Vampire Huntress - The Damned Part 11

"And I bet you get really p.i.s.sed off when you see injustice and corruption." She kissed his cheek as his head found the crook of her shoulder.

"Oh, baby," he murmured against her neck as his arms enfolded her tighter. "I can't do this... be squeaky clean, always making the right choice, always answering the call to arms for some crazy s.h.i.t in the world that's bigger than all of us."

She rubbed his back. "This s.h.i.t is scarier than being a vampire?"

"Most definitely," he said with a sigh. "It was go for self. They was ruthless, I was ruthless, what-the-f.u.c.k-eva, wasn't no friends in the game. That s.h.i.t was easy. The only person they could take as a hostage that woulda made me slow my roll, was you-and since you can hold your own, hey. But now. d.a.m.n."

She nodded and hugged him harder. "You're gonna be all right. We're gonna do this thing."

He lifted his head and stared at her, his eyes glistening in the semidarkness. "That's what I'm afraid of," he said quietly. "You were never ruthless. You never played games to the bone. Never lived some of what I lived. That's as much a part of me as this new thing I am. There's a part of me that misses the adrenaline rush of rolling like that... and the power. You never sat on a throne, and you cannot know what it is till you've done it."

She listened to his quiet confession without judgment, applying the balm of healing through silent understanding. "Baby, you'll integrate all of that over time, after we get through this major job we've gotta do. Like I've told you before, you have to take all of that cunning, and all of that master-of-the-game drama you have inside you, and use it for the good. If the Light spared you with this madness developing, then they must have had a higher purpose for you. They don't make mistakes and do things by accident, but they will use an accident that has occurred in the most awesome ways."

"You keep telling me that, and I keep hearing that, but... y'all don't really know what goes on inside my head sometimes."

He gave her a sly smile, followed by a deep kiss. "Like, I miss this for instance," he said, kissing her neck and making her chuckle. "And I miss that, for instance," he murmured, fondling her backside. Then he outstretched his arm and snapped, and looked over his shoulder and sighed. "And I d.a.m.ned sure miss being able to change a room to go with my mood." He chuckled sadly. "Right about through here, there should be torches in the joint, you naked and sprawled in the center of my bed, in my lair; then I could get creative. Then I'd let you recover while I took underground limo service and work a deal to shut down the slime creeping out of the realms... then I'd come back before dawn, and, you know... we'd celebrate." He shook his head. "I don't do Navajo prints, okaaay."

She laughed through the worry, and pushed him away with a teasing shove. "So, okay, we'll have to do some things the old- fashioned way. Once all this is over, tell the builders to funk your place out the way you want to, and I'll promise to stop by and get naked in the center of your bed. A sister can do that, and sprawl, if that will chill you out.""Yeah, but d.a.m.n, ain't nothing like doing this," he said with a snap of his fingers, gazing at her fireplace, "and starting an inferno."

He offered her a sheepish smile. "Be honest, D. You loved it, didn't you?"

"I loved you," she hedged, not willing to give into the dangerous fantasy.

"You had instant maid service," he said, coming closer to her.

She looked away and began folding the blanket. "I'll live."

"But you liked some of the trappings of-"

"Carlos, baby. Let it rest." Her tone had come out a little more forceful than intended. She made a tight, neat, pile of her duvet and put it on the chair across the room. "That was then, this is now. Don't forget about the dark energies that are a real threat.

Focus on that and any solutions you can come up with. That's the priority. Me and you need to lock, develop a quick strategy, and then roll it out to the team within the next day or so. Even if we don't turn, as Neterus, we're not immune to the effects.

We've gotta be careful."

When he didn't answer, she looked at him hard to be sure he was clear. "Your mind is a weapon, and you'd been dwelling on the old powers so much that it gave you the blood hunger for a minute while you were in transition. The result was that when you drank alcohol, hanging out with a vamp buddy and probably hashing and rehashing the old life, it made you sick as a dog- almost like you'd gone out and fed. You understand how dangerous something like that can be?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, losing all mirth in his tone. "I know. My boy said the same thing, but, like I said, we ain't going out like that no more. I've felt like s.h.i.t all day, but whatever was in my system pa.s.sed. So, I'm cool. No need to get Marlene to posse up and get everybody in the house bugging me about potentially being infected or my judgment being compromised."

