The Forbidden

"Take your time," she whispered. "Feel it ripple up your spine one vertebrae at a time," she panted, releasing the hot ball of energy she held, placing a skimming touch at points along his back.



"Oh... God..." Pleasure thundered up his discs, dredging his scrotum in a dry-heave contraction.



"Uhmmm, hmmm," she murmured. "Let your chakra do the work." Her hands splayed against his buttocks, pulling him against her hard. "Sync up with me. We are one." She knocked his head back with her jaw and bit him again.



It was as though she'd lit a fuse. His arms enfolded her, instinct kicked in, and his jaw collided with hers, seeking her throat. The bite was instantaneous. Her voice hit the vaulted ceiling and bounced off the walls. Beneath tightly shut eyelids he could see her energy rushing, swirling Light, colors moving quickly in elliptical patterns through her veins, coating his insides, and building renewed tidal pressure in his groin. She moved with him, their voices syncopated staccato, tears dripping off the bridge of his nose with sweat as he pulled up from the bite to breathe.



Her stare met pure silver. His eyes were fantastic.Oh, God ... They siphoned sense from her mind and ripped air from her lungs.Remember to breathe. Right there . The Sankofa on her spine burned with white-hot pleasure. She held the sides of his face as his lids fluttered shut, drawing another depth-charge release from her womb. He had to stop, her nervous system was unraveling-core meltdown. Only tears and hiccup sobs.Just. Like. That . Freefalling so hard she almost bit her tongue.Don't stop ... He was in deep, every rough kiss that landed where he'd once marked her sent her over the spiraling edge while he moved against her and cradled her head.Yes ! Her hands scrabbled at the duvet. Touching his spine was lethal, it transmitted too much pleasure, another sudden strike made her temporarily go blind.



His hands were tangled in her hair, every pant he took she felt within her lungs. Tremors of pleasure climbed through her fingertips and crawled up through the soles of her feet, converging between her legs, making every orifice on her body shudder and contract. His face burned against her cheek, his voice turning her mind to jelly, the low baritone resonance of it quaking her from the inside out.



"Yeah, baby, sho' you're right... take my time... girl, I remember."



Ecstasy had scorched her windpipe dry. He was talking shit, and there was no way to respond. She no longer owned syntax, just harmonic uttering. He'd driven her so far past the edge that all her tears had fled and were gone. She wept dry-eyed, mild hysteria setting in. The only way to repay him was to hold an image in her thoughts... the last time, vanishing-point entry... and she hurled it against his mind with his next thrust.



The convulsion was so fierce that it made him stop moving for a moment, turn his head... open-mouth holler and not a sound came out. Time had stopped, his voice coming after the fact, a delayed reaction once a pleasure-slam flattened him, sonic boom. The sensation knocked the wind out of him. Her bite, crystal energy, freezing him, then shattering him like glass. Then came the aftershocks, thundering lightning strikes, threatening to snap his neck from shuddering jerks of release, tearing his system into filaments of anguished ecstasy...Dear, God, baby, please ...



He lay there for a long time, deadweight on her, waiting for the room to stop spinning, remembering to breathe. Every so often he'd open his eyes, only able to make out the energy outline of darkened objects around them. He was half afraid to look at her, and felt his neck first to see if he had puncture wounds. Slowly he rolled off of her. She covered her neck with her palm and checked for blood, too.



Suddenly she leapt out of the bed, crossed the room, feeling her throat and double-checking her hand for blood. "Youhave to be daywalker," she whispered. "I felt the plunge, and it wasn't a blunt passion nick, brother."



He sat up slowly, and backed away from her, shaking his head. "Girl, you bitme -I mean, areal bite. I felt two inches open my jugular." A pleasure shiver washed through him and pounded in his erection. He watched it claim her with a shudder that hitched her breath in her throat.



"Stop it," she whispered halfheartedly and briefly closed her eyes. "This is serious."



"I know. Break the connection," he said through his teeth, holding the bedpost for support. "I can still feel you across the room."



They looked away until the connection weakened and ebbed to a tolerable level. Slowly they looked up at each other and lowered their hands from their necks like gunfighters.



"Your eyes finally stopped glowing." Her eyes searched his. "Am I nicked?"



He shook his head no. "D, seriously, did you do me? We'll work it out if you did."



She covered her mouth and laughed and shook her head no. "You're cool. I'm the one who oughta be worried."



"Then whatthe Hell was that?" he whispered, glancing around the room nervously.



"Two Neterus getting a little kinky, I guess," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, giggling and staggering back to bed. "Damn, round one was off da meter."



