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Damali slowly looked down at her own body where the knight had pointed. Her team remained stunned, gaping. The knight and the Moor had gone to one knee again. Her eyes met the knight's. So much responsibility and she was still so young.
"Our young are the future," the knight murmured. "The task is daunting, but the young always lead the way, once the old become too blind to see. Joan of Arc was but a girl—"
"That is not a good example, dude," Rider said quickly. "Not if you're trying to get a pep rally going for our trip to Hell. The beginning of Joan's saga was great, but the ending sucked. Feel me?"
"What do you want me to do?" Damali glanced at the weapons table. A level of energy, power, confidence… something she couldn't define had reignited within her.
"It's your choice, and we cannot guarantee the outcome, or Rivera's choice—but lead us, and we pledge to follow you… yes, even to Hell and back, Neteru. All twelve of us will accompany you and your team on the mission. Every major faith will be there, united. The cause is great, the mission perilous; we have been instructed to go where you lead. One very entrenched sinner turning back is worth his weight in holy men."
Damali nodded. "Carlos could hand me over to any side, if he decided he wanted the power… and that has always been his weakness. It blinded him, and I am well aware of that."
Everyone nodded, and Marlene went to stand at Shabazz's side.
"I'm not afraid of him—or myself—anymore. And nobody is ever going to get me to go where I just went, again. I refuse to give up and be slain by some emotional drama." Damali looked at the group. "My choice has always been the same and it has been the light. I love Carlos, but I will dust him in a heartbeat for my family, or for the cause. It's bigger than him."
She pushed the existing weapons back from the table. "I am standing. So, we will go inside the belly of the beast, or die trying."
"I think she's cured," Marlene said quietly.
"You'd better hope so," Shabazz said, rubbing his jaw.
Damali glanced at them and then looked at the knight and his partner. "You gentlemen ever do a concert?"
"Oh, boy," Rider said with a whistle, his glance darting between his team and the Covenant representatives. When the knight and the Moor shook their heads, Rider found a metal stool and flopped down on it.
"We're taking in the whole squad," she announced. "I want knights in the corridors on flank, but they need to be on stage, too, to get in." She stopped, waited for them to nod, before pressing on.
"I want some new artillery, J.L.—new light systems; Dan, Big Mike, Shabazz, work on a new stage intro—I'm going to give them diva to make them think my ego just went over the top so they'll go along. Then I'm going to flip the script and do unauthorized songs—Rider, tune up your axe, and make that baby hum; the rest of you all work it out—heavy percussion, strong bass lines, take 'em up with chimes, cowbells, I want that joint rocking off the planet. I want some def' defying music out there when I do my thing for the crowds. We've got a little bit of time and a whole lotta work—and new people to add into the mix."
She walked around the table, her index finger tapping her lips. "Dan, get Nuit's people on the horn in the morning. Tell him I want to do the stadium, not Carlos's dinky little club—that'll suck them in. Tell them I want to talk contracts with Nuit, alone. But I insist on my own crew to set my stage… as a diva, I have that right. Then we lay for 'em, and breach their tunnels to seal them up. Nuit is mine. Can't wait to meet him. Dan let him know that I am practically trembling for the opportunity… and be sure you say it just like that, baby."
Again, the group remained mute, and gave their silent agreement. Their expressions seemed to contain a mixture of astonishment, revived commitment, and a little bit of practical apprehension—which was wise. But as she spoke and rallied the team, and they developed their plan, her spirit quietly revived from the blow it had sustained. No guarantees were needed. She had hope.
"Gentlemen," she finally said with a smile. "We are going to rock da house and bring down the light!"
* * *
PART II
Thus the highest realization of warfare is to attack the enemy's plans;
next to attack their alliances; next attack their army; and the lowest is to
attack their fortified cities.
—Sun Tzu, The Art of War
* * *
CHAPTER NINE
"She called, Carlos. I don't know what you said to her, but her people called."
