Sins of the Flesh

“Honey, I’m ho-o-ome,” Mal murmured. Only honey wasn’t there. She’d left in a cab. Without even a kiss. For some reason, that made Mal grin.

He waited, giving his prey plenty of time to settle in. Twenty minutes later, he hopped off the rail and eased open the balcony door of the unoccupied condo. The commingled scents of dust and varnish and paint hung in the air. He’d done his homework. The previous owners had moved out weeks past, and the current owner was remodeling everything before moving in, right down to the marble sills on the windows. Which made the place perfect for surveillance.

He strode through the empty living room, made it halfway to the front door.

Then he paused, turned and looked back at the balcony and the star-flung sky. Adrenaline surged. He’d made twelve stories before without a scratch.

Sixteen just might be his lucky number.

Besides, he fucking hated elevators. He found the confines far too similar to a cell.

With a laugh, he sprinted back toward the balcony rail, vaulted it and soared.





CHAPTER THREE



…may my heart guide me at this hour of destroying the night.

—The Egyptian Book of the Dead, Chapter 22

CALLIOPE GAVE THE CAB driver an address on the opposite side of town. As the car pulled away, she glanced back to see Kuznetsov standing where she’d left him, staring after her. But his gaze wasn’t the one that made the fine hairs at her nape prickle and rise. Someone else watched her.

She detected no supernatural energy signature, which suggested her unseen voyeur was human. Suggested, not proved. And she was all about proof. Especially after the near-disastrous error she’d made last night. No. She wouldn’t think about that. It would serve no purpose to chastise herself endlessly. Learn from her mistake. Move on. But there was still the issue of the buildup inside her, bubbling and steaming and nearly ready to blow the lid off the pot. She would need to find a way to correct that.

When the cab was several blocks away, she leaned forward and said, “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll walk from here.”

The driver swiveled his head to look at her over his shoulder. “From here?”

His tone suggested he only barely refrained from adding, “Are you crazy?” Which prompted her to glance around. They were in an office district in the heart of downtown, an area all but deserted at this time of night. It was as though the place locked its doors and rolled up its carpets as soon as the workday ended. To a mortal, the darkened buildings and even darker shadows must look threatening.

“I think it is not safe for you here,” the driver muttered.

Lovely. Of all the cabdrivers in the city of Toronto, she’d drawn the one whose fatherly concern appeared to extend to the entire female population.

“I have a daughter your age.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t want her walking here alone at night.”

A daughter her age. She very much doubted that.

“Maybe I take you somewhere with more people?” he asked. The reflection of his face in the rearview mirror showed three parallel lines in his furrowed brow and dark eyes narrowed in concern.

She didn’t want to go somewhere with more people. She wanted to get out and head back the way she’d come, but if she pushed, he’d remember her, and she preferred to draw the least amount of attention possible. She thought for a second then altered her plans and gave him the name of a popular restaurant several blocks to the northeast, back in the direction they’d come from.

Things changed. It was always easiest to change with them, like water flowing around rocks that emerged in its path. Eventually, it was the rocks that wore away and the water that found its true path.

As she settled back in the seat, she pulled out her phone. Until that instant, she hadn’t been expecting a call. But now she was. She even knew the caller’s identity.

Less than ten seconds later, the phone rang.

“You’ve found it?” she asked, already certain of the answer.

“You creep me out every time you do that.” Roxy Tam’s voice carried through the phone.

Calliope smiled a little. “After ten years, you ought to be used to it.”

“Yeah, I ought to be used to you by now, but I’m not. It’s still creepy that you know shit before it happens.” Roxy paused. “And, yes, I’ve found it. I’ll send it now. Just don’t watch it while you’re eating. Not pretty.”

It was a brutal video clip that had made a brief appearance on YouTube before the powers that be yanked it because of subject matter: the skinning of a man’s chest. Calliope wanted that clip, and now Roxy had found it for her.

“Thank you,” Calliope said. “I appreciate the help.”

Three weeks ago, Calliope wouldn’t have said that. Three weeks ago, it would have been Roxy’s job and duty to get the information. But things had changed. Roxy had left the Asetian Guard, allowed to muster out only because she had been low in the hierarchy, privy to no sensitive information.