"Great place for the Antichrist to deliver the daylight bite to the minions of new supervamps they're making, too," Shabazz said in a disgusted mutter.
"Yeah, we need to keep our eye on Canada. You ain't gotta worry about Mexico on the southern border," Yonnie said. "They ain't a contender. But they, like South America and Central America, are where Nuit's drug cash comes in. As head topside mofo, Nuit is going to be an acting general we have to get past first . . . then when we kick his ass, no doubt Lilith and her ole man will be the serious battle-but they ain't gonna risk bringing their heir out in the open yet. That's my two-cent bet on the thing. And, if they decide Mexico is becoming politically problematic, or if they need a diversion, we already know they can blow that big ass volcano that's sitting near Mexico City, and Central America can get swept away in a tsunami like the Caribbean and Polynesia could."
"So, how about if we show up in Nuit's backyard for the Detroit International Jazz Festival and scout his minions, send him a little message that we ain't slow by getting real close to his new headquarters? Let's be bold, take it to him rather than being on the run," Damali said with a smile. "Let's throw the bastard a curveball-and since I was locked in the house all of August and couldn't go out and party for my birthday, why not? They hold it every Labor Day weekend, which is only a coupla days away. I personally wanna show the brother some love."
Carlos just looked at her and she smiled wider.
"We know the route they don't want blown up-namely the eastern seaboard . . . but I'll bet they don't think we're crazy enough to take the party over the border into Canada now that we know the Anti-" Damali shrugged. "Chances are they're banking on us trying to run to where we have a strong Guardian presence."
Shabazz cut Marlene a look. "Detroit . . . I haven't been back there since I was a kid and did time for a crime I didn't commit." He dragged his fingers through his locks and stared at Damali for a moment. "You sure, baby girl? I mean, Detroit used to be the murder capital before Philly, and some of the places we might have to roll . . ."
Damali hugged Shabazz and a silent understanding passed between them. She knew what he was saying without words. Concern for the baby was making him edgy, just like Carlos. "It'll be fine. We've already played Hell-so Motor City ain't half that bad."
Shabazz hugged her tighter and forced a smile. "Since it was the last stop to Canada, Mar is right.There's a lot of Underground Railroad routes that go right through the city. We can use them and I know we've got a decent Guardian presence up there, no doubt."
"I'll do a divination," Marlene said, her gaze holding Carlos's. "Don't worry. Where you put us down will be on hallowed ground." She closed her eyes and reached out to hold Carlos's and Damali's hands. "There's a Catholic church in Detroit that's standing out like a white-light beacon in my mind . . . that has symbols of the Akan cut into the archways . . . Our Lady . . . something of . . ." She opened her eyes abruptly, clearly frustrated. "I can't get more than that-the new church's name is blotting it out for me. Fountain of Life Church of God in Christ-it's now Baptist or A.M.E. or maybeSeventh-Day Adventist. The old energy dissipated on me because the new energy there is very strong, very good. There's old living quarters in the back behind the rectory and the church."
Marlene shook her head as though trying to clear a haze from her mind. "How can they have Akan symbols in the stone masonry, though? The structure is hundreds of years old, goes back to slavery days. Why would priests in that era commission-"
"Where, exact location?" Carlos said quickly, glancing out the window at the approaching flames. "I've still gotta rally the team, sweep us all into a transport with gear."
"It's in the nine-hundred block of St. Mary's Street between West Chicago and Greenfield on the west side of Detroit about a mile away from I-96."
"If it is that old, and aCatholic church, withAfrican symbols in the stonework . . . then, Mar . . . it has to be a secret Templar hideout." Damali's gaze tore between Marlene's and Carlos's faces. "Only the Templars would have been looking for a Neteru with Akan markings here in North America, and would have been invested in making sure that the Guardian birth line to the Neterus would have been brought out of slavery into free Canada-we have to talk to Father Pat. That hasgot to be an old Templar safe house, if not a citadel . . . and who knows what kind of tunnel system, secret passageways, or whatever, are in that building?"
Yonnie glanced out the kitchen's glass deck doors and then back to the group. "Not to rush y'all or break up this impromptu war meeting . . . but, uh, we need to make a decision about that location in Detroit we can fall back to with quickness. If you haven't noticed, the bottom of the deck's on fire."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Carlos glanced around the small courtyard behind the centuries-old Catholicchurch that had been taken over by a new denomination. He hated moving the team like this-just a wild-ass shot in the dark to land hard without a prior environmental sweep. But it was what it was. Time had run out.
His worst fears were realized. The rectory in the back was a host to occupied administrative offices; he could see church staff milling about behind the windows and could hear children in the basement . . . had to be a day care center. Schools flanked the front of the church and the back of it, and his team was standing there looking like a guerrilla army, strapped to the nines with grenades, automatics, and a trunk of supplies.
"Anybody feeling like if we don't take cover, in, say . . . maybe five minutes, popo is gonna be all over us?" Yonnie stashed his 9mm in the back of his sweatpants and then looked down at his bare feet. "And, bro, can we get some decent clothes? It was bad enough that the house burned to the ground with all my best Italian leathers in it, but I don't go out in public like this. You know how we used to do the damned thing, homeboy."
"Yonnie . . . man," Jose said in a near growl, "chill. C is working on it. Ain't you, C?"
"Yeah, I'm working on it," Carlos said, glancing around. "Shit."
Heather tossed Damali the divination necklace she'd lent the seers during their watch shifts. "Before some kids or civilians see us, ask Pearl."
"I said I'm working on it," Carlos muttered, taking offense.
"Well," Rider said with a sarcastic sigh, "this is cozy, while we wait." He nodded and began walking around the small courtyard looking for potential hiding places big enough for the entire team that were not to be found. "Our Lady Gates of Heaven-fitting for the last gate we'll probably see this side of freedom the moment the cops get here. I don't figure they'll buy that we work for Homeland Security in these just-out-of-bed outfits toting heavy artillery-you think?"
"Rider, I've got a lot on my mind, man . . . you ain't making my job any easier," Carlos said in a low, threatening rumble. "So fall back and give me space to think."
Rider's gaze hardened to meet Carlos's challenge. "I'm not into high fashion, but the whole look screams terrorists or drug gang to me. That's the only reason I'm agreeing with Yolando here that time is of the essence-all right. So don't get your boxers in a bunch."
Carlos shot Damali a quick look that dared her to intervene. She rifled her fingers through her locks and walked away, scanning the area before she said anything irrevocable.
"What about the sanctuary?" Juanita offered, glancing at Carlos with empathy.
Carlos motioned toward the placard near the door with his chin. "We jettisoned out of San Diego at almost one in the afternoon . . . that means it's near four, central time-and they have vespers prayer. Somebody will probably be in there setting up and we'll give 'em a heart attack if we roll in there like this."
"Garages," Berkfield said with a quick nod. "You pull us some SWAT uniforms from the local precinct and let me be your lead bullshit talker. I know the police drill from my old days on the force. The rest of you just look mean and say nothing if we're seen or stopped . . . but I know where Carlos is going with this thing-not around any kids. Can't have a shoot-out here and we've gotta clear the area in case something is already tracking us."
Damali nodded as she stared up at the vaulted archways that led from the rectory to the church. Adinkra symbols had been cut directly into the stones in the oddest of all places, a Catholic church, just as Marlene had said. "Yeah, Berkfield . . . good plan," she said in a faraway voice. "We can change in the garages."