The Hunted Page 5

  Inez pushed open the bedroom door, and in the middle of her queen-sized bed slept an angel. Damali covered her mouth to keep from gasping. She went to the side of the bed and knelt, watching the tiny body shudder with peaceful inhales and exhales. Unable to stop herself, she traced the soft, caramel cheek, and brushed back the fuzzy, thick plaits twisted with multicolored, plastic barrettes. “Oh, God, Inez, she’s so gorgeous.”

  There was no way to stop the new tears from forming in her eyes as she glanced up at her girlfriend who was beaming with pride.

  “Job well done,” Damali said, kissing the toddler’s butter-soft cheek. “Well done.” Then she stood, allowing her fingers to linger in the dark brown nest of cottony textured hair, and then tiptoed out of the room with her friend.

  “I know you didn’t like his lifestyle,” Inez murmured as they walked down the hall with Inez’s arm around Damali, “but you should have had one for Carlos. Mighta changed him a little?”

  Damali felt her back stiffen. “You know how I feel about that,” she said, trying to find the line between preaching and not offending her girl.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Inez said as they reentered the kitchen. “His lifestyle was dangerous, especially when he moved out and got his own place and moved up. Then, with your career . . .” She shrugged.

  It hurt her soul that her girlfriend had so completely missed the point. You didn’t have a baby for someone. Lord help her. A baby didn’t change a man, nor did it seal a relationship, and that was the last reason you had one. A child wasn’t a hostage, or a choker chain. New, innocent life wasn’t supposed to be created for those reasons. Only the spirit could bind a person to another, and the mind had to clearly sort that all out in the flesh.

  Damali suddenly felt tired. There were so many things she wanted to tell Inez’s deaf ears. But tonight was not the night for that old debate. “He lived a dangerous life,” was all she could say to terminate the discussion. Again, salt in the wound.

  “It’s a shame, though, that y’all never got a chance to hook up,” Inez said with a yawn, glancing at the near-empty bottle. “Then, all his boyz got shot up bad, and then his brothers and cousins—man, the guys who assassinated them did them ritual-style. Wasn’t right, closed casket funerals . . . their moms didn’t even get to see them good before saying good-bye. I don’t know whose money they jacked, but dayum. And they still can’t find Carlos to bury him. That’s messed up. Think he’s—”

  “He’s dead. They all made a deal with the Devil,” Damali said flatly, and kept her gaze on the television. “A lotta fine men went to waste.”

  She had to tune Inez out for a moment. Mentally retracing a path to the Rivera house one last time, she remembered how she stayed tight with Carlos and his people even after she’d moved back to stay with Inez for a little while. That part of it all really hurt. She’d watched Carlos climb the street-money ladder almost to the top, and then fall—hard.

  If it hadn’t been for Marlene tracking her down, hearing about what happened with Inez’s uncle from the word on the streets, she would have lived with Inez as her sister till they were grown. If she hadn’t told on her foster father, if he hadn’t reached for her and drawn back a nub . . . if she hadn’t been so outraged that she called everyone she knew in Inez’s family to protect Inez by telling the truth, bringing the light to that dark, scary, secret shit going on over there, the guardians might not have found her. Not being found maybe wouldn’t have been so bad. Maybe then she could have stayed with Inez and lived a normal life.

  But then again, by being there, Damali also knew that, if vampires were looking for her, Inez and her whole family might have been turned. The universe had a perverse sense of humor. Damali poured the last of the wine into her glass as the television droned on and she and Inez sat hypnotized, watching nothing.

  All of it was a closed circle, now she understood why. Inez’s mom told all her people in Rio, and the male cousins mounted a revenge posse, stateside. Marlene’s friends from overseas had heard about it . . . bullshit traveled all the way from South America to LA by the grapevine. One of Shabazz’s old boys knew who was in the hit squad, and told him. Then one night while she was free-styling on an open mic, Marlene had walked up, gave her a business card, and a supposed record deal—if she would come and live with her, and get groomed while laying down tracks in her studio. Inez’s mom had relented, because Marlene had credibility and money. Full circle. Yes, the universe was a trip.

