CHAPTER SEVEN
"Do what?"
A hard silver stare met her as Carlos turned away from the glass doors. Incredulous, he rubbed his palms down his face and began to walk away. She could tell he was going for distance before he said something that couldn't be taken back.
"You missed the obvious, that's why I said what I said." Damali knew the riddle would hook him and she smiled inwardly as she heard his footsteps stop. She casually got up from her kitchen stool and went to the sink to rinse out her bowl and then shook her head. Some things were simply reflex. Who cared if the dishes were done, given that the house was probably about a couple of hours from beingash.
"Love?" he said, indignant, and then folded his arms over his stone-carved chest. "Love them to death, D. . ."
"Check it out," she said calmly, pointing toward the horizon. "When I had my vision before, everything was being consumed by these dark entities entering people. No doubt there's been a lot of bodies snatched, but I'm still seeing choppers out there, planes . . . what did you tell me . . . there's like eighty eight hundred firefighters on the line, plus how many Red Cross shelters open and neighbors helping neighbors, right?"
"Yeah, all right," he said, dragging his fingers through his hair and coming more deeply into the kitchen.
"That means that the vision I had was skewed. Just like that food that came in and turned all maggoty, my vision was off. Maybe it was residual tainting from before J.L. installed the filters. But all of us in this house have been panicked out of our minds. Krissy wigged so hard that me and J.L. had to take her out of the War Room for air. The goal of this thing is to make people hopeless, make them panic, make them think that the end is finally here-when you and I both know it ain't over until the Creator says it's over . . . and we have to keep on keepin' on."
"All right, all right, I buy that part. Yeah, the illusion is to make everybody trip. I know I've been buggin'-with good cause, too. But how in the hell are we supposed to love this so-called shit to death?" Carlos threw his hands up in the air and began to pace. "I mean, what the fuck, D. What's to love?"
"People," she said flatly. "It can't win if we focus on loving and helping people, rather than going after the darkside directly. That we've never done before on this team." She walked to the glass doors that led out to the deck. "Normally, as soon as the blazes started, we would have kicked in a hellhole, sent in troops, and did a search-and-destroy operation. But we're messing with their heads right now-we haven't surfaced. So, they're going nuts blasting the whole country with everything they've got, trying to get a reaction."
She watched as her husband moved in closer and leaned against the sink. She had him where she wanted him-open and listening.
"Think about it, Carlos. We need to employ a judo move here, allowing the adversary to fall from the momentum of his own weight. They're aggressively attacking . . . we fall back and let their forward momentum roll them over our heads."
She turned and gave him a hard smile."Yeah. We kick their asses with love. See, I'm figuring that the people who couldn't be taken over by the shadows had to have a love of humanity within them so hard . . . a love of the Creator, by whatever name they know, something sterling within their spirits that wouldn't allow the takeover. Not every kid got taken over. Not every doctor, not every policeman, or man, woman, chick, or child. Feel me? Something is causing a barrier tothat, otherwise it would be anarchy out there. LikeDawn of the Dead . People would be looting, killing one another out in the streets right before everyone's eyes, cops and anyone with a gun would be up on rooftops and towers like snipers picking people off as we speak. When it goes there, baby, that's when we're at the last of days. That'sthe prom . This is just a midweek dance. Right now, this is bad, but not the worst."
Ever so slightly, she watched Carlos's shoulders begin to relax. By degrees the tense muscles in his biceps lengthened as his arms unfolded. She watched him glance out the window, brows knit, silver gaze on the flaming horizon. She could almost feel his razor-sharp intellect slice through all the illusions before him and engage like a gear that was back on track. Then he nodded.
"Yeah," he said, going to the glass. His tone was so low and distant that she knew he was really talking to himself.
"Still no sign of them?' Lilith screeched as she blew open the doors of the Vampire Council Chambers and sauntered forward.
Her council stood to greet her and she eyed each member with suspicion. Fury at a lack of results had her in a stranglehold, and she turned her bitter venom on her two injured councilwomen first. Their injuries were a reminder of her Dark Realm's heavy losses. Sebastian had lost an arm, his conjuring arm; Elizabeth Bathory was burned beyond recognition. Lucrezia was a wreck. Revolted by Lucrezia Borgia's condition, Lilith shook her head.
Gorgeous, fire-red hair framed Lucrezia's delicate, porcelain white skin. No wonder Fallon had been so taken with her, enough to make her his mate. A pair of sensual, smoky green eyes stared back at Lilith, silently begging for mercy.There is no mercy in Hell, bitch . Lilith shot her a telepathic message, taunting Lucrezia as she strode forward and waved away the little gargoyle creatures that scampered at her feet looking for blood bits. The vampires waited, none breathing, to see what vicious course her foul mood might take.
The councilwoman seemed trapped by Lilith's glare, and Lilith allowed her to twist with uncomfortable anticipation as she filled her goblet with blood from the pentagram-shaped council table's veins. Lucrezia's picture-perfect nose balanced her once pretty features . . . Lilith shrugged. Sad that her lower jaw had been ripped away by her own husband to save her life. Silver poison at the hands of the Neterus made it necessary for Fallon to tear at the substance, wrest Lucrezia's esophagus out of her once lovely throat down to the stomach before the silver-laced blood damaged her dead heart.
"Have you no dignity?" Lilith said in a quiet, lethal tone as she spun away from the table and took a sip of blood. It was a rhetorical question, really. Lucrezia's vocal cords were gone.
