"Watch your fucking mouth," Dante said, baring his fangs.
"You wanna go?" Victor said, baring his fangs also. "We can rock and roll."
"Guys, please," I begged. "Can you just stop arguing for once? I'll help load the van, jeez."
Victor retracted his fangs and glared at me.
"Thanks." He disappeared in a brown and black blur of skin and dreadlocks.
"Why does he treat you so badly?" I asked Dante, as we retreated to the basement. Dante opened the back door while I picked up a set of congas.
"He's an asshole. Always has been."
"But why?" I struggled with the heavy drum and Dante took it from me.
"If you ask me, I think he misses home."
"Africa?"
"Yeah…the Razadi valley, I guess. What's left of it."
"Did something happen to your home?"
"We got conquered in one of the Oyo wars."
"What are the Oyo? Like, other vampires?"
Dante paused, stared at me, and then laughed.
"The Oyo are another tribe in West Africa. They're human."
"I really should have taken some African studies classes in college," I mused.
Dante smiled.
"It's ancient history now," he continued. "I haven't looked back since we left. Every place we've been since then has been new, different…but still, home. I'm at home wherever my brothers are."
"But your brothers treat you like shit. Victor, at least."
"You ever heard of deference?"
"Yeah. Like when a younger dude in a frat has to be nice to the older dudes in a frat, even if they don't deserve it?"
"Exactly. Victor's older than me. It's just part of our system. I'm supposed to defer to him. He defers to others."
"Your system stinks."
"Maybe. But it's just how we do things." He bent over, pushing instruments further into the van. I poked him in his sides and he turned around.
"What's up?" he asked. I sat down in the back of the van and pulled him down next to me. I rested my head on his shoulder. He placed his warm hand against my cheek.
"Tell me more," I requested.
"Like what?" he asked.
"I want to know everything," I said. "But don't do that psychic thing. That was crazy. Just tell me."
"There's so much to tell, though. Just ask me what you want to know."
"How many Razadi are there?"
"47."
"Just 47?"
"Yes. 47. There have been more. But we are now at 47, spread out all across the western hemisphere. Four are attached to DC."
"Attached? Like, live here?"
"Yeah, supposedly. Right now, it's just me and Victor."
"Where are the other two?"
He was silent.
"Dante?"
"I don't really want to talk about them right now."
"Okay."
"But I can tell you more about how we're organized. The 47 have been divided into cells. We try to stay in major cities where there's a significant African American presence."
"So you can stay under the radar."
"Right. A house full of black men in Laramie, Wyoming is gonna stick out a whole lot more than in DC, New York, or New Orleans. Our most senior member lives by himself out west, though. He's…"
"The chairman of the foundation, of course," I interrupted. "So he makes sure all the cells are properly funded and that you can survive, but everything else is on your own."
"You're smart."
"It's a brilliant set up. He's probably the only person who knows exactly where each cell is at any given moment, too. Because if you all knew, like through a network, then it could take just one person to expose the whole system."
"Right. He's the Godfather, if you will. He makes sure we have what we need to protect ourselves. But please believe if any of us went rogue, he'd make sure we were dealt with. Luckily, loyalty has never been an issue for our kind."
"Does he know where your other two cell members are?"
"I said I didn't want to talk about them." He got up from the van and went back into the basement to gather more instruments.
"Babarinde has it all under control," he said, emerging with a covered keyboard, which he handed to me. "I trust him. I believe in him more than Victor ever has. And if Baba says Orlando and John are safe, then they're safe."
Orlando and John, eh? I made a mental note of their names as I put the keyboard in the van.
"Maybe we should try to find them?"
Dante laughed.
"A human searching for a daywalker would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Baba has a different imperative for us right now, anyway."
"And what's that?"
Dante walked back over to me and planted a quick kiss on my lips.
"The interrogation is over," he said. "Maybe another time."
I nodded. There were only 47 Razadi. I'd heard plenty conspiracy theories in chat rooms and message boards, but never anything like this. But with a group so small and diffused, of course they'd fly under the radar for centuries.
At the Go-Go
As long as I had lived in DC, I'd never liked go-go music. It was loud for no damn reason, with hood rats shouting over dissonant melodies and flat beats.
But I was going to the go-go to support Victor's debut as the headlining artist of Ol' Skool Revival Band, better known as the ORB. DC bands always wanted to be acronyms. It was crazy how many there were. But the kids always knew which band was which.
As I stood in the crowd at the renovated Ibex Theater in Northwest, I listened to the young gals in front of me gossip about the bands.
"Girrrla, it is hot than a mug in here!"
"I know, right! I'm finna sweat this mufuckin' weave out like shit. When is ORB comin' out? Shit."
"Girl, supposably they up next."
"My muhvah used to listen to the original ORB like shit. This 'bout to be wack like shit."
"Girl no it's not, neither. The original muhfucka's son is the lead singer and I heard he fine like shit."
"He betta be for all this waiting! Shit!"
Victor's plan was coming into place. Streets were already talking about the comeback of this band that nobody had seen or heard from in at least twenty years.
Dante appeared with a drink for me.
"Fuzzy navel?" he said.