He edged toward the bed, his legs wobbly as he flopped down on it. "I didn't know... humans could... I mean-"



"Knowledge is power. Didn't you always tell me that?"



He smiled and came closer to her, touching her with one finger and drawing it back quickly, not sure if it was safe to stir up her energy bands again.



"Itwas awesome, wasn't it?"



For a moment he just looked at her and then smiled. "Damali, there are no words."



"They have some champagne and top shelf over there," she said with a nod toward the bar. "Maybe we can try it again, a little later?" She let her gaze rake his body and land on his crotch. "Or maybe... after I've had something to open up my throat a little, I'll work on your femoral-"



"There's blood in those bottles," he said in a tense whisper, drawing away from her again. He sought refuge on the far side of the bed, annoyed that the mere mention of what she might do had sent a contraction through his groin.



She flopped on her back. "I'm not crazy, and not even going there. I'm talking about having acolorless glass of wine, or whatever, chilling, and then maybe we can go exploring again." She slung her arm over her eyes. "If you can envision it, you can do it... and, baby, can youever do it. That's all I have to say."



"Oh," he said, letting his breath out in relief, and coming nearer to her. He propped himself up on one elbow and traced her inner thigh, remembering what she tasted like, sorry that he'd waxed conservative at an inopportune time.



"You actually thought I bit you?" She shook her head and snuggled up against him. "But you liked it, though... Umph. Now I have to worry about my man having a thing for female vamps, and an after-the-fact guilt complex."



He chuckled and stroked her hip, kissing her forehead. "No, baby, trust me... female vamps ain't got nuthin' on you." He ran his hand down her inner thigh, loving the smoothness of it and the slick wetness he'd just left there. "And I never felt guilty about getting with you."



She chuckled quietly, thoroughly sated. She could feel him staring at her and she removed her arm from over her eyes. "What?" she said, smiling up at him.



"You ever think about... never mind."



Damali let her breath out hard and reached for his cheek, following the subtle curve of it with her hand. "No, I don't think about that," she said softly. "Ever."



"You've never been with anybody else, though. How do you know, if one day, you might wanna just see?"



"They'd have a real tough act to follow," she said with a smile, closing her eyes again and beginning to doze. "Why would I want to ever subject myself to the drama?"



He smiled and lay down next to her, cuddling her against him. "It was all right, then? You okay?"



Damali sighed. She could not believe he was asking her something like that. "No," she said calmly. "In all honesty, I'm really not okay, yet." She felt his body tense and fought not to smile. Why couldn't he just get it through his thick male skull that he'd just rocked her world?



"I'm still disoriented, can't catch my breath, need something to wet my whistle after hollering like a madwoman... and making the witches upstairs probably ready to draw knives. But if they bum rush me for you, my legs are jelly and I'm so mellow right about through here that I'd have to just throw up my hands and cry Uncle. No, you messed me up bad, or real good, as the case may be-I'm not all right, yet. I'm devastated. Now go to sleep."



"Oh," he said with a satisfied chuckle and ran his hand down her belly until it found the damp mound of curly hair that hid her bud.



"Go to sleep, man. I need at least an hour before I can go exploring the outer edges of my sanity with you again."



His fingers gently caressed the plump slit, the spill of wetness teasing the tips of them as he remembered her secret earlobe mark and sucked it. "You want some champagne?" he murmured, rewarded by her shiver. "Something to wet your whistle while I find that other old mark on your femoral?"



She opened her thighs against her will, a soft moan escaping her lips under protest. "Stop playing, Carlos... I'm only human."



DAMALI WINCED and chuckled to herself as she stood and yawned. Her bladder was so full it felt like it had been bruised. She glanced at Carlos lying prone, his jaw slack with sleep, as she made her way to the bathroom, scooting quickly into the room and shutting the door.Dang... could ya have eased up on a sister ? She laughed. It was her own fault; she'd started it. But she had no regrets.



She twinkled her toes on the tiles, feeling wobbly and contented, no matter how strange her circumstances. She could temporarily deal with this, if this was her fate. She'd been in worse places, that was for sure. Her eyes almost crossed as water poured from her body and relief wafted through her.



Absently flushing, she went to the sink and washed her hands, smelling the soaps, inspecting now that she was awake and alone. Ethiopia had been profound. The people there had shown her what Marlene said the hidden tribes of Madagascar could do... shape-shift, become invisible, move time. East Africa had deep spiritual history, Kemet-Egypt felt like a living, breathing empire within her, not some strange faraway bit of antiquity. The Coptics had made her reevaluate what was possible and what was not. She had three stones, new gifts to explore, and a second chance.



