have taken a body on the spot. Can't blame the man. I saw him struggling with the decision, he saw me struggling with mine. Rider did, too."
"I know," Damali said. "Half of him wanted Yonnie to take her and save her. Half of him wanted her to burn to ash in the sun, rather than to be with another man. And a crazy bit of hope made him want to go find her in whatever condition she was in, even live in her world, not being able to live in this one alone. God knows I know what that feels like."
"It was futile. He would have turned as a third and went up against a battle-bulked master over a woman he'd marked at the throat. It would have ended badly, plus Rider's soul would have been damned for it all."
"I know," Damali murmured, and touched Carlos's arm. "How do you let something that deep go, once the season for it has passed? I can almost feel her heart breaking, even though she's safe. It was the look in her eyes as we closed the drape, baby. She looked right at him and then shut her eyes... like she knew he was turning and with us, we'd have to do him."
"In my old world, that was respect. The closest thing down there that comes to love. To be done by your own, not a competitor-quick, clean, without being maimed and left half alive for the sun to finish you after a fight you'd lost. She knows our way, too, that if he dropped fang, we'd have to take his head... and we'd do it out of love, then commend his soul to a place she couldn't. The Light. That's why she let us take him with the clerics and didn't fight with Yonnie in front of us about it. If she's going with him, then she had to make a snap decision, and tried to save both their prides."
What happened outside the warehouse remained off-limits for discussion. Instead, they both danced around it, talking about love and wounded pride in the third person with soft voice-both understanding.
Carlos sighed and looked up to the sky. His distant vampire-blood cousin wore a clerical collar and had a tough decision to make, too. "Choices. Yonnie is choosing to survive in the fucked-up circumstances he's in. If he can pull off a coup, he's the last master standing. Brother won, in many respects." Carlos saluted the sky. "Wise move. If I were backed into his same corner-"
"You wouldn't do that," Damali said, holding his arm. "That was the difference between you and him. You had-"
"A different set of circumstances," Carlos said firmly, allowing his hands to trail down her arms. "Don't ever forget for a moment what I was. I've always told you that. Love can make anybody blind, know that, too. If I were backed into his corner, I'd be thinking that Gabrielle and her girls would make excellent inner-lair protectors. If he can stop his turn blocks, brother has an empire at his feet."
"But what about redemption?" Damali stared at him wide-eyed.
"The last thing on my mind when I was on the run and with you." He kissed her forehead. "My boy just wants a little bit of happiness after living in Hell for years. Tara is his piece of sky. Been there."
The clerical group casually passed by them. The rabbi tipped his hat and kept his voice low.
"We have gone everywhere, and zilch. It is late and we should go back to our base."
"Good afternoon to you too, sir," Carlos said and put his arm around Damali's waist. He glanced at the sky again as they discreetly quickened their pace. The East Coast sun dropped at about four p.m. in the fall. He missed L.A. so much he could cry. Time robbed daylight here. In his old lands, it shone over the ocean and warmed the earth year-round.
The relief ofThe Gates of Hell on the Rodin Museum's wall suddenly tugged at him from blocks away, but he kept walking and nodded to Inez with a smile. He could almost feel the cement breathing; the figures beneath the surface coming alive and making the stone wall turn to rubber against fiendish little claws. Big Mike simply looked up. The Berkfields turned on their motor. Dan shot Jose a look and gunned his engine. J.L. did the same. Berkfield pulled off, he and Marjorie glanced at the van as the clerics got in and