The Damned (Vampire Huntress Legend #6) 3

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Damali crossed the hotel room slowly, sipping air in very tiny breaths. What would she say to him, if anything, when this man came out of the bathroom? She picked up his clothes as calmly as she could. He didn't want her? He preferred that to being with her? Okay, she would try to keep an open mind. They'd done a lot of stuff together, but it cut her to the core to know that he would now rather be alone than with her. She took in a deep breath and let it out as calmly as possible.

Shaken, she found a plastic hotel laundry bag in the closet and quietly shoved everything but Carlos's shoes into it with trembling hands. She didn't understand this withdrawal thing, especially as he was having vamp fluxes, and there was nobody to ask about this. She reminded herself that she was no prude; they'd explored a lot of things together. It was his body; he didn't have to share his sexuality with her. It wasn't a betrayal if he wanted to get his shit off all alone. That was cool. She shouldn't have been shocked. No reason to be upset. She'd walked back into the room unannounced, too early. He'd asked for time to himself. Right, right, be cool, girl. This wasn't a betrayal or anything to wig about. This was... this was... Aw, hell, she didn't know what this was. But it wasn't Carlos.

Damali moved like someone had punched her, in stiff, dazed motions to get her ID and some money, a credit card, oh... the room key she'd forgotten... She was supposed to be getting something to eat. Not likely now. How was the door open, though? It had locked behind her.

She crossed the room, picking her way along what felt like a vast expanse, pulled the Do Not Disturb sign off the inside knob, and stared at it. Then she quietly slipped out of the room, hung the privacy marker on the door, and walked down the hall. The elevator was taking too long. Her panties were wet. The image of him on the brink swelled within her mind. Her physical reaction was incongruent with the emotions that seized her heart. The stair exit called out to her. She needed fresh air.

She found herself running, not really looking at where she was going - just bolting.

Images slammed against her brain in stop-start patches of lit bursts framed in darkness. Carlos was on her back deck, half nude, wrapped only in a towel. Blackness. He lifted his head and smiled. Blackness. Sweat trickled down the center of Damali's back as she stopped in the stairwell, retched, but nothing came up.

She panted with her eyes closed, trying to battle the next incoming image. "No!" she said between her teeth as she fought to close her third eye.

But she could feel a dark orb of pressure at the base of her skull defying her internal command. She opened her eyes to resume her escape from the building. Blackness.

Juanita was in a chair next to Carlos. Blackness. His hands were in Juanita's hair.

Damali squeezed her eyes shut as the force of the image made her hold on to the metal stair rail. The kiss was electric. She could feel it in her mouth, along with Carlos's intent to sire. Juanita's arousal became her own. Blackness. Juanita was on her knees between her man's legs.

"Stop!" Damali shouted, creating an echo in the abandoned stairwell. She clutched her hair with both hands, puffing and blowing out breaths like a woman giving birth, desperately trying to shake the connection. Blackness. When Juanita went down on him, Damali covered her mouth and began walking in a circle on a landing. This time no blackness gave her a second to recover and brace for the next image.

Her man's hands were in Juanita's hair, guiding her furtive bobbing. His eyes were closed, head back, the look on his face... She would slay that bitch! Where was her baby Isis? Damali's hand went for her hip. No blade. Marlene had stripped it and put it with Carlos's claw of Heru, along with her stones - gave it to the Covenant to ship while they traveled past layers of international security�now she knew why! Sure, Marlene might not have actually seen it; Damali knew that in her gut as she honed her inner vision to a laser. But Mar knew to remove their weapons. It was more like her mother-seer had Divine insight than witness.

"Oh, God in Heaven," Damali whispered through her teeth. "I've been here before with this man. But in my house? My house!" Her voice fractured as it escalated until what was supposed to be a prayer was a shouting match with On High. "No!" she screamed. "I don't have to tolerate this shit!" Blackness.

Carlos's hands covered Juanita's breasts. Damali stood still as the ache he created within Juanita spilled from her skin to Damali's. Then suddenly, audio kicked in, also kicking her ass. She listened, numb, to Juanita tell him she didn't care whose house it was. Blackness. Carlos had asked Juanita if she wanted to make a baby together? Was he crazy! The question had been asked in a low, sensual, vampirically alluring, mind-bending tone.

"I will cut your dick off!" Damali shouted and started to cry. The sex was bad enough - but to want a child with anyone but her? They were supposed to get married! Hell, they were married, in a way. He'd called her his wife, for chrissakes!

"No honor! Where's my fucking blade!" Blackness.

Jose's face. Her Guardian brother's emotions shot through her like a cattle prod jolt, standing the hairs up on her arms. Blackness. Krissy and Juanita were hugging. Blackness. Carlos's eyes were considering the possibilities of a menage ¨¤ trois. Blackness. Quiet. Impossible. No!

Damali started running again. This was so much more agonizing than the were-demon in Brazil. This was... was... Family. She ran though blinded by tears. Her man had grown bored, didn't want her, and would jeopardize the family house and all the relationships hanging in the balance just to get his shit off? No respect. No forethought, just pure, stupid lust. At a time like this, when the fate of the world hung in the balance - this is what he did?

She could feel it right through her skin like a stab. This was no illusion, no dream, no internal worry without merit. Her self-confidence as a woman, his lover, his soul mate shredded and stripped away as she jumped down what seemed to be endless nights of steps. She'd been gifted, or cursed, with second sight long enough to know the real McCoy when she saw it. This had happened!

A thousand thoughts and options spun in her mind, creating a Russian roulette of murderous intent. Poor Jose! He'd walked in on that? Oh, my God; in her house? On the team? Krissy might get pulled shortly, too? No kid could go up against an entity packing council-vamp capacity! Carlos as mere mortal was fucking bad enough!

Damali could see it in her mind. Berkfield would shoot up the joint, leaving bodies everywhere - the man would flip, lose it, and die trying to protect his daughter's honor.

"No need, Dad," Damali said, exhaling and inhaling hard as she bolted toward fresh air. "Before all that takes place, I'll slay him—trust me!"