She'd never expected an answer from her as she ascended her high-back, black marble throne and angrily sat. If Lucrezia had finally summoned enough energy to cover the hideous results of the Neteru poisoning with illusion, surely she would have. That was the thing that so enraged her-Lucrezia didn't have the strength to do so yet and might never-none of them did, at a time when the dark empire needed strong warriors.
Lilith's gaze narrowed as Fallon Nuit flung out his arm and covered his wife's face from the nose down with a heavily beaded veil. "Such a waste," she hissed and then glanced at Elizabeth, who had turned away to cover her burned face with gnarled hands.
"You were once Count Dracula's wife!" Lilith shrieked, suddenly standing. In a rage she sent her golden goblet crashing to the black marble floor, but even the ever-hungry Harpies dared not go near the spill now. "Look at you! How could you be so stupid to takea bloodbath topside in the gray-zone, or to feed, and not check for treason? It was arrogance and stupidity that allowed you to drop your guard."
There was no response to the diatribe as Lilith's searing gaze raked her subordinates. "You never depend on a man to save your carcass . . . had I depended solely on Lucifer all these millennia, where would I be? Exterminated! Where is your guile, your personal brand of treachery,your me -or-them survival instinct as agoddamned queen of the night! I am ashamed to call you mine. There's not even a coherent plot against the female Neteru to return the favor."
Lilith waved out her arm toward Fallon Nuit and Sebastian. "Fuck them! You two councilwomen should have come together to develop a foolproof plan to not only avenge yourselves and restore your honor, but to exterminate these two worthless bastards who were more interested in screwing you than ensuring your longevity and welfare! What has become of Hell?" Her gaze narrowed on both councilmen. "They wouldrue the day that something so horrific ever befell me . . . but you whimper for me to fix this travesty. It is your right and choice to do so-I don't have to sleep with them."
"He couldn't repair me, Madame Councilwoman," Elizabeth said in a piteous murmur. "He lost his conjuring arm and the prosthetic one he casts in illusion is powerless. His left is building strength now, but-"
"Did you have balls enough to ask my husband to repair your arm? Nuit was cut with a Neteru blade and lost a leg, and it was repaired! Did you even bargain for your conjuring limb?" Lilith shrieked, whirling on Sebastian, who ducked a black blast.
"No, milady.I suspected that you were both too busy attending to the more important matter of the heir's survival. My arm is nothing. I felt it best to wait until a more auspicious time to approach him . . . as I'm sure his level of frustration is high now." Sebastian kept his head low like his simpering tone, cringing on his throne.
"Get your fucking arm repaired by the only one who can! I need your spells, not excuses." Lilith hissed and then spit black blood. It sizzled on the hot floor and she folded her arms over her voluptuous chest, now speaking through battle-length fangs as she returned her withering gaze to her councilwomen.
"You two bitches are worthless to me while you cower in the darkness of Chambers and convalesce. Sebastian . . .look at your wife, who was once the beloved of Vlad the Impaler. She was a Hungarian queen, a goddess of beauty and refinement, but look at her now. An old hag! Vampire females never succumb to the loss of beauty at any cost-and most assuredly it is unbefitting a councilwoman!"
Trembling with fury, Lilith spun on Sebastian again and offered him an evil smile. "Necromancer . . . shall I raise Dracula and see what he thinks of Elizabeth's once lily-white skin charred and twisted so that her dark hair and eyes are all that is left of what he once remembered? I am so tempted-"
"No! I will go to the Dark Lord and get my limb restored!" Sebastian shouted, coming around the table to genuflect before Lilith. "Madame Chairwoman, please, that won't be necessary-I will redress this injustice, like Fallon will-"
"Do notdare speak my name in this transaction," Fallon Nuit said coolly inDananu . He strode around the table, uttering in the bargaining language of his kind. "The question of whether or not to raise Dracula should be Elizabeth's, not yours, since you allowed her to be harmed."
"And you have not allowed your wife to be! Look at Lucrezia's face!"
Nuit bowed but took no offense. "My senses were duped by the Neterus, just like yours, my friend-but I cuckolded no one's wife. Vlad was a monstrous general in his prime . . . and one of Lucrezia's relatives, whowas adept in debauchery and deception, was a pope. We must begin to look at the long list of resources we have yet to employ,n'est-ce pas? If your actions standon their own then what have you to fear?"
"I don't fear making the necessary request, it was simply the timing." Sebastian's eyes glittered with hatred as Nuit glared at him with contempt.
"I've had a limb restored down on Level Seven," Nuit said coolly, "and if that process doesn't make a man out of you, nothing else will,monami . Although, from the look in your eyes, my bet is that you'll put off the inevitable as long as possible . . . maybe Elizabeth would be better off if the Count were back in his full glory, hmm?"
"Raise him," Elizabeth whispered, her voice strained. She turned her disfigured face toward Lilith, tears rising in her large, brown eyes. "We are linked, and Vlad would be strong enough to heal me."
"I will take that under consideration," Lilith said dismissively while studying her French manicure. "My only concern is that Vlad is impulsive and would make a run at my throne . . . which would mean I'd have to exterminate him permanently."
"You have the power to heal them both . . . and me," Sebastian offered quietly.
Lilith stared at him for a moment and then laughed cruelly. "Yes, I do, don't I? But what have you assumed I've been doing all this time?" From her peripheral vision she saw Fallon, Lucrezia, and Elizabeth draw away ever so slightly as she approached Sebastian.
"You were healing the heir," Sebastian said quickly. "That was the sum total of your focus, milady."
