"He insulted you," Yonnie shouted. "That's what the fuck he did. Hurt her-swing at her, and your arm is mine."

"Shut up," Tara said, pointing at Yonnie. "This is between me and my husband."

Yonnie looked so shocked that he backed up a step, but lifted his chin higher as he glowered at Rider.

Tara tilted her head and stared at Rider, a millimeter of fangs showing. Marjorie Berkfield covered her mouth and shut her eyes tightly.

"Don't kill him," Marjorie squeaked. "Not in front of my children."

Tara advanced on Rider so quickly and slapped him so hard that for a second, the team reached out to catch his body, thinking she'd snapped his neck. When Rider only rubbed his jaw, Big Mike and Shabazz sat down hard. Marlene wiped her brow and Robert upchucked.

"After all these years," Tara screamed, pointing at Rider as she paced away from him. "You had no right to even question my whereabouts. Ever!"

"Baby," Rider said, trying to slowly walk toward her. "It just looked-"

"Like what?" Tara whirled around, her mouth filled with razor-sharp battle-length teeth, her eyes glowing red.

"Honey, you've never gotten so... like this around me, and-"

"Her ass is fine, and if you can't handle it, I will," Yonnie said with honest appreciation. "Damn, man, if you don't want her... make up your mind, tonight."

Nuts and bolts holding the chairs to the floor began unscrewing and a tear scorched the carpet around them.

"Both of you-stop!" Tara shouted. "You," she said, pointing to Yonnie. "The reason I never allowed you to consummate after the elevation bite was because you were inmy husband's house ."

"You didn't have to put that out there like that, girl," Yonnie muttered and began walking away. He looked over his shoulder. "That was between me and you and personal."

"Don't you walk away from me and try to serve me mist," Tara said. "You disrespected him, after I asked you not to rub a throat exchange in his face!"

Rider nodded and stood up a little taller until she whirled on him and resumed her tirade.

"And, you-oh, I'm done until the end of time."

"Wait, baby, now, I may have been hasty and-"

Tears streamed down Tara's face. "You may not have been able to give me a master vampire's castle, but I was willing to live there in the cabin with you until you died." She started crying bitter sobs and when Rider went to her she pushed him away. "You don't think I know how much love you put into every piece of wood, every window you hung by hand, every fiber in there?" She snatched away from Rider as he tried to embrace her. "I can feel all that throughmy skin. That's what keeps me going when you're away.That's what I hang on to when you're on the road." She slapped him again, but not hard enough to break his jaw this time. "Andthat's what keeps me sane when I hear you with those damned pole dancers-so if I was really the vicious type, I would have done him in our room!"

She walked away and went to Carlos, who absently opened his arms for her, not sure what to do.

"Make them stop it," Tara said, sobbing. "You stand between their worlds. Our old one is dying, and we don't have time for this nonsense."

Carlos looked up at Rider and rubbed Tara's back to try to get her to calm down. "Handle your business and treat your wife right." He petted her back and scowled at Yonnie. "And you're my boy, and all, but stay out of Rider's territory-some shit just ain't done, especially for a master, man. C'mon. If we was 'round the way, your ass would be shot by now, messin' withhombres wife, or trying to. Peace in the family."

Carlos looked at Rider hard and repeated his statement as Tara calmed down and sniffed. "Peace in the family."

"Yeah, all right," Rider said, coming to collect Tara from Carlos. "Peace in the family." He looked at her. "Baby I'm so sorry." He held her tightly as she slid from Carlos's hug into his.

Carlos nodded, but kept his eye on Yonnie, who still had his back turned to the group. "Peace in the family, man?"

"Yeah, yeah... peace in the family-whack-assed combination that it is."

Carlos chuckled and walked over to Yonnie and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "It is that, but it's all we got right now." .

Damali went to Berkfield's son and slung her arm over the stricken teenager's shoulder. "Welcome to the family," she said with a weary sigh. She glanced at Marjorie. "Now you believe in vampires?"

Carlos shook his head and he patted Yonnie's shoulder. "It's all good. You up for a little nighttime transport? You still da man, a Master." He waited until he could sense Yonnie smile even though his back was still toward him.

"I got this little place over in Manhattan, if you're game. It's a coven safe house, but, uh, your boys are gonna hafta spend the night at the religious joint around the corner with the chick that's scared of her own shadow," Yonnie said, glimpsing the clerics with a grin. "Even I can't push my luck with the ladies that far."

