The Hunted

by L. A. Banks

“Steady, gentlemen,” Damali murmured. “On my order—’cause you’d better not miss.”

  “What! Woman, are you crazy?” Carlos backed up, shook his head, and his henchmen growled. “We ain’t got time for no theatrics! The gatekeeper Amanthra is down, we got a bunch of the weres, but you know in a minute, they’ll be back at us—two levels of bullshit, D. This is a level-four and -five breach! So stop playing around!”

  “I’m not playing, Carlos. You’ve got ripe Neteru—”

  “I don’t—”

  “Then why do you look like that?” she shouted, her team holding, readied for the word.

  “Because we been kickin’ ass to give you a fucking chance to get out of here!”

  “How’d you get the Neteru out your system, dude?” Rider shouted, unable to contain himself.

  “Damali killed Vlak with the Isis, I was in chambers trying to raise a squad when the chair bled! Now, c’mon! We ain’t got a lot of time!”

  “Can you read him, D?” Shabazz said fast. “Get a bead on—”

  “No! We don’t have time for that!” Carlos was walking a hot line back and forth in front of the cave.

  “Want us to extract the cargo, boss?” one of Carlos’s entities asked with a glare. “We can go get her, if you want . . . as long as we don’t get slashed, we can—”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered, her gaze going to Marlene. “I’m cargo?”

  “See, man! Shut up,” Carlos fussed. “No. I’ll go get her, because she’ll start her team shooting and shit, and one of them might get fucked up if you guys go off.”

  “You damned straight dis joint’ll be lit the fuck up, mon, you try en grab de gurl. Not with ripe Neteru in your system. We go out motherfuckin’ swingin’, boss—you know dat. You in our house out here!”

  Shabazz pounded Kamal’s fist, as the human squad held their weapons tighter.

  “Oh, shit . . .” Carlos began walking in a circle as his own team growled. “Why, Damali, would you stand in front of an Amazon, tell her all the shit you know about me is true, then be scared of what you saw in a fantasy, huh? Damn, girl, you are pissing me off!”

  “You heard what I said to her?” Damali cast a glance at her team, which began to look confused.

  “I was down there in council chambers getting my ass kicked, okay? I was begging them to let me come up here and get you, told them about Vlak’s bullshit, and needed something, anything, to bring me down so I could deal—and you are up here, yelling at the top of your lungs about all the shit I did for you!”

  He punched the cave wall, making part of it crumble. “Telling all my fucking business, about the desert thing, and everything—and now, you won’t come with me so I can keep demons off your ass?” He walked away. “I’m done. Just fuckin’ done.”

  Carlos’s henchmen cast nervous glances between the retreating master vampire and the huddle of humans in the cave.

  “Yo, boss,” one of them hollered. “Whatchu want us to do with the cargo, man?”

  “Let the demons eat her and her squad! Half of ’em are were-humans, anyway!” Carlos yelled back over his shoulder. “I can’t take anymore! This is the most stubborn, off-the-hook woman in the universe!”

  Carlos spun on the confused henchmen, pointing a finger at them. “Do you know, this is the woman who made a throne run red blood in council chambers, first one in history to do a high-ranking council member—her damned sword is branded in Vlak’s throne—so don’t be crazy and go in there for her. Leave her. The demons want to wipe out the vamp daywalker vessel, since theirs is gone. Her stubborn ass will see when all the demons on levels four and five come up here. We seal the level breaches, and I’m going to eat. I’m done.” Carlos turned his back to her and began walking while muttering. “Dusted almost all my second-generations in my territory to keep her safe—for what? Now I bring an army to save her, and she’s arguing with me? Fuck it!”

  Damali looked at her team, and they simply stared back at her, weapons lowering.

  “Damn, gurl,” Kamal murmured. “You hit a throne?”

  “Yo, D, think you should ease up on your boy . . . seems to me like he’s cool, and all . . . might get us out?” Big Mike shrugged and glanced at the others.

  “Hey, let’s not allow a little domestic difficulties to ruin the party,” Rider quipped, glancing nervously toward Carlos. “Yo, man, she didn’t mean it!” He looked back at Damali who bristled. “Did ya, hon?”

