The Bitten

by L. A. Banks

  Carlos had less than a second to duck before Shabazz and Rider emptied half a clip each into the kitchen wall behind him. He was immediately forced to fake right to avoid the crossbow stake released by Jose, who was reloading. Before J.L. could reach for the stashed lights, Carlos sent them crashing to the ground.

  “Yo!” Carlos yelled, avoiding the onslaught in the close confines while trying not to hurt anybody. “Chill, I’m on your side, remember!”

  “Fuck you!” Shabazz shouted. “Kill this mother dead, now!”

  Carlos had taken a crouching position on the ceiling. He could smell the compound being flooded by the holy-water sprinkler systems; the heat of UV lights trapping him from a hallway exit was leaving him limited options; he might have to take a body to get out of there. “It didn’t go down like you think and I thought you all said she couldn’t turn after twenty-one! Why would I bring her back, if I’d meant to turn her? Think about it!”

  “She isn’t supposed to turn after twenty-one!” Marlene shrieked. “What type of dark energy did you hit her with? I’ll climb up there on the ceiling and stake your ass myself for this!”

  “Naw, Mar,” Mike said, aiming the shoulder cannon in Carlos’s direction. “I got him.”

  Immediately Carlos vaporized and reappeared on top of the gas range. “If you hit me here, we all go up, Mike. We need to talk.”

  “This is waaaay out of hand, people.” Damali shook her head and suddenly laughed. “Carlos is tripping about nothing worth getting all hype about. You all are bugging.” She walked away and flopped down in a kitchen chair, leaned her head back, and blew out a long breath of annoyance. “This shit don’t make no sense.”

  The members of the Guardian team cast nervous glances in each other’s direction, their gazes settling on Marlene. Carlos glimpsed the bullet-ridden kitchen wall, destroyed cabinets, and shards of glass and dishes. Damali was right, this didn’t make any kinda sense—but he could understand it.

  “Stand down,” Marlene finally said, breaking the standoff and breathing hard. “If we kill him, we won’t know what we’re up against or how she . . .” Marlene’s voice trailed off. “I can’t even say it.” Her eyes narrowed on Carlos as her tone became lethal. “What did you do to her?”

  “Yeah!” Shabazz yelled. “Talk to us, man.”

  “Fuck talking,” Jose said, tears standing in his eyes. “Kill this bastard, finish it, right here, right now!”

  “Hold up,” Rider said, and pulled his gun barrel back, pointing it to the ceiling away from Carlos. “The only thing that is making sense is that he brought her here.”

  Mike nodded with Dan and Marlene.

  “Speak,” Shabazz ordered, his jaw pulsing with rage.

  “She bit me,” Carlos said, his voice low, shame almost burning the words from his mouth.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Jose looked away and folded his arms over his chest. Finally, Rider was the first to break the silence with a full, tension-relieving belly laugh.

  “Damn, man, is that all? You almost got yourself smoked in here because we thought she’d really turned.” Rider glanced around and watched his teammates begin to slowly relax. “Oh, God help us all. Young bucks. Well . . .”

  But Rider’s voice trailed off as Damali brought both hands to the sides of her head and winced.

  “Yeah,” Carlos said with more authority in his tone. “Like I said. She bit me. Dropped two inches of fang in my jugular and came away with a coupla quarts. You feeling me?” He glanced at each member of the team, vindicated yet sad that their semiamused expressions had gone ashen.

  “You weren’t complaining when—”

  “D, that’s our business. I ain’t going there, not here in front of everyone,” Carlos warned. “I just want to ask Marlene why. How could something like this happen?” Even the now-drawn weapons couldn’t keep him from materializing in the middle of the kitchen floor and pacing. However, he kept his motions slow and steady as he stopped in front of Marlene, his eyes searching her wise ones for answers. “Mar, you gotta believe me. I didn’t mean for this to happen to her.”

  “Y’all young bloods never do,” Marlene said flatly, swallowing hard and fighting back tears. “Everybody drop your weapons. Shit. This is a family crisis. I’ll rip his fucking heart out myself with my bare hands if he fangs-up in my presence. Right now we need answers.”

