by L. A. Banks
"How old are you, man?" Carlos asked, his voice low and gentle. It hurt him that Yonnie was trembling.
"I was turned at eighteen."
"Open your eyes. Talk to me. How long ago were you turned?"
Seeming surprised, Yonnie opened his eyes. A silent understanding connected them. They both knew that Carlos could have dredged him for the information, but hadn't invaded his mind.
"Respect," Carlos murmured. "Some things, between men, are just not done." He dropped his hold on Yonnie's shoulder and appraised his light almond complexion, wiry light brown Afro, and hazel eyes. "You've got a Southern accent," Carlos said, leaving Yonnie and walking to the far side of the room toward the bar. He studied his old crystal decanter, which was now filled with blood, and poured a half goblet, offering one to Yonnie. "You ever miss your living family?" Carlos asked, extending the tumbler.
Yonnie accepted the glass and took a shaky sip, his eyes never leaving Carlos's. "They're all dead by now," he admitted quietly. "I was made just before Nuit overthrew my master. A lot has changed in the world since then."
Intrigued, Carlos stared at Yonnie, as the vampire polished off his drink and set the glass down carefully on the edge of Carlos's desk.
"That was in the plantation days," Yonnie said slowly. "You cannot imagine what those days were like."
Carlos nodded. That was the stark truth, if ever he'd heard it. He didn't know much about this kid, but he did know an honest man when he saw one. But the irony of it all was not lost on him. In human terms, Yonnie was most likely two hundred years his senior, but in vampire terms, because he was a third-gen, he was a junior ranking officer now in his camp. Twisted.
"I gotchure back, man," Yonnie said in a quiet voice. His eyes searched Carlos's as he spoke. "I got into this by accident… it was more like a dupe. Had heard your turn went down like that, too. All of us from the old generation were rooting for you in that drag race, brother. We wanted to see one of our own, somebody who'd been played get the upper hand. So, when you came out holdin' aces, it was one of the proudest moments in my vamp life—and that's no bullshit. Go 'head, scan me, test me, but I mean what I'm saying, no matter how this night ends."
Emotion filled Carlos, but he kept that locked within him. He could appreciate where Yonnie was coming from, and didn't need a mental probe to test for authenticity.
Without fear, Yonnie stepped closer to him. His gaze locked with Carlos's, and Carlos could feel the invitation to peer into his mind. He nodded his acceptance of the offer and allowed his hand to again rest on Yonnie's shoulder. Horrible images filled his inner vision. A pretty, ebony-skinned young slave woman raped and brutalized by barbaric overseers. An almond-colored baby born and snatched from her arms, while she was forced to work. A child abused and beaten when it cried for its mother. A tender caress in the dead of night to soothe a frightened little boy… who became a man that ran into the woods one night to find a way to save his momma from her misery.
Tears streamed down Yonnie's face. Carlos closed his eyes.
"They told me that this old woman knew a man with power…"
Carlos stepped away from Yonnie and nodded, not sure that his dead heart could withstand the story he knew too well. "And he promised you power like you'd never imagine."
Yonnie simply nodded, then drew a ragged breath. "I wanted to get them back for what they'd done to us. I wanted to give all my boys the chance to live forever and to be strong. Two of them had tried to run and go north, but Alabama was a long way from the Mason-Dixon. They dragged them back, strung them up, and burned them alive for us all to see. That night I stole away and got made."
"And it wasn't what you thought it would be," Carlos said flatly. "It never is."
Yonnie wiped his face and nodded. "No, brother. It's not."
"Stack's been with you since then?"
"Yeah," Yonnie replied, drained. "All my boys were made by me. That's the tragedy." He quickly looked up, becoming tense. All vampires knew it was forbidden to speak ill of the eternal dark life, and he'd admitted his displeasure to a councilman.
"It's cool, man," Carlos said with a wave of his hand. He sat on the edge of his desk, emotionally spent. "This shit is not what it's cracked up to be, even at my level."
Again, a silent understanding bound them as they stared at each other.
"But it is what it is," Carlos finally said. "We are where we are, and what we are. So, the only option is to make the best of it."
Yonnie nodded and found his empty chair and slumped in it. "After two hundred years, man, there are some nights when it all seems like it was yesterday. Then, there are some nights when it seems like it will never end." He laughed sadly. "And it won't."
Carlos rubbed his jaw, hearing everything Yonnie had said. He was only a year old in his vampire life, and already it had been too long. He could only imagine the boredom and pure agony of hundreds of years of existence… and the master vampires who were very old had that reality as their Achilles' heel.
"You know," Carlos said, his voice a low murmur, "as a councilman, there are some wrongs I can right."
Yonnie stared at him, new tension ebbing back into his body.
"I need men I can depend on, men who died with honorable intent."
Yonnie had stopped breathing. Carlos stood.
"My borders are shaky; another master has come into my territory and poached it." Carlos walked to stand before Yonnie and motioned for him to stand. "If you don't know anything else about me, you know I ain't having that."
"No. I didn't expect you would."
"I have certain rules about how I handle my business." Carlos stared at Yonnie hard. "No women and children. No elderly. No innocents. It's a long story, but it has to do with how I was made and who's still under my mark. It has everything to do with how they half ate my brother when they turned him."
Yonnie nodded. "Nuit's bite was nasty, man. We all hid from him. You ain't got no problem from us. Where we came from, none of us has the stomach for babies and old folks… hate seeing sisters diced up and left on the morgue slabs. What humans have done is worse than what we've ever imagined."
