CHAPTER ELEVEN
Stories got told, more food got passed, and war strategies were discussed between much-needed camaraderie. At points the laughter became so infectious that Guardians were waving one another's comments away while wiping their eyes. But as the sun began to set, the group's composure changed. Damali and Carlos shared a glance that wasn't lost on the group.
"So, family," Carlos said, hating to destroy the cool vibe, "me and my boy, Yonnie, need to drape some truth on y'all tonight. This morning and this afternoon, we got lucky." Carlos shot Yonnie a meaningful glance.
"Sho' you right, bro," Yonnie said, chewing on a toothpick. "Want me to school 'em on what I used to be?"
"I ain't gotta tell you twice," Carlos said, leaning back in his chair to yield the floor to Yonnie.
Yonnie simply nodded and leaned forward at the table on his elbows."Daywalker.Ex-aficionado."
Barbara and Candace were on their feet and drew so fast that all Yonnie could do was smile.
"Glad you ladies got the reflexes," Yonnie said coolly. "If one of 'em comes by day, you're gonna need 'em."
"It'speace," Carlos said, monitoring the bristling new tension in the group.
Navajo had calmly stood and drew what looked like a long pipe out of his baggy pants and tossed it to Alicia, who caught it with one hand. As though she were simply putting together a thousand-piece puzzle, she kept one eye on Yonnie while she began taking sections of a weapon out of her boots until it became clear that she was assembling a custom-made rifle at the table.
"Don't mind me. You were saying?" Alicia's gaze was set hard in her pretty face as she screwed the long barrel on and began loading in shells.
"He's our bird dog to the other side, right through here," Carlos said, his gaze raking the group. "Don't get it twisted. He's on our side, but fresh out of the darkside. I used to be like him once not too long ago."
Shoulders relaxed and gazes widened as expressions begged for clarity.
"A Neteru?"Lissa asked,leaning forward as she slowly lowered her Glock. "We'd heard all sorts of rumors . . . but . . ."
Damali turned her head to the side with a smile. "Light 'em up,baby . . . show this team your work. I had Neteru antitoxin running through my veins, which is the only reason I'm still standing. But you all need to see what a councilman can do."
"Don't be sexist," Yonnie said with a half smile. "Them bitches-I mean, females on council, 'scuze me-ain't no joke, either."
"Yonnieain't never lied," Carlos muttered, staring at Damali's jugular vein until every pulse point he'd bitten in the past flared red and then raised into two angry puncture wounds.
"Dayum," Yonnie said with true admiration in his tone, shaking his head."You da man."
The Detroit and Chicago teams were on their feet.
"Talk to me," Earl said, a Glock cocked first at Yonnie, then Carlos and Damali.
"I'masay this once," Carlos muttered in a deep rumble. "Take that gun outta my wife's face or this is gonna be a real short training session."
Earl snapped the gun up to a safety position, but his gaze remained on Damali's wound sites. "You did that to her . . . or, or something got to her? What da hell . . ."
"Precisely," Carlos said in a flat tone, returning Damali's skin to its former unmarked beauty as he spoke. "What the hell. This is what we're trying to tell you. When I was on the other side, not biting her wasn't an option . . . but I cared about her.That right there you see are love nicks. Rider can tell you all about it, too. But trust me, if I didn't love her, you woulda been staring at cartilage." He smiled and pushed back in his chair as the color drained from the local team's faces. "Any of you all got a deep bond with anything coming up from the pit? If so, then we don't need to tell you nothing. If not, take a seat and go to school."
Nuit slowly strolled up to his key human don, a careful smile on his face as his human helpers angrily surveyed the veritable army that surrounded the drug czar at la casa. Nervous energy kept gazes steely and fingers flexed over automatic weapon triggers. Trust had never existed on either side of the border, but the latest incident made it completely evaporate.
