by L. A. Banks
She stared at Carlos. Her gaze was unwavering, but her voice was tender. “Baby, I know this whole Arizona thing isn’t you. Honestly, it isn’t me. All of it has shredded everyone’s nerves. I’m not trying to push you away. I just needed space. We have to work on this big problem together. One unit. Really, what we both need, once we conquer this together, are environments suited to us, not this training camp mess that we’re dealing with now. We are supposed to be out in the world, but not of it, and unafraid, dealing—not sequestered. But, until we just learned about the new threat, all I was trying to do was make sure the others could fly … It’s like, I had this sense that something crazy was on the way. It had been giving me nightmares for months. Now I know why. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “I know. Intellectually, I know,” he said, tightening the towel around his waist. “Some days, I could be really cool with the new powers, or the lack thereof. I could intellectually deal with you running the show, until I could step up and we could do this thing side by side, as equals. I could deal with being equals.” He shook his head and set his jaw hard. “But being less than that around you is fucking me up. I ain’t gonna lie. Some days, I’m just so damned mad, and I don’t know why.”
Carlos looked at her in the dim light, his eyes searching hers. “It’s so much responsibility, D. When my brother and my boyz died, then it was just me and you. For some crazy reason, I could deal with that. But, now I’m tight with a big family, and I’m a nervous wreck half the time, worrying about the kids, worrying about Mom Mar, Marj, my brothers … like, if any of them go down, I’d wig. And then they all got infected. My worst nightmare came true. I couldn’t do shit about it, couldn’t just go handle this shit in a cloud of black smoke and save them all from this heartache.” He stared at a point on the wall and continued. “Did you see Mike’s face when he knew he’d brought the infection home?”
Carlos shook his head. “The man was doing the right thing,” he whispered. “He’d beat down a demon, saved his woman and her baby, and made love to her—which is gonna kill her. Then came home the conquering hero and slapped everybody in the house a high five. Tell me how to wrap my brain around that, Damali? All I keep thinking is, if I was still a Council-level vamp, I could be the team’s front line of defense, walk back into Hell, and go get this shit right. At least I could go get y’all some decent information. North America was my zone, girl. I’d know what was going down on American soil before the fucking government, believe that. I hate this new shit, D.”
She came to him and placed her hand over the brand scar he’d always wear on his chest. “I know. It is a lot of responsibility, a lot of weight to love all those people. But that’s part of being a family, baby. Love is risk. The harder you love, the greater the risk, but I wouldn’t want to go through life without having experienced that.”
His arms enfolded her and her head found his shoulder.
“The thing I love about you so much is, you would walk into Hell to make it all right, if you could,” she whispered. “But your role has changed, baby. You have to stop looking backward. We have a month, maybe, and time is our enemy. I know you love every single soul on the team, but you can’t play God. Neither can I.”
“But it’s more than that. I feel connected to them beyond words—like they’re my skin. And, I find myself hardly able to watch the news, because when somebody is shot, some kid is killed, some part of the world blows up, I live with the sadness for days. I never used to be like that, or care like that, and it feels … it feels …”
“Like the weight of the world is on your shoulders?”
She smiled. He nodded and closed his eyes.
“Yes. That’s exactly what it feels like.”
“And I bet you get really pissed off when you see injustice and corruption.” She kissed his cheek as his head found the crook of her shoulder.
“Oh, baby,” he murmured against her neck as his arms enfolded her tighter. “I can’t do this … be squeaky clean, always making the right choice, always answering the call to arms for some crazy shit in the world that’s bigger than all of us.”
She rubbed his back. “This shit is scarier than being a vampire?”
“Most definitely,” he said with a sigh. “It was go for self. They was ruthless, I was ruthless, what-the-fuck-eva, wasn’t no friends in the game. That shit was easy. The only person they could take as a hostage that woulda made me slow my roll, was you—and since you can hold your own, hey. But now. Damn.”