"That's why I want the dead meat out of my freezers. That's why I don't want any more floor shows with underage chicks. I want all my establishments run on the up and up, like we're going legit—so the humans don't swarm us. Top-shelf is siphoned from willing human donors only, already compromised motherfuckers who have lost their souls while still alive—and there's enough of them walking the planet to fill vats."
"Got it. We stay off radar until the heat dies down."
"Correct."
Carlos extended his hand to Yonnie. And when he accepted it, Carlos pulled him in close. He studied the junior vampire's jugular and waited until Yonnie threw his head back in submission. "You ready for a demotion to second-level, man… with the power to deliver this to your boys?"
Tears of admiration filled Yonnie's eyes as he choked out the word, "Yes."
"Make 'em all seconds with you," Carlos whispered as his fangs lowered to a deadly eight inches. "Do it tonight. After that, your bites will make thirds, and unless I sanction the turn, you make none without my permission."
He could feel Yonnie trembling as he held him in a steel embrace. Yonnie swallowed hard, on the verge of weeping as a current passed through them. "I'd always wished… but never dared dream."
"I know," Carlos crooned. "With this bite I give you the flight pattern to my lairs—guard them well. Watch my back. Protect my woman. Protect her family. Honor my strategy. Never question my judgment. Bring me information about which master has been in my yard."
"Done," Yonnie murmured.
The strike was so swift that Yonnie's knees buckled. The shock of energy transfer coursed through the room, toppling chairs, shattering glass, and eliciting a garbled groan of pleasure from the junior vampire. Years of Yonnie's torment entered Carlos and fused with his own, making Carlos's hands tremble as he siphoned away the pain and wrapped it i
n a pleasure bond. Prisms of dancing lights formed beneath Carlos's lids as he made his first lieutenant.
Winded, he dropped Yonnie to a chair and staggered away from him, torn. Part of him knew that the power transfer was a necessary evil to shore up his territory, but another side of him was deeply troubled. The pleasure that came from such power was nearly maddening. Now that he'd learned what it was like, he wondered if he'd ever be able to give up this new, dark life.
He brought the back of his hand to his mouth and dabbed away the black blood. He stared at Yonnie, who was prone, breathing heavily, eyes closed, as though he'd just been with a lover. The image disturbed Carlos and he crossed the room for much-needed space.
Without turning around he knew the vampire was slowly opening his eyes, which now glowed red. He watched Yonnie stretch out his arms and stare at the blue-black electric current running down them. Instantly, Yonnie stood and walked around in a circle, becoming giddy, almost as though he were high.
"I descended," Yonnie said, laughing. "Oh, shit, you made me, man! I'm your first lieutenant—Carlos Rivera's first lieutenant!"
Carlos poured a drink and downed it, his tone even, his nerves shattered. "Yeah, man. Congratulations. Go celebrate."
* * *
Chapter Seven
Finally Marlene opened the bedroom door with Shabazz, Big Mike, and Rider leveling weapons in Damali's direction. It hurt her soul to see her team's expressions, each member meeting her at the front door armed, and prepared to fire. J.L.'s hand hovered over the hallway holy-water emergency levers. Tears were standing in Jose's eyes and he couldn't even hold up his crossbow against her. But it was that look in everyone's eyes that cut more than any weapon ever could.
"Let's do this in the weapons room," she said softly.
Father Patrick nodded, and unsheathed Madame Isis. Her team allowed her to pass slowly, each person watching everyone's backs.
The walk down that hallway felt like the longest road she'd ever taken. When she entered the room, the teams filed in behind her, everyone standing far enough away and taking strategic battle positions.
Damali's gaze settled on Marlene first. She was the only one unarmed, and the two women exchanged a silent understanding. They both knew that the teams had been trying to bring her out through a gentler method to no avail. Now, the options were severe.
"After Raven…" Marlene said quietly. "I can't put down another daughter."
"I know," Damali said, holding her head up high. "Father Pat Imam Asula have to be the ones. Marlene… Mom… just know that I love you, 'kay?"
Rider's shotgun was tilted up, even though his finger was on the trigger. His face appeared so worn and his eyes were so red that she could barely look at him. She saw Big Mike waver, too, his shoulder cannon position was not dead aim like it should have been, but would only slow her down enough just to wound her. Shabazz held the line, but his gun shook as he aimed it at her, his eyes containing so much pain that the tears that glittered in them seemed like crystals. Dan, Jose, and J.L. had crossbows, but their aims were off, too. Only the Covenant held their weapons at full military readiness. That was to be expected. Family could never easily put down their own.
She smiled sadly at them. "I love you, too," she whispered. "I am so sorry, big brothers. God only knows how much."
"What did you say?" Shabazz whispered, lowering his Glock, and stepping out of the battle stance.
"I said," Damali repeated, "that I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen."
They all continued to stare at each other.
"She said the name of the Almighty," Father Lopez whispered. He closed his eyes and made the sign of the cross over his chest, lowering his battle-ax.
"At a time like this," Damali said, confused, looking at each person in the room, "don't you think that makes sense?" Then eerie awareness entered her. She'd turned, had been in some sort of horrible flux, where she was banished from even the name of the Most High. The nightmarish reality brought hot tears to her eyes. She'd been stripped of her mission. She was no longer the Neteru. She wasn't even sure if she was still human.
When no one spoke, she opened her arms as hysteria began to claim her. "Kill me now, but say a prayer over me—let family do it, not the dark side!"
They were shaking their heads, tears standing in their eyes. Their mute response tore at her, and her voice escalated as hot tears coursed down her face. "I messed up! Not him. I baited Carlos into the bite. But I am not a creature of the undead! I refuse to feed off the living and suck the lifeblood from living things. I want to at least die with honor. That deserves a prayer on the way out, doesn't it?"
"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 ha
ve 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."