  Crazy . . . just like Carlos, Damali had to admit that she’d been seduced into a new lifestyle by the lure of the brass ring. Had left the safety of Inez’s people’s home to go on an adventure, and now it had become a roller-coaster ride she couldn’t get off.

  Suddenly she just wanted to go home.

  Damali stood, totally sober. She embraced her friend who was like a sister.

  “I have to go home and handle some business. You kiss your daughter for me, and tell her Auntie Damali is gonna send her something soon . . . and kiss your mom for me, hear?”

  Inez nodded and hugged her tighter.

  “I’ll visit soon, and you know I always write.”

  “Stop sending money, girl. Hear?” Inez said, stroking her back. “You gonna be all right getting home safe this late?”

  “I’ll call you when I get in—but tonight is not the night anybody wants to start some shit with me.”

  “Damali, the world has gotten worse since we were kids and hanging out. I’m just worried. Don’t start no shit with anybody tonight. ’Kay?”

  She kissed Inez on the cheek. “Lock the door and say your prayers. You know me. I got this.”

  In the darkness of her lair she watched through her inner vision. Her eyes narrowed to cruel, green-glowing slits. Pure jealousy sent her own claws into her palms. If she were free to move about . . . were she not shackled to a region . . . just one false step, just one mistake, and she’d have the young Neteru’s head on a pike.

  It wasn’t fair; she’d been robbed. They didn’t make Neterus like they used to. This one, from this era, was weak, had no sense of purpose. This one cried. This one believed she had the right to bear the Isis. This one had challenged two very eligible master vampires, and due to a fluke in cosmic law, won. That’s why this lucky little bitch had to be dealt with soon. This one would not be allowed to ruin her plans!

  CHAPTER THREE

  MARLENE STOOD very still in the compound kitchen in silent meditation. She held onto the sink breathing slowly, watching the steel grates lift by timer just as dawn broke. She kept her eyes on the new rose-orange-hued horizon, and didn’t turn when she felt a massive male presence at her back cast a shadow in the doorway.

  Then she closed her eyes and waited. A pair of male feet would hit the hallway soon. She could feel the weight of the heavy heart coming toward her. The air got denser, literally thickened around her before she heard the first footfall. There was only one guardian in the house that she knew held such private pain. He had a black box around his emotions that was so hidden even she couldn’t reach into it.

  “Good morning, Rider,” she murmured over a sip of mint tea without opening her eyes.

  “Yeah,” he grumbled and plopped down in a chair.

  “You want some coffee?”

  She didn’t wait for the response as she heard the flask hit the table. Marlene simply went to the counter, and brought back a steaming mug as she came back to sit with Rider. She appraised the cloudy colors around him, noting that his aura had a roiling anger tingeing it. His normal turquoise and light earth tones were dark, smoldering, swirling furiously, and growing, unlike Mike’s tight gray line. All of the guardians had gray in their auras now.

  Rider’s white T-shirt was so crummy and so raggedy that it might as well have been the same color as his beat-up, cut-off shorts—gray. Marlene let out a long, weary sigh.

  He gave her a sheepish glance and unscrewed his flask. “Tryin’ ta bite the snake that bit me,” he said, pouring a healthy ji
gger into his mug, nearly overflowing it. He leaned over and slurped down the coffee and Jack Daniel’s concoction without lifting the mug.

  “Oh, shit, Mar,” Rider said, taking another sip, making a noise like he was clearing his sinuses while he shut his eyes tightly, then he abandoned the mug and went straight for the flask. He turned it up to his mouth and winced when he pulled it away, swallowing hard. “Getting too old for this.”

  “I know, baby.” Marlene covered his hand, then patted it before drawing it back to reach for her teacup.

  “My boy, Jose, is all messed up. Got a newbie, Dan, that’s totally battle-freaked—I mean, the kid’s real first time out was in Hell . . . c’mon, Mar. Kid’s got nightmares like he’s been to ’Nam. The prep time to get these kids ready is spinning by us fast like an out-of-control top. Now, Damali? Our Neteru gets her heart ripped out in Hell? It ain’t fair, Marlene, I’m telling you.”

  “I know. But she’ll have to work through the anger and the grief on her own—just like everything else. We can’t help her with that, all we can do is support and guide her, now that she’s grown. Good people die every day. That’s why we do what we do, to trim those numbers back.”

