by L. A. Banks
Temporary silence waited between them. Damali couldn’t tear her mind away from thinking about all the people riding the buses, folks bumping into each other on the streets in a crowd, standing in elevators, kids hugging their parents, or greeting friends with an embrace or handshake, brothers high-fiving after a game, lovers touching … even down to somebody handing another person change for a dollar …
The spread of this is unquantifiable until the infection finally manifests itself, Father Patrick said in a weary tone. And we cannot just take innocent human lives on a hunch that they’ve been touched. Each person who dies and comes back adds to the legions of the Damned, and each is a loss from the Light. Of course, with this surge in dark energy, there has been a breakdown in normal human behavior as well.
Damali paused. Like anything already deep and dark slithering inside a person’s head is given more energy?
Yes. Tell Carlos to call me as soon as he can. I’m concerned. Even those of us within the Covenant are being affected. I will not speak of my other brethren’s issues, but I’m sure you can understand why each of us was called home.
Hold up, Damali said. You said Neterus can’t—
Adam couldn’t be infected, but he wasn’t impervious to the energies and neither was Eve. It was at that time that Adam and Eve made that fateful choice in the Garden.
Wait, Damali nearly shouted and folded her arms. Then, who released the Damned the first time around? Lilith?
The Chairman, Father Patrick said flatly. Lilith was on the run and didn’t dare cross her new husband, Lucifer. He’d provided her amnesty. But remember, in that era, the Chairman was also a Level-Seven entity. He had not been banished to the weaker Level Six and made a vampire. That’s why we initially discounted him and thought that with Lilith on the run, she wouldn’t attempt such a stunt that would allow her enraged husband to find her. Until we began to see the same manifestations that had been reported in the ancient Dead Sea Scrolls, we weren’t sure if the Damned had surfaced again. We now believe that she was simply too weakened to close the portals she’d opened, and has fled. The issue is we cannot confirm that theory.
Damali allowed her arms to fall away from her body and covered her mouth. She mentally blotted out Marlene’s stricken expression. Oh, my God … that’s why the ancient Neterus have been quiet on this one.
Yes, Father Patrick said quietly. This shames the heads of both Councils, to some degree. But if a direct request is made, maybe they would give some guidance within their own ranks. They have heard our entreaties and said they would take it under advisement. No one wants to touch this matter with a ten-foot pole. Every layer On High is debating personal choice, not wanting to breach that human option as they assist and potentially draw the Wrath. The current living Neterus, you and Carlos, have to make clear decisions, defeat this the old way, for reasons the angels have not yet made clear to even us. Each time we’ve asked, we’ve been told to have faith, patience, and to back off. Ausar and Aset inquired and were told to wait and watch and that they would be given a sign, so their hands are tied.
What! Damali mentally shouted. But what if the dark side has been perfecting this biohazard weapon since they ran the test on Adam? What if it’s not an accidental energy leak and there’s more to this? What if they’re working on some new Neteru-compromising infection—
Yes. It’s thoroughly documented that they will stop at nothing to be able to render a Neteru ineffective. We just hope this isn’t it. We’ve all been discussing whether or not they needed larger populations to see if it worked, because the first time they tried it, Adam contained it. Then they targeted major biblical cities—I take it you remember Sodom and Gomorrah? What was the Light’s answer? Total wipeout. Noah’s flood … wipeout of the contagion.
Damali’s breath hitched, and Marlene offered her a full-body hug. But why didn’t we know about this before? We should have been warned and—
We were! It’s in all the scriptures across every religion telling humanity to brace themselves for visceral spiritual attacks and to stand firm in their choices before the sea spews back her dead and—
I know! But, specifically, why didn’t—
Because, child, after the sacrifice of the Lamb, there was enough heat in the system … enough Light to keep the portals closed. Lilith dared not come to the surface, and Level Seven was lying in wait for the right hour. But when she thought she had a sure-fire plan, she acted prematurely and opened a way for the Damned to escape. Don’t you understand? The only thing keeping this somewhat manageable is that this all occurred while Hell was in leadership chaos. These infected souls, the Lilim’s food, are slipping out of each realm and sporadically escaping. They have not been harnessed as a direct weapon, yet. The power drain on Level Six is making it difficult for them to properly align. But if anything galvanizes them at that strongest strategic level above the Seventh … like if the Chairman gets reinstated, or a replacement is found—
Not on my watch.
