The Wicked

CHAPTER FIFTEEN



Damali slowly opened her eyes, startled to see dawn cresting on the horizon. It seemed like it had been an eternity since she'd slept through the night, and it was even harder to fathom that she'd done so under the conditions they were faced with now. But Carlos's steady breathing at her back and the warmth of his arm slung over her waist with his body snugly pressed against hers let her know she wasn't dreaming.



Sensing for any trouble in the house and finding no cause for alarm, she slipped from beneath Carlos's loose hold and went into the bathroom to take a shower. That simple luxury added to the inner re�newal her entire being required. The warm water washed any linger�ing foul illusions from her mind, just as the fragrant suds filled her with peace. She took her time with herself, tending the unseen wounds as much as any remaining outer scars. This morning was about healing through the gentle application of body cream and de�odorant and balm, and brushing away any remnants of the bitter taste of fury and humiliation out of her mouth. Then she stopped and looked down. Mercy of mercies, her period had come on! Now this morning was also about being grateful that she needed the supplies Marlene had stocked in her bathroom just in case. Making quick work of it, she tore open a box, utilized the supplies, and cleaned up, washing her hands with joy.



Damali wrapped a towel around her and found another for her hair. She entered the bedroom quietly and watched Carlos roll over in a lazy sprawl and smile at her with his eyes closed.



"Morning," he murmured and then breathed her in. "You took a shower already."



"Yeah, I did," she said, coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside him.



She bent and kissed him. He unwound the towel from her wet hair and looked up.



"You shoulda woke me and I woulda got in there with you," he said with a sly smile.



She traced his eyebrows, wondering where to begin. Part of her was unsure if raising the subject again would be like raising the dead, or if he'd be disappointed that she hadn't conceived for him. He was in such a cool place in his head right now and after last night she wasn't sure how to tell him. She'd just found that spot beside him and curled into a little ball before glancing over her shoulder at him.



But she watched his smile begin to fade as she took too long to contemplate their universe.



"I forgot," he said quietly, and let his hand slip away from her damp hair. "You wouldn't want to mess around again... I mean, carrying and all, it probably wouldn't be cool."



He sat up and she stopped him from moving off the bed with a gentle touch. His eyes held silent hurt, but not the blistering agony they had earlier the night before.



"It's not that," she said, taking up his hand and kissing his knuck�les. "I came on after last night."



He wasn't sure how to react. If he praise-danced he'd be wrong, and would never live it down. Then, again, part of him was thor�oughly disappointed and he wasn't sure exactly why, but he was. At this point, he hadn't trusted his senses, and hadn't wanted to hazard a guess to ask her or offend in any way. Not sure how he felt about the news she'd delivered, he deflected introspection and simply asked about her.



"How're you feeling?" he asked carefully, gazing at her to be sure.



"Crampy, achy, liable to go off about anything," she said with a sly smile.



"You know that's not what I meant," he said with a half-smile. "How's your head?"



She hesitated, not sure how to answer the question in politically correct terms not to offend him. If she jumped up and down and did a jig in the middle of the floor, she'd be wrong and never live it down. And there was still that little part of her that had hoped she was and it was his.



"Conflicted," she said after a long pause. She'd let the statement out on a heavy sigh.



Carlos nodded. "Good word. Was searching for that one myself."



"Yeah?" She touched his cheek and let the pad of her thumb rub against his unshaven jaw.



"Yeah," he said quietly. "Crazy, but I wished it was me."



Damali nodded and a tender smile tugged at her face. "Me, too. That's the only thing that kept me from doing cartwheels across the room."



He laughed and let out a huge breath. "Oh, shit... girl..." "Right," she said, laughing as she flopped back on the bed. "Thank you, God, thank you, thank you, thank you!"



He flopped back next to her with a thud. "Damali..."



"You don't have to say it."



"Baby..."



"I know," she said, laughing and wiping her eyes. "We dodged a silver bullet this time."



"Yep-go take a shower before I jump your bones anyway."