"They seizedtwenty-six tons of my cocaine in Manzanillo?" Nuit said in a lethal murmur, beginning to circle the sweating don. "That would be twenty one thousand, carefully cut, and processed packets that made it safely all the way here from our friends in Colombia to arrive in Mexico in a cargo container." He neared the man and wiped a finger down the side of his ruddy, pockmarked face, and then tasted the oily residue with flourish."How?"
The man bowed and backed away from Nuit. "Senor, I sincerely do not know where the human leak came from, but we will-"
"No," Nuit hissed between his lengthening fangs. "I will tell you where the leak came from." He spat out each word, eyes beginning to glow red with fury as the don's army backed into the muzzles of Nuit's bodyguards' Uzis. Drawing in a deep, nasal hock, he spit in the don's face, his narrowed gaze daring the man to wipe away the offense. "You stupid, superstitious bastard-you were the fucking leak!"
"No, senor!I havenever betrayed the family and have never-"
"It's in your goddamned sweat!" Nuit bellowed, bat wings ripping though the seams of his black Armani suit. "My palate is many things, but wrong . . . never." With an iron grip he held the man by his jaw, watching terror leak from his eyes. "You went into a church for your godson's christening,oui ?"
Nuit tightened his grip when no answer was forthcoming. "Frankincense and myrrh-the bullshit incense of cathedrals pollutes you-then as you said the prayers over that baby, you stupid fuck, you thought of one to say about this shipment . . . hoping that it arrived without incident." He flung the man away from him, leaned back, and roared with frustration. "Weak, sniveling, human flesh, how could you be so stupid in the end of days to take our business in your soul into a house of worship where angels there for the sake of the child could hijack our fucking intent!"
Before the man could gain his footing after stumbling away from Nuit, a black current snatched him back into Nuit's grasp. "The Cosa Nostra was just hit for this same type of idiotic bullshit!" Nuit yelled, making the blood vessels burst in the man's eyes as he raged on. "He typed a Ten Commandments of their rules-aTen Commandments -as though angels wouldn't read something like that over his shoulder and out him," he added, laughing cruelly as the don wept blood. "Putting things on there like, respect your wife, do not take another man's wife, do not take money that isn't yours, do not frequent bars-my partner who runs Europe will suck the goddamned marrow from his bones and feed him to the Harpies for this travesty! The fucking Mafia is now writing down rules of engagement like they're chivalrous Templars . . . oh,monami , we are indeed in the end of days. But you have cost metwenty-six tons ofproduct with a street value that I am currently at a loss to even estimate." He shook his head and released a weary sigh. "What should I do?"
"For all the years I've served you, been loyal . . . mercy,por favor ."
Nuit looked at the man with blas� detachment."Mercy?" He shook his head as the man began bleeding from every orifice. "I do not even know the definition of the word."
Yonnie pounded Carlos's fist, leaning past a few members of the Neteru team to reach him. For the next hour, the Neteru team updated the local squad about the phenomena of daywalkers, the differences in strength between master vampires and those of the Ultimate Darkness, Council-level. Sparing no details, the Neteru team went over the last battle, as well as fully deconstructing what happened with the New York squad.
Carlos looked around at the stunned faces and jumped in as soon as there was a lull in commentary by his teammates.
"Yeah, like I said, your sister, with Phat G and them in Harlem, were fighting some of Vlad's old army plus two Council-level vamps. The only reason the squad made out like they did was because the two council vamps were punks . . . wanted to use Vlad's army as cannon fodder and not get in the mix. But I guarantee you next time, it ain't gonna go like that."
"My sister said the things they fought were different, stronger . . . the numbers of them was crazy," Alicia said, her gaze tense, but in full command.
"She was right," Damali said flatly. "Here's the thing-don't think we're coming up here trying to act like we've never been where you are right now." She glanced around the table. "When our team first started out, we were doing what you all have no doubt been doing . . . battling local, strong, second- and third-generation vamps, the occasional werewolf, beating back the tide. But we lost almost half a squad in Mexico, body count-wise . . . plus the entire Brazilian team."
