The Forbidden (Vampire Huntress Legend #5)

The Forbidden (Vampire Huntress Legend #5) Page 20

Jose pushed past Shabazz and Berkfield's verbal barriers, ignoring Father Patrick's silent commentary. "You can't just let 'em rumble out there to settle whatever beef and get all beat up before we-"

"It's between man and wife," Marlene said calmly, echoing Berkfield's words and supporting what Shabazz had said. She raised an eyebrow. Her quiet message was very clear; squash the nonsense going on in the camp. "Let 'em work it out and clear the air, once and for all. Who's gonna lead the teams if our generals don't?"

But there was something in Marlene's firm tone that made Damali glance at her, that bit of gentleness in her voice. True, they had to resolve their conflict, but... It annoyed Damali that a slight, nearly hidden smile tugged at Marlene's mouth, and that Marjorie and Marlene exchanged a mysterious glance between them. The older brothers stepped forward and stood between the younger Guardians and the two would be combatants.

Damali bristled. Did the older sisters think it was a joke? That she couldn't hold her own? Did the brothers really feel the need to protect her, yet again? After all she'd been through and proven, and theystill didn't think she could get the job done? Aw, hell no. Now it was a matter of personal dignity!

"Let's do this," Damali said, and stormed out of the building. She needed to kick Carlos's ass in the worst way. She rounded the building, spun around and pointed her finger in his face Carlos's.

"Let me tell you one damned thing!" she shouted, two inches from his face. "Don't you ever-"

He slapped her hand away and stepped closer. "Don't you put your hand in my face, woman-ever!" he shouted back, now nose-to-nose with her.

Damali cocked her fist back and let it fly.

Carlos caught the punch in the flat of his palm, covered her hand with his fist, and shoved her arm down hard. Then he grabbed her by her arms, hauled her in close, and slammed his mouth over hers in a punishing kiss. When he released her his eyes were blazing silver. "Stop this shit, right now."

"Fuck you-"

"Yeah, and fuck you, too!" he said, kissing her again hard and pushing her against the side of the building.

"You embarrassed me in front of my team," she snapped. "I ain't having it."

"Likewise," he said loudly, breathing hard.

She shoved him back from her. "I don't know who the hell you think you are," she said, tears of rage, nearly blinding her, "but so help me, I'll kick your ass if you keep messing with me. You've been taking me through changes since the day we met! I'm tired of this shit!"

"Well, I'm tired, too, D!" he said, his face close to hers. "You think you can kick my ass? Then do it! I am burnt-the-fuck-out. I'm exhausted, bone weary, and sick of all the drama. And the last thing I'm gonna do is let any woman punk me down in front of a full team of damned Guardians-"

She kissed him hard. He was so angry that he almost couldn't breathe. But he responded by returning the kiss just as violently. When the kiss broke, she slapped his face. He grabbed her jaw hard, the skin whitening beneath his fingertips, and kissed her again. She grabbed his crotch and squeezed hard. They both glared at each other, panting their fury and desire, challenging the other to give in first.

He eased his hold on her jaw. She eased her grip on his crotch. She leaned up and filled his mouth with hers, their tongues dueling in a hot, angry tangle. She moved her hand and gripped the small of his back, gathering up his T-shirt so she could feel his skin. Somehow his hand left her jaw and found the back of her head to hold her hair tightly. His other hand slid to her ass, gripping it.

She was supposed to be pushing him away, so she could kick his ass, but her body wouldn't obey. How her hands had found his zipper was beyond her comprehension. Or why she was holding his hot length in her hands.

She couldn't answer those questions, no more than she could figure out how in the hell her jeans were down around her boots, or why she was outside, behind a building, sweating in the dead of winter, holding onto his shoulders, face buried against his neck as she panted and moaned.

When he bit her and thrust almost violently into her, she gasped and rose to meet him frantically. She bit his shoulder. Carlos moaned like he'd been stabbed.

He was supposed to slap the bullshit out of her for all her offenses, for hitting him first, for trying to sucker punch him, for wounding his pride, for making him worry about her to no end, for not appreciating a goddamned thing he'd ever done. He wasn't supposed to tremble. She wasn't supposed to shudder. She wasn't supposed to fit him like a molten glove. He wasn't supposed to feel her breath hitch when he entered her, not at all.

She leaned her head back and looked at him through narrowed eyes. He stared at her, not blinking, jaw locked tight, moving against her, each hard thrust speaking volumes, cussing her out without words, their gazes locked.

He refused to let her use sex as a weapon. No, he wasn't closing his damned eyes, wasn't feeling how good she felt or remembering shit.

No, she wasn't about to go all soft and croon sweet nothings in his damned ear.

"If you ever..." she said through her teeth, meeting his thrusts with fury.