"You serious?" He rolled over and stared at her with a wide grin, leaning up on an elbow. "A little blood ain't never bothered a brother, ya know?"



"Get away from me, man," she said, smiling and then she burst out laughing. "I'm not trying to tempt fate."



He jumped up off the bed. "Not even, since you put it that way."



She was hungry enough to eat a horse and hummed around the kitchen fixing a huge omelet, scavenging for juice, and acted like she'd hit the lotto when she found some bread and raspberry jam that hadn't been opened yet. Marlene in the doorway just made her hum with more melody.



"Good morning," Damali said in a singsong voice. "You want some tea or something?"



"You okay, baby?" Marlene said, coming deeper into the kitchen. "After last night, I was just checking on you... will take some stuff upstairs and eat in the room, but, uh..."



"I'm great, Mar," Damali said, pushing the bread into the toaster. She did a little jig and came over to Marlene to kiss her. "Good morning, good morning, good morning."



"Baby sit down," Marlene said, her eyes worried. "Sometimes things can happen that take a mind to the edge of-"



"I'm not having a nervous breakdown," Damali said, laughing. "Oh, shit, maybe I am."



"What happened?" Marlene whispered, coming very close to Damali and then hugging her slowly.



"My cycle came on," Damali whispered in Marlene's ear.



Marlene's body slumped against hers. "Praise the Lord," Marlene murmured and then yanked Damali back to look in her eyes. "Yes!" Marlene ran around the kitchen like she'd lost her mind, quickly grabbing down two mugs for her and Shabazz and flinging fruit onto a counter from the large bowl as she skipped to the paper-towel rack and snatched one. "Hope springs eternal in the city of eternal spring," she said, making up a little ditty as she gathered up some grub for her and Shabazz. "I'm out. Ain't my business. Y'all have breakfast alone. Bye."



There was nothing like laughter and hope to heal a wound, and Damali couldn't stop smiling as she watched Marlene scamper away so fast she'd forgotten her tea. Within seconds she felt the word get telegraphed to the other females in the house. It wasn't telepathy, but a vibe that permeated the air like excited current. The family was al�most whole again, save the loss of Gabby, but maybe even that had po�tential.



Damali loaded up a small tray of grub with two omelets loaded with everything in them she could find, ketchup, fried potatoes, toast and jam, a whole pineapple and juice, and hurried up the back stairs before one of the brothers came into the kitchen and tried to pilfer her food loot. This was a private celebration.



She banged on the door with her foot and busted into the room like she'd robbed a bank when Carlos opened the door. He was stand�ing there in a towel, dripping wet, and he laughed as he watched her tiptoe over to the table by the window.



"Hurry up and close the door before the noses in the house come sniffing for ready-made grub," she said, giggling.



He shut the door and watched her unload the stash of food and pull silverware out of her back jeans pockets. Her smile was radiant, her giggle infectious, and he found himself laughing for absolutely no reason just watching her set the table in a rush.



"Ta da!" she said, waving her hand over the spread.



"Definitely the best magic I've seen," he said, hurriedly drying himself off and yanking on a pair of drawers and some jeans.



He crossed the room pulling on a T-shirt and sat down in front of her and blessed their private meal. It was a very simple blessing. "Thank you, thank you,thank you, Jesus! Amen."



He'd eaten so quickly and so much that he had to unfasten the top button of his jeans just to breathe. The whole house had come alive in the short time that he'd scoffed down his plate, and the noise was comforting-just hearing life happening all around them. And yet all he could think about was time, how ephemeral a thing that was. A few hours ago, life as he knew it was hopeless. A bleak future was be�fore him and tough realities behind him; he'd been trapped between that old familiar rock and a hard place, but this morning, like late last night, he was free.



As he watched the sunlight dance in Damali's still damp hair, catch�ing glistening water drops to shimmer iridescent colors, just like her ring caught every hue of the spectrum, he knew Rider had to be thinking the same thing himself-he was a blessed man. And, yet, what if they'd given up hope? Rider could have put a nine to his skull and missed the future; just as he could have done something so irre�versibly damaging that he would have missed this glorious morning with his wife. The same held true for each member of the team. There were times when any of them could have thrown in the towel on their personal brand of hell and not lived through it to get to the other side.



