But JL and Dan looked like excited puppies - heads turning with no cool or suave whatsoever. However, Jose only glanced at her and looked away as if he were embarassed. Marlene glanced at her and then looked away. Okay, what was that about?
Marlene's eyes sought hers again, and this time they held empathy. Damali thanked her silently for understanding. Yeah, this was not a town for a master vamp who was supposed to be living on rations. Carlos would take a body here for sure, and probably not hers. This was best. She didn't need to have that mess in her face. Plus, she had work to do, she reminded herself.
Damali kept her gaze fastened on the traffic and let out a sigh of relief when the limo pulled up to the hotel. Peace. She could finally get out of the public eye, away from the team, and just chill.
The Copacabana Palace was sumptuous. Damali shook her head in awe. It would most definitely not have been a good idea for her and Carlos to check in here. The joint felt like one of his plush lairs. Luxurious touches of inlaid agate graced the hotel lobby, as did gold leaf, high vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, hand-carved mahogany... a place that drew the likes of Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, Robert De Niro, Eva Peron, and Princess Di. She had to stop thinking like that; she and Carlos were done. No matter how much she missed him, she wasn't allowing him to touch her again. "Oh, I don't think so," Damali whispered.
"What?" Marlene asked as they assembled to check in.
"Nothing," Damali responded, trying to tuck her private thoughts away.
The scents were driving her nuts, too, as was the music, the very pulse of this place, and it was broad daylight. Her palms went moist, just thinking about him here. She could only imagine his agony of restraint in a paradise of opulent decadence like this.
What would happen at night? The clubs had to be off da freakin' chain! Samba was already etching a permanent tattoo in her soul. Brazilian beer was calling her name. Fresh juices from the kiosks not far away on the beach made her lick her lips, and she could taste caipirinha drinks too... crushed lime, crushed ice, with potent sugar cane liquor in it - cachaca. Her mouth went dry. As soon as they unpacked, she'd be on it. If Carlos had been here, they'd get into something again for sure, and with temptation like this, he'd be in the streets梩hen it would get really ugly. Not to mention, here, she'd have to see him break ranks with the clerics and lose his soul. The thought gave her pause. What if he already had?
For a moment, she couldn't breathe.
The scent wafting from the hotel's posh restaurant was maddening, and it pulled her away from the sobering concern while they waited for check-in. Spicy, al dente oil-grilled vegetables, coconut milk-sweetened breads, papaya cr鑝e puddings topped with a bit of cassis, seasoned smashed white beans, black beans, fried palm hearts... but even being vegetarian, the seafood was calling her name - bacahhau, cod, and the seafood medley, sinofonia marittima... Yeah, sin... Instant desire slammed her, and she felt consumed by need. Damali briefly closed her eyes, and then just as abruptly stopped fantasizing and glanced around, dazed.
Wait. She didn't know the language, much less any names for the foods or drinks. And where was this - this, desire coming from? Oh, no, not here, and not now. Marlene looked at her hard.
"When we get our room, we need to talk. Cool?"
Damali nodded.
Everything seemed to happen here at a leisurely pace, a no-one-is-in-a-rush-so-chill type of schedule. But eventually she and Marlene were able to shut the door, feigning fatigue, to let the boys off the leash to go play in the bars and at the beach.
"What are you feeling?" Marlene's question was direct, calm, and unwavering as she sank down on the edge of one of the room's soft, queen-sized beds.
Damali went to the terrace. She watched teams of perfect bronzed bodies below play soccer-volleyball using their feet, toddlers run from waves and dig in the sand, lovers openly neck on towels, and older folks put sunscreen on each other, while others read books. It was like staring at a tiny city within a city. She wondered if God looked down at all the ants of humanity, not knowing the individual struggles of the specks He surveyed.
"We're gonna have a harrowing ride for several miles to get to the soccer stadium tomorrow night, Mar. Maracana Stadium is on the other side of the city, but I figured the fellas needed a break so we'd come to this side of Rio, and - "
"Damali," Marlene said gently, "I know the logistics of the concert. That's not what I'm asking you. How's your head?"
This time Damali turned around and faced her friend. "I miss him so bad, Mar... and I'm scared. We argued about him going home, he dropped me off and promised he'd go to the Covenant. He only stayed in the cabin with the Covenant for one more night, then lied to them and said he was coming to see me, and was history."
Marlene nodded. "I know. Father Pat said he was pretty messed up, emotionally. He's not sure what he'll do. Said Carlos refused to be shipped here, and the clerics stayed behind at the cabin rather than join us, to wait for him, and hope and pray for his return. Father Pat said they might join us after the concert for the hunt, if Carlos doesn't show. But he's not coming, only Asula, Lin, and Manuel."
"Why not?"
"Some past history went down over here within the Templar situation," Marlene said with a sigh. "Father Pat said that as a guy with an old European bloodline, it might be best not to confuse things... plus, he's getting up there in years. His main concern is Carlos. If he shows, they'll be just as worried as if he doesn't."
"Yeah," Damali murmured, and sat heavily on the adjacent bed. She didn't quite follow what Mar was saying about Father Pat's lineage, but it didn't matter. Whatever the old dude's reasons, Carlos and whatever was out there were her main worries at the moment. "This isn't the place for somebody who has to restrain himself."
"No," Marlene agreed. "There's something else I want to talk to you about, too. Several things, in fact. But I wanted to allow things to cool off before I told you about a few of the concerns I've been having."
Damali shrugged without looking at Marlene. "Sure."
"Ever since the tunnels, and the Raise the Dead concert... your music has changed."
Damali stared at her.
"That's not a bad thing, but it's richer, more... frankly, I don't know how to put it, but it's more sensual."
This time, Damali laughed, relieved that Marlene wasn't going to go deeper. "You're talking about that new cut, 'When You Call,' right? And I know that cut, 'In the Dark,' is over the top. But it works for Brazil."
They both laughed.