Sins of the Soul

Likely, that was the perpetrator’s exact intent.

“Naamah,” Alastor greeted the female before him. She was Xaphan’s ambassador, his favored concubine. Alastor had met her before, when he’d stood by Dagan’s side to battle a group of fire genies who had come for Dagan’s mate, Roxy Tam.

The fire genies had lost that skirmish, which meant their fearless leader might be holding a bit of a grudge.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she purred and drew a skein of silky hair back over her shoulder with a languid movement.

“You know each other?” Mal asked, clearly surprised.

“Not in the biblical sense.” While Mal might not draw the line at bedding one, or several, of Xaphan’s fire genies, Alastor did.

Naamah snorted. “We’ve…exchanged greetings.”

“We had a bit of a row when she tried to barbecue Roxy,” Alastor clarified.

“Had that truly been my intent, I would have succeeded,” Naamah purred.

Alastor decided it wasn’t a point worth arguing. He glanced at the table. In addition to the cards and glasses, there was an open bottle of Dalwhinnie and a bowl of unshelled peanuts.

“Pricey single malt for a place like this,” Alastor observed, letting his gaze flick to each of the three humans in turn, and finally settle on the female once more. “This a special occasion?”

“What do you want, reaper?” Naamah asked at the same instant her companion snarled, “You see any fucking balloons, asshole?”

The guy turned to her with a frown. “Reaper? You know this guy?”

“Information,” Mal replied, and Alastor kept quiet, letting his brother run with it. After all, Mal was the one who’d come up with this lead. Alastor was just along for the ride.

“Information about?”

Mal just stared Naamah down.

“Maybe we can do a trade,” she said after an extended silence. “Did you find the kid?”

Mal answered in all honesty “No.”

The kid she referred to was Dana Carr. And, no, they hadn’t found her. In fact, by mutual agreement, they hadn’t looked and didn’t plan to. If anyone had asked Alastor a week past if he gave a fig about a mortal child, he’d have laughed.

Today, he’d say that even though he’d never laid eyes on her, he would kill for her. Start a war for her. Find a way to die for her if it meant her life.

Because he’d been hit broadside with the information that Dana Carr was his dead brother’s daughter. Lokan’s daughter.

Alastor’s niece.

He thought it was impossible. Except recent events were making them all aware as never before that there were no such things as absolutes.

Soul reapers couldn’t be killed, but someone had killed Lokan.

Soul reapers couldn’t reproduce—not even Sutekh’s sons—but Lokan had.

Soul reapers were enemies of the Daughters of Aset, yet Dagan had taken one as his mate, and trusted her as the sole being that knew Dana’s location. Roxy Tam was the one who had discovered their link to Dana, and because of her unique tracking abilities, she was also the only creature living or dead who could find the kid and her mom.

Except she wasn’t planning on looking anytime soon. She and Dagan were convinced that not knowing where the kid was, and therefore not being able to betray her location, was the only way to keep Dana safe. So the kid had disappeared somewhere in the world of man and, for the time being at least, would remain safely lost.

“If you haven’t found the child, then you have no information that I want.” Naamah waved a taloned hand in dismissal and leaned back in the chair.

“Why the fascination?” Alastor knew why Dana mattered to him, but he needed to know why she mattered to Xaphan and his fire genies. Sutekh had a lengthy history with the keeper of the braziers that light the lakes of fire, and it wasn’t harmonious. Whatever Xaphan wanted with Dana, it could only be at cross-purposes with what the soul reapers wanted. “Why is this little human girl so important to you?” he asked, including the word human for a reason.

Naamah didn’t blink. Didn’t react at all. Which told him she didn’t know the girl’s secret, had no clue she was a soul reaper’s progeny.

She made a sound of frustration. “Why is she so important to you?”

“She isn’t.” Alastor met and held her gaze. “We aren’t the ones asking about her.”

“Then what are you asking about?”

“What’s your interest, darlin’?” Mal rested his hand on the back of her chair and leaned in close, his eyes locked on hers.