The Bitten

by L. A. Banks

  “No,” Jose whispered. “Red everywhere . . .”

  “He’s picking up tactical senses, which is beyond his gift range. Mar, pull him out.”

  “No, Shabazz,” she said through clenched teeth. “He saw a color, which means that he’s got a visual, something we haven’t been able to get.”

  Shabazz eased back in his chair, casting a concerned glance around the team. Father Lopez stepped forward, bringing the other three Covenant members to the table with him, walking almost in lockstep with them so they wouldn’t lose their protective directional position. Father Lopez laid his hand on Jose’s shoulder.

  “I’ll connect with him directly, stay with his spirit to guide him and to be a second source of strength.” Father Lopez looked away shyly. “I feel things . . . and no offense, but I picked it up before Shabazz and J.L. did. I guess I’m a tactical sensor, too.”

  “Good,” Rider said, nodding. “We almost lost our brother once before to some freak accident and I don’t want to go there again.”

  “No lie,” Big Mike said.

  Once Father Lopez was squarely at Jose’s back, Marlene began her inquiry again, pushing harder for answers.

  “Red,” she told Jose, “concentrate on red. Is it blood?”

  “No, soft . . .” he said and sighed. “Satin and roses.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Rider asked, blowing his breath out hard.”

  “Rider, please,” Marlene warned. “Jose, baby, open your mind’s eye wider. Let Father Lopez’s energy help you. Work with it.”

  “It’s all in the air . . . Neteru,” Jose said, taking in a deep breath and shuddering. “Her skin is like butter . . . and her throat.” He licked his lips, and squeezed his shut eyes tighter.

  The group went still.

  “Where?” Marlene’s voice was strained. Her gaze bore into Jose as sweat coursed down the sides of his face.

  Father Patrick put his hand on Marlene’s shoulders. “Steady, Mar. You’ll lose the connection if you panic.”

  “In the mansion—”

  All of a sudden Father Lopez dropped his hands from Jose’s shoulders and backed away from the group, hugging his arms about himself. “I cannot do it,” he said, shaking his head. “No.”

  “What did you feel, or see?” Father Patrick asked.

  “It wasn’t what I saw,” Father Lopez said quietly. “It was what I felt.” He staggered over to the wall, and leaned against it. The front of his black robe had a darkening stain that spread down his leg.

  The team watched horrified as blood splattered the top of his shoe and oozed out onto the floor.

  “It’s his femoral artery! Break circle! Now!” Rider yelled.

  Shabazz and Big Mike leapt forward and caught Father Lopez before he hit the ground. They slowly laid him on the floor. Two Guardians held their hands against the wound, applying pressure to the young cleric’s inner thigh. J.L. ripped off his belt, and tossed it to Shabazz. Rider held the cleric’s head up from the floor as his Guardian brothers worked to stop the hemorrhage. Marlene kept one hand on Jose’s shoulders, Imam Asula kept one hand on the other. Father Patrick and Monk Lin covered their fallen brother with prayers, while the rest of the team stood in the distance, poised to act but not sure what to do.

  Snatching the bowie knife from his hip, Rider passed the blade to Shabazz, who pushed up Father Lopez’s robe and cut a long slit in the wounded cleric’s pants. There was so much blood, they couldn’t see the extent of the wound.

  “Get some holy water to clean the site,” Big Mike yelled to Dan, who immediately dashed away and came back with a plastic jug from the weapon’s room containing what Mike had requested.

  Shabazz doused the wound. Father Lopez screamed and convulsed. Marlene gasped when she saw two puncture wounds on the young man’s inner thigh.

  “Oh, shit, he bit her!” Marlene shrieked, breaking the connection. “He’s bleeding her out!”

  “No he’s not,” Jose said in a low, sensual tone. “She bit him.”

  “What!” Father Patrick said, staring at Jose in shock. He looked down at Lopez and slapped his face. “C’mon, son.”

  But just as quickly, the two puncture wounds sealed and the flow of blood stopped. Slowly, Father Lopez roused, his face ashen before it flushed a deep red, his breaths uneven.

  He crossed himself, and struggled to sit up. The other guardians helped him.