She nodded and hugged him harder. “You’re gonna be all right. We’re gonna do this thing.”
He lifted his head and stared at her, his eyes glistening in the semidarkness. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said quietly. “You were never ruthless. You never played games to the bone. Never lived some of what I lived. That’s as much a part of me as this new thing I am. There’s a part of me that misses the adrenaline rush of rolling like that … and the power. You never sat on a throne, and you cannot know what it is till you’ve done it.”
She listened to his quiet confession without judgment, applying the balm of healing through silent understanding. “Baby, you’ll integrate all of that over time, after we get through this major job we’ve gotta do. Like I’ve told you before, you have to take all of that cunning, and all of that master-of-the-game drama you have inside you, and use it for the good. If the Light spared you with this madness developing, then they must have had a higher purpose for you. They don’t make mistakes and do things by accident, but they will use an accident that has occurred in the most awesome ways.”
“You keep telling me that, and I keep hearing that, but … y’all don’t really know what goes on inside my head sometimes.”
He gave her a sly smile, followed by a deep kiss. “Like, I miss this for instance,” he said, kissing her neck and making her chuckle. “And I miss that, for instance,” he murmured, fondling her backside. Then he outstretched his arm and snapped, and looked over his shoulder and sighed. “And I damned sure miss being able to change a room to go with my mood.” He chuckled sadly. “Right about through here, there should be torches in the joint, you naked and sprawled in the center of my bed, in my lair; then I could get creative. Then I’d let you recover while I took underground limo service and work a deal to shut down the slime creeping out of the realms … then I’d come back before dawn, and, you know … we’d celebrate.” He shook his head. “I don’t do Navajo prints, okaaay.”
She laughed through the worry, and pushed him away with a teasing shove. “So, okay, we’ll have to do some things the old-fashioned way. Once all this is over, tell the builders to funk your place out the way you want to, and I’ll promise to stop by and get naked in the center of your bed. A sister can do that, and sprawl, if that will chill you out.”
“Yeah, but damn, ain’t nothing like doing this,” he said with a snap of his fingers, gazing at her fireplace, “and starting an inferno.” He offered her a sheepish smile. “Be honest, D. You loved it, didn’t you?”
“I loved you,” she hedged, not willing to give into the dangerous fantasy.
“You had instant maid service,” he said, coming closer to her.
She looked away and began folding the blanket. “I’ll live.”
“But you liked some of the trappings of—”
“Carlos, baby. Let it rest.” Her tone had come out a little more forceful than intended. She made a tight, neat, pile of her duvet and put it on the chair across the room. “That was then, this is now. Don’t forget about the dark energies that are a real threat. Focus on that and any solutions you can come up with. That’s the priority. Me and you need to lock, develop a quick strategy, and then roll it out to the team within the next day or so. Even if we don’t turn, as Neterus, we’re not immune to the effects. We’ve gotta be careful.”
When he didn’t answer, she looked at him hard to be sure he was clear. “Your mind is a weapon, and you’d been dwelling on the old powers so much that it gave you the blo
od hunger for a minute while you were in transition. The result was that when you drank alcohol, hanging out with a vamp buddy and probably hashing and rehashing the old life, it made you sick as a dog—almost like you’d gone out and fed. You understand how dangerous something like that can be?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, losing all mirth in his tone. “I know. My boy said the same thing, but, like I said, we ain’t going out like that no more. I’ve felt like shit all day, but whatever was in my system passed. So, I’m cool. No need to get Marlene to posse up and get everybody in the house bugging me about potentially being infected or my judgment being compromised.”
He looked at her; she held his gaze, considering. Tonight, all right. But if he had any more signs of flux, Marlene would be the first person she’d consult. Then she’d call Father Pat.
