CHAPTER NINE
The team followed Sister Owa through a labyrinth of racks to the museum area. She stopped and outstretched her arm, her eyes holding a fusion of excitement and reverence.
"This is why we're here," she said proudly. "We went through all of this and still we found goodness in the world worth surviving for."
Marlene nodded and looked around the team, her gaze settling on Shabazz. "And I'm now oh soooo clear that this is why we were shunted from pillar to post today. We were supposed to come here to remember what Sister Owa said, as well as to probably get used to that feeling of being on the run again-but not to give into the group dissension or the fear."
The team's senior seer allowed her gaze to rake each member slowly with compassion. "We'veall still been trying to process the poison out of our minds, even our Neterus, white baths notwithstanding. Look at how we've been acting, talking to each other on the team, going over old mess and vibrations that we'd already learned not to do from the school of hard knocks. We got infected, people, and had to shake it off to unify-once again . . . it's not a learn-it-one-time-and-you're-done type of thing. Unity requires ongoing maintenance, just like marriages and relationships are ongoing work. If we had gotten into those other locations, maybe we would have missed the lesson . . . the Creator makes no mistakes-Ashe."
"Ashe," Owa said quietly. "And maybe we needed you all to come to let us know that the thirty-plus years we've been at the struggle have not been in vain . . . there really is hope on the horizon-some light in this dark tunnel we've been in."
Quiet affirmations rippled through the group as Owa began walking. The team fanned out slowly as members peered at the horrific scenes of bondage on the walls, mute as they passed each exhibit, reading placards with hands pressed to hearts, some shaking their heads, not even realizing their bodies were moving in such a manner.
Oppressive silence, except for the recorded sounds of the museum, kept Guardian voices at bay . . . those eerie sounds were reminiscent of human captivity and the daring attempts of escape against all odds, reenacted in a cacophony of barking bloodhounds, the sounds of wailing, some spiritual hymns, an auctioneer's rabble. But as the team gathered around some of the artifacts, murmurs of sheer disbelief finally spawned a sudden ricochet of conversation.
"Oh, my God," Krissy whispered, her fingers grazing an iron collar. "We'd been told about this in high school and read it in the books we had to read for class . . . but they actually put this on a human being's neck."
"This is barbaric," Bobby said, his eyes wild. "They really did this to people . . . Imean, I read it, but . . ."
"It was never a part of your reality," Inez said, no judgment in her tone. "Unless it affects you directly, most people don't think twice about the things that have happened here or anywhere else in the world. In some parts of the word, things like this are still happening. Check Darfur."
"It ain't about continuing to fight among ourselves, though," Shabazz said, looking around the group and making surethat old cultural wounds didn't bubble up and simmer over within the team itself. "That's evil's old con-to get otherwise decent people to act like animals toward each other for greed, gain, lust, power . . . y'all know the deal. Then get people to justify it by calling another group primitive, or heretics, or somehow making them the scapegoats. This is one holocaust among many." He shook his head and walked deeper into the exhibit.
Owa nodded, her voice patient and firm, as she picked up very tiny manacles. "This was for the babies, the children. Look inside. There are spikes so that if you turn your head it will hurt. These are bits used for mouthpieces, like you'd bridle a beast of burden."
A collective gasp cut through the group. Heather rushed over to touch the small iron shackles and then stooped to let her fingers trace a small burlap sack that had been worn by a child.
"How could anyone . . ." Heather whispered, her eyes filled with horror and pain. "Me father was from Ghana . . . a hundred years ago they might have captured him and put this on him. Me Scottish mother could have been flogged and driven from 'er home for simply loving him and making me? They would have put these shackles on me as a baby . . . sold me away from her." She peered up at the group, bewildered."Babies?Children as young as our Ayana?"
Jasmine was right by Heather's side and she squeezed her shoulder. She looked over at her sister-in-law, Krissy, and opened her arms to invite the embrace. "This is why we came here, Marlene is right. We needed to remember what we're fighting for and to never bring the fight between us as a team, no matter what. It's so easy to forget, to slip back into old patterns and old ways and to shut the grim world out-like that's over there and I can't do anything about it . . . but we have to do a little bit, any way we can."
