The head doctor eased the gun away from Marlene's head, and put the safety back on. He placed it on the side counter and sighed. "I'm sorry that I had to do that. But you have to understand that we cannot allow sentiment to overshadow reason." The doctor's eyes briefly searched Marlene's for forgiveness, and then he looked down at Damali. "Maybe this would be easier for all of us if she were to wait outside?"
Damali shook her head no, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes, down the sides of her face, and into her hair as she continued to stare at the bright light in the ceiling. "If you make her leave, I won't be able to go through this... and if I start screaming, I have no idea what the father will do."
Damali looked to Marlene for reassurance and to let her know it would be all right, but Marlene's gaze was fixated on the equipment, not on her or the gun, where it should have logically been. She could feel Marlene silently dry heave as panic glittered in the older woman's eyes. The fatigue, her condition, everything must have interfered with her second sight. Damali's grip on Marlene's hand tightened as a threat slowly registered within her.
Without letting go of Damali's hand, Marlene's eyes narrowed on the doctors. "It's so clear now. You don't intend to just clean her out, you intend to render her sterile so she can never-"
A sharp slap cut off Marlene's words, making her fall backward. Damali tried to rise off the table, but the harnesses held her tight.
"Tranquilize the mother-seer now," the head doctor shouted, "before the demon comes in here and stops what must be!"
"No!" Damali yelled, but became instantly quiet when Marlene held up her hands.
"I call the goddesses of Kemet! The justice of Ma'at. The ancient ones enshrined in the purple light of protection! I call the ancestral warriors, the ones who guard the Neteru. Take your child and shelter her now from these beasts posing as men!" Before the doctors could reach her or the gun, Marlene clapped three times, and an arc of purple electricity covered Damali at the same time the plane was slammed by heavy turbulence.
The two doctors were knocked off their feet, but Marlene remained steadfast, leaning against the wall as her hands crackled and arced with blue-white current, her fingertips singeing the ceiling with the purple bolts of divine energies she summoned. As the fallen men struggled to stand, Marlene lowered one flat palm, sending a purple charge that rendered them immobile as she spoke. She closed her eyes, outstretched her other hand in Damali's direction, her concentration so focused that the invisible third eye in the center of her forehead glowed violet.
"I have never called you to open the door. This one urgent request as taught in theTemt Tchass I have guarded; please heed. From the pyramids of Menkaure, Khafre, and Khufu at Giza, to the banks of the Nile in Nubia open the portal, pave the path to the table of Eve, to the place of Light where Khepre, Re, and Amen cycle, oh great Queen Aset, mother of Kemet, take your daughter through the door!"
"Stop the witch!" the head doctor yelled, as Damali's straps broke and another thunderous crash hit the plane.
As quickly as possible Damali sat up, electricity covering her, molding to her body and making the entire surface of her skin shimmer in a wash of blue-violet light. The purple and white light in the ceiling became blinding and pulled at her, forcing her arms to open and then yield upward.
"Flee, child, to the place beyond the drinking gourd!" Marlene yelled, and clapped three times, and shouted, "Ashe!"
In an arc of light that wobbled and then opened to a wide, steady beam at the top of her head, Damali was gone.
The conference-room discussion ground to a halt as an eerie violet charge crept over the edges of the polished table, covered both Isis blades, broadened to a wide arc of light around the sword and dagger, and folded the weapons away into nothingness. Carlos yelled Damali's name.
"YOU PICK up a signal yet, baby?" Yonnie murmured, daring to stroke Tara's arm as he lay beside her.
"No," she said quietly, her eyes wide open in the darkness of the lair.
"Thanks for the feed and the save."
"Don't mention it," she said, her tone far off. "You can't pick up anything, either?"
"No. That's what worries me." He stood and stretched, even though he knew it was still daylight beyond the cement walls that surrounded them. The heat was oppressive and the hallowed-earth encasement around the basement vault made it difficult to breathe. "How much stock do we have?"
"Enough to last about a week. Then we'll have to hunt."
He walked over to the small refrigerator. "I don't think I can do a week trapped down here drinking cold deer blood."
For a moment neither of them spoke.
