Hurtling so fast, there was no way to breathe. He could feel the pressure push oxygen out of his lungs, make his eardrums nearly burst, sight was impossible, everything was a blur, and all he could do was continue to cradle Damali in his grasp and keep her close as she practically fused to his skin.
She thought she was dying. Her chest felt like a thousand pounds of forced weight was upon it. She couldn't suck in because her diaphragm couldn't lift. Her ears felt like they were bleeding, and the high-pitched whine was like that of a turbine engine inside of them. The foul, smoldering air and the whiz of motion burned her eyes, which she could only shut tightly now. She began a prayer, and she heard Carlos howl with pain as they slowed and his hold loosened on her.
No! Not in my arms! It wasn't Carlos's voice, but his mind that told her.
Somehow she knew that her survival was predicated on them getting to the other side. She could immediately feel things scratching at her when they'd slowed down, and her mind fixed on the objective, which instantly kicked them back up into high gear. Find Nuit.
Almost as suddenly as they had begun to hurl forward, the swirling energy behind them snapped shut, making Carlos lurch forward and stumble to a stop before a massive, black marble door. He was heaving in air, and fully transformed. He dropped her down fast, then backed up and drew quicker pants. Knowing the suit had hurt him, weakening his fight condition, she stepped away from him as he gasped for a breath in the putrid pit around them. She could see in the dark again. All her senses were keened once more. She was in full-blown huntress, having also transformed herself. The hurling action had sent an adrenaline shot through her, and tapped into her survival core. She was ready.
On the ground behind her were a heap of six dead women. The sight of them lying limp, their necks snapped, their eyes wide open, had turned her knuckles white on the grip of her blade.
Every lapsed sensory gift was so heightened that she was almost shaking where she stood. The smells, the distant sounds of lost souls screaming, the still air, the taste of dark realm sulfur, and her lack of need for light entered her system from her spinal column - spreading out to the tips of her fingers, toes, and the top of her head in one internal electric current. She used the blade to motion toward the gore.
"What the hell is this, Carlos?"
"Dinner, I presume," he muttered. "Nuit is a man of his word. Two for me, one for each of my boys." Carlos spat and walked around her. "I'm not hungry, though."
The burn, the high-speed travel, and the battle combined, had initially been enough to slightly bring him down to divert his attention. Now Damali just stared him, could even see him in the dark; it was reversing the effect, like an anesthetic wearing off. The heightened Neteru scent of her mixed with another fragrance that he couldn't place. It created something close to delirium within the tight, unventilated confines. Blood was also in the air from Nuit's substitute offering. But Damali's adrenaline was pumping, the silver suit's effectiveness rapidly diminishing, as the scent of her numbed the pain. He had the feeling he could just tear the silver from her body with little difficulty. He shook his head. They had to breach Nuit's lair now or he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.
"You've got about two seconds to make a choice. We go in there and fight him right now, or I won't be myself. Que pasa?"
Damali leveled her blade at the man who had changed in size and density right before her eyes. His shoulders had gained another three inches in bulk. Threatening strength circled her, occasionally tilting its head. His incisors had taken on saber-toothed proportions, and his transition was worse than what she'd witnessed before. His eyes occasionally flashed deep gold, like a cat's within the darkness. As he circled and stalked her, a low panther-like rumble came from his chest and went through her body and settled in her marrow. He breathed in deeply and the glowing orbs disappeared in the blackness. But she could hear him circling, ready to strike, and she turned with him, Madame Isis always leading their dance. Then, he vanished.
"Fear mixed with a sudden burst of adrenaline... you better kill me on the first blow - you're taking too long," he said, his tone urgent and strained. "I tried to tell you, baby. I didn't want you to see me like this, ever."
His voice echoed off the walls and suddenly she went still, using all her senses to locate him, because his footsteps had also suddenly disappeared. Then he was behind her, and had her by her shoulders. His hands didn't burn now, and it sent a shot of pure terror through her. The instinctive reflex seemed to make him shudder and only tighten his hold. She tensed, bracing for his bite. Instead, he'd groaned against her hair.
She was not trying to go out like this. Struggle was impossible under his vise-like grip. His entire body pressed against her like stone. He nuzzled her shoulder, up her neck, smelling her hair, the growl moving up from his chest to his throat. Again, she became very, very still - remembering that there was another one - two males that would battle to the death over her.
"I didn't want it to be like this... especially your first time," he murmured harshly against the exposed skin of her cheek, sending a hot shaft of pure desire through her body. "But I'm way too far from redemption at this juncture, baby... Since last night, I ain't been no good."
She could feel his fang-packed jaw, the power of the muscles in it grazing her cheek as his body trembled against her spine. Instead of only feeling a sense of horror, she was also feeling a strange draw of desire. What was wrong with her? She leaned her head back to allow Carlos's ardent nuzzle. She couldn't help it. He issued another primal sound from deep within his throat as her body relaxed against his. The ache to make love to him almost made her cry out. An incisor slid past her earlobe. As it did, her survival instinct kicked in. She screamed the last name she ever though she would.
"Nuit!"
CHAPTER TEN
"Body count? Ammo? Who's wounded? Status, now!" Shabazz hollered as the besieged guardian teams huddled and re-marshaled forces.
"We lost four men," the Templar yelled, heaving in breaths. "We're down to eight, and we've got a man bitten and dying slow."
"Ammo is almost out," Rider shouted. "From this point on, it could be hand-to-hand and we're only halfway there - judging by the reconstructed maps!"
The teams surrounded the Hindu monk that had been among the knight's team. The large Moor had him in his arms and the Moor was breathing hard from the exertion of the run and the battles, like the rest of them. With his eyes, the Templar asked the question, and the Moor shook his head no in silent reply.
"Vampire. If it was a demon strike, we could bring him up and exorcise him. But..."
The monk hissed as the Moor gently put him on the ground.
"With honor, my friend," the Moor said, his normal voice coming out with a struggle.
Blood ran from the corner of the monk's mouth, and when he turned his head, a huge section of his shoulder was gone. The Moor stood back, and the guardians watched in horror while the blue-clad knight raised a silver battle-ax over his head.
"Go with God, and rest in peace - and in honor."
The blade came down, and all gathered turned their faces as the dying man's head rolled past them on the dank cavern floor.
"It is the only way to assure that any of us will rest in peace," the knight said in a strong voice as he looked behind them. "We knew this going in, and have dedicated our whole lives to this. We have no way to tell which line the beasts come from. Do not let any man or woman with us suffer. Do this, if we are compromised."