by L. A. Banks
J.L. nodded. “Multiples. I feel it.”
“Noses, y’all got a read?” Shabazz asked.
Rider sniffed and said, “Sulfur. Definitely demon, real strong. But that ain’t were-demon. Whatever it is, I’ve never picked it up before.”
“Definitely,” Jose said, double-checking his crossbow.
“All right,” Shabazz said. “Let’s move on the house easy. Everybody watch your back.”
An overhead branch snapped and suddenly a large black blur dove at the teams, but landed and materialized several feet away. A six-foot wingspan pulled in sharply to a hulking, muscular body, and the creature crouched and waited, then began barking wildly as its eyes blazed gold. Frozen, the teams trained weapons on the snarling beast, as another one stalked out of the underbrush, its head lowered, leathery ears and wings back, slashing its razor tail wildly and brandishing dripping fangs.
“Everybody hold the line,” Marlene said. “They haven’t attacked.”
“No, they haven’t,” Carlos said, coming out of the darkness, walking between the dogs. With a nod of his head, the animals backed up toward him, growling and snarling, but sat. “They already know you’re off-limits. But provoke me tonight, and that can change.”
“We just want Damali,” Marlene said across the expanse between them.
Carlos studied his nails. “Then that presents a dilemma because so do I.”
“For Christ’s sake, you can’t have her, Rivera!” Father Patrick yelled.
Immediately the dogs began barking, moving forward in a threatening stance. Everyone aimed at the creatures, but no one risked firing during the standoff.
“Watch your language, Father Pat,” Carlos said coolly, tsking his tongue and making the dogs heel. He then motioned with his chin toward the distance. “Big Mike. Sirens, right?”
Mike grumbled and nodded.
“You gentlemen are going to have to learn to be more subtle when you want to call a meeting.” Carlos smirked. “And your timing sucks.”
Carlos sealed the south wall, and the sirens stopped. All he needed now were the cops. There’d be no way to restrain the dogs if a SWAT team, full of foreign scents, crossed over the property perimeter. Disorienting the authorities was more efficient.
“Where’s Damali?” Marlene asked. “That’s all we came for, that’s all we’re leaving with.”
“She took the long way,” Carlos said, sighing. “Stubborn as usual.” He could hear her footfalls in the grass, and the dogs turned, making little whimpering noises of submission. “But she’s staying here—her choice, not mine.” He eyed them with a warning. “And I will back up her choice.”
“We’ll see,” Shabazz said, his weapon still aimed and cocked. “Gotta hear it from her own mouth.”
“The last place she’s staying is with you, motherfucker,” Jose said.
“Here’s my problem with that,” Carlos said evenly. “She called me when you people botched the purge job. I frankly don’t see what the fucking hype is all about, or what’s left to talk about, man. She made her choice.” He began walking in Damali’s direction, issuing a silent command for the dogs to stay. “And you’ve got some nerve bringing two real low-level vamps with you to track me while I’m with her. Total disrespect, ’Bazz, man . . . very uncool,” he added, dismissing Jose’s comment. “I thought we were beyond that.”
Confusion wafted through the teams as Carlos’s form disappeared.
“What’s he talking about, Shabazz?” Big Mike muttered. “Two vamps with us?”
Imam Asula gripped his machete tighter. “This is a ruse to distract us from our mission to recover the huntress. Stand firm. Ignore his demonic trickery.”
“Oh, so now I’m a liar,” Carlos said loudly, coming back toward them with Damali in tow. “First of all, look for yourself. She’s fine,” he said, removing his arm from around her waist. “Second of all, how you gonna roll up on my lair with some eighth- or ninth-generation wanna-be vamps?” He shook his head and gazed at Jose and Father Lopez.
Damali remained very still. Whether what he said was true or not, she knew that Carlos was showing much restraint on her behalf, and the only reason that he hadn’t wiped her team out was because he’d been temporarily sated, or perhaps because they were under his protective seal. At the moment, she wasn’t sure. All she had to do was think back on the Nuit incident . . . if the team had tried a rescue two hours ago . . . She couldn’t even allow her mind to complete the thought.
