

The Conductor

Book One

EXODUS

By S.R. Torris

Copyright ©2011 by S.R. Torris

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This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The characters are a production of the author's imagination.

All inquiries should be sent to: www.airoftorris.wordpress.com

Adult Reading Material.

Cover Art by Earnest A. Richburg Jr.

To November Rayne,

Spider Juice, and Me

It's about time!

Acknowledgements

"The Conductor: Exodus" was a long time coming and it's finally here. I would be remiss (and I have to say kinda ungrateful) if I didn't mention some folks who were very supportive and made the journey an easier one.

My feedback team, who I know I've aggravated on more than several occasions, Jacinta, Nneka, Ramiah, and Samuel thank you for your reassurance, guys.

Earnest A. Richburg Jr. for his incredible cover art.

Naya'Hri Zaire and Noël, here's another one and it wouldn't have happened without your encouragement to do so.

Thanks to my Cousin, Da Mommies, Hank, Hannibal, Ha Shuri (leave those track shoes at home!), LaTonia, Quiona, Real, and Tarah for your support, which is greatly appreciated.

I'd also like to acknowledge my Mother. This type of tale isn't her cup o'tea, if you catch my drift but she was right there with the suggestions and the inspirational words et al. You have to be thankful for that and believe me, I am!

Words can't fully express my gratitude but I am glad I was in good company on this ride.

Thank you all.

Andiamo!
PROLOGUE

He felt he should be amazed.

Perhaps at a different time in his life he would have been, after all it was the first and last time he would ever see this place. It dwarfed the small crowd huddled at its base as they took one look and genuflected Cristo Redentor, high atop Corcovado.

It was closing time at Christ The Redeemer, a cloudy and grey day (which he thanked God for, the sun was nowhere in the sky) and people had to get back down into the heart of Rio de Janeiro, probably to do many lascivious things they called partying in this time. He assumed they were here to ask forgiveness beforehand. He laughed to himself as he observed the worshippers, unaware of his watchful eyes, and wondered how many would sacrifice the carnal as Jesus Christ had done – as he was doing now?

You are all sinners who do not deserve an ounce of God's mercy, he thought as he looked out over the peak and into the Tijuca Forest. There wasn't time to dispatch them, he was on a mission as Jesus was many centuries before him; he had a date with his own personal Legion. He headed in the forest without being seen by a soul.

What the people didn't know, it wasn't something they put in the tour brochure, was deep in the heart of the Tijuca, and buried in the hard granite of Corcovado was an ancient thing – a thing he'd known for years he had to destroy. He was on the right path, by way of a Mongolian Shaman he killed only a week before he arrived in Rio.

He dedicated his life to revenge. He was well aware vengeance belonged solely to God but felt that dispatching demons and the foolish people who assist them would garner some leeway from the Heavenly Father.

A force was pulling him closer, welcoming him, to the opening of a cave that would take him into the heart of the Coven – he became anxious. He'd felt anxiety before but not the "human" type in a long time. The anxiety of a vampire was reserved for lingering too long at the crack of dawn or, every once in a while, because some resourceful humans were hunting one like an animal. In fact, when he made the decision he would start killing other vampires, a cardinal sin among them, he found it was easy because nothing alerted their senses that they were about to be murdered by one of their own.

What he felt transported him to a time long passed, when he was happy on his father's cotton plantation – when he was a human being named Frederick Duval.

****

It was forbidden but Frederick loved her anyway. Jane the kitchen girl, had been his best friend growing up in the antebellum south. She was smart, witty, and had the biggest, roundest, blackest eyes he'd ever seen on anyone. Her hair looked coarse but was as soft as the cotton sheets that kept Frederick warm at night; he asked her to touch her hair and he let her do the same to him.

"It's sof' and strangy," she said and they both laughed until their stomachs hurt.

Jane was one of the boys, tearing across the backyard once she'd finished her never-ending list of jobs. She played with them, all manner of rough and tumble games that he created with his friends Pierce and Bradley. His mother's shrill braying would disgust Frederick often – it meant the games were over and Jane had to go back inside to work.

Once, Frederick made the terrible mistake of helping Jane with a sink full of dishes. His reasoning: the sooner she finished, the quicker they all could go to the fishing hole. He wouldn't listen to her protestations to the contrary, and Frederick watched with horror as his sweet, loving, caring mother beat Jane with an inch thick leather strap, calling her all manifestations of lazy harlot. She broke every single dish they washed and dried and made Jane clean the entire mess. Frederick couldn't understand why he hadn't been punished too after all, he was the one who helped Jane. He loved his mother but after that day, Frederick lost the respect he'd always held for her.

When he and Jane grew up his mother had Jane dismissed from the house. A mulatto girl, Ruth, who "coincidently" had the same crooked mouth that made he and his father look like men of distinction, was brought in to replace Jane and his mother appeared to be a lot more at ease with Frederick hanging around the kitchen. Although he could see, she still had the same contempt in her eyes for Ruth as she did Jane. Frederick understood the things that were said, without being said.

He continued to see Jane as she was relegated to work with the stable boys. Frederick always heard his father speak of Jane's strength and smarts and how he swore that she had savage "Injun" in her blood the way she was able to handle horses. He only saw her beauty; the curve of her hips, her slender waist, and her round breasts struggling to get out of that awful brown dress she wore. It did nothing to enhance the brick colored brown of her smooth skin. He could never forget her eyes – she still had those beautiful bright round eyes that took in everything surrounding her.

The day Frederick's feelings overcame him, he tried kissing Jane in the stables and was slapped in his face.

"You treat yo' white gals like a whore, Massa Fred?"

"I love you, Jane, I am not your master."

"Then stop callin' me, 'Jane'. It not my name!"

"That is what I've called you for 14 years."

"Been wrong fo' 14 years."

"What is your name if it isn't 'Jane'?"

"Somethin' my folks gimme from they folks from 'cross the water. Secret name that no Massa know. I know."

"May I know?"

"If you loves me so much then teach me how to read them books. Then might be, I'll share my secret name."

Did I love her? Has it been so long? I can't remember the rest of her face; only her eyes remind me...

It was coming back in a deluge of memory and emotion – guilt. He did love her but it was a grave mistake to teach her how to read.

After the second week of secret reading lessons, she revealed her name was "Sankofa".

"It sounds pretty when you say it. What does it mean?"

"Means I can go to my pas' and see my future. All I has to do is look right behind me and my peoples will tell me where's I go if I listen."

"Can I do it too?"

"You need to listen, Frederick. Jus' listen."

After the sixth week of reading, she let him take her. He knew then he would never want another woman and he would have to take her away from his home, the plantation, in order for them to be happy.

They continued their trysts in this fashion, reading first then sex or sex then reading, whatever mood suited the young lovers. He spoke of the changing world and the money he'd saved that no one knew about, not even his mother.

"We can move from here, Sannie, perhaps to Louisiana? Or would you prefer a little more north?"

She always nodded her head in agreement before answering, "Whatever you see best, Freddy." She smiled for Frederick's sake, he was so caught up in his dream for them but she knew it couldn't come true.

Frederick's father was a businessman and she'd been hearing word around the slave house about his latest business deal, which concerned her. Senior Duval wanted to invest in more horses but didn't have enough able-bodied men (or women) that he could trust to train his future investments. His neighbor, Mr. Jonathan Green of the Green Plantation, suggested a long-term business proposition that would be beneficial to them both: his buck stud, Hep, would marry Jane and they would care for the horses. If they had any offspring (which both gentlemen would make sure they did) their children would also be used to care for the horses. As they got older any male children they had would be used as jockeys, racing his horses in some of Europe's best competitions.

Mr. Green would be honored to be a part of owning some prize winning horses; especially receiving a portion of the income those horses would bring.

The younger women around the slave house were envious of the arrangement being made for her but Sankofa was afraid. She saw Hep when he came with Mr. Green to visit Frederick's father, always in the evening, and she didn't like the leers he would shoot in her direction when he thought no one else was looking. He had a way of singling her out that made her uncomfortable.

It was such an evening that he looked straight at her and mouthed, "Hello Sankofa" smiling his wicked smile.

How could you know my name? I never told nobody!

Jane kept her composure, she couldn't have seen him say that and almost laughed when she started to ask him how – until a voice in her head that resembled Hep's replied.

You told someone.

Jane looked at him and his smile was broader and more frightening.

Most alarming to her was the quickness with which he was able to make it disappear when Mr. Green or Mr. Duval glanced in his direction.

When Frederick stopped his midnight reading with Sankofa everything in his life changed forever.

It was my destiny.

She'd begun the classic story of Herman Melville's, "Moby Dick", when they heard footsteps outside of the stable. Frederick snatched the book from her and slid it under some hay stacked in a corner for the horses. When they heard the footsteps get closer (Frederick surmised they were a man's) he was relieved that he wouldn't have to explain to his mother what he was doing in the stable with the black kitchen girl she'd sent there to keep away from her son. Hep walked in.

Frederick didn't like Hep and was annoyed that he was free to roam whatever property he wanted to. He thought Hep big and scary and he noticed his eyes trailed a little too long over Sannie's body for his liking.

He was smiling his usual sinister, every tooth showing grin until he saw Frederick. Something happened to his face, it became dark and filled with rage although his toothy smile never moved an inch.

"Beggin' yo' pardon, Suh, didn't spect I'd see you out heah dis late," he said with all of the false humility in the world.

"I suppose we're both surprised this evening, Hep. I did not think I would see you walking so comfortably at night on my property. Think of the damage you could have done to my father and your master's friendship. Imagine if I had my pistol? I might have shot you like a common trespasser. I imagine your master would not be very happy if his prized stud were killed."

Hep's face strained as he maintained his smile.

"Well see, Suh, it's 'cause of dat 'lationship witcher Pappy and my massa dat I slipped on by. Came to 'xamine what's promised to me. Jane gone be my wife soon –"

Sankofa reached for Frederick's hand and squeezed it. This single act injected him with the courage he needed to dismiss Hep. Until then, Frederick felt smaller and smaller, afraid even though Hep kept smiling, even though Hep continued to refer to him as, "Sir". There was something to Hep's demeanor that made him seem more superior, more dangerous than any white plantation owner he knew. His presence was even more intimidating than his father's when he was most displeased with Frederick's behavior.

He felt with her desperate squeeze he had to get rid of Hep or she would be, they both would be, doomed.

"You can not be promised what you don't own, Hep. You should go on home now before you get yourself in some trouble."

"Ah, Freddy," he said, smile replaced with a sneer, "I spect I'll be on back here and I'ma gets what's mine."

Frederick was angry. He looked around the stable and replied, "I don't see anything here that belongs to you. Unless you speak of a few lashes your master will have to give you once I speak to him of your insubordination."

Hep turned to leave.

"We'll see won't we, Freddy?" He looked over his shoulder to Sankofa and tipped his hat, the creepy grin back on his face, "Ma'am."

Sankofa panicked, begging Frederick to convince his father to sell her away to a different plantation. She looked frantic almost to the point of tears, warning him she would run away before she ever stepped foot on the Green Plantation. He was afraid for her, afraid for them both, but he also felt a tremendous sense of courage and conviction. Frederick thought he could take care of this, he would protect her from that obstinate monster of a man and she could run away because he would go with her – as her husband. He told her they would meet in this stable in a week and things would be better by then, they were going to go away.

They didn't have a week.

That morning, Frederick heard his mother arguing with his father about Sankofa. She was enraged that the "black whore" entrapped her innocent son into committing acts that were tantamount to having a church of Satan right in their home! She wanted him to send her to Green's immediately; she even went as far as demanding all of the female slaves be sent as far away from her home as possible, including his precious Ruth. As he listened to his mother's ranting (it was very hard not to hear her) he'd learned that a loyal and God-fearing Hep told her about strange things his "niggra" mind couldn't possibly understand, but she knew what the simpleton was talking about.

"Do you know what will happen if this gets around to our neighbors? She's reading to our son like a white person does! How does she know how to do that Percival? And he's been intimate with her! It's a good thing that only Jonathan's slave saw the bestial goings on in those stables. Hmpf! He is definitely his father's son."

There were more of his mother's yells and objections, particularly when he stated he was not going to get rid of every female slave on the plantation, a door slammed followed by silence. He was astonished to learn Hep was spying on them. How long had that sneaky bastard been watching them?

Regardless of what his parents or his neighbors told him about the blacks they thought they controlled, he always knew they weren't a bunch of slow-witted beasts of burden. He knew there were rational minds in these people and some of them, like Hep, could be very manipulative. Frederick would have to stay one step ahead.

He learned later that night, Mr. Green was coming to take Sankofa to be with Hep.

"Pick yourself another gal, Son. I don't mind. But you have to be careful because Mrs. Duval objects. You see Son, our women know nothing of the forceful urgings men have and these niggra fillies can take them. They're built tougher than our lovely white daisies; they don't understand we're executing our gentlemen's manners when we act in such a fashion. It is for their own good they don't experience the brute force a man can be. Why we might as well invite one of our studs into their boudoir and that will show them something. They would personally march us to the slave quarters, Son, if they even suspected we had an ounce of the animal rage our bucks have."

Father, if you could have lived to see this time... How astonished you would be.

His father chuckled a little before asking, "What are these books you've been reading? Is she teaching you their black witch magic?"

"I taught her to read, Father. She's been reading my books with me. There has not been any of what that lying Hep has told you! Why is he free to roam on our property? You should talk with Mr. Green, he is quite an arrogant slave."

"Yes. You are right. That buck came to the front porch where Mrs. Duval was sitting by herself and told her that horse dung story. I will talk to Green but Jane is going with him tonight, Son, my word is what bonds me to it. And do not say anything of this teaching her to read. You know slaves are not allowed! Leave it all up to Green, it will be his problem now."

There was nothing Frederick could do but gather his money and run away with Sankofa. His father was never going to go back on his word, especially not for something as frivolous as him being in love with a black slave girl. He could hear the lecture he'd get about so many eligible women looking to marry the only Duval heir and how he wouldn't allow his only son to pine away after a "niggra", not when there were plenty of rich family alliances to be made.

He had it all thought out as he ran toward the slave quarters to get Sankofa. Frederick would help her escape to New Orleans then he would join her later under the guise of studying art. His mother thought herself an aficionado so she'd have no objection to him going away to develop a gift. It was the perfect cover, he thought, and he broke into a light trot. Nightfall was coming fast and Mr. Green would be there soon.

Something was wrong, the barracks looked deserted. He walked into the eldest slave's quarters. Jim was a reliable old man who knew everything that went on around the Duval Plantation, the Green Plantation, and all things in between. Frederick was worried when he didn't see Jim in his room shuffling about, preparing to pour a steaming hot cup of pot liquor.

Frederick smiled remembering when he sat with Sankofa, as children listening to the tall tales Jim would tell. Now he looked around the room and hadn't a clue where Jim could be. He didn't know why but he knew if he went into the other quarters they'd would be as empty as Jim's.

Were they planning a revolt? Please not a revolt tonight, not when he was so close!

A piercing scream came from his house making his hair stand on end. When he turned toward his house and began running, he heard the scream again, then nothing. Frederick stopped and looked toward his home, the silence made him uneasy and he ran as fast as he could to see what was wrong.

When he got to the veranda he noticed his house was as dark and empty looking as the slave quarters. He walked through the already opened door, there were no lamps lit anywhere. Frederick became more concerned when he caught himself tiptoeing past the foyer into the grand living room that he found in shambles. Couches were overturned and Father's chair, what was left of it, was strewn across the Persian rug he was so proud to have acquired. Through the window the sliver of moon cast a dull glow on the rug where he noticed a large stain, but stained with what? What had happened here and where was...?

"Father?" he cried out in the darkness. Only an eerie silence answered him.

Frederick heard a rustling sound come from the dining room and he rushed toward it. His mother was splayed out on the floor. It looked like she took a horrible spill from her chair at the dining room table. A lamp rested on a table that Frederick set upright. He took a match out of the candy dish and lit the lamp to examine the extent of his mother's injuries. He was horrified by what he saw.

There was blood all over her neck, what neck she had left. It looked like an enormous dog had come along and taken a large bite out of it. He'd heard no dogs. Frederick wondered what could have done this? There was blood all over the floor near her and caked clots of it on her hand where she tried to stop the flow. What was more horrifying to Frederick was the frozen grimace on his mother's ashen dead face. Her eyes were rolled back and he could barely see the irises that held the same emerald green his eyes do. Her lips were purple and contorted in a position of the last thing she uttered in her life, the death scream that brought him running to the house.

Frederick felt sick but willed himself not to vomit. He didn't think he would be able to stop once he started. He didn't want to experience the smell of his sick mixed with his mother's drying blood and her very last indignity, the stench of her own waste. The thought crossed his mind that she probably died from self-induced humiliation when she shat herself, rather than the massive loss of blood from her neck wound and he began to laugh hysterically.

"It so funny to my brother. My brother laugh!"

He turned around and saw a ghoulish looking Ruth. There was a large bloodstain on her mouth along with blood splotches on her cheeks. She was grinning and Frederick swore he saw... They are fangs! What was happening that he was hallucinating such evil things? Had Ruth done this to his mother?

As if to answer his question, Ruth said, "She not my Mammy. She jus' a mean ole bitch that like to beat and whip! I fix it."

"Ruth, you did this? Why would you do something like this?"

"She not MY MAMMY! She not my Pappy neither! And she not my brother. My brother safe."

"What in Heaven's name are you?"

Ruth looked around the room as if someone might be trying to listen in on a big secret.

"Mr. Green makes me a devil! Hep a devil, him made Mr. Green, and they gone make Jane one. Ole Jim an' de res' gone burn Green's back to Hell!" and she let out a squawking cackle, "Don't worry none, Brother, I keep you safe!" She laughed even harder.

Sankofa! That wretched bastard Hep had been to the slave quarters before he was able to get to her. Frederick wasn't the kind of man who enjoyed seeing or participating in the punishment of slaves but he promised himself he would hold the whip to tear Hep's hide. As soon as he found his father he would rush over to Green's and demand restitution. The information she told him of Green also being a devil had completely slipped his mind, he was going to get Sankofa back and that's all that mattered. Ruth let out a long painful sigh. She'd been so still, he'd forgotten she was in the room with him. She was looking out the window in the direction of the Green Plantation.

"Ruth, where's the Master of the house?" he asked.

She continued to look out into the night.

"Ruth. Ruth, where's the M- Ruth, where's Father?"

"He gone," she said in a voice so morbid and sad Frederick grabbed her arms so he wouldn't faint.

Reluctant to ask, he could feel his mouth moving anyway, "Where did he go?"

"Hep takes him, our Pappy. Couldn't save him myse'f and Ole Jim came 'round too late. Pappy say Hep cain't have Jane but he give up two extry gals instead of Jane. Mr. Green was happy to git two extry gals but ole Hep mad. Say, 'Green you promise me Jane an' I aim to git her!' But Green like he gittin' two gals on one price so he calm Hep down fo' de deal 'til yo' bitch Mammy come. She had Jane an' threw her right inta ole Hep's arms. Pappy say no mo' two gals fo' Mr. Green an' Green gits mad at Hep. He go off, but come back by hisse'f to git dem two extry gals. Pappy were gittin' off de horse when he seen Hep an' hit him wit' de ridin' whip. Hep grab Pappy and break his neck; he pick him up and me up and take us on over to Green's. Green makes me his devil but I escape and come home. Pappy still there..."

I should have waited until I found a place that would marry us, Frederick thought as he left Ruth in the dining room with his mother's body. Frederick felt the Lord knew he has a pure heart and in his heart he had every intention of marrying Sankofa. He still would if he could only get to her in time. He was going to make sure they were the best Christians of any Christian family in the south and he would banish the land of the devilish plague that was spreading in his town.

He ran upstairs to his room to get his Bible for protection and rushed out of the house toward the Green Plantation.

There was chaos when he arrived. Green's slaves as well as his father's had already set Mr. Green's house on fire. Whoever was in there, whatever was in there would die, for there were slaves at every possible exit with torches in their hands, ready to use them.

Frederick spotted Jim in the melee of black bodies jumping for joy and darting in all directions looking for the traitor, Hep.

"You shouldn't be here, boy!" Jim said with an authority he'd never heard in his voice before. How could he know so little about these people? He'd live with most of them all of his life. Jim was an 83-year-old man who saw when he took his first breath and there he was before him a complete stranger. The man who spoke to him had the strength of someone half his age.

"Have you seen my father, Jim?" he pressed.

"Yo' Pap is dead and it's better so."

"Where is Sankofa? I have to find her and get her away from here."

"Where you hear that name, Son?" Jim asked him with suspicion in his eyes.

"She told it to me herself. Do you know where she is? Were you able to get her away from Hep?"

Jim looked down at the Bible Frederick clutched in his hands.

"Good you brung that with you, Son, it's all you can do fo' her now."

Jim lead him to Green's barn where he found a shackled Master Hosea Green and next to him, also shackled, was his beloved Sankofa.

"OH, THANK GOD!" Frederick, they killed your father and they're going to kill me! It's a revolt. Hurry and slip away to Greystone's place – he'll send help. Any of them you can kill, you have my permission but get help."

He looked at a worn Sankofa. His heart broke in pieces when he saw the blood stream down her neck and the two holes it flowed from. He was too late. She would become the monster Ruth was – he'd noticed his sister shared the same mark.

"What happened to her?" he asked Green.

"You have to get to Greystone, before sun up boy, you must hurry! Unshackle me and I can help too!"

"This mark, what is it?"

"Frederick, take the old man. Get me loose and we can stop this rebellion!"

"DID YOU MARK HER LIKE YOU MARKED MY SISTER, BEAST?"

Green took a deep breath and answered him with a peculiar calm.

"We don't realize what we brought to our shores, Frederick. None of the Masters, these great men of industry do, but me – and them." He nodded his head in Jim's direction.

"How do you think a bunch of simple blacks were able to catch me? Immortals, boy! They live among all the savages and we helped to bring them here. We were able to eliminate a lot of them but not all, Frederick," he said and began to laugh.

"Look at my face, Frederick," he continued through gales of laughter, "it's paler than most – I've become accustomed to viewing my alabaster hands, but I don't look one fortnight over 45 in the year of our Lord, 1853. I was 45 in 1720, Frederick, look at me now!

"They need us; they can't roam around freely like they are white men. Why do you think Hep stayed in my care for so long? I really tried to save your father and the slave girl for you; I've had no ill feelings toward your family. But Hep..."

Frederick became angrier at each word Green spoke and focused his concentration on Sankofa. She looked like she was having a terrible nightmare, eyelids blinking rapidly as sweat danced across her forehead.

"Jim," he began, "what is happening to her? Is the Devil possessing her body now?"

"We gone have to kill 'em both, Son. She goin' through a change and Mr. Green gone keep on doin' what he doin'. He ain't gone be able to help himself."

Green was alarmed by Jim's words. He'd been shot before and survived but he knew there were ways he could die, Hep told him.

"Frederick, you can't let them do this to me! You can't let these savages kill a white man! They are slaves. Listen to me Frederick, we could – I could change you. On my honor, you could live forever! Think of Jane, she's going to change. The two of you could live forever with no rules to hold you back. You could live forever!"

"If I were to be an immortal like you. Why are you so afraid?"

He nodded toward Jim who had, by this time, gone to the back of the barn and returned with the scythe. He swung it in a high arc that made him look like he was going to fall over on his back and impale himself; for a moment Green thought that was exactly what was going to happen. Before the laugh could form in his throat he notice the sure look on Jim's face – it was the last thing he saw in his life.

Hosea Green's head rolled toward Frederick's shoe, eyes looking up at him as if to plead further for mercy. Frederick closed his eyes and held his Bible tighter.

"'Thou turnest man to destruction; and sayest, Return ye children of men.'"

"Amen. Look here, Son, you need to say yo' goodbyes cause we have to bury this head and burn his body. And... If you can't do it then I will cause it the same fo' the womenfolk."

"I need a moment," Frederick replied.

"You need to hurry. Hurry fast."

As Jim stepped out of the barn, Sankofa's eyes shot open and looked through Frederick. He was surprised by the terror he felt when she looked at him. His hands shook as he stepped closer to her, never for a minute letting go of his Bible.

"Maybe we should have read that book 'stead of star watchin', huh Freddy?"

"I... I am so sorry. I didn't know... I should have let him take you then I could have helped you run away instead of..."

Sankofa closed her eyes. She could hear the pounding of his heart. Her focus was more intense and she heard the rush of the stream that ran through Green's property – until she realized it wasn't a stream at all, she could hear the blood flowing through Frederick's veins.

Sankofa was overwhelmed with thirst, mouth dry as desert sand and she didn't understand why. But deep within she knew, from what little she'd witnessed, Frederick was in danger if he didn't do what he'd come there to do.

"You gone kill me, Freddy?"

"I was hoping to try and fetch a Pastor for an exorcism. Maybe we could go away afterwards..." As he thought what a great idea it may have been, he looked around and realized a Pastor wouldn't be able to help in this case.

"I don't want Jim to. Please, Freddy, you have to save me. Hep done put somethin' bad inside of me an' I don't want to hurt nobody when it comes out. If you got to kill me then you do it!"

For the first time since he got there, Frederick set his Bible down. He walked to the wall where Jim laid the scythe and picked it up. It felt awkward in his hands, having done very little manual labor, so he swung it with care.

"I can't do this, I'm not a murderer. How can I say I love you and do this?" he asked as tears poured down his face. How did he end up in this brutal predicament?

"You know I don't want to live with this evil in me. I don't know how much longer I can hold it. Set me free!"

He held up the scythe trying as much as he could to mimic the way Jim held it, closed his eyes and swung across as hard as he could. He was stopped in mid-swing by a force that lifted him off of his feet and flung him across the barn.

"Always tryin' to take what don't belong to you. I told you I was gone come get what's mine," Hep said with a sneer on his face. He stood taller and ready to pounce on Frederick.

Frederick rose and looked Hep in his eyes. There was a peace about him that showed no fear of Hep. Most would say, having witnessed the exchange, he went into shock but Frederick believed it was at that moment when he had received his calling – he was to destroy the evil that brought a blight upon this land and he was going to start with Hep.

"If you beg the Lord's forgiveness perhaps you will not spend the rest of your eternal life in Hell. But I can promise you this, if you do not, there will be no place you can go that I will not find you and send you there myself."

Hep's smile disappeared; he was frightened by the conviction in Frederick's voice. He seemed different from the rest who threatened to kill the "savage nigger" or send the "animal" back from the pit he came from.

Hep had heard so many negative promises made by so many arrogant men and here was this boy, all of 19 years, and he believed him. There were no arrogant boasts, no superior remarks made about race, just the cold fact that if he didn't allow himself to repent to the white man's god and be destroyed, this 19 year old boy would kill him – an immortal.

"You won't live long enough to see the day, boy!"

Just as Hep was set to leap across the barn and attack Frederick, a torch came flying through the open door and set the dry straw ablaze.

Unaware of Hep, Frederick rushed over to Sankofa to free her. He could decide what to do with her once they got out of the burning barn. He figured being burned alive was far worse than what she deserved. She thought otherwise.

"Let me be, Freddy! I can't live like a monster. Go on now!"

He ran out of the barn into a group of slaves, Jim at the front, watching as the flames grew higher and higher.

"That traitor's still in there, he gone burn to ash! You go home an' bury your dead, Son. If you want, I help you bury yo' Pappy."

Frederick's only thought was of what Mr. Green said: "We don't realize what we brought to our shores..."

He would sell his father's plantation and explore overseas – and he would destroy anything that resembled Hep's creations if he came in contact with them. He was going to look for the source of this evil and take it apart. There was only one way he believed he could do that, an ambition of this size and scope could take a lifetime – he'd have to become one of them. Frederick hurried back to his home knowing who he could trust to help him walk among the Legion.

It wasn't as difficult a task to coax Ruth into making him like she was. Frederick convinced her of the importance of him being strong and able to protect her from those who would come and destroy them both.

Her bite was painful and he could hear his blood rushing from his veins in powerful slurps and gulps; the sucking sounds were sickly and twice Frederick gagged. He changed his mind and wanted get up and run from this terrible nightmare but Ruth with her unbelievable strength had him pinned to a dining room chair. When she finished she let him go, looking out in the darkness of the room with the knowledge of his life written all over her face. She resembled a horrible clown, the mask of his life's blood smeared across her lips and dripping down her chin. Ruth grinned a wicked crimson-toothed grin and extended her arm as if to grant her approval of what her brother intended to do.

He was weak, unable to close his hand around her wrist. Frederick felt as if he were in his downy soft bed, falling deeper in the feathers of his pillow. He was ready to let go and let the sweet blackness of death encompass him. It was comforting and not as half as bad as many who spoke about it made it seem; Frederick wanted to fade away.

The burning sensation on his neck kept him drifting between life and death – Ruth slapped his face and his eyes shot open like pistons. She gashed herself with her ragged fingernail and placed her bleeding wrist to his lips – Frederick could no longer resist. He felt the rush of blood open his senses with each drink he took. His want to sleep was blasted away by a keen awareness of everything around him; sounds, smells, the vivid color of nighttime, Ruth's heartbeat – his heartbeat. He continued to gulp down her life force until he heard his heartbeat in complete rhythm with hers. He wanted more but she pushed him away.

"Shows you what I will, then we be strong, Brother," she said.

During their brief time together, he learned what he could from Ruth before he finally made the decision to destroy her; he promised her forgiveness and absolution for his mother's murder.

"I am not the Heavenly Father but I am certain He will find favor with you, Ruth."

She thanked him before he lopped off her head as Jim had shown him to do.

Frederick stayed for a time on his plantation with Jim, listening and learning from Jim's stories, wakening to the fact that he could no longer be a man free to roam whenever his heart wished. He was one of the cursed now. He would make new acquaintances with the denizens of the night, the inhabitants of the moon and stars. His kind were no longer welcome in the land where the sun smiled on their faces and birds sang joyous songs to welcome them to the day; his birds were night owls that "hooted" warnings to those who roamed unfamiliar places in the dark.

When Jim died he took it as a sign from God to sell his family's plantation and go to Europe. He left Georgia in 1857, four years before the start of the Civil War. It was also a sign to Frederick that he was charged to do God's work and he would do it with the zeal of the Crusaders of old.

Frederick heard her...

Mongolia.

Who is she, calling to me from the darkness, he wondered?

He broke his slumber to find out. Frederick set on his journey from a small province in France to Mongolia, leaving a trail of blood that would span decades.

****

This was the closest he'd gotten to a leader. Years he spent, killing witches, a few warlocks, and their most treasured, Conductors, when he realized what he needed to do was find the leader of a powerful House to send the whole thing spiraling out of control – Frederick had to destroy one of The Six.

He sat for a while and looked at the intricate carving on the stone door (they called it Cuneiform) that he knew lead to the temple where the witches paid homage to their leader, he was sure of it.

There was a point in Frederick's bloody spree when he'd become lost and thought it best that he destroy himself when his epiphany that God sent him a message, through the Shaman, brought him from the brink. He'd been a part of so many Covens or what he was led to believe were Covens, in Paris, London, Eastern Europe... There should have been chaos among them but he only saw them growing in number.

As modern times came bringing progress with it many had very little respect for the rules and traditions developed by the older breeds, with the exception of the two Cardinal Laws: Never expose your own kind to the Others and never kill your own kind.

Frederick cared little for their rules; as far as he was concerned they were written by the Devil himself. When Frederick reached Mongolia and met a fearless, slight looking old man, he found he did care – especially for the laws that would help him win the fight of the righteous.

It was foretold Pi Lo would meet a strange and sad man and when he did he would die. He was not afraid. The reindeer bones told him, the wind told him, and she told him. She always spoke to him in his dreams when peril was coming, even when he was a child. Pi Lo was able to save his tribe from many dangerous things when she spoke.

When he said goodbye to his family he saw he would be leaving good people behind, good Shamans. He'd come from a long line of very powerful Shaman who, when it was time to allow the newer winds to blow, simply rode away from their mortal homes and disappeared. Why should his fate be any different? He would deliver the message as he was told and disappear like his forebears.

He rode his little horse for two days until he saw a man standing in the middle of the barren land. He's just a boy, Pi Lo thought as he approached the specter. He was a tall slender young man with auburn hair. His hair accentuated his very pale, almost translucent skin. He had a crooked looking mouth but not twisted and evil like the others. If Pi Lo didn't know better, he'd think he was looking at a ghost haunting the land, looking for a love lost. But Pi Lo knew who and what he was, she'd told him, and seeing him standing there made him feel sad. He wasn't sad for his own fate but for the man-boy who stood before him, with a worn leather book in his hands, looking for peace Pi Lo knew he was never going to find.

Frederick didn't understand the language the Shaman spoke nor would he try to speak to him. The information he wanted coursed its way through the man's veins. He rationalized there would be casualties in a war, holy or not but was unsettled by the Shaman's composed demeanor. He bared his fangs and tried to make himself as fearsome as possible but the Shaman only smirked as he hopped off his horse. He gave the horse a hearty SMACK on its butt and sent it running back in the direction of his home. He took a step toward Frederick who, surprised by Pi Lo's boldness, stepped back.

"Do you understand me? Can you speak?" Frederick asked.

"'Can you speak?' What kind of ridiculous question is that to ask of someone? Of course he can speak." He looked at Pi Lo, "Can't you?"

"You no happy," Pi Lo said.

"English? Do you speak English?"

"You, no peace now. The end, you peace." Pi Lo shook his head and walked away from Frederick.

What ever did you mean by that, Pi Lo, I wonder?

****

Pi Lo didn't fight when Frederick overtook him. The only thing Frederick could get from his blood was he needed to break the Merkaba – whatever that is. It struck him odd, scared him, that he could not read anything else other than the Shaman's name, "you, no peace", and there was a yurt with a coffin in it waiting for Pi Lo a few miles in the direction the horse ran. Frederick wanted to attribute all of this as an act of God but why did he feel so uneasy? And why was he nervous now?

Because you are not strong, yet you are determined. Enter.

He could hear something moving like cement block grating against cement block. A small door opened and Frederick entered.

He walked down a dark tunnel that led to an even darker stairwell where the stairs tilted downward. He was going into the belly of the beast. His new sight as a vampire made him able to navigate the pure blackness of the stairway but he still strained to find light or any clue of what lie ahead.

You are almost here, the beginning of your journey.

Frederick broke out in gooseflesh. He chastised himself for being so silly and frightened. This is what his destiny is, why he sacrificed so much. How could he come this far and turn back without destroying them? He couldn't fail his father.

Or your beloved. Has time erased her face from your memory so soon?

Frederick walked down the stairs with greater conviction. Whoever she is, was toying with him and he would have no more of it.

"...He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

When he reached the bottom step he was able to see torches lit the antechamber. There were objects that looked like they were used in sacrificial rituals and he picked up a very sharp silver blade.

Frederick stepped into the larger main room and saw an eight-foot tall statue. It was nude except for an ankle length skirt, cuffs on both arms, and an ankle bracelet made from pure gold. The statue itself was complete ebony that appeared to be buffed because Frederick could see it had a glow. It had the stark facial features of a primitive African; sharp cheekbones, a broad nose and very full lips. It didn't look like a typical primitive African tribe carved statue – the detail was like something from the Renaissance. He noticed on either side of its bottom lip there was the small detail of the fangs. When he looked closer, he could see blood was on its chin.

Is that fresh blood?

All of a sudden the eyes on the statue flew open. Frederick fell back in awe of the eight-foot vampire who was not a statue at all. He was staring in the fiery red eyes of a House Elder. He wanted to flee as fast as he could. He wanted to forget he ever came here but he had a mission to complete.

She stepped off of the three inch thick piece of granite that was her pedestal and walked to her throne. The torch lights followed her. She picked up a goblet that sat by her left hand. She used her razor sharp nail, slit her right wrist and let her royal blood drain into the goblet. She closed her eyes and stood still as the statue Frederick thought she was.

"Who are you?" he asked, brandishing his Bible.

That will not help you here, Frederick.

"How are you doing that, speaking to me in my head?"

The time you have should not be spent asking me senseless things.

"You know my name, isn't it only fair that I know yours?"

I know of things unfair since Our Beginning, nevertheless, I am Ayalu, second born of Lilith and Sama'EL.

Lilith? Frederick knew that ancient name. He still held his Bible close but he feared he needed another sign. He stood before a thing that claimed to be one of the daughters of Lilith. His head began to swirl. He didn't know whether it was from Ayalu speaking to him or if it was because he was about to faint.

You need to drink it has been a while for you.

She extended the goblet without opening her eyes.

"No. That could be poison. You could be trying to sway me."

Ayalu opened her eyes and looked at Frederick as if seeing him for the first time. When he returned her gaze, he saw a depth that he was convinced no human being could ever witness and stay sane.

"Quem é você?" Her voice was low like thunder and echoed through the temple.

"You seem to already be aware of who I am," he replied surprised that he understood the question she asked in Portuguese.

"É blasfêmia para voce se aproximar de nim, mortal."

Frederick was livid, "YOU are the blasphemy! Your existence on this planet shames the Angels in Heaven! Look at the damnation you have caused!"

"Bebe, meu filho."

"I refuse to drink your blood."

Ah, Frederick, you will drink. For you are not strong enough and you wish to destroy your rival.

Frederick looked at the goblet. He thought of what she said and wondered why she would give him the means to destroy her, his only rival left in his quest.

"Bebe, meu filho."

"You are not my mother."

"E não sou sua mãe, mas em breve você vai conhecê-la, ela não será tão indulgente como I," she said as he finished the last drop of her blood.

He could hear hundreds of thunderous voices shouting at once. There were ancient images flashing before him too quick for him to grasp, forests and desserts. The voices became louder and louder until they were all one chorus calling his name; Lilith herself was going to come to him, he thought, and she would show him no mercy for trying to kill her daughter. He passed out.

When he woke amid the opulent carvings surrounding the cavernous temple, he found himself sprawled at Ayalu's feet. She was still seated in her throne, eyes closed, goblet gone. The silver blade was placed in Frederick's hand and his Bible was on his chest.

Hep is the rival she speaks of! He still lives.

Yes.

He asked himself how that snake got away? The answer didn't matter because he was strong enough now to hunt him down and have his justice – vengeance.

The Lord had spoken to him again. All he had to do was kill one of His oldest of things, one of the most ancient things he would ever see in his life. He had to kill her even after she'd bestowed a gift from God to him. She sat there extraordinary and still, he knew she was not going to attack him; it would be a lot easier if she did.

How did David slay Goliath?

It was his destiny.

"'It was his destiny.' Indeed," Frederick said. "'The Lord shall judge the people; judge me, O Lord, according to my righteousness, and according to mine integrity that is in me.'"

David was a poetic man, Frederick.

"Yes, he was," he grasped the silver blade and ran toward Ayalu's throne, toward his destiny.
CHAPTER ONE

The adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons, people really do sound like them, especially when you aren't paying attention to a damn thing they're saying, thought Kaya. It wasn't that her girlfriend was boring her with all the "formalities" of tomorrow's initiation selection but Aisha was making sandwiches and let's face it, anyone who knows anything about Kaya will tell you she loves a good sandwich.

Fiancé. Aisha is going to be my wife.

One could consider it's because she used the leftover chicken breast or because of the Provolone cheese or the fresh rolls she always got at the Cheese Eating Grin Deli down the street from their apartment , but one would be wrong.

Aisha had been in Kaya's life for the past six years. The first three weren't the greatest for Kaya financially but, unbeknownst to her, when she was broke those were the best for days Aisha.

"You're at your most creative when you are on empty," Aisha said to her once.

Never had she admired rocks and stones as much as she had when they walked across the Brooklyn Bridge to Manhattan. Kaya pointed out their shapes and sizes. And if you leaned at the right angle, the tightly wound cables looked like an intricate web Spider Man spun to hold the bridge up. Supersizing and the $1 Menu were the greatest inventions in the world to lovers on a budget. There was always enough drink in the bucket-sized cup, for two and they could treat themselves to fast food decadence for under $10 dollars when the urge overcame them. Because of Aisha's strange witch friend, Jenna, they always saw whatever movies they wanted for free. They liked the boring movies the most; they didn't do too much "watching" during the boring movies. And Aisha's small studio apartment filled with her colorful candles and her exotic incenses and oils made for a wonderful scented love nest. There was a pallet under her window that served as a bed where they slept as if it was a king-sized mattress. They were forced to know one another, Aisha remembered; every dimpled cheek, every curve, crease, nook and cranny, every soft expanse of beautiful bronze skin, each soft kink of black (sometimes brown in the summer months) hair, and sweet taste of pouted lips – she never felt poor during her early years with Kaya.

Now she often found herself at Kaya's place, a spacious one-bedroom apartment with all the traps and trimmings. The bank branch's Customer Service Manager had many perks to go along with her salary but she also had to listen to people complain for 8 hours out of a 10 hour day that started at 6 o'clock in the morning. There were meetings to be conducted, extra work to be done; the days of sneaking into "see" a boring movie had since passed.

"Baby," Aisha said, "sometimes... I miss us."

"Hm? Who did what?"

"Kaya Antoinette De LaCroix! You weren't even listening to a word I was saying, were you?"

"Yeah, I was listening to you," she lied trying to retrace the last thing she remembered Aisha saying before she stepped into it with the "Peanuts" gang.

Aisha looked at her and grabbed the culinary work of art man called sandwich, and an evil grin spread across her face. She walked to the outer part of the kitchen's miniature island, toward the garbage bin and held her hand, with sandwich in it, high above her head as she stepped on the pedal opening the top to the bin. Kaya looked horrified.

"Don't you do it!"

"Now let me ask you again, since I appear to have your full attention. Were you listening to me?"

"It's blasphemy, what you're doing right there. People are all over the world starving and you are playing with my emotions!"

"Kaya?"

"OK! OK! I was listening but not just then. I got a little distracted."

"Kaya!" she said handing her the sandwich. She looked disappointed. "This is important for you to know. You have to take this stuff seriously."

"I'mff," she replied between bites, "I will. Go ahead. Tell me again about what's his name, Hiccups? Poo poo doo doo? What was it?"

"Hikpodu. I can't believe our House is even considering you as its Conductor."

"Well they are and it's no thanks to you, I must say. Archie told me you ain't say a peep when he mentioned me as a candidate."

"Bill would lick the soles of your shoes after you've walked through a shit storm, Kaya. He shouldn't have counted in the first place."

"Why? He's your Record Keeper."

"That's because he and his cronies shot the last one we had. Remember? Isn't that why you call him 'Archie'?"

"C'mon, Boo. You know I call him that because he looks Archie Bunker from that show. He's not dirty like that; he could've gone right along with the story and covered it all up with the rest of the cops but he didn't."

"So why not call him 'Carroll O'Conner' since that's the name of the actor who actually played Archie Bunker – "

"Carroll O- who's going to pick up on that but you? 'Archie' is better. And Archie had my back when my own shawty didn't. Is that a shame or what?"

"It'll be a shame if I put my hand down your throat and grab that food out your stomach. That will be a shame. Besides, Bill doesn't know you like I do. "

"Such violence. The kids these days." Kaya, taking the last bite of her sandwich, stepped toward Aisha and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Ish," she said, "you really don't think I can handle this?"

Aisha looked into Kaya's eyes and wished she hadn't. Her weakness was Kaya's dark hypnotic eyes. Aisha was envious of her thick lashes that never needed mascara but her envy wasn't enough to make her immune to the look. It didn't matter when or where she was or even how mad Aisha was, when Kaya looked at her, through her, she was putty in her hands.

This wasn't a tactical look to win an argument; Kaya was serious about what was going to happen in a couple of days.

*

Kaya learned Aisha was a witch when she met her – she made no moves to hide it. It was the Pentagram talisman she wore around her neck that engaged Kaya to converse with her in the first place; she'd never seen a Black girl who was a Satanist. That was her assumption; Aisha worships the Devil, until they continued on with what turned out to be a three-hour conversation in front of a movie theater. Aisha missed the movie she had gone there to see and Kaya never did catch up to Pretty_Peach13 – the blind date she was scheduled to meet.

They continued to see each other, after the initial conversation, until one night while walking through a small park they found while wandering on Long Island, Aisha revealed she was part of a vampire Coven. This fascinated Kaya creating a bond as two lovers of "vampire culture".

However, Kaya soon learned that Aisha's love for vampires extended far beyond anything she'd ever imagined. When they would speak on the subject there was a passion that Aisha had where, if you didn't check yourself, you would believe the persons, places, and vamps were real. It didn't matter to Kaya, by that time she was already falling in love. If her girlfriend's friends were a bunch of weirdoes who thought vampires were actually real, what did she care? They didn't bother anybody and the creepy girl, Jenna, got them into movies, free of charge.

The 2005 incident happened and they met Archie – things changed.

His actual name is William Forrester, he's "creepy girl, Jenna's" father, and he was a Detective only 3 days from retirement. Citations and Commendations lined the wall in his man cave at his home. He'd even received plaques and awards from various local African-American groups including the NAACP. The irony, "Archie Bunker" was a police officer many in the community he helped to protect, would speak to when they trusted no others. He gave respect and he was well respected by friend and peer alike. It was the accomplishment he was proud of and he knew he could end his career with pep in his step and a kick of his heels.

For the past month he'd been rolling with a younger prick-of-a-man as a partner, Sean Doyle. He had the feeling that this new partner they stuck him with was a cowboy; that's why they put them together, so the cowboy would learn something before the old timer left. Archie looked at this man and knew there was nothing he wanted to learn.

"It's 'us' against 'them', Bill, and my priority is to protect us."

"That may be true but you gotta remember, there's a lotta 'us' out there with 'them' too. Good people who work hard every day who just wanna earn a living."

"If they're so good then how come they don't help, Bill? They know who the skells are and when something happens it becomes the Three Monkeys of America out there. Help us do our job, for Chris' sakes – we wanna help them! We bust our ass too. When they don't help and crap happens in their neighborhood everybody's so quick to shout 'racism' and 'call Al Sharpton'!"

"You ever heard of being scared, kid? Besides, if you know who to ask and how to ask you will get your answers."

"As I said, I'm protecting 'us'."

And that's exactly what Sean and three others thought they were doing on the hot afternoon of August 3, 2005.

A simple crime happened.

The ones that are supposed to be simple never are, especially those that sound like the opening line of a bad joke.

Two guys go into a corner store to rob it; they were told by one of their friends (who was inebriated at the time) that the elusive white whale, the fabled safe in the back with lots of cash, would be easy to get because the perpetually scared Dominican man who works in aforementioned corner store would be working that day – he had no intention of dying for money. It would be the easiest money they would ever make if they just pointed a gun in his face and spoke real loud.

The drunken friend was right about the safe but wrong about the safe's address and the two guys ended up attempting to rob the Cheese Eating Grin Deli. Once there, they were met buy two stocky Italians with shotguns and a large Black man, Peter, with a larger meat cleaver. Realizing they were outnumbered they ran into the street, guns in hand, and almost got run over by a police cruiser. The police in the car saw the bright shiny guns and began pursuing the fleeing would be robbers.

At this time, Sean was bringing coffee to Archie when the gentlemen with the shiny guns ran smack into him, spilling the fresh bought coffee all over the place. Just his luck, with only a few days 'til retirement, Detective William "Bill" "Archie Bunker" Forrester would have to be in a footrace with two armed suspects. The good news was the uniformed officers had an idea where they were headed and formed a net to box them in. The bad news was Kevin, a Record Keeper for the House of Hikpodu, was heading home from the library and stepped right into the net.

The guys doubled back to an alley behind the Cheese Eating Grin Deli where they took their shiny guns, wiped them down as best they could and threw them in the dumpster. They slipped past a patrol car but didn't see the uniformed officer who spotted them just as they snuck out of the alley.

Bill and Sean approached the officer, who was glad to see other cops who could help him. He made mention of where the suspects headed and the fact that they were now unarmed because he saw them ditch the guns. The uniformed officer tailed them while Bill and Sean ducked into another alley where three other uniformed officers were; the plan was to cut off any retreat the "geniuses" thought they had.

Kevin walked into the alley filled with police officers and they all drew on him. He put his hands up and Bill saw he wasn't one of the suspects.

"He's good. Backpack," Bill pointed out. All of his experience being on the force allowed him acute powers of observation. The brilliant gentlemen who'd created this mess, had they gotten the address correct, would be hard pressed to escape with their ill gotten booty since they made no provisions to carry their fortune – neither one of them brought a backpack or any other way to transport the cash.

"Check him, Bill," Sean urged.

"Sean, he's not one of those guys. Put your hands down, Kid. You get outta here, now! You're intruding on a police investigation."

Kevin started to walk away and was almost out of the alley when he remembered Bill was the father of his friend, Jenna. He also knew exactly who the so-called robbers were and where they lived. He also knew Bill was a cop people around the neighborhood trusted and he felt it right to get the information to someone he trusted.

Kevin unzipped his backpack to get a pen and paper so he could write down the names and slip it to Bill before he continued home. None of the officers saw him unzip his bag or write the names and addresses on a scrap of paper. All they saw was a shiny thing in his hand; all they heard was Sean say, "Gun!" and everyone, but Bill, opened fire.

Seconds before Sean yelled, "Gun!" seconds before 35 bullets killed 19 year-old Kevin – his daughter's friend, seconds before the officers realized the horror that the gun was a silver Cross pen, Detective William "Bill" "Archie Bunker" Forrester heard Kevin call out to him, "Pssst! Hey Archie, I know something you should know."

They looked for a gun and didn't find one; only a volume of the Book of Records for the House of Hikpodu that Bill thought was some kind of literature Kevin needed for school. They found other books in his bloodstained backpack along with a blue plastic Papermate pen.

Sean cursed and asked why he couldn't have used the blue pen, to no one in particular, as he began to plot the saving of his and the careers of the uniformed officers with them. A gun magically appeared in Kevin's possession. Why should good police officers have to suffer because a kid did not listen and move along like he was told?

So before there was the "film at 11" the hungry vultures of the press reported that a possible suspect in the attempted robbery of the Cheese Eating Grin Deli was shot to death while trying to escape in a shoot-out with police and detectives at the scene. What hurt Bill the most as he pushed his way through the throng of reporters, was the bloody scrap of paper he held in his hand that Kevin was trying to give him before the officers opened fire.

Contrary to the beliefs of many in "the hood", every police officer isn't a party to corruption. That was why Sean's report was so different from Bill's report when he filed it and the three uniformed officers' reports matched Bill's. No one stated that Sean placed the gun in Kevin's backpack (they never saw his deft hands palm the throw-away piece with the precision of a magician and slide it into a compartment of the bag), the "film at 11" news reports connected those dots for the public, but they did say they only saw a small shiny object and in their first encounter with Kevin they did not feel threatened. The shooting was ruled as a tragic accident and Bill's reputation within the community was shattered.

After a quarter of a century on the force – he only had 3 days...

A year and a half later, the civil suit against Sean, the 3 uniforms and Bill, exonerated his name with some people; a witness appeared giving testimony that Sean placed the gun in the bag. While they were arguing (and crying) over the dead body of Kevin, they never saw Kaya watching the whole heartbreaking ordeal from across the street – she saw what Sean's "magical hands" were up to. Her testimony didn't save his pension from being garnished but his reputation, as tattered as it was by his association with Sean, was somewhat back in tact and Bill was forever grateful. He was so grateful that he kept in contact with her so reprisals, because of her fearlessness, were non-existent. And when he heard of a job opening at the bank where he is a security guard, he informed Kaya of the opportunity.

Aisha remembered that day. It was later that evening she slipped away to a meeting with her House to learn that Jenna's father had been nominated to replace Kevin. She, having lived with Kaya and witnessed the threats on their lives because of her testimony, objected to the idea.

"He was there," Aisha said. "No offense Jenna but you're telling me a man who was a detective for years didn't see a rookie cop plant a gun when my girlfriend saw him do it from across the street?"

"First, I want to say that I'm so thankful for Kaya. She helped to restore my Dad's good name. I'll always love her for that."

"She didn't 'help' a damn thing. She did restore his name and we got all the hate mail and dirty looks to prove it."

"Aisha," Jenna began, "I know someone who can get you guys a one bedroom with a real deep discount in rent I keep telling you this. We are Sisters in Light and in Darkness."

As annoyed as she was by Jenna (she hated the way she said her name – "eye" a long pause then "eeshaaaah") she knew Jenna was serious about their Sisterhood.

Jenna proceeded to explain to the House the importance of finding a Record Keeper.

"My Dad will have the time to do it because he's not with the police anymore. And because he was a cop he's used to making reports and stuff."

"Yeah, where was the report about his dirty ass partner planting a gun?" Aisha asked.

"'kay, first Aisha, my Dad was never a dirty cop as you just said your girlfriend witnessed. And second, maybe Kaya had a better angle than my Dad had. Did you ever take time to consider that? Let's not forget, Kevin was my friend too. And last, this is most important, Sisters," Jenna said as she turned to look at the congregation of witches, "we are breaking the Covenant. Up until, like a year ago, we've had some pretty good luck and the House of Hikpodu has been a premiere House since way before any of us were chosen to be a part of it. We need to get a Record Keeper as instructed in the Book of the Cursed – it's our way."

That night, the House of Hikpodu's witches voted, 11-1, that Bill replace Kevin as its Record Keeper.

As Bill and Kaya became closer friends, she noticed he would tell weird stories that matched the weird stories she heard from Aisha.

"Well?" Kaya asked pulling Aisha from her haze of memories long gone.

Aisha broke their embrace and looked serious.

"Kaya, when I talk to you about, well, 'things', what do you think about?"

"What do you mean? You mean like if I'm listening to you, Boo? I'm listening. You have my full attention."

"No," she was shaking her head, "what do you think about? What do you think I'm saying to you, quackery shit?"

Kaya sighed. She saw the gravity written all over Aisha's face; she sensed the same in Archie, and her friends, and began to have reservations. She'd never seen Aisha like this before, fidgety, nervous... Her concern was growing; could she save her before she drank the cyanide punch?

"Aisha, I thought you and your friends were a bunch of girls interested in witchcraft and vampires. I know there are people out there like you who are ardent about it but you and your friends are psycho about yours. Now Archie's down and he's talking the same – Boo, you're not part of a cult are you?"

Aisha laughed. She thought to herself that perhaps Kaya was the best choice after all.

"Blessings be to Lilith and Praises to the Heavenly Father, her Maker. Baby, you can rest easy that your woman is not part of a crazy cult, OK?" She reached for Kaya and kissed her then pulled away. Her face was serious again, the face of the school Principle as Kaya described it.

"There's a 'but' coming, I can see it."

"You have to listen to me, seriously, Baby. You can't take this as a joke and you can't think I'm talking crazy. There are vampires. Real live suck your blood ones. Only the ones that do that now do it because they want to kill; they like to feel the rush of the hunt for man. There's so many options out here, they don't have to kill us – they want to. Or because..."

"Because what?"

"Because they belong to a poor House or they don't have a House at all."

"Uh huh," Kaya said with a hefty look of skepticism.

"I knew it. But you'll see the hard way. Archie could show you the Book, I guess, because you're being considered. I know he won't, I wouldn't either as much as I love you, there are rules."

"Uh huh."

"That's all you're going to say?"

"No. If this isn't a vampire cult thing why do they need a conductor? What is a damn conductor anyway?"

"How can I explain this? Listen, this might help you in the process. Eve wasn't the first woman, Lilith was. She was made just like Adam was made, on equal ground."

"What? I never saw that in the Bible?"

"It's not in there and it won't be because the Bible was put together by men," Aisha said, angry. "Baby, let me finish. If I get to preaching... Anyway, Lilith was cursed twice. The first time she was cursed because she disobeyed God and didn't return to the Garden of Eden with the angels God sent to get her. She was made barren but she already had six children so that had to be her comfort. I'm part of the House of her youngest male child."

"Hikpodu."

"Yes," she smiled, "so you were listening. The second time Lilith got cursed, she was cursed with vampirism and so were her children and all her progeny."

"Why did she get cursed again?"

"Because Eve was a whiny bitch and thought Lilith was trying to get with Adam. Eve asks God to do something, Lilith laughs, and rightfully so in my opinion, like who does that bitch think she is? God decides He'll punish her again for her attitude toward Eve."

"OK, where did you hear all this? And it still doesn't tell me what a conductor is?"

"Every 110 years there is a major total solar eclipse. To us it's an amazing astronomical display, to every single vampire on this planet, it's annihilation."

"I hate to tell you, Boo, but solar eclipses come a little more frequently than that."

"But the big ones don't. We think it started because vampires would have drained the planet back in the day. Maybe from blood lust, maybe out of revenge for Lilith. It doesn't matter now. What does matter is that a person is picked, a Conductor, and once the Merkaba channel is connected, Lilith is able to communicate on this plane through her children. The Conductor is given the location and like a vampire underground railroad we shuttle as many as we can to safe spots. Sun Touchers are given priority because most Proxies either don't believe or they think that their Havens are actually as safe as Covens. Can you believe that mess, Baby?"

"Can I belie-? I don't even know what the hell you're talking about! 'Sun Touchers', 'Proxies', 'Merkaba', what is all that?"

"When you're a Conductor, you'll know. You learn it all."

"Oh, you're a believer now?"

"I've always believed in you, Kaya."

For Aisha, Kaya would go to the meeting and be serious. She wouldn't make fun of her friends and she would try her best not to roll her eyes in utter contempt of the foolish things she assumed they were going to say. How foolish could it be if Archie's involved? His daughter talked him into being their Record Keeper. Chances are, Kaya thought, she wouldn't even get picked.

But you will, Kaya, you've already been chosen.

If it sounds like a cult, if it even smells like a cult, she's going to get Aisha out of there.

Kaya's thoughts switched to a more important task. She still had to meet with Archie to get the engagement ring from him; Aisha is quite the investigator and the element of surprise would've been ruined had she decided to pick it up herself.

Kaya smiled, Aisha will be surprised.

"Ish," she said, "sometimes I miss us too."

CHAPTER TWO

"Bitch? Who you callin' a bitch? You don't even know me nigga!"

"Yo, Man, just leave her alone, you fuckin' with the wrong one this time."

"That's right, Shell, you better tell that drunk ass, sorry ass nigga somethin'! You ain't even from out here and you talkin' shit? I'll have you blasted, nigga!"

"Whatever, bitch, you don't know me!"

Ramel watched the exchange with growing disgust. I'm going to need a car, he thought. A person with his ambition and the task he was about to undertake should not be relegated to meeting with the head of a Coven by bus. He looked around the bus terminal and shook his head; a bunch of worthless sluggards hanging around drunk, telling each other insignificant war stories or having the more-than-occasional disagreement.

An older man passed by Ramel with a look of displeasure on his face as well.

"Gay bitches," he muttered to himself. As he approached the screaming woman he felt bold enough to say, "You gay bitches always startin' some mess. Always startin' some MESS!"

"Fuck you, bitch made nigga," answered Shell, who was the gay one. Her louder friend, who was not, also objected in colorful fashion.

"Why we gotta be gay though? Why we gotta be the ones that started the shit. This dumb nigga started the shit and you can get what he can get! Keep talking shit, muthafucka, I suck dick! Shows how much you know."

"And how much you absolutely don't," Ramel grumbled as the furrow in his brow grew deeper. He would be sure to mention in his terms that his car request was absolute. When he boarded the bus it was worse.

Day laborers coming home from a hard day of work outside made for a bunch of dirty, dusty men on the bus. Some tried to hide their pungent offenses with cheap colognes but to no avail. Others figured that people could see the signs of their work all over their clothes so why hide? The rest just didn't care.

With each stop passengers got off while more men going home from work got on. Soon, Black men covered with the dust and sweat of lifting and hauling in factories began to board the bus. Their odors, masked by cheap body sprays, mixed in with the odors of the hard work outside were soon joined by another fragrance, fast food.

Everyone looked haggard and worn but their conversations, spoken in many different languages, were sounds that Ramel found unbearable. He added moving, into a gated community, to his checklist of demands.

*

All the voodoo mumbo jumbo, all the witches and nature with the flowers crap; it had all been a big bag of garbage, that his cousin Tarah was involved in. His Auntie Quillie left Tarah to her own devices because she was a good daughter who helped take care of things around the house, who attended Sunday Service (out of obligation to her mother more so, than the rhetoric the Minister spewed each time) but most important, she didn't know the extent of Tarah's involvement in her Coven.

Ramel being an observant opportunist paid close attention to the way his cousin carried herself, particularly after attending one of her gatherings. He noticed she never worried about problems that seemed insurmountable. Ramel also saw when Auntie Quillie had some trouble she'd get on her knees and pray to Jesus that everything would turn out all right – and it usually did. Somewhere in the recesses of Ramel's mind he wondered if it was really Jesus, Tarah, or a combination of both? His curiosity peaked when she decided to leave the Coven she was in to join a new one where things appeared to be better for her spiritually, she said.

Ramel's interests lay in the financial.

What was wrong with the Coven she left? Did those witches concentrate more on the satanic parts of The Craft? He knew Tarah was never a huge fan of Necromancy although he was sure she'd practiced it at one point in her dealings with her former Coven; she always spoke about balance and the natural order of the Universe. That was the most he ever got from her about the subject. Through his investigations Ramel knew he needed to get in for himself, for the power she was leaving behind her was something he felt he could not afford to let slip through his fingers because of his scared witch cousin.

"Ramel, you'll never be fulfilled if you try this for power and material gain," she once told him when he begged to know more, "it can be very addictive. Power is a bigger drug than crack, E pills, weed – all of it combined."

"The very thing you do – you're a Necromancer by definition. Why can't you teach me something?"

"Some of my Sisters are better equipped to deal with that kind of thing, I don't know what ideas you may have about what I do but they're wrong. I don't abuse what I know and I'm not passing anything I know to you until you grow."

"C'mon, Cuzzie. I know this isn't an all girls club, is it?"

"No."

"Well put your little cousin on. Let me see what – "

"No."

Undaunted, Ramel continued to pester Tarah until she gave in and took him to an informal meeting. The day after she left the Coven for good.

It was dark and he was scared to death but he wasn't going to leave her side. She'd taken him into the woods of a small boutique style bookstore by day, witches meeting place by night. Why did they have to meet in the woods?

They continued to walk through Tangled Woods, Tarah leading the way as if it were sunny outside instead of the pitch-blackness Ramel found himself enveloped in. He remembered Tangled Woods, when he used to play there as a child, people walking in and out of the bookstore; he was afraid even then of the mangled looking branches that seemed like they were reaching out just to touch his tortured soul. He put on a brave face back then, the same one he was showing now while his eyes darted back and forth looking for one sliver of light he could focus on.

You had the good brother, my dear cousin.

He remembered his father used very severe tactics to prevent a child from being a child. A 5-year-old rambunctious boy had no place in the House of Quiet and Proper Behavior.

Whenever he forgot that very important rule, whether he was playing too loud with his Army men or he accidentally tracked dirt onto the kitchen floor, a righteous slap across the face accompanied by a reading from the Book of Psalms would make everything as right as rain. There were the odd occasions he would make the kind of noise only "asinine" children made and be sent to his room in the dark closet at night; it was always at night. The lights were completely turned off, shades drawn and he could have no music, everything had to be silent. Silence was when the monsters came. Since they originated under the bed or in his closet, he was stuck at ground zero. The slightest breeze from a crack under the door, a brush of his school uniform against his ear would have produced screaming fits of terror if not for the fear of his father, waiting for him to break the silence.

He turned seven and he inadvertently broke his mother's saucer. It wasn't the good China and she had plenty of other saucers and small plates coming out of her ass! Nevertheless, it lead to no supper and "wait until it gets dark". He'd become used to his own small closet, feeling for his shoes, tracing the outline of the buttons on his clothes making a guessing game out of it. Which jacket was this, the navy blue blazer or the yucky brown one I hate that looks just like Dad's?

His father switched the rules on him and locked him in the closet of the master bedroom – his parent's room. The closet was bigger, foreign. Ramel panicked and started screaming in spite of himself. He banged on the door to no avail. Had something happened to his parents? Didn't they realize he was locked inside? He screamed his voice raw until he fell asleep standing up.

The day after, Ramel took action that would help him cope with his fear of darkness – it ended the punishments. He was called to supper but wouldn't come to the table. When his father found him he was in his parents' closet staring off into space, tears running down his cheeks. Ramel, at age seven, told himself he had the power over his own mind, body and future. Seeing the horrified look on his father's face, Ramel smiled cementing in his mind that power over others is more valuable than anything on the planet. That kind of power would get you everything you wanted.

So he kept his focus on Tarah and followed her in the darkness of Tangled Woods hoping he was one step closer to that kind of power.

He never noticed the fire or the five witches that stood around it in a circle. The tension, however, did not go unrecognized as he walked up behind his cousin. A figure stepped forward; she pulled back her black cowl, her flowing blonde hair accentuating the blackness in her cape.

"Sister," she said to Tarah, invoking their Lilith Ritus greeting, "who is she?"

"She is KI-SI-KIL-LIL-LA-KE, Queen of the Magick!"

"Look on her in lust and despair!"

Ramel stood there taken aback by the what he'd witnessed. He could not take his eyes off of the beautiful blonde nor any of the other witches and he wanted to know more.

"He's coming tonight, Sister. Perhaps you shouldn't have brought a guest."

"What?" Tarah said.

A witch wearing a white cowl stepped forward, "I know, Sister. This is quite unusual and I did make mention that you were going to bring someone but he insisted."

"Who's he? A guy witch?" Ramel asked bursting with excitement.

"Warlock, Ramel. And I wouldn't say he was one, exactly..."

"Come on, Tarah, you have a man coming through here and I'm not allowed to check this guy out? I thought you told me this wasn't an all girls club?"

"It's not, Ra, but there are procedures."

"Sister," began the blonde one, "we're the only ones coming tonight."

"Again? Where are the others and why haven't they been here for the last three gatherings?"

"I think they formed a hive under Hikpodu's House. Sister, you should join us, we may take those same steps. The House of Ayalu is in shambles."