"I could ingest it and offer a vein transfer," Tara said quietly.
"From the jugular?"
"Be serious. From my wrist."
He smiled. The thought, either way, was appealing. "You're not afraid I'll get greedy and flat-line you?"
"Then how would you get out of here, since only I know how to get past the barriers?"
He chuckled. "True, but when we go hunting, maybe-"
"No humans," she said firmly, now standing to cross the room. "Do that, and neither you nor I will be able to get back into this lair. That's how it works."
"That's some real fucked-up rules, baby."
"I didn't make them, but for the last twenty or so years, that's how it's been."
"So, tell me, for real, you've never broken a human vein? Never made a live kill?"
She didn't immediately answer. "I've taken a vein, but never one that had after-a-hunt adrenaline coursing through it."
"Then you've never-"
"Shut up," she snapped. "I don't want to hear about it, think about it, or even consider-"
"Why? Because you might start fantasizing about it?"
"No, because it's cruel." She paced to the far side of the room. "I know you're a master, but I will not stay in here listening to your seduction crap. Either shut the hell up or get out and make it on your own."
"Okay, okay. Chill," he said, chuckling, coming nearer to her. "My bad."
"Yes. Your bad," she said, trying to ignore his hands as they gently caressed her arms.
"Since you were made, you never got with one of our kind again?"
She shook her head. "I have someone. I've told you that."
"But he's human."
"Yes, he's human and a man with a good heart."
"But he's human."
"And I love him."
Yonnie brushed her ear with the tip of his nose. "But... he's human."
"Yes."
"And, I'm a master."
"Yes."
He stroked the side of her cheek, and ran the pad of his thumb over her mouth, thoroughly pleased when her lowered fang nicked his flesh. "Damn, whoever made you made you righteous, baby."
"Shut up."
"A master ever call you to his lair before... just you, a fourth-generation female, for a one-on-one?"
"No, and it doesn't matter."
His hands trailed down her arms, again creating a slight shudder within her. "You sure?"
"Completely."
He molded his body against her rigid back. "Just a sip, one nick. What could it hurt? He'll never know. He's human and can't see the marker."
"But I'll know," she said, swallowing hard. "I wouldn't be able to live with that."
"But could you exist with that?" he murmured and waited, feeling her resistance dissolving under his hold. "Twenty-something years and never going all the way? We're vampires?" he said softly. "Masters need it every night and once you go there, you'll understand."
"I can't miss what I've never experienced." She shrugged out of his hold and crossed the room, wrapping her arms around herself. She looked at him hard, her eyes blazing in the darkness. "I will not desecrate his house! He built it for me. This is our home. So stop it."
"Your eyes are glowing red," Yonnie whispered, his voice like silk. "You really haven't ever been with a master, have you?"
She looked away, not able to stare at the glowing red orbs that confronted her.
"One deep plunge in the throat, and I guarantee you won't care whose house this is."
"I said stop it, or get out."
"You're trembling where you stand, girl. Why are you fighting your nature like this?"
She didn't answer. She simply went to the refrigerator.
"I thought we were supposed to be rationing." He chuckled and watched her open a bottle and slam the refrigerator door. "That is so cold." He smiled as he saw her take a shaky sip and close her eyes. He crossed the room and gently took the bottle from her hand. "Let me warm that up for you," he whispered, taking a generous swig from the bottle and opening the top button of his shirt to expose his throat. "Just lose the silver collar first."
For a moment, she stared at his jugular, then at the crimson dampness on his full, lush mouth, then looked away. "No, thank you. We'd better rest and regenerate."
"How old is he now? Almost forty-five, fifty human years?"
She nodded and walked away, leaving Yonnie the bottle. "Yes."
"And we may very well be the last of our kind in this territory, no other masters on the planet so far... and Carlos missing."
"What's your point?"
Yonnie polished off the bottle and cast it to the floor, shattering it. "He's almost fifty, I just ate, you've never been where I can take you-"
"Please stop," she said quietly, the request coming out as a plea. "You know what happened to me, and how I was made."
