Vampire Huntress - The Damned Part 26

The Ritz-Carlton in Marina del Rey would seem like heaven, after being wedged in the small house for months. It was near the water, only a fifteen-minute walk to one of their favorite locales, Venice Beach. The boats would be pretty. Shopping and food and nightlife would be accessible. Maybe they could do what they always did as a team-live life to the max for the moment, and then hunker down to go to war.

Marlene and Shabazz, along with the Berkfields, would be able to easily hunt for a property in Beverly Hills or over in Santa Monica-since they had the balance of the afternoon before them. Perhaps Marlene was right about one thing; act as though there will be a tomorrow, and refuse to allow a defeatist att.i.tude to prevail.

Cool heads and calm nerves were necessary, and if Shabazz could follow his own advice this time, routine was in order. Routine kept order. She prayed that her big brother wouldn't snap under his suspicions and could just accept whatever Marlene had told him... Marlene had left Kamal in the woods, after all. For now, given what they had to deal with, that was enough-she hoped.

The Berkfields also needed something to calm their ruffled feathers. Perhaps the delayed flight was divine intervention. This way Marj and Richard could do something normal, constructive, to keep their minds focused on the possibility of tomorrow, like finding a good school to enroll Kris in. Maybe Bobby could consider taking some college courses. She and Carlos could perhaps meander a bit and find places close by that they wouldn't mind living in.

Twenty-four hours was a long time to dwell on disaster. Her orders had been clear. There was nothing in L.A. Her target was in the Himalayas, and for some odd reason, the Neteru Councils weren't allowing her or Carlos just to leave everybody and quickly transport there. Her stones didn't work; neither did his claw of Heru. Everything seemed harder to achieve. The conventional route was the only way.

They all had to find something constructive to do other than sit quietly and sulk and lose their minds. Trying to think on the bright side, she even considered going with Carlos to window-shop for the vehicle of his dreams. Maybe he could finally get his fantasy car and that would lift his spirits. She didn't know what to do, and every prayer for answers that she'd sent up hadn't come back down yet.

Getting back into the real world, being on familiar ground in L.A., would renew each sagging soul, she hoped. Going to Tibet might mean more than just a battle. Maybe after the Chairman's head rolled, they could stay there for a while to get some spiritual reinforcement through nature, stillness; let the purity of the monks' gentle presence and wisdom restore what had been stripped in battles and compromised by the contagion. Something had to give, Lord. Then they could come home, face whatever, come what may.

She clung to that hope, adding faith and hard love to it as they sat on the short flight, holding it all tightly in her heart the way she firmly clasped Carlos's hand. When he squeezed hers back she fought back tears. This was stress.

"Baby, it'll be all right," she whispered, speaking as much to him as reinforcing that promise to herself.

"You wanna go to the beach this afternoon, or go house hunting?" Damali said, trying to shift the somber mood as she and Carlos entered their hotel room.

"We can do both," Carlos said with a slow smile. "I'm just glad to be back in L.A." He blew his breath out hard and flung his duffel bag in the corner. Then, with his back toward her, he quickly began to unpack only the toiletries he'd need overnight.

She refused to stay mired in the team craziness. Folks had gone to the mutual corners for a few hours. It would work out however it had to. Everybody seemed like they'd rather stay busy than focus on whatever issues were drilling a hole in their brains. Best move. That's why she was out.

Rider and Jose had set off to go drool over Harleys. Krissy and Juanita were going to go somewhere and keep talking.

Whatever. Big Mike and Inez had disappeared. Dan and Bobby were on a mission to buy laptops and gadgetry, seeming to take comfort in attempting to repair their rift. Shabazz had called ahead to some people who knew some people to have ammo discreetly delivered to the hotel; Marlene and the Berkfields had gone to scope out a new place for the team. J.L. was hanging close with Shabazz, supposedly working on ammo with him, and on how they could wire whatever real estate they found.

But everybody knew the deal. Both J.L. and Shabazz needed to talk to somebody to get their heads right. The appointments for travel shots had been made; a doctor would come to the hotel and administer what was necessary and backdate it. The right paperwork was in process, expertly arranged by Marlene. That meant that for the balance of the day, for once, the team's Neterus were free.

