Retribution, Devotion (11 page)

Her striking regal face flashed in his mind. Her inner tears shone like diamond waterfalls against her beautiful bourbon skin. Her tears and the truth of her spirit were the start of his armor and his anger against the constructs of Society. He listened intently while she continued.
“I could not take them all down but I did my best. I created allies and more within the Dark Society, which will stay strong, past my death. Tell your father, my dear big brother, of me and he will understand why my children exist and he will know what they are doing. Now stay hidden; dark eyes are watching.”

A sound like a clicking of a reptile suddenly rang in his ears in that moment distracting him. A girl no more than thirteen years old with waist-length black hair, which held sapphire jewels, was dressed in a matching pale gold dress. She came forth holding the hand of two younger girls, both whom looked like the kid's age. The elder woman who claimed to be his blood muttered a phrase he had heard his mother use in prayer. The young girl with the long, dark hair flinched as sudden warmth radiating off her as if peace had hit her.

The same occurred for the two girls dressed in white dresses. One had amber doe eyes, braids, white bandages that wrapped around her limbs and silver nails. The other had an auburn ponytail that ran to the small of her back, a gye nyame necklace and an asp ring nestled on her middle finger. Her colorful fingernails sparkled in the shadows. He knew they were important but he didn't understand why.

As he inched closer, quick as a pinch, the putrid metallic scent and dark feeling returned covering the others. It alerted him to the fact that he was watching a gathering of Cursed. The woman he had briefly spoken with turned deathly cold. The familiar sinister feel of the Curse flowed around them and they stepped through an abandoned transit terminal. He noticed that the woman dropped the key she had just used. She had utilized a quick sleight of hand to pull out a copy while they walked away.

He learned that day that he had extended family. Khamun had also learned that the Cursed had somehow gotten to his family. In that moment, he vowed to help his blood by any means necessary. Anger simmered in his young body. He swiftly ran forward, picked up the key then headed back to the shadows. He had never told his father at that time the full story because he was too confused. But he made sure to learn all he could before that fortnight because he knew he had to get that kid out of that place. It sang in his soul to do so and his kind, Angels, never ignored the commands of their soul.

“Khamun . . .”

Mind lost in his mental rehashing, Marco's voice seemed to ring in his mind like that of his younger self. His voice turned into that of a battle-satisfied youth, enjoying his kills and watching his back. “Khamun, behind you!”

Blood of his enemies manifested before him and he felt the first rip of his maturing fangs descend from his gums. A strength he had no idea he possessed pumped through him. The smells of darkness once making him sick now made him hungry, thirsty to feed. He was so hungry. He was famished. He needed that essence. He needed . . .

He jumped at the touch of Marco's hand on his shoulder. Instinct almost had him flipping his brother, the man who was his dark cousin, behind him to protect him from phantoms of the past before remembering where he was. Damn, he had almost lost it. His hands ran through his locks. He glanced around realizing that he still clutched his knife in his hand. Coming back to reality, he saw Marco standing before him palms up. His pupils dilated in anxiety, and then melting into a golden-silver-rimmed hazel shade before flickering back to their icy gray hue.

“Sup, bro.” Setting down the knife, Khamun realized sparks of his power danced on its silver surface and his clutched fists.

“You okay, primo?” Marco carefully questioned.

Trying to get his bearings and remember what he was doing prior, Khamun acknowledged Marco with a reassuring smile. He wiped his hands on his apron, and quickly reached out for a warrior clasp with Marco.

He then took another hit off his Trinity. “Never been better, fam. Tell me what you want to do, man; what can I do in your opinion?”

Tossing an apple back and forth between his hands, Marco rolled his shoulders. The white button-down shirt he wore seemed to tighten slightly with the swelling pressure of his bulking muscles while he processed his thoughts. “I have this feeling that you know, man. That you were thinking on it already.”

Going back to the memory of the past, Khamun's stare locked onto his cousin with a curt nod. “We go in like phantoms, and we extract. Covert ops like before.”