Tarah had been wrestling with the decision to leave her Coven and join a hive ever since the new Ancient showed up. He was old, all of the Sisters could tell, but he was not as old as he claimed to be. Tarah knew vampires were not beyond reproach but they never lied, no matter how shameful and despicable the deed, to their Coven. The truth kept them protected and cared for by their charges, the witches.

But this one lied and he defied the traditions. She knew a lot of vampires didn't have the benefit of the knowledge shared by witch covens but those who were blind or ignorant belonged to Havens. Those who claimed to be as ancient as he, were affiliated in some respect with one of The Six Houses and relied on the traditions set in place. Why wasn't he?

The witches also noticed that he was the only vampire that needed attendance. Tarah sensed there was something wrong with that. She had a strong empathic presence, able to feel "her" vampires and she had a mounting disconnect to all of them. Tarah hadn't shared her worries with her Sisters, uneasy because she believed the unthinkable – Lilith had turned her back on them. The arrival of this Ancient did nothing to put her mind at ease.

"Why do they keep calling you 'Sister'? They don't know your name?" Ramel asked.

"On the contrary, Cousin. You're here and you're not part of any House much less a part of ours. They call me 'Sister' because my name will not be spoken before strangers."

"Stranger? What kind of bullshit is that? I'm your cuzzie."

"True. But you aren't my 'Brother' in the Craft."

"Well let's make it happen."

"Ramel you – "

"Come on, Cuzzie, don't play me. Why can't I be down?"

"An excellent query, Tarah. Why can't your cousin be 'down'? Is that the colloquial term, Ramel?"

I never heard him approach us, Ramel thought. Not one twig cracked under his footstep or the mush of soft earth; we were standing here around the fire in the middle of the woods and this pale looking white man appears out of nowhere. And how...?

"How do you know my name?"

"Another excellent query, don't you ladies think Ramel would be a great addition to the flock?"

"With all due respect, Sir," the witch with the white cape began, "that is a decision that is up to the Sisters of this House. We can't have just anyone a part of us. It keeps you safe, it keeps us safe when we do it this way."

"I should've been grandfathered in already. Or something! I'm Tarah- your Sister's cousin! That should count for a lot."

"It doesn't." said the blonde frowning at Ramel.

Frederick watched the exchange. He saw a zealot that he could use. The look in Ramel's eyes had been the same as all the others, a hunger for power that his blind lust would never let him possess for long. Frederick knew when he revealed himself Ramel would be a willing participant in anything he needed done. He was glad he decided to drop by the gathering the witches were having; he would be the one to bring Ramel into the fold and the House of Ayalu would be no more – at least not in the conventional sense.

Frederick was happy that he wouldn't have to kill any more human beings even if they were practitioners of things that went against God; he would have a soldier in Ramel to help him rid the Earth of this scourge. The head would be chopped off and the black sheep would be lost, forced to turn to the truth.

"My dear ladies, this is a decision that I will not debate. It is time we had a man's presence in our noble House. I insist it be Ramel. He shall be my personal protégé."

"Be that as it may, Sir," the defiant blonde countered, "there are still rules to be followed. You might not value the safety of your existence but our Sisterhood has survived millennia because we observe our traditions!"

"Sister! To speak in such a way..." replied the witch in the white.

"Let her speak," Tarah said. "Our Sister says what we're all thinking." She turned to Ramel and pleaded, "Ra, you need to research. Give yourself time. Let's go back to my place and ask me questions. I'll answer anything you want to know. But I ask that you give this some time. It's a huge step you're about to take into something you know absolutely nothing about. You're my cousin, true, but my Sister is right; our being related has nothing to do with how you will handle the Craft."

Ramel looked at Tarah then turned to Frederick. A satisfactory look spread across his face. He was reminded of the closet his father locked him in – his father went too far and spent the rest of his life begging for his son's forgiveness. He'd asked Tarah many times about her friends and what they did, the power they held. He was on the precipice and she was begging him to step away, just like his father. They all fall to their knees in the end.

"Why should I ask you questions when the man himself has all the answers I want?"

"Splendid," Frederick said.

"Fine. And you, Sir," as Tarah spun toward Frederick, surprising him in the process, he was enamored by her as she reminded him of Sankofa, "you have no Coven since insist on acting as though you don't have one anyway."

"Oh c'mon, Tee. Why, because he wants to bring a man into the fold? That's some sexist shit, Cuz."

"No," the blonde said, "because he is a fraud. I don't know how you know what you do about our House. You came here looking for us of your own free will from South America? You say you are of the House of Ayalu but you would have been safer by staying in South America! We are but a hive of that House; it's located in Brazil for a reason, that's where it's supposed to stay. If you are who you say you are you would have come with an emissary but you didn't. Go away from us and claim Ayalu's name no more or we will deal with you."

Frederick gave the blonde witch his coldest look. She returned it, she was not afraid. The witches were all younger than he but they were loyal and they knew their Covenant. He'd been used to crossing paths with Havens filled with lazy vampires and silly humans who called themselves witches and warlocks, beatnik like and theatrical in their participation. He'd even become head of a Haven during his travels. They had their useful moments but he wished he had the disciples that Lilith's children had. Frederick broadened his cold smile because he knew these witches, the Hive that identified with their matron Ayalu, would follow the protocols – they weren't sure he wasn't who he claimed to be, an Ancient charged by Ayalu to grow her House on the North American continent. He would be without witches, a Record Keeper and a Conductor (the latter he regrettably assassinated) but his life would be safe. They would not dare destroy him – for now.

"Ladies, time is of the essence as you all say. This is what I wish and it shall be so. Ramel you will meet me at the place of my choice in half of a fortnight. Come here to this spot tomorrow and I will leave word where that place is to be. Good night to you all."

Ramel thought he saw – did that man just disappear right before his eyes? He was electric. This man was his ticket to the power he wanted. Maybe he could show him the disappearing trick.

Just then a thought popped in his head: don't be so simple, Ra, you want the big-ticket stuff. Disappear? Talk to David Blaine if you want to disappear.

"Yo Cuzzie did you see that shit? And y'all got to listen to what he says, right? You can't do some magic so he won't take me, right?"

"He can have you for all I care. Someone so impressed with parlor tricks, bah!"

"You know what, Blondie? Fuck you! I wasn't talking to you. Why don't you go look for an eye of a newt or something like that?"

"Enough! Ramel, I'm asking you – no, I'm telling you, reconsider this carefully. Do your homework on this. If you have any questions for any of us just ask," Tarah said.

"I've been up your ass all this time and you ain't had a damn thing to say to me before. This guy is going to teach me something. Don't worry, though, because you're my cuz, I'll put you on. The blonde bitch is on her own." Ramel turned away from them and walked out of Tangled Woods, in the dark. Unafraid.

Tarah and her Sister shook their heads in unison.

"It's started, hasn't it?" asked Ptahla, the witch in the white cape.

"Yes. I'm so sorry, Tarah," Pizna, the blonde witch in the black cape said, "Ayalu gave me the vision herself. I wish there was something we could do but he is lost."

"He is necessary," Tarah said, "for the Baptism of Fire. This is going to be a serious test for us, Sisters. Ayalu made a great sacrifice and we must not let it be in vain."

"Ayalu is destroyed?" Ptahla asked.

"She is back in the bosom of the Great Mother, Lilith."

"Tara has spoken to you again," Pizna stated.

The witches held her in their highest regard. Tarah was named after her father's mother. Coincidentally, a great witch from the House of Ayalu lived 200 years before she was born, named "Tara". When she decided to join her Coven, the witches thought it a wonderful sign and Tarah started receiving visions starring her namesake shortly after.

"That man did it, I know, we should destroy him."

"No Pizna. It was written, we must warn the rest and help where we're needed."

Another witch in a black cape, Gretchen Darkstorm, stepped forward, "Tarah, I know where our other Sisters are. We'll need them."

"Yes we will." Tarah shook her head once more, fraught with despair. "Oh, Ra, my dear sweet cousin, I tried to warn you."

*

Ramel was in his own world counting the stops he had left until he could get off the bus – he was headed to the library. Wow! The library.

He expected something a bit grander than the note he found in the not-so-menacing tree (he chose to go back during daylight hours) that stated: Queens, Library.

Really?

When Ramel disembarked he was relieved that he wouldn't have far to walk, the bus terminal he was leaving now was worse than the one when he began his trip.

He crossed the street, careful of the reckless bus drivers who would mow him down if his hands weren't flailing all over the place, and entered the library scanning for Frederick's face among the masses.

Anybody who says that kids don't read obviously hadn't been to this library, he thought. There were tweens everywhere. What had been the most silent of institutions was now a concoction of dull roars created by little kids trying to whisper, and the failure in their attempts. They darted back and forth through the stacks, bargaining with each other over who would check out what book for the report due in English class or science class or the unfair Social Studies class that wanted a 10 page typed report. Ramel looked to his left and saw the room where the free Internet service attracted the most noise.

"My father would have the time of his life with all you loud ignorant children," he said to no one listening.

A young lady approached him, a brunette. The piece of normal looking brunette hair he could see; the rest of her head was covered with spectacular neon colors. He hoped that she would pass right by him. There was no time to entertain girls, especially young girls who dressed like clowns and drew that much attention. She stopped right in front of him.

"You're looking for somebody, right?" she said chewing a wad of bubblegum way too big for her mouth; she reeked of bubble gum.

"Look, Baby, maybe in another life altogether. Right now, though, I'm busy so excuse me, OK?"

She sighed, "You're Rommel, aren't you?"

"It's Ramel."

"Whatever. Point is you're looking for someone and in order to find him, you need to come with me."

He'd been in this library once before, when he was younger and avoiding the hot summer days. It was a rendezvous point back then too. He'd felt like a big boy traveling all the way to Queens from Long Island by himself, to visit a friend and when the fun for the day was through, he waited with his friend's mother in this library – away from the adult bustle made crazier by the heat. He followed the neon girl, careful not to lose her in one of the stacks, thinking how he never remembered the library being so big. He'd only seen a limited section of it but it couldn't have been this tremendous back in the days of his youth.

He came out of his daze when he noticed the neon girl stopped in front of a door with a worn sign on it that read: STAFF ONLY. She opened the door and Ramel could see nothing behind it, only darkness.

"Down there, Rah-mel," said the neon girl as she gave the enormous piece of bubble gum one more annoying chaw, "and don't be scared, there's light at the end of the tunnel."

"Who said I was scared?"

"Whatever."

Ramel walked into the darkness careful to find the first step. He heard the clunk of his shoe against metal and assumed he was headed to the boiler room in the library basement. Down he descended fighting back the dread that was creeping in his throat threatening to escape in a maddening scream.

Do not be afraid, Ramel, there is indeed light at the end of this tunnel.

The voice came from nowhere filling his ears and rolling all around his brain; it wasn't his own but it was familiar.

Just a few more steps and you will have your answers.

Ramel picked up his pace, not seeing any steps but his feet landing sure on each one as he went further to the sub level. When he reached the last step the fetid stench smacked him like he'd run into a brick wall.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked as he put his arm across his face. He looked at his surroundings. There was a tunnel with pipes along the wall; how far down had he gone? He followed along the tunnel thinking he may not be heading toward the boiler room. The massive lump in his throat was gone, replaced by disgust and the powerful urge to vomit. The "light" Ramel was promised he could see glowing along the walls of the corridor and it got brighter as he drew closer to the end. The smell grew stronger causing him to stop and retch several times before he reached it.

At the end of the corridor he walked into a chamber with intricate pipe works. He could see against the wall what looked like a lantern and assumed that was the light source, albeit not that much.

When he finally adjusted his eyes to the dimness he saw there were lanterns and candles everywhere. He peered at the shape alongside the far end of the chamber wall and thought he saw a coffin. He knew it! Tarah couldn't hack it! This was a Coven of Necromancers and she didn't want to get into it the way he knew he would.

"What a coward," he said.

"No, Ramel, your cousin is a brave woman – they all are. You should show some respect."

"You need to put a bell on or something, man, you sneak up..."

The words died in his mouth as he looked at Frederick for the first time. In the woods he was so happy that someone was offering to teach him what he'd been anxious to learn that he paid little attention to the man making the offer. But standing there before him, he had the opportunity to observe everything; every wrinkle (or lack thereof) every mole, spot, freckle, chisel, and flaw. Ramel was astonished by Frederick's pallid complexion; he couldn't be healthy looking as pale as he did. His alabaster skin barely hid the blue veins that streaked across his face; his lips had the most color being a brick colored red, almost the color of dried blood. Frederick's eyes were the most unusual kind of green Ramel had ever seen; almost to the point they looked translucent like amber. They were old eyes. Ramel observed the length and breadth of Frederick and surmised he couldn't be any older that 20. Standing before him a tall lanky kid with long auburn hair and unusually pointed fingernails. But his eyes, the way he carried himself, he gave an air that he knew far more than Ramel's mere 25 years.

He looked again at Frederick's mouth and noticed a slight overbite. He got teased a lot for that, Ramel thought.

"Actually this 'overbite' is an acquisition from years ago."

"How do you do that?"

Frederick grinned, "That is also an acquisition from years ago. You are a loud thinker, Ramel, you make it easier."

"You can teach me how to do that?"

"The witches would have been better equipped to advise you in such matters but as we both know, they will not be returning anytime soon."

"So what the fuck, man? You mean to tell me I should've just chilled with my cousin?"

"Yes. That may have been your best."

"This is that bullshit," and he turned toward the entrance of the chamber to leave. He'd taken three steps and Frederick was standing in front him as if Ramel never moved from his spot.

"How did you...?"

"I would love to have an initiation speech or a glass of wine or perhaps you would like me to fetch a tattoo artist to permanently have my signature branded on your ass? Forgive me, I have become bothered by ceremony; it takes up time and that is in short supply for me."

"What...?"

"Ramel let me properly introduce myself. I am the vampire Frederick Duncleif Duval . Your cousin was a witch of the House of Ayalu, a very powerful vampire Coven. That was until I came along and dispatched them – the vampires."

Ramel could feel his head spinning. He told himself to be a strong Black man but he felt it coming. Ramel fainted.

When he'd awaken he was seated in a comfortable chair with a small table in front of him. There was a thick old book that had a red plastic label with white raised letters that read: REFERENCE MATERIAL ONLY.

Frederick sat across from the table sipping a glass of green liquid while he pointed to a cup of tea for Ramel. The atmosphere was different although they were still in the basement; the pipes ran in a labyrinth above their heads but the putrid smell disappeared.

"Better?"

"Yeah, I guess," Ramel replied while drinking the tea.

"I find that peppermint is much better for your stomach."

"You – you're not supposed to kill vampires. You're one and you ain't supposed to do that. There's a rule or law or something right?"

"Interesting. I am surprised by how much you know when you claim to know so little."

"I pay attention to things, man. My ears are to the streets and if I do the right calculations, you ain't the dude I need to be hanging with."

"Yes. Your association with me could get you killed, Ramel. When you finish your tea, you are free to leave."

Ramel wasn't expecting to hear him say that. The vampire hadn't killed him or made any moves to do so. This vampire, Frederick Duncleif Duval , had something to offer him besides tea and he wanted to know what.

Frederick read him right. Men who seek power are all the same, they want it whether it will kill them or not. Frederick stopped caring many decades ago and he thought whatever Ramel gets, he'll deserve. He didn't see any of the honor or goodness he found in his cousin or her Sister witches. Frederick could hear Ramel's thoughts bouncing all over his head; Ramel's intent was to use him to get all the power he wanted and when he was done, he would throw Frederick to the angry vampires that would seek retribution for the killing he's done. Frederick laughed to himself. Mr. Jackson's hubris was the precise reason he sought him, he'd be so focused on making himself an untouchable man he would never see the strings Frederick attached.

"I want to hear how you're going to make this world mine, Frederick. Then I'll leave."

"'The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.'"

"A Bible quoting vampire? Damn, I've heard just about everything now."

"The book on the table, you should take a look at the pages I have marked for you. My father would be pleased that people kept records of us. I want you to see so you can make your choice. Once you do there is no turning back."

All I has to do is look right behind me and my peoples will tell me where's I go if I listen.

It is too late for that, my love, Frederick thought, his sadness pouring over him.

Only forward to complete my destiny and it is my hope the Lord will favor me a chance to see you once more in Heaven – or Hell.

Ramel interrupted his thoughts.

"So you was some kind of slave owner?"

"My father had a plantation, yes."

"He sneak around in the wood work, man?"

"I don't understand what – "

"He put his dick in some of that dark meat? You understand that?"

"My father did philander, Ramel. Before you go any further I will tell you that I had a mulatto sister as a result of his philandering and I had a love. She was a slave and I did love her."

"Well, just like your daddy, huh? Can't resist that black meat, can you? I'm saying I would've probably done the same thing; it was like easy pickings for you – "

Frederick rushed toward him like the warm winds of a summer breeze. Ramel never saw him take the first step or the graceful way he wrapped his arm around his neck as he squeezed. However frail and unhealthy Ramel thought Frederick was, the vice-like hold he had on his neck put to rest any further ideas of his being feeble.

"Mr. Jackson, you may rest easy that I have not killed any human beings in quite some time, not even to feed. But I assure you, to finish such a barbaric thought about the woman I loved and what our love meant to me, will cost your life and I will spare you no amount of debilitating pain as I take it from you. Have we an accord?"

"Yeah, yes!"

"Good," he said and released him, "now quickly Mr. Jackson, are you the newest member of the Coven of One?"

"I guess that would be you," Ramel said rubbing his neck, "you're that 'One'?"

"In a matter of speaking. What matters is that you answer the question."

"OK, say I'm down, then what?"

"Then the power that you seek will be at your fingertips."

Ramel forgot about the pain pulsing in his neck, it was time to talk perks.

"I'm going to need a car, a white Chrysler 300 with the Bentley looking grill. And I need a place. Bouncing between my house and my Auntie's house ain't cutting it for me anymore, man. I need my own spot. I know you must have some kind of connects that can hook that for me, right?"

"Is that all?"

Frederick was thankful he was never one who craved the material. Even with all of his father's wealth he was comfortable in the slave quarters listening to Jim tell stories; he was happy when he was able to clean his horse, Knight, all by himself and ride until he was content. He was at his happiest when he was in the stable with Sankofa and they read whatever he would sneak out of the house – it cost him nothing but the dividends were tremendous.

Frederick wondered when the attitude of the country changed. He recalled the time when men like his father were alive and were proud of the accomplishment from hard work. When did wanting something for doing wicked deeds or empty accomplishments with no paid dues to be deserving of such reward become the norm?

He reflected on his journey, there was a purpose so whatever came of him was destined to be but Ramel, what would become of this scared and insecure man?

"'For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?'"

"Look, save the Bible quotes for Sunday School, OK? Can you handle it or not?"

"Tell me Ramel, you need a license for this car you want, do you have one?"

"Let me worry about that stuff. Can you handle it or not Frederick; or are you just wasting my time?"

"Mere dalliances, Ramel, that can be gone as instantly as they appear."

"Don't matter, man. It's what I want, for now. So there's nothing given without something in return. What do you want from me?"

"Something a lot more difficult to obtain than a white Chrysler 300. You will have shelter, it is something man needs, Ramel. However, if you fail to get me what I want then your car will be a wishful memory."

"Must be some important shit. Don't worry, I'm going to get it so you might as well have my title ASAP. And because I know what I'm going to do is important to you and, as you said, dangerous to my health I need some extras on the ride. I need some deep dish shoes on my girl and some of that mind-your-damn-business tint on her. Now, I'm not what you call a greedy man so riding on 22s shouldn't be a problem, ya feel me?"

"I have yet to grasp all of the colorful language that has evolved over time so if you would write down your needs and pass them to Brenda, the young lady with very vibrant hair, we can see to it that you have all you want on your 'ride'."

Ramel rubbed his hands together with great satisfaction. He felt he was coming up in the world and there would be no one who could stop him from getting the respect he felt he deserved. When they saw him cruising the block in his new car the world would get out of his way. Ramel Jackson is the new baller in town, wake up for all those who slept! But there was something gnawing in the back of his mind trying to be heard: at what cost?

"Ramel," Frederick began, "you are going to ingratiate yourself with a very powerful vampire Coven, The House of Hikpodu. If you are on your best behavior you could become the first warlock that House has ever had."

"That would be some hot shit right there. Yo, I would be able to teach my cousin a thing or two."

"Of course, I do not want you to go there and make history. If you want true power and to witness the essence of all vampires since the beginning of time, you will do something else."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"You will become the House of Hikpodu's new Conductor."

CHAPTER THREE

He was fast as he turned down Saradona Avenue into oncoming traffic – she knew he would, like most of these new millennium vampires, he wasn't very smart. To Leigh, they were nothing but a group of disrespectful proxies oblivious to protocol; insolent animals who wasted their circumstance on the frivolities of self-declared immortality. Everything comes to an end.

The night brings out people who don't dare show themselves in the light of a scrutinizing public. Not only do the freaks come out at night but the freaks deep within make special appearances. Few catch glimpses of the night stalkers that walk in the vampire world – those who've gotten a glimpse are deemed crazy or it's the last unfortunate sight they see.

On this crowded night no one saw the young pox-faced vampire being chased by a pale glowing thing with stark black hair that flew behind her as she chased her prey into the park on Daggart St., where she wanted him to go.

There was a couple negotiating the type of restaurant where they would have dinner before any kind of sexual activities would take place. If he wanted "head" she would have to be fed – no compromise. As the prey ran by them they both felt the sickening fear he was transferring to everyone in his path; for a brief moment they even thought they saw him and the specter that followed. They stopped, looked in each other's eyes – they wanted to ask, "Did you see that?" but dared not because the only answer to the only question they wanted to hear was where dinner would be served.

Once he'd made it to the park, the young vampire slowed down thinking he ditched Leigh somewhere on Rickwere Ave. He'd been turned at 18 back in 1989. The vampire he saw he knew was much older than he. And contrary to Leigh's beliefs, this young vampire was smarter than the rest.

A human had approached him two short weeks ago with the promise of immense power. They would run the city and they would own the night! All he had to do was pledge his devotion to a powerful Coven. He believed the human, Ramel, he believed in the Coven of One but could feel the strength of the female chasing him. She was strong and strength like that comes with age.

That's why he fled. Maybe one night there would be a time when he would kill an Ancient but he had to work his way up to that. Some in his crew thought as they did when they were human beings, assuming Ancients would be weak because they are old. It cost many a life and he wasn't going to let it be the price of his.

"Maybe you should have listened closer to your inner voice before you killed one of your own," Leigh said materializing from thin air before his face.

He feigned confidence marveling at the vision blocking his line of escape. There was no question she was a hot one when she was human!

"He wasn't one of my people, not in my Coven. But you could be, I've got some clout. Maybe I could pull some strings and get you in?"

"You new proxies think you can rule the world but you can't be so stupid as to not know we don't, NO vampire does, kill its own kind."

"Those rules are history," he said gnashing his teeth, "old dusty history! What are all those stupid rules for anyway, huh? We've got a human that makes sure we're all good. Besides the hunt for vampires is much more exciting than chasing some screaming human. And the blood... So much sweeter!"

"Did it ever occur to you that your human was setting you up for your demise? The retribution will be swift but painful and your human will still walk free and in the light – alive."

"Shows you how much you know, he gets his reward from our Ancient. Our Ancient is probably older than you! He knows a lot and was personally sent here by Ayalu himself!"

"It would be wise for you not to mention that name again."

"It's my House, The Coven of One, House of Ayalu! We will be the most powerful vampire coven ever!"

"Not if you don't know that Ayalu is a she." Leigh pulled back her long black trench coat to reveal a walking stick made from oak wood. The stick was carved to look like an arm. The young proxy's eyes traveled up the "arm" and saw it had a hand whose gnarled fingers looked like it was holding something. Atop the stick, in the "hand", sat a solid silver globe with an engraving around its equator: Oro Cruorem; literally translated it meant, "to speak blood". However, it became the request of the vampires who meted justice: "Plead The Blood". They would say this in absolution hoping the vampires they were to dispatch would be granted forgiveness for their fiendish acts against their kind.

The lower part of the arm tapered to a semi-point with a silver cap on its bottom. She held the walking stick out before her and looked in the eyes of the young vampire.

"You have broken the Covenant and have shown insolence toward the Decree of the Way. Ask for the forgiveness of our – "

"What are you, bitch, some kind of priest or something?"

"You must plead the Blood so the Great Mother may

forgive –"

Neither one of them saw her walk over to the young vampire but Leigh did see her unsheathe her sword, also made of silver, also with the engraving: Oro Cruorem and in one sweeping graceful movement decapitate him leaving his head on the fresh cut grass with a look of contempt on his face, the last look he would ever give anyone. Leigh took the tapered end of her walking stick and plunged the silver tip into the heart of the proxy's headless body.

"Shug, I don't know why you bother to give them that speech."

"Some do repent, Princess. Some do."

Azyra shook her head and pointed to the grass.

"It's your turn to get rid of the head."

"If you weren't so quick to kill them, you'd learn some valuable information."

"Don't none of these new vamps believe in that shit, Shug," she said looking annoyed. "Hell, only reason I believe is because you told me and you're a bad liar! We've heard names and ain't seen not one of them yet and you been around much longer than me!"

A bad liar Leigh might have been but she was an excellent keeper of secrets.

*

Leigh was 16 when she was taken, toward the beginning of the 13th century, one year before the Exodus.

Her family was part of a close-knit fiefdom. They, like the other families, strained and worked by the sweat of their brow to make some greedy feudal lord's pockets sing with the coins of ever increasing taxes. When all seemed hopeless Leigh's father would step in and lend his neighbors extra seed or money to help them avoid being evicted from their land. No one in the religious (superstitious) town questioned how he could do so much with so little. When speculative whispers became loud enough one of the more devoted women would calm everyone by pointing out that God had blessed the family and they were good enough to share their blessings.

Leigh, the inquisitive one, found out that her parents' farm wasn't exclusive to producing grain or whatever else they planted for harvest, their land was a sanctuary for witches.

Her family was a God fearing people but didn't succumb to the hysteria being produced by all manifestation of new church and thought spreading across Great Britain. While many of her father's neighbors called on Miriam, the local midwife, when it came time to deliver their babies or mix up a home remedy cure all for some ailment, more often than not, they would consult her before speaking with the friar. Very few knew she was a practicing witch.

It was one such consultation that Miriam suggested to Leigh's father that he allow some of her friends to stay in his shed until nightfall and he would be compensated for his trouble. The treasures he and his wife found in his shed the next morning caused them to fall on their knees in thanks to God.

Leigh and her two younger brothers watched the shed at night and every once in a while they would see dark figures entering. They created bedtime stories about who the figures could be and what they were doing but they never knew because they couldn't stay awake long enough to see them leave. The oldest of her younger brothers, Thomas, announced that he was going to go out to the shed and see how true their imaginative stories were. Leigh protested but could only agree to come with him when Christopher, said he would join Thomas.

When night came the three children of Charles and Elisabeth Longfellow were ripe with anticipation. They all sat on the floor looking at each other waiting for their parents to retire. No one dared breathe or make any kind of sound that would send parents into the room to investigate their children.

Leigh said in the slightest whisper, "We don't have to do this, really."

"If you're scared you can stay. We'll go 'round and see what's there and come back," Christopher promised.

"'Course she's scared," Thomas started, looking very afraid himself, "she's a girl. Girls get scared."

"Not Leigh," Christopher said smiling at his sister. "Leigh's not like them girls. She's like Miss Miriam."

Leigh moved toward Christopher, careful not to make a sound, and hugged him. She reached out her hand and mussed Thomas's hair while sticking out her tongue and crossing her eyes at him.

"Oh nice, so are you going to marry Christopher?" Thomas teased.

"I'm not scared of what's out there," she said, "I'm more afraid if Mum and Dad find us."

Thomas agreed looking even more afraid, "Boy they'll be cross."

"So we'll wait 'til we hear Dad snoring then we'll know he's asleep. We have to go once we hear it," said Christopher.

It was decided to go out the bedroom window instead of walking down the creaky stairs and out the squeaky, heavy front door. Leigh, not being one of the "scared" girls, was as agile as her brothers and soon hit the ground racing toward the shed with them in tow.

As they got closer they could see there was someone inside, by the movement of shadows cast from the lantern's light. They crept closer to get a better look when Thomas stepped on a small twig that made a tiny "snap". They all froze as if the sound was a shot from a double barrel shotgun; a shadow in the shed moved and the light from the lantern was gone. The children sat in complete darkness. Someone opened the door to the shed.

"RUN!" Thomas screamed to the others.

They all took off, back toward the house as fast as they could but it wasn't fast enough. Shadows surrounded them, cutting off the path to their home. They couldn't see a thing and were swooped up and brought back to the shed.

The lantern was dimmed but they could see three people huddled toward the back of the shed. Miriam looked as surprised as they were and stepped forward.

"These are the Longfellow children," she said to the group, "who should be steadfast toward slumber."

"Yes," replied a pale freckled man, "didn't ye children hear? There are monsters in these lands." He grinned as warm a grin as a vampire could without frightening young children – or old children for that matter.

"Rohan, stop teasing them," Miriam said.

Christopher pointed to the friar in the group, "Are you having a church meeting in here?"

The friar, having the same pallid complexion, stepped forward.

"Does it matter if we are, Young Longfellow?"

"We won't say anything," Thomas chimed in.

"We've heard tale that the King has closed the churches. I thought you might be having church here. It would be nice; our family stays blessed when you do," Christopher answered.

"If that is what you call it then," the pale woman made a sweeping gesture with her hand, "call this humble place our sanctuary. Our church of the dimming light."

"Moira, I said no teasing. Children, you should not be here – unless your parents sent you here with a message for me?"

The three of them looked terrified – their parents! Miss Miriam would make them walk back to the cottage and wake Mum and Dad!

"We were just leaving, Miss Miriam. Father."

"Were ye?" said Rohan. "I see no reason for raising their Ma or their Da when this looks like a common case of children night walking. I think as long as we see them safe to their beds all's well that ends well. What say ye, er, congregation?" They all nodded in agreement.

"Now children, you must let me personally escort you back to your home, with the silence of a mouse, of course. May I be permitted to enter your humble abode without the slightest of detection?"

Christopher agreed with the excitement a child has when something new and adventurous is afoot; he believed he would witness something magical.

Rohan went with them to the cottage. They were amazed by his agility as he walked on the roof without making a sound. Even when he made sure they were in their beds, none of them could hear the floorboards creak under the weight of a grown man.

"Now have a good night and try not to think so much about what was not seen in our shed. Do us a favor?" He climbed out of the window and disappeared from the roof. Thomas was the first to break the silence.

"He was amazing. They all are."

"Save that Moira," Leigh said.

Christopher agreed, "I didn't fancy her. I don't think she liked having secret church."

"You're both daft," Thomas replied, "there's nothing wrong with her. I wouldn't want to have secret church in the back of somebody's shed either!"

"I don't think she liked having any church," Leigh said, "any church at all."

Leigh and her brothers were awakened by the commotion beneath them. There were the muffled voices of their parents, who sounded concerned, and the voices of their closest neighbors. The children looked at each other straining to hear more when the footsteps of their father coming up the stairs turned their attention to the bedroom door.

"Thomas, get yourself up, boy! Ride to Father Makepeace and fetch him!" It wasn't the urgency in his father's voice that shot Thomas out of bed and in a hurry; it was the frightened look he saw in his eyes.

"Tommy do you think – " Christopher began.

"Don't finish that!" Leigh hissed. "We saw nothing, remember?"

"Don't worry, Brother, when I find out what is happening, I'll tell you both. But listen to Leigh, Christopher, and don't utter a word until I get back."

Christopher went to his sister's bed and wrapped his little arms around her.

"I know something is wrong, I can feel it, Leigh."

"We can't know for sure, not until Tommy gets back." She squeezed her brother and kissed him on the forehead. "Now, we'd better be getting ready, there's plenty of work to do and we don't want to have Dad cross."

He walked to his brother's bed – he would have to make it in Thomas's absence, and looked out the window toward the shed. There were some strange men around it and it looked half burned. Did the "secret church" make it out of the fire?

"Leigh, look!"

Leigh ran to the window and gasped. Had it been that long since they left the strangers in the shed with the friar and Miss Miriam? The same thought ran through her mind that entered her younger brother Christopher's moments before, why didn't they hear the shed burning?

"Something is wrong. I'm not going to wait for Tommy. You finish up here – "

"It isn't fair! I do the beds and you do nothing."

"If you come down with me they will only send us back up until they can think of a story to tell us which won't amount to anything. I'm the oldest so they'll tell me, especially if you're not with me, and I can tell you. Fix the beds, Christopher."

"All right but you have to tell me. Everything!"  
"Everything."

When she came down she tried to make herself as unseen as possible while she listened to the adults gossip. She wanted to engage but knowing she was a 16 year-old girl wouldn't loosen any tongues for her benefit. She might as well be Thomas or Christopher when it came to matters of dire importance – she was still a girl, after all. From what she gleaned from several conversations the matter was as serious as it could be.

"Her throat was ripped right out, poor girl. They'll say it was animals but we know better!" said one neighbor.

Another added, "And the children so near by. Thanks be to the Heavens they heard nothing, I nearly fainted when I saw it."

Someone who Leigh didn't recognize spoke, "That is Longfellow's friend. It's the only reason I gave her tolerance and she helped birth my boy. But I steered clear of her, I knew something wasn't right and she's dead on account of it."

Miss Miriam was dead? Leigh cried out in her mind how impossible the notion was. They had all seen her, smiling, telling her friends not to tease them and now there were a bunch of strange people around her house implying she was dead.

Before she knew it her feet were carrying her in the direction of the shed. She breezed by the gossipers and spectators like a ghost and got as close as where the door to the shed used to be.

"LEIGH!" bellowed her father but it was too late, she'd already seen the carnage. Miriam lay on the ground with dried blood covering her throat and two massive holes in her neck. The holes were the source of the blood although they were caked with a dried clotted brick red smear. Nothing else was out of place on her body. Her dress received collateral damage from the fountain that was her neck but her clothes weren't torn; someone hadn't tried to get more than just the blood.

What disturbed Leigh the most about Miriam's body out in the open air, exposed, was the shocked look on her face. What ever it was that attacked her scared her during her last moments on Earth. The fear was so great she took with her, to her death, a mask of terror. Leigh's inquisitive mind forced her eyes to look over the rest of the scene where she saw something more unusual. There were other clothes, caked in blood, but no bodies.

"Not actual bodies that I can see," a clear thought forced its way to the front of Leigh's brain. There was something familiar about the clothes. Leigh at looked them on the ground as if they'd fallen next to Miriam and saw what she thought were ashes on them – in them.

Rohan's jacket! Wherever he was, she thought, he was someplace badly injured. She would have to tell her mother so they could send some people to search for him. The beast that did this would find him in a weakened state and finish him off. Leigh's anxiety grew with each thought. She was almost certain the coat on the ground had to be Rohan's. She didn't know that it was such a bright ochre color but she did recognize his very distinct black dragon buttons as he tucked them in their beds hours before. Her head swirled again until she fainted.

When she'd awaken she found herself back in the cottage in her parent's bed, Christopher was holding her hand with a worried expression on his face. He brightened once he saw his sister returning to consciousness.

"What did you see, Leigh?"

She hesitated.

"You promised. Don't leave out a thing, you promised."

"Christopher, I think we are going to have to tell Mum we were out last night."

"Why? Did someone see us?"

"Miriam is dead. Probably wolves, though I've never heard that any roamed here. Perhaps there were wild dogs. What ever it was tore out her throat. And there's something else which troubles me."

Her brother looked at her with great intensity. She always thought him to be a wise boy, way beyond his 11 years.

"I didn't see the friar's robes, or – "

"Moira's clothes," he said finishing her thought.

"Yes... They could have gotten away from the animals but..."

"I don't think there were animals, Leigh."

"Oh surely you aren't going to start with the mad superstitious gossip that you pick up around here, are you?"

"It isn't mad! You were out there and saw something. It wasn't wild dogs and you know it," he lowered his voice and looked at his sister, "it was that Moira. She's a witch and she sacrificed Rohan, Miriam and probably that poor friar to the devil!"

She let out a hysterical laugh that brought her mother rushing in the cottage, followed by Thomas and Father Makepeace.

"Has she gone mad?" her mother asked the priest, worry written all over her face.

"She don't look a bit near mad to me," Father Makepeace replied his very round, very red face beaming. They had seen other priests visit their humble parish but Father Makepeace was the only one who strained his collar, sometimes with more than his girth.

"I'd say a horse's arse looks madder," he remarked and gales of hearty laughter came flying from his belly as Mrs. Longfellow's face turned a newer shade of red.

Leigh was thankful when the day went by. It was spent with her brothers filling in blanks with what each of them knew (and suspected) while many faces, most of them unfamiliar, came by to gawk or gossip or both. Father Makepeace had long since called together some men to remove poor Miriam's remains and help Leigh's parents clean up the mess that remained of their shed. Father Makepeace assured them that the church looks after its dedicated flock and there would be people to help them rebuild.

That will not be necessary, Father, for an evil plague is slated to rip my family to pieces.

Very little of the day's work was done and Senior Longfellow wasn't happy about it. He didn't like the people who came by bringing wildflowers to his wife (the same flowers that grew right outside his door) peering inside his home. He didn't like those who came around under the pretext that they wanted to know if his "mad" daughter was better, and he had a special loathing for the town gossips "volunteering" to help him fix his shed.

Father Makepeace returned to their home as he said, when it became nightfall. He had a feeling in his ample gut that the Longfellow children, their daughter in particular, knew something that would help him take action in this mystery he'd acquired. The feeling was a dangerous gnawing sensation that he needed to act on, just as soon as he confirmed what he thought, once he questioned the children.

They'd seen Father Makepeace as a happy (albeit his language was not becoming a priest) good-natured man. The man that sat at the table looking at them, boring a whole through to their soul was somber.

"Now children, you speak true and shame the devil. Somethin' nefarious happened here that you might know a little about so have out with it."

The siblings looked at their parents who were fraught with worry. They remained silent.

"You needn't fret over your folks as much as you should think about your everlastin' soul," he said as he pounded his meaty fist into the table for emphasis, "It be very important you speak now, we're runnin' out of time!"

"It was the witch who did it," Christopher said.

"CHRIS!" Thomas shouted.

"Let the boy speak!" Father Makepeace exclaimed, pounding his fist again. "Go on, Boy, we've trifled enough. What witch?"

He looked at Thomas, who was furious, and Leigh who nodded for him to tell the story, "Her name is Moira, I heard Miss Miriam call her that. Rohan was a nice man but none of us liked Moira."

"None of you?" their father chimed in, "What do you mean, Christopher?"

Leigh spoke up, "We're sorry, Dad, we went to the shed last night. Miss Miriam saw us; she sent us back home and Rohan helped us get back in the house. We didn't think anything of it. The shed wasn't on fire when we went to bed."

"Moira was in the shed with Miss Miriam?" the priest asked.

"Yes. And I knew she was evil from the start," Christopher said with more confidence, "me and Leigh did. Thomas thought we were judgmental."

"Shut up you little frog."

"Thomas! There'll be none of that," his mother said.

"It is important, Boy, tell me how this witch looked to you," said Father Makepeace.

"She looked young and old at the same time."

"How's that?"

Thomas, who had been silent during the questioning, decided he would speak.

"Her hair was white. She looks like a lady not much older than our Leigh but her hair was stark white. And her eyes looked old too..."

Father Makepeace glanced at their parents and nodded.

"She's the one."

"Chris," his mother asked, "son, was there a religious man with them, like the Father?"

"Yes, Ma. The friar. He was nice too. Only Moira we didn't like, yeah Leigh?"

"Yeah."

"Off to bed with you all – "

"It's early yet, Dad," Thomas protested, "and we still have indoor chores we can finish."

"You be needing that enthusiasm for work, Thomas. You all will be doing it for a while yet. Now OFF!"

As they closed the door to their room Thomas spun on Christopher and mocked, "'...I knew she was evil from the start.' I thought we weren't going to say anything?"

"Not fair! I had to say something for Miss Miriam. She's dead Tommy, Leigh's seen it."

"That true, Leigh?"

"Yeah. And Christopher thinks... Well it looked like wild dogs got at her."

"This is important. When I went for the Father, he asked me what the rush was all about. When I told him he fetched a special lad to go and look for that friar we saw with them."

"How are you sure it was that friar?"

"Heard him described him, Leigh, to his soles. I thought nothing of it 'til we set off back here. Said he'd follow me and he looked like he'd seen a demon. He was real scared, I could see it in his eyes."

"So what can we do?" Christopher asked.

"Tell you what I'll do, I'm going down to the shed."

"Tommy, no. It's practically burned and Dad is already cross."

"Right you are my dear sister, he's already cross. There's not much more that we can do to make it worse. We might as well see what they were trying to hide."

"Who was trying to hide?" asked Christopher.

"The evil Moira or whoever tried to burn down our shed."

"It was her, I know it."

"Doesn't matter, my boy. What matters is what they were trying to hide. They killed people very well but didn't do that good of a job burning the place. Somebody had time against 'em and they had to do a quick clean up. Perhaps they left something behind."

Leigh had always admired her brother's ability to decipher life's puzzles but her intuition was screaming at her and it was telling her to keep Thomas in the house tonight – whatever the cost.

"Tommy, I'm the oldest. I say we wait until tomorrow."

"Leigh, don't be silly. They'd've ruined everything by morning and we'll have a hundred chores tomorrow. Let me run down have a look, I'll be back before you know."

"No. You go, I'll go and tell Dad."

"If I were Christopher you come down with me," he said disappointed. "I'm the odd one, is it?"

"Tommy, it isn't safe. You didn't see the way she looked."

"You're the bloody King." He turned his back to her and headed for his bed. It stung but she knew he'd be all right by morning – he'd get a chance to find his clues and they'd make their conclusions while they were doing the many chores she knew her parents had in store for them. After telling Christopher a happy sprightly bedtime story (Thomas listened too even though his back was turned to them) she made her way to bed as sleep came to her.

Her dreams were voids. Nothing would come to her except for the distant sound of an unfamiliar voice begging her to wake up. She searched but could not see anything. Something was coming closer, it was the same pleading voice, but she couldn't see who it was that implored her to WAKE UP!

She started from her sleep and looked in Christopher's direction. He was having no problem at all, eyes shut and the silent easy breathing of slumber. She felt relieved, considering herself silly for letting her youngest brother's imaginings leave her on edge. She almost turned around to attempt a restful sleep until she noticed Thomas's empty bed.

"Damn you, Tommy!"

She leapt out of her bed and headed for their window looking for any sign of her brother.

He startled her when his face appeared in the window. Surprised she fell backward making a thud sound loud enough to wake their parents. She noticed a dark mess on his hands and nightshirt – blood!

"Tommy what –?"

"Christopher was right, it was Moira but I killed her... it...!"

"Mum and Dad are going to wake up, Tommy, what do you want me to tell them?"

"Good, let them rise. We'll have to get the torches, Leigh. That Moira was the devil's wife like Christopher said. It wasn't wild dogs that killed Miriam... You should have seen her... Her mouth..."

They heard the heavy steps of their father coming up the stairs. Christopher was awake now looking puzzled by his brother's frantic and disheveled appearance.

"You better have the hounds of Hell at yer heels, children or..."

Their father stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Thomas. He shined the lantern in his direction to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him.

"Dad," Thomas said, "I killed her. It was like Christopher said. It wasn't wild dogs it was Moira. Dad... I... She's in the shed, what's left of it – she was hiding there. You have to see her, she... It's evil, Dad."

"OK, Son. OK... What did you kill her with?"

Their mother had come up behind Senior Longfellow.

"Lord of the Heavens. Thomas!"

"Mum," said Christopher, "Tommy killed the devil's wife!"

"It's all right, Mum, I'm fine. It's all right. I got her good with the fork!"

He looked at his wife and nodded. It was a signal between them Leigh picked up.

"Thomas you go with your father and the rest of you children come with me."

"What is happening?" Leigh asked.

"Child, you do as your mother says. Now."

They scrambled down the stairs and off to the shed went Thomas and his father. Leigh watched as her mother smearing raw meat on the floor. Leigh hadn't the slightest idea of why she was but she and Christopher joined her.

"Put bits over there, children. That's good, do not miss a spot."

When they were done she grabbed the raw meat and slathered their faces with it. The objections the children had they didn't voice aloud, they'd become too frightened by their mother's behavior to say anything.

Christopher helped his mother, at her instruction, move the dinner table that revealed the trap door hidden from them for many years.

"Down you go children."

"I can stay here with you and wait for Dad and Tommy," Leigh said.

"You will go down there with your brother. When I call you up that is when you will come."

She and Christopher sat as still as they could smelling like offal but they could only smell stink of horror.

They heard the crashing of their front door being torn from its hinges followed by two very heavy dull sounds. What they couldn't see was Thomas hadn't killed Moira. His blows did damage, she lost her eye in their scuffle, but it wasn't substantial enough to kill her. She threw the empty bodies of Thomas and his father on the floor and looked around the humble cottage only to find Leigh's terrified yet defiant mother.

She held up her Bible, tears streaming down her face, and spat out a scream at Moira that for one second, frightened her more than any human being had ever done before.

"Get thee from this place O harlot of Satan! Go back to the damnation from whence you came and leave us in peace!"

Moira wanted to leave this wretched farmland at once. She'd stayed too long but therein was the danger. She couldn't leave this farmer's wife because she had children that could describe her and the people who were hunting her wanted her description. She needed to stop wasting time with the mother and find the other two who saw her in the shed the night before. This had to be done so she could find the friar and get rid of him too.

Moira smacked the Bible from her hands and pounced on a woman who was unafraid and bold until the end.

"You will go to Hell!"

"Not tonight, Dearie."

Leigh and Christopher heard everything. They had been stirring under the floorboards wondering what they could do when Christopher heard his mother gurgling, choking on her own blood.

"MOTHER!" He pounded on the door that was covered by the table she slid back to hide their location.

"Christopher, no!" screamed Leigh, too late.

Moira tossed the table aside. She opened the hatch door and grabbed Christopher by a tuft of his hair pulling him from their hiding place.

"You've seen too much little boy," she said.

"I'll send you to Hell myself!" shouted Christopher.

Leigh grabbed a stone and ran up the steps. She froze for a moment taking in the massacre of her mother, Thomas, and her father; now this succubus had Christopher and she felt anger swelling in her veins. She threw the stone at Moira and it hit her nose. She dropped Christopher.

"Run Christopher! RUN!"

He ran out the hole where the door once stood and headed for the stable. She turned her attention toward Leigh, who like her mother, was determined to fight. Whatever she laid her hand on she threw at Moira. She caught her a couple of times, Moira didn't have the sight she once did, thanks to Thomas. She did have her speed. After a few painful shots to her legs and ribs, Moira finally dodged enough cookware to finally trap Leigh.

"You should have never gone to the shed, your family would still be alive, girl!" Moira held Leigh in a tight grip and peeled back her purple lips to reveal two huge, almost yellow fangs and an animalistic hunger she saw in the eye Thomas hadn't gauged out. She fainted and all went black.

Leigh began to dream. She could see Christopher standing near the friar as "Wild Animal Moira" charged toward them, tongue lolling to one side huge yellow fangs dripping with blood and sputum. Neither friar nor Christopher moved as she got closer and closer, then at the very last moment, Christopher moved to one side and the friar to the other. A demonic yowl come from "Wild Animal Moira" and all went black again. Leigh was dreaming again, this time Christopher was standing above her in a far away place begging her to do as the friar says so she can live. "I don't want to be all alone," she thought she heard her brother say. She looked at the face of the friar and his bloody tongue stuck out to her. With what little strength she had left, she sucked on his tongue as if it were Mother's first breast. She could feel herself growing stronger as the sweet and salty taste flooded her senses.

The flow stopped and all went dark again.

When Leigh realized she was no longer dreaming, the darkness made her panic. She tried to sit up and adjust her eyes but she only bumped her head, on what, she couldn't say. She tried stretching out her arms only to find she couldn't move them. She was in a coffin but she wasn't dead! Had they buried her already?

Leigh panicked and banged the inside of the coffin, screaming for help.

"Welcome, Leigh," she heard the muffled voice of the friar.

"Leigh!" shouted Christopher. He ran toward the coffin but the friar stepped in front of him.

"Not now, Son. You have to wait."

"Wait for what?" she asked the friar. "And what manner of dark arts do you have us under? Release us or my fath-." Leigh remembered things from a foggy place in her mind that halted her words.

"Am I...?"

"Yes, I'm afraid you are and there isn't much time to explain everything to your complete understanding."

"What of Christopher?"

"I'm fine, Leigh. I'm not like you they wouldn't do it to me. We caught that Moira. We're going to punish her."

"I will explain it all but you must feed, Leigh. We shouldn't be here when you do. I believe the first feed is always a personal one. We've spared you the agony of feeding on a human but this bull will do just fine. It won't be easy but I wouldn't wait until The Thirst overcomes you – you'll feed to death. Follow the rhythm of the heartbeat until it's slow, then stop, Leigh. You must know when to stop. We'll return when you're done." She heard bolts being loosened on the coffin.

When the friar did return he shed light on the darkness that was to be Leigh's life from now until.

He was Friar Eustis, a direct descendant of Rebekah, daughter of Matrota who is the daughter of the Great Mother, Lilith. Humble friar he may be, what couldn't be denied is his Royal Blood. He explained to her, as he explained to Christopher, that there were rules among vampires, the highest blasphemy: killing one of your own kind. It is known that there are enforcers of this law but every once in a while some test it.

"We'd been following Moira and her clan. She found a sympathizer, there are a few throughout the land, who would shelter her."

"Miriam." Leigh said.

"Yes. She tricked your friend. Not all of us are evil natured, Leigh. Some humans are scarier to me than my brothers and sisters of the night. Your parents were good Christian people, you should know, but they were not judgmental – and they were laden with debt, as is much of this land. The King's greed is...

"We paid them to use your parent's shed as a safe haven for some to sleep without fear."

"That's why they never let us in the shed during the day, Leigh," Christopher added.

"I am sorry we couldn't catch her before she – I am sorry to you both. You are more than welcome to stay here and there are plenty of people that will take care of your sister."

"I will take care of my sister."

"So be it, Christopher Longfellow."

As his first act in his new found brotherhood, Christopher turned the cog that opened a skylight, which let the sun cascade down on a shackled Moira. She screamed in agony while her flesh was singed to her very bones. She didn't die quickly as the tales are often told; she died a slow arduous excruciating death.

"I told you I would send you to Hell," he said as he stood by his sister tucked away in her coffin.

When the Exodus came and the Conductor advised them where they needed to go for Leigh to be safe Christopher went to his sister's grave everyday for six months. When it was time for her to rise again it was he alone, his wiry 12-year-old frame, who dug her up and placed her in a field where several grazing cows were unaware of their fate.

They never saw Friar Eustis again. They traveled across the English countryside and destroyed rogue vampires, creating a name that struck fear in the hearts of the undead - Oro Cruorem. If you got out of line you would "Plead the Blood".

On the day that Christopher died he was the ripe old age of 62, still looking for vampires to slay. He never married nor had he any children; he was dedicated to Leigh until his very last breath.

Once he was gone she was lost. She was more devastated than she could imagine, even though she knew the day of Christopher's death would come – he was not an immortal.

Leigh had never taken a human during the entire time Christopher was alive. She never thought she would, even when Friar Eustis told her she one day could. But with Christopher gone...

"There will be no need in tormenting yourself, Leigh, because of the good most of us do. And you may also turn someone one day. The Ancients give life through their wrists if they need to impart an abundance of information with no time to teach; it can be overwhelming to the proxy. My advice is to use your tongue, like I did with you. There is more control and it is safer for both of you that way."

She wandered aimlessly, killing the vampires who broke the Covenant; she slept when another Conductor came to help her, then she awoke to wander without aim or reason again. This she did for four centuries.

There was a brief reprise during the early 1600's when she met a young boy who reminded her of Christopher. The boy had seen her destroy a vampire that he'd been trying to tell his father was the Boogey Man but no one believed him. She would come to his room every night at the same time since the night he'd seen her vanquish his nightmare. He felt relief from his day of hard labor and much harder abuse when she came to visit. She told him nice stories and scary stories like the ones she told her brothers. He loved every word.

Just five simple little minutes. He'd been waiting for her for five minutes, she detoured to bring him a treat to go with his story, and his father caught him looking out the window for her. Enraged and drunk, he slapped the boy into his bedpost where he hit his head and died. When Leigh saw the boy's drunken father standing over him, yelling for him to please get up, she was overcome with rage. Her 371 year fast was broken as she drained the boy's father dry. His equally drunk mother ran into the room screaming and flailing her arms at Leigh – she broke the woman's neck.

After she took the innocent little boy's body to a church of sympathizers to be properly buried, Leigh disappeared and slept for 300 years.

I never thought I'd have something more to live for...

*

"Shug! SHUG!" The sound of her voice brought her out of the daze she was in. "Where did you go this time?" Azyra questioned.

"Home."

"You gone kill yourself trying that trick, Honey. You can't ever go back no matter what vampire magick you have up your sleeve."

"That may be true but we can always find family."

"Really?"

"Princess, another Exodus is coming and we need to be around family. Let's clean this up and find our cousins."

"There you go talking that mess again. You have yet to explain what an 'exodus' is and where we gone find some folks like us that ain't scared nor trying they Sunday best to kill us?"

"In a Coven, a real Coven."

"Well, Shug, let's get to cleanin' so we can get to lookin'. Now don't forget, you got the head this time."

CHAPTER FOUR

"I appreciate you doing this for me, Archie," Kaya said to Bill, "you know Ish has no concept of the word 'surprise', with her detective ass."

"Not at all a problem – hell, it's a pleasure. Favor? What favor?"

"What do you think?"

Bill studied the ring. He knew it would be a great cut and quality when he recommended she give Rabbi Schlomo a call. The white gold, Kaya's idea, was an excellent touch that accentuated the pink 1.5-carat diamond. He felt like a proud father or the neighborhood "cool dad" since he was the unofficial bachelor party planner.

"Pink diamonds can set you back a pretty penny. You told the Rabbi you were a friend of mine, right?"

"Yeah, man, now tell me what you think."

"I think it's beautiful. She'll cry, I'm almost crying for Chris' sakes."

"Good. Keep this with you and when we go for this confirmation thing tonight, slip it to me. I can propose to her when we get back to my place for the celebration."

"That's an excellent idea, Kaya. And don't worry, I'll keep it safe, even away from my daughter because you know they're Sisters – she'd spill the beans for sure."

"Make sure, Archie. I'll see you when we celebrate. Laters."

Bill waved. He placed the box with its valuable treasure in his inside jacket pocket, close to his heart.

Aisha was right about Bill; he was a loyal friend who would do just about anything for Kaya. To her, his was a love that was irrational bordering on scary. He wasn't her father yet he was there in that capacity which unsettled Aisha more than she was willing to admit. Perhaps it was the residual feelings because of shooting, she found it hard to believe the officers couldn't have done more to save Kevin's life. Aisha appreciated Bill's devotion. It was good for her to know that someone else was out there watching her woman's back.

She'd been having bad dreams since he nominated Kaya to be the Conductor.

If Kaya received confirmation she would be entering the House during a very volatile period for vampires and Covens. This would be Aisha's first and only Exodus, and for a witch in her position, it was a great honor. It figures her chance would come during the time some crazy vampires decided to violate the code, killing everything they see, man and vampire alike.

The Exodus, a cleansing since the beginning of time where the Great Mother was able to protect her lineage with God's unofficial mercy. God could no more destroy all of the progeny of Lilith than He could Eve's children with The Flood Noah endured. The devotees of Lilith's six children each chose one among their Houses, a Conductor, to receive her message. Each Conductor will lead their House to sanctuary while the cleansing takes place. Anyone who didn't want to go, and there are many – usually young proxies, will be burned by the rising of the Black Sun. It seemed the only way to temper the playing field of men and vampires. The vengeance of the children of Lilith would not purge the Earth of the fruit of Eve...

*

Bill didn't want to say but he was uneasy about tonight. He hadn't felt right since Ramel had become a part of the House. Bill knew that he and Aisha didn't always see eye-to-eye but they became strong allies on the subject of Mr. Ramel Jackson. At one of their gatherings she pulled Bill aside to see if anyone heard of him before.

"Do you still have connections to check him out?" she asked.

"I already did and he has no record. Not even a parking ticket with this guy."

"Seriously, Bill? The way he likes to ride around in his car like it's a damn Rolls Royce?"

"I didn't say I would stop looking," he winked.

Aisha returned it with a smile.

"I know I'm bending the rules a little too but see if you could find out who in this House put him up for Conductor? Something stinks about that guy."

Bill didn't like what he found – it was his own daughter, Jenna.

"Why would you do something like that without talking to me first?"

"Dad, this isn't about you; it's always been for the betterment of the Coven. Besides, he told me he was Tarah's cousin and I checked, he is. She's the top witch in a pretty powerful and legitimate Hive of Ayalu."

"A what? Houses, Covens, now there's Hives? You girls are gonna give me the hives with all this, I swear!"

"Gawd, Dad. You're the Record Keeper it shouldn't be so hard for you. There are Covens, OK? Then there are people who get a whole bunch of their friends together, some may be vampires, who call themselves Covens but they're not. Those are Havens. Then you have those who follow the laws and actually have reps that petition Covens so they can be part of us or they already are us and splinter off, those are Hives."

"No! No mas, OK? No friggin' mas. You give me a headache with this – it's like a test or something. All I want to know is who the hell is this Ramel character? There has to be more than him being the cousin of some witch's uncle or whatever."

"Dad, you're part of this now. Don't make fun."

"OK, this is your Dad not making fun. I need you to put me in touch with this guy's cousin and the beehive she's in."

"Dad."

"What? I couldn't resist."

Between working security at the bank and getting the information for the accurate records he prided himself in keeping, Bill was only able to track down one Sister, Gretchen Darkstorm. He questioned her like he used to do the suspects he collared. It brought him back to the days when he used to be called the "Smooth Operator", like that Sade song, by the guys in his unit. They used to sing (what they called singing as others might disagree) the song to him when the suspect cracked.

Gretchen was amused. Bill flashed no badge or wore any police uniform but she could smell "cop" from a mile away. What his unit called smooth she found entertaining as he tried to lead her in one direction so she would have no choice but to go in the other. She admired his techniques but he would have to reevaluate how he applied them to someone who saw the things that she did.

She cooperated because he had an earnest face but most of all he mentioned Ramel's name. Tarah's lost cousin had found himself a legitimate Coven to disrupt. How could they nominate him as their Conductor?

"Who was brilliant enough to put him up?" They spoke while she waited for her bus to come.

"Actually, my daughter did."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-."

"No it's fine. The guy is walking around talkin' that he's related," he looked at the bus stop, two other people approached and he lowered his voice, "to a powerful itch-way called Arah-Tay, if you catch my drift. He told my daughter, that's why she put him up."

Gretchen found Bill to be adorable. The good cop/bad cop all rolled into one; he was the last person she ever expected to see as part of a vampire Coven. He needed her help – he needed to know where he could find her Sister and she was going to tell him.

A white car with deep tinted windows approached them spinning out of control. The people at the bus stop scattered out of the way while Bill looked at the car, studying it. It was familiar to him but he couldn't place it. That wasn't what made him stand fast to the spot he was in; he knew the car was not going to hit him or any of the people that ran away screaming. This was the organized confusion that he learned while taking some extra paramilitary and SWAT training. He knew how to drive a car, to make it look like he wasn't in control, the same way the driver of the white vehicle with the too-dark tint was. What is the real target?

Gretchen, on the other hand, had no idea Bill was searching for the answer to what was taking place. She had already said an incantation causing energy in her body to stop the car in its tracks before it hit him – which, she couldn't possibly know, it never intended to do. She slumped to the ground exhausted from the spell. She'd never cast one that large nor had she ever used her own Mana; it was something she planned to learn from Tarah. However, it would never be.

To the layman's eye, the glass in the bus stop shelter shattered as a result of the car skidding something into it; the unfortunate result was a dead girl by way of shattered glass. But Bill knew better. He'd found the target too late, Gretchen Darkstorm.

When he turned Gretchen was hunched over but alive. Bill saw the vampire come back to the bus stop, during the pretense of danger, thrust his hand through the shelter (thus shattering the glass) and drain the life and the answers that he needed out of Gretchen Darkstorm.

"Damn you!" he said and took off after the vampire – a moot gesture at best. He continued running, wishing he had his gun, his sights still on the mist that was the fleeing creature. He was moving so quick his body seemed like a misty trail. Bill heard screeching behind him then there was the white car a block ahead of him. The door opened and the mist got in. Tires screeched and smoked then white car was gone.

"If I had my gun..."

"You'd do what, Honey?"

Bill spun around and looked into the flustered face of Azyra. They had been chasing the rogue vampire most of the night. It was early and people were still out which made it difficult to cut down what would have appeared to be a man in front of a crowd of people. Leigh walked toward Azyra and Bill from the direction the car went.

"Bugger disappeared," she said, also frustrated.

"He got a ride, Shug."

"What? The white car?"

"Mm hm. Had a little helper."

Bill looked at Azyra, studied her. Her hair, even with the artificial amber light shining down on them looked like a ball of fire. He couldn't tell by the light but he knew her eyes were the icy cobalt blue as described in one of the vampire tomes he read as his Coven's Record Keeper. Better still, he knew the guy who told him a story about the woman he wanted to marry but was scared away by a ghost.

"I know you," he said.

"Me, Honey? Where do you think you know me from?"

"I know you're a long way from North Carolina."

Azyra's eyes turned crystalline as she looked through Bill; thanks to Jenna, he knew how to keep her out but it was difficult. Bill knew it would be, Azyra was Royal Blood.

"You don't know me, Honey. I'd be careful 'round here at night – you with no gun and all."

"Wait, wait! We're on the same side. I can help..."

They both disappeared.

Bill gave his statement to the police that arrived, minus the throw-me-in-the-rubber-room parts, and headed home.

He was more anxious than Aisha. The talk spread like wildfire about the number of vampire killings going on. What worried him most was these recent killings weren't being done by vampire slayers.

They're killing witches now. Jenna...

A policeman's hunch is as powerful an instrument as a woman's intuition. Retired or not, security guard or pizza boy, or just a friend carrying a special cargo that impacts future happiness, Bill would always be a policeman. He didn't know how at this moment but he knew the white car, and he suspected the vampire and witch killings, had something to do with Ramel Jackson's arrival.

He withheld his theory from Aisha and his daughter. They would call him sensitive or claim he was ridiculous, but Bill knew as a white man, a former police officer, and his bad hunch feelings are about a prospect considered for a very important position in his House – they'd pull the "race card" on him. Once they did that he'd have no chance to explain the strange happenings going on, circumstantial or not. His open-minded daughter and her very suspicious friend would only see a white guy casting doubt on a black guy, even though Aisha had the same doubts.

"And it didn't start getting really bad until that Ramel Jackson showed up," he said aloud as he headed for the subway home. He continued to grumble to himself, "it only just so happens the guy is Black."

Bill jumped out the train car just before the doors closed. He couldn't go straight home because he had another hunch. There was one more trick up his sleeve and he was going to use it to find Tarah.

*

Ramel was excited! Tonight was the night he was going to have the upper hand and access to the most power he'd ever experienced in his life. He had the Record Keeper's daughter in his pocket and he was confident she would sway the others. Except for the dyke bitch's girlfriend, Aisha. Ramel was positive she didn't like him. He was aware she didn't want her girlfriend to be the Conductor but the very idea of him having the power probably made her angrier. There were no other men in the House, with the exception of the Record Keeper and Ramel already knew he was a problem. No worries, he would have him eliminated once he became Conductor. Aisha wasn't going to be so easy.

"Always got to be a Sista trying to hold a Brotha back," he chuckled. There were rules to this vampire shit and he and Frederick were breaking all of them. Frederick was on a mission – a personal vendetta that would ruin his own plans or worse, his life.

He flashed to the memory of Frederick telling him this would be a risky endeavor but Ramel never thought it would be what it was – why it was.

Ramel studied. He always knew when the chips were down he could count on no one but himself so he made sure he was always on the right side of the status quo.

Frederick never made a secret of what he was but he also never volunteered any information about himself. Ramel thought this to be a supreme disadvantage and while Frederick slept, or whatever it was vampires did during the daylight hours, he snuck inside his abode (in the sub basement of the library) searching for the Book of Records for the House of Ayalu. He'd learned from listening to the stories Frederick told that Ayalu was a very strong vampire, Royal Blood – one of The Six. His plan was to glean what he could and use it to his advantage much later. It was Ramel's observation his benefactor was running on borrowed time.

The slaying of Ramel's own handpicked "capos" by a couple of girl vamps had him worried.

He'd seen them when his interests were keeping his cousin's whereabouts private until after the ceremony. He let his lieutenant take care of Gretchen who would've been a lot more generous with Tarah's address than he wanted her to be. Then, from out of nowhere, Jenna's Pop and the Super Woman vampire chicks!

"Yeah, Freddy's revenge kick is going to fuck up everything," he said looking in the oversized mirror while putting one last splash of cologne on his face. He was still amazed by the spacious warehouse loft he'd dubbed "Men Only", completely oblivious of the homoerotic images that name elicited. Even with the king-sized bed, brushed stainless steel appliances, 52-inch plasma screen television, and the personal garage right below his massive apartment, he would have been better off calling it, "The He Man Women Haters Club" or "The Sandbox". Ramel was still as childish as the first day his cousin refused to let him into her world and quite ill prepared to handle any of the responsibilities he believed were his by rite. The material lavishes given to him by Frederick did nothing to sway his sense of entitlement or his lust for power. Not even his other apartment located in one of Manhattan's exclusive buildings.

But he did read. He had information that he was saving as his "get-out-of-jail-free" card. Ramel didn't find the Book of Records, Frederick had hidden it too well but not so well hidden were his personal thoughts and history. He read of his love for Sankofa, a slave girl he'd grown up with until a big black man came and took her away. Hep. There was nothing but contempt when Frederick wrote of him. He'd stifled his laughter while reading about Frederick's mulatto sister.