He nodded and went to the bed, circling her once, but finally lying down. He put an arm over his forehead and stared at the ceiling. "Yeah, I do," he said quietly. "You didn't deserve that." He felt her telepathically probe him for answers, and opened up to allow her to see how he was made.
"You didn't deserve that, either," she said. "But I'm glad Carlos tried to make it as right as he could."
"Yeah. I owe him and therefore his posse, big time, I suppose." It hadn't helped that he could sense that she had tears in her eyes. The fact that she cared was not in his original plan. "It's safe to lie down and rest," he said. "I ain't gonna bother you."
When she didn't move, he turned his head to stare at her. "For real. I'm cool. I'm not gonna keep messing with you. I know it's in my nature, but even I have-"
Her eyes had gone to a deep crimson, stopping his words.
"I should have never locked into your thoughts. I've never locked with a master before. Give me a minute."
She turned away and he could hear her stop breathing for a moment as she fingered her silver necklace.
"When's the last time you visited him?" Yonnie pushed himself up to lean on his elbow as he studied her.
"A year ago."
For a long while, neither spoke.
"I love him. So don't do that again. Please."
Yonnie reclined slowly and nodded, closing his eyes, trying to get her lavender scent out of his mind. "It works both ways, you know. And finding out how genuine you are wasn't something I expected, either. Not from a female vamp. Shit."
"I'm sorry."
"Let it go. We'll lay low until the blood runs out and the territory cools off, then we'll find Carlos and his human squad."
"Thank you," she said, but still didn't rejoin him in bed. "The burn will dissipate in a little while, right?"
He couldn't immediately answer her. "No," he finally murmured. "It'll get worse before it gets better."
"I'm not going to be unfaithful. Not after all these years."
"I'm not going to attack you, if that's what you're worried about." Yonnie let his breath out hard, summoning a master's discipline.
"That's not what I'm worried about," she said quietly, edging toward the bed.
"Baby, lie down and go to sleep. We do this one hour at a time."
She nodded and sat on the edge of the bed and stared at him.
"A week in here like this will be a long time." He looked at her and stroked her arm.
For a while she didn't answer. "Yes. I know."
DAMALI FELT like she was flying, the images whirled by her so fast. Her skin crackled with electricity, and she gasped as she landed on her feet with a thud. She crouched down, instantly on guard, and glanced around herself. She patted her side. Shit. Her blade was back on the plane.
The question was, where was she and how did she get here?
It was clearly an industrial area with a river to the south. In front of her was a wide street, but no traffic. It was dark. Not a good thing without a blade. Damali glanced down at herself. At least she was dressed for the occasion. Black leather pants, black halter top, and steel-toe black boots. Perfect for kicking vamp or demon ass. Did Marlene do all of that, too? Deep.
She walked forward slowly and cautiously, staying low. Had to be the point in the night when the clubs closed and sidewalks rolled up and partygoers went home. It was the hunting hour.
Restaurant lights behind her on the long stretch of riverfront were dim. Massive buildings were black, nary a light in a window. A bridge loomed in the distance; its architecture seeming like an eerie blue dinosaur skeleton. The hair stood up on her arms. No, Marlene wouldn't have sent herhere to hide.
A neon club marquis read CLUB EGYPT. Damali stopped walking and folded her arms over her chest. She stared at the sign, noticing the hieroglyphics that had been spray-painted on the sand-colored exterior of the building.
She slowly unfolded her arms. She saw movement in the doorway of the club, and she forced her body to stay loose and ready. She narrowed her eyes. She scanned the area again quickly and noticed a street sign that read DELAWARE AVENUE. She was in Philly then.
"Fuck it," she muttered, crossing the wide boulevard and walking toward the club with purpose. Standing on a corner wringing her hands wasn't going to get her any answers.
When she got to the door, a huge bouncer stopped her. "ID?"
Damali looked him up and down. He was a big burly brother who looked like he was straight out of the motherland. His gleaming blue-black complexion blended almost seamlessly into his black muscle shirt and jeans.
Damali put a hand on his broad chest. "Now you know you need to stop playing." Then she smiled.
He stared down at her, his face blank, his eyes icy. Damali gave him a slow smile and then licked her lips. The ice cracked. He moved his mountainous girth out of the doorway and offered her a wink laced with appreciation. Damali blew him a kiss as she hurried past him.