"Don't you ever..." he said, his voice hoarse and gravelly as he pumped against her.

Neither would look away. The storm between them gathered. Sweat formed on his brow and began to trickle down his temple.

"I will kick your ass, baby" he murmured.

"And I will slap the taste out of your mouth," she said on a gasp, and turned her face away as her eyes slid closed.

She traced over the tight halves of his ass beneath his jeans and pulled him in closer. He braced one hand against the wall, clung to her waist with the other, his forehead touching hers. She closed her eyes tighter when he shuddered. Intense pleasure flowed over them, blinding them to everything except each other's bodies.

They held each other for a few minutes, breathing hard, recovering, and then slowly pulled away. Carlos straightened his T-shirt and zipped up his pants, not meeting her eyes. Damali yanked up her jeans and fastened them, and smoothed down her shirt.

"Don't say shit to me," she muttered as she shoved her shirt back into her jeans.

"Not a fucking word to me, either," he said, adjusting the fit of his jeans. "Not a word."

"Fine," she said in a testy voice, still breathing hard.

"Fine," he said, glaring at her as he took in deep inhales through his nose.

"Kicked your ass good, though," she said, flipping her locks over her shoulders.

"Yeah, likewise," he muttered, and walked back toward the building.

Carlos watched Damali move the team along the rear grounds of the Philadelphia Museum of Art as though taking their squad on an archeological dig. He hated to admit it, but she'd been right. There was only one sure way to track prey: pick up its trail at the beginning and study its habits. He didn't even want to think about the torrid, angry sex that had gone down. It was too insane, but had definitely chilled them both out.

But the thing that kept nagging him as their team combed the Schuylkill River's edge was, what if this was simply the location of a battle yet to come, not where the thing that was hunting them had been. Though that was very plausible, it was also more than disturbing, especially since they'd been everywhere, pretending to be tourists.

Arriving in an innocuous-looking minivan, clerics had climbed out, seeming to be in a small, eclectic religious group. The young bucks had jumped on motorcycles, and played it off like they were in a group apart from the touring clergymen. J.L. Dan, and Jose had all chosen a bike. Juanita rode with Jose, much to the padre's dismay.

Carlos walked farther down the water's edge, pitching pebbles, and staying as far away from Juanita as possible. Later they'd talk. He owed her that much and more. Juanita had been there for his mother and grandmother, and with them both at the bitter end. Damali would just have to understand theirs was also a friendship with some history, half of which they couldn't go back to-but it was not forgotten, simply something that he and Juanita knew better than to discuss.

Shabazz and Marlene strolled along the East River Drive like a graying couple that didn't know another soul... Rider was still stricken, but had blended in with the Berkfields in a Jeep. Big Mike sat on a bench whittling a stick into a stake next to Inez, smiling quietly to himself and seeming like an exhausted jogger-more like a football player-who had just finished a weekend workout. Their white Escalade sat parked.

He and Damali had come to meet them discreetly in a Hummer fully loaded with weaponry like each vehicle had-tags untraceable.

Despite all the equipment, something in his gut just didn't sit right. He and Damali had barely said two words to each other since he'd stormed out of the building, and she'd left it walking hotly behind him, breathing hard with rage. It was all about logistics, professionalism, though. There was no room for personal drama. Period. Everyone was on their mark and on-point. Yet no matter how many of her old stops they scoured, they all came up blank.

Carlos fingered the small knife in his pocket as thoughts tumbled in his brain. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Damali walking slowly and scratching her head. Frustration made her bite her lip. Even ornery, she was beautiful. The late-afternoon sun always did something to her skin. But she owed him an apology. The museums turned up nothing. Nary a statue moved or blinked. Not one single flag lit up on the parkway, and nothing mysterious happened in the Masonic Lodge on One Broad Street, even though all these things had happened to her when the sun was out.

Carlos studied the traffic and the tension in the team. The newbies were anxious and picked their way along the back ruins of the museum like frightened deer. Each one of them would take a step or two, then stop, look up, almost visibly sniff the air, and then go back to sensing for danger in the landscape. Older Guardians seemed so weary that he wondered if their sensory capacity wasn't too fried to even register. His was almost there, so it wasn't a slam on their age. Fatigue would do that.

A very fragile part of him wished that she would just look up and squash what had flared up between them.

They glanced up at the same time.

"Look," she said, casting away a stick and walking back toward him. "You were right, okay?"

"That's cool," he said, shrugging and keeping his voice neutral. His pride still stung, but just seeing her come to him with half a bit of contrition helped a lot. "We had to check it out. Made sense."

"Yeah, but we're drawing blanks." She looked out over the water. "I'm sorry I went there like that in front of the team."

He didn't respond, just watched the rose-orange sun fire her cheek his favorite color-sun-kissed caramel.

