Minion (21 page)

“Tell me what?”

Jose nodded to the map, his trembling finger touching the edge of it. His gesture temporarily drew Damali's attention away from her question, and it stilled the group. They let him talk uninterrupted in a weak, scratchy tone.

“My grandfather's people, the Creeks, believed that night feeders divide territory and mark it like wolves. Shamans say if one outside their line is caught hunting in the wrong territory, the others will attack it. Told as legend, the old ones say the night feeders migrate and are nomadic—but travel within the
same route that they've been following for centuries.”

Jose wheezed and straightened himself, and then leaned on the workbench for support as Damali's hands fell away from her sides. She folded her arms in front of her and waited with the rest of them for him to continue.

“There's at least one known vampire line on every continent—but like all predators, we're not sure how or why, but something limits their growth. Most times, they snap the victims' necks first, and then immediately feed, while the blood is still warm, fresh kill. Usually that just leaves a corpse, and there's no problem. Their numbers remain stable that way.”

Rider let out his breath hard and rubbed his palms over his face. “Yeah, but we've got mugs jumping up off morgue slabs now in record numbers—so they're building in ranks like I've never seen before—not that any of this is normal, mind you. But comparatively speaking, something big is brewing.”

“Okay,” Damali said, taking her time. “So, Marlene was originally attacked, and like all of us, had a run-in with one of them solo, but made it out alive. Then, we somehow got guided to each other to form a team, right? That part I get. You've all told me this before, remember. Tell me something new.”

“Divine intervention, how we all got together,” Jose whispered. “We were shown, were blessed with the gifts to keep us out of that vampire line, and that light force drew us together by what others might call strange coincidences—but, by now, we know there's no such thing as a coincidence.”

“True dat,” Big Mike whispered.

“Okay. I know that. So what would make them move on a coupla record companies and a club—and not just feed and leave, if they have this growth limiter? And, what's this queen thing?” Damali's question hung in the air, and the group shifted nervously.

“We don't know what supernatural laws limit their growth,” Marlene said softly. She glanced at the team, her expression tense. “Or, what specifically has sent them into a feeding frenzy . . . at least not all of what may have.”

“Oh, shit, Marlene,” Rider yelled, frustrated. “Just tell the girl!”

“Tell me what? Somebody talk to me!” Damali was now pacing, and no longer looking at the map. Her gaze was singularly focused on Marlene.

“When you guys all went out, and while you were asleep, Damali, I investigated the last known site of the master vampire—who was supposedly vanquished years ago—in New Orleans. I looked up the property records, and that same house is within what was then Fallon Nuit's holdings. It's now listed under Blood Music, and after you peel back the layers of owners, Nuit's name pops up.”

“Why didn't you tell me this before, Marlene?” She stared at her mentor, and Marlene's gaze slid away.
“You know the master vampire's name?”
Damali was incredulous. Her group kept something this important from her. Now she was more than stunned, she was pissed!

“If you knew where the lair was, you'd go after it, before you were ready. Our job is to protect you.”

“What is this ‘ready' thing? Please, Marlene, fill in the blanks.”

Marlene's expression was tender as she took her time to speak. “You had to clean out your body with organic food in preparation for the ripening, and to keep your body a temple—
that's
why we wouldn't let anybody near you. Then, the stars aligned, and—”

“Wait!” Damali screamed, putting her hands in front of her, and then digging her fingers into her scalp. “Talk slower! Ripening?” She felt like she would retch as everyone's thoughts
simultaneously entered her skull. Information beat itself into her brain. Terror seized her. She was changing like that? They were all clamoring inside her mind about her bones, teeth, skin . . . Her body would do what? Oh, my God . . . she was a freak. Not just a sister who could kick ass. All the training made sense, all the weird shit that had happened to them. Damali squeezed her eyes shut, and tears streamed from the corners of them. “Don't even say it,” she shrieked, and then blocked the rest of their garbled thoughts. “But why didn't you tell me this would happen?! You're telling me that I can hear and smell things like a damned bloodhound, and it'll only get worse? You call that ripening? Shit!”

