in the name of justice, but the dead deserved justice, too.

A few minutes after Jack called the reporter, Ray thought he heard rhythmic footsteps clicking across the wooden deck. Someone breaking into the house? Ray grabbed the gun. He was still fuzzy-headed and near collapse, but through the bloody fog of Ray’s mind, he thought he saw Isabel Flores gingerly lift one designer shoe over the broken glass door to step inside. “
¡Ay, caramba!
This better be worth ruining my espadrilles…” she said. “Rayhan, the first time I saw you, I said you were trouble in a tight black T-shirt. How right I was.”

It was all pretty surreal, and Ray didn’t even know
where Jack had gone with the phone at this point, but what confused Ray most was the way Missy jumped to her feet and ran toward Isabel, throwing herself in her arms. “It’s okay! He didn’t kill anyone,” Missy cried.

“You did well, my little butterfly,” Isabel said, hugging Missy into an embrace.
“¿Cómo estás?”

Ray squinted at Missy, who looked as happy as he’d ever seen her. “Wait. You two know each other?”

“How else do you think I found you?” Isabel asked. “Every goddess has her minions.”

Isabel? A goddess? Normally, Ray would have asked a million questions but nothing surprised him anymore. All he managed to get out was, “But…how?”

Isabel pressed a kiss to Missy’s forehead. “I wouldn’t have found this little American Painted Lady if you hadn’t sent her to follow Layla. You treated her well, so I’m willing to help you. Is that what you want to know?”

Ray was too exhausted to hold the gun and it wasn’t loaded anyway, so he let his arm fall at his side, trying to make sense of the surreal scene unfolding before him. There was only one coherent thought he could cling to. “What I want to know is…where’s Layla?”

Isabel shook her head. “Layla went back to Seth to buy you the rest of what looks to be your very short mortal life.”

Ray braced himself, shaking the fog from his mind. There was no way in hell he was going to let Layla keep that bargain. Staggering to his feet, he forced the words through his raw throat. “Hey, Goddess Cha Cha or whoever you really are, will you help me make another trade?”

I hold you tethered, I hold you still, and until you
slip me, you have no free will.

L
ayla walked behind Seth like a beaten dog on a leash as he led her outside. Still groggy from whatever he’d injected her with, and confused, she squinted into the morning light as it lit up the grass and stone walkway at the entrance of the building.

“Get undressed,” Seth said without even looking at her.

She’d known it was coming, but her stomach roiled and the breeze brought goose bumps to her arms. It was a weekend, so the parking lot was mostly empty but for some of the security personnel. Still, she looked up to the darkened windows. “Here?”

She knew from long experience the kind of room that Seth preferred for intimacy. Someplace like the
one in which she’d awakened. A place that was white and steel that could be wiped down, all evidence of passion easily washed away afterward. She couldn’t imagine why he’d want to reclaim her here unless it was to humiliate her.

“Stop stalling, Layla. You allowed other men to touch you, so I don’t see why you shouldn’t be eager to service me the same way.”

Service him
. It was a horrible thing to contemplate. It made her rebellious and defiant. “Just what is it that you want me to do? Do you want me to kneel before you and stroke your petty little…ego?”

Seth’s eyes bored into hers, his power crackling in the air. “Did you kneel for the minotaur?”

She looked away.

“I think that’s an obscene custom, but you probably enjoyed it.” Seth removed his own jacket, folding it neatly and draping it over the stairway railing. “Now, don’t make me tell you again. Get undressed.”

Layla yanked her cotton shirt over her head and threw it on the ground. She kicked her shoes off next and felt the grass between her toes. She didn’t do it for Seth, she told herself. She did it for herself. Better that she boldly bare herself before he took her hard-won love of her body and turned it against her.

“You should glance up at the windows to see if anyone is watching,” Seth said. “I suspect they are. Security. Secretaries. Perhaps the janitorial staff… Isn’t this what you want? All you whores, prancing about in your provocative clothing want the same thing. To be looked at. To be admired and idolized. Isn’t that what you desire?”

When she didn’t answer, Seth snatched her bra off
and let it fall. She was keenly aware of her exposed breasts, belly, shoulders and back, but lifted her chin to say, “Every desire I’ve ever had was something you created in me. You made me a woman and yet you want me to be ashamed of it.”

This seemed not to have ever occurred to him before. His brow arched and he paused. “Then perhaps now is the time for me to honor you in all your natural splendor.”

Seth yanked her skirt down, panties and all, until she was nearly tripping out of them, twisting to hide herself. “Oh, no need for shyness now. You really are quite lovely. You’ve always been a potent symbol. An ornamentation upon my arm. And you will be forever, Layla. Death will never find you and I’ll ensure that you never give life to the child inside you.”