But as soon as the thought entered her mind, a muddy, sluggish feeling began to slow her motions. She could now see Rider and Jose walking toward her as she entered the hotel lobby. For the life of her, she didn't know why she'd been running and couldn't completely remember why she'd been so upset. All she had was the impression of panic still racing through her.

Damali slowed her gait to a quick walking pace, trying to rethread her thoughts. The only image that came back to her with clarity was Carlos in their room, looking up at her, mortified, and her shock at what she'd seen. The rest of the impressions were fuzzy and only left a bad aftertaste in her mouth, then even that dissipated. She'd figure it out later, and set her sights on her approaching teammates.

Her goal was simply to get past them. She didn't want to talk to another living soul at the moment. However, the pull to Jose came from deep within her core. She needed to talk to him, connect with him. It was an inexplicable feeling, like ancestral knowledge. It just was.

The closer he got to her, the more she felt sure that they needed to have a conversation alone, although she didn't exactly know what she would say. But as his clean energy wafted toward her, it drew her like a magnet. She could instantly feel healing within it. Tears of relief wet her lashes again and began to sting her eyes, no matter how she fought against them.

Jose caught her arm and Rider took off his shades and stared at her.

"You all right, D?" Jose said, searching her face.

"Hon, you look like something's chasing you," Rider said quietly. "Wanna take a walk with us?" He rubbed his jacket to let her know he was packing.

She shook her head no. Words escaped her. Jose and Rider shared a look. It was that look that was beginning to shatter her composure. Damali wrapped her arms around herself and drew a ragged breath to argue, but no sound came out.

"I got dis'," Jose said firmly, his line of vision holding Rider's hard.

"You sure, hombre?" Rider said with concern.

Damali pulled out of Jose's touch and jogged away from them.

He left Rider standing in the lobby and followed Damali down to the marina. It took several minutes to catch up to her and match her stride, but when he did, he just silently walked by her side.

After a while, renewed calm slowed her pace, allowed her to begin to hear the sounds around her, and feel the comfort Jose provided. Bless him. Always there. But what was there to say to Jose that could be shared without a privacy violation?

"I just needed to get my head together," she finally stammered as they strolled along the marina and then found the edge of the beach.

He nodded. "Been that kinda day. I hear you."

"Yeah."

"Been that kinda year, truth be told," he said, and picked up a stone and chucked it in the water.

"Hey! Don't do that," she warned half serious and half joking. "That might have been my fifth insight stone."

He laughed. "My bad. I forgot." Then he made a playful dash at the water but swerved to avoid it. "Want me to go get it? Pick it out from the, what, several million pieces of rock in the sea? I will, girl, you know I'm crazy like that."

She laughed and stopped walking. "Thank you."

He stopped and looked at her. "Don't know what I did, but you're welcome, D. But I ain't scuba diving in jeans for a rock—not even for you, baby." He laughed but his mirth died away when hers slowly became a sad smile.

She looked down and let out a weary sigh. "I'm so tired. Thanks for always making me laugh. Just being my friend."

"That ain't gonna change. Told you that when I came for coffee the other day."

She nodded, but still didn't look at him. "Yep, you did. I don't want that to ever change. It's the only constant in my life."

She looked up when he didn't respond, and saw something in his eyes that she dared not name.

"Mine, too," he said quietly. "So, I'm blessed."

She told her legs to start walking. This was a good time to do that.

"What happened back there, D?"

She shook her head no. "I'll be all right."

He stepped closer than advisable. "If you ever aren't, you know where to come."

She just looked at him for a moment. "I know. And I will."

They stared at each other for a long time.

"What happened this morning when you left to go get Krissy straight?"

Jose looked at her, shook his head, and sent his gaze toward the water, the muscles beginning to work in his jaw. "I'm cool."

Damali nodded and placed her hand on his arm. "If you ever aren't..."

He slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers. "Damali, this thing is way too volatile to just put it out there like that, and you know it. Friend to friend, we need to be clear about that."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Me, too. Because before you tell me that again, I have to be clear."

She nodded and swallowed hard as his hand cupped her cheek.

"I have to know," he whispered, "because if you ever tell me that again, and if I ever see that hurt look in your eyes because of something foul he did, I'll come to you, throwing caution, house rules, lines of demarcation, everything out the fucking window. You understand? Don't tell me to do the right thing, if I see you looking like that." He glanced at the water. "Because what I'ma do will be the right thing, and we both know it."

He sealed the gap between them in the very quiet, private place where they stood. Both hands held the side of her face as his mouth lowered to hers. The kiss he delivered was gentle, asking permission to enter, gaining that in slow, dissolving increments as her lips parted, found his tongue and allowed her arms finally to hold him. For that brief moment that the earth stood still, she didn't care who saw or knew. Didn't care if she was making a mistake. She just needed someone who had never hurt her or frightened her or totally freaked her out to hold her. A man with no history, but who had all the history that was necessary when he'd pulled her into his arms, made her body begin to respond in normal, human levels of want with no magic at all, except what was inside his heart. And she was so dangerously close to the edge of doing something irreversible, if she hadn't already, that tears streamed down her face and added more salt to their kiss.

He knew it, she could tell, by the patient shudder that ran through him. The depth of his knowing came through in the heat in his hands, the deepening kiss that asked the silent question -

When? They sought an answer with every stroke down her arms, every hitch in his breath, and tried to tell her a long story of hunger denied as though reading Braille against her back. His pulse strummed in her ears, and when his heartbeat synced up to hers she almost cried out and broke the kiss.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and he hugged her hard.

"I know," he said, seeming as though he couldn't take enough air into his lungs. "You don't have to decide right this minute, but... baby..."

"I know, but this is gonna change everything, be really messed up... but I can't go back to my room."

"Come to my room, then."

She looked up at him. "I should have a long time ago in the compound, Jose. What have I done?"

"Same thing I did." He found her mouth again, but this time the kiss was less patient, held agony within it. "I'll get another room, in a different hotel."

She didn't nod, but didn't shake her head no. The heat seal between them was too thick for her to move, and his hardness against her thigh said it all. His desire had entered her pores, along with years of hurt, unnecessary anguish... It made her close her eyes. "I need to step back for a second."

But he didn't let her go.

"Why do you think I gave you my blanket?"