Nuit closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. The ear-splitting decibel of the music coming from the stage provided no cover for the sigh of anticipation that he'd released. Carlos monitored his cool. He had not called Damali, or made contact with her people since the previous night and they had never spoken about the concert. That she would call Nuit on her own meant there could be a serious variable that was raising the odds on the long shot.
Nuit swallowed with difficulty as though trying to keep his calm. "Her business manager, Weinstein, said that after the concert, she wanted to meet with me privately to talk about her career… and to bring contracts. My human assistants sent word via Amanthra demon alliances that are impervious to daylight. They woke me up in the lair to tell me… I couldn't even go back to sleep after receiving such news. They told me he'd said, quote, 'She was trembling for the opportunity.' Then they said she wanted her own crew, her own stage lights, her own diva entourage." Nuit snatched Carlos's arm. "I told them to give her whatever she wants! She's coming willingly, with ego, and power-lust, and the ruthless desire for fame."
"Your fangs are showing in public, dude. Uncool for a master. Even if we've brought out a colorful crowd tonight." Carlos appraised Nuit with a sideways glance, who only nodded in agreement.
"You're right. I have to collect myself."
"Maybe you should go underground and wait for her in the lair. If you get a whiff topside, you might really embarrass yourself on stage." Carlos chuckled. It was partly the truth.
"Her whole crew… anybody she shook hands with, hugged… they're trailing it all over the place!"
"I know," Carlos said as calmly as possible. "It's going to affect you more, because as a master, you have a lower tolerance for it—the others don't have the nose. So, you can either stay up here, and watch her do twenty minutes… under the hot lights, while she works out, sweats, and puts more of her scent in the air, or you can be cool, and chill, and go sub. She's on in less than fifteen minutes. Make a decision."
"I don't think I can take it," Nuit murmured, beginning to pace.
"Wise choice. Been there. See you in New Orleans."
To find out where she'd been stashed was a no-brainer. The other vamps had positioned themselves closely to her quarters and a ring of guardians eyed the vamp forces in a tense standoff. The problem would be getting to her dressing room. This variable had to be dealt with. No element of the plan could go haywire at the last minute. Whatever she was cooking up could put everybody in harm's way. When he spotted Shabazz and Big Mike on the door, he approached more slowly.
"Gotta talk to her before she goes on," Carlos said in a calm voice.
"I don't think so," Big Mike said low in his throat.
Shabazz shook his head.
"Call Marlene for an appraisal—but on the DL. If you haven't noticed, the rafters are loaded and have eyes," he said, motioning with a nod above. "The walls have ears, too. But she can't be bitten until after the show—girlfriend has to cast an image. We got three minutes to talk, or we can stand out here and bullshit and put her in harm's way."
"Three minutes," Big Mike said as Shabazz stepped aside begrudgingly.
"Cool," Carlos muttered as they followed him into the room.
Damali was at the far end of it. Marlene was opening with a prayer, anointing the group, but immediately stopped midsentence. Twelve knights and the rest of Damali's crew drew weapons. And then it hit him—she was wearing all silver. He could taste the acrid metal even from this distance. It register
ed a warning so visceral to him that the hair bristled on the back of his neck. But it also had a stabilizing effect.
Carlos held up his hands. "Three minutes. Say a prayer of concealment against dark forces. I have information. Need to talk to her. Everybody can stay. But the info is power."
"Let him speak," Damali said quickly. "Do it, Mar. We don't have much time."
He watched as the team rimmed the room, held hands with him inside their circle so the words would seal in what he had to say, but he was forced to cover his ears as the sound of Marlene's murmurs almost made his ears bleed. Once the pain stopped, he dropped his hands away and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Are we sealed?" He glanced around at the faces that nodded, and tried to shake off the effect Damali was also having on him. "As soon as you close, the floor is going to drop out from under you—you'll be in a tunnel."
"What!" Rider snapped. "That is not the plan—"
"Rider, let the man speak," Damali warned in a low voice. "The prayer has him affected, and we need to know what we're dealing with."