"Sho' you right," Carlos said, raking his hair. "Travel logistics with a team this big-"

"Is a bitch," Shabazz muttered. "We've been doing it for years, so suck it up."

Yonnie considered the Berkfields for a moment and nodded toward Marjorie. "She might be able to get them in on a family blood pass, and your boys are no problem-as long as they bring cash. You've got a councilman's standing VIP suite in reserve, but they'll be disappointed that you're bringing your own woman, unless you're ready to share. They gave Tara the blues." He neared Robert and chuckled when the kid backed up. "They'll love him, though. Will turn his ass out-he won't come out of there a virgin, that's for sure."

"My son is going to the church with the clergymen, thank you very much," Marjorie snapped, quickly body shielding her boy. "In fact, that might not be a bad idea period, Mr. Yonnie, I heard them call you... so, if you would be so kind as to drop us off at a nearby cathedral, we would so deeply appreciate that."

"Oh,my goodness," Marlene sighed. She looked up at Big Mike. "And you're staying in whatever room me and Shabazz get put in tonight-no more mess."

"After all of this," Mike said in a weary tone, "even I'm reformed."

"I just want some weapons," Damali said. "The hair is still standing up on my neck."

"Once we get on hallowed ground, done," Father Patrick said in an exhausted tone. "We'll all get artillery resupplied."

"Cool." Shabazz nodded. "I've been feeling naked lately."

Carlos smiled and glanced around at the motley team of unlikely characters, wondering if fate actually did have a wicked sense of humor. "Everybody, peace?" He waited until everyone shifted and nodded in weary agreement, and then turned his attention back to Damali. "D, release time and let our boy blow us out of this joint."

YONNIE'S TRANSPORT cloud touched down in a whirlwind of rocks and twigs, scattering dirt and debris in the middle of Central Park West. Guardians and Covenant members wobbled and fell against each other as the tornado-like funnel cloud slowed to a gentle breeze.

Damali saw the streetlights glint off the gun barrel first. "Get down!" she shouted as she slammed Berkfield's teenage son to the ground.

A thunderous shotgun report echoed. Her team hit the dirt. Yonnie and Tara dematerialized and fanned out. Another shot rang through the foliage. Bodies rolled behind park benches and took shelter behind trees. Carlos was covering Krissy, his body a shield over the young girl.

Damali's line of vision keened upon the two vampires who were stalking prey. The young boy beneath her was shivering. "If it's civilian fire, don't kill the shooter!" Damali ordered.

A shotgun whizzed by them broken in two. Damali scrambled to her feet. Carlos was on his in seconds. The team got up slowly.

"I'm an old man!" a crotchety voice said. "I'm not afraid to die!"

Damali and Carlos took the lead, following the elderly voice bearing a Yiddish accent. When they rounded the path they didn't know what to make of what they saw.

An old man stood there with defiance blazing in his eyes, pointing at Yonnie and Tara. He was so hunched over he looked like an elderly gnome as he stamped his feet and slapped his chest, squinting through thick wire-rimmed glasses. His black hat and coat were dirty and speckled with twigs and dried grass. The black-and-white stole about his collar was rumpled as though he'd been in a struggle. Sticks and dust clung to his long white beard as he lobbed his complaint, shaking an angry, bony finger at Yonnie.

"They killed my only living relative-my brother! He was a great scientist! I will have my revenge, demons all of you!" As the team gathered near, he squinted and slapped his chest with opened palms. "So you gang up a whole army of demons on one little old man-but I have something for you! Come on! Come on! Tonight is a good time to die!"

Yonnie and Tara snarled. Damali and Carlos rushed forward with Father Patrick.

"Sir, no one's going to hurt you," Damali said as calmly as possible.

He spat on the ground. "A pox upon you! No, you won't kill me, but make me the living dead! But I've outsmarted you, ha! I'm already dying of cancer-how do you like that?"

"Yo, mister. Chill. You'll give yourself a heart attack if you don't calm down," Carlos said, trying not to smile.

"Heart attack, smart-attack-who cares! But I will not be taken hostage!"

"Rabbi, I implore you," Father Patrick said, walking forward slowly. "We are not the undead and we have children with us, too. Please, no heroics or violence."