  “Oh, my God! Oh Father Christ!” he said, his voice fracturing as he pushed hands away from him and made the sign of the cross over his chest again. “She bit me . . . never in my life—”

  “Steady,” Father Patrick said, soothing the distraught junior priest. “What happened? Tell us exactly what happened.”

  Father Lopez shook his head, and shut his eyes tightly.

  “Please, son . . .”

  Father Lopez covered his face with his hands and breathed slowly. “I am so ashamed. Don’t ask me to tell you with a woman in the room.”

  Rider threw up his hands. “Y’all gonna make me start smoking again. I’ll tell you what the hell happened.” He raked his fingers through his hair, hocked and spit in the wastebasket. “Blood fucks with my sinuses,” he muttered, dismissing the group’s glare. “She went down on hombre and took out his femoral artery at the moment of truth. Lopez and Jose were locked in on the master, not Damali.”

  Rider nodded in Jose’s direction, causing everyone to look toward Jose. “Shabazz was right, shoulda pulled the man out. No human male can go the distance of a full vamp seduction. Get Jose unlocked before he has a fucking heart attack.”

  The group quickly moved toward the young guardian. Jose’s head hung down, one hand on his forehead. His forearm braced him on the table, his fist clenched, and the muscle in his jaw working. His T-shirt stuck to his back.

  “Shit,” he said in a voice so deep and so unnatural for Jose that for a moment no one moved. His fist pounded on the table, his breathing escalated, his eyes rolled beneath his lids. When he moaned low in his throat, Marlene grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled off and slapped him. Jose just gave her a lazy, satisfied laugh.

  Shabazz stepped forward and dashed the remaining holy water in Jose’s face, but Jose still didn’t come around. “He’s blitzed on Neteru. Pull him out, Mar, before Damali takes his jugular!”

  Father Lopez stood, weaving. “I took the first bite and oh, God, it felt so good,” he whispered. “Pull us both out of this bond—now—before she takes the jugular.”

  Total pandemonium erupted as the team broke into two squads, each slapping, dousing, working on the two connected men. Marlene was in Jose’s face, recanting the connection, trying to bring him up out of the trance, while the other seer, Father Patrick, worked on his young cleric, anxiety rising by the minute when the fallen wouldn’t respond.

  “We have to shoot them before Damali turns them,” Shabazz said, unholstering his weapon and pointing the barrel of the gun at Jose’s temple. Jose immediately lifted his head and looked at Shabazz.

  “Are you insane, man?” Rider yelled, slamming into Shabazz, throwing his aim off.

  But as soon as Shabazz had pointed the gun at Jose, the trance had been broken. Jose sat there looking dazed. Imam Asula nodded, whipped out his machete, and pressed it to Father Lopez’s throat. Father Lopez immediately snapped out of it as well.

  “What the fuck?” Rider said angrily.

  Shabazz holstered Sleeping Beauty. “A master is most vulnerable when he’s asleep, when he hasn’t fed, or when he’s gettin’ busy, but will always pull up when there’s an eminent threat.” He stroked his gun, and nodded in Asula’s direction. “So me and brotherman provided an eminent threat.”

  Marlene sat down slowly at the table and let her head drop into her hands. “I know you two gentlemen have just been through something outrageous, and I’m sorry you had to go there,” she said, speaking to Jose and Lopez. “But can you tell us anything about where they are?”

  Father Lopez nodded. “They’re
at the mansion in Beverly Hills.”

  Jose nodded weakly. “Nuit’s old joint,” he said slowly. “Carlos is seriously pissed off, and something is trailing enough sulfur there for Rider to track it. There’s weird noises, barking, that Mike can track. I don’t know what it was but if I caught the scent again, I’d know it.” He looked away, his face suddenly stained with embarrassment. “And I can track Damali now, easy.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, and shuddered one last time.

  “Jesus.” Marlene stood and paced away from the table. “Okay, okay, we have to mount up. Maybe there’s a chance.”

  “You’re right, baby,” Shabazz said quietly, going to her, “we have to mount up a posse, but not to save her. We’re gonna have to find them and smoke ’em both.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “WHAT’S THE matter, baby?” Damali murmured, stroking Carlos’s chest.

