The Damned (Vampire Huntress Legend #6) 3

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 before 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.

They had more important things to deal with than this! Why couldn't she give up a lock!

Marlene had maturity; that had to be it. While on the other hand, his woman seemed to have no memory of even the recent past, and Damali could only focus on ridiculous shit. Yeah, he'd gone out drinking. So! Yeah, he sorta missed the old life. And? He wasn't no choirboy when she'd met him, and she needed to get over it. Fact was, all of them had to be flexible and change, like Rider said. But change was a two-way street. So, what did she want from him?

Carlos stood in the driveway looking at the family house. He didn't want to go in, but where else was there to go? If he took his Jeep and began driving into town, that joint practically rolled the pavement up near midnight. If he drove farther into the tourist areas, the whole American-family-on-vacation groove would truly work his nerves, especially knowing half the tourists were probably already contagious. But it was time to get his hat and be out for a coupla hours.

Adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder, he walked toward his Jeep. The plan was simple: drive till he ran out of gas, refill at a truck stop, and push forward to L.A. Talk to Yonnie; figure out something to stem this tide of demon food fleeing over the portal walls. Get a hotel room, get on the mental phone, tap Gabrielle's head, and start looking for solid leads from his old world, as well as get some permanent real estate to set up a new base of personal operations.

Within twenty-four hours, he'd wire transfer some money and throw down his American Express card and get some real custom-tailored rags from Rodeo Drive so he could operate, since time was of the essence. Next stop from there, go visit the Lamborghini dealer, and find his boys from the old neighborhood to custom-kit that bitch out - transportation was a must. Build an arsenal in the new joint, and order some electronics, an HD-TV; stock his bar; call his boy, Yonnie; order furniture to his liking; maybe even pick up a rottweiler puppy. Whatever. All of this could be accomplished in one night and one day, and he'd be good to go.

Then, he'd contact so-called home and let the squad know where to reach him if things got hectic. They could inform Damali, if they had a mind to. Fuck it. He would do this Neteru thing his way.

She watched him from the shadows, deciding how to approach him. Summoning up her nerve, Juanita sipped in a shaky breath and willed her legs to walk forward. There had never been a time since the church in Philly when she'd had the opportunity to be alone with him and away from anyone else so they could just talk. It was now or never. The memories simply wouldn't fade. He was still her papi... even while loving Jose, and her papi was still just as fine as ever and getting dogged by a woman who clearly didn't know what she had. Damali was crazy; but she wasn't. If girlfriend wasn't treating Carlos right, she would.

The look on his face drew her from beyond the shadows. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him, remembering what his hands felt like, the sound of his deep whispers in her ear, the way his full mouth tasted... those intense brown eyes with black lashes that lowered slowly when he laughed, or wanted to make love. She let her gaze pore over his face in memory before fully stepping into view, taking in every inch of his bronze skin, down his throat to his hard chest and fantastic six-pack that was visible even under his shirt. She'd always loved the slight cleft in his chin and the way he walked, almost more of a lope than taking steps... had always loved him from the start... woulda given her life, cared for his momma, woulda had his babies, whatever he'd wanted, if he'd never let her go. And if he ever breathed her name like he had before... 'Nita... consequences be damned, she'd go to him whether he had fangs or not.

A curvaceous female form stepped out from behind the house and approached him slowly, making him jerk his attention toward her. Oh, man, just the person he didn't want to see.

"Hey, Carlos," Juanita said shyly, half waving and coming nearer.

"Hey, 'Nita," he grumbled and hoisted his bag into his Jeep.

"I was just taking out the trash and heard someone in the front yard." She looked up at him, coming closer than he wanted. "Guess I'm still a little jumpy when I hear stuff, you know? I'm pretty freaked out, but I'm trying not to panic. I know you got this covered, right? It's gonna be okay, right, Carlos? You could always make things work out. I have to keep believing that."

He nodded. "You'll get used to being freaked out and then just dealing. But, yeah, baby, I got dis. Don't worry." He tempered his next response, fighting with the urge to argue with anyone in earshot, because in truth, Juanita didn't have anything to do with his foul mood. "Look," he said more gently, "none of this is normal. You've been through a lot, and having your senses on point ain't a bad thing - that is the only thing about all of this that's normal. So keep being jumpy, right through here."

She nodded and leaned against his Jeep. Her sad smile and big brown eyes made him remember just how pretty she was and how gentle her heart could be. Guilt stabbed him as he stared at her. It was obvious that they both quietly remembered what they'd shared, but were unwilling to speak on it. It was better that way.

"You going over to D's after you get some more clothes?" she asked softly.

"No," he said, not wanting to discuss Damali with anyone. "I need a break. Might drive up to L.A. for a few days. I've got some contacts up there. Sitting on some Indian reservation worrying ourselves to death ain't accomplishing shit."

She looked at him, her eyes containing a request to possibly come along, but her smile seemed to hold the question in check. "Oh," she murmured. "Under different circumstances, I'd ask you if you wanted somebody to ride shotgun."

He smiled. "Under different circumstances, I'd ask you to go with me."

They both glanced back at the house.

"Thanks, again." He hesitated. "No. Let me say this right," he murmured, gathering her hands within his and staring into her eyes. "Thank you, Juanita, for always having my back, for stepping in to guard my mother and grandmother... even when you didn't know that's what you were doing. I don't know what to say, but I really appreciated that. You were always there... no matter what I was doing, what crazy life I was leading, you know?"

"I loved you," she said in a patient tone just above a whisper. "Would have gone to Hell and back for you, too, baby."

He dropped her hands slowly before he forgot the present. "You did, time and time again - especially when I was building my street business. But you weren't supposed to be in that, you deserved better. I ain't gonna let nothing happen to you here, either."

"Is that why you left me, Carlos?" she asked, stepping closer and looking up at him. "I need to know that, now more than ever before."

He nodded and looked away toward the house, unable to continue to stare into her deep, brown eyes. "That is the only reason we broke up when we did." He returned his gaze to her and something within him, reflex memory, made him trace her cheek. "You deserved better than I could give you, then. I had all the money in the world, but it was dirty money, drugs had funded what I owned, and the life was mad-crazy... You wanted children, a clean life, stability. That was something I didn't have to give."