"Children? Children! Oh... no..." The old man covered his face and wept, then he began beating his chest, looking up to the sky. "Oh, abominations, they know no bounds!"

"We're all human," Damali said, going to the old man. She glanced at Yonnie and Tara. "Cover your ears and stand back, we have to do something." She nodded for the team to surround the old man and gave the nod. "Dose him with something from the Old Testament-I don't know, pick a prayer from the old books that Imam Asula can get with, too. Anybody got a Bible on them?"

The mention of the Old Testament stemmed the man's momentary complaint. He peered around nervously as Yonnie and Tara loped off to stand in the distance. Marlene dug into her bag and brandished the book she always carried and tossed it to Damali.

"Here, Father," she said to Father Patrick. "Maybe the Book of Job might help, who knows."

The old man waved his hand and sighed. "If you touched it, then fine. I stand corrected and I know Job's story well, just as I know the book of Abraham." He adjusted the smudged glasses on his nose. "But you saw them, two at least, that came in the cloud?"

Damali smiled. "Yes, sir, we did. We hunt them. That's our job. But the two that came with us... well... there's an alliance, they work with us to help us get on the inside of the main nests."

"Hmmm... double agents... I don't know," he said in a peevish tone. "My brother thought you could negotiate with that sort, too-but the enemy has a silver tongue."

Carlos thrust the two Berkfield teens forward. "We're trying to keep these kids safe, mister." He nodded toward Berkfield, who stepped forward. "Their dad is a cop, undercover. He was recently assisted by your brother, or maybe his people-then abducted. We had to go to extreme lengths to get him back unbitten and alive."

"Oh... so young," the rabbi said, shaking his head and peering up at Krissy and Robert. "You sure they weren't bitten? Sometimes the demons pose as the weak and vulnerable, they trick you and can even become images of your own family. Their mother..."

"Right here," Marjorie Berkfield said, going to stand between her children. "Sir, I know this is a terrible strain on one's nerves, believe me. In the last few hours I have seen things that will probably make my hair go white-but everyone in our small group has undergone every clerical test you can imagine, and we've passed." She came near and held his withered hands.

Dan stepped forward and pulled his Star of David from beneath his shirt. "Rabbi," he said, taking off the jewelry and placing it in the old man's palm. "Shalom."

The rabbi clutched the necklace in his fist and hugged Dan, and began to sob. He banged on Dan's back with his fist as emotion consumed him. "They said I was old, getting dementia, because I had no more family. They didn't believe what I had seen! They didn't believe!"

Dan stroked the elderly man's back. "We believe. We've seen it. We know. We stand with you. We won't leave you."

Slowly the old man lifted his head, his glasses askew on the bridge of his nose. He wiped his face and took several breaths as Dan helped him to a park bench.

"You're not a hallucination, then?"

Dan smiled. "No, Rabbi. We're here to help."

He glanced around at the team and his eyes settled on the clerics. "You, too? All of you have seen this... men of many faiths?"

Father Patrick nodded. "We have. We must band together and fight."

He smiled and adjusted his lopsided hat. "And fight we shall! We will never give up!"

Sirens in the distance made everyone become still.

"Not to break up this party, but there's a few housekeeping details that we need to decide, pronto, given that we're out here in a deserted area at night," Rider said with emphasis. "Like, first of all, we need to get away from the scene of the crime, namely a round of shotgun fire on the ritzy side of town, unless Yonnie masked it."

"No lie," Shabazz said, staring at the old man. "Plus, before real predators show up, hallowed ground might be advisable."

The rabbi nodded and stood up, all resistance gone. "We need more ammunition, too. I have access to some things we'll need. Artillery."

"Artillery?" Damali shared glances of concern with the team.

"Of course artillery," he scoffed, walking quickly. "In Brooklyn. My brother was worried and knew something bad was coming. He made provisions." He winked and nodded, chuckling as though he knew a secret the others did not. "My brother had such a mind. He shipped things to me by a very circuitous route and told me that if anything ever happened to him, to be prepared. I am."

The group followed the rabbi to the other side of the park, but Rider hung back.

"Yo, Rider!" Damali yelled. "C'mon."

Rider shook his head. "She can't go to a synagogue."

The group halted motion.

"Neither can my boy," Carlos said, standing caught between Rider and the rest of the group.

"Oh, Lord..." Marlene sighed. "Now what?"