Dan squeezed his wife's hand as he squatted down beside her. He gazed at Heather and then glanced up at Jasmine, agreeing. "My people have a saying, Never again. As long as this type of atrocity is allowed to happen to any people, then all people are at risk."
Tara nodded and quietly threaded her arm around Rider's waist. "My Cherokee people were in this, as well as my African American ancestors . . . it is all a bloody trail of tears."
"But the babies," Marj whispered thickly. "If what's coming next is more evil than this . . . we must all come together and take a stand. Don't people get it?"
"I read about it, knew about it, but this is just . . ." Berkfield shook his head and wiped his palm over his scalp. "I had buddies back on the force who were as ignorant as me. If people saw, were educated, they couldn't hide from the truth. If they didn't think that'sthose people, but thought in terms of-holy Christ, that'sany people, ya know?" He looked around the group with a pained expression. "I used to hear guys say, 'Well, shit, that was way back then and I personally didn't have anything to do with it.' But I'm like, yeah, you didn't, directly . . . but you need to recognize that it happened, that you maybe got a leg up because it did, and be respectful of the people who lived this or any other horror like it. I wasn't popular in a lot of places. Then I'd get to thinking about a lot of stuff I saw in the criminal justice system that I'll go to my grave unable to reconcile. When I see stuff like this I wonder why God didn't just send a thunderbolt a long time ago to be done with it. I bet He wanted to just nuke this joint, seeing this kinda thing."
"Yeah, well," Carlos muttered. "The jury's still out on that end-it-by-the-fire-next-time prophecy. The Man Upstairs might just have had His fill, who knows?"
Carlos rubbed his jaw and landed a hand on Berkfield's shoulder. "Regardless, you can't take the guilt on for every person who can't see-just like none of us can. Prejudice comes in all colors, man . . . I'm fromL.A. . . . ask me how I know. You gothombres poppin' homeboys, who smokin' whites, who flat-blasting Asians, who can't stand East Indians, who at war with Pakistanis, who hate being mistaken for Middle Eastern, who battling Russians, who can't stand skinheads, who hate Jews and gays and everybody pretty much, and cops gunnin' for everybody who don't look like them, feel me. It's insane. You didn't start the madness and you're out here with your life on the line trying to fix it. So stop lacerating yourself as you do this walk through, bro. That's not why we're here." He motioned to Krissy and Bobby with his chin. "Same goes for you young bucks.Ain't about that." He glanced at Rider next, and let his gaze settle on Marj and Richard Berkfield. "We allfam and this exhibit is just an example we're supposed to learn from. But we ain't casting aspersions."
"Definitely not," Damali said, watching quiet relief edge through the team. "We're supposed to learn from every culture, every shred of human history, and to pass this one by in our own backyards after going around the world learning, is crazy. We have to be honest and ultimately face our own inner demons right here before we try to step to whatever global conscience. Last stop, charity and healing begin at home . . . and there's a lot of drama we need to atone for here in the good ole U. S. of A."
"True dat," J.L. said, raking his hair with his fingers. "Especially if this joint is one of the big three superpowers in the last days and times, man . . . and you-know-who might make it number one and only . . .all of this bull gotta get accounted for and redressed. Can't sweep it under the rug and then wonder why we've got bad karma bubbling to the surface."
"True, young brother.Every ethnic group represented here," Owa said, "and many more that we do not see, have been abused at the hands of evil . . . but as you look at this exhibit, the one thing that evil cannot abide is healing. If the common people from every land stopped believing the lies and joined together to help each other and to believe in the fundamental good of all, we could stop this thing." She held up the small shackles and rattled them like Shaker beads. "It is time for people to wake up and unite! This isn't a black thing, a white thing, a Native American thing, an Asian thing, or a Latino thing, or whatever . . . this is a human issue.Fundamental human rights. That's why we're here."
"Ashe," Damali murmured as she stood before a mock tree that was laced with a disheveled mannequin hanging by a noose. "Enough. When I see this, I sayenough . How many inquisitions, wars, despotic leaders, or oppressive regimes until the planet wakes up and says, enough?" She ruffled her locks up off her neck. "How do we get people to just wake the hell up?"