She nodded. "I knew the minute you handed it to me and Shabazz looked away."

"Then why did you accept it?" he whispered, understanding and confusion competing in his eyes.

"Because I wanted..."

"To feel every minute I wanted you in my bed, under it with me, in my arms..."

She nodded. "But I knew that was the only way I could really ever experience... and I knew - "

An impatient kiss claimed her mouth, scored her neck till tears came to her eyes. Impatient hands flattened against the Sankofa and made it burn till her hands found his shoulders again. A truthful moan collided with hers within the soft tissue of a kiss and drowned it in a hard swallow. A gasp that bordered on a blade cut made a decision necessary.

"I can't."

He nodded. "Knew that going into the first kiss." He closed his eyes and placed his hot forehead against hers and stabilized his breathing by degrees. "You keep the blanket. You let me know. Even if it lies in a cedar chest for ten years, you let me know."

She touched his face and kept her eyes shut tightly. "I wasn't playing with you, Jose. I'm sorry that I just can't, not while..."

He captured her hand, kissed the center of it hard. "You don't think I know that? No apologies. I ain't gonna lie, I'm pretty messed up right now, but I'll live." He let his breath out hard and stroked her hair. "But to be able just to know that you were feelin' it, too. That I wasn't all by myself, trippin'." He made her look at him, the quiet passion beneath the surface of him welding her to him. "And if you ever need to open your third eye to come visit me," he whispered. "Do it. I don't care who I'm with. Permission to enter and blow my mind like this any time." He smiled. "If I could return the favor, know that I would."

She smoothed his hair back from his forehead and knew she didn't have to nod for him to know that his suggestion wasn't out of the question. "We'd better get back and get our heads right, if we're gonna deal with reality as friends."

He nodded and then dragged his nose across her shoulder, up the side of her neck, and into her hair. It was the way he did it, slow, agonized, his lids sliding shut as she saw him imprint her scent into his memory bank until the day he died. Her knees threatened to give way. The sensation of the olfactory imprinting process connecting to every erogenous zone in him sent a hard shudder through her that she couldn't hide. She felt that create a shiver that linked their spines and made them have to part and literally shake it off, if they were going to be friends. He tilted his head and glanced at the pounding surf.

"Yeah, like that," he murmured and licked his lips with an after tremor. "Salt water. Beach. A gorgeous afternoon. You. Your hair. Your skin. Almond oil and shea butter... and you." He closed his eyes for a moment, then began walking away from her. "I won't ever forget."

Carlos landed on his feet, naked, wet, and shivering. Messengers bowed and parted. The cavern went still. He walked forward on a mission, and clothed himself in jeans with one snap. The ground wasn't even hot beneath his feet.

The doors to the great Chamber swung open before he'd even reached them. Carlos crossed the marble floor and glimpsed the newly refurbished inner sanctum, no longer in ruin. His throne shuddered and gurgled with new blood. He ignored it and headed straight for the pentagram-shaped table. He was on a mission. To get the book.

He touched the crest with a flat palm, and then removed his hand. It opened without hesitation, its emptiness glinting torch lights off the bottom.

"Reveal," Carlos said quietly.

The vault obliged and produced the book. He reached down and picked it up, his gaze fastened upon it.

Carlos looked up to the ceiling, watching the newly energized swirl of black smoke that had red eyes. "Topside, same location," he commanded the transport bats, but they suddenly scattered and took cover behind the crags.

Something gurgled within his stomach, sending a pain through his intestines, searing his flesh, making him nearly drop his hold on the precious artifact. His howl elongated with the rip that began in his abdomen. Blood spewed from his body, covering the table, the book, and forced him to stagger backward until the dreaded Chairman's throne broke his fall.

His lungs tore inside his chest and filled with blood, suffocating him. He could hear his ribs snapping and groaning as the unknown pushed against his burn scar over his heart, retreated, and then clawed a huge gash in his stomach.

Blood filled his nose, dribbled out of his mouth, burned his eyes as something black, and winged, and massive, climbed out of the gaping hole, snapping his entrails and ripping his liver, pulling his spleen away from tissue anchors as it birthed from his open wound. Bits of him lay on the floor quivering in a jellied mass as the thing that had exited him spread its blood-wet wings, turned to stare at him with glowing black slits, flicked out a serpent's tongue, and laughed.

It walked' around him in a circle, sending the clatter of cloven hoofs to bounce off the walls. An amused expression was on its hideous face, and it politely extracted the book from Carlos's grasp, breaking his fingers backward.

"Thank you," it murmured. "I believe this belongs to me." It sighed, petted the book, and returned a lethal gaze to Carlos. "You don't have the guts to use it properly. Such a waste, when the two of us could have been a united force to be reckoned with."

Paralyzed, Carlos watched, dying, as the thing came for him, grasped him by a broken, protruding rib bone, and flung him out of the throne. Then it sat down, put the book in its lap, crossed its thick, muscular, granite legs, and gripped the hand rests.

Shivering on the floor, Carlos stared at it, semiconscious, and watched the demon throw its head back, groan and shudder, and then open its eyes, sated. Humanlike skin crept over its charred body. The wings retracted, as did its fangs and talons. Its feet normalized, and it sheathed itself in a black designer suit as the transformation process rippled up its hulking frame. But it saved its face for last.

It leaned forward, studying Carlos like he was a bug under a microscope, and laughed a deep, thunderous chuckle of victory as he took on Carlos's face. It summarily sent a bolt of black lightning across the room to scorch him. But rather than exterminate him, Carlos felt his body reconstruct and become amazingly whole again.

"Get off the floor, punk," it said, shaking its head.

Carlos slowly rose, touching his face as he gaped at the image of himself in the dark throne.

"This is what you could have been," it said in a disgusted tone. It blew out a long breath. "Woulda, coulda, shoulda, I suppose."

Carlos couldn't answer. Stupefied by what he was seeing, he stood in the middle of the floor and only stared.

