LABanks - H2 Awakening

by user

  "Dan, head east, that's going to be toward your right, onto Mulholland, toward Hollywood Hills," Damali said, her heart slamming inside her chest as she tried to speak calmly for Dan's sake. "Okay? Dan?"

  "Yeah, yeah, okay," he stammered. "I can't go home, Damali. I'm scared."

  "We're not going to leave you out there. We got'chure back. Stay calm."

  "Stay calm! Stay calm? You should have seen that thing! I could feel something creepy walking up on me and I started running. I had on my star like you said, D. Swear to God!"

  "She's bringing him in—oh, we're fucked with a breach," Rider said, beginning to pace in an agitated state.

  "No, not a good idea," Big Mike agreed.

  Marlene pushed the mute button as Dan hysterically railed on.

  "Look, guys, we can't in good conscience leave an innocent man out there like that. Jesus, y'all!"

  "Damali—what if this is a setup?" Shabazz walked around the table, studying the weapons array.

  "Listen to him," Damali urged. "The man is about to piss himself. The guy is traumatized. He's no vamp—and Carlos is out there, too. We need to bring them both in."

  "No!" J.L. said, making a swift cutting motion with his hand. "What if Carlos is already compromised from being in that parking lot too long? Bad move."

  Damali paused for a moment. "If we coach him in, we can hit Dan's ride with UV when he pulls into the garage, and wait until the sensors tell us there's nothing left to materialize, then open the door and let the poor guy in. Or, we can go get him and keep his eyes covered—if that would make you feel better. Same with Carlos. What is with y'all? We've got an innocent being pursued, plus another in serious danger."

  "Guys, guys, talk to me! There's something hovering near my back windows!"

  Damali slapped the mute button. "Step on it, Dan!" she yelled. "That's it—I've heard enough. We're coming to get you. When you see our Hum-V, pull over on the shoulder, but do not jump out of the car until one of us comes and gets you.

  "Rider, Big Mike—grab a coupla heat seekers and a cannon, crossbows… let's rock and roll!"

  "You are not going out there tonight!" Marlene said fast. Her expression was frenzied and her words had come out in a quick rush of horror.

  "Marlene, I love you, but save it. Keep talking to him, guys. J.L., keep us on a Lo Jack radar blip, and keep com going, and I want a three-way to the vehicle with you guys and Dan so I can hear him and talk to him—Shabazz, you got the compound. Bring Jose into the weapons room and let him rest in here. We all stay in eyesight of somebody. Nobody goes it alone."

  Damali was in instant motion and the team begrudgingly nodded as she harnessed herself with shells, a handheld cannon, holy water grenades, and her Isis blade. As long as she could hear Dan's voice she was okay—but she wasn't sure of what she'd do if she heard him scream, or heard the sounds of him being ripped apart and eaten alive. It was as though everyone shared the same thought all at once as they each paused and looked at one another. Big Mike and Rider grabbed an armload of artillery and followed Damali, who was already halfway down the hall.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWO

  Carlos was in the process of dematerializing into unseen vapors when Damali's worry for him stabbed into his skull. How ironic. His plan had been to follow Dan's scent to her, when she literally called out into the night with her mind and was pulling him! How could that be? She'd broken into a master vampire's mind, a human? No one had told him that she would be able to invade his thoughts, draw him to her. Fascinating, and thoroughly electrifying. A shudder of anticipation ran through him.

  Carlos became solid form as he closed his eyes and opened his mind to Damali's panic. He could see her driving, could see the perspiration cast a slight sheen to her lovely brow. He licked his lips, tasting the salt of her skin. Her deep brown eyes had opened wide, her pupils expanding until they eclipsed her irises. Night vision… like his kind?

  Damali's pull was so erotic that he swayed and held onto the hood of a nearby car. Damn … As she clutched the steering wheel of the Hum-V she drove, he could actually feel her power. No longer shielded behind the walls of her compound, he could detect a light blue aura of energy emanating from her skin. It gave her a glow. He could feel himself needing to touch her, drawn like a moth to a flame. Carlos reached out trembling fingers into the night air and let out a deep moan, and immediately censored himself. He quickly withdrew his hand. They should have told him that she would be like a drug to him. He would have to learn to control his reactions around her, if he was going to protect her from Nuit.