  Nobody moved as Marlene brushed past them and left the room. The fact that Marlene had cursed, like that, and had pushed a master vampire out of her way without a trace of fear was not lost on a soul in the room, especially not Carlos.

  “I knew she would take it hard . . . but . . .” Damali said in a far-off tone, her eyes following the path Marlene had taken. “But shit happens.”

  “You okay, D?” Jose said, his voice strident with worry. He went to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. She touched it and nodded yes, but Jose never drew away from her.

  “Look, man, I’m sorry,” Carlos muttered, trying to offer Shabazz a truce, even if an allegiance was impossible. But his glance kept traveling back to where Jose stood—way too close to his woman.

  “Save it, motherfucker. If Marlene can come up with a cure, then I might forgive you. If not, I will smoke you, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  The expression on Shabazz’s face went beyond rage. His gaze was straight ahead, looking past Carlos down the hall in the direction Marlene had gone, totally stoic. Carlos simply nodded. He knew that place where Shabazz was, well past rage and so totally done that there were no words. He’d lived there most of his human existence.

  “Once a dealer, always a dealer, right, Rivera? Damn, man, I expected better from you. D is like your family, but you got her all turned out with that ‘first hit’s on me’ vampire bullshit.” Big Mike sucked his teeth. “I might never forgive your trifling ass.”

  Carlos nodded and studied the terra-cotta tile floor. He could dig it. What was there to say? They would never understand.

  It felt like it took twenty years for Marlene to come back into the room, and if looks could have killed, they’d all be goners, especially him. She shot each one of them the most lethal glare he’d ever seen, then slammed a huge black leather-bound book in the center of the kitchen table.

  “The Temt Tchaas has nothing in here to deal with a situation like this!” Marlene rubbed her palms over her face. “Does Father Patrick know about this yet? Does he?”

  “No,” Carlos muttered. “I’m going to tell him later tonight.”

  Damali hung her head. “Ouch. I forgot about the priests.”

  “Well you two need to take it from the top and explain exactly what happened—so maybe, just maybe, I can jook-up some sort of antidote . . . I just don’t know. How far gone is she?”

  The fifty-million-dollar question, and he didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know,” Carlos said honestly, tension winding its way down his spinal column. Suddenly he looked at Jose hard. “If you know like I know, you need to back up off her, man.” The two men’s eyes locked in a silent standoff, until finally Jose left Damali’s side.

  “Oh, that’s just beautiful,” Rider said, slapping his forehead. “The man lays down a turn bite, and as a master, doesn’t even know when—”

  “That’s the point!” Carlos shouted. “I never did! I mean, I never meant to turn her; there was no will behind the action. No intent, man, for real.”

  “So, you all just talk about me like I’m not here, why don’t you?” Damali was on her feet.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Marlene said quickly. “Everybody take a deep breath. Let’s summon calm so we can get some answers. If I have to conjure, then I need a brainstorm, and information, and plenty of prayers.” She cast a hard glare at Damali. “And, yes, you will have to suffer through each one of those prayers, sister. Have a seat. It might be a long night.”

  Quiet filled the kitchen as Marlene took a deep breath, closed her eyes, then let it out slowly to center herself. She said nothing for what seemed
like a long time, and then finally opened her eyes, her gaze going right for Carlos.

  “Talk to me,” Marlene said in a quiet voice. There was no judgment in her tone this time, just a weariness that he could appreciate. “How many times have you bitten her?”

  The question caused him to glance at Damali, who shrugged and looked down at the floor. Total humiliation stripped him in front of her team. He should know things like this—but they just didn’t understand what being with her was like. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “A lot.”

  “Jesus H. Christ!” Rider said, disgusted, kicking over a kitchen chair and walking to stand by Shabazz.

  When Damali covered her head with her hands and gasped, everyone merely stared.

  “It’s like that,” Carlos said, going to Damali, his palm stroking her soft locks as he stooped beside her. “I don’t know why I can take it . . . hear the sacred names . . . but, now, she can’t. It’s fucking me up. I’m the one who’s been banished by the Light. Mar, you’ve gotta make her better. My baby can’t go out like this.”