But just the brief flicker of the dead master’s name in her thoughts made Carlos bristle. “Don’t go there,” he warned her. “Yeah, I’m being cool, so you can settle this family bullshit once and for all. But don’t push me.” He eyed her and then returned his attention to the posse in front of them.
“Brothers,” Carlos said, his voice filled with disgust, “one hit of this would knock your head back and make your tired asses grow fangs. Do not ever try to mind lock with me when I’m with her!”
Members of the group moved back from Lopez and Jose. Their motions were steady, controlled. Uncertainty was trapped in their glances. Damali’s hand rested on Carlos’ forearm.
“Don’t fuck with them because you’re in a shitty mood, Carlos. They’re still family, and they only came—”
He whirled on Damali and opened his arms, leaning down at her, as his voice got louder. “Why is it that I can never tell you anything? Huh? Why is that?”
“Because your ass is high,” she shouted, pulling away from him. “I told you, watch your tone with me!”
He walked away from her and stood by his dogs, thoroughly outraged. “These brothers got a lock because we share the same freakin’ DNA—by blood relatives, waaay back.” He pointed at Lopez, and shook his head. “Your great-great-grandma got nicked in the old country, Padre, sorry to be the one to tell you . . . but back then in the villages,” he said, glowering at Father Patrick, “they used natural methods to try to reverse a turn before the bitten died. She finally did die human, true, but the baby didn’t—so there’s a tracer.”
“That is bullshit!” Shabazz said. “Don’t let him get in your head, people.” Shabazz looked around at the members of the group. “Don’t let him divide and conquer us. That’s how he got Damali!”
“You need to relax, hombre,” Carlos said as he walked with his hands behind his back, satisfied by Jose’s stricken expression. “D and I hooked up the old-fashioned way—no fraud necessary.” He glanced at her, but couldn’t read her expression. That concerned him. He tried to wipe the Neteru haze from his mind.
“All right,” Carlos went on. “Then how did the Covenant find me in the desert?”
“Lopez was our tracker,” Father Patrick said cautiously, glancing at his brother cleric.
“Right,” Carlos spat. “My point exactly.” He shook his head, so disgusted he was about to explode. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. The night was calling him, Neteru was thick in it, and until her family showed up, Damali had been beyond comprehension in his arms . . . and the only reason he wasn’t dropping a body was for this crazy woman! If that would get her back inside, being cool, chilled-out, and sexy mellow, then fine. So be it. But these bastards were burning up time.
He took a deep breath, and spoke to them like they were children. “If a master is at critical blood levels and is about to be extinguished, everything in his line aligned to him will scramble,” Carlos said, beyond impatient with their stupidity. “Everything is designed for the preservation of the line—so when I was dying in Lopez’s region, he could track and find me faster than anyone. But that’s the only reason dude should have done a lock.” He glared at the young man. “Fucked you up, too, didn’t it, Padre? Just like that first night in the safe house. But I owe you for finding me.” Carlos chuckled, thinking of what an eighth-generation must have gone through with a master lock. “And, damn, Jose, man . . . you’re from ’round the way. You know better than to roll up on a man like that. That was a punk-ass move, if ever
I saw one. She’s mine. Get over it.”
Jose’s bristle made Carlos walk forward and the dogs growl. “I know you are not standing outside my lair trying to fucking challenge me for her? Are you that crazy?”
“Carlos,” Damali said quietly, then raised her voice to also address the warrior teams. “Let’s keep to the point. It’s not even like that between me and Jose. What is wrong with you?”
She was too through, and Carlos seemed like he was too high to be totally rational. Anything could go down, but it was good that he kept talking, working it out in his head. Maybe the air would help dissipate the scent—that was the hope. She wanted to bring them both back to center, not have something crazy happen. But the sure thing was that if she said she was leaving now, in this state, he’d hurt somebody.
“All right,” she told the group. “Let’s assume that this generational vamp thing is true for a minute.”
“Thank you,” Carlos muttered. “Finally, progress.”