Then he suddenly realized something that had escaped him. En�durance. The team had physical stamina like crazy, and had honed their special powers to withstand the heaviest barrages from the dark-side... but the emotional core, the things that eroded the spirit, were being heaped on them in record time to possibly get them ready for whatever was coming next. They'd all just built serious muscle in a matter of days-days that felt like years, years that had truncated into seconds, seconds that seemed like forever.



"That's deep," Carlos said, thinking aloud and staring beyond Damali out the window.



"What's deep?" she said, biting off a piece of overly jellied toast.



"Life."



"Okay, Confucius. Elaborate." She shook her head and sipped her juice, chewing.



"Whenever we asked for backup, we got it, right?" he said, the epiphany making him stand. "But, D," he added, now growing ex�cited, "how many times did we actually do that? I mean, ask for help, call in for reinforcements?"



"Whenever it got real crazy, I can recall shouting at the top of my lungs for-"



"That's it! We never asked in advance, always at the eleventh-hour, fifty-ninth minute." He laughed at the simplicity of it and began walking in a circle. "Pride goeth before a fall, girl."



"What?" Damali cocked her head to the side, chewing more slowly.



"You know me, D. I don't asknobody for help, right-unless my ass is in a sling, beat down to the wire."



"Now that's a true confession, if ever I heard one," she said, chuck�ling, cutting off a hunk of pineapple and plopping it into her mouth.



"But what if we put out an all-points bulletin, an SOS in advance of catastrophe?"



"Now you're talking novel concept, brother," she said, shaking her head.



"I'm serious." He stopped walking and leaned on the table and stared at her without smiling.



"You are serious, aren't you?" She stopped smiling. "Like, we're the Neteru team and-"



"Pride," he said flatly.



She sat back in her chair and gawked at him. "Whoa..."



"Yeah, whoa, D." He dragged his fingers through his wet hair. "I'ma say it now. I need help. We need help. I want help. Reinforce�ments, backup, healers, whatever Heaven can spare to throw our way. I don't wanna lose anybody, or have us go out because we didn't ask for help in advance."



"I need help, we need help," she stated, following his words in seri�ousness, as though he'd launched a prayer. "I don't wanna lose any�body on our watch."



"Stand up, hold my hands, and concentrate with me in a white light sent to any and all able-bodied warriors in range, then."



Damali stood quickly and wiped her hands on the back of her jeans as she rounded the table and took Carlos's hands. "Wow, baby... I never thought you'd be down for something like this."



A lazy, relaxed sense of ease filled the casa, reminiscent of the old days in Arizona. Well-rested and well-fed soldiers hung out on the steps and gardens. A few were conspicuously absent, but no one worried. Music blared from a boom box Dan had scored. Card games and dominoes created raucous trash-talking and bursts of laughter. But the blooms were still dying and no new blades of grass replaced what was beginning to turn brown.



Distant diesel engines made Mike look up from his poker spread and then stand. Carlos and Damali shared a glance.



"Everything cool?" Jose said, putting down his fan of cards slowly.



"Heavy metal moving," Mike said and then went to the front gate.



"Yo, up in the towers. Hubert, what's in your sight line?"



"Big things with a lot of beings!" Hubert shouted down. "Like the thing Damali saved us in."



"Jeeps," Jose said, standing and concealing his weapon. "Could beFederates or something worse."



"Everybody be cool," Carlos said. "Let me and D put an eye on the situation."



"If it's Mexican authorities, we have to chill," Damali said. "Dan, you got our paperwork tight?"



"Yeah, I'm on it," Dan said, running into the house to get the cru�cial documents.



"Aw'ight, Mike and senior staff outside," Carlos said. "Everybody else in the house and take a position in case it's a hybrid ambush or demon squad using human helpers. Hubert, you guys lay low until the coast is clear-no sense in setting off a panic, if it's just local au�thorities. Andnobody fire unless they shoot first."



