out in its worst form; he'd wanted her to choose clearly and decisively to end the drama between two of his closest friends. He owed Jose and loved him like a brother, but had still been pissed off at Jose's attention, his silent love-jones, and the blanket--going after Juanita made sense while possessed. Nasty Scorpio bastard.
Most of all, Carlos had been furious with her for still being the team's most seasoned Neteru, and not wanting to get married or to conceive right away... so, while "under the influence," as Carlos called it, he'd set out to punish her--even though he loved her... even while possessed. The demon had a stranglehold on him through his deepest, darkest insecurities, much the same way a man who loves his wife beats her to be sure she stays with him. Insanity.
His twisted goal while possessed had been to break her back, spiritually. Paralyze her ego, stomp what he perceived as her arrogance, and snuff out her inner light. Making a baby with Juanita would have done that until the end of time. The more she really thought about it, that he would go there, even under the influence, rubbed a raw spot in her heart until it bled.
Damali drew a shuddering breath as she applied more cream onto her body with harder strokes. That was worse than the physical act of Juanita giving him head on her back deck, oddly enough. She could rationalize that as the actual demon, not Carlos. But what she couldn't forgive at the moment was that he'd had so much quiet rage toward her within him that he couldn't control the demon--hellfire notwithstanding... because she could. Had done it for a long time, had sucked up all his mad-crazy drama, but never had Succumbed to doing anything, for any reason, that would have carved his heart out of his chest... even when she could have, even while she'd been fully infected with demonic contagion and standing on a beach in Jose's arms. She'd backed off and made a choice, and said no.
An eerie sense of betrayal had filled her. Over the last three days, nagging bouts of insecurity had coated her inner being with a new, virulent level of anger and jealousy like she'd never known. She'd found herself becoming clingy at times--something so not her that it frightened her more than any demon she'd encountered. Her? The Neteru? Clingy? What was up with that?
If she'd brought this to Marlene, and she never would, she knew Mar-lene would tell her to focus, get still, and meditate on the sensation not the incident, to see if there was some new threat that she and the team should be aware of. Marlene would also tell her that forgiveness was divine, and to pray on it. She'd done that.
Her sensory awareness didn't register any immediate pending doom. The Divine wasn't lifting the burden from her heart, either. It sat there like a dull, heavy stone, making her occasionally sigh for no reason, out of the blue. Her inner vision had become a mental torture chamber, providing no answers, just a rehashing of what had happened. What she saw instead of a demonic threat was nothing that she could kill or justifiably beat down without violating every law of Ma'at. That's when the arguments had started in earnest.
A light tap on the door made Damali jerk her focus up to stare at it. Damn straight, Carlos had better not just waltz in or blow into the bathroom on her without permission to enter.
"Yeah," she said, becoming surly at the invasion. Damali went back to applying the cream to her calves. The man needed to stay out of her face this morning, if he knew what was good for him.
Carlos peeked in and then slowly came into the large, brightly sunlit room with her. She watched him lean on the sink and send his line of vision toward nothing in particular. He had on black silk boxers. Whatever. His ass needed to get dressed. She wasn't interested.
For a moment, Carlos hesitated by the sink. He stared at Damali, seeing the light around her body as a dull, gray covering that was growing darker by the second. Pure alarm filled him. Something was wrong with his woman. Then he watched as a dark orb exited the base of her skull and dissipated. He started at the sight of it. She was looking down and furiously slathering cream on her legs. Maybe it was the final