"It's not just the prayer," Carlos said on a deep inhale, letting it out fast. "Your scent is an aphrodisiac… you can use it to your advantage."
She stared at his back as he turned away. Her group of guardians parted as he went to the door and leaned against it on an outstretched arm. All of them watched him as his back heaved from deep breaths, almost expanding his tailored suit till the seams ripped, and then collapsed, repeating the hypnotic motion as his breaths became more labored with each exhale.
"Masters have a low tolerance for it. Male vampires can smell it for miles. This concert site is packed with them. Sends the lower generations into a feeding frenzy. Females, however, will fight you—will attack at the drop of a hat. You've got Nuit's human helpers out there with orders to take down any male vamp with a stake if they rush you. So, topside, you should be cool. But the tunnels are filling. I've been designated as your escort to Nuit's door—he doesn't know I'm a master… or about my alliances."
"He tells the truth," the Templar said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "The demon is suffering, but might have to be exterminated if…"
"You can't trust me," Carlos admitted. "I can't even trust myself, at this point."
He turned and looked at her, his gaze riveted to her horror-stricken face. Her team drew closer to her. Dan leveled a crossbow at him. Carlos closed his eyes, willing his fangs to retract. They were slow to respond.
"Oh, shit…" Rider said in a quiet voice. "You got an antidote for that, man? Something to keep you on our side while we're in Hell with you?"
Carlos carefully appraised Damali, the pain in her eyes haunting him, but he couldn't look away from her. "There's only one, but it won't sit well with the group."
For a moment silence stood between them.
"All right. Talk fast, man. Lest we have to smoke you in here."
Nodding, Carlos began to pace, trying to shake off the effect of Damali. Shabazz had a point. "Yeah, Shabazz. You might have to—because I have to catch her when she drops—or the demons will get her, or the Vampire Council, or any other possible rogue vamps that want her. If she travels at a high speed with me—it will be directly to Nuit's door. But by then, I'll be in a very compromised state, and a weakened one. I'll be no match for him alone… and I don't even know if I can hold her—she's wearing silver."
The group cast stricken glances between them.
"Templar, can you do anything?" Carlos murmured. "If I drop her, the suit will only hold back a few vamps, but as you know, Hell is infested. She won't be able to find her way back to the portal. Eventually, if the Amanthras get to her and pull her in deep enough, the suit won't do shit for her."
Warily, the knight approached Carlos, glancing between him and the group. "On May tenth, Venus, love, and Mars, war, were in exact conjunction in a very rare celestial alignment during the Neteru-signaling period. It hasn't, and will not occur again for decades. We didn't know what it meant, in the midst of the other signs. Love would collide with war, we initially thought. But perhaps it meant aligning love within the same war. We can attempt a prayer, but only for her, that will also cover you… which might also help you keep focused. But we won't know if it works till she drops, or you touch her."
"I'll take the risk." Carlos turned, his gaze going past the Templar and the team of warriors surrounding Damali. Silver notwithstanding, her pull was incomprehensible. She looked at him and rocked his mind to semidazed awareness. Yeah, he'd take the risk.
"How fast to Nuit's door?" Damali asked, walking in a circle.
"Be still… you stir the air," Carlos hissed.
Everybody looked at him and she stopped pacing.
Carlos let out his breath slowly, and closed his eyes, unable to simultaneously process the sight and the scent of her. "Forty-five seconds. If you go by foot through the tunnels—it's still astral speed, just not as fast. Time is different down there than up here—seems like hours and it's only minutes. So be prepared for the time distortion. Any human in the tunnel, or nonsanctioned vamp, will be moving at topside time approximately ten minutes behind you… but anything human or otherwise without what amounts to an Amanthra passport will be attacked."
He stopped and briefly gazed at her again, having to close his eyes once more just to be able to speak. The sight of her in a body-fitting wetsuit, her locks down on her shoulders, her eyes boring a hole into him…
"Can we get you some water, or something?" Rider asked, shaking his head. "Damn. Hurry up and say what you gotta say. You're giving me the heebie-jeebies!"