Damali made short work of unpacking only what was necessary. The hotel was a good choice, as it was close to the airport, even though it was more businesslike than the A-list, pampering type of service one could find at The Four Seasons Beverly Hills. At this point, who cared? They'd already shaved off twenty-four hours of living; the infection was resident in them all.

The only thing Damali was concerned with was the fact that she'd wanted the team to be on the periphery of things, not in the heart of it. Right now she could deal with the Old World elegant European design, Italian marble bathroom, and private balcony closed off behind sheers that swathed French doors. She would appreciate all of it, just like she appreciated life with new eyes.

Having a ticking time bomb within her and each member of her team had a way of putting a different perspective on things.

Damali almost sighed as she flopped down on the comfortable goose-down featherbed, glimpsing Carlos from the corner of her eye. The other problem was, he didn't glimpse back at her. He hadn't even made a pa.s.sing reference to anything else they could do that day. Didn't the brother realize they were about to go to war?

She refused to allow herself to slide into a foul mood. She had to remember he was going through withdrawal after a relapse, so his normal responses might not necessarily be all that normal.

He watched with relish as she raced up and down the beach. Damali was like an excited puppy that had been cooped up in the house too long. She made him smile as she'd come running to him, dance around a bit, tease him, and then run off to inspect something new she hadn't seen today in the outdoor human carnival.

If she could just stay that way, laughing and full of exuberant life, his old prayers would be answered. He watched the waves chase her and the sand ooze between her bare toes as she scooted away before the ocean could wet her rolled-up jeans.

"You hungry yet?" she said, laughing, tugging on his arm to let him know that, regardless of his answer, she was.

Carlos smiled. "Not really, but we can go find something, if you are."

He watched her smile fade and become quickly replaced by a worried one.

"Okay, later. Me neither. You wanna go drive up to the fancy-car dealer?"

Her eyes held such expectation and hope that he didn't want to disappoint her. But he didn't have it in him. The fly car was no longer important. A Jeep, something reinforced that could take a vamp crash-landing, would be more practical. "Why don't we go scope out some apartments or some properties?" he said to deflect the trip to the showroom floor.

"Yeah! I'll get a paper; we can cruise by some spots. What do you like?" she asked. "What's your style, brother?"

He chuckled, but was worried. None of her behavior seemed normal. She was running around like no contagion existed, like the portals had never opened, and as though there wasn't a problem in the world. Serious denial."Beachfront is cool," he finally said, watching every person on the beach touch someone else in some way or another. Just taking change from a hot dog vendor was potentially deadly. Then his attention went to all the children. Damali didn't see that? "But I'm more partial to looking down on the water," he added.

She nodded and her brilliant smile became wider. "Aw'right. I hear you. Something with a cliff vibe," she said, sounding like an around-the-way realtor.

He forced himself to smile, and then laugh a little. "Yeah, baby. Some habits are hard to break." Then his mild chuckle died away in increments. "But maybe I can compromise and take a look at the beachfronts." He reminded himself that it was time to change the old people, places, and things, and he'd do that if they ever got back from Tibet.

The cost of every place they stopped and gawked at was sky high, but she was on a mission. She hated the way his eyes remained so sad, a flicker of remorse always casting a shadow within them. Carlos had always possessed such joie de vivre, and something had stolen that from him. Even when he'd turned, he always had a pa.s.sion for everything he did. Now something she couldn't identify seemed to be quietly killing him inside.

Her hand caressed his cheek as he peered at the third property without enthusiasm. "We don't have to make a decision today, baby," she said in a patient tone. "We can figure it out when we get back from Tibet."

"Yeah, maybe then I'll have more of an image of what I want in my mind." He sighed and watched the waves. "I just feel wrung out, and need to lie down. Just chill for a little while. Cool?"

She nodded and threaded her arm through his and led him back toward their Hummer. "You wanna go back to the room?"

"Yeah," he said, mopping his brow.

New worry slithered within her. Daylight was clearly kicking his a.s.s. It was balmy and nice outside, no intense L.A. heat yet, but he was sweating like he'd run a marathon under the sun.

He looked at her for a moment and held her hand as they walked back to the car, sensing. This mindless afternoon was crazy.