Several questions continued to nag her as she stared at him, though. One was, if he was going through a Neteru chemical flux and smelled as fabulous as he did last night, how did Yonnie countenance that with Tara present—especially with dark energies swirling that should have made Yonnie act off da hook? Even though they were boys, a male master vampire would go nuts and into instant battle bulk from just a whiff of male Neteru pheromone. Conversely, if Carlos was fluxing to vamp, she should have picked up that vamp tracer the second he was in her presence. Scratch waiting. As soon as Marlene came back, they needed to talk.
Then there was also the issue of her libido being on low tide when it came to him—even while he had a near apex going on. If there was dark energy afoot, and lusting for Carlos was definitely one of her weaknesses, then she should have been all over the man. What was wrong with her? Every overture he made toward her didn’t even make her stir … except for when she thought back on their old nights together. Yet, earlier that same day, when Jose had neared her, he’d made her so hot she was ready to jump out of her skin.
Carlos cocked his head to the side. “I thought we were supposed to be opening our third eyes to each other tonight?”
Damali glanced away. “I just did it when I asked you about the blood hit. I respect your privacy, and wasn’t trying to probe beyond that, uninvited.”
“D, maybe it’s me, but you’ve seemed a little distant, lately … like, no matter what I do, I can’t break in.” His eyes held hers captive. “You’re talking about being honest, hiding nothing from each other so we can do what we’ve gotta do as a team to address this new threat, and not looking backward—but I know a black mental box when I feel one. Talk to me.”
She swallowed hard and sent her gaze on the floor. She hadn’t been able to see the flicker of silver in his eyes, much less the gorgeous solid ray they cast when he was thoroughly turned on. More than that, his skin didn’t ignite under her palm any longer. The hardest question to ask herself was, why not? How badly was he infected? How badly was she?
“It’s stress, baby, given the circumstances,” she said, hoping that her quick diagnosis was accurate. “That’s what’s creating the box. I haven’t been able to focus on my music, either. All the moving, running around, coming up with long stories to soothe insurance companies, negotiations to get the new compound built on safe lands, I mean, all of it was just probably catching up to me—then we just got whacked over the heads by this new, horrible, mad-crazy shit … Carlos, that’s the only reason I can’t focus to open up that private cell right now.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said quietly, glancing around the room for his duffel bag. “I hear you, D. Stress. That’s why we didn’t mind lock anymore before we found out about this new drama, or your voice didn’t shatter glass when I was with you, like it used to—okay. I know what’s in the box now; we heard it late last night and this morning with the teams. New threat; that I can deal with as a reason. But before, what was that? Even now, truth be told, if that’s all that’s in there, I thought you said we’d tackle it as one?”
She wrapped her arms around her waist.
He began walking in a circle, looking on the floor for what wasn’t in the room. “Stress. I got you.”
“It affects women differently than men,” she said defensively. “I was stressed before, too—since Philly.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told,” he said coolly. “All I’ma say is this, though—stress is being dead, in Hell, and having six levels of bullshit chasing you, without daylight as an option.”
He looked at her hard, then stared out the window. “Get a total mind lock on with me now, then—since we’re a so-called equal partner team.”
Damali closed her eyes, her body tensed. She couldn’t do it. There was something inexplicable revolting her. “Baby—”
“Do it now, or I’m walking!”
They stared at each other.
She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. No. She was not allowing him into her head with something she didn’t understand within him. “I’ll get your clothes. They’re in the living room.”
“And, as I recall,” he said, not budging, “with all that chasing you, an Isis blade raised, and a whole house of Guardians in hot pursuit of your whereabouts, a sister didn’t allow stress about real estate and insurance companies and a new CD to cool her off. Maybe I’m not remembering things right?” He brushed past her and paced toward the living room in search of his bag. “Yeah, D,” he yelled over his shoulder. “We’re both under serious stress.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The path beside the country road was so dark you could barely see your hand in front of your face, unless, of course, you had Neteru night vision. But the way Damali was acting had cut him to the bone. He would have walked that path blind as a matter of pride, and there was also this thing called principle.
