All he knew for sure was that Damali had come here for part of her Neteru education, and that Father Pat had come to Philly, which had the oldest lodge in the United States that resembled the original at Westminster Abbey. Putting the two facts together from there, he'd have to make it up as he went along . . . even though it probably wasn't safe to roll without a serious plan. But deep inside he wished like hell something would try to f**k with him right now.
The peaceful vibrations within the darkened superstructure had a calming effect, however, as he silently strode beneath the twenty-two-foot vaulted ceilings, gazing up at the star patterns cut into the skylights. The feeling of being in a sanctuary swept through him, even though he was well aware that the building wasn't formally considered hallowed ground.
As he walked past gorgeous stained-glass windows and white marble statues of angels, he told himself maybe there were real angels standing guard as silent sentries. Maybe the Light knew he was on a fool's errand. Maybe that was all just wishful thinking so he could justify the insanity of leaving the safety of the team to be walking inside a practically deserted building that had what seemed like hundreds of rooms, looming halls, and dark corners where he could get smoked in the blink of an eye with no one the wiser. Even the human security guard was asleep and not doing rounds. Given who was after him, what good would that one poor soul do anyway?
But as Carlos continued walking through the quiet, abandoned space, his thoughts roamed freely and collided one upon the other until he felt hot moisture streaming down his face.
They had taken his father-seer. . . the one man who'd sat with him while he was at his worst-a brand-new vampire-but had faith in his best, that he could become a Neteru. That insane, brave, outrageous elderly priest had found him in the desert in a cave at daybreak, but had sheltered him in the darkness, had even sheltered him from his own clerical brothers. Father Pat had broken every canonical law, tossing blood packs to a known vampire to revive him, had thrown away the exorcism rites and simply talked to him like he was a human being with a soul.Had loved him.Had believed in him. Had hung with him till he got out of the prison he'd been in. Was the only one beside Damali who really visited him while he was on the inside of theDarkness. Had said he was worth something greater than he was showing himself to be then-said he wasn't giving up on him, and didn't. Had never broken that promise to him; had made it a vow.
They had taken his father-seer. . . when it was Father Pat that had stayed Imam Asula's machete on more than one occasion in the early days of his becoming. It had been Father Pat who'd brought him, a predator, a carnivore, into a clerical safe house and had sat facing him in that spartan cleric's chamber, talking to him about his life and death and decisions and the love of his life and his mission and purpose and every single damned thing his biological father had not.
They had taken his father-seer. . . Jesus wept! Father Pat was the one who had prepared him to be man enough to stand before Ausar and Adam and to have the strength of conviction to trade in a Vampire Council throne for a seat at the Neteru Kings' archon table. The man had literally been his lifeline back from the Darkness into the Light, even before the ancients in rarified air came to stand at his flank. And no disrespect to his Neteru brothers, the Kings, but Father Patwas human and here on this earth-a man who understood all about the flesh being weak and hard choices . . . was a man who bled red blood and had risked his human life to give him a word. That's what no one except maybe his wife could get; Father Pat had been his rehab, had helped him beat the blood hunger; taught him more things so subtly that he probably couldn't even remember them.
Perhaps most important, the man had even taught him that it was futile to raise one's fist at God and cry out, "Why!" But that's just what he wanted to do right now.
They had taken his father-seer. . . the last of his old family. Everyone else that could crush his heart if they died had already been taken, except Damali. And while he was beyond grateful for that, the one man that he would have wanted to be there to hold his son, to christen his firstborn, had died horribly at a demon's hands. It wasn't the fact that the old man had passed; it was the way the darkside had done it. He understood the seasons of life and wasn't railing against the inevitable. If Father Pat had simply died in his sleep as an old man, he would have been hurt, but not felt like this.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, he knew philosophically . . . intellectually . . . that once God put His topspin on it, matter could not be created or destroyed . . . that life was eternal . . . that on the other side was Heaven, had even glimpsed it.Whatever. But that didn't change the fact that losing Father Pat hurt like hell or that there was something stabbing into his chest like a blade so sharp that he couldn't breathe . . . because fact was, Neteru or not, he was still human.
He had questions, so many very real human questions for the Light-like why would a man who'd given his entire life to the service of the Almighty have to die so tragically?
They'd taken his father-seer, they'd taken his father-seer, dear God in Heaven,compasi�n , they'd taken his father, his seer, his second set of eyes, his friend, his counselor, hisfather-seer , and he wanted to shout at Heaven and demand a response that made sense. But he was too far gone under the tutelage of Father Patrick to raise his fist at that source anymore. Oh, Jesus, they had taken his father-seer . . . not just taken him, but tortured the man while Carlos wasn't there.
That fact alone left a burning, shouting, hollering question in his mind, asking anyone who would listen On High, "Why, dammit!" But for the life of him, the fight was gone . . . this shit hurt so badly there were no words.
Instead of lobbing an angry complaint toward Heaven, he found himself sliding down a thick white column to sit on the floor defeated. The original question that had filled his chest so hard and fast that it threatened to burst his lungs if he didn't yell it out in the church in Detroit had lost its force and simply came out as a garbled, pain-filled whisper, "Why?"