  But her hair, her skin … her voice. The timbre of it issuing battle commands… her lack of fear fueled by fury-induced adrenaline shot through him. Shards of pleasure created bands of colors in his head. She was a magnet. He wrestled with the effect she produced and focused on what was around her. Her guardians were formidable, but in this state of aggression he could take them. Then he saw her weapons—a blade, a dagger… she had no fear of hand-to-hand combat… she had bloodlust in her heart, driving her like a bullet. Carlos shuddered again as the scent of her now filled his nose, creating a hunger that matched his craving for blood.

  Delirious, he stumbled forward, away from the parked car. He inhaled her again, and it produced a rush like no other he'd ever experienced. Immediately his fangs came down, the muscles in his body tensed and built. He could feel his density shift, become stronger. He glanced at his hand, awed that it was larger, his nails a deadly eighth of an inch longer, but he was amazed that he did not have claws. Why?

  He rubbed his palm over his face, wondering what he looked like now. He used his fingertips to make the assessment. His awareness of her had only strengthened him, but had not disfigured him. Why? He stared at the side of a minivan. Two red gleaming points reflected off the shiny black vehicle. His eyes… daaayum… Damali could make him feel like this, miles away? What would an encounter with her be like face-to-face? Maybe the Vampire Council would have to drive a stake through his heart after all—unless she had to plant the blade she carried for her own protection first.

  "Unbelievable," Carlos murmured into the nothingness, now identifying the fragrance that he'd always detected from her when he was human. A creature so special had been in his midst all along. He raked every detail about her through his awareness, to understand what this whole thing called a Neteru truly was.

  Most importantly, she was safe. He had to go to her. His form began to lose density and shape as he composed himself and summoned control.

  Then the shadows moved, and he smelled a sickening musty-sweet scent—incense-like… frankincense and myrrh.

  Ready for an attack, Carols braced himself, his eyes keened to the movement. There were twelve forms. He could feel his jaw unhinge by reflex and every body muscle twitch as it regained bulk in preparation for mortal conflict. The incisors inside his mouth were different, wider, more lethal than what Damali's image had caused. Erotic desire was instantly differentiated from battle mode. He glanced at his hands. Long, hooked talons came from the tips of his fingers like a lion's retractable claws. Now he understood. He narrowed his gaze as differently clad assassins came from the darkness. But he stood still, assessing which one to bring down first.

  The eldest slowly advanced. He wore a huge silver cross with a bleeding heart in the center of it topped by a crown of thorns, and was dressed in royal blue. The aggressor unsheathed a three-foot-long blade that glinted in the dim, yellow parking garage fluorescent lights. Two more came out of the nothingness and were in black Ninja gear. Each had clearly visible weapons in their hands, a morning star and a dagger. Another who seemed to be a sheik wore all-white cotton, his gold star and crescent in the center of his chest dangled like a dare, and his grip tightened on a machete. More and more of them stepped from the darkness behind cars until they circled him—each bearing a different religious emblem and a weapon. Humans. Innocents. But how and why had they found him?

  Carlos looked up, consi
dering his options to make an overhead retreat along the ceiling ductwork.

  "Demon," the first one who'd approached said, "why did you save the innocent? Is he marked?" The man's tone was wary, but his voice held a hint of confusion.

  "Who are you?" Carlos shouted back, his gaze holding onto the cross, remembering his own that he'd dropped when the insanity began. The fleeting thought entered his mind only for a second and then was gone, as he spun to protect his own back.

  "I am a knight of Templar," the royal-blue-clad assassin announced. "The others are my brethren from the twelve scattered churches. We make up the Covenant. You are surrounded."

  Momentarily confused, Carlos let his gaze rove over the multiethnic hit squad, smelling their blood. These were men—but somehow protected men. "So, state your business. Whassup? What do you want with me? I have places to go."