"We have to split up," Damali said, going to stand near Carlos.

"Oh, no," Big Mike said, advancing toward her. "We just went through that and we're not-"

"Take the Berkfields to higher ground, Mike. That's an order!" Damali said more firmly than she'd wanted. "Listen-me and Carlos are the only ones who can withstand a bite and take hard blows, if we get into a firefight. I'm a half-decent healer, if we get into a skirmish, but Rider can't be out here alone, and youknow he's not leaving his woman. Berkfield is a medic and can tolerate a bite, too-so he goes with you to where it's safe with his wife and kids. You guys fill in the rabbi and gather weapons. Seers, contact me and Carlos via telepathy as soon as day breaks and we'll figure out where to rendezvous. From there, we'll figure out where our new base of operations will be. The compound is gone, Rider's cabin is most likely compromised by now, and we still don't know exactly what we're up against."

"You have two choices," Yonnie said, his eyes scanning the street. "Gabrielle has this nice little brownstone on the Upper East Side, steel VIP vaults in the basement for clients that need to stay past dawn... or there's this bangin' joint up on Lennox and One-hundred-twenty-third. Voodoo sisters, fine as shit-"

"What's the closest and safest joint, man?" Carlos said, his nerves fried. "Where can Rider go and stay overnight and not asphyxiate in a cheap vault or worry about getting jacked once Tara has to regen?"

Yonnie chuckled. "I feel you. Well, Gabrielle's would check out, we have an alliance."

"So I've heard," Carlos muttered. "Is she gonna be cool with Damali, or will I have to ice your partner?"

"Oh, no, man. She ain't like that," Yonnie assured him. "Besides, Marjorie is her sister-even though they have issues, family is family. Plus, I know she ain't crazy enough to go after a councilman's wife in her own house."

Carlos and Damali stared at him.

"I'd feel better with a weapon," Damali said, as the group began walking up West 154th Street. "Rider needs one, too."

"I can't materialize silver or hallowed-earth-packed shells." Yonnie gave Damali a wry smile with a hint of fang glistening in the moonlight. "Damn you're fine, girl. No offense, Rivera, only a compliment."

"I'll settle for a Glock nine, or a handheld machine gun," Damali said, ignoring Yonnie's flirtation and Carlos's frown.

"That works for me," Rider said, putting his arm over Tara's shoulders.

"Hold up," Yonnie said, and stopped walking. "It's bad enough that Mrs. B was ordering a transport to the door of a church like she was ordering a cab. And I don't mind accommodating my boy's woman. If Damali wants heavy artillery to snuff a coupla witches that might get out of pocket, cool. But your ass doesn't ask me for shit. Got that?" Yonnie began walking and muttering. "Bad enough you're probably gonna fuck her under the same roof with me tonight; don't push me."

"What?" Rider removed his arm from Tara's shoulders. "Come again."

"Stop it. Both of you," Tara said, stepping in front of Rider.

Damali and Carlos had also come between them.

"Listen," Damali said, fatigue making her eyes blurry. "We cannot go into a witches' coven unless we're united."

"Squash the bullshit," Carlos said, glancing at Rider and Yonnie. He settled his focus on Yonnie. "You're the master, so act like it. There's probably five or six of them in there that will be happy you stopped by... which, in all honesty, will keep them occupied enough to keep us alive for the night."

Yonnie offered Carlos a grudging chuckle. "I can do that, keep 'em off your back and not thinking about spell-casting or spirit possessions until they pass out."

"That's my boy," Carlos said, banging his fist against Yonnie's. "Do 'em right, give us a few hours to get a plan together, then we'll jet in the morning and you and Tara can catch up to us next sunset."

Damali climbed the wide cement steps that led to the posh Manhattan brownstone. Hookers and witches, business mavens and gentleman's whores, politicians and landed wealth-what did it matter, they all owned primo real estate.

From the exterior of the well-kept properties, who could tell? She watched Yonnie lift the brass knocker on the heavy oak door that had tasteful panels of leaded, beveled glass, and announce his arrival by dropping it once, and then waiting for the door to eerily creak open on its own.

They crossed the great foyer that had huge inlaid blocks of black-and-white marble, the decor refined and held in stasis from the Art Deco era. Tall black-and-white candles lit the entrance, and Damali peered at the bloodred long-stemmed roses that stood aloof on a central white marble pedestal before a grand, sweeping staircase.