  He wasn’t sure whether it was the simple truth that seemed to galvanize the team, the fact that he didn’t care that they saw just how worried he was for her, or if it was the fact that they were finally understanding just how serious this was. But the tension in the room eased, weapons got lowered in earnest, and a few younger Guardians moved toward the huge oak table to sit down again.

  “I’m gonna do what I can, Carlos,” Marlene said, a promise held in her voice. “She’s our baby, too, and we know how you feel.”

  “Mar, honest to goodness,” Carlos said, his tone fervent while double-checking himself not to say any words that would hurt Damali. “At first, things were cool. Just like you said. If things got . . . intense, and I bit her, it was all good. I had enough discipline not to flat-line her.” His gaze swept the group, hoping for understanding, while feeling so stupid for even being in such a predicament. A council-level master, no less. This was beyond embarrassing.

  When Rider rolled his eyes, Carlos pressed on, ignoring him. “I knew to siphon less than a pint. I wasn’t trying to kill her.”

  Carlos could feel the tension in the kitchen gathering like a slow storm, but knew an explosive reaction was soon coming. He could hear the energy whining like a turbine. As the thought formed, Jose blew.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind? There was no reason to bite her, man! I’ll fucking kill you!” Jose spun toward the older armed Guardians at the door for a second and quickly raised his crossbow, holding Carlos in his sight. “’Bazz, let me put this bastard down once and for all!” He held out his hand toward Damali to come to his side of the room, but she just looked at him.

  Only when Shabazz didn’t move did Carlos stand and stalk away from Damali’s side, far away from the group. From his peripheral vision, he saw Rider touch the young Guardian’s arm, and saw how Jose angrily jerked away from his older, wiser comrade, following but not liking the silent message to stand down. He’d misjudged; the young bucks were a problem. A hair-trigger variable. He should have known better. The young ones weren’t as effective, but were always shaky, nervous, and too stupid to know they’d die trying. However, if the old boys were holding steady, then he had a chance to explain. But he kept his primary line of vision directly on Marlene—the only reasonable one among them.

  “Most of the time, she’d hang out on the beach, dozing during the day, or doing whatever, while I slept. Then at night, we’d go out on the town, chill, listen to some music, check out a festival, get her something to eat, go back to the lair. Everything was peace,” Carlos finally said in a controlled tone.

  Jose’s eyes glittered raw fury, just like Shabazz and Big Mike’s did, but . . .

  “Just groovy,” Rider muttered, with a scowl. “Okay. So, since everything was copacetic, when did you notice girlfriend had fangs and couldn’t do a day at the beach even with sunblock?”

  “Last night,” Carlos said under his breath. “Everything changed last night.”

  “Why?” Shabazz asked, his tone so tightly controlled that it made Damali look up.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Carlos admitted, glancing at the same spot on the floor Damali had focused on. Marlene’s appraisal was also too intense to continue direct eye contact with her at the moment.

  “All right,” Marlene said, her voice like a schoolteacher dispensing facts. “For twenty-eight days and nights, everything was fine. I take it you bit her multiple times every one of those nights—no need to answer. Fact one.” Her gaze went to Damali. “And, during said time, there was no fight, no resistance, correct?”

  Damali glanced out the kitchen window. “No.”

  Jose walked so far away from the group that he was nearly beyond the kitchen entry. Carlos glanced at him, expecting to see worry, but the glare Jose gave him was almost a direct challenge. He could feel himself begin to bulk, but willed away the sensation. The young blood was definitely working his nerves.

  “Herein lies the beginning of our problem,” Marlene said on a long sigh. Disgusted, she put the reading glasses that dangled from a silver-beaded cord about her neck on the bridge of her nose, and opened the Temt Tchaas hard in the middle of the table. “This is partly my fault.”

  “How’s that?” Shabazz holstered his gun, folded his arms, and stared at Marlene, unconvinced.

  “The Neteru physiology is designed to create vampire antibodies under battle conditions. When fully amped, in a bloodlust, in the heat of battle with adrenaline pumping, everything in her whole system works as a unit to seal the wound, kill the attacking virus. But with a serious endorphin rush happening with every bite . . . no anger, no fear, total open trust and willingly offering her throat . . .”