  "You let an innocent escape, and that drew us. And you left the gray zone with your mother and grandmother's prayers upon you—and with one in your heart. You had an emblem of God on your person. Do you seek redemption, demon? Are you seeking sanctuary?"

  Carlos's shoulders relaxed, although he wasn't sure why, and he could feel his fangs and claws retract. The Vampire Council's monitoring had again retreated as soon as these hombres had shown up. Redemption? He thought of the tour the messenger had taken him on through the realms. Sensing an opportunity in the offing, Carlos hedged a bet. "I need to be able to talk to you without my conversation being monitored. I'm tapped. Anything you can do to ensure our conversation stays private?"

  The team nodded and lowered their weapons, and soon their voices began in a low chant, each speaking in a different language, saying what Carlos could only determine as different prayers—simply because the one man in blue before him said the Twenty-third Psalm in Latin. Carlos smiled. He couldn't hear the words, but he knew the cadence of the prayer. Knew the beat of it, how it was uttered. His mother's insistence that he attend Catholic Mass as a child had finally come to some good use. But it didn't stab into his brain. Interesting. They had somehow not attacked him with it.

  "You are shielded," the blue knight announced as the group fell quiet.

  Carlos nodded. "Thank you."

  "We are the keepers of the sacred texts, and the guardians of the transition corridors. We keep the passages to the realms above clear of demonic manifestations and blockages so that ascending souls may pass unharmed. Yours was hijacked during sure descent, from the keepers of the sixth realm of darkness. Supernatural law was broken by the old vampires. You have to make a choice quickly. We don't have much time."

  "If my soul got jacked, where is it?" A tingling sensation entered Carlos's fingertips as he waited for their answer.

  "In Purgatory, until a final determination can be made about which realm has right to it," the blue knight said. "There has been a dispute over it."

  The group nodded, but Carlos could see their grips flex on their arsenal. "Your business with me, then, is… ?"

  "You have not eaten of the innocent yet, but soon you will have to—the blood thirst will be too strong… then you will be lost to us. You must make a choice. There is only one, and you have three days in which to make it. Choose wrong and the vampires own you."

  "What choice?"

  He studied the assembled warriors carefully as nervous glances passed between them.

  "Bring us Damali Richards," the spokesman said in an even tone. "Then who knows? Perhaps mercy may befall you."

  Carlos smiled. Damali was in high demand. He almost wanted to laugh it was so mad-crazy. "I already have an offer on the table for her, at present—by another council. Two pending deals, in fact. Want to raise the stakes? No pun intended."

  The knight of Templar narrowed his gaze. "Yes. How about if we raise the stakes?" he threatened. "Literally."

  A red-swathed Indian monk spoke through his teeth. "We do not negotiate with the underworld!"

  "In Tibet, we have one resolution for evil," another in a yellow robe sneered, brandishing a long, thin blade. "We behead it."

  "Bullshit," Carlos said. "DEA negotiates with the underworld here on earth, and the human underworld mob bosses negotiate with the feds from time to time. As above, so below. That much I've learned in the last few hours. So, if you don't have anything substantial to put on the table, here ends our conversation—and I'll go about my business in a puff of smoke. Pullease, gimme a break. You hombres have to do better than that!"

  "Infidel!" the Muslim said.

  "Finish this," a rabbi insisted.

  "No, think about it, man," Carlos said calmly as the knight circled him. "I'm in a pretty fucked-up position—you are on one side, offering no guarantee of amnesty, and on the other side I've got eternal life, money, fame, and a fifth of the world's territory… all for one chick. Talk to me."

  Carlos kept his gaze steady, although anticipation coursed through him. Every side was after his precious Damali. Sooner or later one side would win, he just needed to assess which side he'd aid—if any at all. But there had been some policy breach within the spirit world. It might protect her… might save his ass, too. "I don't want her to fall into the wrong hands. How do I know I should trust you?"

  "Lower your weapons," the knight murmured. "He still has human compassion."

  Carlos stared at the man; his dark brown eyes were boring into him and making it hard for him to breathe.