"Good answer," Lilith said in a hissing whisper. "Could it be that I was also waiting to see whatyou could do on your own?" Her voice rose on a powerful crescendo that sent the transporter cloud of bats in the vaulted ceiling into a screeching frenzy. "My husband has been making world leaders offers they cannot refuse, positioning. The Unnamed One, our Dark Lord, has been fucking with the weather, crashing economies, bringing humankind to the brink of world war and nuclear destruction-thus sending you dark cover to aid an ambush . . . what have you done with this time!"
"Built a media empire that assaults the human spirit with shadow elementals and demon principalities that will later make them susceptible to the plagues wrought when the pale horse is released with the breakage of the next biblical seal," Nuit said with unwavering resolve. "I have driven humankind mad, simply put. Leveraging the natural disasters with human insanity shall surely drive the Neterus out of hiding."
"Explain," Lilith screeched, sweeping away from a cowering Sebastian. She stood before Nuit and studied his expression for signs of fraud.
"I've bonded the phantom realms to the airwaves, riding that into the human psyche through their technological toys. The message is decadence," he said in a sensual whisper. "Lack of hope," he murmured, beginning to circle her."Hatred and human horrors. Their sense of survival is already being compromised with the economic plummets . . . loss of jobs, housing foreclosures, identity theft, and tightening credit restrictions, and of course the thing that drives them from their creature comforts-so-called natural disasters," he whispered, clenching his fists and motioning in the air as though he were wringing out a wet towel.
"We will ride the black horse of economic distress, showing them decadent celebrities living like kings and queens while they can barely afford to keep their lights on. They will covet and greed will spiral-they will sell their souls for the price of silver under these auspices," Nuit murmured. "It is a part of the shadows. Many humans will break under the strain. Those with dim lights within cannot fight off the toxin."
He smiled as he watched Lilith's fangs adjust to mating length. "Lucrezia's specialty is poison . . . mine, guile and empire-building." He leaned in close enough to whisper in Lilith's ear. "I let her poison the airwaves in the music and entertainment industries . . . including the news. We are bringing you dark recruits twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, globally . . . and given Lucrezia's unfortunate convalescence and the condition of her throat . . . I have been making master vampires for you, by the dozens."
A slow smile formed on Lilith's lush mouth. She caressed Nuit's jawline and nodded. "Well done, Fallon.Verywell done. Abstinence from your wife becomes you and I bet that has also improved the quality of her venom, yes?"
Fallon chuckled as his wife released a nasal-created hiss."Oui."
Lilith cast a bored gaze at Lucrezia and issued her a warning inDananu as she repaired the councilwoman's damaged jaw, throat, and torso. "You both have earned my respect and therefore this reprieve. Know that I can only do these types of healings in spaced increments, then must feed and rest. Grafting over silver is as dangerous for me as it is for you . . . and until the heir was healed, I could not waste my energy like this. However, Lucrezia, when I come to you for the old pope in your line, I expect results."
Lucrezia dropped to her knees, sobbing and nodding as the beaded veil disintegrated and new skin began to crawl up her throat and mangled jaw.
"Feed your wife and go fuck her somewhere, Fallon . . . and be ready to report topside within the next twenty-four hours. I want a strategy in place. Better yet, the Neterus' heads on a pike."
Lilith's gaze hardened as it left Nuit and she glanced at Sebastian. "Go to Lucifer and cower at his hooves that he might repair you to do our empire's bidding. The results are uncertain, as you are correct-he is in the worst mood I haveever seen him in since the original fall. But that is your only option. I refuse to waste my energy on you. Andif you survive the ordeal of my husband's healing, do be sure to bring me something equally as devastating as what Fallon has offered this council . . . raise something from the extermination pools-or I may grow bored with you and your wife."
Marlene walked into the kitchen with Shabazz. Both older Guardians stared at the young couple and an awkward silence briefly paralyzed the foursome. Damali was the first to break the tense standoff with the simple statement of good morning.
"We didn't want to interrupt," Marlene said. She glanced at Shabazz nervously. "But we're gonna have to evacuate the house soon."
Shabazz nodded. "Everything tactical in me is feeling like something's about to blow. We might have a half hour." He looked at Carlos. "You up for a full transport out-and you know where we're going?"
"Where'sAyana and Mom Delores?" Damali said, interjecting quickly. She knew Carlos didn't have a clue where he could put them down safely yet, and going into the middle of a hot-zone with a three-year-old and a civilian grandmother was out of the question.
"In a safe house in Philly.While you were still resting, Inez and Mike agreed early this morning, and Mom Delores was grateful to be leaving here when she saw the smoke. In Philly they just raised ten thousand men to stop the violence and Father Pat went there for a meeting at the cathedral basilica . . . plus we got a serious Guardian crew back east, so . . . it's all good. I spoke to him, he's cool." Carlos hesitated, worry straining his expression. "He's still weak, though, and said he had something to tell us when he could be sure his info wouldn't be hijacked out of the air."
"Yo."
Everyone in the kitchen turned quickly around to meet Yonnie's voice. He stood in the doorway, having moved so silently that it unnerved the frayed senior team.
"I should have heard you coming, man," Carlos said, as he pounded Yonnie's fist.
"All of y'all shoulda heard me coming, but your focus is elsewhere. Not good. I coulda snuck you as a daywalker . . . shit-y'all better tighten it up."
"It ain't your shift," Shabazz said, his gaze hardening with frustration.
"With the world up in smoke,do it have to be?" Yonnie leaned against the sink and folded his arms over his chest. Palpable tension coiled around him. His sinewy form seemed like he was ready to spring into action to meet Shabazz's challenge, if it went there. Defiance blazed in Yonnie's dark brown eyes and his wild Afro seemed to add to the visual affect of an indignant, young man. Wearing a wife-beater T-shirt, a pair of gray sweats, and no shoes, Yonnie looked like he'd just rolled out of bed but was ready to rumble.