"Then," she said softly, covering his hand against her cheek and closing her eyes. "You didn't have that to give me, then."

"Or now," he said, gently slipping his hand from beneath hers to jam into his jeans pocket. "My brother, Jose, got that for you now. He's a good man. Once we squash this current bullshit, you two have a life and a future."

"What's so different about this life and the old one?" she whispered, looking up at him in the moonlight. "It was dangerous then. It's dangerous now. There were predators then. There are predators now. We were worried about family then. We're worried about family now. I don't see the difference."

Carlos closed his eyes and let out a patient breath. Women had some tricked-up logic, and it was beginning to twist his. Juanita was stirring him in ways that he shouldn't remember... and the fact that she'd always accepted him - the good, the bad, and the ugly, and still had his back, was beginning to corrupt his judgment.

"The difference," he said, opening his eyes and staring at her hard, "is that this time, whatever dangers we all face, it's for a worthy cause." His comment sounded like something Shabazz would have said; in fact, he was sure the older brother had told him that, too. But it worked under pressure, and Juanita would have to accept what he'd just said. If he made the move that his body was suggesting, all hell would surely break loose in the house before dawn.

"I suppose you're right," she finally said.

Carlos almost let out his breath hard in relief. "You and Jose go way back, too. You met him first. You loved him hard. Remember that, 'Nita. Like I said, he's a good man and deserves your all. Lord knows, I can't give that to you the way he can."

She nodded and stepped back, a sad smile still resonant on her face in the darkness. "He and I were together when we were just kids." She chuckled sadly and pushed her hair behind her ear. "We were running from demons, then. He brought me here, long after Rider had left... and we shared that wonderful summer. Then, the shaman said they needed to make us forget about the demons so we would have peace, but they made us forgot it all - because if we didn't, I wouldn't have met you, he wouldn't have rejoined Rider to hook up with the team. It all came back slowly over time as we walked over our old haunts, like ghosts of the past. I guess I was just her placeholder." Again, Juanita pushed the hair behind her ear that kept spilling forward.

He watched the way she did that, remembering. Her hair was so soft, like dark, silken threads. Her gaze searched his face, and he could feel her absorbing every detail of his mouth before she swallowed hard.

"You were never her placeholder," Carlos said quietly. "You were..."

"The one who was there when you needed a woman to love you more than her next breath. The one who was supposed to have your babies, if that's what you wanted. - and you didn't. Not from me. I was supposed to whisper in your ear in bed at night... reminding you to do the right thing without making you angry. I held her place, because she wasn't supposed to do that for you, then. She had to remain a virgin. And not just sexually. You wanted her to stay pure and separate from that part of your life. But not me."

"Oh, baby... listen..." Carlos said softly as tears rose to her eyes. He wanted to hug her so badly that his arms ached. "Com'ere. It wasn't like that."

"I'm infected" she whispered, hugging herself. "Dirty."

"I'm immune," he said quietly.

Slowly Juanita filled his arms with quiet defeat.

By instinct, he stroked her hair as she laid her head against his chest, and he could feel her holding back an intense sob as she breathed in stilted shudders.

"I held her place in your family, Carlos. She was supposed to be rising in her career as a singer and out slaying demons. I wasn't supposed to be anything special. But you needed someone there to look after your momma and grandmom so you could go out into the world and become all that you are now."

He nuzzled her hair, remembering how good it smelled, what it felt like on his face when it spilled forward to wash him in silk. The debt burden on his shoulders increased by another soul weight and made him kiss her temple. "You are special... your heart is one of a kind." He let her go slowly because there was more than her soft sighs that he also had to remember. He watched her draw away slowly and lean against his Jeep again, hugging herself to replace the loss of their embrace.

"Jose is a lucky man. Not many get to go back to a woman like you and pick up where he left off." He raked his hair to give his hands something legitimate to do.

"I know... but, after time and distance, and things happening... sometimes the heat can change."

Her statement was too profound, and his strange curiosity about the inner workings of the female mind drew him.

"I hear you," he said, "but, after y'all work through the changes, you can get that back, right?"

"I don't know," she said, pure honesty threading through her voice as she hugged herself tighter. "Sometimes, it's like we'd never been apart, and then there's this wall of private experience that we've had in between, and we can't share that with each other, so... it creates a... I don't know what it creates, but something always gets lost in that in-between. Am I making sense?"

She was making more sense than she could ever know. He nodded and sighed.

"Then, I guess you have to work on creating something new." He glanced back at the house and then at her. "If we hooked up again, we'd have that black box, too. Comprende?"

Juanita looked at him, an old blaze smoldering and consuming her eyes deep within her irises. "Yeah. I know. But... I remember too much sometimes..." Her husky voice trailed off as she stood straighter and pushed off the Jeep. "What am I supposed to do with that?" Her gaze trapped his mouth, and then sought his eyes. "Or, let me ask you... What do you do with that?"

Carlos swallowed hard and found the tree line. "I tuck it away in a black box in my head, 'cause I love my brother, and ain't trying to hurt nobody ever again in life." He folded his arms. Shit. He shoulda said because he loved Damali... why hadn't that come out of his mouth, too?

"You're right. Guess I was just tripping down memory lane because my man came in this morning with the wall, and I knew where he'd been."

Now she had more than his full attention. His line of vision snapped away from the tree line and captured her eyes. "Talk to me, 'Nita. For real."

She shook her head. "It's my trip, not yours. Go to L.A., be safe, and when you get settled, let everybody know you're all right, cool?"

She came in close to him and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, and then brushed it away with a featherlight touch of her fingertips. "I'm crazy, Carlos, to think I might be in love with two men at the same time. You're right. He's the one, now, I guess, and always has been. Forgive me for trippin' out here tonight."

He could only stare at her. Women could do that? Be in love with two men at the same time... beyond sex, heart deep, like that? Part of him was oddly jealous. It was an ego blow to know that someone else had taken his place so thoroughly, so completely, to be equated with the singular love that she'd always had for him alone. Now, he had to share that - even though it was the right thing to do and made sense.