Alicia crossed herself. "We heard about the losses in Mexico . . . and you know, stories been running rampant in the underground-but you know how that goes.People been in battle with the Neterus, heavy casualties, and the whole nine yards, means that stories get embellished.I'm not hating , just telling you how I know human nature can be."
"I feel you," Damali said, ruffling her locks up off her neck to relieve tension. "But whatever they told you about Cain's crazy ass was true . . . whatever they told you about Fallon Nuit was mild-he's stronger now."
"Fact," Carlos said abruptly, standing and beginning to pace. "So, it's almost like, when we come to town, expect to lose squad. Seeing us on your doorstep ain'tno happy occasion. That shit stresses me, and I don't mind telling you." He waved his arm out to indicate his squad. "Stresses the whole Net squad . . . especially after breaking bread, laughing, chillin' . . . in wartime, people get to be your family real quick, which means leaving them on the asphalt with a stake in their chest ain't easy."
Silence sliced through the room, swirling with the dull hum of the fan blades as all eyes remained fixed on Carlos.
"I wanna develop a new protocol," Carlos said, turning away from the team and looking at Damali. "It just came to my mind . . . might be stupid . . . I don't know. But, I've got a bad feeling that's giving me the creeps."
"Talk to us," Shabazz said, leaning forward with one hand resting on the other fist. "Something giving you the willies is making the hair stand up on the back of my neck."
Carlos nodded and shot a glance around the somber faces in the room. "If it gets too hot, situation critical-I jettison anybody I can to a sanctuary. Period," he said, waving his hands as protests began to erupt.
"Naw, man-we ride or die," Navajo said, standing again.
"Detroit was the murder capital before Philly took it, brother," Alicia said, checking her clip. "We go down as one."
"Let me say this again, with clarity," Carlos said, gaining a subtle nod from Damali. "We got folks on this team, me included, that still can't half sleep at night because of what happened in Cuernavaca.Ain't trying to go that way again."
"Morelos wasn'tno joke," Big Mike said, adding to Carlos's argument. He glanced at Marlene and then Shabazz and briefly closed his eyes. "You ain't seen what they do at the lower levels of Hell . . . y'all lost a few to vamp bites, no disrespect and not minimizing those losses, but when they come like they did out there and you ain't got no fallback position . . ."
"The One Who Remains Nameless walked into a sanctuary-a cathedral-and attacked a seasoned priest who is a freakin' Knight of Templar from the Covenant," Rider said very slowly, his gaze roving. "The bastard was able to get to that old warrior simply because the fallback position Father Patrick hadwas shaky. Mind you, the man himself wasn't shaky, but the particular house of worship he was in when the entity came to him was devoid of the Almighty."
Alicia was on her feet. "Right here is safe, so is Second Ebenezer-you can't miss it, huge white edifice right off the highway and is consecrated to the max, you feel me. So, any of our junior members that gotta get saved, no problem . . . but I'm straight in my spirit.Ready to do what I gotta do. Just like New York had your back, Detroit and Chi-town are ready."
Berkfield nodded and laced his fingers together across his bald head, then looked at Damali and Carlos. "They're warriors. It'd be like telling young Marines or Green Berets to fall back just before the big one. Never happen. They've been waiting all their lives for this. They got battle lust, mission, purpose . . . and they want in on this fight." He shrugged and let his breath out hard and closed his eyes. "I'm old 'Nam . . . like my man, Big Mike. Can't tell the new jacks-they have to get in the hole, smell the rounds going off, feel the mortars and claymores blowing up, feel that shell shock compression hit-taste dirt, then get that first splash of a buddy's blood across their faces . . . then they've gotta puke up their guts and live with the bullshit in their minds for eternity. Only then will they know what you tried to save them from." He opened his eyes and simply stared at Carlos. "You warned them, your heart was in the right place, but it's their decision to ride or die."