Once inside, she squinted through the purple, hazy clouds of smoke. Such as it was, the interior seemed fairly normal. She glanced around. The place was half filled. The music was thumping. The DJ was all right. People were free-styling on the wide, polished wood dance floor. The bars were loaded. People were seated at round tables scattered throughout or lounging stylishly on purple and black minisofas. She couldn't sense anything pretenatural.
Damali carefully made her way to the bar. She slid onto a tall brass-and-leather stool as she continued to scan the club. When the female bartender came toward her, she remembered she was broke. Damali smiled. There were plenty enough brothers sipping at the rail to make that a nonissue. But if they were offering drinks with a shot of color, she wouldn't be drinking anyway.
Damali studied the tall, older woman as she walked over to her. Girlfriend looked good. She had on a metallic gold bustier that presented her double-Ds like trophies. A gold-filigreed waist chain that moved ever so slightly above her tight, gold lame pants as she walked accentuated her flat belly. Her complexion was of burnt cinnamon, but her eyes were a smoldering dark brown, matching the color of her shoulder-length braids. A gold serpent arm bracelet circled her sleekly muscular upper arm. She looked like she was in her early thirties. Her walk was so smooth, she almost looked like she was moving in slow motion Damali had to shake her head to break the hypnotic rhythm. Had to be vamp.
"What you having tonight?" the bartender asked with a smile.
Damali studied her. "What are you serving that's top shelf?"
The bartender's smile widened. "Sis, I don't roll like that. I've got a man."
Damali sat back. "Well, shit, so do I."
"Don't we all?" a deep, sexy female voice close to her ear said. Damali quickly pivoted on the stool, ready to do battle. "But if you're angling for a free drink, just name your poison."
"First you need to back up off me," Damali said slowly, watching the very tall Native American-looking woman slide onto the barstool next to her. She tossed her long French braid over her shoulder and sighed. Damali didn't like the odds, and they were getting worse. She could feel the females moving in on her quickly and quietly as the men slid away, making room for them.
One by one the chairs filled in around her. She glanced at the bartender, then the tall, older woman who was a fly-ass fifty, serving royal blue peacock and black stilettos.
"Pour this child a Jack Daniels," the woman beside her said. "My tab."
"This ain't no bargain," Damali said, accepting the drink with her eyes and not touching it. Another older sister had slid into a chair on her right. Her dark face seemed vaguely familiar, and her intense black eyes had that same knowing quality the others possessed.
She flipped her hand to dismiss Damali's open assessment. Sister was rockin' so much ice that the diamonds were practically blinding. Pure confidence radiated from her, almost like a heat wave. She was serving red stilettos that bordered on being "come fuck me" pumps. The red pants suit, killer. Everything about her aura demanded respect, even if she might have to kill her.
Damali raised her glass to them. Her gaze surveyed what she quickly counted as six or seven women. All older. All of varying hues and dressed to the nines, so confident and cocky that they hadn't even worn good battle shoes... All of them, obviously, professional assassins who could be patient and wait to do their hits. "Well, I have to hand it to you, ladies. You sure know how to try to take a sister out in style."
The one in red chuckled and sipped her martini slowly. "Too dramatic." She looked down the bar at the others. "See what man trouble will do? Make you simple."
Tension coiled around Damali's spine. Fury ate at her tender insides. She picked up her glass and poured it slowly into the woman's lap. "Yeah. It'll do that. So, let's get this party started."
She'd expected the instant lunge, and had mentally placed her reach to the bottles and barstools. She'd expected the cool sister to jump up. At least one of her girls should have flinched. But instead she just looked down at the stain and the liquor running down her shapely leg, and dabbed it with a finger, tasted it, made a face, and shook her head.
"See, that's youth," she said in an even tone. "You don't do that tacky mess in public. You take it to the ladies' room."
Damali was off her stool. "Any time."
"Now would be good," the bartender said, clearing it with one lithe move to stand before Damali with a sly smile. "Shall we?"
"It's your house," Damali said through her teeth. "You lead the way."