Damali splashed water on her face, and smiled as she heard Carlos gently knock on the door and slip into the red-tiled room with her. She looked up and met his tender gaze. He was so handsome... just plain old fine.



"Hey," he murmured. "I missed you."



She grabbed a plush terrycloth hand towel and dabbed her face with the soft crimson fabric. "I was coming back," she said quietly.



"I know," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "But I have a lot of good memories of you in the shower." He gave her an appreciative gaze that made her smile.



She didn't move as he came to her and enfolded her in his arms. His kiss was tender, his hold gentle, as though he were cradling porcelain.



"You wanna see what's been on my mind, and worrying me?"



She touched his face and kissed his temple. "Baby, you don't have anything to worry about."



"Yeah, I do," he whispered. "A lot of things trouble me, especially about living all together with your team."



She hugged him hard, not wanting to hear where he was going with his thoughts, but also knowing that she had to understand in order to dispel his wrong thinking.



"Mind-lock with me like old times, baby," he said upon a deep sigh. "I don't think I can even bring myself to say some of this."



"All right," she said, stroking his hair as she continued to hug him. "Then promise me we can talk about whatever it is?"



He nodded but didn't answer her and simply held the base of her skull as her head found a comfortable place in the crook of his shoulder. They stood like that for a while, naked, belly-to-belly, just breathing and being still. Finally she began to see images roam across the inside of her shut lids. The scenes were so painful that moisture built in her eyes.



She was walking through the compound, laughing with Jose. There were happy times, good times, the house was alive with mundane chaos. Then they were all eating a meal together, Rider was making everybody laugh, regaling them with stories of his bar exploits and holding court at the kitchen table. Soon the team began to disburse, each finding their own room, or a card game-it was an easy time. Jose looked at her for a long time and then slipped off quietly alone.



"Baby, listen-"



"Shush," Carlos said gently, soothing her and rubbing her back. "Let me show you why I'm concerned."



She could feel herself becoming tense, even though she complied and allowed him to continue the shared vision. She remembered that night. It was when she'd thought Carlos was dead. There had been many nights like that. Even before Carlos had died and they didn't even know what his fate would be, she remembered Jose always looking at her that way, wistfully. But then Dee Dee had joined them and taken up with Jose, which had eased the pressure. She didn't have to acknowledge the quiet look of longing. Once Dee Dee had died and Carlos was presumed dead, there was a respectful period of mourning that neither wanted to broach.



"That's right," Carlos whispered, his voice mellow and defeated. "That's why I asked him to stand in for me, if anything ever happened. If I wasn't here, you know he'd be your choice."



She shook her head and tried to pull out of the vision, but he held her firm.



"Don't fight it, and I'm not angry. I just want you to be real about what's going on in the house."



Reluctantly, she settled back against his shoulder. "I know how Jose felt... it's complicated, but he understands and is cool. We're friends, first and foremost-that'sall ."



Carlos petted her back. "I know he's respectful, but he's still a man, and he's always loved you... from the moment he laid eyes on you. I was supposed to die back there in Sydney-but I didn't. That makes it awkward."



She sighed and nodded. What could she say? Only time would work that out for all of them.



"I know," Carlos murmured, his hand a lazy stroke up and down her back. "My greater concern is how he makes you feel."



"What?" She pulled back a bit and looked at him.



"Let me finish the vision," he said quietly, hugging her with care. "Just flow with me for a minute before you get all defensive."



She sighed hard, but couldn't relax within his hold. Even though she'd complied, a part of her held resistance. She didn't like what was happening at all.



Soon she was standing in Jose's room, but she knew she was just a shadow echo, not really there. She watched him stare up at the ceiling, and then turn his head to look out at the moon. He closed his eyes, his thick black lashes dusting his cheeks. His expression was so sad that she wanted to go to him and touch his face. Her heart ached-she loved him, this was her friend.



Relief poured through her as she watched him quietly doze off. A slow smile graced his face. That made her happy. He slept as peacefully as a newborn, laughing in his sleep. Then his expression became serious, and alarm bells rang in her head. She shook her head loose from Carlos's hold. "That's enough. This is his personal business."



Carlos let her slip away from him, but the vision held. Her eyes were open but the images still careened past her third eye. She watched Jose take in a slow sip of air, groan, and turn over on his stomach.