She took her time to speak, monitoring the horror in Jose and Father Lopez’s expressions. “Then, if this is true, Lopez was born with vamp trace elements but like Jose made the choice to be a Guardian. Their spirits are good, Carlos—nobody can be held responsible for what happened in the past before they were even born. And yeah, it might have made them more susceptible to certain leanings. Like I understand why Jose couldn’t immediately shake Dee Dee’s hold. But in the final analysis, baby, they made the right choice, to be who they are.”
“See, Damali, there you go again, always twisting my words.” He pointed at her, but he was looking at her teams as he spoke. “You see this? This is female logic, the most treacherous shit in the universe!”
“But she’s right,” Father Patrick said, his gaze galvanizing the teams. “Whatever Lopez or Jose’s distant pasts, they made a choice. And, as you know, we had you marked for Guardian status. The reason we found Lopez so fast, as well as you—is because we, too, have a homing instinct to find our own when felled.” His thick white brows knitted with suppressed anger. “And tonight we’ve come to reclaim at least one of our own!”
“Word,” Shabazz said. “So save all the rhetoric, Rivera. We takin’ baby girl outta here, and I don’t care how Jose or Lopez got made as long as—”
“This is not open for negotiation,” Carlos said evenly. He looked at Damali. “She’s already made her choice.”
“You tricked her,” Jose said, pointing toward Carlos. “She would have never chosen—”
“Put your hand down,” Carlos said between his teeth, “before I rip it off!”
“Carlos, stop!” Damali yelled, her hands going to his now massive biceps. “You hurt my people, and I’ll tell you what my choice will be.”
She looked at Carlos hard, and he shrugged away from her, but backed off.
“Fine,” he muttered. “So long as you’re clear about your choice.”
“She’s in no position to make a decision like that,” Marlene said. “She’s under the influence, and her system is in flux! You’ve polluted her, just like her bites have somehow given you a way to cross our thresholds like a male Neteru! What she gave you was good, what you gave her without her rational awareness or full understanding was—”
“No,” Carlos shouted back. “What you people did was flat-line my baby—and she made the choice to survive!” He took two steps toward Marlene, the dogs growling at his heels, but Marlene never backed away. “You’re her moms, so I’ma be respectful . . . but when your daughter came to me, she was code blue.” He slapped the center of his chest. “She sucked in the first breath of returned life from my lungs, not yours, sis. I started her heart, made her blood flow, and vowed to never let you all put your hands on her again.” He shook his head. “No, Mar. Girlfriend is making wise choices—she’s in her full and right mind. I gave her something good—a second shot at the game—but you tried to kill her.”
The night was so still, so quiet, that one could almost hear electricity crackle within it. Slowly, cautiously, Damali moved beside Carlos, and he pulled her to him hard, still glaring at Marlene.
“Baby,” she said gently, her gaze going between the two drawn combat lines. Marlene’s eyes looked so hurt and had such fury in them, she almost didn’t know where to begin. Carlos’s tight grip didn’t help, because she knew he’d be beyond reason if she challenged the union in front of the teams. This was the rock and the hard place.
“Remember in the lair in Rio,” Damali said as calmly as she could.
“Yeah,” Carlos muttered. “Shoulda stayed in fucking Rio.”
“When we sat on the beach and synchronized our breathing, our minds, and finally our hearts,” she said tenderly, brushing a stray bit of hair behind his ear, watching him normalize.
“Yeah,” he said, his tone low, private, his gaze now focused solely on her.
“And you know how much I don’t want anybody in this to get hurt. Be gentle with Marlene, especially . . . and my brothers.”
“All right,” he said slowly. “I know. How could I forget? I felt it when your soul entered my empty space and started my heart, when my pulse fused with yours and lingered, baby.” He lowered his forehead to hers and shut his eyes, completely relaxed and no longer at battle bulk. “You gave me your heartbeat.”
“Damali,” Marlene said firmly, not moving, as the team around her remained stone-still.
Carlos lifted his head and looked at Marlene. “Let it go, Mar. Can’t you see where she wants to be?”