Pure curiosity tugged at her as a black cat slinked by, looked Carlos, Yonnie, and Rider up and down, and then turned up its nose at her and Tara and pranced away.

"Bitch," Tara muttered.

The cat hissed and fled up the stairs.

"Friend of yours?" Carlos asked with a smile.

"I know her," Tara said offhandedly. "Gabby's familiar, and she's as old as dirt."

"Be cool," Yonnie warned. "Show some respect." He turned his attention toward the stairs as a tall, angular woman appeared. He smiled and loped forward, his motions fluid.

In Damali's estimation, she was ghastly white and skinny. But she tucked away the appraisal. When leaning on hospitality one's best manners were in order.

"Hey, baby," Yonnie said, his voice dropping a purposeful octave. "No weres in the house?"

"You said you were coming," she purred. "You know I don't service that sort of clientele up here. Only in L.A. If you really want a walk on the wild side, I can make accommodations in our New Orleans establishment?"

Yonnie kissed her slowly, making her draw a breath when he pulled away. "I have a few friends that just need a safe room. New York is best, though. Their lairs have been compromised. That's cool, right?"

She smiled and left his arms to greet Yonnie's party. She narrowed her gaze on Tara and Rider, but softened it to professional disdain. "You're not planning on spending the evening with her are you?"

Yonnie shook his head no. "Nah... she's only a second-gen. My boy got that covered. I was hoping you'd be free?"

"Maybe," she said, moving to Carlos's side and giving him a purposeful look. "This cannot be who I think it is?"

Carlos smiled and swept her hand with a kiss. "Pleased to meet you," he murmured.

She withdrew her hand slowly and covered her heart with her palm. "TheCarlos Rivera?" She wobbled a bit and a rush of color came to her face. "Councilman, it is an honor. Your reputation precedes you, and you have a standing vault in my establishment-no matter what may be going on with that nasty civil war. We take an apolitical stance, much like Switzerland, and our barriers are well fortified. So do enjoy your stay for as many evenings as you require." She took several deep breaths and closed her eyes as though steadying herself. "Your exploits while living and... transitioned... are legendary." She glanced at Damali with outright disdain. "I'm Gabrielle. If you needanything during your stay, you have but to summon me."

"Hello," Damali said, not extending her hand. "We thank you for the hospitality."

Carlos looked away and smiled.

"Put it on my tab," Yonnie said, gathering Gabrielle into his arms before rage reduced her facade to a catfight. "I'm sure you understand why the councilman needs to keep the Neteru close to him and under heavy guard."

"Yes," Gabrielle snapped, but then gentled her gaze as she looked away from Damali to Carlos. "But, sir, during your seven years' wait for her to ripen again, please feel free to avail yourself of more professional services in the interim. Your mission is worthy, and we'll all benefit from your success... but you don't have to suffer,innecesario . With your capacities, we can gladly join-"

"I'll do my best to hook a brother up," Damali said with a harsh smile. "Thanks just the same."

Gabrielle sighed. "I'll show your entourage to their rooms." She scowled at Tara. "I take it you'll also need a vault before daylight?"

"Please don't let her torch, baby. Make sure she's in a sealed vault-no games. She's an important core for message transmissions," Yonnie said, glancing at Carlos.

"I appreciate the hospitality," Carlos said, moving closer to Gabrielle and stroking her cheek. "Can't have my inner core jacked right through here." He leaned in, winked at Yonnie, and whispered in her ear. "Keep them safe, as well as, Damali, and I'll deliver a daywalker councilman's bite... maybe me and my boy will come back and do a double visit?"

Gabrielle kissed his cheek and stroked his hair. "Promises like that, Mr. Councilman, will get you everywhere."

"I still don't like it," Damali whispered harshly as she paced about in the plush basement vault. Red velvet and silk were everywhere, and the Louis XIX-period furniture made her want to gag. "I can't believe you told her something like that." She peered around with her hands on her hips. "They've got you in the councilman's blood chamber-I do declare you need to stop frontin',Mr. Councilman" she said with sarcastic Antebellum inflection in her voice. Carlos pulled the black corded tassel to open the bed drapes, sat down hard on the high four-postered bed, and then simply fell back on the goose-down, red silk duvet. The thick comforter poofed up around his body and silk pillows slid from their orderly positions at the intrusion.