Time had again changed the scenario in the blink of an eye. Car�los and Damali stood with Mike, watching a huge convoy roll into the front driveway and other vehicles pull up to block the road. Dan stood in the doorway clutching a portfolio. In the distance motor�cycle engines roared. Everyone inla casa held their breaths and kept low, waiting.



A tall, built man in his late thirties wearing fatigues jumped down from a Humvee that was loaded with soldiers. He stood six-four and his dark brown hair was barbered into a military cut. He stared at Damali and Carlos from behind mirrored aviator sunglasses.



"Which ones are the Neterus?" he said, glancing among Damali, Carlos, and Mike.



"Who's asking?" Carlos said, scanning the man before him and trying to guestimate the numbers he had with him.



"Hidalgo Cortes, Mexico City Guardian Squad, North American region eleven."



"Oh, shit!" Carlos said and burst out laughing."Que pasa, man!"



"Yo," Hidalgo said, and gave Carlos a warrior hug. "Heard you all were pinned down, had a Neteru team surrounded up here, and we put out a regional all-points."



Damali opened and closed her mouth.



"That you, man?" Hidalgo said, smiling at Damali.



Carlos shook his head. "She was the Neteru first, and ismy wife, brother."



"Cool. I hear you." Hidalgo extended his hand and shook Damali's. "Nice to meet you. Not every day we get called in like this, sister." He then turned to the assorted trucks, Jeeps, and armored ve�hicles. "Fall out! Team leaders-approach. ID yourselves by region."



"This is freaking crazy," Carlos said, laughing as Guardians from the casa began to gather at the door and lower arms.



Nearly too stunned to respond to Carlos, Damali watched as buff men and women of every hue piled out of vehicles and stood in the yard before them.



"Esmeralda Cienfuegos-Belize," said a tall, curvy woman with a body toned enough to bounce a quarter off her stomach. She pushed her short, brunette, blunt-cut hair behind her ear and smiled widely as she looked Carlos up and down. "You the new Neteru for the region? Dayum, brother, it'll be a pleasure to serve."



Carlos tucked away a too-wide grin. "Let me introduce you to the other Neteru on the squad, my wife, Damali."



The other Neteru, huh?Damali said in her mind, but had to smile.



"Cool," Esmeralda said. "Your team looks good," she added, mo�tioning toward the front steps with her chin. "Seers, healers, tacticals, a pair of noses, coupla stone workers. Good." She turned to her Jeeps. "Dis...mount!"



Even Damali stared as she watched the most gorgeous human women with cut sinewlike steel jump down out of the vehicles with duffle bags over their shoulders.



"What's your specialty?" Damali had to ask after the thirty-something-year-old Guardian had assessed her team so quickly. "After kicking demon ass, I'm on sight."



"Excellent," Damali said, nodding with respect and giving Esmer�alda a warrior embrace. "Welcome to the fort."



The next series of introductions happened so fast it made her head spin. Carlos couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He kept sending her intermittent messages each time a new Guardian team leader ap�proached.



Now this is what I call a SQUAD, baby-didn't I tell you to ask, huh? Didn't I?



She tried not to laugh, but the process and the response from a simple shout out was making her dizzy.



"Joe Diaz-Guatemala," a thick, hulking brother said with a chest so stone-cut it looked like if he sneezed his fatigue T-shirt might rip. "Tactical."



"Alana Guadalupe-Honduras," a short, squat woman who looked like she could take Mike announced. "Stone worker." "Jurado Cordoba-Nicaragua. Audio."



"Call me Salle," a huge, ebony-skinned warrior said. "El Salvador. Tracker."



"Frank Pereira-Costa Rica. Healer, sharpshooter." "Luis Tunja-Panama. Stone worker."



"Alonzo Salvatore-Cuba. Lover and seer, extraordinaire." He bowed and kissed Damali's hand and then gave Carlos an apologetic shrug. "What can I say, man? She's beautiful."



Carlos laughed. "It's cool, man."



