The entity before her tilted his head, gave her a surprised look, and then burst out laughing. The sound of his mirth coated her insides, and her sudden arousal from the rich timbre of his voice caused her to clutch the towel around her more tightly.
"No," he finally said, recovering slowly from deep, booming chuckles. "I have been mistaken for a lot of things and a lot of people, but certainly not Him. I love you, Damali. You tickle me. Always have. But I have so missed communing over your prose and lyrics. We must do better at staying connected."
Damali was breathing hard as she bound the towel around her more firmly, got out of the tub, and quickly walked to stand by the door, ready to bolt toward her Isis. Panic and curiosity had become united, but she was still no fool. Something had manifest in her bathroom!
"Okay, okay," she said, regulating her breaths as she spoke. "I'm not asleep or on the astral plane. But you're from the spirit realm and are in my condo--how'd you get here?"
"You asked for your muse, stilled your mind, and stopped your time... just like the earth wobbled on its axis and time stopped within the earth's universe, you stopped time within your own universe, stilling the bands of matter around you." Merriment filled his eyes, making them crinkle in the corners. He shrugged and offered her a dashing smile.
When she didn't budge, he stood and she gazed up at his six-foot-five frame that moved like living fluid beneath his robe as he calmly approached her. "I have been waiting so long for you to learn how to do that." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "But tonight, I am here just to talk... at your request."
Dazed, for a moment she didn't move. Not because she couldn't, but because in this stopped slice of time, she really didn't want to. Pure sensuality oozed from this being in a very disturbing way. And yet there was also something familiar about his features... he was more than handsome, there was a stillness, a settled beauty that glowed from just under the surface of his burnished skin. He also looked so much like an older, wiser version of Carlos that she almost reached out to touch his face, just to be sure she wasn't hallucinating.
"I'm not him, either," the entity before her murmured in a low, sensual rumble. "Trust that to be true."
Damali backed up so far so fast that she bumped into the bathroom door. Sure, entities had chased her, frightened her, scared the mess out of her, but this one... shit.
"Uh, listen, I was speaking metaphorically about a muse. I know there are angels and spirits that reside over the arts, and I was-- look, I'm not ready to deal with this, okay? I need more information about what you do, how and where you came from before I just get all happy and think I've rubbed the genie in the lamp. I need--" Words were failing her, causing her to stop and begin her sentences in jags. "I may be a lotta things, but crazy ain't one of them." There. It was said. He had to leave.
His laughter was so deep and rich and resounding that she found herself smiling with him, despite the circumstances. He walked away from her and again sat on the edge of her tub, shaking his head. But when he finally looked up at her, the expression of pure desire on his face momentarily burned the saliva away from her mouth.
"Sweetness... I'm no angel... but if you want me to be a genie tonight, name your wish."
"All right, you're out!" She made a beeline for her Isis on the dresser, unsheathed it, and came back into the bathroom feeling much improved. The fact that she couldn't focus enough to zap it into her hand really bugged her out.
"Put it down," he said, practically trembling as he stood. "We're not allowed to use that on each other."
"Who said?" Incredulous, she held the blade so hard it bounced.
He turned around, and she could see him take in a deep, steadying breath. He'd actually turned his back on an armed Neteru? Either this brother had a death wish or he might just be the baddest mutha in the valley.
"Level Seven? Speak to me! Answers. Now!" Her heart was thudding hard enough to crack her breastbone, and she couldn't breathe. The freakin' Devil was in her house? "Oh, shit! Father God protect me from all that's unholy. If--"
"Beauty of the Universe, put it down," the being urged with his back still turned to her. "Please," he whispered. "I'm not him, either."
The tone of his voice was so low and sensual that it ran through her, lighting pulse points that had once belonged solely to Carlos. The sword almost fell out of her hand, but she renewed her grip. If whatever it was could exude that much power, wreak that much sexual charge, it was a definite threat and had to go. Panicked, she lunged. He turned, sidestepped her, and unsheathed a blade too similar to hers.
Leveling his blade at her, he spoke in a low warning. "Put yours away and I will put mine away. You want to speak of the mysteries of music and harmonics, then I will teach you all that I have come to learn. It is inspired mathematics. But you must put the blade away, before I forget why you called me here tonight." Breathing hard, he sheathed his blade beneath his robe down the center of his spine and walked deeper into her bathroom, giving her his back to stare at again.
"You have no right--"
"I have every right," he said, his voice thundering, "I was there when they made you. I was there when you scribbled your first pain-filled poem in a schoolgirl's notebook!" He whirled on her, his eyes filled with anguish. "Do you think I would hurt you? You?" He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. "Your first impassioned song... I was with you the whole time, bringing the high notes, the low resonance, the timbres of sheer ecstasy that stopped time for millions. Sound, Damali. Sound. That upon airwaves is in my DNA, and you have stopped time for me since you whispered your first echo into my world."
"Where the hell are you from?" Her voice was so quiet that she barely heard it herself. Still unconvinced that he wasn't the one who would remain nameless, she clutched her sword tighter, her pulse strumming through her limbs, muscles tensed for the brawl for it all. Her brain screamed an SOS to any Light-bearing receiver that would hear her. Reality was making her hyperventilate. She was possibly in the midst of something she was not ready for. Lord Jesus, help me, Lord Jesus, help me, I can't go up against this one all by myself. The Armageddon is supposed to be the whole host of Heaven, the Forces of Light... Lord Jesus, don't leave me in here with... oh, my God, nooooo... She stopped breathing.
He closed his eyes, walked away, and placed his hands on top his head, lacing his fingers together and then took several deep breaths.
"It looks like Eden in here. Why do you do that? None of us can go back there. Leave it. That is the past. Bless Eve. And then you call me here like this for a Neteru-to-Neteru challenge and expect..." He spun on her, raked her with a hot gaze, and pointed toward her blade. "Put. It. Down. Now."
Her blade lowered to her side. "Neteru to Neteru?" She was speechless.
"I told you what I was not. You never gave me allowance for what I might have been. But do not ever again make the comparison to the one who I never name. Not in my presence or I refuse to be in yours." He ripped his robe from his thick shoulders, exposing his massive chest. The shredded fabric pooled at his feet. Sudden rage made the muscles beneath his damp brown skin expand and contract, as golden-silver threads began to overtake his irises. She stared at his eyes and watched his breath hitch at her visual invasion. Hers matched the pause, and then her eyes followed the silvery mark that covered his heart. It was all she could do to tear her sight away from his sculpted, na**d torso and bring her line of vision back up to his handsome face.
"No demon can reproduce one of those," she whispered. "Not even in illusion." "No. They cannot. Not even at the bottom of the realms." His statement came out on a ragged breath. "I am the second male of our kind ever created," he added proudly, "and I function from a place of honor." He straightened his already perfect posture, still seeming indignant from her previous assumption of who he could have been.
For a moment, only their shallow breaths were heard echoing within the now-too-constricted confines of her spacious bathroom. Her brain scrambled to assimilate the information. Second male Neteru ever made? If this was a fact, he was a seriously older being... had to be spirit... and if this was what was guiding her music, Lord have mercy.
"Where did you come from?" Her tone had mellowed in the wake of pure awe. Curiosity and something else she wasn't prepared to name strangled her reason.