Carlos rubbed the stubble on his jaw. "Aw'ight, y'all . . . look, we gotta-"
"Git the fuck outta here, is what we gotta do, man," Yonnie said, scowling. "You of all people know how the other side rolls.Can't be no dillydallying."
"We were having a team meeting with senior Guardian staff trying to determine the best course of action, Yolando," Marlene said bluntly. One hand went to her hip. "You're new, and there's a way we do things to ensure the safety of the team and any humans we decide to go near."
Yonnie pushed off the sink and materialized a toothpick in his mouth in agitation. "Sis, I might be new, but I ain't stupid-andme and C go way back."
"Call my wife sis one more time and I'mabust your new ass," Shabazz said, moving forward.
Carlos flat-palmed Shabazz in midchest."C'mon, man, that's just Yonnie when he's tripping." He glared at Yonnie. "Respect, man-Mar is housemother, you feel me?"
Yonnie held up both hands in front of his chest."My bad, Miss Marlene, but, like . . . I'm getting all kinds of funky vibes, yo. The shit is making a brother jumpy."
"He's tapped in," Damali said, diffusing the contest of wills with raw truth. She looked at the group. "He's new, just out of Hell. If anybody can feel movement"-she turned to Yonnie-"talk to us."
"See," Yonnie said, pointing at Damali and walking to the other side of the kitchen. "That's why I always liked your woman, C. She listens. She hears. Aw'ight. I'matell you what I'm picking up." He wiped his palms down his face and let out a weary breath. "Nuit has been making master bitches-'scuze my French-like there's no tomorrow. It's like brotherman is on steroids, or something. Don't even ask me how I know. Then, I'm trying to chill, flipping channels in the bedroom, 'cause if I didn't leave Val alone she was probably gonna stab me . . . and I'm listening to a report that I know a lot about. They said that cocaine did better than the freakin' Dow Jones this year." He went over to Carlos and pounded his fist. "But we coulda told 'em that, man."
"What's any of that got to do with the plan to get out of here?" Shabazz said, growing agitated. "We already knew they'd be making new vamps and drugs ain't new, so what?"
"It's got to do with territory and a councilman getting stronger, 'Bazz," Carlos said, pounding Yonnie's fist again. He looked at his old friend from his old life."Expansion. Nuit is in full favor if he's slammin' vamps like you say heis,hombre ."
"He got da hoes working day and night, and in a minute, they'll be on the street with fangs and real strong." Yonnie nodded and smiled, flipping the toothpick in his mouth with his tongue. "Mr. Chairman."
"I really wish you wouldn't call Carlos that," Marlene said, tension making her begin to pace. "He's not that anymore.Can't even think like that anymore."
"Hebetter think like that," Yonnie said, losing his smile as he stared at both Marlene and Shabazz. "He better rememberall that shit from his old life." Yonnie cocked his head to the side and looked at Damali. "You know I ain't lying. . . . C was one of the baddest mofos in the valley, and that's what we need right now-not some politically correct-"
"Right," Damali said, intentionally cutting off Yonnie's statement before the wordbitch could come out of his mouth. "We need the truth, straight no chaser."
Carlos gave Yonnie a hard glare, the edges of his irises beginning to flicker silver. Yonnie was crazy, but wasn'tthat crazy-Damali hoped. After all, everybody was hyped.
But if Yonnie said the b word in reference to Carlos, there'd be no telling what could erupt in the kitchen. There wasn't time for that. Right now it was imperative for her to agree with the plan to go old-school gangsta so that Carlos wouldn't sit the fence. Decisions were going to have to be swift and possibly reckless, and her husband was so worried about her that he was erring on the side of caution.
"No disrespect, Mr. Chairman," Yonnie said after a moment, calming down a little but lifting his chin with pride. "I'm just used to seeing the oldyou, man . . . that cock-diesel, crazy motherfucker who would go for broke without hesitation. I know you been playing it safe on account of the kid-"
"Ayana ain't got nothing to do with this shit," Carlos said, his voice escalating as he pointed at Yonnie.
Yonnie rolled his shoulders. "I ain't talking about Ayana, aw'ight. I'm talkin' 'bout yours, bro." He motioned toward his nose and glared at Carlos. "What, you think I ain'tknow ? You think mysenses is that off since I crossed over? That's why I'm telling you I got your back. Fuck all this seniority shit, we gotta go for broke. I'm planning on being an uncle-ain't gotno blood relatives, but y'all, man. So let's do this shit."
"Oh . . . my . . . God. . . ." Marlene began walking in a circle.
Shabazz just closed his eyes. Damali opened and closed her mouth as Yonnie gave Carlos a warrior hug and nodded.
"Youda man , motherfucker," Yonnie said, laughing as Carlos let him go. "How you pull that off during the Armageddon and half dead, sheeit, I'lln't know!"
A huge smile broke out on Carlos's face. "You gotta keep it on the low, man.For real.Orders from On High."
"I ain't messin' with them," Yonnie said, waving his hands in front of his chest. "Ifthey said keep it on the low, shit,my lips are sealed." He made the sign of a key turning a lock in front of his mouth with his fingers and then threw away the imaginary key.
Carlos glimpsed at Damali and then gave his attention to Yonnie. "Just like they ain't trying to blow up oil fields and are fighting to keep all the bombs away from those resources, the darkside ain't burning South America orTurkey, they . . . ain't directly going to war in the cash crop breadbasket zone. Cocaineis their Dow Jones."