“Naw, hermano. You can say it. After what I saw last night, there's no saving her. You have my word as your brother and as your Shield. I release you from the vow you made to me and my mother.”

Wow.
He wasn't expecting that. A weight like a boulder surreally released from his shoulders as he felt that vow lift away. He noticed the truth in his cousin and he had much respect for that. The day was finally here and he was sorry about it all. Over the years, they had tried all they could to get word if Reina was alive and if she was okay. Over the years they had also run into the minions of Reina, the Dark Lady, never realizing she was Marco's twin until several years ago.

Through her malicious hands many Nephilim and humans disappeared or died. Blood soaked the streets wherever the Dark Lady landed and the Nephilim Council wanted her head. Unfortunately, Khamun had made his vow to his aunt after he watched her fall to her death at the hands of Marco's father, her words of thanks and other secrets echoing in his young mind. When she died, he had later heard rumors by Cursed minions that it was due to childbirth, but this was not the case and only he, Lenox, and Marco shared that truth.

Processing everything, he inwardly sighed. He never realized until now that Marco knew of the vow, which made him silently assessed his solemn brother before asking, “This is your wish, my man?”

Marco bowed his head in contemplation, his fist clutching by his side. The rolled-up sleeves of his button-down showed his many insignias against his smooth sepia dark skin and they glowed while his mind shifted in deliberation.

“Yeah, man. Been thinking about this for a long-ass time. When she went after our Oracle, the future of our kind, I knew she could not be allowed to continue, so you have the right to end her. There is no saving what is beyond gone. And if any light is still within her, ending her now saves that slither my mother left behind within her.
¿Comprende?
” he simply stated.

Khamun understood too damn well. This was not a decision that was being made lightly, but he knew that for Marco's sake, that vow would always be a part of him. No, he would not be foolish enough to think they could save her. But, when the time came, he would let the Most High be the judge, and he the tool in either saving her light or ending it.

“Yeah, bro. Then the plan is changed. We go in, we extract those who have not been tainted yet, and we exterminate those of the Dark,” Khamun proposed.

Both men gave a silent nod of understanding then froze staring at the figure in the entryway to the kitchen. Pressing a fist to their heart, they bowed their heads and both men waited for reprieve.

“My sons, that is not necessary,” Eldress Neffer warmly interjected, walking through the kitchen then grabbing a pomegranate.

“Sauté this then add this into her omelet. Sanna needs as much energy as possible my heart,” she instructed.

Khamun reached for a sauté pan then added the pomegranate seeds. His mother was dressed in her deep purple Eldress robes, which signaled an official meeting. In such a case, protocol dictated etiquette supersede family law, which was why both he and Marco had given her the royal respect she deserved.

“There is something I wish to discuss before we go into officially introducing Sanna to her training and soon, Society. Since meeting her and syncing with her, my visions have cleared up, though I am no way as powerful as she, I am still considering myself your House's head oracle.”

Both men raised their eyebrows and Khamun chose to step forward. “Eldress. Mom, now that Sanna has come into her Awakening, I understand the need for you to act as a stand-in while you train her but she is Oracle. I am confused as to why you would take her rank?”

Khamun dropped his head during which his mother rested her hand against his jaw. The touch of his mother brought a comfort only a mother could while she softly spoke up.

“Because, my son, she is a Throne and His mouthpiece, the Oracle. Since she wasn't able to go into her Awakening naturally, her Oracle gifts seem to be diminutive. From just touching her, and from what she divulged, she sees a lot, knows so much, but she is not able to speak on it. Her visions are linear but as she tries to speak it, half of what she knows only verbally relays. The past mixes with the present visions. This can be a problem for your House and Society could use it to twist it and call her broken.”

