Father Patrick nodded as Carlos backed away from Asula and relaxed.
"This is why we need your help. She doesn't even have uplifting music in her heart - which is the core of her gift. Without her spoken word, without her ability to touch others through this medium... her spirit will further wither."
"And what am I supposed to do?" Carlos gave them his back to consider in frustration as he walked a few paces deeper into the cave. "She hates all that I am, all that I stood for in life - and hates what I am now. No wonder she went blind."
Profound guilt claimed him and tore at him like a fresh wound. "I can't even trust myself in her presence." Carlos found his vision blurring once more as he kept his face turned away from the misguided clerics. "I never want to see that look in her eyes again," he finally said, his voice dropping to a broken whisper. "Never."
"Our ranks are thinning," Asula said. "Hers are battered, exhausted, a few may be on the run trying to reestablish another safe house. The vibrations Father Pat has picked up say the group is splintering, looking to go their separate ways."
"Where is she now?"
"When the Neteru and her guardians came up from the tunnels, they immediately sought hallowed ground," Lin replied.
"They've been moving from those places in a crisscross pattern through LA, trying to get back to the compound for the last few days," Father Patrick said in a quiet voice. "The first night after the concert, the streets were crawling. They had to seek immediate shelter in the cathedral closest to the stadium. The next morning, human vampire helpers worked through the police to have them briefly detained for questioning after the concert on the ruse of needing information about the young people that had been victimized at the events. This ate up precious daylight for them to move within. But a man named Berkfield worked behind the scenes to have them quickly released before nightfall."
Carlos stared at Father Patrick.
"You know this man?" the older cleric asked, stepping forward.
"I did him a favor, guess he did me one without even knowing it. Yeah... I know him. He's marked by me as off-limits."
All the clerics glanced at each other. Shoulders relaxed. Weary expressions gave way to what Carlos could only interpret as hope.
"They were released and had to find a safe place to wait out the second night," Father Patrick said, his voice now more urgent. "On this third night, we've lost her trail, because she went completely blind. Her team seer is nearly blind. The guardians have broken the cord to the Light, and even I can't get a clear vision on them, the loss of hope in them is so great. That is the other reason we sought you."
Carlos sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What was the first reason? And how did you find me?"
"There is still the unresolved matter of your redemption," Father Patrick said wearily. "I am a seer, and I was led by the same thing that saved you from being staked. Hope. Faith. It was my only beacon to find you. Your hope for her was bright; hers for you is so dim, I cannot sense it to locate her. When you, a vampire, asked God to spare her - you called on the Almighty, then I could clearly see you." He nodded toward the young cleric, Padre Lopez. "He also helped immensely For some reason, he, even more so than I, could get a direct lock on you - and he knew the region."
Carlos turned around and folded his arms over his chest, closely watching his odd benefactors. "My possible parole, which you call redemption, saved my life in the tunnels?"
All of the clerics except the young one shook their heads no. The one named Manuel just stood there with his mouth slightly agape.
"The Neteru's brand saved you," Father Patrick stated, nodding at Carlos's chest. "See for yourself. You owe her."
Carlos looked down at his bare chest. A full-scale imprint of a woman's fist with a dagger clutched in it, and part of a slender forearm was now a slightly darker bronzed-tone, a raised keloid burn scar that covered his heart. He reverently touched the strange marking on his flesh with the tips of his fingers.
"From when you carried her in the silver suit she wore in the tunnels," the older man stated calmly.
In snatches of memory Carlos remembered holding Damali in his arms. He'd cradled her against him like a baby, and it had nearly torched him. Yes, he remembered the smell of her hair, even while his own skin slowly burned. No question he remembered the scent of her ripening, and he'd never forget the way his desire for her had blunted even the pain of silver searing against his flesh.
"When Nuit's forces attacked you, her brand kept their stakes from entering what she'd sealed. She even prayed in your arms in the middle of Hell - as a fully ripened Neteru - which you didn't violate." The old priest shook his head and addressed his colleagues. "You are very much harder to kill now. As long as the Neteru's seal is upon you, you cannot perish from the stake. She covers your heart. But you can still be beheaded... Think fully with your heart on this situation - not just your mind."
Deep. Carlos laughed. "Are you serious?"
"Deadly serious." The old priest arched an eyebrow. "Help us find her. Our Covenant trackers perished, my sight is useless. No one is answering the phones at the compound. She doesn't want to be found. My two colleagues are hearing and tactile sensors, but they are out of range. Help us find her and restore her hope. Time is of the essence."
Carlos shook his head. "You're men of the cloth; you must have words of strength, prayers for her. But if not, I can find her... dead or alive."
The clerics looked at each other and then at Carlos. For a moment no one said a word.
"Then replenish yourself with the rest of what's in the trunk," Father Patrick finally said. "We have a safe house just over the border in the Santa Monica Mountains. Project yourself there. We will need a day to fly in the traditional way via airlines to subsequently meet you. The lair is protected by prayers. Don't worry," he said when he saw Carlos stiffen. "You will be able to pass through them. The refrigerators are well-stocked with donated blood. Your chambers are the lower level. We hope you'll find it comfortable. A reinforced steel door locks it from the inside. The place is also externally fortified against intrusion."
For a while Carlos leaned against the cave wall and looked off into the distance, thinking. "I don't know if I have enough energy to project myself that far and the tunnels are too dangerous. I might have to travel with you all tonight."
"So be it. We cannot wait here another night, but we can possibly do this like it was once done in the old days... as unsavory as that may be to you."
"The old days?"