"Stop it!" she said firmly. "I want out!" She walked over to the sink and splashed water on her face to no avail. Carlos simply leaned against the door, his expression smug. "I will hate you for this if you don't stop," she said through her teeth. She covered her mouth and shut her eyes tightly as the image blocked out normal vision and she felt it.



In his sleep, Jose had gathered the sheets and pillows into his arms; he murmured her name, moved against the mattress as though she were there. Damali walked across the room, pacing. "Make it stop!"



"You two never talk about it because to do that, you have to acknowledge that it exists."



"Stop it!" she shrieked, her voice climbing in decibel and volume. "Right now, stop this vampiric invasion of my head! His head!"



"Oh, so now you're protecting him? You would call me a vampire; just throw it up in my face at the slightest provocation. Interesting."



"That's not fair," Damali said, trying to regain her former calm. "Stop it, please. This isn't fair."



"Lying to yourself, or him, isn't fair," Carlos murmured. "Especially when seeing him like that for you is turning you on."



"What!"



She started for Carlos to slap his face, punch him, open warfare, it was gonna beon in the bathroom-but the phantom sensation of touch rooted her to where she stood on the floor. Now all normal vision was gone, she was in the room, standing by Jose's bed, naked, watching his agonized erotic dream... her name on his lips, his hair now matted to his skull by hot sweat... it linked her to the memory of her own excruciating years of celibacy, waiting, hoping, yearning for the right one. The sensation crept between her legs, slithering there like a tormented, angry snake.



Jose turned over and sat up as though jolted awake by an electric shock. His eyes were dazed, but he simply opened his arms for her to fill them. "D, I can't keep living like this," Jose whispered. "He's dead. Come to me."



Part of her walked forward. It was as though some force beyond her drew her into his arms. The kiss was so intense and so familiar, but also so very strange. She pulled back from the kiss, even though her legs were still helping her climb into bed with him. "Not like this," she whispered and stroked Jose's cheek. "He's not dead."



"But if he was?" Jose's fingers trembled against her cheek, blurring the line between vision and reality.



Damali covered his hand and kissed the center of it and the touch made Jose close his eyes. "I don't know," she said quietly. "That scares me."



"If he's still alive, he doesn't have to know," Jose whispered, leaning forward to nuzzle her temple. "Just once, so I can put it out of my mind."



"But we'll know," she said, her hand stroking his hair. "And..."



"What if we start something in the house that can't stop?"



Tears filled her eyes and she nodded. "I have to go."



"Not yet. Don't go. Stay with me tonight." His eyes held a quiet plea before he closed them and kissed her again, this time with more intensity, his hold on the sides of her face furtive and unyielding. "If he's not dead and is human, then I have a chance. I'll fight for you-fair?" He held her face close to stare into her eyes. "Tell me you didn't feel anything between us, and I'll let you go."



She couldn't answer him.



"Is he dead, really, D? Or alive and human?"



"Let me go, Jose," she said gently. "I have a lot to think about." She covered his hands with hers, but a very wary sensation sparked within her. His line of questioning had been reasonable, true. She'd known he'd felt this way for a long time. It also frightened her to admit that, were Carlos actually gone, he most likely would have been her natural choice. But there was a level of quiet aggression within Jose that was profoundly disturbing, no matter what the situation. This was not like him at all. Something was terribly wrong.



"Let me consider the offer," she said, using evasive tactics to extract herself from his iron hold.



Jose relaxed but his eyes remained cold. "Is he still with you?"



"No," she lied, not sure why.



"Bullshit!" Jose shouted, and she leapt back from his hold and crossed the room. "Is he dead? Did he die in the sun, or did his ass come back as something else?"



"You should know," she said evenly, circling him and glancing around the room for a weapon. "Because you were there. You tell me."



Jose lunged for her and she avoided him, pivoted, and disappeared.



Damali jerked and something sucked her spirit back into her body with a hard snap. She was facing Carlos's sneer with the Jacuzzi between them. She narrowed her gaze and pointed at him. "Incubus! Be gone!"



She watched in horror as Carlos's skin withered and dropped like a dirty towel around his feet. A dark swirling energy created a small funnel cloud where he once stood and began uprooting porcelain, crashing the commode, sink, splintering tiles away from the mortar in rage. Pipes burst and water sprayed everywhere as she avoided the hurling objects. With no weapon in her hand and naked, she panicked and ran toward the door that was sealed shut.



"Lilith hasn't found you, yet. But our realm has," a sinister male voice echoed throughout the room. "You breached our realms with Raven-and she was not a sanctioned assassin!"



