"Yo, y'all, sprinklers is going off and shit, what the - "
"You missed Mardi Gras in here, Jose. It was deep." Rider was walking in a circle as Big Mike blasted their teammate with light and Jose covered his eyes.
Marlene pointed at Mike's stake in the table and on the floor. "Get that light out of Jose's face - it was the adrenaline in Rivera's bloodstream! He blew out all systems, just shut 'em down and walked! Why? Because he's no second generation - he's a master. He did it because he'd crossed the threshold, got close to the power sources in here, and close to her. It's like having a top-of-the-line vampire in here on PCP. They flip. You fellas ain't getting' this, are you?"
"I know," Damali murmured. It was the first thing she'd been able to say since the mayhem broke out.
The room went immediately quiet.
"You all right, girlfriend?" Rider asked quietly. "Like, these lights in here ain't bothering you, or nothin', right?"
Damali didn't have the energy to respond to Rider's sarcasm. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself tighter and faced the wall. The sadness in her was lodged so deep within her chest that she couldn't even cry.
"I felt it when he kissed me. His jaw unhinged and his incisors dropped... and I could hear him in my head... but I wasn't afraid." The rest of what he'd made her feel, she buried deep within herself and just let her breaths continue in small sips of air.
"Oh, baby..."
She could feel Marlene's arms wrap around her, and she allowed the hug, but needed to pull away. The maternal touch just didn't mix right with the one she'd just experienced, and oddly, she didn't want the first one to vanish just yet.
"Gentlemen, lock up the compound, repair the equipment, do make yourselves useful - but don't say a word to her right now. Please."
"He's turned, Mar," Damali whispered. "They got him."
When Rider opened his mouth to give Marlene a smart reply, her glare closed it.
"Not a word," Marlene said in a near hiss. "Not a mumblin' word. Her heart's been injured, and it's a mortal wound. C'mon, let's go talk."
Thankful for the extraction and female company that would allow her to grieve, Damali numbly followed Marlene down the hall. Truthfully, she really didn't care what was up anymore. He'd turned. The full monte. And she knew when it had happened. The pictures in the newspaper - it had happened in the woods.
Marlene sat quietly beside her for a long time on the edge of her bed. She didn't touch her, or ask her questions. The two of them just sat.
"I don't even know what to say to you, Mar," Damali murmured after a while.
"You don't have to say a word. I've been there. My lover... Raven's father. It cut to the bone when I found out, and I thought I would die. It's a soul wound that never heals."
"Why did he help us? Regardless, what he'd told us was the truth, I could sense it, and so can you... that's why I didn't think he was a..." She whispered, her voice trailed off as she looked at the window that was now covered by steel. More and more it felt like a prison, not a sanctuary any longer.
"Because... he loved you, once, I think. And if he'd wanted to hurt you, he would have, in the hospital - if he turned when we both guess that he did. One day he will, though. We both know that."
It was the last part of what Marlene said that made her cover her face with her palms and lean over so far that the backs of her hands touched her thighs. The wail of despair that came up from inside her was from somewhere so core that even rocking as she released it didn't stop it from ripping at the cloth of who she was. This man that she had prayed for, hoped for, saw the good in and knew could change... had the will and the intellect, and had fallen. And not just fallen to the things of the world, like a gun, a lock-down, no, but he'd fallen so deep into the abyss that there was no bringing him back. Yet much of it was his choice.
She'd tried to tell him, a long, long time ago... when they'd sat on the beach, when they'd argue street politics... when he'd smile and say, "Baby, I got it all under control." But he never would listen, thought life was a game, and it could be played to the bone, but some shit you just didn't f**k with, the dark realm was one of those things, to name a few. Machismo, male drama, he'd rolled out every day dangling by a thread between life and death or worse - half-life. Oblivious, until something deep moved on him, and then it was all over. And she'd seen so many fine brothers, just like him - leaving people to wail and pray after their souls... now even that within Carlos was gone.
Although she knew life wasn't fair, was a grown woman, a vampire huntress that they proclaimed had some invincible, powerful, unstoppable vibe within her - and could bring it, in this very private moment of personal defeat - she wished so desperately that it could be fair - just once. What if? Basic reality and life was kicking her ass. Watching a person come so close to making the right choice, and then watching them become too entrenched and afraid to step off from the old and into the new, and then watching them drift back to their old ways like it was a comfortable sweater, and watching, helpless, unable to do a thing about it all when time just decided to run out on them, felt like unparalleled defeat.
And an old sister of her soul, the warrior queen, proud with head high, sat beside her, just rubbing her back and rocking with her, probably crying inside her own heart for those same losses like that to the world. Marlene knew. Now so did she.
Even being a baaad-sister didn't stop this type of shit from hurting. Mar had tried to warn her. Said it wasn't a flesh wound, wasn't nuthin' to play with, couldn't be sewn up with stitches... couldn't be set in a splint - but eventually she would have to set it straight to survive, not being able to breathe from the pain. It was a rite of passage - stepping off, leaving the dead in body, mind, and spirit, and moving on. But Heaven hear her cry, this one really hurt.
Bitter sobs wracked Damali, and Marlene petted them up through her bent spine to help her system flush itself of pain. All women knew this magic, the ancient art of healing through touch - the shamans didn't own province over it, this was female power at its best... compassion, letting hurt just run its course, till disappointment magnified to screaming wails, but it was the thing that brought back sanity after the storm.
Every loss she'd sustained purged with the tears, and now she knew why Jose was dying from the inside out. There were things worse than death, watching a loved one fall and slip away was one of them, and she cried for every mother, every father, every child, every brother, every sister, every lover, every grandmom, every spouse, every anybody who had to sit and weep and watch and witness their prayers go to hell in a handbasket.
Crazy part was, her spirit hurt so bad that, after a while, she just stepped it out of her body, and watched her whole drama of rocking and crying from a remote place in her mind. That type of decision had to be the brain's safety valve, a thing that happened to people when their sobs got too intense, she imagined. She sat beside herself, helping Marlene, wondering when her well of tears would run dry. Because she didn't go there - had never truly allowed herself to just lose it. So what the fellas had gathered around the door, and for whatever reason, that only made the tears fall harder. Perhaps the worst part of it all was that she didn't even trust herself anymore.
She had quietly loved this man who'd been her knight in shining armor, had loved this street warrior gone rogue who'd rescued her from foster care - she had loved him ... so much for so long... didn't he know that even turned, they still had a bond? She'd known he'd crossed over, way before the kiss - but had lied to herself, hoping. Didn't want to believe her instincts. Wasn't sure which line got crossed in his dark path, general life or something harder. There was just no denying it; she still wanted him, turned and all - regardless of what she might do. Didn't matter if she walked away, like she knew she would. There'd still be the marker for him where the brand landed a long time ago. Some truth was so deep that she couldn't even say it to herself. Seeing him in the shower now made so much sense, his eyes, then eyes she didn't know - both were his, the light and the dark side of the same man - it had been a premonition.
So she cried until she just had to lie down and sleep it off, which was better that way - at least she didn't have to keep telling herself the awful, hard truth.