gave them hope."
"And because we love them, we can't take that away ... the trinity. It always comes back to that." She sighed. "What happened out there in the desert is on a top-security, need-toknow basis. They just kicked ass - beat forty thousand demons, eight "Roman legions. For once, the cavalry came for our side in a dazzling display that wasn't subtle." She smiled a tense, fatigued grin. "Let them mentally have this win." Carlos kissed her temple and nodded up to the top of the mountain where their entire team hollered and waved at them. "We were blessed ... didn't lose anybody this time. That was victory enough for me. Living in the present, from now on, baby. That's all a brother can do."
EPILOGUE
Three months later... New York City
Over a hundred thousand screaming humans had lost their minds in the Garden. The Internet package that the Neteru Guardian team had sent months ago actually circled the globe at least three times, with bootleg copy after bootleg copy getting posted on the underground everywhere. MySpace, your space, every space had it, the buzz in full effect - the Warriors of Light were coming out with new music so controversial that the system had tried to shut it down, but failed.
Conspiracy theory Web-talk radio had it on lock. Somehow the mainstream outlets were having difficulty get ting their arms around the issue and still experiencing strange, intermittent blackouts.
Money, the so-called real root of all evil, won out over dark coven spells and deep cavern edicts - human nature be ing what it was and having a choice to prosper. The new sound of WOL was cash on the barrelhead that sent promot ers into a feeding frenzy. Simulcast?
No problem - Dan had been in a haggler's heaven. Duke even got the word out that the original transmission came from his joint and it caused a bar fight unreal. He had posted digital Web pics of a silver glowing Bugatti Veyron and metallic candy-red Saleen S7
abandoned on the road by his joint with skid marks, and used the new chichi crowds flocking to his dive from Scottsdale, Arizona, to rebuild... but not too much - he kept the chicken wire with a mild current running through it, just for authenticity's sake. He still had to cater to the locals, even if he did now stock microbrewery selections. Madison Square Garden in New York was on fire from the new beats and lyrics being spit so hard at the first Warriors of Light concert in nearly two years. It was crazy. Damali leaned into the mike and spun in time to get up in Carlos's face, and he backed her up, making her laugh.
The crowd went wild when Shabazz dropped the bass hook to fuse with Jose's insane percussion. Juanita and Inez and Marlene brought the harmony to its knees, killing it, wringing its neck as folks jumped up and down when Damali layered her glass-shattering soprano opposite Mike's bottomed-out baritone, and then Carlos finished them off, talking rapid-fire cash-trash over the vocals.
Dan and Bobby stepped out on the stage with movie-set prop bazookas and street sweepers that made people holler for more. They did exactly what Shabazz told them to do for maximum effect - just stood there in dark sunglasses, long black leather trenches blowing from the hidden floor fans for theatrical composition. Then Berkfield walked across the stage as Marjorie came out from the opposite direction. They slapped each other a high-five as they passed to flank the younger Guardians already out there, and opened their long coats to show gleaming, set prop Glock nines in their waistbands. The New York audience went wild.
On the driving beat, a military-tight dance choreography squad led by Inez and Juanita, backed up by Krissy, Tara, Jasmine, and Heather, rocked the house so hard that Mike had no choice but to blow up the stage. Smoke bombs and pyro FX took the crowd to the next level.
Yonnie was jamming in the wings with a bottle of private label in each hand and a lovely lady he'd picked up in the audience under each arm. He'd told them all, for now, his job was the easiest job in the world - stay topside, keep a close eye on the Neteru Guardian team, and report back anything suspicious.
Cowbells and congas, Rider's screaming guitar, the call to Guardian arms went out like a beacon - power UV lights were set by FX to blow and allow the whole team to fold out of the white smoke cloud wearing fatigues ... Carlos and Damali, blades in their grips. Yonnie took his party to the green room just in time, but it was still one helluva show.
"We love you, New York! Stay in the Light!" Damali hollered, and the stage went black.
"Damn, y'all," Yonnie laughed in the dark. "You make a comeback in the Big Apple, you can make it anywhere."
The team ran down the wings laughing toward semi-appalled clerics who tried to smile and who made no mention of Carlos's on-the-fly lyrical adaptations that caused them to squint. What could they say, the word got out and reached the masses, unorthodox or not. The call for an encore was so thunderous that it sounded like the roof was about to blow off.
Carlos smiled at Damali and kissed her quickly, loving the energy that zinged through her body into his. Adrenaline and joy and music were in her sweat. She smelled so good and seemed so happy, he was cresting a little fang.
"They're calling for you, boo. Go on out there and give it up. What'chu gonna do for an
encore?"
"You." She offered him a big grin when his eyes flickered.
"Stop playing with my mind, girl," he said, laughing. "Seriously - you hear that crowd?"
"I'll tell you what I decide on later tonight," she said, laughing harder and teasing him unmercifully. "But they're calling for us ... all of us. So, what are you gonna do for an encore?"
Carlos laughed. "I don't know - girl. I'm done. I'm not going back out there. Plus, I already showed you the galaxy, shit."
Curious glances passed between Guardians. Yonnie cocked an eyebrow, clearly wanting to hear more.
"C'mon, y'all, pick a number we used to do before they tear the roof off the mutha," Mike said with a big grin.
"Y'all go 'head," Carlos said, moving to stand in the wings with Yonnie.
"I know after you did Masada, you don't have stage fright, man," Shabazz said, laughing.
"C'mon!"
Carlos smiled and looked at Damali. "Nah ... lemme watch it from the wings, man ... like old times. Loving how she raised that blade back in the day, strutting under the lights - her solo."
Yonnie gave Carlos a sly wink. "Aw'ight, I'm out. Got some lovelies in the green room who wanna take a ride in a brother's limo, feel me? Coupla tours around the park... heeey."
"Yonnie, don't make nothin' out there we're gonna have to ID on a slab or come after, man
... and get your ass in a lair before sunrise," Damali fussed. "Love you."
"Yeah, all right, ma." Yonnie shook his head and pounded Carlos's fist as he began to disintegrate into vapor. "All I'ma say is, you are so lucky you're my boy ... damn."
"All right, people, bust 'em one more time," Shabazz said, rounding up the original band members. "OG's do the encores - nobody else knows the old standards."
"L.A. finale," Mike said. "Move out."
Shabazz nodded and ran the team back out to a screaming crowd that went nuts when they realized the Warriors of Light were returning for a few more songs. The Covenant went back to their positions covering the team from hidden spaces deep within the wings. But Damali hung back for just a moment to place her hand against Carlos's chest. Her fingertips tingled and he swallowed hard. She didn't have to say it, her eyes said it all ... then she allowed her mouth to confirm it with a slow kiss that he answered in kind. You 're my star, Damali... this is you. The behind the scenes is me. Go knock 'em dead, baby.
I love you right on back. . . how about after the encore I show you how much you're my star... one galaxy at a time? I think I remember how you did it. She laughed when he backed up and held up his hands, laughing and shaking his head. Yep, uh-huh, I'm pretty sure I do.