A huge pipe went airborne and spiraled toward her chest. Damali ducked and it impaled the door, splintering the wood. As the large, angry entity rushed toward her, its amorphous shape made it impossible to grasp or levy a blow against. Damali swung and her fist went through it, then she felt it pick her up and body slam her to the tile floor. It hovered above her for a second, its eyes green glowing slits of pure venomous rage. Rape was eminent, her hands burned hot, and the moment it thrust her thighs open, she yelled, "Freeze!"



Nothing moved. Tiles hung midair, spraying water held in stasis. She rolled over, pushed herself up, and pried open the door using the pipe like a crowbar.



Carlos chuckled as he felt Damali wrap her legs around his. "Baby, I'm beat. Gimme a few and I promise I'll be back in the saddle in no time."



He heard her giggle and continue to wrap her legs around his. He felt so sleepy it was as though he'd been drugged. She was holding his hands down on the bed now. If she wanted to play rough, that was cool, but he needed a moment to get his fifth wind.



"Right now, I ain't got nothing but love for you, girl," he murmured, chuckling as she stroked his neck. "The well is dry."



When she wouldn't stop, he opened his eyes to find her pouting mouth to kiss away her complaint. But instead of his woman draped around him, he watched in horror as the sheets came alive, strangled his legs, slithered between his thighs, and slid around his wrists and his throat. Instantly the fabric tightened, choking him, pinning him to the bed. Velvet drapes whipped off the poles and took serpentine form, rolling into tight coils that fanned their cobra throats out, hissed, and struck at him.



"Damali!" Carlos yelled, gagging, as the sheets became a noose. He could hear wood splintering and Damali yelling. Something or someone was banging on the door. He was choking to death. The bones in his wrists and ankles began to grind from the suffocating hold of the living sheets. Panic and struggle only tightened them around his body. Then a new emotion claimed him. Fury.



He stared at the offending creatures, his focus singular. Extinction. They had come into his bed, jeopardized his woman's life. Oh hell no. As soon as the thought took root within him, a laser cut the first striking velvet-drape serpent in half. It screeched a horrid death scream and sent plumes of yellow sulfuric smoke onto the air where Carlos's line of vision had severed it. Immediately the sheets uncoiled and slipped under the bed. He sat up and then jumped up, his gaze a torchlike sweep of the terrain halving the armoire, the dresser, cutting a path with silver Light.



Carlos snatched up his pants, pulled the small pocketknife that had traveled with him undetected across the continents from his clothes, and yanked the handle. A dark whirl of energy passed him and he scored it with a golden claw. Billowing sulfur escaped from the deep lacerations. A female demon materialized, and within seconds, her neck was trapped by a chain that sizzled. A head rolled to the floor as Carlos's hands yanked hard. The floor opened and swallowed the carnage.



Damali burst out of the bathroom brandishing a bent pipe. They went back-to-back, circling the room in a fighter's stance, ready. The vault door blew open, and Yonnie and Tara jumped out of Carlos's beam. Porcelain in the bathroom fell and a black tornado whirled past them and exited the room. Gabrielle rushed forward with her coven sisters. Rider came in behind them brandishing a pump shotgun. Carlos turned his head and steadied his breathing until he could glance up without cooking them.



"In my fucking room!" Carlos bellowed, his eyes flickering silver as he snapped his weapon shut. He held the small knife so that it was concealed within his clenched fist.



Yonnie came forward first. "Man, we got set up." He reached for Gabrielle and snatched her across the room into his hand by her throat.



"Let her go," Damali said. "It wasn't her. It was also male-incubus."



Yonnie dropped Gabrielle who skittered away to hug her sisters. "An incubus? That strong? To challenge a councilman?"



"Unheard of," Gabrielle gasped. "My establishment is fortified. Succubae and incubi don'tdare tread here unless invited for play. The spell barriers around this place alone would evaporate them." She walked about the room like a detective, fury making her bold. "Look at this mess!"



Carlos glanced around the room at the halved furniture and clean burn lines he'd left. If he weren't so pissed off and unnerved, he would have been pleased.



"Well, looks like you smoked one of them," Yonnie said. "You're definitely back, man."



Carlos nodded, rage still working its way through his system like poison. He glanced at Damali. "Yo, Yonnie. Do me a favor and give her some clothes-combat gear, slayer shit. No gowns. Tims, jeans, and a weapon."



Yonnie gave Damali an appreciative once-over gaze and robed her and Carlos at the same time. He neared Carlos and leaned close to him to speak discreetly as Damali put a nine in the waistband of her jeans and crossed the room.



