The Bitten (Vampire Huntress Legend #4)

The Bitten (Vampire Huntress Legend #4) Page 7

Chapter Seven

Finally Marlene opened the bedroom door with Shabazz, Big Mike, and Rider leveling weapons in Damali's direction. It hurt her soul to see her team's expressions, each member meeting her at the front door armed, and prepared to fire. J.L.'s hand hovered over the hallway holy-water emergency levers. Tears were standing in Jose's eyes and he couldn't even hold up his crossbow against her. But it was that look in everyone's eyes that cut more than any weapon ever could.

"Let's do this in the weapons room," she said softly.

Father Patrick nodded, and unsheathed Madame Isis. Her team allowed her to pass slowly, each person watching everyone's backs.

The walk down that hallway felt like the longest road she'd ever taken. When she entered the room, the teams filed in behind her, everyone standing far enough away and taking strategic battle positions.

Damali's gaze settled on Marlene first. She was the only one unarmed, and the two women exchanged a silent understanding. They both knew that the teams had been trying to bring her out through a gentler method to no avail. Now, the options were severe.

"After Raven..." Marlene said quietly. "I can't put down another daughter."

"I know," Damali said, holding her head up high. "Father Pat Imam Asula have to be the ones. Marlene... Mom... just know that I love you, 'kay?"

Rider's shotgun was tilted up, even though his finger was on the trigger. His face appeared so worn and his eyes were so red that she could barely look at him. She saw Big Mike waver, too, his shoulder cannon position was not dead aim like it should have been, but would only slow her down enough just to wound her. Shabazz held the line, but his gun shook as he aimed it at her, his eyes containing so much pain that the tears that glittered in them seemed like crystals. Dan, Jose, and J.L. had crossbows, but their aims were off, too. Only the Covenant held their weapons at full military readiness. That was to be expected. Family could never easily put down their own.

She smiled sadly at them. "I love you, too," she whispered. "I am so sorry, big brothers. God only knows how much."

"What did you say?" Shabazz whispered, lowering his Glock, and stepping out of the battle stance.

"I said," Damali repeated, "that I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen."

They all continued to stare at each other.

"She said the name of the Almighty," Father Lopez whispered. He closed his eyes and made the sign of the cross over his chest, lowering his battle-ax.

"At a time like this," Damali said, confused, looking at each person in the room, "don't you think that makes sense?" Then eerie awareness entered her. She'd turned, had been in some sort of horrible flux, where she was banished from even the name of the Most High. The nightmarish reality brought hot tears to her eyes. She'd been stripped of her mission. She was no longer the Neteru. She wasn't even sure if she was still human.

When no one spoke, she opened her arms as hysteria began to claim her. "Kill me now, but say a prayer over me - let family do it, not the dark side!"

They were shaking their heads, tears standing in their eyes. Their mute response tore at her, and her voice escalated as hot tears coursed down her face. "I messed up! Not him. I baited Carlos into the bite. But I am not a creature of the undead! I refuse to feed off the living and suck the lifeblood from living things. I want to at least die with honor. That deserves a prayer on the way out, doesn't it?"

"You thinking what I'm thinking, Mar?" Shabazz said, ignoring Damali's impassioned outburst.

"I'm praying what you're thinking, baby," Marlene said in a quiet rush.

"We might still have a chance," Father Patrick said carefully. "Three eves have not passed. The Neteru is strong. And given that the Vatican told us that the holy key is missing, as I said when I arrived and Damali was still confined, the warrior angels may be battling to preserve her for the intended mission." Father Patrick looked at Damali hard. "Child, we need you on our side, but must also do what we must do... if that isn't possible."

For a moment, Damali couldn't answer. She covered her face with her hands and breathed into them slowly. Hope and a host of other emotions had closed her throat, and new tears stung her eyes as a sliver of a chance hung in the balance there in the weapons room. But she sucked up the sob that tried to force its way out, swallowed it away, and stood firm. "Make me whole again. Human," she whispered. "Whatever the mission, I'll always fight for the Light."

Uneasy smiles began to slowly dawn on the faces before her. All except on Marlene's. When Jose totally abandoned his weapon and moved to go to Damali, the older woman placed her hand firmly on his shoulder and stopped him.

"He got to you telepathically through my strongest prayer line, and a cleric team's prayers with an entire monastery backing that up. Nothing should have been able to get in or out of here from the dark side."

