Damali's pull was so erotic that he swayed and held onto the hood of a nearby car. Damn ... As she clutched the steering wheel of the Hum-V she drove, he could actually feel her power. No longer shielded behind the walls of her compound, he could detect a light blue aura of energy emanating from her skin. It gave her a glow. He could feel himself needing to touch her, drawn like a moth to a flame. Carlos reached out trembling fingers into the night air and let out a deep moan, and immediately censored himself. He quickly withdrew his hand. They should have told him that she would be like a drug to him. He would have to learn to control his reactions around her, if he was going to protect her from Nuit.
But her hair, her skin ... her voice. The timbre of it issuing battle commands... her lack of fear fueled by fury-induced adrenaline shot through him. Shards of pleasure created bands of colors in his head. She was a magnet. He wrestled with the effect she produced and focused on what was around her. Her guardians were formidable, but in this state of aggression he could take them. Then he saw her weapons - a blade, a dagger... she had no fear of hand-to-hand combat... she had bloodlust in her heart, driving her like a bullet. Carlos shuddered again as the scent of her now filled his nose, creating a hunger that matched his craving for blood.
Delirious, he stumbled forward, away from the parked car. He inhaled her again, and it produced a rush like no other he'd ever experienced. Immediately his fangs came down, the muscles in his body tensed and built. He could feel his density shift, become stronger. He glanced at his hand, awed that it was larger, his nails a deadly eighth of an inch longer, but he was amazed that he did not have claws. Why?
He rubbed his palm over his face, wondering what he looked like now. He used his fingertips to make the assessment. His awareness of her had only strengthened him, but had not disfigured him. Why? He stared at the side of a minivan. Two red gleaming points reflected off the shiny black vehicle. His eyes... daaayum... Damali could make him feel like this, miles away? What would an encounter with her be like face-to-face? Maybe the Vampire Council would have to drive a stake through his heart after all - unless she had to plant the blade she carried for her own protection first.
"Unbelievable," Carlos murmured into the nothingness, now identifying the fragrance that he'd always detected from her when he was human. A creature so special had been in his midst all along. He raked every detail about her through his awareness, to understand what this whole thing called a Neteru truly was.
Most importantly, she was safe. He had to go to her. His form began to lose density and shape as he composed himself and summoned control.
Then the shadows moved, and he smelled a sickening musty-sweet scent - incense-like... frankincense and myrrh.
Ready for an attack, Carols braced himself, his eyes keened to the movement. There were twelve forms. He could feel his jaw unhinge by reflex and every body muscle twitch as it regained bulk in preparation for mortal conflict. The incisors inside his mouth were different, wider, more lethal than what Damali's image had caused. Erotic desire was instantly differentiated from battle mode. He glanced at his hands. Long, hooked talons came from the tips of his fingers like a lion's retractable claws. Now he understood. He narrowed his gaze as differently clad assassins came from the darkness. But he stood still, assessing which one to bring down first.
The eldest slowly advanced. He wore a huge silver cross with a bleeding heart in the center of it topped by a crown of thorns, and was dressed in royal blue. The aggressor unsheathed a three-foot-long blade that glinted in the dim, yellow parking garage fluorescent lights. Two more came out of the nothingness and were in black Ninja gear. Each had clearly visible weapons in their hands, a morning star and a dagger. Another who seemed to be a sheik wore all-white cotton, his gold star and crescent in the center of his chest dangled like a dare, and his grip tightened on a machete. More and more of them stepped from the darkness behind cars until they circled him - each bearing a different religious emblem and a weapon. Humans. Innocents. But how and why had they found him?
Carlos looked up, considering his options to make an overhead retreat along the ceiling ductwork.
"Demon," the first one who'd approached said, "why did you save the innocent? Is he marked?" The man's tone was wary, but his voice held a hint of confusion.
"Who are you?" Carlos shouted back, his gaze holding onto the cross, remembering his own that he'd dropped when the insanity began. The fleeting thought entered his mind only for a second and then was gone, as he spun to protect his own back.
"I am a knight of Templar," the royal-blue-clad assassin announced. "The others are my brethren from the twelve scattered churches. We make up the Covenant. You are surrounded."
Momentarily confused, Carlos let his gaze rove over the multiethnic hit squad, smelling their blood. These were men - but somehow protected men. "So, state your business. Whassup? What do you want with me? I have places to go."
"You let an innocent escape, and that drew us. And you left the gray zone with your mother and grandmother's prayers upon you - and with one in your heart. You had an emblem of God on your person. Do you seek redemption, demon? Are you seeking sanctuary?"
Carlos's shoulders relaxed, although he wasn't sure why, and he could feel his fangs and claws retract. The Vampire Council's monitoring had again retreated as soon as these hombres had shown up. Redemption? He thought of the tour the messenger had taken him on through the realms. Sensing an opportunity in the offing, Carlos hedged a bet. "I need to be able to talk to you without my conversation being monitored. I'm tapped. Anything you can do to ensure our conversation stays private?"
The team nodded and lowered their weapons, and soon their voices began in a low chant, each speaking in a different language, saying what Carlos could only determine as different prayers - simply because the one man in blue before him said the Twenty-third Psalm in Latin. Carlos smiled. He couldn't hear the words, but he knew the cadence of the prayer. Knew the beat of it, how it was uttered. His mother's insistence that he attend Catholic Mass as a child had finally come to some good use. But it didn't stab into his brain. Interesting. They had somehow not attacked him with it.
"You are shielded," the blue knight announced as the group fell quiet.
Carlos nodded. "Thank you."
"We are the keepers of the sacred texts, and the guardians of the transition corridors. We keep the passages to the realms above clear of demonic manifestations and blockages so that ascending souls may pass unharmed. Yours was hijacked during sure descent, from the keepers of the sixth realm of darkness. Supernatural law was broken by the old vampires. You have to make a choice quickly. We don't have much time."
"If my soul got jacked, where is it?" A tingling sensation entered Carlos's fingertips as he waited for their answer.
"In Purgatory, until a final determination can be made about which realm has right to it," the blue knight said. "There has been a dispute over it."
The group nodded, but Carlos could see their grips flex on their arsenal. "Your business with me, then, is... ?"
"You have not eaten of the innocent yet, but soon you will have to - the blood thirst will be too strong... then you will be lost to us. You must make a choice. There is only one, and you have three days in which to make it. Choose wrong and the vampires own you."
"What choice?"
He studied the assembled warriors carefully as nervous glances passed between them.
"Bring us Damali Richards," the spokesman said in an even tone. "Then who knows? Perhaps mercy may befall you."
Carlos smiled. Damali was in high demand. He almost wanted to laugh it was so mad-crazy. "I already have an offer on the table for her, at present - by another council. Two pending deals, in fact. Want to raise the stakes? No pun intended."
The knight of Templar narrowed his gaze. "Yes. How about if we raise the stakes?" he threatened. "Literally."
A red-swathed Indian monk spoke through his teeth. "We do not negotiate with the underworld!"