Again, tense silence had snuck into the room like a thief to steal voices. Verbal protest was absent, but the defiant stares said everything; this team would not be moved.
"Psalm Sixty-five," Alicia said in a philosophical tone, "or Ninety-one, then strap up and the rest is up to God."
"What you gonna do with that?" Marlenesaid, her tone weary as she stood slowly. "Sixty-five it is, then?"
A slight vibration disturbed water glasses and drinks at the table before anyone could draw a breath. Instantly every tactical Guardian on the combined teams turned to the seers, their shout singular: "Incoming!"
Combined effort sent a blue-white charge around the building as chairs toppled and African statues began to fall. Seers locked in to a singular vision and then they began shouting coordinates in rapid-fire succession.
"We've gotta clear the building!" Marlene yelled, dashing toward the stairs.
Owa was right on her heels. "Gas main under it won't hold much longer-but they want us out."
"Then let's give 'em what they want!" Alicia shouted, as Guardians scrambled for weapons.
"Take it to the street!" Barbara yelled with Earl.
"Shields up!"Carlos shouted,throwing a disc in front of the local team that was exiting the building the traditional way, while he and Damali halved the Neteru squad in a simultaneous fold-away transport to the street.
Cars bounced, civilians ran screaming,car alarms sounded, traffic lights and utility poles violently swayed. Moving away from the Shrine to protect it as a fallback position, the teams fanned out, taking cover, their eyes keened on the huge boulevard that suddenly began to buckle.
"Point of entry!"Damali yelled, leveling her Madame Isis blade toward the first crack in the asphalt to release a blue-white nova charge. But the second it hit the blacktop, everything around them went still.
Carlos turned around in circles with the rest of the seers, confused as their second-sight lost track of the huge mental shadow. Damali shot the ground with white light in several more places, testing in the eerie stillness as pedestrians tried to stand and then fled, hollering that an earthquake had hit Detroit. Then, as though a train was coming right at the team from underground, asphalt buckled, slamming slabs one into another in split-second intervals. For a moment, the stunned teams couldn't move as they watched Livernois Avenue turn into what seemed like giant dominoes slamming into each other, eating up time and space between them, and then it belched open, sending flames and sulfuric embers everywhere.
What came out of the hole was instant death. Stumbling Guardians at the ready began firing. Brother Muata lifted his Glock, but was impaled before the shot rang out. The pike that tore through him whirled in a bloody, burning spiral, his youthful face frozen in torment as the pike stabbed into the bricks of a nearby building, carrying his body with it. Massive midnight stallions heaved from the open street mounted by skeletal demon warriors that raised pikes, all following the lead black horse that could have dwarfed a small dragon. Then its black-armored rider appeared from a black mist, sitting high on the creature held firm between his thickly muscled legs.
Snorting hellfire and brimstone with his mount, the cavalry's lead rider brandished a steel pike like a sword, pulling back on the reins as his horse reared wildly and released a war screech. He glanced around with a searing black gaze and snarled before bellowing out to the Guardian squads.
"Neterus!" the black-armored rider shouted. "Meet your fate at the hands of the Impaler!"
"Oh, shit," Yonnie whispered in the alley crouched beside Big Mike. "Liz raised Drac, man! I told you this wasn'tno bullshit." He caught Carlos's attention in the adjacent alley and received a nod as Big Mike took aim with a shoulder launcher.
"Fuck you!" Yonnie shouted, making a mad dash along the side of a building to create a diversion.