Monk Lin bowed in Marlene's direction, lowering his samurai sword. "We set the perimeter prayer to let no evil enter this compound, and to let no weapon formed against us or her prosper. We asked that only good things come to her, and that no force that would harm her be allowed to breech this house. We said to keep Damali safe; we called her by name. But we never said not to allow Carlos Rivera to gain entry. Dear Marlene, could that have been the cosmic loophole?"

"He was able to connect with her," Dan said slowly, "because he didn't mean her any harm."

Pure shame burned Damali's cheeks as she dropped her hands away from her face and wrapped her arms around her. "I baited him into that, too," she said quietly. "He didn't mean me any harm. Never did. When the man said there was no intent to turn me, that was the truth."

"I don't believe that that motherfucker might still be on our side," Shabazz said, wiping his face with his free hand, and walking away shaking his head in amazement.

"I told you to have faith," Father Lopez said, as he hung his head back and let out a hard breath of relief.

"Yo, she's standing before us, not trying to run or attack, talking about dying with honor, just like a Neteru," Jose said fast. "It's gotta be cool."

Asula wisely held up his hand, stopping the group from moving toward her. "Rivera said that Damali had been turned by a council-level vamp, making her extremely treacherous. Be advised, this night is not over yet. We need to perform some tests."

Damali nodded. "The man speaks the truth. I don't know how much of this is still in my system, or if I'll have some sort of lapse."

"I don't care, D," Jose said quietly, his gaze holding hers. "I got your back."

Father Patrick let out his breath slowly and motioned for Damali to stand by the cleared-off table, using the Isis blade to direct her. "I hope that we have not lost either of you. We have not removed our prayers and hope for his redemption, but we have barred him entry to the safe house until we know for sure which side he's chosen. The hour is short. He cannot enter this compound until we have certain assurances that you are yourself. My hope is that somehow this new experience and knowledge of the dark side will aid us in reclaiming what has been stolen from our holiest orders."

Nervous glances ricocheted around the team, but Father Patrick shook his head. "Until we know how your condition will evolve, you are not privy to Guardian information." He watched shoulders slump around the group, but drew a shaky breath as Damali thrust her chin up and nodded her understanding.

"Marlene will set up a named barrier to keep him out," the elder cleric said in a weary voice. "Then, we are going to recite the Twenty-third Psalm in unison while I walk around you, making a holy-water ring. Father Lopez will be swinging frankincense and then will read the communion prayer and offer you the sacrament. If your system can bear it, you will then be anointed with blessed oil at your forehead, your temples, your throat, over your heart, inside your wrists, and at the bottoms of your feet."

Asula nodded. "Then, a blood pack will be set before you, along with human sustenance. If you cannot consume real food, then all may be lost... and you know what we'll have to do."

"Each member of the team is going to read a scripture from each of the twelve holy books, from the twelve scattered tribes and twelve major religions, and you will be touched by the symbols of those faiths and if your skin doesn't burn, we will use the lights," Monk Lin said. "You will have to pass through the UV lights."

"Before the lights, though, I'll prepare you a white bath, filled with garlic cloves and myrrh, and holy water," Marlene said, her expression so tormented that it forced Damali to look away.

"It will be painful," Father Patrick warned. "Any residue of vampire abomination within your system will be purged. But the choice is yours. If you cannot submit to the tests, and even if you do, but do not pass any of the tests, we will have to end this quickly so your soul can rest in peace. You know the code of the Neteru, and of the Covenant."

"For the good of all mankind, the Light is my only path, and only the light that casts no shadows. Death with honor before dark disgrace," Damali murmured, her gaze holding Father Patrick's until he nodded and looked away.

Damali fully understood. The choice was simple - she wanted to live and to give Carlos a fighting chance to reclaim his soul. She owed him that much. "Bring it."

Berkfield stood in his darkened garage, clutching the door opener and staring down the driveway behind the disappearing taillights of his family's minivan. He knew he had to punch in the number on the keypad soon, to call the scientist who had changed his life. He had to know, had to bring closure to this whole mystery that had haunted him since that fateful night in the alley when Carlos Rivera made him know there was a whole other universe out there that he didn't understand. But where was this man, this enigma that had shattered his neat world?

"Heard you were looking for me," a deep voice said from behind. Berkfield pulled his revolver and spun to meet the sound. "Your mental calls have been drilling a hole in my brain for a long time now, hombre."