He battled with his irrational feeling as he moved away from her. His emotions were all jumbled, but they were what they were. True, he'd wanted her to be happy with somebody new... but not totally to the point where it eclipsed him. The whole conflict was also doing weird things to his libido. Right now, looking at her, remembering, thinking too hard, he was almost ready to ask her to go with him to L.A.

"Your eyes are glowing silver," she finally said with a smirk when he'd offered no comment. "I suppose it's time for me to go in the house."

"Yeah, baby. Go back in the house. I'll watch you to be sure you get in safely."

She didn't move for a moment. "Remember that night you called me out of the house and I came to you?"

Again, he didn't answer her, shame halting his words. How could he forget calling her past his mother and grandmother's prayer barriers for what might have been his first real throat feeding? He didn't want to ever have to remember that or ever think about that.

"My soul knew what you were then, and it didn't matter," she said in a breathy whisper. "At that moment, I wanted you so badly that I would have been with you no matter what the final consequences."

She allowed her words to fall between them in an open offer. He knew what she was saying, just like she did. The ball was in his court.

"Go in the house, Juanita," he whispered, but not as firmly as he should have.

"Your eyes haven't glowed for anybody in a long time," she said as she brushed past him, allowing the body contact to linger before they parted. "I'm flattered that I was the one who brought the silver back. I didn't mind being her placeholder. Ever. Thank you for that."

"De nada," he murmured, and watched her leisurely stroll down the path and up the steps, her round backside sashaying as she sauntered away.

The screen door slammed behind Juanita and snapped him out of the trancelike sensation. Carlos opened his Jeep door with care and slid into the seat and started the engine. Instant images slammed into his brain in jagged still frames as he backed out of his space and pulled onto the road. A Navajo blanket covered his woman. Male hands ran down her arms and made her shiver. A mouth nearly caressed her throat. Her eyes closed. He could feel the desire thick and hot within her. She laughed from way down in her soul - someone had made her laugh and had filled her with sudden joy, even with everything going on. He could taste iced tea in his mouth. Her eyes opened wide with surprise and also disappointment. Her ache to be touched by this intruder was palpable. He could feel her body sway to the invitation. The male smelled like Ivory Soap.

Carlos gripped the steering wheel. If he'd known all that, then fair exchange was no robbery - he should have told Juanita to get into his car. She had every right to be salty, if all that had gone down right under both of their noses. He'd been blind, but women always had superior second sight. He owed Juanita for that, now, too. Once again, girlfriend had had his back... like Damali should have, but didn't.

Yeah, he knew the blanket that rested on Damali's bed; it was the blanket that had made him sick, it was so hot... the bed that she couldn't get into with him... the blanket that she slept beneath each night... fibers that were alive with another male's energy. Juanita didn't have to say a word. He knew the Ivory Soap and the scent that went with it, and the brown eyes that drank Damali in. Juanita's touch had transmitted that knowing to him... as did her sad agony for having to still compete - when Juanita shouldn't have had to compete for anything or anyone at this point. Just like he shouldn't, and Yonnie shouldn't.

This was beyond fucked-up.

She took her time going out onto the back deck, sensing her environment, fully alert to possible danger. But she would not live like a prisoner behind locked windows and bolted doors. The dark side would not be allowed to take her freedom; otherwise she might as well be dead.

When she got outside, she flipped on the floodlights, needing illumination. The darkness had become suffocating around her. She carefully set down a bag of Red Sea salt close to her. By rote, she began to work her body, hoping that would bring clarity to her mind.

Her daily routine of exercise had been destroyed over the past months, and she wanted to regain all that had been disrupted in her life. Tonight she needed clear vision. There was only one way to achieve that; suspend all personal problems and then home in on a solution. She hadn't even been able to focus enough to raise an audience with the Neteru Queens.

Anything close to normalcy, in her abnormal world, was a soothing dream that they all clung to. Just like the holiday seasons were always celebrated the same way; no store-purchased gifts, only one handmade or self-made item given from the heart to each member of the house. The rest of the giving was for the community, spreading love and cheer, and offering helping hands to less fortunate people they'd heard about or seen on the news. For them, that was normal. She and the Guardians had their own rituals and ways to give thanks. Like Shabazz had always said, it was imperative to keep a routine, stay focused on one's blessing, lest one's spiritual, mental, and physical muscle give way to flab.

Her mind was muddled, her spirit was sagging, and it wasn't about letting the body go to pot, too. The trinity worked as a unit. Personal gratification, personal problems, all that needed to be sublimated for something greater than herself.

Damali propped her feet up on a deck chair, her boot toes slightly bent. Her face repeatedly neared the wood planks, her left arm behind her back, her full weight on her blade arm - then she slowly stroked the muscles, made the burn work sinew in her upper body, torso, shoulder, stomach, and back. She needed her blade arm strong and readied at all times, whether Madame Isis was still with her or not. She needed Carlos, whether he was with her or not.

"Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, clear the mind!" she shouted, keeping time with the one-arm, military push-ups. At fifty, she switched arms, blew stinging perspiration away from her nose with a puff of breath, and began again.

Her body was in tip-top condition, so this sagging libido thing had to be a function of her mind. But why? Minor spats be damned. He was right. She shouldn't have been feeling this way. But her gut was rarely wrong. Lack of trust had been a shadow around her every time Carlos came near. Without that, she couldn't relax. If she couldn't fully relax in his arms... But that made absolutely no sense. What about him was not to trust? Even if it was some temporary infection... they were supposedly both immune.

She'd trusted the man when he'd become a vamp. Had trusted him with her throat and her very life. Had entrusted her family's safety with him. Now this?

"Thirty-four, thirty-five - aw, shit!" Her left arm was slightly weaker than the right, and she could feel the muscle in it trembling as she tried to reach the fifty push-up mark.

Was it that she didn't trust herself? She jettisoned the thought as she unfurled her right arm from behind her back and began again from the number one, this time using both arms to lift her body.