"Man, that 'Roots' shit really did happen happened. He wasn't lyin', he actually loved some black ass slave b-." Ramel stopped himself before he finished his thought. The coffin was still and Frederick hadn't stirred since the time Ramel began reading the journal but he didn't want to take any chances.

"And you a cold ass nigga, Fred, you killed your own sister?" he said to the closed coffin. He read further and realized Frederick killed a lot more than his own sister, he'd slain an Elder. He wasn't some arbitrary vampire making claims to be an emissary from South America; he'd gone to South America and killed one of the Queen Mother's children as well as wiped out Ramel's competition. According to Frederick's journal he'd destroyed many witches across the globe but, most disturbing, the Houses all lacked Conductors. It was there written by Frederick's own hand and Ramel absorbed it all. When the smoke cleared he would find those Super Woman vampire chicks and let them know everything. Better yet, he would request an audience with Ayalu's big brother, Hikpodu. He should be able to do that being a Conductor, even though no one human (except witches) actually saw him. Ramel would be the other exception because he believed there would be a huge reward for the person who brought him the slayer of his sister.

"Stat quo, Freddy boy," he said as he fixed his tie in the mirror, "status quo."

Sitting in the sub basement of the library that he made his home, Frederick smiled at Ramel's arrogance.

"You are a loud thinker, Ramel," he said.

Didn't he suspect that the journal Frederick left for him to see was too easy a piece of bait, when the more valuable Book of Records had heavier protection? Shouldn't Frederick have taken the time to hide his own history since he was so mysterious about it in the first place?

He was becoming bored with Ramel's predictable behavior. He knew that the first chance Ramel had he would turn Frederick over to the witches and vampires in the Coven he'd infiltrated without one thought of how he retained his position in the first place. Frederick was counting on Ramel's treachery.

The Conductors were dead, all by Frederick's own hand and the Black Sun was coming. It was too late to vet others to take their place . He knew every Coven was dependent on the choice that would be made tonight in the House of Hikpodu and his man was who they were going to pick. He would let Ramel enjoy his last vestiges of power then he would kill him like he did the others. There will be no more Conductors and with a member of vampire royalty gone every vampire on earth would meet its demise. What was Ramel's act of surrendering him to an executioner but a moot point in the grand scheme of his plan? They were all going to die whether they killed him or not, their Exodus would be thwarted.

"Perhaps I should turn him a day before the coming of the Black Sun," Frederick thought, then begged for God's forgiveness. He'd never lost sight of his mission to destroy the source of the thing that devastated his life so many years ago. All of the killings he did, he reasoned, were part of a greater assignment that was sanctioned by God for the better good of humanity. Vampires were not part of humanity, which was why he was so eager to sacrifice himself after he completed his charge. The witches who harbored and helped these parasites turned their back on humanity and God with their choice. Frederick never turned anyone or had the desire to do so. It was his ability to refrain from this act so heinous and his want to be alone until his time came, he felt distinguished him above all the rest of the creature he'd become. It kept him closer to his human nature.

Frederick hadn't paid attention to the part of the nature of humans that seeks company. For Frederick, he hadn't fully observed that human beings make no distinction between good company and bad company when they've been in prolonged periods of isolation. The quest for power, the journey to be the top dog was rubbing off of Ramel on to him. Frederick caught himself, more often than he'd like to admit, feeling smug once he laid a trap that Ramel walked smack in the middle of. He gained greater satisfaction when he didn't have to read Ramel's thoughts – being several moves ahead of him.

Frederick was repentant; telling himself that none of what he was in the process of doing was for his ego. His mission would make sure no one would hurt as he had, no one would wield so much influence over the destiny of man.

Revenge, Frederick. Tell the truth...

"...To shame the devil. I want revenge," he said as his eyes created a dull glow in the darkness.

How could one so young as you, decide to kill thousands, many who are Ancients and not have your ego involved?

The furrow in his brow grew deeper. He'd been living with this voice for over a century and hated when it asked questions he didn't want to hear. They deserve to perish, he thought, he deserved to perish! This was the will of God and he was the vessel.

Frederick snapped out of his funk when he realized he placed an important portion of his plan in Ramel's hands.

So far he'd been successful at creating the diversion of vampires killing other vampires. The newer proxies were adrenaline junkies during their first three years; they loved the rush of the hunt. Frederick had Ramel convince them vampires proved a better hunt than humans. Proxies joined their Coven Of One almost every evening but Ramel was a sloppy leader. He paraded around the section of the sub basement Frederick designated the area coven business would be conducted. Ramel barked orders at the proxies and assigned them titles as if he were a big time crime boss. His strategy was disorganized and he almost got himself killed by one of his "lieutenants". Frederick had to intervene and only then did the young and scared proxy accept that this arrogant human was the reason he didn't die a horrible death.

Ramel attracted too much attention. Frederick lived, slept undetected, fed, killed, and maneuvered his wealth with discretion for 153 years . He'd survived his first Exodus and planned for his last unnoticed by those who would seek retribution. Ramel threw Frederick's money around as if he could buy the respect he was desperate to have. He had a stylish apartment that he allowed all manner of harlot to traipse through, he had a crew to show off for and he still wanted more. More jewelry, another car or a bigger apartment with a better view, anything he felt would make him larger than life and the "little people" smaller. What he didn't understand was there are no "little" people. To argue this point with him was senseless and frustrating to Frederick – he would not heed warnings and that would be Ramel's demise. Frederick tried explaining to him the importance of discretion when he mentioned the first killing of his vampire minions by the Super Woman vampire chicks.

"Advise your capos to slow down their hunting. I would advise them to desist for at least three months to throw off their predators."

"Man, are you kidding? Those crazy fools would start hunting each other! You saw the other day how you had to put Gary in check."

"That is precisely the reason you must instill discipline, Mr. Jackson! For millennia humanity have lived and worked with vampires and many have never been killed or turned. Why do you think that is?"

"Because they were witches with powers and shit!"

"Not all of them. It isn't always about power! I witnessed a vampire close his eyes, petrify right before me and disappear to dust on the wind, one year after his beloved wife passed. He stayed with her, watched as she aged, but never turned her; she did not want that. When she took her final breath he released some of his. He mourned her for a year, feeding only on sheep's blood, then...

"Call down your dogs, Ramel, their egregious behavior has awaken a most ancient thing."

"I get the whole discipline thing, Fred, have that heavy hand so they know who's the boss. If I tell them to chill out now they ain't gonna have any respect and that will interfere with my running things."

"Then tell them why! The men must feel their Captain knows what is in their best interest, is this not so?

"Do you think for the time that vampires have existed they just decided they would call a truce amongst each other? There is always their Great Mother and their Dark Father watching them, because they mingled with Man. Their Royal Blood handpicked several of their kind to enforce the Decree of the Way: no vampire will harm another. When you do then you will see the Oro Cruorem, which is the chance to Plead the Blood. If you are to ever bare witness to a weapon with that insignia that will be the last thing you see in your life as a vampire. Tell them that, Ramel."

"OK so I tell them that, then what?"

"Then you give them a history lesson, Mr. Jackson. You tell them that these beings are fast like them, some are even faster, and they are blessed by the Ancients that most of your proxies do not think exist. Inform them that their existence goes back to the time of Adam and Eve but their name is not that much more than five centuries old. Then when they think you are making up stories tell them that they have friends among the human vampire hunters that were a very unofficial part of the Catholic Church. They are L'Ordine della Vendetta di Sangue."

"What? Man- English, Fred, I thought you was American once! Speak English!"

"Do you want English, Mr. Jackson? Fine. Tell your proxies to stop the hunting or you will find yourself the Captain of a very empty army."

He'd done so much to dodge and escaped the Order and Ramel was bringing them to his doorstep.

"Try not to ruin everything before you make Conductor, Mr. Jackson," he said aloud, no one there to hear him.

Your destiny is your own Frederick.

Frederick continued to pray.

*

Aisha was still worried. Her dreams were vivid with strange faces that smiled and spoke to her as if she knew them. She continued to come back to this troubling dream because she knew the man with the sad eyes was very important.

When Bill told her about Gretchen and how he had a hunch that she wanted to talk to him, Aisha knew his next words would be she was dead. She'd seen it in the dream she had night after night since Kaya was put up. The man would always apologize from behind his veil. She could only see his eyes, which burned like fire and overflowed with sorrow. He pointed to Gretchen who stood peacefully as blood poured down her neck. When she moved closer toward Gretchen, Ramel appeared from nowhere and stood between her, Gretchen, and the veiled man.

Aisha couldn't wait for it to be over and they wouldn't have to see Ramel's goofy, insincere smiles anymore. This was her Coven. In theory, on paper, in the books the Coven belonged to the vampires and her 11 other Sisters – and Bill, but she was the "Mommy" around the place.

When Bill discovered his daughter put up Ramel, Jenna decided she would speak to Aisha about her decision. There were no hard feelings and Aisha took the opportunity let Jenna know that she thought Ramel wasn't what he seemed.

"He doesn't feel honest, Jenna. And call me paranoid but since he showed up I been having crazy ass dreams with him in them. Plus the killings... All of this right before the Exodus."

"Yeah. But he's got his cousin, Tarah. I don't think she would vouch for him if he weren't for real."

"But how do we know she did vouch for him? All we got is that dude's word."

"You heard about Gretchen?"

"Yep. Killed by a vampire."

"Yeah, well don't tell my Dad I told you but he thinks he saw Ramel's car at the scene and the killer vamp hopped in."

"That muthafucka was driving the getaway car that killed one of our Sisters?"

"My Dad thinks so but you have to keep it quiet, Aisha."

"Girl, we can't let this guy in our House. If he gets a hold of our – we can't let him in."

"Don't worry Aisha, Kaya's got it in the can. The House respects you and her too. We have our gatherings in her bank, we know the risk she takes and plus my Dad – "

"Um hm, that's her running buddy right there. I can't wait for the night to come. Let's get this done already then good riddance, Ramel. Go back to whatever rock you slithered out from under."

The night was here and yet, she was still restless. Napping in the comfortable armchair was no comfort for her as she found herself chasing after the veiled man in her dream. She ran after him around towers and pedestals made from old books. There were some whose pages were sticking out so when she ran by a book tower she was cut. The veiled man led her up a hill away from the paper cuts. By the time she reached the top of the hill she was bleeding and the cuts formed a gruesome looking tattoo on her arm that almost made her wake from her dream: Not Kaya.

At the top of the hill where the veiled man stood at arm's length from her, Aisha spoke.

"Who are you?"

"I am sorry, Miss. There is danger."

"Who's in danger?"

"I have made a grave mistake."

"May I see your face?"

He nodded. She approached him and removed his veil. Frederick Duncleif Duval stood there with streams of viscous bright red tears pouring down his face.

"You are so sad – your eyes... What is your name?"

"My name? Ah! My name! I am the vampire – "

He suddenly pulled the veil back over his face saying nothing. Aisha reached for it, pulling it off, flinging it to the ground. When she looked up Frederick was gone and Ramel stood inches from her face bearing huge white fangs like those of a Saber-toothed tiger.

"My name is none of your business, bitch!" He had the most hate filled expression she'd ever seen on anyone then he shoved her down the hill. The hill, by this time, had morphed into an open pit, which looked like it led straight to the front gates of Hades. She saw Gretchen and many others on the side walls of the pit squirming for room, resembling hoards of maggots trying not to fall into the fire, screaming for her to stop falling before she reached the dread at the bottom.

A hand reached out of the side, caught her and she looked up in the face of her love, Kaya. Only the face had no eyes, just empty black holes where miniature maggot people came spilling out the sockets. The lips that she kissed many times were gone, replaced by a gaping maw filled with razor sharp teeth and a face stretched in a mordant smile. This was not Kaya.

"It will never be Kaya!" and the thing let her go, falling faster toward the unseen bottom.

She felt herself shaking as she fell closer and closer to what horror awaited her. The shaking became fiercer and she could hear Kaya calling her in the distance.

"Bay. Baby, wake up. Aisha!"

Her eyes flew open to Kaya standing over her. She jumped out of the chair and threw her arms around her. She kissed her to assure herself that she was no longer in the dream world; Kaya's lips were real.

"I could get used to this, Ish. You had another bad one?"

"Um hm," she said holding her tighter.

"The dude with the scarf on his face?"

"This time he let me see his face, Kaya. He let me take it off and see who he is. He looked so sad. He was going to tell me his name then that fool Ramel..."

"We're going to get through tonight and afterwards we'll have a couple of glasses of wine and see where our imagination takes us. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like somebody read my mind."

"So should I wear my Chucks or is this a Wallys kind of occasion?

"Wear your what? Where you going?"

"Ish," Kaya asked concerned, "what's up with you? Tonight is the night remember? At least I think that's why you have your witch robe-looking thing all laid out and ready. Do we need to talk, you still worried?"

"Yes," she said, "but you'll be fine. Wear the Chucks it's OK. We'll be fine."

She hoped.

****

Ramel parked his car in the garage where he knew it would be safe – and he didn't have to pay. The attendant was a young lady who'd read many books about witchcraft, when her path lead her to Ramel. She'd taken a chance by following the white car with tinted windows that entered the graveyard she was attempting to cast a "communication" spell in. The driver, Ramel, got out and went in a very understated mausoleum. She wouldn't have paid very much attention to this ordinary action except that she knew the family to whom the tomb belonged. They aren't African-Americans.

As she went to investigate he emerged from the mausoleum with two people. Had they been in there all that time? They got in his car and drove away.

Chance would have it Ramel began conducting business in the area and decided the garage where she worked would be an ideal place for him to park his car. She took another chance, introduced herself and shared her interest in graveyards. Ramel shared his interest in having somewhere safe his car could be that wouldn't cost him an arm and a leg; Courtney Roberts became the newest and only witch in the Coven of One.

He walked up the block toward the bank thinking Frederick should be stationed here instead of the dank dull library basement he chose. Ramel examined the ornate carvings, marble columns, and contrasting modern glass fixtures that made up the most discrete hiding place for an ancient ceremony about to be performed. Ramel was light on his feet because he was right in the middle of it, an integral part nonetheless. There should be a red carpet with plenty of paparazzo asking him questions he knew were too dangerous to answer. He would be coy enough to have them salivating for more but give just enough for the sound bites the public was so eager to hear. His father should be here to see how unafraid of the dark he'd become, how the dark became his very lucrative friend.

Ramel's boys were waiting at the corner of the street entrance where all the pedestrians traveled. He told them to meet him because he planned on celebrating his new seat of power and he wanted a captive audience. They were his four most trusted (biggest "yes" men) human soldiers, dressed in their hippest and most colorful outfits. If Ramel wanted to be seen he was going to be when he stepped in the club with these guys. One brought his Chihuahua.

"Yo," Ramel said annoyed as he approached them, "what kind of gay ass nigga shit is this?"

"The same kind of 'gay ass nigga shit' that you on inviting them here," Kaya replied as she walked by the group, Aisha on her arm. Ramel never heard them behind him. A couple of sneaky bitches, he thought.

The catcalls from Ramel's crew began, Aisha's cape flowed with a mind of its own, billowing and clinging to her body propelled by a wind that no one could feel blowing.

"'Scuse me, Miss? Ma'am? Lady? Miss?"

"Yo, Ma. You coming to this party later?"

"Ma'am. Miss? Please, Miss?"

"Would you shut the fuck up?" Ramel turned his attention to Aisha, "I'll take care of this, and don't worry about it. Aisha, right? I'm going to be right behind you ladies in one second, promise I won't be late."

"Make sure your li'l girlfriends are gone, Dude," Kaya answered, "I can't keep the camera off them the whole night and they look suspicious."

"A lot of things look suspicious around here," Bill said as he joined the party with Jenna in tow.

"Hey! It's my new found family coming together," Ramel said trying his best to lighten the mood. "Don't worry, give me five minutes people."

"You've got two. Let's go, y'all." Aisha led them to the loading area.

"You niggas want to ruin this shit for me or what?"

"Why are you cock blockin', Ra? I think shawty in the cape was feelin' a nigga."

"Yeah, Mike, she sure was with that 'Miss? Ma'am?' shit how could she resist? And where the hell do you actually walk into a place and purchase a fucking neon blue porkpie hat? Did you look around where you are at, nigga? This is like a mini-financial district and we got four Black men standing outside of a bank, at night, dressed like a box of Fruit Loops cereal!"

"You said meet you, Son. You said we hitting the clubs up, the fuck is wrong with you?" asked the Chihuahua holder.

"Look, there's a parking garage up the block, go to it. Tell the attendant that you are with me. Stay there until I'm done or I swear..."

"At least give, Aisha my number before you come back to get us," Mike said.

"She's a muffin buffer, dumbass. The chick who was HOLDING HER HAND is her girl."

"They look like them girls, Floetry. Like, if Jill Sott was in Floetry with the light skin one that sings."

"Her Chucks was tight. Red and white, matching her girl's cape, that shit was tight. I'd do 'em both."

"What are y'all a fuckin' fan club now? I'll tell you what else is tight, me! Get to the garage like I said so you won't have to feel how tight I am. It won't be pretty, I can promise you."

"For real, Son, pause. That sounded very gay what you just said," Mike replied giggling.

"Not as gay as you will be if the cops catch your ass on the bank's security system. Get everyone cleared out of here now!"

They parted ways and Ramel rushed to the delivery entrance racing down the basement stairs hoping to make up for the time he wasted chastising his crew. The last thing he wanted after all of the work he'd done was to be late. He chuckled thinking all he'd been doing is going down stairs into dark places, as of late. This one was different.

The old bank with its three-ton bank vault had been declared obsolete and a newer more modern bank was built on top of the old one. Most of the old fixtures and accoutrements were placed in the modern building as added atmosphere but a lot stayed in its original location. It was rumored that a warlock from another House purchased the bank as a gift to Hikpodu's Coven. He left the blueprints and related paperwork in a safety deposit box that was passed from Head Witch to Head Warlock and made its way into Aisha's possession. Once fate had her girlfriend working at the very building her House "owned" it made it much easier to walk in and out at odd hours, unseen.

He walked in where he saw all 12 witches, the Black Magick witches in their black and red cowls the White Magick witches in their white and red cowls, standing in a circle with two empty chairs in the middle. There was a podium in front of the two empty chairs where Bill stood with an open book and several red pens with strange markings on them.

Ramel also noticed behind each witch stood a table with a pitcher of water and a clay pot. He couldn't see the contents of the pot, any of the pots, because they all had lids on them. Probably the eye of newt he'd always heard in the fairy tales; he bit his lip to stifle the laughter growing in his gut. A bunch of hooded chicks in a circle with an old cop at a podium looks like a scene from a low budget teen horror movie. They even had eight-foot high cast iron torches coming out of the marble floor that each of the woman stood beside.

Bill spoke.

"First, ladies and gents, I want to apologize that I don't sound like your average Shakespeare but I'm sure what you're going to doesn't require that, besides as long as you can understand me we're in business, right?"

Some nodded and others laughed. Jenna said, "Dad, get on with it."

He looked at Aisha to begin the greeting for the Ritus Lilitus.

"I greet you in peace, Great Sister, and know that I greet your Sisters with an open heart, uh, in kind."

"We greet you as one, and ask you make record of the deeds hereto done."

"GREETINGS, BROTHER. Make record that we as One come to you in peace."

"In Light..."

"...And in Darkness."

"WITH ONE ROYAL BLOOD."

Bill picked up one of his red pens and began writing in the book. This is it, Ramel thought, the big show.

Aisha turned to the rest of her Sisters.

"Sisters, who is she?"

"SHE IS KI-SI-KIL-LIL-LA-KE, QUEEN OF MAGICK!"

"Look on her in lust and despair!"

She looked where Ramel and Kaya were standing and motioned them toward her at the top of the circle.

"We act as Ophois opening the way, we ask that you go down the path in peace."

"And in truth," added the black cowl witches.

Aisha handed them each a clear glass marble, "Keep this in your left hand until otherwise instructed."

They walked to the empty chairs and stood. Bill asked them to state their names and recorded them with his red pen.

"You can sit now," he said.

Ramel could feel heat in the palm of his left hand. It didn't burn him but he was sure it was emanating from the marble. Frederick hadn't lied when he told him this was a powerful Coven. These witches were leaps and bounds over his cousin's little girls standing in a circle. He could feel the power of these women as soon as he sat in the chair and his urge to laugh at them left him.

He looked down at his feet. He and Kaya were sitting in the middle of a giant gold inlaid Star of David. It looked like one even though the Star wasn't "closed". He dare not turn around and be kicked out of the ritual so he made a mental note to take a look at the whole thing when they were done. What he could see was the symbol for female turned upside down at the top inside portion of the triangle. Right at the peak of the triangle he saw the letter "I"; to the left of it was "H" and on its right was an upside down "T". He fought everything in his body that told him to turn around and satisfy his curiosity.

"OK, I got their names down – in the book, like it says, uh, why don't you go ahead and do the circle thing."

Aisha stepped forward and announced, "Sisters, close the Circle. It shall open as it was, it shall not open until it does!"

The black cowl witches turned behind them each picking up their individual clay pot and returned to the circle. Each one looked to her left held out the pot and began pouring dirt on the ground until they were back in the place they started. There was a complete circle of dirt around them. Bill wrote it down and nodded to Aisha.

"Sisters, bring forth the wind that Almighty God sent His three Angels to call our Great Mother to the Garden."

The white cowl witches stepped forward and bowed low to the ground; Ramel looked closer and at his angle he thought they were kissing the marble floor. He saw their backs arch and heard deep inhalations. At once they exhaled producing a sound like they were all stuck in a wind chamber.

Silence was immediate then the floor moved. The area where Ramel and Kaya were seated rose a foot off the ground, like a pedestal.

"Cool." Kaya said.

"Shh!" Bill cautioned, "You're not supposed to blab during this part."

Kaya gave Bill the thumbs up and remained quiet, enthralled by what she'd seen so far. Exhilaration and pride flowed through her. Kaya's lady was the leader of something so organized and empowering. A magical illusion aside, Kaya was aware some of the girls were younger than she so the discipline and Sisterhood must be a remarkable effect on their self-esteem.

But as Kaya sat feeling the magick coursing through her like an electric current, she still wasn't convinced it was more than an elaborate smoke and mirrors show.

"Sisters, bring forth the fire that cleanses the righteous and damns the foolish," Aisha continued.

"FOR THOSE WHO DO NOT HEED THE WRITTEN ARE FOOLS."

The black cowl witches stepped forward and closed their eyes. They lifted their hands to the ceiling forming triangles over their heads. They parted their hands making a collective "Shuh!" sound and the torches were aflame.

Kaya had to admit that was a pretty nifty trick. She didn't smell any gas and she couldn't see where the switches were to turn on 12 torches simultaneously. She figured there had to be something running underneath the rising floor she and Ramel sat on and resolved to examine it later. Ramel was so astounded he became aroused. This was more than enough of a demonstration he needed. It was amazing that humans were doing it all!

"Sisters, bring forth the water that are the tears of our Great Mother's cries for her damned children."

The white cowl witches stepped forward and poured the pitchers of water, starting from the right side, in a circular stream that flowed in a shallow moat just above the circle of dirt.

"Sisters, show homage to our Great Mother by our strength, unity, and truth. The record will show we are grateful for Her many gifts and honor the Covenant."

All the witches removed their cowls. Ramel thought to himself, this must be the U.N. division of the Coven. Of the 12 witches three are Black, four are white, three, he guessed were Spanish or Dominican girls, and the two Asians he assumed were Chinese. His interaction had been with Jenna and Aisha but he was surprised to see the other 10 witches were all attractive women. He examined them and thought the Grace Jones African looking chick would have to go, she looked mean – he figured she wasn't going to vote for him. Besides she was one of the black cowl witches and he didn't need that kind of negative energy plotting against him. With Aisha's guaranteed "no" vote he had two votes he could scratch. He was hoping to make up for them with the other 10, that is, if Jenna worked her charm.

The witches interlocked their arms and walked in their circle chanting some words that were unintelligible to Ramel and Kaya. They went around like this six times clockwise and six counterclockwise, chanting louder with each pass.

They stopped and thrust their arms in the air. They reached under their cape and produced a small but sharp knife. Each one kneeled and together they each made a cut in the palm of their left hand, placing the bleeding hand on the ground near the stream of water. The torches whose calm fire flickered through the ceremony became violent. The red-orange fire in the torches turned blue. Kaya was at a loss. She still hadn't smelled any gas and she couldn't imagine what kind of apparatus she'd find in an old bank that turned fire blue. She was beginning to think that Aisha's group of weirdo friends might be the real thing.

Aisha stepped forward and looked at them both.

"Subjects, stand."

They stood, Ramel shooting up like he was a private called to attention. Kaya could only smile.

"Subjects, present your intentions."

They looked dumbfounded, staring at each other. Bill signaled to them and pointed at his left hand, thrusting it toward them. The clear glass marble! Only when they both opened their hand with the marble, it was no longer clear.

"Subjects, stay."

They stood with outstretched arm as the witches each walked by in the circle taking a good look at the marble in the palm of their hand. Kaya's marble was a cloudy looking amethyst color, as if that was exactly what she was given, a round piece of amethyst. Ramel's was red with black streaks going through it, there was a crack Aisha noticed that no one else did.

"Something's wrong with mine," Ramel said to himself. He knew as soon as Aisha saw it – the bitch couldn't hide the look of satisfaction in her eyes. Whatever his marble looked like, even if it was pretty to him (and ugly to the Grace Jones African looking chick) something about it kicked him square in the ass.

"Subjects, release your intentions."

More mime from Bill indicated that they just drop the marble and continue to stand. The marbles rolled into respective grooves, the right side for Kaya, and the left side for Ramel. They continued to roll until they came to the stream poured by the witches. Ramel's marble made it to the stream first turning the water into a blood red circle encompassing the congregates. A second later Kaya's marble fell into the blood stream turning the water pitch black. The witches let out a collective gasp. Ramel suspected that had to be something in his favor; Aisha, hiding her emotions well, was surprised.

"Sisters we will – "

As suddenly as the water was black, the color drained away and the water was crystal clear again. Aisha couldn't hide her relief and looked Ramel straight in his eyes.

"Sisters we will cast our lots and vote," she said with a smirk.

"Stop!"

The vampire walked with long daring strides toward the circle. He was tall and muscular, dark as night dressed in the latest finery, and still as mulish as he was all those years ago when Frederick tried to protect the woman he loved from him. He chose the name Hotep for this modern day.

Other vampires appeared as if from thin air; Kaya and Ramel didn't even know there were people other than Bill, the witches, and the two of them in the room.

"My Lord," one of the vampires said to Hotep, "they haven't finished the selection. This is most discourteous!"

"These are discourteous times!" Hotep walked toward Ramel and Kaya still standing on the pedestal but could not pass the circle. He envied the witches this ability and grew frustrated.

"Open this circle."

Another vampire implored, "Master, this will not do. We have no Conductor!"

"Chief witch! Open THIS CIRCLE!"

"My Lord, really!"

Aisha spoke, "We will vote. Then the Circle will open." She turned her back to Hotep to present the pot to her Sisters. Hotep grabbed the pot from her and smashed it on the outside of the circle. Kaya jumped off the pedestal to Aisha's side and nudged her back toward its center.

"Yo, nigga, I don't give a fuck who you think you are. Somebody give me a glass or something. I dare you to take that shit out my hand!"

Hotep understood he was behaving as a desperate man would. He'd gotten there in time to stop the ceremony; he was only following what he was told to do. It was too bad, he thought, this woman was a much better example of a Conductor than the cowardly self-righteous fool sitting in the chair next to her with a hard-on.

"My apologies, to you Chief Witch and your Sisters as well. I meant no harm in my actions. Please, have your vote. But the record will show that your vote will not count this time. The days grow shorter until the Black Sun and we have treachery in our midst! There are vampire cannibals! I've seen a lot during my life but there is one who sees more than me, beyond me, and it is he who wishes this."

Aisha was floored.

"You're saying that – "

"Careful, Chief witch, we can't speak names lightly. Have your vote, Sisters, but the die is already cast. Please forgive me for my disrespect of your wife." He spoke louder for all throughout the room to hear. "If I were casting a vote it would be for this gallant Sister right here. But this vote is not for us today, Brothers and Sisters. The man, and I use that term loosely at the risk of my own punishment, has been chosen. Keeper of the Records, let it be written, Ramel Jackson has been chosen to light the lantern for the House of Hikpodu. You will come here in two days for the Consecration."

Bill looked at Hotep stunned beyond words but was able to manage four, acknowledging what was said: "So it is written."

"So it shall be done," Hotep replied.

*

"Twelve to nothing! NOTHING!" Aisha was livid pacing around the apartment after they returned from their rollercoaster night. Bill was still in a state of shock, and Kaya was thrown for a loop – a feat rare for her.

"ZERO! It was a fucking landslide, Baby. You wrote it down, right Bill? That mu- he was out the door! So long, bye-bye! Just because his cousin is a powerful witch? I'm a fucking powerful witch too! Shit!"

"Yes, you sure are, girl," Kaya said.

"And it has to be real bad for the Elders to interfere like that. Real bad. But they go and pick the wackest muthafucka they could find for the Conductor? Do you know how many fly ass, rich, influential and old vampires we got down with us? You put up that bitch-ass nigga?"

"Yo, y'all witches ain't no joke neither, Ish. I didn't know you could do stuff like that. At first I didn't care either way but now, I want to be the Conductor – especially if that dumbass... I was robbed!"

"Hey ladies, did you notice he didn't flinch?"

"What are you saying, Bill?" Kaya asked.

"That Ramel Jackson. He didn't flinch. You flinched, Kaya, when Hotep said stop and came walking toward us."

"Yeah I flinched, Archie. I got this big dude talking about stop and he got a mouthful of teeth! How am I supposed to know if he's hungry or not? I didn't even think y'all had real vampires until tonight. I didn't even think vampires were real – not really real."

"That's right. And here's a guy who hasn't been to any ceremonies with his cousin and she's a powerful witch. That means there's no way he would have seen any vampires. He's not a vamp and he's not dead which means he shoulda flinched like you did," Bill said.

"What do you mean by he ain't dead?"

"Baby, don't believe the hype, humans rarely see vamps. Rarely. If you are a human being and you've seen a vamp up close and personal, you either work for one, you're a witch, or you're no longer human because you've been turned. Otherwise you'd be dead. Which mean that lying ass has seen some vamps. Or one vamp..."

"Your dream, Babe! You saw the guy this time."

Bill changed the subject.

"Kaya if you still want me to handle that job at the bank..."

Kaya decided she would postpone popping the question. Aisha was so angry and preoccupied. But when Bill said the code phrase, Kaya thought now was better than later, especially after the night's events.

"Yo Archie, I can do a little of that witch magick too. Watch this, I'ma play 'Guess The Answer That Aisha Would Say'. So, Ish, where would you go for your honeymoon?"

"Bay, please. You should already know the answer to that but I bet you don't."

"Why wouldn't I? You don't think I know my woman?"

"No, it's not that. You don't be listening to half the stuff I say. Bill put some money on this because she won't get it."

"I'd say Italy or some place like that," Bill guessed.

"Italy? What the hell? I said honeymoon, Archie. Not tourist trap!"

"Well at least he's close, Baby. What are you going to say? Hawaii?"

"Yeah!"

"I say Bill is close and your ass says, 'Hawaii'. Hawaii ain't close to Morocco, fool!"

"Morocco? Well I ain't all with the maps and geometry. Just sandwiches."

"It's geography, ass." Aisha laughed.

"That stuff either."

"While we're on the subject of sandwiches, let me make some. We can at least salvage the night from Hell. Bill, you want?"

"Sure, I'm game."

"Don't forget me!" Kaya cheered.

"Yeah, I won't forget you, silly. And, Baby, it wouldn't be my honeymoon it would be our honeymoon. Besides, we have to get married in order to – "

Aisha froze staring at the open refrigerator. There on the shelf, where she keeps all the sandwich making stuff, was a ring box and a single white card which read: I'd love to take you on that trip to Morocco but you'd have to marry me first. She opened the box, gasped and looked at Kaya.

"So what do say? You want to go to Morocco?" Kaya asked.

She wanted to go to Morocco. She wanted to marry Kaya. She said yes to both.

"Bill, you'll take a rain check on your sandwich, won't you?"

"Sure, Aisha. Listen, congrats to you both. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said winking at Kaya.

"Oh I'm doing everything you wouldn't do."

Bill left the apartment in good spirits, happy he was able to help pull off Kaya's scheme.

He headed for the nearest train but had no plans on going home. He'd gotten an address for Tarah. He knew it was late but he was going to pay the good witch a very important visit.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ramel was victorious! He did everything in his power to prevent himself from sprinting up the block to the parking garage where his entourage waited. He walked taking deliberate and slow steps, watching as the witches walked by him to the subway stairs. There were no hard feelings against them. Aisha must have done something to his marble that tainted the jury pool; apparently those marbles are important. But they weren't more important than the word that came from the top: Ramel is in Kaya is out.

"Did you see the look on the bitch's face," he said to himself bursting at the seems, "did you see the fucking look on her face?"

His steps were faster, "Man she strutted around like she was the damn queen but the vampires run the show! Now, so do I. That's my fucking house now! She's lucky she's a witch or I'd kick her out myself."

He had to wait two days until the official swearing in but Ramel's strode to his car as if he were a part of everything in all of its official capacity. This was a Coven of very wealthy people – he could see it in the clothes they wore. The sooner he could get a look at their Book Of Records the sooner he could start cashing in on some of that wealth.

Ramel thought back to the night's ceremony and wished it were he that jumped down to Aisha's "rescue" instead of Kaya. He was sure that would've made a great impression on the other vampires. But Ramel had been handicapped by his memories. He remembered that Frederick told him he thought too "loud" and he didn't want to blow it when Hotep stepped out of the shadows to stop the proceedings.

When Ramel saw him he knew who he was – his meal ticket. While Hotep was arguing with Aisha, Ramel was concentrating on his bladder and not expelling its contents. As embarrassing as it may have been that was the only thought Hotep heard as he approached Kaya and him.

"On the right side of the stat quo, Freddy boy," he said as he entered the garage. After the consecration, he didn't owe Frederick a thing. He was in with the bigwigs, old money – real old money. He could get an actual Bentley or perhaps he would find a mansion. Ramel could walk into the best clubs and eat at the best restaurants; places his father couldn't dream of getting in. The whole time people would look at him and whisper amongst their friends, asking who he is and what important things does he do? He would have it all right at his fingertips and he wasn't going to let some lovesick sucker mess it up for him. His crew stood around his car, still talking about Aisha and the other witches they caught glimpses of, when he approached them. Arms spread open he made a grandiose bow addressing Mike first.

"Salute your leader you peons!"

"You got it?" Mike asked, excited.  
"Like swimwear, my nigga!"

The others joined in with congratulatory daps, pounds, and slaps on the back. Mike was the only one who knew the importance of the accomplishment made, everyone else was happy there was more of Ramel's money to blow, more of Ramel's spotlight they could stand in.

"What was the split?" Mike asked.

"The split? What are you a damn bookie now? You know what, I ain't even going to sweat it because that was the most beautiful part. Your boy was worried, I ain't even going to lie, and it was a landslide victory for Kaya. They all voted for her."

"What," asked the Chihuahua holder, "even the white chick you had on lock?"

"Oh yeah. They all doubled up on your boy. But then this big black nigga walked in talking about he had orders from the top. They didn't care what them bitches had to say, let them vote all they want – they even wrote that shit down, son. They wrote it down that they voted for Kaya but in the end they had to write down that the title is mine. That bitch, Aisha had to watch the pig write my name in the book as the winner. Man, her face was priceless! In a couple days, I am the man in this town."

"So where we hittin' first?"

"You're going to hit the kennel first, or something, because that rat ain't getting in my car." Ramel said to the Chihuahua holder.

"Cuervo? Man, Cuervo is a good dog and well trained too. Don't worry about him."

"I'm not worried because he is not getting in my car. Handle it."

"You fucked up, Ra. Got a little title in your Boy Scout club and you wanna act all fucked up. Whatever man, I'll meet y'all. What club you hittin'?"

"The regular spot but we won't be there all night so put a diaper on your rat and get moving," he replied, closing the door. He drove off leaving the Chihuahua holder standing in the middle of an empty parking garage.

"Fuck you, Ra!"

Once the car was on the road, Mike wanted to talk about the vote being a landslide – which wasn't in Ramel's favor.

"You're not worried that those girls ain't going to go home and make up a bunch of voodoo dolls of you? Cause whether you the boss or not, they voted for the other chick."

"Nah, they ain't gone do shit. They are serious about their shit, man. They wouldn't go against their superiors. Listen," he turned up the volume on the radio and lowered his voice so only Mike could hear him, "these witches take care of vampires and all this Lilith shit. The meetings they run, OK, they run them but who is in charge? Vampires and those of us who are in good with them. They ain't doing a damn thing, my nigga. Not a damn thing."

"Bet, bet. But what if one of them decides to say fuck it and do something crazy anyway?"

"They ain't doing it, I'm telling you. Besides the dude that was there today, the one who shut shit down, I think they're afraid to cross that nigga. He's been around."

"How do you know?"

"Just roll with me on this one, Mike. He has been around."

"For how long?"

Ramel couldn't answer that question. With all of the research done in the library and listening to Frederick tell story after story, he never quite figured out how long Hotep had been a vampire.

Those who had knowledge of Hotep were long gone; either passed on from old age or decided they would no longer walk the journey with him. He was the oldest living proxy, having been turned on the B.C. side of the calendar. While many of his friends thought they wanted eternal life many just ended up sleeping and eventually walking into the sun, ending the long journey they could no longer cared to make.

Hotep continued walking.

He was a warrior from a group of people that would in latter days be known as the Ashanti. These people, proud and unafraid, destroyed his maker before Hotep could learn anything from him about what he'd become. What kept him alive throughout the centuries was trial and error. He'd encountered one like him and was told a few helpful things but the woman was ready to pass on. When he came to her village as he had every night, he found a petrified statue that crumbled to dust when he touched it.

During his time he traveled all over North Africa and witnessed its many transformations. When change came in the form of the British, French, and Spanish he decided he would visit these places. It was during his tour of Europe that he learned what his brethren had evolved into. There were others who were sophisticated, learned predators – not like the savage monsters he'd encountered after the old woman passed away in the mist. These people liked clothes as he did and culture and art. They had kings and queens as he once had, and told stories of their former conquests in their strange sounding tongues. They had a lot of people, many different vibrant, happy, rich, lowly, miserable, exuberant people – with sweet pulsing blood in their veins!

In Europe, he didn't hear the voices that told him to follow the elephants. He no longer heard the voices that commanded him to stay in the secret caves, away from the Black Sun. While in Europe he met actual people, witches and warlocks that explained to him the importance of staying away during the time of the Black Sun. And when that century passed him by and all of the lovely witches and warlocks were also turned to ash and dust, a new generation of Conductor found him and buried him in the grandest of caskets until it was safe to dig him out. When he saw nothing that interested him, he slept.

It was the Inquisition that woke him, as it had many vampires. The very thing the Church set out to conquer while he was alive during that period (reflecting on this great irony always filled him with laughter) flourished right under their noses, oftentimes with the help of their patrons.

Let us not forget the power hungry priests.

The first person Hotep ever turned was an observant priest who'd been watching strange men and women congregating on church property during the late night hours. The priest deduced that these people were just the kind of folks that would help his rapid ascent to bishop, once he informed the Church of the evil goings on in his parish.

The priest had a sudden change of heart when he saw a large black man emerge from the Wyckeshire family mausoleum. His heart nearly stopped as he thought Hotep was the devil himself or some form of black skinned demon; he'd heard of them but he'd never seen an African before Hotep. The priest made it his business to alert the Church at the first sign of light, if he survived the night with the demon. Then he witnessed the women give Hotep goats and he gave them small weighty bags. One of the men with them dropped his spilling its beautiful shiny contents, which prompted the priest to have a change of heart toward Hotep. The priest cornered a young woman he recognized as part of his parish and threatened her to talk. She told everything she knew.

The priest stayed a priest but was a very rich one who flourished beyond his wildest dreams. Several meddlesome people from neighboring parishes, asking too many questions, were taken away during the Inquisition. Many believed the wealthy priest was responsible.

When he died, there were those who thought they'd seen him fighting a black demon near the Wycheshire mausoleum. In other circles, if you were to ask the old friars, some would tell you the priest had a striking resemblance to one of the founders of the L'Ordine della Vendetta di Sangue.

Hotep was a mystery, every once in a blue moon, captured in the annals of men but recorded in the Book of Records by the House of Abizu, as it should be.

Change came again and he made his way to the New World where the House of Hikpodu would make record of Hotep and several others who came to the Colonies as indentured servants; only Hotep would later become a full fledged slave – all of his riches that the Colonists had record of were taken away.

One other knew Hotep's elusive history, his secret wealth, and the secret behind his rage – his wife, Sankofa.

He'd saved her that night from the barn fire and for her first two years, he had to force her to feed. The shock of what she'd become was overwhelming and unlike most new proxies who went on a gorging spree during their "terrible twos", she tried hard to starve herself to death. Worse for Sankofa, she was lead to believe that Frederick's sister had killed him when he returned to his home. This sent her in a state of shock, causing a type of amnesia that blocked away the painful parts of her experience – the parts that held Hotep accountable...

She came to accept Hotep as her husband, for the way he treated her and the questions he answered of her new existence, even as she longed for Frederick. Her life as a marauder of the night would be easier to accept if her beloved Frederick were by her side.

But he wasn't by her side and on the night that a 12 to 0 landslide produced a victory for the other guy, he wasn't far away from her.

He felt her presence engulf his senses but dismissed the feeling as a distant painful memory picking the most inopportune time to surface.

Frederick followed Ramel to see for himself where the great and mighty House of Hikpodu was located. He'd seen Ramel's friends waiting around for everyone to arrive and shook his head in disgust.

"Must everything be a theatrical production replete with audience, Mr. Jackson?"

He watched the witches show up and felt the presence of many vampires, some older than his meager 134 years as one. A particular presence felt familiar, filling him with rage. Frederick backed further away, nearer to the trees and benches that gave him better cover, watching everyone except Ramel enter the side door of the building. He was left explaining to his band of merry men that they had to go while he entered a world they knew nothing about. Frederick knew his lustful protégé quite well and was surprised when he banished the vibrantly clothed gentlemen to his car. The one he called Mike was loyal, he might stay but the rest of his servants will be leaving sooner than Ramel thinks.

Frederick waited for people to emerge from the bank's side entrance. They did, most looking disappointed, others surprised and angry. His attention was on one man, Ramel Jackson, who he could see was trying his best not to explode from satisfaction. It was a wonder he could contain himself and Frederick thought Ramel would start taunting everyone at any given moment.

Instead he watched (and heard) Ramel walk to the parking garage; the thought emanating from his entire body over and over, "I run this shit now!"

"You are so predictable, Mr. Jackson," Frederick smiled. He headed toward the subway several blocks away from his hiding place in mere minutes, mist trailing behind him. He had what he wanted and no one was the wiser; taking the other train would prevent him from being seen by the witches.

They erred on the side of tradition, hoping that Ramel would know some history from his cousin or at least a couple of spells. He would have to give them something at his consecration and Frederick would provide what he'd picked up during his "acquisition" in Brazil. He didn't approve of Ramel dispatching wanton killers and young proxies in blood heat but it seemed to do the trick. The Elders were scared with the total solar eclipse coming so soon. Frederick counted on them wanting experience and the cousin of a Chief Witch of Ayalu would bring it to them. Or at the very least, he would bring them the Chief Witch herself who could give them news of Ayalu.

"I'm afraid by the time that were to take place, your Conductor will be unavailable to provide such information," Frederick commented to himself.

Information he will provide; your mission has awakened our Great Mother, your fate is sealed, Frederick.

For the first time since he entered the cave at Corcovado, Frederick was afraid. Should he have killed the witches the night he met Ramel? He only wished to –

Destroy all of the children of Lilith!

\- purge the Earth of a pain it should not have to endure. He didn't want to kill any more people than his plan allowed. He'd worked it out so, when all fell into place, the last person who would leave this plain by his hand would be Ramel. Then Frederick would accept the retribution.

Who are you to decide the elimination of what God has not?

The voice was harsh, no longer the voice that admonished or advised.

Retribution will come to you Frederick; your pain will be unbearable before you realize the error of your ways, only then will you die.

"My pain could not be any greater than it has been the past century!"

Silence was the response to Frederick's angry rebuttal. He looked around the empty subway platform, jaw set, determined to keep his composure. His plan was working; it would be a mistake for him to go off his course because of the mysterious voice that spoke doubt to its success. Frederick looked down the tunnel and jumped to the tracks, he heard no train coming.

Against everything that he'd set in motion, Frederick ran up the tracks headed toward a junction that would get him to the train he needed. Tonight, he would make the time to see Tarah again.

What he didn't know, at the very moment he was running up empty train tracks at speeds the human eye couldn't see, Bill was going on his cop's hunch that Tarah would be sequestered some place other than her address at 633 Sprigg Street in Harmondale. Bill was a straphanger but Tarah lived on Long Island and his cop hunch screamed that time was against him. Bill decided trains wouldn't be fast enough and hopped in his car driving like he was on the Force again.

Traffic on the expressway was non-existent allowing Bill to make a half an hour trip in 15 minutes – he exited to the parkway. Bill was stuck. He saw a sea of red lights before him, mocking his oppressive feeling of urgency, staring out like hundreds of big red insect eyes.

"You have gotta be fucking kidding me! What the hell is going on here at – at 3 o'clock in the MORNING?" he raged, frustrated by the motionless traffic.

Up ahead he saw the early morning sky lit like a thousand suns. Klieg lights! This meant highway repair and a long wait for Bill. Road repair was always an arduous and inconvenient task anywhere in city but he thought it worse on the Island. Bill was only three exits from his destination, which meant nothing. He figured he'd be sitting in traffic for the next hour. Why had he even bothered to go to his daughter's apartment (which was more like his apartment as often as he visited her) to pick up his car and drive all the way out to Long Island when he could have taken public transportation and been to closer to finding Tarah? He had the urge to lean on his car horn but what good would it do? Bill, with everyone else on his or her way to somewhere along this expansive stretch of road, had to wait.

Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of crucial time that he couldn't make up on the residential roads headed to Tangled Woods.

Bill discovered a few other witches besides Gretchen who were forthcoming with what they knew. From what he was told the general consensus was the strange vampire emissary did something to put their House in danger. But the feeling of danger wasn't just for their Coven. There was something coming, worse than the Black Sun that would endanger all vampires everywhere. Worse still, Ramel was helping it happen.

"And this is the jerk they're going to consecrate in a couple days? Not if I can stop it," Bill said.

He parked in front of the tan wood shingled house where he knew the old couple that owned it wouldn't see him. It was right across the street from the entrance of Tangled Woods and he'd heard on good authority that the couple's bedroom was located toward the rear of the house, away from the windows that faced the entrance. It didn't give Bill as much comfort as he would have liked because he'd also heard, by the same authority, that the couple were early risers. He hoped his interview with Tarah wouldn't take very long.

"Hope that you're in time, Archie," he said referring to himself as Kaya.

Bill had been to Tarah's residence after Ramel's over the top presentation to become part of the Coven. He kept throwing around her name so much Bill wondered if she existed at all. He concluded that she must because Ramel knew too much about the inner workings of a vampire coven and he came to what Bill considered to be his House – with no sponsor or vampire recommendation.

Ramel didn't have a reference from his cousin, who Bill discovered, through the rumor mill, was as magnificent a witch as Aisha. So why wouldn't she come herself and ask Aisha to see to it that her cousin was allowed safe harbor? Aisha wasn't sold on the idea of Kaya being a Conductor. If Tarah had come to her she would have put up Ramel herself. He would be the victor, probably a split vote, with everyone satisfied.

But Tarah never made it to the Coven and Bill wanted to know why.

He went to her home and it was a shambles; someone else had been looking for her. His detective eyesight revealed to him that she knew someone would be coming and she got out of there, probably a week before the amateurs came to find an empty nest. What did Tarah know?

It concerned Bill his House being sloppy. Fear, the most powerful drug known to man; it could make you a superhero or a super coward, a great orator or a miserable recluse, or it would allow you to bring a snake in your midst that would ruin your entire existence. He felt they should have vetted better and they would have had it not been for the fear that was reaching such a palpable pitch amongst the vampires, a lowly human Record Keeper like him could feel it. They didn't want Ramel as much as his connection to Tarah. From what he deciphered from the whisperings of the black cowl witches and the anxiety Aisha and his daughter felt, he determined there was something wrong with Ayalu. If it was as serious as he thought it might be, disaster loomed in the future.

Eavesdropping yielded Bill the news that the Elders have heard nothing from their younger sister or her Coven. Ordinarily it would be of little concern but they were in an Exodus year where communication is critical. Ramel showing up at the time that he did, knowing who he knows was providence. It sent red flags all over the place for Bill, Aisha too.

Their alliance grew stronger and Aisha was certain it was imperative Kaya be the House's Conductor. Before they both knew it, Kaya was more receptive to the idea herself. When the position was stolen everyone was angrier, especially Kaya, than they were willing to admit.

"Let them have their night," Bill said to himself, "I'll make sure they're going to have a wonderful tomorrow." By finding Tarah he would pull the seat away from Ramel before he got the chance to sit in it and he too could find out why Ayalu has been so mute.

They have their ceremonies in the Tangled Woods and Bill's hunch told him that the row of brick maintenance sheds that housed the tools to keep the park litter free and the grass mowed to a reasonable length also housed a certain Chief Witch that many people wanted to find.

Each shed had a padlock on the double metal barn doors but the last shed at the end of the row had a door on the side of it. It was a wrought iron fence door that looked like it was there for a hundred years, a large rusty lock that only the right kind of skeleton key would open. Behind that door was another, more modern, conventional metal door – it was open.

Bill took out his 9mm (he made sure he had it with him) and took care walking inside the shed.

"You dirty son of a bitch! You put her down, NOW!"

Bill saw Frederick holding Tarah in his arms weeping over her lifeless body. His cheeks were stained with the stream of tears that had been pouring down his face, flowing water mixed with a hint of the lifeblood coursing through his body. Bill could see she'd was dead by the ashen color her mocha brown skin had become and the holes with dried blood on the side of her neck. He cocked his gun.

"You're the one who's been killing witches, you cock sucking bastard?" Bill said.

"Archie? Is that your name, Record Keeper?"

"It's Bill and that's all you're getting from me. Try that mind reading crap on me you get nothing! Witches told me how to handle your kind!"

"That is most wonderful news to hear for such an occasion, Bill," Frederick replied. "I ask that you please forgive me for this," he said as he extended his arms with Tarah in them.

"'This'? She has a name you fucking psycho! My daughter's a witch!"

"You misunderstand, Bill. 'This' is the unfortunate deed that had to be done. I truly wish it had not. She was so beautiful and reminded me of someone I knew from long ago. She was brave like her, she slaps like her too. The impression of her hand should still be on my face," he said turning his cheek toward Bill. "She was so brave... Do not fear, Bill, your daughter is safe. I ask you to tell her Sisters that I am filled with remorse and they shall have their restitution."

"I told you, you get nothing from me you murderer," and Bill aimed his gun at him.

"Bill, please, those weapons are useless against me and only

provoke – "

BANG! Frederick felt the area on the inside of his shoulder explode with pain. It was as if someone had taken a hot poker from the fire, and shoved it into his chest. He did see in Bill's mind that he was the House's Record Keeper; he should have known he'd have a clip full of silver bullets. Frederick fell to his knees with Tarah still in his arms clutching her tighter, while his arm screamed in agony. He placed her on the floor and stood up, looking at Bill.

Bill saw the careful way that Frederick handled Tarah and wondered why he'd killed her in the first place. He shook the thought out of his mind; he wasn't about to show sympathy for him nor was he going to try to justify the reasoning Frederick had in killing her – his daughter is a witch! He killed her Sister!

"I have a 96% accuracy rating on the gun range. Guess where the next bullet is going, buddy."

"You came here to ask Tarah for certain information, Bill. I will tell you what you wish to know. Go and inform your Elder that Ayalu is dead."

"Now, I know you're a psycho. There's not a person alive, vampire or not, that could kill an Elder – unless it's another Elder."

"I'm afraid there is a person alive, Bill, that person is me."

"LIAR!"

"I know my time will come very soon but not by your hand, Good Sir."

Frederick charged at Bill and he fired another shot. Bill fell backwards, spinning to his stomach and aiming again. There was no sign of Frederick.

He got up and rushed out the door into the darkness of the heavily wooded area near the book boutique. Bill strained his ears and squinted his eyes like Jenna told him to do when searching for a vampire.

"If you have a slow one, Dad, it's easy to see the mist they leave behind when they travel super fast. But if there's a super fast one then you might have to squint a little. And slow down their actions in your mind first then your eyes will obey. It's like a trick, I heard softball and baseball players use to hit fastballs."

Bill's shot hurt Frederick he was bound to be moving slower than the incredible speeds he'd seen vampires run. He squinted anyway, searching the dark for the telltale mist when he heard a scream. Bill ran toward the sound, brambles ripping at his calves through his pants, branches threatening to knock him out as he ducked the approaching appendages. He came to the clearing where the House of Ayalu used to have their gatherings and saw Frederick being attacked by Azyra. Her finger was boring a deeper hole than the one Bill's bullet made. He wondered when the other one was going to appear and finish Frederick. She wasn't with her but Azyra was doing a pretty good job on her own.

She was firmly clasped on Frederick's back, legs wrapped around his waist like a demented piggyback rider. She had a knife in her hand that glinted when the moon's light reflected its polished curved silver blade in the darkness. Frederick held her arm with the blade in it at bay, screaming, "Not yet, Mistress! Not now!" This awkward position gave Bill a clear shot to Frederick's heart and he was going to take it. His decision was too loud.

Frederick sensed Bill's hesitation because the vampire attacking him was someone familiar. Then Bill changed his mind, he saw a clear shot and with a 96% rate of accuracy Frederick refused to take the chance with his life.

Bill slowed down his mind as his daughter taught him to do and fired. He could see the empty shell-casing fly from its chamber as the slug headed toward Frederick's chest.

Frederick, in what Bill saw as a fluid and deliberate motion, dropped to one knee and flung Azyra to the front of his body, using her as a shield for the bullet. Azyra, not to be outdone, saw the bullet heading toward them and shifted her body so it only entered her arm, causing no real damage but a lot of pain. She released Frederick and fell to the ground. He took the opportunity to disappear.

Bill ran toward her to help.

"No, it's all right, Honey. I got this taken care of."

She removed her arm from her jacket, balled her hand into a fist and flexed her muscle. Bill had never seen such incredible muscle control while he watched the muscles in her arm ripple like waves in a pond. He soon saw a small hint of the slug that entered her arm. The entire bullet went falling to the ground, lit only by the moon in the sky.

"I see you brought your gun with you this time."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Uh, that bullet wasn't yours. So he's a vampire killer too?"

"Too?" she asked.

"I think he's the one who assisted the witch killer with his speedy get away. You know, the one when I saw you and your friend – "

"You said you know me, from where? Cause, I have to say, you look a little too young to know me."

"No offense, but I have to get back to the sheds. There's the body of a nice girl there and I should make sure she gets the proper care taken. You might want to skedaddle because I have to call the police."

"Uh huh." Azyra grabbed Bill around his waist and bolted toward the sheds before he could understand what was going on. He was thrilled, feeling as if he was taking off in an airplane. His feet never touched the ground and before he knew it he was at the front of the wrought iron door that led to Tarah's sanctuary; now it was her tomb.

"Poor kid. Don't you worry, we're going to get that guy." He looked around and saw her cowl and some other clothes folded in a corner. There was a small vanity with an assortment of oils, incense, and l'eau de toilet.

"What you're looking for is in her pocket, Honey."

Bill walked toward Azyra and tilted his head. He saw an envelope peeking out of her pocket. Azyra walked over to Tarah and knelt before her. It looked to Bill like she was saying a prayer then she removed the envelope. She looked at the writing on it and her face became a mask of curiosity.

"Looks like she was expecting you," she extended the envelope to his face long enough for him to read: Record Keeper. She yanked it away, placed her hands on her hips, and stared Bill down.

"How do you know me?"

Under normal circumstances Bill would be more than cooperative with her. He had nothing against vampires like her but Frederick had soured his mood. Tarah's body was laying on the floor and he only wanted for the police to come and do what they needed so her Sister witches and family could bury her in peace.

"Look, I can call the cops right now or I can call later. I've got time. You don't, little lady, the sun will be coming up. How much do you want to risk that this shed is completely sun proof?"

"Uh huh," she handed Bill the envelope, "I'll see you again, Honey." She headed for the door when Bill stopped her.

"I don't know you personally, OK? But you might want to hang out around DUMBO and ask the local night crawlers if they know an old storyteller called the Balloon Man. Start with a guy named Curtis who runs an Internet radio/comic book whatever out of one of the offices. Real new money, rich snob of a guy, a real workaholic. Rumor has it most of his money comes from stories he's heard straight from the Balloon Man."

"Thank you." She looked over her shoulder at Tarah, "My condolences for your loss. Don't worry none, Honey, we'll get him."

She walked out the door and hurried to beat to the sun home. How she missed the morning sun.

Bill stood there in silence, sorrow hanging over him. He was thinking of a simple lie he could tell the investigators but he knew there was too much of him all over the scene. He'd tell them the truth, excluding the vampire bits and the letter he had in his pocket.

First he had to make the call to begin what he was sure to be a long day.

"Hello? Jenna? Sweetheart, I have some crappy news."
CHAPTER SIX

For Kaya, a night that started with fiery lovemaking turned into a bizarre menagerie of detailed and colorful nightmares, all of them featuring Ramel.

"They got me dreaming about this nigga now?" she said rolling over, groggy, to an empty space where Aisha would be.

Through the haze she had coming out of sleep, she remembered that Aisha told her there was overtime she was going to take.

They always wanted people to come in on the weekends which Aisha made a habit not to do but she wanted the extra cash. She was getting married and her honeymoon was going to be at the place of her dreams, she needed some extra spending money for shopping; why not start saving it now?

At least that is what Kaya imagined she said. The dream she was fighting didn't allow her to come to full consciousness and she couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't.

Her urge to punch Ramel in his scheming face was very real to her.

She was sitting next to him in the old vault, underneath the new bank at her job. They sat in the same chairs used during the voting ceremony, looking out into a place lined with trees – trees that had nothing but purple leaves.

Ramel raised his hands and blue light bathed the vault turning the leaves red and their branches pitch black. He pointed his finger and Kaya felt her chair start to move; she saw that Ramel's chair was also moving. The chairs stopped when they faced one another.

"I know why you're hatin', Kaya. You're jealous."

Kaya sat still in her chair when she felt a poke inside her stomach. She let out a belch that created a purple colored plume of smoke – then came the laughter. Gales of uncontrollable hysteria poured from her body, she doubled over in tears. She tried to form the words to ask Ramel what gave him the insane idea that she would ever be jealous of him but only laughed harder at the thought. She could see her face turning red the harder she laughed and Ramel was incensed.

"You, that bitch you got, y'all have been trying to keep a real man out the business for a minute! You don't think I noticed you got a cop that gunned a brotha down – the same brotha that had his position before he conveniently became the new Record Keeper, you don't think I see that shit? You're afraid, Kaya and your bitch is too."

Her laughter abated enough for her to ask, "Of what, Ramel?"

"Of a brotha making it to the top. And you know bitches love power. The minute I make it to the top, I'm taking Aisha, Kaya. That bitch is mine – you can't beat a dick."

She looked at him and knew she was going to erupt with laughter again. "You can't beat a dick" is the best he could come up with? Kaya thought to herself on the contrary you could – men have been doing it for years. She also observed what a real "dick" Ramel is. How easy he made it for her to respond, he pitches them right down the middle and she knocks them out the park. But she said nothing.

Kaya's laughter ceased and she stood up from her chair. When she did the leaves turned from red to black, falling from their branches. Kaya tried to lunge forward but found her feet immobile and her arms frozen at her sides. She stared at Ramel hoping for the slightest opportunity for her to be able to move again, she was going to choke him to death.

The room started to fill with water. There was black water up to Kaya's knees and it kept rising and still she couldn't move. Kaya had to find a way to become mobile again because she didn't want to drown, least of all with Ramel there to witness it.

"You're so powerful, why don't you make the water stop, jackass?"

"What water, Kaya?" the pedestal they were on rose a little above the water. The water, however, also continued to rise.

A granite incline appeared out of the black sea beneath them and Aisha walked toward them. Ramel put his hand down his pants and began fondling himself.

"Excuse me, Kaya, I have something to see to," he said smiling as he walked down the incline toward Aisha. The incline and the pedestal rose higher, almost 20 feet above the vault's floor, and the water rose to keep pace.

Kaya watched as Ramel stood in front of Aisha selling his dream of being king and how no one would get special treatment from him unless they deserved it. During his reign everyone would have to prove their worth. Aisha looked far away as if she didn't even see Ramel. She looked right past him into Kaya's eyes.

"Baby? What are you doing here? We have a plane to catch, remember? You better not back out on me, punk," she said in her most affectionate way.

Kaya wanted to leave with her, run as fast as she could but she still couldn't move.

"Ish, I'm going to need you to wave your arms or chant something because I can't feel anything, I'm stuck."

Aisha shrugged, raised her hands, when Ramel grabbed her. Kaya winced, moving a little from where she was fixed. Ramel wrenched Aisha's hand tearing her engagement ring from her finger.

"Is this it? Is this the ring that you use to cast the spells?" he asked, frantic.

Aisha slapped him demanding her ring back. Kaya stood frozen watching in horror as Ramel slapped her, a wicked grin spread across his face. The angrier she became the harder it was for her to move, to do anything. She felt a presence beside her but couldn't turn to see who it was. He moved so he could stand before her, weeping – Frederick Duval. In Kaya's dream, his face was not veiled.

"Please forgive me, I have committed a terrible disservice."

"Who are you?"

"You must defeat him. You must defeat your anger as well. Laugh again, Kaya, it is the only way."

She could see Aisha laying on the incline in fear, while Ramel hovered over her, teasing her with the engagement ring. It was clear to Kaya, by the look on her face, that the punk-ass kid that she was seeing before her was not what Aisha saw – she looked terrified.

"I bet you want this back, don't you? So you can turn the House against me like you tried to before?" he kicked her in her side and continued, "Well you can't this time, bitch! I got the power now."

"Ramel," Kaya shouted, "you're over there busting out of your pants, why don't you show us how much man she's been missing?"

"You know what," he said pulling his pants and his underwear down to his knees, "that's the smartest thing I've heard you say. Look and see why you're so jealous too!"

What Kaya did see, she never expected. There was a small bright green porcelain frog, spotted with perfectly circular yellow polka dots on its back, where his genitalia should have been. Aisha stopped crying, she didn't look like she was afraid anymore.

"Well there's something you don't see every day," she said.

The En Vogue song, "What A Man" came blaring somewhere beneath the jet-black water as it rose even higher. Aisha walked toward Kaya and Kaya was able to move her extremities again. When Kaya turned find Frederick, he was nowhere to be seen. As the water rose she could see it was becoming clearer the closer it got to her. Something compelled her to say, "Stop" and it did at her waist.

She looked down at the clear water. It had filled the room giving the appearance that they were in a giant pool.

"You and Ramel have to go," Kaya said to the pool. The water shot up above her head in two powerful jets forming a double helix tower and rushed to Ramel standing on the incline, pants now at his ankles examining the porcelain frog. The streams forced him over the edge of the incline into the darkness below.

"Damn, he had my ring," Aisha said.

"Don't worry about that, girl. I'll save every last dime and get you another one. The best is, we don't have to see that punk again."

"This is so much bigger than us, Kaya. When the time comes, we'll see him again and my advice," she said as Kaya turned to face her. She saw that Aisha's head had been replaced with a grossly disfigured head of Ramel. There were holes all over his neck and his face looked bloated, like he was drowned then brought on land. Water was running out of his ears and he only had one eye that was trained on Kaya. The other looked like vanilla pudding oozing down his cheek. The voice that was Aisha's became low and guttural when she spoke, then Kaya smelled an overwhelming stench.

"My advice," the monster said, "is to stay out of his/MY way! Now give us a kiss."

Kaya shook her head remembering the smell and how close it got before she woke up.

She wished she'd been the one the Elders chose.

Kaya didn't like Ramel. It wasn't the reasons that seemed to rub everyone else the wrong way when he entered a room. Ramel reminded her of the past. He was a link to the anger that once engulfed her, the fights she had almost every week throughout high school – he reminded her of her oldest brother.

What she called "junior bos" or "JBs" or "baby homos" Kaya didn't have much patience for. They didn't realize how lucky they have it, even when it looks pretty bad. There are many that go through serious emotional traumas and some still have to fight to be who they are. But she saw more each year walking openly with their little girlfriends, unashamed. She saw cliques of them, colorful clothing with pants hanging below their buttocks like their favorite rappers, skaters, and R&B singers.

She and Aisha remarked how they couldn't go to the hangout spots anymore because the clientele was getting younger and younger. There was a support group around every corner and Kaya felt like she and women like her were pioneers for the younger kids who would never know and probably didn't care.

She did because she remembered. Ramel made her remember...