Now Layla did stumble, falling naked onto the grass. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around all that Seth had just said. He laughed at her confusion. “Didn’t you know that you were pregnant? You can’t tell me that you hadn’t planned it this way, just to spite me.”

Pregnant
.

The word hung in the air before her like some ripe pomegranate swaying in the breeze. Like forbidden fruit that she ached to pluck before it vanished. Instinctively, her fingers splayed over her belly then drifted lower, to the place that covered her womb. It was a spot that had been numb and barren before Ray came into her world. Now everything had changed. She was going to have a baby. Ray’s baby. Even if she never saw him again, he’d given her this….

Seth may have created her, but she and Ray had created a child. She knew it was too soon for her to feel
anything inside her, but just the idea of a child was precious to her. This was something beautiful and sacred. A little life that she’d die to defend. That she’d kill to keep safe. The hairs bristled at the nape of her neck as Layla understood just what Seth meant to do to her and to the baby inside her. “Stay away from me!”

Seth grabbed her and she would’ve screamed but everyone in the Scorpion Group compound worked for Seth. She knew that none of them would raise a finger to help her. None of them ever had. Instead of a scream, it was a roar she felt at the back of her throat. It carried over the wind and sent a flock of pigeons squawking into the air. She held up her hands to fend him off and saw her nails grow into claws. Layla’s body grew sleek and heavy with the muscles of a huntress. She was a sphinx. Part riddler. Part woman. Part lion. And it was the lioness that came out of her now.

“Give your master one little kiss,” Seth snarled, and she slashed at him, shredding open his dress shirt and tearing at his divine flesh. The war god howled in outrage as his blood spattered to the grass and turned to sand. Then he threw her as if she were a mere stone in his pocket, and she skipped hard on the ground, until she tumbled to a stop, her tail twitching as she gasped for breath. She hoped there’d be time for her nose to elongate into a muzzle, for her jaws to give her teeth sharp enough to rip him apart.

Once, she’d have tried to run, but she’d been running her whole life. Instead, Layla launched herself at Seth and they tumbled together as she raked him with her powerful back claws. Somehow the war god managed to climb on her back, dragging her down, his arm locked around her throat. She was trapped now. Half
in lion form, half in woman form. It’s how he wanted her, she realized. It’s how all the other sphinxes had appeared throughout the world. His mouth was drawing closer and closer to hers. “Don’t struggle, my pet. I’m finally going to give you everything you’ve always wanted. Imagine how all manner of men will admire you as they come into this building.”

Layla thrashed against him, using her back claws to try to gouge out his intestines. But Seth was stronger. “Every breath you take is one that I gave you,” he whispered, holding her shaking face still for his ruinous kiss. “Now I’m going to take some of it back and you’ll breath no more.”

In the distance, Layla thought she heard a crash, like some kind of truck hitting a barrier, but her world had narrowed to the air she could still breathe.

“Sand you were and sandstone you’ll become,” Seth whispered, taking his lips away just long enough to inhale. “Think how you’ll enjoy it when strangers touch you. How they’ll take pictures of you. Think of all the photos the sphinx in Giza poses for….”

Seth found her mouth again and his lips tasted like ash. Desperate to wound him, Layla gnashed with her teeth. Bit him. Seth’s divine ichor spilled over her tongue, but it didn’t stop him.

“Bitch,” Seth said, wiping his mouth, but the damage was done. He was inhaling, taking the breath from her. Sucking it from her lungs. She was never going to see the face of her baby. She was never going to wrap her arms around Ray. Never spend the night cradled in his arms. Never feel safe, or whole, ever again. Crushing pain pinned her to the ground. Her bones were calcifying. She felt her tail go rigid. Layla could scarcely
believe that even Seth could be this cruel. He would turn her to stone and her baby with her, so that it could never be born. He meant to trap her here for eternity.

Layla fought for breath and could find none. She tried to get up, but couldn’t. Her hindquarters were already stone. Soon the rest of her would be, too. And her mind was already spinning away, caught up in a sandstorm of its own.

Ray saw Layla on the ground at Seth’s feet and he didn’t think; he just reacted. Crashing Jack’s truck through the security gate, braving the hail of bullets that followed, he pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The thump of the god’s corporeal form against the bumper wasn’t as loud as the resulting crash. The impact sent Seth’s body rolling up the hood of the car and his flying limbs punched through the windshield, forcing a spray of safety glass into Ray’s face.

“Basta!”
Isabel shouted, and though Ray didn’t speak much Spanish, he slammed the brakes. He flung himself out of the truck, shaking off bits of glass as he ran to Layla. When he reached her side, his blood turned to ice. She was half herself, half lioness, all sphinx. Still as stone.

Behind him, Scorpion Group security guards came running. Ray heard the zip and ping of bullets ricocheting somewhere near him and returned fire as Isabel climbed out of the wreckage of the car and went to her knees in front of Layla. The goddess knelt beside Layla, caressing her.