"Check it out, hombre. You know; we're one and the same. I'm the other side of who you are... the side even you don't want to fuck with." It laughed and stood and strode over to Carlos, taunting him with the book raised above his head. "But you had to keep talking to angels. Had to keep praying. Had to keep making me fucking sick inside you." It shook its head. "Wouldn't even get me laid with the baddest sister on the planet - now you know I don't take no bullshit, right?" It bitch-slapped Carlos when he didn't answer and walked away from him laughing, then whirled on Carlos and pointed at him. "You brought this shit on yourself, man. We could have coexisted, if you'da acted right. But your dumb ass was about to really mess things up for both of us."

"Fuck you," Carlos finally yelled.

"Thanks, already did. Was so good, you even nutted on yourself, too, which really tripped her out. I thought you'd already turned her into a freak, but - "

Carlos lunged at the entity, instant fury replacing common sense and fear. The entity grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his feet.

"See, that's what I so love about, you, man. You got heart. You're almost as crazy as I am."

It body-slammed Carlos to the marble floor and folded its arms over its chest as the book hovered inches within his grasp. "We would have made an excellent team, but you kept fucking with the Light. Now you'll have to go your way, and I'll have to go mine."

Carlos glared at the entity, the pain that wracked his body and mind only stoking his hatred for it. As soon as a silver laser cut across the room, the entity jumped back and laughed.

"Whoa, hombre! Not down here. You gonna make me smoke a motherfucker."

Carlos scrabbled to his feet. "I'm not leaving without the book!"

A sucker punch traveled at the speed of thought, connected with Carlos's jaw, shattering it, and leaving him fifty feet away, sprawled on the floor. What felt like razor-sharp claws held both sides of Carlos's head, even though the entity was far across the room. He could feel the bones in his skull separating as the black-glowing eyes in his body double flickered.

"To kill you would not be strategic," the entity said. "You have work to do. I need a Neteru to take off the Chairman's head. That bitch you live with is more seasoned than you, and can deliver. Your punk ass, however, can lead her to him." It flicked out its long, black tongue and blew a kiss at Carlos across the room.

The kiss turned to dark vapor and wafted toward Carlos's opened mind, burning as it touched exposed gray matter and making him yell.

"Forget," the entity whispered. "Shame we couldn't have come to a meeting in the middle." Then it snapped its fingers.

Carlos stood in the shower with his hands splayed against the tiles. His head hung beneath the pummel of water, and it felt as though the water was slamming into his skull, each drop a sledgehammer.

Oddly, he felt lighter, cleaner, more at peace as he stepped out of the harsh spray and grabbed a towel. He was so thirsty, too, and he opened and downed the liter bottle of water that sat on the sink in one endless guzzle. He was hungry. A burger was calling his name.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his forearm, he went into the bedroom and began to hunt for clothes. When did Damali go? He was seriously hungry, ready to bust a grub, and girlfriend was AWOL. Plus, it was almost sunset and she needed to let him know where she was.

Carlos glanced at the windows and the position of the lowering sun as he pulled on a pair of clean jeans and a T-shirt. Didn't she know he worried about her? Then he smiled and relaxed. What was he worried about? Everything was gonna be all right.

She'd walked along the beach and had found a quiet place of meditation, where she'd hidden within her own thoughts for hours until the sun dipped down beyond the horizon. She watched the waves, hoping their timeless constancy would unravel the mysteries of the universe... the mysteries of this erratically behaving man she loved. Damali stood and gave up her search, walking to her vehicle, her spirit in pure chaos.

Tonight she wouldn't say a mumblin' word when she saw him. She'd be on her most effervescent behavior as they all ate dinner together. She'd put on the best performance of her life. She'd act like everything was all right and smile.

But she still had hot tears in her eyes that wouldn't recede like the tide. The mission is first, she told herself, and looked up at the sky.

Tears, a distant female voice whispered in her mind.

Damali froze. She knew that angel's voice anywhere. "Mom?"

Tell no one, child.

Damali nodded as her own tears fell. "I know, Mom. This was horrible. I can't stop crying. I just hate that you saw it."

The angels weep, the voice murmured. We hear you. Find the tears.

"They're inside of me," Damali whispered, and kept her gaze to the sunset. "Believe that."

No, the trinity, child, the voice whispered gently. The tears of angels at the roof of the world... those that never touched the ground when the Lamb was slaughtered. Find the temple that holds those tears yet still. Ignite that heavenly compassion with the energy of the Creator. Then remember the blood... and cure the world.

"The antidote?" Damali almost shouted. "Mom?"

Yes. Angelic tears have dried to salt and never hit the ground. The Creator's hand parted that sea, Red, and is in the salt. Salt is in the blood and walks beside you, but living. The Father, the Son, and the Spirit; Red Sea salt, for the Father, the living blood for the Son, and then spiritual tears for the sacrifice. In that order, as it was done.

"That's why the salt was killing them... The Covenant needs - "

Tell no one, not even your mate or mother-seer. You have two of the missing elements at hand. The last element could be at risk, and only your mind is strong enough to hold the secret.

Damali ran her fingers through her locks. "The Red Sea salt is no problem, we have that." She nodded, instantly knowing. "Berkfield has the blood in his veins."

Yes. Be swift.

"The roof of the world is where?"

The Himalayas. Tibet is called the Roof of the World. Seek those who have sheltered these tears for centuries in the greatest temple of all. Only once in history have the angels wept so hard that their tears left Heaven to nearly reach the ground - when the Lamb was slaughtered.

"Mom," Damali whispered with renewed panic. "The Chairman is in the Himalayas. He's got a lair there!"

Yes. Dante knows to seek this missing element. The Chairman would offer a trade for it - you or Eve or both for the world antidote... and Heaven might have to indeed comply for the good of the whole. The Light might sacrifice a Neteru in the flesh and one in the spirit for all of humankind, and how would we angels argue such a decision, since the Creator has already sacrificed His Son?

"They would do that," Damali stated, but with a question in the flat response.

I don't know. But you're my daughter. I'm not as evolved as the Most High, and I don't care about the current raging debate about your possible compromise... or your soul mate's potential compromise. My love for my child is stronger than warrior angels' admonishments, even at my lower ring. I will always give you insight, living or dead. This is why Dante established his lair in the Himalayas. It was not coincidence.

Damali could hear her mother's voice becoming farther away, as the last thing she said became strident with conflict. "Mom," she whispered. "I love you. Thank you. Just tell me which temple, and I'm there with the quickness. Don't leave, yet."

