Authors: Dakota Banks
Maliha changed her position so she was no longer straddling Jake’s torso and slumped to the floor.
“Hound,” she whispered. “Hound.” Louder.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” she said.
As the door opened, Hound said, “Just being polite, in case you and Mr. Hunk were, uh, going at . . .”
She looked up at him, still holding the knife.
“Oh. I see.” He knelt down next to her and wrapped his arms around her. “It’ll be all right. We’ll take it from here.” He turned his head toward the door. “Mickey! Get your ass in here!
“Are you wounded?” he asked Maliha.
“No, just the injuries I already had.”
Mickey came running through the door, slamming it back so hard that it crashed into the wall. “What the fuck?” He stood frozen as he took in the scene. “Did you have to . . . ?”
“Yes, she did,” Hound said. “I’ll explain later. Lock the door before we get a lot of company.”
Hound spread out a clean blanket on the couch in Maliha’s room, and Mickey carried her over to it. Just then her reward for killing Jake was measured on her scale, and it was a great one. She twisted in pain, pulling apart her pajama top as the scale glowed and moved on her skin. Mickey was frightened and baffled until Hound explained what was happening. Finally she was pulled through time, fading in and out of view, emerging with a few more silver hairs visible within the black braid that hung down her back.
“This woman is extraordinary,” Mickey said.
“Took you long enough to realize it,” Hound said. “You want to protect her, but it’s like trying to protect the sun from being too hot. Hopeless.”
I heard that.
“You get some rest,” Hound said to Maliha. “You’re safe with us.”
Although Maliha knew there were threats that only she could deal with, right then Hound’s words were a balm to her ragged soul.
Three weeks later
M
aliha was back in Chicago. She was the only one in her condo and for now, relished the quiet and long hours to think. Amaro was visiting his sister Rosie, Yanmeng and Eliu were still in Switzerland at the clinic, Hound was working on a case, and Mickey had gone back to Phoenix with a fattened bank account and a promise to return soon. Before they’d split up, the team had welcomed Mickey as a new member.
The police found Arnie Henshaw’s body after Hound phoned in an anonymous tip. Arnie wasn’t just dead, he was Elizabeth-style dead, upping Maliha’s pain at the thought of what he went through.
She felt that she’d paid in blood for recent events, and if she dwelled on the past, she could drown in a sea of remorse. It was time to look to the future, to rededicate herself to both her personal quest to redeem her soul from the clutches of Rabishu and to assemble the crystal lens needed to read the Tablet of the Overlord. Her feeling was stronger than ever that she was the only one living who could accomplish that and rid Earth of the seven Sumerian demons. What lay beyond that for humankind, she didn’t know, but she wanted to see how it all turned out.
Something that needed her team’s attention was that Vice President Cameron had told her there were others like him in politics, sons and daughters of the New Founders. He’d claimed that none was in a position to influence the course of events in the country, as he had been—but what reason would he have had to tell the truth? Lying about the projects of the New Founders would have been second nature to him. He’d told her there were twelve Founders, but what if there were thirty? Or a hundred or more? Rooting out information on the secretive group would be a challenge to her team.
Lucius, her soul mate, her Ageless lover who’d given himself over to a torturous existence to save her, no longer needed to be hidden away in a secret compartment of her heart. Now he lived in her entire heart, and she hoped someday to find the way to bring him back from his demon’s hell. She’d never give up trying.
The answer might lie in the Tablet of the Overlord. I have to find the rest of the shards.
There was that mysterious statement Master Liu made to her that kept popping up in her mind, that their lives are linked.
How? Why? I can see how he’s important to me, but how could I make a difference to him? He’s already so powerful. Is there something on that tablet he wants too?
Maliha raised the shades on the windows of her condo, something she rarely did for security reasons. She stood in front of the expanse of curved windows, looking out at Lake Michigan. Sun glinted off the ice of the lake, searing away thoughts that had saddened and depressed her, searing the hurt from her heart.
It hurt to lose Jake because I still don’t understand how I could have been so wrong about him. Now I have to focus on Lucius and how to bring us back together.
A doubt tried to wiggle into her mind.
Could he be hiding something, like Jake? Am I doomed to repeat this kind of failed cycle of love? No,
I don’t believe Anu would punish me like that.
December had slipped by while she was in the clinic, and a new year spread out before her. A year of purpose and accomplishment.
