The Damned

by L. A. Banks

  Damali dragged her nose across his shoulder. The sensation sent a shudder of desire through him. The images in his head melted into the rooms of the Potala—thrones, books, swirled in his mind. Before long, his breaths were coming out in short pants. He was chained to a wall, scorpions exited the floor and covered his feet, scurried up his legs, and turned into tiny gargoyle-like creatures that grew and became harpies. He tried to jerk his head up, but Damali had a firm grip at the base of his skull.

  “Stay with it,” she murmured. “I got you. I’m here.”

  Pain riddled his body, and then suddenly gave way to weightlessness. A dark throne sat alone, smoke pouring over the floor, and then strong desire filled him. His groin felt like it was on fire. Golden fangs opened. A dark book was just beyond his reach. He nuzzled her neck hard, and battled not to score her throat. He could feel his gums about to rip, but as his tongue ran over his teeth, they’d remained smooth, even, flat. A sudden nip against his jugular made him open his eyes and gasp.

  “You smell so damned good,” she whispered, her eyes at half-mast. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Her hand slid down his chest. “It’s been a long time.”

  He held her upper arms, shook his head hard, chasing the vision, trying to catch it. “There’s a book, D.”

  “Forget the book,” she said in a husky tone. “Forget about what happened in the hotel room, okay?”

  “What happened in the hotel room, baby?” he said, his voice tight and frantic as he tried to wipe the desire haze from mind. He shook her gently. “Damali. Focus. What happened in the room?”

  She rose on her tiptoes and suddenly crushed her mouth against his. “I don’t care,” she said as she pulled away, and then crushed his mouth again, sending her tongue into it. She swayed in his arms and gripped the back of his hair tightly. “Stop playing.”

  He stared into her now glassy eyes that glittered with something dangerous. “There’s a book—”

  She covered his mouth again, her body writhing against his as she yanked back his head, her gaze dedicated to his jugular. The sensation of watching her eyes produced near vertigo, but something inside him cried out for understanding.

  “Not while I’m apexing,” he said, suddenly pushing her away.

  “Are you nuts?” she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “No. Something’s wrong.”

  “You’re damned straight, something’s wrong,” she said, her tone icy. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  He blinked twice and stared at her. “What is wrong with you?” he said in a shocked whisper. “D … talk to me.”

  Her arm pulled away from her body as she pointed at him in a hard snap. “Who is she? What is she? You talk to me, dammit.” Damali walked away and stood between the two monk cots in the room. “How long have you been dealing with this bitch? Huh!”

  Carlos held up his hands. “Keep your voice down. We don’t need the family in this. Baby—”

  “I remember what happened on my porch,” she said, her voice low and seething with rage. Her breaths came out in short bursts; tears rose to her eyes but didn’t fall. “You washed me into my living room, opened my fucking nose so wide a tractor trailer could drive through it, and then backed off—left me hanging.” She closed her eyes and hugged herself and shuddered hard. “All right. I was wrong about pushing you away … about having a temporary lapse and thinking about somebody else for a second. I’m sorry. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Done. I’m sorry.” She wiped her hands down her face and breathed into them, her line of vision again capturing his. “But, baby, don’t do me like this.” She shook her head as she approached him slowly. “Not tonight.”

  Information attacked his mind. Her words were connecting to a distant memory, colliding with the present. It was like she was possessed, wanted him more than ever, but he couldn’t respond the way she needed him to. The memory contained a red flag of danger. Her body moved too sensually across the floor. Her voice had dropped to an octave that wasn’t hers. The competing images of what he knew and what he loved stripped passion away, dulled the ache her sexy advance caused. There was no silvery-gold flicker in her wide brown irises. The inner glow was too dark.

  “Back off,” he ordered and jumped over a bed to avoid her. “What happened in the hotel room?”

  She met him on the other side of the cot in a lightning move. “What did you say?”

  He avoided an open hand slap, and grabbed her jaw. Instead of a punch he’d expected her to hurl, she closed her eyes. Her scent filled the room. Ripening Neteru began to enter his nose, but it was off and contained sulfur. That’s when he pushed her back and slapped her.

  “Damali! Where are you?”