Damali splayed her fingers against the wood and looked straight ahead through the deck rail into the darkness. She lowered her body in slow movements to burn the energy in agonizing increments and then rose without taking her eyes off the mark. Facts aligned in her inner sight. The man's clothes had torched and smoldered. The earth had swallowed them whole, along with his bodily fluids. He'd fevered and convulsed under a prayer blanket. He'd presented fangs, and daylight had kicked his ass. His recovery was full, as soon as the sun set. Marlene needed to know that, as soon as she got home. Where was Marlene - Shabazz, Marjorie, and Richard! No one had answered the calls all day! Another hour and she'd mount a search party. Marlene had received her transmission. But no answer?

Carlos's Neteru pheromone spike didn't freak out a master vampire the way it should have? If Carlos was somehow turning, even that shouldn't have backed her up and cooled her passion for him. If he'd gotten temporarily infected, that shouldn't have done it; it didn't affect her like that with Jose - it had the opposite affect, in fact. What was it?

"Fifty." Damali stopped, breathing in long and deep through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. She pushed up, jumped to her feet, and then stripped off her pants and boots. Standing on the deck in her T-shirt and underwear, she went to the deck rail and balanced her thighs on it just below her pelvis. Time to work the abs.

She laced her fingers behind her head and bent over the rail until she could see her knees on the other side of it. Then she raised herself in backward sit-ups, shooting for the goal of one hundred.

Each time she lifted her body, she kept her eyes on her focus point - a cactus twenty feet away. At the thirty-eighth sit-up, she noticed that it seemed to move, but focused physical exertion sometimes created mirages. She stopped briefly, mentally swept the terrain, and resumed. However, she began to lose count and to forget about the slow smolder raging in her abdominal muscles. The cactus seemed framed by a glow not created by the floodlights spilling from the porch.

An iridescent, bluish tinge soon conquered the yellow, artificial light surrounding the desert plant. The thick, prickly body seemed to grow narrower and slimmer each time her line of vision went away from it to stare at her knees and then returned to it. The bulbous knots on either side of the cactus soon became curved, ornate silver, and she stopped at the ninetieth sit-up to stare at it in awe.

Sweat poured down her face, blurring her vision, stinging her eyes, dripping off her nose, but she could not unclasp her hands behind her head. Seven jewels glinted in the distance. The body of the cactus teased her as it split into multiple blades becoming one.

"My Isis," she whispered, but still couldn't move. Tears of joy and frustration rose to her eyes, yet anticipation kept her frozen. A coyote howled in the distance, Native American flute music filtered into that from an unknown source. She saw a female hand yank the sword from the dirt and grasp it. From somewhere within, she knew it was her hand. An owl screeched. Then, in an instant, she saw the unidentified hand swing the blade at a dark form walking toward what had once been the cactus. She flinched as the blade sang in the wind, adding chants to the sound of the flutes, and then connected. The strike echoed the unmistakable sound of tissue being severed - then came a thud. The form dropped, and a head rolled toward her, spinning so fast in the yard dust that she couldn't see it until the creature looked at her with glassy, dead eyes.

She screamed and turned away, jumping off and backing away from the rail so quickly that she knocked over the deck chair that had been behind her. Carlos's face disappeared. The Isis was again a cactus. A car was entering her driveway. She grabbed her pants and yanked them on, forgetting about her boots. Terror shot through her system and sent her running through the house. She'd beheaded her own man. Oh my God!

Breathless, she ran out onto the front porch and down the steps in her bare feet, expecting the vehicle to be Carlos's. When the sheriff got out of his squad car with an elder from the tribal council, her gaze raked them for an explanation.

"Chief Quiet Eagle, Sheriff Lightfoot, what's wrong?"

The elderly man shook his head and deferred to the sheriff, a man in his mid-fifties. He adjusted his tan trooper hat, and mopped his brow.

"Ms. Richards, we need to talk to you. There's been an accident."

She looked so young and pretty standing in the middle of the road. His speedometer was cresting seventy-five miles per hour and climbing when he spotted her wearing a blue calico dress that floated in the wind. The scent of lavender filled the cab of the Jeep. She was almost sheer, luminous... "Tara? Oh, shit!"

His foot slammed the brakes, and she became a doe, her golden eyes caught in the headlights, her body frozen, so huge and immobile as his Jeep swerved and the deer went through the windshield.

Blood was everywhere - his, the doe's, maybe Tara's, he didn't know. He could smell gasoline and smoke. Not a good combination. A heavy body was on him, pinning him down. His car was listing to one side and without looking he knew he'd been thrown into a ditch.

The first thought that entered his mind was Yonnie will freak. Rider would, too. Using all his strength, he pushed at the tawny furred body and used his shoulder to lean against the door. Half falling, half sliding, Carlos hit the ground with a thud. His hands were bloodied from the deer's remains, and he rounded the hood of his Jeep to see if she'd come around.

"Tara, girl, aw... man... I'm sorry, I couldn't stop." He touched the creature's forehead just above its glassy eyes, and watched the blood trickle from the doe's nose and mouth. "Come on, chica. You all vamp - wake up, baby. Call Yonnie to feed you. C'mon," he said, his voice becoming more strident as he talked to the dead animal on his hood.

Then he stopped. Wait a minute... a female vampire couldn't be taken out by vehicular homicide. He checked the animal's chest. Nothing had punctured the doe's heart.

Carlos stepped back and wiped the blood from his hands on his jeans. This was just a deer. "Damn!" He blotted his bloody nose on his forearm and then kicked his tires, but laughed with relief.

"Tara," he yelled out again into the nothingness around him. "Girl, don't roll up on a brother like that. You could have..."

His voice trailed off. Tara hadn't responded. The insistent echo of gasoline and blood dripping from his Jeep sounded one in the same. The smell permeated his nose and made him tilt his head to the side. He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and swallowed more of his own blood. Salty fluid covered his tongue, but he hocked and spit, trying to forget what it tasted like. A slight tremor ran through him, and he turned away from the deer and then shoved his hands in his pockets as they began to shake. "Oh, shit, not now," he whispered, and began to limp away from the toxic site.