“Both of you, listen to me,” Marlene said, her glances shared with Father Patrick. “You all did a ritual more dangerous than the bite. That’s partly why her immune system is off . . . why she’s literally turning and turning back, ripening, then going barren, and conversely, you’re flashing male Neteru, then master, or some crazy combination that allows you to walk where you’re not supposed to—just like it’s making her do what she’d never dream of . . . your senses are off, Carlos, just like hers are. The mild scent she normally trails is probably enough to—”
“Knock his head back,” Rider said, blowing out a long whistle. “His nose ain’t no better than mine.”
Carlos snarled. “Me and you, any day, motherfucker—but right now, I’m trying to hear some science—so shut up!”
He stepped back from Damali and moved toward Marlene. But his gesture wasn’t threatening, just that of a man unnerved and seeking answers. He looked at Father Patrick.
“Carlos, give Marlene the Isis and send Damali home,” Father Patrick said, quietly. “No more bites until we can figure this out.” He looked at Marlene. “We thought the multiple bites challenged history—but I know this has never happened, much less ever been repaired.”
“Her system probably could have handled the bites by itself,” Big Mike said on a sigh. “It was the one-two punch, the combo. Shoulda known there was more to it than just that.”
Big Mike and Shabazz lowered their weapons, as did the rest of the team.
“Now this is a true turn of events, if ever I saw one.” Rider said, lowering his weapon arm, too. “What, we’ve gotta purge the Light out of this bastard to get him out of her system? Somebody on this team shoot me.”
Carlos and Damali exchanged a nervous glance. Something in the team’s disposition had clearly changed, just like it had within theirs.
“You had no heartbeat before, right?” Marlene said firmly. “She entered your dark space where your soul was supposed to reside, and took all of that darkness out into hers with it—along with a lot of the powers.” Marlene’s voice escalated in a slow rise as she spoke. “And her light warmed you from the inside out. I bet you’ve had a human pulse ever since.” Marlene waited for Carlos to slowly nod. “And when you restarted her heart—what did you do?” She pressed on, not waiting for his answer. “You probably hoped her back to life, gave her your breath, and everything you had in you—on a prayer.”
His dogs backed away from him, snarling and snapping. Carlos backed away from Marlene to
stand beside Damali, his glances at her unsure. If it ever got out that he’d prayed over this woman . . . and did a soul transfer . . .
“I could stay half-vamp and have the blood hunger, the lust and still not be dead, or suddenly go into a ripening and start a vamp civil war? I thought I had seven years?” Damali was breathing hard. “I have to stay human with the missing—”
Father Patrick held up his hand at the same time Carlos did, stopping Damali’s words.
“Not out here in the open,” Carlos warned. Both Marlene and Father Patrick nodded in agreement.
All the issues hit her at once. “Marlene, what if I don’t cast an image on stage, or, wake up one day to go out to run an errand, and sun bake!”
“That’s what I’m saying, Mar,” Carlos said pulling Damali near him. “This shit’s gotta be clear cut. She can’t be going back and forth, not knowing. My damned nerves can’t take it, either. If she shows up in the registers again as a full turn—all Hell will literally break loose. And if she has a false ripening . . . no, that can’t happen. There are four other masters topside, with full regions in Europe, Asia—what-the-fuckeva, and my territory is bled out from the last wars—and all I’ve got backing me up to protect her is two Hell-dogs and a team of new, remade seconds. That ain’t worth shit against four masters and their armies. Plus, this other issue, which we need to speak on under closed circumstances, is going to require both of us to be on top of our game.”
He walked away from her, and raked his hair hard. “I mean, for real . . . I can’t be going down to council chambers like that, either—or have my nose, or any other sense off. What if my transport stalls in an emergency situation? Or if I go into a battle and have my power outright fail—not be able to drop fang because I have some punk-ass Guardian shit in my system. Aw, hell no . . .”
When Damali touched his arm, he shrugged away from her touch.
“Where I have to roll, that’s beyond dangerous—and with the kinda forces that eventually could go after her,” he said, motioning to Damali, “girlfriend has to be on her toes at all times. Can’t have a fluctuating daylight problem. She has to know for sure.”