"Damali," Carlos murmured. "If you come with me, you and I can take Nuit—"
"No," Shabazz said immediately.
"Definitely not." Marlene walked away and leaned against the far wall.
"What they said," Rider agreed.
"You must be crazy," Big Mike rumbled, shaking his head slowly, and then pounding J.L.'s and Dan's fists. "Must be missin' yo' mind."
"Hold up, everybody," Damali interjected. "If the silver doesn't maim him, the man can get me to Nuit with Madame Isis in hand in forty-five seconds, right? And he's not going to bite me, because he wants Nuit dead as bad as I do—Nuit did his family… so he's not going to bite me."
Again, the group's attention went to Carlos, who now opened his eyes.
"Can't promise that, baby. Never could."
Rider folded his arms over his chest. "At least the brother is honest. Look at him, Little Red Riding Hood. That is, for real, for real, the big bad wolf!"
Carlos just nodded, too ashamed to be able to do anything else.
"Then why is he here?" Damali started toward Carlos but he held up his hand and turned away.
"Don't."
The room went still again, and the blue-clad Templar stepped in between them. "His time to make a decision is running out and even he doesn't know what that decision will be. If he goes with the Vampire Council, he can have infinite power at the ground level. If he goes with Nuit, he will be a high-level advisor with a vast topside territory and daywalker power. If he goes with us, five mob factions, the FBI, and other police forces will hunt for him, or until they find his body… and that's only assuming he gets a chance to live. He might have to die if he becomes human again because the bite was so horrendous. And, once this double-cross is uncovered—both sides of the vampire empire and all its factions will hunt him till the end of time."
"Shit. And here I thought homeboy was holding aces." Rider shook his head and looked at Damali. "Don't even think about hugging him under these circumstances—not even to keep hope alive, as Reverend Jackson would say."
"Man, you got yourself in a totally fucked-up position," Shabazz said. " 'Scuze me, all present. But, there's no other way to describe it."
"The tunnels," Damali said quickly. "If our men go in, led by Marlene, what advantages can we leverage?"
Her voice was like a knife, carving at his libido, slicing it away from his reason.
"In the slow areas," Carlos said, releasing a deep breath. "I have forces—the Vampire Council's messenger demons who do not want Nuit's goal to be accomplished. They will sense anything in there moving slow, and will help you get to his door to kill him. That was our deal."
"Demons?" The Templar and the members of the Covenant pulled back and huddled in an agitated conference, arguing the merits of Carlos's newest strategy, and the way it might be misunderstood within their own hierarchy.
"Listen. We don't have time!" Carlos began pacing. He'd been in the room longer than three minutes. The show proceeding hers was wrapping up. There would be a brief break, and then she'd have to go on stage. Someone would knock soon to tell her it was time.
"The demons I worked a deal with agreed," Carlos said. "However, there are rogues amongst them that will attack slow-moving objects—any vampire not traveling at the higher speed, or humans. The way the tunnels work is, if something is moving slower than the tunnel's speed, it belongs on a different level, not theirs. They don't ask questions, they attack. And humans aren't even supposed to be anywhere down there. Your bodies are slowed to topside time, not astral time, and you draw them. Not to mention, the scent of your blood is a tracer."
"This is a bad—"
Carlos stopped Rider's comment and pressed on. "Nuit's forces are expecting six of us to go down there with Damali in tow—me, my brother Alejandro, as well as Julio, Juan, and Miguel. The five other vampires made by Nuit's line, and me, are the only ones that have high-speed amnesty—not even Damali can be cleared. Which means as soon as the floor drops, while in the center of a zone, I'll have to do them… may their souls rest in peace. From there, we can go fast, or slow, but we won't have much time. The longer it takes me to get to Nuit's door, the more suspicious and on guard he'll be, and the higher the risk of attack from other subterranean forces."