Vlad's entire army jerked their attention to the alley just as Mike's shell released. A hail of pikes followed Yonnie and missed as he dove behind an overturned vehicle. But as Mike's shell rocketed toward the demon battalions, Vlad's horse opened its mouth, breathing fire, and detonated the hallowed earth explosive before it made it halfway across the street-sending Mike, Inez, and Rider diving for cover. A black charge to the buildings that shielded them was Vlad's answer as his steed then pawed the broken sidewalk. Patient, Vlad waited, holding up his metal-gloved fist for his army not to advance, watching the building rubble cascade down on the trapped Guardians, and the instant a shield covered them, he reversed his charge-sending Carlos sprawling.
Pandemonium broke out in the streets. Barbara and Earl commandeered an abandoned city bus, and using Earl's tactical charge, they white lighted the skin of it and then put the pedal to the floor. Alicia was riding on top of the sidewalk-careening vehicle, her rifle picking off demons that tried to send pikes through the windows.
"They're going kamikaze!" Damali shouted, entering the street behind the bus that was playing chicken with Vlad's war-horses."Suicide explosion! No! Get those people outta there!"
"You get outta the street, D!" Carlos shouted, jumping up and missing a pike by seconds. "Take cover!"
But the bus kept going. It had reached eighty miles an hour, and sheer momentum, along with tactical charge assistance from Earl, pushed the speedometer higher.
Every so often a pike would break out a bus window, sending glass flying like shrapnel. Navajo was right behind it in a souped-up Olds convertible, white lighted, driving insane with Candace standing and firing silver automatic rounds, blasting demon guts and sending embers into the air. But a flaming pike hit the hood of the Olds, impaled the engine, and flipped the vehicle end over end. While Carlos covered Damali, Shabazz's quick tactical snatch pulled both younger Guardians to safety before the hurling car could crush them and explode in the gas station twenty yards away.
Lissa's sure shot got a pike-wielding demon before it launched a flaming brimstone missile at Shabazz. Splattered with burning slime, they both scrambled to a new alleyway for protection, while the teams covered them. Owa, Sylvia, and Mary kept the pressure on from the south end of the boulevard, while Neteru team Guardians repositioned. But Damali and Carlos were wide open, heading down the street trying to stop the bus.
One mind-J.L., Dan, and Bobby reached out simultaneously and pulled Barbara, Earl, and Alicia to them just as the bus bomb slammed into the front line of Vlad's cavalry and detonated like a deadly roadside explosive. Demon body parts littered the ground and fell like flaming fuselage. Earl, Barbara, and Alicia hit the ground with a thud, rolling to safety behind parked cars and avoiding pikes, but within seconds were back up firing.
Craig and Gus had given up their sniper posts to run into the street daredevil-style, cranking the engines on twin detailed red and canary-yellow Mustangs, hollering to Damali and Carlos as they doubled back to avoid Vlad's heat-seeking pikes.
"Get in!" Craig shouted as the red Mustang passed Carlos. The moment it did, Craig bailed, leaving the vehicle unmanned, to drop down on the street, then turned to hit three demons in hot pursuit of him with pump shotgun shells, blowing off their heads.
Carlos was over the side of the convertible Mustang's door in a one-handed leap, falling into the seat, and then he spun out to go back for Damali.
Gus was already in motion, heading directly toward her with the yellow car eating up pavement, one hand firing a Glock, the other steering as he crossed Damali's body plane. But what happened next was a slow-motion horror. Vlad's pike whizzed by Damali's head by millimeters, caught Gus in the center of his forehead, splattering her face and shirt with Gus's brains and blood. Gus never made it out of the car. The split second of hesitation that Damali took in not simply shoving Gus's dead body aside cost her precious moments.
The yellow Mustang listed with the driver's body weight, spinning the wheel at a perilous angle. The car instantly banged her hard, slamming into her pelvis, knocking her back, sending her flying toward raised demon pikes. Every tactical on the squad sent a charge in to get her out of the road and to keep the car from running her over, as Carlos stood, driving while standing, reaching out to also move her.
It all happened so fast. Flying shells from well-meaning team members were already discharged and airborne in the demonic army's direction . . . the same direction Damali's semiconscious body was hurtling.