"Wall torches, how quaint. I don't suppose any of the bottles on the bar would be regular liquor?" She walked over to the bar, glimpsed the selection, and shook her head. "Not a beer in the house, but they do have old scotch and brandy-shouldthe councilman like a shot with a little color. Gimme a break."

She glanced around. No mirrors. Perfect. "Well at least they have a master bathroom and some running water. I guess that's for the girls who work here and still have a pulse." She stomped over to a huge armoire and flung it open, extracting a sheer red teddy, a whip, and a pair of handcuffs. "And here I was hoping for combat boots, jeans, and a T-shirt; how silly of me. Thought I could get rid of the pilgrimage gear and slip into something a little more comfortable, like combat fatigues, and then round out my evening ensemble with maybe a snub-nosed shoulder cannon and a coupla grenades-since I don't have my blades. But nooooo... The girls are servin' all thong!" She flung the hard-play items back into the armoire and slammed the door.

"Girl, I'm so beat up, mentally mangled, and tired, I can't even begin to argue. You're right. I'm wrong. Sorry we have to spend the night in a cathouse, but at least we're alive.My bad."

Damali sighed and finally came to his side, sat down on the edge of the bed, and threw up her hands. She had to laugh. It was so insane there was no option. "Yeah. This has been ridiculous."

"I'm just trying to keep Rider from getting smoked in his sleep. Tara could've gotten her throat ripped out by a jealous master, and my boy... this whole thing has messed Yonnie up. Rider better stay out of his face, D, seriously, because as fine as Tara is, and being the only available female vamp in the zone-talk to your boy. The only reason we're here is to half baby-sit those three."

"You're right," Damali said, letting her breath out hard. "Baby, I'm sorry I blamed it all on you, but I'm right where Marj is-I just want my life back. This is nuts."

"Tell me about it," Carlos said, closing his eyes. "Half the time I keep forgetting that I can't just go make a playmate for Yonnie to chill him out, or I go to snap my fingers and materialize something and all I get is sound. Then I remember, oh yeah, my shit is changed. Then I have to concentrate like a schoolkid to throw up a block shield, which leaves me exhausted." Carlos rolled over on his stomach and stretched out his arms. "I must be getting old, baby. I feel all kinds of aches and pains and shit..."

Damali crawled toward him on her hands and knees and began rubbing his back. "You're not getting old," she said, chuckling, "just human."

"Please, not so loud," he warned, "especially in here."

"Right, right." She straddled his back and began to work the knots out of his shoulders. Leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Okay. I'm sorry. But look at what youcan do."

"Like what?" he muttered, wincing as she found a tangle of muscles that were bunched together like walnuts. "When I was on top of my game, you see how smooth the vamp life was and-"

"They can't tell. Did you notice that?"

He lifted his head briefly and glanced at her. "Yeah. Freaky, ain't it?"

Damali kept her face close to his ear. "You've been masked now as a legit vamp. A councilman, at that. That must be a layer of protection you didn't know you had. That'll definitely come in handy if we have to bluff our way out of a corner. Your art of talking trash still holds, that was obvious," she added with a giggle. "Even sunlight couldn't burn that away."

He chuckled and relaxed a bit. He loved the way the heat of her words warmed his ear and her hair brushed the side of his face. "Yeah, but I'ma need more than the gift of gab."

"What about your shield? It held when Tara flipped out, right? And it kept bullets from blowing away the group."

"Yeah... it did, didn't it? Damn... go figure." He lifted his head and looked at her with a slow-dawning smile. "I must be getting stronger."

"It's getting closer to your birthday."

Carlos turned over so that Damali was sitting on his belly. "It's so wild... Yonnie couldn't read my mind-a master. He tried to go in and it almost fried his telepathy. Then, when he looked into my eyes to do the solid lock, it burned out his retinas."

"So, if you ever come face-to-face with the chairman..."

"I'll smoke his ass."

"Uhmmm hmmm. That's what I like to hear," she said, pecking his forehead with a kiss.

"You ain't half bad yourself, girl. Shape-shifting and whatnot. But you have to come stronger than a sparrow," he said laughing. "You could have gone eagle, falcon, a bird of prey, D, at least."

"Oh, so now you're gonna read a sister for being so freaked out by the prospect of being stranded on the side of a guerrilla-ridden road in no-man's-land that I could only visualize the first thing that came to mind-the last bird I saw. Oh, okay, so it's like that, now?"