I have told you all I can without being seriously reprimanded. It is the greatest temple of all. Heal yourselves, Neterus, then the team, first; then heal the world. In that order. Anoint each forehead with the antidote, that minds become clear and spirits unclouded. You, him, then the team, first. The trinity, always. Ohhhh... sugar... Mommy misses you so...

"I don't want to get you in trouble, Mom," Damali said, her voice catching in her throat. "I won't fail. I promise. I won't let what you told me go to waste. I love you, I love you, I miss you and Dad so. Don't get yourself involved anymore. Not even for me, hear, or risk - "

But you are my daughter. You are my daughter. You are my blessed daughter, my gift. My life. I saw them take your baby. I was there through it all. I wept. This is why I challenge the warrior ranks and have secretly brought this to you, out of pure mother's love. They cannot argue with that, or stop it, even in Heaven. Enough has happened, and you held the line. I trust you, even if the other angels are wary. Know that I hold my first grandchild's light in my arms. They didn't get it. I will love you till the end of time. I will give you an edge, but do not forsake this information. This is why you tell no one. Not even Carlos, until you are both synced up. fust go and find it to heal the world. Ohhhh... child of mine... I love you. I must go.

Damali sat down hard on the beach as her mother's voice trailed off and disappeared. It was all too much, and she did what was human - just put her face in her hands and wailed.

Yonnie instantly lifted his head from the bed, sending dozens of silken pillows to the floor. Tara sat up quickly and touched his arm.

"Get dressed," Yonnie said. "Carlos is outside."

"In New Orleans?" Tara said, moving quickly to dress and follow Yonnie out of the suite Gabrielle had provided.

"Que pasa, muthafucker!" Yonnie said laughing as he stopped, appraised Carlos in the new suit, then walked up to him for their familiar embrace. "I'll just be damned. Look at you, man!"

Carlos smirked and pushed off the gleaming black finish of his new Lamborghini and accepted Yonnie's embrace. "You're in a real good mood, man. You musta finally got straight."

Yonnie shrugged. "Hey... what can I say? You feel that surge that bubbled up to the surface? Has topspin on it like - "

"A real motherfucker," Carlos said laughing, and cutting Yonnie off. He pounded Yonnie's fist. But he noticed that Tara hung back, her eyes cautious. "I hear you."

"Hey, baby, what's the matter?" Carlos said, his tone warm and oozing with sensuality.

Yonnie discreetly stepped back from Carlos and stopped laughing. He glanced at Tara. "I know you are not trying to get new with our boy? What's your problem?"

"Does Damali know you're here, in that?" Tara asked, her tone cool, civil, and so distant that ice could form around her words. She appraised the car with open disdain.

"Excuse me?" Carlos said, tilting his head to one side, and then returning a hard glare to Yonnie. "You don't have this bitch in order?"

Stunned, Yonnie stepped back further, his eyes holding confusion and hurt. "Yo, man. C'mon. It's Tara. You know she's always got beef about some principle, but - "

"Then you clearly don't have her ass in order," Carlos said, shaking his head. "I figured after the surge and you laid serious pipe, you'd have this bitch eating out of your hand, glad to get a wrist vein."

Carlos narrowed his gaze on Yonnie's jugular when he didn't answer, just bristled. "She throat marked you, and you allow her to dis you in fronta me like that?" He glanced at Tara hard and quickly studied her throat. "Man, you let her have you so out of control that you gave her a permanent mate bite, and she's not humble? And you're my lieutenant?" He sighed and opened the car door, allowing his palm to slide across the exquisite bloodred leather interior. "Can't blame you, though. You weren't schooled right from the jump. My bad."

Yonnie backed away farther and pulled Tara close to him. "Apologize to him, baby. He ain't in the mood tonight, okay? Don't take him there."

Carlos looked up with a sly smile. "Let's go for a ride, y'all. The new wheels are off da meter." He chuckled as he saw the couple draw together in fear. "Maybe we can go back to my lair and play, or go eat some real New Orleans, for a change, and listen to some live music?"

Neither Yonnie nor Tara spoke.

"Okay, maybe not. Yeah, there's a matter of protocol that I have to address, first. Again, my bad." Carlos laughed and closed his car door.

"She's sorry, man, and didn't mean to offend," Yonnie said, subtly pushing Tara farther behind his back. "Besides, there's this whack shit going down with the portal energy... that's probably affecting her. Got a coven divination on it. Seems that something's turned subterranean upside down. Levels Five on up are scrambling to the surface through broken portals, can't survive underground, and are scared to be - "

"Didn't you give her a direct order?" Carlos said, cutting off Yonnie's frantic babbling as he stared at his manicure.

"I'm sorry," Tara whispered in a tight voice strangled with rage.

"I am, too, bitch," Carlos said looking up, his eyes beginning to flicker black. "I didn't like your tone. You took so long to respond to my boy - and you ain't fucking him the way you should be on a regular basis, anyway. I shouldn't have had to send a power surge up here to rectify that shit. Shoulda been automatic, just 'cause he said so. Fuck Rider. He's human, and can't do nothing for you, like my boy."

"Yo, man," Yonnie said, his glare beginning to glow red. "That was between me and you, as boyz. As men."

"It is what it is, man." Carlos folded his arms. "Why be a punk, crying in your blood, worrying about - "

"We're friends," Tara shouted. "I cannot believe you are treating us this way. What's wrong with you!"

Yonnie froze. Carlos stepped forward. His voice dropped to a threat level that only vampire hearing could detect.

"Ain't no friends in this game - bitch."

As soon as the words escaped his mouth a vast cavern opened between dimensions, sucking Yonnie and Tara into it. Carlos stepped over the threshold of the yawn in the side of the building, looked back at the motionless pedestrians, and closed it behind him with a snap of his fingers. "Let's go back in time to get this straight."

Tara clung to Yonnie in the middle of the deserted wood clearing.

"This is why you have to establish your authority from the door!" Carlos bellowed, paralyzing Yonnie and yanking Tara from Yonnie's side by her hair as she fought against his hold. "You can't have this bullshit, man. Unless you kick their ass good once, they don't respect you."