We hope not. We have faith, and it is only because of what you and Carlos did together to ransack Level Six that this imminent event has been somewhat diffused.
I can getYonnie and T—
No! The elderly cleric shot back, his thoughts so sharp and fearful that they almost fried a few synapses.
Damali winced.
They are friends to you and your team, but multiple thrones sit vacant. The temptation for a master vampire to claim one is too great. He could even seat his mate. Then, where would that leave us? Now do you understand why you and Carlos weren’t informed?
Damali nodded. I understand, but they already know about the Damned.
We don’t care if they know about the Damned. If they are inclined to assist by eliminating any roaming undead all the better. ButYonnie doesn’t need the temptation of an empty council-level throne. Father Patrick’s mental voice had become a strained whisper. Tell Carlos to call me the moment he’s lucid. If he is going to petition Adam … well, let’s just say that they have very different personalities and backgrounds. I’m concerned.
Yonnie and Tara have a bounty on their heads if they go subterranean because they helped me and Carlos, so I don’t think they’d risk trying to go underground on us, Damali said firmly, hoping the old priest would relax.
Every person living has some demon that they fight. Ego, fury, hurt, insecurity, lust—pick one, dear Neteru. Even if they have conquered it, this dark energy could make choices they have to make very difficult. Weaknesses become magnified during this turmoil. Close the portals and that will cease. Destroying Lilith is the first step. Finding the antidote for all those infected but not yet lost is the second step. If we get the book to release all those from the dawn of time, that would be the pinnacle of a successful mission.
Damali remained very still. The elderly priest had mentioned the book earlier and then evaded her question for more information about it when she’d pried. Now it had been mentioned again. She seized upon the opportunity during the seconds he rested and gathered his thoughts. The Book of the Damned. What is it? Who has it? What does it do?
We have yet to be sent a sign about how to acquire this—we know who has it, but where it is hidden is unknown. Just like the antidote, this remains a mystery…. We were hoping to have more before we contacted you, he said, still skillfully evading her direct questions. In the past, there was never a cure. Before, a total biblical-level wipeout had been the Almighty’s answer … and we hope that will not come to pass again. Our information is only twenty-four hours old. You have not been kept in the dark long. Don’t lose faith in us at this juncture.
Again, Damali hesitated, letting the information Father Patrick had just disclosed sink in. She wondered if this explained Carlos’s behavior. Everybody on her team, herself included, had been off kilter. Damali closed the door on that part of her thoughts.
How is your team faring, Damali? Father Patrick asked, probing further.
Damali sighed and gave in. Issues are bubbling
up and personal fires have been flaring up faster than I can put ’em out. She let her breath out hard. This book, we have to find it. Period. The antidote could even be in there, who knows?
Like I just said, we know who has it … and we know what it contains, we just aren’t sure where it is. Father Patrick hesitated and let out an audible breath into the speakerphone.
Talk to me, please, Father. How can we beat this problem if we can’t even know what our weapons are?
The Chairman has it, he finally said in a quiet mental voice. Any of those fallen into the realms through trickery or deceit must be called by name from the angels’ voices to release them from bondage below. It will not release the Lilim or any fully turned entity until they are exterminated. But these walking dead, the food of the realms, will be called into the Light and given a second opportunity to make amends. If we had that, we could save any and all who died from this recent outbreak … maybe even some of those from before it. But the clock is ticking. If the planet becomes overrun, Hell will commence the Armageddon, not the other way around, as it should be—and our side may not have enough souls left in our coffers to battle what is to come. The Creator might have to scrap the most magnificent experiment—humankind … the whole planet. By fire this time.
