by L. A. Banks
He pushed away from the table and licked the finger that had touched the burnt hole. "But the difference between you and me is this. All I could create, given the times and the bargain on the table my father had made, was an evil spirit within a man—Cain." He pointed at Carlos now, his fury slowly building as he thought about what he was saying.
"But you could have released our kind to dwell in sunlight as well as live forever. It would have sealed the rift between level six and level seven—there would be no boundary between those realms! Even the other councilmen have no concept of how close you were to that, what power you held in your arms as you loved her—only one who has been there could ever fathom that… no other, but you and I, Carlos, has had a Neteru willingly give herself by choice."
The old vampire became very still, his voice dropping to a murmur of madness as though addressing himself. "The fair exchange would have been made—the Eve fiasco possibly forgiven. If I had delivered night eternal by opening the sixth seal and swayed the Armageddon, my debt to my unholy father would have been paid in full. We would have broken the backs of all Guardian teams worldwide, as well as the Covenant; hope would have finally been banished from the face of the earth… and my father's army would have spoiled it, unchallenged—harvested souls in numbers that are frightening. The power you walked away from… power that I would have never given up. That's the critical difference between you and me. You've ruined everything!"
Suddenly becoming quiet, the chairman stopped walking, shook his head, his voice a mere whisper as his weary eyes searched Carlos's. "Carlos, why? Why would you give them both the Neteru and the key… what did they offer you that was so great? Salvation? What is that anyway? Why?"
"I didn't know…" Carlos said quietly, the truth in his words no ploy, no game. "I didn't—"
"You didn't think as you released!" the chairman yelled, his mercurial emotions now thundering his voice through the chamber. He swept in to Carlos fast, grabbing his tattered lapels. He gazed at Carlos, his eyes filled with hurt. "You loved her like a man." He dropped his hands away. "You filled her with hope, love, faith, trust, everything that keeps the human choice whole and the spirit unbroken." Near sobbing with regret, he touched Carlos's face. "You let her turn you. And you prayed for her… and prayed that if she ever conceived by you, the baby would be like her, human. You let her give you the virus of humanity—a conscience… compassion. And you disgraced everything I've ever known."
The chairman walked away from Carlos. "Even now, down here, so crystalline a plea is in your heart… a prayer to end this, take you, but spare her. You brought a prayer into my chambers, staked to my wall, bleeding, broken, defeated—the absolute gall of it, and you come in here with hope?" Incredulous, the chairman's voice dropped to a whisper. "Your last wish, the only thing on your mind is not survival, but to see her one last time… not power?"
He placed his hand over his heart and closed his eyes. "She has polluted my protege and has driven a stake through my heart." Then he chuckled and shook his head. "And, I can't kill her. She's still the only vessel we have, unless I can extract the key. But even then, I must still find the seal—which could take centuries!" His withering gaze held Carlos. "You played our entire realm into a winner-takes-all position where she's temporarily won. Unbelievable."
He began walking again with his eyes closed and his hands behind his back. "What to do, what to do with you, my wayward, wayward son? The sins of the father shall be visited upon the sonùthat's the law of all realms, a point not negotiated… and I'm sure my father had to ask himself this same question. Irony."
"It wasn't her fault," Carlos said, sheer panic in his voice as a million different horrific options entered his mind.
"Oh, yes… there was total, clear intent in her desire to save your damnable soul… to snatch it from our clutches, to convert you to her side—Dark Guardian. She wanted to bring you into the Light." The chairman tilted his head and nodded. "So be it. Grant the lady her wish, and let her see what the Light does to our kind." He walked away from Carlos. "I hope she likes her decision."
Carlos could feel his body relax. It would be painful, but it would be an end, and be over quickly. She'd survive, so would the baby. Maybe, under the right circumstances, Marlene could help guide it, anoint it, keep it from being evil.
The chairman put one finger to his lips before speaking. "Over quickly? No…" He made a little tsking sound as he slowly shook his head. "And, we do intend to be sure that she sees your death in the Light—just where she wanted you to be, to place a scar on her heart where she left one on mine."