"While I can tell you were definitely handling your business with the laser, it ain't good for the witches to see you like this. I know you expended a lot of energy before the break-in, and then went into battle on half a tank, but if you can't materialize clothes, man, you're gonna hafta eat right before you lair up with the Neteru in the future." Yonnie kept his voice to a low, private murmur so that only Carlos could hear him. He held Carlos's arm and motioned toward the destroyed bar with his chin. "Whatever's left over there ain't gonna pack the punch. Take any one of the witches or the male Guardian and get your tank right. Feel me. All of them got adrenaline hype. Whoever blew in here on you, man, was strong-so you've gotta be. Lift the ban so we can do this thing, me and you." Yonnie offered a fist pound, but Carlos declined it.



"No. The ban holds. Don't question me on it, I have my reasons."



Damali spun on Carlos and stood between Rider and the witches. "Not here, Yonnie. They're not for feeding to go into battle."



Tara drew away from Rider's side and stood with Damali. "I gave Rider the pump from Gabrielle's artillery. It's loaded with silver shells and packed hallowed earth-just in case some of their clients play a little rough."



"I understand your dilemma, Yonnie," Gabrielle said in an even tone, standing with Tara and Damali so that her coven members were behind her. "We get all sorts in here, occasionally a were-senator becomes overly aggressive, or a lower-level vamp takes it in his head to try an unauthorized flat-line, and one of our girls gets hurt." She opened her black silk robe and stroked a silver dagger and a gleaming Glock nine-millimeter. "Sometimes we have to show them to the door in the morning."



Yonnie opened his arms and smiled. "Baby, it's all peace. We're on the same side."



"Yeah, especially since they've chased your sister and her husband and kids up to Brooklyn," Carlos said, stepping in front of Yonnie. "Let's everybody chill."



"My sister?" Gabrielle said, closing her robe.



"Marjorie Berkfield," Carlos said, trying to end the standoff with information.



"Not Marj," Gabrielle said, nearly growling. "Her daughter is my protege. Marjorie is the good one, the one in the family who believes in fairy tales and all things beautiful. She had a chance for a normal, placid life. Not her." She walked a hot path to the far side of the room and slid the fireplace mantel back by lowering a torch. "My sister! My lovely, nice sister who wouldn't hurt a fly? First Susan, now they've attacked my establishment and my beloved niece...my favorite niece ?"



The motley group gaped as row upon row of stakes, crossbows, medieval swords, packed shells, every size gun, and ammunition became revealed. Gabrielle snatched down a bazooka. "We take this to the streets."



Damali stepped forward and hoisted down an AK-47 and two ammo clips, and strapped the machine gun over her shoulder. She then took down a silver broadsword. "Now that's what I'm talking about-a woman who handles her business." She and Gabrielle exchanged a glance of mutual respect. "The rest of my team is holed up somewhere in Brooklyn with a trigger-happy old man. We'll have to break diversity to him slowly, but he's on the same mission. Whoever did this waxed his brother."



Gabrielle nodded and glanced at Rider. "The human doesn't look so good."



Rider shrugged and walked toward the ammo wall. "I'm all right. Just a few pints low," he said, offering Tara a strained smile.



"He needs a detox, soon," Tara said, touching Rider's arm as she neared him. "I tried to purge him in the room... after," she said, her voice filled with shame. "But I forgot, my bites now-I'm a second." Her gaze searched the women in the room for help.



"I said I'm fine," Rider said with a shiver. "All I need is a shot of Jack Daniels and a gun."



Carlos walked over to Rider and felt his head. "Cold sweats are setting in. This man is dead on his feet, if we don't get him to Marlene soon. She's the only one that I've ever seen purge a high-level bite-"



"She can't do it," Damali said quietly, walking to Rider slowly and swallowing hard. "She could purge me because I had Neteru antibodies. She could bring Jose back because Dee Dee was a third and the connection was the baby, not a bite. Tara's grandmother was working with a fourth-gen." She touched Rider's cheek and then hugged him.



Rider stroked her back and looked at Tara. "Baby, we always knew one day it might come to this, right? Okay. I'm a dead man walking and my number is up... but I wouldn't have wanted to get nicked any other way."



Tara covered her mouth and turned away. "Not him and not like this," she whispered.



"Can Berkfield clean this up?" Damali asked, her wet gaze going to Carlos. "Answer me! You guys know how this works!"



"It's all right," Rider said, gently pushing her away. "Let's go find out who we've gotta hot, do the job, and in three nights, I'll need an ambulance."