Kaya recalled the times she had to carry razor blades tucked between cheek and gum like an experienced tobacco chewer. She remembered receiving the moniker "Lady Spitz" when her friend "Irv the Jew" conducted his own knighting ceremony for just that occasion. They'd formed their very own two-person mafia after she disposed of a school bully who thought three against one was a fair fight. People watched as the three high school juniors beat up an eighth grader who made the mistake of walking through the "wrong turf". They did nothing when they called him terrible names. They cheered him when he defended himself against the primary bully but the bully's friend kicked him in the back and they cheered louder for that. There were a few shouts of "no fair", however no one chose to get involved – except Kaya. Also an eighth grader, she kicked the bully's friend in the sweet spot, which wasn't so sweet when she kicked. He went down. "Irv the Jew" got up from the pavement looking a complete mess, glasses broken and declared to Kaya, "I know Karate." She nodded and spat in her hand a small shiny object only he saw; they proceeded to make minced meat out of the last two bullies. People ran and screamed when they saw blood oozing from cuts they hadn't seen before and the mortified bullies ran away with them. She still smiles when she remembers the day she met Irv.

Kaya's parents forced her from her home – her father saying she must leave. The catalyst for his decision was her Ramel-like worm of a brother, Jean. He was the first-born and very attached to their mother.

She had three more brothers that came after him until her mother had the little girl she wanted, Kaya. She was doted on and Jean became resentful. Her home life was filled with "accidents" that always took place when Jean was around. As her other brothers got older the accidents became less frequent. Jean was convinced Kaya had turned the family against him.

Their parents were strict Pentecostals, Dad a raging homophobe. When he watched his beloved daughter something told him she had no interest in boys. Kaya wasn't what he called "hard" or "manly" but she hadn't stopped being a tomboy. She loved the rough and tumble play with her brothers and he noticed that she stole as many glances at the girls as they did. Her father knew what the church would say but his daughter was a great comfort to him, he loved Kaya very much. When he discussed his concern with her mother he'd found that she suspected years before and had a simple solution to the matter: "As long as she is a good person, defends her family and she is not some killer in the streets, I'm going to love my daughter." Although troubled by the prospects of his daughter's future, he resolved to do the same.

Oftentimes parents put their own hopes and aspirations on the yolk of their children. Children forget their parents were once like they are, insecurities and all. Jean didn't forget. When he heard Kaya confiding in their brother Mario, about a girl in school she wanted to kiss, Jean went straight to their father.

Her father wanted to be a loving Dad and tell her to be careful, he wanted to tell her about people who would be out to get her so she had to be discrete, he wanted her to know that he and Mom still loved her anyway; he wanted to know if the girl was cute... Instead he shouted about hellfire and brimstone and, at the age 16 only a sophomore in high school, he kicked her out of his house. After three days of sneaking in the girls' locker room at her high school, she confided in her best friend – she stayed with "Irv the Jew" and his family until she graduated.

High school was rough because Jean wouldn't let go. He wasn't satisfied with his victory at home; he'd spread his poison in school so she often came to a locker riddled with homophobic graffiti, most of which Jean wrote himself. Kaya was also the first in the locker room for gym because the girls expressed to the gym teacher they were uncomfortable changing in front of a well-known "lez". More trouble came when one of her schoolmates tried to cause a scene announcing to the gym class that she was, "strictly dickly".

Kaya, not one to turn down a verbal sparring match, grabbed her duffle bag to leave the area and advised Ms. Dickly that she should stay on the other side of the fence – she was much too ugly to join Kaya's side. As high school politics go many of the girls who wanted to see Ms. Dickly taken down a few notches were ecstatic when Kaya did it. The locker room ban was lifted.

However, Kaya was taken out of Physical Education classes altogether over allegations that she'd made a pass at Ms. Dickly. Nothing was ever pursued but she couldn't participate in any sports for the rest of her high school term.

When she graduated she said a teary good-bye to her best buddy and his family. Their move to Florida was set the day after graduation and they invited her to come but Kaya declined. She stayed in the empty apartment for a month then hit the streets when the new tenants came knocking.

Bouncing from shelter to shelter, she learned the art of the straight jab. It seemed people were less apt to steal your things when you had the propensity to break someone's jaw. Mario heard of his youngest sibling's fate and demanded that she stay with him. Kaya accepted.

They were the most bittersweet three years Kaya experienced. Her mother often came to see her with enough homemade food for she and Mario; her brother was generous man, especially with curry. Her mother's cooking was a welcome reprieve to her entire gastrointestinal tract. On some days Jean would accompany her, looks of displeasure and disdain included. Try as she might to tolerate Jean, he always managed to do or say something that would end up resulting in her getting bruised by him and she displaying her lip splitting fortitude. Their mother would leave disappointed (Kaya heartbroken) and Mario would spend the next 45 minutes lecturing to his sister how she needed to control her anger because the silly fighting was killing Mom.

When she bumped into Peter who offered her a job at the Cheese Eating Grin Deli, she took the closet sized apartment over the establishment where she found a small slice of peace.

It was her closet that didn't have anyone else's rules or her brother Jean.

"And look at me today," she said aloud, laughing. "I'm going to be married and that asshole is working on is third baby-mother. And I'm dreaming about his evil twin, another asshole..."

Kaya jumped out of bed still shaken by her dream. She needed answers. Aisha would be proud and mortified if she knew Kaya was taking initiative to learn more about her Coven. Kaya wasn't, however, following protocol and that was going to get her cursed out. This time, Kaya didn't care she was ready for Aisha's frothy tirade. She knew what this Ramel was like even though she'd only seen him around from time to time. She saw the way he rolled around in his white car like he was better than all who crossed his path, like he was driving around in a white and gold plated Bentley.

Kaya examined her troubled face in the mirror. That dream, what was that dream? There was something – the water. Why did Aisha look worried when she dropped her marble in the water and it turned black? But it cleared up again. The water did the same thing in the dream and Kaya had to know what it meant. Especially if her fiancé was going to be part of a group whose leaders thought Ramel was the best person for the job. It was her day off but she was going to find a way to slip in and go to the old vault on the lower level – she had to warn them of the person they had in their midst.

*

Azyra knew she ought to be with Leigh in their resting place but the Record Keeper piqued her curiosity. There was someone still alive that knew who she was. She questioned her interest in this, after all what kind of conversation did she expect to have with this "Balloon Man"? She wished to pursue it nonetheless.

Azyra ran into a bit of luck on her way to her resting place, a young man who wanted a hotdog or anything he could find for dinner asked her for a dollar. "Scary pretty" is what he called Azyra, almost not having the courage to approach her because he was frightened. She asked him if he'd heard of the Balloon Man that traveled around DUMBO and he said he had.

"You might be able to find him by some of the communities they have on the green lines, down in the tombs," he said and underground she went.

As she walked between the tracks in the dark with the stifling dust and heat, she wondered how anyone but the rats that were parting in her wake, could stand living down here. Azyra liked living, to have seen some things that she never thought would be possible gave her brief interludes of happiness, but she hated walking in the dark.

The night colors were nice but the artificial amber lights obscured them. Nothing could replace the sun in her eyes yet she had to flee from it when she felt the morning coming. She was like this mysterious Balloon Man and all of his friends, diving out of the way of the public, blending in with the blues, blacks, the pallid and the incessant amber lights. Azyra missed her home, her family but not as much as she missed walking through the woods as the sun came up and brought new light and colors through the trees. Could the Balloon Man remind her of that time?

She dropped to deeper depths where she sensed the presence of human beings. Many were sleeping in their makeshift rooms, while others stirred about in small camping tents acquired from who knows where. There were a lot of people down here, an underground city of lanterns to see with, heat for the winter, and she dared not investigate where they siphoned the cold air blowing through the tunnel they were in; more than likely the source was were the sun is. Azyra noticed wires connected to a giant metal box that ran to a large klieg light – vampires come down here. The man she saw in a refrigerator box had the switch in his hand. Shine the light to disorient them and others would, no doubt, come running with stakes or anything else they could find to beat the vampires back.

Unless...

She took a closer look at the unused tracks and saw ash and dust marks. They must have stolen a UV light bulb big as someone's head to put in that thing. Unsuspecting yearlings with the taste for blood stumble in on this colony and think "easy pickings" but get a very big surprise instead. And the people get their share of new shoes and clothes.

Tony the Balloon Man in all of his 86-year-old glory (looking more like he was 56) was preparing his cart to go topside. He was elected the unofficial mayor of the tombs. No one knew why he chose to settle here, not even the Balloon Man himself. When he escaped from a sanatorium in South Carolina, he could have hidden anywhere but he made his way to New York City. When he showed up in 1980 where a small group of people used the subway tunnels as their homes and they told him of people who sometimes disappeared, he assured the rest that not every disappearance was the police or people who decided to stay topside permanently. Many doubted his ramblings as the words of a paranoid (they'd seen plenty of those pass through) but a couple of suspicious dead bodies made some decide it wouldn't hurt to take his suggestions.

Azyra approached him while he loaded a couple of small oxygen tanks into his cart with a box of colorful balloons.

"Excuse me, Balloon Man, I was told you could probably make

me a – "

Her words stuck in her throat when he turned to face her. He squinted leaning forward then a smile broke out across his face.

"You forgive me. I knew you wasn't gone stay mad." He placed the items in his hands in the cart and reached for his oversized blazer. He fastened the last button and smoothed the front with youthful looking hands.

"I'm ready," he announced.

"Antoine?" was the only word Azyra could say.

"Yes Ma'am. I'm sho glad the Lawd sent a pretty angel like you to take me. You will take me, won'tcha Zeera?"

*

Bill watched customers go in and out the bank, arguing with tellers, making deposits; there were those who came just to use the ATMs. He kept his eyes on them, the slightest apprehensive move, their expressions and demeanor... He did all this while looking to the front door for Kaya. The plan was for him to switch sides with the rookie guard and step away long enough to let Kaya in the building without being seen. He chuckled to himself thinking they could rob the place and no one would be the wiser. But what they were doing was far more risky than some silly bank heist. Imagine being caught with the strange company they kept, how could they explain that to the police?

"Why yes officer, this is a vampire that's been alive for at least three centuries and I secretly meet with him the old vault beneath here. And those are the witches that love him and the witches chose this young lady to be Superman but the vamps chose the jackhole instead. Got it?"

Afterward they'd get it, Bill thought, straight to the rubber rooms. He reasoned he'd rather be caught trying to rob a bank.

Kaya sauntered up the block toward the building. She was going to walk by the large revolving doors, sure that Bill would see her, and double back around the opposite side of the delivery doors; there was nothing they could do about the cameras during the day and they were trained on the delivery doors with a man in the booth watching the feed.

As she drew closer she noticed someone. It couldn't be. She dashed across the street and followed the couple to the small park adjacent to the banking complex.

"Yo!"

Hotep turned and saw Kaya calling to him. He walked toward her with Sankofa in tow, holding her hand like they were young lovers.

"May we help you?" Sankofa asked surprised by the defiant angry stance Kaya took as she stood before them.

"Actually, I was addressing your man, Sweetheart. I wasn't trying to be disrespectful."

"And yet, here you are," Hotep said.

"It's real nice outside here," Kaya said gesturing toward the sky, "sun shining and all that. Are you allowed to be all sunny out with the sunny outs?"

Sankofa answered, "I wish they would have chosen you, Kaya."

"You know me?"

"No. I know your fiancé.

"We're Royal Blood proxies, Kaya, so we walk in the day. We may not be able to stay out in the sun for long periods of time like the Sun Touchers but we can enjoy a little, what did you call it, 'sunny outs'?" Sankofa answered.

"Anything else? We are coming to the end of our stroll," Hotep said.

Kaya looked at them holding hands. Were they made together? They looked like a couple but there was grief in Sankofa's eyes. How much had she seen, how much had she lost in her existence as a vampire?

"Kaya, did you have something specific on your mind?" Hotep asked.

"I know this is going to sound childish but, what the hell, huh? Ramel is not your man. And you don't even have to choose me but that guy? C'mon."

Hotep sighed. "This is no longer a matter that conerns – "

"The hell it doesn't concern me! My lady is down with y'all and that nigga is straight grease. The witches try to keep you safe but what about you keeping them safe? Bill has proof on this guy. Check out what he has, I was just on my way to get it from him."

Sankofa spoke now. "We will, Kaya. I will bring his evidence myself, if needed. But unfortunately, you have to stay away. Unless you decide to be initiated into the Coven."

"Fine."

She turned and headed toward the bank.

I've lost more than you know. Cherish your happiness when you have it, Kaya.

Kaya looked back for the strolling couple. They were gone.

She walked through the revolving door making Bill nervous.

"I thought we were doing the sneak entrance or something?"

"Change of plans. Did you know Hotep could walk in the sun?"

"There's not too much I know about that guy, except he's not fond of white people."

"C'mon, Archie Bunk, for real?"

"You look at me like that but I'm telling you, he doesn't. He's been around for a little while I know that. I got to see some of the other books from other Covens that we have in our collection."

"Oh? You got some kind of exchange going or something?"

"I have – I got a little pull. The Record Keeper is no slouch, young lady. But this Hotep guy, he's in the books they won't let me see, he has to be. I know he was a slave and he didn't like that too much. I think he might have lead a revolt but that's all the off limits stuff."

"Well holla at Sankofa. She said she'll take your proof and give it to the bigwigs, personally."

"She's a sweetheart, that one. You're coming."

"No I can't, I'm not allowed."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it. You're coming with me right on the night that prick thinks he's getting consecrated!"

"Bill, I hope you know what you're doing."

"I'm 'doing' for Tarah. You be there."

*

Antoine "Tony the Balloon Man" Whitscombe stared at Azyra, trying to process her being alive and not a specter come to lead him to the arms of the Angel of Death.

"You look just as pretty as the day you disappeared. Good Black don't crack!"

"I was changed, Antoine, you remember the lady you saw?"

Fear and shame crossed his wrinkled face. He moved his hand to the right side of his neck where the human eye could no longer see puncture wounds that once stood out like gopher holes; they had long closed and looked like twin moles. Antoine stared far off into the past in the woods where he held Azyra's hand as he formulated ways he would ask her to marry him, a brash hardworking 33 year old man. His one test to show her he could provide and protect her came to him in the form of an apparition and he failed miserably.

"I'm sorry Zeera," he said starting to cry, "I tried but..."

Some people in their boxes started to look in the direction of the Balloon Man and the pretty young stranger he was talking too. Some grabbed shanks and other weapons they made, ready to use them if they felt their mayor was in any danger.

"Calm down, Honey, it's all right. You don't want these people to think I'm the type of person to harass my elders now, do you?"

He signaled them back to their homes and wiped his face.

"See I got gray hair but not that much. You know I turnt 86 coupla days ago?"

"Happy belated, Honey."

"That Internet boy gave me one of those comic books he done wrote about me and my travels. He put you in it too, Zeera, I made him. He got some talent."

"How much you get paid for your stories?"

"He don't gimme no money, gal! I get the books, which is good cause it helps my memory. The voices told me to come here and I did but lately I been forgetting why I came..."

"Well remember this: you have to renegotiate your contract."

"Zeera, I don't have much cause for money, 'cept what I get from my balloons and the people give me that."

"Look, Honey, these people think you're the cream in their coffee. Least you could do is give 'em some coffee. I have a feeling that you gone get the bread to do it."

"If that's what you think best, then OK."

"Antoine," she started, "you seen any of my family before you left?"

"Your fam-?"

His heart filled with sorrow. For so long he thought she fled North Carolina out of fear for her own safety but he could see now, asking the question she did, he had to be the bearer of news he never expected to deliver. All of the voices in his head and the ghosts of the women of the woods could not scare away the ignorance in their small hometown of Adamston.

"See, they figured your pattern, Zeera."

"What on Earth you talkin' about, patterns?"

The Balloon Man held up an authoritative hand for her to stop. He told her of the difficulty he was having relaying such news – he thought she was already aware of it.

"I wish you knew, Zeera so I wouldn't have to tell it cause I didn't think I'd ever have to tell it.

"They ain't locked me up cause I went crazy, they locked me in that place cause I helped an' wasn't shamed I did! They figured out your patterns when you and that lady would roam the woods protecting us from them ole boys. You did it at night cause they roamed at night. Then y'all went away. But the Klan didn't bother us none too much after that cause your Daddy and me (I had to help him Zeera cause I couldn't save you, I owed him) went around them woods and in town with some other good men, showing folks we have 2nd Amendment rights too. That didn't set right with them boys from Dangleberry, that's on the border in South Carolina. So they came on up, started testin' us out; they had them meetings in those woods you used to roam. When they came out the woods and was met by a group of men, your Daddy and me and some serious firepower in our hands they sped on back to the rocks they lived under.

"They got in their minds that it was your Daddy made up them stories about the two women in the woods, 'specially since one was the ghost of his dead daughter, just to stir up the niggers into carrying guns. They had to do something about that.

"Well one day they got the chance. Your Daddy and me snuck out of town because a Negro gun club in Dangleberry wanted your Daddy's advice being he was so successful with our gun club. Nobody from the white side of town knew, so we thought. Those ole boys came back up and got some of the good ole boys from our town and they..."

Antoine's eyes were glazed over as he looked far away in the past. He wanted to stop but Azyra had the right to know. There was nothing he could do to spare her or soften the blow.

"They what, Antoine?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper. There wasn't a sound throughout the tunnel. They hadn't noticed the people who emerged from their boxes and tents to hear the Balloon Man tell his story, some with tears in their eyes. Even the rats stayed still as he recounted his tale almost 53 years later.

"Your Mamma was so proud. She wasn't gonna let them have their way with your sisters or her either. Your Mamma got that double-barrel shotgun and blew away the first one of them that crossed her doorstep. Your brother shot a couple of them with his gun too. So they changed their tactics. They burned them alive in the house, Zeera."

A collective gasp filled the tunnel. It was difficult for him but the Balloon Man continued.

"They went and set that fire then your people was sposeta come running out and they'd catch 'em that way. Maybe hang your brother... They spected them to come running out.

"Town ain't just sit by and do nothin'. Some men got their rifles and guns and had a regular knock down drag out with the Klan but they brought too many ole boys with 'em. Anybody that came with water to try and put out the fire, they was shot at – they killed your Mamma's best friend. Shot her dead with a li'l ole flower bucket in her hand, yelling your Mamma's name.

"Well now this was getting too much for our town's good ole boys. A hangin' is one thing but burning children alive is where they draw the limit. One of 'em went to the front door talking 'bout, 'They ain't coming out we gotta do something!' Course, it was too late for that so to ease what they did they said your folks must've escaped and weren't nobody in there.

"The fire trucks finally came and they put out the fire. They didn't escape, Zeera. They found 'em at the back of the house all hugged up together, burnt to a crisp. Folks in town who was there that night swore they must have escaped cause they didn't make one sound. Not a scream, no cry for help, not one peep.

"Them Dangleberry boys was pleased as sweet tea but our ole boys didn't want to have nothing' to do with what happened. They was wrong in thinking' it would scare your Daddy off – it drove him mad! When he got back into town he had some men waiting for him, told him everything that happened and they were ready to get down.

"We crossed that dusty path, the unofficial border of white folks and black folks and went to town. You'd be surprised how many good ole boys turned into big ole babies when a bunch of Black men kicked in their front door," he paused to laugh recalling one who stood there frozen peeing all over himself in fear.

"We did this bright and early in the morning, mind you. It spread like wildfire through the town that the niggers were coming and they had guns! We got to a couple of houses where the deed was already done by the guilty man's hand. One boy my age back then, pleaded with us to spare him, he was the only thing his mammy had. Your Daddy's eyes, it was like they glowed like cold ice water; looked at him and shot him right 'tween his eyes. We was only the back up. The fellas told your Daddy who did what and he was the executioner. No judge, no jury, only the sentence – just like they did your family.

"We finally got to the rat, the one who told them South Carolina boys to come on up and straighten us uppity niggers out – wouldn't believe it was Police Lieutenant Jeffrey Charles! That spooked a lot of men who was with us so your Daddy let them go on their way and I stayed with him.

"You remember I was real strong, Zeera? I kicked in his door and there he was about to have breakfast with his family. They was just sitting there like a picture or something and I could see your Daddy getting more mad as he looked at 'em. You know why, Zeera?"

"He would sit us down and we all ate our meals together," she said reminiscing.

"I could see he couldn't take it no mo' so I says, 'not the children, Francis. Or the wife, we aren't them. Don't do it like them.' That dirty rat police shot me while I was trying to save his family and then I heard 'chuhk-chuhk' of a shotgun. It was farewell to Police Lieutenant Jeffrey Charles. He was an awful man in life. You know, his family didn't even flinch one time? They ain't say a word. Only his wife asked that we not kill her children if we aimed to send her on her way. We left there, children and wife in tact.

"Course you know they wanted to know what bunch of niggers had the nerve to come in the broad open daylight and kill a heap of crackers? Nobody talked, not even the white folks and the police was afraid to stay in our part of town too long, which really threw the monkey wrench in it!

"Those Negroes down in Dangleberry was taking care of business, grabbed them three Klan folk that started up the fire. They sent word to your Daddy – see if he wanted a crack at 'em. If he only woulda said 'no' he could have lived out his days in some kind of peace. I knew, though, he would never have peace again. Turns out one of the boys he took care of while he was down in South Carolina was a Federal boy undercover.

"Them Feds didn't care that their boy took a little too much pleasure in setting a woman and her three children on fire, they just wanted 'justice' for the death of a Federal Officer. They didn't coerce, beat, threaten or kill; they rode right on in the Black side of town and offered $15,000 to anyone with information leading to the arrest and conviction of the killer. Here's comes the shame of it.

"We all in the same boat. None of us were rich people but we worked hard and we got to live a little, you know this, Zeera. The family with the most amount of money out of everybody in town told them Feds everything! The Negro Gun Club and all the members, the KKK running through here, the burning of your family, everything! They ain't even get the reward (serves them right) because those Feds took your Daddy out of my house to those woods that you loved so much and shot him. Made me watch the whole thing; a firing squad. Only reason why they locked me in that sanatorium is because I wouldn't go along with their story – your Daddy resisted arrest so they had to kill him. Because he 'resisted' arrest and was killed they couldn't convict him, no reward. The snitchin' family was run out of town a week later.

"It was no matter because I heard they shut down the gun club and eventually the Klan started rolling through there again. But there wasn't ever no lynching and they didn't have their meetings in those woods no mo'! So that's it Zeera and I'm so sorry."

Azyra walked toward the Balloon Man and hugged him around his neck, then kissed the subway dust off his cheek.

"Thank you Antoine, for all you did do."

Tears were coming back but he wiped them away.

"You can stay here for the day if you want. 'Til I come back – I'd like you to stay 'til I come back... Won't nobody bother you. We feed the rats further down the tunnel; they tend to stay put down there and you can stay in my home."

"Go make your balloons, Honey. I'll be back when you get here."

Antoine pushed his cart toward the tunnel that would lead him to the bright day outside while Azyra settled in the darkness and artificial light of the cavern and its inhabitants. She crawled in the Balloon Man's spacious box and lay on his lumpy sleeping bag. She looked up at the cardboard ceiling and began to do something she hadn't done in over 50 years.

Azyra cried.
CHAPTER SEVEN

Ramel looked at Gary like a man on fire. This idiot stood on the hood of his car leaving a dent that made Ramel wish he'd had a stake or a silver ray of sunlight in the passenger seat. He got out of his car and looked around for others Gary may have brought with him, hiding in the shadows.

Yearlings are so reckless, risking earlier times to come out of their resting places; not all of them have Royal Blood and he wished this particular vampire would make that fatal mistake.

"You're messing with my floss, Gary. Get the fuck off my ride!"

Gary could feel Ramel's blood rushing through his veins. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady climbing beat of his pulse. Gary would have this nitwit of a man if he hadn't feared the wrath of the older vampire who protected him. Frederick. They were always plotting or going over some secret plan he had no knowledge of. I guess it wouldn't be a secret if I knew what they were up to, he reasoned.

Gary wanted to provoke Ramel the way he used to provoke all of the so-called tough guys he'd kick the crap out of when he was a human. He saw people like Ramel and didn't like them; rock star types, hip-hop guys that walked around like they owned the whole world. Who gave them the right to look down on him? Frederick was the only reason why Ramel wasn't dead or better yet, Gary's pet. Perhaps he would speak to Frederick about turning Ramel then he'd show him who the real boss was. Gary felt himself getting stronger with each day that passed since the day one of Ramel's stooges turned him.

"And you see what I did to him, didn't you?" he muttered. "That's why I'm on the run, that's why those two hot chicks are looking for me!"

For Gary to have destroyed his maker, a strong enough vampire in is own right, only gave fuel to his insight that if he needed, he could kill Frederick too and he'd be the leader of the Coven of One. No more protection for Ramel.

Gary hopped off of the hood of Ramel's car revealing the two distinct boot prints he'd left behind.

"Are you crazy? You know how much that shit's gonna cost to fix? What is your damn problem, Gary? You don't want to be down with this? You don't want to be down? Cause I can arrange that shit."

He moved toward Ramel listening to the sound of his pulse – humming in rhythm with it as he let the primal vampire urges wash across his body.

Ramel saw Gary approach him in a trance and didn't like it. Where were those vampire chicks when you needed them? He was becoming exhausted with Gary's antics and couldn't afford to have him around messing things up. The day after he was consecrated he was going to make sure he took care of Gary and all loose ends he had with his "coven".

He'd done it, his neck was out there on the line and he'd come through with flying colors. Ramel had been placing a lot of thought in the role that Frederick was going to play in his future. He'd gotten everything he'd needed from him and being a Conductor, in such a prestigious Coven, would provide him with all the wealth he could ever imagine. He mulled it over and let the soft voices that told him to cut his losses, surface louder. Frederick wanted to destroy everything and he'd be back to plain old Ramel Jackson, scared of the dark Ramel Jackson – broke as a joke Ramel Jackson and for what, some chick from a century ago? Ramel wanted Frederick to let all of this past pain fly away and enjoy all the money he had right-here-and-now!

He could start by forming a brand new coven with a much better class of people he would screen before he let them in.

"Yo, Son, you're getting too close to me. Arm's length, muthafucka!" he said when Gary wouldn't stop walking.

"Sometimes when you talk, Ramel, it's like I can't hear what you say. Just a small cockroach trapped in a pussy's body, waiting to be stomped."

"Cockroach?" he asked enraged, "I'm the damn Conductor, muthafucka! I'll – "

"See, like that; like what you said just now, the 'Conductor'. I have no idea what that means but you keep throwing it around like I should. Truth is, I really don't give a fuck."

Gary was standing inches from Ramel and, without sensing his anger, Ramel shoved him to the ground. He walked to the front of his car where Gary lay in shock and stood over him frothing.

"I'm going to tell you this one time. The Conductor means that you and every other vampire on this planet is going to be lining up on y'all knees begging to buff the hair off my balls. That means that I'm the head honcho even over your boy, Freddy, got that? It means if you ever disrespect me by thinking I'm just some regular human nigga off the street, I will personally drag your coffin or box or whatever the fuck you nap in, to a desert at high noon. Then I'll scoop up your ashes and let my boys get the best weed they can find and smoke your big goofy white boy ass down to the roach, ROACH!"

"Heh, heh, no hard feelings, Boss. You know it's the new vampire jitters, everybody gets them."

"Yeah, that's what the fuck I thought. Get over that shit and while you're at it, you're going to make it your personal responsibility to find me a body man to fix what you did to my car, white boy."

"Oh, right away, Boss."

"Whatever, nigga, I have to drive a fucked up car to an important event later and I'm not the least bit happy. These boot marks better come off. Get gone, man."

Ramel turned to enter his car while Gary watched him, smiling comically, fangs on full display.

"There's definitely three or four 24hour car washes around here, Boss, you're bound to find one," he said leaning toward Ramel's car window. He flipped Gary the bird and sped off.

Gary stood where the dust settled from Ramel's hasty retreat.

"You are going to fuck up and I'll be waiting for you, Boss."

*

For the first time in many centuries Leigh questioned the kind of vampire hunter she was.

Since she'd come to America she rested in the Tangled Woods, only it wasn't officially named or tamed until 1948. Before that, because of the wild way this little patch of trees grew, it had always been a favorite place of Wiccans, Satanists, and occultists and the witches of Vampire Covens. How hadn't she known that she slept so close to the Sisters Of Ayalu's Blood, a vampire Hive? Leigh was the ancient killer with L'Ordine della Vendetta di Sangue and she had witches right under her nose for years – not a very observant move. Is that why Azyra stayed away this morning and why she hasn't seen her yet? Leigh was worried that she may have gotten caught in the sunrise, although she didn't feel Azyra was dead.

Earlier, Leigh listened to the sounds of her woods; that security guard was there. There were other "real" police officers pounding around the place, probably making a mess of things, she heard the slight whisper yellow police tape makes when taken off the roll. A witch was killed here, in her woods – their woods, and Bill knows who did it but he's holding something back. She listened (keener ears couldn't be found) and heard the changes in Bill's heart rate. The officer on the scene questioning Bill didn't like him. Leigh wished she could send him a telepathic message about police snobbery. Most Long Island police weren't too fond of Borough boys; neither of the two groups liked the State police that much, and nobody cared for security guards. Bill outlined what he saw and stuck to his story. Leigh could hear it in the officer's voice that he wasn't buying it. Leigh was going to speak with Bill when it was safe for her to do so – she needed to know the details of the pieces he wouldn't say. There was also a greater question at hand: what did he know about Azyra?

Azyra was aloof since the night the witch-killing vampire slipped away from them – the night they first met Bill. He wasn't old enough to know her but he said he did. Before the witch was killed, Azyra told her that he and the witch conversed. Had the witch said something to Bill about Azyra?

Leigh saw question marks all around her and rested for a very busy evening. If Azyra hadn't returned she was going to find her but first, she was going to speak with Bill.

Bill was dragging his worn out body and mind to his daughter's apartment for a break from all things police related. He'd given the officers as much of the truth as he could but –

How many Nassau County Cops does it take to screw in a light bulb?

– he was going to be in Nassau County a lot longer than he wanted to be.

Nine. Four guys to figure it out and five to write up the paperwork!

He chuckled making a b-line straight for Jenna's couch; at least he still had his humor.

Let them do their own work! There was a murder with unusual circumstances and Bill could tell by the look on the faces of some of the officers that they'd seen a killing like this before. He overheard one dismiss it as one of those "Devil sacrifice" murders that had been taking place all over Long Island several years ago.

Bill knew he was Prime Suspect Number One. From snatches of conversation Bill could hear things like, "pretty convenient he was here..." and "...long way from home" and "what does he think we are a bunch of bumpkins?" to which Bill (without knowing he did) nodded his head.

They stalled and delayed Bill to the best of their abilities but there was nothing they could charge him with so, frustrated, they had a Park Ranger write him a ticket for being in Tangled Woods after dusk. Bill wanted to shove the ticket up somewhere dusk hadn't settled on the Ranger but they were trying to do a job. He couldn't use the book boutique as an excuse because it wasn't open. This was a gruesome murder they'd probably never solve – not by any conventional methods. They were familiar with the horror of a death like this and Bill was the only solid thing they had to go on but they could see him slipping away. So ticket it was and Bill headed out as quickly as he could.

Jenna entered her apartment not surprised to see her father sleeping on the couch. It was a habit that she told him she was becoming tired of. She wouldn't admit it but she liked finding her father there. While Bill was a cop they lead separate lives, speaking to each other on what Bill liked to call the "Sunday Sit Downs". Only the "Sit Downs" were talk-to-you-on-the-cell-phones and they rarely happened on a consistent basis or on Sunday. There was always something with a case. It didn't deter Jenna's love for her him but she'd placed it in a box on a shelf which she resigned she'd come back to if need be. In the end, they stopped communicating all together.

Until the shooting...

While Aisha saw it as another injustice perpetrated on Blacks in the big city, Jenna saw it as a sign from the Great Mother that she get reacquainted with her father – they were losing each other. When she suggested Bill be the new Record Keeper she couldn't believe those words had come from her own mouth. Bill didn't know that much about his daughter's inclination toward the "occult" and he knew nothing about her associations. He like most people didn't believe vampires really existed. How times had changed.

As she watched him snoring like a champion, she wondered what brought him there this time. Explanation of a crazy spell or Aisha barking at him? Perhaps he found something to log on the Record about the incredible doubts she had about Ramel Jackson. She winced when she thought of his name and how she almost voted him into their Coven.

How could I have been so stupid?

Anxious, she walked around to the front of the couch to wake her father then decided against it. When he snored as loud as he was, she knew he was exhausted – that much she retained about him during her childhood years.

"When your old man is snoring like a bear, Heeks," he used to call her, saying she had a handful of cheeks when she was a baby, "you know that I need to get my rest because I'm beat. But soon as I wake up I've got an appointment with my Heeky Heeks." And he never missed his appointments, that is, until he got promoted and Mom got Mr. Haskill. Bill got divorced and no more "Heeky Heeks".

Jenna would let him sleep until it was time. Like it or not he had to be up and ready for the Consecration, the darkest day Jenna thought she'd ever see in her Coven's history. Unless Bill had some good news for his "Heeky Heeks".

*

Azyra stood beside the Balloon Man while he rang the buzzer for the office. Someone was in burning the midnight oil.

"Look, the buildings hours are posted on the door and I'm not letting anybody in that doesn't belong here," said the voice from the intercom.

"Uh, Mr. Jacobs? It's me, Balloon Man."

"Holy crap! Why didn't you say something come on up."

"Mm hm," Azyra said narrowing her already suspicious eyes, "he can smell that money."

"Oh let's go on in here, Zeera. He's a young boy we don't need no trouble. He's just a young boy."

They stepped off the elevator onto the smooth hardwood floor. Ahead of them, through the glass wall, they could see Victor Jacobs rushing toward them. She had expected to speak with Curtis but a careful scan of Victor's mind revealed that he was Curtis or any number of aliases he could think of to stay out of the spotlight.

He opened the frosted glass door (which Azyra thought defeated the purpose since he could be seen through the clear glass wall) that had the name of his company emblazoned in dark gothic style calligraphy.

He made a flourishing bow and said, "Welcome to the humble offices of The Light of Enoch Media, Inc. Hey, Tony, you brought company and she's hot! Please come in, both of you, come on in."

"Thank you," Azyra said.

He pressed a sequence of numbers in a keypad against the wall and the clear glass wall turned an opaque grey. Azyra gasped in spite of herself and Mr. Victor Jacobs smiled with satisfaction.

"Mine is the only office that can do that, you know. We are 21st century here and we mean it."

"Something like that must be expensive, Honey."

"Yeah, we do all right for ourselves here. I know people who know people so things can get done at discounted prices sometimes."

"What exactly do you do here, Mr. Victor?"

"Allow me to give you the tour," he said offering his arm, "unless you want Tony to do it? He's been here a couple of times, haven't ya, Big Guy?"

"Here and there when I need to get away sometimes, Mr. Jacobs."

Azyra was frustrated. She closed her eyes and pictured the peaceful pond in her resting place with Leigh. She imagined a beautiful sunny day and the ducks that she heard but would not dare venture to see. She often imagined swans that swam too. Listening to nature was always a practice that relaxed her. But there was no nature here in the cold glass box.

There was only a disrespectful young prick who called an 86 year old man "Big Guy" as if he were one of his children, in an office of expensive technology, streamlined computers and gadgets, all afforded him by the tragic story of a man who saw something he never should have – ever in his lifetime.

A few less rats ran the tracks of Mayor Balloon Man's community because Azyra hunted before her visit to Victor's office. She felt it best to take precautionary measures for her thirst. Her usual dining on live goats or much bigger four legged animals was done with Leigh but she hadn't rested at "home" since meeting the Balloon Man.

Rats are a poor substitute.

As Azyra became angrier with the arrogant boy, she could hear his pulse pounding, the flow of his bloodstream racing throughout the landscape of his body. Azyra fought so her thirst and the urges to rip out Victor's throat wouldn't overcome her.

As if a small prayer had been answered, she heard the distinctive drip of the saving elixir, absinthe. Azyra couldn't understand what magical powers this concoction of water, wormwood, and sugar held over her kind but Leigh swore by its use to take some of the edge off The Thirst. She'd even heard rumors of older vampires using it to heighten sexual trysts or, the taste of the nectar it could never replace, human blood.

"Do you mind if I have a drink?" she asked pointing to the absinthe fountain.

"Oh sure, sure," he gestured, "be my guest."

Victor spoke to Tony in a hushed tone that, unbeknownst to him, Azyra could hear well.

"Tony, you never told me you had such a cute Granddaughter. I thought you said you never got married?"

"That's true, Mr. Jacobs, I never did."

"Ah. So what happened, illegitimate kid shows up and plops a Grandkid in your lap? Look, it's your life I'm not here to judge."

"She's... Mr. Jacobs, she ain't my Gran' either."

Victor stole a glance over his shoulder at Azyra and looked back at the Balloon Man, eyes growing large as saucers.

"Ooh ho! You player-player! How did you score a hot chick like her? You need to tell me your secret, Big Guy."

Azyra had enough of the chitchat. Each word Victor uttered sent a fresh wave of anger through her, which in turn sent off triggers in her brain that put her in hunter's mode. The absinthe wasn't helping.

"Victor, how old are you?" she asked.

"I'm 25. I'm my own man as you can see, my business. I don't have to punch the proverbial clock like the rest of these schmucks around here too afraid to follow their dreams. Why do you ask?"

"I ask, Honey, because I want to know why an 86 year old man calls you 'Mr.' and you call him 'Big Guy'?"

"Oh, it's not a diss if that's what you mean. He's the 'Big Guy', 'Da Man', he's the 'Balloon Man' – everybody knows him."

"But not enough for you to be worried about him suing you over stealing his life, Honey?"

"Zeera..."

Victor felt he'd been ambushed and his welcoming demeanor changed.

"Hey, what is this? Balloon Man, you brought a lawyer to my place? I thought we were cool? You guys are going to have to – business hours..."

Victor froze looking in Azyra face, her eyes... They were glowing; the spidery red veins that became redder as her brow furrowed entranced him, looking at him. She's pissed at me!

"Oh crap! I invited you in."

"That you did, Honey."

"I know who you are, Azyra Francis!"

She slowed a little in her procession toward Victor; she hadn't heard her full name called in many years.

"That's what I mean right there, no respect for your elders."

"M-M-Miss Francis! Ma'am! I can help you."

"Help me what?" Azyra said as she unsheathed sword.

"You've got a sword? Wow, even your sword is hot! Please hear me out! Please! At least before you kill me with – how old is that thing? Did your maker give it to you?"

"You've got five seconds, Honey."

"Do you still see your maker?"

"You've got no seconds."

Victor never saw her move and she was standing right beside him sword drawn. If she killed him no one would ever know because, in his haste to hear more of the "Balloon Man's" phenomenal (and very profitable) story, he didn't power up what he jokingly referred to as the Vamp Cam.

Procrastination will get you killed he was always told by his jet-setting uncle and how ironic a thought. A simple action that took no more than two seconds to do, flip the switch to a camera that would see the unseen, reading and recording heat signatures, given to him by an uncle who never believed in any of the ghosts, goblins, and other assorted things that go bump in the night. But Victor's uncle did believe in his enterprising ethic and the very real threat of people who would come out of the woodwork trying to take a piece of what they had no part in creating.

Victor heard the Balloon Man telling his more kid friendly stories to children and their parents as he twisted the balloons into colorful animals and wonderful hats. Victor needed to hear more from this man and invited him to his office.

It was he who gave the Balloon Man his first safe, sans dumpster meal, and shower, much to the irritation of the other businesses on his floor.

And it was you who stole his life and put it in a comic book that you make money from while he remains an old homeless nigger!

He could hear her anger echoing through his head but that word, the "n word" sent back a little anger of his own.

"If you're going to kill me then I'd like to die now. But do not insult me!"

"Zeera, girl, he's just a boy growing up. We don't need the trouble."

"Antoine, he's a thief. And got the nerve to be insulted by something I'm doing?"

"'Antoine'? I didn't even know your name was – that's where the Tony comes from I guess?"

"Look at that. Didn't even know your name!"

"Because everybody calls him 'Tony the Balloon Man'. He told me to call him that!"

"Zeera, I'm happy and it ain't no big deal. You gone make yourself so mad to where you hurt this boy, then you gone feel so bad afterwards. He ain't bad, I'm trying to tell ya."

"I can promise you, Antoine, if I hurt him I'll sleep real good afterwards. What happened to the man that fought against people like him; side-by-side with my Daddy, didn't you tell me that?"

"Yes I did, Zeera. But times and things have changed a whole lot."

"Doesn't look like much has changed from where I'm standing," she replied.

"People like hi- I hope you're not comparing me to – when you were snooping around in my brain, did you notice that my 'uncle' is an African-American? Huh? Surprised?"

"Boy, are you really gone sit here and give me the, 'some-of-my-best-friends-are-Black' routine?"

"My Grandmother took care of him like he was her own son when his mother had to work like a dog. And the neighbors didn't like it but my Grandma told them where they could all go. This was right here in New York City, Miss Know-It-All. OK, I could do a lot better for the Balloo- Mister... I don't know your last name either, Big G- Antoine."

"Whitscombe," Azyra said, "from a very solid and prominent family of Whitscombes too."

"All right. Mr. Whitscombe, I'll make a contract for us. I'll make sure you get a fair cut of the money that my website and graphic novels – comic books, I mean the nerve some people have these days."

"It's a book with pictures in it, looks like a comic book to me, Honey."

"Well it's not a comic book. It's a graphic novel series. I'll have my lawyer draw up some fair, very lucrative contracts. I'm sorry I took advantage of you Mr. Whitcombe, you're my pal and I shouldn't have – but you acted like you didn't want the money. It's no excuse, I know...

"But with the real deal right here, we could make more money now and I can help you too, Azyr- Miss Francis."

"The only help you can give me is not struggle while I drain you dry, Honey."

"Okaay," Victor said as his mouth turned to sandpaper, "Or, and this is just a thought, I could help you and your Coven."

"Don't have a Coven."

"This is not turning out to be a good night for me. You're the first rogue vampire I've ever met. Honestly, you're first real vampire I've met so... And you're scary, yep, there's no doubt about that. Most of you vamps have some kind of pod or something you belong to, at least that's what I thought.

"Anyway, I created a website where my fans – our, our fans could enjoy the books I put out about Mr. Whitscombe's life and encounter with you. They love you guys! Of course, I embellished a little but it brings the freaks out. You should read the blog comments, there are people claiming to be vampires, like really old ones.

"Look, was I certain vampires exist? No. But people can't get enough and I give the people what they want. They think I'm the great Enoch, a wise ancient vamp and I make a little money. Who am I to judge?

"Like, there's this one guy who says he's part of a new Coven called, get this, "the Coven of One" and they're a powerful group. I personally think he's some punk who wants attention, you know, an Internet gangster but this guy, he gets the people riled."

"How? Does he call comic books graphic novels?"

"Just because you're hot with a hot sword doesn't mean you have to be rude. That's just plain bad manners, OK Miss Francis? Besides the freak is claiming that he kills vampires which can't be-."

"What did you say?" Azyra's interest was piqued.

"I said... Holy... You're not saying this guy is real are you? There's an actual coven of vampires that are killing other vampires? That's not allowed, is it?"

"It is if it's sanctioned by L'Ordine della Vendetta di Sangue," she said as she place her sword on the conference table they'd been standing near. The sword and the ornate inscription he saw in it dazzled Victor: Oro Cruorem.

"What does it mean?" he asked.

"It means if we see you, Honey, you done wrong and you gone pay."

"This is so fantastic! I have to write this! I can get a contract for you too. I don't know what vampires do with money but I could care less – I don't judge! This is going to make my site and my novels the best! A hot chick that kicks ass! OMG, Balloo- Mr. Whitscombe you are just the gift that keeps on giving!"

"Only you can't have it this time."

"What? It's golden! What do you mean?"

"You would put me, my partner, and any more of my Brothers and Sisters in the fight, in a whole lot of danger. Not to mention, you'd be a li'l bit deader than you are right now," Azyra stated.

"Oh, suddenly you care about me, huh?"

"Well, Balloon Man seems to think you're all right, Honey. Besides, you said you can help me and I'm gone let you try."

Victor saw his luck was turning and was relieved. He still planned on creating brand new stories starring Azyra and he was confident she'd give her OK in the end. She wanted, dare he think it, needed his help if she stayed so long in his office fighting her primordial urge to kill him. Victor saw the struggle she had as her irises burned with intensity then faded to a subtle glow. He was a dead man talking if he didn't pitch it soft and smooth, right down the middle.

"Say what's on your mind," said Azyra.

"I dabble in Manga too, kind of popular. So let's say I do your story. I make you a Japanese girl from somewhere in Japan."

"Obviously."

"You're still a vampire. You give me the exclusive to all your exploits. I change the names; fudge around with some of the places, give you a lovely plasma gun instead of a sword and we all make some decent cash. Plus we put an awesome story out there, destroying my competition in the process. What do you say?"

"I say you give me the IP address and let me think on it."

Victor was surprised, a vampire of the 21st century indeed. Technology, as he argued so many times with some of the colleagues on his floor, touches everyone. He wished some of them were here to see this.

"Didn't think I knew much about that, did you?"

"I'll be honest and say 'no'. But how about I do you one better?"

"There is no one better, Honey."

Victor smiled. "How bout you say 'yes' to everything, I make sure Mr. Whitscombe gets a nice pizza, maybe a little pasta dinner, along with his buddies down in the bowels and then I write on a piece of paper the address you can find this guy?"

"Sounds like what I just said."

"The home address," Victor said sliding a piece of paper toward Azyra as he made a motion with the pen in his hand.

Azyra winked at Victor.

"Looks like I'm going to be a real cute Japanese girl, Mr. Jacobs."

A swoosh and a fine mist as the only proof she stood so close, Azyra and her sword, were gone.

*

Bill wished he were gone. At least anyplace but where he was now, in excruciating pain.

He told Jenna his plan when she woke him up to get ready for the night's event. He had a hard time of it but he'd convinced Kaya that all would turn out well and she met him at Jenna's so he could explain his optimism.

Jenna started off without them, meeting Aisha at the delivery door of the bank.

"My Dad has something to nail that guy to the table, Sister. But he's bringing Kaya," Jenna warned.

"What? Is he trying to die! She's not supposed to be here anymore, Jenna. He knows the rules!"

"Kaya is coming with, Aisha, so you'd better get ready."

"No he better get ready! He's putting his life on the line and my Baby's too."

"I've seen what he has. A Sister wrote it in witch hand – it's not good."

"Well he better be bringing her with him too because Hotep and the Elders are going to be furious."

"He can't. She's dead."

Another witch was dead and Ramel may be connected to her murder. Aisha was furious but managed to control herself nonetheless.

"How long before he gets here with Kaya."

"Like, maybe 10 minutes."

"We need to buy them some time so we can get this piece of shit out of our Coven for good."

"I'm right with you, Sister."

Ramel sat in the seat he occupied only two nights earlier with a smug look on his face. He'd won big. He was even happier that those dykes would have to grin and bear it. The two large books that Frederick gave him to present rested on his lap while he tried his best not to tap his hands folded on the cover. Bill's decision to come late to his big night annoyed him. He was delaying Ramel's his grand entrance in a club that some of the most exclusive country club members couldn't get invites to.

He didn't dare look at the content of the large books resting on his lap, Frederick warned him against it. Frederick told him they would know if he even glanced over the first page and Ramel believed him. That is why he kept the ace in the hole, the book he did recognize and read, Frederick's journal, in his car. He would wait a week before he presented it to the Coven and they would decide what to do with Frederick, right after Ramel led them to his location. There could be collateral damage done to Hotep, who he was certain was the adversary Frederick wrote about in his journal. Which lead him to another important thing, Hotep was under the impression that Frederick is dead. Ramel held all the trump cards.

He looked at his watch waiting for Bill to arrive. He finally did – 15 minutes late with Kaya by his side.

She's not supposed to be here but Bill brought her sullying his moment. She looked like some kind of "cool" bouncer. Ramel didn't care because he wanted her to see him welcomed to the fold.

Hotep would have none of it. He rushed toward Bill, grabbed him forcing him to cry out and flung him across the floor. He slid until he stopped at Ramel's feet. Ramel looked down at him pleased beyond words.

"You, the Record Keeper, come here late! On this most auspicious of occasions, during these times you come with an outsider! There are courtesies and you break every one of them without regard!"

Lying at Ramel's feet with the witches watching, his daughter Jenna mortified, Bill wished he'd told Kaya to count to 20 before walking in the ceremony. His hunch on Hotep's disdain for white people was way off – it was greater than he though, and his lungs were paying for it. Hotep knocked the wind out of him and his huge foot was now in the center of Bill's chest.

"You're making a mistake," Bill strained to say. "Major, major mistake."

"Why shouldn't I crush you like a bug?"

"My Lord," Aisha stepped forward, "it would be an inconvenient and callous thing to destroy our Record Keeper with no replacement. And it sends a bad message to our Sisters for you to kill the father of one of us without even hearing what he has to say."

"Please, My Lord." Jenna said looking worried for Bill; his plan wasn't shaping up the way he'd told her at her apartment.

Ramel spoke up.

"Look, I'll personally look for a new Record Keeper. I forgive him. OK?" he said peering down at Bill. "I forgive you for messing up a Brotha's shine because I'm in a great mood and I know you and your friends have jealousy issues. But you need to get your ass up and be up out of here, my man. And you can't come back." He looked at Aisha then he turned toward Kaya.

"Take your homeboy with you on the way out," he said throwing another barb at Kaya.

"The letter," Bill gasped, "Kaya, give him the letter!"

Kaya walked to Hotep and extended her hand. Aisha was alert, ready to pounce if necessary given Hotep's recent outbursts. He took the letter and studied it. There was a name in the letter that startled him; his eye had the slightest twitch and didn't go unnoticed by Bill, still wedged beneath his foot.

"My Lord," Jenna said, "I verified the authenticity of that letter. It has a witch's mark. Please – "

Hotep removed his foot and stood Bill up on his feet in one fluid motion. His face was dark when he looked at Ramel. Something was wrong on that piece of paper. He didn't like the way Hotep was looking at him and cursed for not thinking those bitches would try a slick maneuver even at the last moment, even when Ramel held all the cards.

"Who sent you?" Hotep asked. His voice was a deep, calm even tone; it sent chills through everyone in the hall.

"I asked you a question, Ramel Jackson. Who sent you?"

"What? Man... Can't you see this is crazy? They don't want a Brotha to shine at all, man, you know. You got the lezzies in cahoots with a pig and his daughter right here. Heh heh! When y'all put me in place, I'm gonna do some cleaning up around here."

Hotep kicked the chair out from underneath Ramel and stood towering over him. The books he had sitting in his lap were flung near the foot of Aisha. Hotep's eyes were fiery red, piercing through Ramel's gaze making him weaker and weaker with each prolonged stare. What kind of trickery had been contained in that letter? He would have to bluff his way to the contents of that letter.

"I'll ask you no more after this, who sent you?"

"Hotep, Brotha! You're going to just stand by and let this railroad happen? Look, if it'll ease your mind then I'll wait 'til tomorrow, just for you. I'll bring my cousin around and she can vouch for me one more time. When she does I want him out and his daughter out and her best buddy over there out too! My patience is done with y'all."

"Your cousin's not vouching for anything, pal," Bill said.

"Whatever, pig. She's family, my family. I suggest you tend to your own."

"She's dead."

"What? See? See what I mean, Brotha? They will do and say anything to keep a man down!"

"Ramel, I'm not too fond of you but your cousin seemed like an honorable young lady. I'm telling you, your cousin is dead. Saw your vampire-killing friend hovering over her body with my own peepers, pal! I took a shot at him, ask to see the mark if it's still there."

"You bring this treachery to the doorstep of Hikpodu with a smile on your face as if you are a friend?" Hotep grabbed Ramel.

"Husband! Your thoughts are dangerous and uncontrolled. You wish to kill him without hearing what he says?"

"Thank you, Sankofa! Talk to your man, talk to everybody! They're saying my cousin is dead and I'm being accused left and right! Those books over there," he said pointing in Aisha's direction, "they're from her Coven. She's down with the House of Ayalu! I don't even know what's in the letter you showing everybody but me. I don't get to see it? Supposedly my cousin wrote it... What are you trying to pull, man, for real?"

"Let me ask a question," Kaya said.

"I thought there was supposed to be rules in this? Wussup with the tradition?" Ramel said.

"How do you know her name?" Kaya asked pointing at Sankofa.

"What are you talking about now?"

"How do you know her name? Last time we were here nobody said their names because we wasn't down with them. But now we come back and you all 'Sankofa'. Is that your name?" she asked Sankofa.

"Yes." Sankofa looked at Ramel with the same seriousness he'd seen on Hotep's face moments before.

"Unless some quick intros were made before me and Archie Bunk showed up, I'd like to know how you know the name of dude's wife?"

"Could've been in one of those books. Hold' up! Why are you even talking, Kaya? You and your bitch trying to mess with my thing."

"Your thing? Twelve to nothing says it's mine. And you want to speak about my girl and tradition, let's do that.

"I thought she was down with a bunch of vampire freaks who watched movies, read books, and drank red Kool-Aid, maybe some red wine. I didn't know real vamps existed 'til like, two days ago. You telling me you was so special to your Cuz she broke tradition to show you the vamps she was down with? Because I was a little bit scared the first time I saw 'em – but not you, huh?"

Ramel was defeated. He didn't fear the vampires because he'd seen plenty of them in his Coven of One. He knew Sankofa's name because he'd heard the stories, he read about the heartbreak; it was the very reason his cousin and her Sisters (was she really dead?) left their Coven – Frederick Duval. Could he throw himself at the mercy of Hotep and the others? If he did he would appear a coward, never becoming the Conductor for this House. He could sense it slipping away from him and his last chance might be to bring Hotep with him. The rest of the vampires in the Coven, the witches, what would they all do if they learned their beloved Hotep was the root cause of all of the destruction and havoc they'd been experiencing over the last couple of months?

It was the last error Ramel would make in the House of Hikpodu, he thought "too loud" and Hotep, who'd been listening, heard him before any of the others did.

Ramel saw glowing red orbs appear from the darkened shadows of the room, surround him in a circle. Other vampires of the House had come to be a part of his Consecration; they only watched his great disgrace.

"Husband," Sankofa said, "you will banish this person from our midst.

"Ramel Jackson, you are never to return here to the House of Hikpodu or any vampire line that speaks Royal Blood. You are an enemy and it shall be listed in the Book of Records, through Royal Blood as the second entry of our Conductor, beneath her name."

Hotep grabbed Ramel, balled in a pitiful slump on the floor and flew upstairs to the outside. The night was warm. A summer breeze blew between the buildings giving those that hustled at night, a cool break. It was no pardon to Ramel for in his mind, the future became darker with each fleeting step Hotep took away from the House of Hikpodu. Hotep flung him in the alley, not caring where Ramel landed or if he was hurt during the fall.

"It's not right!" he cried. "You know I should be your Conductor! You shouldn't have let that bitch speak, she didn't have the right to, she's an outsider. The other witches are going to see it. You'll all see and you're going to have problems... You're gonna beg for me to come back and I won't until I personally see you throw those bulldykes out the way you did me!"

"Go home, Ramel," Hotep said, disdain all over his face, "be happy my wife gives sage counsel with the Elders and you were shown mercy tonight. You would be dead right now had it been up to me."

"Up to you, my nigga? It should have been up to you!" Tears were streaming down Ramel's face while he shouted through gasping breaths. He'd lost control of his nose, lost control of everything, and clear mucus ran over his lips causing every word he spat at Hotep to be the frothy, mucus filled retorts of a madman.

"You should have come through for a Brotha. Bitches run your shit? This is a bitch made Coven?" he said through clenched teeth.

"You had no problem with 'bitches' while you were trying to get in it," Hotep replied.

"Check this out though," Ramel continued, "how did I know your wife's name, huh? I think I should answer Kaya's question – right, 'Hep'?"

Hotep was older, stronger, and faster than many of the yearlings Leigh and Azyra cut down in their recent excursions. Ramel never saw him leave where he was standing, he barely felt him lift him from the ground. He did feel the vice-like grip that was tightening around his neck and cutting off his flow of air.

"I'm supposed to escort you out of here alive, so you're alive, Brotha. But you better not ever come around here anymore." Hotep squeezed a little more and said, "Tell your Master if I see you or him, I'll kill you both." Ramel passed out.

He woke up to the busy morning crush of the city in the back seat of his car. There was a Mexican man peering in his darkened tinted windows, tapping away to get his attention.

Ramel sat up, smiling. It was a dream! He hoped he hadn't overslept and missed his Consecration or maybe, it was tonight and he was unaware. Everything about his week was a blur.

He got out the car to address the man (still tapping away on his window) and found he couldn't speak. His throat hurt and the pain in his neck woke him up to the reality of the matter – he wasn't dreaming.

"I'm trying to give you a break, man. Move your car you can't park here. You got five seconds." Five seconds (which sounded like "fie" when the tow truck driver said it) was nothing compared to the eternity of misery he knew he was destined to have. Ramel Jackson was not the Conductor. What was he supposed to do now? Frederick would expect a thorough account of what happened. When Ramel reported that he failed, the high life would be gone. No private club entrée, no car upgrade, how was he supposed to move to the Hamptons now?

What was worse, a prospect he never thought would happen once he started out on this venture, he would have to move back home. He could tolerate the feeble passive-aggressive antics of his mother but his father was a different animal. Ramel thought himself a man now and his father would have to respect him as one. He knew it was wishful thinking because his father would continue to treat him like the scared little boy he used to punish by locking him a dark closet, where all the monsters were.

"Until I became a monster myself, Pop," he mused.

Moving back home was not an option for him and he had no back up, Tarah was gone.

"Did Frederick really kill Cuzzie?"

It was over.

Ramel hopped in his car and noticed a crumpled piece of paper on the driver's seat. It was familiar, the damning sheet that Kaya handed to Hotep with the handwriting of his murdered cousin. He started his car and waved to the tow truck driver before he took off.

"Y'all wanna play? OK damnit, let's play."

A new light sparkled in his eye. Ramel Jackson had work to do.
CHAPTER EIGHT

Frederick is alive.

He viewed the distressing news as his fault and no other. The sinister plot Ramel brought to the doorstep of his noble House made him claim just as much responsibility as the man who he'd slung over his shoulder, while he danced among the shadows in search of where Ramel parked his car.

Hotep should have gone to the Duval plantation himself and checked for survivors instead of relying on hearsay. Now he had to deal with the problems that Frederick posed to the survival of his wife and others he cared for, after all, it was clear to him that Frederick was behind the murders of two witches.

"You would jump through the portals of time, behold all the grand wonderment that unfolds before your very eyes, just so I can't have Sankofa," Hotep said aloud. "She was never yours to begin with but they called me arrogant!"

Hotep's jaw tensed as he found Ramel's car. He supposed he could wake him up but decided to let him come to on is own. He was breathing and when Hotep concentrated, he could hear the steady thump of Ramel's pulse. After finding his keys and disarming the car alarm, Hotep tossed Ramel in the back seat, placed his keys in his hand, and was prepared to leave when something caught his attention – Frederick's journal.

"Hello, what have we here?"

For centuries Hotep had been a warrior at the beck and call of royalty or sometimes the person with the heftiest piece of gold. Before he was turned he was fearless, rushing into battle with hardened men black as the midnight sky, striking fear in their rivals as they shrieked guttural cries convincing foes they were about to deal with minions from the darkest corners of Hell.

When he was turned his enemies were paralyzed by fear – how could they defend themselves against what they couldn't see?

Hotep had seen many things in his life as a vampire and he remained as fearless as he'd always been. In fighting for his Coven he felt his life had purpose and there was nothing that could sway his constitution.

Until now.

He looked at the words on the page that his fingers happened to guide him to and wouldn't allow himself to believe any of it. There it was written in a dead slave master's son's hand: Tonight Ayalu is slain. He skipped a few pages and read more discovering the recent rash of vampire killing, witches being killed across the globe, the death of Conductors in Paris, Brazil, and the attempted placement of a rogue Conductor in his Coven – Frederick murdered the Conductors...

We are finished.

Hotep knew how the Exodus worked. There were some years a great deal of his brothers and sisters of the blood were saved without having all six Conductors but each of the Elders was necessary to make it work. And he held in his hand a book that said an Elder was missing, gone – killed by the insolent hand of that slave owner's son.

Hotep looked down at the sleeping Ramel and spat.

"You helped him do this to us and we were going to let you in. This chaos is because of you!"

An unfamiliar voice spoke to Hotep.

You share just as much of the blame as he, do you not?

He looked around confused, straining his already keen vision to see the vampire who was not there. Perhaps a witch invaded his thoughts? Hotep headed back to the Coven feeling uneasy. He was afraid and he didn't like it.

Even as you speak of the loyalty to your House we both know you will not tell them what you discovered. You will not implicate yourself, Hotep.

"Who are you? Why do you speak to me with such a familiar tone?"

Will you tell them?

"I will take care of any who'd try and harm my House! Now I asked, who are you?" Hotep searched frantically in the night, looking behind the shadows of trees and skyscrapers, stretching his sight as far as he could. He saw only the lonely human creatures skulking about at night, the night workers and night crawlers that filled the city when all others retired to the places they tried to keep safe.

Will you tell them?

"If you're working with that trafficker's son I'll find you both!"

After making another sweep around Ramel's car and the route he'd taken to drop him off unseen, Hotep headed back toward the Coven and its interrupted ceremonies. Would he tell them of the book he'd found? No. He had no doubts that he'd convinced Ramel he was a dead man if he showed his face around there again. Frederick, he knew, would be a different story. Frederick was on a fruitless quest for revenge.

Hotep had always known Frederick to fear him – when he was a human. But he changed into a very cunning vampire. If his journal were to be believed, he'd killed an Elder, which could not have been an easy feat. Frederick was dangerous. Still, Hotep reasoned, he had a lot of very powerful support. If Frederick were in a hurry to die, he would oblige him.

What would your wife have to say about that?

Hotep froze. Sankofa. He looked at the journal in his hands and knew he had to hide it. To destroy it would erase the evidence against Frederick and Hotep would eventually have to present it to The Order. He hadn't killed any vampires and contrary to the voice that decided to enter his mind, he wasn't responsible for the actions of a lone, pitiful thing that should have stayed buried where the past left him. The Order would dispatch its finest and Frederick would have to bear witness, Oro Cruorem, before being sent to eternal rest. Hotep, however, hoped it was he who found Frederick first; his last breaths on Earth would not be so formal or filled with repentance, there would only be pain – a lot of pain.

"Sankofa doesn't have to know anything," he said now frustrated with the voice, "because I will protect her like I've always done."

Your intolerance and arrogance will be the destruction of a great soldier, Hotep. I will trouble you no more.

Just like that, the voice was gone. His thoughts came flooding back in a great wave, as did all the sounds and squeaks of the night.

The Consecration was ruined! He had to get back to confer with the Elders. What were they to do now for this most desperate time? Hotep had a solution – kill the vampire, Frederick Duval.

The other solution was set forth even before Frederick Duval entered the sacred chamber which Ayalu sat for millennia, undisturbed.

The middle children of the Great Mother, Hakash and Ayalu, foretold that a change would come. The Royal Blood would return home to the bosom of their father, Sama'EL, who'd never seen his children. But there would be sorrow and sacrifice. This Exodus would be the most precarious of them all for there was a chance that all of the Children of the Damned could be wiped out just as Frederick Duval wished. Although Frederick would claim his careful planning and patience as the success of such a nefarious outcome, he was blind to the knowledge of his predestination and Ayalu's sacrifice for what she hoped would be a greater reward – saving her kind and the children of Eve as well.

If Bill had done a thorough search his predecessor's house he would have stumbled upon Kevin's translations of The Book of the Cursed gaining some insight into the urgency needed for the preparation of July 11, 2010.

Even with prophecy written in stone or papyrus, the walls of caves or paper made from rice, only God knows all and nothing. There are times when a step forward in the dark toward the unknown is the best solution to impending danger.

While Hotep was depositing Ramel in his car, just before he found Frederick's journal, beneath his feet in an abandoned bank vault, Hikpodu stepped out of the shadows for all in attendance of his Coven to see. Amazed, they all fell to their knees and bowed before him.

All except Kaya.

She stood looking up at him in wonder. She couldn't know that he looked like his sister: eight-feet tall, nude except for an knee length skirt, cuffs on both arms, and an ankle bracelet made from pure gold; she'd never seen Ayalu before. He had the same rich ebony skin that seemed polished. He also had stark facial features of a primitive African – sharp cheekbones, a broad nose and full lips. But Hikpodu's eyes were much more compassionate and he smiled when he looked at Kaya staring up at him, revealing very large ivory, scary looking fangs.

"You have caused quite a stir, Kaya Antoinette De LaCroix. I like that, we need to be stirred."

He looked at his flock, which hadn't stood since he showed himself.

"Please get up, all of you. I thank you Chief Witch for your diligence and, Record Keeper, I hope you weren't too badly injured."

"No," Bill said, still amazed that he was talking to something as old as the beginning of time itself, "that Hotep... I wouldn't think he cared if he wasn't growling or throwing me around the place."

"What a sense of humor you have, Record Keeper," Hikpodu answered, smiling. "If you are injured in pride or body, speak now so I can attend to it."

"No really. I'm fine, uh, Your Majesty? Sir."

"Good. Kaya Antoinette De LaCroix come with me, you must be consecrated."

Bill stepped forward, ready to grab his books and record the occasion. His body bruised, he'd be in his own home tonight, soaking. It didn't matter to Bill; each bruise was worth seeing the look on that weasel Ramel's face. The nagging feeling he had, the one that started in the pit of his stomach, was seeing the look on Hotep's face when he read the letter Kaya gave him. Once a cop, forever a cop and his instincts were screaming something wasn't as sweet as he would have liked. Bill would keep this thought away from the girls, until he could gather more evidence to support his hunch.

"No, Bill," Hikpodu said waking him from his thoughts (he knows my name?), "this is a record that Kaya keeps."

"Hold on a second, Your Highness. What makes you think I even want the job now? I was treated kinda shabby by you older folks."

A collective gasp filled the room and Kaya noticed a lot more red eyes than she had before.

"Babe... What are you doing?" Aisha asked.

Hikpodu raised his hand calmly, a coy look on his face.