They were wasting time. He opened his mental radar quietly as she bee-bopped along as though without a care in the world; he almost stopped walking as he picked it up clearly. Her spirit was dying. It was as though all her frenetic activity was sending out a last gasp to cling to the goodness in life. He couldn't make out what part of this thing that arrested her soul was from the contagion, or perhaps coming from him. Maybe both. What he was sure about was the fact that, if they were linked at the soul level... and his had been compromised to the max... hers was fighting despair, defeat, anything that his might foist upon hers to allow the dark side to take it over and win.

They drove back to the hotel without talking. Damali peered at Carlos from the corner of her eye. He was so deep in thought that she didn't want to intrude, and they'd just been through enough drama that she wouldn't insult him with an outright trespa.s.s.

Damali squinted at the sun. Maybe he was bugging because it was near that transition time. She'd have his back, though.

Wouldn't let him relapse. She let the music on the radio fill in the blanks. Maybe once they did this portal shutdown, things would be better. She kept that goal before her as they valet parked and entered the Ritz-Carlton lobby.

As soon as Carlos was indoors, she noted, he seemed to normalize. His face began to lose the flush it once had, his skin cooled, and his expression became less pained. He even seemed to be breathing easier. But she was very careful to offer no comment as they rode the elevator to their room, went inside, and closed the door.

By rote, she went to the balcony and closed the sheers to discreetly block out some of the sun. "There must be a thousand or more sailboats and yachts out there," she said brightly, forcing her tone to sound upbeat. "Once everybody gets back, rests, showered, and whatnot, maybe we can all eat dinner together somewhere?""Yeah. That could work," he said quietly, stretching out on the bed. "I just need to catch up on some sleep, but you need to eat.

Why don't you go on down to the restaurant or something, and I'll be all right in a coupla hours after a nap."

"I'm cool," she said, looking at him as he sprawled on the bed. "I can order up some room service."

Carlos slowly shook his head and closed his eyes. "D, for real, right now the smell of food is gonna turn my stomach."

He could feel her hesitate and then tentatively cross the room. He felt her slip onto the bed beside him. The feeling of having to puke up his guts had begun the moment he'd had her best interest at heart. When she cuddled up next to him, curling her body to spoon his and lie with him, the room started spinning. She had to get away from him, or he was gonna hurl.

The minute his brain and conscience began the battle, his guts felt like they were being torn into two separate sides of his abdomen. He'd started to feel like that during the late afternoon as they'd walked together on the beach, her laughter and hopes and dreams pummeling his memory, eviscerating anything foul from his mind, slaughtering evil within. By the time they'd started looking at real estate and talking about the future, he could barely breathe.

Carlos squeezed his eyes shut tighter. It felt like a carving knife was gorging out his gray matter at the temple.

Damali's gentle palm slid down his shoulders, and sought refuge under his elbow to rest calmly on his stomach. "We'll beat this thing together," she murmured.

He gripped her hand and nodded without speaking for a moment. "D, the best thing for you to do right now is go eat, leave me be for a little while, and get the last rays of the sun. All right? Will you do that for me?"

She kissed the nape of his neck, hugged him hard, and then slipped away. He didn't open his eyes until he heard the door firmly click behind her.

His face felt like it was burning up, as did the rest of his body. A liter bottle of expensive spring water, compliments of the hotel, beckoned him from the bathroom. His throat was so raw that he could barely swallow, and as he licked his lips, he could feel where they'd become blistered and chapped.

The sensation drew his hand to his mouth, and he quickly got to his feet and went to the mirror above the dresser, stopping in horror to stare. He needed water, but couldn't make it to the bathroom to get it. He was too thirsty... He needed blood-not water.

Dark circles had begun to form under his eyes and his lips were cracked, a whitish film of dead skin beginning to peel on them.

She hadn't seen that? As he stared at himself in frozen horror, he watched his red T-shirt begin to writhe and move, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed it up over his head to expose his torso.

Long, straggling welts had formed across his stomach, raising his skin as though something unspeakable was trying to claw its way out of him. He watched, paralyzed, as the marks receded and disappeared. He couldn't move, had no idea what had awakened the beast within him, or how to get it out of him. Just as suddenly as the welts had appeared, staggering l.u.s.t swept through him and stole his breath.

Stumbling backward, he fell against the bed. Every piece of fabric touching his body felt like it was on fire, scorching his skin. He ripped at his clothes blindly, tearing at the multiple sources of pain until he sat naked, panting, his eyes sealed shut. Images of being with Damali cascaded through his mind.

"No," he whispered through his teeth. "While you're in me, you don't get to sleep with her."

