"Is it hallowed ground?" Marjorie asked, looking at Bobby and then Krissy with concern.
"They pour so many libations up in there and have that place so blessed out that anything foul will torch on impact." Marlene gave Shabazz a nod of appreciation. "The Shrine is still there."
Carlos wiped his hands down his face. He didn't say a word, just moved the team in a fold-away on his next deep inhalation.
Her plan was perfect.
Elizabeth crept deeper into the shadows of Hell's complete darkness, gathering up the elements of evil she would need. Lilith was preoccupied, tending to the slowly healing heir's every whim, no different than her fellow councilman and woman who were busily working on the front lines-now that they'd unfairly gained Lilith's favor. Sebastian had finally been shamed into going on the foolhardy mission to meet with Lucifer himself, and might never return. Good riddance! Yet they all thought she was supposedly too weak to be of immediate use or concern. . . . There'd never be another time like this. The hour was nigh.
Overconfidence had made them all forget that she'd seen Sebastian raise Vlad's army from the skeletal remains of shattered bones and rotted flesh. A shrewd sorceress in her own right with a powerful protectress near, she'd witnessed his spells cast for Lilith's demands. While the council was unaware, her witches would live again . . . her tragedy avenged. The first kill she would offer her husband would be Sebastian's weak throat!
There could be no other more auspicious time to pilfer Sebastian's spell treasures than while he was bargaining for his life with the Dark Lord and begging for the return of his conjuring hand. That negotiation would consume his complete focus. If he discovered her treachery through spies, she could always claim to have been looking for a way to bring him back from the brink of extermination, given that Satan was in such a foul mood. It would be so easy to make Sebastian believe she'd thought he'd been executed on Level Seven and was thus attempting his resurrection. He would never suspect that she would attempt the futile-risking her life to steal from him, an older, stronger entity, for the purpose of reanimating a beheaded vampire. But by all the evil in her dark heart, the Carpathian ruler would ride again!
Elizabeth released a soft, mad chuckle as she entered Sebastian's normally guarded spell chamber unafraid. The massive gargoyle sentries had fled the moment he'd gone to Level Seven, obviously aware of the odds of his return. Only Sebastian's faithful serpents remained.
As she swept into the forbidden vault, his black adders uncoiled from their slumber and protectively swayed over his dark tome of evil incantations. Eyes narrowed, they hissed at her intrusion and she gave asgood as she got until they slithered away. She smiled as she found the right page, instantly memorizing every line of the spell, and then her red glowing gaze went to the rows of apothecary jars filled with every gore imaginable . . . it was all there, the exotic ingredients she would need. His cauldron spit acid at her and she laughed shrilly, her madness now in full bloom.
"I'm already burned beyond recognition. Take your best shot . . . but beware;youcould be scrap iron. Sebastian is meeting with the Dark Lord and is as good as dead. If you do not make friends with me,his wife , and refuse to do my bidding . . . who shall protect you from the molestation of Hell?"
The cauldron belched its assent and settled down to a slow, rhythmic bubble, ceasing its protest. What had never been openly discussed in council was the fact that Vlad had been beheaded by a blessed blade while still human. That bitch, Lilith, knew the secret . . . fear of a coup had kept her silent. Butshe knew . Vlad, in life, had made a pact with the Devil that, should he be defeated in battle and executed, his remains could always be reanimated unless slain in death by a Neteru.
Soon, the enemy of her enemy would be her friend. Sebastian would never know what hit him.
"Let me and Marlene go in easy first," Shabazz warned as the group gathered in the small alley behind the store. "We'll go in the front and see if we can get them to open up the back door. Too many of us going in with riot gear on will be problematic."
"We feel you," Jose said, "justhurry, bro."
Shabazz and Marlene handed off their weapons, but Marlene kept her carved African walking stick. She smiled at Shabazz as they rounded the row of stores on the block.
"This SWAT uniform with dreadlocks and my walking stick is gonna cause some poor soul up in the Shrine serious cognitive dissonance."
"I know, but it's probably the only thing that's gonna help them believe we're not 'the man,'" he replied, making small quotes with his fingers in the air as she opened the door and slipped in.
Shabazz stopped for a moment and looked around. The place hadn't changed in all those years. There was still a long entry-way with racks and racks of nonmainstream books. No one was in that section, as the heavier volumes were toward the back. Titles called out about revolution, the foundation of democracy, the spiritual essence of humankind, every conceivable eclectic mix; it was a thinking person's paradise. Thick incense residue hung in the air, frankincense and myrrh. The store needed a paint job and the rug was well worn, but it welcomed like a grandmother's house, nonetheless. Shabazz inhaled deeply as Marlene turned to look at him.
"Feels good to be back home, doesn't it?"
He nodded and swallowed hard. "I never got a chance to come back after I got locked up." He stared at her and she came close to hug him. "Back there with the others, I didn't know if this place would still be here . . . but it was. Allah is merciful."
Marlene stroked his back and looked up. "C'mon, baby . . . let's learn these young folks some old-school ways, huh?"
Her comment made him smile and he stepped around her to take the lead, walking them through a passageway that led into the main section of the store. But he stopped to take in the grandeur of it all that was hidden within a seemingly humble community structure. Majestically carved masks and statues from the motherland graced the walls, and ornately carved statues from West Africa created a stunning gallery. Glass cases filled with silver jewelry and beautiful ethnic beadwork dotted the store, and a full section of clothing made of gorgeous silks, embroidered cottons, and the most exquisite hand-loomed textiles made his breath catch. Aisles and aisles of books and a large meeting space caught his eye, until he was forced to blink back moisture.
"I'd forgotten," he said quietly and reverently to Marlene. "The old corner philosophers and revolutionaries used to try to tell me aboutthe people andthe culture when I was slinging on the corner . . . they couldn't tell me shit, though, because I knew it all." He glanced around at the masks and then touched the edge of a tall giraffe carving that was made from one solid piece of mahogany. "This is why they want to destroy the motherland . . . the cradle of civilization. Don't you see how beautiful she is?" He turned to Marlene, eyes pained. "We can't let Africa, or the diaspora, or any land be made into cannon fodder . . . can't let them overrun food-producing nations and people in the so-called underdeveloped areas for greed and blood sport."
"Can I help you?" an older woman challenged.
Her glare was keen as she flung mixed, gray dreadlocks over her shoulder with much attitude. She wore royal purple African robes covering her thick build and her many silver bangles sounded as she promptly folded her arms over her ample chest. She had swept out of the back room with a customer, handing the man his order before taking a challenging pose. With open hostility, she looked Marlene and Shabazz up and down and sucked her teeth.
The few straggling customers had edged away from Marlene and Shabazz, and one of them had obviously gone in the back to alert the disgruntled manager that cops were in the house. One look at the manager's expression told them that everyone in the store was hostile.
"Yes, ma'am," Shabazz said after a moment. "You can definitely help us."
"Why you people come in here harassing us, huh? You think jus' 'cause they got new laws that let's y'all run amuck on people's rights you can come into our place and just do anything you want? This is ahouse of worship , if you haven't noticed. This here downstairs is our bookstore and Shrine shop-but we're legal, legit, and our holocaust museum is listed-"
"We're not five-o," Shabazz said.
"Cops, Homeland Security, FBI, what I care?" the woman said in a huff. "You think you can come in the community and treat folk any ole kinda way-and you oughta be shame wearing dreadlocks . . . whatchu do, use that while you were undercover and then-"