"You were right about hesitating in battle... the thing in the subway tunnel. A split second could cost a life."

"Yeah, but I didn't have to say it that way," she said quietly, looking out at the water.

"Everybody's nerves are on edge."

She nodded. "You think your boy, Yonnie, is gonna come back to our side?"

"I don't know, truth be told. If I were in his shoes, and you needed to feed to live... and were dying in my arms-hey, I might have taken a body on the spot. Can't blame the man. I saw him struggling with the decision, he saw me struggling with mine. Rider did, too."

"I know," Damali said. "Half of him wanted Yonnie to take her and save her. Half of him wanted her to burn to ash in the sun, rather than to be with another man. And a crazy bit of hope made him want to go find her in whatever condition she was in, even live in her world, not being able to live in this one alone. God knows I know what that feels like."

"It was futile. He would have turned as a third and went up against a battle-bulked master over a woman he'd marked at the throat. It would have ended badly, plus Rider's soul would have been damned for it all."

"I know," Damali murmured, and touched Carlos's arm. "How do you let something that deep go, once the season for it has passed? I can almost feel her heart breaking, even though she's safe. It was the look in her eyes as we closed the drape, baby. She looked right at him and then shut her eyes... like she knew he was turning and with us, we'd have to do him."

"In my old world, that was respect. The closest thing down there that comes to love. To be done by your own, not a competitor-quick, clean, without being maimed and left half alive for the sun to finish you after a fight you'd lost. She knows our way, too, that if he dropped fang, we'd have to take his head... and we'd do it out of love, then commend his soul to a place she couldn't. The Light. That's why she let us take him with the clerics and didn't fight with Yonnie in front of us about it. If she's going with him, then she had to make a snap decision, and tried to save both their prides."

What happened outside the warehouse remained off-limits for discussion. Instead, they both danced around it, talking about love and wounded pride in the third person with soft voice-both understanding.

Carlos sighed and looked up to the sky. His distant vampire-blood cousin wore a clerical collar and had a tough decision to make, too. "Choices. Yonnie is choosing to survive in the fucked-up circumstances he's in. If he can pull off a coup, he's the last master standing. Brother won, in many respects." Carlos saluted the sky. "Wise move. If I were backed into his same corner-"

"You wouldn't do that," Damali said, holding his arm. "That was the difference between you and him. You had-"

"A different set of circumstances," Carlos said firmly, allowing his hands to trail down her arms. "Don't ever forget for a moment what I was. I've always told you that. Love can make anybody blind, know that, too. If I were backed into his corner, I'd be thinking that Gabrielle and her girls would make excellent inner-lair protectors. If he can stop his turn blocks, brother has an empire at his feet."

"But what about redemption?" Damali stared at him wide-eyed.

"The last thing on my mind when I was on the run and with you." He kissed her forehead. "My boy just wants a little bit of happiness after living in Hell for years. Tara is his piece of sky. Been there."

The clerical group casually passed by them. The rabbi tipped his hat and kept his voice low.

"We have gone everywhere, and zilch. It is late and we should go back to our base."

"Good afternoon to you too, sir," Carlos said and put his arm around Damali's waist. He glanced at the sky again as they discreetly quickened their pace. The East Coast sun dropped at about four p.m. in the fall. He missed L.A. so much he could cry. Time robbed daylight here. In his old lands, it shone over the ocean and warmed the earth year-round.

The relief ofThe Gates of Hell on the Rodin Museum's wall suddenly tugged at him from blocks away, but he kept walking and nodded to Inez with a smile. He could almost feel the cement breathing; the figures beneath the surface coming alive and making the stone wall turn to rubber against fiendish little claws. Big Mike simply looked up. The Berkfields turned on their motor. Dan shot Jose a look and gunned his engine. J.L. did the same. Berkfield pulled off, he and Marjorie glanced at the van as the clerics got in and slammed the door. Rider never looked up, just sat like a defeated soldier who didn't care if he lived or died.

Carlos opened the Hummer door for Damali. A sophisticated older couple walked by their vehicle. The attractive woman smiled knowingly and tossed her immaculate silver-gray bob over her shoulder as her dark eyes assessed him. Her husband didn't notice, but Carlos did. Damali stared after her, and slowly got into the SUV.

Carlos shook off the sensation of being visually undressed as he gunned the motor. He'd experienced that before, but this time it sent a chill through him. He pulled out of the space and entered the traffic pattern of the wide bending road. He couldn't get her eyes out of his mind. It was an electrifying, horrifying, erection-producing stare from a woman who had to be in her early sixties, her yuppie husband oblivious-but not.

"I know," Damali said.

"Something wasn't right."

"Witch?"

"Possibly."

"What time were you born?"