Berkfield watched in horror as Carlos Rivera stepped out of the shadows. Sweat made his grip on his gun unsteady, and he reinforced his hold.

"Put it down," Carlos ordered. "You and I both know that's useless against my kind."

"What do you want? Where did you come from?" Berkfield asked nervously, stepping back without lowering the weapon.

"I came from Hell," Carlos said in a bored voice. "But I also came to call in a marker."

"Stay back!" Berkfield shouted as Carlos casually walked forward. "I have hallowed-earth-packed bullets, holy water, a blessed crucifix, and - "

"Good," Carlos said in a weary tone. "I'm also glad you sent the wife and kids to Father Patrick. Wise move." He smiled. "Don't look so shocked. I always know where everyone under my protection goes."

The fact that Carlos knew where his family was headed made Berkfield bold. "I will blow you away if you come near my family. We clear?"

Carlos nodded. "I want them safe, too. So you can dispense with the drama. I wouldn't have gone through all the trouble to put all of you under my protective seal if I wanted you dead. Use your brain. Think."

Berkfield lowered his weapon. Carlos mentioned a protective seal, the same thing the scientist had said. "I need some answers."

Carlos nodded. "We both do." He walked over to the workbench and leaned against it, folding his arms. "You're a good man, Berkfield. That's why I'm here."

Berkfield just stared at Carlos for a moment. "I've been losing my mind, seeing crazy things, thinking..."

"You haven't lost your mind," Carlos said in a quiet voice. "But the whole thing is insane."

"I want this seal off of me! Whatever this shit is you did - some black magic bullshit, I don't know, but I - "

"In these unstable times, you do not want my mark off of you," Carlos said very slowly. "I gave you all the drug dealers, kingpins, led you to drug busts that would have taken years, and - "

"But I did not agree to sell my soul for it, and didn't agree to a deal with the Devil."

"Correct," Carlos said, beginning to lose patience. "Which is the only reason you're still standing here."

Silence had created a stalemate, and after a moment, Carlos let out his breath hard, pushing away from the workbench.

"Listen, Berkfield. I gave you a lot of information when you needed it, now I need some help."

When Berkfield didn't respond, Carlos pressed on. "Something very valuable was stolen from my territory by a human, but if it falls into the wrong hands, it could be disastrous. My empire is very - "

"Empire?" Berkfield said, cutting him off. Then he chuckled and rubbed his moist palm over his balding scalp. "I've lost my damned mind. I'm worried about vampires and werewolves and madness, and you're still just a drug lord." He shook his head and put the safety on his weapon.

Carlos studied the man before him. Time was of the essence and Damali's purging process was shattering his nerves. To make Berkfield understand, he went for shock value.

"Let me explain this to you slowly and carefully, and I'm going to stand here and not make a sudden move toward you so that your dumb ass doesn't have a heart attack," Carlos said in a smooth tone. He allowed his fangs to lower inch by inch as his body mass doubled, annoyance flickering his pupils gold and red. "I am of the highest level of my kind. There's an entire empire of us out there. But you got lucky. I've marked you. Not for food, not for bait, not to be a human slave, but have given you a protection voucher." Sending a dark current toward Berkfield, he slammed the garage door closed behind them and sealed the barrel of his gun.

He could feel Berkfield's heart beating erratically, a scream lodging in the man's throat. His blood pressure was spiking, his jaw had gone slack, and his bladder was about to empty. Carlos waved his hand to assist the human. "Chill, man," Carlos said as calmly as he could while normalizing. "I'm not here to hurt you - never will. All right?"

Berkfield clutched his chest and staggered toward the wall to slump against it. "What do you want?"

"Information," Carlos said coolly.

"About what?"

Carlos considered where to begin and sighed. "I didn't start off like this, hombre. I got jacked in the woods where you found my shit. I had the same reaction you're having now. Thought I'd have a fucking heart attack. But, bottom line is, I am what I am. Only good thing about it is that I can serve a little justice from this side, now. So, in that regard, we're compadres."

Berkfield's hand went to his cross and he fingered it nervously as he spoke. "You've been helping me all along? From behind the scenes? But you're dead?"

"Fucked up, ain't it?" Carlos shook his head.

"And Damali Richards..."

"She's all red-blooded human, but, yeah, she's my woman." Carlos smiled. "So, I can't be that bad."