  Suddenly he lifted his head from her throat, and braced himself on his arms, listening, eyes scanning the room, every sense keened: After what seemed like an eternity, he kissed the bridge of her nose, then moved down her torso and planted a gentle kiss on her bare belly. “Two lower-level male vamps just tried a lock with me,” he said, then rolled off of her and stood.

  Instantly, he was dressed. “I’ma take a walk. You stay here,” he said, firmly. “The two vamps have a bunch of human helpers with them. It might get ugly, and I haven’t fed.”

  “I don’t want to stay in here by myself,” she said, studying him hard.

  “You hungry?” he asked, glancing at her sideways.

  She nodded.

  “Get dressed, then. Tonight is as good a night as any for me to teach you how to hunt.”

  She hesitated, but found herself fully dressed before she could even look down. “You said they had human helpers . . .”

  “Yeah,” he replied. He hesitated. “If you’re carrying precious cargo, you need to eat right, and learn how to do it without turning one of them.”

  She touched her belly with shaky fingers. He didn’t respond. They both knew what time it was.

  “I need to also show you how to control the dogs, if I’m away for a few hours. But I don’t want you out too often. I’ll bring the feeds to the lair for you. I’ll take care of you, baby. Don’t worry.”

  Damali stood there wondering. What had she done?

  She could feel herself vacillating between wanting to follow him outside to do the unthinkable, and wanting to run shrieking into the night.

  “I don’t want to feed like that . . . Not until I know for sure—”

  “Know what? If you’ve fully turned?” He stared at her hard.

  His statement slapped her in the face. She took a deep breath.

  “Baby, think about it,” she said calmly. “I can’t be carrying, if I’m turned.”

  He rubbed his jaw with his palm.

  “And if I am already turned . . . wouldn’t we have bigger problems than some low-level vamps sniffing around? Wouldn’t you have to worry about the Vampire Council coming after you for turning their vessel?”

  “True dat,” he said, thoughtfully. “But, baby, you’ve definitely ripened.” All of a sudden his head tilted and his nostrils flared.

  “Will you forget about them, Carlos! They can’t get in here. I’ve got other concerns right now. Look, my name would have burned into their books if I’d turned, you’d thought it yourself.” She stared at him. Something wasn’t right. Her turning and the Vampire Council’s response should have been Carlos’s top priority, but it wasn’t. He was hiding something from her; she could feel it. What could be more important than the dark side losing its vessel?

  She studied him hard and kept pushing him for answers. “If I’ve completely turned, all Hell would literally be breaking loose right now, and it’s not. So, I’m not fully turned.”

  “Damned sure felt like it,” he said and his voice sent a sensual shiver through her.

  No, she was not going there with him again. They needed to talk. “This might have been a false ripening.”

  He shook his head, his gaze penetrating her. “No, baby, that I’m very clear about.”

  Her hand nervously rested on her abdomen. “If I’d conceived tonight, then wouldn’t that register somewhere, too? Wouldn’t the presence of a potential daywalker conception show up in the registers of Hell?”

  Carlos crossed his arms over his chest. “After what I laid down tonight, you are pregnant as a jaybird, D. It might not have registered, yet, but I’m sure. Till I know otherwise, I’m treating you like you’re carrying mine.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again. She could not believe the macho bullshit coming out of this man’s mouth. Half of her wanted laugh, it was so ludicrous, the other half of her wanted to punch him. She shook her head, but held her peace. Neither option at the moment would have been wise.

  “Do me a favor,” she said, exasperated. “Do the lower-level vamps—I’ll even help you—but the humans, let them go. If you feed on them in my presence I’ll—”

  “What, D? Never speak to me again? Please,” he said, gathering transport clouds about them. “Don’t piss me off, woman. I’m not in the mood!”

  “What?” She began to circle him, temporarily halting their transport. One hand went to her hip, while the other pointed at him. “Let’s get one thing straight, Carlos. Pregnant or not, turned or not, you’d better cut the alpha male crap—now. I am not the one!”

