by L. A. Banks
"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 jus
t 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…"
J.L. shook his head. "Marlene's new prayer line with the Covenant is blocking him. But look alive, stay alive, young brother, and man your post."
On the third dunk, Damali could feel her skin bubble up and begin to peel away, dissolving into the acidic bath. Totally submerged, she went into a convulsion, and the water went red around her until she could no longer see the faces beyond the surface.
mm
"Jesus, Lord," Marlene croaked. "I can feel her skin coming off in my hands, Father! Drive the Isis in her heart, man! This is no way to kill her!"
"Stay steady, Mar," Shabazz ordered. "Let the man work. She's not struggling in our hold. Bring her up slow."
A collective gasp passed through the Guardian team as they brought Damali's limp form up from beneath the water's edge. Her once beautiful bronze skin was festered and split; huge boils and blisters covered it. Where she'd been touched by religious symbols, the blacked images were branded.
"Mike, take her out and put her on her bed in the center of the garlic ring," Marlene whispered.
Big Mike dabbed the corners of his eyes on his wet T-shirt with a shrug, and followed Marlene's command. Marlene stooped beneath Damali's form as Big Mike stood with care, checking the Sankofa tattoo.
"It's burned off," Marlene said, tears dropping off her nose as her voice broke.
"Put her down slow, Mike," Shabazz said, while he, Rider, and Jose flanked him with weapons.
"We did the best we could," Father Patrick murmured. "Bring the lights, J.L.."
"No, guys. Enough," Rider said, choked. "Enough."
"But, we can't give up on her," Jose said, panicked, "We have to keep trying!"
"Bring the lights, J.L.," Marlene repeated in a far-off tone. "If that doesn't work, then I'll plant the Isis in my baby girl."
Carlos watched with disinterest as the two hounds snapped at each other, snarling over the two limp vamp bodies at his feet. Yonnie had routed out two territory sniffers and delivered them, just as Carlos had requested. But they held no information; therefore, they were as useless as dog food.
One creature had one leg of a body, the other had an arm, and they were ripping it apart, pulling in opposite directions, each trying to get more than their fair share of the gruesome remains.
Suddenly he looked down at his arms and saw how the skin went raw, then immediately healed. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as the slurping, cracking sound of the dogs eating became a faraway echo in his mind. The foul stench of garlic and incense attacked the back of his throat, and Carlos hawked and spit. The dogs stopped feeding for a moment, monitoring the new scent and growled, dragging the carcasses away from the offending smell. Carlos couldn't hear Damali screaming anymore.
His line-knowledge was enough to tell him what they'd done to her. But he'd gambled that they'd never go that far. This was the old way, followed up with a medieval, Vatican-style cleansing. All he could do was send healing thoughts to her and hope. If he'd known they were going to go the Full Monte and not just dust her quick… or even just accept her back with a few modern tests… But, then, hindsight was always twenty-twenty.
The pain was so intense that she slipped in and out of consciousness, feeling hot, then cold, now warm again. A brightness just beyond her lids made her try to cover her eyes to block it at first, but then the warm sensation against the back of her hand made her reach for it. An eerie peace covered her, and she felt like she was floating away. She reached harder toward the source of comfort, anything to stop the pain.
She tasted tears and could feel them slide from beneath her shut lids, down the sides of her face. Light, blessed light, her mind seized upon it, remembering, holding the image of the light in the long tunnel… yearning for it, seeing bright forms in it that she couldn't quite make out—but that she knew meant her no harm—were calling to her, beckoning, reaching for her to touch her hands and pull her… then she saw a pair of deep-set, concerned eyes, and a strong hand extended toward her. She grasped it, heaved, and sucked in a shuddering breath, then opened her eyes to Shabazz.
"Come back to us, baby," Shabazz whispered. "Please, darlin', jus
t come back."
The images around her were blurry. The point of the Isis blade was centered over her chest, held by an old man in a blue robe. The glint of silver made her squint.
"Wait, Father Pat," Marlene said loudly. "Look at her skin! The wounds are healing."
The blue image moved away with the silver. Faces slowly came into focus. The burns on her body began to abate, and a shiver ran through her, then became a sudden seizure. A white blanket immediately covered her, and through her eyelids she could almost see shadows of Marlene's frantic motions passing over her.
"She's going into shock," Marlene yelled. "Bring her out, turn off the lights. Circle of three! Healing touch. Bring her out!"
He sat on the front balcony railing of the mansion for a long time, his head back, his eyes closed, his thoughts centralized… stroking her hair with his mind, his fingers gently caressing every blistered, scarred surface on her battered body. His will for her to live transferring through the night air; his hope an airborne message, her torture—his torture.
"I would give my life… let the pain come to me," he whispered to the nothingness. "Bring her out," he murmured. "Just bring her out." They were supposed to be professionals at this; he'd trusted them, and had banked on their knowledge. But something was going very wrong.
Patience began sliding down a very slippery slope within his mind. Damali was still screaming. This was her trial, and she had to ride it out—take it like a woman, that had been her choice. But they were botching the job, and she had no concept of what level of torture a bite purge could inflict. Panic had been his enemy, now it was his best friend. They were botching the fucking job… hell no. Amateurs!
His hand reached toward her, flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone, love of his life, spirit inside his spirit. Angry, thunderous storm clouds split the blackening sky and gathered above his head as his thoughts concentrated. Every power that he'd come into, every lifetime that had been held within the dark throne, ran down his arm, burned his fingertips black as the energy exited his body, lit the night, and resounded with a sonic boom.