  “She’s not going to get over this, Marlene.” He looked at Marlene hard. “This ain’t like when we lost the others.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s all you can say, ‘I know’?” Rider stood up and walked over to the sink to lean on it. “Big Mike’s hearing is off, and the poor bastard doesn’t even want to eat. He ain’t about chasing tail with me . . . I couldn’t even tempt him with a little day trip to New Orleans.” Rider sighed hard and rubbed the gray-and-blond stubble on his jaw. “I tried to get Jose to ride with me, like old times, go watch a few ladies dance the poles . . .” He shook his head. “Young buck wouldn’t even take the bait. Sits by Damali like a hurt puppy until she gets up and leaves, then waits till she gets back. It ain’t healthy. Dan’s scared to even leave the compound. That boy is young, he needs to get out before he snaps.”

  “I know.”

  “And Damali ain’t far behind him. She comes in here every morning smelling like sulfur and demon innards—not like she’s been out having fun.” Rider pointed to his nose and glared at Marlene. “I may be old, and my nose may be off, but if she’d found a diversion, I’da smelled him on her. This shit ain’t healthy. But she’s probably afraid to risk being with an innocent, if there’s still master vamps out there hunting her down. The child might as well be living in a convent, Marlene! And, who knows, after losing Rivera, she just might do that.”

  “I know.”

  “Will you stop with the ‘I know,’ Madame seer? What’re we gonna do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Rider took another chug from his flask. “Marlene, you are making me nuts this morning. I swear I don’t know how Shabazz deals with it.”

  “I know,” she said, chuckling. “Give everybody some time. We lost a guardian down there,” she said, her voice growing quiet. “That’s a hard loss. But she’ll come around.”

  “No, Mar,” Rider said, wiping his mouth with his forearm. “We lost our Neteru’s soul mate. That’s not a loss, that’s a cosmic catastrophe.”

  “I know,” she said very calmly, but very carefully. “How’s your nose? You said it was off.”

  “Fucked up.”

  Marlene nodded. “And Mike’s hearing?”

  “Jacked.” Rider pushed off the sink. “Jose’s nose is, too. Dan can’t shoot the broadside off a barn—his tactical senses are fried. JL, and I could always count on JL, but our little brother got caught counting cards and almost got iced at the casinos in Vegas . . . if JL can’t do mental sleight of hand, then . . .”

  “I know. Shabazz ain’t exactly right, either—”

  “But I bet his ass sleeps at night!”

  Rider walked a hot path between the sink and the door, took a hard swallow of liquor, and glared at Marlene. She just stared at him, keeping her voice a murmur as she spoke to him, trying to heal him while not addressing what he’d said about Shabazz. It was the truth, and it suddenly disturbed her. She and Shabazz had been the first ones to shake off the grief, and she’d chalked it up to the fact that they were the elder guardians in the group.

  But as she studied Rider’s very personal reaction to Damali’s inner pain, she wondered why. Something didn’t jive. Rider had been in battles before; they’d lost crew before. All of them loved Damali like a daughter or a sister, except Jose, who perhaps felt something more. And they’d all seen Damali bounce back, too. But that Rider’s head was so twisted about the incident, horrible though it was, gave her pause.

  “Rider,” she said, her voice as gentle as she could make it, “my third eye is nearly blind. All I get is impressions, no sharp images. We’ve all got a lot on our minds. As long as the masthead of the ship is broken, we have no way to raise sails. We’re dead in the water until her aura lifts, the gray goes out of it. We’re all connected, Rider, that’s why I keep saying, ‘I know.’ ”

  Marlene sighed when he didn’t respond but took another drink from his flask, glowering at her. “If you take the fellas to a hangout, go find some entertainment, bring back lighter energy . . . who knows? You have to shake the horrible images you saw down in the pit, maybe it will help her?” She had to give him something constructive to do. Rider had no patience, never did.

  Rider looked out the window. “It wasn’t the horrible images that we saw that are messing us up, Mar. It’s the beautiful ones that are a bitch.”

  She studied his back. “Talk to me.” A shiver ran down her spine.

