The Damned

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Marlene stood with Kamal in the small clearing two hundred yards from the family house, blocked by dense brush. Her third eye continually swept the terrain for any signs of Shabazz.
"We have maybe ten minutes, tops, to have this conversation, Kamal." She glanced around like a fugitive. "I don't want anybody to get hurt. Never did."
"I know," he said quietly. "Neither do I, but it's inevitable."
Marlene closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. "Half of me is ready to tell you that you shouldn't have come. But how can I stand here, by rights, and deny you and your team my assistance after all you did for ours in Bahia and Philly?"
"While I do need your help, Marlene, both you and I know that's not the only reason I'm here."
She didn't answer as he stepped closer and placed his warm hands on her shoulders.
"I've missed you, girl...What has it been in the flesh? Twenty, thirty years? I've lost count of the moons. But this last one, I thought I'd lose my mind."
"Kamal, please," she whispered as his body molded against hers. It was such an immediately magnetic sensation that her hands gently landed on his shoulders. "You know I can't do this. Astral plane is one thing, but this is... No."
"What I know," he murmured thickly against her temple, "is that the only reason we separated was because I wasn't supposed to give you my seed. Now that your season for that is almost passed..." He drew inhaled deeply. "I see no reason."
"I have a team of newbies," she said quickly. "There's a dark force worse than we've ever dealt with infecting the planet, and I have to ready them - just like you have to go back to Bahia and solidify your men."
"I noticed that you didn't say, because you loved your man so much we couldn't be together. You spoke of duty, respect for your role as Guardian, commitment, but you never even said his name."
Rendered mute by the charge, she stood there looking at the strong African features of his dark, ebony face. His sculpted, muscular body held her for ransom as his tactical energy sent a sensual current over the surface of her skin. No shirt on, jeans slung low on his narrow hips, his smile a brilliant white flash against a flawless complexion. She had to get her mind right and put an end to this now.
"That's not fair," she finally whispered, as his third eye engaged hers in a memory dance. "You know I love Shabazz."
"I'm not trying to be fair," he whispered in reply. "This time I'm trying to win back what was once mine."
He lowered his mouth to hers, testing for acceptance. Her parted lips, the slow slide of hands to rest on his hips, and deep sigh emboldened him. His second sight captured hers and stroked it with an erotic memory that dampened her valley. With his were-human capacity, he instantly sensed it, spiking his arousal and increasing the kinetic connection between his skin and hers. He deepened the kiss and found the dip in her spine with a burning palm.
"You have to stop," she gasped, pulling out of the kiss. "I'm only human."
"I'm not," he replied, filling his hands with her fleshy bottom and pulling her against him, moving to the throb that haunted them. "A man has to use every advantage he's got."
"He'll feel the charge before I even get back to the house. Don't. He deserves better than that from both of us," she said on another heavy breath against his shoulder, while fighting to keep her eyes open.
"You telling me or yourself?" Kamal murmured, kissing her neck.
"He deserves - "
"To hell with what he deserves, Marlene," Kamal said through his teeth just behind her ear. "I'm marking my territory like I should have years ago."
Before she could answer, his mouth covered hers. His hands emitted a charge that fused with her aura, made her gasp and hold him tighter. Witnessing her intense arousal put tears of want in his eyes as they began to flicker golden-copper.
"Lawd, woman, I've missed you so much," he whispered hotly against her temple, then nipped her ear, her neck, his nails beginning to shred the light Egyptian cotton dress that sheathed her. "If not forever, then at least once more before we both die or are too old to enjoy it."
Her hands trembled as they slid over the dense muscles that surrounded his shoulder blades. She couldn't catch her breath as the memory of his spine imprinted into her palms. When her fingers reached the low, tight valley of his lower back, she shuddered with recall and bit her lip to keep from crying out.
"Baby, stop," she said in a tight whisper. "I'm going to have to douse the charge as it is, before I go home. I can't - "
Kamal's mouth halted her words and his tongue fought with them in her mouth. The low purr inside his chest began to block her reason, just as his hands circling her behind sent acute pleasure all through her.
"Don't douse the charge," he groaned, rhythmically pulling her hips against his pelvis. "Feed it."
