"I'm sorry," the cardinal said, beginning to sob against Father Patrick's clasped hands. "We're all so sorry and know not where to turn."
Father Patrick made the sign of the cross on the cardinal's forehead. "I, as only a man, can grant you absolution and have, but the Father is the one you must commune with during these most difficult of times. I will not abandon you, nor will the Templars. God most assuredly will not, if you seek him with a true heart. We Knights took a vow, we have no right to dishonor that vow-because it was not a vow between the vagaries of men, but a vow between us and God. Beyond our prayers and attempts to ensure the safe passage of innocents and the pontiff, what would you have us do? Tell the pontiff that the Original Order of the Knights of Templar is at your service in the battle against the Antichrist." Father Patrick bowed his head slightly and then stared at the weeping cardinal.
"Once the Antichrist has been identified . . ." Mucus strangled the words in the cardinal's throat, halting his statement.
"You need us to be the church's assassins-like old times."
The cardinal closed his eyes. "Let us pray."
Every step she took felt like invisible springs were helping her walk as she bounced down the hall in search of her teammates. The ever-present scent of fresh brewed coffee drew her toward the kitchen. Mike and Carlos had never succumbed to herbal tea, despite all of Marlene's and Shabazz's urging. Damali took another deep, satisfied inhalation as she walked. The scent of burning wood from the fireplace was everywhere and the comforting smell of it wrapped around her.
Practically giddy, she studied the air, noticing how she could now almost actually see subtle shifts in the molecules within it. She could nearly make out the variation between floating ash, sunshine, and the haze left behind by smoldering embers. Everything had an aura . . . but unlike when in serious battle or trying to do a divination, somehow her second-sight was on full blast without her even trying. As she entered the kitchen, she felt Carlos round the house and come up the deck stairs.
Damali looked down at her arms and stared at the goose-flesh the sensation had produced. "Whoa . . ." It was beyond profound. She could even hear him breathing and he hadn't opened the sliding-glass doors that led in from the deck yet. Her attention snapped up to look at him. It was too freaky. Carlos's normal panther-stealth footfalls against the wood outside had sent a minor vibration through the kitchen floor that she felt like an earthquake aftershock. Yeah, okay, she had normal heightened Neteru sensory capacity, but this was ridiculous.
"G'morning, sleepyhead," Carlos said with a wide grin, coming over to give her a quick kiss. "What?"
"I don't know," she said slowly. "Everything for a few seconds there was real intense."
He gave her a sly grin and went over to the stove without comment and flipped on the burner under the teakettle. She smiled and sucked her teeth. He didn't have to turn around for her to know he was smiling wider.
"You know what I mean . . . and not because of last night."
He shrugged and fished down a canister of loose chamomile tea. "See, I wasn't even going there."
"Uh-huh . . . okay," she said with a soft chuckle. "But you shouldn't have let me oversleep my shift," she said in a more serious tone. "Folks will really start to wonder, you know."
"No, they won't," he said with a broad grin. "Mar and 'Bazz already know the deal. Mike was like, 'Where's 'Mali?' I just pounded his fist and said, 'Still in bed.' He just gave me his most classic shit-eating grin, shook his head, and said, 'My brother.' Men keep things real simple. We ain't into conspiracy theory unless it directly affects us."
Damali folded her arms and had to laugh."Outrageous as always. Now every time I see Mike he's gonna be giving me his famous my-name-is-Bennit-and-I-ain't-in-it-big cheesy grin. But you forgot about Inez. She'll be suspicious."
"Baby, relax," Carlos said with an easy sigh. "It's cool."
Damali chuckled. "Uhmmm-hmmm . . . everything isreal cool this morning, isn't it?"
They both looked at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing.
"More cool than it was last night, right?" She came in close to him, but rather than hug her, he pounded her fist and made her laugh harder.
"Ya heard?" he said, avoiding body contact with her while filling the tea ball, still laughing. "But see, girl, you've gotta learn how to surrender."
"I thought I did that?"
He gave her a look that said puhlease, and kept fidgeting with the process of making her tea. "You kept pushing till you got what you wanted."
"Not fair," she said, cuffing his shoulder and then planting a kiss against it. "Like you didn't want to . . ."
He looked at his shoulder. "Not fair, but true-and exactly why I got up and got out of bed and left you there."
On that note she held up her hands and crossed the room to sit on a stool. "Guilty as charged."
"Completely."He took the kettle off the stove before it sounded and poured hot water over the tea ball, then hunted for the raw honey. "But I also wanted you to get some quality rest," he said, hesitating for a moment to look at her as he found a spoon.
"Thank you," she said quietly, holding his gaze. "I know this lull in the action won't last long . . . and it was nice to just have a little time to be normal, you know?"
Carlos nodded. "I hear you, baby." He brought her tea over to her and set it down carefully on the counter. "You feel up to some fruit . . . maybe some cereal?"
She studied his face. "What's wrong, Carlos? It's all in your eyes, the tone of your voice-something's happened, hasn't it?"