“What’s he done to her?” Ray shouted, eyeing the security team closing in on them.

Isabel raised her hands and held off the men by
entangling them in a thick net of jungle vines. Ray had never seen anything like it, but right now he didn’t have time to be amazed. All he could think of was Layla, who was murmuring, “Baby…save the baby…”

The
baby?
Surely he misheard.

“She needs your breath,” Isabel said, standing up. “Breathe for her.”

He’d given mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to enough wounded soldiers. He knew what to do, and yet his hands were shaking as he took Layla’s face and exhaled into her mouth. He was horrified by the chill of her skin. How had he let this happen? She’d always said there were worse things Seth could do to her than kill her, but Ray wouldn’t have believed it if he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes. Her tail and hindquarters were already carved like a statue. Stone was creeping up her spine. Seth wasn’t killing her—he was entombing her.

And Ray was losing her.

The dark god of Egypt rose from the steaming wreckage of the truck that had plowed into him. Shouts came from all directions as his security team tried to figure out who to shoot at. The Scorpion King slid off the hood, his mind black with fury. The war god’s suit was a ruin. Shredded rags. So much the better. Seth tore off his shirt, and the remainder of his pants, revealing himself as in battles of old. Thunder announced his towering rage, and he knew that storm clouds would roll in soon after.

That’s when he saw her.
Isabel
. She was here, close enough to crush, and the possibilities of how he’d vanquish her danced before his eyes. He forgot the
minotaur; he forgot the sphinx. He stalked the young goddess until a wall of jungle plants rose up in front of him, blocking his path.

“Xochiquetzel!”
Seth shouted, easily withering her plants away. But no sooner had he done so than another wall of greenery rose up before him, this time surrounding them both.

“I come with a proposal,” she said.

“No more trades,” Seth growled. “No more deals. No more pacts or bargains. Nothing as civilized as that ever again. I’ll honor none of them. You could’ve gone your foolish way, but you’ve stepped back into the quicksand of my world now and you’ll all be sorry for it.”

“But it’s
my
realm you’re trespassing in,” Isabel said, her hair damp from the rain that leaked through her wilderness roof. “You may have dominion over the industry of war, but I have dominion over pregnant mothers. I wouldn’t have let Layla go back to you if I’d known she was with child.”

“She’s
mine,
” Seth said, heedless of the petulance that he heard in his own voice. “The sphinx is mine!”

“You don’t even want her,” the sex goddess said, coming so near to him that the dampness evaporated from her skin. “
I’m
your match. Not her.”

“Is that so?” Seth asked as he summoned the storm to blow her jungle canopy to dust. Rain turned to scorching wind. His rage was hot, so hot that her vines withered and burst into flames. The fire engulfed her. Her clothes charred and fell away from her body. He smelled the burning magic in the air and heard her shriek. Yet, even writhing in pain, the young goddess was strong. He reached for her smoldering form, but
she broke free and ran for the building as terrified mortals scattered.

His employees were just ants now. He paid no attention to any of them. Not his workers, not his minions, not anyone. He’d trod them underfoot without another thought. His quarry was Isabel and he’d need to focus all his power to capture her. He chased her into the building, up the stairs and into the atrium where a massive tree burst from the floor, shooting up into the skylight and sending glass crashing down to litter his path. It annoyed him that she was causing such damage to the Scorpion Group building, but he had her trapped now. She must have known it, because her ivy grew so swiftly over the walls and windows that it soon blocked out all light, forcing Seth to hunt her in the darkness.

“You should have never toyed with me, Isabel. Don’t you know what I do to other gods? Haven’t you heard of my battles?” She didn’t answer, but he heard the young goddess panting. He liked that. Let her be afraid of him and of the dark. “Are you trembling, Isabel? You should be. I caught another nature god once. His name was Osiris. I drowned him in the Nile, then cut him to pieces.”

“That was in Egypt,” Isabel said when he was close enough to see the faint illumination of her eyes. She was shrouded in nothing but leaves, peering between vines like a jaguar. “I don’t think you’ll be able to conquer me here.”

He lunged for her, but just as he grasped hold of her, two vines dropped from the ceiling and caught him by the arms. The force of it threw him to the ground where leaves grew thick over his body. He gave a mocking laugh at her pitiful attempts to restrain him. It was only
a matter of summoning enough power to break these bonds.

And yet…he couldn’t.

This wasn’t possible,
Seth thought, his own breath coming out in ragged gasps. Of all the old gods, the war gods were the strongest. Everyone knew that.

“You’re farther from home than I am,” the young Aztec goddess explained, her silhouette all curves. “My powers are stronger here than yours.”

“War is stronger than peace,” Seth said, pulling frantically on his bindings. “Hate is stronger than love.”