He glanced at her and sent his focus back to the traffic, spotting the other team members to be sure the group stayed together. "Six P.M. Why?"

"It's almost four."

"We'll be back before full dark. She can't be vamp."

"Lilith isn't all vamp." Damali stared at him. "You said it yourself, level seven ain't no joke. They don't have daylight restrictions, right?" She reached into her jeans pocket and extracted the vial ofOblivion she'd scored from the chairman. They both stared at the bait.

He didn't want to think about it. "Yeah."

"None of us know their range of strengths yet."

"I know," he muttered, his gaze drifting to the Rodin Museum as they sped along the parkway toward the expressway.

Damali swept her nose along the edge of Carlos's leather coat and up his neck. He watched her eyes slide shut for a moment. A tremor ran through her.

"You all right?"

She swallowed hard and tucked away the vial. "Not really. Dayum."

"What?" His focus fractured between her and the traffic. "Oblivionmessing with you?" he asked, beginning to panic.

She wiped her face with her hands and opened the window, letting in a blast of frigid air. "No. It's not coming from the vial. You smell so good I'm ready to jump your bones in this car. That makes no sense-not given what we're dealing with and..."

She stopped talking, pressed the automatic window button, and sat back, calmly closing the window. "Black Jag sedan, three o'clock, the same couple we passed."

"Get the fuck out of here," Carlos said, peeping past Damali as casually as he could. "Oh, shit."

"Oh, shit. Right." Damali lowered her visor and acted like she was fluffing her hair. "No reflection," she said with a sigh and snapped the visor shut. She reached in the glove compartment and withdrew a Glock, holding it down between her legs as she dialed Marlene on her cell.

"Cut the transmission," Carlos said quietly. "If she's with who I think she is, he's Prince of the Airwaves."

Damali nodded and clicked the phone shut. "That's not who it is," she said quietly. "Her husband doesn't know. But you're right about the cell phone. My bad. New plan?"

"Look at the team, baby. Be honest. You think they're ready?"

She shook her head slowly no as every light went red before them.

"We're the bait. Save the team."

He nodded. "This will make the news and toast your career."

"If this goes down fucked up, that's the least that can happen-ash is real likely."

"Old school, like I showed you," he said calmly, waiting on the inordinately slow light. Carlos glanced at oncoming traffic and his team's positions ahead of them.

The light finally changed, the car in front of them moved up. He stepped on the gas as Damali lowered her window, leaned out, and fired two warning shots to shatter the black Jag's window.

Traffic behind them screeched to a halt as the Hummer went over the median and Carlos whipped the vehicle into oncoming traffic. The Jaguar immediately spun and pursued them at a reckless speed. Trees whizzed by, buildings blurred, and that's when Damali saw it in slow motion.

The walls of the Rodin Museum stretched like a thousand hands were pushing at rubber. Small fissures erupted. She could see it happening in her mind as their Hummer fled along the drive they'd just abandoned, making cars swerve out of their path, the river reflecting the gold setting sun, high rock formations rising along the edge. Boathouses became swift chess pieces, there one moment, gone the next. A vehicle with now-blackened windows spit sparks as the under chassis hit asphalt when they rounded the bend. They didn't know this city. A bridge was strangled with traffic. They had to slow down or bail out.

"We're losing sun!" Carlos shouted. "We can't bail!"

Their minds locked, their movements connected as though they were one. She looked into the rearview mirror. "Oh, no..."

The motorcycles had doubled back and were following them. Shabazz had turned the Jeep around. Police sirens were sounding, lights flashing; traffic was snarled. They hit a curb, which made them skid into the side of a building. Damali and Carlos jumped out and began running.

The motorcycles picked them up and took off deep into the park. She clung to J.L. with one hand while firing at the Jaguar with the other. Carlos held on to Dan and leaned into a turn, then pulled the pin on a grenade and lobbed it at the black car.

The explosion simply dented the Jaguar's windshield. Blue-black flames roared over the hood and melted away. The bikes skidded to a slide, gunned in the pivot, and went back the way they'd come, passing cops, dodging stunned drivers, and leaving the Jaguar in the dust.

The van was in sight along with Shahazz's Jeep but headed in the wrong direction. Police helicopters were up, cruising at low altitude, commanding them to stop. But the two choppers pulled up as hundreds of grayish-green entities fought and scrambled along the ground, pouring over the sidewalk from the museum relief. Stony gargoyles bore fangs, and looked up. They angled their gray little bodies at a readied pitch toward the air, spread leathery wings, and took off.

A male voice pierced Damali's mind. "Take her to a clearing." It wasn't Carlos's. The man riding with the woman had familiar eyes.

"Yes, a shield to setting sun, for your locations." Then the message was gone.