"No!" Damali shouted. "You get back with the team and see if Medic can do a transfusion. In the meantime, you keep your stubborn ass alive, you hear?" She hugged him hard. "I will kill you if you die on me, Rider. Stop playing."



"Then we'd better get a move on hunting down what caused the problem," Yonnie said, trying to restore the calm.



Damali left Rider slowly and nodded. She went to Tara and hugged her. "It wasn't your fault, and we'll get him cleaned up. I understand. All right?"



Tara nodded. "We'll need strong seers to break their mask."



With a long sigh, Damali walked over to her discarded robes and extracted the three stones from her pocket. "Three with living souls is what we need. I'm one. Who else has the gift?"



Gabrielle stepped forward. "I can astral project and do divination."



Damali nodded. She glanced at the other coven members, but all the women hung their heads. "Then I have to get to Marlene or Father Pat."



"I can see," Carlos said quietly.



"Yeah, man, so can I. But the Neteru said you have to have a soul to break supernatural masks-that's the crux." Yonnie paced over to Tara. "Maybe me and you can get a bead on where the Brooklyn team is and transport them here. Problem is, if they're behind hallowed-"



"I can see," Carlos repeated quietly, walking up to Damali. "I have the visions, too."



"My councilman," Gabrielle said, losing patience. "I know you're very upset, as we all are, but some things are simply beyond-"



"I have a soul," Carlos whispered.



He closed his eyes as a gasp passed through the room and Yonnie came to him slowly.



"What, man..." Yonnie said so quietly that his question echoed.



Carlos looked at him sadly. "That's what I've been trying to tell you all along. You just didn't hear me."



"We should be in Brooklyn gathering weapons now!" the rabbi argued. "Not futzing around with this girl in a church. Either she's coming with us to fight or not."



"She's traumatized. Can't you see that?" Marjorie protested. "How old are you, sweetheart? Where're your parents?"



"Still in San Pedro," the young woman said, blowing her nose in a tissue. "We all went there, just a few miles outside of Tijuana, right after Mrs. Rivera and her mother were killed. I thought if I ran far enough..." She looked up at Father Lopez and then her gaze lingered on Jose. "I wanted to find his parish. His church. He was the only priest who believed me, didn't think it was all superstition."



She stood up and exited the pew and went to Father Lopez and hugged him tightly. "You came back for me." She sobbed against his shoulder. "Even Jose didn't come for me. I asked them and they wouldn't tell me where you had gone. I stayed at the churches and called the secret number you gave me, but it only rang." Her sobs became more ragged as he rubbed her back and closed his eyes. "You always came before when I called, were always there, I knew it I heard your voice, it would be all right." She looked at Jose hard. "Don't you remember? You were supposed to come back for me, but you didn't!"



"Wait," Shabazz said, glancing at the young woman and then Jose. "You two know each other?"



Jose nodded and looked away. "We go way back. Before her and Carlos. Old history from when we were kids." Sadness registered within Jose's voice. His gaze sought the floor. "Until now, I just didn't remember."



Father Lopez stared at Jose for a moment, as did the others.



"We have to get out of here," the rabbi said, becoming more agitated. "I can feel doom on the way. This girl is like a walking Typhoid Mary! She goes to Philadelphia and stays at a church shelter, and what happens?" He'd asked the question while walking in a circle with his hands clasping his hat. "Disaster. A huge cathedral at Forty-third and Chestnut Streets, she says, has something crash into the southwest tower and bring a stone building down that has stood for over a hundred years. This after a house blows up. This is a bad sign and an omen. Now, she is sitting in another holy place and we're with her? Not good. If this young man forgot her, there is a good reason! My advice to you all is leave the destruction magnet and let us go and fight this fight, then figure it all out.Later ."



"There's a lot we have to talk about later," Marlene said in a quiet voice, gaining a nod from Shabazz.



"Let it rest," Jose said, "Later. 'Nita, I'm sorry. Maybe you should stay here until we figure this out."



"I don't want to go with you any more than you want me to, either," Juanita said proudly. "Like I've told you a hundred times, a man picked up the line when I tried to call Padre. He told me to go to the airport, alone, he had a one-way ticket for me, and gave me the address. I was to wait for Padre-that's all he said. Then when the church crumbled they gave me another address and drove me to Thirtieth Street Station, said a prayer, and dropped me off to catch a train to New York. So, I'm not leaving with anyone but him." She held on to Father Lopez tighter and glared at Jose. "Henever left me. Both you and Carlos did."



Marlene shared a look with Father Patrick, who stood and walked down the long aisle toward the altar with his hands clasped behind his back. Big Mike rubbed his hands over his face and let out a long breath. Marjorie Berkfield and her children shot nervous glances around the team.