A deep, gurgling rumble came up from his stomach. Hunger ate at him, making him breathe hard. The sound of the drips became louder, all-consuming. Sweat began to form along his brow and crept down the center of his back. The animal on his hood twitched. In a lightning response he turned to stare at it. A pool of dark liquid had formed on the ground and was spreading toward his feet. His knees locked as he willed himself not to bend to touch it or taste it. But the beautiful crimson edged toward him in a sultry, hypnotic beckoning.

Panting, Carlos shook his head no and backed farther away�but his eyes remained on the dead creature's jugular. Reflex made him run his tongue over his teeth. When he nicked his tongue, he closed his eyes. Four inches of feeding-length fang had invaded his mouth.

A wretched sob tore through him as he walked still farther from the smoking vehicle. The night darkness was so clear that it might as well have been high noon. He could hear every skitter on the plains; the coyotes had stopped howling. He held his head with both hands as the pain from his accident faded, his legs felt stronger, and he heard his body mend on its own.

"Noooo!" he yelled, his voice tearing into the night and stilling all creatures within it. Another sob filled his chest, seizing his heart, stopping it briefly, before it began beating again. "Why?" Carlos whispered to the moon, casting his gaze heavenward. She knew. Damali had to have felt this coming. The vibes in the house had been weird, too - but before the infection. Everyone was acting out, prone to excesses and fixated on the carnal before the contagion ever hit. A vampire was in their midst, and their senses had to be evolving and locked on it, but daylight had been his cover.

The moonlight offered no answers, but the wind kicked up to bring the blood scent closer to torture his spirit. He had to focus and think: Marlene would never leave newbies; neither would Shabazz; nor would Marj and Berkfield leave their kids like that. Not at a time like this. They'd all left the house before any infected team member had touched them. Just like Big Mike would never, ever leave his post, no matter how seductive the booty - not with untrained kids in the house, and the way Rider was drinking, then back on nicotine? Maybe they'd all been infected much earlier than they'd realized?

The Covenant brothers had all skied-up and just left the compound to go back to Rome, and Mecca, Tibet, and Israel, with a new Neteru that had a month of training before the big spike to go - because they'd admitted to being infected earlier. That had to be it. Plus, Kamal had left his men in Bahia, chasing an old flame from who knows how long ago, and laying for Shabazz to mess up just once? Never, unless something really strange was affecting them all beyond the dark poison leaking from the portals. They'd been told that was what was wrong, but he could feel something else was more wrong than that.

How could the contagion have been so insidious that none of the seers picked it up in advance or none of the brothers had caught a vibe and stepped to him if he was fluxing back hard? Tara was AWOL since she'd guarded him on the porch, as though she didn't trust herself around him? Yonnie was acting strange, too, a master vampire caught up in a love-jones - unheard-of. Juanita being drawn to him just now, to that degree, making her ridiculously bold? And Jose making an outright run at Damali, and Damali almost going there? Uh-uh. Something more profound than dark portal energies had to be spiking all these turns : . .

Jesus help him... help them... They didn't know about him, but they had to be feeling whatever bizarre energy was causing this hard flux. Every Guardian had to be caught up in it, sensing it down deep mixed with this new portal problem, too. Nobody had been right since Philly, which was a little more than six months ago.

Carlos tried to steady himself and force unadulterated logic to the forefront of his mind. For the first time since he'd come back, he hadn't been able to connect with Father Patrick. When the team had a meeting with the elderly cleric calling from the Vatican, he'd been passed out cold - more than drunk, almost as though heavily drugged, and excluded from the communication... like he was a pure vampire. Damali refused a mind lock repeatedly, something a full-fledged Neteru instinctively was supposed to do against a vamp... But he'd been one before, and she'd never refused him then. Why now, even if he was temporarily fluxing?

Maybe she didn't trust herself, because something inside her knew that they'd both been contaminated? But if everyone on the team had become infected over the last six months, why hadn't they manifested the horrible final stages within thirty days, like every other human was supposed to experience? There had to be more to this problem than any of them knew - What was it?

A basic vamp turn should have registered, regardless, unless they were all already so compromised that they couldn't pick it up. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Carlos wandered off the road and into the sparse brush, then finally dropped to his knees, unable to continue to fight the urge to return to the fallen deer and feed. It was only a matter of time; he had to stop lying to himself. The acid burn was in his stomach; blood was in his nose. Normal food didn't stay with him. Five more minutes, and he'd have to give in to the deer. But why would Tara do something like that to him? They were family! Was she trying to seduce him? Was it the near apex that would make her do something that crazy?

"I did everything I was supposed to do," he said through a bitter sob, his face turned toward the sky. "I served my time, didn't I?" How could the Light do him like this?

He was about to stand, but a force compelled him to remain paralyzed on his knees. He couldn't get up, and he struggled with the unseen as though someone or something had placed powerful, invisible hands on his shoulders. The touch burned worse than the blood hunger, and he cried out in agony as it spread throughout his body. His voice created sound waves that began to shimmer around him, and soon he was covered in a moving globe of bluish white light.

"Be still," a booming voice said.

The light around him was blinding.

"You have a debt to pay," another voice said.

"You have purpose, as you are," a third voice said.

Carlos shielded his eyes with one hand, but still could not break free of the force to stand.

"You are the only one who can enter the darkness to retrieve the book."

"What book!" Carlos shouted, not ready to give up any information while unsure of who or what he was dealing with.

"The Light seeks the unholy Book of the Damned" a thunderous voice replied.

"Your destiny is incomplete," another said, and then the globe retreated from Carlos.

He was on his feet in an instant. The blood hunger had abated, and he glanced around, terrified and confused.

"One-half of your pairing is to protect the innocent," a voice said.

Carlos spun around, unable to get a bead on the direction the voice was coming from.

"She guards the living," two more voices murmured in unison.

"You guard the dead, and are to deliver us the lost - those who were stolen."

"I don't understand," Carlos whispered, his voice catching in his throat.

"All seats at the table are vacant. The Chairman has fled his lair. We shall find him. But only one from his line can retrieve The Book of the Damned."