Big Mike stood up in the Jeep and leveled a shoulder cannon at the beasts. The rocket missed the chopper by a fraction and splattered some harpies, but that only made the police open fire on their vehicle with an assault rifle.

Within seconds, a black tornado funneled up toward the choppers. Above them, a black triangular formation yawned open in the now-darkening sky. Tiny scavenger bodies shredded themselves in the chopper blades. Carlos and Damali cringed, feeling the blast before it happened.

Helicopter parts flew into buildings. Shrapnel rained on people who ran and took cover. Flames began to climb up the side of an apartment building. The team went over the bridge by the art museum, a black tornado on their tails, rescue units and fire trucks adding to the chaos. New choppers were in the air. News cameras were on the ground and airborne, bearing insignias on the sides of helicopters, adding mayhem that caused near collisions in the streets and skies. SWAT unit vans screeched to the scene. A oneway street cleared as Damali and Carlos zigzagged down it. Murals peeled off buildings and came alive, fighting with phantoms that moved like lightning-fast ether.

She and Carlos hit a wide boulevard, clinging to the backs of the bike drivers. Market Street. Her eyes had tears in them from the whipping winds. Two stone eagles were mounted on either side of a bridge. "Help us," she shouted to the stone, not knowing why. Instinct had led her. The eagles took flight and collided in the air with harpies, protecting their backs. One flew down off the U.S. Post Office marquis. Two huge whales in mural relief leapt off the side of a riverside building, gulping harpies and then sending a tidal wave against the train track-ridden shore.

Their bikes skidded into a turn and went down the pavement, trapped by traffic on one side, the expressway on the other. They looked behind them in horror as the huge superstructure-Pennsylvania Station at Thirtieth Street-filled with darkness.

"She's gonna blow!" Carlos yelled, as the windows groaned, cracked, and shattered, releasing thousands of harpies in a black rain over the city.

Swerving away from pedestrians and trying not to run over students, they burned rubber through Drexel University's campus. A huge brass dragon leapt down from its pedestal, and until it began gulping harpies, they didn't know if it was friend or foe.

"Bring the art alive!" Carlos yelled over the battle din and motors. "Damali, it's you-this is part of your gifts!"

She nodded and her eyes scanned the blurred terrain for anything useful, blocking the aerial attack of the drivers with all things natural-stone, brick, broken tree limbs-as they hurtled down the streets. But she also kept firing her weapon, one arm reaching back and up.

The motorcycles fled under a train trestle, and passed three large cathedrals.

"Head for hallowed ground," she yelled, holding on tight as her Glock ran out of ammo and clicked dead.

"I can't," J.L. shouted. "They're too close!" He leaned the bike into another radical turn, and left the van and the Jeep, taking the bikes over a high-arched bridge through what seemed to be a college campus. As soon as the bikes hit the apex of the University of Pennsylvania footbridge, they went airborne, and landed with a skidding thud. People fell, screamed, and rolled out of the way. Dirt and debris and leaves churned under wheels and they doubled back, bounced off the curb, and reentered the street.

Father Patrick leaned out of the window of the van. "Take this to open ground, child! People are dying!"

Damali and Carlos watched in horror as a massive winged gargoyle dropped to the white van. She and Carlos both saw it happen in slow motion. Father Patrick turned and screamed no. He threw his body toward Father Lopez, trying to shield the young cleric, who froze for a second, as a razor tail speared the top. The huge winged beast opened the vehicle like it were a tin can, and stabbed its tail in, bringing Father Lopez out with it.

Blood bubbled from his mouth. Carlos slumped against Dan, clutching his chest as the beast screamed and slashed the body back and forth, pitching it in the nearby bushes. Instantly he and Damali both knew that what Carlos had experienced earlier wasn't post-battle shock. It was a premonition.

Rabbi Zeitloff fired a pump shotgun. The priests were backed away by a heavy swarm of incoming harpies and couldn't retrieve their fallen man. Pure darkness fell. The lights down the main streets went black as the cloud passed them.

"Ditch me, kid," Carlos said to Dan, blood oozing from his mouth. "They want me."

"No!" Dan shouted, making another hard pivot.

Carlos dropped from the bike and rolled onto the church steps.

"Take me back!" Damali screamed to J.L. "We don't leave our own."

She turned her head as she saw Imam Asula raise a blade in the bushes. Gargoyles jumped off the sides of buildings. Gray swirling masses of fiendish demons grappled with the clerics. J.L. stopped the bike on the steps of the cathedral on Thirty-eighth Street. The Berkfields drove their Jeep up the other side, missing Carlos and ramming the door. Guardians helped Damali drag Carlos up the steps. It went quiet for a moment, save the trickling water of the ground font. Damali stared at the font inscription for a second. It all became instantly clear as she read the prophetic words from Revelations 22:3-A number that made seven:The Angel showed me the river of the water of life, flowing from the throne of God and the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city . She knew what she had to do; cut through the city to the park near water.

