Chapter Three
Carlos stood outside the compound door, his arm draped over Damali's shoulder, willing his breathing to normalize. He wasn't sure if it was his proximity to her, or the fact that he had to explain some real bad news to her people.
Regardless, he hated going into her compound, which looked like a maximum-security prison. The concrete walls, iron-sealed windows, floodlights, and lack of trees until you hit the property border a mile away, gave him the feeling that he was walking into the federal pen. Maybe he was. He just hoped that he'd get out alive this time.
Besides, this whole situation was bullshit. He'd had to splatter the front of his Beverly Hills lair with a courier's guts, all because Damali was trailing ripe Neteru scent and the dumb bastard had reached for her. Damn straight he had to rip out the brother's heart, but he also had to clean up the mess before any neighbors noticed and wondered why there was black blood dripping down the white marble columns and the huge oak-paneled door, and why the stained-glass windows were streaked with innards.
Carlos let his breath out hard in disgust. He loved this woman dearly, but she always created drama! Council was right. It was time to get some guards at his doors, some security measures in place. He had descended and couldn't roll solo anymore. If he were in his right mind, he'd just make Damali his queen and battle the expected consequences. He glanced at her. No. He wasn't in his right mind to give her back to the Guardians.
When Carlos heard the locks engage, a thousand ways to begin the dreaded conversation tumbled through his brain. There was no easy way to say any of it. Worst part was, he had no idea how Damali would react when she found out he was taking her there for good - not just until he came back up from Hell.
"Que pasa?" Rider shouted, pounding Carlos's fist with a wide smile as they entered the outer safety chamber.
"Everything is everything," Carlos said, returning the pound, but keeping a watchful eye on the team's sharpshooter as they all moved deeper into the interior hallway. He immediately scanned the tall, muscular white guy with dirty-blond spike hair, and returned his smile - once he was sure that Rider wasn't packing. Even if the guy was in his forties, Rider was an all-pro vamp assassin.
"Hey y'all!" Damali hollered. "Can a person come home and get some love?"
"You know that ain't no problem from me, D," Jose said, embracing her quickly, then stepping back.
"We got nothing but love for you, li'l sis," Rider said laughing. "C'mon in... er, uh, him, too?"
"Yes," Damali said, slapping Rider on the back. "If he wasn't cool, why'd y'all leave me with him for a month?"
"Point taken," Rider said, stepping aside. "You're in."
Carlos moved forward with Damali next to him. The young bucks were no problem. Jose looked like his younger brother and had a soft heart, would hesitate if something ridiculous jumped off. However, he paused when he saw the quick flash of resentment on Jose's face. Something primitive and possessive rose in him and he fought it back down. Had to be Damali's Neteru still working his system. Jose wasn't a contender. He was family. He shook off the sensation. Kid was just probably still spooked.
His gaze scanned the others, sensing for signs of resistance. Dan was a nervous, wiry blond with no real combat under his belt. But J.L. had some Jet Li moves on him... Carlos gave the Asian kid a nod, then issued his most disarming smile to the others.
"Long time no see, hombre," Jose finally said, laughing tensely, using his head to motion for them to enter beyond the first isolation chamber.
Good. The noses, Rider and Jose, were out front, and hadn't picked up anything unusual. Everybody had on T-shirts, jeans, sweats, no place to conceal a weapon, or get to one quickly. Big Mike, their audio sensor, had lowered his shoulder cannon and was all smiles. However, he wasn't sure he liked having a huge, six foot eight, two-hundred-and-seventy-five-pound, old school linebacker walking behind him. Big Mike was usually cool, but even Carlos knew to always keep an eye on the team's giant.
He also noticed that the tactical sensors were hanging back. Shabazz, Dan, and J.L. just nodded, and Marlene had her arms folded over her chest. Not good, especially the positions of the two older ones, Shabazz and Marlene. However, if J.L. was out front, then maybe he'd temporarily abandoned the monitors before he could pick up two cold bodies incoming.
But Carlos wisely noted that Shabazz was strapped - openly had a Glock on his hip and one in a shoulder holster, sending a quiet message to be cool, no doubt. Carlos scanned the streetwise Guardian from the 'hood. Instinctively he knew the old dude could feel trouble. It was as though Shabazz's shoulder-length locks telegraphed the vibrational changes, almost like a current, and Marlene was a freakin' seer. She had on a long, flowing, African-print robe - a great place to hide anything with a silver tip. The two of them together, late forties, early fifties, would surely be able to tell that something wasn't right with their girl. He just wanted the chance to explain.
"Oh, so now I'm like chopped liver," Damali said, laughing when no one else immediately moved forward to greet her, then she embraced her team members one by one. "Dag, you all act like I'm a stranger."
Carlos hung back in the entryway, watching as the tactical Guardians bristled slightly from her hug.
"Thought you weren't coming home, you were gone so long, kiddo," Marlene said with a sly smile, but her eyes were carefully scanning Damali the whole time. "Doesn't leave much time for us to get ready to do the Australian gig and all that goes with it."
"Yeah... well... what can I say?" Damali replied, her smile widening as she glanced at Carlos. "Let's go inside and catch up. Y'all got anything good in here to eat?"
Carlos didn't say a word as he monitored the uneasy glances that passed between the Guardians. But they followed her down the long cement corridor to the back of the facility; half of the team in front of him, the other half behind him, making him feel boxed in and claustrophobic. As they walked, he glanced up at the holy-water sprinkler system, hoping that there'd be no accidental discharge. He shook his head. No, it wouldn't be an accident at all.