  She held the side of her face, looked dazed for a second and then normalized. Her hand rubbed her cheek as she stared at him. “Have you lost your mind?’ she whispered in her normal voice. “You hit me?” She spun around and walked to the door. “You hit me in my face because I was trying to kiss you?”

  “D, it wasn’t like that,” he said, coming toward her, but she held up her hand. “That’s not what happened!”

  “Now I’m crazy?” she said in disbelief. “I’m out. I need air. Follow me and I’ll cut your damned throat in the streets.”

  “D, wait!”

  But it was too late; she was out the door.

  She walked a hot path—to where, she wasn’t sure. The streets were still loaded with pedestrians and tourists. Cyber cafés and restaurants bustled with nightlife. All she wanted to find was a bench to sit down on and weep. The man had hit her, an unpardonable offense. He’d actually slapped the fucking taste out of her mouth. A hundred possibilities ran through her mind. Was he living on the down-low now? Plenty of sisters had to cope with that. Another woman? Relapsing? Detoxing? Whatever. It didn’t matter. The man she was with was domestically violent. Unacceptable. She was out. His ass was possessed. Screw the contagion as an excuse. End game.

  She stopped on a corner. Where the hell was she gonna go? She was in freaking Tibet and had a mission to accomplish. She turned back toward the building that housed her team. She had to go back, had to get the angel tears, slay the Chairman, and get them all back to the airport in one piece. Had to find … her thoughts trailed off as she saw Carlos running down the street.

  Her first impulse was to unsheathe her blade and gore him. Too dramatic in a foreign country. She’d get her own room; this bullshit was over. She didn’t care what he had to say.

  “Listen,” she said, one finger in his face as he came near.

  “I was out of my mind,” he said, then jerked her to him and covered her argument with a deep, sensual kiss. “I’ve been stressed, you’ve been stressed. I hate this shit. Let’s get out of here. Tibet is giving me the hives.” He covered her mouth again before she could respond and set cool fire to her skin.

  She tried to pull out of the kiss but felt something close to delirium capture her mind.

  “I want this worse than you do,” he said into her hairline. “C’mon. Let’s find somewhere to be alone.” He raked his nose down the side of her throat, sending shivers along her spine.

  She closed her eyes, swayed, and dragged her nose across his collarbone. He released a low, quiet moan. The adrenaline spike, along with whatever he was trailing, made her nearly forget she was standing outside on a busy street. It was reflex when she ran her fingers through his hair. She could feel his jaw become packed with sudden steel, just like what was pressing against her thigh.

  “Oh, shit, I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

  “I know,” he crooned, a fang now threatening to break the skin of her throat.

  She couldn’t take it; he’d pushed her past the point of shame in the streets. She bit him, no hesitation in the strike, and felt his knees buckle. But when she did so, the taste in her mouth was metallic. He lifted his head and smiled, but his eyes were just a shade too dark. No silver flicker behind his irises. His signature scent evaporated. He caugh
t her breath.

  “Damn,” he murmured. “Perfect vessel.”

  Before she could respond, he glanced over his shoulder, snapped, and was gone.

  She looked up and Carlos caught her. She could have sworn he had on a black designer suit just moment ago, how the hell did he get into a T-shirt and jeans so fast? Then she remembered. Oh, yeah, the bastard had slapped her. She pushed him away, still enraged.

  “Do not touch me!” she shouted, not caring that heads turned on the street. “Back off or die.”

  “D, I was worried,” he said in a gentle tone. “I had to. Something sealed the door to our room shut when I tried to follow you, and it took—”

  “The angels probably sealed the damned door to keep me from cutting your heart out,” she argued, one hand on her hip the other in his face. “Don’t you eva put your hands on me like that. I don’t care who you think you are. I’ll have your ass in front of a judge so fucking fast they’ll throw the book at you! If you eva hit me again, it’s—”

  “Angels!” he shouted, walking in a circle. “The book! Oh, shit, Damali. I have to get the book!”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It felt as though her heart was pounding out of her chest as she sprinted beside Carlos through the streets and up the steep incline of steps to the building that housed their team. They banged on doors like the house was on fire as they passed each room, instantly calling a meeting by express method—hollering.