Sirens neared. Damali stood with her team. Clerics fell into the door.

"We're surrounded," Father Patrick wheezed. "Lopez is gone."

Juanita hid her face in Jose's shoulder. Carlos struggled to his feet.

"The broken-hearted had to make a decision," Carlos gasped. "He was in my line-I felt it."

"Draw the cloak now, baby," Damali said. "Take us to park land, away from civilians."

He nodded and the group huddled between him and Damali. Then they were gone.

The group came to a falling heap in the middle of a green silent valley within Fairmount Park. Silvery water ran near it.

"Formation," Damali said. "Weapons check."

Shabazz checked his Glock. "All out-"

Two huge were-wolves parted the trees before he and Big Mike could get in the protective ring.

"They are out of ammo," one beast snarled. "Let the succubae and incubi squabble over the remains of the priest," it said, issuing an evil snarl.

"Yes... all bets are off. To the victor go the spoils," the other said, circling and judging their odds, seeming unsure of Carlos and Damali's capacities. It nodded to Shabazz. "Remember what the incubus said was his greatest fear?"

The other were-wolf nodded. "From prison? Oh... yeah... Do them both before you do them." It laughed. "Our senator is dead. Make him sorry that he ever taught the Neterus how to raise blades against level five."

"No!" Damali yelled. "Freeze!" She stood wide-legged, a stone in each hand, but the weres didn't slow down. Instead, the trees leaned back and shuddered, stopping the were-wolves' sure lunge.

Two huge, very slow-stalking, sleek jaguar bodies emerged from among the trees and eyed the furious wolfen demons. Their low rumbling growls transfixed the human team while the were-wolves tilted their heads, unsure what to make of the new predators challenging their kill. But the Guardian team could see the lupine-demons assessing the potential strength of the jaguars. Carlos shot a quick glance at Damali. They both knew the big-cat clans on level five occupied a higher rung on Hell's food chain than the wolfen packs.

To everyone, the new, snarling threat was clear; the team remained immobile, not sure which side the new predators were on. The silvery thread within the red thread of their auras made Carlos hesitate. Frustrated confusion forced bluff snarls from the wolfen clan searchers. However, the lupines backed up, fangs drizzling acid drool, their glowing eyes holding a question as they matched the jaguars' menacing, hypnotic circling.

The lead jaguar lowered its head, ears flattening against its massive skull as the muscles beneath its shimmering blue-black coat kneaded in a slow approach, making the beast nearly invisible within the almost moonless night. It glanced up to the slowly eclipsing moon and then narrowed its coppery glowing eyes on Shabazz. "I tol' you if youever put my woman in dis position again, mon, I would come for her."

Marlene's hand went to her chest. Kamal instantly shape-shifted, causing his taller partner, Drum, to do the same. They stood between the were-demons and the Guardian and Covenant teams. Kamal's line of vision held the stunned weres. His shoulder-length locks crackled with angry static charge. His eyes still glowed gold as he spun so quickly that it seemed to be in slow motion, retracted his upper and lower canines, and swept Marlene into his arms, crushing her mouth with a hard kiss. He released her just as fast, leaving her to stumble behind him as he advanced toward the threat with his eyes blazing. Kamal worked the muscles in his neck and shoulders, body-blocking Marlene from a possible attack while tilting his head from side to side as though considering how to dissect the were-demons.

Shabazz moved forward, his locks winding with visible blue-white energy, his hot gaze on Kamal; Big Mike's hand flattened broad across Shabazz's chest, but was knocked away by Shabazz's deft Aikido move. The demons glanced between the near twin images of Shabazz and Kamal, not sure where to begin an attack lunge.

"You had her until she passed the season of childbirth. That is not longer an issue, and you have not protected her!" Kamal shouted. "Her pulse could not be found for almost a week!"

"This is bigger than personal vendettas, were-human!" the lead lupine-demon growled, growing impatient. "The bounty-"

Kamal roared, his canines ripping through his gums again. "After I have tracked her renewed pulse across three continents you won't have a limb left to collect the bounty!" He looked Shabazz up and down with disdain. "Don't try me tonight. Hear?"

"One team!" Carlos shouted, drawing the volatile struggle toward himself and Damali.

Damali's stricken gaze went to Shabazz, begging him with her eyes to stand down, then briefly went to Marlene, unable to witness the shocked pain her eyes held. The rest of the Guardians' eyes revealed confusion, not sure which command to follow-a scenario beyond dangerous. Even the Covenant team seemed unsure. Damali focused on the threat before her. "Let the teams go. Me and Carlos got this."

