by L. A. Banks
“You thinking what I’m thinking, Mar?” Shabazz said, ignoring Damali’s impassioned outburst.
“I’m praying what you’re thinking, baby,” Marlene said in a quiet rush.
“We might still have a chance,” Father Patrick said carefully. “Three eves have not passed. The Neteru is strong. And given that the Vatican told us that the holy key is missing, as I said when I arrived and Damali was still confined, the warrior angels may be battling to preserve her for the intended mission.” Father Patrick looked at Damali hard. “Child, we need you on our side, but must also do what we must do . . . if that isn’t possible.”
For a moment, Damali couldn’t answer. She covered her face with her hands and breathed into them slowly. Hope and a host of other emotions had closed her throat, and new tears stung her eyes as a sliver of a chance hung in the balance there in the weapons room. But she sucked up the sob that tried to force its way out, swallowed it away, and stood firm. “Make me whole again. Human,” she whispered. “Whatever the mission, I’ll always fight for the Light.”
Uneasy smiles began to slowly dawn on the faces before her. All except on Marlene’s. When Jose totally abandoned his weapon and moved to go to Damali, the older woman placed her hand firmly on his shoulder and stopped him.
“He got to you telepathically through my strongest prayer line, and a cleric team’s prayers with an entire monastery backing that up. Nothing should have been able to get in or out of here from the dark side.”
Monk Lin bowed in Marlene’s direction, lowering his samurai sword. “We set the perimeter prayer to let no evil enter this compound, and to let no weapon formed against us or her prosper. We asked that only good things come to her, and that no force that would harm her be allowed to breech this house. We said to keep Damali safe; we called her by name. But we never said not to allow Carlos Rivera to gain entry. Dear Marlene, could that have been the cosmic loophole?”
“He was able to connect with her,” Dan said slowly, “because he didn’t mean her any harm.”
Pure shame burned Damali’s cheeks as she dropped her hands away from her face and wrapped her arms around her. “I baited him into that, too,” she said quietly. “He didn’t mean me any harm. Never did. When the man said there was no intent to turn me, that was the truth.”
“I don’t believe that that motherfucker might still be on our side,” Shabazz said, wiping his face with his free hand, and walking away shaking his head in amazement.
“I told you to have faith,” Father Lopez said, as he hung his head back and let out a hard breath of relief.
“Yo, she’s standing before us, not trying to run or attack, talking about dying with honor, just like a Neteru,” Jose said fast. “It’s gotta be cool.”
Asula wisely held up his hand, stopping the group from moving toward her. “Rivera said that Damali had been turned by a council-level vamp, making her extremely treacherous. Be advised, this night is not over yet. We need to perform some tests.”
Damali nodded. “The man speaks the truth. I don’t know how much of this is still in my system, or if I’ll have some sort of lapse.”
“I don’t care, D,” Jose said quietly, his gaze holding hers. “I got your back.”
Father Patrick let out his breath slowly and motioned for Damali to stand by the cleared-off table, using the Isis blade to direct her. “I hope that we have not lost either of you. We have not removed our prayers and hope for his redemption, but we have barred him entry to the safe house until we know for sure which side he’s chosen. The hour is short. He cannot enter this compound until we have certain assurances that you are yourself. My hope is that somehow this new experience and knowledge of the dark side will aid us in reclaiming what has been stolen from our holiest orders.”
Nervous glances ricocheted around the team, but Father Patrick shook his head. “Until we know how your condition will evolve, you are not privy to Guardian information.” He watched shoulders slump around the group, but drew a shaky breath as Damali thrust her chin up and nodded her understanding.
“Marlene will set up a named barrier to keep him out,” the elder cleric said in a weary voice. “Then, we are going to recite the Twenty-third Psalm in unison while I walk around you, making a holy-water ring. Father Lopez will be swinging frankincense and then will read the communion prayer and offer you the sacrament. If your system can bear it, you will then be anointed with blessed oil at your forehead, your temples, your throat, over your heart, inside your wrists, and at the bottoms of your feet.”
