Adam smiled."Yes, my beloved . . . but not right now.Perhaps in a little while."
"So, what is the verdict?" Rabbi Zeitloff asked in a weary tone. He stared at the clerical physicians assembled around Father Patrick's bedside, blinking rapidly through his Ben Franklin glasses. He peered up at the gaunt faces that nervously looked from one to another before speaking, growing peevish. Each man before him had the best of credentials and the Ivy League background to go with them, but he silently wondered if they had any realchutzpah .
"Listen," the Rabbi said, beginning to pace. "We have endured a tornado, meteor showers-so much that our other members from the Covenant have not been able to even get here in one piece. Delays, delays, delays, and our dear colleagueis running out of time! I must know the extent of the horrors we're still facing, and the New Yorkers are going to have to fill in until we can get more assistance. I refuse to have this man die on my watch!"
"The only way I can describe what is happening to him medically, as well as spiritually," one cleric said, "is to liken it to the theory of black holes." He rubbed the nape of his neck, ruffling the soft blond down there, and stared at Rabbi Zeitloff with crystal blue eyes. He was only a few inches taller than the Rabbi, but stood with the bearing of a much larger man.
"Come again?" Zeitloff stared at the threesome for a moment. He appraised the other two clerics, both young brunetts that looked like they belonged at a country club rather than at a healing as serious as this. If only the older, more seasoned clerical veterans were able to get through the weather delays. The frustration was making his nerves brittle. Finally, when no one spoke, he took a potshot at their expertise. He wanted answers, straight answers, not to be mollified!
"You sound like my late brother, with this scientific crazy-making."
"Black holes, the example my colleague, Dr. Linder, was trying to express to you," another cleric pressed on, undaunted, "occur when a star implodes. Everything folds in on itself into a very small, very dense black hole where the gravitational pull into the darkness is so profound that not even the light can escape."
Rabbi Zeitloff took off his glasses for a moment to wipe the perspiration from his face. His glasses had begun to slide down his nose and his face felt oily and uncomfortable. They'd been up all night, had his dear colleague and friend hooked up to the most state-of-the-art equipment, but at the end of the day it still all came down to prayer. At past eighty years old, he understood this. Men in their prime would not.
"Sir, his mind is slowly pulling into that tiny black spot of implosion from the black-charge blast he took. That is what began the implosion. The outer edges that slip over what we call theevent horizon -the edge where the darkness begins to suck the gray matter into itself-is what we're trying to save now. If the draw inward continues, it will first pull the mind in to collapse into itself . . . then as that density continues to draw inward, it will siphon the spirit in . . . and ultimately the body will be an empty shell that will go right into pure darkness. He will simply disappear."
"No," the Rabbi said, shaking his head. "That isnot going to happen, because we have something that is going into that black hole as we speak-prayers. Let them suck down as many as they want! Are you measuring his brain mass? Has it changed in the hours since he was brought here and we began our vigil? You must employ faith as you work on the medical and preternatural answers so that it is a blend. His case is not run-of-the-mill, and a general exorcism for this did not work."
"You attempted an exorcism, even knowing what caused his condition?" the lead physician gasped. "Sir, you could have been seriously injured."
"Hey, this isNew York ," Rabbi Zeitloff said proudly, adjusting his squat frame while lifting his chin and crossing his arms over his chest. "And half of the staff here grew up in Hell's Kitchen. So we're not taking any crap."
How was it that almost getting his liver and vital organs stashed in Kemetic canopic jars for all of eternity had made him unable to keep his hands off his wife?
Carlos slowly took in his environs as Damali slept quietly beside him. The silvery mist had evaporated, causing the rained-down bathwater to disappear. Everything was drying. A glittering residue of King's Ransom painted the sheers, giving their butterfly-wing hues an entirely new spectral prism. The ever-present light had burned away all of the dampness, and he'd watched the pool refill on its own, as though this magical, wonderful place just followed the ebbs and flows of cosmic energy . . . using it, replacing it, expending and replenishing. It was a rhythm, apulse, just like the one he could subtly feel making the bed hum.
