Chapter Two
Damali rested her forehead on the steering wheel of her black Hummer. Berkfield's questions, the constant monitoring from the team, and now she was being followed to clubs? It was bad enough that Berkfield had rolled up on her in the streets, and had opened a horrible wound, a gash that wouldn't close - then poured Drano in it. But the look in the man's eyes was the last straw. He was afraid of her.
She could feel moisture build beneath her shut lids, and she sniffed hard, tasting salty tears. Damn, damn, damn! It was not supposed to go down like this. Carlos had saved a cop. A cop. Had saved her entire team, and her. Not to mention, however many people by dusting Nuit. The man had even saved her from a lecherous old bastard back when she had been in foster care... he'd done so much good; why wouldn't the light give a brother a break? It just wasn't right.
Damali pushed herself off the steering wheel and turned the key in the ignition. She reached for the radio and put on the loudest music she could find, 50 Cent worked, and she pulled away from the curb. Motion. She needed motion. She had to keep moving. What was done was done. Big Mike had told her about some of his experiences in 'Nam... that sometimes the good died young and that it always hurt when it was one of yours. Truth.
She wasn't really paying attention to where she was going; she was just driving. It wasn't about going back to the compound, back to the state pen. That's the last thing she wanted to do and the last place she wanted to be - where there were eyes.
Eyes.
She was constantly dealing with eyes. Had to deal with eyes that held pity and worry and a hint of fear for her state of mind. Eyes were everywhere. People stared at her onstage, prying when she went certain places. Eyes wanted things from her, a little siphon of fame.
Cop eyes had just stared at her like she was one of the monsters. Terror-filled eyes that didn't know shit about who she was. Eyes that had judged her. If Berkfield only knew. He was probably standing in the safest spot on the planet - right next to a fully matured Neteru. A fucking huntress! Eyes of the teammates watched for signs of weakness, signs that she might break down. Eyes had kept careful watch to be sure she didn't go to Carlos when he needed her... Carlos who had the most intense, wonderful, deep brown eyes before the vampires had turned him... but even after he had been turned they had been awesome. She would never forgive the vamps for taking him from her. She wanted blood.
Swallowing hard, Damali wiped angrily at the building moisture in her eyes. She needed someone who knew her before she became what she was - a rising star, the huntress, the savior of the freakin' world! She needed friendly eyes. Laughing eyes. Tender eyes. Nonjudgmental eyes. Marlene's eyes always saw too much. She needed girlfriend eyes. Eyes that didn't see monsters around every corner.
A bitter sob threatened to break though she held it tightly in check.
Damali jerked her wheel swiftly to the left and stepped on the gas, veering away from the beach. She had to get out of there, get away from the old 'hood. What had she been thinking to come there? It was like walking over a grave.
She blew through the red light. She couldn't stop, sit, wait. She'd done that all her life, and for what? The road was blurry anyway. Apartment buildings and houses all melted together as the tears began to form and threatened to slip down her cheeks. She would not cry. Never again. She'd done that all the way home from the Raise the Dead concert. Had done that for a month in her room alone. Tears did not bring back the dead, neither did prayers.
Finally sitting quietly at a curb, she allowed the bone-jarring music to stamp out all thoughts. She let the heavy bass line become her pulse. Right now she was so numb it was like the only one she had. Breathing deeply, she calmed her too-fast heartbeat. What was death like, she wondered. Had to be better than this. Yeah, being a Neteru was no way to live.
Then she laughed. It was a hollow, brittle, sad sound that bounced off the walls inside the vehicle, bonding with the music. She should have let Carlos just fucking bite her. The light didn't have shit to fight with, compared to the forces of darkness.
What did she have? A blade. A rag-tag team of old warriors and a few priests. All she was really was a sistah who hadn't even had a chance to fully live. This was their squad? Pitiful. The light needed to take a walk down to Hell with her next time and really see what was in the dark, then maybe they'd send in some serious reinforcement
14