"I see Miss De LaCroix. I do apologize I should not have taken such liberties. These are important nights and time is working against us, I hope you understand. We'll move our location from your place of employment so your job isn't jeopardized because of us. Of course that means when, Hotep returns I'll have to ask him to go fetch Ramel, I'm sure he'll be thrilled about that."

"Ramel? Are you crazy? You think I'm going to let my fiancé be down with a House that has that nigga in it?"

"Miss De LaCroix! You offend me now, Madame, for that is a decision you have no right to make!" Hikpodu said with all the feigned anger he could muster without laughing.

"The hell I don't. You see what he just did, all that lying and plotting. He got his own cousin killed and you talking about Hotep go get him? Nah, man, we'll be leaving together tonight if that shit goes down."

"No we won't, Babe," Aisha replied as somberly as she could. She was on the brink herself.

"Oh everybody got a lobotomy at the same time and just didn't tell me? I see."

"Hikpodu is our Coven. We're his sons and daughters in here. He's not going to let anything happen to us."

"Precisely. Ramel Jackson is a man that lusts for material things and we have plenty of that. Once we promise him 'stuff', not to mention the fact that he's terrified of Hotep, our tasks would be accomplished and all will be satisfied. It would be a little unpleasant for the witches to deal with him but on the whole it would be for the better.

"Ah look, Hotep is back as if he knew we needed him. Hotep, you must go and fetch Mr. Jackson and afterward escort Miss De LaCroix to her home. Miss De LaCroix I apologize for your inconvenience." Hikpodu quickly turned on his heels and disappeared in the shadows.

Hotep was shocked. His Lord couldn't possibly want him to go back up in the city night and bring that snake to the fold? He wanted to say no, scream out what an idiotic idea it would be... He thought that his House had been placed under some evil spell until he saw Bill's beat red face trying to stifle a laugh and his daughter looking at the floor, not in shame, but to keep Kaya from seeing her laughing face.

Kaya caught on.

"Y'all trying to clown me, huh? That's funny for y'all, right?"

"Of course it's funny," Hikpodu said, appearing from the shadows. "You are our Conductor, Kaya. If you didn't want the job you wouldn't be here making us laugh the way you are. But you must confirm it so it can be written. Are you with us, Kaya Antoinette De LaCroix?"

"I'm down."

"Excellent. Let it be written. Daughters, prepare the Consecration."

The witches placed a new chair where Ramel had been sitting.

Hikpodu turned to Hotep as he went to gather the sacred cloth.

"No Hotep. You caused dissent in our House today, attacking one of us without an open mind. What if you'd killed him? How could I justify that to his daughter, my daughter, who stands but a few feet away from you? The Record Keeper has forgiven you and I will too. When this is done, you will make amends. For now, you will not bear witness. It shall be your wife, and Dorian, step forward."

"Yes, my Lord," Dorian said.

"You will bear witness."

Bill was not happy.

"Great," Bill thought, "the young, handsome, blonde white guy replaces Hotep."

"Do you object, Record Keeper?"

"Uh, no Your Highness. I... You the man."

Why didn't I just say, "Yassa Boss", for Chris' sakes, that would have been less insulting! This was going to be a long night for him and probably a long rest-of-his-life as long as he was acquainted with Hotep.

"Do you object, Hotep?"

"No, my Lord." His face told Bill a completely different answer.

"I have such interesting people in this House. Sankofa, Dorian, present the Sacred Cloth and bear witness." Hikpodu, still smiling warmly, looked down at Kaya.

"You have to remove your shoes and socks. And don't worry, you'll get them back."

"I shall keep them, my Lord," Hotep volunteered.

"You see? No one would dare take them from the hands of our grandest warrior."

Dorian and Sankofa spread out a sheet of material that resembled cotton cloth but was made from cooper and gold threads that Kaya was made to place her feet on. Jenna approached her and rolled up the sleeves on her shirt. Aisha, trying her best to stop grinning with pride, wiped her arms with sweet perfumed smelling water and whispered for her not to be nervous.

"You the one that looks nervous, Babe," Kaya whispered back.

"Maybe I am. I can't believe it. You're our Conductor."

"Well don't say it like it's a disease or something," she said smiling back at Aisha.

Kaya was instructed to rest her hands on her thighs, palms facing up. Si'irah, or as Ramel once called her, the Grace Jones African looking chick smeared white powder all over the palms of her hands. Kaya felt a tingle in her palms then nothing at all. Si'irah produced a silver pen and bent in front of Kaya who was still seated. She grabbed Kaya's right hand and marked an upside down "V" in her palm. The "pen" left a jagged red mark. Kaya looked at its tip and noticed it wasn't a silver pen but a fine blade. The color staining the white powder wasn't marker dye it was her blood.

"Yo! YO! What kind of –?"

"Stop!" Hikpodu commanded. "The medicine isn't working, Kaya? Are you in pain?"

"No I don't feel anything but that's not the point! She's carving my hand."

Hikpodu, ever the patient one, assured Kaya it was necessary.

"You need these marks for Ascension. Relax, Kaya. Once they heal no one will be able to see them except those with Royal Blood. And you of course, on certain occasions."

"On certain occasions? What does that even mean, man?"

"Let's continue and you'll get all your answers."

Si'irah continued marking her hand. The "V" started below the base of her index finger, stretched to just above the heel of her palm and ended below the base of her pinky finger. Inside the point of the "V" the glyph for female was very carefully made. At last, Si'irah carved the "L", "I", "L" at the points on the "V". Si'irah moved to Kaya's left hand producing a reverse "V", lambda-looking symbol.

She was deliberate, making similar marks in her left hand as she did her right. Instead of placing the female glyph inside the point she score the "male" glyph. And at the corresponding points on the lamda she carved "I", "T", "H".

Si'irah closed her eyes and said something incoherent to Kaya then bowed before her. She turned and bowed for Hikpodu and joined her Sisters in the circle they'd formed around Kaya.

"Open the Circle," Hikpodu said.

The witches stepped back creating a wider circle allowing Sankofa, Dorian, and Hikpodu who'd brought an ornate throne with him inside.

"One more thing then it's down to serious business. You must be courteous and respectful, Miss De LaCroix. We can settle for nothing less."

"I'm respectful."

"Indeed you are, Miss De LaCroix."

Aisha poured something from a pitcher into a golden goblet that Sankofa held. Aisha approached Hikpodu, nervous as Kaya told her she was, and took out a gold knife from beneath her robes. It was the first time she'd ever done a bloodletting ceremony and this was the big show, she was to draw blood from an Elder. Aisha might as well have been taking it from a volcano or from a giant whale from the depths of the ocean. She heard Hikpodu's voice enter her thoughts.

A momentous occasion, Chief Witch but it won't happen if you don't do it. Please proceed.

"You honor me, My Lord," Aisha said aloud and sliced his wrist with the accuracy of a surgeon.

Hikpodu turned his wrist and let the blood flow into the goblet until his wound closed. The goblet was passed to Sankofa.

"Let it be written on Earth and in blood that I bear witness," she said and took a drink of the concoction. She passed the goblet to Dorian and he said the same.

"Let it be written on Earth and in blood that I bear witness," and he took his sip and passed the goblet to Kaya.

"Who do I got to pass this to?"

"Well, after you take a swig," said Hikpodu, "that's the word, right? In any case once you drink then you can pass it to the Chief Witch."

"Dude, you put like, an armful of blood in a cup and you're telling me I have to drink it?"

"I could have squatted and put a butt load of farts in a cup – said you have to drink that."

"I wouldn't be drinking that either!"

"Stop being a wuss, Kaya. It's not so bad. And you're holding up the sips for the others. You don't want to be the only Conductor in history that had vampires mad with you, do you?"

Kaya took a sip from the cup. His charisma was consuming and she couldn't help doing what Hikpodu asked. He didn't seem like he had an agenda other than what he'd already made obvious, he wanted to save his people. But what really impressed her was he wasn't anything like what she imagined a vampire older than time to be. As he promised, the taste of the blood potion wasn't as bad as she thought. There was an overpowering mint and licorice flavor that blended with the salt she tasted after.

It is the reason why vampires are forbidden to feed on one another. The thrill of the kill is not the only addicting factor.

"Oh, I'll have to remember that."

Kaya looked at a smiling Hikpodu. She heard him speak to her but she didn't see his lips move.

"You said something to me, right?" she asked.

Yes, I did. You are very quick, Kaya. It usually takes 20 minutes for most to start the Ascension. Keep your focus on my eyes and I will take you there.

"How are you doing that? How do talk without moving your lips?"

Think what you want to say, Kaya. I will hear you as clearly as you hear me. The Daughters of Hikpodu will help you.

Kaya felt lightheaded as she spoke, slurring her words. Hikpodu's blood must be 200 proof, she thought. Kaya focused and Hikpodu looked like a solid statue. He no longer had his warm and inviting smile; he resembled a gargoyle frozen in time guarding the secrets of the church.

The church. That's funny, Kaya.

"You can hear me? Did my lips move?"

Your lips are moving, barely. You are ascending quickly – focus on my eyes, Kaya.

Kaya could only see the glowing red orbs that were the eyes of Hikpodu. They turned from red to gold. They were growing, and the harder she stared the brighter they grew in their intensity.

Outside of the circle, after being passed to the witches, the goblet was passed to everyone except Bill – and Hotep. Bill was satisfied with writing down the things he saw go on in he Coven, the important dates of its history but he couldn't allow himself to participate in the more lavish circumstance that distinguished this House from the rest of the poseurs he'd seen during his career as a police officer. He couldn't stomach the bloody parts. And in this particular situation, even though he promised Aisha he would participate when Kaya was consecrated, he refused. There was no way, when Hotep wasn't allowed to be part of the ritual, that Bill was going to be a full blood drinking participant today.

It looked to Bill as if Hotep didn't care whether he was given the goblet or not. His head was down, focused on Kaya's shoes and socks. That letter rattled him, Bill thought, and his cop's mind told him he needed to find out why.

The witches were moving around Hikpodu and Kaya with deliberate motions, chanting something Bill couldn't understand. He watched as they swayed, catching a glimpse of his friend through the minute gaps the cloaks the witches were wearing made, when the fabric blew a little to the left or right. Kaya looked as still as Hikpodu who appeared to have turned to granite. Her head was tilted as if looking in Hikpodu's eyes but her own eyes were closed. When he caught another glance at Hikpodu he saw bright gold light shining where his eyes would be. The witches continued to chant while the lights in the great vault got dimmer until Bill could just barely make out any light at all.

Kaya watched the light in Hikpodu's eyes become brighter until she couldn't focus on him anymore and closed her eyes tight.

"You can open your eyes now, Kaya," she heard Hikpodu say. His voice was still coming from inside her head.

She opened them and saw she was in a great circular hall. Around her were six giant golden obelisks with hieroglyphs she wasn't going to bother translating. Everything was bathed in blue light that made her feel comfortable until she noticed her chair was gone.

"Where...?"

She looked ahead and saw six pedestals, five with figures on them, and one empty. Hikpodu sat near the empty pedestal. He looked different – he was softer.

Kaya didn't know if it was the lighting but his skin looked like, well, skin! It was a far cry from the statue man she'd seen in the bank vault. He had flowing dreadlocks, neatly braided, that spilled past his shoulders and she noticed his fangs weren't as prominent as before. In fact if she didn't know he was a vampire it would be hard to tell, from where she was standing. He was still tall and, something she hadn't noticed before, his eyes were a rich colored blue. He looked stately in his white robes and gold sandals; Kaya was happy that he was on her side – the rest of the congregation didn't look so welcoming.

"Hikpodu, no skirt this time? So what, I just come up there and sit next to you?" she asked.

"Insolence!" Avers stood from his seat and pointed an angry finger at Kaya, "You will fall prostrate until I wish to speak with you, insect!"

"Brother," Hikpodu started, "you are embarrassing yourself. This is the one who was chosen. It was written before my records, it is the Will. How can you chastise someone for something they do not yet know?"

"Yeah, you wanna turn down the volume of your voice too, dude?" Kaya said, hands over her ears. "And a hug will help with the grumpies. You need a hug or something? Maybe a good breakfast, bran or something?"

Abizu's laughter surprised everyone and broke up the mounting tension in the hall.

"Brother, it figures your house would produce such a Conductor. She will do. And we must teach her well – and quickly."

Hikpodu stood.

"Kaya, you will show respect to my brothers and sisters when you enter this chamber, even the empty seat that you will not sit in. That seat is for my sister, Ayalu, who is not here."

"Where is she, vampire stuff?"

"She's with our mother," Hakash answered.

Suddenly Kaya saw Frederick as clear as she saw Lilith's children, leaping with the gold dagger clutched in his hand toward Ayalu. Kaya fell to her knees and began to cry.

"Damn, he killed her too? That's the guy me and Ish have been having crazy dreams about. Why didn't she just punch him in the face or two-piece him?"

"You saw it, a vision of what happened? Ayalu finds favor with you, Kaya. You see now, Brother, she is our Conductor!"

Kaya turned toward the empty pedestal bowed before it.

"Please forgive my outburst, Kaya. This is an important time and many on Earth who are like us, have no idea the severity of the moment. Although we are charged to save them too." Avers said.

"Why didn't she fight him?"

Matrota spoke. "She sacrificed herself for the coming of a new generation. You will learn of this when it is time for you to know more. What is important now is that you find her replacement."

"Find her, what? I thought I was just supposed to be telling vampires where to go when this eclipse comes."

"Oh you are much more than that, Kaya." Matrota continued, "I am afraid your wedding plans for next month will have to wait. Your fiancé is a Chief Witch, explain your mission to her, she will understand. She knows that wherever you wish to go, for whatever length of time, the expense is no option."

"Word? A job with benefits! What am I supposed to do?"

Avers stepped away from his brothers and sisters, raising his hand. Kaya felt a warm sensation burning in her left hand; she looked and saw the triangle Si'irah carved glowing. The symbol wasn't jagged or scabbed it was bright; she was compelled to raise her hand too. Avers aimed his own symbol at the obelisk behind her. Kaya did the same.

The room turned into a planetarium laying the stars before them in a three dimensional map. Avers drew their attention to the Sun, represented by the same blue light that filled the room, the Moon and the Earth.

"In the beginning, there were 10 peaceful years," he explained.

"Each century after, the potency of the Sun was deadly to all of the Children of Lilith, Royal Blood and Proxies alike. The symbol of this danger is a total solar eclipse. There have been solar eclipses for eons, but those that fall within our special time... We have witnessed many Ancient ones who did not heed the warnings, some only a few millennia younger than us died horrible deaths.

"We Six create the Merkaba. For lack of a better way to explain what that means, I shall call it a portal that allows us to communicate with the Conductors wherever our Covens may be. The portal also allows us to transport our Royal Blood to the Great Mother or, should a Conductor or Chief witch choose it, they may join us. We stay away for six months, long enough for the effects of the eclipse to dissipate then we open the portal and return.

"Merkaba is created on the Earthly plain, where your body is now. And our Ethereal, as you can see, is the anchor point for the bridge. The Six are needed to accomplish this – Conductors are important to us. We are at a disadvantage because there are no Conductors left, only you," said Avers.

"If Ayalu is already with your Moms, why can't she open a bridge from there?" Kaya asked.

"Just like our Mother, she needs an anchor on Earth to accomplish this. Unfortunately for us, only God can travel free in such ways. We haven't met a human who was free of material lusts or who is strong enough to serve as our Fifth," Avers answered.

"Why don't you recruit one of those proxies? You got plenty of them in your Covens," Kaya suggested.

"Ironic." Matrota answered, "That is all we have, proxies! Those who were born with the vampire gene elude our Covens. They roam the Earth and do not know their magnificent genealogy."

"Many aren't even turned, they're just carriers, walking around thinking they are Seeds of Adam when their blood holds many secrets," Hikpodu added.

"So I'm supposed to find your Fifth, how's that going to happen? He's in the books or something? Y'all know I can't read this gobblety gook," Kaya said pointing to the hieroglyphs.

"There is balance in everything, Kaya. Have patience. She will find you," Matrota replied.

"You must lead them to the dark, Kaya," Hikpodu said, "they must stay in the dark for six months before they can roam the night freely.

"If you need to come here again you can. The symbols in your hands act as your personal Merkaba. Put your hands together as if you are praying and concentrate – you will be here."

"OK. This is a lot of work and I already have a job. Y'all are going to have me sleeping at my desk," she joked.

"It should be fine, Kaya," Hikpodu said, "it's never what you imagine when you are chosen. You have to make the best of what it is."

"You're sounding like a fortune cookie."

"I guess I do," he said smiling. "Two more things, which are important."

Hikpodu nodded to Hakash who raised both his hands toward another obelisk.

"This is the part that hurts," Hikpodu said.

"Hik-." Kaya could feel herself being pulled toward the pillar where she was held suspended with her arms forced away from her sides. Before her eyes she could see a hologram showing the nape of her neck down to the base her back. She wore a shirt but the image before her was stripped naked. Trying to wiggle free, she sensed what was coming next wouldn't be pleasant.

"These are marks given as a gift of the Royal Blood. They will be useful to you in time, Kaya," Matrota said.

Searing pain spread across the back of her neck and she felt like her skin was on fire. Kaya could see in the hologram that an ornate picture of the Eye of Horus was being "burned" in her neck.

Suddenly her back burst into flames as Kaya watched an intricate process unfold before her in the hologram. She screamed, or she thought she was screaming; the Elders gave no indication they could hear her cries and no part of her body was moving, not even her mouth. The pain was excruciating.

A tattoo had formed. It was a complex design of glyphs and letters that created a picture of a compass rose. Within the circle of the rose there were more glyphs representing the planets of the Solar System and its corresponding Zodiac symbols. On the East and West points of the rose were scimitars pointed North to South/South to North like a yin and yang character.

As quick as it started, the branding stopped and the pain dissipated. Kaya found herself standing on solid ground and she discovered she also had tattoos on the inside of her forearms. They were identical scythes except the direction each was pointed in. The head of the snake wrapped around them faced the palm of her hands.

"Dude, I better not ever loose my job. How am I supposed to go on an interview with snakes on my arms?"

"Wear long sleeved shirts," Hikpodu said smiling at his joke. "You have long sleeved shirts, don't you?"

"Those marks are necessary to pass through realm of the dead. Our Father will see the symbol and let you return to the land of the living," said Matrota.

"If you become unemployed, Kaya," Avers added, "you will be compensated. We spare no expense; for the job of the Conductor is a time consuming one, please understand this. Your circumstance is more work than most Conductors since you bear more responsibility. When this time has passed – "

"But the time won't pass, will it? I got these tats, my fiancé is a Chief Witch, all this talk about darkness and dead people – I'm in this for life. I'm down with the House of Hikpodu, aren't I? I damn sure can't stroll up the local Pentecostal church."

"Yes, you are – until you no longer want to be. The tattoos will fade if you renounce your House or your House renounces you. If either of those things happens any and all benefits will be rescinded. And you can walk in any church you want, whether they accept you is up to them."

"What's the second thing that's so important?"

A copper goblet was passed to each Elder who cut his or her wrist and let their blood flow in it. Hikpodu was the first to let blood and disappeared shortly after.

"Look, this is getting nasty, this blood drinking thing. It ain't Kool-Aid or juice or something. And that minty crap you put in it doesn't keep it from being blood."

"You need to drink this to return, Kaya," Avers began, "Hikpodu is waiting for you. Time is against you and you most certainly don't want to lose any on your first night. You all have a new location for your Coven and it is important that you get there ahead of everyone. They cannot enter without the Conductor's invitation, not even our dear Brother. May you fly on the breath of our Great Mother, Kaya. GO!"

She was sprawled on the cool marble floor of the vault. After 10 minutes, Hikpodu stood without speaking to anyone in his Coven, turned to the darkest shadow, walked straight into it and disappeared. Seconds later, she'd fallen out of her chair and Aisha and the rest of her witch Sisters gathered around while they propped Kaya's head up in Aisha's bosom. She felt the warm familiar comfort of Aisha near her and nestled further in her lap. The vampires, including Hotep, and Bill bunched in closer to the witches and stared at Kaya.

You don't want to be the first Conductor to embarrass my noble House do you, Kaya?

Her eyes snapped open.

"Oh shit!"

She looked around the room at everyone and the memories of her conference with the Elders came flooding back.

Si'irah noticed the marks she'd made in Kaya's hands were seamless lines glowing a brilliant blue. She pointed at Kaya's hands.

"All pay homage to the gift of the Elders, Kaya Antoinette De LaCroix. Our Conductor has come!"

Everyone bowed where they stood, not moving a muscle (including Bill), in reverence to her and the recognition of the job ahead. Kaya took it all in. They had no clue the gravity of this year's solar eclipse.

Will I lose any in this race against the clock – could I lose them all?

There was work to do and there would be plenty of time for bowing later.

She grabbed her shoes and socks from Hotep and put them on while she hopped toward the stairs to the exit.

"Get up! Get up! We gotta go."

They stood, looking at each other confused but eagerly awaiting instruction.

"NOW!"
CHAPTER NINE

The night was electric. The Consecration of the Conductor had taken place and the House of Hikpodu rid itself of a traitor in their midst. As the Earth's orbit slowly spun the North and South American continents toward the beautiful brightness of the sun, Kaya Antoinette De LaCroix led 136 people in a desperate race to beat the first rays that would pierce the darkened sky.

Sitting atop a Long Island Rail Road train car, handling the high speeds with great aplomb, Leigh and Azyra were also aware of the sands of time pushing night to day.

Leigh reasoned the most logical place to begin her search for Bill was where he worked. She wasn't sure if the rumors of him being a Record Keeper for a "real" Coven were true but she remembered him claiming he was on "their" side when they had their unforeseen encounter.

Nothing is by chance. Leigh blended in the busy hustle that was Penn Station. Even at night there were sports fans, drunken revelers on their way to another place to get drunk, and there were those so down on their luck they couldn't see the predators that stalked them while they drowned their sorrows in a bottle too small for the task. Some of the night stalkers knew Leigh, and though they never killed one of their own, some fled the waiting area chocked full of easy pickings anyway. Others, who knew nothing of her reputation, were apprehensive nonetheless – there was something old in Leigh's eyes and the way she walked scared them – scared some of the humans too.

On this night Leigh had other things on her mind, personal things. And as if summoned, Azyra walked right by her, something on her mind too, with a determined look on her face as she headed for the backdoor to slip onto Track 16. Bill could wait and Leigh followed her friend.

The train coming on Track 16 would take them back home and, Leigh expected to get some explanation of Azyra's recent elusive behavior. But there was the feeling Azyra wasn't going home. She knew her friend and the expression Azyra's face told her she was after something. She followed the bright auburn crown that was Azyra's hair until it vanished. Leigh stretched her sight and could see a train coming in on a different track but no sign of Azyra.

"What kind of shite –?" Leigh felt something behind her and drew her staff with lightening speed spinning to face the danger head-on. Azyra, smile on her face, parried the blow.

"You following me, Shug?"

"Apparently not."

"You getting slow, Old Lady."

"Bollocks! You would like it had I smashed your head in, would you? And where have you been?"

"Take a ride with me, tell you all about it."

So there they sat like mannequins on the top of the train car. Leigh was excited by the lead on the one who got away, Gary, but she also felt as if Azyra was holding something back. She hadn't clearly explained where she was and Leigh decided not to press the issue – at least not until after they dealt with Gary.

Inside the train the new and improved authoritative male voice announced, "The next stop is: Lynbrook," while the two stowaways stood knowing what approached.

A White Castle beckoned many a late night craver and assorted weed head; it was their signal to jump before the train stopped. When they dropped to the platform without being noticed by passengers leaving the train, they mixed in with the crowd, heading down the stairs with the rush racing to be the first ones to catch a cab. Azyra and Leigh had other ideas.

"His house isn't that far from here," Azyra said with a mischievous grin, "you wanna race?"

"When was the last time you fed, Princess?"

Azyra sighed.

"Always the mother, ain'tcha, Shug?"

"You disappeared to your mystery place, God knows if you've fed, we've been chasing a shadow and exerted a lot of energy doing so. You've been aloof, Azyra, I'm just concerned..."

"I'm fine. We're not far from us either, Shug. I know you got at least a couple of pints lying around that I will have under your ever-watchful eye. Now you can spend the rest of your night lecturing me but you'll be talking to yourself because I'm headed to catch this killer."

Leigh threw Azyra a rakish grin.

"Not before I catch him first, young girl."

Time continued steady foreword unaware and uncaring of the urgency held by vampires, witches, and Conductors. Two vampires closed in on one who violated the sacred unspoken word amongst them all.

One Conductor was leading 136 to a peaceful place of security – if she could find out where it was before the sun came up.

Bill tore around the meanders on the dark roads of Old Westbury. If you didn't know where you were going – if you didn't belong there you could drive right past the opening of a driveway you were meant to turn into. There were very few streetlamps and none were the amber lights he was so used to in the urban areas of New York City; Bill was driving blind. So one would believe.

Kaya rode shotgun straining her seatbelt to its limit as she leaned forward peering out the windshield into the darkness ahead of them, it was her idea to drive down the road without the aid of headlights. Jenna and Aisha clutched each other in the backseat praying they wouldn't die in a ridiculous car accident.

"Babe, are you sure Bill shouldn't just turn on the lights for just a second, so he could at least get a sense of the road?"

"We got this, right Archie?" was Kaya's response.

"Yeah sure. We got this." Bill said, his nerves on edge.

Actually, Kaya "got this". She guided Bill down a very narrow two-way street while regretted not taking a sip of the goblet instead of worrying about the bruised ego of Hotep – maybe he'd be able to see in the dark too. Instead, he felt the fear pulsing off of his daughter and Aisha; they'd taken the goblet, he reasoned, so drinking it wasn't the answer to his night vision problems.

Kaya looked like a crazy woman staring out in the dark, in a dark car going at speeds way above the number posted on the sign. She kept muttering he had to floor it all the way there, she wasn't going to lose anyone – they were racing the dawn! Trouble was they were in the summer months and the dawn came a little earlier. He had no problem putting the pedal to the metal, it happened a lot when he was still on the Force. Driving in the dark down narrow winding roads isn't something he ever did, even when he played a few games of chicken with his friends as a wild teenager.

"Dude, we got a bunch of crazy vampires following us," Kaya said as if reading Bill's thoughts, "the last thing we want is to be pulled over by Po-po and a bunch of vampires make him the last supper. Po-po can't bag what Po-po can't see. LEFT!"

Bill made a sharp left turn, sending Jenna crashing into Aisha and both of them screaming epithets, on a road where he could see even less than before.

"I get your point. Save the officers but kill us in the process. We're going real fast here, Kaya. The vampires, they'll catch us but how are the other witches supposed to follow us?"

"They could've come later if they wanted but," Kaya looked over her shoulder out the back window, "but they seem to be keeping up."

Bill looked in the rearview mirror and saw nothing.

Officers at various points during their flight heard something coming but couldn't tell what. One officer commented that it sounded like NASCAR had blown through a giant pile of leaves. Then the numbers showed up on the gun blinking red: 87! 90! 92! Officers at their respective points wanted to pursue. Instinct and the flashing red numbers on the gun urged them to follow but they saw nothing, no headlights, no taillights – no cars. Each trap dismissed what they'd heard and chalked up the blinking numbers as a glitch in the gun, never knowing that perhaps, they saved themselves from certain death.

"Make another left and turn on your lights, Archie. And slow down too – real slow," Kaya said.

Bill obeyed but the lights weren't much help. Trees on either side of the gravel path formed an arch, which blocked out any light that might try to seep on the road. The darkness ahead swallowed up any light the hi-beams on Bill's navy blue Ford strained to emit. Bill was better off with Kaya calling out what turns and curves to take but was relieved that they were proceeding at a much more human pace. Snail's pace, actually – it was far better than driving like a bat out of Hell with a blindfold on.

He continued forward, looking in the rearview mirror again, and saw nothing there. The cars behind him, if they still were behind him, decided not turn on their lights. Bill remembered that the reluctant drivers of the vehicles following them were vampires and they had no trouble seeing what lie ahead.

"Vamps driving cars. When did that happen?" Bill said breaking the silence in the car.

"Some were drivers for some really posh people before they were turned, Dad."

"Oh."

That was the end of conversation for the next five minutes, which to Bill seemed like hours. Everyone was anxious to see where the mad dash they'd just experienced, ended. Aisha guessed they had to be close – maybe with time before the sun came up? This could be a way station before more travel for another hour, two hours, until they could stop. Aisha prayed it wasn't because she knew, as did everyone else in the car, there wasn't enough time before sunrise.

Bill slowed to a stop. The lights shone on an ornate 20-foot tall wrought iron gate.

"Crap on a stick! Are these the new digs?" he asked astonished by the intricate ironwork.

"This is where we're supposed to be. I can hear him calling me now; we're have to get in there quick."

"We have time," Jenna said, "it's still pretty dark out."

"Nah, Hikpodu's saying we gotta hurry because the trees and all that is creating an optical illusion. It's earlier than we think."

Bill, Kaya, Aisha, and Jenna heard the loud rustling that was heard by the police officers sitting at their speed traps.

"What is that?" Bill asked.

"It's the rest of the crew," Kaya said.

"I thought you had to get here before they did," Bill said.

"I did get here, Archie Bunk. We're just sitting outside the gate, that's all."

"Besides, Dad, they can't go in the house without Kaya's invitation anyway."

"Well they ain't about to get it," Aisha said pointing ahead. "There's a lock on the gate and you see that Jenna?"

Jenna groaned, "Yes."

"See what? I don't see anything but a big rusty lock. We can get the crowbar out of my trunk and in we go."

"No we don't, Dad. The only thing opening that lock is Magick. I know a few spells but if what Kaya says about the time is right, it'll be a moot point if everybody gets killed by sunrise."

"I can't do anything about it either, not as fast as we need it," Aisha said.

"Let me try out my new super powers." Kaya got out of the car compelled to touch the lock with her right hand. Glyphs that she hadn't seen before appeared on the lock. Splaying her fingers she placed her left hand over the face of the lock, each one of her fingers covering the symbols, and quietly said, "Open."

The heavy lock dropped off its chain and the gate slid open on its track. Bill pulled up, Kaya winked and hopped in the car.

"Don't tell me I'm going to have to start carrying kryptonite in my pocket," he said.

"Only if I'm flying."

They drove steady for another five minutes until they saw the outline of a large edifice.

"Damn, Babe, this is the new House?"

"It must be. Look."

Bill's car caught a brief flash of dozens of red orbs floating at the top of the stone stairs leading to the entrance of the estate.

"Leave your car here we got to do the dash," Kaya said and bolted out of the car before Bill stopped. Kaya ran to the top of the stairs and paused at the overwhelming view before her. There was a reflecting pool; the calm water showed the sky wasn't as dark as they thought it to be in the car. She had to hustle.

Kaya ran as fast as she could for the entrance of the palatial estate when she felt herself lifting off the ground.

"I can fly?"

"No, Kaya," Dorian said carrying her effortlessly to the front door, "you can run, and please don't be offended, just not fast enough for my liking."

"I'm not offended at all. I was running out of breath anyway."

Dorian set her on the front steps where Hikpodu stood waiting.

"So you made it well enough, magickal lock opener that you are."

"You got jokes, dude. What happens if I invite everyone in here but you?"

"Oh? Let's see, everyone has shelter and is thankful and confident in their Conductor and I get to watch the sunrise with you. You could ask the staff if they could whip us up some S'mores, which would be a capstone to a wonderful evening. Of course, only you'd be eating the S'mores because they wouldn't be any good for my digestion."

"How are you a vampire? You're a damn comedian! And you're one of those sun people vampires, right?"

"We can talk about that as we watch the sunrise but for now you have to get them in there."

Kaya saw the red orbs before her and opened the door to the estate. An old man stood in the doorway.

"Are you the new Master of the house, Madame?"

Kaya looked at Hikpodu.

"Say 'yes', silly."

"Yes."

"Do you have any guests this evening, Madame?"

"Yeah, they're right there and they are all invited in."

"No exceptions, Madame?"

Kaya looked at Hikpodu and shook her head, "No exceptions."

The House of Hikpodu was safe from the dawn as the colors of early morning began to spread across the vast estate.

Away from the excitement of the new location and vampires preparing to rest, away from the witches exploring the rooms and halls of a place they never thought existed so near to them, Hikpodu and Kaya stood on a balcony and watched the sunrise.

*

Leigh arrived first, triumphant. Azyra made it to Gary's mother's house about the same time Bill and his caravan of witches were racing around a bend at 80 miles an hour, guided by Kaya's directions, in the dark. They too were on an urgent mission that required keen perception of the sun's place in the sky.

They walked around to the back in search of an alternate entrance, one that wouldn't require waking anyone in the house. Gary left his window open, undoubtedly for his late night hunts, which allowed Azyra and Leigh the access they needed.

Gary's room was one that was a teenaged dream frozen in time. By the brazen behavior he displayed at the bus stop, Leigh concluded Gary was a yearling. In terms of his human age before he was turned, they assumed he was in his late twenties.

They stood in the middle of a room with bumper stickers and Green Day posters plastered on the walls, some on the floor, covering one of the smaller mounds of clothes. There were also a couple of holes in the walls Gary made himself while doing whatever it was he decided to do – like punch or kick the wall in. The figurines of several comic book heroes were stacked on a dresser top whose broken drawers revealed sweat socks trying to escape their crammed imprisonment. Two red light bulbs lit the mess of the room casting elongated shadows across the posters turned wallpaper.

The piece-de-resistance was a highly polished large black coffin with extra shiny brass handles sitting in the far corner of the room adjacent to the window they came in through.

Weapons drawn they glided toward the coffin, barely touching Gary's messy clothes strewn floor, cutting off his get away route to the window. Leigh threw open the coffin's top portion ready to strike but found it empty.

"Guess we're going to have to wait," she whispered to Azyra. "The sun will be coming up soon, he should be coming 'round."

"But what are we going to do, Shug? We ain't gone get back in time no matter how close the Wood is."

Leigh looked around Gary's room and thought about leaving then coming back when her eyes set on the coffin.

"It'll be a tight squeeze but if you don't mind..." she said jerking her head at the coffin.

A knock at the door cut of Azyra's response.

"Gary, I can hear voices. I know you have somebody in there. I'm comin' in!"

The door opened and in walked a svelte, 6ft. tall, brunette woman face to face with Leigh and Azyra.

"Oh. My. Gawd! Thank goodness! Women, finally! Are either of you my son's girlfriend?" she said extending her hand toward them.

"Uh..."

"Yes!" Leigh said smiling, "I was his ex and she's his current girlfriend, it so happens we're all very close."

"Very close," Azyra replied as she narrowed her eyes at Leigh.

"Have you seen our dear – lover?" Leigh asked.

Gary's mother, furiously shaking Azyra's hand was beaming with pride.

"I thought he was a queer, you know. All the male voices at night – not that there's anything wrong with being a queer. I want grandkids. So anything you need you tell me and I'll make sure he doesn't fuck it all to Hell.

"I have to say, you. Are. Gorgeous! Oh my gawd, isn't she?" she said looking at Leigh. "No offense to you, Hun, you have a lovely speaking voice – what is that, from England? I love the Stones myself. You're pretty too but like I was saying, you need a little more sun, Christ you both do! I know my boy wanders a little but he's a good man and when you have my grandkids – Oh. My. Gawd! They'll look like Alicia Keys! You know, the singer? Gorgeous!"

"It's kind of new, Gary and I..." Azyra said trying to hide her disgust.

"Don't worry, you'll love him – after I knock some sense into his thick skull. I'm making you nervous. Sorry, I get so excited and I'm making you nervous."

"Perhaps," started Leigh, "you could tell us where he is right now, Ms...?"

"Oh where are my manners? I'm Carla Benson. Widow. That's how I know Gary is a good man because his father was a good man, may God have mercy on his soul. Just call me Carla, I insist on it."

"Mrs. Benson – "

"Carla, I insist on it."

"Pardon. Carla. It's rather important we speak to your son. Do you know if he'll be coming home tonight?" Leigh asked, looking at the coffin.

"I know, creepy right? But I clean it for him when he's not here; I think it helps him deal with the death of his father – killed on a construction job, his father. He's been reading a lot more as you can see," she gestured around the room drawing attention to the books stacked neatly near the comic book figures.

"He got this job at a library in Queens; I think he might be the night janitor or something, he doesn't say. There's no shame in an honest wage, you tell him I said that.

"How'd you girls get in here anyway?" Carla asked.

Azyra tried to look as bashful as she could and answered, "He sometimes leaves the window open for me so I..."

"Oh, Hun, I'm not that kind of lady. I was a Flower Power child, you know Flower Power? Aw, you're too young. Sometimes I can't sleep so I wait for Gary or I watch a little TV. You ring the doorbell and come right in the front door. You don't have to sneak, especially since you may be having my grandkids in the future – fingers crossed. Don't let the coffin scare you off, it's like I said, coping mechanism."

"We should be going Mrs. Ben- Carla. I can come back another night." Azyra said, feeling the effects of too much exertion and not enough feeding; she could hear pulses racing in her ears.

Carla Benson showed the ladies downstairs to the front door. As they descended each step she thought of quaint one-liners that would let them know they were invited to visit her anytime – even if they weren't necessarily looking for Gary. Girls of every age, especially if the girl was lonely, always liked some girl talk.

While she was telling them to, "Come back now, y'heah?" and "My door is always open – anytime!" her next door neighbor, Mrs. Dietz, had seen Azyra and Leigh (with particular attention to Azyra) go around the back of Carla's house. She commented to her husband, sitting her binoculars on the nightstand and moving nearer to the window, that she would count to 10 then call Mrs. Benson.

"Mmpf," was the reply of a sleeping Mr. Dietz. Then there was, "Take your pills!"

Mrs. Dietz's thorough investigation of her block, not to mention the terror she inflicted on disobedient teenagers, came with a price – insomnia. Much to the chagrin of her neighbors, specifically "that hippie weirdo John Benson's wife, Carla" she had her eye on every would-be tryst and late night excursion.

When the family two doors down from the Dietz's, at 473, finally sold their home they were exuberant and ready to leave their neighborhood. Mrs. Dietz created such a panic during the process, and pure misery for her neighbors, they "unofficially" barred the house from being sold to an Indian family, a Columbian family, and three Mexican candidates before settling on the young Polish-American couple and their three adopted Vietnamese children.

The sleeping pills she took on occasion worked but that meant she would be asleep, unable to monitor the suspicious activities going on around her, especially now at that hippie weirdo John Benson's wife, Carla's house.

"You'd have me sleep while she lets those people cavort around our neighborhood? This is why they need me around here, to put an end to such immoral goings on."

"This is why they hate you around here," Mr. Dietz said under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Go to sleep, Sharon. We'll talk to her about it in the morning."

"Probably that son of hers inviting all kinds of hooliganism to our quiet piece of town; it's got to stop. I'm going over there."

"Mind your business, Sharon," he said now sitting up out of his sleep. "If you're so concerned, call the police and let them do their job."

"Because there's no burglary in progress, only a violation of ethics and morals. People are trying to sleep, they don't need loud sirens of the police breaking up the little drug ring she probably has going on over there. This is Lynbrook, this isn't Valley Stream, for Pete's sake!"

Mrs. Dietz took care in choosing an authoritative looking outfit, pulled her hair in a bun (Mr. Dietz remarked it was the quickest she ever got ready for anything), and with all the grit and determination of a Marine Corp Drill Sergeant, marched over to that hippie weirdo John Benson's wife, Carla's front door.

As her hand stood ready to come down on the aluminum that held the screen in place on her outer door, Carla opened her main door to find Mrs. Dietz standing on her porch with something on her mind – as usual.

She looked past Carla at Leigh and Azyra wrinkling her nose as she did.

"Ah huh, I told him. 'Go to sleep', he says. 'There's something going on over there,' I says and I was right."

"Won't you come in, Mrs. Dietz, my guests were just leaving," Carla said rolling her eyes.

"'Just leaving', you say. Tell me, Carla, do you always make it a habit for your 'guests' to come in through the back of your house? Because that's how I saw them get in here."

"Are you spying on me, again? You really are some bitter old bitch! Stop watching my house before I call the cops you Peeping Tom!"

"We need to go, Shug," Azyra said. The women became more frantic; Azyra was hypnotized by the beat of their racing pulses. The battle of The Thirst was making her woozy. She kept trying to fight It but It was winning."

"Shug..." she stumbled and fell against the wall, struggling to hold herself up.

"Shit! Carla, we'll come back later. I have to take her before she faints..."

"Yes, take her! We can't have her fainting in here! This is a respectable block in a respectable neighborhood, no matter how many insist on changing that. Take her out, what I have to say to Mrs. Benson doesn't concern her."

"You are a bitch, aren't you?" Leigh spat.

Mrs. Dietz walked to Leigh standing mere inches from her face.

"I'm protecting my home, my country! People used to know their place until hippies like her," she said pointing at Carla, "and foreigners like you started butting in. As soon as we gave them something, the ungrateful bastards wanted more and look what happened? Every poor desperate loser on this planet wants to come here because Pedro and Chan and Hey Mon and Boogle-Boo from the jungles of Africa saw that we gave the Negroes something; go on to America and they'll give you something too! Well this is Lynbrook, damnit, not Hempstead and it's not happening on my watch! So you get her out of here and both of you go back to the hippie commune you came from." Then Mrs. Dietz committed the last offense she would ever do in her life, she grabbed Azyra's arm and tossed her out Carla's front door.

"What is wrong with you, touching my guests?" Carla ranted.

"She's lucky I didn't throw her and her friend out the back since that's the way they prefer to enter a house!" she said with a satisfied look on her face.

Azyra stood on Carla's front porch, eyes set in the icy blue that looked almost like water. She was too quick for Leigh to intercept her as she came right back through Carla Benson's front door. What a good thing that Carla had invited them back anytime they wanted to come, because she was going to be Grandma to children that looked like Alicia Keys, the singer.

Azyra had her hand around Mrs. Sharon Elizabeth Dietz's neck. In a matter of seconds Mrs. Dietz was transported, from lecturing that hippie weirdo John Benson's wife, Carla on the finer points of raising a child like Gary, in the foyer to not being able to breathe in Carla's kitchen.

Her fangs in full view, Mrs. Dietz still paralyzed in horror, Azyra spoke.

"You gone want to relax, Sharon, because this is gone hurt – a lot."

Azyra violently struck the jugular and let the spray fill her mouth with Mrs. Dietz's last moments. The images came in clear bursts like a digital picture slide show of the life of Sharon Elizabeth Hommel who later became Mrs. Dietz – left to bleed out on the kitchen floor of that hippie weirdo John Benson's wife, Carla.

Azyra had seen the father who influenced her life and tanned her hide when he caught her kissing a black boy. "Not on my watch," he'd said to her and that became the model for what she is today. Was... She'd only taken enough of her blood to slake The Thirst. She placed Mrs. Dietz on the floor and left her there to bleed the rest of her life away.

Mrs. Dietz wanted to say something to Azyra but found she couldn't move – didn't want to move. The cool feeling of the kitchen tiles felt absolutely wonderful against her skin and for the first time in many years she experienced what it was to be relaxed without a care in the world.

"See? I didn't have to take those pills..." was the final thing she said as the last of her life's blood drained from her brain, shutting it down for good.

"Real live vampires! Crap! Make me one and I'll go on over there and get rid of her wishy-washy husband for you," Carla said, surprising Leigh.

"The coffin, it's not a coping mechanism at all, is it? My boy is a vampire too?"

"Yes." Leigh said. She was saddened by what she knew she had to do. Leigh read Carla's loud and erratic thoughts of being made a vampire. Carla wouldn't stop asking her son questions, asking them questions, and eventually asking questions of people who would ask questions Leigh didn't want to answer. She liked Carla and Carla didn't have a clue what the life of a night stalker entailed, particularly ones like she and Azyra who had the misfortune of coming to this quirky woman's house with the intent to kill her son.

"She saw?" Azyra asked.

"She saw."

"Hey girls, I can keep a secret. Look, just make me one of you, bing bang, and we're all set. I've got a house. We can stay here in the basement. I know you like dark places, they say. And there are a few people right on this block we can make disappear if we want to. Nobody'll miss 'em. I guess this means no Grandkids, huh?"

"I'm afraid not, Carla," Azyra said.

"OK, I'm ready. How do I do it and which one of you is going to do it?"

They stood there looking at her saying nothing.

"C'mon now, girls, don't leave me out of the loop. I can't ask my son to do it, that would be weird, wouldn't it? Maybe I could ask, Gary? That wouldn't cause some kind of mutation would it, if my son made me like you guys? And you'd still come back, wouldn't you?"

"Mrs. Benson," Leigh said taking her hand and leading her to the parlor.

"Carla, I insist."

"Carla. You have to be very calm and think of some of the good times you had with your son and your husband. Remember your friends all of those things."

"Is it more effective that way?"

"Yes."

Carla brought herself back to the time when she first met John "Bucky" Benson. He told her he played the blues guitar so well his friends got to calling him "B.B.". His friends did call him B.B. but it was because it was shorter than calling him Bucky Benson. He was quirky, she was quirky and they loved each other.

Leigh's fangs penetrated her skin and the memory of B.B. became more vivid than it had in a long time. Carla found herself racing through time where one clear image after another pushed its way to the forefront.

She began to feel cold but her happy images stayed vividly until the image of Bucky's friend, Fred, told her the news of his death on the construction site. Carla slumped over in the chair when she saw Bucky standing before her with his blues guitar he renamed after her.

"It's time to come on, Darling." Carla reached out her hand; it dropped in her lap as she closed her eyes for the last time.

Leigh pulled away from her. She saw the smile on Carla's face and left her in the parlor.

"Did you turn her, Shug?"

"We're going to have to stay here for the day. We won't make it back to our resting place before the sun."

"Leigh."

"I told you, Princess, that I was never going to turn another human. I didn't break my promise."

"You killed her? What a waste."

"You've seen her kind before, Azyra, don't tell me about bloody wasting! They all claim to know and want this life until they get it. They know nothing of what this life is, what it is to have a choice; what it is to be us."

"You're preaching to the choir, Shug. I do know."

Leigh felt ashamed of her outburst.

"I'm sorry, Princess."

"I know you are, you been apologizing for years. I don't blame you."

"Anymore," she said sheepishly.

Azyra sighed, "Anymore. I know all about The Thirst, Shug. How can I blame you?"

They took Gary's coffin from his room and moved it to the basement. They decided to leave the bodies as they were; when they were found the first suspicion would be cast on Gary and the police would unknowingly help them smoke him out of his hiding place. Morning was on its way and it was obvious Gary was going to stay elsewhere.

"It's going to be a tight fit. Especially with your hair everywhere and that bulbous head of yours needs a box unto itself," Leigh said trying to make light of the situation.

"Get in first you skinny bitch," Azyra bandied back, "and I'll lay on top of you. And don't think that sleeping on a bag of bones is a great comfort to me either."

As Azyra got more comfortable, Leigh took in all of her smells, especially the sandalwood that emanated from her soft curly puff of an Afro. They hadn't been this close since the beginning and Leigh held her closer.

"I'm sorry, Princess."

"I know, Shug. I know."

Leigh closed the coffin bringing the welcomed darkness.

They beat the dawn.
CHAPTER TEN

Victor picked the barest subway car he saw before getting in. If they were going to follow him at least he would see them coming. And who were they this time? He wasn't going to be naïve enough to talk himself into not believing their existence after what he'd seen the night before. After Azyra...

He'd been recording the evening's events, making a background template for his future star Manga style sexy lady vampire when he heard tapping on the outer door of his office. He rushed to get it, thinking Azyra had returned, only to see two official looking men standing outside in the hallway. He cursed himself wondering why he thought it was Azyra, seeing as it was Sunday, "day" being the operative part of the equation.

"Gentlemen, as you can see, I'm working but I assure you, these aren't business hours. Offices are closed, you'll have to come back tomorrow for the people you want."

"We're here to see you, Mr. Jacobs."

On any other occasion Victor would be pleased to show off his establishment and talk to his fans but these men didn't strike him as fans – these men were Feds. He could see it all over the standard black government-issue suit, tie, dark sunglasses, and hair parted on the right side.

"You guys IRS?"

"Should we be, Mr. Jacobs?"

"Not at all. C'mon in."

He watched them carefully as they walked in his office and stood by the table where Azyra stood hours before. The "talkative" one introduced himself as Daniel Greeley, in a very calm, soft, whispery voice as if everything he had to say was a secret that could never be told. The other one stayed silent. Victor asked them to have a seat while he took care of some last minute things in his layout room. This time he was going to have protection, he switched on his cameras – that Daniel guy looked familiar to him.

Ever the gracious host, regardless who his company was, Victor emerged from his back office with two bottled waters.

"Guys, really, you can sit down. Have something to drink; it's water. I took the liberty, just in case you are IRS."

"Mr. Jacobs," Daniel began, "we've just come from a bookstore on Long Island where we saw the remains of a gruesome murder scene. We're here because we could use your help."

"Murder? How can I help you with that when I was here in Manhattan? It's time stamped in the door, there's a system. Which reminds me, how did you guys get up here?"

Ignoring the question, Daniel continued, "We'd like to monitor your site for any talk of what happened last night."

"My site?"

"There is a psychopath named Gary Benson that frequents your site, Mr. Jacobs. His mother, Mrs. Carla Benson and his next-door neighbor, Mrs. Sharon Dietz, were killed in his mother's home last night."

"No offense, Danny boy, but it sounds like that's a local police matter – unless this 'Gary' person is a serial killer or something then that would make you Feds. Is that what's going on here?"

"They had holes in their neck," the silent one blurted. Marco could no longer keep his composure.

"DeMatteo, calm down," Daniel said.

"Daniel, the more we exchange pleasantries with this arrogant prick, the more we lose valuable time. And I know he knows something," he said pointing at him.

Victor noticed the ring on Marco DeMatteo's finger and knew these gentlemen weren't from any "official" office recognized in Washington. In fact, they were more along the line of Vatican representation – unofficially. Then it dawned on him, the reason Daniel looked so familiar... One of Victor's dependable sources from his website exposed Daniel as a key player of the Brotherhood Of The Sacred Seed, an organization of men who were very successful vampire hunters. He cursed himself for thinking only of Daniel as another character to add to his storyline. Victor couldn't have imagined what he'd heard about the Brotherhood to be real – or its serious implications. He had no reason to, until he saw Azyra.

Whatever else he'd planned on doing today, Victor made a mental note to cancel it. He had to find the Balloon Man who would contact Azyra. She and Leigh had some serious trouble on their hands.

Daniel caught the glint of familiarity in Victor's eye when he saw the ring on Marco's finger.

"You do know something, don't you Mr. Jacobs? You recognize Marco's ring."

"Sure I do, from a comic book about some vampire killers," he lied. "C'mon guys, it's my job, my livelihood to know this stuff – folklore and fairytales."

Victor's barb worked, sending Marco in a fit of anger.

"Those women were killed by a vampire, your vampire from your website, Gary Benson!" Marco exclaimed.

"Jesus, everybody's a vampire these days. How can you be so sure this Gary is a real vampire and not just some sick guy that went off on his Mom and her friend? But don't stop with the stories guys, you're giving me gold, stuff I can use."

"We didn't come here to fight with you, Mr. Jacobs," Daniel said, "we would urge you to cooperate with us so we can get a dangerous killer of human beings off the street."

"Yeah," Victor said, "I'm going to need to see those lovely little badges I didn't get a chance to look at before I invited you in here. That and maybe you could come back with your supervisors, Mr. Search Warrant and Mr. Subpoena. Or you could do me a big favor and submit a resume and some writing samples, this tale of yours sounds like a winner."

"I see, Mr. Jacobs. We may not have the badges you require but we do have resources. Have a blessed day, Sir."

Marco added, "What you do here, helping the Devil's seed, is amoral and will not get you any reward other than the material. Your soul is just as damned as the dark masters you serve. When they turn on you, you'll find the name of Jesus as your true Lord and Savior and not just some vain exclamation, all of you always do. May God forgive you."

"Have a nice day, Gentlemen."

Victor didn't know what compelled him to stay in his outer office and count, "one Mississippi, two Mississippi..." but he did. When he reached his 60th Mississippi he rushed back to his creative sanctum to log and capture the footage his custom made CCTV cameras caught of the two men.

Victor was thrilled about the possible scenarios he could weave and make a brand new series his followers would be buzzing about. This was one that fell right in his lap that he didn't have to cut the Balloon Man in on. He did reason, however, that had it not been for the Balloon Man and the lovely vision that is Azyra he would probably be working in someone else's comic book store promoting anime and conventions.

"See? I'm a nice guy. I'll cut them in and they won't even know why," Victor said aloud, his voice shaking. The prospect of money couldn't dampen one important fact – Victor was afraid.

Through his site, he'd heard of many people claiming to be shape shifters, vampires, witches, witches of vampire covens, lycans, worshippers of Satan and all manifestation of anything gothic, dark and insidious. He'd never been afraid of any of them (except for the one odd stalker girl) however they chose to contact him. Even when he was sure Azyra might actually kill him, he thought he could talk his way out of a death most agonizing.

But the Brotherhood Of The Sacred Seed is real and so, Victor discovered, was his fear of them. Their influence was as strong as the Vatican's and he knew Daniel was right, they have resources. They could shut down his years of hard work or they could expose Enoch, wise vampire, as a simple human being named Victor Jacobs. He wouldn't be able to rebuild after that. What scared him the most was the possibility that they could have the Balloon Man committed.

Regardless of what Azyra felt about Victor, he'd come to think of Tony as one of his closest friends. Victor made mistakes that many held against him; he said things people called arrogant but Tony the Balloon Man was patient. He had advice that Victor always found fitting and Tony was a person who listened to Victor Jacobs, not Victor Jacobs the "mogul-in-the-making".

If they connected him to the Balloon Man, they would lock him up for sure.

He waited an additional 20 minutes after counting, to calm himself down, and set the alarms in his office before hurrying outside. Once outside, he looked around as casually as he could. The streets were bare. This did nothing to pacify his paranoia, Victor knew he was being watched and probably followed.

After several dips and sharp turns, Victor found himself on a train headed to Pennsylvania Station, satisfied that he'd lost whoever he imagined was following him. It was Sunday and he was aboard an empty train, on his way to see a crazy man about a vampire he needed to warn.

"They'll kill her," he said softly, "without a second thought."

Marco was right, Victor called the name of Jesus, hoping it would get the train to his destination quicker.

Victor was not a mind reader nor did he have to be one to know that Daniel and Marco were committed to their cause. He was lucky they missed their opportunity to capture Azyra hours before heading to his office – to unsuccessfully solicit his help.

*

The late Carla Benson was justified in her concern to take out the husband of the late Mrs. Dietz.

He'd fallen back to sleep when his wife stormed out of her house to investigate the "goings on" across the street and didn't stir until 7 o'clock later that morning. His internal clock thought it odd that his slumber went uninterrupted at the usual 5:30am wake-up call, urged to be ready for church service that started at nine.

Instead of waking up anyway like most victims of the Pavlov system, his internal clock hit "snooze" and he sank deeper into a refreshing sleep – he hadn't had one in years. When more time passed and he didn't feel the harsh poking of Mrs. Dietz's finger in his ribs, Mr. Dietz's internal alarm clock screamed for him to wake up; his wife had probably pushed Carla too far and she made good on her threat to call the police.

"It would serve her right," a weary Mr. Dietz said as he reached for the phone to call Carla and apologize. He heard nothing but the slight buzz in his ear indicating that no one was picking up the phone on the other end. After five more uninterrupted buzzes, Mr. Dietz was sure there was trouble – Mrs. Dietz would never miss Sunday service.

He threw on his grey sweatpants, which he knew Mrs. Deitz hated (and he would more than likely catch hell for wearing them "in public" as she would point out) and a wrinkled white short-sleeved button down shirt, shoving his feet in his black slippers – he headed out the door to Carla's.

Ringing Carla's doorbell hadn't given him the response he expected, a furious Carla glad that he'd come to retrieve his wife, nor had he planned the door to be ajar. He tried the screen door, it was unlocked and he entered the house listening for arguing voices. He heard none. Mr. Dietz began to feel a strange vibration emanating from the pit of his stomach, something was not right here, when he caught a glimpse of Carla resting in the parlor. His mind told him that the feeling in his stomach should subside since he saw with his own eyes Carla sleeping. Is that a smile on her face? But his stomach gurgled even more as he walked toward her with the intention of waking her from her slumber – and he saw them.

The brick red streaks were dry and stopped in the area right before the neck met the shoulder. He noticed Carla's gray pallor and vomited right at her feet stumbling backward. It was then he saw his wife's lifeless body on the kitchen floor from the hallway where he could barely stand on his wobbly legs. Mr. Dietz called the police – but not before he screamed like a banshee.

An hour after the initial detectives, crime scene investigators, and the assortment of law enforcement converged on Carla's house, Daniel Greeley and Marco DeMatteo showed up looking like Federal Agents. Lieutenant Sharpe let them both get as far inside the house as the foyer where, along with several lab photographers, Carla sat in the same position a her serene smile locked on her face for eternity. They started to enter the parlor but were stopped by Sergeant Lewis – he knew who they were and didn't like either of them.

"So they let you boys out the 'Haunted House' to look at some real police work, eh?"

"Our work is just a beneficial to humankind as yours, Sergeant," Daniel responded.

"Except we don't have as many human casualties," Marco added.

Sergeant Lewis especially didn't care for DeMatteo.

"You guys chase around spooks and ghosts. Our spooks and ghosts are real. And real gritty police work is going to catch the real jerk-off son that killed his real mother and her real neighbor in this real house. You guys know you're in a real house, don't you? Not a gingerbread house made of straw and fairy dust."

"How do you explain the puncture marks in the victims neck?" Marco asked with growing frustration in his voice.

"How do you explain a kid with cuts all over his arms who says it eases the pain? How do you explain some nut that puts bolts in his head to look like horns; how do you explain the quack who performs the surgery? People talk about the new vampire craze like the old one went away. It didn't. We've got too many man-hours logged because of dumb stuff kids, and some of their weirdo parents, have done in the name of vampires and werewolves. This is another case and we're going to catch the son of a bi- we're going to catch this lady's sick kid. Now if you don't mind, you're holding things up."

"Why do you keep saying the son looks good for this?" Daniel asked.

Sergeant Lewis was tired of speaking with Marco and Daniel and wanted them to leave. Unfortunately, he knew, it wasn't going to be as easy as tossing some nosey reporter.

"Because the son isn't here and the neighbor's widow says he is around this time. He's got a night job in Queens. And it's the general consensus that the son started acting a lot different within the last three months or so, according to his neighbors. Now I need you guys to mosey so we can continue doing Earth work and not storybook plots."

"Sergeant, we came all this way out here, you know it's important we take a look around," Daniel said.

"You've got 10 minutes upstairs in the kid's room. Ten! Minute 11, I come up there myself and throw you out."

They were thorough in their examination of Gary's room, as thorough as they could be with Lewis's men watching them. And what they found led them to Victor Jacobs.

Had they been allowed to stay a minute more they would have noticed an officer give a "discrete" nudge to his commander, beckoning him to the basement. If they had a better rapport with Sergeant Lewis, Daniel would have used his high level clearance to secure the two bodies he would have recognized as living vampires. To the officers surrounding the coffin, they looked like two very beautiful dead girls.

"There's no holes in these two?" Sergeant Lewis asked.

"Not that we can tell so far Sarge. They..."

"They what?" asked an officer.

"They look like they're sleeping," Sergeant Lewis finished.

"OK, you guys are gonna kill me for saying it. I know this guy has to be a sick fucker but he doesn't have bad taste. They're kinda cute," said the officer.

"Geez, Harley," Sergeant Lewis said, "God rest the dead, huh? I don't want the press talking about some mope cop having sex with dead victims, OK?"

The rest of the officers laughed. Leigh and Azyra could hear everything not moving an inch – their telepathy was strong enough.

"So what's the plan now, Shug?" Azyra asked, her voice filling Leigh's senses.

"They'll probably place us in body bags and take us to the morgue. It'll do us some good to get rest there."

"We won't get any rest They gone roll us out all naked and such, then they'll do what they can to investigate, see if Gary likes screwing dead girls or did he screw us before he 'killed' us."

"The hospital is a big place where bodies can get lost until sundown, Princess."

"We got to make it there first, Shug."

"I'm telling you guys," Officer Harley continued, "they look like they are spooning and it looks kinds sexy."

Another officer spoke up, "Dag, Harley. You better go back upstairs, man, before you try and jump one of them right now."

Leigh's eyes snapped open surveying the surroundings. Harley backed into his fellow officers, knocking one down.

"Shit she's alive!!" he said. The officers laughed, including the one he was currently laying across as he tried to pick himself up.

"She's not alive, genius!" Sergeant Lewis said, "This kind of stuff happens to bodies all of the time. Some sit up, some say a last word..."

"Sarge, she's looking right at us. Aren't her eyes supposed to be in the back of her head or something?"

"Aren't your balls supposed to be between your legs and not in your purse? Get off me, man," replied the pinned officer.

"Sorry, Denton. I'm telling you guys, maybe we should take a pulse because she looks – "

"Close the coffin so that Miss Snowpuff Doll over here doesn't wet himself and let the techs come take care of this," Sergeant Lewis said.

In the familiar darkness of the closed coffin they spoke low enough for each of them to hear.

"You're taking a few risks aren't you? We can't kill a whole group of police investigating a crime scene and questions not be asked," Azyra said.

"I needed to see what we are up against. When the technicians come down here I think they need to be reminded that they've already been here, dusted for fingerprints and the lot; do you agree?"

"Shug, you're about to get somebody fired for sure."

"Fired, probably. I'm sure they'd preferred fired much more than dead."

"I'm sure."

*

Living was the thought spinning through Victor's head as he ditched the man following him. The stranger boarded the same train a car behind him and waited a moment before walking to the car where Victor was seated. It's not unusual to New Yorkers, people move about all the time, but the man made a mistake – he engaged Victor in conversation.

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter," Victor said to himself.

The Light of Enoch Media was a lucrative Internet venture for Victor. He serviced those who loved manga and anime dark, gothic, and full of vampires.

Many knew Victor's face and saw him as a gofer or an annoying gatekeeper for Enoch. They spoke to him as if he wasn't worthy of being in the presence of an old and wise vampire. They would ask that he deliver an assortment of fan mail and macabre gifts (their own blood) and Victor smiled, accepting the strange tributes on Enoch's behalf.

A select few knew the secret, which kept the intrigue of his site so popular amongst its followers and a smile on his face even in the thick of his most ardent detractors. His family knew, the Balloon Man knew, Azyra knew, and the men who left his office this morning knew.

So when the "random" stranger stepped into the empty car and addressed Victor as "Enoch", the guy who wrote all those great vampire stories on the web, he decided it best to take the friendly route. Victor asked the guy to join him for a drink at one of "Enoch's" local haunts.

"I'm thinking of spicing up the series a little bit by adding some vampire killers to the mix," Victor said. "Probably do a little merchandising and the whole coupons thing. Fun fact, where we are now, partial sponsors. They're a little biased because they know some of my family but business has picked up since they made the new Enoch's Goblet drink."

Victor explained to the stranger that he was able to keep his identity a secret because people didn't see at him as the creative type.

"Really?" the guy replied – his interest wasn't sincere. Victor noticed the stranger favored his ring, the same kind of ring he'd seen earlier in his office on the finger of Marco DeMatteo.

He continued on, speaking about the bar's signature drink, "They have one with no alcohol and, of course, one for the big boys. I'll order one for us, the one the kids drink. It's Sunday after all, right? You can come back on your own and get the drink for grown-ups. 'Enoch' loves this place; who knows, maybe 'he'll' see you when you come back?" Victor said with a wink.

"Maybe."

"I'm going to hit the john first. Keep the drinks cold until I get back, will ya?"

That was the last the stranger saw of Victor. He doubled back up the block and hopped on the train on his way to find Balloon Man.

The Balloon Man was spreading his special brand of joy when Victor approached him near the unmanned ticket booth.

"Why, Mr. Jacobs, what are you doing here?"

"Mr. Whitscombe, Sir, we have to get going."

"Aww, Mr. Jacobs, I told you that you don't have to bother with no formalities. We friends, ain't we?"

"OK, Tony, pal, you've got to pack up. We need to get out of here."

The small crowd dispersed, except for a spoiled mother and her very spoiled little boy.

"Excuse me but this man was about to make my son a hat before you jumped the line," she said annoyed.

Victor looked around before responding.

"Lady, there is no line and it's Sunday. Give the guy a break."

"I want a hat! A balloon HAT! Make me one, NOW!" the child screamed to the Balloon Man.

"You need to put a muzzle on that kid and teach him some respect," Victor said.

"I waited! I want MY HAT! You get some respect!"

"Mr. Jacobs – "

"No, no, no, I can handle this. Did you make a donation, Miss?"

"The sign says it's free on Sundays."

"No, the sign asks for donations on Sundays so it's not exactly free unless your little demon gets his hat and you decide you don't want to give anything."

The woman, now insulted, grabbed her son and proceeded to walk away.

"But Mom, we WAITED and I. WANT. MY. HAT!"

The Balloon Man constructed a simple balloon hat and walked toward the child who'd exploded in full tantrum mode. Victor took the hat from the Balloon Man and walked toward the scene extending his hand with the hat in it. The child saw and stopped his flailing and kicking.

"Hey, you little brat, you want your hat? Here's a hat, you want it?"

"You could have let the man make it in the first place. Such horrible service! And don't expect a donation from me, Sunday or not!" his mother exclaimed with a smug look on her face.

"Give me my hat, you jerk!" the brat added.

Victor motioned for the child to get it and when he reached Victor, popped the entire fun balloon hat sculpture into a tangle of colorful looking noodles. The child and his mother stood, mouth open, stunned.

"This one's on me. Have a nice fucking Sunday you snobby cunt, you and your mother."

