She ran as hard and as fast as she could, helping to drag the knight's wounded teammates, helping Jose, her side killing her, the sound of a fierce vampire battle behind her stabbing her heart. It was a vertical thrust with no mercy in it, goring her as she listened to Carlos's roars of agony behind her. "Die with honor... but live with pride," she whispered as she raced. "Live!"
They stood gathered in the small, confining space where they'd first been dropped - the allied teams gasping for air, sucking in the sulfur, the putrid after-stench of vampire extinction. Guardians surrounded her in Templar formation; her team a center ring, then the Templars, and she at the core. Damali glanced at a revived Jose, who could now live, also knowing his loss, like hers, would never be erased. She briefly closed her eyes, the burn of the environment becoming grit behind her lids, waiting for the lift, and listening as the pathways behind them went still. That's when her hand found her mouth, and she looked back just one last time. What if... Please, God, even down here.
Things of the night slithered into the space around them, vampires, demons, all manner of creatures unnamed. And as her weary team drew together, surrounded, back to back, the last of their weapons readied to go down as one - she quieted her team with a silent prayer, and lit herself as a torch.
Ultraviolet light filled the space from her suit and fried everything in its wake that wasn't human. Billowing black clouds mixed with yellow and deep crimson, screams so horrific that the guardians covered their ears and a small avalanche started. Damali raised her sword upon a whisper... "For Carlos. Rest in peace."
It was not clear whether the subterranean disturbance, the timing, or the light jettisoned them upward, ejecting them back to the place where they'd first been swallowed. But her team stood firm, surrounding her - then fanned out one-by-one on an electric blue-lit stage with black smoke behind them, the Vampire huntress in the circle's center, all slowly stepping forward for the cheering crowd, her sword raised in salute to those who got left behind.
Media swamped them, the crowd rushed the barricades, and the team looked on as commentators thrust microphones in their faces... there were no words. Who cared that they'd brought the house down? It wasn't magic; it was a miracle, and there was no way to explain something as complicated as that.
Damali closed her eyes, leaned her head back, swallowed hard, and raised Isis higher for the applauding, cheering crowd... the refrain of a very sad song echoed in her mind. She tried to send it by thought to someone she once knew.
Remember before it all got crazy? Please, baby, don't ever forget.
EPILOGUE
Detective Berkfield sat at his desk, looking at the package that had come to him with no name and no address. The note inside of it said simply, The Jamaican Territory - as promised.
For a month, nothing, and now this came in the mail? He looked up as his new partner leaned in his doorway.
"Hey, Dick, I know you're brown-nosing for the next big promotion, but it's getting late. You wanna get something to eat?"
"Naw," he said slowly, holding the package in his hands. "I think I'm gonna hang here for a while longer."
"Why, man? You have to eat. You're gonna mess up your bio-rhythms, working all night all the time, and then crashing at dawn."
"Yeah, I know... but I got a funny feeling I'm going to get a phone call soon." Berkfield's gaze slid out of the window toward the blue moon. "Don't ask me why, I can't even tell you - just a feeling, is all. Next time. Be careful going home though... say a little prayer; works for me. Catch ya later."