"That's what I've been waiting to hear, man," Yonnie said, wiping his forehead. "The old you back in action." He looked at Damali. "I know you got a lot riding on every decision being right this time, yo . . . I feel you. But we can't afford to have you playing it so conservative that they get us because we didn't do something buck wild."
"And do not damage the oil and the wine," Marlene murmured. "Seal three."
"Since that third seal is broken, you gotta get 'em with love this time, Yonnie," Damali said, and folded her arms over her chest. "We've gotta stop this thing with the most powerful energy on the planet-love."
Shabazz and Yonnie both reacted instantly, their voices blending into a single outraged question. "What?"
"That's right," Marlene said with both hands on her hips. "Noetic science-combination of quantum physics, spiritualism, and psychometrics . . . bet you gentlemen didn't read the Internet pages I copied for you?"
Three sets of male eyes sought the kitchen floor and then the horizon.
"Ten bucks says J.L. read it, though," Damali muttered.
"I'll raise Shabazz twenty, who're you telling-don't even get me started," Marlene fussed, cutting a glare at Shabazz as she answered Damali. "It's real simple," she added in a huff. "Damali is talking about shifting energies on the planet, tapping into the fifth force of psi, which is on the order of photons, gravitons, leptons, and quarks. Psi is a river of energy with currents all around us-like the river of life that never stops flowing-and if as little as 11 percent of the population shifts perspective, we can create a paradigm shift . . . hence why music is so dangerous and used for every major revolution. It's a universal language." Marlene shook her head as the men in the group gaped at her. "Hello. . . quantum physics, quantum mechanics. . . . Y'all need to read, I swear!"
Damali let out a heavy sigh. It was always a clash between yin and yang, male and female energy in the house and battle tactics. She couldn't even begin to deal with the shock of Yonnie knowing her condition. That reality had spiked a panic rush within her that she just had to suck up and let go, because if Yonnie knew then it wouldn't be long before the darkside figured it out. Her only hope was that the Light had somehow silver-shielded her. Not knowing for sure, though, was the terrifying part. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to address that right now.
"We're fighting on multiple fronts," Damali said, moving to the kitchen counter. "They're using natural disasters to flush us out, sending fire, floods, twisters, whatever they can through our old stomping grounds. They know we have to move to avoid all that, and if they see a miraculous reversal of nature-like a fire going out on its own, or whatever, they'll know where to target more pressure. So, I'm guessing, Heaven wouldn't blow our cover like that-but has given us the means to help ourselves outta that type of jam." She used her fingers to count off the points, sporadically moving tabletop items around to visually make her case.
"Then they went after human capital-people's psyche's and spirits, and are breaking people's backs with the economy," she added. "They figured if the disasters don't drive us out into the open, clusters of really horrific human behaviors might send our team in on a reconnaissance mission to investigate or to try a direct intervention. But I say let's use our resources to flood the airwaves with messages of hope and love and get people helping their neighbors more . . . let's move that psi around and start chipping away at the 11 percent we need to sway the balance, because that's the only thing that's gonna inoculate people from the darkside taking up residence in their spirits."
Damali folded her arms again and gave the men around her a slight smile. "My condition hasn't made me all wishy-washy. Once we narrow down the target, we kick their asses. I'm just trying to be efficient and minimize human casualties."
"Damn," Yonnie said, smiling. "Your woman is still gangsta, man. I love it!"
"That's why I love her," Carlos said with a half smile. He looked at Damali, his smile fading as he tried to comprehend her strategy. "So, we get the underground Guardian teams to start blowing up the Internet and guerilla radio waves and all that with what . . . like stories of victories?"
"Yeah," she said flatly. "I'm not saying we ask people to put their heads in the sand or to try to convince them that bad things aren't happening out there, or that the economy doesn't suck. But we want to remind them that there's stillmore good than bad overall. And we get our rebels to start playing cuts from every positive artist we can, even if it's old music.Get the Covenant in the loop, too, in order to get word out to the houses of worship to stop talking about everything that's going wrong, but start claiming victory about all the good that is happening, despite the seeming odds. That ought to begin to create a reversal of some of those possessions."
"I'm down with that," Shabazz said. "Makes sense from a manifesting energy standpoint . . . what you think is what you attract-but get to the part where we hunt their asses down."
"Follow the money," Carlos said, stepping closer to the counter.
Damali backed up and watched, loving how his former confidence clicked into place like a loaded Glock the moment he knew his boy Yonnie had his back. It was amazing to witness and they hadn't violated any rules . . . Yonnie knew because Yonnie was Yonnie. She watched Carlos begin to talk with his hands over the surface of the countertop, the heat beginning to cast hologramlike, shimmering images just above it.
"The West Coast is, for all intents and purposes, gone," Carlos said.
J.L.'s presence in the doorway made everyone look up. His eyes were bloodshot with dark shadows beneath.
"I got something here," he said, entering the room with a bucket filled with oddly cut copper piping."Was up all night. Blood Music got gobbled up by a Canadian firm because the dollar is stronger abroad now . . . Council Group Entertainment. You have two guesses what the reference to Council Group means, and one doesn't count. They have a building in L.A., but their main headquarters is in Toronto."
"That's still North American territory, bro," Yonnie said, glancing at Carlos.
"No doubt," Carlos said, rubbing his chin as he and Yonnie exchanged a knowing look. "Nuit called your bluff, so I guess that SOB made the come up. Would explain the power rush you've felt coming off him, since you were linked more directly to him than I was."