Bullets spiraled past her in slow motion as Carlos's hands emitted a blinding white-light carpet to burn away anything that could harm her. Shells incinerated with the flash. A third of the army melted with a screech. Vlad raised his forearm to cover his face. Bobby and Krissy sent a razor-wire of electric current like a bullwhip from utility poles and downed lines to back off a secondary wave of demon onslaught, while their parents and the rest of the Guardian team prepared for hand-to-hand combat.
Fully fanged, Yonnie and Tara had jumped out front with J.L., who had grabbed two demon pikes as he flipped into a martial arts stance. Covered by the team's sharpshooter, Rider, along with Juanita, Heather, and Jasmine, Shabazz shifted into instant jaguar, cutting a line between Vlad's army and Damali's free-falling body with a menacing roar. Candace brandished two bowie knives at Inez's flank as she unsheathed switchblades in each hand. Marlene was already running forward, magic walking stick glowing white-hot like a pike. Val was down on one knee, sending whirring silver arrows to pick off demons one by one, her targets frying on impact as Heather and Jasmine dropped to the concrete with the other Neteru seers and supercharged the ground around the squads Stonehenge-style.
For Carlos, five seconds might as well have been five minutes, it all seemed so fast, so short, so insane, so slow as his wife's body fell while he forced his car beyond the limits of its capacity by sheer will-his arms out, trying to catch Damali before another intelligent missile sought her. The moment her body thudded against his, allbreath left his lungs with a hard, guttural sound. Encased in a golden shield of Heru, he secured her in the seat with the vehicle still careening forward on a collision course with a huge, spiraling pike sent from Vlad.
The entity sneered. Insanity fractured Carlos's skull. A Neteru war cry left his lungs and the next thing he knew he was on the hood of the car, traveling a hundred and twenty miles per hour, Damali unconscious . . . they had hurt his wife! A moment of hesitation filled Vlad's pitch-black eyes and just as quickly burned away. Battle bulked and too crazy to think, fangs fully extended, Carlos's arms opened wide and he slapped the center of his chest to invite the pike-which suddenly melted to black amalgam beneath his silver glare.
A black steel blade filled Vlad's hand as he roared and his horse reared. Every demon sentry behind him followed with a war cry, and began charging. A golden shield covered the car, the teams kept the pressure on, decimating Vlad's army-but the demons kept replenishing themselves from the crevices in the broken asphalt. Then all of a sudden, Vlad turned his attention away from Carlos and looked at the battling Guardian squads. Shadows suddenly filled the air and dove down into human bodies in an aerial attack. Guardians screamed out in agony.
Carlos could feel it all, see it all inside his head. He turned in slow motion to look to his flanks, between buildings, at the cars he passed in a blur, then he glimpsed behind him at Guardians writhing on the ground. Seconds ticked away. Tactical Guardians had been hit with the sensation of Hellfire burning them-using their gift in an evil twist against them. Seers were going blind from horrific Hell scenes so powerful that they actually caused physical pain. Audio sensors were suddenly deafened by screeches at earsplitting decibels that made them puke up their guts on the street, incapacitating them and rendering them vulnerable. Anyone with a human body simply shrieked at the knifelike agony that riddled their skins.
The first image that came to Carlos's mind was the giant, white highway edifice Alicia had spoken of. There was no democracy. He jettisoned the local team there within seconds, praying that the hallowed ground would reverse their pain . . . Marlene glanced up-the agony in her mind so severe that he could barely see her face. Something in the shadows had her by the leg. Shabazz tried to get to her, roaring, naked, feral, in a twisted mid-shape-shift to save her.
"Raven's father!"Shabazz hollered through his distended jaw, as Yonnie struggled with his own pain to lend assistance.
"Follow Uriel," Damali's pearl shrieked from her necklace. "God is my light to the east!Seven miles away!"