He looked at her; she held his gaze, considering. Tonight, all right. But if he had any more signs of flux, Marlene would be the first person she'd consult. Then she'd call Father Pat.

Several questions continued to nag her as she stared at him, though. One was, if he was going through a Neteru chemical flux and smelled as fabulous as he did last night, how did Yonnie countenance that with Tara present-especially with dark energies swirling that should have made Yonnie act off da hook? Even though they were boys, a male master vampire would go nuts and into instant battle bulk from just a whiff of male Neteru pheromone. Conversely, if Carlos was fluxing to vamp, she should have picked up that vamp tracer the second he was in her presence. Scratch waiting. As soon as Marlene came back, they needed to talk.

Then there was also the issue of her libido being on low tide when it came to him-even while he had a near apex going on. If there was dark energy afoot, and l.u.s.ting for Carlos was definitely one of her weaknesses, then she should have been all over the man. What was wrong with her? Every overture he made toward her didn't even make her stir... except for when she thought back on their old nights together. Yet, earlier that same day, when Jose had neared her, he'd made her so hot she was ready to jump out of her skin.

Carlos c.o.c.ked his head to the side. "I thought we were supposed to be opening our third eyes to each other tonight?"

Damali glanced away. "I just did it when I asked you about the blood hit. I respect your privacy, and wasn't trying to probe beyond that, uninvited."

"D, maybe it's me, but you've seemed a little distant, lately... like, no matter what I do, I can't break in." His eyes held hers captive. "You're talking about being honest, hiding nothing from each other so we can do what we've gotta do as a team to address this new threat, and not looking backward-but I know a black mental box when I feel one. Talk to me."

She swallowed hard and sent her gaze on the floor. She hadn't been able to see the flicker of silver in his eyes, much less the gorgeous solid ray they cast when he was thoroughly turned on. More than that, his skin didn't ignite under her palm any longer.

The hardest question to ask herself was, why not? How badly was he infected? How badly was she?"It's stress, baby, given the circ.u.mstances," she said, hoping that her quick diagnosis was accurate. "That's what's creating the box. I haven't been able to focus on my music, either. All the moving, running around, coming up with long stories to soothe insurance companies, negotiations to get the new compound built on safe lands, I mean, all of it was just probably catching up to me-then we just got whacked over the heads by this new, horrible, mad-crazy s.h.i.t... Carlos, that's the only reason I can't focus to open up that private cell right now."

"Yeah, okay," he said quietly, glancing around the room for his duffel bag. "I hear you, D. Stress. That's why we didn't mind lock anymore before we found out about this new drama, or your voice didn't shatter gla.s.s when I was with you, like it used to- okay. I know what's in the box now; we heard it late last night and this morning with the teams. New threat; that I can deal with as a reason. But before, what was that? Even now, truth be told, if that's all that's in there, I thought you said we'd tackle it as one?"

She wrapped her arms around her waist.

He began walking in a circle, looking on the floor for what wasn't in the room. "Stress. I got you."

"It affects women differently than men," she said defensively. "I was stressed before, too-since Philly."

"Yeah, so I've been told," he said coolly. "All I'ma say is this, though-stress is being dead, in h.e.l.l, and having six levels of bulls.h.i.t chasing you, without daylight as an option."

He looked at her hard, then stared out the window. "Get a total mind lock on with me now, then-since we're a so-called equal partner team."

Damali closed her eyes, her body tensed. She couldn't do it. There was something inexplicable revolting her. "Baby-"

"Do it now, or I'm walking!"

They stared at each other.

She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. No. She was not allowing him into her head with something she didn't understand within him. "I'll get your clothes. They're in the living room."

"And, as I recall," he said, not budging, "with all that chasing you, an Isis blade raised, and a whole house of Guardians in hot pursuit of your whereabouts, a sister didn't allow stress about real estate and insurance companies and a new CD to cool her off.

Maybe I'm not remembering things right?" He brushed past her and paced toward the living room in search of his bag. "Yeah, D," he yelled over his shoulder. "We're both under serious stress."

CHAPTER EIGHT

The path beside the country road was so dark you could barely see your hand in front of your face, unless, of course, you had Neteru night vision. But the way Damali was acting had cut him to the bone. He would have walked that path blind as a matter of pride, and there was also this thing called principle.