Martini glasses, champagne flutes, and rock glasses were set down calmly in unison as the women flanking the leader stood.
"Baby girl, do you have any idea who you're up against?"
Damali stepped back farther, one hand on her hip, the other pointing out her complaint. "No, bitch, do you?"
It was the first time she saw a flicker of rage cross their faces. The woman in red cocked her head to the side. "What did you call me?"
Damali wasn't sure if it was the tone of her voice or the level of shock held within it, but something very strange gave her pause. Within seconds the tall, older sister was up in her face.
"Take your ass to the bathroom before I embarrass you out here in public."
What? Damali looked at her like she was crazy. The dance floor had cleared. Several bouncers had come into the open area, but didn't move. The woman snapped her arm out and pointed hard in the direction of the back of the club. Damali balled up her fist, preparing to sucker-punch her. But then the woman did something Damali never expected. She simply turned on her heels and strutted forward, her head high with her shoulders back.
Curiosity was jacking with Damali's senses. Had all the female vampires just calmly walked to the ladies' room, or was she hallucinating? There was a silent dignity about them that didn't fit. Not to mention, they should have all been throwing down, right through here. Not marching toward the bathroom like offended church ladies. If they hadn't attacked, that meant one thing-they needed information. But what?
As she cautiously followed their regal promenade, Damali worked the puzzle in her head. Carlos had to be part of this. Maybe they were really worried about where their esteemed councilman had gone. Yeah... that had to be it.
The sister in red swung open the heavy door, almost yanking it from its hinges and making it slam against the wall. Bright fluorescent light greeted them, Damali entering the tight confines last. She made a quick assessment. No windows. All-white metal stalls and tile with pink accent borders. The pink was disorienting. In a vamp joint? Then she stopped as they stood before a huge mirror and cast a reflection, just like she did.
She opened her mouth and slowly closed it.
"That's right, damn it!" the woman in red said. "You'd better get a grip and know who you're talking to. I'll have you know I've run empires before you were even thought of, sister!"
"Chica, this is bad," another said, shaking her head. "We gonna have to kick your ass now, for real."
"Aw, ladies," another tall beauty said. "You know that's not why we brought her here."
The bartender stepped forward and offered her a fist pound. "We've got bigger problems."
"All right, Eve," the sister in red said, giving Damali a hard glare.
"This is your territory. School her fast before I snatch a bone out of her narrow behind."
Damali's attention went from one woman to the next. Did one of them call the sister serving drinks Eve?
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Long story, baby. But hey, you know how this goes. You find Mr. Right, fall in love, get your head twisted around by some other fine bastard, then have issues. Feel me?"
Damali couldn't stop gaping. Then she realized one by one, that each woman was marked by a symbol she hadn't noticed before. Their tattoos were made of silvery light, and she couldn't take her eyes off of them.
"Take a walk with us," the one pointed out as Eve said, moving toward the mirror. "You game for some insight?"
From some strange place in her soul, Damali found her head nodding in the affirmative. She came nearer to the woman than was probably advisable, as Eve's hands touched the mirror and melted into it like it was water. "We had to strip your blade from you, hon, until you could learn to use it right, because what's coming for you-you can't fight like you just did out there. The Sankofa burned off for the same reason."
The others nodded.
"You will get your ass beat down if you go after her like you just did, hear?" the woman in red said, obviously still salty about her dress. "Lilith will fuck you up good, if you don't watch your back, and no man is worth all that."
Damali's eyes were so wide that she couldn't blink. Then someone behind her pushed her and she was alone in a vast, stone enclosure.
Angry as a wet hen, she fell forward into a place that had sepiahued marble walls. The color surrounded her and she was on the landing of a massive staircase. Towering oblong windows allowed in the breaking dawn, and an infant's coo made her look up to the top of the next landing.
Instinct propelled her forward. Bounding up the wide, slippery steps, she took them two at a time, and then stopped as she neared the child and saw the crosscut on its finger. Immediate panic tore through her as she recognized the tiny brown infant that had big, frightened eyes. It was the baby from the Australian master's castle.