"Same board of directors as Blood Music had, but now he's a multimedia conglomerate bigger than Time Warner," J.L. said, glancing between Yonnie and Carlos. "The link that led me to them was that every one of their artists' hits was on the MySpace pages of the teens who'd committed the most recent sicko violent crimes. Ten dollars on red says CGE is Fallon's new playground."
"You'sa bad man, J.L.," Shabazz said, going over to pound his fist. "What's up with the bucket, though?"
J.L. looked at the small assembly of Guardians around him. "Krissy was bad off. Her mind and spirit took a hit from all the negativity. When we went off shift, she couldn't stop crying and she had balled up into a fetal position in the bed."
"You should have come to get me," Marlene said quietly. "Before you put in the filters, that girl downloaded everything off the Net and listened to it all day long-"
"I know, Mar, but I had to do this myself," J.L. said with a frown. "She'd only stop crying when I'd remind her of all the good that was in the world . . . she was looking at the fires, panicking, going into a cold sweat.So I built something, because I figured if it was affecting her like this, what about a regular average person . . . that's why I didn't come to you, Mar. I knew it was something I had to figure out on my own."
"You read the article I'd put under your door last week?" Marlene said, scowling at Shabazz.
"Yeah, of course, Mar," J.L. said. "I always read the cool stuff you give me. That's how I learned to build this . . . the psi around Krissy was all jacked up."
"You owe me money," Marlene muttered to Shabazz. He didn't say a word, just went in his wallet and handed her a twenty.
"What's in the bucket, man?" Carlos said, surveying J.L. from an uneasy distance.
"Prayer-infused, catalyzed resin with copper, silver, and aluminum shavings for conductivity. Then to stand the copper pipes up in the solution till it hardened I used a form board, just a piece of plywood with holes cut into it so the pipes wouldn't fall over. Then I took seven copper pipes, inserted rutilated crystals in them and capped them off. What you then have is a homemade energy transponder.A white-light superconductor. I'm a tactical, right?"
J.L. looked at the group who only returned blank stares. "Okay, so I set my intention on positive white light and read positive info out loud while touching the copper piping, sending a tactical charge into it . . . and then took my hand off it, put Krissy's hands on it, and I watched dark static get sucked out of her body and get trapped in the resin. She chilled right out after that." J.L. smiled when everyone's eyes widened. "Don't touch the bucket, though. That black slop in the bottom caught in the sticky resin is what was making my wife sick-she got it from the airwaves. I figured I can set it in the yard and just let it burn since we're gonna be out soon.Right?"
"Right," Marlene said slowly. "Any other reason why you might not have wanted me to do a standard purge, J.L.-even though your invention is awesome and something we might need in the future? I'm just saying?"
Marlene gave him a sideways glance. Everyone watched J.L. shift nervously from foot to foot.
"I had to be sure I got everything out of her my way, Marlene," he said after a moment. He went to the sliding-glass doors, opened them, and then bounded down the steps.
"She's pregnant," Marlene said flatly. "I'm taking full paycheck bets."
"Lotta that going around," Shabazz muttered. "And hell no, I ain't betting no senior seer."
They all looked at Yonnie.
"Not a word," Carlos warned. "Not one word, man."
"Peace," Yonnie said with a shrug and waited until J.L. rejoined them at the counter.
Damali and Carlos shared a private glance, but said nothing.
"What's the plan?" J.L. asked, seeming so nervous he looked like he was about to leap out of his skin.
Carlos clapped his hands together and rubbed them hard, drawing friction-produced sparks before spreading them out on the table. "Old-school," he said, placing his hands flat on the tiled surface and causing the map of the world to begin to appear in a shimmering glaze on top of it. "They don't give a rat's ass about a building in downtown L.A. if it burns. They probably dangled that CGE building in front of us as the first lure, hoping we'd charge in there and bust the place up-but we didn't."
He moved his finger down the shimmering replica of the coastline and then wiped it away. "Fires, primarily focused here in San Diego where they sensed us, but they couldn't get an accurate bead on us because we haven't come out for weeks. But when I took that drive to get Damali some grub, they were all over my trail like flies on shit. That's why the worst of the wildfires are down here in San Diego. Just like in Athens, these were started by arson, aka the darkside."
As Carlos went through each geographical barrier, he made a section of the country disappear. "The Gulf-flooded out before the San Diego fires, 'cause they were still looking for us, not sure where we were. Droughts, twisters . . . but what hasn't been hit?" Carlos looked up with a hard smile."Motown, Motor City.Otherwise known as Detroit. Why?
"Strategic location to quickly fall back to Canada from the United States, if you've got a music label in the States, plus that area's got the whole music legacy thing going on . . . besides, what was the most positive music influence talking about love?" Carlos looked at Damali and smiled.
"Rhythm and blues," Damali said."The last castle. You take R&B, jazz, neo-soul, and turn those positive genres negative, hey . . . you affect a lot of people. We already saw what the effects of negative hip-hop did-the positive artists are fighting to hold their own. But Detroit has a lot of history, a lot of psi in the plus column that would be hard to overwrite."
"The Underground Railroad history alone would be hard to track over," Marlene said, glancing around the group. "Blacks, whites, and Native Americans came together up there-they'd have to blot out the energies of Sojourner Truth and Frederick Douglass . . . naw.Wouldn't happen that fast up there. Plus all the love songs that came out of the Motownempire , it would take them some time to wear that down."
"But the economic crash hit Detroit hard," Yonnie argued."Had a lot of depressed mugs up there.Murder rate through the roof. Be real. Detroit has issues, all love train music aside."
