"I will be near," Nzinga said, "as will the others. Call upon us, and we will send markers and signs to guide you."
"Beware the screech owl of the desert. That is one of the shapes Lilith assumes," Eve warned. "Remember in the last days, only the churches of one land had no sins in the eyes of the Most High. Seek that land as your final destination. But you must first collect the scattered Netcher before you do so." She sighed. "I will lobby your cause about the fang issue. I remember those days, but your case is slightly different. Carlos came back, and it was his destiny to be a Guardian... so, perhaps once emotions settle... Take heart. Look toward Philadelphia." Eve left her with a sad smile, shaking her head as she walked into the Light.
"But there are probably twenty cities in the world by that name." Damali tried to rush forward but an energy barrier held her and kept her from rounding the table.
The others had disappeared through the triangle of violet light, only the Amazon hung back, collecting the Isis blades with sadness in her eyes. "Then find the most powerful one. Start there, queen daughter. I will watch your flank."
Suddenly the room transformed into a restaurant. Dazed, Damali glanced at the white linen tablecloths and marble floor, then at the winding river beyond the tall windows. She was up high in a building in some country or city she couldn't place. She could hear movement in the hall beyond, and she glanced at a wall clock, and then ducked behind a table as a security guard passed by.
Unarmed, in a white Ethiopian gown and sandals, if she were discovered in an establishment this early in the morning, she knew she'd go to jail as a nut case for sure. She listened to the footfalls get farther away and made a run for the main hall, hugging the walls, tiptoeing like a thief, and saying a quiet prayer that she wouldn't be discovered. How was she going to get back to the plane in Manila or let the group know she was alive?
Spotting the main staircase she slipped down it, ducked low as she saw another guard cross the expansive marble entrance. She also had to keep an eye out for any surveillance cameras.
Staying out of sight, she peeped around the huge column that ended at the bottom of the first landing of the staircase and saw the shadows on the floor made from what looked like large temple pillars. From the angle where she crouched she could also see what seemed like a city-block-wide cascade of hundreds of white steps that ended with a wide circular boulevard and a mammoth fountain across the street. If she could just get outside.
A stick on her shoulder almost made her jump out of her skin. She looked up quickly expecting to see a guard shoving her with a billy club. Instead it was the old shaman, one of the keepers of the seal. He smiled a toothless grin and placed a finger to his lips, signaling her to remain quiet. He stooped down low and offered her his walking stick, prodding her to hold one end of it. The moment Damali's hand touched it a warm balm of purple light covered her hand and traveled up her arm, slowly coating and eventually rimming her body in violet light. He let go of the stick and clapped and laughed and bent over with mirth, the spectacle seemed to please him so.
Damali had to smile. It was his pure glee as he danced about and waved his arms, creating a ruckus that she was sure would draw the guards. No sooner than that reality accosted her, a guard ran down the steps, brandishing a club.
"Hey, old man! You can't come in here! No homeless on the premises! Now beat it, before we call the cops!"
Another guard hurried onto the scene. "How'd that old bum get in here? You'd better get him out before we get in trouble because the night shift guys overlooked him. I'm not losing my job over this bull."
Damali had made herself very small on the steps, practically hugging the oversized railing, but it became suddenly apparent that the two guards couldn't see her. She was being shielded.
The half-naked shaman laughed harder, his mirth becoming a wild hysteria as he danced away from the security guards and rushed down the steps. Damali stood, stared at the stick, and then the guard. They really couldn't see her... deep.
"Open the front doors for him and get him out of here," one guard shouted, huffing as he chased behind the nimble old man and almost slipping on the highly polished floors as he pursued him.
Clenching the stick, Damali stood and raced in the direction of the door. The first guard that had reached the huge, bolted entrances flipped a series of switches behind a control panel, swearing the entire time about the alarm systems, locks, writing the catastrophe up on the logs, his pension, and why couldn't the homeless just stay out of the place. The shaman danced, wagged a finger at the men, and evaded their pursuit until one of the doors had been opened. Then he gnashed his teeth and pulled at his wiry white hair as though insane.
"Man, he might have AIDS! Don't touch him, just shoo his dirty ass out the door!"
The shaman walked in a wide circle, motioning for Damali to go through the exit, drooling and spitting, making the men back away with disgust. Then he clapped his hands and dashed out the door and down the steps. Damali didn't have to be told twice, she was out.