Asula nodded. “Then, a blood pack will be set before you, along with human sustenance. If you cannot consume real food, then all may be lost . . . and you know what we’ll have to do.”
“Each member of the team is going to read a scripture from each of the twelve holy books, from the twelve scattered tribes and twelve major religions, and you will be touched by the symbols of those faiths and if your skin doesn’t burn, we will use the lights,” Monk Lin said. “You will have to pass through the UV lights.”
“Before the lights, though, I’ll prepare you a white bath, filled with garlic cloves and myrrh, and holy water,” Marlene said, her expression so tormented that it forced Damali to look away.
“It will be painful,” Father Patrick warned. “Any residue of vampire abomination within your system will be purged. But the choice is yours. If you cannot submit to the tests, and even if you do, but do not pass any of the tests, we will have to end this quickly so your soul can rest in peace. You know the code of the Neteru, and of the Covenant.”
“For the good of all mankind, the Light is my only path, and only the light that casts no shadows. Death with honor before dark disgrace,” Damali murmured, her gaze holding Father Patrick’s until he nodded and looked away.
Damali fully understood. The choice was simple—she wanted to live and to give Carlos a fighting chance to reclaim his soul. She owed him that much. “Bring it.”
Berkfield stood in his darkened garage, clutching the door opener and staring down the driveway behind the disappearing taillights of his family’s minivan. He knew he had to punch in the number on the keypad soon, to call the scientist who had changed his life. He had to know, had to bring closure to this whole mystery that had haunted him since that fateful night in the alley when Carlos Rivera made him know there was a whole other universe out there that he didn’t understand. But where was this man, this enigma that had shattered his neat world?
“Heard you were looking for me,” a deep voice said from behind. Berkfield pulled his revolver and spun to meet the sound. “Your mental calls have been drilling a hole in my brain for a long time now, hombre.”
Berkfield watched in horror as Carlos Rivera stepped out of the shadows. Sweat made his grip on his gun unsteady, and he reinforced his hold.
“Put it down,” Carlos ordered. “You and I both know that’s useless against my kind.”
“What do you want? Where did you come from?” Berkfield asked nervously, stepping back without lowering the weapon.
“I came from Hell,” Carlos said in a bored voice. “But I also came to call in a marker.”
“Stay back!” Berkfield shouted as Carlos casually walked forward. “I have hallowed-earth-packed bullets, holy water, a blessed crucifix, and—”
“Good,” Carlos said in a weary tone. “I’m also glad you sent the wife and kids to Father Patrick. Wise move.” He smiled. “Don’t look so shocked. I always know where everyone under my protection goes.”
The fact that Carlos knew where his family was headed made Berkfield bold. “I will blow you away if you come near my family. We clear?”
Carlos nodded. “I want them safe, too. So you can dispense with the drama. I wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble to put all of you under my protective seal if I wanted you dead. Use your brain. Think.”
Berkfield lowered his weapon. Carlos mentioned a protective seal, the same thing the scientist had said. “I need some answers.”
Carlos nodded. “We both do.” He walked over to the workbench and leaned against it, folding his arms. “You’re a good man, Berkfield. That’s why I’m here.”
Berkfield just stared at Carlos for a moment. “I’ve been losing my mind, seeing crazy things, thinking . . .”
“You haven’t lost your mind,” Carlos said in a quiet voice. “But the whole thing is insane.”
“I want this seal off of me! Whatever this shit is you did—some black magic bullshit, I don’t know, but I—”
“In these unstable times, you do not want my mark off of you,” Carlos said very slowly. “I gave you all the drug dealers, kingpins, led you to drug busts that would have taken years, and—”
“But I did not agree to sell my soul for it, and didn’t agree to a deal with the Devil.”
“Correct,” Carlos said, beginning to lose patience. “Which is the only reason you’re still standing here.”