"My family - "

"Is in the safest place on the planet," Carlos said, all amusement gone from his tone once again. "With the clerics on hallowed ground. Your gut hunch was right about sending them there."

"You said you needed information," Berkfield rasped, his voice cracking.

"Yeah. Seems some scientists have been dicking around with Mother Nature, magnetic fields - the kinda shit that keeps my universe somewhat separated from yours. They're doing experiments, trying to find the ultimate weapon, and may have opened up Pandora's box." Carlos began pacing. "Some places I can't go. Only a human can get inside to do the detective work, which is your specialty." He looked at Berkfield hard. "So this is where you come in. One of the master vampires, guys with power almost as serious as mine, may have come stateside and hijacked a key to one of the biblical seals. If he's able to open that seal, then everything you learned in Catholic school will go down. All Hell will literally break loose, hombre. You feel me?"

"I don't understand. What can I do? I'm just a - "

"You're just a man with knowledge beyond the average man. You've got skills for finding shit, and I need you on the case to bring me that key before some crazy shit jumps off."

Berkfield shook his head. "You think I'm a fool? If I did know where this so-called biblical key was, why would I give it to you? A demon? I did learn something about - "

"You will give it to me because your alternatives are very limited. The master who stole it isn't going to stand in your garage, have a nice chat, and negotiate with you." Carlos sent a searing strip of flame across the garage to make his point. "He will rip your fucking human heart out. He will turn your wife and children into the undead. He will do things to you that will make you know that Hell exists. So, my goal is to try to spare you that experience." Carlos took in a deep breath to steady himself and put out the flames. "Because you are under my seal, I know your every move. A scientist came to you, let's start there. What do scientists want with it?"

Confusion riddled Berkfield as he tried to process all that he'd witnessed and been told. "I was in the garage, had just come in, and they doped me up, I went out, and when I woke up I was in a military van."

Carlos began pacing. "Humans. All right."

"But the guy was trying to help me," Berkfield said fast. "He also told me about a faction of scientists who disagreed with this madness. They said everything you just said, and gave me a number to punch into the door opener. They said they would send a squad to put my wife and kids in hiding. But he also said that I was in some sort of danger, something about my aura and your mark, a buncha stuff I still don't understand."

"Yeah," Carlos said. "Neither do I and I don't like it." Carlos studied Berkfield and rubbed his jaw. "It was a smart move to get your family under Father Pat's wing, but the thing that troubles me is, why would they come to you?"

Both men stared at each other.

"If I'm supposed to find this key for you, man, you oughta know it is sacred blood."

"I know. Humans extracted it from the Shroud of Turin; it was dried in powder form and always kept on hallowed ground. There was a problem with the guy watching it this century. The situation went down in Boston."

Berkfield staggered over to the workbench where Carlos had been and leaned against it. "Well... Thanks, man, for the heads-up... and for watching my back, for taking care of my family I owe you."

"We're even, if you bring me info that can help me find the key." Carlos spit on the ground and looked up. "You call me if you get yourself in a predicament. My advice is that you follow your family and stay with Father Pat's crew. If you can make some inquiries using your cop resources by day, get a bead on those scientists and where they hang. The master working with them can be traced, if he's marked a human helper."

"But I don't understand how you'd be working with and helping clerics."

"Long story. Like they say, politics and business make for strange bedfellows. Just like you and me ain't exactly a matched pair, but wound up on the same side."

Carlos began walking away into the shadows, Damali's torturous screams making it difficult for him to think.

"Hey!" Berkfield yelled. "Two questions. How am I supposed to find out who has this blood key now, and how in the hell do I call you?"

Carlos didn't turn around as he dematerialized into wind. "Work with the cool scientist and learn as much as you can about the black ops boys who are building weapons. And, as for calling me, I'll pick you up on the bat channel," he said, laughing. "If your ass gets in a sling and you start screaming, I'll hear you."

It felt like they were peeling her skin from her bones as they dunked her in the putrid white bath. Garlic fumes singed the insides of her nostrils, and the second round of holy water in the tub ate at the first- and second-degree burns on her entire surface. Vomiting and screaming, and twisting against the torture, she could feel her gums rip as Big Mike and Shabazz forced her head back from their arms.

"What the hell is happening?" Rider grunted over her screams, struggling with one of Damali's slippery legs.