  “You’re the seer of this group, and if you didn’t see it, then your senses must really be off big-time . . . I guess I can’t be mad at you for being so blind. Third eye or not, you have no frame of reference and like all of us, you’re human.” His tone became gentler, resigned, as though beaten down by sudden fatigue. “My bad, Mar. I’m just rambling. We all take everybody’s skills for granted, and we’ve just gotten used to you being the all-seeing Marlene with the answers. I’m sorry. That’s not fair. I’m going to bed.”

  She stood and came to him, resting her hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t leave. “Rider?”

  “You wouldn’t understand—you have Shabazz.” He looked at her; his voice was gravelly but held no judgment or sarcasm in it. “You and Shabazz are the only guardians on the team that have paired up. We saw it in Hell.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her hand left his shoulder and her arms went around her waist. He was scaring her. “We fought just as hard as anyone down there. You think because he and I are paired that we would have let any of you get harmed without a fight, would have saved ourselves and let you fellas die?” She was incredulous.

  Tears filled her eyes. Rider’s accusation had hurt her to the bone. She flinched away from him when he reached to cup her cheek.

  “No, Mar. You read me wrong.”

  She began to slowly relax, watching his pained expression and the quick moisture that had formed in his eyes. The way he looked at her made her nervous to hear the raw truth for the first time since the team had come together. That terrible seesaw of emotion was further eclipsing her ability to read him. She practically held her breath as she waited for him to explain.

  “There comes a point in every man’s life, Mar, where he wakes up and doesn’t want a gorgeous thing that dances the pole beside him. It ain’t enough. Feeds the body, but doesn’t feed the soul.” His eyes held hers and he kept his voice gentle as he pushed a stray lock over her shoulder and sighed. “Comes a point where you just don’t want an easily interchangeable somebody, you want a woman who you’ll call by name . . . who you’ll, as a man, walk through the fire for . . . will lay down your life for, if you have to.”

  He shook his head and walked away from her, raking his fingers through his toussled hair. “Mike saw it, and the big guy is done with New Orleans’s finest. Jose saw it, and . . . he’s messed up. He came c
lose to having that with Dee Dee, even though I suspect she was never the real McCoy—but at least the boy had hope. Dan saw it, and knows that at his age, living like this, he can’t bring anybody home and set up housekeeping. JL saw it, and wigged.” He eyed Marlene carefully, but there was no malice in his expression. “JL headed right for the casinos. And, if I were a bettin’ man, I’d say he took a month’s salary to the blackjack table to double-down on a way out.”

  “What . . .” Marlene’s voice caught in her throat on a horrified whisper.

  “Yep. Was probably trying to figure out how to win enough to finance then set up a small safe house with every piece of electronic-surveillance and high-tech weapons-launching gizmos available, so if he did find somebody—”

  “Oh, no . . .” Marlene closed her eyes. “I thought he was just letting off steam, like you guys always do after a battle.”

  Rider shook his head. “Why you think JL got in trouble, couldn’t concentrate, when of all the guardians, save you and Shabazz, JL has laser focus? That’s why he’s our equipment man, our weapons’ room expert. Have you seen him tinkering with his gadgets and computers lately?” He paused and waited for Marlene’s nonverbal response. “My point, exactly. He just takes his post, stares at the monitors, looking right through them, and then goes to bed at daybreak.” Rider took a slow swallow of Jack Daniels and then let his breath out hard. “The only brother that’s straight in here is Shabazz.”

  Marlene felt for the side of the sink and found it so she could lean against it to keep herself from falling down. It was all so clear, and she’d been so blind. It wasn’t just Damali who was grieving, or the team just grieving for her . . .

  Rider nodded, his lopsided smile holding hollow triumph. “You following me? These guys are all reevaluating their entire lives. It wasn’t the demons they saw and killed. It wasn’t Damali’s battery going down from grief. They are grieving their choice to become guardians, because after the adrenaline subsided, and they had time to think, their reality is fucking them up. Won’t be no wife and kids. Won’t be no regular life. Nobody special, and unless she comes packing with ammo, she’s shark bait—and they know it. They also know, for the first time, having visited Hell, just how helpless they are to protect a regular woman, especially after coming so close to losing a Neteru on their watch. The whole thing spooked ’em, and fucked them around good.”