"We got a saying down South, baby girl . . . ev'ry shut eye ain't sleep. People know, but they scared and ain't steppin' up 'cause the mess is hittin' 'em five ways from Sunday. Lotsa folksis in churches, temples, and mosques-folks be praying, trying to figure out what to do, because they feel it closing in on 'em. Butthey know time is short and bad change is coming . . . feel it in they gut, they bones, can't get no peace. Everybody ain't crazy. Uh-uh. We jus' don't hear about them, 'cause you-know-who got the propaganda machine going." Big Mike smoothed a huge palm over his bald scalp. "I'm from Mississippi, and I know, D. A noose ain'tno joke." He turned and pointed to the speaker system. "The sound of them dogs got the hair standing up on the back of my neck."
"DNA-level memory, baby," Inez said quietly before she turned to Dan. "I've been to the holocaust museum inD.C. . . . the room of baby shoes." She closed her eyes. "All those little shoes . . . they actually put people in ovens. We have to remind people that this world is worth fighting for-there are children that have to inherit something worth living for . . . we can't let the darkside just take it without a fight."
"We're gonna help 'em remember, 'Nez," Carlos said, rolling his shoulders. "Because, I for one have had enough, too, like D said-and hell no, we ain't going down without a fight."
Marlene looked at Owa and smiled a sad, weary smile. "I think this was the battle pep talk our team needed. Much better than a sermon-'cause you can show folks better than you can tell 'em." She glanced around the team again and spoke matter-of-factly and with no judgment in her tone. "Even before the airwave poison, we were getting frayed, people.Fractured in our mission.Self-absorbed due to our own individual issues. But that's not why we're here as Guardians and Warriors of the Light."
After receiving nods of agreement, Marlene waved her hand out toward the exhibit. "Plenty of good people laid down their lives so we could even be here. We stand on their shoulders. Most who made the ultimate sacrifice knew they wouldn't make it to see the change they'd died for-but that didn't matter, the change was worth it to them anyway. It was a matter of principle. We've been blessed, but we've also gotten comfortable . . . and frightened that our comforts will be taken away, which destroys our fearlessness . . . which makes us conservative and wanting to play it safe. I stand here guilty as charged. Once I got my Shabazz back, I've practically been scared to leave the house."
Carlos looked at Marlene squarely."Me, too. Guilty as charged, Mar. Now more than ever before, the thought of losing my wife, our home, or a single member of this team has jacked my head up-I ain't gonna lie." He glanced at Rider. "Yeah, I was off today . . . slow on the decision making, ain't gonna front. You said you wanted to talk to me about it, let's go right now." Carlos opened his arms wide and cocked his head to the side. "I ain't ashamed to admit it. I feel like I've got more to lose now than ever before and that makes it hard to just bust a crazy move that could get any of us smoked . . . when it was just me, hey"-he pointed at Rider with a hard snap-"but it ain't just me. It's a whole lot more than that-so, yeah, I'm struggling with my new reality, brother.My bad."
Rider nodded. "I'm sorry, man . . . you're right. Guess whatever peppered this team got me, too, and as usual my mouth was the first portal." He turned to Marlene after Carlos relaxed and let out a weary breath."Guilty as sin, Mar." Rider dragged his fingers through his hair. "Shamed to say it, but . . . as a Guardian, once I got Tara back, I didn't give a rat's ass what was happening out there if I could keep it away from our doorstep." He glanced back at Carlos. "Might not be politically correct, but it's honest."
Jose pounded Rider's fist. "Weain't hating , man . . . we all right with what you talkin' about."
Dan rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I think I'm first in line in that politically incorrect category-and that would have shamed my parents if they knew. They were big into remembering the sacrifices people made so that we could be where we are today." He waved his arm toward the exhibit. "I've shamed those who made the ultimate sacrifice here, or in Nazi Germany, because deep in my heart I don't want anything to happen to my family while the world's going to hell in a handbasket. I don't even want us to do that concert in a couple of months . . . and only half-ass booked it because I just wanted us to not be on the road in the line of fire."
"It's cool, man . . . we all understand where you at," Mike said. "Ain'tnobody mad at nobody up in here. I ain't trying to be on the road, either, if we don't have to-problem is, we have to. But, still in all, who don't wanna look after their own peeps? I got my wife, a baby daughter, and a mother-in-law, who's like my momma, to worry about, and it's eating a hole in my stomach, too, young bro. You ain't shamednobody with the truth-it's the Devil who's a liar."