As Victor walked back toward the Balloon Man he could hear the child ask, "What's a cunt?" as she stood, still frozen in disbelief.

"Now that wasn't very nice, Mr. Jacobs," the Balloon Man said trying to stifle a chuckle.

"Yeah, neither are taxes but we got to pay them, right? We have to get out of here. And it's 'Victor'."

"Excuse me?"

"You said we're pals. So I'll call you 'Tony' and you call me 'Victor'. Deal?"

"Deal. What's the big hurry, Victor?"

He stood closer to the Balloon Man speaking in a whisper, "Azyra might be in trouble. I was followed so we have to go."

"We can get the next train."

"Not safe enough. We're going to hop in a cab and go to my place. I have some gadgets there that can tell if anyone's snooping around. Then we're going to where she rests and warn her."

"But Mr. Ja- Victor, I don't know where she rests."

"Damnit. Well, we'll have to sit tight at my house until sundown, then we head to the tombs and hope she comes by you for a visit."

*

Two crime scene technicians told everyone to pack it up and salvage the rest of their Sunday. They'd collected hair samples from the coffin to get a positive identification on the two dead girls. Hopefully they could give the families of these poor souls some kind of peace. The techs made sure the basement was gone over with a fine-toothed comb. If there were any accomplices to this gruesome crime, they would be found. Pictures were taken of the floor and anything that seemed out of the ordinary to be studied once they were back at the lab. The two lovely young girls were packed away in body bags headed to the morgue.

That's what the techs thought when they left.

They would learn later that night, the photographs of the basement were nothing more than snapshots of the shoes and holsters of their fellow officers. The hair samples they thought they had were blades of grass and cat hair; any fingerprints they might have gotten mysteriously disappeared.

Sergeant Lewis and his technicians would be in so much trouble Internal Affairs, for the first time in his career, was breathing down his neck. He in turn, placed the blame on the visit from the Haunted House boys, explaining how any time they arrived at a crime scene crazy things happened. His superiors would agree but an investigation of the officers' conduct would happen nonetheless; incompetence of such a gross magnitude couldn't be blamed on police superstition an innuendo, no matter how accurate it was. There were strange circumstances surrounding these homicides. Circumstances that demanded attention and no one could explain how costly mistakes continued to happen.

Except for Leigh.

In a quaint house in Lynbrook she and her Princess shared a laugh over what they assumed the officers would do when they opened the body bags and found nothing but worn futon mattresses that had been stored in the basement. Futon mattresses are a lot heavier than one would think – they certainly aren't two dead girls stuffed in a coffin.

For the time being Azyra and Leigh rested. No police trudging around, no chasing rogues, and no crazy fast talking Internet guy.

They rested in the coffin tucked away under the basement stairs waiting for the night to be theirs again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN

"See, right there, it's moving."

Bill stood over Kaya while she lifted her shirt so her brand new back tattoo was exposed to Aisha and Jenna. They'd commandeered a room in the palatial estate to unwind from the night's incredible events. They were all still amazed by the enormity of the grounds and the realization that they "owned", for lack of a better word they could find among themselves, an estate. Sure, they had to share it with a dozen or so witches, several vampires and the staff that made their home on the premises but it wasn't bad when one realized all of their apartments combined wouldn't fill one wing in this grand new house.

They sat asking Kaya to show off her presents from The Six when Bill noticed something odd about the back tattoo.

"You don't feel anything, like bugs crawling on your back?" he asked Kaya.

"There are bugs on my back? Yo, what the...?"

"Yes," Jenna added when she saw the movement, "I see it too, Dad! It's like... Like..."

"Like a watch," Aisha finished Jenna's thought. "Look, it's counting down the time until the eclipse. See how the stars are moving and the indication of the sun and moon?"

"What does that mean?" Jenna asked.

"It means they know me and my Baby are close, and as the Chief Witch in this piece, they know I'm going to make sure we get what we need to get done. Besides, we got a little bit of time," Aisha said flopping on top of the four-poster bed. "I am going to sleep ALL day today because it's off to the grind tomorrow."

"Crazy, isn't it? We have to go to work tomorrow and our salaries wouldn't cover the cost of the shrubs. Did you take a look at that gate we came through? Hand made, I'd bet it. Hand made," Bill said.

"Where are the other witches?" Kaya asked, the tone of her voice changing the mood.

"Probably playing Queen for a Day or checking out the rest of the mansion going crazy. What's the matter, Babe?"

Kaya pulled down her shirt and looked at her friends.

"This does NOT leave the room."

They all nodded in unison.

"Ayalu is dead."

Aisha and Jenna gasped while Bill looked alarmed.

"Damnit, he was right. He told me but I didn't believe..." he said.

"Hikpodu told you?" Kaya asked.

"No, that vampire you guys have been dreaming about. I saw him and he said he killed her."

"What does it mean?" Jenna asked.

"She's not like, dead dead. She's on the other side with Lilith – her physical body is gone. She ain't with her brothers and sisters like she's supposed to be."

"Oh crap," Bill said and the color drained from his face. "They're all dead. Every damn vampire on the planet is finished."

"God, what do we do?" Jenna asked mortified, "Do we not tell them and let them die?"

"Tell them, not tell them, they're still going to die, Sweetheart," Bill said.

"How do you know she's gone, Babe?"

"How do I know...? Ish, I just got back from a place no one will ever find on a map with tattoos all over my body that wasn't there before. You wanna take a quick guess?"

"Sorry."

"I'm not trying to be nasty. I'm sorry for snapping, OK? We don't have as much time as you think. They say that there is another one who can form the Merkaba. What's needed is a Royal Blood vampire or some relative of theirs. They said that this vamp would find me but I think we need to get the jump going and see if we can find her first."

"Her?" Aisha asked.

"Yeah, they told me she will find us so we need to be ready for her."

"God is merciful and Lilith provides. Her children will be saved," Jenna said.

"Just as long as we can find 'her'," Bill added.

"Well that's what I'm thinking. Do we have any Royal Blood in this House?" asked Kaya.

"Besides ole Hikpodu himself, I don't think so," Bill answered.

"Babe, what about Hotep? Y'all keep talking about how old he is and how he's seen so much."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure he's a proxy, Kaya."

"How much do we know about Sankofa?" Bill asked.

"I think she's Hotep's proxy, Dad."

"Who told you that? Hotep?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah. I remember now," Kaya said. "When they were doing their little stroll they said they were proxies."

"Guys I wasn't going to say but since we're all truth and consequences here, Hotep's been acting weird since last night. It started with Ramel."

"Ugh, Dad, why mention him?"

"You all need to listen. I'm telling you when Ramel said Sankofa's name, I'll swear on it, Hotep was scared."

The women gave a collective moan as Bill tried to convince them there was something worth paying attention to.

"Great! You went there now," Kaya said chuckling.

"I'm telling you ladies I saw him and he was scared. I'll look into it myself but I think we should consider who's telling us what and our Royal Blood is already here. It's Sankofa."

"OK, OK suppose you're right, Bill? What is it that Hotep could possibly be hiding that Ramel of all people has?" Aisha asked.

"That's what I'll be finding out, with our Conductor's permission, of course."

"Knock yourself out, Archie."

Aisha was proud of Kaya. The way she took charge of the impromptu meeting gave her more confidence in the future of her House. She had to admit to herself it was something she never thought would happen. She looked at her fiancé and wondered how she ever doubted it in the first place; Kaya spoke like she was born for the job.

"Look at my Boo being all official-like with it," she said.

"Right? Especially when it looked like she wasn't going to be anything to anyone..." Jenna wished she could suck the words out of the air but it was too late.

The sign.

Aisha had forgotten about it in the midst of the excitement. She dismissed it when Kaya was consecrated but Jenna reminded her of it – a close call that didn't even deserve mention.

"What's she talking about?" Kaya asked.

"It's not even worth saying."

"If it isn't, what are you mean muggin' your Sister witch over there for?"

"Kaya, it's really nothing. It just slipped out of my mouth – I wasn't thinking. Besides you're in the House, ha ha! No pun intended, of course."

Bill interjected, "Ladies, we're all in this together now. It has been an eventful night and if we're to get through what's to come, I suggest we be up front. What gives?"

Jenna looked in Aisha's eyes for help while returning a look that simply said, "I'm sorry." She saw no harm in telling Kaya now, after all Kaya beat Ramel and he was sent on his way. That was all part of the sign too, wasn't it?

Aisha spoke.

"We weren't sure you were going to be, how do I put this, involved with us, Baby. When the nomination process took place and you had to hold the marble and drop it into the moat to show your heart, you remember, it turned black."

"That means death," Jenna blurted.

"Or loss," Aisha corrected, eyes on fire as she shot Jenna a stern look. "I thought it symbolized that you still weren't serious about the task at hand. I know everybody wanted you to be with us but if you weren't serious you'd get them all killed."

"And us locked in an asylum or something," added Jenna.

"Anyway when the water turned clear everything was OK. And you're 'in the House' as old big mouth over there said so there's nothing to worry about."

But Kaya was worried and the look on her face showed it. Her nightmares had the black water in them. Suppose she couldn't find the Royal Blood or the Royal Blood was lost? She is the Conductor. Ramel was a part of her dreams and Kaya figured, with good reason, that he wasn't the kind of guy to take a loss like this lightly. He knew Sankofa's name – he knew who she was which was enough to expose her to danger. Anyone looking for Sankofa would search the bank. It didn't ease Kaya's mind the House was no longer where Ramel could find it. She couldn't fail this task because the cost was too high.

"Talk to me, my friend," Bill said noticing the distress on her face.

"Ramel knows Sankofa. If she is our girl, that ass might try something just because, you feel me? I'm just worried, that's all." Kaya turned to Aisha and continued, "You know I've been having bad dreams, Bay. That black water has been in them. What if that's a sign that Sankofa is in danger or that I get everybody killed?"

"You're not going to get everybody killed, Kaya," Jenna answered. "You're going to be our Conductor like it was said you will be and we're going to help."

"Exactly," Aisha said, "because he's going to be looking for us at the bank and won't find our new spot. Plus, scared or not, Hotep is going to defend his woman to the death and we got your back."

"Damn straight," Bill added. "We all need some sleep then we can regroup and put together a plan to deal with Ramel which, if you ask me, is no longer a problem. Our focus needs to be on finding the Royal Blood."

"Tonight, I'll ask her some questions if it will make you happy, Baby," Aisha said.

"See? Now that's a great idea! You have nothing to worry about, my friend, we're all for you. And if it's not Sankofa then we know that she's looking for us and we'll find her."

"Yeah, Archie, we better lay out some pretty big bread crumbs too."

*

Victor paced the floor and checked his watch – again, while looking out of his window. There was a warm feeling inside his chest, a good one. The night's events were vindication for his light paranoia. His uncle was supportive and funded most of Victor's legal endeavors, even though he didn't understand them. Buying a cavernous warehouse building with equally large office spaces, located in downtown Manhattan, seemed like a colossal waste of money. Keeping the building and converting it to apartments garnered Victor a little respect but his uncle warned him, nonetheless, of the astronomical energy costs. Being a man of foresight Victor went "green" before it was très chic for most buildings like his to do so in the big city. A real grass putting green on the roof, solar panels for added flare and Victor's energy costs are almost non-existent.

Then there was his insistence on having a Fort Knox like security system throughout the building.

"Vic, ain't nobody coming to steal no vampire tales. You need some vampire bank account numbers and then you can lock up. Plus your tenants probably have more money than you – they ain't trying to burgle your crib," his uncle would tease him.

Turns out I have some tales that are quite valuable to certain people, he thought glancing at his CCTV one more time. The typical black Suburban was parked across the street from his building while the garage camera showed two strangers in a blue Ford Focus trying, unsuccessfully, to pick up conversation with their listening device. Victor recognized it as something unequipped do deal with the tools he had around his apartment; he also recognized one of the strangers in the Ford Focus, Marco DeMatteo. He commended them on being brazen enough to park in the garage as if they belonged in the building. Sneaky bastards, all of them. He paced the floor again.

"A watched pot never boils," the Balloon Man said.

"What was that, pal?" Victor said.

"You waxin' your floor like that, with your feet, ain't gone make that old sun set any faster."

"I guess you're right. They're out there waiting for us to leave and they're trying to listen to our conversation. I heard about these guys, Tony; to see them in action is something serious."

"You think they really gone hurt Zeera, don't you?"

"I know they will. All of her friends too and the people like her. Uh, you know there are more people like her, right?"

"Victor, I was a heartbroken man I ain't crazy. I know what she is and know that there's folks that made her that way, who made them the way they are too."

"Yeah, well these guys want to kill all of them. Like every single last one of them. I think she's a rogue. And the vampire-killing group she belongs to, I'd heard whispers of them through my site. I thought most of those guys were in Europe somewhere; I think there could be a few more of them out west. Being alone or with a partner may have worked in the past," he said talking more to himself than the Balloon Man, "but she's going to need an army for these guys."

Victor's mind was racing, causing him to pace more. The Balloon Man was distressed. After all of this time to finally see Azyra, a moving photograph captured in a happier moment. Once he was a man strong enough to defend her. If the people waiting outside wanted her dead he couldn't lead them right to her, he needed to think of something too. Victor was a bright, promising young man but Azyra was Antoine Whitscombe's responsibility, she was almost his fiancé one time so long ago. Those feelings never disappeared – he would protect her.

"That ain't no decoy, Son," the Balloon Man said.

"Huh?"

"You say they got a big truck down there and a car in the garage? That truck's gone stay where it's at because the snooping stuff is in there."

"Not following you, pal."

"They done been to your office and can't get into nothin'. They figure the way you work you gone bring some of it here – "

"Shit! Big Guy, you're a genius! They're gonna bug my house and probably put something on my computers to track the movements on my site. OK. This is good. I can work this to our advantage."

The Balloon Man smiled, promising young man.

"We gone have to part ways in a minute."

"Yeah, I know." Victor rushed off to his bedroom. He returned with three notebooks and two hard drives.

"They're going to follow me. And they are going to toss my apartment looking for stuff, that's what I'm giving you, stuff. They'll look for you too but when I take you to get pizza for your people and I lead them somewhere else, it'll buy us time until Azyr- Miss Francis shows up. I'll lose them and meet you guys back at – where you are. Get her to stay, make her realize it's very important."

"That won't be no problem, you just make sure you lose them."

The Balloon Man didn't want any trouble for the people he'd gotten to know in the subway tunnels, they'd become his extended family. His foibles, his stories, they all let him be and the last thing he wanted was a bunch of zealous killers picking them off because of their association with him. Bringing them some hot pizza pies with the works would be appreciated – he knew the thought made him feel a lot better. One night without the lukewarm culinary affectations from the Dumpster Diving Café or something as simple an unused napkin to dab his mouth, would be the equivalent of Heaven on Earth. He laughed.

"What's so funny?"

The Balloon Man tilted his head to the darkened sky outside the window.

"Water's boiling."

Victor smiled, "That it is."

He was going to Gary's. It was obvious that the Brotherhood tracked him through Gary's computer; they'd mentioned the murder of his mother. He needed to get whatever he could. Victor assumed it would be a long shot that any of Gary's computer stuff was left at the scene but it was an outrageous chance he needed to take. He'd lost the Brotherhood before; this time would prove to be more fun.

He released the interference he'd placed on their listening devices. By doing it in increments it would appear as if his jamming device was losing power. Victor spoke to the Balloon Man about delivering pizza pies to a couple of small shelters in the area and him staying at the last location they delivered the pies. Of course, the Balloon Man protested (exactly the way they rehearsed before Victor turned off the jamming device) until he finally agreed to stay at the small group home for men at Victor's stern insistence.

The ruse convinced everyone listening, except Daniel. The Balloon Man sounded real, he'd been opposed to staying in any homeless shelters or group homes Victor suggested. But Daniel guessed that as soon as Victor dropped him off at the Mills Street Center for Men as they'd discussed, the Balloon Man was going to make a break for it, back to the dark alleyways and underpasses where he felt most comfortable.

And Victor's voice sounded calculating. Daniel could hear Victor thinking and if Victor was thinking, he was plotting. He didn't trust Victor was going to drop off pizzas and gelatos to a couple of shelters like some benevolent Italian Santa Claus then drive back home to his bed filled with sunshine and cheer because of the good he'd done for the day.

"He's using that man to throw us off of his scent, DeMatteo, I want you to take charge in his pursuit. The minute he reaches his final destination, you call me. We should be finished with his home by then."

It's real this time, Marco thought, no more drills.

When Victor and the homeless man finished stuffing his cart of balloons and things Marco had no interest in, into his shiny Mercedes Benz jeep, Victor helped the old man in the passenger side before taking off in a hurry. Daniel was right, a prick like Victor who puts a dirty homeless guy and his crazy looking shopping cart in a new, expensive import had to be up to something. Marco DeMatteo and the "new guy" were going to find out what it was.

Marco turned to his partner and nodded.

"Joseph, this is the real thing. The object is the one driving the car."

"I thought it was both of them?"

"Nope. Brother Daniel says that Mr. Jacobs is up to something and we stay on him. He's using the homeless guy."

"But..."

"Speak your mind, Joseph."

"Seems like he goes through a lot of trouble for one homeless guy. Brought him to his house, he's going to drop him to a couple of shelters to take a look. If the object is as big of a jerk as you say, what can an old Black homeless man have to do with his life? I mean look at his stuff. Wouldn't a guy like him be satisfied with writing a big fat check and having his picture in the paper? Why the hands-on?"

"Maybe. But Brother Daniel says the Black guy is going to bolt first chance he gets and we're to follow Mr. Jacobs. When all the smoke clears from tonight, we are free to do a little checking for ourselves."

"We can start right there," Joseph said and pointed to the Mills Street Center for Men.

They watched as a large biker looking man shook Victor's hand and Victor tried to stay in the shadows. The biker looking man seemed familiar with the Balloon Man giving him an affectionate pat on the back gesturing to come in the building. Marco and Joseph didn't take their eyes off them, watching for anyone who came in or who was going to walk out that door.

"What if he ducks out of the back, then what?"

"Not likely, Joseph, he's not ditching his car."

"He knows those people, Brother Marco. He could be telling them to keep an eye on his car while he makes out the back."

Marco patted his left side for his holster. He didn't want to have to shoot his fellow man. If they interfered with his investigation they were agents of the devil and deserved whatever punishment issued.

Marco turned to give Joseph the nod to follow when the door opened for the pizza delivery truck. He focused his attention on the truck; Victor was a clever man. He could sneak away in the back or invite the delivery guy in and do a uniform switch – he wasn't going to underestimate Victor.

Instead, five men came out the front door with Victor as he paid for the pizzas. Two broke away from the group walking toward Marco and Joseph, while the other three helped Victor bring the pies in the building.

Biker looking man knocked on the window.

"Excuse me, you guys living out of your car? We have a couple of warm beds you can sleep in for the night."

"There is a mistake, Sir," Marco said, "we're not homeless."

The biker looking man's eyes narrowed causing his bushy eyebrows to furrow into one continuous rug of a brow.

"You guys cops?"

"No," Joseph said, "we're actually interested in your generous benefactor. We'd like to know how to get a hold of him so we could get him to donate to a charity we're a part of."

Biker looking man glanced at the equally large Dominican man who accompanied him to the car.

"What do you think, Flavo?"

"They sound like cops to me."

"I agree."

As the biker looking man stood up, intending to reach in and pull Marco out of the car, Joseph spotted Victor and pointed. He was in his vehicle making a quick get away.

"Hey!" he said as Flavo pounded on the passenger side window.

Marco discovered the ploy too late and he watched the rear lights on Victor's jeep dart around the corner out of sight. They fell for "the banana in the tailpipe" and Marco was upset about it. He reached for his gun and aimed it at the biker looking man's chest.

Biker looking man laughed.

"Let's leave them alone, Flavo, these guys aren't cops."

"Really," Marco said with a scowl on his face, "how could you tell?"

"Cause cops ain't stupid enough to come here pullin' guns," Flavo answered.

"Where's your friend headed?" Marco asked.

"Friend? What friend?"

Marco became more frustrated. He remembered Daniel's words and the teachings of the Brotherhood; the state of ignorance is bliss, which is why they have so many residents. If people only knew what went on past the drudgery of their idle lives, what he and his Brothers protected them from. The monsters under the bed are real and there are those who would let them take over the whole house but Marco, his Brothers, refuse to stand by while that happens. It is unfortunate there are those who work on the behalf of Darkness. Marco rationalized they were always welcome to come to the loving Light of God – those who refused would be expelled. The men before him, helping Victor get away, perform good deeds. Without the Way of God their good deeds were nothing more than acts of vanity.

What Marco didn't realize was Rex (biker looking man) and Flavo had their own code, which allied them to those who were familiar and compassionate to the needs of the forgotten. Victor was that man to them.

They'd noticed the unfamiliar car seconds after Victor arrived with the Balloon Man. Flavo had been watching the street from the window and when Victor and the Balloon Man entered the building they proceeded to discuss the problem parked across the street.

Victor wanted to know a little more about his pursuers and he knew just the person who could find out that information.

When Marco pointed the gun at Rex and used his more persuasive voice to ask Rex where Victor was headed, Rex told him (just as Victor asked him to do) – Valley Stream, Long Island.

Marco thanked them and sped off in the direction he last saw Victor's jeep.

"What do you think is in Valley Stream?" Joseph asked.

"I don't know," Marco replied, excited by the chase. He had no intention of letting Victor get away.

"The killings took place a town over. Maybe Gary isn't hiding very far from the scene of the crime and Victor's going to warn him he's being hunted."

"My God," Joseph gasped.

"Yes. There are many Agents of the Darkness, that is why our work is so important."

Marco accelerated; he had to find Victor before he headed for the parkway out of the city. His prayers were answered when he saw Victor's Benz creep right past them. Victor had been looking in the opposite direction allowing Marco the opportunity to settle in right behind him.

"Lead the way, Big Boy," Marco said. He was careful and followed the car behind him to avoid alerting an already suspicious Victor.

Marco drove in silence, never taking his eyes off the cars in front of him. He watched Victor check his mirrors, straining to see if he recognized any one car that was behind him longer than it should be. It was all part of the pretense.

They reached Oak Street slowing down near the darkest house on the block.

"Is there anybody inside?" asked Joseph.

"Must be vampires," Marco said, almost salivating. Daniel is going to be incredibly proud when he reported on this one. "Look how the rest of the houses have their lamps on – nothing for that house."

"Shouldn't we give Brother Daniel a call?"

"No! We'll observe. I want details before we bother him, just in case this is another trick."

It was another ruse by the very clever Victor but this was one he planned to be beneficial to his situation. He'd called ahead to his friend in the "darkest house on the block" warning him there was a car on his tail and its passengers needed a scan. His friend turned out all the lights in his home, with the exception of his attic fortress, then turned on his infrared scanners and his "donated" face recognition program courtesy of Victor Jacobs. By the time Victor entered the house and made it upstairs to Ralph's lair, he had the information Victor wanted. Ralph was not happy.

"What the hell are you trying to drag me into this time, Vic?"

"You got a hit on 'em?"

"They're going to have a hit on me, man! This ain't military or government, it's the Church."

"Stop with the panic attack and tell me something, Ralph."

"Panic? Dude, I haven't seen you since you went all soft and creamy with your comic books and – "

"Graphic novels! Am I the only one who's ever seen a graphic novel?"

"Fine, man, graphic novels. Point is you do that stuff now. You don't come by with goodies anymore and I don't have the fancy equipment you have to stop the damn Church!"

"Ralph, I promise you I have something real big that needs your expertise. But you have to believe it even when you see it because you won't. Plus I need you to tell me what you got on the two jackholes that followed me here."

"You're a real piece of work, man. Do you know that? These guys are with the Vatican but like Black Ops or something. The driver, I can only tell you his name because if I try to go any deeper down this rabbit hole I'll probably get a first class ticket to Hell with the Pope's signature!"

"I know the driver's name, him and some other guy named Daniel came by my office today."  
"Oh, you mean that big office you have in the city that I've never been invited to? Must've been real nice for them. Kidding! Don't care!"

"I'm sorry I haven't been around you and the guys, Ralph, I've been really busy. I promise though, soon as I get past this trouble, me and you and the guys once again."

Ralph rolled his eyes and continued, "The other guy went to an HBCU – I think that's what they call them, Howard University. He must be the new guy because his file isn't locked up as tight as the other one. Name's Joseph Spivey and he studied New Testament Languages and Literature. He's a long way from home, from the other side of the country, Seattle, Washington. Says here he's a candidate for the Brotherhood. So you went and pissed of a bunch of priests with clout?"

"Worse."

"You got names?" Ralph asked, eyes brightening, "Of molesters? OK, I'm with you if – "

"Vampire killers, Ralph. The Brotherhood is an old organization of vampire killers."

Ralph's face was blank. He stared silently at Victor for what was an endless five seconds before uttering two words.

"Get out."

"Ralph, don't do this. I came to you first because you're a broader thinker than the others, you have imagination."

"So do you, man. And yours is running away from you. Hey, I have a suggestion, why don't you go and catch it? Get. Out."

"Ralph... OK, OK... I saw one, met her. A real live vampire."

"See what happens when you play with the pretty people, they drive you insane."

"I'm telling you that I met her and Ralph, she's hot. I know you check out my site. The stories about the old Jewish guy, he lost his love because a vampire took her away, right? I may have embellished just a little. The guy is actually a Black dude and I know him, he's become one of the best friends I've ever had on Earth – aside from you, of course. And a vampire took his love away; his love is a hot Black chick that I just met. She almost killed me too!"

"Except that she didn't, I notice. Is it because the Tooth Fairy came and saved the day or did a Yeti give her a good talking to and she changed her mind?"

Ralph's thin face was turning red from exasperation. If Victor didn't leave his home he was going straight to his Grandmother's room and have her expel him. Nobody messed with Ralph Makowski's tough old Grammie. Victor could see the look in his eyes and made one last attempt to convince him – he needed Ralph's help more than he ever had before.

"The murders! In Lynbrook, Ralph, you have to come with me."

"What are you blathering about now? I'm going to give you 12 seconds to get out of my fortress before I have to involve the Exterminator."

Victor knew he would have to talk fast, Ralph's Grandmother loved the ground her grandson walked on and she was quite a force to be reckoned with.

"Look it up. The papers, the news, they all said it was the son who slashed his mother's throat and then offed the neighbor too, right? I'm telling you to dig, Ralph. Someone must've written a report with the real deal on it or said something and decided to put it on a computer. Everybody's putting everything on computers these days. Vampires drained them, my friend."

Ralph hesitated for a moment and went back to his computer station where he proceeded to search the backdoors of police data. Part of him wanted Victor's story to ring true, he missed his friend but he was well aware Victor was a great prankster and Ralph was an easy butt. Victor and the rest of the crew meant well when they had fun at his expense but some of the pranks hurt his feelings. Try as Ralph may to get revenge with a joke of his own, Victor was always three steps ahead of him. When he went off on this creative venture without him it felt like he was running leaps and bounds ahead of them all. Ralph saw it as another elaborate prank but Victor was gone. In a world where Victor was his access to a real friend, his abandonment hurt the most.

The Prodigal Son had returned asking for his help, and he looked serious, but Victor always had the best poker face. Ralph was going to make a quick sweep of the data before Victor had the chance to yell, "gotcha!" Then Ralph would signal Grammie to throw him out. Ralph was sure he had the upper hand in this outcome until he noticed something. Victor saw the expression change on his face.

"You found something, didn't you Ralphie?"

"You – you could have planted this here..."

"But you and I both know I didn't."

They both read Officer Jack Harley's personal observations he made the mistake of placing in a file that could be viewed publicly by an even less formidable hacker than Ralph Makowski. He spoke in detail about the girls in the coffin and the one he was sure is still alive although he couldn't explain how he knew she was. What caught Ralph's attention was the description of the puncture wounds in the necks of the victims and the massive loss of blood they both suffered.

He looked at Victor, "So what do you want?"

"I need your car."

"Oh c'mon, man! You drove here. Why can't you take your own car?"

"Those jackwads are still out there! You could come with, OK? Just – I need the car."

Marco and Joseph had given up using the listening device and waited for Victor to make his next move. As Joseph was going to suggest they inform Daniel of their progress they saw the garage door open and some lights brighten up the yard. A tall lanky pale man dressed in dark sweats started the engine of a dark colored 1968 Mustang. While he backed out of the garage a large block of a woman came through the door. From the headlights of the Mustang they could see the woman wagging her finger at the man as he made motions for her to get back in the house. There was no sign of Victor.

"You think he's camped up in the house for the night? I think we should call Brother Daniel and let him know."

"He's up to something..." Marco looked in the rearview mirror when the Mustang passed by him turning off Oak Street.

"Marco, Brother Daniel said to ring in when we got to his final destination. He's hiding out here for the night, he should be made aware of this."

Suddenly, through the view in the mirror, Marco saw the Mustang slow down to a crawl and the door open. A figure dashed inside and the Mustang sped away.

"You want to be a part of this thing, Joseph, you'd better learn how to look around you. Victor just went off with his friend in the car," Marco said smugly.

"What? Well shouldn't we pursue?"

"No, let's give them a head start."

"We do that, we'll lose them."

"Not when we know exactly where they're headed," Marco replied.

Victor explained to Ralph why it was best he park the car further up the block but seeing the police tape stretched across the front porch of the late Carla Benson's home solidified the point.

"I'm going to cut across that house's backyard and look for Gary's room, maybe the backdoor is still open. You keep the engine running. I don't plan to be in there long."

"Who the hell is Gary?"

"Just keep the engine running. And turn the lights out."

It was as he assumed, the backdoor was unlocked on this quiet block at night, even though a double homicide occurred not so long ago.

Shining his little flashlight he spied the dried blood in the kitchen where Mrs. Dietz lay dead hours before; the clean-up crew didn't get to the house yet. Victor was puzzled by the amount of dried congealed blood on the floor, far too much to come from a human body. But it was there and it wasn't like his artists portrayed in his manga stories. This was dull, dry, sticky and unattractive – nothing like the bright reds that splashed across the pages and burst across his website. This blood smelled. He needed to leave the kitchen in a hurry and he carefully walked around the mess and headed upstairs.

After finding a bathroom and what was Carla Benson's room, Victor placed his gloved hand on the doorknob to Gary's room. He saw the posters, the figurines and the overall chaos Gary lived in. He also saw an empty space on his neat desk where a PC used to be.

"Shit." Victor made a mental note to prepare for a police visit once they accessed Gary's computer. He looked around his room for something, he didn't know what, until he saw several USB cords sticking out from underneath a pile of clothes. He pulled the entangled cords out from under the heap and found their catch to be a well-worn laptop bag. Maybe Gary didn't use his PC as much as he used his laptop and he prayed all the excitement took place before he had a chance to come back home and get it. Even if Gary had his laptop with him, that would at least keep the police away from Victor – he hoped.

Nonetheless, Victor tore through the pile of clothes searching for the computer that went with the lonely bag he held.

So keen was his concentration he never heard Leigh walk in the door. He turned to another pile where Leigh was standing, staff drawn, eyes blazing in the dark. The little flashlight's beam cast just enough brightness in the room for him to see the wry smile on her face, her fangs slightly visible.

"Gary, I presume?"

"Oh no. No nooooooo. I'm not Gary. I'm not even a vampire. See?"

Victor opened his mouth as wide as he could, showing off the fortune he spent on his dental work, nary a fang in sight.

Leigh's eyes began to glow brighter as she walked toward Victor holding the staff whose silver globe reflected his flashlight's beam.

Suddenly she seized and fell to the floor on a pile of Gary's socks. Joseph stood above her looking at Victor with his stun gun trained on him.

"Where's the other one? The tall guy who drove you here, Mr. Jacobs."

"He's not a vampire – you're Joseph, right?"

"My name isn't important. You are quite the liar though, Sir. My associates are not going to be pleased with you at all."

They heard footsteps and Ralph strode in the door leaving a bloody shoeprint trail behind him.

"For Chris' sakes! What part of 'wait in the car' did I say in Chinese?"

"Have some gratitude, man, I was coming to warn you those guys – "

Ralph felt the gun shoved in his side and turned to see Joseph. He walked where Victor was standing and shrugged. He was late but reasoned that they'd all be fine; he saw Joseph's attire and began to laugh.

"I'd say the joke's on you, my friend. You both could face some dire consequences," Joseph said.

"Dude, you're so dead," Ralph began, still laughing. "Even without that much light in here I can see that's a red shirt. Which means you're the new guy, all the new guys die who wear the red shirt..."

Everyone's attention turned in the direction Ralph's gaze fell. In the doorway of Gary's crowded room, Azyra's silhouette accented the fierce shine of her eyes and her exposed large white fangs. They could tell she'd also been shot but not with a stun gun; a hole just above her breast was gushing a small stream of blood down her shirt.

"He's right, Honey."

Joseph never stood a chance. She moved quickly, from the doorway to having Joseph in her grasp, the breeze from her wake was the only proof they had she moved at all. Victor wished the next part was as fast but he saw it all happening in slow motion.

Azyra's teeth grew larger as she turned Joseph's head in one fluid motion and buried them in his neck. Blood gushed like a geyser in her mouth, some splattered on the floor. Victor could see the life being drained from Joseph and his stomach protested the spectacle, he turned and puked all over Gary's bed.

"Not cool, man," Ralph said, "you're supposed to be into this stuff. And you never said there were two hot chicks."

"I hadn't met two hot chicks," Victor replied, wiping his mouth.

Marco DeMatteo came bounding up the stairs, gun drawn, but too late to save Joseph. Taking in the room with his "special" goggles, he saw Azyra's mouth stained with his crimson blood running down her chin. The vomit on the bed he assumed belonged to Victor, he looked like he just finished and try as he did, he didn't wipe away all of the aftermath. The tall guy they'd seen driving the getaway car was standing with a strange look on his face and Marco caught a glimpse of the reason why. Another female vampire was pulling herself up from the floor, the recipient of a very powerful stun from Joseph's gun. A classic rookie mistake.

Marco could tell by looking at Leigh, as most Brotherhood veterans could, that she was a vampire of considerable age and a mere shock wasn't going to hold her down for long.

Stupid kid should've shot her, he thought to himself. Stupid me, he continued to think because he knew Daniel was not going to be pleased with how he handled this situation.

He's going to kill me.

"Not if I kill you first," Leigh said pouncing on him. He let off a shot that Leigh ducked, missing her by inches. Azyra saw the line of the bullet and was able to push Ralph and Victor out of its trajectory on the bed where Victor recently expelled the contents of his stomach.

Leigh went after a fleeing Marco with her staff, hurling it and missed. It stood at attention stuck in the wall. For a split second, Marco considered trying to pull the staff out but felt Leigh getting closer and ran for the front door. She charged at him forcing them both out the front, smashing both doors off their hinges in the process. They landed on the passenger door of the Ford Focus leaving a huge dent and shattering the side mirror. His goggles, torn from his face, lay on the manicured lawn. Leigh was going to break Marco's neck for the bullet wound he'd given Azyra but she wanted to know how he was able to sneak up close enough to shoot her in the first place. Marco managed to get his unbroken arm, his shooting arm, positioned to fire – in her face if he acted quickly.

She tilted her head as if a voice he couldn't hear, called her then she disappeared leaving him and the crickets to marvel at the stillness of the night. He picked himself up praying his car would drive, started the engine and high-tailed it out of Lynbrook.

Inside, Ralph was helping Victor look for Gary's laptop and some flammable liquids.

"We have to burn this place."

"We're not arsonists, man."

"Ralph, you walked through a crime scene tracking blood all over the damn house. How soon do you think it will be before a junior lab tech figures something out and then the cops will be knocking at you door wanting to ask some questions, huh? Oh and let's not forget Mr. Redshirt McSnack over there."

"Hey I told him. Everybody knows – "

"These fellas know you, Honey?" Azyra asked.

"Miss Francis, I'd like to know what you are doing here? I thought I'd be seeing you when I rendezvous with the Balloon Man. And don't give me that look, he said it was OK and he calls me Victor. We're friends, you know."

"Who's the Balloon Man?" Leigh asked, appearing from the walls like a mist.

"I never thought I'd see one like you," Victor said. He couldn't help staring, intrigued by her air of antiquity. Victor, like many of his counterparts thought those who were Leigh's age only existed in the minds of adoring fans, romanticizing the days of long ago.

"Ralph what we have here in this beautiful woman is a vampire that is older than, let's see, our country I'm willing to bet."

"Nice to meet you," Ralph said has he shook Leigh's hand. Looking over her head he was able to see on a shelf, something with an odd shape behind her.

"Hey buddy, will this do?" he asked holding up an external hard drive. Leigh grabbed it from Ralph looking at Victor suspiciously.

"I let that guy go because you said this person has information we need, Princess." She didn't take her eyes off of Victor, "I'm keen to hear it."

"'Princess'? She's your maker, isn't she – I don't judge, of course. But I need that drive, Ma'am. You hand it over I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Or I could drain it out of you," Leigh said.

"Personally, I'd just tell her," Ralph said offering his opinion.

"Ralph! Could you please look for anything flammable? We need to make a big fire."

"Give him his toy, Shug, he's going to tell us why he led those men here to kill us. Won't you now, Honey?"

Victor stuffed the drive in his pocket.

"I didn't lead them here. Well I did but not here. And I didn't want anybody killed or have to burn this lady's house down. I know she's dead but...

"OK, so the bad news: ladies, you're in big trouble. My advice is to find a remote island and hide, then hide again!"

"Those men, I think I might... They have something to do with the Black Sun," said Leigh.

Victor nodded and looked at Azyra.

"The Black Sun. All of this is so real..."

"Oh, he's brilliant," Leigh said.

"You ever wonder why your kind hibernates for six months? You're weak. Now before you get all crazy, hear me out. Whether you believe folklore or science, the eclipse does something to you guys. You still do that blood-sucking thing you do but everybody is on equal ground, old and new vamps alike. No special blood in your body allows you to go out in the sun like some of you can; Royal Bloods you call them – it's on my site. When the eclipse comes you're all doomed to the darkness," Victor said in a spooky voice, wiggling his fingers. Ralph laughed.

"Ralph. I thought I said – "

"What? I wanna hear the story!"

"Fine. One of you ladies has heard of the Great Western Schism, yes?"

"Both of us, Mr. Jacobs," Azyra corrected. "I did have a life, went to school before all this new fangled you see here today. They even taught us Colored folks a thing or two."

"Yeah, get on with it," Leigh said annoyed.

"Sheesh, tough crowd. For those of you who haven't heard it's kind of important. I'll even fill in some parts they didn't teach Colored – anyone. They didn't teach anyone." Nervous, Victor continued on.

"See, the Pope at the time, Clement the Fifth was instrumental in moving the papacy from its traditional home in Rome, Italy to Avignon in the South of France. Needless to say, some didn't take that too lightly. The French ran things for almost a century but it wasn't without a lot of stress and conflict.

"Long story short, after a few popes were excommunicated, various attempts were made to get the Papal Seat back in Rome, and politics did what politics does, yadda yadda yadda, one year before the Black Sun was to show up in 1409, Alexander the Fifth was made Pope. With me so far? Great, because here's what they don't tell you.

"During this time an ambitious guy, Cardinal Oreilles De Lapin, saw his opportunity to become the next Pope. He figured he could settle all the crap and the seat of the papacy would remain at the Palais des Papes. He just needed to get rid of some of the dissenters and anyone who would change the good thing he had going in France. The Cardinal had a friend. I'd tell you the friend's name but history and my sources don't know it. What my sources do know is that his friend was a vampire, one who he was going to send to get rid of the competition.

"Unfortunately, Cardinal Oreilles De Lapin's timing didn't suit his vampire friend's timing, what with his destruction by the impending Black Sun and all that jazz. The Cardinal's friend told him that he would be more than happy to carry out his wishes – he would just have to wait six months. The Cardinal put on a good face for his friend but he had a different plan in mind.

"On the night of the eclipse, Cardinal Oreilles De Lapin, a group of priests, and a witch traitor, followed one of the loyal witches who assisted his friend's Coven and destroyed every vampire and witch in sight. And it's been that way ever since they formed the Brotherhood of The Sacred Seed back on May 27, 1410. Even when the Papal Seat moved back to Rome, the Cardinal kinda got what he wanted. His little backstabbing crew gained major juice at the Vatican.

"They watch. They track down every person they can who is affiliated some way with vampires. Witches, yearlings because they are so stupid, human supporters, vampire fans... They see where these people lead them and then on the day of the eclipse they strike and continue to strike during that six-month window. Then they go back into hiding, picking you off one at a time, constantly seeking to eliminate Covens – all in the name of God."

"Wow!" Ralph said, enraptured by the story.

"Azyra," Victor began, "I think, with my site, I might be able to find a Coven for you two. I'm not talking some shoddy poseur Haven but a real Coven, one of The Six. Neither one of you are yearlings so that should count for something. And as strong as you are, the Brotherhood has gotten stronger over the centuries. You need more numbers; you need to go on the Exodus when you're called. They were able to take a shot at you because the technology they have access to is a lot more effective than a stick with silver ball on it. I'm not here to judge, of course."

"Of course." Leigh said.

"So we do it your way, what happens next?"

"I know he wasn't very pleasant to you," Victor said pointing to Joseph's corpse, "but I don't want to leave him here to burn."

Leigh smiled, "We'll sit him on the lawn."

"No way, man! We're not leaving a dead body for kids to walk out and see. I won't have it!"

By now Azyra was also smiling.

"Oh don't worry, Honey, we have a box to put him in."

"Great. Now that's settled, Ralph my old friend I need you to think. What is going to be the most damaging fire we can set?"

A twinkle appeared in Ralph's eyes.

"Basement," he said pointing down.

"Oh yes, basement," Victor agreed. "Ladies, as we depart I'd advise you to prepare to have your socks blown off."

"Sounds loud," Leigh replied.

"Trust me, it will be."
CHAPTER TWELVE

He was alone and didn't know what to do. Gary had gone to the subterranean level of the library for the past two nights and couldn't find Frederick anywhere, or for that matter the subject of his ire, Ramel Jackson. He'd been having flashes of Ramel holed up in his luxury apartment laughing at his pain. It only infuriated Gary.

A fellow employee on his shift knew Gary well enough and couldn't bring herself to believe he was a killer. It was from her he learned the terrible news of his mother's death. He wanted to cry but just stood between the stacks of old books, vacuum cleaner running, with his mouth opened, stunned. Later that night, Gary tried to sneak in his house under the cover of darkness but was more surprised to see a company of police cruisers and fire trucks trying to tame the inferno where his home used to be. He was still thinking like a human, unable to grasp the idea that he was virtually invisible – the night was his greatest ally. If only he remembered that he was a full-fledged night stalker, he could have slipped by the officers and gathered information from his chattering neighbors.

Instead, he headed back to Queens looking for Frederick to help him with his plight.

Gary was thankful he'd become a member of "The Ancient One Speaks" and was quite the fan of "Enoch's Blood Blog". Reading made him feel like he wasn't completely isolated.

Between the activity on the site mentioning Gary as his mother's killer and his co-worker providing him with everything she'd heard, he made up his mind that he would have to leave the basement in the library. There were strange men who Gary assumed were undercover detectives, regular uniformed police officers, and some media people asking about his working hours; he also knew those vampire chicks were still after him too. He was happy his alias allowed him to talk to his online friends but the posts he saw on the message boards from some people were hurtful. He was branded a psycho who ruthlessly killed his mother and neighbor. Gary scrolled through pages, the light from his laptop accenting the tears in his eyes, reading all the assumptions and allegations made by police department "sources" and rampant bloggers claiming that he killed his mother because she was sexually abusing him. The craziest was the assumption that when the neighborhood busybody said she was going to expose everything, he killed her to hide his shame. Post after post he read until he couldn't take anymore. He couldn't believe people would think the sensational garbage he'd just read was true.

It was no secret to anyone on his block, primarily because they all felt the same way, he wasn't all that fond of Mrs. Dietz. Gary didn't shed a tear when he heard the news about her, but his mother was a different story.

He was going to disappear and he'd found someone in a small Haven that would help him do it. Frederick was always nice to him, even if he did protect a rat like Ramel, and Gary wanted to leave him a note saying so but thought it too risky. Gary noticed that Frederick had become melancholy in the past weeks. He even recalled Frederick warning him, if he wanted to live, he should hide well into the blackness on July 11, the day of the eclipse. Gary would hide himself way before then and after that, he felt it his duty to seek out Frederick. Maybe he'd finally be able to convince Frederick to let him dispatch Ramel. It wouldn't be so difficult; he could tell Frederick was becoming frustrated with Ramel. He smiled at the idea that Frederick might say yes. If he did... Gary's grin stretched across his face like a sadistic clown; something inside him clicked so loud he thought he'd heard it. His mind had finally caught up with his body – he knew without a doubt he was a vampire.

Gary ran upstairs, searching between the stacks of books for his co-worker. He called out her name, Sandi, startling her until she saw him – she had such a crush on him. He handed her his laptop not knowing what say. She didn't know how but Sandi knew it was the last time she'd see Gary. He patted her on the shoulder before saying, "Always take care of the little guy, Sandi."

He walked around the corner of the aisle they were in and she followed, moments behind him. Sandi looked up and down the aisle.

Gary was gone.

*

"Unacceptable, Marco! Do you hear me? UNACCEPTABLE!" Daniel said, his face red with fury.

The day had come. His ribs were taped, his arm had a cast, he received a number of stitches for the lacerations he got during his altercation with Leigh, and he wasn't allowed to speak about or go anywhere near Victor Jacobs.

For the first 24 hours after his failed mission, Marco was happy that he didn't have to deal with the subject at all. Joseph was dead and it was his fault each time he went over the scenario. If he would have let the kid call Daniel when he first made mention of it, he would still be alive. Or maybe if he called Daniel before they went in the house – eureka! No broken bones for him. He should have let someone else tail Victor with the new kid, that way the rookie follows protocol and he'd be right beside Daniel helping to bug Victor's house. Everyone stays alive.

Marco was hoping the bugs would yield some information, which would set him a brand new track. Victor knew Ancients; the one he'd had the tussle with had to be more than two centuries. If that was the case, she could lead them to one of The Six. Joseph will not have died in vain if he could trace the Ancient. Daniel would not be livid...

But he was livid, turning a deeper shade of crimson with every sentence he uttered. Victor was proving to be more of a slippery snake than previous cases before him. Although Marco bought the surveillance team a lot more time by his breach of protocol, the search of Victor's apartment amounted to nothing. Daniel deduced from the lack of anything other than security technology in Victor's home, they had to find a way to get in the offices of The Light of Enoch Media, Inc. where the real bounty was. The bugs were useless, silence for periods at a time then the loudest, crude, most vile death metal lyrics would fill the headphones of whoever was assigned to listen. They lost three very astute African-American potential candidates when, with the backdrop of a song called, "You Will Always Be A Slave" someone – perhaps Victor himself, began espousing the racist dogma of churches in general and the Catholic Church in particular.

It was the fourth time he'd pulled that stunt which sent Daniel over the edge.

"July is just a breath away and you're behaving like you just got here! Worse, because you weren't this dumb when you first got here. This is not the DeMatteo Show, do you understand? We have a noble mission sanctioned by the Lord. We are charged with keeping His children safe from the parasites of Hell and we can not do that if one man's ego is thought to be larger than the presence of God!"

"I'm sorry, Brother Daniel, Sir. I wanted to – "

"Exactly! 'I' wanted. Isn't that what you just said? It's not about what you want, Marco. This is for the greater good. We've always been able to serve humanity because they never knew they were being served. This way they get what they need, not the ridiculous requests of what they want; and they don't get in our way.

"I hope that your actions haven't placed that in jeopardy. Did you at least get his ring?"

The ring! He'd completely forgotten. It was one of the reasons the Brotherhood traveled in pairs; one would always have the other's back and if tragedy struck, someone was there to retrieve the ring. Marco suspected that somewhere in the long history of the Brotherhood, as God fearing (or not) as they were, a Brother had to have lied and left a ring behind.

He reexamined his particular set of circumstances. A demon-woman shoved him into a car door making a dent so deep you could see the stitching of his underwear in said door, and he was expected to waltz back in the house and get his dead Brother's ring where the demon that'd nearly killed him returned? Perhaps Daniel thought he could just ask one of the vile creatures that killed Joseph to pass the ring on his finger before he engaged them in battle. If he waited until they left the house they would both be dead, but that wasn't true either; was it?

Marco had been told since his induction in the Brotherhood, that vampires were dangerous preternatural creatures, given their powers from the devil himself. They kill each other so he should make no mistake, they wouldn't hesitate to kill any human being – especially those with the courage to fight the children of Satan. He was certain his last days on Earth were going to be him fused in the passenger side door of a Ford Focus, broken arm – two broken arms if she chose to crush the other one. She was quick, he may have slipped his gun out but he wouldn't have fired a shot. He was also beginning to doubt that the beautiful woman – vampire, who spared his life, was in fact a child of the devil. Marco wasn't confident about a lot of things since his encounter and it was too dangerous for him not to be.

"Do you understand me, Marco? Marco! Have you heard anything I said to you?"

"Daniel, why didn't she kill me? I was there for the taking."

For the first time since he began shouting at Marco DeMatteo, Daniel's hardened face showed compassion. He knew this must be difficult for him, being benched from the fight, a rookie under his tutelage died; Daniel knew the emotional rollercoaster Marco was on because at one time, he'd ridden it himself.

Theresa Giancarla was a promising seminary student, graduating in 1989, then off to study Theology overseas. A mysterious man, accompanied by another promising student, with the opportunity of a lifetime approached her parents. She garnered the attention of individuals in the Vatican and was chosen to be the very first female as part of a special organization, the Brotherhood Of The Sacred Seed. Her parents could rest assured the men she would be around were men of honor and sworn to celibacy. The Giancarlas were ecstatic.

For the purposes of continued discretion and the inability to explain her real work to her parents, Theresa told them she was a missionary. She'd traveled around the world and was able to send postcards and photographs from the places she'd been but failed to mention anything about witches, worshipers of Satan, and the vampires she assisted her partner, Daniel Greeley, in destroying. She felt more alive and invigorated in her faith than she ever had. This was what she needed, not being locked away in a convent on her knees praying all day long or contemplating the meaning of Bible verses. What Theresa saw, what she could actually feel was purpose behind the verses; meaning to the scriptures, she was a warrior for the Lord slaying the minions of Satan the way David fought the Philistines.

And the more Theresa's faith and purpose increased, the younger Daniel Greeley's did too, as did his love for Theresa. He was to learn with the best the Brotherhood had to offer and he was a quick study. At first he thought it a bad idea to allow women in the Brotherhood until he met Theresa; working with her for the next two years had him hopelessly smitten.

Three and a half years passed and Daniel was promoted. His mentor, the mystery man who'd come to the Giancarla home with Daniel in tow, placed Theresa and two others on a team that would go out in the field for the hunt as opposed to gathering and supplying information for the others.

He remembered how much he wanted to protect Theresa. That was a lie, Daniel thought. He wanted to impress Theresa. It was his first team and he had the honor of having the first and only female on his team. He wanted her to see him as a great leader before he decided to ask her opinion on marriage. Daniel needed Theresa to know that he could protect anyone on his team – especially her.

So on that fateful day in 1992, in a small Catholic church in Nigeria, instead of allowing Theresa to double check the intel she received on the location of a couple of Vodoun Priests, Daniel ordered her to wait outside of the church while he and another man stormed in. They found a number of things on the alter, none of which would be used by Christians. Upon exiting the church he saw his other team member, minus a few fingers, bleeding to death in the middle of the dusty road they came by and no Theresa.

After he received his chastisement his punishment was to come two-fold. He'd heard reports of a phantom white witch trying to get in the church where the Vodoun ceremonies were taking place.

When he and his team arrived he'd found Theresa – she'd been turned. She was pale, unrestrained and bewildered with blood dripping down her face; Theresa had been feeding. Daniel had a feeling she'd come back to the church. He also knew they would send him with a team to clean up the mess.

Theresa was still wild with thirst, babbling about her being a murderer and how she must be punished – she'd killed a child, a poor helpless Nigerian child. She would have to pay or she would kill again. Daniel ended what was sure to be a miserable existence for her – he raised his shotgun and put a shell full of silver buckshot in her lovely face. He left the rest of his team to take care of the four other vampires that followed Theresa to the church before they burned it to the ground.

Daniel's second, most difficult punishment was going back Stateside to lie to the Giancarla family. The official version of the cause of death for Theresa Maria Giancarla was a tragic accident while saving the life of a Nigerian child. Her family got to be proud during their time of sadness. Daniel got to be sad for the rest of his life.

No other women were selected for the Brotherhood after that.

Daniel saw the look of concern in Marco's eyes and felt a kinship, they'd learned the hard way about hubris.

However, Marco's query wasn't based on any grief he may have felt for Joseph's premature demise. There were questions that came up from time to time but he always found a way to answer them, he dismissed such thoughts as hazardous in the business he was in. Then, sooner or later, he and Daniel would approach a case, like the Benson affair, which reaffirmed what it was they were charged to do. But this time he couldn't shake the feeling that everything with the Brotherhood wasn't as black and white as it was made to be. Daniel tried his best to comfort him.

"Marco, who knows what is in the mind of evil but God. It's why we pray for guidance, it's why our work is not finished. You were spared today but what of tomorrow? Tomorrow is for the memory of Joseph, tomorrow is why we're all here."

"She had the drop on me, Daniel. I should be as dead as Joseph but she just disappeared and didn't give chase when I – when..."

"You escaped with your life?" Daniel finished.

"Yes," Marco said, ashamed he'd been so afraid and fled the scene, "that. I was scared, Daniel – "

"We all are, it comes with the – "

"No. I mean I was afraid of the police coming and me being apprehended. I was more afraid of blowing our cover or the press maybe getting a hold of this. I was more afraid of that than her. I didn't think... Once she got me out of the way, I didn't think she was going to come back and finish me off."

Daniel's face went dark.

"DeMatteo, be careful of the things you're saying. I was going to put you back on the team next week but if you don't think you can – "

"I'm fine, Daniel. Maybe I can speak with a priest, about Joseph."

"I'll arrange it," Daniel said relieved. It wasn't a common occurrence but Daniel had seen and heard of those who became sympathizers. DeMatteo was a promising talent; to have him go soft would be a waste and a serious setback for his team. He would speak with Father Sornin then DeMatteo would be all sorted out. He couldn't have him running all over the place feeling doubt. Doubt was the termite gnawing away at your psyche, aiming for whatever solid foundation you have, and laying waste to it. Daniel needed that doubt extricated, especially since they were so close to the coming of the Black Sun. This time one of The Six would go and Daniel would be the one responsible for such a feat – he needed all of his best focused. He needed something more for the memory of Theresa.

Unfortunately Daniel couldn't, nor could any priest, reverse the termite boring its way through Marco DeMatteo's foundation. It had been shaken loose from its girders. Leigh could have killed him but she didn't. When he looked at her face, taking in every detail to commit to memory (the beauty of it astounding him), he didn't see the evil he was taught he would. Marco DeMatteo drank in the visage of Leigh and saw a person, a wise and sad person.

*

"We was lucky we made it out that bitch with our lives," Chester exclaimed while shoving more potato chips in his mouth.

Ramel couldn't understand the reason Mike continued to associate with him. He was uncouth, loud, and didn't know when enough was enough.

"Son, I'd be mad too," potato chip shrapnel flying everywhere when he spoke, "cause you needed to see this mansion! You can't even say 'house' when you lookin' at the shit cause it's a mansion, my nigga. Like five houses can fit in this shit!"

"It was kind of impressive, Ra." Mike added, although not as animated as Chester. Ramel was happy Chester at least left his Chihuahua wherever he did, as long as it wasn't near him.

Ramel's apartment looked like his life had become, disheveled. Socks were all over the floor, dishes were in the sink and the garbage was piled high with empty take-out boxes. He hadn't shaved or taken a bath in days. His bedroom, where they were conducting this "meeting", was worse. He was a man in hiding.

It had been five days since the disastrous results of his almost Consecration. Mike had come by the apartment days ago to tell him what he and Chester observed but he was too afraid to open his door; he'd failed and Frederick was looking to kill him. When he did summon the courage to come to the door he made Mike promise he would visit only during daylight hours. If he could get his mind to slow down a little bit and process the information Mike had for him, he could get a new plan going and come out of this whole thing on top. He would do something that didn't include dykes or annoying fools like Chester.

"So where is the mansion, Mike?" Ramel asked.

"I don't know, Bro. I mean, I know it's in Westbury but I couldn't drive up to the front door."

"Damnit, Mike! How did you get there in the first place?" Ramel asked frustrated.

"Look it," Chester answered, "a nigga was driving in the dark. Mike Dollaz handled the car like a pro but I ain't gonna lie, we almost died, like, twice. Those niggas ahead of us was driving with no lights! Mike was barely able to follow them because where we was going was extra dark and they was driving extra fast – in the dark! Then we got up to a big ass gate and followed them niggas in there. While they were walking in the front, we saw a little mini-door off to the side and that shit was open. We slipped in there and bang! We in there."

"So it was a mansion in Westbury?" Ramel asked.

"Nah! Niggas live in Westbury! Where we was at, ain't too many niggas living there, son, unless they live in the trees. We was in Old Westbury where the old money is at!"

"You should go to the library and talk to him," Mike said. "You can't stay like this forever, Bro, it ain't healthy. Maybe he'll know where the place is and you guys can work something out because let's face it, your cable is already off and rent's going to be coming due."

"Yo, y'all talking 'bout that white dude who told you about the job?" Chester asked. Ramel didn't want any more of Chester's input, particularly since he knew nothing of the details Mike did. It was better that way – the fewer people in his crew who knew the truth behind everything, the better off he would be. Listening to Chester blather on and on he was pleased he'd made the right decision in that regard.

"Mike, tell this nigga, son! Speak to that white boy because just off what me and Mike Dollaz saw in the hallway and the kitchen... You know how many parties you could throw in there and make mad cheese? Tell him that! Let the white boy know that you could throw parties that won't bother nobody because of where it's situated and they could be classy parties with hot strippers, my nigga. There was a big ass staircase that went to this next level and big statues near it, looking like marble and all that. Son, being broke ain't the move and I don't have much room for you stay at my place if you lose this apartment. Swallow your pride and talk to him."

Ramel wished for Chester to go somewhere and swallow some arsenic. His simple ass didn't realize that he needed a plan before he spoke to Frederick. By now, Frederick had to have figured that he'd planned to leave him hanging in the wind the first chance he got, had the Consecration gone without a hitch. Listening to Chester and Mike recall what they saw, the payoff would have been a sweet one and he would never have to see Frederick again. Servants at his beck and call, lavish surroundings, and Hotep to protect him in case Frederick thought of changing the arrangement.

All of it was gone, thanks to Kaya and her witch girlfriend. Frederick wouldn't understand that the two lesbians came in and foiled everything. He would only see Ramel's ambitious plans and a job that wasn't done. Mike and Chester were crazy to suggest that he speak to Frederick without him having the ball in his court. To Ramel, Chester was an ignorant beast but Mike should have known better; he knew why Ramel only wanted to meet during the daylight hours.

Ramel would talk to Frederick but not now.

"Not without a plan," he said barely loud enough for the guys sitting on his bed to hear him.

"Well come up with something, Bro because you can't stay locked away like this," Mike said, "and sooner or later he'll come to see you."

"Why you think I'm locked up in here?" Ramel said straining through gritted teeth. "I got shit on the doors. This is the safest room in here! I got nothing now. They left me in the dark with nothing! I'm going to stay here until I change that."

"Both of you niggas is crazy," Chester remarked as he got off the bed to retrieve more chips from the kitchen. "You could tell the white boy that it was like nepotism or something, that they messed you up because they wanted lesbians. You can sue for that kinda shit. Mike, you need to talk some sense into your boy for real. Get a damn lawyer cause this is a case! Y'all want something from the fridge cause I'm going?"

Mike waved Chester out of the room and sat on the bed near Ramel who was bundled in the sheets. He looked like a hospital patient. Mike was worried about his friend, not because of the likelihood their velvet rope status dropped but because he'd seen what a man on the edge looked like. His Uncle slowly unraveled after two tours in Iraq before blowing his brains out in the middle of the day in Prospect Park.

Ramel had the same look in his eyes.

"What about the books he gave you? What did they have to say about those?"

"Were you listening, man? I told you, I have NOTHING! Those other big books, I never looked in them but I had leverage with his diary. That bitch-ass, Hotep, took it so I can't even roll to Old Westbury and get my spot back with it."

"We could go back there and talk to one of the witches. Tell them Hotep is greasy, then the head nigga you told me about would have to give you a spot."

Ramel became annoyed by Mike too. He wanted him to follow Chester to the kitchen or at least, both of them go on their way and not come back!

"Mike, where do they live?"

"I don't..."

"Exactly! So let me figure something out, on my own, and I promise I'll run it by you. Until that time we're not talking about this anymore and that greedy ass nigga, Chester? Don't ever bring that fool back here again!"

The bedroom door opened as Chester walked in with a wide toothy smile on his face.

"What the fuck are you cheese – "

Mike's words stopped in his throat as Frederick walked in behind Chester with an equally wide smile on his face. Ramel was horrified.

"Surprise!" Chester said pleased with himself. "You can thank me later. I explained all about how those lesbians did a reverse discrimination thing on you and that's how you lost the spot. All you gotta do is tell him about it, Ra, and you could probably try again for a different spot. And y'all could sue!"

"You invited him in!" Ramel said veins bulging out his neck and forehead.

"I'm telling you, son, you ain't listening: YOU COULD SUE!"

"Sure you could," Frederick began with the sardonic smile frozen on his face, eyes blazing wildly, "you should listen to, Chester is it? You could probably sue for breach of contract, something like that. What is your opinion, Mike?"

"We – we should all be cool and talk this out," Mike said stammering. "Ain't nobody hurt or nothing like that. We should all regroup."

"Chester," Frederick said peeling off hundred dollar bills from a large wad, "could you be a gentleman and escort Mike somewhere outside of this apartment while Mr. Jackson and I discuss business? Please?"

Chester grabbed the bills and manhandled Mike out of the room giving Ramel the "thumbs up" as he closed the door behind them.

"Tell him about the parties!" he said from the other side of the door. Ramel listened as he heard Mike protesting being thrown out of the apartment and his front door close with a thud. He found it funny how he didn't notice the sound when Chester invited Frederick in. All he heard now was the deafening silence.

Ramel sat motionless in a puddle of his terror. Buckets of sweat poured from him, looking at Frederick, his eyes transfixed on his horrible mocking grin. Why was he just standing there grinning, saying nothing?

After what seemed like an eternity to Ramel, Frederick took a seat on a drier corner of the bed and spoke.

"I purchased the block of apartments on this floor, Mr. Jackson. I did not have to be invited in what belongs to me," his voice calm.

"But I put up things... Repellents."

"Ah, so you did. My generous thanks to Chester for his wonderful invitation. How long, Mr. Jackson?"

"How...?"

"How long did you think you were going to stay sequestered in an apartment that I own, my money sustaining the rent, in the arms of luxury while I pined away in the dank underbelly of a public library, waiting for you to come dance a jig of lies for me?" he asked, his voice still calm.

Ramel could only squeak out a sound as a reply. Frederick was going to kill him and he couldn't even run for his life. Ramel was paralyzed with fear.

"If your friends could see you now, what would they say? The great Ramel Jackson cowering in his own stew, the stench of spinelessness smothering him in a thick fog. It is pathetic. You are pathetic. You were the Conductor, sitting on a throne of greatness that you hadn't had to do any work to attain and here you are, hiding! In your bed clutching a 'blankey' like a mere toddler! Tell me, Mr. Jackson, how did you ruin your wretched life this time?"

Sitting on the corner of his bed with a look of disgust on his face, Frederick reminded Ramel of his father. If he was going to kill him, so be it, but he refused to be berated by this man who asked him for help. He needed me, Ramel thought, not the other way around. He loosened his grip on his bed sheets and sat up looking Frederick in his bright red eyes.

"Why don't you go first? Tell me why it was so important that you kill my cousin?"

Tarah.

Frederick was taken aback. He hadn't forgotten about her, it still hurt him that he had to do what he did. What made his pain worse was the fact that her bumbling idiot of a cousin couldn't finish the job, making her death a senseless vanity.

"Oh? Big shot vampire ain't got shit to say now? Huh?" Ramel felt his confidence rising like fire through his veins. "YOU fucked up, not me. Don't get me wrong, I loved my cousin but you and I, we had business. I get it, collateral damage. But you didn't clean up, Freddy boy. She had a note that the bookkeeper cop passed on. Whatever was on that note you didn't catch, that got me out and put that gay bitch right in my chair. She's at my mansion with my servants that you promised me I would get. Chester said that it could fit five houses in it! Not some damn apartments, houses! And Kaya has that shit now! So what's your brilliant plan?"

Frederick sat still. Tarah was a good witch to the very end, protecting her Dark Family from the likes of him and Ramel. The thought of it gave him joy, albeit fleeting. They are all going to die in a few weeks when the eclipse comes, he thought. They may have a great Conductor in Kaya, and under other circumstances he would be quite pleased with Kaya as a choice, although he couldn't figure out why. They would be unable to complete their ceremony, the Exodus, without Ayalu. His mission was done despite the arrogant self-serving participation of one Ramel Jackson. For that, he hoped Tarah would forgive him and he imagined her death wasn't completely in vain.

He stood up and walked to the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Ramel asked with an incredulous expression.

"She was a good woman, your cousin. Tarah. That was her name, Mr. Jackson."

"I know what the fuck my cousin's name is! You make sure you remember it!"

"I will. Consider this a life for a life. Good-bye, Mr. Jackson."

He sat on the bed watching Frederick walk out the door and got a sinking feeling when his apartment door closed he would never see Frederick Duval again.