"She's rejecting the cure," Father Patrick said, dangling a long crucifix over the water, while Marlene pushed Damali's torso under it and poured more bath water over her face and head.

Damali arched and wailed in pain.

"But she made it through the other tests," Jose said, clutching his weapon, on guard at the door. "The sight of the blood nauseated her, and she took the fruit and kept it down!"

"The baptismal ritual is the more arduous test, and will either shock her system back... or..." Father Patrick's words trailed off as another wave of screeches and curses came from Damali's twisted mouth.

Monk Lin, Imam Asula, and Father Lopez keep a trinity of loud chants going over the commotion, while Dan assisted J.L. in monitoring possible incoming from Carlos.

"Dude must really be gone," Dan muttered. "Big Mike's ears are bleeding. If he doesn't come for her through this..."

J.L. shook his head. "Marlene's new prayer line with the Covenant is blocking him. But look alive, stay alive, young brother, and man your post."

On the third dunk, Damali could feel her skin bubble up and begin to peel away, dissolving into the acidic bath. Totally submerged, she went into a convulsion, and the water went red around her until she could no longer see the faces beyond the surface.

mm

"Jesus, Lord," Marlene croaked. "I can feel her skin coming off in my hands, Father! Drive the Isis in her heart, man! This is no way to kill her!"

"Stay steady, Mar," Shabazz ordered. "Let the man work. She's not struggling in our hold. Bring her up slow."

A collective gasp passed through the Guardian team as they brought Damali's limp form up from beneath the water's edge. Her once beautiful bronze skin was festered and split; huge boils and blisters covered it. Where she'd been touched by religious symbols, the blacked images were branded.

"Mike, take her out and put her on her bed in the center of the garlic ring," Marlene whispered.

Big Mike dabbed the corners of his eyes on his wet T-shirt with a shrug, and followed Marlene's command. Marlene stooped beneath Damali's form as Big Mike stood with care, checking the Sankofa tattoo.

"It's burned off," Marlene said, tears dropping off her nose as her voice broke.

"Put her down slow, Mike," Shabazz said, while he, Rider, and Jose flanked him with weapons.

"We did the best we could," Father Patrick murmured. "Bring the lights, J.L.."

"No, guys. Enough," Rider said, choked. "Enough."

"But, we can't give up on her," Jose said, panicked, "We have to keep trying!"

"Bring the lights, J.L.," Marlene repeated in a far-off tone. "If that doesn't work, then I'll plant the Isis in my baby girl."

Carlos watched with disinterest as the two hounds snapped at each other, snarling over the two limp vamp bodies at his feet. Yonnie had routed out two territory sniffers and delivered them, just as Carlos had requested. But they held no information; therefore, they were as useless as dog food.

One creature had one leg of a body, the other had an arm, and they were ripping it apart, pulling in opposite directions, each trying to get more than their fair share of the gruesome remains.

Suddenly he looked down at his arms and saw how the skin went raw, then immediately healed. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath as the slurping, cracking sound of the dogs eating became a faraway echo in his mind. The foul stench of garlic and incense attacked the back of his throat, and Carlos hawked and spit. The dogs stopped feeding for a moment, monitoring the new scent and growled, dragging the carcasses away from the offending smell. Carlos couldn't hear Damali screaming anymore.

His line-knowledge was enough to tell him what they'd done to her. But he'd gambled that they'd never go that far. This was the old way, followed up with a medieval, Vatican-style cleansing. All he could do was send healing thoughts to her and hope. If he'd known they were going to go the Full Monte and not just dust her quick... or even just accept her back with a few modern tests... But, then, hindsight was always twenty-twenty.

The pain was so intense that she slipped in and out of consciousness, feeling hot, then cold, now warm again. A brightness just beyond her lids made her try to cover her eyes to block it at first, but then the warm sensation against the back of her hand made her reach for it. An eerie peace covered her, and she felt like she was floating away. She reached harder toward the source of comfort, anything to stop the pain.

She tasted tears and could feel them slide from beneath her shut lids, down the sides of her face. Light, blessed light, her mind seized upon it, remembering, holding the image of the light in the long tunnel... yearning for it, seeing bright forms in it that she couldn't quite make out - but that she knew meant her no harm - were calling to her, beckoning, reaching for her to touch her hands and pull her... then she saw a pair of deep-set, concerned eyes, and a strong hand extended toward her. She grasped it, heaved, and sucked in a shuddering breath, then opened her eyes to Shabazz.