Damali's and Marlene's gazes met as they caught Yonnie hanging back behind the group. He'd been unusually quiet throughout the tour, almost detached, and his body language rigid.
"Hey, man," Yonnie said to Dan after a moment, glancing around the exhibits. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You here, ain't you? In fact, we all here, ain't we? Nobody wants to be the ones to have to do what has to be done. I bet if you go back in history, plenty of people that stepped up didn't want to . . . when you get into the quiet corner of their souls. Yeah, I can promise you they didn't wanna step up, but had to and did . . . like you have to and are right now." He looked at Owa and then glanced at Marlene. "Is this sister cool enough for the real truth? Or should I stay in my civilian game face?"
"Owa," Marlene said calmly. "Sister . . .like most Guardian teams, we have members on our squad that have . . . unique gifts-but our folks' skills are a little more exotic than the run-of-the-mill sixth sense capabilities. What you are probably about to hear may blow your mind, but just know you ain't crazy."
Owa nodded and looked at Yonnie. "Speak, brother. Tell us the story."
"Ain't no story-it's plain fact," Yonnie said, breaking away from Val's attempt to soothe him with a touch at his back. "All this in here," he said waving his arms about. "Sheeit-this is the Disney, sanitized version . . . I wasthere .All right.Seen it."
"He's a past life seer?" Owa murmured, her confused gaze seeking Marlene's.
"No! I wasthere ! In the flesh," Yonnie suddenly yelled, "and I need to get out of here, okay.Now.Pronto.Imm�diatement!" He walked in a circle for a moment and then wiped his brow. "This is all good, learning about the past-but it's still textbook until you been through it. Don't eventry to comprehend what they did to the children-I refuse to discuss it. And what they did to men and women is not for polite convo." He pointed at a noose and then a whipping post, his arm shaking as he spoke. "That will take your soul. That right there will turn you into an animal, a beast, will steal your humanity." He pulled his arm back in a hard snap. "But the funny thing is," he said, growing eerily quiet and then staring at Carlos. "That was the best that humans possessed by demons could come up with-let's call thatHell-light . You ain't seen nuthin' till real Hell bubbles up this time."
He walked away and back out of the exhibit into the bookstore area. Carlos held up both hands, motioning to the group not to follow.
"Give me a minute alone with my brother," Carlos said, leaving the exhibit to find Yonnie.
When Carlos approached, Yonnie was doubled over in the bookshelves, breathing in hard inhalations through his mouth, dry-heaving.
"You all right, man?"
Yonnie glanced up, eyes blazing red with battle-length fangs presented.
Carlos held up both hands in front of his chest. "Easy, man . . . it's gonna be all right. Breathe."
"I can't read about that shit, can't think about that shit, can't walk through that shit and not remember, man . . . and you chained my ass to a tree and bullwhipped-"
"No!" Carlos shouted. "You know what that was, and it wasn't me! That was some shit that came off that throne, man!"
Tears of rage shimmered in Yonnie's eyes as his voice fractured to a pained murmur. "You weremy boy . . ."
"I'm still your boy. Let the flashback work its way out on the next swing," Carlos said, stepping forward," 'Cause it wasn't me."
Yonnie swung so hard that when the feral punch connected with Carlos's jaw it made both men lose their balance. Shelves fell with a hard crash and books scattered everywhere. Carlos and Yonnie hit the floor at the same time. Up on his feet in seconds, Carlos grabbed Yonnie around his upper arms the moment he lunged at him again, and he hugged Yonnie hard.
"Get it out, man. I didn't do that to you. That's the poison talking. Get it out."
"Why!" Yonniehollered, his voice fracturing as he struggled to break free from Carlos's hold. "Get the fuck off me! Why you do that to me, man?"
"Theydid it to you-Hell's best.I got your back,always got your back . . . ain't let even my wife take your head when you was a daywalker, 'cause you my brother, man-we gonna get through this. It was fucked-up what they did to you in life and death-but I got you . . . just let it out-just me and you, here, aw'ight?"