"Yo, Carlos, for real, man, stop playing," Yonnie said, trying to break the force around him to no avail. "This is Tarn, man. Tara!"

"Like that means some shit? I ain't deaf and I know this bitch's name," Carlos said, teasing Yonnie as he gripped Tara's hair harder. "But you never laid down the law with her, never did her right, never put down your territorial marker, so I'll show you how. Then don't you ever act like no punk in my presence again. Understood?"

"Let go of me!" Tara screamed, twisting and hissing, her claws digging into Carlos's hand as her fangs tried to score any flesh on him they could. "You're mad! Completely insane. Get off of me!"

"Let her go, man!" Yonnie hollered, still fighting the paralyzing hold.

Carlos held her jaw, deflecting her missed kicks and punches. "You're beautiful," he murmured, "but too old to be behaving like this."

"Stop," she said, sobbing. "Don't do this."

"Man, for real," Yonnie said, his eyes blazing solid red and full battle-bulk consuming his paralyzed frame. "I will never forgive you for this."

"Good," Carlos said, ripping the front of Tara's leather suit away as he stared at Yonnie. "Now you're starting not to sound like a punk." He smiled. "Feel it. Embrace it. Then detach from the emotion so you can do what you've gotta do."

Carlos spun and caught one of Tara's stray punches, and snapped her wrist. Her scream rent the air; Yonnie cringed and growled. With a glance Carlos burned the remainder of her clothes away and ignored her screams, then body-slammed her to the ground and used a black current to open her thighs as he loomed above her. "You have to train them to obey your command like you'd train a dog. Use simple commands to let them know what disobedience can cost. Brother, you've got to say what you mean and mean what you say when - "

Carlos's head jerked up as Yonnie sent a weak current through his black-force hold. The impact was like a hard slap, but didn't faze him. "Your ass must be really salty and really crazy, hombre. But that's a good thing."

"Me and you, motherfucker! Let her go, and we do this to ash!"

"Now, see, this time when you called me a motherfucker, I wasn't feeling no love. It's all about tone, vibe, attitude," Carlos said. "And this ain't even a throat-mate that obeys. You sure you wanna take her place?"

"Do it. Let her go," Yonnie hollered.

"No," Tara yelled, her eyes narrowed on Carlos. "He'll kill you, and it's not worth it. Let him finish, and we'll be gone, Yonnie." She looked at Yonnie, her eyes filled with tears as her voice cracked and became a mere whisper. "Please. Don't provoke him further. Let him finish. We'll both survive."

"This is what I was trying to show you. A lair mate, at Second-gen, elevated by your own bite, should be ready to take the stake, a beat down, what-the-fuck-eva you say her ass should take, even the goddamned sun, to save your ass. She should fear your wrath above anything else. Now, girlfriend is clear."

Carlos looked down at Tara, shook his head, and returned his scorching gaze to Yonnie, making his chest sizzle as he spoke. "Your heart should be made of steel. No tail should make you go against your boyz and act stupid. You don't allow worrying over no dumb bitch to get in the way of real bizness. If this one dies, you go make another one. And the very last person you ever fuck with is me. We straight, holmes?" Carlos pointed at Tara in a hard snap and released her. "She's real clear now. Are you?"

Tara scrambled to Yonnie's side, her broken wrist immobile as she clung to him. "Stand down, Yonnie," she begged when Yonnie's fangs didn't retract and his battle bulk didn't give way. "The wrist is nothing. It'll regenerate after we feed. Don't provoke him. He's crazy, infected, something - I don't know, honey, don't do it."

"See how she's begging you to chill for your own good - that's what I'm talking about. She senses imminent danger, was ready to take the weight, and is very right. I am in a very dangerous mood tonight. Women know these things. Listen to your mate." Carlos began walking in a circle around Yonnie. "She senses the potential end of your existence, if you don't bulk the fuck down now. She oughta beg for dick like that, too, man, if we're being honest. But hey, what can I say. I'm on a time frame, and don't have time to show you how to do all that tonight."

Yonnie snarled. Carlos sighed and shook his head as he glimpsed Tara.

"He's still fuzzy about how this all goes," Carlos said, his voice dropping a decibel. "He ain't sure, ain't made up his mind as to what should be instinct, a reflex decision." Carlos snapped his fingers and blew Tara ten feet away to land in a crumpled thud, and then released Yonnie.

Instantly, Yonnie took flight and lunged like a beast that had popped its choker chain. Carlos's massive wings ripped through his suit as he met Yonnie in the air, seized his throat, and slammed him to the ground.

Huge iron shackles formed around Yonnie's wrists as he tried to stand, dazed from the impact. Tara screamed and rushed forward, but was forced to fall back as a huge redwood tree came up from the earth beneath Yonnie's chest, plowing up dirt and stones, scraping the flesh from his torso as massive chains tied him to its trunk and raised him a hundred feet from the ground.

Airborne again, Carlos hovered behind Yonnie, his tail cracking from his elongated spine, stretching away from his body and returning to Yonnie's back in a razor-edged bullwhip that sliced skin from bone each time it connected. The sound of lightning strikes echoed into the night with each torturous whip of Carlos's tail. A long wail of agony followed the sound into the darkness with every pain-filled lash.

Yonnie's claws dug into the tree. Tara screamed out from the ground, circling the base of it with her one undamaged hand reaching upward toward her dying partner.

"No, I beg you," she shrieked trying to climb to greet the assault. "Don't do that to him - he trusted you with that information! Not from the plantation days, do not take him there," she sobbed. Her shrieks became high-pitched sonar as she circled the tree, screeching obscenities. "He'll go mad. You bastard! He trusted you with that pain within him. He trusted you to show you his darkest fear! How could you? I'll take whatever punishment, but don't do that to him!"

"See," Carlos said, delivering another lash. "She said she'd take whatever for you, man. You owe me for teaching your woman this very valuable lesson. No pain, no gain."

"Please stop," Tara sobbed, her words dissolving as she turned her head away. "Even among our own kind, this is..."

She crumbled into a heap on the ground and covered her head as Yonnie's wails continued to fill the sky, turning from curses and growls to howls, to pleads, to sobs as his tattered flesh left crushed vertebrae exposed.