Intense pain gripped his s.c.r.o.t.u.m, but when he tried to call out, his voice was silenced. A brutal force slammed him down on the bed and then dragged him up toward the headboard, smashing his skull against it. He could feel his limbs bound by a force too strong to break, and as he lifted his head and struggled against it, he watched his stomach writhe as though something alive were within it.A dark dribble of fluid oozed from the tip of his erect member. It seeped down his shaft, creating a puddle in his pubic hair, and then began to send tiny, pulsing tendrils to cover his exposed groin in a dark, siphoning sheath. Agony collided with pleasure until tears stung his eyes. His jaw was sealed shut; the scream became lodged in his throat. Excruciating pleasure made his eyes close to half-mast. Helpless, he could only watch the sheath pulse and suck against him as it flicked at the bulbous vein that was now standing beneath the head it lapped at, and sent the wet siphoning sound to pierce his ears to intensify the wanton desire.

The heat of near o.r.g.a.s.m clutched his abdomen and made his hips pump furiously at the air, and then the black liquid dissipated, the force holding him down retreated in a loud snap.

Carlos sat up fast and held his shaft where it still burned and throbbed, his hand replacing the dark violation. The head was so tender and sensitive that, if he could have, he would have bent to suck it himself. Unable to resist the natural urge to release the built-up agony, his hand moved against the hot, slicked surface in spasmodic jerks, a gasp blocking a moan, the sound of wetness quickening his movements, until he came so hard that no sound escaped his lips.

Panting, he looked down at himself. Humiliation coated him and laughed at him from within. The only small measure of satisfaction he was able to hold around his dignity was that at least what he'd e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed appeared normal. But when he looked up he froze, almost more horrified by what he saw now than by what had just possessed him.

Damali stood quietly on the inside of the hotel room door, stunned. Her eyes said it all. Her hand was over her heart and she didn't move.

He wanted to die. Couldn't look this woman in the face. Carlos was on his feet in an instant, and he rushed into the bathroom and locked the door without even glimpsing at her. He turned on the shower and jumped in.

Now was as good a time as any for the floor to swallow him up whole and make him disappear.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Damali crossed the hotel room slowly, sipping air in very tiny breaths. What would she say to him, if anything, when this man came out of the bathroom? She picked up his clothes as calmly as she could. He didn't want her? He preferred that to being with her? Okay, she would try to keep an open mind. They'd done a lot of stuff together, but it cut her to the core to know that he would now rather be alone than with her. She took in a deep breath and let it out as calmly as possible.

Shaken, she found a plastic hotel laundry bag in the closet and quietly shoved everything but Carlos's shoes into it with trembling hands. She didn't understand this withdrawal thing, especially as he was having vamp fluxes, and there was n.o.body to ask about this. She reminded herself that she was no prude; they'd explored a lot of things together. It was his body; he didn't have to share his s.e.xuality with her. It wasn't a betrayal if he wanted to get his s.h.i.t off all alone. That was cool. She shouldn't have been shocked. No reason to be upset. She'd walked back into the room unannounced, too early. He'd asked for time to himself.

Right, right, be cool, girl. This wasn't a betrayal or anything to wig about. This was... this was... Aw, h.e.l.l, she didn't know what this was. But it wasn't Carlos.

Damali moved like someone had punched her, in stiff, dazed motions to get her ID and some money, a credit card, oh... the room key she'd forgotten... She was supposed to be getting something to eat. Not likely now. How was the door open, though?

It had locked behind her.

She crossed the room, picking her way along what felt like a vast expanse, pulled the Do Not Disturb sign off the inside k.n.o.b, and stared at it. Then she quietly slipped out of the room, hung the privacy marker on the door, and walked down the hall. The elevator was taking too long. Her panties were wet. The image of him on the brink swelled within her mind. Her physical reaction was incongruent with the emotions that seized her heart. The stair exit called out to her. She needed fresh air.

She found herself running, not really looking at where she was going-just bolting.

Images slammed against her brain in stop-start patches of lit bursts framed in darkness. Carlos was on her back deck, half nude, wrapped only in a towel. Blackness. He lifted his head and smiled. Blackness. Sweat trickled down the center of Damali's back as she stopped in the stairwell, retched, but nothing came up.

She panted with her eyes closed, trying to battle the next incoming image. "No!" she said between her teeth as she fought to close her third eye.