Friction from cotton against denim added to the harmony of the chirr of the crickets. Heavy inhales and exhales created a barrier to reason. Searing touches united auras as mouths sought sanctuary in fevered kisses then battled for surrender. Quiet power added a blind in the bush.
"Oh, shit, I can't take it, woman," Kamal finally whispered harshly against her neck. "I can't wait for the next moon, or a group decision. I can't wait until you talk to him, and then allow time for him to grieve. I can't. Don't ask that of me."
She understood completely. Kamal's body was soaked in a blue-charged sheen of sweat. Every droplet of perspiration held a tactical sensor's current. His locks had lifted a quarter-inch off his shoulders, and his eyes glowed solid copper. He'd already nicked her tongue with his upper and lower canines that were threatening to rip through his gums. His release was mandatory, just as hers was imminent. Something way beyond conflict tore at her, dividing her between both men.
Love, loyalty, honor, respect, friendship, peace, laughter, trust - all of that hung in a fragile balance between the man panting in her arms and the one she'd left fuming on the back porch. A compromise was the only way. Men saw things in absolutes. Women saw things in shades of gray. One man needed her in far more than just an immediate sense. Soon the other man would, too. She couldn't betray either, for in doing so she would also be betraying herself... betraying the truth that she needed and loved them both for different reasons.
Kamal's suffering had become her own as he continued to bathe her neck in ardent attention. His embrace had become a vise as his pelvis stroked against hers, igniting penetration memory until they could both feel it.
The impact of mental entry arched her back and elicited a unified moan. Instantly his hands scrabbled at the fabric of her dress, raising it over her buttocks, then yanked at her underwear, needing sensation of flesh against them.
Heat filled his hands and almost made him sob. His words came out between breaths laced with a low growl. "Come to me under the moon, baby. Like old times. In the raw, in nature, in the bush. Take me there, girl, before I go crazy."
She knew it was wrong, but it was the only way to make this work for the three of them. A slight violet current ran through her hands as she splayed them on his back and totally opened her third eye to him. She sent the image full force as her hands captured the rise of his clenching buttocks. She increased the intensity as she felt his thick thighs flex, his knees bend, and his arms brace her to hit the ground.
Falling almost in slow motion, she pulled back her hands and he released so hard that his canines ripped through. Panic swept her. If Big Mike was in the house, he would have definitely heard it - and there'd be no keeping it from Shabazz. The low rumble of staggering male were-human completion created a Doppler effect in the bush.
Pleasure waves washed over her before she could think of what to do. It coated her skin, practically entered her pores, as he lay blanketing her heaving, clutching her waist, and accidentally sent her over the edge hard.
Her breathing ragged, she petted his back, knowing he'd be furious once he stopped climaxing. She didn't even flinch or get upset when he raised himself to his hands and knees above her, canines fully distended and eyes blazing copper.
"I wanted you in the flesh, and you know that, woman!" He glowered down at her and then his damp jeans with disgust.
"I'm married," she said in a soft, calm tone without apology.
"You had no right to mind-fuck me, Marlene," he said, hurt glittering in his eyes. His voice dropped to a subdued level. "Foreplay yes, but..."
He quickly sat back on his haunches and then summarily stood, enraged. She watched him begin to pace as she got up slowly, brushed off her dress, and picked up her satchel from the ground. Although they both knew this was best, she also knew a thing or two about wounded male pride.
Marlene sighed and gave him temporary space to calm down. She understood where he was; even though the force of his release had been damned spectacular, that wasn't the point. He'd wanted to control the dance, wreck her will, and be physically inside her to layer his imprint over Shabazz's to tactically eclipse it. He wanted any sensory impression from any other competing male erased. Totally primal, but logical, if she looked at it from his perspective. She wasn't angry that his goal had been to make her sweat, weep, scream his name until she became hoarse. Then, in his male mind, her decision would have been clear.
"You know that wouldn't have been possible, or right," she murmured gently as he stalked back and forth, raking his fingers through his dreadlocks.
"And I suppose now I'm to be grateful that you did what you did?"