  "Demon, you are right to seek her protection and to try to assess the most suitable arrangement for her. Honorable." The knight bowed slightly and leaned on his sword.

  For a moment there was silence. Very light traffic could be heard in the distance along with the hum of the fluorescent lights. Moths fluttered overhead, not heeding the remains of their fried, dead comrades that had gone toward the light as a warning. It made Carlos assess his own circumstances very carefully.

  "He may still have some of the three weapons available to man," one of the Ninjas murmured. "He obviously cares for her."

  When Carlos cocked his head to the side, the other Ninja spoke.

  "Faith, hope, and charity—charity defined as love. If a man has faith, he can have hope; with hope, he can love. It is a trinity and without one, all others are weakened. If a man loses faith, hope dies. Without hope, one cannot love. And love is the greatest of all gifts from On High."

  "And how is any of this a weapon against anything?" Carlos walked in the confining circle they had made around him.

  "These three gifts of the spirit make humans a risky variable to both sides," the blue-clad knight said slowly. "We have lost many people from the houses of worship because they lost one or all of these gifts, hence the variable to our side. Thus we put a young woman in the new arena that draws the focus of millions—the entertainment industry. Her words inspire, inspiration gives birth to hope, hope fuels faith and love. She touches the young, while their impressions of the world are still forming, and instills hope. She composes lyrics from her heart that others her age can identify with. She galvanizes masses with her universal message. Crowds of young people follow her, want to imitate her. Therefore, she's valuable beyond measure for many reasons beyond your comprehension—you must choose wisely."

  The rabbi cast his nervous glance around the group. "He doesn't understand the importance of a chosen voice, or art upon a culture." He then addressed Carlos, his eyes possessing an urgent expression. "Art, it's a universal language. It comes from On High, and every culture that evolves to the higher levels brings forth masterful work—to show the beauty and goodness in the world, in all the senses down here on earth. Sound, sight, touch, smell, taste—the various arts invoke emotion, through emotion the human heart can find compassion, which opens it to the three gifts."

  The one identified as a Templar nodded, his eyes never leaving Carlos's face. "Why do you think that when cultures are conquered, art and books are the first things burned? Why are artists jailed and persecuted… yet they keep on pursuing their craft like they're on a mission? Because they
are, even when they don't know why they have this desire inside them that must get out and into the world. But the dark realms destroy such beauty and replace it with their perversion of it."

  The Muslim let his breath out with impatience. "This is what they want to do to our Damali. But the art always seeps back into the world and gets a foothold—and is always the advance cry of a revolution of the mind. We are in the throes of an era that requires humanity to glean to higher priorities. We need positive young voices to fill the void, to reestablish hope and faith and love for all races. We need them to draw peace, not war, as the adults have poorly modeled when they lost their way." i "The darkness has come to know this secret, too," the blue knight said in a sad, quiet tone. "And the dark also uses the airwaves to influence negativity—the Fallen Angel was given principality over the airwaves, as you recall. His realms have begun to use this to their advantage in our digital age where everything is airborne. Why not the vampires? They are, after all, the most evolved of the dark species."

  "This is bullshit! I know you didn't come here to give me an art philosophy lesson. So, let's stop jerking each other off." Raking his fingers through his hair, Carlos stared at them for a moment. No anger reflected in their eyes. Pity did, and it disturbed him. Yet their conviction was palpable, and he could not deny that Nuit had built a recording empire in short order. But he needed to get on with his business, get to Damali. These men were wasting his time.

  "Why me?" Carlos finally said. "Why didn't you all just surround her with a bunch of your church assassins—what makes you have to come to a vampire?" The pure irony of it made him laugh. "This makes no sense!"

  A low murmur swept through the group and the one in all-white spoke.

  "I am of the Moorish Order, and we must inform you of your value, by right." The Moor waited for the others to nod before he proceeded. "One sinner, damned almost beyond redemption, is worth in soul-weight that of one hundred holy men. We have lost many holy men, and you represent a valuable asset to the forces of light to help tip the scales. You had the destiny to be a tracker guardian… Damali was sent to you first, but you chose the wrong path and she was taken from you for her safety."