"The Chairman's book?" Carlos said slowly, and remained very, very still. He knew the objective, but that the Light was commissioning him to go after it down there was unfathomable. Maybe they thought it was topside. He posed the critical question to them to be sure he was clear. "The one he keeps stashed in his Council Chambers... under the crest at the blood table?"

"Yes," three voices said flatly.

Carlos watched a blue light appear in the distance and then become three entities. The light that emanated from them was so bright that he couldn't make out their faces or what they wore; they just seemed like three talking spheres of light. The moment the moonlight glinted off their shields he knew what they were; warrior angels, ring six - and they'd come out at night?

"There's only one way to get that," Carlos said, his voice shaky as he replayed their request in his mind. "If it's not topside, somebody would have to go down to Hell, get into Chambers, and go to the table..."

"Precisely," they said as one.

"But, I'm not a... I can't just... I'm - "

"We cannot tread past the borders of Purgatory without setting off the alarms of the Legions," the entity with the strongest voice said. "It is not an option or a request. The time is now. This is a command from On High. They have gone too far. They have our Covenant cleric in their book of treachery with your name beside it as the one who felled him. We cannot allow them to have both a member of the Covenant and our male Neteru within that book. That sacrilege is too great. The cleric is the one also from your vampire line, a defect that gave him the weakness to succumb to your lure. Though he, like you, had chosen a different path - the Light - your irresponsible use of power sent him into the darkness and tethered you to him as a consequence."

"Lopez?" Carlos whispered, already knowing the answer, and now knowing why the guilt had lacerated his soul so much. Were it not for him, Lopez might have been able to withstand his attraction to the one thing that would make him shed his clerical collar. Carlos hung his head. The debt was definitely heavy. Yeah. The angels had a right to make him go back down into the pit to go get the soul he'd compromised so that universal order would be maintained. He sighed. It was back to the Old Testament, an eye for an eye...

"He retrieved your ashes," the lead voice thundered. "Return the favor for your brother without question, and also redeem yourself."

"But you all allowed me to relapse?" Carlos was incredulous. This wasn't the side of a cliff to find a lair; this was a trip down to Hell. "You tested me with a deer! I know I owe him my life. I want this team healed, too, and will go. But if you wanted to send me on a mission like that, then send me strong, not weak. Why would you - "

"Was the man you sent to his demise stronger than you are now when you attacked him with a demonic lure?"

Their voices created an angry cacophony of rapid questions and demanding statements that split the night air and kicked up the winds.

"Was he more than you are now when he risked life and limb to perilously, fearlessly retrieve your ashes?"

"Dig deep into your conscience and answer with truth!"

"He, of mere flesh and bones, did this with a pure heart, and the dark side snatched his soul in wrongful treachery. We want it back. Along with all the others."

"He cannot be damned."

"Your desire for worldly things allowed you to relapse."

"You were not careful in what you had prayed for!"

"Your soul desire for your old existence attracted that energy to you while the portals were opened and darkness was afoot. Your soul mate warned you. The female Neteru knew."

"Your Guardian brothers warned you."

"A vampire even warned you - a friend."

"You did not listen, and opened your delicate transition to a choice border that had been breached in Philadelphia."

"Breached again by the infection."

"Until we saw you fight the hunger, we could not be sure whether the darkness had taken root."

"Lust for power, lust - period - has always been your issue."

"The female Neteru's body shuns yours, because your soul has been tainted."

"Her spirit is drawn to the Light within."

"It is dimmer now than when you were dead!"

"But I was saved," Carlos argued, feeling rage at the injustice of being relentlessly tested beginning to form within him.

A silvery blade of lightning lit in the sky.

"Yes!"

"From that point of your salvation and rebirth, your debts had been wiped clean!"

"Your seven-year sentence erased!"

"Your burden lifted!"

"You had but to hold the line."

"Seven years had been collapsed to seven months!"

"The Neteru preparers showed you the Arc of the Covenant—but that was not enough!"

"You were given the weapon of Heru!"

"You were marked by Ausar!"

"You were being refined."

"Honed!"

"Patience was lacking!"

"Your faith in our methods was weak!"

"Spiritual armor was nonexistent! Ego ruled - fallen from potential grace like the first angel for the same offense! This is how you were infected, and your debt began to spiral once more!"

Carlos stared at the lights in the sky unblinking... he'd played himself... oh, no...

"Only you who have been polluted can cross the dark realm's barriers to bring us the names. Each soul that was snatched into darkness by treachery, each soul that was put under torture and duress until it capitulated to the dark side can be freed to stand with the Light at the final hour, if we can call them to us by name, by location. We need the location, send - "

"Polluted?" Carlos shouted, "I was tricked; I was corrupted by larceny, and did my time. I didn't know what you were doing!"

"You did not have to know," the strongest voice in the triumvirate said. "Blind faith is what was required."

"We had shown you enough by bringing you back!" another said.

"That was a miracle."

"That was enough."

Carlos swallowed hard as sweat poured down his temples and causing his tattered T-shirt to cling to his torso. He had really messed up this time. The Light didn't negotiate.

"But you want me to go back down there with a blood-hunger jones and get a book in that condition?" Carlos stammered. "What if - "

"Silence!" the entities shouted together. "Our priest was corrupted at your hand!"

"You will know no peace until you reverse this transgression," the lead entity said flatly. "He must be one with us. You wanted to lead - lead! Your team depends on you. Stand by the female Neteru in copartnership or be banished from her. She cannot be unevenly yoked with the darkness, and will ultimately seek the Light within the soul of her Guardian brother, whose soul is not tainted by power lust. He respects her position. Her body is already beginning to yield toward him. You are unraveling your destiny and hers to be as one. This is your handiwork!"

"We must have the soul of the virgin Covenant priest and that of our male Neteru," two angelic voices said in harmony.

"Neither can be captive within the Dark Realms! Not the priest!" the lead entity shouted. "Your burden in that would have been also mitigated - had you not compounded the problem with a total disregard for the blessings after you were reborn. That is what created your new debt, not the cleric's weakness. That had been forgiven. Your continuing power lust and desire for your old darkness after the miracle of salvation was not. Correct that injustice to reestablish your light! Our priest is being tortured."