From the distance, he could see the lights on in the family house, and as he walked it amazed him how short the human memory was. Everything was immediate, temporal, in the present tense. Just like people could watch the news broadcasts and be horrified today, but forget about a major incident by the next afternoon’s headlines. He could never figure that out; his brain simply didn’t function like that. He remembered all, and knowledge was always power.
But the past didn’t seem to matter to Damali unless an argument cropped up, and then the woman could rethread history all the way back to the dawn of time. He would have laughed at his situation if he weren’t so angry. True, there were more important matters to think about, but at the moment, he just didn’t have it in him.
His focus would become laser as soon as he took a walk and cooled off. If any OD jumped out of the bushes, he’d squash it, the way he felt right now. Besides, as far as contagion, things couldn’t get any worse than they already were. They needed a solid plan, a way to bait the Chairman and Lilith out of hiding. He and Damali were the only ones who could do that, if she could get her head together enough to work as a team. But that was the problem, she wasn’t used to doing that—she was only used to giving orders, and like he’d told her before, he wasn’t some flunky lieutenant of hers. Not by a long shot.
Damali was downright wrong, the way he saw it. She’d obviously forgotten about how he stood by her side when she was sick. Oh, like restarting a sister’s heart and begging for her life in prayer—as a vampire, standing in a damned cold shower, willing her to live wasn’t nuthin’? That, compared to a night out with his boy?
She was off the hook about silly shit. His timing might have been bad, but his intent wasn’t. Had he known about all this infection madness, did she actually believe he would have gone out and gotten plastered? Then to have to be read the Riot Act by a damned alcoholic for a night out with his boy, simply because no matter what the circumstances, Rider would have a problem with Yonnie, even if they were going to a church for Bible study!
But, if he brought up the obvious past that he and Damali had shared, and spoken on the fact that she’d fluxed and lapsed while she was learning how to be a Neteru, she’d no doubt start arguing about how she was sick because of him in the first place. Then it would only be a matter of time be
fore she threw up the whole issue of losing her Isis long blade because of him. Yeah, all right, so she stayed by his side when he’d turned vamp. Okay, they were even. So what was her beef?
Though all of that was true, she’d willingly gone there with him. Women always had some tricked-up logic.
Not to mention, after all that they’d been through together, it now boiled down to her having second thoughts? At a time like this? Why?
Before, it seemed like when there was a crisis and heavy drama to contend with, the two of them were on fire. But the moment things got sort of normal, then girlfriend’s mind started working overtime about woulda, coulda, shoulda. He was the one who should be having second thoughts! This was her family, her world, her environment, not his. This was her plan, her path, her mission, not his. However, for her, he was willing to try to deal with it…. Yet now she’s all distant and acting funny when they needed to come together and beat a new threat as one?
Crazy part was, his boy Yonnie was all messed up because his woman couldn’t let go of the past. No matter what Yonnie had done in the present, like saving Tara’s ass, giving her a necessary throat feed, and even being cool with her man wasn’t nothing? If Yonnie temporarily made a seduction attempt, he understood why. Pain was pain, and his boy was bleeding bad. Up on that porch, seeing Tara near Rider probably was what had made the brother drop fang. Rider still had Tara’s mind on lock, and the past was making his boy miserable. Actually, it was making both men miserable, and where was the female justice and logic in that? he wanted to know.
He couldn’t even begin to fathom what Shabazz was going through, even though Kamal had been chill enough not to fall by with theatrics. Still, ’Bazz’s pride had been whittled down to sawdust when Kamal rolled up on them in Philly, shape-shifted, and blew Marlene’s mind. The subject was so hot, so ready to blow, that even the newbies knew to stay clear of ’Bazz in the house. A woman could make even the coolest brother wig. So, again, he wanted to know, where was the justice? At least Marlene seemed to have enough sense to recognize that the past could be a dangerous thing, or a good thing, depending on when a particular skeleton leaped from a closet.
