"Hell no!" Carlos yelled back, the vision of what the African master had attempted making him reckless. No man was going to outdo him in front of Damali. He jumped to the opposite side of the open cargo space, righting the Rover with his own sudden weight. Choppers overhead followed his Rover. He was in the lead. In his mind's eye he could see a dusty trail of other masters fast approaching behind him, trying to get into position to aim and bring down his sure kill.
He felt a harpoon whiz by his head, and knew Amin had sent it his way dead-aim, and not by accident.
When the roo charged again, he got off a shot, which sent a stake into its shoulder. But it reared, slashed its tail under the axle from the front and flipped the vehicle. The force of the impact knocked Carlos out of the open back section, and he hit the ground sliding to a stop, then jumped up running toward the demon. The driver had crossed the line; Carlos was dangerously near it on foot on the ground. In its wounded fury the were-roo charged Carlos, stopped short, claws reaching. Bowie knife drawn, he severed one of the hooked talons, making it rear back dripping green slime, then a tail struck him so hard he went airborne, dazed.
From a remote place in his mind he heard McGuire yell his name. He heard vehicles slowing. Heard a chopper land, Damali's voice hit a panic decibel that roused him, and he rolled back toward the creature, her footfalls in the very dirt beneath him like a pulse, helping him to stand. The roo was down, wasn't burning. He was closer to it than any competitor. This was for her. Motion, awareness snapped back, and he ran... he was air, was night, was the speed of light in the darkness... and the roo was down, within his grasp, breathing hard, dying slow from his crossbow hit and bleeding out from the severed limb. It was a damned demon. Something foul that fed on human flesh and remains like a scavenger. A parasite against humanity. It was the one thing standing between him and his Neteru. And its head was coming off in his bare hands.
Triumphant, he held the head up over the twitching body on the ground, threw his head back, and let out a sound that went back to the beginning of time itself.
Blood filled his mouth from the internal injuries that were swiftly sealing, sweat stung his eyes and he couldn't see. Adrenaline shot through him so hard and so fast that it made him stagger where he stood, converting into a pure testosterone rush of sudden euphoria.
"Score?" he shouted with his eyes closed. No one answered. That's right, his driver was dead from the crash. His own voice was foreign, deeper than when in battle; he couldn't even close his mouth it was so packed with fangs. Something nudged his legs at both sides, and then loudly sniffed him, whimpering. Yeah, the dogs could have all the dead drivers and whatever demons hadn't flamed. Then something electrifying lit his system like a rocket and knocked his head back. The scent stole his equilibrium, made him search the air for it, blind, drop the beast's head for the dogs, and open his eyes, wiping at them with his dusty forearms.
It happened in what felt like slow motion. Golden, sparkling light created an unnatural luminescence before him. His flight-weary dogs that had flown from the castle to protect him backed away from it. Footfalls coming in his direction. The vibrations echoed a familiar sound. His name splitting atoms on the wind carried by the voice of an angel, hiccupping hysteria, the glint of a blade catching moonlight and a hot body flung against him so hard he almost fell.
Disorientation gave way to instant awareness as he buried his nose deep in her damp hair and encircled her perspiration-wet back, her sword tight in her fist against his spine, she was blood-saturated adrenaline, pure Guardian Neteru, clinging to him, tears stinging his wounds, making him lift her off her feet to spin her around, laughing. He'd won. For her. She'd been the only thing on his mind when he went for the roo... it was a matter of honor梙ers, his, theirs. Didn't she know?
Slowly advancing vehicles soon drew his attention. He put Damali down easy, but didn't let her go. Victory made his spine straighten, every vertebra separating, lengthening, his jaw set hard, eyes unmoving. Yes. He'd won. Fair and square - no special powers, just brute strength. She was his.
"Score, gentlemen?" he said, confidence sending his voice across the divide to them like sudden thunder.
They just stared at him, and he could feel Damali tense and draw in to him closer. They had to be out of their minds if they even thought...