Carlos remained still. The truth made him shiver. He'd sent a priest... a male virgin, down there from an errant display of power. He'd given him the fever to want to be a vamp, worked him down to a loss of faith by way of a seduction trance. Carlos shuddered when the bright lights before him blazed brighter, clearly enraged as the images swept through his mind. Instantly he saw Lopez's death.

Lilith had locked in on the man's last thought. Carlos closed his eyes. Instead of a prayer of protection, Lopez had wanted absolute vampiric strength, like his before he'd gone to ash... wanted to go after Juanita and save her from it all to be with her, and then leave the church. The pulse ran through Lopez, burned his aura red for a moment; Lilith saw it through the clerical prayer barriers and speared Lopez, hoping it was him... then flung Lopez's broken body aside like a rag doll, enraged. Lopez had had so many emotions running through him at the time, there was no telling what level his soul had bottomed out on.

"Yes," the voices said in unison. "The debt is profound. The search delicate. His energy is scattered on almost every level."

"He was a priest," the voices whispered. "Do you know what they do to the men of lost faith down there?"

Carlos wrapped his arms around himself, hung his head, and tried to fight back the tears. Lopez was beyond damned - the poor man was fucked. Just like the Guardian team was. He knew he had to work quickly. The thought of Padre being down there all by himself on whatever levels he landed upon made him want to tear his hair out. But to go down there in a weakened condition was suicidal, and they knew it. He looked up slowly, wondering if that was the trade they'd decided upon to right this wrong?

"You possess a dangerous new gift by accident of the dark side's unrelenting larceny."

Carlos remained silent, his gaze intense. Something else was going on that he didn't understand. He would definitely go get his man Lopez and would go after the Chairman and Lilith, but their urgency seemed to contain more than that. So, he waited.

One of the angels stepped forward, and all around him in a three-dimensional panorama, the final battle with the Chairman and Lilith replayed itself. Carlos stood as a spectator, his eyes wide, and his jaw becoming slack as he watched Damali raise her short Isis and gore Lilith. Then, what had been eclipsed from his mind was revealed.

Dark, sputtering, living smoke exited Lilith's body, rushed toward him, filled his mouth and nose, strangling him.

"The essence of Level Seven entered the strongest dark male as a carrier. This is what began the contagion and allowed it to remain topside! Lilith opened the portals, but through you, ensured her doors would not be closed when her husband began to search for her."

"She flees him, and must keep him preoccupied in his realm's chaos to buy her escape - hoping to rush the Armageddon through the contagion."

"If the Armageddon is rushed, she might be able to form an alliance with the new leader of the darkness to stop her imminent extinction. This is her goal."

"You were the carrier of her deceit, her dark energy that has kept open the doors. You became that because your spiritual armor and faith was weak when you attempted to battle a strong entity from Level Seven."

"Why would you attempt a battle with her without being readied by a soul shield of faith? You needed more than exterior weapons."

"We have held the line for your team, the Covenant, and all other Guardian teams since the Philadelphia incident, but they are weakening as more of the Damned find the openings and pollute the gray zone of earth. Each escapee weakens them. Each passed infection to the living weakens them. They are beginning to lose the inner battle. Our teams are in jeopardy, as is humanity."

"This must be corrected."

"We have waited patiently for your spirit to evict pride, ego, and power lust on its own - to no avail. Your prayers have been polluted with requests for the old life."

"The Most High grew weary of your shortsightedness and answered your requests with hopes that you will find the lesson within the tribulation your arrogant petitions have caused, and grasp the truth henceforth."

"Please," Carlos said quickly, going to his knees again. "Tell Him, for real, I didn't know and - "

"The female Neteru was once almost lost to this same arrogance," the lead voice said gently.

"I know, when I was a vamp," Carlos said, his voice becoming strident, "I - "

"No," they said in unison. "It goes back further than that. You kneel before us in the Light, yet you are still blinded by your own ego. Her father was a man of the cloth and thought he could battle evil alone. Arrogance. Damali senses this repetition of history at the core of her soul, although her human mind cannot translate it. But she knows and warned you hence. Her father did not reveal his strategy to able spiritual warriors around him. He deceived his wife, his spiritual partner. They lost their baby to the whims of the world... and only through angelic intervention was our Neteru saved."

"Recall that her father succumbed to Fallon Nuit," the lead voice said. "His wife, Damali's mother, eventually fell to her own inner weaknesses, and was also thus temporarily lost - two pivotal Guardians that were the spiritual leaders of their team. Only serious petitions and the guiding Light of their child, a Neteru, elevated them. We are on the verge of now losing two Neterus. Your first child has already been lost. History, repetition, but each time the lesson and challenge is more severe. You are supposed to be the spiritual head of your household, as a male Neteru, and work in tandem with your partner, as well as your team. But you cannot play God. This is why the Creator took such grave exception to your transgression."

Damali's warning slammed into Carlos's brain. Instantly, he knew what the angels were referring to, the image was so clear. "No, no, no, no, no - I take it back. All of it!"

"It is done. We are but messengers and must work with what we have been given - you, in this state of confusion. The task is daunting, but we serve the Most High. We do all without question. A direct order has been given us. We never challenge that."

"Time is short."

Silence surrounded Carlos. He could only stare at the brilliant beam of light that washed over him. This was possibly the most foolish thing he'd ever done in his entire existence.

"Yes," three voices said quietly.

"Therefore you must close the portals - since the energy attached to you. And you must also deliver the book and ensure that the two evil heads are severed - one male, one female - at the darkest levels, to restore the balance. The energy could not have entered you as a male Neteru, had your choice been crystal clear—but it wasn't. Nothing will challenge you as you reenter the unnamed place. We will use the larceny of the dark side to lever the good."

Carlos brought his hand to his throat. New tears rose to his eyes. He had brought contagion to his team - to the planet - to Damali. "They set me up..."