Carlos closed his eyes.
"And, the baby… the Neteru is our vessel, and it has to be cleaned out. I'm not going to risk—"
"No!" Carlos yelled, straining against the rock stakes in his arms.
"Yeessss…" the chairman said. "Just like you showed her. The blood separation—yours to one side, hers to the other… we can't harm her, we can't infect her blood, but we can take back that which is rightfully ours—your blood and your DNA… and we will drain it out of her womb until the fetus detaches from—"
"Oh, God, no! Compasion," Carlos cried out, sobs now choking the mucous-trapped words, "Dios, por favor, compasion—don't let them do that to her! Take me, do whatever, don't hurt her—not like that!"
Horrified, the chairman stepped back as the black marble floor split between them, sending a hiss of thick, black sulfuric smoke up from the widening gully. Tears, smoke, blood, burned Carlos's eyes. Hysteria made him tear at his own flesh to free himself from the wall, nearly severing his arm.
"Never in my chambers—that name!"
Screeching, howling, spitting creatures climbed over the edge of the dark pit in the council floor. Squatting, gargoyle-faced entities appeared, their gray-green skins mangled and fused into contorted features as though keloid scars from burns. Their long, scaled hands had gleaming yellowed hooks on the ends of six appendages that mocked fingers. Their tails swished back and forth like a cat's, a razor barb at the end. They had no eyes, just bloody black sockets, and from behind jagged yellow teeth, they flicked a long, black serpent's tongue. Gray wings with razor edges and spikes spread out to help them balance in a slow scamper forward. The creatures huddled around Carlos's feet, touching his legs with one finger, poking him, tilting their heads, their short black horns catching the torch fire as they conferred with each other.
"I might have been moved to some dark level of mercy," the chairman said calmly, backing further away as the entities turned to him and screeched. "May have struck a deal," he added, which returned their focus to Carlos when the chairman gave the only acceptable answer in Hell. "But you cried out down here" He shook his head, his voice filled with strange compassion and yet respect. "I can't help you now that the harpies have come to investigate. You will have to tolerate an Inquisition."
She couldn't see as she stumbled up the dock, half running, half jogging with her team. The tears wouldn't stop flowing, then she heard it. A piercing wail that ran through her soul. She turned to the others and covered her face. Brutal images flashed in strobe in her mind, made her vomit, and drop to her knees. "They're torturing him!"
A sharp tug on her shoulder, arms lifting her, reinforcing her grip on Madame Isis, and making her stand. The sea was spewing a dark, whirling funnel cloud, electricity sparking within it to reveal the razor-toothed flying creatures within it. Instantly they all knew it had come for the living key, Berkfield.
The Guardians temporarily halted their retreat, holding a line at the edge of the dock to slow down the hellish cloud. Weapons drawn, the clerics began to half drag, half carry the semiconscious Berkfield to a Jeep. Then the team froze. The clerics surrounded Berkfield.
"Damali, come to me!"
She wiped her face fast and focused on the deeply pained male voice, and gasped.
"Steady aim," Rider whispered. "We got us an amped master."
"Stand down," Damali ordered, her back to her team. She spu
n on them when they wouldn't lower weapons. "Me and Tetrosky had a deal! Stand down if it's the last thing you do. Now!"
"He's in her head," Shabazz said, his voice steady. "Take aim—"
"No," Damali said fast, backing away from her team to stand between them and Tetrosky. She ignored their stricken confusion and blocked their aim.
"Neteru," Tetrosky said. "Your team stood with me against Amin. I saw them try to take him out to assist me. They're confused, they're human—but we need them to clear away the hallowed earth over close-by lairs. Don't harm them. It's near dawn. Send the chairman his key and we shall find favor, still, in the empire. It's not too late. All my primary forces are gone. After the battles, and the transports, I need to feed just to have you in my arms and protect you." He wheezed but stood tall, passion and yearning glittering in his eyes. "We'll rebuild the empire, you and I, one turn at a time. All the chairman wants is the living key, but it will take him eons to find the seal to open it. None of us know where it is. That leaves us as his only future. Tell them to lower the weapons that can hurt our kind."