“She's hearing thought before it's uttered,” J.L. murmured. “You all have to take it easy. She's just hit a wall. This was a lot of data and you're crashing her mental hard drive.”

Damali was breathing in shuddered bursts. Tears were streaming down her face. She didn't wipe at them, just let her gaze land on each face.

“We couldn't afford to break your confidence,” Marlene said gently. “You needed time to accept this part of it all. You might have gone into battle unsure, in every fight you might have second-guessed yourself, or worse, been overconfident—and that split-second of hesitation, or a misplaced blow, could have cost you your life.”

“How do you know?” Damali could barely ask the question as another sob threatened to choke her when she swallowed it down.

“I'm the seer, remember?” Marlene went to Damali and gently held her hands.

Damali dropped Marlene's hands, not in anger, but in abject despair. “Then why am I here?”

“Have you watched the audiences when you do your concerts?”
Marlene whispered. “You were gifted with oratorical skills that mesmerize. How many great people changed the course of history, just by words? Think about it, baby. Even your name—Damali—means
beautiful vision
. You must now learn to see the path better.”

Damali's gaze tore around the room again. She didn't know where it should land first. Silence stood among them, but she could still hear parts of their thoughts. The reality was disorienting. She closed her eyes to get her bearings.

“Every thousand years a Neteru is born,” Shabazz said. “A vampire huntress. This millennium, you're it. And at least seven of us, usually twelve, come with the package to bodyguard a Neteru while they wipe out a predator's line that's getting too thick. There must be one hundred and forty-four thousand of us on the planet at any given time to hold all manifestations of evil at bay—an army of twelve times twelve, representing the twelve original tribes. Guardians are made and lost every day.”

Shabazz walked around the table, his arms open, sweeping past the group.

“Twelve. Each guarding the sections of the ancient sacred texts. In Tibet, in Rome at the Vatican, in Egypt, in Asia, in the U.S., in South America, in the motherland, in Hopi country, you name a region or continent, we are hidden, but there.”

Damali opened her eyes and just stared at her team. This was definitely new information . . . just as she'd requested. But it wasn't what she'd expected to hear.

“The Holy City and the Church of the Nativity has even been under siege with all three of the major world religions at war with each other—watch the news,” Jose murmured.

J.L. offered him a confirming nod. “The planet Earth is out of balance, it was time for a Neteru to show up. Don't you think the recent world events would cry out for the need to
return the balance of peace? Think about it, D. Evil has a stranglehold on mankind, making us wipe each other out . . . culture-by-culture, race-by-race, tribe-by-tribe, and religion-by-religion. You think that's an accident?”

“Like we told you when we first found you—music, art, draws people together across these invisible, ridiculous lines. That's why it's sacred, baby. Remember what we told you? Connect the dots. The artists cross the lines; music is universal, like other forms of art. It touches the soul, can make people feel emotions past ideological rhetoric. Can blend, bond, fuse, and heal the rip in the human family. It's powerful. You were gifted with the voice. So, here we are,” Marlene added and then gave Shabazz the floor.

Shabazz accepted his turn to speak again and released a slow breath with patience. “But what we didn't tell you was that guardians are secreted away to preserve the balance within
every
aspect of human interaction. We didn't just coincidentally roll up on you and then band together.”

Shabazz paused, and then pressed on when Damali remained silent. “Sure, we told you we were guardians, and loosely described that you were a vampire huntress, a Neteru—a slayer—but never properly defined what that meant. It wasn't the time. First we had to protect you, gain your trust—which was hard for you to give us, coming from your life on the streets. We needed to earn your respect, and you needed to emotionally mature enough to listen to us without running away again to avoid the inevitable. Today, you're ready to hear us. Clarity is required.”