Damali began backing up as the baby slowly grew, aged, and became a weathered old man with snow-white hair. He smiled a black, toothless grin, his leathery face dotted with white paint, making her remember the circle of Aborigines. He pointed to his chest to keep her from running away, showing her the markings of the sixth seal that he guarded. The white matrix of paint on his bare chest glowed golden for a moment, and then he flung a sash of white cloth from his waist over it, making it return to normal, and a walking stick appeared in his hand.
He nodded and then bowed, motioning to her with his stick to follow him. Although he didn't wait as he proceeded, occasionally he glanced over his shoulder still smiling, almost mocking Damali for being wary and keeping her distance.
Once she reached the top of the stairs he pointed with the stick to a wide hallway. A glasslike wash of violet light spilled across the marble. Impatient, he clicked the stick on the ground three times and stomped his rusty bare feet hard, waving her forward, and then disappeared.
She keened all her senses, straining to use her third eye, to feel vibrations, to hear, all to no avail. Where were they?
She began walking forward, feeling amazingly light as each footfall lifted her slightly off the floor. Soon the glasslike purple rays covered her as she entered its full beam, and instantly the mere intent of moving forward rushed her to an open atrium filled with swirling golden-white light and women's voices.
Damali squinted as a large opalescent oval table came into view, and seated before her were the seven women. Four were sitting on one side, three on the other of an empty, high, Kemetian throne carved in alabaster, with a falcon-winged sun disc bearing the Ankh symbol of fertility within it. She recognized Nzinga instantly this time. The red siren's getup had completely thrown her off. Then she saw the Amazon sitting to her right, and dropped to one knee. She'd failed the ultimate test. Oh, dear God.
She'd been summoned to the council of Neterus! Queens of old, beyond the chamber of spirits called the holy of holies within the pyramids. Maybe she was dead and this was judgment day.
"Queen mothers," Damali murmured, without looking up. "You have summoned me? I, uh, didn't recognize you, at first, and-"
"You must approach all sisters with respect. It would have avoided any confusion. That's the problem today. Always carry yourself in a dignified manner, no matter the circumstances. No one has respect." The elder queen whom Damali had offended folded her arms over her ample breasts and thrust her chin up.
"Queen daughter, arise. Your mother-seer summoned us. We had a need to intervene," the Amazon said more calmly.
Damali slowly stood, awed at the majestic women before her. Each wore a brilliant, shimmering hue of the chakra system, from the deepest jewel ruby to striking amethyst. The Amazon, the newest addition to the council, was swathed in glowing novice white, and like the others, she bore a living, silvery Adinkra symbol on her body. Hers was an Akoben, a war horn, placed on her individualized power center-her forearm; her blade arm.
Damali was speechless as she looked at the flawless beauty of the eldest woman whom she now instantly knew to be Eve. Her hair was a tangle of thick African braids scooped up in a complex cone, her headdress a crown of woven lotus blossoms. Her dress was a glasslike sheath of glistening rubies, her dark almond-shaped eyes smoldered with patience and wisdom and truth. She turned slowly to walk around the table and be seated, allowing Damali to glimpse the backless gown so she'd understand that she was also anointed with a Sankofa tattoo, one placed just at the base of her spine like Damali's. However, Eve's mark was a scrolling heart variation of the same symbol. She offered Damali a discreet wink. Her high cheekbones and lush mouth seemed to barely conceal a wry smile as she cocked her head and folded her hands before her at the table.
"I have walked a mile in your footfalls, dear one," Eve said calmly. "But you must-"
"Not be foolish!" Nzinga said, cutting Eve off, the sleeves of her royal violet gown shimmering as her arms swept before her. "She was my protege, a warrior. This is unacceptable!" Nzinga thrust her chin upward, her proud neck stretching as the light from the wide windows behind the table glinted off her unblemished ebony skin. "We don't have time for this."
Pure panic riddled Damali as her gaze swept the powerful females before her. Their silvery symbols painted new realities in her mind; Eve had a heart Sankofa anointed over her base, primal energy chakra; it's meaning clear-you can always undo your mistakes; the Amazon had a war horn, symbolizing a call to arms. At the base of Nzinga's neck, just before her spine began, was what appeared to be a double-bladed battleaxe;Akoko nan tiaba na enkum ha ... the hen treads upon its chicks but does not kill them. Damali took heart in the symbol. Maybe she'd get beat down today, but not officially killed.