"Thanks," I said. "Seems like a lot of people are excited for this."
Dante rolled his eyes.
"He's such a drama queen," he said in my ear. "Every time we cycle back through to being public, he wants to be a rock star. The fucking center of attention as usual."
"Well, we've all got something, right? If he ain't hurting anyone, might as well let him have his moment. These people aren't thinking about daywalkers."
Dante shrugged. A portly, light skinned man with about a million freckles, wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, took the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "I am honored to introduce to you go-go royalty. In his debut here at the Ibex, and debut before the entire go-go community, this is the son of the founder of the original ORB. For the first time in its brand new form, I introduce to you Victor Pearl and the Ol' Skool Revival Band!"
Victor and the band took the stage in silence. Each player, about eight in total, could have been no older than twenty years old. There was a full brass section as well as the standard percussion section that any good go-go band must have. Victor stood in the center of the stage wearing loose-fitting jeans and a tight white sleeveless t-shirt, his caramel muscles flexing as he gripped the microphone with both hands. His eyes glowed with intensity as his mouth opened into a sneer.
"It's about to be…" Victor sang in a whiny tenor.
"A motherfuckin' blood…bath…" the band chimed in with perfect harmony.
.
Bloodbath! Motherfuckin' bloodbath!
Bloodbath! Nigga, it's a bloodbath!
Bloodbath!
Bloodbath!
.
"It's about to be…" Victor sang again. The percussion was explosive and the brass section whined better than any band I'd heard before.
The crowd took milliseconds to be one with the rhythm. The hood chicks I had overheard earlier were quick to throw their hands up and dance. I, too, moved with the crowd with Dante at my side.
For someone who was as naturally unfriendly as Victor was, the boy was good. I could see why he took so much care in assembling his band. He not only had absolutely perfected the craft of go-go music, but his stage personal was electric. He smiled. He growled. He pointed at girls in the audience and winked. The band even had choreographed moves.
I could tell from the screams of the audience that they'd never been to a go-go like this one before.
While I lost myself in the music, I saw that Dante was just as controlled as before. Yes, he bopped around in enjoyment, but his job was still to make sure everything and everyone was safe.
After about 20 minutes of Victor's set, I noticed that Dante's gaze was on another young dude. The guy was dressed plainly in blue jeans and a gray t-shirt. He was an alright-looking dude, with thick lips and a wide nose. The odd thing about him was that he was walking around like he didn't notice the music and the dancing, as though he were confused.
Dante didn't seem to consider the guy a threat as he walked past us and toward the restrooms. I shrugged it off and kept dancing.
Drenched in sweat, Dante pulled his dreadlocks back behind his head and tied them in a knot.
"We are the Ol' Skool Revival Band. I do this in honor of my late father, Ed Pearl, who did this thirty years ago. I love you dad."
I glanced at Dante who was lightly rolling his eyes as the crowd erupted in applause. I chuckled. Victor descended from the stage and was immediately surrounded by adoring fans. The old heads approached him, shook his hand, and talked to him as he tried to walk by. Victor and I made eye contact and he smiled.
Victor never did make it back to us before it was time for his second set. This set was much mellower. Rather than the aggressive original songs of the first set, ORB performed go-go covers of the classic R&B hits of the '70s and '80s.
I noticed the young man from earlier once again wandering around the go-go. He didn't look dangerous. Just…weird. His eyes seemed empty. I didn't want to be near him.
The rest of the evening was awesome. ORB had made me a believer and now I was itching to find more quality go-go bands, even as the party ended and we helped the band load up the van. Everyone's energy was high, and for the first time ever, I saw Victor really happy. He dismissed his band mates and we finished loading up the van on our own.
"I never liked go-go before tonight," I admitted to Victor. He glanced over at me as he pushed an amp through the open back door of the van.
"Go-go reminds me of home," he said gently. In that moment, I saw a tenderness about him that I didn't know existed. The harsh fluorescent lights of the parking lot lit his face up, showing beads of sweat on his brow. In that second, I got him.
Then I noticed that the young dude who I saw at the go-go was wandering around us.
"Something's up with that dude," I told Dante, as he loaded the last horn into Victor's van. He closed the door of and hurried to my side.
The guy was unsteady on his feet and he walked closer and closer to us.
"My dude, you aight?" Dante asked, positioning himself between me and the young man.
"You aight?" he mocked in an impossibly high-pitched voice. "You aight? Yooooouuuu aight?"
"This nigga high," Dante said to me. "Let's go."
"I'm high! I'm high! I'm high from only the best herb grown in the Razadi gardens!"
In a blur, Victor left the van and Dante approached the dude. He was unfazed: his eyes were glazed over like he had smoked weed every day for the past week.
"What did you say?" Victor hissed.
"I said…the Razadi grow the best herb this side of Yorubaland!" He laughed heartily.
"What's your name?" Dante asked.
"Puddin' tame! Ask me again and I'll tell you the same!" he replied.
With that, Victor slapped the shit out of the guy.
"Look at me," he said, grabbing him by the collar. "Tell me your name right now!"
"Moooooorlaaaasssss!" the man growled. His chest heaved up and down. Victor slowly released him.