Yonnie's struggles slowly gave way to a returned embrace. Mournful sobs tore through the store and Carlos quietly black-boxed the area to preserve his Guardian brother's privacy. There was so much pain riddling Yonnie's body that he could barely hold them both up. Man pain stabbed into his chest.Broken pride.Decimated dreams. Indignity upon indignity for two hundred years poured out of Yonnie's battered soul until the weight of it nearly buckled Carlos's knees. Then slowly, without warning, the storm passed, leaving both Guardian brothers in a warrior's embrace drawing short breaths, not sure what had transpired.
"You been holding that for two centuries," Carlos said in a thick rumble, finally letting Yonnie go.
Both men stared at each other. Yonnie turned away, ashamed, but Carlos landed a supportive hand on his shoulder.
"Confession."Carlos waited until Yonnie's now normal, but bloodshot, brown eyes met his. "I'm scared to fucking death this time out, bro. Nerves are so damned bad I couldn't get a sanctuary address in a fold-away right, and could've gotten the team butchered from that stupid shit I just did, missing Monroe Street. But I've got shit cooking my brain. My wife is pregnant and this ain't a drill . . . and I know, like you do, how bad Hell really can be. The fucking Devil himself is pissed off at both of us, man . . . he called me outmano a mano and is coming for mine like I came for his-so this right here that just happened, so you could get your head right, stays between me and you. Nothing but respect," Carlos said, pounding Yonnie's fist. "You ain'tno punk just because you let out what most motherfuckers couldn't carry for a day, let alone two hundred years, aw'ight."
Yonnie nodded. "Yeah . . . I hear you," he said in a gravelly tone.
"If I come to you like this . . . if anything happens to D, I'mabe right here, too . . . totally fucked-up. You just ain'tsee me go to the rock before-Marlene took me there in front of the whole team-I'm sparing you that embarrassing shit."
"Get out of here." Yonnie gaped at Carlos and then wiped his face."You, Mr. Chairman?"
Carlos nodded."Yeah. Last I checked, I was part human . . . you are, too, now, man."
"Fucked-up, ain't it?" Yonnie said with a half smile."The being human part."
"Completely . . . but whatchu gonna do?" Carlos let out a hard breath on a shrug.
"Suck it up and deal." Yonnie pounded his fist.
"As brothers," Carlos said.
"As brothers," Yonnie confirmed, and then wiped his face.
"Take a walk to the men's room . . . splash some water," Carlos said. "I'll tell the team whatever. Ain't a man been in battle that hasn't gone here . . . either that or they lose their damned minds. If they tell you otherwise they're crazy or lying."
"Or both," Yonnie said with a sad chuckle.
"Yeah, man," Carlos replied, walking away."Or both."
She'd waited for this opportunity-for Sebastian's fear of Lilith and his venomous jealousy of Fallon Nuit to make him desperate for a win. He'd even made a deal with the Dark Lord, and amazingly returned whole with his conjuring arm intact. Such desperation in a man besieged by fear and guilt and hatred was bound to make him sloppy. But that he was the more adept necromancer was something she could use to her advantage. He hadn't even noticed the invasion to his spell chambers; he'd been too preoccupied with obtaining results and keeping his groveling carcass alive.Sycophant. And the gall that he'd made her wait . . . refused to waste his restored powers on healing her before doing Lilith's bidding. For that injustice, he'd surely pay.
Elizabeth held her charred hands firmly clasped together, only glimpsing her faithful sorceress, Dorka, from the corner of her eye. Luring Sebastian to the depths of the Hungarian forest had been mere child's play. His ego would allow him to believe that now that she was so badly burned, he could play Dark Lord and master over her . . . that she would remain an emotional cripple-her beauty in ruins and grateful for his attentions until he got around to making her lovely again.
She watched him arrogantly promenade around the clearing, preparing to raise any beast or demon that had not died by a Neteru blade. The haughty glee practically resonated off his sallow skin. Rage gnawed at her insides as he waved his arms and pranced along the vectors of the bloody pentagram he'd drawn with human blood under the blue wash of the full moon.
Oh, yes, he was in his element . . . she seethed as he craned his long fingers until they'd become talons, calling up the unholy legions that had been vanquished by mortal men. The display was theatric, all hellfire and brimstone, drawing forth swirling winds that lashed their faces and billowed his council robes in an attempt to demonstrate prowess that he never owned.