"Come back to us, baby," Shabazz whispered. "Please, darlin', just come back."

The images around her were blurry. The point of the Isis blade was centered over her chest, held by an old man in a blue robe. The glint of silver made her squint.

"Wait, Father Pat," Marlene said loudly. "Look at her skin! The wounds are healing."

The blue image moved away with the silver. Faces slowly came into focus. The burns on her body began to abate, and a shiver ran through her, then became a sudden seizure. A white blanket immediately covered her, and through her eyelids she could almost see shadows of Marlene's frantic motions passing over her.

"She's going into shock," Marlene yelled. "Bring her out, turn off the lights. Circle of three! Healing touch. Bring her out!"

He sat on the front balcony railing of the mansion for a long time, his head back, his eyes closed, his thoughts centralized... stroking her hair with his mind, his fingers gently caressing every blistered, scarred surface on her battered body. His will for her to live transferring through the night air; his hope an airborne message, her torture - his torture.

"I would give my life... let the pain come to me," he whispered to the nothingness. "Bring her out," he murmured. "Just bring her out." They were supposed to be professionals at this; he'd trusted them, and had banked on their knowledge. But something was going very wrong.

Patience began sliding down a very slippery slope within his mind. Damali was still screaming. This was her trial, and she had to ride it out - take it like a woman, that had been her choice. But they were botching the job, and she had no concept of what level of torture a bite purge could inflict. Panic had been his enemy, now it was his best friend. They were botching the fucking job... hell no. Amateurs!

His hand reached toward her, flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone, love of his life, spirit inside his spirit. Angry, thunderous storm clouds split the blackening sky and gathered above his head as his thoughts concentrated. Every power that he'd come into, every lifetime that had been held within the dark throne, ran down his arm, burned his fingertips black as the energy exited his body, lit the night, and resounded with a sonic boom.

A shock wave rocked the compound. All lights went out and not even the generators booted up.

"Heads up, people," Shabazz said fast. "The brother obviously ain't having this shit."

"Stay with her," Marlene said, as Damali convulsed and stopped breathing. "Keep the circle unbroken around her."

"Are you people fucking nuts?" a voice said, ricocheting off the walls in a low, even baritone. "You should have brought her out slower!"

On the last part of his statement, the back bedroom wall blew out as Carlos's form materialized. Mike leveled, aimed, and fired his cannon, discharging a hallowed-earth grenade that knocked his shoulder back.

The team watched as the shell spiraled, slowed, and stopped, hovering inches from the target. Jose stepped forward, but hesitated, weapon drawn.

"Do not make me take a body up in this joint," Carlos warned. "I didn't come here for that. I came for my woman."

As other weapons discharged, he stepped aside and let the cannon shell whiz by him to explode in a dirt hill beyond the ridge�sending every bullet behind it like heat-seeking missiles with a wave of his hand.

"I told you I was not in the frame of mind!" Carlos snarled between his teeth and walked calmly toward the bed.

Ignoring the stricken faces around him, Carlos stooped and picked Damali's limp form up in his arms, the white blanket billowing in the wind.

"You do not think we're just going to stand here and let you walk out of here with our baby girl" Shabazz said, catching the Isis from Father Patrick's toss.

Jose was holding his empty gun with two hands. "Word. You ain't taking D nowhere, man!"

Rider was on his flank, crossbow raised. "Not." Carlos reached out his hand, breaking Shabazz's hold on the Isis, drawing it toward him. The sword spiraled and lodged into a cinder block behind Carlos. "I'll bring her back when she's better," he said, retracting his fangs.

He turned and stepped over the wall line with Damali in his arms. He grabbed her sword from the wall, resealed the compound, rebooted the lights, and was gone.

When he landed on the mansion porch, his Hell-dogs immediately lunged at him. He drove the Isis blade into the dirt, slowing their now-stalking advance. The garlic and incense and prayers Damali trailed had obviously confused their senses, bristled the hair on their backs, and formed acid foam at their jaws.

"No!" he ordered, making them completely stop, sniff around confused, and retch up half digested body parts. "Not this scent, either," he said, his voice dropping to a threatening low that cowed their aggression. "Never."

"Stay. Guard. Watch," he said, turning his back on them and taking Damali into the house.