"What do you want?" Dante asked.
"I have…what I…came for," he growled. "The boy…is mine."
"Okay," Victor said. "So…we're okay here, right?"
"The Razadi are okay with me," he said resuming his high-pitched, mocking voice.
"Alright," Victor said.
"By the way," he purred. "You might want to know something."
"What's that?" Dante asked.
"The Anubis Society…has your brother," he growled.
Victor and Dante froze.
"Aborişade?" Victor asked.
"Anubis…has him. Draining him."
"Where?" Dante asked.
The young man began convulsing.
"Oh my God," I said. He began to collapse and Dante helped him lay down on the ground.
Almost as quickly as his seizure began, it ceased. The man, seeming more like a boy with every passing second, opened his eyes. He was…different now.
"What the fuck is going on?" he asked in a quite normal baritone voice.
"What is your name?" Victor asked calmly.
"My name is Farid," he said. "Where am I? Did I pass out?"
Victor and Dante looked at each other.
"Yeah man," Dante said. "You passed out. Had a little too much to drink tonight?"
"I'm Muslim. I don't drink." He sat up on the ground.
"Take it easy, buddy," Dante said.
"I'll be fine," he said. I could tell from the look on his face that he wasn't afraid. He was more upset. Almost like he was saying "not again" on the inside.
"Can we give you a ride?" Victor asked.
"No. I got it. I live nearby."
"Be careful, then," Dante said. He helped Farid to his feet. He was wobbly, but he was walking on his own.
"What the fuck?" I whispered. Dante and Victor walked back toward me.
"Get in the van," Victor barked at me, then turned to Dante. "Go around the block once, then follow him home. I don't want him to make a move without us knowing."
Dante sped away in a blur.
"Who was that, Victor?"
"The less you know, the better."
"He said his name was Farid, but before, he said his name was…Mor…Morlas?"
"Justin, seriously."
"What?"
"Stop it. You know too much as it is."
Victor pulled off. The light I seemed to see in his face for that brief moment was gone. His eyes darted back and forth and his all-too-familiar sneer crept back over his face. The sight of Farid and whatever was in him gravely concerned him, but I knew better than to try to probe.
I was supposed to be going back to my apartment, but I suppose Victor was too upset to think straight. We sped past Kennedy Street entirely and I kept my mouth shut until we got back to Northeast.
As soon as we parked, Victor wasted no time unloading all of the equipment himself with the speed of a hurricane's winds. He was done by the time I stepped out of the van entirely.
It made me wonder why he always forced those around him to work twice as hard to do the same job he could do in seconds. I guess that was just his privilege as the elder Razadi.
I followed him into the house. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the wall.
"Dante will be back soon enough. You don't have to worry," he said.
"I'm not," I lied. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," he said. "Goodnight."
He sped off to his room and I heard the door slam within seconds. I walked up to Dante's room and started to undress. Within seconds, I was passed out on top of his bed.
~
An hour later, I woke
up to Dante laying down next to me in the darkness. I'd already peeled my shirt off and had my button undone on my jeans.
"Where you been?"
"Go back to sleep," he said.
"No, I'm up now. Who was that kid?"
"His name is Farid, like he said. He's…ill."
"How did he know about the Razadi?"
"He doesn't."
I paused.
"He's possessed, isn't he?"
Dante sighed.
"Yes. He's possessed."
"Mmm, mmm, mmm."
"What?"
"I'm just learning so much. But it doesn't surprise me, for some reason."
"You were meant to be part of this life."
"You think so?"
"I know. Listen, don't tell Victor I told you any of this, okay? You've got to be very careful. The being that was in Farid is dangerous to humans. They don't hurt Razadi, but they're tricky. Sometimes they work with us. Give us information. Keep us safe."
"So, they're like another race or something? What are they? Like ghosts?"
"No, they're not dead. They're Djinn. You know how the Bible says man was made from the earth? Well they say Djinn are made from smoke and fire. And what's dangerous about them—to humans, at least—is that they can appear to be just like you. Entire colonies of Djinn live in certain places of the world, indistinguishable from humans. But those ones are mostly cool. They are just humans with something extra. Powers. But some Djinn…some are just pure evil. Monsters. Demons. And they can and will possess you if you let them. Morlas is one of them."
"That Djinn… Morlas. He saw me. How do I know he won't jump into me next?"
"He won't. I won't let him. Morlas has who he wants. And thank goodness he has loose lips. We would have never known where Orlando was otherwise."
"That's right! He said some society has him?"
"The Anubis Society. But don't get worked up about it. We'll get Orlando. You just rest up."
He kissed me on my temple and, soon after, fell asleep. I lay in silence in the dark while my mind raced, struggling to come to terms with everything I'd learned in the past few hours.
A Sinister Request
"I'm so sorry I'm late, Mr. Kena! I got held up at the office with a major project. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you."
"Not at all, Ms. Esteban," I said. I'd waited for her at the swanky restaurant on the West End for twenty minutes, but at least I had the chance to tinker around on my smart phone while I waited. I rose to shake her hand and instead she hugged me.
Birth of a Dark Nation Page 10