But she waited, patiently, for the lines drawn in blood around the butchered goat's head to begin to bubble. She waited until the dead human female carcass began to blister with maggots. She waited until black blood sweat ran down Sebastian's gaunt face and he closed his eyes, shouting the last necromancer command for the dead to arise-and that's when she did it.
A black charge left her hands as Dorka jettisoned the skull of Vlad the Impaler with his burial ashes into the center of the ceremonial perimeter. Slashing at her wrists, Elizabeth added her Council-level blood to the offering, along with all of her hatred and the black magic she'd collected throughout the realms. The words she shouted scorched her throat till she sputtered black blood. Her hair was on fire, her robes engulfed in blue-black flames. Searing pain ripped a shriek from her, but she held out her arms, calling forth the greatest vampire that had ever existed.
Screeching and twisting, the lesser shadows that had already risen drew away to the woods for safety. Sebastian turned to her in slow motion, his mouth opening in horror as he screamed the word, "No!"
Before he could inhale the next breath, the ground splintered open, toppling trees and sending black lightning in reverse up toward the sky.
A huge black stallion's skeletal head lunged out of the ground, its massive barrel chest and cloven hooves heaving forward to escape the Hell furnaces. Its rider carried a long pike in one black armored fist. He turned slowly, tossing back his face shield to reveal his regal heritage, eyes blazing black fire and fangs fully extended. Fury rippled down his left arm to engulf his hand as it released his horse's reins and reached toward Sebastian. A war cry rent the air as the magnetic snatch-force dragged Sebastian off his feet.
"My wife and my castle?Interloper, you die!"
Hundreds of warhorses followed their leader from the pit, each vampire rider holding up a pike, skewering badly decomposed human remains impaled through the rectum, along the entire length of the body, exiting the mouth. The moment Dracula's horse reared on its haunches, his soldiers lifted their pikes in a deafening cheer, waving mutilated human remains like gray-green flags.
Limbs and entrails flopped against raised pikes as their horses charged forward and headed toward the feeding grounds in the Carpathian Mountains. Elizabeth dropped to her knees and sobbed, overcome, as she watched Sebastian held aloft in Vlad's black charge.
Strangling from the death grip, Sebastian could offer no defense. She stood slowly as her former husband regarded her condition. His expression was unreadable, and for tense seconds she wondered if her maimed condition would make him turn away from her. Tears glittered in her eyes as she waited and pure contempt overtook his countenance. The spell had backfired . . . Elizabeth covered her face and spun away.
"He has let this fate befall my beloved?"
Elizabeth stopped at Vlad's words and cautiously nodded, slowly turning back to face him.
"Then determine his fate now," Dracula growled.
"Impale him," she hissed, pressing her hands to her heart. "But do not let him die . . . the Chairwoman forbids a loss of resources at this time. Just make him suffer."
"No, please," Sebastian croaked.
Dracula threw his head back and released a primal bellow that shook the night. Instantly, Sebastian was in his grasp, his head savagely yanked to the side as his jugular was assaulted by massive fangs.
"Yes, drink," Elizabeth crooned, excitement thrumming through her. "Drain him of his daylight essence and leave him like he left me, trembling and weak, near extinction."
She watched the stronger male entity fill himself as the weaker one struggled and twisted to no avail. Desire flogged her entire being as she witnessed the erotic scene, loving every moment of how Vlad greedily heaved in deep gulps of black blood till it ran from the corners of his mouth. Then he threw back his head, sated, stronger,more alive-the color reviving beneath his skin, his fangs now white and glistening instead of yellow and gnarled. Gone were his skeletal features as healthy-looking human skin began to cover his bones, fashioning him back into the handsome warrior of old that he'd been.
Time seemed to stand still as he looked at Sebastian and smiled, eyes meeting in a silent exchange of bitter understanding. Two large tears slipped from the corners of Sebastian's eyes as he closed them to his fate and Dracula released the pike he'd been holding.
A black current of force sent the pike flying in a goring spiral that moved faster than Sebastian's vocal cords, entering his body through one orifice and coming out his mouth with blood and guts. A hard flick of Vlad's right hand caused the slicked pike to descend into Hell like a flaming arrow, carrying a burning Sebastian. With a heat-seeking missile's voracity, the pike dove into Hell to penetrate Sebastian's throne in Vampire Council Chambers.