The were-demons snarled and nodded, their focus on Kamal and Drum. "You see, even the Neterus know it is unwise to split ranks when so much is at stake. Name your price for your cut of the profits; their team was not the objective. Winning the bounty is the prime directive. We could cut a deal, use your capacities for this battle, and be done with this, since we are remote cousins, so to speak. Family."

"The mother-seer's family ismy family ," Kamal growled low in his throat. "Although I never wanted them to see this."

Upon Kamal's last words, he and Drum shape-shifted so quickly and lunged so fast that the team could barely react. The lupines went airborne within seconds, crossing the expanse to meet Kamal and Drum twenty feet off the ground. Viscous snarls rent the night as flesh-tearing claws gashed battle-bulked forms. Midair collisions thundered through the glen as close-standing trees were decimated and the earth dug up by powerful pivots and clawed landings. Black blood splattered, hunks of fur and meat tumbled against the soaked carpet of grass. But red blood splattered, too. Damali and Carlos's gazes locked. Kamal and Drum would fight to the death-their deaths-but that couldn't happen, not on their watch. The moment the combatants separated to lunge again, Carlos and Damali worked as an instantaneous tag team.

Carlos opened his hands and created a barrier to shield the others standing behind him and Damali, his gaze lethal as it ignited silver. Damali instantly reached for the beam and deflected it to draw a burning line between the weres, Big Mike, Shabazz, Kamal, and Drum, then trapped the were-wolves inside the silvery ring.

"Make 'em talk," she whispered between her teeth.

"Where's Lilith?" Carlos said, walking toward the trapped weres as Kamal and Drum normalized to wounded human forms.

"Let them go," a calm female voice said behind them all, making everyone, even the were-wolves turn.

The trapped demons cowered as the tall, lanky female strode forward, considered them with a smile, and shook her head. She threw her dark, thick tresses over her shoulder and clucked her tongue. "You broke your pact. You were only allowed five to do the job and given moon amnesty regardless of its phase, and you lost. You cannot make good on your hunt, any more than the Amanthras or the ether levels can." Her eyes turned to fire and consumed the writhing entities that charred and smoked on the ground.

"Where's your blade, hon?" she said, laughing as she approached Damali, but stopped as Big Mike and Shabazz scrambled into position. "Dante wants your head on his chamber table for ruining his best man. I agree."

The chairman materialized. Carlos and Damali stared at him. He was just about Carlos's age, wearing a cold-blooded black suit, and a casually sinister smile. Kamal and Drum flanked Marlene and smiled.

"My, this has been expensive." He looked around and chuckled. "I've won, Lilith."

"The team is not in it. This has been me and you for a long time," Carlos said, his gaze locked with the chairman's.

"Let them go, and me and him against you and that bitch," Damali said, easing away from her team. "This has been expensive, as you said." She and the chairman studied each other for a few seconds.

The chairman unsheathed a long, black iron blade and pointed it at Carlos's chest. "You just won't die, neither will she."

Carlos whipped his pocketknife out, making both Dante and Lilith laugh until it extended into the golden hooked talon. He snapped off the handle and brandished the chain between both ends. Damali glanced at him, but kept her focus on their enemies.

Lilith's legs became granite, her wings opened to an impressive twelve-foot wingspan, and her face distorted. "They're just dinner," she said quietly, referring to the teams, as she stared at Carlos. "But you are victory."

She hurled herself toward Damali before Damali could draw a breath. Both women hit a tree and Damali disappeared and came out on the other side of it. The team was frozen, paralyzed as Lilith's spell held them captive. They couldn't even yell out as Carlos lunged for the chairman, missed his blow, but received a deep gash in his back for the effort. The chairman leveled his blade and reached out with a black arch toward Carlos's chest. He deflected it with a gold shield and sliced through the black iron with a searing Light glance and then raked the chairman's face with the golden talon. Dante's wound sizzled as he briefly held his cheek, his hand coming away with black blood. Lilith went airborne and swooped at Damali, missed, and came at her again. But Damali melted into the tree, becoming one with the bark, camouflaging herself, as Lilith rammed it and wood splintered, cracking the mighty oak in half.

The tree hit the ground, causing both the chairman and Carlos to dodge the falling timber. Damali reached out, sending a blue-white arch to the falling wood that raised a hundred stake spikes from it, and hurled it at the chairman and Lilith.

One spike impaled her tail, pinning her to the ground, and she screeched and twisted herself loose, severing her razor-sharp weapon and gushing black blood as she stalked forward.

Fury roiled within the chairman, who opened his arms, released a thousand bats from his chambers, and turned the sky black with their fast-moving bodies as black thunder and lightning shook the earth. Carlos looked up and redirected the lightning. Scorched bat bodies dropped like nasty, shuddering vermin hail. His gaze turned on the chairman as he swung the chain to capture his throat, but he'd already concealed himself and Lilith behind a transparent black barrier.