  “No,” Shabazz said, his words seething past his lips. “They would have had a seduction provision in there, knowing that a Neteru could get within intimate proximity to a master vamp while on the hunt and possibly get hypnotized, whatever. It’s not your fault; that much I do know.” He glared at Carlos. “The bastard wanted her like this all along—you and I both know that, Mar. Subconscious intent was there from the door.”

  “Shit.” Carlos just closed his eyes. “I should have seen this coming.”

  “Poor choice of words, dude. We’re still armed.”

  He refused to dignify Rider’s comment, but it was a direct blow to his ego. The way the muscle in Jose’s jaw pulsed grated him. Carlos turned away toward the sink, now unable to look at any of them.

  “Then, you mix in the normal fluctuations that happen to a normal female’s body chemistry on a monthly basis,” Marlene added, her voice pained as she spoke, “and we have a recipe for disaster. A variable. You’re the only one she would have allowed to be with her like this, and there’s nothing in the Temt Tchaas about a Neteru falling head over heals for a master vampire—ever. This wasn’t a vamp seduction or treachery that would have had resistance still lingering in her subconscious; she wanted to be with you, that’s the issue. There was no resistance to fire her system up to fight the turn.”

  Damali stood and went to Carlos’s side. “It wasn’t his fault, y’all. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. I didn’t know; he didn’t know; you guys didn’t know.”

  Her voice had become so tender that he almost reached for her.

  “There was nothing to resist,” she said, still defending him. “He was supposed to be a Guardian, and he is a good man. Carlos didn’t want to turn me . . . it just sorta happened.”

  He had to get away from Damali’s sweet words, so he concentrated instead on Marlene’s eyes, the pain and anger he saw there. He had to stay focused, so the group’s mother-seer could save Damali. He just wished that he hadn’t blocked the older woman’s second sight from entering his lairs. Maybe she could have prevented this.

  “We’re not here to cast blame, honey.” Marlene’s voice was gentle. “But we have to find a solution, or by the end of the night . . .”

  “The hunger is gonna hit he
r,” Carlos said, giving his back to the group again.

  When Damali touched his shoulder, he turned slowly and lifted her chin with one finger. “Baby . . . I’m so sorry. They’re gonna have to lock you up, and seal you in a room without sunlight until—”

  “Oh, hell no!” Damali snatched away from him, and started for the door, but stopped as Big Mike, Shabazz, and Rider blocked her exit.

  “I might be the only one who can feed you, until Marlene figures out a way. Call me, if it gets real bad, and I promise, I’ll come to you. From my veins is the only way, at the moment.” Carlos looked at her team. “And you all are gonna have to be cool and let me in so she can feed. If she gets out I don’t want her hunting alone—she might take a body. That can’t happen. Or another male might approach her and feed her. That definitely can’t happen.”

  “No, it can’t,” Marlene said, ignoring Damali’s stricken expression.

  “But there’s one other problem,” Carlos muttered.

  “What the hell else could be worse than this?” Jose walked into the kitchen again to stand by Shabazz, Rider, and Big Mike.

  “I think she’s ripening early,” Carlos said in a distant tone, his gaze going toward the window. “So you’ve gotta find a cure fast, because I won’t be able to come in here and just feed her. Understand?”

  “You have got to be bullshitting me.” Rider let his back slam against the wall and he closed his eyes.

  “Wish I were, man.” Carlos went to Damali and touched her hair. “That’s when the shit got really out of hand . . . last night. One hit of her fragrance, and I was near gone. If she hadn’t siphoned me first, I would have flat-lined her. You have no idea how close it came to that.”

  Shabazz had taken two paces in Carlos’s direction, but Big Mike grabbed the back of his shirt.

  What could he say? It was the cold-blooded truth. Carlos spoke slowly; he needed them to understand. “A mind lock went down, she took a walk on the dark side with me. She bit me, took two quarts, and the virus is all through her . . . not just from my bites, but now from a total blood exchange—a double plunge. She woke up hungry, and watched me drop an international courier to feed her without batting an eyelash.”