"You need to come down to de islands, mon-after dis," a tall, lanky Rasta said, his rust-colored locks swinging behind him as he ap�proached. "Rockfish, my friends call me dat. Jamaica. I blow shit up and can feel 'em coming from two miles off-tactical specialist."



"We got Jacques Beauxchamp, explosives, seer, coming down from western Canada, British Columbia, as soon as his flight gets in this af�ternoon," Hidalgo said. "The boys in Bogota and Venezuela said they'd have our backs, and pull in Bolivia if necessary, and we've got a team flying in from the East Coast U.S., Philadelphia-the Rowdee Black Giants. They're bringing teams from Puerto Rico, Haiti, and the Dominican Republic with them. That covers the threat zone, North and Central America. Heard you all got hammered with hur�ricanes in the Gulf, which is why the Caribbean teams insisted on be�ing here, too, and the top sections of South America are on standby."



The group parted as motorcycles pulled into the yard, their engines snorting in low-speed rumbles.



A tall, crazy-looking blond guy with hair over his shoulders jumped off an all-chrome custom Harley that had a machine-gun mount and strode forward. He stood at least six foot eight, and had the build of a WWF wrestler. "Duke Johnson, Texas. Specialty is kickin' demon ass and I can shoot the eyes out of a bat from a half-mile in the blind. A little birdie told this ole tracker that something foul was afoot, so figured we'd just come on down and add to the party. Mex�ico ain't nothing but a thunder run from where we call home."



"Duke Johnson?" Rider shouted, coming down the steps with a pump shotgun. "Duke Johnson! How the hell are ya, man!"



Duke picked Rider up by the waist and swung him around. "Jack-fucking-Rider? The legend lives! Brought you some Jack Daniel's, man!



Both men laughed as he slowly set Rider down on his feet, walked right past Damali and Carlos, and dropped to his knees in front of the team from Belize. "Oh, Lord in heaven, I know you done heard my prayers!"



"Get up, you old horny toad before they shoot you," Rider said, laughing. "Don't mind him, he don't get out much."



Duke stood with effort, took a bow, and winked at the ladies. "Does it show that much?" he said with a chuckle, following Rider back to the group of squad leaders.



"I'd offer you a bandana to wipe the slobber off your face, but it's in the house," Rider said with a sheepish grin.



"Yeah, well, what can I say? Once a Hell's Angel, always a Hell's Angel... let me introduce the boys. Got an alliance. Old pagans and Warlocks riding with us... we all came together and got religion, reformed." Duke glimpsed the Guardian team standing on the front steps. "Nice lineup in the house, too. Damn, man, you must be living righteous."



"Okay, people," Carlos said, getting everyone's attention. "We've got like five to six hours until sunset, when we expect Hell to bring the noise. We need to give you the lowdown on what we've seen so far, what we're up against, and get you hunkered down, fed, and your ammo ready to rock."



"I wanna know how many medics we've got in this group," Damali said, walking down the line. Ten hands rose. "With a human head count of what appears to be over three hundred that means you'll be working overtime under heavy fire. I want trenches dug around the perimeter with stakes raised. Everything doused with sil�ver in prep for were-demons. We need a battle formation to flank all sides of the fort." She looked at J.L. and Krissy. "Give these teams maps and show them the fallback position in Taxco-silver ground, if it gets crazy. Any seriously wounded go to hallowed ground at the convent of San Bernardino de Sena, and we can hold up troops in the cathedral next door to that."



"We brought supplies and cases of food, and I know the area like the back of my hand," Hidalgo said. "We can break the teams into specialty formations-seers on radar, tacticals on low-flying incoming and ground assaults, put trackers on recognizance, audios and sharp�shooters in the towers."



"Good plan," Carlos said, pounding Hidalgo's fist.



"Oh, yeah, one thing, though," Damali said. "We've got a coupla hybrids with us that under no circumstances should be shot."



"Oh, shit... I almost forgot," Carlos said, raking his hair. "Okay, everybody be cool. I'ma call out some special team members who were working both sides for us, and there's a vamp named Yonnie. I'll give you his image in a minute, but Hubert, Sedgewick, and Sara are family. We all clear?"