“Whoa!” Damali said, breaking eye contact with Marlene and raking her locks. The entire team watched her stalk back and forth. What Father Patrick said was enough to spike her sensory capacity to overload. She didn’t need prompting to ask the elderly cleric her follow-up question. Pure frustration riddled her system—she’d held that freakin’ book in her own hands when she’d gone into Council Chambers to beat the Chairman’s ass down … and she’d let him have it back? Damali groaned and briefly shut her eyes. No wonder the old bastard was so ready to cut a deal! Yeah, she’d wrested the embryo from Lilith, but she still felt like she’d failed.
Steadying her nerves, Damali addressed Father Patrick in a subdued mental tone. Assuming it will be next to impossible to get this book from the Chairman, let’s go back to the antidote as plan B. What is it? How do we get it out, worldwide, before any infected person drops? That’s what we have to find out.
I wish we knew, Father Patrick mentally replied, his mind so weary that Damali could barely hear him. His sentence came across as a rasp. Until we know if it’s a prayer, something dispersed in solid or liquid form, and what elements are involved, we can’t fathom a delivery system. This is also how the governments got involved. A few of our elite members, who shall remain nameless for the sake of propriety, had top-level conversations with world leaders. This is serious, Damali. I’m not authorized to say more. Just know that extreme human measures are being considered to quell the contagion that none of us are happy with.
Humans always tend to mess things up, and governments can’t be considered rational. Far from it. Damali sighed and rubbed her temples. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll explain what I know to the team and investigate. Why don’t you try to get some rest? You sound bone tired, Father Pat.”
“I am, sweetheart. Truly, I am.”
CHAPTER FOUR
She’d watched dawn come in as she lay on her sofa, glad that she’d been able to get the family to give in to her need to be alone despite the attack. There was no reason for them to worry about her falling asleep. Fat chance of that after everything had jumped off. Add a serious case of bad nerves to the fact that she had been up almost all night with them, deep in strategy at the dining room table, her not being alert should have been the least of their worries. She needed space to think.
By the time she’d dragged her weary, ragged body home, fending off complete protest from the team, she was simply ready to drop. She’d thought she’d never get out of there, though, when Yonnie allowed his voice to descend to a purposeful octave and calmly asked if she wanted an escort home. Not.
The only reason she didn’t make a big production out of telling him to back off was that Tara would have been embarrassed, and this was just some Yonnie, master vampire, bullshit to get under her girlfriend’s skin in front of Rider, who apparently had an attitude about Tara’s glimpse at both Rider and Carlos. But the team bugging hard about it had frayed her last nerve.
The point everyone seemed to miss was as long as Carlos was handling his business, Yonnie would never step to her, out of respect and because he and Carlos were fam…. But if Carlos ever stopped handling his business, well … It was the way of the vamp world. That was what had bristled Tara, and the message Yonnie was trying to send—that he had options. Both of them were crazy.
Oh, yeah, there had to be some seriously dark energy afloat. Damali rubbed her eyes and tried to wake up fully. But personal issues, lusts, struggles, whatever, paled in comparison to what they were up against. She had to remain clear about that.
After the conversation with Father Patrick, she didn’t have enough energy to try to wrangle with the Neteru Queens. But once she recharged her mental battery, she’d try to make contact with Nzinga to learn more.
Bottom line was, she had to figure out how to locate Lilith and the Chairman. Up till now, she really hadn’t been hunting them; she’d just been trying to heal herself and her team. She now wondered how much of that was because of the dark energy that had been released, and it made her question whether or not she’d been wrongly focused on her own immediate concerns, versus her overall mission as a Neteru. Had her plan been logical—retreat and get strong, then get back into the fight?