"I keep trying to tell you both, I'm not your kind, so stop fucking with me!" Winded, Carlos lowered the tree to become a tall post and he glanced down at Tara with disgust. "I should fuck him in the ass, too, for making me have to go there - but he's crying like a little bitch so bad, he's taken all the fun out of it."

Tara jumped up and gently lifted Yonnie's head, trying to cradle it as she stood on her tiptoes to reach him. Carlos snapped and stood back, watching the pair as Yonnie slid to the ground with a thud, and Tara covered his body, baring fangs.

"You've nearly bled him out," she said seething. "He's no longer conscious."

"Then do what you know you're supposed to do, bitch." Carlos began gathering a storm cloud around him. "Tend to your man."

"He'll die!" she screamed, sobbing and jumping up to run behind Carlos's evaporating form.

"Then go kill a human, get a full grub on, and feed the poor bastard."

"You going out with your boy tonight?" Rider said discreetly as he ordered another ginger ale.

Carlos shook his head and took another huge bite from his burger. "No. I'ma put a little distance between us until after we go to Tibet."

"Seems like we're in the same boat, then," Rider said nodding, and rejoining the conversation around him. "Wise choice."

Carlos kept his attention on Damali as their team ate. On the surface, everything seemed normal. The team was laughing, joking, everybody was talking at once down the tables that had been pushed together in the restaurant to accommodate their large party. But Damali's eyes had avoided his all evening. Her smile seemed forced, and although she participated in the dinner conversation, she seemed more quiet than usual. He could tell her thoughts were a million miles away, even though she kept up a good front. He glanced at Marlene, who issued him a look of concern, but it wasn't a judgmental glance; it was something mellow and quiet that said there's trouble in paradise, but it ain't my business. He liked that about Mar. She was cool to the bone. Wise.

He and Damali could talk privately later. His baby had been through a lot, just like he had. Carlos took another bite of his burger, wondering what on earth could have Damali feeling and acting this way.

"You see this shit, Marj?" Berkfield said, sitting up in bed and flipping through all the cable news channels in a blur. "Father Patrick and Kamal told us right. It's like the world has gone crazy. People are definitely possessed. The types of killings... a mother cut off her infant's arms? What the hell, Marj! Even if we do close the portals, the insanity that still has to be cleaned up after, you know, hon? The baby is still dead, like how many others?"

Berkfield's palm slid over his balding scalp. "I been a cop for a lot of years, and seen a lot of sick shit, honey. But every day, things are getting worse - like this infection is beyond anything we could ever comprehend. I used to ask myself, where do these animals come from? I don't feel better now that I know. I almost turned into one and shot a Guardian and my own daughter. I'm scared. What if we fail?"

When she remained still without answers, he clicked off the television with an angry snap and searched his wife's face for understanding. "You and I, the kids, and this whole crew have seen entities slither up from Hell, and oddly, I've sorta made my peace with that - because there was a separation, a line between human and demon. But even in broad daylight, I can't make out the difference anymore... and that frightens me more than whatever bears fangs."

"I know, I know," Marjorie finally said, beginning to walk in a distressed circle as she fidgeted with her nightgown strap. "Just knowing that there are actually demons is bad enough... Now people are turning into beasts?" She spun and looked at her husband. Panic hitched her voice. "How do we raise children in a world like this? A mother did this to her child, Richard. She cut off her baby's arms because she claimed she was depressed? Dear God. Will we get like that in less than thirty days? Will our children ax murder us? I'm so scared, Richard, I can hardly breathe."

Marjorie stopped pacing and stared at her husband, stricken, as he came to her and held her. Everything was so strange and different in her life, and that he'd also subtly changed was both unnerving, yet also exciting. During the past six months he'd lost his beer belly and his body had hardened under the exercise and rigors of team life. But it was his eyes. They no longer contained the dispassionate malaise of a man who hated his job and was clocking time until his pension kicked in.

No. This Richard Berkfield was different. Despite all the horrors, she'd watched her husband come alive. He now looked forward to each day, felt deeply about the things he saw, and seemed to believe in something greater than himself again. He'd lost the jaded edge and found something beyond the mundane to give him purpose. As she filled his arms and felt his body stir, she remembered his toned, stocky build, broad square shoulders, perpetual tan from walking a beat, and how handsome he'd been when they'd first met... all that was back again, except his sandy brown hair, but she could live without that. What she held in her arms was a gift, and she appreciated how handsome he'd become from the inner fire of contributing to something great.

She touched his rugged cheek and gazed into his eyes, marveling at the transformation that she'd almost missed. No matter what was going on in the world or how their lives had changed, she was quietly glad that he had come back to life.

"At first, I thought it was imagination that things were getting worse," she said in a faraway, quiet voice as she buried her face against his shoulder and breathed hard. "On every channel there were horrible acts of cruelty being committed, but I didn't want to believe anything else was wrong... After Philadelphia, I just couldn't take it. The weather was weird, natural disasters were everywhere. Hurricanes, floods, earthquakes... and the wars... terrorism. Even the church has sickness... young boys, to this degree? It wasn't just one priest in one parish." She covered her face and began to quietly weep as her husband kissed her temple hard and just rubbed her back. "I kept saying, things will be all right. Now I know they won't be. We're all losing our minds."

Marlene sat on the bed in her room, staring at multiple newspapers and then looked up at Shabazz. Quiet tension still strangled their relationship, but what she was witnessing went beyond that. "Baby, I know people have been crazy for a long time, but the type of brutality going on now seems... I can't even describe it. Father Patrick tried to warn us, we braced ourselves, but even I'm not ready for this." She stared at him. "That's all he was trying to tell us," she added quietly, also saying everything and nothing about the Kamal subject that was still too hot to touch.

Shabazz nodded and kept his gaze out toward the marina, holding the doorframe with outstretched hands. "It's day and night, now. Our Neterus got most of the seriously lethal vampires, and only lower gens are still skulking around, but it feels like something has kicked up a notch in addition to the contagion. The stars say anything to you, baby?" He let the reference go. Some things couldn't be discussed until time had passed.