"Right," Carlos said, adding continents to the shimmering mosaic on the countertop. "But it's bigger than that . . . if you follow the money." Yonnie pounded his fist. "Negative music lyrics, movies, and news broadcasts coming out of CGE are just the conduit to create depression, lowered resistance to negative vibes, loss of hope, and to let the shadows in-but they started with music because music is so pervasive and is the universal language. But this bigger picture is all about the Benjamins and world domination."
Satisfied when the team nodded with understanding, Carlos pressed on. "First of all, a weak dollar internationally means that foreign countries can easily gobble up real estate in the United States, especially places compromised by natural disaster. So, Canada, Britain, Ireland, France, Japan . . . Dubai, anywhere their currency is stronger than ours at the moment, can start to make a serious down payment on America. And what will that do?"
Carlos looked around the group and then answered his own question. "Start a national panic. Americans, already feeling stressed by wars, natural disasters, hate crimes, breaches in justice and national conscience, conspiracy theories, unchecked government wrongdoing, whatever, will fall back into some serious hateration of other nations. Look at what happened when oil prices shot up more than three dollars a gallon; Americans lost their minds. When people panic, they don't think. We've seen that happen time and time again-that's how the Patriot Act got passed and now everybody's civil liberties are in jeopardy. Fear is just another dark entity that breeds mob thought, coaxes out insanity. This whole game is being levered by oil and drugs-the wine, yo."
"Youain't never lied, man," Shabazz said, looking at Carlos.
Carlos nodded. "This bullshit is about to be a house of cards, economically-and yet, our allies can't really afford to have us as a superpower fall. We're the army for half of the so-called civilized world. But sooner or later manipulating interest rates won't fix what's broke. Meanwhile, those on the darkside with an agenda are already invested in war.Oil, drugs, and everything that goes with that-and getting paid, lovely. C'mon, Blackwater is just one example-they ain't even being coy with the names anymore!"
"Just in your face,blat-ow ," Yonnie said, opening his arms. "Like letting dirty motherfuckers off the hook in broad daylight that woulda got you and me triple life, slim."
"Then they'll be a call for unified currencies and a collective world leader," Shabazz said, rubbing his chin, "just like prophesied."
"So this takeover of people's minds is more than about just getting us out of hiding," J.L. said, his eyes roving over the faces around the island counter.
"It serves multiple purposes, like I keep saying," Damali said flatly.
"Yeah, and since coke is doing better than the Dow Jones, like oil is king, and we know who runs that," Yonnie said, pointing at the shimmering map, "then whoever controls those product lines is who buys up most of the shit and leverages the hell out of this war game, causing market crashes and panics at will-herding people worldwide like sheep to get 'em to do whatever."
"Correct," Marlene said, leaning in. "So, South America just has people-madness happen, but is spared most of the natural disasters in its coca-producing and oil-generating regions. Africa is already plugged into the oil game from Nigeria, but is riddled continentwide with the blood-diamond wars, AIDS, drought, starvation, and every kind of disease known to humankind-"
"But like Asia," Damali said emphatically, "it has enough bodies to feed off of. Look at the water crisis in India-the Ganges is a cesspool and human disease is about to ravage that region if it doesn't get the situation under control. Things are so crazy there that the macaque monkeys in New Delhi are going mad, getting aggressive enough that they killed a high-level government official-made the man fall off a freaking balcony at his home! Monks are getting clubbed to death in Burma . . . and look what happened in Pakistan-they assassinated the former prime minister over there and innocent people are dying. That region is being hit hard, like Africa, to keep it from being a dissenting voice with any real strength behind its massive populations."
"Feeding grounds, sis.That's all it is," Yonnie said in a weary tone. "None of those nations and continents you listed, including South America,are contenders to run the world because of their chaos. Unfortunately, they're the breadbaskets for the world, but are also ripe feeding grounds for the Apocalypse troops."
"So, think about it," Carlos said, using his finger against the shimmering surfaces. "If South America, Africa, Pakistan, and India and developing nations are political noncontenders for world domination, but can fuel it like a resource bank for blood, oil, and drug cash crops, and bodies . . . with the Caribbean only a tidal wave away from being gone if they dissent, and Australia not being militarily strong enough to get in the mix, then that leaves the United States to polarize with Western Europe and Canada against Asia, Eastern Europe, and Russia-with the catalyst to kick all this off being the good ole Middle East."
"Book of Daniel, chapter seven," Marlene said, shaking her head. "Remember his vision. . . . The lion-bodied eagle-which we know can only be the newly aggressive U.S. and Europe alignment, versus the four-headed leopard dragon-which I'm sure are the four main nations in Asia-North Korea, South Korea, Japan, and China, versus the bear-which is nothing but Russia and the old Eastern bloc. Then comes the fourth one with iron teeth-guess who that belongs to? The New World Order leader, which crushes them all . . . and we don't need to sayhis name in this house."
J.L. nodded and looked up from the counter at Carlos. "Dude, I stay on the news watch, right. How about the United States and Europe just came together over Iran as a rallying point in a meeting in Tokyo . . . but Russia disputed their findings and doesn't want them to put U.S. missile defenses in Poland or radar base stations in the old Czech Republic areas."
"My point exactly.It's already under way. I know chessboard moves, bro," Carlos said, nodding. "It's all coming down to the big three zones, with the United States, Canada, and Europe banding together as a singular superpower against the others-watch. Then you-know-who defeats each of the three weakened, bickering blocs of nations and creates the fourth one . . . which isthe New World Order ruled by the darkside."