She swallowed a smile and took out a small cheesecloth pouch filled with herbs and magnetic stones, and began removing his energy charge from her skin. "I think you enjoyed yourself just a teeny bit, though. Hmmm?" She began walking toward him, amused.
"That's not the point, woman!" he shouted, snapping his arm out and pointing at her hard. "You know me better than that, Marlene. I have more control than that, and you - "
Her kiss stopped his argument as her hands slid down his chest. "Of course I do," she said quietly. "I've been gone a half hour when I was supposed to be gone ten minutes." Her eyes held his with a compassionate plea. "If I even begin to think back..." Her voice trailed off, her third eye widened, so he could see how she truly felt. "As hot as I am for you right now, no good will come of things. I have to go."
She sighed and looked away from him, sending her gaze toward the house. "If I had let you love me hard and long and in the flesh till I hollered, we'd both get shot." She pulled away and rolled the bag over his abdomen as he relaxed and closed his eyes. She knew she'd have to work fast, feeling his body reigniting from her touch as the truth petted his ego.
"You really wanted to that much?" He winced as his fangs slowly retracted and her palm glided over his navel.
"What do you think?" she whispered, increasing her pace as her hands began to tremble against his thighs. "Don't start," she ordered. "Just let me disconnect the charge so we can let this isolated incident simmer down between us. All right?"
"You know this isn't isolated," he said in a huff, folding his arms over his chest as she worked on his calves. "You've been meeting me on the astral plane for years, girl."
"That's different," she said, standing. "What we do in our dreams is one thing. What goes down like this is another."
"That's why I wanted you physically, this time," he admitted quietly, his eyes searching hers. "I can't even tolerate your hands doing a dousing."
"It's just the contagion that's making it so bad." She kept herself from glancing at the new erection he owned. She didn't have to. She'd felt the hard pulse right through his clenched stomach.
Marlene let her breath out in a slow stream to steady her conviction. Until now, the astral-plane visits had mollified Kamal and quenched her without directly breaking Shabazz's heart. Things had to stay that way.
"I have a list of herbs for your team, along with a Haitian ritual you all need to do to help stabilize them in human form. We don't have an antidote for the contagion yet, but at least they'll be able to control their shape-shifts. It's a strong dose, given the dark - "
"Tell me you don't feel it," he murmured, cutting her off. His eyes appraised her for another chance. "Don't give him the benefit of all my work out here in the bush."
She opened her mouth and closed it. Kamal's animal magnetism radiated off him, adding a new layer of perspiration and want to her skin. So did his arrogance. But the truth was the truth. She wanted to make love to Kamal so badly at the moment she could barely breathe, but most likely Shabazz would get his bones jumped tonight. They both knew it. What could she say? That was also her and Shabazz's ritual whenever they were about to go into battle... one last go-hard good time, just in case one of them didn't come back.
How could she astral plane visit Kamal during all of that? Just knowing Kamal was on North American soil had Shabazz's locks standing up, with good cause. No. She also knew Shabazz would work hard to reestablish himself as the king of her hill, given this private conversation, such as it was supposed to be. An astral-plane visit was out.
She offered Kamal a scowl. "You guys follow the cleansing ritual I'm going to prescribe, and repeat it three times a day from the new moon till the next full one."
"Don't ignore me, Mar," he whispered.
"I'm not," she said, now furiously scribbling on a piece of paper she'd extracted from her black satchel. She had to keep her hands occupied and off of him. "I'm ignoring myself," she added without looking up.
"Then visit me astrally tonight," he said in a demanding tone necessary to salvage his pride.
When she didn't immediately respond or commit, his request became quieter and more urgent. "Then spell cast," he said, breathing in sharply through his nose. "Soul bind wit me," he whispered. He looked down at his hands, then glanced away into the distance.
She could feel shame permeating his skin and working on her heart. That he was near begging her to fill his hands with her sensory resonance almost sent her into his arms, but she held her ground. It would pass.
He closed his eyes and shook his head no. "At least leave your charge in my hands," he said on a ragged whisper. "Anything that reminds me of your touch."
Her palm flattened against her stomach as a hard jolt of wanting him entered her navel and contracted her womb. "All right," she whispered, allowing him to come forward and gently caress her. "But if I leave this within your hands, you must never put this in Shabazz's face."