He laughed. "Naw, I'm just messin' with you. In fact, I'm jealous," he said, stroking her hips. "I can't shift anymore. But you've got lots of new stuff you can do that's pretty cool."

"I lost my blades, brother. I don't have lots of new stuff. I lost-"

"Yes you do. Like, when we first did the transport together, you only stopped time for a fraction of a second. But in the airport, when it really counted, you did something and froze time for almost five minutes."

"I guess I did a HI somethin' somethin'," Damali said smiling, working on the muscles in his shoulders.

"But that's nothing new," he said, quietly gazing up at her and rubbing her thighs. "You could always do that."

She smiled and bent down to kiss him gently. "So could you."

Carlos traced her cheek with the pad of his thumb and then closed his eyes. "But you should have seen the look on my boy's face when I had to tell him my fangs couldn't... he thought... He said they'd just retracted because I'd been injured, ya know. I can't-"

She kissed him and stopped his words, her mouth covering the hurt he was trying to confess. She didn't care what the old queens had said about not being with him. There was something profound that happened between a man and a woman, and her man needed his confidence as much as he needed a weapon.That was his weapon . The fourteenth gift. Unshakable confidence, and the ordeals he'd faced had shattered it. Without that healed, neither one of them would ever be right. And in her soul she knew that past all the bravado, all the macho bull, she held the key to returning that to him. It was imperative tonight.

"Yes, you can... just different than before," she whispered, pulling away from the kiss. "I love you."

His hands found her hair as he pulled back from her kiss. "Baby, listen to me. You've got my maker's mark. From my old life. Your circuitry is rewired to a pattern that I can no longer deliver. You understand?"

"I don't have anything to give you for your birthday, but me," she said, brushing his mouth again. "Why don't you let me be the judge of my circuit board, huh?"

He cradled her face in his palms. "The fact that you're alive and all healed up is enough of a gift for me. I don't want to spoil it by finding out-"

"That I love you, no matter what?"

"I know that, girl... and I love you, too, but-"

"Carlos," she whispered. "Listen to me. The one thing I learned through all of this is tomorrow's not promised. There hasn't been a second that's gone by that I didn't wish we had more time, no matter what." She kissed the bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't have traded any of it, if it meant we'd never met." She bent closer, nuzzling the side of his throat and drew a slight shudder from him. "That's still your sweet spot."

He swallowed hard. "Yeah, it is."

"Wanna go exploring? See if the old imprints are still there?"

"I don't know, girl. What if yours are still there? I've got blunt edges, can't even break the skin."

She smiled and stretched out to blanket him. "You did more than just bite me all night."

"I know," he murmured, becoming morose. "That's why I know, it's not going to be the same."

She smiled and let out a weary sigh. "Then I guess I'll just have to go exploring all by myself." She planted a slow kiss on each of his eyelids and traced his jaw with her finger. "Tomorrow, we'll be back with the group, living from pillar to post, on the lam, in unknown battles, and my man just came back from the dead. I'm healed and the queens did something that makes me unable to get pregnant for a while. Do I seem like the kind of woman who is about to give up and take not-tonight-I-have-a-headache-honey?"

He smiled and rubbed her back. "And do I seem like the kind of man who wants to have that weird vibe between us with a team of clerics, a whole band of Guardians, and now some teenagers looking at us sideways and asking what's wrong?" He rolled her off of him gently. "Let it rest, D... for real. I'm not ready to find out what I already know."

She lay beside him for a moment, just rubbing his chest in a lazy, haphazard pattern. "You have a heartbeat now, and a pulse," she murmured, snuggling up to him. "We never dreamed that could happen, right?"

"Yeah, but that's different," he said quietly as her lush mouth found his jugular and gently suckled the sensitive skin surrounding it. He closed his eyes as she made her jaw softly collide with his to expose more of his throat.

"I can't drop fang anymore, either... but it still feels good there, doesn't it?" She nipped his neck, making him draw in a sharp inhale through his nose.

"C'mon, girl, stop playing."

"Okay," she whispered into his ear, then nipped the lobe of it as her feet slid out of her sandals. She allowed them to hit the floor, first one, then the other, her eyes hunting his. "I'll stop playing and be dead serious."