"You hear that?" Damali said, pointing her sword toward her team, sheer force in her eyes as she held each gaze closely, trying to transmit information, then she looked at Marlene and nodded slowly. "He is the last master vampire topside," she said carefully. "All the second-levels, including wives, went down with the ship. Winner takes all. I made this man a deal in the castle parlor… I actually made him more than that—I made a promise that I would honor with my Isis—now stand down—and do not be confused. Trust me."
Her team cautiously followed her lead and lowered their weapons, but their muscles twitched with readiness. She watched Tetrosky visibly relax, his breathing labored as though he'd just been through Hell.
"Where's Carlos? I have to know before I honor our pact. I have to know if you've truly won the blood match."
Tetrosky took a step forward, but she lowered her blade, making him stop, and keeping him twenty feet away from her.
"He is down in council chambers, Damali," Tetrosky said, his voice becoming a plea. "He's staked to the chairman's wall and is getting his innards ripped out. I am the last master vampire standing." He opened his arms. "Don't make it a hollow victory for me."
Damali slowly brought her hand to her mouth, her Isis lowered a bit, and she fought the chill that ran through her. She refused to allow tears to build in her eyes and found an old inner rage to cling to in order to anchor herself. Without looking back at her team, she held her hand up to them, knowing they were ready to unload what was left of their ammo. Timing was everything. Not yet. He was still a master, and still dangerous. Especially now if he panicked.
"Gustav," she said, allowing her voice to become soft, and using his first name on purpose. "The victory will not be hollow."
She could see tears of relief, pent-up desire, self-doubt, tensionùso many things all at once glittering in his eyes. She knew where he was, could sense it with everything Neteru and female in her. He was male. And he had led her man to the worst nightmare imaginable.
"I remember what you asked me to do just before the master's hunt," she said, slowly approaching him as her grip on her blade tightened. "You wanted me more than all the others, and you played your hand so very, very well."
"Yes," he whispered. "For you, McGuire. For you, a visit to council to survive the chaos on the boat. Now come to me. We still have time before dawn, you and I."
She nodded, walking forward. "Skill, shrewd strategy, deception… let the best man win."
He nodded, approaching her slowly, still cautious about her nervous team and unwilling to make a sudden move that could spook them. "Winner takes all, and you still smell so good."
"I'll come to you, just as you wanted. With Isis in hand," she murmured, allowing her gaze to rake his body until he briefly closed his eyes.
A sob stole his breath for a moment. "Do you have any idea what I went through to acquire you?"
She nodded, her steps moving forward steadily, her eyes locked with his, gaze unwavering, stalking, hunting. Then her voice dropped to a breathless whisper. "Just ask me once again like you did in the parlor, just so my memory can fuse with the new image as I give you my throat now that my husband is being extinguished. Just let me see it raw. I need that now." Tears filled her eyes as she referred to Carlos, and that devastated Tetrosky, sent insane fury through her system like a rocket.
Tetrosky opened his arms wide, trembling, dropped to his knees, leaned his head back, and another sob of sheer relief entwined with blatant longing caught in his throat. "With all that I have, take everything—and my throat. You extinguish me."
Damali swung so hard that it felt like her shoulders were coming out of their sockets. Each vertebra in her back expanded, twisted, and snapped as the blade connected with Tetrosky's throat, slicing in a ringing wind chime through skin, and muscle, and tissue, and cartilage and bone. She kept spinning in a full fhree-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle and almost fell from her own momentum. She heard the head thud and bounce, rolling away from the body, the eyes in it stunned open, before the body fell back and made a loud thud—then burst into flames.
"Gladly, you bastard! As promised!" she screamed, going to the ashes and kicking them, hysteria bubbling in her. "The last man standing is staked to a wall in Hell! They're torturing him because of you!" Screaming sobs made her vision blur, her ears ring, and her hands grasp at the air as her team drew her away from the site.