That’s what unnerved her, not knowing if her logic was sound, her strategy tight. She was now also beginning to question her intense desire to live away from the team. Was that just a normal evolution of her growth as a woman and a Neteru, or something motivated by deep, hidden, selfish reasons?
She let her breath out hard and closed her eyes. What she’d seen and had come to learn now made sense. She kept reminding herself not to be judgmental. Father Patrick had said this open portal mess with bad vibes floating around affected everyone differently.
First things first: get Carlos up and sober, then fill him in. Rider and Shabazz had committed to getting him up and pouring coffee into his gullet. Mike and Inez had to be found, and they had to get on a flight back home, and once home, get debriefed. Salt supplies had to be reinforced to do roofs, windows, doors, and the house perimeter—a FedEx shipment was on the way from Stateside clerical Covenant contacts.
They still had to figure out a way to lock in on the Chairman, and for that, Carlos Rivera had to be in his clear and present mind and stop avoiding his role as a pivotal team seer. But now that the team knew what it was up against, sensing for it would be a little easier. Maybe.
The new day’s light hovered over her like the comfortable old blanket she’d curled up under on her living room couch. She rubbed her cheek against it.
Slowly sitting up and then standing, Damali allowed the blanket to trail behind her as she walked to the bathroom to splash water on her face and brush her teeth. She didn’t bother to turn on the light and draped the blanket around her shoulders like a poncho as she stared into the mirror. She hadn’t even taken off her clothes and was still wearing the bright orange T-shirt and faded jeans she’d had on the night before.
Weariness made her limbs heavy. She padded quietly toward the kitchen in her socks. For all the protest about needing her personal space, it had always been her intention to christen her brand-new bed with Carlos. Then the walking dead had showed up at her door. A real groove buster.
A hot mug of tea was in order. By rote, she reached up into her brand-new cabinets, found a box of green tea, and began preparing a mug by drizzling raw honey over the organic tea bag and then flipping on the burner beneath the kettle. All of a sudden she smelled metal and snatched the kettle off the flame.
Oh, yeah, water. Everything was brand-spanking new. Nothing in her new house was old and worn and comfortable or broken in, except Jose’s blanket.
Angry hisses and sputters sounded from the sink as Damali turned on
the faucet and filled the kettle, then stood by the stove, watching the blue flame tickle the bottom of it. Too much heat without enough water … Leo flame hadn’t respected the Scorpio water. Carlos had a point; she wasn’t big on the solitude of majestic Arizona, either.
Soon steam rose from the small hole in the kettle’s spout, letting out a soft whistle. The fusion of heat and water had changed the two elements into something else. It created a sound—a high, whining rush of transformation. She turned off the burner. What was she missing? she thought as she dunked the teabag in and out of the water.
Pulling her blanket closer around her, she walked through the kitchen to the back deck. She needed air, to be outside. Probably as much as Carlos needed his own environment, something familiar, something that gave him some measure of control over whatever was going on in his life. Here, he didn’t have that.
Footsteps down the side path made her straighten her body, wipe her face angrily, and spin on the intruder.
“Yo, D,” Jose said. “You okay?” He hesitated and looked at her tear-streaked face. “After last night, and a lot of the things you told us while Carlos was passed out cold … I was worried.” His gaze sought hers and trapped it. “And, if Yonnie happened to fall by to try to mess with your head while you had a lot on your mind, I brought my crossbow to stake his ass in lair in the morning. Hope you don’t mind.”
She nodded and then laughed self-consciously through the tears. “I move around the corner, and still nobody knocks?” She was glad that he smiled, because the statement wasn’t meant as a dig, just a friendly tease. She made a fist and raised it toward the sky. “It’s a Navajo-Latino thing, and I wouldn’t understand. It’s cultural—on the Navajo side, no one owns the land, so it’s cool if you just roll up on ’em as long as they’re outside. On the Latino side—why use a phone when you can just fall by and see if a sistah is home?”