"Admit to my competitor that I was so unable to pull what was once mine from him that... that I had to beg his woman to leave her energy in my palms so I could satisfy myself while she was away?" Kamal's eyes held hers for a moment and then slid closed. "Not likely that I'd admit such humiliation to another living soul, especially to another male."
"Baby..."
"Shush," he said, tilting his head with his eyes closed. "It's bad enough already. Your voice just makes it worse."
Another wave of hot want poured over her as his hands lightly crackled and started their sensory dance above her skin's surface. She tried to remain completely still as the imprinting began heating her shoulders and breasts while his fingers lightly brushed over her body, trailing down it, encircling her waist, her hips, and her bottom. She shook her head no as they reached her thighs and tried to part them. Too much. Too erotic, even for her to withstand. He began to lift her dress, the goal in his eyes clear as he opened them, asking without a word to plummet into her flooded valley. No, she murmured mentally. That would cause an arc that would put her on her back and start the whole mess all over again.
"Please," he whispered, with his eyes closed.
"I'll send it to you mentally. That's as far as I can go."
He nodded and stopped breathing when she honored his request, making tight fists as his hands flared blue-white hot for a moment. He stepped back, sweating profusely, and shuddered. She had to break the connection and began writing again with shaky hands. She looked up and held the pencil just above the pad, frozen, when he stretched out his arms away from his body as though his hands contained something that would burn him. This was bad. He'd told her a lot of things over the years to try to get her to break down, but she'd never seen him like this. She tried to focus on her remedy, redoubling the herbal dose in the prescription.
"Come to me tonight," he said flatly.
"I can't. We leave for China in the morning. You know that."
"Then when you get back."
"Maybe, but not tonight. And not until we both get our heads together to remedy this." She handed him the paper, but he just looked at it, seeming unable to accept anything within his palms but her.
"You ain't got nothing for this," he murmured, stepping closer to her and ignoring the paper, " 'cept one ting."
She thrust the paper into his hand, and he finally accepted it, but not before crushing a kiss into her palm.
"Follow my written instructions to the letter." She brushed his cheek with a light kiss, cupping it for a moment. "I have to go." she said, drawing away after kissing him quickly again and beginning to walk, refusing to look back.
"Then I guess I'll have to settle for anything," he said and loped off.
She had circled her body so many times with charge-diffuser that she'd made herself near dizzy. Her lips moved in a steady fervent prayer. Lawd, don't let Shabazz pick up nothing. She could see Shabazz pacing on the porch, Rider at his flank holding the line, with Berkfield almost body-blocking Shabazz from going down the steps. Damali remained stoic, knowing, no judgment in her eyes and simply holding her breath.
Marlene briefly met Damali's gaze. May you never be in this position.
I'm sorry that you were. I love them both, too.
It was the only way.
I know. I respect that.
Marlene pulled out of their connection, glad that she and Damali were more than mother-seer and daughter-charge, but soul-to-the-bone friends. She also knew Rider, the group's lead nose, wouldn't give her away. Their eyes met as she came into the yard. An understanding passed between them. They'd both shared and kept each other's secrets for decades. Berkfield cast an intrigued but worried look between her and Shabazz. Damali went back into the house. She could hear the young Neteru walk through it, let the front screen door close behind her, and leave.
"Everything cool?" Shabazz asked, his tone strained and suspicious.
"Yeah," Marlene said casually, walking up the porch steps. "I gave him what he needed. Now he's going home to get himself together. Everything's cool."
Rider, Berkfield, and Shabazz looked behind her as she entered the house and the screen door slammed shut.
Carlos had barely spoken when she'd returned home. He seemed subdued and deep in thought to the point of morose. She couldn't tell if it was fear of what he might do with the approaching afternoon that would soon give way to night, or if he was still beating his own ass for the temporary backslide.
He'd listened patiently as she'd filled him in, but his lack of commentary on the subject stabbed her. As they all moved out to go to the airport, Jose was so closed that she couldn't even begin to figure out what had set him off. With all the mayhem going on, she didn't have time to excavate that particular ruin. Her senses were practically fried.