Her team was pulling her away from the cinders, lifting her off her feet to keep her from repeatedly stabbing the ground where Tetrosky had been. The team was yelling about the cloud of evil that was only a quarter mile away. She didn't care! She snatched away from them, going back to where Tetrosky had been, beating the ground with her sword, trying to kill this motherfucker over and over again.
"He was the better man. He is the better man. I'll kill you! I'll kill you! Oh, Marlene, I will kill this bastard. Shoot him, Shabazz. Mike, blow this fucker up! Oh, my God! Heaven help me! I will kill him!"
The team backed off for a few seconds, their gazes monitoring the darkening horizon, but they gave her those few heartbeats to let her rail at the nothingness. Immediately the remaining ash and dust from Tetrosky blew away from her foot stomps and the mere wind.
Then in an eerie moment of clarity, she stopped, wiped her face with her dress sleeve, closed her eyes and breathed deeply, and really cried hard in earnest. They were torturing her man… oh Lord… make them stop.
A female hand touched her shoulder, and then female arms encircled her. Yes, they had just wiped out the entire vamp empire and had saved an innocent containing the living key—but what a bitter victory it was. Mission accomplished, but to what end? So what there were no more master vampires left topside? Who cared if all that were left were probably thirds and fourths, and minor entities that could be easily conquered? As long as there was Hell, there was a manufacturing plant to make more. What was all of this for, then? All the battles against something that just kept coming and coming and coming—evil? They were torturing her man, ripping her heart out… and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.
"Why?" she said, her question so piteous even to her own ears as she looked at her team, looked past Marlene's shoulder, then broke away from her to face the clerics.
"Damali, we've got to get out of here!" Shabazz yelled. "Marlene, Mike, Rider, Jose, tell her, it's time to go!"
"Why? You answer me! Why!" She stormed away from them when they took two seconds too long to answer her, and she approached her bewildered Guardian brothers and opened her arms. "Why?"
"Baby, we ride," Rider said, going to her to drag her away from the battle she couldn't win as she raised her blade and took a stance as though bracing for the incoming cloud.
She saw her team about to go to her, then Berkfield stumbled toward her, his eyes wild, his hands bleeding. Clerics began yelling, soaking his wounds in their robes.
"Stigmata!" Father Patri
ck shouted. "Bind up his wounds, do not let a precious drop of sacred blood hit the ground! She beheaded the master and broke the vessel ritual," he said, huffing and working quickly with the others to wrap Berkfield's wounds.
The turbine whine of the dark cloud made them all hold their ears. Surf crashed into the pier, lightning and thunder lit the sky, and wind made it difficult for them to stand, but the team noted that for some eerie reason, the evil contained within the dark tornado momentarily stayed back.
"He's going into shock," Father Patrick yelled over the storm. "This man's blood is separating from the Lamb's and the sacred blood must be returned to the key keepers! He is our priority. We must get him, and the sacred blood, to sanctuary!"
Berkfield convulsed, stopping their retreat, his forehead dribbling blood, his eyes running tears of blood, his palms pierced and dripping blood, his feet broken and bleeding. Then he arched, cried out, and began bleeding at his side. There was no way to keep all of the blood that fled his body from splattering the ground. The clerics were frantic as they worked against the inevitable. They couldn't get it all, sacred blood would surely hit the earth. But the second a drop hit the dirt, it was as though they were all watching the scene in slow motion.
Dark crimson drops transformed into golden-silvery-red iridescent orbs that gathered together and rose off the ground's surface a few inches. Blood splatter immediately gravitated to the hem of each cleric's robe. Stupefied by the sight, the teams watched the process of the sacred blood key going to holy vestments, staining them crimson within the folds as it crept upward away from the ground, concealing itself in the fabric of them. Once the last of it had been absorbed and hidden, a ray of light broke through the black horizon. It drew a line of white fire in the water offshore, sending a message for the cloud to stay back, halting its advance.
To the group, it seemed to be a momentary standoff, but like all things, they also knew that the dark side was willful and would exhaust all possibilities before it ever surrendered to defeat.