From the distance, he could see the lights on in the family house, and as he walked it amazed him how short the human memory was. Everything was immediate, temporal, in the present tense. Just like people could watch the news broadcasts and be horrified today, but forget about a major incident by the next afternoon's headlines. He could never figure that out; his brain simply didn't function like that. He remembered all, and knowledge was always power.

But the past didn't seem to matter to Damali unless an argument cropped up, and then the woman could rethread history all the way back to the dawn of time. He would have laughed at his situation if he weren't so angry. True, there were more important matters to think about, but at the moment, he just didn't have it in him.

His focus would become laser as soon as he took a walk and cooled off. If any OD jumped out of the bushes, he'd squash it, the way he felt right now. Besides, as far as contagion, things couldn't get any worse than they already were. They needed a solid plan, a way to bait the Chairman and Lilith out of hiding. He and Damali were the only ones who could do that, if she could get her head together enough to work as a team. But that was the problem, she wasn't used to doing that-she was only used to giving orders, and like he'd told her before, he wasn't some flunky lieutenant of hers. Not by a long shot.

Damali was downright wrong, the way he saw it. She'd obviously forgotten about how he stood by her side when she was sick.

Oh, like restarting a sister's heart and begging for her life in prayer-as a vampire, standing in a d.a.m.ned cold shower, willing her to live wasn't nuthin'? That, compared to a night out with his boy?

She was off the hook about silly s.h.i.t. His timing might have been bad, but his intent wasn't. Had he known about all this infection madness, did she actually believe he would have gone out and gotten plastered? Then to have to be read the Riot Act by a d.a.m.ned alcoholic for a night out with his boy, simply because no matter what the circ.u.mstances, Rider would have a problem with Yonnie, even if they were going to a church for Bible study!

But, if he brought up the obvious past that he and Damali had shared, and spoken on the fact that she'd fluxed and lapsed while she was learning how to be a Neteru, she'd no doubt start arguing about how she was sick because of him in the first place.

Then it would only be a matter of time before she threw up the whole issue of losing her Isis long blade because of him. Yeah, all right, so she stayed by his side when he'd turned vamp. Okay, they were even. So what was her beef?

Though all of that was true, she'd willingly gone there with him. Women always had some tricked-up logic.

Not to mention, after all that they'd been through together, it now boiled down to her having second thoughts? At a time like this? Why?

Before, it seemed like when there was a crisis and heavy drama to contend with, the two of them were on fire. But the moment things got sort of normal, then girlfriend's mind started working overtime about woulda, coulda, shoulda. He was the one who should be having second thoughts! This was her family, her world, her environment, not his. This was her plan, her path, her mission, not his. However, for her, he was willing to try to deal with it...

Yet now she's all distant and acting funny when they needed to come together and beat a new threat as one?

Crazy part was, his boy Yonnie was all messed up because his woman couldn't let go of the past. No matter what Yonnie had done in the present, like saving Tara's a.s.s, giving her a necessary throat feed, and even being cool with her man wasn't nothing?

If Yonnie temporarily made a seduction attempt, he understood why. Pain was pain, and his boy was bleeding bad. Up on that porch, seeing Tara near Rider probably was what had made the brother drop fang. Rider still had Tara's mind on lock, and the past was making his boy miserable. Actually, it was making both men miserable, and where was the female justice and logic in that? he wanted to know.

He couldn't even begin to fathom what Shabazz was going through, even though Kamal had been chill enough not to fall by with theatrics. Still, 'Bazz's pride had been whittled down to sawdust when Kamal rolled up on them in Philly, shape-shifted, and blew Marlene's mind. The subject was so hot, so ready to blow, that even the newbies knew to stay clear of 'Bazz in the house. A woman could make even the coolest brother wig. So, again, he wanted to know, where was the justice? At least Marlene seemed to have enough sense to recognize that the past could be a dangerous thing, or a good thing, depending on when a particular skeleton leaped from a closet.

They had more important things to deal with than this! Why couldn't she give up a lock!

Marlene had maturity; that had to be it. While on the other hand, his woman seemed to have no memory of even the recent past, and Damali could only focus on ridiculous s.h.i.t. Yeah, he'd gone out drinking. So! Yeah, he sorta missed the old life. And? He wasn't no choirboy when she'd met him, and she needed to get over it. Fact was, all of them had to be flexible and change, like Rider said. But change was a two-way street. So, what did she want from him?