Damali traced her finger down the eastern seaboard of Carlos's shimmering map. "All right, so that's the big picture. But for now, we've gotta focus on whatever little bit we can do to stem the tide. So look at this move . . . Detroit to Toronto, then come down to Rochester, then Buffalo, to New York City, past Philly, to Washington D.C., Chicago and Ohio are in there, too, but the way I traced is a more direct route."
She stared up at the team. "With all the disasters, look at what hasn't totally burned yet or completely flooded out . . . human madness is what has those areas in their grip all the way down the East Coast to Florida. But notice how they aren't jacking it up? The darkside is shifting the psi in the heavily populated, but strategic, areas of the strongest contender for the new world order-here."
"Proverbs eight," Marlene said, nodding, and then high-fived Damali. "Wisdom is personified as a woman in the Good Book . . . that was based on Ma'at, check it out, fellas. Our girl is on."
"No lie. D is on and poppin'. The Pentagon is on that route, so is Cape fucking Canaveral, yo," Yonnie said, folding his arms. "If you're gonna take over the world and be a potential host nation for the Antichrist, you ain't messing with your key locations."
"And the Kennedy Space Center-where missiles could be launched-is on that route, too," J.L. added, glancing at Carlos.
"This Detroit to Canada thing makes sense," Marlene said after a moment of contemplation. "It's still Nuit's North American province if he moves into Canada . . . much more wilderness with direct access for all the new vamps he's made to retreat back to a hemisphere that literally goes into darkness for six months a year."
"Great place for the Antichrist to deliver the daylight bite to the minions of new supervamps they're making, too," Shabazz said in a disgusted mutter.
"Yeah, we need to keep our eye on Canada. You ain't gotta worry about Mexico on the southern border," Yonnie said. "They ain't a contender. But they, like South America and Central America, are where Nuit's drug cash comes in. As head topside mofo, Nuit is going to be an acting general we have to get past first . . . then when we kick his ass, no doubt Lilith and her ole man will be the serious battle-but they ain't gonna risk bringing their heir out in the open yet. That's my two-cent bet on the thing. And, if they decide Mexico is becoming politically problematic, or if they need a diversion, we already know they can blow that big ass volcano that's sitting near Mexico City, and Central America can get swept away in a tsunami like the Caribbean and Polynesia could."
"So, how about if we show up in Nuit's backyard for the Detroit International Jazz Festival and scout his minions, send him a little message that we ain't slow by getting real close to his new headquarters? Let's be bold, take it to him rather than being on the run," Damali said with a smile. "Let's throw the bastard a curveball-and since I was locked in the house all of August and couldn't go out and party for my birthday, why not? They hold it every Labor Day weekend, which is only a coupla days away. I personally wanna show the brother some love."
Carlos just looked at her and she smiled wider.
"We know the route they don't want blown up-namely the eastern seaboard . . . but I'll bet they don't think we're crazy enough to take the party over the border into Canada now that we know the Anti-" Damali shrugged. "Chances are they're banking on us trying to run to where we have a strong Guardian presence."
Shabazz cut Marlene a look. "Detroit . . . I haven't been back there since I was a kid and did time for a crime I didn't commit." He dragged his fingers through his locks and stared at Damali for a moment. "You sure, baby girl? I mean, Detroit used to be the murder capital before Philly, and some of the places we might have to roll . . ."
Damali hugged Shabazz and a silent understanding passed between them. She knew what he was saying without words. Concern for the baby was making him edgy, just like Carlos. "It'll be fine. We've already played Hell-so Motor City ain't half that bad."
Shabazz hugged her tighter and forced a smile. "Since it was the last stop to Canada, Mar is right.There's a lot of Underground Railroad routes that go right through the city. We can use them and I know we've got a decent Guardian presence up there, no doubt."
"I'll do a divination," Marlene said, her gaze holding Carlos's. "Don't worry. Where you put us down will be on hallowed ground." She closed her eyes and reached out to hold Carlos's and Damali's hands. "There's a Catholic church in Detroit that's standing out like a white-light beacon in my mind . . . that has symbols of the Akan cut into the archways . . . Our Lady . . . something of . . ." She opened her eyes abruptly, clearly frustrated. "I can't get more than that-the new church's name is blotting it out for me. Fountain of Life Church of God in Christ-it's now Baptist or A.M.E. or maybeSeventh-Day Adventist. The old energy dissipated on me because the new energy there is very strong, very good. There's old living quarters in the back behind the rectory and the church."
Marlene shook her head as though trying to clear a haze from her mind. "How can they have Akan symbols in the stone masonry, though? The structure is hundreds of years old, goes back to slavery days. Why would priests in that era commission-"
"Where, exact location?" Carlos said quickly, glancing out the window at the approaching flames. "I've still gotta rally the team, sweep us all into a transport with gear."
"It's in the nine-hundred block of St. Mary's Street between West Chicago and Greenfield on the west side of Detroit about a mile away from I-96."
"If it is that old, and aCatholic church, withAfrican symbols in the stonework . . . then, Mar . . . it has to be a secret Templar hideout." Damali's gaze tore between Marlene's and Carlos's faces. "Only the Templars would have been looking for a Neteru with Akan markings here in North America, and would have been invested in making sure that the Guardian birth line to the Neterus would have been brought out of slavery into free Canada-we have to talk to Father Pat. That hasgot to be an old Templar safe house, if not a citadel . . . and who knows what kind of tunnel system, secret passageways, or whatever, are in that building?"
Yonnie glanced out the kitchen's glass deck doors and then back to the group. "Not to rush y'all or break up this impromptu war meeting . . . but, uh, we need to make a decision about that location in Detroit we can fall back to with quickness. If you haven't noticed, the bottom of the deck's on fire."