  Begrudgingly, she sucked in a huge inhale and hollered Carlos’s name, but he didn’t answer.

  “Aw, shit,” Jose replied on a dejected note, as the henchmen started disappearing. “I think this time . . . ya know . . . I mean, even his brother and the rest of his posse was in that second-generation tier.”

  “I think our brother is straight, D,” Marlene murmured. “That other stuff you saw, he didn’t bring that right now.”

  Marlene was the only one that cut through her defenses. Damali let out her breath hard and folded her arms over her chest, a weapon in each fist. “Carlos,” Damali yelled, “fine! Squash the other shit—we’ll take that up later. Aw’ight, we could use a hand.”

  Carlos spun on her, stopping his retreating and confused squad. “No, you don’t! You don’t need me,” he hollered back. He looked at his men, then at her trapped teams. “I saw you do some incredible shit.” His voice mellowed. “I was so damned proud of you, I almost got smoked in council.” He nodded to the messengers. “Say what you want, girlfriend is baaaad. Dusted a treasonous councilman, fucked up a rebel master—killed Nuit’s ass with a prayer as she planted her sword. Did a drag race to protect my turf, rode shotgun with me . . . and kicked that bitch’s ass up there, then served her a head trip like I ain’t never seen. My boo is awesome.”

  He let his breath out hard, and studied her teams. “You all don’t know what you’ve got on your side. Shit . . . I ain’t messin’ with her when she’s like this. Naw, I ain’t the one; I know better.” He glared at Damali, but it softened as he looked at her. “You were right, my bad. I mean it, and I’ve even said it in front of your squad and mine. What else you want from me? I said I was sorry.” He turned and walked away. “Plus, you’ve got a damned army in there, and can handle yourself without me.”

  Kamal moved from the middle of the huddle to stand by Damali and quietly spoke to her. “Call de man right, chile. I showed you—use da balm. Den apologize right, later. A man’s pride is a terrible thing, and at the moment, his is beat down hard, and he needs it. That ain’t changed since the beginning of time, and won’t tonight, even in dis new millennium. You won. You the Neteru, that ain’t changed neither—and nobody can take that from you . . . so don’t cut off your nose to spite your face, proving what don’t need ta be proved. Not out here.”

  She was about to fuss, but Kamal cut her off as Carlos and his men disappeared. “He got shit wit him, you got shit wit you . . . you right for wondering, he wrong for makin’ you wonder . . . he right for coming when you needed him, you wrong for being ornery when he did—so squash the bullshit, and get our teams outta here.”

  Weary, Damali raised her hand and closed her eyes. She just wanted to go home. She just wanted to take a shower. She just wanted to sleep on clean sheets in an air-conditioned room with no bugs. She just wanted everybody to be all right. No more causalities, not even a hangnail. She just wanted poor Kamal to be able to bury his man in peace. She wanted to be off the fucking Amazon River and away from a foreign country . . . she didn’t want to be dealing with demons. Her body hurt from almost getting her ass kicked, her man was bugging—

  “You almost got your ass kicked?” Carlos was walking down the center of the tunnel, oblivious to the fact that it had no floor, and there were pikes below. He just strode across the expanse; his jaw set hard as Damali’s team pointed gun barrels to the floor without blinking.

  “She hit you in your face?” he asked, galled, turning Damali’s cheek to the side gingerly with two fingers. “You know . . .” He shook his h
ead, and called over his shoulder to his squad. “Clear that fucking exit and get my woman out of this insect-infested bullshit, would you!” He took Damali by the hand and began walking, but she hesitated.

  Carlos let out his breath. “Girl, you oughta know me better than that.”

  “It ain’t you, it’s the ground, or the lack thereof,” she said fast, her team peering over the edge of it with her.

  “Like I said,” he repeated with a hard snap of his fingers, making the cave floor solid and passable. “You oughta know me better than that.”

  Not even a cicada, mosquito, or water flea moved as the team got onto the barge with twenty-one extra passengers. Every human on the boat just took a very still corner of it, or sat on a box, but nobody was trying to say anything that could light a match.

  Carlos materialized on the second level and walked up to Kamal. Nervous looks passed through the group, but again, no one said a word. “You the one who taught her how to refine her technique?”