She slid on top of him and lowered her mouth to his, her breasts barely skimming the surface of his chest as her pelvis stroked a sultry, nonverbal invitation to explore it. Her nipples brushed his, making the hair stand up on his arms. He allowed his hands to flow down her shoulders and arms, then her back and the swell of her hips, like water running over smooth rock, and then he swept the current of touch up over her buttocks and along her spine, spreading south to north heat, flowing against gravity like his hands were the Nile.

Oh, yes, she was definitely the motherland, more than mere territory or something to plunder... a vast place of mystery and wonder, hardship and pleasure... more than a continent to be conquered for resources and black gold; she was his grounding, his center, sacred earth. His body came alive from her patient attention, making him remember the rhythm of the drum. She was a fusion of the past, primitive and unspoiled, and the confusion of everything new and unknown. But, oh, so wise... And she was also his woman, who now molded to his body like clay. She was breathing him back to life through deep inhalations and exhalations that matched the pulse of her hips. Her low murmurs of pleasure were like a shaman's incantations...live, love, trust me . He did.

He deepened their kiss, remembering what she felt like, what she smelled like, and how much he'd missed her, thinking there'd never be another time. Soon what was to be a slow kiss and cautious exploration became a frantic awareness that they'd been given a second chance.

Taking in ragged sips of air, she pushed back and gathered up her lavender robes, and yanked them over her head. She sat on him looking down at him, her partially nude body glistening in the firelight, her breasts rising and falling with every breath. He watched her slowly strip away her panties, one leg at a time, kneeling in a low crouch above him, eyes watching his, all panther. Yet, she was so beautiful, he needed a moment before his hands touched her silken, caramel skin. He reached out to cover her breasts with his palms, and allowed them to hover a millimeter above the soft rise of them, staring at the goddess that straddled him.

That's when he saw it, the sheer silver-gold band of energy that leaked from her pores and covered his hands. He moved them, still not touching her skin, but watching the Light ripple in soft waves and change colors as he disturbed it. She moaned and let her head drop back. Both fascination and desire made him study the phenomena with care.

"You're made of Light," he whispered, cupping her breasts. "Rainbow-colored Light..."

The tremor that ran through her registered in the palms of his hands as he circled the heavy lobes, and his thumbs brushed the tiny pebbles that had formed beneath them. He watched her sip air through her mouth as he leaned forward and drew a nipple between his lips, the sound of her voice bottoming out in a low alto moan. Her fingers twined through his hair, oh, yeah, he remembered, but when he drew back to find her mouth, all he could do for a moment was stare.

Every place that he'd once bitten was fired crimson by some strange inner Light she possessed. He leaned up to hold her, tested, explored, finding the hot zones with his hands and landing a kiss against the one that burned brightest-along her throat. Her reaction was immediate, a soft whimper of pleasure and a gentle rake down his back.

Instant recall, snap-flex memory, he flipped her over on her back, shed his cumbersome garb, and knelt between her thighs. Everything within him told him that his control was gone. This first time with her again would be a thunder run. For a moment, he stared down at her, trying to will back a slower pace.

"Can't you see it?" he whispered, looking down at his own arms that were swirling with multihued energy.

She shook her head no as tears glittered back at him. "I just know from touch," she murmured and then leaned up and ran her fingers along his throat and stroked where it made him close his eyes. "Right there," she whispered, "where it's burning up."

He nodded as her touch danced over the perspiration-moist surface. "Yeah, right there."

Her hand slid up the nape of his neck and she gathered his hair into her fist. He could feel his arms trembling when he braced himself above her, waiting for the sudden, impossible strike. When she bit him, he saw stars. Her suckle at his throat felt like it was drawing every fluid in his body into his groin. The unexpected sensation made him cry out and cover her, entering her without warning, moving without patience or control.

His mind fought for distance. This was not smooth or planned; it was pleasure beyond comprehension. Her hand flattened against the base of his spine, bouncing with his ragged thrusts where he could feel her holding an orb of heat as she arched. Yet, he could also feel her control within each agonizing stab of pleasure she allowed. Her legs twined with his and fought his frantic pace. He looked down at her, pained, trying to tell her the quiet truth; he couldn't stop. She felt too damned good. He was now only human. Every stroke was in jeopardy, Russian roulette. She didn't understand and she stared back at him through half-lowered lids, making him close his eyes in shame as his shaft began to fill.