Murmurs and grumbles of agreement filtered throughout the courtyard as Carlos called Hubert and his crew to the front of the house. The moment Hubert and Sedgewick crossed the threshold, three hundred and fifty guns and several bazookas took aim in a flurry of clicks.



"Okay, everybody chill," Damali said, holding out her arms and standing in front of Hubert. "They saved our teams' asses back in La Paz, and their best friend," she added, coaxing Sara out from behind Hubert's legs, "is part angel."



Duke stooped down and smiled, removing his sunglasses. "Aw... now ain't she just the purtiest little thang? Honey, we just a little jumpy about your friends, but we'd never mistake you."



Sara hugged Hubert's leg tighter and hid her face. "They're so big and so scary-looking, Damali. And have so many guns. Can you ask them to back away a little?"



"Aw'ight, you heard the lady. Put away your weapons, you're scar�ing her," Carlos said with a smile. "She's the top medic on our team, next to Damali, Marlene, and Berkfield," he said, going to Berkfield and raising his arm above his head. "I'll tell you about what flows in his veins when we all camp down and get situated for a strategy ses�sion later."



But the rumble from a minivan made everyone stop and turn. Ka-mal jumped out of the vehicle with Drum and ten of his men.



"I heard the SOS... I know this is a North American assault, but we was in the area," Kamal said, looking at Marlene and then at Damali and Carlos. "This is heavy were-jag territory, with all the Aztec and Olmec ruins. Would take a bullet for this team, so figured you could use some men that know the species well."



Kamal looked at Shabazz. The courtyard was so quiet that not even a bird moved in the trees.



"Like old times,"Shabazz said with a nod. "Glad to have you, un�der these circumstances."



"Appreciated," Kamal said and then looked at Carlos and Damali again. "Before anybody gets an itching trigger finger, maybe me and my boys better show them what we mean by specialists?"



Damali sighed and stood in front of Kamal. "He's a seer and a tac�tical, and knows were-demons like the back of his hand. His team is the best and helped us in Brazil-Amazon country."



"That detail was no joke," Carlos said and then looked at Kamal. "Show 'em the canines, man."



Kamal sighed and then presented upper and lower canines as an�other round of clicks filled the air and left him staring down the bar�rels of several guns.



"Might as well show 'em the full shape-shift while you're at it," Damali said on a heavy exhale. "This way the tacticals and seers in the group can know your signature, the trackers, too. I don't wantany accidents-friendly fire claiming our own."



Kamal complied and his form elongated into a huge jaguar. He brushed against Damali's legs with a low purr and then glanced back at the house at Marlene.



"Don't even think about it," Shabazz said, leveling his weapon at Kamal.



Kamal shifted back and studied his nails. "I'm cool. Just wanted to say hello."



"Oh, man!" Duke said, slapping his forehead. "Anything else we should know about this team before gettin' cozy with y'all?"



Rider chuckled. "Rivera, man, wanna show the man the fangs?"



"What!" Hidalgo said, backing up and shaking his head. "A Neteru? This is bullshit."



"My husband has a long and very interesting history," Damali said with a smile as Carlos lifted his chin, offended. "We met under... curious circumstances, but that's my baby. He's all Light now, and the best vamp tracker in the world, I might add. Baby," she crooned, "show 'em the silver, first, then drop fang."



She didn't have to ask. The group's reaction to his lineage was enough to start his eyes flickering. But as he felt the silver heat his irises and overtake them, he bulked, dropped fang, and drew the blade of Ausar into his grip, in case there was still a question, so there'd be no panic issues out on the battlefield.



"Satisfied?" Carlos said, still bristled.



"That istoo freaky," Esmeralda said, coming closer with her team from Belize. "Man... that is somesexy shit."



"Ain't it just?" Damali said with pride, going over to Carlos to kiss the underside of his chin.



"I just don't understand women," Duke muttered, scratching his head.



"Me, neither," Hidalgo admitted quickly, still shaken. "I'm glad I saw it in daylight."