Winded, Lilith and the chairman stepped back. Carlos and Damali stepped back, breathing hard.

"I don't believe in stalemates," the chairman said, his fangs lengthening as his eyes went from solid red to glowing black.

"Nor do I," Lilith whispered, her tail regenerating as she walked forward. Then she stopped, tilted her head, and inhaled sharply as her eyes slid shut. She shook her head and tried to compose herself for battle. Damali's hand went to her pocket, releasing the black vial in a quick smash against the ground, knowing what the combined effects ofOblivion and apexing male Neteru would do-make Lilith strong but sloppy.

Damali leaned her head back and released a battle cry. She and Lilith collided midair. The paralysis around the team fractured. Carlos's shield dropped. Shabazz reached for a shotgun, and the chairman sent a black bolt that summarily snapped his arm, and then sent a shock wave toward Carlos that blew the golden talon out of his hand. Carlos and the chairman locked each other in an energy death grip. The silver beam from Carlos's eyes met the black beam from the chairman's. They released each other and then came together again, twisting, and then repelling each other at equal strength. Big Mike and Dan grabbed a stake from the splintered tree, but as soon as they picked it up, their wrists snapped. Kamal covered Marlene on the ground, using his body to take any debris hurled her way. Drum dropped to his knees, upper and lower canines distended as the loss of blood from his wounds took its toll.

"Keep them out of this!" the chairman yelled.

"Back off," Carlos hollered as Damali and Lilith wrestled each other to the ground exchanging blows.

Lilith's claws hovered a fraction of an inch above Damali's face. Damali held her hands away from her eyes, rolling away from the newly regenerated slashing tail until Lilith cut her own leg and wailed.

"You have what's mine!" Damali shouted.

"Your loss, my gain!" Lilith screeched.

Carlos threw a blow, sending a ball of silver light into the chairman's jaw. He howled and fell back, then got up bigger and angrier than he was before and rushed Carlos, pinning him to the ground, fangs poised over his throat.

"No!" Lilith screeched. She released Damali and rode the chairman's back.

The chairman flung Lilith off, eyed her with a cutting glare, and released Carlos, who quickly rolled away and jumped up.

Yonnie materialized with Tara, and Tara rushed to Carlos, checked him for wounds, and then bore fangs. Her hiss made Lilith's gaze narrow and she tried to pull away from the chairman. Yonnie cocked his head to the side, looked at Carlos, and snarled.

"Man, you oughta be glad we're boys."

Damali's hand went to her hip. Metal hit her hand, warmed it like a familiar friend. Lilith's skull had hatch marks on it in her mind. With all her might she hurled the Isis dagger, but Lilith sidestepped it. The weapon fell at the chairman's feet. Carlos reached out, but it only rattled on the ground. Damali screamed, "Come to me," but the weapon lay dormant. The chairman laughed and lifted it with dark energy, making Lilith lope toward him.

"Finish her off, Dante," Lilith crooned. "But do leave him for a few hours so we can play." She weaved, high, and chuckled-wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

The chairman stretched out a shaky finger at Lilith. "You bitch! You traitorous bitch." He released the dagger and gored her womb.

Stunned, she stood wide-eyed, her legs trembling, her hands unable to touch the sacred metals lodged within her belly as her mouth filled with black blood and her abdomen smoldered. Bats stopped flying. Harpies retreated. Damali was on her in seconds, and yanked out the small Isis blade. Lilith's hands scrabbled at the gaping wound, but couldn't seal it.

"Finish her," the chairman told Damali.

Holding the blade with both hands, she stared at the offending demon, the point bouncing. "Give it back," Damali whispered.

A horrid screech felled the Guardians. Big Mike's ears were bleeding. A blue-white light arced from the tip of the dagger, entered Lilith's body, and blew her womb out her back, bringing entrails and pieces of her spine with it. Lilith went to her knees, her eyes glassy and no longer glowing. The twisted organ smoldered, shuddered, and moved like something was crawling inside it. Damali stepped back as Lilith's body hit the grass at her feet. Her eyes remained fixed on the gutted organ as it ignited in a slow, putrid burn. A small white fleck of light exited and shot skyward as the smoldering organ exploded, sending green gook everywhere. Damali turned away, knowing what had been hers and Carlos's was gone. Carlos's eyes remained on the smoldering splatter.

"You only had half of what you needed," the chairman said, looking at Lilith's lifeless body, then at Carlos. "Your blood was never in Damali's veins last night."

Damali stooped to behead Lilith, but just as fast, she was gone. Carlos, Damali, and the chairman backed away. Yonnie and Tara began to move back farther into the shadows.