If this was the afterlife, then, hey . . .
But he was so not ready to die. Being here, seeing how close he'd come to that was more than enough. He had things to live for before, but now . . . damn, he'd be a crazy man keeping the Darkness from his doorstep-and most assuredly away from his family. He brushed Damali's cheek with a gentle kiss so as not to wake her, loving how she'd wrapped them both in her wings as she slept the sleep of the innocent.
His prayer was a quiet one, issued not just from his mind, but from his heart, Por Dios,pleasedon't allow them to injure my wife like they did before . As he stared at Damali, her face became blurry and he blinked back tears.This time,Madre de Dios ,hear my prayer. Let her be able to carry to term, if it is Your will . . . let her be able to hold our baby in her arms . . . let that child come into the world healthy and strong and whole. . . . And just give us enough time to fight long enough, to make it through enough battles, so we can see our kid grow up .
Carlos closed his eyes and slung his forearm over them. Breathing through his nose, he tried to settle the roiling emotions within, overcome with the gravity of it all. This morning went beyond an epiphany or even the normal vague awareness that something in his life was changing. It was a turning point, one that required action . . . problem was, he wasn't exactly sure what that might be.
For the first time in his life he realized that he didn't have a strategy, didn't have enough game to play this off, if things went awry. He was vulnerable, wide-open behind this. A man with something to lose didn't even describe it. Until this moment, it was hard to imagine being even more vulnerable than having Damali to lose . . . it was incomprehensible that he could love her harder than he already did.
If they came for him this time, and if they got Damali or the baby, he would lose his mind. There would be no fallback position. They said a man with nothing to lose was a dangerous thing, but a man with everything to lose was something frightening to encounter, indeed.
She'd tried to tell him that's why she wasn't ready . . . told him the first time she got pregnant how this was gonna go. But there was something so surreal about that previous experience. The reality of it hadn't had a chance to sink in and marinate in his mind before she'd miscarried. And when he'd made love to her, this time, just like when it had happened between them before, his intent was all messed up . . . his heart overriding his head . . . silver shot, nowhere to be found, no damned protection, willing life through his body into hers . . . now what?Up here in Mid-heaven, no less.
"Por Dios,what have I done?"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Daybreak eased her from slumber like a gentle kiss. Even in the perpetual light of the Neteru chamber, an internal sensory awareness lifted her from the deep sleep that had overtaken her, leaving her fully refreshed but so oddly serene. Perfect peace had stolen every anxiety, so much so that it was initially hard to move her limbs. Carlos's reassuring warmth radiated through her entire body. His steady, rhythmic breathing was a constant reminder that they'd yet again beaten the odds.
She lifted herself carefully to allow him to continue to sleep undisturbed. . . . Lord knew the man needed to. Vague memories of prophecies and strategies pelted her mind,then simply evaporated as she leaned on one elbow and caressed his chest, admiring the masonry of it.
Bronze skin drawn tight over carved marble is what his body seemed like to the touch. Her brand was still there in the center of his chest, a raised keloid scar from a silver burn years ago that protected his heart. She wanted to kiss his eyelids, but knew that would rouse him. Instead she allowed her eyes to drink in the subtle contours of his face and how his long, jet-black lashes created a beautiful dark fringe against his sun-golden hue. The tips of her fingers hungered to feel the thick, velvety texture of his hair, but she wouldn't allow them to disturb him. She stared at his mouth and sighed, wanting to run the pad of her thumb over it and then allow her lips to claim his. But, again, she refused to steal even a sliver of his peace for selfish reasons.
It seemed so impossible that she could have found a way to love him more than she already did . . . but somewhere during their passionate night, she had.
Damali briefly closed her eyes as words echoed in her mind and then tumbled down from it to overflow her heart.Dear God, I love him so much sometimes it scares me . Carlos stirred, his hand dragging a lazy pattern across her skin and claiming the same hip it always did by rote the moment he became conscious.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she said quietly, and then kissed him the way she'd wanted to for minutes.
"You can wake me up any time you want to like that," he murmured, tracing her back with a warm hand.