"It's 33 East Forest," Shabazz cried out, writhing and then collapsing. "Only church with Uriel and headed east from here!"
Searing heat filled Carlos as the car slowed and he felt the life pulses of the entire Neteru team enter his palms at once. The image lit his mind like it had been stabbed with a poker. His mind became united with his destination: A one-hundred-and-twenty-foot, freestanding bell tower flash-blinded his brain for a second, then another image of an eight-foot, two-hundred-pound copper statue of the Archangel Uriel pierced his third eye. The door to the Cathedral of Pisa in Italy fused with the campanile of this church. Europe's Venice wonders became one with his fold-away destination. Rose windows swirled into carved wood, huge domes, and ceiling portraits. Organ music made his head pound. The great halls of England stared back at him as he tumbled forward with the team, Damali in his arms, to land in the sanctuary of First Congregational Church of Detroit.
Marlene was the first to recover, sputtering out her words as she held her locks in her fists, tears streaming down her face. "How could that have been Jerome? I killed him myself when he turned and went after our daughter to give her to Nuit!"
"Baby . . . he went dark," Shabazz said. "You have to accept-"
"No! I prayed over him. His soul was supposed to go into the Light. He was a Guardian!" A sob caught in Marlene's throat and broke free.
Shabazz pulled her near as Guardians slowly recovered. "Then, maybe it was just an illusion-"
"Wasn't illusion," Yonnie snapped, walking over to Carlos and peering at Damali. "He was a Guardian in name, but hated the fact that Marlene was more gifted . . . that she would have been the team's leader, the mother-seer until it was time. He wanted the role of head honcho, couldn't deal with the way things were playing out, even though it wasn't Mar's fault or intent. Jealousy got him. Pride, too. He was done before she iced him."
"How do you know?" Juanita snapped. "Mardon't need ta hear a buncha speculation right now."
"Iknow because it registers real big at dark throne level when Guardians go dark-that's why they wanted my man here, Carlos, so bad." Yonnie folded his arms. "You need to chill, sis, and check the attitude. We're all on the same squad, remember? But Marlene's man wasn't as gifted as she was, so he couldn't deal with hers, that's how he got jacked . . . didn't like being a father so soon, wasn't down with the service-to-mankind deal he got-wanted some cash, some flash . . . and one night while his dumb ass was crying in his beer, he got that. So don't tell me I don't know what happened-ain't that right, Marlene?"
Marlene nodded and wiped her face. "Don't curse in the House of God after all we've been through," she added, looking at Yonnie. "Especially all you've been through."
"It's cool, baby . . . just chill," Jose said quietly to Juanita as she snatched away from him.
"It'snot cool, and don't tell me to chill!" Juanita shouted. "I know how he felt, then. Who wants to go through what we just went through, trying to raise a family . . . what's gonna happen months from now, Jose-tell me that?" Tears leaked from Juanita's eyes as glances of new awareness passed around the team.
But the argument sounded so far away to Carlos as he stared at his battered wife. Fury mixed with fear mixed with adrenaline mixed with outrage to create a crazy cocktail in his system as he slowly laid Damali on a pew.
"I don't care about whatever," Carlos muttered quietly, staring at Damali. "Just wake up is all I'm asking."
She was breathing; he could feel her breaths rise andfall, could see it. She wasn't bleeding, he would have known immediately, if she was. Her eyelids fluttered as he wiped off her gook-splattered face, trying to remove some of the carnage. He could also feel the ground beyond the sanctuary trembling. The dark shadows couldn't breach the fortress, but they could blow a subterranean gas main and essentially nuke the joint.
Carlos looked up with the team, watching brass chandeliers sway in the arched ceiling and altarpieces begin to slightly vibrate. Berkfield and Marlene moved in with Marjorie, prepared to begin the healing, regardless.
"Everybody pull themselves together and somebody call the Queens for my wife. Heal her." Carlos looked around, seething. "I'll be back."