"Girl, listen," Eve finally said, breaking into current vernacular to try to ease Damali's humiliation. "You know how this thing goes. She's supposed to cuss out and beat down anything that comes for her or her family. The chile is supposed to go down swinging. Now, I personally give her points for courage, because she came in that joint buck-wild and ready to just do the damned thing."
"See, that's just the thing, Eve. You always liked living on the edge." Nzinga gave her a testy smile.
Eve stroked her snake armband. "It has had its merits as well as its drawbacks, but please don't act like you can't go there, 'Zinga."
"Don't get in my business," Nzinga warned with a smile. "We can turn this table over up in here, if you start."
Eve chuckled. "I know. Your secrets are safe with me, sister."
"She fought to reclaim me," the Amazon said, attempting to come to Damali's defense and defuse the brewing quarrel amongst the queens.
"Loyalty is an asset," Nefertiti contended. "I will forgive the dress fiasco. But do understand if it happens again, I will cut out your heart, little sis. That was Egyptian linen. 'Zinga didn't deserve that." But her smile toward Damali was kind, and her gorgeous eyes contained so much mirth that no threat seemed imminent. She straightened her bronze midriff-baring gown and held Damali in a tender stare as her silvery symbol gleamed around her navel. "And you were ready to fight, while in so much physical and emotional pain. You've passed my test, baby. We just want you to be shrewd, is all."
Both women nodded, and Damali could almost hear her symbol whisper into her womb;Ntesie matemasie; I have heard it and kept it-the symbol of wisdom and knowledge linked them for a moment.
"She is young, like I was," a stunning blonde said, and her brilliant yellow gown swished as she stood. Her blue eyes held compassion as she peered at Damali. "My own people burned me at the stake for the visions I had, yet I never had the chance to live, to love, to learn to care so deeply. To love. That cannot be a crime."
Damali could only stare at the four hearts that made a floral pattern in the center of Joan's forehead where her third eye was. It all made so much sense that Damali wanted to weep. She could clearly see each of their symbols now. Yes,Nyame nwu na mawu; if God dies, then I may die, thus perpetual existence.
"Her heart is of ours," a tall Native American queen said, her jewel-green headdress sparkling as she spoke. The eagle feathers in it swayed hypnotically as Damali watched the silveryAya tattoo on the muscled part of her shoulder pulse. It was the symbol of the fern, but also the mark of defiance-simply stated, I am not afraid of you. "I remember trying to blend two worlds, standing as a bridge between conquerors and my people for the sake of peace... and for the sake of love. We shall not judge her harshly at this council. I, too, stand with our Amazon sister on this measure."
"But Nzinga is wise and has governed this council well," a queen with an elaborate Asian headdress said, the deep tangerine of her dress a startling contrast to the soft eloquence her voice held. "Before all things, she is a Neteru, and must always have the discipline as her foremost concern."
She bore the interlocking loops of two halves joined to make one, a symbol of hope, just over her heart, her symbol sending a chime resonance to Damali's ears-Birbi wo sow. Nyame birbi wo soro na ma embeka mensa;God there is something in the heavens, let it reach me. Damali almost covered her mouth to hold back a pending sob... the disrespect she'd shown, not to mention the craziness she'd gone through, and her own Sankofa had peeled away in Marlene's white bath when she'd temporarily turned into a vamp. Shame forced her to study the floor.
"Let her speak," a lean Aztec beauty said, her silver and turquoise presence so stunning that Damali almost looked away. Now Damali understood the royal peacock blue. The Aztec queen smoothed the thick rope of black braid over her shoulder. It was wrapped in a studded length of what appeared to be liquid silver and highly polished stones.
"You rule the throat chakra," Nzinga said with a smile. "Of course that would be your choice of action."
"I have led armies of men to defend my people, but never found myself..." The Asian queen's voice trailed off as she shook her head. "So compromised."