"You crossed a major prayer artery, Councilman," McGuire said, fear and awe in his voice.
Carlos glanced at the other masters, and then laughed. "Oh, bullshit! I got close, but I would have fried." He glanced down at Damali, and her complexion was ashen from apparent trauma. He felt his face, and was still showing eight inches. "Explain these, then," he yelled, pointing to his fangs.
The Transylvanian dropped to one knee and lowered his head in total submission. "Never in history, sir. We are not worthy to be in your presence."
The others followed suit, each dropping to one knee before Carlos, each rendered mute by the unfathomable in their world. It was so quiet for a moment that Carlos was sure he could hear their still breaths.
"We have seen a new era usher forth in the empire," Master Xe said, his head bowed. "Our generations will know of your great accomplishments for all eternity. My lands have been ceded to your wife, and my complete allegiance is yours."
"As are mine... and my allegiance to our councilman is unwavering. For generations, we have waited for such unstoppable power to concentrate," Master Amin said, his voice a murmur of respect as he lowered his gaze. "And your bride... I saw it with my own eyes, sir. She fought with equal ferocity to any of us here. She almost hit a line, and yet would not take my hand or use her powers that might jeopardize your claim. The commitment beyond self-survival... never have I witnessed such in all my years."
"You've won all of Europe, Mistress Rivera, and have my crest seal as my blood bond. I cede to you. And I humbly beg your husband's pardon for all transgressions." The Transylvanian's voice broke, and he took a deep breath.
The Aussie spoke, but dared not look up. "Sir... 'Sidney was made by Satan,' you told me a writer once said, when you arrived. Your Excellency... was that you?"
Chapter Eighteen
He could barely keep his hands off of her in the chopper, but settled for kissing her wounded palms to seal the cuts, then clasping one of her hands tightly within his. She was blind to the lines, was trailing gold - something he'd never seen her do... and she hadn't dropped fang to come to his aid in a sure extinction. Clearly she was no longer vampire. Whatever was inside her was stronger than vampire. Whatever fired her system up out there had transformed her again, and he could actually feel the raw Neteru power still pulsing through her. A will of iron, confidence, no fear.
Yet it was a frustrating transition for him to observe, bittersweet to the bone on many levels. Tonight, her being human would be a problem, like the way she trustingly tilted her head back against his shoulder, desire, relief, and pride in him running all through her and therefore running all through him. He closed his eyes, his nose grazing her hair, indulging his senses before he pulled away. Oh, yeah, this was a serious problem.
Carlos glanced down and out the window, seeing his dogs lagging behind the choppers in the distance, their wobbly flight pattern showing their fatigue. There was so much to tell her, so many questions he had... so many things he owed her an apology for. She'd literally put the world at his feet, had lands ceded from every nation, all for him. Had given him an immunity never even granted vampire line-founding kings. Even in a full vamp transformation, she had bargained for the life of a child... had tried to restore his honor, and hers, in a room of violent aggressors and had averted a cold-blooded coup... her Isis before her, head high.
This amazing, wondrous creation, this woman... had chosen him. A Neteru, bending cosmic rules, risking her life, playing the game - even playing him, at critical times, for his own good. She'd taken every dark corner of his heart, even his world, and had stood it on its head, flipped the script, and made it all work out. Yeah, he'd been shrewd enough to keep pace with her quick strategy moves, but she was the one with the real magic. Spellbound, how could he ever leave that... his temptation, sweet addiction... apasionada?
His chopper landed first, and the butler brought out the full staff with him, flanking two lines before it. When the door was opened, the entire staff line went down on one knee and bowed as he and Damali disembarked and strolled up the castle's massive front steps without looking back. Behind him he could hear the other choppers land, and soon the voice of the manservant addressed him.
"I am honored to be in your employ, Councilman Rivera. I do hope you will elect to allow me to continue to serve you and your lovely wife?"
Carlos just nodded and kept walking.
"Sir, the banquet?"
"Prepare for the guests as my wife had specified earlier. We'll be down for dinner shortly after we change."