Carlos stood in the driveway looking at the family house. He didn't want to go in, but where else was there to go? If he took his Jeep and began driving into town, that joint practically rolled the pavement up near midnight. If he drove farther into the tourist areas, the whole American-family-on-vacation groove would truly work his nerves, especially knowing half the tourists were probably already contagious. But it was time to get his hat and be out for a coupla hours.

Adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder, he walked toward his Jeep. The plan was simple: drive till he ran out of gas, refill at a truck stop, and push forward to L.A. Talk to Yonnie; figure out something to stem this tide of demon food fleeing over the portal walls. Get a hotel room, get on the mental phone, tap Gabrielle's head, and start looking for solid leads from his old world, as well as get some permanent real estate to set up a new base of personal operations.

Within twenty-four hours, he'd wire transfer some money and throw down his American Express card and get some real custom-tailored rags from Rodeo Drive so he could operate, since time was of the essence. Next stop from there, go visit the Lamborghini dealer, and find his boys from the old neighborhood to custom-kit that b.i.t.c.h out-transportation was a must. Build an a.r.s.enal in the new joint, and order some electronics, an HD-TV; stock his bar; call his boy, Yonnie; order furniture to his liking; maybe even pick up a rottweiler puppy. Whatever. All of this could be accomplished in one night and one day, and he'd be good to go.

Then, he'd contact so-called home and let the squad know where to reach him if things got hectic. They could inform Damali, if they had a mind to. f.u.c.k it. He would do this Neteru thing his way.

She watched him from the shadows, deciding how to approach him. Summoning up her nerve, Juanita sipped in a shaky breath and willed her legs to walk forward. There had never been a time since the church in Philly when she'd had the opportunity to be alone with him and away from anyone else so they could just talk. It was now or never. The memories simply wouldn't fade. He was still her papi... even while loving Jose, and her papi was still just as fine as ever and getting dogged by a woman who clearly didn't know what she had. Damali was crazy; but she wasn't. If girlfriend wasn't treating Carlos right, she would.

The look on his face drew her from beyond the shadows. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him, remembering what his hands felt like, the sound of his deep whispers in her ear, the way his full mouth tasted... those intense brown eyes with black lashes that lowered slowly when he laughed, or wanted to make love. She let her gaze pore over his face in memory before fully stepping into view, taking in every inch of his bronze skin, down his throat to his hard chest and fantastic six-pack that was visible even under his shirt. She'd always loved the slight cleft in his chin and the way he walked, almost more of a lope than taking steps... had always loved him from the start... woulda given her life, cared for his momma, woulda had his babies, whatever he'd wanted, if he'd never let her go. And if he ever breathed her name like he had before... 'Nita... consequences be d.a.m.ned, she'd go to him whether he had fangs or not.

A curvaceous female form stepped out from behind the house and approached him slowly, making him jerk his attention toward her. Oh, man, just the person he didn't want to see.

"Hey, Carlos," Juanita said shyly, half waving and coming nearer.

"Hey, 'Nita," he grumbled and hoisted his bag into his Jeep.

"I was just taking out the trash and heard someone in the front yard." She looked up at him, coming closer than he wanted.

"Guess I'm still a little jumpy when I hear stuff, you know? I'm pretty freaked out, but I'm trying not to panic. I know you got this covered, right? It's gonna be okay, right, Carlos? You could always make things work out. I have to keep believing that."

He nodded. "You'll get used to being freaked out and then just dealing. But, yeah, baby, I got dis. Don't worry." He tempered his next response, fighting with the urge to argue with anyone in earshot, because in truth, Juanita didn't have anything to do with his foul mood. "Look," he said more gently, "none of this is normal. You've been through a lot, and having your senses on point ain't a bad thing-that is the only thing about all of this that's normal. So keep being jumpy, right through here." She nodded and leaned against his Jeep. Her sad smile and big brown eyes made him remember just how pretty she was and how gentle her heart could be. Guilt stabbed him as he stared at her. It was obvious that they both quietly remembered what they'd shared, but were unwilling to speak on it. It was better that way.