"We know. That was not our doing. Never our intent. But you must acknowledge and repent your collusion in allowing them access through your own lack of faith," the entities said quietly, their voices gentle and floating on the Arizona wind. "But they also put you in a position of strength that they had not bargained for—strength stemming from loving the young cleric who they snatched, like a brother. That is your weapon: You dearly love your earth family. That you still love the female Neteru from the depths of your soul has always been your strongest weapon. It may be the only one left to you... after. Remember the basics. Faith, hope, and love - the trinity. You lacked faith. Hoped for the wrong things. Love is your only anchor. Cling to that as you build the missing elements within before your tie to the seventh level of darkness takes even that."

"Level Seven? You've gotta help me. Fortify me! I cannot be connected to that place!" Tears streamed down Carlos's face and his hands left his throat to reach out toward the Light beings before him. "Don't leave me to fight that with a third of what I need!"

"We have never left you. But to break their hold, you must do something in equal measure to their dark strength. Bringing us the book will break it. Energy transference is the only way."

Carlos stared at the twinkling stars. The Light had begun to recede from the sky. "Please tell me how, then," he whispered. "I need direction; just tell me what to do."

"We seek not only Padre Lopez's soul, along with countless others, but the essence of yours to protect that as well. Bring the ultimate darkness into the Light. We cannot go that deeply into the nether realms to do this for you - you must fight for your own soul and the souls of others that have been trapped, like you once were," the lead voice said. "Be vigilant. They seek the return of what they felt has been stolen from them. You. The one that has proven to be their best and yet worst soldier turned general of the Legions. Both sides have equal claim. You are one of our best, and possibly our worst, earthbound warrior of Light. Our faith, hope, and love in what lies deep within you is the only thin line of silver light that allows you to not be beheaded tonight."

"When our female Neteru injured the dreaded one, Lilith was too weak to close the doors of darkness behind her," another said, but his voice began to sound as though it was fading away.

"The Chairman fled," the lead entity said, his voice rising with urgency, "but his book is below. We must burn his energy out of the book to break the hold the darkness has on the stolen souls of millions... The Chairman is the direct spawn of he who remains nameless, and never had a soul to anchor them within the Dark Realms. He never would have succeeded were it not for the pressed pages made from stolen branches and twigs of our Tree of Life and our Tree of Knowledge in the Garden, when he breached Paradise. It is through his book of dark conversion that we reveal all that has been stolen from our side from the beginning of time. The one who remains nameless also seeks him, and has sent out his Legions to hunt him down. They care not that they befoul innocents on their quest. They must be stopped. Bring us the book."

"You have only seen one beast, because he homed to your dark thread and followed that thread to the female Neteru's childhood fear of him. That was the only demon who was able to penetrate the hallowed barriers here - because of you. She feared nothing else as strongly. Your interlocking dark energy with her darkest fear was the only thing strong enough to allow that. But you have not seen all the other perversions that have come to the surface, because you have been sequestered on hallowed ground," the third entity said as he began to disappear. "Evil has insinuated itself among everyday humans. Soon, they will not be able to continue to remain blind. We are in the final days. The book is filling too quickly, tipping the balance in the wrong direction."

"You want me to go down to Hell, bring you the book, and then what?" Carlos said with his arms outstretched. Panic kept his body rigid, but his tone was filled with awe and respect.

Only one entity remained. "We will send you a sign when the time is right to go to the chamber. Only then retrieve the book, and deliver it to us - but do not sit in the Chairman's throne. If you do not heed our warning, you could be lost to us forever. You must journey far by earthly measures to find what you have lost - a part of yourself. Integrate that first, and then collect the book. Your mission is thus, do not question more."

"But what sign!" Carlos yelled, confusion and frustration adding to his panic.

"She will know. Listen to the signs uncovered by her Neteru visions. Work in tandem, never alone."

The Angel lowered a sword in Carlos's direction; the powerful gleam of silvery blue light emanating from it hurt Carlos's eyes. "Come to terms with your fate," he warned. "You, like she, are our Neteru. Never forget. Never surrender. Know and choose your side for the battle yet to come. Their trickery and guile have returned your demon abomination of fangs and all that comes with it. Use the trial wisely against the darkness... always remember the greater good."

And just like that, the last entity was gone, taking the others within a splinter of light that closed in upon itself on the blue black horizon.

Carlos stood still, listening to the wind howl around him. "But what about daylight, the blood hunger, all of the crap that comes with the fangs? How am I gonna live with my squad, with Damali? Wait!"

A too-bright star began to strobe above him. He knew it was they, but for a moment, there was no answer. Lightning blazoned the sky again in a quick flash, and the answer entered his mind in the same thunderous voice that had previously battered his ears.

You are a fusion of Level Seven; all dark levels within the nether realms fear what you could be... This thing draws terror from even their kind. It walks by day, has control over its hungers and lusts; it is a slave to nothing, except absolute power.

"What is this thing that even you as warrior angels are scared to name?" Carlos whispered, staring at the sky where lightning had scorched it.

The response that entered his mind made him back away from the lonely spot in the canyon-side where he stood and begin a flat-out run back to Damali's house. He ran as though he were the wind itself. Tears flew from his eyes as his velocity increased to make the shadowed landscape a blur. No, no no, they had to be wrong. Please God, no, not after all he'd been through and showed of his real heart. His body went hot and then cold, nausea riddled him, but he ran, trying to run away from his very self.

He saw her driveway, barreled up her steps, and pounded on the door. Her Hummer wasn't there; he collapsed against her screen, sobbing out loud. It could not be true. No, not in his body, not in his mind - Por Dios, protect his spirit. His woman's instinct was correct; her Neteru alarms had been going haywire since the Hell-smoke had possessed him. She was correct to keep her distance, but he needed her to tell him it was going to be all right. If no one else in the universe believed him, she must. "Baby, please come home!" he pleaded between sobs.

He banged futilely, knowing that there was only one place to go, the family house. But that was impossible now, not like this, not until he talked to her. Marlene didn't have a cure; Heaven didn't have a cure. No one could help him - only another Neteru would understand - only his woman, someone who loved him to the bone, no matter what, would go down to the depths with him, and had enough light and faith and hope and love...

"Oh, my God," he wailed, scrabbling in vain at her locked door. "I cannot be on the brink of turning into the Antichrist! Help me, D... Don't leave me like this!"