"I'll catch you, later, baby." He briefly looked at Damali, wrestling himself from her, and keeping near the clerics. "I wanna talk you, honest I do, but now is not a good time. Aw'ight? We'll pick it up later."
He had to get out of there. The look of shock, relief, disappointment, and rage on Damali's face was working every cell in his body. Plus it had only been a month since her first ripening and the mild, but wondrous scent of Neteru still lingered. She hadn't said a word, just circled him, staring, her blade held low, moving counterclockwise to him like she'd lunge at any moment. Her team was not his greatest danger. Nor was the Covenant team. She was. He needed to roll.
"JL, hit the exteriors, all right?"
JL nodded, but Damali held up her hand. Everyone stood still, waiting. The room crackled electric with quiet. No one even dared to breathe. The hum of air-conditioner compressors created a low sump-pump sound in the background. A stereo was on somewhere in the compound. The humans had enough adrenaline oozing from their bodies to give him a contact. He could see their eyes blink in slow motion as they stared at him and Damali while they continued to circle each other. The pores on their faces enlarged within his peripheral vision. He could detect the moment a bead of sweat slipped down their skin. His tongue glided over his lips and he tasted salt. The tension in their muscles increased, joints locked so tight that with the slightest movement, they threatened to pop. He felt the air, sensing for a weapon release. He smelled their blood, twelve nervous humans with hearts beating a rhythm out of their chests.
"I have to go," Carlos said, his gaze steady on Damali.
She shook her head slowly no. It was a millimeter of movement. Her locks swayed ever so much. The adornments in her hair and her earrings chimed. Lion's teeth, a tiny silver charm... Ahnk fertility symbols created natural music at a nearly imperceptible timbre. Her pupils had eclipsed her irises. Shea butter, almond oil, the scent of her was an intoxicating blend with something else she emitted... something different than Neteru. He'd smelled it on her before, but couldn't place it. Her face and arms glistened. The muscles beneath her smooth skin were a network of taut, steel-like cable. He could hear the blood pumping through her veins as she stalked him. She was gorgeous, poetry in motion. The crocheted white dress had holes that showed skin. As she moved, the dress moved with her body, barely concealing it. The fluorescent lights glinted off of the Isis and sent shards of illumination against patches of warm, damp flesh.
He allowed his gaze to rove over her in a slow undressing. "I have to go," he repeated more firmly, his voice dropping an octave. He had meant it as a statement, but even to his own ears, it had come out as a plea.
"You talk to me," she whispered through her teeth and stopped circling.
"Oh, shit..." Rider backed up a few paces and leveled his shotgun.
"Shut up, Rider," Marlene snapped.
Damali's eyes never left Carlos's. All she did was hold up her hand and her team went still once more.
"We should leave," the eldest cleric said quietly. "Before somebody gets hurt."
"Oh, what the f**k," Rider threw Big Mike a crossbow, and he caught it, nodding. Rider glanced at the clerics. "I thought you had an understanding with dude?"
"We do, and it's time to leave," Father Patrick insisted. "If it's not too late."
The Covenant team backed up, cautiously rounded Damali and Carlos, standing the line on the side of the guardians with weapons raised. JL had armed himself with a battle-ax, even Dan and Jose now had silver-tipped stakes in their hands. Shabazz had pulled Sleeping Beauty out of her holster.
Marlene folded her arms and leaned against the weapons table. "Steady, gentlemen. Nobody get an itchy trigger finger. Stay cool. Have faith."
"Have faith? Mar - "
"Shabazz, we know how this has to go down."
Damali tuned out the other voices, her goal singular, her mind focused. There was no shred of trust in her as she looked at the master vampire that had made her taste fear. She had to remember what he was, not allow the illusion to take her. This liar had fooled trusting clerics. Carlos was dead. This was something else. And this entity possessing a familiar body, had shape-shifted to trick her team, had rolled up on her in a battle-station ready compound, and dissected her while she was blind. The worst part of it all was, he'd been right. If it had been Fallon Nuit, she would have been dead... or worse. What did this thing want?
"Speak to me!"
"It's me, Damali - Carlos. Use your third eye!"
"You're a liar! Carlos is dead!"
She circled, moving with him. She was indeed more dangerous to him than sunlight at present.
"I can't get a mind lock," Carlos told Marlene and Father Patrick. "She's in a mental black box."
"Don't screw with my team! They don't have telepathic capacity that can break my will, I don't care what illusions you throw at them - "
"No, Damali," Marlene said, her voice urgent and strained. "Listen - "
"No! They sent this one as a decoy. I heard Carlos die - I saw it! Vamps are the masters of deception." Damali narrowed her gaze on the entity before her. "How dare you assume his shape... I will kill you." She seethed, her grip tightening on the Isis.
"Then plant the Isis," Carlos said, his voice escalating with emotion. "If that's what you need to do so you can see, then plant it right in the brand." In one deft motion he tore his black T-shirt from his chest, exposing his scar. Hot tears of frustration stood in his eyes. "Remember this, huh, Damali? Ask the damned men who pulled me out of a cave in the desert! Ask them how they found me. I suffered for three days in a cave in the f**king Mexican desert before they could get me stateside."
Carlos slapped the center of his chest. "I got this carrying you, baby," he said, his voice low and strained. "You're the only one that can smoke me in this room."
He closed his eyes, stretched out his arms, and leaned his head back. Her legs moved beneath her, hurling her toward the thing claiming to be Carlos, sword raised. She heard Marlene scream, "No!" She heard Rider cry out her name; she heard the Covenant gasp; could feel her team move forward as though to stop her, and the tip of Madame Isis came to a sudden rest against bare skin. Her blade arm trembled; her intended target didn't open his eyes or flinch. The tip of Madame Isis never even smoldered. She dropped her blade and wept. It was him.