Carlos retracted his fangs and debulked slowly, strangely finding the latest rash of comments amusing. Somehow Damali always knew how to diffuse a situation. "I'd better show you my boy, Yonnie, before you smoke a master that's on our side."



"Amaster?" Hidalgo said with a groan. "Aw, man... what have we gotten ourselves into?"



Hallowed-earth sandbags got piled in strategic rings well beyond the castle gates, wired with remote, cell phone-activated C-4. Trenches with wooden stake pikes got dug and covered with a camouflage of weathered grass. Catapults were raised at the four corners inside the gates, bearing five-gallon jugs of holy water bombs. Garden hoses be�came the purveyor of liquid fire connected to blessed water tanks.



Shotguns were loaded with Red Sea salt and silver buckshot. Anointed oil rimmed the fort a hundred yards out, ready to be ignited by the fuse lines laid by the Canadian contingent. Motorcycles swabbed in colloidal silver and loaded down with quick-pitch grenades flanked the house with customized automatic street sweepers soldered between their handlebars for quick maneuver assaults. Silver-edged bowie knives, silver-coated baseball bats, and double-aught, shotgun mounted, silver crossbow stakes had been brought in by the Philly and Puerto Rican squads, courtesy Derrick the Bone Crusher and Galakk the Giant. The Haitian and Dominican squad had made it in with a special shipment of silver-coated barbed wire that had prayer rituals performed over it that no one dared ask about.



The living room and dining room were set up for triage, just in case any Guardian squad members took a hit. The kitchen would be the OR, and the counters and table had been cleared to make room for potential wounded. Marjorie and Sara would take incoming injured with Marlene. Berkfield's blood was siphoned and refrigerated, and he lay inside on the sofa drinking orange juice, ready to give more if necessary.



Sentries of seers kept the towers manned with machine guns and mortars, all shells demon readied with silver and hallowed earth, their eyes on the darkening horizon. Every top floor window of the ha�cienda had bazooka bearers. The roof had now become the command post of agile snipers with mountain-climbing rappelling gear, able to move into changing positions swiftly. Stone workers had charged the castle wall and exterior ofla casa so fiercely that intermittent blue-white static could be seen crackling along the mortar. If it rained, so be it. Demons would still fry.



Then, near sundown, it was time to pray.



To the east Muslims knelt on small prayer mats and made their peace with Allah. Buddhists sat in quiet repose, murmuring mantras. Jews knelt beside Christians, each communing with the Almighty in their own way. Shamans walked off into the trees and left talismans. Orisha altars were covered with fruit. Candles were lit in small vo-tives. Incense filtered up from the cardinal points. Each and every combination of devotion was observed, linking all warriors in the single request: Let us win without sustaining heavy casualties. Let everyone go home to their family whole.



"I want a medic in every group on the battlefield," Damali said from the front steps once everyone had assembled. "We need two warriors on each squad to serve as designated runners to bring our fallen in out of harm's way for medical attention. Decide in your units who that will be."



"Both Neterus will be on the front lines, two hundred yards spread between us, to be sure the back and front of the fort are covered. We'll mentally telegraph when it's time to blow the lines to tower seers and catapult commanders. If all else fails and you hear us holler�ing, just do it." Carlos walked down the steps and glimpsed the sun as it touched the horizon. "Okay, people, it's on-man your posts. God�speed."



"Godspeed," a unified shout rang out in deep voices, and then the gathering of soldiers dispersed.



This was the part Carlos hated the most, the waiting. Everything was eerily quiet, supernaturally so. As he continually scanned, all seers in a cohesive lock, he also thought about the number of people who had responded to the call to arms. He felt a deep sense of responsibility for them all, knowing that each individual meant something priceless to someone somewhere. Even though he'd just met them and didn't really know them personally, he didn't have to. His family had just grown exponentially and he'd take a bullet for any one of them, just like he intuitively knew they would for him.



"Yo, man," Hidalgo said with a smile as he and Carlos hunkered down behind a wall of sandbags. "Is it true what they say that you ac�tually went down to Hell and kicked some ass underground?"