Damali headed straight for the kitchen, and he was glad she hadn't gone straight for the weapons room. If he had to make a hasty exit, at least there weren't UV lights in there that could fry him - only harmless fluorescents. But the fact that she wouldn't give off a reflection in any of the stainless-steel appliance surfaces was going to be hard to explain.
"So, how were the islands?" Rider asked cheerfully, taking a backward seat in one of the wooden kitchen chairs.
"Beautiful..." Damali crooned in a distracted tone as she hunted for what the compound cupboards didn't have. "The water there is the prettiest blue, even if I did only see it at night."
Dead silence surrounded them.
Carlos glanced at the large picnic-style butcher-block oak table. Wood. Matching wood chairs. If the big brother got hyped, there were eight chairs that could easily be broken down to make fast stakes. Shit.
Big Mike leaned on the door frame, catching something unspoken in Shabazz's rigid carriage. Marlene hung back, and leaned against the sink, watching Damali begin to root inside the fridge. Jose, Dan, and J.L. took their time finding seats at the table, their glances nervously darting from Carlos to Damali and back to the team. J.L. fidgeted with a set of sharp knives that protruded from a wooden carving-set holder. Jose's eyes were practically welded to Damali, following her every move around the room. Dan's line of vision darted between Jose's and J.L.'s, then kept monitoring Marlene's unreadable expression.
Carlos found the closest spot by a window and vent near the far end of the oak cabinets, then leaned against them. Even the thick bulletproof windows were sealed by steel grates. Yellow designer mini blinds were ludicrous; it was still a prison.
"You only saw the islands at night?" Marlene asked coolly.
This could get ugly. Carlos studied the group's reaction and hoped Damali had enough sense not to just blurt out the truth.
"Well," Damali said, not paying Marlene's tone the attention it deserved, "we mostly stayed in during the day and slept."
"She did the day thing by herself for a while, but something happened down in St. Lucia," Carlos said quietly. "We need some advice, Mar."
All eyes were on Carlos as Damali slammed the refrigerator door and put one hand on her hip. He held up his palm, and begged her with his eyes not to start.
"While you're here, D, I order you to not harm anyone in this compound, or any other human. I don't care how hungry you get - that's nonnegotiable. Got it? Call me if it gets bad."
"Who are you ordering? Have you lost your mind? And why would you try to out me like that in front of my people? Damn, Carlos. Very uncool."
"Oh, shit," Rider muttered, standing slowly and backing away from the table.
Rider's slow withdrawal made the other younger Guardians near him stand and ease back. Only Jose stood his ground. Marlene covered her heart with her hand and remained frozen, centered between Damali and Carlos. Her gaze immediately went toward the stainless-steel stove, then tore back to Damali, and back to where there was no image of Damali to be found. Marlene's eyes then narrowed on Carlos.
Big Mike moved from his leaning position on the door frame with slow caution. Shabazz fingered the holstered weapon at his hip. Jose casually retrieved a crossbow from beneath the kitchen table and held it at his side.
"Talk to me," Shabazz said in a quiet voice. "Fast."
"It wasn't supposed to go down like this," Carlos said in a near whisper, shaking his head.
"Like what, brother? What did you do to li'l sis, man? Speak now, or forever hold your peace." Big Mike had raised the shoulder cannon again, positioning it in Carlos's direction.
Shabazz drew like lightning, the Glock muzzle pointed at the center of Carlos's forehead.
"Put it down, Mike," Marlene ordered. "You wanna hit a gas line and blow up the whole frigging kitchen? Stand down for a second, 'Bazz. Please, gentlemen."
"Something went wrong," Carlos said in a slow, controlled voice, "and I think she's turning."
Carlos had less than a second to duck before Shabazz and Rider emptied half a clip each into the kitchen wall behind him. He was immediately forced to fake right to avoid the crossbow stake released by Jose, who was reloading. Before J.L. could reach for the stashed lights, Carlos sent them crashing to the ground.
"Yo!" Carlos yelled, avoiding the onslaught in the close confines while trying not to hurt anybody. "Chill, I'm on your side, remember!"
"Fuck you!" Shabazz shouted. "Kill this mother dead, now!"
Carlos had taken a crouching position on the ceiling. He could smell the compound being flooded by the holy-water sprinkler systems; the heat of UV lights trapping him from a hallway exit was leaving him limited options; he might have to take a body to get out of there. "It didn't go down like you think and I thought you all said she couldn't turn after twenty-one! Why would I bring her back, if I'd meant to turn her? Think about it!"
"She isn't supposed to turn after twenty-one!" Marlene shrieked. "What type of dark energy did you hit her with? I'll climb up there on the ceiling and stake your ass myself for this!"
"Naw, Mar," Mike said, aiming the shoulder cannon in Carlos's direction. "I got him."
Immediately Carlos vaporized and reappeared on top of the gas range. "If you hit me here, we all go up, Mike. We need to talk."
"This is waaaay out of hand, people." Damali shook her head and suddenly laughed. "Carlos is tripping about nothing worth getting all hype about. You all are bugging." She walked away and flopped down in a kitchen chair, leaned her head back, and blew out a long breath of annoyance. "This shit don't make no sense."
The members of the Guardian team cast nervous glances in each other's direction, their gazes settling on Marlene. Carlos glimpsed the bullet-ridden kitchen wall, destroyed cabinets, and shards of glass and dishes. Damali was right, this didn't make any kinda sense
55