Brilliant sun hit her face, and the crisp fall air brought tears to her eyes. She didn't know exactly where she was, but it was a cold climate. She glanced around for the old shaman. "Thank you," she yelled into the nothingness, and brought the stick to her chest.
They had taken her Isis blades, stripped her womb, brought her man back fractured and broken, separated her from her team, and only left her with a purple magic stick. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks as she stood on the grounds of the most spectacular temple she'd seen within a city. She stared down the broad white steps toward the grand parkway, trying to place the monuments, trying to get her bearings as her embattled brain struggled to absorb all that had just happened. She glanced back at the eight Roman columns and brass fountains that had tarnished green with age, noting how the entire relief was near a river and waterfall as though a replica of the great temples by the Nile. No wonder the queens had brought her here. But they'd also temporarily stripped her of her title, had taken her blades.
What had she done? Lord, what had she done?
RESIGNED TO her fate, there was nothing to do but move forward. Damali glanced around, already knowing that the old shaman wasn't coming back. She walked down the white steps, watching the few cars that passed as she reached the curb, straining to read the license plates but was too far away to recognize the state they were from. At just after dawn, most cities were quiet-except New York. She checked that one off as she gazed at the skyline. Definitely not New York. But it had to be on the East Coast. An art museum, but where?
Before her stretched a large boulevard lined with very old trees robed in hues of orange, gold, red, fading green, and withered brown. As she crossed the four-lane circular street, she came to the huge, dry fountain, staring at the larger-than-life bronze figurines and trying to see an inscription. She looked over her shoulder to the building she'd just left, and gaped up at the huge templelike structure that bore no inscription, but on her right a warrior on a horse fought a lion with his javelin drawn in battle. The monument offered no immediate clue. But it made her pause. Armed only with a wooden stick a warrior went against a lion. Damali gripped the stick she held more tightly and walked forward. Answers were all around her; she could feel them just beyond her immediate reach.
For a moment she just stood in front of the fountain, her eyes roving past the life-sized bronze woman entwined with a serpent. She sighed and thought of Eve, and then her own circumstances. "We messed up big time, didn't we, girlfriend?" Damali muttered as she trudged up the massive stone steps, past two huge bronze deer. At the four cardinal points, there were figures seemingly guarded by things of nature. That fleeting awareness also gave her pause. Two deer guarded the woman and serpent... Damali walked to the next cardinal point and saw an elaborately sculpted moose adjacent to a fierce bear guarding a woman with a net. As she rounded the structure there was a pair of moose, and before she could look farther she saw a Native American chief in repose, also guarded by two bison-things of nature.
Damali glanced up to the mounted general on a horse, her eyes scouring the dim inscription... she was in Pennsylvania! Excitement swept through her. A piece of the puzzle was found. At least she knew where she was now. But as suddenly as elation had hit her, so did a sense of impending doom.
If she was in Pennsylvania, then her team was God knew how many miles and a whole day away from her, enroute to Manila. How in the heck was she going to get from here to there, with no money on her, no means of transportation to an airport, no freaking identification, and no coat? She wrapped her arms around herself, instantly feeling the cold.
Soul weary, she leaned against the reclining Indian chief and willed herself not to cry. "This is beyond jacked up," she murmured. The icy metal set her teeth on edge, and she pushed off it with both hands. But the slight movements of the bronze structure before her made her freeze.
A light crackling purple haze crept along the structure, making the reclining figure slowly turn its head, stare at her with vacant eyes, and with the slightest tilt of his chin, a direction was offered.
Damali backed up until her spine collided with the adjacent figure, making her jump away from it, lest it come alive, too. The section of statue that had moved returned to its original pose and became still again. Not waiting to see what would happen next, Damali dashed down the wide steps in a flat-out run, across a small patch of grass, and down the center lane of an empty parking lot. Breathless, she quickly crossed the street and turned back to the giant fountain to see if it was pursuing her. But all was still except the erratic thuds of her heart.
She sucked in huge breaths and looked in the direction the statue had indicated. Benjamin Franklin Parkway? Something vaguely familiar stretched within her mind, but with all that had happened, the context left her wanting. Her eyes darted around, trying to figure out the message. Frustrated, she looked up and shouted, "What?"