He turned to look at Marlene when she didn't respond, his eyes filled with pain. "I keep asking the Almighty, why? What's our purpose, now? Are we making any kind of real inroad? Then the contagion was added to this insanity. We'd slay demon after demon, win battles, and then there was always still more... like we were all trying to clear a beach of sand using a teaspoon. Then it got to the point where I couldn't read the papers anymore, baby. I could hardly watch the news. It took my mind and my spirit to somewhere so dark that..." his voice trailed off and he swallowed hard, and then closed the French doors as though shutting out the world. "Now, if we don't close those portals, we'll be the same horror we used to fight."

Marlene shoved the newspapers off the bed and patted the covers gently, inviting him to lie next to her. She waited until he sat down and then pulled him against her in a gentle hug. "Hold me," she whispered. "Just hang on to me tonight and don't let me fly away."

"Then don't leave me tonight for him... even in your dreams," he whispered back thickly.

Her body tensed for a moment and then relaxed. Their eyes met. He knew, and was beyond cool. That was Shabazz; she would have never expected less from him. The master of Zen cool. Was she mad? This was her man, her life partner, and she'd almost gone too far.

His eyes had held hurt, worry, and stress had permeated the air around him as he'd neared her. Tears rose to her eyes as she absorbed the doubt-filled expression on his regal, African-featured face. His strength was a mask, just like it was a part of his DNA, but she knew he was quietly bleeding inside.

She loved him so much that her fingers reached out and trembled as they stroked the smooth line of his jaw. A pair of dark brown eyes searched hers, intensely burning with unspoken questions as they looked into hers for answers. She would give him balm and so much more... not just because he deserved it, but because she loved him to the depth of her soul. There were things that they'd shared that no one would ever know or be able to understand. He was also her friend.

Warm, dark, walnut-hued skin slid beneath her palm as he hugged her, and her hands traced the steel sinew beneath it that made his every fluid movement graceful. As he lay beside her, he stared at her as her hands worked to remove the heavy burden. She kept her gaze on his toned but weary muscles, watching them as she kneaded his shoulders, his strength-conditioned arms, every defined section of his abdominals clenching as he settled back against the pillows, his thighs and buttocks seemingly cut from sculptured granite. She kissed the wisps of gray that had come into his locks at his temples, and he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her.

"I love you," she whispered. "I would never disrespect you like that."

He rubbed her back and pressed her head against his shoulder. Then he kissed her temple. "I won't let you go, either," he murmured. "Not in the end of days."

Carlos sat on the edge of the bed, his attention glued to the television as he endlessly flipped channels. Oddly, the side of his neck tingled where he remembered he'd been given an invisible tattoo.

"Damali, is it me, or does it seem like things are getting real bad, faster than the thirty days Father Pat had talked about?" He looked up at her, and hesitated.

"I don't understand. Demons have always been topside, to some degree, causing chaos," Carlos said quietly, standing. "There was always murder and mayhem, D. In the old days, they might inspire a person to rob somebody. That's wrong, but when the victim handed over the money, the thief rolled. Basic. Or if it got hectic and the victim pulled a weapon, okay, they might get shot - not that I'm saying it's right, but that makes sense, if you're living that kinda crazy, off da hook life. The human side still had some... I don't know what you call it. Honor among thieves. Serial killers, rapists, the numbers, man, are staggering, D. How we gonna get this under control fast enough?"

"I don't know," Damali whispered. "We get on the plane, find the Chairman, get him to guide us to Lilith, and close the portals, first, I guess." She twirled a lock around her finger, deep in thought, and glanced out the window, remembering what her mother had said. "The critical question is, even if we find and kill her, how do we get all this stuff to slither back from whence it came? The Damned will either ascend or go to ash if we can deliver the book. But people seem like they're being affected by original demons... We have to somehow get them to go back under, too, once we close the portals."

"You're right," Carlos said quietly. "You can tell that's what's up by the slant on these crimes." He motioned toward the television. "Bank robbery. Should been an in-and-out deal. But to unnecessarily take hostages, mutilate them, cut off their heads and hands, torture... baby," he whispered. "That's the Damned. But the outright feedings, those are ODs. This shit has got to go back underground. We can't let the human condition go that far. We've gotta fix this thing, me and you, girl."

She stared at Carlos, her stomach clenching. She wanted to trust this man with all her heart, but even her mother had told her to wait and see. She watched true horror glitter in his eyes, as though everything he'd witnessed on television was brand spanking new. And the tone of his voice was so mystified by it all, almost naive. Fighting evil was their purpose, their mission. This was the end of days, and hell yeah, things were getting worse; they'd been warned. The person who was glued to the news seemed like a person she didn't know. Even his soul felt lighter as she discreetly scanned him; his aura seemed different than it had been since Philadelphia, like a giant weight had been lifted from him. With all that was going on, any change in any of the team members, even within herself, made her nervous.

Yet, to see his righteous indignation gave her hope, even while the thing that had gone down with Jose made normal seem abnormal in their relationship. Especially in the tight confines of a hotel bedroom. There was so much to think about that her mind almost couldn't hold it all.

Just like the horrors on the television, the secret in her mental black box had grown, had a scent, a touch, a taste, a moan and a lingering question... what would have happened if she'd made a different choice today?

For the first time in months, she felt the Sankofa tattoo on her back move. She kept her secret to herself as she felt it literally shift position on her skin and face forward, so that the bird was no longer glancing over its shoulder.

"What if we can't find that book in time, D?" Carlos said, his gaze still on the television set.

"I don't know what to say," she murmured, her hand discretely rubbing the stinging sensation on her skin. They had to be tight, operate in total sync, to go after the threat and beat it, but how?

She kept watching him, wondering how he could just act like she hadn't walked in on anything deep a few hours earlier. Denial was one thing, shame another, but this man didn't seem like he even had recollection. He was completely relaxed around her, but she was a wreck around him. What she'd witnessed created a wall, made syncing up as one next to impossible.

Although she wanted to probe him deeper than a discreet surface scan, to do it meant she'd have to let him into her psyche. That immediately changed her mind about entertaining a mental synthesis lock with him. If there was something eating away at his brain, she needed to know how to guard hers before casually dipping into his.

She definitely wasn't ready for him to go poking around within her consciousness.