Was that it? How was he expected to maintain his apartment or spend money at the best, most exclusive clubs in town with his supply cut off? Even if he did manage to procure a halfway decent job, he would no longer have the connections to vouch for him. Ramel felt his superhero status dissipating with each step Frederick took away from him. The mansion! How was he to gain access to the mansion he thought was rightfully his? He hopped out of his bed throwing open his bedroom door to find Frederick about to walk out.

"You made a lot of promises, Freddy boy! I expect you to pay up."

Frederick sighed. "What I promised you was your car, which you have Mr. Jackson. Paid in full."

"No way! The mansion was mine and you didn't – "

In the blink of an eye Frederick was standing before Ramel, fury in his eyes jaws clenched. He'd had enough.

"Mr. Jackson, you botched up the job with your flash and having to prove you are some person of stature that you are not. You could have the keys to all the estates along the Gold Coast and you still would be the simple man that you are! I placed you at the entrance with a map showing you how to get to where it was you wanted to be and you messed that up. You did, with your own arrogance!

"I may have done the deed, Mr. Jackson, but your actions lead to the death of your cousin, Tarah, and jockeyed you out of a position a nitwit would have had the common sense to shut up and finish. I suggest you wrap up your pity party because you will be evicted by the end of the month."

"Where am I supposed to live, Frederick? I can't go back home with my parents."

"You are no longer my problem and you have well outlived your usefulness, Mr. Jackson. Your familial problems are of no concern to me."

"Yeah but I bet Hep is of a 'concern' to you."

Frederick stood inches away from Ramel's face becoming larger in his sight. Ramel backed away so he could get a better view of Frederick's reaction. He felt a plan coming together not that he was sure he held all the cards.

"Mr. Jackson, I said a life for a life and I will walk away. However, if you insist on trying my patience you will be the one person I kill that, I can assure you, I will enjoy."

Ramel had a smug look on his face.

"Yeah, I bet. But I ain't the only one."

"Is there something on your mind?"

"You keep up the payments on my apartment. Oh and put a good word at the clubs like you've been doing. I would say to whip Gary's ass but before my cable got cut off, oh you need to take care of that too, he was on the news – main suspect for killing his Mamma and the next door neighbor. Did you know that? Such a shame. So since he's on the run and can't fix my ride, I'm going to need you to replace it. Fresh, with hardly any miles."

"Is that all? Tell me, Mr. Jackson, why am I going to have an attack of generosity toward you?"

"Because I know where your boy, Hep is. Only he's going by 'Hotep' these days."

Many years had passed and Frederick always had the feeling there was a possibility he might run into Hep. Had he the burning desire for revenge as he once did, he would have jumped through every hoop Ramel placed before him. His intentions were different now. There had been too many killings and not everyone who died by his hand deserved their fate. His only mission was to find somewhere to rest until the Black Sun climbed high in the sky and that would be the final song of Frederick Duval. He looked at Ramel, more peaceful than he'd been in over a century.

"Good-bye, Mr. Jackson."

Ramel, undaunted, continued.

"I know you don't want to hear about that nigga. All right, fine. Maybe you might want to hear about his wife? Fine ass dark skinned chick," Frederick stood frozen. It couldn't be, "with a beauty mark under her left-eye. I think you might know this lady too. Ummm, what's her name now? I can't seem to remember."

"Sankofa..."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bill stood with his back to the cubicle, listening to every word Kaya whispered watching the people come and go on the bank floor.

"It can't be Sankofa, Archie, don't you remember?"

"Remember what?" he asked.

"During my transcendental journey to the vampire space tattoo pallor, Matrota told me that Houses don't have RoyalBloods."  
"What if she was wrong or they don't know for sure? It's not like they pay a visit to each other's House or anything like that. Hell, I didn't really know that Hikpodu wasn't a statue until you got consecrated. I know we record things for them and there are some things we don't know about them but maybe there's some stuff they don't know about us."

Kaya couldn't make sense of Bill's thoughts; she didn't fault him for it. They were four anxious people with many lives at stake.

Bill, Kaya supposed, had the most experience at this having been a police officer and now a security guard. But she was wrong in assuming he would be the most calm among them – he hadn't slept well since the day she told Aisha, Jenna, and him that Ayalu was, for lack of a better way to explain it, dead. It took a couple of days for Kaya to understand the gravity of what Ayalu's absence meant, she was still absorbing the whole being head of an estate thing.

Bill knew immediately.

He wasn't sure of the actual number vampires that existed, it wasn't like he was a mystical census taker, but he guessed that there had to be a lot. And a lot was a lot.

Bill could never in his wildest most drunken dreams believe that he would be losing sleep over what he'd thought throughout all of his youth and most of his adult life were nothing more than mythical creatures, their likeness paraded around for fun during Halloween or the occasional spooky campfire story. But he was a part of something that reminded him of being on the Police Force, with an added bonus – he was able to share the feeling of camaraderie with his daughter. They'd become closer during his time as a Record Keeper. She had "girl" things he would never understand but he did understand her. Bill had his family back.

As crazy as things go in his life, his family was about to be devastated by an ordinary astronomical occurrence that was easily dealt with in centuries past. This century, the time when it was his turn to learn of secret things, is when everything had to go and break loose.

Bill was aware he wasn't making much sense when he spoke to Kaya, or his daughter, but he couldn't find the words to explain how he knew he was the one to bring the Royal Blood to them – how he had dreams of Ayalu giving him this task. He didn't want it to seem like he was stepping on Kaya's toes and as much as he loved Jenna, he knew she would dismiss his dreams. He isn't the Conductor, Kaya is.

Bill thought of Kaya as a long lost daughter he didn't mind having, of course he'd be proud of her. But he was part of the racket, wasn't he? He was a member of the House. Witches and vampires and whoever else weren't the only ones who could protect the Conductor, Kaya was his friend and he would protect her too. If someone, who his policeman's gut kept telling him was Ayalu, came to him in a dream and told him that he was to find the Royal Blood to assist the Conductor, then he was going to do just that. He would start by talking to Sankofa as soon as he got the opportunity.

Kaya continued to whisper conversation at his back and he kept scanning the floor when is eyes singled out someone familiar. He was walking in his direction and a light bulb went off in Bill's head.

Holy crap he couldn't believe the nerve Mike had walking right up to him just as bold as you like, dressed in a rather conservative suit and tie.

"No clown outfit today?" Bill asked Mike scrutinizing his body for any suspicious lumps and shapes.

"Very funny two-five," Mike said wishing Bill had been in a different part of the bank. He wanted to get down to business with Kaya, directly, in matters that a half-o'cop didn't need to be concerned with.

Mike came to his own conclusion, he would speak to Kaya, without Ramel's snide comments, two-five whispering in her ear, or the influences of her girlfriend, and everybody could walk out of the situation winners.

The stories Ramel told showed Mike one obvious point: the witches, Frederick, and the rest of the vampires were using them all. It would only be right for them to get some compensation without any further complications. Mike thought his logic was pretty solid; he'd seen the estate and knew he wanted to go back. For his own sake, and Ramel's sanity – he'd have to leave Chester behind.

"You want to frisk me?" he asked Bill stretching out his arms.

"And have you try and sue me for violating your Civil Rights and Constitutional liberties, because you as a poor oppressed African-American man wearing a thousand dollar suit was frisked publicly in a large financial institution by a white racist security guard? I'll pass. But maybe next time, eh?"

Kaya looked through the glass of her cubicle and was just as surprised to see Mike. She peered past him talking to Bill, to see if Ramel was somewhere skulking in the background. Satisfied she didn't see him anywhere in the bank, her feelings reverted to annoyance at an unwarranted visit by Ramel's silly little henchman.

She was informed that he and another idiot of Ramel's crew had been on the grounds, narrowly escaping three bullmastiffs the head butler, Jenkins, set on them. She and Aisha would have been angry over their trespass but Ramel hadn't even had the decency to join them on their reconnaissance mission. They were a group of punks, Kaya thought; a punkass crew with a wack punkass leader. Mike was in her place of employment, which meant he expected something. What it was, she hadn't a clue and was insulted by his brazen behavior. If he was there to get her fired she could really care less – he'd free up her time to be with Aisha. Any petty revenge plot by having her lose her job would only be a reward. Mike had been to the estate, however brief it was so he was well aware of the punishment he'd be banishing her to. Once Kaya completed her task, she was in good graces for life in a House that already respected her fiancé. She was going to be married and travel the world for at least six months before they came back to see what other things the House of Hikpodu had in store.

Let Mike come to her job spreading rumors, she'll walk out of there kicking her heels.

That wasn't entirely true, not in this current case. If some random customer came in the bank thinking they should be handled with kid gloves or the corner of their mouth needed dabbing, with a silk scarf or felt they should get a personal massage by her while she discussed Mutual Funds, Kaya would flip the customer half of a peace sign as she walked out the door. Mike was a gofer for Ramel. Mike showing up at her job to make trouble would, in fact, get her fired and she wouldn't take it well. Mike getting her fired was the equivalent of Ramel getting her fired and she couldn't stand for that – Conductor or not.

"I want to speak to your manager," she heard Mike say. Great. Frank Spiros, Branch Manager extraordinaire and womanizing slickster. His job was getting everyone else to do his job thereby making him look fantastic to all the muckety-mucks.

Frank was at his desk doing what he did best – talking on the phone to some girl he would have in bed by the time he finished his conversation.

Frank had no problems with Kaya, she was the reason his branch was showered with compliments and very expensive perks the higher-ups sent as thanks to his growth and efficiency. Even in the midst of a recession, Frank Spiros's branch was one of the most talked about in the circles he traveled and he ate up every bit of it.

He was also a fan of Kaya's way with women. Gay, straight, bi, it didn't matter Frank noticed, they all wanted to open an account with Kaya or have Kaya fix whatever problem might arise. Pouting lips, curvy bottoms, perky breasts, they'd all come to Kaya's desk and would be directed to the Branch Manager, Mr. Frank Spiros, for further assistance.

It was the best set up ever, especially when his branch got an expansion done and he was able to get a full office instead of the tinted window cubicle he passed on to Kaya. The ability to close his door opened a wonderful opportunity for him to pay closer attention to the needs of his customers.

Two things Kaya knew for sure, Frank Spiros was going to fight for her (even if it was for selfish reasons) and she was going to beat the crap out of Mike in an alley, if he was the reason she lost her job today.

"His office is the door straight to the back. Sure you can find it OK without a map?" Bill asked.

"You ain't as funny as you look, pig. And stop giving me the run around before I go back there and talk about how this bank needs to get more in-shape guards. Robbers could take a million dollars before your fat ass could reach for your gun."

"I'm not too fat to toss you out of here. It's like a recipe all you jerks follow. No one shows respect anymore. You wanted the manager, like I said, straight to the back. Knock yourself out," Bill growled.

"Since you want to be an asshole, KAYA! Yo where's Kaya? I came to this bank to speak with her!" Mike shouted.

"Asshole," Bill said through gritted teeth, "you didn't say which manager."

Kaya shot out of her cubicle the same time Frank Spiros came rushing out of his office, wondering what all the commotion was on his floor. He saw a young man standing next to the security guard, Bob or was it Brad? It was something with a "B" he remembered, and thought he really needed to investigate hiring a new security firm, one with bigger younger guards. Having an ex-cop proved to be an asset, three robbery attempts thwarted, but Frank was beginning to question Bill's capacity for the job. Kaya liked him and the two of them made a great team at averting the danger of spontaneous visits from his wife. Bill was a little too attached to Kaya's hip and Frank wanted him all around the floor, all over the bank – he needed the customers to feel the presence of authority and safety.

What pressed him at this very moment was a loud customer asking for Kaya, and Barney, Byron what was that guy's name? The moniker on his shiny stainless steel tag notwithstanding, Frank could see Kaya was in her cubicle, standing not three feet away from them and as the chief security guy for his bank, why didn't Blake see the same?

Kaya saw Frank had "the look" on his face. He tilted his head as if to ask "Is everything under control?" and Kaya gave him the thumbs up. Frank then shot a menacing glance toward Bill, which she knew meant that Bill needed to get as far away from the situation as possible or Frank would start calling for new guards.

She came out of her cubicle to address them both.

"Archie I got this. Look, man, just have a seat right there in my office."

Mike smirked at Bill and went inside the cubicle while Bill turned to take his post by the special spot at the corner.

"Nah, man, you have to walk this one out," she said.

"What? I'm not going to leave you alone with the jackwagon."

"You have to. Frank is giving us the 'wussup?' stare, which means he'll start questioning things. When he starts questioning people get fired. You remember the Corker Incident, don't you?"

Bill shook his head trying to block the image of the horrid face of Maggie Corker who Frank Spiros fired, using an HR loophole, because of her not so pleasant appearance.

Bill slowly walked to the main floor while Kaya redirected her attention to Mike.

"Which one of Ramel's girlfriends are you?" she asked with a frown.

"What, I come here on comedy night or something? We got a damn bank full of comedians today."

"What do you want?"

"I'm Mike," he said extending his hand.  
"And I'm busy," she replied not accepting his outstretched hand. "So what do you want?"

"All about your business, right? Aight, I like that so let's get to it."

"Why did Ramel send you and not come himself? Was he afraid I was going to punch him in the throat?"

"See, that's the problem right there," Mike said. It was his turn to frown. "All y'all chicks want a nigga to treat you like a chick but then you act like a man. How is a nigga supposed to know what to do when you keep switchin' the rules up?"

"What...?" Kaya said baffled.

"Ra ain't sent me. I came on my own so I can talk some sense into you."

Kaya, still baffled, sat back in her chair and gave Mike her full attention.

"Before you try to deny anything, I know about you and your girl," he said lowering his voice, "and all the vampire shit too. Ra told me all of it. He had a cousin that was down.

"They using us, Kaya. The white boy who came to town outta nowhere, the other vampires, even some of the witches – they all using us because they need us. And the only one, seems like, who's getting compensated is you. Now I ain't mad atcha, get that paper, ya dig? But what I'm saying is that we should all get paid, especially since you're currently in somebody else's spot."

BINGO! Kaya was waiting for his soliloquy to get to the point – Ramel. Mike was a man who was a passenger aboard the Sore Loser Express and his violin song only pissed Kaya off.

"Did your boyfriend tell you that he lost in historic fashion, 12 to zip? Probably not, but you're here saying what exactly, Mike?"

"C'mon, did he have a chance? Your woman is the head voter and she's friends with everybody in her set. Was that fair? How was Ra supposed to win?

"Hol' up a minute," he said, head turning as if he heard an invisible voice speak to him, "Ra did win but you forgot that part. He told me the head nigga himself told everything to stop and put Ra in place. He was supposed to be sworn in the next day and you and the Rent-A-Cop squashed everything like a bunch of haters. Working with the white man to keep a nigga down. Typical."

"Oh, I'm sorry I must have missed something. Could you tell me what job Ramel has that keeps him riding around fancy free in a tricked out Chrysler 300?"

Mike was mute.

"What? No answer for that one? Typical."

Mike was aggravated. He forgot most of the things he wanted to say to Kaya. He cursed himself for not writing it all down and reading it like he'd planned. She was so damn tricky.

He didn't see himself as a man who couldn't support the rights of women but women like Kaya, big mouths, smartasses; he could see why some women were beaten and wondered if it was really abuse. He decided he would throw reason out the door because she couldn't be reasoned with – he'd go off script and let the chips fall where they may.

"I'm a street nigga, Kaya. And what you did, especially being a bitch, was out of pocket. You lesbo chicks don't know your place. It don't matter if you like the box, y'all are still bitches and there's a place for bitches. You supposed to have a nigga's back, not walk in front of him. You supposed to chill and let a nigga hold you down."

"I see," she said eyes becoming wider, "I'm supposed to wait around doing nothing until a sorry ass nigga like you decides he wants to grace me with his presence and have a million babies barefoot in the kitchen? That sound about right?"

"Nope. Most of you new bitches can't cook anyway. If a man's got you, then he's got you. If you have to work, aight, but it shouldn't be to take over his shit. That's what you did. Fucking around with a pig and all that, you got Ra's cousin killed and you sittin' in a seat he should be sittin' in. All I'm saying is recognize. I'm sure that Ra won't kick you out the mansion, we wouldn't even have to see your ass it's so big. But the spot is his spot and in the streets, a nigga like me woulda already came and took my spot. Bitch or not."

Kaya heard enough.

"Ramel killed his own damn cousin because he is a greedy ass nigga just like you. You're a real 'street nigga' and you would take your spot? Nigga, please! Your whole crew looks like a black NSync, you Justin Timberlake muthafucka!

"Come up to my job making threats, saying chauvinist homophobic shit and I'm just supposed to shake your hand and say you're right? I don't know what you think you know about me, Mike, but you better get a new research team and find out the real. Then fire them and hire a new team because you still won't know half of what you think you do.

"If it was Ramel's spot, he'd be in it, period. Now unless you're going to talk CDs, revolving credit, IRAs or mutual funds, you need to get up out of here before I have the 'white cracker pig' throw you out."

Mike stood, shaking his head and chuckling as he prepared to leave.

"Aight, it's going to be like that then. Don't say I didn't warn you – the streets is watchin'."

"Oh yeah? Well get them some glasses. Now get the fuck out my bank."

Mike bumped Bill on his way out causing Bill to turn, smile, and wave enthusiastically.

"Thank for banking with us," Bill said with an even bigger fake smile spread across his face, "come on back any time!"

He walked to Kaya's cubicle to find her rubbing her temples. She was angry.

"Prick," he said, "what did he want?"

"Ramel just won't go away, Archie. Mike, that's his name, says he came of his own volition but I think he was sent. He probably went to Ramel, him and his loser friend kee-keeing it up about the new digs and he got all hot and bothered. Then he started crying to his bitch and told him to come down here to make me relinquish my position. Can you believe it? The dude even tried threatening your girl, Archie."

"What did he say?"

"He said the 'streets is watchin' like dude is Jay-Z or something."

"Do I need to report this? Call in a couple of favors? I still have police pals who are active, Kaya."

"Pshh!" Kaya dismissed him, "Save your favors for something real. Your girl is going to be fine."

Bill nodded but did not want to take the threat as lightly as Kaya was. He'd seen enough senseless beatings over far less than what was at stake. She had the new "powers" but wasn't sure how great they were or if she even knew how to properly use them. So far he'd seen her unlock a gate by waving her hand and saying a couple of words and there was the freaky moving astral map tattoo on her back... Bill wasn't going to make a big deal out of it but he would be a little extra cautious.

The streets were watching.

*

A day off was a precious commodity to Aisha, a time she could catch her breath from dealing with the demands of the public. To her, it seemed like there were a lot more demands being made, not that you would ever hear her complain – she had a system.

When she wasn't being Super Receptionist Lady Efficient Girl in the Emergency Room at Clarksdale Hospital, she would entrust her aching feet to her Fall Bunions Foot Spa – at your service! Only the best herb potions and salts mixed with just the right amount of water could take her to a blissful place, away from work.

Aisha's day off found her walking through the mansion where she and Kaya had been spending more time. She decided to take Bill's initiative; there were time constraints so why wait for the Royal Blood to find them? She would speak with Sankofa so they could at least rule her out as the one they were searching for.

She felt silly looking for the secret entrance to the cellar where the majority of the Coven lay resting. Kaya and Bill, like two little school children, found almost all of the secret rooms in a matter of two days. It burned Aisha inside that they knew and she just remembered where three of the 22 bathrooms where.

"Why should I know where the secret entrances are," she aimed her sarcasm inward, "it's not like I'm the Chief Witch or anything?"

Her day off was proving to be more work than relaxation but this was the kind of work she never minded doing. Serving her House, her Coven, had always been pleasure with rewards she could have never dreamed while she was just a poseur with her friends back in High School. She'd done the Goth and the Pentagrams and Circles. She drank potions that gave her indigestion and giggled over the pronunciation of words she later suspected were pure gibberish.

It wasn't until she met Jenna, the weirdest of the weird girls, did she become open to the many procurements of occultism from all over the world. Eventually she was trusted enough to learn things most of the best poseurs would find hard to believe.

Aisha knew all this yet she was still having difficulty finding a damn door to enter the cellar where the massive slumber was taking place. Screw it! She would go the long way. It was off to the kitchen where she hoped to bump into a resourceful Jenkins, hinting that he should give her a tour pointing out all the secret doors and latches. Of course, she would impress upon him to keep it their secret.

Aisha was impressed with herself until she bumped in to Hotep. The tour would have to be postponed.

"My Lord, I need to speak with you."

"Can't it wait?" he asked. Hotep was preoccupied with the very dangerous book he had in his hand – Frederick's journal. In this new House everyone was busy trying to acclimate to their surroundings. When could they have their first gathering – where they would go when it was time for the Exodus? All of this circulated around the collective, which kept Hotep out of the spotlight. But a routine was beginning to form and many inhabitants were getting comfortable which meant eyes would be focused on the King and Queen once more. Sankofa had already begun to notice the anxiety in her husband and his unnatural attachment to the books given at the Consecration.

"It's kind of important, Lord Hotep," Aisha responded, glancing at the journal in his hand.

"This is nothing for you to be concerned about," he responded abruptly, meeting her gaze.

"Maybe I should speak with you later," Aisha turned to resume her hunt for Jenkins.

Hotep cursed himself, again, for behaving like a yearling, especially to Aisha. She was close with the Record Keeper and he'd already displayed irrational behavior in front of him. He wished he could probe her thoughts to see the damage he may have caused but he knew any attempts would be futile and give rise to further suspicions. He needed some time to think, formulate some kind of action to get everything back on track to an uneventful sleep during the Black Sun.

"Chief Witch. Aisha," he called, eyes becoming softer, "please forgive me. What we've been through... I hope you can understand. It isn't excuse to take it out on you. Please, what is the emergency?"

Aisha approached him with caution.

"You are one who is old and of great wisdom – and discretion..."

Hotep felt a shiver go down his spine and he didn't like it. It was familiar but something from long ago, a feeling he only got when a battle he was about to enter was going to be very bloody.

"I need this to stay between us, my Lord," she continued.

"Spit it out, woman," he said.

"Ayalu is dead. I think we know who did it too."

So it was true. Hotep gasped when he'd read the entry in Frederick's diary but dismissed it. In his days as a slave he'd heard many lies from white men who wanted the advantage over him. Frederick was the son of a slave owner so Hotep thought it stood to reason that he must have lied in his journal, or gone mad. He couldn't have possibly killed one so powerful; one who could have destroyed him where he stood with only a look. Has he become one of the Elders?

"How do you know this?" he asked, hand shaking.

"The Conductor. She spoke to all of the Elders during her ascent."

"But you just said th-"

"Everybody, except Ayalu. That's when they told her that Ayalu is dead. We have a Conductor which is a good thing but we all know that ain't going to mean shit if – "

"If we can't complete the Merkaba," Hotep finished. "So have you come to tell me our fate?"

"No no, my Lord. That's just the thing, we aren't lost. It turns our portal can be made but with a Royal Blood. I wanted you to speak with Lady Sankofa so she can talk to me and Bill and Kaya. Bill thinks she could be royalty but not know that she is."

"Why not one of the Ancients, like myself?"

"If we could we wouldn't hesitate, my Lord. But at the Ascension – Kaya said they told her it was to be a Royal Blood. And female."

"You say you know who murdered our great Elder."

"Yes, I think we do."

"We?"

"Kaya and I have been having these strange dreams, all with the same guy in them – the one who sent Ramel."

Frederick, Hotep thought.

"I don't know the guy's name, in the dream, Ramel shows up every time he gets ready to tell me. Another strange thing is that he seems remorseful, even though what he's doing will destroy us all. We thought it was nerves, her being put up for Conductor and this being my only Exodus... But Bill saw him and – "

"WHAT?" Hotep contained his anger. Why hadn't they informed him of this sooner?

"Tarah, a Sister witch of the House of Ayalu was killed by him. She was trying to get the message Bill brought us before we would've let that weasel in our House. He shot him but he got away."

"Who else knows of these events?"

"Just Kaya, Bill, Jenna, and me, my Lord. We wish for it to stay that way to avoid a panic."

"And quiet it shall be. A panic would be an understatement, Chief Witch. I'll see when I can get Lady Sankofa to you at the earliest convenience."

"Try not to wait too long, my Lord. Time's not on our side in this case."

"I understand."

Hotep's mind was set: he would seek out Frederick and destroy him. He would also have to delay Sankofa's meeting with the Conductor.

The Elders had gifted Kaya with something special. She would take a look at Sankofa and know she wasn't royalty; then Kaya would ask about her origins. When Sankofa spoke of what she remembered, Kaya with her new sight would look into Sankofa and see everything. Hotep would stain his honor and the honor of his House. He would be as good as banished which to him, was worse than death.

Frederick will suffer for his impudence. Hotep would avenge the deaths of Ayalu and her loyal subject, Tarah. Hotep remembered Hikpodu pardoned Ramel, but he was set on him for aiding the imposter. When he killed his master, he would go after the dog Hotep felt Ramel to be.

Hotep looked at the book in his hand, prepared to burn evidence of Frederick from his life once and for all.

"I'll hide it," he said to himself.

Hotep wanted to add one last entry in Frederick's journal and bury it with his ashes.

"This time I'll light the fire myself, boy. Send you to Hell where your Daddy and his friends are waiting for you. And I'll write it down so you know who sent ya."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A Sasquatch.

Victor ran through the dark night in Tangled Woods observing Ralph's lumbered gait and thought, big hairless Sasquatch; only it would have more graceful movements than Ralph.

Their past was catching them. Ralph, exuding unusual behavior since his introduction to Azyra and Leigh, had pissed off some not so savory associates. He hadn't given Victor all the details but he could see when he pulled up to the entrance of the book boutique/park, "closes at dusk" written in large black letters, their old friend Elena wasn't brimming with joy and good tidings.

Victor had walked in on their heated conversation about the loss of millions, which could never be a good thing. Elena sent a text and in a matter of seconds some large tattooed men hopped out equally large SUVs and joined them. Then Ralph did the unexpected – he grabbed Victor and took off running toward the thickest part of the woods.

Football player sized guys and Elena pursued them in silence. The woods weren't exactly Sherwood Forest but they provided enough cover and darkness to hide prey from predators. The way everyone had come in was the same way they'd have to go out so Elena left behind two linebackers as the exiting committee – in case Ralph and Victor should double-back.

Victor's mind was racing and nothing but white noise came to the front of it. He hadn't seen, heard, or spoken to Elena almost as long as he'd been away from Ralph. He hated running blind, which Ralph left him, because he had no idea what was going on or how deep the pickle barrel he found himself sinking in.

"Elena, old pal," he began, "I'm sure we can reach some sort of arrangement so we can all get out of here, um, breathing," Victor said from the cover of darkness.

"Always the brains of the operation. You shouldn't have left. I tell you what, you fix what your very silly friend has broken and we all go home to a good night's rest. What do you say?" Elena replied.

Victor wanted to say, no. He'd left that life behind to start something he could feel good about – safe about. Even with his current bloodsuckers predicament, he still felt safer around them than dealing with Elena and the ilk she associates with.

Robbing from the rich to give to the poor only feels good in the movies, since in the movies the poor are poor and not greedy gangsters. Some rich people aren't spoiled, snobbish, degenerates that deserve to be taken down a peg – some worked very hard to get where they are. There was a time when creating fake bank accounts and siphoning money from a number of companies or the trust funds of smartasses made him wake up with a smile on his face. Victor believed they had a cause back then. Profitable, but a cause nonetheless.

Elena, Ralph, some of "the guys" and he would go to $1000.00 plate charitable events with money they'd stolen from people attending the event. It was a thrill to hear the whispered insults, see the fake smiles, the meager handshakes of people who they knew didn't want this band of Brooklyn and Long Island trash in their midst.

It was at such an event that Elena overindulged in wine and reckless conversation with the wrong man. He became their silent partner. No more were they a bunch of wayward hackers getting tens of thousands of dollars spread through a few rinky-dink accounts. They would become an organized force that would have many accounts, which would total in the millions. That was dangerous money – more than just rich snobs were going to be taken. Victor saw the writing on the wall and left while the leaving was good.

Unfortunately, Ralph did not.

"OK. Get me a laptop and I'll fix it up for you. I'll make the drop and everything's fine," Victor offered.

"Not that easy, Loverboy. Beanstalk erased our primary accounts and a few of the real ones the boss is not very happy about."

Victor turned to Ralph, standing upright against the tree with a smirk on his face.

"You did what? Ralph, why would you...?" he whispered.

"Grammie knows our 'boss'. He's not a good person and he threatened Grammie," Ralph replied in a strained whisper of his own.

"Yeah? Well he's sent several rather massive people to threaten us. Do you know how long it's going to take to get those accounts back in order with the same hush-hush status they had before? A long time that's how long, Ralph. And I do NOT want to go back to that life."

"Oh, I get it. You think I wanted to remain a career criminal?"

"I didn't say that."

"I would've written crazy stories with you, Vic, if you would've asked. She," Ralph said thrusting his thumb in Elena's direction, "was the only one who wanted to work with that criminal."

"You didn't seem all that enthusiastic when I came to you the day before I quit. I can recall that you wanted to stay one week longer – money for early retirement; isn't that what you told me? I came to all of you guys to get out of this before it got any thicker and none of you wanted to go. And if I'm not mistaken, you were the loudest voice of refusal. And now I have to get you out of this mess!"

Ralph looked at Victor sheepishly, shaking his head.

"You guys can continue to chat like an old married couple on your own time, OK? We have some business to put right."

They both came from behind the tree where they were hiding.

"Since when did you become the big bad gangster, Elena?" Victor asked.

"Yeah!" Ralph added, "we were supposed to all retire at the same time, with enough money for school or a great vacation. You spoiled everything."

One of the linebackers moved toward Ralph, Elena touched his arm signaling him to stop.

"You guys have big brains but small fry dreams. The small change we were taking? That doesn't get you anywhere these days and what do you do when it all runs out? Or what happens when someone sees the good thing you have going and wants to muscle in on you? We needed protection, fellas, and I got it for us."

"What you got us is mixed up with a gangster the Feds are watching. That means they were watching us too," Victor said eyeing the big men with big guns.

"Gregor has us covered. We don't have to worry about Feds. Now be a couple of good little boys and help me get our accounts back online. Of course, because Beanstalk here messed everything up in the first place, you realize your wages will be severely decreased."

"Elena, the only reason I'll do this is so Gregor can lay off Ralph. I wish to God, you'd never met that guy or introduced him to us. After this I'm gone again, just like before."

"I don't make those decisions, Loverboy. Besides, doesn't it feel good to get the crew back together, even if it is in the forest?"

Victor turned to see a beaming, unconcerned and unafraid Ralph.

"You tell Gregor, my Grammie knows who his family is," he began. "I know he's a killer and he threatened a lot of people. All those accounts, Victor, he uses the to buy the things he needs to kill people!"

The hairs on the back of Victor's neck stood at attention. Something was going to happen, something very bad and he had a pretty good idea what it was.

"Ralphie! What was the big idea us meeting out here?" he asked, his voice hitching in his throat. The linebackers sensed his anxiety and trained their guns on Ralph, expecting him to draw.

"Victor," Elena said, also nervous, "what's going on?"

"We're not working for your boyfriend anymore," Ralph said. "You tell him to be happy I didn't wipe him out completely and send the Feds a juicy little email for Christmas. You know, with bank account numbers and other incriminating stuff."

From behind them, a bright light appeared. The linebackers swiveled aiming their guns at it as Victor shielded his eyes from the light to get a better look; it was Ralph's grandmother.

"NO! NO! She's harmless, she's just an old lady! Jesus, Ralph, you bring your Grammie out here in the woods like this?"

"She's got to record it," Ralph replied.

"Record what?"

There was a ruffle and breaking of branches from behind Victor then he saw them, ghastly pale with gaunt faces and glazed over red eyes. They were hunters with one thing on their mind, blood.

The light on the small camera followed them and he doubted Ralph's grandmother caught anything. They were so fast.

The closest linebacker to Elena was the first to go. Victor saw Leigh, then didn't, and heard an awful cracking sound of the big man's neck while he being was dragged in the darkness. The next man, who didn't take his eyes off a beaming Ralph, decided he would chop the Beanstalk down with his shotgun. He never got the chance to pull the trigger. Azyra pounced on him like a hungry lioness and, being a little less shy, tore the man's carotid sending a splatter of blood on Elena cheek while she placed her welcoming mouth over the wound drinking his precious life away.

Elena touched her cheek and knew what it was; however, she couldn't accept what she was seeing.

She remembered she'd spoken to Ralph on the phone and he'd been way too giddy for her. Elena scolded him for what he'd done and was sure he'd run to Victor for help. That was good news. If anyone could get their accounts back on line with high yield and low risk, it was Victor; he was the smartest out of all of them. Victor had imagination.

Elena had even patted herself on the back. She was convinced she'd saved Ralph's life. While she listened to Ralph prattle on about retirement and the FBI getting closer, she remember how she persuaded Gregor not to go through with his original plan of killing Ralph once he'd restored the accounts. That meant she had to get everything back the way it was even if she almost scared Ralph to death, hence all the muscle and firepower.

What she didn't know, but Ralph and his Grammie did know, was once the accounts were back Ralph was as good as dead anyway. Gregor had been stolen from, insulted. In his family's tradition, this was something that didn't go unpunished.

Elena touched the blood on her cheek, noticing for a moment its crimson color bouncing off the light from Grammie's digital camera. She screamed.

"Damnit!" Victor swore. He raced toward her placing his hand over her mouth. Someone would hear her screams on the very quiet block outside the boutique/park. That was the last thing Victor needed in this already abysmal turn of events. Elena fainted in his arms.

From the corner of his eye Victor could see a silver orb as if it floated on air and knew it was Leigh; another man was going to die. The crunch of his skull echoed through Tangled Woods and sent Victor into a fit of gagging. He was not going let himself vomit a second time in front of Azyra and he also had Elena to consider, she was passed out in his arms and would be in the direct line of fire.

"I'll blast this old bitch! I swear it," the fourth man said, aiming his 9mm directly at Grammie. "Whatever the fuck you are you stop this now or I'll cap this old bat so fast..."

Grammie turned the camera toward the fourth man, temporarily blinding him with its light, and Azyra and Leigh grabbed him and dragged him away. Kicking and screaming, he was able to let off two shots that missed their mark. Immediately his yelling ceased.

They returned from the blackness looking more like bloody mouthed nymphs, lips painted with glistening crimson, Leigh's eyes filled with fury and Azyra's even more crystalline than before. They walked to the last linebacker who by this time, had been frozen to one patch of grass. He dropped his gun and begged for mercy, tears streaming down his face.

"Please, I wouldn't've hurt anyone. We were just here to scare the kid. Ch-Ch-Check my gun, I swear, it's not even loaded. Please..."

Ralph intervened.

"You go back to Gregor and tell him that we're retired. Give him the camera tell him to watch that footage every day. If he threatens my Grammie or any of my friends, tell him me and my special friends will pay him a visit."

Ralph handed him the small digital camera. The last linebacker grabbed Ralph's hand and kissed it. He rose, turned on his heels and ran.

Victor placed Elena down on the grass, stood and walked toward Ralph. He slugged him square in his arm and did it again.

"OW!"

"HEY! Girls, get!" Grammie said slapping at Victor's back while he slugged Ralph again.

"NO! No, Grammie! No 'girls, get'! What the fuck was that, Ralph?"

"It was retirement. Besides, you weren't going to be able to get them blood for a couple more days so why have them sleep until you got it? I told them I'd have a fresh supply walk on in," Ralph said rubbing his arm.

"These ladies are not your personal assassination squad, damnit! And do you really think Gregor is going to let us retire? You wiped million dollar accounts, Ralph. He's a gangster! What do gangsters like more than money?"

"Power, Victor. And you have to be alive to have power."

Victor spun and glared at Grammie, then Azyra and Leigh.

"And just what were you ladies doing?"

"Bugger off, Grandpa," Leigh said baring her bloodstained fangs.

"We were registering our supply, Honey." He saw Azyra smirk too and couldn't control the blood rushing throughout his veins, making its way to his face. I'm hopeless, he thought to himself. Even when Azyra pissed him off he still found her beautiful.

"Is this where you, nap, nest, whatever...? You know you can't stay here anymore, not with this mess you made. The police are going to be all over this. And I'm sure I'll get another pleasant visit from the Brotherhood. They're going to eat this alive."

"That's why," Ralph said, "cops won't be a problem. Soon as they see what happened to the bodies, your Church friends are going to call jurisdiction and that's that.

"So you have this all figured? What about the bodies? You want them sprawled across the park for the residents to find? Or how about the customers of the bookstore when that opens for business?" Victor said, still annoyed.

"I clean," Grammie said. "Have tools in car. Girls get, I clean."

"I still can't believe you got your grandmother in on this too, Ralph. Perfect. You know they can't nap here anymore, smartass. So where are they supposed to go?"

"They can stay at my house until you find them that place you said. Grammie will let them stay in the basement."

Grammie grinned and pointed to a garlic bulb necklace he hadn't noticed in the fray, "I note 'fraid of girls."

"This is not even happening," Victor said rubbing his temples. He tried to stave off another fit of gagging and succeeded. He looked at Grammie and shook his head.

"Girls 'note 'fraid' of you either, Grammie. The garlic only adds to the flavor so they don't get indigestion."

She frowned at Victor and shooed him away.

"Stop being such a wanker," Leigh said.

"And what do you want us to do with that?" Azyra asked pointing to Elena stirring in the grass.

Victor turned to Ralph, "You have any provisions for her in your master plan?"

"Can't say that I do, man."

Rubbing his temples again, Victor looked at Elena opening her eyes.

"Great. Just great."

*

Ayalu's blood made it possible for Frederick to walk among people during the day, unnoticed. He could admire the trees and every brilliant shade of green they produced. He could marvel over the many species of dog New Yorkers had a particular way of displaying, as if the sidewalk was their own personal dog show. The sounds of hot shots on cellular phones, or the fast clomp-clomp of an emaciated woman wearing boots that looked too heavy for her body; the browns, the beiges, the tans, the pinks that look way more vibrant than the pallid complexion of his skin... Frederick heard the call of venders hawking their wares – soot stained yellow and blue umbrellas signaling one and all to try a tasty treat you could only find on the Isle of Manhattan; he could see the small red orbs peeking out from a dumpster in a dark alley, knowing it was someone like him, waiting for night to fall so it wouldn't have to hide in such an undignified place.

Frederick was homesick.

He wore sunglasses to protect his eyes from the sting of the sun's rays. Frederick had been so used to being anonymous, dwelling in the dark that to be out amongst all the commotion – the people, it caused him anxiety. His eyes weren't used to the brightness of the sun so Ramel brought him very dark shades when he picked Frederick up for the first daytime excursion he'd had in decades.

Frederick saw a horse and carriage and his heart was transported back home.

Plantation life wasn't the ideal in this land of awkward neighbors but it was the life for him. He knew, even then, slavery wasn't decent or in his mind, Christian. Although he'd heard many a pastor justify the life Africans had as subordinates, warning parishioners not to be fooled by the lowly black beasts, some of his closest friends were the Africans his father purchased, and their children.

When this curse was placed on him, for a time, the slaves of neighboring plantations brought him livestock, which kept him from going on murderous feeding frenzies as a yearling.

Over time his friends weren't the only memories he'd see fade before his eyes, there was the land. A large house was smack in the center of a beautiful tundra of cotton plants; the lazy pace of women hanging laundry and oh, the fresh smell of hanging sheets! No matter how much some clever man mixed chemicals in a bottle marked "fresh scent" it would never replace the real thing. Frederick missed his horses, going on rides with his father or stealing away with Sankofa...

The metal box with wheels that Ramel coveted so dearly was nothing in comparison to sauntering down a worn horse path extolling flights of fancy which held Sankofa's attention the whole time he spoke. Or going out to a field with Pierce and Bradley racing like the wind to see who would catch the elusive breeze first. He sat still in Ramel's car aware it was much faster than his loyal nag but there was about as much freedom in it as the coffin he used to rest.

My sweet Sankofa is alive and I have gone and killed her again.

Perhaps this was a trap. It was typical Ramel and his last futile effort to have it all without any sacrifice. Frederick's thought was a vanity for Ramel's smug face told him everything.

He sat stoically in the brand new car he'd brought Ramel hours before his trek. What would he say to Sankofa once he saw her and would she want to see him? Frederick understood her reasons for marrying Hotep, at least, he told himself he did. Being a creature of the night was a lonely ordeal he was sure no one understood, especially when you had no idea what you are. Frederick wouldn't blame her for being with Hotep. Whether she'd become a cold beast like him or the beautiful human being he remembered, Sankofa was a survivor.

Frederick regretted not following his heart, which implored him to look for his beloved before he went on his rampage. Somewhere a voice inside told him, she could have survived...

Frederick knew a long time ago he had forfeited his right to call himself a Christian, even if he had been killing what he'd considered godless creatures. None of his human victims deserved to die in such a reprehensible way, by the hands of a hypocrite.

The bile and vitreous he'd built for so many years was for nothing. God was teaching him the most important lesson of all – revenge belongs solely to Him.

Ramel pulled his car up to the parking meter. He checked his rearview mirror before looking across the street where he was tossed out of the future of his splendor, not too long ago.

"Why are we here Mr. Jackson?"

"This is where they have their meetings. Ceremonies, stuff like that."

"Is she in there?" Frederick asked trying not to sound eager. Ramel had the advantage and Frederick wasn't going to give him anything more. He only wanted to see Sankofa and figure out a way to reverse the damage he'd done.

"Nah but – "

"Why are you trifling with my patience, Mr. Jackson? Observe where we are. This is an area of New York City where your vehicle will be surveyed. So I ask you again, why are we here, to look at the architecture of a building?"

"Look, man, they ain't sweatin' me because I'm near the meter."

"In a car across the street from a major financial institution and neither one of us has exited the car. That does not seem suspicious to you during these times of high anxiety?"

"I ain't a terrorist so it doesn't matter."

Frederick looked at Ramel wondering how he let himself get involved with such an ignorant man.

"Did it ever occur to you that it makes no difference what you are, Mr. Jackson? The authorities cannot see inside the car!"

Ramel conceded that Frederick had a good point but stayed idling near the meter anyway. He didn't like Frederick's attitude, rude and condescending. Had he known he would start to behave in such a manner, he would have held on to that little tid-bit as long as could. None of it mattered because Ramel had a more pressing issue.

Frederick stopped hunting.

He looked gaunt and more pale than usual which meant he wasn't taking his regular trips to the farm he frequented to feed.

Ramel didn't want him in his ride, not because of the snide way he spoke to him as of late, but because he was scared to death of him. Frederick assured Ramel he could control his thirst, discipline he claimed, but Ramel wasn't convinced. Only after Frederick brought his new car did Ramel decide he would allow Frederick in the passenger seat.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the intense battle Frederick was waging to control himself. Nobody would see what happened, even if they looked in through the windshield. It wasn't as tinted as the rest of the windows but Ramel knew people barely noticed anything during times of unease, until it was too late. Ramel's throat would be torn from his body and only then would someone notice that he was slumped over the steering wheel of an idling car. Only then would attention be paid to the blood splattered across his 100% leather, burgundy colored dashboard and the terrified look on his face which they would plastere all over the news that evening. An uptight anchor with the father-knows-best voice warning all who tuned-in to watch, "The images you are about to see are quite disturbing, we ask that you remove your children from the room and discretion is advised."

The more Ramel imagined his fate, the more he felt inclined to bring Frederick back to the hotel he was calling home after having abandoned his library location. He put his car in gear when he noticed someone familiar.

"Mike, what are you doing down here?" Ramel asked.

A very animated Mike climbed in the backseat of the car admiring his friend's climb back to the top.

"I'm checking some things out. They 'bout to move this, Ra."

"Between the two of you, I cannot understand why you haven't conquered the world!" Frederick said with bitter sarcasm.

"Yo man, what's his problem?"

"I guess he's trying to kick blood cold turkey or something. All I know is you haven't been feeding and you're complaining like a bitch!" Ramel said turning his attention back to Frederick.

Frederick grunted at him in return. Neither one of them knew the depths of his despair. He wanted to close his eyes and slip in a long deep sleep of repentance. He wanted to beg all of the faces he'd seen since he took the life of his sister Ruth, for their forgiveness and he wanted them to respond with a resounding, "we do"! Frederick wished he could bring them all back, especially Tarah. It was all so senseless but hers struck a chord that no amount of time would erase. Ramel had always been a means to an end for Frederick but after Tarah, he knew he didn't want to be around him or his feeble minded friends. Upon discovering there was a possibility Sankofa was still alive, he accepted his current predicament as punishment. Ramel Jackson and all that came with him would be his albatross until he could make amends. Until then, he would listen to the foolish conversation and the empty material demands made by small men who knew nothing of true wealth.

Or peace.

Like riding as fast as you can on your best nag laughing so hard you lose your breath.

"If she is not here," Frederick began, "and from what I can comprehend from your partner's report, they are moving from here, what are we doing? This is idle time."

"She who?" Mike asked. "Kaya? That bitch is there but not at night like the rest of them."

"The rest of them? You be up here at night, man?" Ramel asked. "You a stalker now?"

"I'm checking the place out. Looks like they moving for real, Ra. It's been scattered at first, a few witches here and there but lately more of them been coming and on more days too."

An exasperated Frederick rolled his eyes, "Of course they are moving, you idiots! What sense does it make to stay somewhere they have to break in, causing unwanted attention to have gatherings, when they have a vast space available to them now?

"When you two figure out your silly little plan, please feel free to look me up, Mr. Jackson."

Frederick reached for the door but was halted by a blunt object he felt at the base of his skull. He wasn't surprised that Mike pulled a 9mm pistol on him, he was trying to gain favor with Ramel and exert some kind of authority he thought necessary. It didn't diminish Frederick's agitation; Ramel held all the best cards. He was the man who knew Sankofa's location and within weeks, mastered the ability to keep him out of his mind. Frederick was looking for a crack any little sliver so he could slip in and out before Ramel ever knew.

There was no way Frederick could react to this latest insult without risking Ramel possibly pulling a disappearing act himself.

Frederick remained absolutely still.

"Nigga, what the...?" Ramel put the car in gear and drove away from the building. "Yo! Put that away, Mike! You really want us getting busted down by the cops? Lose that – NOW!"

"I'm gettin' real tired of this shit ain't you, Ra? Niggas thinkin' they can just run shit and we supposed to jump. This ain't the slavery days muh'fucka, we got some say in this too! Now I ain't some big vampire killin' expert but I bet if I bust your melon all over the interior of this car, you ain't coming back."

"Fuck you are – first, you're not doing anything like that because if he's dead, he can't replace my car. And you are not fucking up my car, Mike. Mike! Lose that shit RIGHT NOW!" screamed Ramel.

As he took the gun from Frederick's head, Mike felt a strong breeze beside him. He'd almost concealed the pistol back in his trousers when Frederick grabbed the hand with the gun in it and pressed it against his stomach. Mike couldn't move his arm, he felt as if it were pinned under a cinderblock. As Frederick squeezed his hand tighter, Mike thought Frederick would break it, his bones splintering around the gun. Mike realized too late it was a mistake to pull the gun. The guy is so damn fast, he thought, wondering if Ramel would let Frederick kill him?

"Mike, is it?" Frederick asked applying more pressure to his hand, "Mike. I am not beholden to you. Do you understand? I owe you nothing. I suggest the next time you have a theory that is not 'expert' you test it. You will not have time to make another error like this. I need you to nod once if you understand and twice if you do not."

Mike nodded. Once.

"And refrain from the slave talk. It only serves to remind me of someone whom I did not care for very much. You will refrain, won't you?"

Mike nodded and Frederick released his hand from his solid grip of pain. He stayed in the back seat of the car with Mike, going deep in his still place, saying nothing.

"You didn't have to do it like that, Freddy," Ramel said, "I'm saying, he was wrong for pulling the gun but you didn't have to get him like that. You should just chill. You need to feed too, man. How can we work with you and you're all volatile and shit. I'm on edge about that, Freddy." Ramel looked in the rearview mirror at the faraway expression on Frederick's face. How much of him still in the car with them.

Ramel continued, "See, Mike got us some good info back there. They're moving out and the witches have been by there, right?"

Silence.

Mike looked at Frederick and felt like he was sitting next to a marble statue, veins and all – he shuddered. When Frederick didn't move, Mike shrugged his shoulders at Ramel.

"Right," Mike answered.

"That means the head witch will be by there and we get to talk to her when she does," Ramel said, smiling. He saw no response, acknowledgement, or expression on Frederick's face.

"No more killing and guns, right?" he said. "We about to do it your way, OK? Talking, nothing but talking. We go pull her aside and tell her about Sankofa and about Hep..." Ramel saw a flicker in Frederick's eyes when he mentioned his rival's name and exhaled a breath of relief. For a moment he was sure Frederick was going to be lost to him.

Not just yet, Frederick, he thought. He couldn't off himself before he crossed the threshold of that mansion Mike and Chester saw. Ramel scoffed when he thought of how a clown like Chester saw his mansion before he got a chance to. No matter, once that part was done he would be free of Chester, Frederick all of them and he could do whatever he wanted.

Until then, Ramel made a sharp right turn and headed toward the bridge.

"Yo, Ra, where the hell you going?" Mike asked.

"Long Island. We got to get old Freddy here something to eat."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Gregor Domitrovich Jr's family tree could be traced all the way back to a little place called Chernivisti in the southern regions of the Ukraine, not too far from what used to openly be called Transylvania. They are a hearty stock, probably with origins in Russia, who speak without speaking and know without knowing. Like Ralph, who'd decided to become a thorn in Gregor's side, his Grandparents also observed strange sights and sounds outside of their doors in the darker hours of the night. There was an unspoken code amongst the people that certain times of the year are much better to travel than others and you never went anywhere at night alone – man or woman.

With the advent of industry and war, fears were abated. It didn't mean odd things did not take place; they only became rare occurrences.

When the recently deceased (a radical case of projectile lead poisoning issued by Gregor) "linebacker" gentleman, Erick Davison, pounded on Gregor's door, disturbing his family's brunch, the eldest Domitrovich was familiar with the look of terror plastered across the behemoth of a man's face.

"E, I told you never bring business to the house. I'm here with my family having food. You never bring this here, man."

"I really have to talk to you. You know I wouldn't do this but I really... It's that thing and it's important."

"Have manners, Gregor," his father said, looking at Erick through his glass front door, "Papa says bring him to the room for coffee."

Erick squeezed himself past Gregor and shook his father's hand. The Senior Domitrovich pointed him in the direction for his last cup of coffee wondering what kind of bad luck his son stepped in. He had the feeling it was far worse trouble than the tall skinny boy erasing $25million with the push of a button.

Technology. He hated the blasted word and the pale skinny boys, like the one who worked for Junior, who manifested it into being. He hated computers. The days of forgers and counterfeiters, artisans in their own right; the days of working your ass off for a dishonest buck twice as hard as you did an honest one, when you had to have skill, when the whole thing was a science exclusive to those who were in the know and not any old namby-pamby with a keyboard; his heart sank a little knowing those days were long gone.

Once in their quiet little study, Erick, body filling up the room, was invited to sit in the most comfortable chair to recount his story.

"Uh, no offense, DJ, but this isn't a thing I need to say," he dropped his voice hiding his mouth behind his large meaty, sweaty hand, "in front of your Pops or Grandpops."

"DJ", as his crew called him – Domitrovich Jr. closed the door to the study, so the women folk wouldn't listen and have something to gossip about later, as his father assured Erick he was fine speaking his mind. After all, it was about the family business, was it not?

He was given coffee to settle his nerves but the three men could see his hand trembling.

"I barely escaped with my life, you know? And I am not ashamed to say it, I begged. I got right down on my knees and begged like a little baby."

"What? That geek, Ralphie, grew a pair and came packing?"

"Junior. Let him tell the story," his father said.

Gregor's Grandfather sat in the other comfortable chair looking at Erick; he said nothing. Erick was squirming in his seat while Gregor paced the room praying he would hurry up and get to the point. Senior Domitrovich coaxed Erick to continue.

"Elena made the call to me like you said for her to do. She told me she needed a little metal, you know, just to scare the guy because he was a punk anyway. But the metal would show him you meant business. Also she said that it might get him to call his friend Victor. She kept bragging about this Victor cat being a real super geek and the money would be replaced in no time. So I called them."

Erick paused and chugged down the hot black coffee just as Gregor's Grandfather was leaning to pass him the cream.

Impatiently Gregor asked, "Called who?"

"Our dudes. Fat Boy Roy, Peter Mugz, Bobby, and Vincie Vinz."

"For Chris' sakes you call a fucking rap group to go strike fear into the geek? I'm surprised he didn't ask you for your autograph."

"Junior. Cut it out, do you hear me?" his father said.

"Pop, I know those guys. I joke with them all the time. They're like Eminem's backup dancers on steroids, I know them."

"Knew them..." Erick said looking off in the distance. He no longer saw the intense scrutiny Gregor's grandfather had him under, Erick wasn't even that sure where he was. He wanted the shock to take over his body and be locked up somewhere soft and air-conditioned, where pretty nurses with island accents fed him his meals.

"Hey! Hey! E-Dawg come on back to me, man," Gregor said snapping his fingers. Erick sat there mumbling. Gregor tried slapping his face, which elicited more mumbling until he slapped him harder. Erick continued his story, unaware of his fresh new busted lip, thanks to Greogr's hard slap. He talked as if nothing happened, blood trickling down his chin.

"Elena told me Ralph wanted to meet on LI in some park near his house because he needed a neutral place. Elena said it would be fine, DJ, but it wasn't fine, man." Erick started to cry.

"What the fuck? E-Dawg, man up! You're embarrassing yourself. What the hell happened out there?"

"DJ, we had the pumps, we had nine-millies, none of that shit mattered. They killed them all except me. I think Elena might be alive but I don't know for how long."

"They who? E? Did Victor come too?"

"His Grandmother was there and those two ghost girls..."

Gregor looked worried.

"Pop, he's delirious or something."

"I can show you," Erick said reaching in his pocket. "They told me to show you."

Senior Domitrovich reached from behind his back and pulled a pistol on Erick. Gregor's grandfather frowned at his son and placed his gnarled hands over Erick's, motioning for the digital camera. Gregor Senior hid his gun thankful that Erick hadn't seen him brandish it.

The Domitrovich men gathered around the small LCD screen of a digital camcorder and watched as unseen forces broke bones and pulled very large muscled men away to the darkness of the woods. Each break could be heard throughout the small study. The sound of tearing flesh caused Erick to wince until it was over. At the end of it all, Ralph's pale face filled the screen informing the Domitrovichs he was done and he would not be submitting a two-week notice. Ralph's last admonishment stirred Gregor's grandfather to his feet.

"I know where you live, Greg! My friends can travel and they get real hungry when they do. Don't mess with me, my friends, or my Grammie or I'm going to take a road trip!"

There was silence then Gregor broke it.

"What the fuck happened? Who did Ralphie, hire E, ninjas? Did you get a look at those guys?" Gregor asked bewildered.

"Man, I told you. It was two girls. Two ghost girls..."

"Not girls," Gregor's grandfather said gravely.

"Papa? What's going on, what did you see?" Gregor asked.

"See, DJ?" Erick looked at Gregor's grandfather standing over him. "You believe me, don't you, Sir?"

"Yes," he said tenderly. "Not girls." He shot a look at the Senior Domitrovich. Gregor's father led him out of their study while his grandfather comforted a crying Erick.

"Son," his father said, "you have to take care of this."

"I will, Pop. If Erick can get it together long enough so we can get those girls he keeps talking about, then we'll show that Ralph a little something too."

"No, Gregor. We still have a lot of money and there are other angles. We are going to let this go. You have to take care of your friend. He can't go to a hospital because they'll give him medicine and he'll talk a little more than is comfortable. Fix this, then we don't discuss it again."

"Pop? C'mon, he's my friend! And besides, we can't let that little nerd get away with this!"

"Gregor. Listen to me, I'm your father! The skinny boy deleted the money so he doesn't have it either. Your grandfather will say drop this and I say drop this. When you see an omen you heed it! We won't have bad luck spread on the family. Fix the situation and then we speak of this no more!"

"Yes, Pop."

Gregor Domitrovich Jr. cleaned up the loose end that was his friend, who by the end of the night had unraveled the last piece of his sanity. For that Gregor was thankful and looked at his deed as a mercy killing.

However, contrary to his father's instruction, he couldn't let the issue drop as easily as the elder man had. He wanted to know what happened to Elena and he wanted Ralph to be punished. Ralph's carefree existence served as a reminder of embarrassment; he had to pay the piper.

Ralph's mysterious and brutal killing machine friends nagged at him the most. They were the reason his family refused to retaliate and helpless was something Gregor did not do well. He continued to watch the clips he transferred from the digital camera to his computer until he saw without seeing.

Gregor rubbed his chin, remembering a trip to Washington DC Erick and crew took him on. There was a party at Howard University that lived up to everything Erick promised it would be. Before heading back to New York, Gregor remembered striking an interesting conversation with one of the few white men he saw on the campus that day, Joseph Spivey. The part of the conversation piqued his interest the most was he claimed that he was being recruited for an ultra-religious organization not officially recognized by the Pope – but recognized by the Pope. Gregor didn't believe him and looking back he figured that it was probably the reason he spoke so freely about it.

Gregor looked at the dark grainy clips, remembering Erick's face as he cried in his study. He heard every crunch and the gurgling sound one of the men made, choking on his own blood. Gregor heard the frightful screams issued by men with powerful firearms in their grasp. He didn't hear Elena's screams but that didn't mean she wasn't dead too; he'd have to chalk her up as collateral damage. He then watched the clip that made him the angriest, Ralph's smug little warning and threat to his family. Gregor was going to take care of this but he needed help. And as Ralph summed up his warning Gregor remembered who Joseph Spivey was hoping to work for – someone who fixes this kind of thing.

The Brotherhood of the Sacred Seed.

****

As much as she loved her Sisters in Light and Darkness, as idealistic as she tended to be when it came to them, Jenna knew the ways of the outside world did affect her little utopia.

Time was winding down for her Coven and soon the day of the Black Sun would be upon them.

It was something she'd taken for granted for years. The irony was, unless she flew to South America, she wouldn't even see the solar eclipse – none of them would. Yet they prepared the necessary means for change in the sun's potency, hoping that none of her dark patrons would meet their demise.

Jenna wasn't very happy about being one of the only two witches that knew how important time really was in this case. It was the wish of Kaya, her Conductor that the crisis remained a secret – so she kept the secret. She was more of the opinion that if they would only tell the other witches there would be more people to help search for the Royal Blood. Jenna was aggravated because she knew Si'rah was personal attendant to Hotep and Sankofa when the bank vault was the site of their House. If time was of the essence and they needed to speak with Sankofa, Si'rah would have her ear immediately.

On the other hand...

Jenna was optimistic they would accomplish their task and if they did, which they must, there was going to be a major change over the next six months.

She was certain that during the time of slumber Aisha would choose to join their Great Mother and learn many secrets at the foot of her throne. If it were she, Jenna would leap at such an opportunity.

Who would be the Chief Witch of the House of Hikpodu?

For years witches picked a successor just before the Chief Witch chose to go on her journey. In many cases she wouldn't return to the House. On the occasions that a Chief Witch did return to her respective House her position became one of reverence and guidance where she no longer performed the responsibilities she once had, making her a Grand Matron. There have been a few cases where a Grand Matron left her House to form a Witch Coven of her own.

She didn't think Aisha was going to go that far but she did have the feeling, as much as Jenna knew Aisha thought her to be a pain in the ass, Aisha would name her as successor. Kaya liked her and Jenna was happy to have the influence of the Conductor but she didn't need it. Aisha is fair.

"Sometimes she's not my greatest fan but she knows nobody in here is qualified to take her place but me," Jenna said aloud to herself.

Jenna also knew three others were aiming for the position and Si'rah, the most qualified of the three, would probably play the race card. She hoped beyond all hope that it would not come down to that.

Since the beginning, the House of Hikpodu has been located in the northern part of the Western Hemisphere. There had never been a warlock in his House or a "paleface" as the Chief Witch. Indigenous people had always taken care of the shape shifting succubus and incubus.

It wasn't until the word traveled from far across the wind and water, on the sacred smoke sounding a war between the blood demons and the lycans, that these people with veneration for the wolf, decided they would no longer be keepers of the defilers. The House of Hikpodu suffered until the arrival of European conquerors and slavers, bringing with them a whole host of caretakers. The potential for wealth was abundant and for the House of Hikpodu, wealth insured safety.

Africans, with ways that appeared savage to their captors, were welcome to practice the traditions of old in the Coven and they gravitated to the House whenever it was moved, wherever it was located.

In 1823 there was a set destination in New York, where some Blacks were already free and slaves ran for freedom to live their lives as human beings.

Jenna was familiar with the House's history, it was the way things were back then and she wished it never had to be that way.

Today, we live in a different age. She would be the first Caucasian Chief Witch her Coven ever had, it would be recorded, and by her Dad no less! For there to be a possibility that history could be marred by a racial scandal was something she would not put up with. Jenna thought again and said it aloud, "Aisha is fair," but she was going to have the proverbial "Ace up the sleeve" just in case.

Fans of Enoch came in many flavors and as Victor suspected, some of his fans are who and what they say they are. Jenna is such a fan. While she was trolling through the site Jenna found her "Ace" and a genuine need to help.

Enoch was in need of assistance. He needed to find one of The Six to give sanctuary to two vampires of important status. Jenna read on, more certain than ever that Enoch was someone who knew a lot more about the inner workings of her lifestyle than his site and crazy graphic novels suggested he did. He had to be real, more real than the crackpot she hooked up with (via Enoch's site) complete with dental implants claiming the sex would be greater if he, "Pierced her skin with divine darkness." She rolled her eyes reflecting on that loser and vowed to never use Enoch's site as an instrument in her love life again. However as an instrument to help her patrons, she knew she must.

She read, "I need your help, my Children. I am looking for one of The Six as a sanctuary for vampires of great significance. Have you had Oro Cruorem?"

Jenna read the lines over and over as well as some of the hopeless comments from those trying to figure out what the cryptic statement meant. She admired his cleverness, make it like a contest, it would separate the crackpots from those who knew what they were talking about. So far, many posts on the bulletin board showed the state the so-called "world of darkness" was in these days, no one had a clue.

One comment stood out the most for Jenna. She had no doubts the girl googled the translation of "oro cruorem" and used her 240 characters to explain all the ways Enoch could come to her house and drink her precious O negative blood. Losers, Enoch, almost every single last one of them. Jenna decided to end the misery she was sure he was in entertaining so many poseurs and sent him a message with the subject line: You Must Be Friendly W/L'Ordine della Vendetta di Sangue. She typed two simple sentences, "No one who pleads the blood lives to tell. How can I help?"

Enoch answered her immediately asking her test questions, the most insulting of all being, "What Haven do you belong to?" Jenna understood the need but it caused her to frown nonetheless. Any witch worth her salt, especially one of The Six, wouldn't be caught alive or dead in a Haven. Even the most astute of poseurs knew if they wanted to emulate the older ways, they never called their gathering place or the people in it, a Haven.

When enough information was exchanged to suit the other, Jenna set the meeting place – the bank where her Coven used to meet. It would be simple and she could assist in removing the rest of the ceremonial material, coffins, and the few books they may have left behind.

Jenna would miss the old vault. The irony wasn't lost on her that the vault was housed in such a modern building where they practiced ancient things. They were lucky that Kaya worked there.

Without consulting anyone Jenna decided to set up a meeting near hallowed ground, with a man she was only 45% sure was an actual vampire, to receive two vampires she'd never seen or met herself, with the promise they would have sanctuary in an ancient House most modern day vampires didn't think existed. The worst part was she needed Aisha and Kaya to come with her to vet them. She placed her beautiful brown tresses in her hands and pulled as hard as she could.

"AH! What is wrong with you? Now you have to go to her job and tell her! Kaya should be easy but Aisha... Maybe she won't join her for lunch today."

Jenna entered the bank's revolving doors and saw her father engaged in a jovial conversation with Kaya – Aisha was there. She swallowed, put on her best face and proceeded toward the inevitable conversation.

They all greeted her, which made her task even more uncomfortable. She kicked herself for not thinking her actions through. There wasn't much time to waste but it wouldn't have taken as long as she imagined to have her actions approved by her Sisters, then have these people she invited vetted properly. Instead, there was going to be ruffled feathers and a lot of shouting. Aisha wasn't one to embarrass easily, she was going to raise her voice at some point during this conversation.

Kaya got visitors' passes for Jenna and Aisha to join her and Bill in the cafeteria located on the floors above the actual bank branch. Screaming in her head, "There is no time like the present!" she sat next to her father and looked across the table at Aisha and Kaya.

"I need to tell you guys something but you have to promise that you won't get mad," Jenna began in earnest.

Kaya took two gulping bites of her turkey sandwich. She could tell by the tone of Jenna's voice she was going to say something to piss off Aisha thereby ruining any chance of her being able to finish her lunch.

"Oh no," she said between chomps.

"No. I can't do that Jenna," Aisha said. "When people want to tell you something and they start off by making you promise not to get mad, I know you're going to say something to make me mad."

"Just spit it out, Heeks," Bill added.

"OK here it goes. I need you guys to come back," Jenna lowered her voice to a whisper, "here tonight."

"That's it?" Kaya asked, also whispering. "Girl we got it covered. Whew! I'll be able to finish my sandwich."

"Not just to clean up stuff but I need you guys here."

"Why?" Aisha asked, suspicious of the request.

"Because... I... Enoch is going to meet me here and he'll need sanctuary, for two. I kinda told him he could have it if they check out. I need you guys to vet them."

Aisha sat upright in the chair staring at Jenna. Kaya grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

"Remember your surroundings, Bay."

"So you want my job?" Aisha said in a calm voice. "I don't see why we need to come check these people out at all because clearly I'm not doing my job, is that right, Jenna?"

"Sweetheart, why didn't you run this by me?" Bill asked.

"I'm sorry, OK? But we're on high emergency alert and I thought the process would take too long. They need our help."