"And if you had met Ghengis Khan, in your era?" the Amazon said with a chuckle. "Ruthless bastard, but I heard very interesting rumors-"
"Enough!" Nzinga said, making a tent before her mouth with her hands. "We shall remain focused. My concern is that my protege, the one who says her prayers to me for guidance, and who leads men into battle at this tenuous hour, has not lost her way." She stood and walked behind the table, her long glowing robes cascading from the high throne adding color to the moving white opalescent light on the table. "My child. You carried his seed. A vampire...a...a...I cannot even say it. Willingly allowed yourself to take a vampiric bite. No fight, no battle-"
"Wait," Eve said, standing quickly. "I must interject on her behalf, my queen sister. As the eldest at this table, I can assure you taking his bite was from no simple lapse in judgment or discipline. Trust me when I say, I know the dilemma she faced, and if he was half as convincing as the one I dealt with, then we should allow this daughter to tell her side of it." Eve sat slowly and smiled as Nzinga begrudgingly returned to her seat. "Dear queen sister, they are very, very seductive. May you never find yourself tangling with a six-foot serpent between your legs."
"Complete truth," the Amazon said, her gaze locking with Damali's. "My mother-seer met the one that befell our daughter. Oh, man... he came as a panther. What can I say? Magnificent specimen." She glanced at Eve with a sly smile. "From what she showed me, I would have lost my sword, too, if he'd been willing."
Both women laughed and the others swallowed away knowing smiles. But all mirth dissipated as a purple haze rolled across the floor and a triangular window eclipsed the brightness of the rising sun within the other panes. Two massive white lions strolled out of the lit expansion, roared, and sat beside the empty throne. Each member of the council of Neterus glanced at Damali briefly with a solemn warning, then stood, turned to face the open pyramid, and bowed. Damali followed their lead as a stunning entity stepped across the threshold of the Light.
"Nuk ast au neheh ertai-nef tetta. Nuk pu Aset, Isis." The regal entity looked at Damali and translated. "Behold, I am the heir of eternity, everlastingness has been given to me. I am Aset, Isis." As she spoke, theMmra krado symbol, the seal of the law of supreme authority, on her throat flared deep purple. She waited until the council queens stood erect, her wise, almond-shaped eyes unreadable. On her forehead blazed a silvery sun marking ofNsoroma , a child of the heavens, the translation clear: A child of the Supreme Being, I do not depend on myself. My illumination is a reflection of The I Am. "I have been summoned, so I have come. Be seated."
"Behold, Queen Mother Aset, also known as Isis, first queen of Kemet, that had become known as Egypt. Our newest daughter has come before us with great challenges that threaten all we protect."
Aset nodded toward Nzinga and sat down, casting the Isis dagger and long blade on the table before her. Nzinga's eyes filled with alarm as she glanced at Damali and then Aset.
But the queen before her was so completely mesmerizing that for a moment, Damali forgot just how serious her predicament was. Aset's marble-smooth skin was the deepest ebony with red and copper tones beneath it, giving her skin the appearance of black porcelain fired to perfection. Her eyes literally drank Damali in. Their beauty contained so much knowledge that Damali wanted to look away, but could not. Her height was striking, yet her bone structure was as delicate as an Ibis bird's. Her hair was a glistening profusion of onyx-colored, perfectly symmetrical shoulder-length braids woven with what seemed to be living gold bands. Her throat was adorned with a wide golden collar that had an opening to allow her marking to be seen. Precious stones matching the chakra system were set in the collar, and hieroglyphics of the battles of the Neteru were etched across it. Long, kundalini golden snake bracelets covered her forearms with precious stones denoting the power points and meridians within the body energy system. Her gown was of sheer gold, showing her voluptuous nude form in relief beneath the shimmering fabric. Damali's voice became trapped in her throat.
"Queen daughter," Aset said. "I am distressed."
"Queen mother," Damali said, hoarsely. "I am so sorry." She bowed and wrapped her arms around herself. "There's so much that happened in such a short period of time. I never meant to shame you... or my mentor, Nzinga."
"You have not shamed us. You have shamed yourself." Aset let out a weary breath. "A possible daywalker?"