Her mother-seer was down. She wasn't discussing a mumblin' thing. She just sat quietly, staring out the Jeep window. Although Damali had no idea what conversations had gone on in the woods one-on-one between Marlene and Kamal, she didn't need to. The tension in Marlene said it all. But she'd thought they were gonna have to put a spoon on Shabazz's tongue to keep him from quiet rage convulsions.
It was as though Marlene had hung a mental Do Not Disturb sign, and Damali could understand why. Marjorie was whispering platitudes to her husband, trying to work on her son, offering an olive branch to Dan, letting J.L. know he was loved, all the while attempting, without success, to shield her daughter from the whole of it. Meanwhile, Rider was working on Big Mike, trying to keep him from blaming himself for not being there, and Damali was trying to keep Inez from accidentally tripping over a land mine. The situation was outrageous.
It was a delicate dance, one she'd never wanted to have to do. But in the hours between getting everybody deescalated, gathering the remainder of what they'd take, and heading to an airport, she'd thought she might lose her mind.
Carlos sat aloof, as though watching some giant life experiment happening on a microscope slide. That really annoyed her, but then again, she checked herself, remembering he was from a big family and maybe none of this was that foreign. Or maybe he was still beating himself up over the relapse. The contagion was also a factor. She just didn't know.
But rather than batter him with parables and platitudes, she simply gripped his hand and let her faith in him run through that touch as they sat on the flight to L.A., each consumed in separate thoughts. One thing was certain, the information that Kamal had dropped was chilling. His team was almost over the edge, which made her wonder what condition any of the Guardian teams worldwide would be in.
The temporary change of scenery would be good for them all. Twenty-four hours, and they'd be headed to China to summarily deal with the problem.
The Ritz-Carlton in Marina del Rey would seem like heaven, after being wedged in the small house for months. It was near the water, only a fifteen-minute walk to one of their favorite locales, Venice Beach. The boats would be pretty. Shopping and food and nightlife would be accessible. Maybe they could do what they always did as a team - live life to the max for the moment, and then hunker down to go to war.
Marlene and Shabazz, along with the Berkfields, would be able to easily hunt for a property in Beverly Hills or over in Santa Monica - since they had the balance of the afternoon before them. Perhaps Marlene was right about one thing; act as though there will be a tomorrow, and refuse to allow a defeatist attitude to prevail.
Cool heads and calm nerves were necessary, and if Shabazz could follow his own advice this time, routine was in order. Routine kept order. She prayed that her big brother wouldn't snap under his suspicions and could just accept whatever Marlene had told him... Marlene had left Kamal in the woods, after all. For now, given what they had to deal with, that was enough - she hoped.
The Berkfields also needed something to calm their ruffled feathers. Perhaps the delayed flight was divine intervention. This way Marj and Richard could do something normal, constructive, to keep their minds focused on the possibility of tomorrow, like finding a good school to enroll Kris in. Maybe Bobby could consider taking some college courses. She and Carlos could perhaps meander a bit and find places close by that they wouldn't mind living in.
Twenty-four hours was a long time to dwell on disaster. Her orders had been clear. There was nothing in L.A. Her target was in the Himalayas, and for some odd reason, the Neteru Councils weren't allowing her or Carlos just to leave everybody and quickly transport there. Her stones didn't work; neither did his claw of Heru. Everything seemed harder to achieve. The conventional route was the only way.
They all had to find something constructive to do other than sit quietly and sulk and lose their minds. Trying to think on the bright side, she even considered going with Carlos to window-shop for the vehicle of his dreams. Maybe he could finally get his fantasy car and that would lift his spirits. She didn't know what to do, and every prayer for answers that she'd sent up hadn't come back down yet.
Getting back into the real world, being on familiar ground in L.A., would renew each sagging soul, she hoped. Going to Tibet might mean more than just a battle. Maybe after the Chairman's head rolled, they could stay there for a while to get some spiritual reinforcement through nature, stillness; let the purity of the monks' gentle presence and wisdom restore what had been stripped in battles and compromised by the contagion. Something had to give, Lord. Then they could come home, face whatever, come what may.
She clung to that hope, adding faith and hard love to it as they sat on the short flight, holding it all tightly in her heart the way she firmly clasped Carlos's hand. When he squeezed hers back she fought back tears. This was stress.