  “Yo, yo, yo, heads up!” Carlos yelled, slamming doors with his fist.

  Damali put her shoulder to the door of their small room and barreled through it, her gaze sweeping for anything that shouldn’t be there. Within moments, the entire team had piled into the room behind her and slammed the door.

  “Talk to me, people,” Shabazz said.

  “Lilith took her body for a second,” Carlos said, waving his hands as he spoke.

  “He was trailing the beginnings of apex scent,” Damali said, walking in a circle, bumping into Carlos, “and he slapped the shit out of me.”

  “It was Lilith,” Carlos said, his voice rising defensively. “I would never slap Damali. Something was wrong with the kiss, the vibe wasn’t right. That’s why I told her to back off while I was apexing. My gut told me to ignore the body—I had to get my head together. I slapped her and her eyes changed!”

  “Well, that’ll happen if you slap a Neteru, dude,” Rider said, but his tone wasn’t amused. “Her eyes will change, and then the daggers come out. So you’d better hope like hell you slapped Lilith, and not Damali.”

  “I know what I saw,” Carlos argued, jumping up on a bed and staring out the window.

  “Let’s everybody try to stay calm,” Marlene said. “With the contagions, tempers are apt to flare—”

  “I know what I saw, Mar,” Carlos repeated, his voice rising. “This wasn’t the damned infection. Even as a vampire, I never slapped Damali—under any conditions, hitting a woman ain’t my style. But Lilith, yeah. I’ll blow her head off.”

  “Down in the square,” Damali said, her breaths labored as adrenaline rippled through her. “The Chairman came to me, I think.”

  Everybody stopped moving, and Carlos spun around. “What?”

  “He kissed me, and it definitely wasn’t you. Metallic taste in my mouth when I bit him.”

  “What!” Carlos was off the bed and in her face. “You knew it wasn’t me and bit that mother—”

  “It looked exactly like you, was talking the exact same shit you talk when you want some, and—”

  “Okay, okay,” Marlene said, coming between the combatants. “They shape-shifted on both of you. We got that part.” She looked at Carlos. “You’re bait.” She motioned toward Damali. “You’re the steel trap.”

  Shabazz nodded. “If he’s near true apex, he’s a solid lure for Lilith. Damali ain’t in phase, so she’s gotta take the Chairman’s head once he surfaces to go after Lilith or come for Carlos. Male Neteru apex in his zones is gonna draw his old ass out of hiding.”

  Damali and Carlos parted and went to opposite sides of the room, elbowing past the others. He leaned on one wall and wiped his hands down his face; she leaned on a rickety dresser and did the same.

  “All right, I’m bait,” Carlos muttered.

  “I’ve got the Chairman’s head, no problem. We move out first light,” Damali said, regaining her composure. “Just tell me how I’m supposed to lop off Lilith’s head when she’s inside my body? How am I supposed to do that—and trust me, I want her ass as bad as I want the Chairman’s.”

  “Mar, not trying to add a wrinkle to this loosely constructed plan, but how in the hell did an entity enter a fully matured Neteru like Damali? That’s why it was taking me a minute to get with Rivera’s defense.” Rider raked his fingers through his hair and quickly glanced at both Neterus in the room before his gaze held Marlene’s. “I can get with a shape-shift. That’s pure vamp illusion shit. But if what Carlos said is true, then Lilith temporarily slid into Damali’s body. From all I’ve heard, that ain’t ever supposed to happen.”

  Damali’s hands went to the top of her head as she searched Marlene’s eyes for answers. “That’s way strong mojo, Mar. Rider’s right. Damn, I ain’t playing that shit!”

  “Lilith is from Level Seven, and she’s got strengths beyond the vamp capacity,” Marlene said, her eyes scouring the group. “But she needed a host, a carrier, that’s already, uh, literally, been inside of Damali’s body before. We’re all infected by the demon contagion, and Damali’s defenses could have been temporarily down, especially with the distraction of her partner going into a full apex.” Marlene stared at Carlos. “Talk to me, brother. How you been feeling lately?”