Master Liu mentioned that one of his disciples named Daniel Harper has a shard. If I can get Daniel’s away from him, I’ll have four of them. More than half. Master Liu said to approach Daniel as a woman. I think I can manage that.
She went into the storage room where the boxes from Abiyram’s apartment were stacked. It was time to tackle them. She finally knew the story of his death and in her own way had avenged it. Until now, she’d had neither the time nor the inclination to handle the items she’d inherited from him.
Box after box yielded dusty but fascinating artifacts. She was going to need a special display area in her haven for them. She would consider donating the better pieces to museums, but it was impractical. She couldn’t produce authentic provenance, the complete history of the artifact, because Abiyram had been less than scrupulous in his collecting techniques. She’d have to forge documents, and for now it was too big a project to undertake.
Maybe later.
A battered leather document tube carried a note in Abiyram’s scrawl:
We’ll find this one together
.
Inside was an ancient map. As Maliha held the map that threatened to crumble in her hands, an image rose from it into the air and enlarged in front of her. Full of wonder, she stared at the hovering map that would lead her to the next shard.
It looks like I’m going to have to learn a lot about volcanoes.
I
’d like to thank the readers of the first two books in the Mortal Path series,
Dark Time
and
Sacrifice
, who responded to Maliha’s unique and compelling story, allowing me to bring this next book to you. I love this story and these characters and it’s satisfying to be able watch Maliha walk the mortal path.
My agent, Adrienne Rosado of Nancy Yost Literary Agency, has provided valuable support. Thank you, Adrienne! I couldn’t make my dreams come true without you.
Emily Krump, my editor at Harper Voyager, helped transform this book from a collection of words into the version you hold in your hands, the one that best represents my vision of the story, for which I am grateful. A special thank you to Emily for her compassion and patience in working with me during a difficult period of my life, the decline in health and passing away of my sister Maxine. A class act, Emily, and one that I’ll never forget.
Copyeditor Ellen Leach deserves great credit for smoothing the rough edges of my manuscript. Thanks, Ellen, for a difficult task well done.
My husband, Dennis, makes a rotten critique partner but redeems himself with excellent brainstorming. I get Maliha into trouble, he helps me get her out. On top of that, he makes a terrific egg sandwich with hot pepper cheese. What’s not to love?
A special mention belongs to reader Jill Bakkum, who won a contest to name a character in this book after herself. I enjoyed having Dr. Jill in this story.
Growing up in a converted 1890s funeral home, complete with blood gutters in the basement floor, fueled
DAKOTA BANKS
’s interest in the paranormal. She’s no ghost whisperer, but she keeps an open mind. She’s fascinated with both archaeology and the paranormal, especially when the two intersect, as they do in
Mortal Path.
Dakota is a member of the Horror Writers Association and the International Thriller Writers. She lives in aSt. Louis suburb with her husband, two sons adopted from Peru and Ethiopia, and a couple of cats who keep her writing on track.
Visit her website at
www.dakota-banks.com.
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High praise for Dakota Bank’s
“
Deliverance
by Dakota Banks delivers everything I love in suspense fiction: great characters who jump from the page; a smart, layered plot; and pacing that screams. This is the kind of book that makes you look forward to a rainy day.”
J
OHN
G
ILSTRAP
, author of
Damage Control
and
Nathan’s Run
“Passionate, fascinating . . . packed with action and history. Three hundred years ago, Maliha Crayne was burned at the stake. Now she’s in a race against time to save the world and her soul, and you’ll be with her step by step.”
D
AVID
M
ORRELL
,
New York Times
bestselling author of
The Brotherhood of the Rose
“Seductive, sophisticated, and imaginative . . . a labyrinth of fast-paced suspense.”
S
TEVE
B
ERRY
,
New York Times
bestselling author of
The Jefferson Key
“
Mortal Path
is to be savored for both its edge of suspense and the pure joy of its storytelling. . . . Not to be missed!”
J
AMES
R
OLLINS
,
New York Times
bestselling author of
The Devil Colony
“Chilling, thrilling, and a page turner!”
H
EATHER
G
RAHAM
,
New York Times
bestselling author of
The Killing Edge
“Edge of your seat, breathtaking action . . . a must-read.”
D
AVID
D
UN
, author of
The Black Silent