"If I hadn't stopped to call into Covenant headquarters from a pay phone, we wouldn't have come here. We wouldn't have known you were here at all," Father Patrick said quietly. "Perhaps I can implore our forces to make weapons available from here."



"But will they have antidemon devices like my brother had developed?" the rabbi said, now stomping his feet.



"If Father Pat makes the call, they know what we're up against. At least this way we'll be strapped en route to your place," Big Mike said calmly. "We'll add what you've got to the stash-so chill."



Shabazz rubbed his hands over his face and stood. "If you've got a specialty, girlfriend, you'd better hone it." He studied Juanita with a hard glare. "We're losing time. We can't leave you here, and if you go with us, you've gotta go packing. Make a decision, sis."



Dan hung his head and spoke in a defeated tone. "Give her time, 'Bazz. I remember what this felt like-having your life change in the glint of a fang. Maybe we can leave her here in Manhattan, go do what we've gotta do, and bring her in slowly?"



"Juanita, baby, you've already told us about what went down in the ambulance. We're here trying to make sure that doesn't happen to you," Jose said as gently as possible.



"We've been here going over this for hours," J.L. said, raking his hair. "I want you to look at Mrs. B. She's got her kids with her, ya know. She has to be terrified, her children are newbies, and her husband was almost slaughtered. I say we take the old core squad out to do this dirty work, then, after the smoke settles, we educate everybody, train the newbies, and give people a chance to adjust." His gaze went to Kristin. "If anything happens to a new, unseasoned Guardian, will any of us ever be able to live with that?"



"I'm with J.L." Berkfield said. "Leave anyone who's new and a civilian in this church with our clerical brothers to bodyguard them, and we take a special forces squad that knows how to handle themselves with weapons up to Brooklyn with the rabbi."



"There is wisdom with that approach," Imam Asula said. "We can guard the three women and the young boy here in the cathedral, while the Guardians bring us back what we'll need."



"Sometimes it is the untried road that is most successful," Monk Lin offered. "We will stay and protect the new ones."



Juanita looked at the others with distrust. "Padre Lopez was the only one who checked on Carlos's family after he had to go into hiding." Her gaze narrowed on Berkfield. "You never came to help his mother. They won't even let me bury his loved ones until they've performed the autopsies-simply because their faces weren't as badly burned as the authorities expected. He helped you, Detective; why couldn't you help him more than you did?"



"I couldn't," Berkfield said without apology. "I would have blown their safe-house cover."



"It's true," Father Lopez said, cupping Juanita's face with his hand. "What they say is true." He allowed his hand to fall away as the group's gaze made him uncomfortable. "Maybe it's a blessing that the funerals had to wait... until Carlos could come back and see his family one last time." He reached for her face again and stroked her cheek with trembling fingers. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."



Marlene stood, left the disorganized group, and walked toward Father Patrick to privately confer close to the altar.



"Seer to seer, I'm going to ask you one question," Marlene said, staring into Father Patrick's eyes without blinking.



He nodded.



"We've got significant dissention in the ranks, our Neterus in a hot zone where we can't get a lock on them through black-spell barricades, and several serious problems brewing."



Father Patrick's gaze was unwavering. "Ask your question, Marlene."



"This one particular problem that's nagging my mind is very dangerous to our core formation, isn't it?"



Father Patrick closed his eyes. "Yes."



CARLOS CHOSE his words carefully as the group assembled around the large oval table in the parlor. He looked at Damali, confused. "You're blocking, baby."



"I'm not," she said, her tone brittle enough to snap. "It's Gabrielle's barriers. I can't connect to the team through it, plus wherever they are is definitely fortified against a transmission coming from this type of location." Damali stood and collected her stones. "We need to go outside."



"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Yonnie said, looking at Carlos.



"Later, man," Carlos muttered and pushed away from the table.



"No," Damali said, stopping at the archway that led to the foyer. "Talk to him now, get it all resolved, so we don't have any issues in the middle of a battle. We need to know who's with us or not."



"I think that would make all of us who still have a pulse feel better," Gabrielle said, standing. "I was willing to be turned, but not flat-lined." She looked at Rider and Tara. "I'm going upstairs to change into some street clothes and will be back in five minutes. I have something he can put on up there, I'm sure-since Yonnie is so pissy with him."



Yonnie snapped his fingers and put Rider in fatigues. "I told you it was peace," he said, his tone low and threatening. "Now, I'd like a word with my councilman-alone. Five minutes."