Carlos smiled a half-smile. "Been down there a coupla times, man."



"More than once?" Hidalgo turned and looked at him squarely now. "No bullshit?"



"I wish I was bullshitting you, brother." Carlos sent his gaze back to the horizon.



"What's it like?"



Carlos gave Hidalgo a sidelong glance. "As bad as they say, and worse. But don't let anyone fool you, the bastards are organized, intel�ligent... It's chaos but organized chaos-you feel me?"



"I feel you," Hidalgo said, hunkering down again. "The vamps are the worst."



"Definitely," Carlos said. "You got any twisted fantasies, any lies you never told your woman, whatever-you'd better purge it right here in this foxhole, and protect your mind, 'cause when they come, it's a psychological campaign as well as a physical one."



Hidalgo just nodded and fell quiet.



"I heard you and Rivera met in Hell," Esmeralda said, glimpsing Damali from their post. She lay on her belly on the ground behind hallowed-earth sandbags looking through the sight of an automatic with a smile.



Damali chuckled. "In a roundabout sorta way, yeah."



"He all they say he is?" Esmeralda arched an eyebrow and briefly turned to wink at Damali.



"All that and better... or worse, as the case may be."



Esmeralda laughed. "You're lucky, sis. In our line of work, it's hard to find 'em like that."



"I hear you," Damali said, checking her clip for the fifth time. "But from what I saw, there's a lotta fine able bodies out there on the field. Let's just make sure we bring all ours back alive."



"Roger that," Esmeralda said, growing serious. "But none of us are worried about not coining home, though." She glimpsed Damali. "We knew what we signed up for when we answered the call... we'll still be going home, alive or dead. They say the angels come for everybody who's tried to live right, even on battlefields." She sighed hard and returned her gaze to her weapon. "Besides, all of us wanted to be a part of history, ya know?"



Damali nodded, but the knot was back in her stomach again. More than three hundred new people tugged at her heart and conscience. It was bad enough when she just had her little ragtag group of Guardians to worry about, now she had all these new people who had mysteriously and instantly become friends-comrades in arms.



"The angels do come," Damali said quietly now watching the sky. "You guys are being written about in the books as we speak."



"You think so?" Esmeralda asked, now looking at Damali squarely.



"Yeah, sis," Damali said quietly. "You be careful out here tonight. All right? I wanna be able to visit you in Belize one day."



"Cool. Just say the word and we'll roll out the red carpet."



Damali smiled and switched the conversation to a topic that would make Esmeralda's brilliant smile and deep, rich laugh come out again. "By the way, since we're talking the mysteries of the universe-how in the heck did y'all get all this gear through however many countries without a problem?"



Esmeralda's melodic laughter filled the foxhole as she flashed Damali a fluorescent smile. "We knew some people that knew some people, who worked it out," she said with a wink. "The Covenant."



Damali's shoulders dropped in relief as she chuckled. "Cool... then it's all good."



A low, barely audible rumble in the distance sent audio-sensors scram�bling down the lines into communication positions. Seers locked on the Popocatepetl volcano. Tactical warriors laid their hands on the ground and looked up, nodding. Stone workers watched their divina�tion circles as small pebbles charged and began to move across the ground to show an approaching demon formation. Krissy, Heather, and Jasmine's gazes locked with Juanita and Inez's, broadcasting the sounds and images of awakening Aztec ruins to the team. Stone ser�pents slithered off walls, carved were-jaguars leapt down and faded into the jungle thicket. Damali's silver necklace charged and the stones within it began to glow.



A bewildered, bleeding half-human fawn ran out of the woods to�ward the gates. "Sanctuary! They're eating us for fuel!"



Before Hubert could speak, a roof sniper's bullet delivered a single shot to the satyr's forehead. The frontline teams watched the fallen creature's spirit exit his body and get summarily snatched down into the ground by several black claws.



"Not our side, I guess?" Hidalgo asked sarcastically.



"Naw," Carlos muttered. "He made his decision too late."