"Baby, it'll be all right," she whispered, speaking as much to him as reinforcing that promise to herself.
"You wanna go to the beach this afternoon, or go house hunting?" Damali said, trying to shift the somber mood as she and Carlos entered their hotel room.
"We can do both," Carlos said with a slow smile. "I'm just glad to be back in L.A." He blew his breath out hard and flung his duffel bag in the corner. Then, with his back toward her, he quickly began to unpack only the toiletries he'd need overnight.
She refused to stay mired in the team craziness. Folks had gone to the mutual corners for a few hours. It would work out however it had to. Everybody seemed like they'd rather stay busy than focus on whatever issues were drilling a hole in their brains. Best move. That's why she was out.
Rider and Jose had set off to go drool over Harleys. Krissy and Juanita were going to go somewhere and keep talking. Whatever. Big Mike and Inez had disappeared. Dan and Bobby were on a mission to buy laptops and gadgetry, seeming to take comfort in attempting to repair their rift. Shabazz had called ahead to some people who knew some people to have ammo discreetly delivered to the hotel; Marlene and the Berkfields had gone to scope out a new place for the team. J.L. was hanging close with Shabazz, supposedly working on ammo with him, and on how they could wire whatever real estate they found.
But everybody knew the deal. Both J.L. and Shabazz needed to talk to somebody to get their heads right. The appointments for travel shots had been made; a doctor would come to the hotel and administer what was necessary and backdate it. The right paperwork was in process, expertly arranged by Marlene. That meant that for the balance of the day, for once, the team's Neterus were free.
Damali made short work of unpacking only what was necessary. The hotel was a good choice, as it was close to the airport, even though it was more businesslike than the A-list, pampering type of service one could find at The Four Seasons Beverly Hills. At this point, who cared? They'd already shaved off twenty-four hours of living; the infection was resident in them all.
The only thing Damali was concerned with was the fact that she'd wanted the team to be on the periphery of things, not in the heart of it. Right now she could deal with the Old World elegant European design, Italian marble bathroom, and private balcony closed off behind sheers that swathed French doors. She would appreciate all of it, just like she appreciated life with new eyes. Having a ticking time bomb within her and each member of her team had a way of putting a different perspective on things.
Damali almost sighed as she flopped down on the comfortable goose-down featherbed, glimpsing Carlos from the corner of her eye. The other problem was, he didn't glimpse back at her. He hadn't even made a passing reference to anything else they could do that day. Didn't the brother realize they were about to go to war?
She refused to allow herself to slide into a foul mood. She had to remember he was going through withdrawal after a relapse, so his normal responses might not necessarily be all that normal.
He watched with relish as she raced up and down the beach. Damali was like an excited puppy that had been cooped up in the house too long. She made him smile as she'd come running to him, dance around a bit, tease him, and then run off to inspect something new she hadn't seen today in the outdoor human carnival.
If she could just stay that way, laughing and full of exuberant life, his old prayers would be answered. He watched the waves chase her and the sand ooze between her bare toes as she scooted away before the ocean could wet her rolled-up jeans.
"You hungry yet?" she said, laughing, tugging on his arm to let him know that, regardless of his answer, she was.
Carlos smiled. "Not really, but we can go find something, if you are."
He watched her smile fade and become quickly replaced by a worried one.
"Okay, later. Me neither. You wanna go drive up to the fancy-car dealer?"
Her eyes held such expectation and hope that he didn't want to disappoint her. But he didn't have it in him. The fly car was no longer important. A Jeep, something reinforced that could take a vamp crash-landing, would be more practical. "Why don't we go scope out some apartments or some properties?" he said to deflect the trip to the showroom floor.
"Yeah! I'll get a paper; we can cruise by some spots. What do you like?" she asked. "What's your style, brother?"
He chuckled, but was worried. None of her behavior seemed normal. She was running around like no contagion existed, like the portals had never opened, and as though there wasn't a problem in the world. Serious denial.
"Beachfront is cool," he finally said, watching every person on the beach touch someone else in some way or another. Just taking change from a hot dog vendor was potentially deadly. Then his attention went to all the children. Damali didn't see that? "But I'm more partial to looking down on the water," he added.