Silence had created a stalemate, and after a moment, Carlos let out his breath hard, pushing away from the workbench.
“Listen, Berkfield. I gave you a lot of information when you needed it, now I need some help.”
When Berkfield didn’t respond, Carlos pressed on. “Something very valuable was stolen from my territory by a human, but if it falls into the wrong hands, it could be disastrous. My empire is very—”
“Empire?” Berkfield said, cutting him off. Then he chuckled and rubbed his moist palm over his balding scalp. “I’ve lost my damned mind. I’m worried about vampires and werewolves and madness, and you’re still just a drug lord.” He shook his head and put the safety on his weapon.
Carlos studied the man before him. Time was of the essence and Damali’s purging process was shattering his nerves. To make Berkfield understand, he went for shock value.
“Let me explain this to you slowly and carefully, and I’m going to stand here and not make a sudden move toward you so that your dumb ass doesn’t have a heart attack,” Carlos said in a smooth tone. He allowed his fangs to lower inch by inch as his body mass doubled, annoyance flickering his pupils gold and red. “I am of the highest level of my kind. There’s an entire empire of us out there. But you got lucky. I’ve marked you. Not for food, not for bait, not to be a human slave, but have given you a protection voucher.” Sending a dark current toward Berkfield, he slammed the garage door closed behind them and sealed the barrel of his gun.
He could feel Berkfield’s heart beating erratically, a scream lodging in the man’s throat. His blood pressure was spiking, his jaw had gone slack, and his bladder was about to empty. Carlos waved his hand to assist the human. “Chill, man,” Carlos said as calmly as he could while normalizing. “I’m not here to hurt you—never will. All right?”
Berkfield clutched his chest and staggered toward the wall to slump against it. “What do you want?”
“Information,” Carlos said coolly.
“About what?”
Carlos considered where to begin and sighed. “I didn’t start off like this, hombre. I got jacked in the woods where you found my shit. I had the same reaction you’re having now. Thought I’d have a fucking heart attack. But, bottom line is, I am what I am. Only good thing about it is that I can serve a little justice from this side, now. So, in that regard, we’re compadres.”
Berkfield’s hand went to his cross and he fingered it nervously as he spoke. “You’ve been helping me all along? From behind the scenes? But you’re dead?”
“Fucked up, ain’t it?” Carlos shook his head.
“And Damali Richards . . .”
“She’s all red-blooded human, but, yeah, she’s my woman.” Carlos smiled. “So, I can’t be that bad.”
“My family—”
“Is in the safest place on the planet,” Carlos said, all amusement gone from his tone once again. “With the clerics on hallowed ground. Your gut hunch was right about sending them there.”
“You said you needed information,” Berkfield rasped, his voice cracking.
“Yeah. Seems some scientists have been dicking around with Mother Nature, magnetic fields—the kinda shit that keeps my universe somewhat separated from yours. They’re doing experiments, trying to find the ultimate weapon, and may have opened up Pandora’s box.” Carlos began pacing. “Some places I can’t go. Only a human can get inside to do the detective work, which is your specialty.” He looked at Berkfield hard. “So this is where you come in. One of the master vampires, guys with power almost as serious as mine, may have come stateside and hijacked a key to one of the biblical seals. If he’s able to open that seal, then everything you learned in Catholic school will go down. All Hell will literally break loose, hombre. You feel me?”
“I don’t understand. What can I do? I’m just a—”
“You’re just a man with knowledge beyond the average man. You’ve got skills for finding shit, and I need you on the case to bring me that key before some crazy shit jumps off.”