“Eldress . . .” Marco stepped forward but Eldress Neffer held her other hand out and cupped his face. Motherly concern shined in her gaze and he continued. “Tia, if they register her as a broken oracle, they may try to submit her to an asylum and banish her, regardless of her being the Oracle. The same was almost done to me. We have to do something,
sí?
I don't understand how her gift could be this way; she spoke in clarity before.”

Khamun pushed the skillet away in frustration. He stepped out of his mother's touch with a shake of his head. “Marco is correct, Momma. As Oracle she spoke clearly how—”

Neffer sternly stepped forward to reach out and grab Khamun by his bicep gently gaining his attention. “But as Sanna, she does not know how to control her gifts yet, which is why I am here and why I will teach her until her mind works out the kinks. I will help with not only what she tells us when not speaking as Oracle, but also when her visions are skewed. I will help because she also will still have her migraines, son. I'm sorry, my sweetheart. She told me not to tell you because she didn't feel as if she could yet. She told me when Oracle used her up and Darren in the fight, she had a migraine. It was nothing as it used to be but she still has them and I wanted you to know.”

Painful frustration filled Khamun. “Shit! I guess even Oracle has her limitations.”

Neffer slowly nodded, hugging her son then turning to hug Marco. “I'm sorry, my boys. We came a long way today. We achieved something many Houses and teams around the world have not. We have a living and surviving oracle and not just any oracle, the Oracle. You cannot know how proud I am of you all.”

The soft rustles of her robes kissed the marble floor with her movement around the kitchen fixing Sanna's plate while watching him and Marco. He could tell in his mother's eyes what she thought. Grown men though they were, Neffer would always see the two young boys who came to her, covered in blood, ash, dirt, sweat, and water after pulling off an elaborate heist that seasoned adults haven't been able to. That was the day his mother had learned that her son was something more and that was the day she met her Cursed nephew, who immediately claimed as her own, a boy who should not have existed.

“Yes, we did well, Momma, but what about Sanna, what about this House? She is ours to protect, which . . . damn it! We can't let Society know Oracle's true identity. Tell me what do we do then, Mom? Marco, what you think? Because my mind is not clear right now,” Khamun urgently asked pacing the kitchen thinking about everything.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Marco reached to rub the back of his neck, thinking. “Hey, I know you know, primo. You said it. We have to protect her, and like you have to do every day in the streets, it's time she does the same: hide. We hide that she is Oracle. We can't hide that Oracle is back because of the spies but—”

Khamun interjected, beaming with a quiet understanding. “Like the Attacker. Well, the Reaper is a myth, so will Oracle be and if they think she is back but they don't know who she is; then we use this as a diversion until she is strong and we find more books. That's what's up.”

“
Exactamente, acere.
Exactly, homie.” Marco laughed. Both men knocked knuckles giving each other dap during which Eldress Neffer watched on smiling.

Pushing her dark red locks to the side, she continued to clean the kitchen before finding a tray. Speaking in motion, she cleared her throat. “Ahem, I have one more thing to say. I had a vision, which Sanna lead me to clearly see. Marco, sometime soon, you need to go back to St. Louis and check the team. While you are there, you will find a Guide who you must watch and remove from her current working environment. She will lead us to something associated with Ryo, and there is a third thread I'm not clear about, but it will lead us to someone who was lost. My sons, it's all related to the books, and Ryo let us know that one of the books was already taken awhile ago.”

“By who? The Cursed?” Khamun asked.

Marco shook his head then reached out to help his aunt, as he shrugged. “Wouldn't even surprise me, primo.”

Neffer placed an empty glass on a tray with a pitcher of ice water and the plate of food Khamun had cooked earlier. She walked ahead then paused, looking back at her two overwhelmed sons. “He explained it was them. We need to dig into that book more, sons. Come, let's get Sanna her food so she can help us look the books over. I am hoping Oracle speaks to help us clearly to gain a better footing because apparently these books are needed for our livelihood; and with the Cursed having one and we having one—”

“Whoever gets the next book will out trump the other,” Khamun interjected. He took the tray out of his mother's hands and let her walk out.