She nodded and her brilliant smile became wider. "Aw'right. I hear you. Something with a cliff vibe," she said, sounding like an around-the-way realtor.
He forced himself to smile, and then laugh a little. "Yeah, baby. Some habits are hard to break." Then his mild chuckle died away in increments. "But maybe I can compromise and take a look at the beachfronts." He reminded himself that it was time to change the old people, places, and things, and he'd do that if they ever got back from Tibet.
The cost of every place they stopped and gawked at was sky high, but she was on a mission. She hated the way his eyes remained so sad, a flicker of remorse always casting a shadow within them. Carlos had always possessed such joie de vivre, and something had stolen that from him. Even when he'd turned, he always had a passion for everything he did. Now something she couldn't identify seemed to be quietly killing him inside.
Her hand caressed his cheek as he peered at the third property without enthusiasm. "We don't have to make a decision today, baby," she said in a patient tone. "We can figure it out when we get back from Tibet."
"Yeah, maybe then I'll have more of an image of what I want in my mind." He sighed and watched the waves. "I just feel wrung out, and need to lie down. Just chill for a little while. Cool?"
She nodded and threaded her arm through his and led him back toward their Hummer. "You wanna go back to the room?"
"Yeah," he said, mopping his brow.
New worry slithered within her. Daylight was clearly kicking his ass. It was balmy and nice outside, no intense L.A. heat yet, but he was sweating like he'd run a marathon under the sun.
He looked at her for a moment and held her hand as they walked back to the car, sensing. This mindless afternoon was crazy.
They were wasting time. He opened his mental radar quietly as she bee-bopped along as though without a care in the world; he almost stopped walking as he picked it up clearly. Her spirit was dying. It was as though all her frenetic activity was sending out a last gasp to cling to the goodness in life. He couldn't make out what part of this thing that arrested her soul was from the contagion, or perhaps coming from him. Maybe both. What he was sure about was the fact that, if they were linked at the soul level... and his had been compromised to the max... hers was fighting despair, defeat, anything that his might foist upon hers to allow the dark side to take it over and win.
They drove back to the hotel without talking. Damali peered at Carlos from the corner of her eye. He was so deep in thought that she didn't want to intrude, and they'd just been through enough drama that she wouldn't insult him with an outright trespass.
Damali squinted at the sun. Maybe he was bugging because it was near that transition time. She'd have his back, though. Wouldn't let him relapse. She let the music on the radio fill in the blanks. Maybe once they did this portal shutdown, things would be better. She kept that goal before her as they valet parked and entered the Ritz-Carlton lobby.
As soon as Carlos was indoors, she noted, he seemed to normalize. His face began to lose the flush it once had, his skin cooled, and his expression became less pained. He even seemed to be breathing easier. But she was very careful to offer no comment as they rode the elevator to their room, went inside, and closed the door.
By rote, she went to the balcony and closed the sheers to discreetly block out some of the sun. "There must be a thousand or more sailboats and yachts out there," she said brightly, forcing her tone to sound upbeat. "Once everybody gets back, rests, showered, and whatnot, maybe we can all eat dinner together somewhere?"
"Yeah. That could work," he said quietly, stretching out on the bed. "I just need to catch up on some sleep, but you need to eat. Why don't you go on down to the restaurant or something, and I'll be all right in a coupla hours after a nap."
"I'm cool," she said, looking at him as he sprawled on the bed. "I can order up some room service."
Carlos slowly shook his head and closed his eyes. "D, for real, right now the smell of food is gonna turn my stomach."
He could feel her hesitate and then tentatively cross the room. He felt her slip onto the bed beside him. The feeling of having to puke up his guts had begun the moment he'd had her best interest at heart. When she cuddled up next to him, curling her body to spoon his and lie with him, the room started spinning. She had to get away from him, or he was gonna hurl.
The minute his brain and conscience began the battle, his guts felt like they were being torn into two separate sides of his abdomen. He'd started to feel like that during the late afternoon as they'd walked together on the beach, her laughter and hopes and dreams pummeling his memory, eviscerating anything foul from his mind, slaughtering evil within. By the time they'd started looking at real estate and talking about the future, he could barely breathe.