  “I hope Jose and Lopez are right,” Rider said, checking the magazine in his gun. “Up till now, we’ve been real lucky—no cops, no public incidents, and now we’re talking about running a Hum-V and two Jeeps through a gated community, taking out the south wall with a light shell and C4, and basically setting off what could be misconstrued as a terrorist action upon a private mansion. Anybody feeling me?”

  No one in the platoon of warriors answered Rider, except Marlene.

  “Blow the wall, Mike. I’m goin’ in, with or without y’all, to get my baby girl.”

  There was nothing to say to this crazy man as she walked the perimeter of the mansion’s upper balcony with him. The Hellhounds were baying in the distance and she rubbed her arms to stave off the creeps.

  Out of nowhere, six lower-level male vampires appeared on the balcony. Damali braced herself for battle, but was shocked when Carlos walked over to one of them and hugged him.

  “Talk to me,” Carlos said.

  “They got your cop,” a tall, light-skinned vampire said. “You told us to watch your back, keep an eye out in the territory for anything shaky—and we did. Man, we heard the abduction, your marked man’s energy dipped and his mind was screaming, and got to his house as fast as we could. It was definitely master energy lingering. Only thing left was his crucifix on the garage floor.”

  “Damn!” Carlos shouted. His gaze swept the bulked vamps.

  Damali eyed the transaction. She was sure that she recognized the lead vamp from the drag race that had gone down at Carlos’s old club. He was empire building, had made lieutenants. Fear collided with fury within her. This was not the man she thought she knew. She understood that he had territory to control, but somehow she could also feel that it was expanding. She and Carlos definitely needed to talk.

  “We’re picking up two lower levels with a human team coming toward your lair. Them, we can handle.”

  Carlos shook his head. “Me and my lady haven’t fed yet. Leave them to us. We got this. See if you can find a tracer on which way they took the cop.”

  Panic coursed through Damali. She looked at Carlos’s expression and noted how glassy his eyes looked. The man was obviously high, blitzed on Neteru. He wasn’t making logical decisions. She already knew which cop they were probably talking about. He’d turned Berkfield, an innocent, into a vamp helper? When?

  The leader of the small group nodded as Carlos flashed molten images of continents in the air with a wave of his hand. “Check the atmosphere. Dust from their lairs would have left a scent marker, Yonn
ie. I’ll school you as we go along.” With two snaps, the hounds were at Carlos’s side, swooping in to land with a snarling thud. “They ate a coupla sniffers.” He stroked one of the beast’s head. “Bath Sheba, baby, tell Daddy where your dinner came from.”

  Again, red flaming continents appeared in the air. Damali watched in total awe as the extent of Carlos’s powers, and the new hierarchy surrounding him, was revealed. The dogs sniffed the air, and bleated out agitated barks as their brutish snouts neared the apparition of Australia.

  “Want us to take a team there?” the junior vamp asked.

  Carlos shook his head. “Reinforce my territory borders here, in South America, and in the Caribbean. If some bullshit came across the water from the Aussie’s camp, I will address it myself.”

  The small squad of vampires all nodded, and then vanished. Oddly, they hadn’t reacted to any Neteru scent. Confusion throttled her. Carlos walked in an agitated circle. Damali just stared at him as his hounds also disappeared. Although they hadn’t spoken upon it, the issue was burned into their awareness; finding the biblical key was paramount.

  Suddenly an explosion rocked the house, and in two seconds Carlos was pure motion. He bound over the edge of the balcony, hovering in the air for a few seconds, before he transformed into a huge, black bat. She stared. Her man had turned into something with large leather wings and moved at a blurring speed, then had vanished. Something rational told her not to just try to leap behind him. The sixty-foot drop, alone, would kill her . . . maybe; or at the very least would shatter her legs. She had to take the long route—through the house, down the stairs, and out into the garden, running behind what she could no longer see.

  “We’re in!” Big Mike said.

  “Yeah, and just gave the whole neighborhood and Rivera a heads-up that we are,” Rider said.

  Big Mike glanced over his shoulder. “Look alive, people. There’s something growling, and it ain’t vamp.”

  All eleven vampire hunters fanned out and formed a circle.

  “It’s animal,” Shabazz said. “Could be were-demon, but its definitely canine.” He glanced up into the trees, his gaze taking in the canopy of foliage. “And it’s on the move.”