  “The balm,” Kamal said cautiously.

  Carlos nodded, glancing at Damali who was sitting on a crate, a battle-ax in one hand, a sword in the other, glowering at him. “Don’t know whether to thank you, or rip your heart out, man.”

  Everybody bristled, even the vampire breach-sweepers that patrolled the decks for security.

  “Was just jokin’, man.” Carlos chuckled. Kamal visibly relaxed. “Damn. Everybody’s so jumpy.”

  “Like nobody has a reason to have their nerves fried after this fun adventure? A must-see for the guided Amazon tour brochures.” Rider shook his head.

  At first the flippant comment tensed the group to a danger level. The twenty security vampires on the decks stopped walking, and looked at Carlos as though not sure if a death reprimand was coming in Rider’s direction. Every human muscle coiled, waiting for Rider to have gone too far this time. Rider simply spit in the water and leaned against the ammunitions crate. Carlos burst out laughing.

  It was as though the echo had released the night sounds. The insects came back; crocks felt it was safe to slip back in the water. Owls took off from branches so they could go hunting again. The trees released their evening chorus-line show of bats. And one by one the laughter ignited, sending everyone into an unstoppable release of tension. Even Damali was laughing, and just gave up on being on guard.

  “Oh, what the fuck . . . I’m so tired,” she wheezed through the giggles. “Have you ever?”

  “Y’all are cool,” Carlos said, still chuckling. “Me and my boyz got everything locked down till dawn—by then, you’ll be back in Manaus, can take your flights, and backtrack home. Damn, what a night.” He glanced around one last time, letting his gaze settle on Damali for a minute. “Me and the boyz gotta go eat—we used up a lot of energy back there . . . but, you know, call me later, baby.”

  She smiled.

  “Kamal gave you my pager number,” Carlos said, chuckling deeper, moving toward her but not coming in close. “You already had my private cell digits.”

  She laughed. Kamal smiled.

  “We’ll see,” she said, swallowing a smile and looking away toward the black water.

  Carlos shrugged. “If you get tired of the bugs . . . want a hot shower . . . don’t wanna wait in the airport lines . . . I might be able to find a good bottle of wine and a gourmet dinner—if a sister would act right.”

  “Damn, man, keep talking like that, and I’ll go with you—a hot shower and no bugs?” Big Mike pounded Carlos’s fist, then laughed. “Sheeit. Better act like you know.”

  She smiled, cocked her head to the side. “We’ll see.”

  Carlos nodded, gave her a wide grin, and vanished with his team.

  Marlene chuckled and folded her arms over her chest. “You gonna call him and take the short way home, or what, chile? Lemme know so we can figure out the passport problem.”

  “No worries,” Kamal said with a sly smile, going down to the first deck. “I know some people who know some people if she needs a stamp to show she took the regular way home.”

  “Y’all putting me off the boat?” Damali shook her head, amused, but relieved, and yet too tired to think about any of it.

  “Oh shit!” Drum’s voice echoed in the night, bringing the entire squad to the front of the vessel.

  Drum was peering down over the lifeless body of their fallen man, Dominique. His chest, face, and throat had been repaired, and it only appeared as though the young man was sleeping. The older warrior from Kamal’s squad swallowed hard as he knelt beside the dead man and handed the note that was attached to Dominique’s vest up to Kamal, who only nodded and closed his eyes.

  “Class . . .” Kamal murmured. “Brother said to bury our own right.”

  “Damn,” Shabazz whispered. “That’s deep . . . was real cool of Rivera.”

  Marlene looked at Damali, and then glanced around at the faces that stood dumbfounded and a grin slowly captured her face. “Yeah, girl, we’re putting you off this boat.”

  Damali nodded with a half smile. “That’s cool. I got his new digits. But first, I’m calling my soul sister, Inez.” Marlene gave her a knowing smile. “I’ve learned a little patience. The man can wait… Carlos Rivera ain’t rushing me.”

  EPILOGUE

  Three nights later . . .