Carlos squeezed his eyes shut tighter. It felt like a carving knife was gorging out his gray matter at the temple.
Damali's gentle palm slid down his shoulders, and sought refuge under his elbow to rest calmly on his stomach. "We'll beat this thing together," she murmured.
He gripped her hand and nodded without speaking for a moment. "D, the best thing for you to do right now is go eat, leave me be for a little while, and get the last rays of the sun. All right? Will you do that for me?"
She kissed the nape of his neck, hugged him hard, and then slipped away. He didn't open his eyes until he heard the door firmly click behind her.
His face felt like it was burning up, as did the rest of his body. A liter bottle of expensive spring water, compliments of the hotel, beckoned him from the bathroom. His throat was so raw that he could barely swallow, and as he licked his lips, he could feel where they'd become blistered and chapped.
The sensation drew his hand to his mouth, and he quickly got to his feet and went to the mirror above the dresser, stopping in horror to stare. He needed water, but couldn't make it to the bathroom to get it. He was too thirsty... He needed blood - not water.
Dark circles had begun to form under his eyes and his lips were cracked, a whitish film of dead skin beginning to peel on them. She hadn't seen that? As he stared at himself in frozen horror, he watched his red T-shirt begin to writhe and move, and he snatched it up over his head to expose his torso.
Long, straggling welts had formed across his stomach, raising his skin as though something unspeakable was trying to claw its way out of him. He watched, paralyzed, as the marks receded and disappeared. He couldn't move, had no idea what had awakened the beast within him, or how to get it out of him. Just as suddenly as the welts had appeared, staggering lust swept through him and stole his breath.
Stumbling backward, he fell against the bed. Every piece of fabric touching his body felt like it was on fire, scorching his skin. He ripped at his clothes blindly, tearing at the multiple sources of pain until he sat naked, panting, his eyes sealed shut. Images of being with Damali cascaded through his mind.
"No," he whispered through his teeth. "While you're in me, you don't get to sleep with her."
Intense pain gripped his scrotum, but when he tried to call out, his voice was silenced. A brutal force slammed him down on the bed and then dragged him up toward the headboard, smashing his skull against it. He could feel his limbs bound by a force too strong to break, and as he lifted his head and struggled against it, he watched his stomach writhe as though something alive were within it.
A dark dribble of fluid oozed from the tip of his erect member. It seeped down his shaft, creating a puddle in his pubic hair, and then began to send tiny, pulsing tendrils to cover his exposed groin in a dark, siphoning sheath. Agony collided with pleasure until tears stung his eyes. His jaw was sealed shut; the scream became lodged in his throat. Excruciating pleasure made his eyes close to half-mast. Helpless, he could only watch the sheath pulse and suck against him as it flicked at the bulbous vein that was now standing beneath the head it lapped at, and sent the wet siphoning sound to pierce his ears to intensify the wanton desire.
The heat of near orgasm clutched his abdomen and made his hips pump furiously at the air, and then the black liquid dissipated, the force holding him down retreated in a loud snap.
Carlos sat up fast and held his shaft where it still burned and throbbed, his hand replacing the dark violation. The head was so tender and sensitive that, if he could have, he would have bent to suck it himself. Unable to resist the natural urge to release the built-up agony, his hand moved against the hot, slicked surface in spasmodic jerks, a gasp blocking a moan, the sound of wetness quickening his movements, until he came so hard that no sound escaped his lips.
Panting, he looked down at himself. Humiliation coated him and laughed at him from within. The only small measure of satisfaction he was able to hold around his dignity was that at least what he'd ejaculated appeared normal. But when he looked up he froze, almost more horrified by what he saw now than by what had just possessed him.
Damali stood quietly on the inside of the hotel room door, stunned. Her eyes said it all. Her hand was over her heart and she didn't move.
He wanted to die. Couldn't look this woman in the face. Carlos was on his feet in an instant, and he rushed into the bathroom and locked the door without even glimpsing at her. He turned on the shower and jumped in.
Now was as good a time as any for the floor to swallow him up whole and make him disappear.