Damali nodded, and Shabazz continued. “There are more of us out in the world than just this team, that's what we never explained. Some guardians are dispatched to work with the spirits to close tears and fissures in the veil between worlds. Some work with world leaders to bring wisdom, justice, compassion. Some
work the streets. Some work the schools to develop young minds. Some to unearth demon nests . . . and some of us, from every culture represented, get selected to guard a Neteru. None of us wanted to freak you out with too much knowledge too soon. Until last night, we had been able to pass you off to the vamps as just another guardian . . . until you went into your first real blood lust. Now, your energy is strong enough for them to find you. So, I am a Neteru guardian, as are we all. I am honored.”

A collective “
Ashé
, Amen,” rippled through the group, as they yielded the floor to their team's most learned philosopher, Shabazz.

“Those that guard the sacred texts, and the Neteru guardians, have the most dangerous mission, but the highest honor of the sets of twelve—and the most difficult,” Shabazz said, his tone unwavering. “Everything we taught you was to keep you safe, our Sankofa, until you could fly like an eagle on your own. Last night, you tested your wings. Now, it's on. You
have
to fly.”

“
A hundred forty-four thousand
guardians in secret armies?” Her head was spinning. Damali found the sofa and sat slowly, needing to breathe.

“How many vampire colonies do you think are walking the planet, sis?” Rider shook his head and paced away from the group. “There's at least five or six that we know of. Now let's add in werewolves, demons, not to mention just your regular schmoes who do bad shit in the world. Okay? There's plenty enough to keep divisions of us busy down here, along with all the companies up in Heaven. We are at
war
with the dark side. It's a war, not just one battle in the night. That's why Mar flipped out on you. She had reason. You need to listen to the general, until you get your stars, kiddo.”

Damali's line of vision searched the deadly serious faces around the table.

“We let you have time to be a kid,” Jose murmured. “Because we love you.”

“Yeah. Information like this sorta blows the groove, doesn't it?” Rider let out a weary sigh. “Hell, after the first attack, Marlene didn't even want us to explain it to you, because she wanted you to still have a little more time.”

Shabazz nodded, and then pounded Rider and Big Mike's fists.

“The forces of light came to Marlene in a vision. That's why Marlene, a guide, found you. Seers are always the ones to locate a Neteru and form the circle of protective guardians around him or her—and that's why during religious purges, seers are the first to be put to the stake. Kill the visionaries—the seers—and a slayer can be lost in the mix. But the Divine always knows where you are. The planetary alignment signaled when you will come into all your powers—three inner planets signaled three months from the alignment.” Shabazz used his hands to speak, drawing out the constellation for Damali as he tried to get her to understand.

“One outer planet signaled the lesson that must be learned in one month—your birth month. The last large planet, Jupiter—a massive planet signaled a massive event soon to come. But it's also the planet of good luck.”

“Then, let the chips ride on the big Jupiter bastard, then,” Rider said, letting his breath out hard. “Man!”

“Rider, your mouth,” Marlene warned, shaking her head. “I know it's hard to change, but please. We are trying to school a Neteru.”

“Sorry, Mar. Old habits die hard. Been cooped up for months; I have a slight verbal aggression issue.” Rider chuckled as Marlene raised an eyebrow and Shabazz let his breath out slowly again.

Damali couldn't focus on Rider's sidebar commentary. Instead, she just shook her head as she stared at the team. Too much had come at her too fast. Yeah, she knew there were these things called vamps. Yeah, she knew there was above and below . . . a lot she'd learned, but that was more abstract before, and today it was applied science—the mathematics of it, the planets, the physics, secret armies. The logic. Whew . . .

“How do you guys
just know
all this stuff?”

“Unfortunately,” Big Mike said with a weary sigh after a moment, “we had to research it—some the easy way, some the hard way. Each one of us went through our own personal trial by fire. We each survived an attack, and were then led to another person like us, who had also survived an attack. Baby girl, you aren't the only one who grew up feeling weird as a kid.”