Dracula slid off his mount, outrage still glistening in his eyes. "Come to me, my love. You have given medaylight -a conquest I never achieved before my unfortunate demise. Feed from my veins and heal your abominable condition. Bring me bodies while my army replenishes itself for battle."
"Then what would you have me do," she murmured, moving toward him cautiously.
He smiled wickedly and fully removed his helmet, then shook out his shoulder-length brunet tresses. "I have impaled your imposter husband-marriage cancelled. After hundreds of years away . . . it is only fitting that I also impale you."
Emotionally spent, but with a new spirit of determination, the team trudged upstairs to the spacious meeting rooms and private living quarters.
"Sister Sylvia and Brother Muata are bringing you all some vegan platters . . . and we'll gather up the clothing and sandals and silver you selected," Owa said with a calm, satisfied smile. "We'll put each outfit in an individual mud cloth bag for you so you can use the facilities to freshen up and have a place to keep your fatigues when you go to the jazz fest tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"Marlene said, drawing the group's focus.
"Yes . . . it runs Friday through Labor Day."
Damali glanced at Dan and then Owa. "We thought it was Saturday through . . . never mind. I guess I was just hoping the team could adjust before . . . that we'd have some time to get our bearings and do a little more research before . . ." Damali threw up her hands. "Marlene said it right. We were getting comfortable, sloppy-guilty as charged."
"Oh, no!"Marlene said quickly, spinning around and then cringing. "Speaking of sloppy-my black mud cloth bag . . . all these years, how stupid!The Temt Tchaas! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black-I left it in the house in San Diego!"
"No, you didn't," Carlos said, pulling it through the ether for her. "That's one of the first things I always jettison to a safe house, then I move everything else. I always got your back, Mar."
Marlene walked over and hugged him. "For a man with a lot on his mind, you sure keep a lot on your mind. Thank you."
"De nada, Mom," Carlos replied and hugged her hard. "It's cool. We're all off."
They both smiled and a silent thought leapt from Carlos's mind into Marlene's.Gotta know what's gonna happen next with Damali and our kid, you know .
Marlene just patted the side of his face and nodded.
"This great hall room," Owa said with flourish, "has seen Nelson Mandela, Malcolm X, so many greats I cannot begin to recount . . . and now the Neteru Guardian squad?" She fanned her face and a bright smile graced her lips. "The Detroit team is going to be here bringing water, blankets and sleeping bags, air mattresses . . . we have VIPs in the house and most of us have been waiting all our lives for this moment. You all can use this room as your war room and weapons area. I'll get some pallets readied for you so you can rest. It's been a long time, since Panther days, that we've had a visitation like this. . . . We have some couches and pullouts, some old bedrolls. But we never have visitors like this anymore. We gonna pour libations and eat plenty and tell stories and keep the watch."
Carlos and Damali forced smiles and shared a private glance. Rapid-fire telepathic communication whizzed back and forth between them in a split second as Damali approached their kind hostess.
Damali, maybe I'm wrong, but . . . I'm getting the distinct impression that this particular Guardian team has been primarily focused on the civil rights front and the free the Diaspora struggle, not the demon-hunting front.
Oh, God, Carlos, I know. They've been dealing with human atrocitiesand keeping the spirit of justice alive, pouring libations for that and whatnot . . . but I haven't seen nary a weapon up in this joint.
Shit, D, what have we gotten these innocents into? They're getting Guardians to come, the house is gonna fill up-and I think they think we're gonna be telling old revolutionary tales while we sing "Kumbiyah." They're doing a heads of state thing, nota hunker down and get ready to rumble kinda thing. She probably thought Yonnie was speaking in the abstract as a seer or from some past life memory, not the real deal.
If it gets hot, we abandon this building to save it and everyone in here and take the fight to the streets.
Sounds like a plan, Carlos said in a mental jettison, wiping his his face with his fist.
Maybe they just do things differently in Detroit? We gotta ask 'Bazz when the coast is clear.
Before any hint of a mental conversation could be detected or a lack of response taken for rudeness, Damali went to Owa and hugged her. "Thank you for the sanctuary. We're both honored and humbled by it."