  “MARLENE SAID the Vlak hit and the Amazon soul recovery wrote itself into the Neteru Temt Tchaas—that book actually authors itself when stuff goes down,” Damali murmured, looking over her glass of wine. She smiled and raised her eyebrow, gauging Carlos’s suddenly poker-faced expression. “Her guardians are no longer scorched out of the book.”

  “Yeah,” he said in a forced casual tone, sending his line of vision beyond the deck toward the ocean. He wondered what the text might write about him one day, or Damali? If Damali was here to sway the balance of the Armageddon, then what role would he play? He was a part of the drama somehow, too . . . or else he wouldn’t be in her space. He was beginning to understand the clerics’ interest in him more and more. He wondered if she thought about things like that?

  But the problem was, he’d not only had a seat in Nuit’s old throne, but had also taken a sip from a black throne. The power of that combination left little room for deniability; he was a dark guardian growing darker. Shit . . . he needed to be real; he was a master vampire, council-level now. And what Damali could never understand was the fact that now a little of Nuit and Vlak was in him, he was stronger than she could imagine, and his thirst for power had just been heightened by a jolt from the old Roman Empire. “That’s cool,” he said after a moment. “I never got the twisted one’s name.”

  Damali chuckled. “Uhmmm-hmmm, I know,” she said standing, not answering his unspoken question. She set down her glass, sashayed out toward the moonlight, and held onto the rail, giving him a mischievous glance over her shoulder. “I’ll never tell you that, brother.”

  Coming up behind her, he laughed low next to her ear. “See, why you keep going there, woman?”

  “Father Patrick said, ‘Hi,’ ” she replied, chuckling deeper, avoiding the question and another caress. “The fellas are doing well, too. Kamal’s crew is most excellent and said thanks again for what you did for them and Dominique. But poor Padre Lopez . . .” She winked at him and her smile widened.

  “Is he all right?” Carlos asked, truly concerned. Guilt accosted him as he thought back on the images he’d sent the young priest.

  “What did you do to him, Carlos?” She was smiling brightly with her head cocked to the side, pure mischief glittering in her eyes.

  “That, I’ll never tell you,” he said, grinning despite his concern. “But is the man okay?”

  “They wouldn’t explain his issues, but said he’s going into the Episcopal seminary—since he really wants to get married, but still wants to be a man of the cloth.” She made a little tsking sound with her tongue and giggled. “Carlos Rivera, you should be ashamed of yourself. Ten demerits and twenty-five Hail Mary’s.”

  He l
aughed. “Well, at least I didn’t bite him. And he’s still on his own religious path . . . even if celibacy is gonna be a problem for him, now.” Carlos sent his gaze out into the night and shook his head. This had been some mad-crazy drama.

  She cast a sheepish glance in his direction, which he tried his best to ignore. “Oh, yeah,” she said in a merry tone. “Kamal hooked up my passport—his peeps are good. Everybody is cool. And a little birdie told Berkfield that you had fled the country, so that poor man could rest. He was worried about you, too, Carlos, strange as that might sound. He was seriously relieved when he found out you weren’t dead.”

  “He’s cool people,” Carlos replied in a distant voice, still thinking about all the human beings he’d affected one way or another. He wouldn’t verbally address the fact that they all seemed to forget; he was dead. But the way she kept glancing at him with a teasing, playful expression made him reach for her.

  She squealed and dodged his touch, hopping down the deck steps out onto a grassy clearing. She spun around under the moonlight, her arms wide, laughing, and intermittently running from his grasp, making him laugh, too.

  “You need to stop messing with me, girl,” he warned playfully, but loving every minute of the way she made him feel. There were moments with her that he actually felt free and alive. She was the only one that seemed to be able to make him laugh, really laugh, hard from way down in his soul.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” he said by rote, then forced himself to smile. He sat down on the grass and looked out at the stars, just listening to the ocean pound the cliffs and the shore.

  The thought of his soul was sobering, and he eclipsed her view of what was truly on his mind. The reality of the future and his new appointment to a dark throne weighed heavily on his conscience. He was more than a master, he was a council level vampire with province over an army, had continents at his behest, and after Nuit’s demise, there were only four other masters topside running Asia and Europe, Africa, and Australia. North and South America, plus the Caribbean, were his. It was a serious responsibility.