"You going over to D's after you get some more clothes?" she asked softly.

"No," he said, not wanting to discuss Damali with anyone. "I need a break. Might drive up to L.A. for a few days. I've got some contacts up there. Sitting on some Indian reservation worrying ourselves to death ain't accomplishing s.h.i.t."

She looked at him, her eyes containing a request to possibly come along, but her smile seemed to hold the question in check.

"Oh," she murmured. "Under different circ.u.mstances, I'd ask you if you wanted somebody to ride shotgun."

He smiled. "Under different circ.u.mstances, I'd ask you to go with me."

They both glanced back at the house.

"Thanks, again." He hesitated. "No. Let me say this right," he murmured, gathering her hands within his and staring into her eyes.

"Thank you, Juanita, for always having my back, for stepping in to guard my mother and grandmother... even when you didn't know that's what you were doing. I don't know what to say, but I really appreciated that. You were always there... no matter what I was doing, what crazy life I was leading, you know?"

"I loved you," she said in a patient tone just above a whisper. "Would have gone to h.e.l.l and back for you, too, baby."

He dropped her hands slowly before he forgot the present. "You did, time and time again-especially when I was building my street business. But you weren't supposed to be in that, you deserved better. I ain't gonna let nothing happen to you here, either."

"Is that why you left me, Carlos?" she asked, stepping closer and looking up at him. "I need to know that, now more than ever before."

He nodded and looked away toward the house, unable to continue to stare into her deep, brown eyes. "That is the only reason we broke up when we did." He returned his gaze to her and something within him, reflex memory, made him trace her cheek.

"You deserved better than I could give you, then. I had all the money in the world, but it was dirty money, drugs had funded what I owned, and the life was mad-crazy... You wanted children, a clean life, stability. That was something I didn't have to give."

"Then," she said softly, covering his hand against her cheek and closing her eyes. "You didn't have that to give me, then."

"Or now," he said, gently slipping his hand from beneath hers to jam into his jeans pocket. "My brother, Jose, got that for you now. He's a good man. Once we squash this current bulls.h.i.t, you two have a life and a future."

"What's so different about this life and the old one?" she whispered, looking up at him in the moonlight. "It was dangerous then.

It's dangerous now. There were predators then. There are predators now. We were worried about family then. We're worried about family now. I don't see the difference."

Carlos closed his eyes and let out a patient breath. Women had some tricked-up logic, and it was beginning to twist his. Juanita was stirring him in ways that he shouldn't remember... and the fact that she'd always accepted him-the good, the bad, and the ugly, and still had his back, was beginning to corrupt his judgment.

"The difference," he said, opening his eyes and staring at her hard, "is that this time, whatever dangers we all face, it's for a worthy cause." His comment sounded like something Shabazz would have said; in fact, he was sure the older brother had told him that, too. But it worked under pressure, and Juanita would have to accept what he'd just said. If he made the move that his body was suggesting, all h.e.l.l would surely break loose in the house before dawn.

"I suppose you're right," she finally said.Carlos almost let out his breath hard in relief. "You and Jose go way back, too. You met him first. You loved him hard.

Remember that, 'Nita. Like I said, he's a good man and deserves your all. Lord knows, I can't give that to you the way he can."

She nodded and stepped back, a sad smile still resonant on her face in the darkness. "He and I were together when we were just kids." She chuckled sadly and pushed her hair behind her ear. "We were running from demons, then. He brought me here, long after Rider had left... and we shared that wonderful summer. Then, the shaman said they needed to make us forget about the demons so we would have peace, but they made us forgot it all-because if we didn't, I wouldn't have met you, he wouldn't have rejoined Rider to hook up with the team. It all came back slowly over time as we walked over our old haunts, like ghosts of the past. I guess I was just her placeholder." Again, Juanita pushed the hair behind her ear that kept spilling forward.

He watched the way she did that, remembering. Her hair was so soft, like dark, silken threads. Her gaze searched his face, and he could feel her absorbing every detail of his mouth before she swallowed hard.

"You were never her placeholder," Carlos said quietly. "You were..."

"The one who was there when you needed a woman to love you more than her next breath. The one who was supposed to have your babies, if that's what you wanted.-and you didn't. Not from me. I was supposed to whisper in your ear in bed at night...