Berkfield shook his head. “You think I’m a fool? If I did know where this so-called biblical key was, why would I give it to you? A demon? I did learn something about—”
“You will give it to me because your alternatives are very limited. The master who stole it isn’t going to stand in your garage, have a nice chat, and negotiate with you.” Carlos sent a searing strip of flame across the garage to make his point. “He will rip your fucking human heart out. He will turn your wife and children into the undead. He will do things to you that will make you know that Hell exists. So, my goal is to try to spare you that experience.” Carlos took in a deep breath to steady himself and put out the flames. “Because you are under my seal, I know your every move. A scientist came to you, let’s start there. What do scientists want with it?”
Confusion riddled Berkfield as he tried to process all that he’d witnessed and been told. “I was in the garage, had just come in, and they doped me up, I went out, and when I woke up I was in a military van.”
Carlos began pacing. “Humans. All right.”
“But the guy was trying to help me,” Berkfield said fast. “He also told me about a faction of scientists who disagreed with this madness. They said everything you just said, and gave me a number to punch into the door opener. They said they would send a squad to put my wife and kids in hiding. But he also said that I was in some sort of danger, something about my aura and your mark, a buncha stuff I still don’t understand.”
“Yeah,” Carlos said. “Neither do I and I don’t like it.” Carlos studied Berkfield and rubbed his jaw. “It was a smart move to get your family under Father Pat’s wing, but the thing that troubles me is, why would they come to you?”
Both men stared at each other.
“If I’m supposed to find this key for you, man, you oughta know it is sacred blood.”
“I know. Humans extracted it from the Shroud of Turin; it was dried in powder form and always kept on hallowed ground. There was a problem with the guy watching it this century. The situation went down in Boston.”
Berkfield staggered over to the workbench where Carlos had been and leaned against it. “Well . . . Thanks, man, for the heads-up . . . and for watching my back, for taking care of my family. I owe you.”
“We’re even, if you bring me info that can help me find the key.” Carlos spit on the ground and looked up. “You call me if you get yourself in a predicament. My advice is that you follow your family and stay with Father Pat’s crew. If you can make some inquiries using your cop resources by day, get a bead on those scientists and where they hang. The master working with them can be traced, if he’s marked a human helper.”
“But I don’t understand how you’d be working with and helping clerics.”
“Long story. Like they say, politics and business make for strange bedfellows. Just like you and me ain’t exactly a matched pair, but wound up on the same side.”
Carlos began walking away into the shadows, Damali’s torturous screams making it difficult for him to think.
“Hey!”
Berkfield yelled. “Two questions. How am I supposed to find out who has this blood key now, and how in the hell do I call you?”
Carlos didn’t turn around as he dematerialized into wind. “Work with the cool scientist and learn as much as you can about the black ops boys who are building weapons. And, as for calling me, I’ll pick you up on the bat channel,” he said, laughing. “If your ass gets in a sling and you start screaming, I’ll hear you.”
It felt like they were peeling her skin from her bones as they dunked her in the putrid white bath. Garlic fumes singed the insides of her nostrils, and the second round of holy water in the tub ate at the first- and second-degree burns on her entire surface. Vomiting and screaming, and twisting against the torture, she could feel her gums rip as Big Mike and Shabazz forced her head back from their arms.
“What the hell is happening?” Rider grunted over her screams, struggling with one of Damali’s slippery legs.
“She’s rejecting the cure,” Father Patrick said, dangling a long crucifix over the water, while Marlene pushed Damali’s torso under it and poured more bath water over her face and head.
Damali arched and wailed in pain.
“But she made it through the other tests,” Jose said, clutching his weapon, on guard at the door. “The sight of the blood nauseated her, and she took the fruit and kept it down!”
“The baptismal ritual is the more arduous test, and will either shock her system back . . . or . . .” Father Patrick’s words trailed off as another wave of screeches and curses came from Damali’s twisted mouth.
Monk Lin, Imam Asula, and Father Lopez keep a trinity of loud chants going over the commotion, while Dan assisted J.L. in monitoring possible incoming from Carlos.
“Dude must really be gone,” Dan muttered. “Big Mike’s ears are bleeding. If he doesn’t come for her through this . . .”