But she could feel a dark orb of pressure at the base of her skull defying her internal command. She opened her eyes to resume her escape from the building. Blackness.

Juanita was in a chair next to Carlos. Blackness. His hands were in Juanita's hair.

Damali squeezed her eyes shut as the force of the image made her hold on to the metal stair rail. The kiss was electric. She could feel it in her mouth, along with Carlos's intent to sire. Juanita's arousal became her own. Blackness. Juanita was on her knees between her man's legs.

"Stop!" Damali shouted, creating an echo in the abandoned stairwell. She clutched her hair with both hands, puffing and blowing out breaths like a woman giving birth, desperately trying to shake the connection. Blackness. When Juanita went down on him, Damali covered her mouth and began walking in a circle on a landing. This time no blackness gave her a second to recover and brace for the next image.

Her man's hands were in Juanita's hair, guiding her furtive bobbing. His eyes were closed, head back, the look on his face... She would slay that b.i.t.c.h! Where was her baby Isis? Damali's hand went for her hip. No blade. Marlene had stripped it and put it with Carlos's claw of Heru, along with her stones-gave it to the Covenant to ship while they traveled past layers of international security-now she knew why! Sure, Marlene might not have actually seen it; Damali knew that in her gut as she honed her inner vision to a laser. But Mar knew to remove their weapons. It was more like her mother-seer had Divine insight than witness.

"Oh, G.o.d in Heaven," Damali whispered through her teeth. "I've been here before with this man. But in my house? My house!"

Her voice fractured as it escalated until what was supposed to be a prayer was a shouting match with On High. "No!" she screamed. "I don't have to tolerate this s.h.i.t!" Blackness.

Carlos's hands covered Juanita's b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Damali stood still as the ache he created within Juanita spilled from her skin to Damali's. Then suddenly, audio kicked in, also kicking her a.s.s. She listened, numb, to Juanita tell him she didn't care whose house it was. Blackness. Carlos had asked Juanita if she wanted to make a baby together? Was he crazy! The question had been asked in a low, sensual, vampirically alluring, mind-bending tone.

"I will cut your d.i.c.k off!" Damali shouted and started to cry. The s.e.x was bad enough-but to want a child with anyone but her?

They were supposed to get married! h.e.l.l, they were married, in a way. He'd called her his wife, for chrissakes!

"No honor! Where's my f.u.c.king blade!" Blackness.

Jose's face. Her Guardian brother's emotions shot through her like a cattle prod jolt, standing the hairs up on her arms.

Blackness. Krissy and Juanita were hugging. Blackness. Carlos's eyes were considering the possibilities of a menage a trois.

Blackness. Quiet. Impossible. No!

Damali started running again. This was so much more agonizing than the were-demon in Brazil. This was... was... Family. She ran though blinded by tears. Her man had grown bored, didn't want her, and would jeopardize the family house and all the relationships hanging in the balance just to get his s.h.i.t off? No respect. No forethought, just pure, stupid l.u.s.t. At a time like this, when the fate of the world hung in the balance-this is what he did? She could feel it right through her skin like a stab. This was no illusion, no dream, no internal worry without merit. Her self- confidence as a woman, his lover, his soul mate shredded and stripped away as she jumped down what seemed to be endless nights of steps. She'd been gifted, or cursed, with second sight long enough to know the real McCoy when she saw it. This had happened!

A thousand thoughts and options spun in her mind, creating a Russian roulette of murderous intent. Poor Jose! He'd walked in on that? Oh, my G.o.d; in her house? On the team? Krissy might get pulled shortly, too? No kid could go up against an ent.i.ty packing council-vamp capacity! Carlos as mere mortal was f.u.c.king bad enough!

Damali could see it in her mind. Berkfield would shoot up the joint, leaving bodies everywhere-the man would flip, lose it, and die trying to protect his daughter's honor.

"No need, Dad," Damali said, exhaling and inhaling hard as she bolted toward fresh air. "Before all that takes place, I'll slay him-trust me!"

But as soon as the thought entered her mind, a muddy, sluggish feeling began to slow her motions. She could now see Rider and Jose walking toward her as she entered the hotel lobby. For the life of her, she didn't know why she'd been running and couldn't completely remember why she'd been so upset. All she had was the impression of panic still racing through her.