Fingers in his hair, elbows on his knees, the dam broke. If he couldn't protect an old man on hallowed ground, how in God's name was he gonna protect his wife and kid during the f**king Armageddon-let alone his pregnant Guardian sisters and little Ayana? They said God wasn't supposed to put anything more on a man's shoulders than he could bear . . . maybe that was a human-inspired lie, at this point what the f**k did he know?
The only thing that was clear was they'd taken his father-seer and the Devil had truly kicked his ass with that move.
"Lu said what?" Lilith backhand bitch-slapped Sebastian and then pointed at the dark mist in the center Vampire Council table with a long talon. "My own eagerness for a win allowed me to even entertain your insanity. Look at him!" she screeched through massive fangs. "He's alone, broken-does he seem like a man who has a pregnant wife to protect and a bunch of pregnant female Guardians weighing down his team?"
Bat wings tore from her shoulder blades as her spaded tail violently ejected from her spine to stab into the pulsing veins of the black marble table, shredding her black gown and splashing black blood. "In trying to barter for the release of the pale mare into your inept care, you have unnecessarily cost this council,and me , credibility with the Dark Lord! You willnever have such an opportunity to do so again!"
"You went to Lucifer withthat bullshit,mon ami? Trying to get the pale horse of the Apocalypse?" Fallon Nuit stood and walked to the far side of chambers with his goblet of blood and flamboyantly raised it in a toast to Sebastian. "You are now the most insane sonofabitch I know, the most courageous, and the most soon-to-be extinct. May the Darkness have mercy onyou. "
Wounded but quickly recovering, Vlad struggled to stand with a vicious snarl as he stared at Sebastian. "I can feel your attempt to bargain against me just radiating off your sickly skin . . . but that your scheme has backfired on you is enough for now. Later, you and I shall settle a score."
"Think what you like," Sebastian said, lifting his chin and glancing around at his fellow council members. "I had what I thought was solid information at the time, but apparently there were variables I hadn't considered-such as archangel support to our adversaries. Don't think that any of you at this council could not be fooled by those entities!"
"Rather than quibble about who was right or wrong," Lucrezia said with a dangerous smile, "might we not seize the opportunity to attack the male Neteru now while he's grieving . . . and alone?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No. It could be a trap. Our Dark Lord just smote a clean priest-the Neteru's father-seer. While I may hate them, I respect their side's shrewdness in battle, having witnessed it on more than one occasion firsthand. The Light will retaliate, and probably has invisible reinforcements around him as we speak. Why would they allow Rivera to be out and alone and bitterly grieving during the end of days? He'sbait , Lucrezia. We struck down one of theirs, now they will use that to make their side seem vulnerable, in order to make us grow lax and overly confident . . . and when we rush in to assassinate the male Neteru who seemingly sits alone now, we'll be ambushed."
"I agree," Lilith said, giving Elizabeth a nod of approval before issuing Sebastian another withering glare. "We need to monitor them for a while, see where they go, what their next move will be, and wait for a real vulnerability whenthey aren't prepared-not the other way around."
There was nothing she could say to him. Carlos was emotionally beyond reach at the moment, and the only thing she could do was pray that he was protected . . . but more important, she prayed that the Creator would grant him some peace. That thought remained in the back of Damali's mind like a quiet dirge as she brought the team to a key Philly safe house in the Germantown section of the city.
The team came out of the fold-away across the street from their destination on the hallowed ground of an old stone Methodist church. At that hour in the morning, Germantown Avenue's cobblestoned streets were quiet, the old streetlamps glowing off masonry that was laid down at the birth of the nation. Across from the church grounds, a huge, urban, public school loomed, its massive structure sending long, ominous shadows to spill onto smaller adjacent buildings.
Guardians looked at her for the order to move out and leave hallowed ground. Damali nodded. She needed to get her team quickly inside the Nile Bookstore and Caf�. Everyone was strung so tightly that if a stray cat had scurried across the street it would have probably set off a chain reaction of RPG-launched explosives and automatic weapon report.
She held up two fingers, pointing at Shabazz and Rider so they'd flank and cover her as she jogged across the street to gain safe house entry. But she held up her fist to the rest of the team so they'd stay put and on safe ground until she could determine if everything was still cool. The silent transaction took only seconds, yet the logistics of moving that many people, safely, weighed heavily on her shoulders. Her thoughts immediately went to Carlos with every footfall as she crossed the cobblestoned street. The man had so much on his head . . . if God would justplease give him a break.
As expected, the metal grates were pulled down over the Nile's large storefront plate-glass windows, but she peered between the steel bars to search for any signs of movement within. Everything was still, and yet she knew Guardians were watching her from some vantage point between the brightly hued African ensembles and books that decorated the left bank of windows or from the vegan caf� side of the shop that flaunted menus and flyers in the other windows on the right.
"Hotep.Enen-a Neter,ita em kheperaungkh. I submit to God who comes in the form of transformation and life," Damali said, standing at the front door.