  “I’m fine,” Carlos said, crossing his arms. “Normal, regular, nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Oh, bullshit!” Damali said, pushing off the dresser. “You have not been fine. You cannot remember things! Your personality runs hot and cold. One minute you don’t have enough energy to lift your head off a pillow, the next you’re battling insomnia and have all the energy in the world.” She shook her head. “Nah. You ain’t all right.”

  “I went out once drinking with Yonnie, and felt bad, but—”

  “Noooo …” Damali said in a low voice. “That night I doused your clothes—”

  “Nothing happened!” Carlos gestured wildly with his hands. “What happened out of the ordinary, D? The clothes didn’t even smolder, I was—”

  “Like the Devil himself.” Damali jerked her attention toward Marlene. “I remember now. He came at me with some shit I ain’t never seen before, and the Carlos I know would have never come at me like that—had me scared in my own fucking house, crying and shit, then everything got fuzzy.”

  “What are you talking about, Damali?” Carlos stood in the center of the room as the team’s gaze bounced from him to Damali and back again.

  Damali covered her face, breathed into her hands, and summoned calm. When she lowered her arms, she kept her voice even and controlled. “Outside, just now, you started running and said the angels told you to get the book. When did the angels come? Think back. What book?”

  The team parted as Carlos began to pace slowly, his hands balling to fists at his sides. “Yeah. Right. I did. I remember. I was pissed off. Left the house. But …”

  Juanita walked over to him and placed a hand on his arm. Eyes widened on every face. Damali bristled.

  “We talked in the front yard. Remember? You were on your way to L.A.”

  Damali folded her arms over her chest. “Yeah. What did you and Juanita talk about, Carlos?” Damali’s eyes narrowed. “For all we know, her ass could be a carrier—she was out of team sight for a long time before—”

  “C’mon, D,” Jose said, cutting her off. “I wanna hear what she’s gotta say, too. So, let ’Nita tell us what went down in the front yard that ain’t nobody know about. I also have a few questions about the vibe I caught when I took Krissy to your house. Cool?”

 
Damali pounded Jose’s fist.

  “Aw, shit,” Big Mike said, smoothing a palm over his bald head. “C’mon, y’all. We family.”

  Juanita scowled at Damali and averted her eyes from Jose. “Carlos, you were on your way to L.A. Said …”

  Her voice trailed off and he nodded. A silent understanding passed between them. Part of the conversation need not be said. “Then I was driving and—”

  “Hol’ up!” Damali said, both hands raised. “Skip to, and then I was driving? Rivera, I ain’t—”

  “I told one member of the house where I was going!” Carlos shouted, pointing at Juanita, “because you were giving me the blues. Yeah, I explained that I was out so the whole house didn’t mount up a search party, or try to go after my boy to stake him. Yonnie wasn’t in this bullshit. Then a deer, which I thought was Tara, came out of nowhere. Smashed my window. I spun out. Started walking. Blue light came down and covered me! Tara’s hunt was on the hood of my car. She couldn’t see me because of the light!”

  Carlos was breathing hard as he walked around in a hot circle. “Next thing I know, voices, thundering voices told me to get the book and take the Chairman’s head. So I went down to Hell like they told me to do and walked into Chambers! All right? You clear? And it was all fucked up down there. Everything was trashed. Thrones decimated. The pentagram table leaning. Torches pulled out of the walls. Fucking bats scared to move. But no book!”

  “You went to Hell?” Damali yelled.

  “To get The Book of the Damned,” Carlos shouted back. “Heaven needs it before the big war kicks off to free lost souls! We all know that. What about this ain’t clear?”

  Marlene nearly collapsed against Shabazz’s side. Marjorie sat down slowly on the bed. Rider’s back hit the wall with a thud. One by one, Guardians attempted to open their mouths to comment, but no sound came out.

  “You went back down there, alone, and opened a seal on sacred Indian ground to retrieve something like that?” Damali closed her eyes. “Oh, my God.”

  “They told me to!” Carlos argued. “You don’t negotiate with angels, you do what the fuck they say when they say and don’t ask questions. It wasn’t there, anyway. The Chairman has it! You know that; you had the self-same book in your hand yourself when you went down there half-cocked on a solo mission, right? And he was the last one that had it. Snatched it back from you on a trade.”