The rabbi held Carlos's arm to stay his leave. "Ride the train. Preserve your strength. You must be careful and save your energy for emergency escapes from human and supernatural predators alike . . . you could be accidentally hunted down and shot by human forces who think you're a national threat carrying concealed weapons into the nation's capital. One false move and you could be caught and land in prison where they'll throw away the key, or worse, you could impugn your soul by having to kill a human lest you be killed-then what?"
His grip tightened on Carlos's arm, beseeching Carlos to listen. "Both you and Damali, as well as your team, are battle weary-if not in body, then in spirit-especially you, son. The stress that prevails upon your spirit is incalculable."
"What else is new?" Carlos said with a sad smile. "Stress is our way of life."
"Take the train. Dresslike normal people on tour . . . and visit where you must, but looking like civilians."
"We'll take the train," Carlos promised him. "Maybe you guys from the Covenant could arrange for us to ride a small tour bus, get us some brochures and cameras, and maybe have some ammo hidden in the floorboards of the vehicle and taped under the seats that I can transport in fast if we get in a firefight?"
"I think we could do something of that nature," Rabbi Zeitloff said with a droll smile. "And maybe an old rabbi could come to help avenge the death of his dear friend?"
Carlos patted the elderly cleric on his shoulder, gently declining the offer of a suicide mission. "Maybe a good rabbi might best help this go-round by sending up prayers with his remaining dear friends, Monk Lin and Imam Asula-because this battle might get messy. We might need someone alive on the outside to post bail or to send lawyers, or maybe raise a protest march to free the Neterus and their team. We could definitely use a safe house location down in the District." Carlos smiled as Rabbi Zeitloff clucked his tongue in annoyance. "And we might need someone to come home to, if we make it." His last statement mellowed the old man considerably.
"I hadn't thought of that." Rabbi Zeitloff let out a weary breath. "We have a house for you in Georgetown."
"I don't wanna come home tonobody being there from the old original family," Carlos said quietly, looking Rabbi Zeitloff in the eyes.
"I understand, son," the rabbi said with a gentle tone. "We old men will stay alive to give you young ones something to hope for."
"You've gotta be here to bless babies in the future and to do Bas Mitzvahs and Bar Mitzvahs and to make sure we're doing what we should . . . you know?"
Rabbi Zeitloff nodded. "We'll do our part-you just make sure you do yours." He looked at Carlos and then suddenly hugged him. "You come home so you don't break an old man's heart.All of you. Not a single loss. You promise me."
When they got into the limo, Carlos turned to her. She'd watched everything transpire at a distance, but wasn't sure what all was happening. He didn't say a word, just cradled the sides of her face with his hands and slowly allowed his fingers to slide up and into her hair. He closed his eyes, and then gently rested his forehead against hers and simply opened up his mind's eye to her. It all poured into her brain so quickly and with such haunting thrust that at moments she gasped. When he was done, he was winded, she was panting. Without telling him, she'd pulled as much of the pain away from him as she could with the information. She touched his cheek with trembling fingers, never divulging that small detail. To battle this ultimate evil, he needed to be whole.
"How will we keep the public from recognizing us if we get on the Acela train?" she asked quietly. "To the general public, we're still the Warriors of Light band . . . and autograph seekers and whatnot could be an issue. Just sitting on the porch back on Haines Street got us enough looks to almost blow our cover."
"We're gonna have to slightly mind-stun 'em and hope for the best."
BLOW THE ROOF OFF THE MUTHA
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Damali peered around the huge, marble-ensconced edifice of the Thirtieth Street train station, her gaze roving up toward the glass and brass pathways of the ancient, majestic structure that linked north to south sections of the building along the western wall. The last time she'd been even near the place, thousands of demon bats and Harpies had shattered plate glass to whirl after her squad in a deadly funnel cloud. That night, they'd lost Padre Lopez. She could tell every Guardian on the team was revisiting the memory, and she was just glad that the building had been repaired so there was no outward memory trigger of that very bad night when Lilith was on their asses.
As she watched the central information board intermittently flip down small black panels to update train arrivals and departures, she wondered if going by rail was a good idea. Fold-away was best, but Rabbi Zeitloff was right-she and Carlos needed to preserve their strength. Going by car was just as perilous, maybe more so. An eighteen-wheeler could be sent to squash them like a bug, and the poor human driver that would have been temporarily possessed would be collateral damage. Then again, riding the rails meant putting hundreds of innocent passengers at risk, if evil decided to rear its ugly head while they were on board. But that was also true of highway motorists. A crazy chain-reaction pileup was no less dangerous.
Damali closed her eyes as her stomach growled. Auntie Anne's pretzels were calling her name, along with all the luscious, forbidden butter they were drizzled with. She could practically taste the tangy, pungent flavor of honey mustard sauce on her tongue . . . that anda lemonade .
Carlos stood up from the long, gleaming wooden bench. She looked up at him with a slight frown of concern.
"Everything all right?"
"Be right back," he said with a half smile.
Big Mike was right behind him. "Anybody else want anything?"
Dan headed to the Au Bon Pain. "Speak now, or forever hold your peace."
"Toffee cookies," Heather said with a grin."Lots. And milk."
"Done," he said, pointing at her, and then whirling around to jog toward the store.
That was it, the team scattered to whichever food emporium was calling their names. Even Marlene was up on her feet with Shabazz checking out the Amazon Cafe smoothie bar. Resistance was futile. The team needed to eat, get a good base on before whatever kicked off-because who knew when something so basic as eating a decent meal might happen again.
Carlos was back before the others and he handed her a greasy bag loaded with pretzels and dip, along with an extra large tumbler of lemonade. "Already blessed," he said, sitting beside her.
She took a deep swig of the very sweet lemonade and her eyes crossed with ecstasy. "Thank you. How'd you know?"