"I'm sorry."
"Let it go. We'll lay low until the blood runs out and the territory cools off, then we'll find Carlos and his human squad."
"Thank you," she said, but still didn't rejoin him in bed. "The burn will dissipate in a little while, right?"
He couldn't immediately answer her. "No," he finally murmured. "It'll get worse before it gets better."
"I'm not going to be unfaithful. Not after all these years."
"I'm not going to attack you, if that's what you're worried about." Yonnie let his breath out hard, summoning a master's discipline.
"That's not what I'm worried about," she said quietly, edging toward the bed.
"Baby, lie down and go to sleep. We do this one hour at a time."
She nodded and sat on the edge of the bed and stared at him.
"A week in here like this will be a long time." He looked at her and stroked her arm.
For a while she didn't answer. "Yes. I know."
DAMALI FELT like she was flying, the images whirled by her so fast. Her skin crackled with electricity, and she gasped as she landed on her feet with a thud. She crouched down, instantly on guard, and glanced around herself. She patted her side. Shit. Her blade was back on the plane.
The question was, where was she and how did she get here?
It was clearly an industrial area with a river to the south. In front of her was a wide street, but no traffic. It was dark. Not a good thing without a blade. Damali glanced down at herself. At least she was dressed for the occasion. Black leather pants, black halter top, and steel-toe black boots. Perfect for kicking vamp or demon ass. Did Marlene do all of that, too? Deep.
She walked forward slowly and cautiously, staying low. Had to be the point in the night when the clubs closed and sidewalks rolled up and partygoers went home. It was the hunting hour.
Restaurant lights behind her on the long stretch of riverfront were dim. Massive buildings were black, nary a light in a window. A bridge loomed in the distance; its architecture seeming like an eerie blue dinosaur skeleton. The hair stood up on her arms. No, Marlene wouldn't have sent herhere to hide.
A neon club marquis read CLUB EGYPT. Damali stopped walking and folded her arms over her chest. She stared at the sign, noticing the hieroglyphics that had been spray-painted on the sand-colored exterior of the building.
She slowly unfolded her arms. She saw movement in the doorway of the club, and she forced her body to stay loose and ready. She narrowed her eyes. She scanned the area again quickly and noticed a street sign that read DELAWARE AVENUE. She was in Philly then.
"Fuck it," she muttered, crossing the wide boulevard and walking toward the club with purpose. Standing on a corner wringing her hands wasn't going to get her any answers.
When she got to the door, a huge bouncer stopped her. "ID?"
Damali looked him up and down. He was a big burly brother who looked like he was straight out of the motherland. His gleaming blue-black complexion blended almost seamlessly into his black muscle shirt and jeans.
Damali put a hand on his broad chest. "Now you know you need to stop playing." Then she smiled.
He stared down at her, his face blank, his eyes icy. Damali gave him a slow smile and then licked her lips. The ice cracked. He moved his mountainous girth out of the doorway and offered her a wink laced with appreciation. Damali blew him a kiss as she hurried past him.
Once inside, she squinted through the purple, hazy clouds of smoke. Such as it was, the interior seemed fairly normal. She glanced around. The place was half filled. The music was thumping. The DJ was all right. People were free-styling on the wide, polished wood dance floor. The bars were loaded. People were seated at round tables scattered throughout or lounging stylishly on purple and black minisofas. She couldn't sense anything pretenatural.
Damali carefully made her way to the bar. She slid onto a tall brass-and-leather stool as she continued to scan the club. When the female bartender came toward her, she remembered she was broke. Damali smiled. There were plenty enough brothers sipping at the rail to make that a nonissue. But if they were offering drinks with a shot of color, she wouldn't be drinking anyway.
Damali studied the tall, older woman as she walked over to her. Girlfriend looked good. She had on a metallic gold bustier that presented her double-Ds like trophies. A gold-filigreed waist chain that moved ever so slightly above her tight, gold lame pants as she walked accentuated her flat belly. Her complexion was of burnt cinnamon, but her eyes were a smoldering dark brown, matching the color of her shoulder-length braids. A gold serpent arm bracelet circled her sleekly muscular upper arm. She looked like she was in her early thirties. Her walk was so smooth, she almost looked like she was moving in slow motion Damali had to shake her head to break the hypnotic rhythm. Had to be vamp.
"What you having tonight?" the bartender asked with a smile.
Damali studied her. "What are you serving that's top shelf?"
The bartender's smile widened. "Sis, I don't roll like that. I've got a man."
Damali sat back. "Well, shit, so do I."