"When and where did you meet this Enoch person?" Aisha asked.

"He has a very popular site for – "

"You met a guy off the internet and you want us to meet him because he said he knows two vampires that need our help?" Aisha was incensed. "This is irresponsible Jenna! If you're going to kick me out my spot the least you could do is not put the whole damn House in danger because of your ambition. What kind of amateur act shit is that?

"And what if the guy is a damn pervert? Me, you, Kaya – three girls waiting in the alley of a bank while the security tapes are turned off and he gets what the hell he wants? You don't even know what the guy looks like, I bet."

"That's enough, Aisha. Lay off my daughter, she made a simple mistake, OK?"

"We don't have room for mistakes, simple or otherwise, Bill. Go on and answer, Jenna. What does your Enoch look like?"

Jenna's face was almost in her bowl of salad. If it could've fit her entire body in she would have crawled in.

"I don't know..."

"That is enough. She feels bad already. There had to be a good reason for her to agree to meet this guy so lay off."

"What was the reason?" Kaya asked.

"What? Oh hell nah, you gone try and make me look like the bad guy on this one?" Aisha asked glaring at Kaya.

"Nah, Babe. But you're the one always talking about how Jenna knows her shit so Archie's right, there has to be a reason why she thought it was alright to check out this Enoch person."

Aisha frowned at Kaya then at Bill, exhaling before she cast her gaze toward Jenna.

"What did he say, Jenna?" she asked.

"He knew things," she started, "things that the fakers wouldn't know. And he said he could help us because we're in danger too."

"What kind of things?"

"Like Oro Cruorem. He mentioned that and said he and his friends were of the L'Ordine."

"Say whuh whuh whuh who now?" Kaya said.

"See? Kaya doesn't know what that is and she's our Conductor. He can't be just an ordinary poseur."

"He could be a hunter," Bill said. "Some hunters know about The Order. Those dirty Brotherhood characters know The Order."

"Knick knack patty whack pass me a damn bone! Somebody want to tell me what y'all are talking about, please?" Kaya said.

"I'll explain it later, Baby, before we come back here tonight," Aisha said looking at Jenna.

"I'll come with you ladies, just in case."

"That's great, Dad. Thanks guys."

"Look, Jenna, I'm going to be blunt. I like tradition. I like the fact that this House has been one that's had a circle of women since it started. I like the fact that all the Chief Witches before me have been strong, competent women of color but you know what I like most of all?"

Jenna shook her head picturing her recommendation being flushed down the toilet.

"I like the fact that we have the baddest bunch of witches and we know our shit! When I pick my successor, I will continue the tradition of a witch that's got it all together and knows her shit – no matter what persuasion she happens to be. Got that?"

"Yes. Yeah, I do," she replied.

"If you do some dumb ass shit like this again, you make a liar out of me. I don't take kindly to being depicted as a liar, Jenna. I will find a spell so powerful it will turn you into a dung beetle or something like that."

"And I'm just supposed to be standing around while you make my daughter a bug?" Bill asked.

Aisha smiled and replied, "No Bill, I'll turn you into the dung!"

"Dad, just in case, like you said, maybe you should carry your pistol tonight."

"Right, Heeks. But this Enoch guy could be on the up-and-up."

"Or it could be a trap," Aisha said.

"I heard," Kaya replied, "the best way to avoid a trap is to know that you're walking into one. We'll be ready."

The four friends continued eating their lunch in thoughtful silence.

Jenna prayed it wasn't a trap.

*

"I think your girlfriend might say something today," Leigh said examining Elena's deliberate movements.

"You guys are children," Victor replied. "And she's not my girlfriend."

"She was taunting you like she was a girlfriend."

"She's not now. Gosh, I can't wait until you are safe with the Coven and then vóila, my life returns to some semblance of normal."

"What about her?" she asked pointing to Elena.

Ralph sidled beside Leigh, bending to whisper in her ear, "It's an act."

"An act? C'mon, Ralph. Was it an act that nearly puked all over myself a second time? It's not like someone sees this kind of stuff everyday."

"Tsk tsk tsk," Ralph wagging his finger in his friend's face, "that's what got you – us in trouble the last time. I'm serious, Victor, Gregor is a killer. His family has killed before. Elena couldn't have been that close to him and not see somebody get whacked."

"How do you know –?"

"I told you, my Grammie knows about his family from the Old Country, the Domitrovichs. Elena's putting us on and you're going to fall for it – again."

"Don't you have some more windows you have to shield from the sun or sunlight leaks to check?" Victor grumbled and walked toward Elena. He took her arm and walked her to a guest room in the house. Ralph and his grandmother continued to seal the room so it looked like midnight when it was actually 3:00pm. Opaque black plastic bags lined the windows with black tape holding the bags in place. There wasn't even a pinhole of sunshine that slipped in the room.

Victor turned on a lamp and sat Elena on the bed, pulling up a chair so he could look at her face. She was regaining some of her color and she'd decided to eat eggs with her toast as opposed to toast, and only toast, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He didn't know how he was going to explain Azyra and Leigh if Elena ever decided to speak again. Upon further thought, Victor didn't know if he wanted to.

Ralph reminded him, Elena was the reason why they made the acquaintance of Gregor Domitrovich Jr. just when they were quitting the grayer side of a not-so-legal computer business. Victor was lucky to leave when he did because Gregor was a punk in those days, but poor Ralph. He wished Ralph had found the confidence he has now and he could've walked away leaving Elena with her new crush, the thug in training. Feelings of anger bubbled deep in Victor's gut. He shouldn't be remembering this stuff... He should've left her in the park with the other bodies – he should've left her at Gregor's front door.

"Maybe I can smooth this over for you," Elena said.

"So almost 24hours with no talk, hardly eating, and that's the first thing you have to say? Ralph was right about you."

"Right about what?"

"This whole act you're doing, the helpless damsel in distress thing because your little plan backfired."

"I'm the actor? You boys have gotten yourselves involved in some real freaky stuff. Oh and real mature! A couple of girl assassins? You should have ordered them to fight in bikinis. Vampire teeth too? Nice touch. If I knew you were that much of a freak Victor, who knows?" she said smiling at him.

"I know. You would still be on the first thing smokin' out the door. I'm not exciting enough and at that time, I didn't wear the correct sized wallet."

Elena frowned. "Ralph is in serious trouble, Loverboy."

"Don't call me that."

"Fine. But you know as well as I do that he crossed the line. Gregor is going to be furious that he hired a couple of pros to take out his muscle even if you did spare his friend. Then he'll ask the question, 'Where did Ralph get the money to bring in specialists?' He'll answer that question, Victor, and what do you think the answer will be?"

"China?"

"You were always the one to joke when it's time to be serious. Gregor is going to think that Ralph didn't destroy all the accounts. You need money for assassins. If he had money to hire them that means Ralph decided steal from Gregor. Whatever you think he is, Victor, I can tell you that he is not tolerant of thieves. Your stupid friend bit off a little more than he can chew.

"I can fix it, though. You come back to the fold, as a good faith gesture, Ralph can go on with his strange yet dull little life unscathed."

"Wow. You're a regular mouthpiece for Domitrovich, huh? No wonder why he keeps you around. Riddle me this, if you please, how does Gregor stand on traitors?"

"What do you mean?"

"Traitors, you know, rats. Snitches. Finks. How does he deal with them? Because from where I'm standing, you're in just as deep as Ralph. What happens when his bestest westest girl, emerges from the dead? You haven't been kidnapped, you know. You can walk out that door whenever you want. His guys are dead, brutally murdered, as a result of a plan you put in motion, on terms you agreed to without the guaranteed result. What will your boyfriend have to say upon your arrival at the happy reunion? And just so you aren't confused, I'm asking a serious question." Elena became still again. Victor could see she had a lot to think about.

"Guess you'll be staying here for a while, counselor," he said and left the room.

He climbed the stairs to Ralph's attic lair and found him looking over the details for the night's meeting. They'd been trying to reduce the risk as they would be meeting a "fan" from his website. A familiar face waved to the camera outside Ralph's front door. He would be their element of surprise – Victor hoped.

"I still say it made no sense for you to come all the way out here, Balloon Man. You're just going to have to turn back around and go to the city anyway. You were already there," Victor said.

"Wanted to see how Zeera's doin'. 'Sides, anytime a man can get a home cooked meal, he ain't gone pass it up," the Balloon Man said.

"Grammie's gonna stuff him," Ralph said shaking his head.

"Not too much. Let's save some food for when the plan is done."

"I don't get this one, Victor. If this is the Brotherhood then they've already seen Balloon Man."

"That's right, it goes both ways. He can ID the guys we've seen before too. And if they send in new guys we'll be out of their line of sight. We can see them but they won't see us."

"What if it's one of your crazy fans?"

"No, I don't think so this time," Victor assured. "Her email had too much detail – real stuff but not enough to give away secrets. I'd bet they're aware of my conversation with this witch but they can't crack my inbox. And just to be safe, I took the liberty of making sure they don't crack hers."

"They can still track her IP address, anybody can do that now-a-days," Ralph replied.

"I know, buddy, that's why after I found out where she lives and who she really is, for my own protection of course, I did some rerouting so they'd find her at a call center in Tempe, Arizona."

Ralph nudged the Balloon Man, "That's why he's the best."

"I see. I'm also gone see some of that food downstairs. That's where I'll be 'til it's time to go. Y'all caint have an old man runnin' up and down the stairs like you do."

Ralph turned to Victor, concerned.

"He's kinda old."

"So is Grammie, Ralph."

"Yeah... There's a possibility this could be the Brotherhood and..."

"He's helped me outsmart them before. Look, there's no way he's going to let me turn his sweetheart over to some people we've never met and he not be there to approve. He'll be fine." Victor looked at Ralph, "So what about Gregor?"

"What about him? His family has seen stuff like this before. They're not that far from Transylvania."

"Transylvania. C'mon, really? This is what you base your – "

"You introduced me to two living vampires, Vic. I say 'Transylvania' and you've got a problem with that?"

"C'mon, Ralphie, you gotta admit it's kinda corny to – "

"Immediate retaliation, Victor. We haven't heard a thing from Gregor's family, have we?"

Victor took a moment to reflect that Ralph may have guaranteed his ticket out of the whole sordid mess. All things considered, Victor was happy he wouldn't have to go back to that life or see the likes of Gregor again.

But Elena's words wouldn't get out of his mind. He realized that neither he nor Ralph would ever be bothered by any of Gregor's superstitious family – only Gregor.

"We should keep our eyes open just a little bit longer, OK?" Victor replied.

"Sure thing, man. We'll do that right after your grand plan."

"Yeah... That."

"That" was the longest six and a half hours Victor ever waited in his life. He paced back and forth through Ralph's entire house, including the pitch-black basement with the shiny new coffins in it. He peeked in on Elena who decided she'd eat her dinner sequestered in the guestroom – she still hadn't figured out what she would tell Gregor.

The Balloon Man departed early so he'd have a better look at the lay of the land and Victor paced faster, walking the house at least three more times before Azyra threatened to break his neck if he didn't stop.

It was time for them to leave but Victor wasn't sure he wanted to go through with it. He was nervous, twitchy and looking around like a guilty man. It wasn't until they reached their destination did the task before them sink in.

Victor imagined himself a spy crouched beneath the platform of what he guessed was the loading dock for the armored trucks depositing huge sums of money. He wasn't afraid of the shadows he cast or the cameras recording everything because the witch he was going to meet claimed she had the inside track. The cameras around the bank's perimeter were the new kind that recorded everything to a database – she supplied Victor with codes and Ralph had a front row seat within the comfort of his attic room. When the deal was done, there'd only be footage of an undisturbed alley.

Given the choice of watching by remote or hiding under a platform that smelled like a urinal, Victor chose the latter. He didn't want to baby-sit Elena anymore than Ralph did. Both friends decided to make the best of it, concentrating more on the mission than Gregor's shocked girlfriend.

There was no sign of the Balloon Man by the time he and the girls came to the rendezvous point, which worried Azyra.

"How do you know they ain't come along and snatch him up?" she asked as she looked around.

"If they did, they'd be rounding us up right now. Give him some time and you ladies get to your positions. Oh, it would be nice if you didn't kill anyone. Just a thought."

He was about to check in with Ralph when he heard him in his ear.

"You got four bogies closing in on your position."

Bogies?

"Ralph, you're at home why are you whispering? Any sign of Balloon Man?"

"Nope," he replied continuing to whisper, "and we got trouble. There's a civilian about to intercept."

He watches too many movies, Victor thought, which was the least of his problems. He was going to have to compromise his position because Jenna came early and he still had no idea where –

"Holy crap! It's the Balloon Man!" Ralph whispered.

He'd left early to survey the area but also to change his clothes. From where Victor hid he could see that his friend cleaned up nicely. He was sure he must've been a very handsome guy in his day. Too bad he'd fallen for the wrong girl.

"I know the feeling, Big Guy," he said to himself.

Jenna saw the Balloon Man and was disappointed. She could tell, as she was sure the others could, that he was no creature of the night. Jenna was familiar with his work; in fact, there were three of his deflated pieces on a dresser back in her apartment. It didn't matter to her how presentable he appeared now, she would always recognize his sad eyes, the eyes of a clown.

"This is your Enoch?" Aisha asked. She saw how disappointed Jenna looked and refrained from the "I-told-you-so-tone" her voice could have. Aisha knew she'd be right but she didn't want to be right about this.

Jenna sighed. How could the Balloon Man put up such a great site, that she thought was generating cash through the sales of his books, and still be homeless?

"I guess we should ask him," Jenna said. She walked toward the Balloon Man, "Enoch?"

"Who's askin'?"

Aisha stood next to Jenna.

"Someone that says you don't look like a vampire," she answered.

"Well, Ma'am, I see four people here when Enoch only spoke to one."

"That's because we got her back." Aisha turned to Jenna, "Let's go, girl."

"You ain't offerin' no sanctuary?"

"Look here, Mister. We're very selective about who we let in our House. We're going to leave now and you can waste someone else's time," Aisha said.

"So you don't want to know nothin' about pleading blood and The Order?"

"Yeah, I want to know," Kaya said standing inches from the Balloon Man. "I want to know where you heard all this? How do you know it when very few people know it?"

"Because I told him," Victor said emerging from the shadows in the alley.

"Enoch?" Jenna asked.

"In a manner of speaking. Hi, Jenna."

"You're not a vamp either, pal. And how do you know my daughter's name?"

"I can explain all of this rather simply but it'll take time which we don't have. I have an office, it's downtown and we can all go there to talk. But we shouldn't be here."

"Crap! You're that Internet prick and I knew I recognized the Balloon Man! This snob brought us out here to waste our time," Bill said placing his hand on his jacket. Victor knew what the bulge was.

"OK, OK. Ralph, we're going to be on the move in the next five minutes so keep the cameras until I say drop them."

"Who are you –?" Bill started to ask.

Victor turned toward the direction he told Azyra and Leigh to wait. He raised his hand and signaled for them to come join the party.

"What was all that?" Kaya asked.

"Please tell me you've heard of the Brotherhood of the Sacred Seed."

They all nodded.

"OK good. I'm sure you heard about the killings that took place a couple of weeks ago on Long Island, it was all over the news. Well, the lovely ladies that are on their way to our location, that's what the waving was all about, are the ones responsible. A couple of days after that the same house where the murders were, exploded. That wasn't as big of a news story because a Brotherhood member was killed." Victor shoved his thumbs in his direction, "Guilty of that one. The Brotherhood are after these ladies and they need your help."

"Tell them I was there too," Ralph whispered in his ear.

"Only if you stop whispering," Victor said.

"Where's your backup? He might as well join us," Bill replied, with his hand still hovering by his pistol.

"He's at a remote location but he sees us. And he was at the house when we blew it up.

"Just come with me to my office and I'll show you footage, we can toast marshmallows, whatever you want. Your Exodus is coming soon, right? Well the Brotherhood is really angry. They want my friends and they want some of your friends too."

"Aisha...?" Jenna looked at her Chief Witch for an answer.

"Yeah you seem on the up and up. I'm sorry, Mister, if we were rude earlier. We have to be cautious."

"Don't you worry any, Ma'am You should get your backup too if we all gone go together."

"Yo, Enoch. Tell your girls to put a little pep in their step," Kaya said.

Victor waved his hand again. Azyra and Leigh kicked up their speed.

"They can see you from how far?" Bill asked.

"I think I told them to stay within a 12 block radius."

"What backup?" Aisha asked the Balloon Man.

"That boy, yonder. He was here 'bout an hour 'fore I got here the first time."

"Damnit. You guys are Brotherhood?" Victor asked accusing his new acquaintances.

"We're not!" Kaya said. She sighed as she tapped Aisha, "Look, Baby, it's that clown ass nigga, Mike."

"Ramel probably sent him," Jenna said. "We're going to have to split up, Enoch, this guy is our personal pain in the ass."

They were all looking at Mike but he didn't care. Kaya was the fraud he was going to expose and the more witnesses the merrier. Mike saw the white boy signal somewhere up the block but didn't see anyone there. If more were coming he didn't have time to wait for them to be part of the inquisition. He stepped out of his hiding place and walked toward the group.

"Y'all going to the mansion?" he asked.

Mike looked at the new faces and spoke to them, "You know that ain't even her mansion? You know she ain't even a real Conductor? My dude had the job and she stole that shit. That's where you're headed now. A stolen house and stolen job."

"Oh, son, you're embarrassing yourself. Why don't you just go on home," Bill said.

"Ain't talking to you, cop. I'm telling these people who they gettin' mixed up with. A fuckin' fraud and a thief," Mike replied.

"I'm not in that building sitting at a desk, nigga. There's only so many 'frauds' you're going to be able to call me before it becomes an occupational hazard for your ass."

"Babe, let's leave this clown to his own imaginings. I can see the girls jogging up the block right now, which means they can see us. They get here and we're out. Let's go y'all," Aisha said.

Aisha and Kaya turned and headed for the nearest subway entrance. Bill, Jenna, and the Balloon Man followed suit.

"You turnin' your back on me? You think this shit is a game, nigga? I told you streets is watchin'!"

Victor saw it but not in time; Mike pulled the 9mm he had tucked in the small of his back. He'd shot twice before Victor was able to shout, "GUN!"

Kaya saw one bullet flying in her direction and the other arcing toward Jenna. She didn't know she why but she clapped her hands together and kept them in front of her face. A blue force of energy flashed scattering the bullets to either side of the street. She and Jenna were untouched.

Bill took cover behind a nearby garbage can and shot three rounds in Mike's direction. Eleven-thirty wasn't considered late in the city, people were still milling about. Although this wasn't a block with nightclubs side-by-side and lines wrapped around the corner, there were a couple of good pubs in the area – gunshots meant police would be there soon but Mike continued shooting like he was in the Wild West.

Kaya deflected three bullets she saw headed in Aisha's direction, Mike's shooting style caused them to take a less than straight flight trajectory, but was unable to see the fourth, which tore up her insides and rested in her ruptured spleen.

Mike shot four more times; Bill returned fire, which he was sure hit him because he saw Mike fall and get back up – slowly.

Bill looked to tell the others he got him and saw, to his horror, Kaya had been hit. She lay bleeding on the ground.

"Noooooo. No, no, no, no, no, no!" Bill cried.

"I'm sorry," Victor said, "I didn't even see where the damn gun came from."

"Babe, do you hear me? Stay with me, Baby! Help is on the way," Aisha cried.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

The group stood over her, helpless. Aisha held her hand, rubbing it not knowing what else she could do.

"This is my fault," Jenna said looking at Victor. "I never should have come to meet you! This is my fault!"

"Jenna! We don't have no time for a pity party. Come over here and help me keep her warm... She feels so cold."

"Which direction did he run?" Leigh asked.

"What?" Victor answered in a daze.

"Where did he go? I may still be able to catch him."

"Doesn't matter, Shug. You all need to make your peace with her, the Light is fading."

Bill looked at Azyra as if seeing her for the first time.

"You. It's you. Kaya was right. I am an ass! You can see her hands?"

"Yes."

Bill pointed frantically at Leigh, "What about you? What do you see in her hands?"

"Dad..."

"Quiet, Jenna! What do you see in her hands?"

"I don't see anything. Just her blood." Leigh answered.

"She was right."

"Bill, what are talking about?"

"Kaya kept telling me Sankofa isn't the Royal Blood – no Covens have any; they're all scattered... Do you guys remember? She said she was told by the Elders that the Royal Blood would come to us." Bill turned and pointed to Azyra, "She's the Royal Blood. She can see the Light in Kaya's hands. No one but royalty can see that. I know, I read it in our records!"

Leigh became tense. This was the inevitable moment she dreaded happening.

"What's this guy talking about, Shug? You can see her hands too, can't you?"

Bill interrupted, "Please, you can see she's dying. You have to help her."

"She's never turned anyone before," Leigh objected.

"You have," Victor said, "can't you show her how?"

Ralph chimed in Victor's ear, having watched the whole mess from his desktop.

"If they're going to do something, Victor, they need to hurry because an ambulance is coming."

"My backup says the ambulance and police are not that far away. It's now or never."

"No." Jenna said. She looked at Aisha, "You know she'll be forbidden. There has never been a Conductor who is a vampire. We should wait for the ambulance."

"OK, we can do that," then Victor added, "but will she make it to a hospital? Azyra you can see. Will she make it to a hospital?"

"Zeera you won't let that gal die, will you?"

Azyra knelt beside Kaya and Jenna touched her shoulder.

"Wait. Chief Witch, you know she'll be forbidden," she said.

Aisha looked past Jenna at Azyra, "Go ahead."

"Show me what to do, Shug."

Leigh kneeled while Azyra leaned closer to Kaya and whispered in her ear.

"Now this shouldn't hurt a bit, Honey."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"A reprieve?"

"Perhaps, Father."

"Where are your brothers and sisters?"

"Only I was allowed to follow."

"There are always conditions. It leaves me with an acrid taste but it will suffice more than naught. My heart is light, in spite of it all!"

"I am glad, Father."

"Why is she with you? This is not her time."

"She is the reason I was allowed to cross, she has been cursed."

"Will she continue to help?"

"I believe she will, Father, but..."

"Speak to me, Hikpodu, my son."

"There are the rules. The Damned are not allowed to conduct the Exodus. We're able to dissuade the ambitious from sending our Houses to ruin with petty politics."

"And what of your Houses now? Do not be surprised, my son. I may not be able to come to you but I know the plight of my children. Do you not think a zealot will arise from one of your noble Houses when they are aware that one of their Elders has been taken?"

"We've said nothing, Father."

"How long can you remain silent? Ayalu has children all over the world, as do you all. What will you tell her children when they ask of their mother?"

"That will be of no concern once the Exodus is complete."

"Why?"

"Many follow tradition and protocol, Father, as do the Seeds of Adam following Easter celebrations. But there aren't many who believe in a large rabbit leaving candy eggs for children.

"There are those who know, those who witness with their very eyes. But there are more who simply follow what they are told, believing in us as little as they believe in Santa Claus. When we rise again, someone will take command of my noble sister's House and all will be as it was. The irony, Father, is the Seeds of Adam are more devoted."

"I see. How was she taken, by proxy?"

"She was injured then saved by a direct descendant. She will stand in Ayalu's stead. We will live on, Father."

"Many fortunate coincidences placed before my children and they wish to squander them to hold fast to rules that do not apply here. This you know, my son."

"Yes, Father. They already consider me unorthodox – they will remain obstinate on this one. There has never been one of the Damned to conduct the Exodus."

"I know, and from whence the fear came, I decreed it so. But she is not of the Damned, she is a Seed of Adam."

"As are others who have been turned, Father."

"God can take her unto His bosom."

"Can He not take others who were forced to be like us?"

"Yes He can. But others will not bare my mark. When your brothers and sisters protest, you will show them her left arm – she will have the mark of Sama'EL!"

"I will, Father. Thank you."

"Our time grows short, Hikpodu. You must take her mana or she will be left with me."

"I..."

"You must. It is not her time and she will not be able to cross. I will have to leave her in restless oblivion. It is better for her sake and the sake of you all, it has to be done."

"I know, Father. May she forgive me."

"Worry not, my son. The vengeance that will fill her heart will not be for you."

****

Blackness.

It surrounded Kaya. She tried opening her heavy eyelids as wide as she could, bugging her eyes out of her head, and did not find a spec of light around her. She wanted to get up, stick her arms out in front of her and walk until she hit a wall. Kaya chuckled as she pictured what she would look like, some kind of demented Frankenstein, searching around for a wall (or doorknob) in the dark.

She decided against it and continued to lie where she was. Secretly, Kaya was afraid to move anything else on her body beside her eyes. If she was dreaming again she didn't want any sudden movement to signal the Ramel monster she and Aisha had been seeing. If she could trust her limbs to move when she needed them it would be a different story but they always froze when it was around. She wondered what a shrink would say about that.

Kaya also wondered what a shrink would say if she told him the dream she was in now she didn't think was a dream, she didn't know what it was.

"Where am I?" she asked unable to hear herself. She wiggled her toes.

My toes!

Kaya felt them moving and realized she had neither shoes nor socks on her feet. She strained again, looking for a single light source thinking she had to be in bed. But where was Aisha?

"And where the hell am I?" she asked aloud. Kaya felt completely naked.

There was the need, Ramel monster be damned, to find Aisha. Or Bill. Whoever came first was irrelevant to her, she'd become anxious when she noticed something else – she couldn't hear anything. There wasn't a single sound made since she'd opened her eyes. No cell phone rang, no outside noises invading the privacy of her room, no music Aisha would leave on for them to fall asleep to, no footsteps of people walking around the House (was she in the House?), no soft swoosh of vampires gliding to and fro...

Kaya snapped her fingers. Instead of a crisp, "snap!" she heard a dull, "pop" like someone placed a special muffle over her fingers to prevent such a sound from escaping. This was turning out to be more frightening than the Ramel monster dreams. Was pride applicable when panic was slowly approaching? Kaya almost wished she could see the Ramel monster, at least she would know exactly where she was and what was going to happen next.

"Ish?" she called. Trying again she called louder, "ISH? AISHA? BABY!"

Her cries, like her snap, had the same muffled sound and she sat up.

"I'm out of here," she declared.

Suddenly, the darkness was made brighter and two tall figures were standing before her. One she had difficulty seeing but the other she recognized.

"Hikpodu! Where are we –?"

The figure draped in a heavy hooded robe, grabbed Kaya and pulled her up from her seated position. His ice-cold grip tightened around her wrist. Fear seized Kaya when she saw his boney white hand curling up and around her forearm. She looked up to his face when she felt another robe from behind thrown over her eyes.

"You must never gaze upon the face of my father or you will have to go with him."

The pain grew intense causing her to cry out. She thought she could hear her bones breaking under the pressure of his deceptively strong hand. The pain continued creeping up to her elbow. If these were tests, Kaya made a note to speak to Hikpodu of the harrowing nature his tests were having on her body. She didn't think it a fair price to pay for being a Conductor if she would not get to enjoy her fruits pain free. Her arm was released and the pain ceased as if it were never there.

The robe was removed and she found herself high on a precipice in a large cavern. Below she could see a wide river of dark water, flowing around tremendous stalagmites, which headed in the direction of a waterfall. The river cut-off from where she stood. She noticed the lack of sound again, the river should have been crashing down the monstrous fall but she heard nothing. A chilling explanation forced its way in her head: the fall was a long drop that she had no intention of seeing up close. Kaya stepped backward into the dark cave she'd awaken in only moments ago, and wondered why she could see light now.

Sama'EL grinned at her and she clamped her eyes shut.

"I didn't see him, I didn't see him. It doesn't count!"

"Open your eyes, Kaya," Hikpodu said, "it is safe now."

Kaya looked at the Grim Reaper and was surprised – what a handsome gentleman, she thought. She could see the "blue eyes" trait he passed to his progeny; his were piercing, unlike any she'd seen. His long thick golden blonde hair perplexed her since all the depictions she'd been exposed to were without any hair on his head at all. In fact, he had no skin or anything else that resembled the flesh she saw standing before her now – it was always a black robe (which he was wearing), a skeleton man, and a tall, scary looking scythe. Sama'EL stood before her, none of those things, which confused Kaya.

Hikpodu wrapped her naked figure in the robes he used to cover her face.

"He only looks that way when he's dieting," Hikpodu said.

"What?"

"He has to look his best when trying to fit in the designer robe," he replied.

"Or if I decide to run a marathon," Sama'EL added.

"This is where you get your jokes from? Death? I'm sure you're both great at parties."

Hikpodu's expression changed in a flash Kaya causing her to flinch. Standing before them both, the same stoic look upon their face, Kaya wondered why it wasn't as bright as her introduction to Hikpodu's siblings.

His siblings!

"Where is everybody, Hikpodu? Why aren't we in the place with all the blue lights and obelisks?"

"The Fruit of Eve is given mana, Kaya," Sama'EL began. "The Children of Lilith have their own mana but it is different. Throughout the Universe there is balance and the mana of Eve's Fruit creates a balance among the Children of Eve and Lilith. So sayeth the Lord Thy God."

"OK, your pops ain't making that much sense to me right now."

Hikpodu led Kaya back out on the precipice.

"My father has given you his mark for the blessing you have granted us."

"What blessing?" she asked, frustrated by the riddles. "Had it not been for your coming, I would continue the endless shuttle of the souls of Man, longing to see my children. There is hope now that it shall come to pass that I may gaze upon the faces of the rest of my children. Go well,

Ms. De LaCroix, I will see you again."

"One of you has to speak straight. What's up with the big spooky caves and mana and all the parables you're talking in? I don't understand this."

Hikpodu gently held Kaya's hands in his own looking in her eyes but seeing far beyond them.

"They will call you a proxy but my father has given you his mark – I welcome you as family, my sister – my Conductor. You mustn't let them deter you, Kaya."

"Deter me from what?"

"Your duty as the Conductor."

"But why wouldn't they want me to be the Conductor anymore?"

Hikpodu showed Kaya the palms of her hands and the blue light became brighter in them, blinding her for only a moment before the light formed two cones shooting to the roof of the cave. Its illumination caused Kaya to look up at sorrowful faces trapped in clear stalactites that stretched for miles along the cavern.

Her blue light vanished and so went the markings in her hands. She looked at them, trying to understand what she had done wrong to be stripped of her position before she had the chance to execute any duties.

She remembered: Mike!

Pain gripped her and she could feel blood running down her side. Kaya looked and saw the white robe she'd been given, stained with a familiar shade of crimson. Hikpodu stepped as close as he could to her backing her toward the edge of the precipice. He placed a strange looking watch on her arm, "Another gift from my father...

"And now you must forgive me, Sister, for this will be very painful. Do not let them deter you," and he pushed Kaya off the cliff.

It came back to her as air rushed through her bloody garment while she fell to her fate. She remembered walking with Aisha, Bill, and Jenna. She remembered meeting Leigh and Enoch, though she had the feeling Enoch was his nom de plume. Mike came out of the bushes like a child playing hide-and-seek, and there was shooting. Mike shot someone.

Mike shot me!

He was going to hurt me, Jenna and Aisha, she remembered, and I was able to stop a couple of the bullets but... As the memories rushed her consciousness the pain in her side, arm, and hands began to intensify. It was spreading throughout her body, as she got closer to the river.

Azyra.

It was becoming clear that Kaya was dying. Somehow Hikpodu was able to accompany her to his father, the Angel of Death, because Mike's bullet had done some severe damage. But the beautiful vampire, the Royal Blood, is trying to save her life.

Kaya will be forbidden...

"Oh, this is sardonic," Kaya laughed continuing to fall, the pain excruciating. In saving her life Kaya would be condemned to a life that was almost death. And what of Aisha, how could she marry her now? And would she be the one to oust her as their Conductor? Now that they've found Azyra they could conduct the ceremony without her.

Do not let them deter you, Kaya Antoinette De LaCroix.

"I won't. And I've got something special planned for you too, Mike," she said.

Kaya splashed into the dark river and was, once again, enveloped in blackness.

****

Elizabeth Louise Blanche knew he would come to her field, regardless of the cruel things her sisters and their friends told her. He loved the morning sky just as much as she did.

She was the literal "black sheep" of the family, gangly, dark brown skin, with wisps of loose curls all over her head. Her brothers and sisters, all seven of them, were fair skinned people like her mother.

Josiah Lee Francis was the prize catch all the women of Adamston were determined to get, ever since he strolled up Morris Road on his snow white horse as if he were straight out of a fairy tale. He bought a patch of land located on what he called a "bump" while everyone else called the home he built on his land, the house on the hill.

No one knew where he came from or where he'd been, so they made up stories. The most popular of the stories came from the Beauford household.

Clara Beauford considered herself the most beautiful girl and number one contender for Josiah's hand. Her father liked to recall Josiah's origins with such depth in his tall tale, many thought Josiah personally sat down to lunch and shared his adventures with the Beaufords.

According to Clinton Beauford, Josiah was the illegitimate son of a wealthy white industrialist and his Negro housekeeper, who were both from the north. Josiah's father's business associates drove Josiah out of town because his father wanted him to take charge of the company he ran. His father's associates were not going to take orders from some half-breed Negro, no way!

"Listen to the way he talks," Clinton would say to emphasize his point, "you can tell he's from the north."

Everyone else in town thought, which was far less exciting and more common, Josiah was nothing more than a Negro with Native American relatives somewhere on his family tree. How else could one explain his straight jet-black hair?

None of that mattered to Elizabeth who couldn't help beaming with satisfaction as Josiah sauntered toward her, brown paper bag in hand, filled with hard cinnamon candies. She'd become accustomed to his sweets bearing ways and tried her best to hide her disappointment when he pretended he forgot to bring them. There was no fooling Josiah, he knew when she was disappointed and he milked every moment of her pretense as much as he could, producing his brown paper bag from a hidden pocket in his coat making her shout with glee. Elizabeth's admonishments of treating her that way only made him do it more with a different kind of hard candy surprise each time.

There aren't many direct descendants of Royal Blood who know their true lineage. Those who suspect felt it the reason they were like nomads always searching for a place they could grow deep roots in – a home...

No one knew this mysterious man who had the most gracious smile and piercing blue eyes Elizabeth had seen on anyone, much less a high-yella Negro, was in love with her and planned to be her husband the moment he met her. Her sisters' friends, her sisters, or anyone else in the community – not to mention Elizabeth herself, did not see the strength, tenacity, imagination, and beauty he saw in her. Josiah wanted a woman like Elizabeth to cure his loneliness and be strong enough for the possible insanity that ran through his veins.

Josiah's boyish looks belied his age, he told many he was 25 because that's how old he thought he looked. Of course there were those who didn't believe him, least of all Clara Beauford, guessing he was 20 at best.

On the lovely autumn afternoon he strolled into town on his large white steed in 1934, Josiah Lee Francis was making a mental note to find the nearest store so he could have some sweets for his 100th birthday.

Kaya was confounded. She didn't know why she was standing in a grassy field so early in the morning, in a place that was old and country. People were so behind the times they were wearing clothes that looked like they belonged in a history book. And they were stone deaf because her calls to get someone's attention went unnoticed.

Then something happened.

Kaya, standing in the field, saw the sun shift right before her eyes turning the sky to dusk. Josiah was on his knees holding a crumpled paper bag up toward Elizabeth's eager hands. He told her his "secret" and offered her one of the sweetest gifts he could.

"She's going to say yes," Kaya said feeling an anxious flutter as she awaited Elizabeth's reaction.

It was then Kaya realized it wasn't a question of where she was more than when she was. There was something here she was supposed to see so she resigned herself to play the Ghost of Christmas Past until it appeared.

At that moment Elizabeth said, "yes" causing Josiah to yell out a hearty, "whoop" before picking her up and twirling her until they both became dizzy.

The scene shifted to Elizabeth's home where her fickle brothers and sisters congratulated her while they bet among themselves the on longevity of the union.

"He gone realize he done bumped his head," one brother whispered.

"Yessir. Then he gone wake up and look. Oo wee! What did I go and do, is what he's gone ask, hisself. Then it's gone be poor Betty Lou," another said.

"Poor Betty Lou?" Varnisse, Clara Beauford's best friend said repulsed. "She ought know better'n throwin' herself at a man such as that! He walk out on her it'll serve her right so she'll know for next time."

Kaya listened to the exchange and said, "Damn, this is her family? You can't just be happy for her?"

As if their father heard Kaya protestations, Leonard Blanche picked his nearest son up by the scruff of his collar and led him outside to the front porch.

"You go back in there, get your brother, and stay out here with the men folk. I'ma need a proper welcome for my new Son-in-Law and I don't want him to see my own flesh gossipin' like no dagbern sissies! Especially not about your sister's happy nuptials to be!"

The scene changed and Kaya watched Elizabeth and Josiah stretched out on a picnic blanket, in their favorite field.

"I don't want to go off and leave you lonely, Jo Lee," Elizabeth said staring at the beautiful blue sky.

"Don't talk like that, Elizabeth. We have some years together, let's make them happy ones."

"You can be happier with some chil'ren runnin' 'round that look like you. Can'tcha?"

"Unless they're girls and they look like their pretty Mamma."

"You the only man, except my daddy, that calls me that."

"Calls you what?"

"Pretty."

"Well, we're the only men that count."

"When we have our daughter, I'ma make sure she knows her Mamma thinks she's pretty and good too."

"Elizabeth, I have to tell you something. Our children... Because of me, they might not turn out so good. Something could be wrong with them."

"Nothing's gone be wrong with our chil'ren, Jo Lee."

The scenes switched quicker, blurring the lines of time for Kaya.

They stayed in the field, Josiah taking his wife for the very first time on a beautiful day that looked like a painting. They were awkward, him trying his best to hold back his want of her and she not wanting to push him away struggling not to be overwhelmed.

"Not so hard, Jo Lee, it hurts."

"I don't need to be seeing this," Kaya said turning away as the images before her changed to dusk with two lusty participants thrusting and pumping before her.

"Yeah, Baby... You like this, don't you!"

"Don't stop, Honey. Don't stop being so sweet to me!"

"Damn, I really don't need to see this," Kaya said, closing her eyes. She could feel her surroundings shifting again and opened her eyes to find herself in their house. Josiah looked very nervous, sweating while he gnawed his fingernails. Elizabeth's father, with heavy gnarled hands, pounded him on his back.

"Don't worry, Son, this is women's work and they know what they're doing. Be happy you ain't in there."

Kaya knew what was happening and was happy she could only see the room with the men. The last thing Kaya wanted to see was anymore of Elizabeth's "business" than she already had. Screams from the bedroom (which Kaya noted they hardly ever used) dissipated and the midwife emerged.

"Come on then. Take a look at your pretty little daughter."

They all entered the bedroom, including Kaya, and gazed at a healthy tiny round face that was just as tired as the mother who pushed her out into the world. She opened her eyes for a brief moment and looked right at Kaya before drifting off to sleep.

Kaya heard Elizabeth call her Azura, named after the beautiful colored sky she was conceived under and the color of her father's eyes – their daughter had them too. Somehow the translation got botched and the birth certificate read "Azyra" Francis instead – so she was.

Kaya watched her grow up in a matter of minutes. Her first steps, her mischievous ways, the doting her fickle aunts and uncles gave her, still convinced her father was going to leave any day soon. She saw when Josiah went off to do his part in the war effort, leaving behind a very pregnant Elizabeth, and Azyra, a growing girl. She saw him come back home. The atrocities of war hardened his features. Kaya saw him live his life and give his love to his family as if everyday was the last day he had on Earth. Kaya witnessed Josiah shower his devoted wife with love, and thanked her everyday for talking him into having children – Azyra was his favorite. They were two peas in a pod.

He took her to the field where he courted her mother and they admired the morning sky together. Josiah would bring her candy just like he did Elizabeth as she recited the names of the wild flowers in the meadow. They frequented the woods near the field and Azyra could name the plants and assorted foliage that grew in them. He continued to bring Elizabeth there, she had three more children, but Azyra was the only child he took to their special place.

Their life was joyous and peaceful even when disturbances from the outside world threatened to destroy it.

Winds of the nomad called to Josiah since the day he married Elizabeth and one day he thought he would have to leave his wife. The calling was stronger after Azyra was born. Josiah developed the habit of going out at night, walking to the edge of the woods by their special field, and looking out at the road that would take him out town. He always felt its inviting tug, beckoning him to continue down its winding way. The whispers of freedom and living carefree swirled in his mind, trying to make their case for him to leave behind the yoke of family responsibility. If he really wanted to be responsible he would leave them before it was too late, before the questions...

He'd close his eyes, perk up his ears then smile, leaving the road at his heels as he walked back toward his family, his roots – his home.

It was crossing the woods on such a night that he encountered the beginning of the change that would take over him, and the citizens of Adamston for the rest of their lives.

He thought he'd gone mad when he saw the ghostly figures gathered in a circle; his woods were haunted. Josiah had the urge to run until he saw the ghosts looked familiar and were far worse than what he'd imagined. They appeared tall and wide. As it turned out, the wide part was true for most of them but their tall pointed hats gave them height that many did not have. Josiah spied the most important indicator, a large unlit cross in the middle of their circle. Upon seeing it he made a firm decision: Azyra could no longer go near the field or these woods at night.

Josiah heard the footsteps of the men coming closer to him and decided it would be a better idea to not draw attention to himself by running. By standing where he was, the men walked right to him.

Kaya held her breath watching the men, two of them dressed in full Ku Klux Klan regalia, one in work wear holding a shotgun. She wanted to scream or at least help Josiah fight them, but stomped her foot in frustration knowing there was nothing she could do as a mere spectator in the unfolding drama. The one with the shotgun extended his hand to Josiah, asking him to come to the meeting.

"We're havin' a special speaker up from South Carolina. Gone help us with our niggra problem."

"I didn't know we had one," Josiah replied, staying his defiance and anger. He'd forgotten that he "looked just like 'em" as many Blacks were fond of telling him throughout his travels. He was reminded by those same "helpful" Blacks how his life could be much easier if he "passed". That wasn't a life he wanted for himself.

Josiah wanted happiness and prosperity like his proud mulatto parents (who didn't disown him or throw him out the house), ministers of a Black Methodist church they built as a front for a clandestine school and stop on the Underground Railroad.

"It's called prevention," the closest one to him in the Klan suit said. "We got some of these boys comin' back from the War thinkin' they good as white men 'cause some foreigner pins a star on 'em. Some of 'em lookin' twice when they ain't 'sposeta. Bunch of 'em beat up a white man right where I'm from! Now do you want that happenin' up here?"

"I sure as hell don't," said the shotgun holder. "Our niggras stay on their side of town, which they should. They got them nice houses and if they want to keep them nice, they'll sure as hell stay in 'em. But if they come out thinkin' they're just gone walk all over us, they got another thing coming to 'em!"

Josiah joined the men in their rally, trying to stay out of the sight of those from the "white side" of Adamston who would recognize him, particularly Jeffrey Charles, a police officer, who Josiah thought should be breaking up this kind of gathering. Most of the men considered themselves Christians, yet they met at night in a circle, burning a cross while discussing vile and destructive things. Some people wouldn't call that very Christ-like at all.

When the cross was lit and burning high, Josiah slipped away from the meeting determined that he would do some organizing for his town too.

He never heard the calling winds of the nomad after that night.

Sands of time shifted through the hourglass in rapid succession before Kaya, and she noticed the beautiful woman Azyra was becoming. She also noticed something familiar in her.

"It's you," Kaya said watching Azyra and her siblings run through their parents' special field of tall grass and wonderful blue sky. She no longer ventured in the woods and gave a firm smack on her brother's bottom when he tried to disobey their father's orders.

"You're trying to save me," Kaya said. Azyra looked through Kaya; she wondered if she could be seen this time. Kaya turned around and saw the object of Azyra's gaze, Antoine "The Balloon Man" Whitscombe. She knew him too – the much older him.

It was clear to Kaya and everyone else in town that Antoine Whitscombe was madly in love with Azyra Francis. There were a few young men vying for Azyra's attention but none got closer (because most were afraid of him) than Antoine. He had the right prospects, he was handsome, and a smart young man. Most important to Azyra's parents was Antoine made their daughter happy when she was with him. Antoine could have been a simpleton as long as he kept a smile on Azyra's face they would accept him as part of the family.

Kaya first impression of this young Antoine was that he was indeed a simpleton. But he wasn't alone – the rest of the town couldn't see it either. She recalled her own experience. Kaya could already imagine what everyone would say if Azyra chose to be herself. "She's too pretty for that..." or "Oh, it's just a phase, I went through it myself once..." or "She just needs a good man..." or so much more they would quote from the Book of Cliché.

The polite acknowledgements, the pairing up with boys she never liked, and the fleeting glances at the girls she did. Kaya had no doubt in her mind Azyra loved Antoine but she would never love him the way he wanted her to. Antoine called himself her best friend, Kaya thought, but what kind of friend was he if he didn't know she liked women?

Kaya was looking in on a different time and people didn't talk about those things back then, especially not in a small town like Adamston. Kaya guessed Azyra would fall in line with tradition, much to the chagrin of Clara Beauford-Wright and her daughter, Cecilia, and marry Antoine, dismissing that part of herself.

"But that's silly, right? Because she's with me, trying to save me," Kaya said.

The scene washed out before her face and Kaya found herself watching Antoine holding Azyra's hand while they walked through the field at night. Kaya felt the anxiety build, wanting again to cry out to them to go home, but caught herself feeling helpless because she knew they wouldn't be able to hear. She saw Antoine fumbling in his pockets and watched his overall demeanor, he was more nervous than usual around Azyra. She went on and on about a world beyond Adamston and how 23 was far too old for her to still be at home, even though she knew her parents would have her until she was a 50 year old woman.

"I'm going back to school, Antoine. Three years is long enough time to have taken a vacation and get the homesick out my bones."

"You lucky to have the folks you have, Zeera. My folks wouldn't let my sister go away to school, then come on back, then go back away from home like that. Ain't they gone miss ya?"

"I'm sure they will. I'll miss them too. But Daddy says ain't no way he could hold me back if he tried. He certainly wouldn't do anything to stand in the way that would make me resentful later in life."

"Zeera, what if something was here to make you stay?"

Oh no, Kaya thought as she watched him fumbling more in his pocket, he is going to propose.

"This is a nice town and my folks have a pretty good living. You know that I work with my father in insurance so I make my own way too. Your daddy likes me, so does your mamma; I'm a key member of our gun club – "

"Antoine, don't do this," Azyra said as he got down on one knee.

"You can go on away to school but when you're done come on back and we can build us a good life, just like our folks have done. I'd love to build a life with ya than without ya, Zeera."

"Antoine... We can't do this – I can't do this."

"Zeera, I love you. I want you to be my wife."

Azyra sighed, eyes turning misty, "I can't Antoine. If I was gone marry anybody, it'd be you but I ain't never gone get married."

He stood up, towering over her, perplexed.

"Why?"

"There's somethin' wrong with me, Antoine. I can't marry you. It won't ever be more than us being good friends like we are now."

Still perplexed he asked, "Did you ruin yourself with someone in town? Are you pregnant? Because I don't care, Zeera. Far as I'm concerned, if he ain't done right by you I will."

Insulted by his question, she started off toward home.

"So you think I'm loose? I just go around town throwing myself at all the boys like Cecilia Wright? She's real sweet on you, by the way, you should give that ring to her."

"You the one says somethin's wrong witcha. What I'm spose to think, Zeera? I know you love me! I don't see you 'round no men but me and your daddy."

"So why would the first thing you ask me be, if I'm pregnant?" she shot back.

"I'm sorry, Zeera. What else am I spose to think? Did your daddy promise you to some other man?"

"Antoine, I'm heading home. I can promise you I won't accept any other man's proposal – but I ain't accepting yours either."

Antoine grabbed her by the arm pulling her close to him. He was angered by her rebuffs and determined to get what he thought should be a straight answer.

"You promised yourself to someone at that college when you went away didn'tcha? You went away and got too big fo' your britches! You stayed here fo' a little bit to make your folks happy then you gone go run back into his arms, ain'tcha? This small town ain't good enough for you no mo', huh? Your daddy loves this town – your mamma too. I been pinin' over you for years, Zeera. I'm 33 years old and coulda had anybody here but I wanted you and I waited for you! Now don't I deserve better than to be treated like a common bum? Who is he?"

"There AIN'T no he, Antoine. Never been no he – I don't like men."

He let her go and dropped to his knees, stupefied. His mouth hung agape, his eyes bugged, and he was speechless.

"Say something, Antoine. Antoine..." She reached to touch his shoulder and pulled away from her.

"It ain't true. It ain't! Shoot, you let me kiss ya when we were kids! I showed you my parts, you showed me yours."

"We were kids, Antoine, and friends. Good friends! You think I went around hikin' up my skirt to every boy in town?"

"I touched you, Zeera..."

"And when I told you I didn't like it you stopped, 'cause we are friends. You never forced yourself on me and we are always polite and respectful to each other."

"You're sick! You are wicked and you're going to Hell! I wasted all those years of my life waiting for you and you couldn'ta said somethin' sooner?"

"You went out with other girls and I didn't say a word – I never got mad. That didn't give you a clue I wasn't interested?"

"But I always came back to ya, Zeera. There was only one girl I ever did want in my whole life and here she is, on a one-way ticket to the devil."

"Oh I see. All those times we spent playing tricks on folks, eatin' candy together, talkin' 'bout everything; all that is gone because I like women – I'm going to Hell? How 'bout them girls you told me about Antoine? You know, the ones you fucked but never married? I guess I should stay away from you too, huh? I may be on my way to Hell, Suga, but I won't be alone." Forgetting her father's warning, Azyra ran to the woods.

Antoine was motionless except for his bobbing shoulders as he wept. He'd been so stupid to say such things to his best friend but what was he to do? All those years and he never knew, she never told him. What kind of friend did that make her?

"The kind that knows me well," he said wiping his tears. If she had told him years ago, would he have reacted so bad or worse? It was no wonder she wanted to leave Adamston – to leave him. It lay bare for him to see the root of his disdain – Azyra would leave him. She was certain to after the way he reacted. Antoine thought how utterly heartbreaking it would be to never see her again. He wished she never told him, left him in his blissful ignorance.

"What if it's a phase? Damnit, Tony what your fool self go and do?" he said smacking his forehead. He got up and ran in the woods after her.

"Zeera! Zeera! I'm sorry! Please come and talk to me! AZYRA!"

He stumbled along in the dark, guided only by the light of the stars, listening for anything that sounded like Azyra. He hoped she was near the creek they frequented as children – anywhere else in this unfamiliar patch of trees and he'd be lost. These woods were hers; she knew them like the back of her hand, while he just followed in her wake. Antoine was sure he was on the right path to the creek but the trees around him were beginning to look the same.

He heard a blood-curdling scream.

"Zeera?" More screams came from the dense group of trees before him – Antoine ran as fast as he could. Branches smacked him in his face while nettles clung to his pants, oblivious to the pain he ran faster as he heard Azyra struggling, with whom he could only guess.

Everyone on the "Black side" of Adamston had been forewarned by Azyra's parents to stay away from the woods at night, the Riders like to have their meetings. He couldn't believe he let her run off the way he did and cursed himself for not carrying his pistol. It didn't matter, he was ready to tear apart any of those Klansmen with his bare hands if he found them breathing in her direction.

"Please help me Tony!" he heard her cry; he was running a full sprint, his face riddled with cuts from the tree branches.

"I'm coming, Zeera!"

Antoine reached a small clearing expecting to see men in white sheets and was taken aback by the figure he saw. A pale specter of a woman stood over Azyra, eyes ablaze, crimson stained lips peeled back over the largest fangs he'd ever seen. She was a waif of a person, not much meat on her bones, her hair black and stringy with dirt and leaves in it, like she'd risen from a fresh grave.

"What kinda demon are you?" he asked in a whisper. He was snapped back to life when he saw Azyra convulsing in the demon's arms – he had to save her. He looked around for anything to throw grabbing a fistful of dirt and rocks. He and Azyra were pretty good rock skippers and he prayed his childhood skill would help her now.

"AWAY! BACK AWAY FROM HER YOU DEMON!" and he hurled the handful of debris as hard as he could. A few of the rocks hit their mark and he could see the openings they made in the specter's face. Little rivers of blood seemed bright against the pallor of her skin.

"It's the other one," Kaya said, unable to help Azyra or Antoine from what she knew was their fate. "You're the one who made Azyra..."

Leigh was a shadow of the woman Kaya saw during the confusion with Mike. Even the look in her eyes was one of a half crazed vampire trying her best to slake The Thirst. It had overtaken her after so many years of sleep.

She lunged at Antoine and he did his best to fight Leigh off but her frail body was much stronger than he thought. Leigh secured herself around his jaw turning his face away from hers to expose his neck. She could feel Antoine's pulse thumping from the struggle and the terrible realization of what was going to happen. Leigh struck, becoming drunk off the viscous liquid squirting from his veins; the burning she felt all over her body started to subside.

Azyra hurled herself at Leigh rolling her further into the clearing away from Antoine, plopping her weak body on top of the vampire. Groggy, Antoine managed to sit up and see Leigh standing with Azyra cradled in her arms like a large baby. Azrya's tongue lolled out of her mouth and her eyes were rolled in the back of her head, he could also see she'd lost a lot of blood, most of it all over her clothes. He clamped his hand over the wound on his neck, struggling to walk toward Azyra and the specter that held her as if to taunt him.

"Bring her back here," he said, "she's my best..."

Before his eyes, Leigh disappeared with Azyra.

"...friend."

The scene before Kaya faded and she felt tired. Kaya and Antoine passed out into the great nothingness.

Kaya could hear someone calling and opened her eyes to see Leigh kneeling over her. She didn't look as emaciated as she did when she attacked Antoine and Azyra.

"You must," she said her face wracked with worry, "feed. Take it, Princess. You are too special to die – I will not let you die."

All went black again. Kaya fought to open her eyes. She turned on her side and saw the darkness of the woods, the clearing near the creek, and Josiah had Leigh pinned against the "Swinging Tree", so named by the children who placed the rope on the long branch to swing dive in the lake.

They began to frequent the woods since the death of Azyra, at the hands of some horrible man from the KKK as Antoine told them – a story her father never believed. Antoine looked so afraid while recalling his tale Josiah decided he wouldn't kill Antoine because somehow he knew he wasn't the one who harmed his child. But he wasn't satisfied with the story, something happened in those woods...

A young boy walking through the woods saw Azyra and ran all the way home to tell his parents it was her ghost wandering, seeking revenge. Josiah made it his business to investigate.

Josiah frequented the lake every night looking for what he would find – his daughter and the vampire who made her. He waited for Azyra to pass, drifting deeper in the thicket, before grabbing Leigh who followed behind her.

"What are you?" Leigh asked, fighting to get away from Josiah's grasp.

"I'm just like you, but not like you. You are in my veins but I have no thirst for blood, except for yours!"

"I could not... If you destroy me there will be others, they'll hunt you."

"You think I care after what you done to my daughter?"

"I have longed for someone like you to end this existence that is my life, but now I wish to live, Josiah. I wish to live because of your daughter."

"And you will," he said releasing his hold. "You will live for her. I got that Fountain of Youth in my veins too and I'll hunt you down. You let something happen to her, on the beautiful soul of my wife, her mother, I'll spend the last waking hours I got on this planet just to get you!"

"Leigh! STOP! That's my Daddy, don't hurt my Daddy!"

Neither of them heard her rush out of the thicket.

"Hey, Sunshine," Josiah said.

"Not anymore, Daddy. Don't get out much as I used to," she said trying to smile.

"Well then me and your mamma will visit on the midnight hours. I can bring by some things to help you so you don't hurt the children, uh, accidentally, or something."

"You're not afraid of me, are you Daddy?"

"Now how can I be afraid of my only Sunshine?"

"Still make you happy when skies are grey?"

"Sure enough, you do."

Kaya watched Josiah squeeze his daughter as hard as his heart would allow him before the scene in front of her went dark again.

Whatever they're doing must not be working, Kaya thought.

"Shit," she said, "I'm dying. What a way to go, somebody else's life flashing before my eyes." She tried again to open her eyes and found she could do more. Kaya stood, the scene as vibrant as if she were there in the middle of the clearing.

Four men were facing off against three children, one of the men holding his bloody nose. Two of the children were Azyra's brother and sister the other was her younger sister's friend. Judging by the stance her brother had taken, guarding the two girls, fist cocked, Kaya knew he'd just slugged the guy with the bloody nose. Kaya commended him, wanted him to hit the punk again but saw the white outfit and the blood drops from the guy's nose that stained it, hitting him a second time would not be a wise move.

"Didn't I tell ya y'alls too soft on y'alls niggers! Wouldn't one of our niggers dare hit a white man in uniform!" the closest man to Azyra's brother screamed.

"Now you shouldn'ta went and done that, boy," the second man said. "These fellers are guests in our town, we's sposeta treat 'em proper. Like gentlemen. Look atcha, Boy, your Pappy shoulda taught you better'n that, he's practically a white man himself."

The men laughed, even the one with the broken nose.

"You cain't leh niggers inta nuffin'," he said his tone nasal, nose swelling by the minute. "They mess up yuh blood, make nothin' buh mud peepuh!"

"You the ones mud! Mud for your brains. Talkin' 'bout Negroes when you're old and ignorant making a pass at my nice young sister! Hypocrites!"

The man closest to him grabbed at him but was too slow. Azyra's brother ducked away and shot a jab to the man's face, opening up his bottom lip.

"Damnit, boy! Oh when we get through with you, you ain't never gone be able to look at a white woman or anything else!"

"Wasn't looking at a piece of trash white woman. Besides, you need to keep your eyes and hands out of this side of town. We men here and we don't stand for that! You can tell your friends in South Carolina that too."

"Riley," the fourth man said, "we stayed here too long. We need more boys for these folks. These ain't your ordinary Colored folks here. Let's go to town and get more boys."

Azyra's younger sister, stood out from behind her brother.

"The nice white lady haunts these woods and protects us from you! You ain't going nowhere cause you all made her mad! And my sister knows her – they're going to get you."

"What in the name-o'Pete she talkin' about?" Riley asked frustrated.

"Colored gal died here, Riley," the fourth man said looking around.

"We need to go 'cause these woods are haunted. Never found her body, they say."

"You wanna scoot 'cause some nigger children made up a spooky story? No wonder they're takin' over your town! Well, I'm done playing games. I'm gone whip that little girl good – she'll never tell a lie again. Then, boy, we gone teach you some respect like your half-breed pappy shoulda done."

The fourth man turned and ran, yelling back over his shoulder that he was going for help.

Broken Nose commented, "Damn sissy, leh him go," and walked with the others toward the scared children. Azyra's sister cried out.

"Azyra! Don't let them beat us help us! Azyra please help!"

Wild screams caused everyone to be silent. They all looked in the direction where the "sissy" had just run. The men stood frozen hearing the sound of a breeze but could feel no wind. Azyra's brother nudged the girls backward toward a thicket they could hide in. The children knew what was coming.

"Billy?" Riley called.

Billy's body came flying from the trees crashing with a sickening thud right at their feet. His neck was broken with blood spurting from the side of it. He was white as the sheet his broken nosed guest was wearing.

"Jesus Christ!" Riley exclaimed.

"Not really," Leigh said. She grabbed Riley in a flash and disappeared with him in the darkness Billy's body had been catapulted from.

Broken Nose and the second man looked at each other bolting in the opposite direction. Broken nose tripped over Billy's depleted corpse and despite himself, screamed at the top of his lungs. The Second Man didn't make it much further – Azyra stopped him in his tracks. She picked him off of the ground and pinned him against a tree in one fluid motion.

"I hear you like little Colored girls, that so?"

Second Man looked into Azyra icy blue eyes and was terrified. The situation looked grim, he would have to do something. This couldn't be happening to him. Authority! That worked for him in the past when he was dealing with uppity Negroes, he'd offer them leniency if he could be set free. Once he was, he was never coming back to Adamston or North Carolina, for that matter, ever again – let the whites up here deal with their own Negro problems!

"Look here now, Little Gal. I'm an impo'tant person where I'm from. You do somethin' silly, they gone come looking for me and they won't be nice about it."

"Shoulda stayed your impo'tant self where ya was, Honey."

"You let me an' my friend leave in peace and we won't tell nobody 'bout this misunderstandin'," Second Man continued.

Azyra pressed against his chest and he felt like a boulder ran into him.

"Why don't we do this, Honey? You tell me which filthy hand you used to touch my little sister."

Second Man and Broken Nose were frightened. This couldn't be the older sister the children were talking about – the dead older sister. The Second Man laughed. It was a sham! The older sister got herself pregnant and asked her family to cover for her. They created a ridiculous ghost story to keep the white people of Adamston from meeting with their comrades in arms from South Carolina. What was funnier than anything else, they did all this to keep the honor of some Black whore who got herself knocked up and the whites were scared to death. That had to be the gist of it. Second Man wanted to laugh harder but his chest was on fire.

"It's all a flim-flam! You definitely have a bunch of smart niggers up here but not smart enough for me. We will break y'all down, gettin' uppity like this! You let me go, Gal, and I'll make sure we'll just whup that brother of yours insteada hangin' 'im."

"Junior," Azyra called, her voice was a terrifying calm, "come out from hiding and tell me which hand this animal touched Nessa with."

Junior crawled from behind the thicket confused.

"I don't know, Zeera he was – "

"It was that one," Vanessa said pointing to Second Man's right hand. "He touched my booty and he was grabbing after Kailey too," she said pulling her friend closer.

"Now I didn't call for y'all, I called for Junior."

"Yes, Ma'am," Vanessa said, hanging her head. "But Junior didn't know. I wanted you to have it right."

"Well go on and close your eyes. You best cover your ears too, both of you."

The girls closed their eyes tight and clamped their hands over their ears without question. Junior chose not to, he kept a watchful eye on Broken Nose who said nothing the entire time.

"You let me down, Little Gal. My patience is wearing thin for you. Hell, everybody knows you Colored girls are fast."

"Obviously, not fast enough," she said and ripped his entire right arm from his body. There was five seconds of shocked silence before the Second Man screamed for his life. Broken Nose fainted as Junior picked up the Second Man's convulsing arm.

"Yo, you should beat that nigga with it! Beat him with his own arm!" Kaya exclaimed as the scene faded again.

There were no trees or sky or any of the people Kaya saw – only Azyra stood in the distance with a point of light on her. She walked toward Kaya and the light followed her shining brighter.

Azyra took Kaya's face in her hands pulling her close and kissed her. The kiss was passionate, Kaya experiencing the sweet and salty taste of blood on her lips. She couldn't fight the feeling that overcame her and pulled Azyra closer, returning the fire of her kiss wanting more of the sweet – Azyra pulled away. She gave Kaya one last peck on the lips before walking back toward the darkness.

"I'm sorry I had to lie to you, Shug. It's about to hurt, a lot."

Kaya could feel electricity burning throughout her body, unable to move. The pain was unbearable. Screaming was useless; sound wouldn't come out of her mouth. If Kaya could sit up she may have a chance. She struggled against an invisible force that kept her in the position she was, flat on her back.

Kaya, thinking she had nothing to lose by trying again, wiggled her toes. Ecstatic when she felt them respond, she tried moving her fingers and that worked too. She sat up fighting against the force and this time she was winning.

Finally she was up and found herself in complete darkness again. It was darkness familiar to her, it was the kind of darkness that indicated it was night outside and curtains were drawn. Exhausted, Kaya fell back down on the softness of a mattress. Kaya opened her eyes and found herself staring at a ceiling, an unfamiliar ceiling, but it was a ceiling nonetheless.

She was alive.

"And Aisha is going to kill me," she said touching her lips – she could still feel the kiss.

Kaya closed her eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jenna paced Victor's floor tapping her finger to her temple. She's an idiot, she repeated over and over in her mind until she stopped in front of the couch where her father was seated –wringing his hands together.

"No," Jenna said turning to the stool Si'rah occupied, "you're an idiot."

"Excuse me?" Si'rah replied indignant.

"You. Are. An. Idiot! With all due respect, Sister I don't think you understand that time is of the essence."

"I know that, I wasn't playing a game. We're in an urgent state and we need a Conductor! Guess what? We know where to find one."

Jenna kicked herself. How she ever felt Si'rah to be a threat to her succeeding Aisha was something she could not understand, especially when she heard her blasphemous suggestion.

After having introduced himself to Jenna, Victor suggested they all rush to his apartment since it was closer than the House and a lot cleaner than the Balloon Man's subterranean digs. Once Azyra performed the change, Kaya passed out. All her friends could do was wait to see if Azyra grabbed her in time. Victor was hopeful when he'd gone to his room, checked on her and saw she was having a fitful sleep, at least she wasn't dead. It didn't, however, mean she wasn't dying. Aisha suggested they call Si'rah given the new turn of events. Aisha, Jenna, Bill, Victor, the Balloon Man, Azyra, Leigh, and Si'rah waited for Kaya's fate – it entangled them all.

"The hell we do," Aisha said, "that nigga is the reason why my Boo is in there dying."

"Chief Witch, you don't know that for sure, do you?"

"Oh my god, really Si'rah?" Jenna replied exasperated. "Weren't you there when he was going to be consecrated? The guy who shot Kaya was one of his friends! What further proof do you need?"

"He came by the job," Bill said. "I should have asked a couple of my friends to keep an eye on that creep right then but I didn't. He came..."

"He came by her job. He was hanging out with Ramel's crew. Is that all you guys can give me? All it means is he was around Ramel – a groupie. You're all forgetting the fact that Ramel wanted this job so bad he was crying when he didn't get it. He's not a complete moron, Sisters. Why would he send someone to take out the Conductor when it would only make him a marked man?" Si'rah asked.

"Are you sleeping with him or something? Why all of a sudden the cheering squad?" Jenna asked.

"Because, as you pointed out before, we don't have time for the bullshit! Yeah, don't look all surprised we know what's going on. The House isn't stupid and Ayalu's witches have been speaking to some of us lesser folks. We can put two and two together."

"Si'rah," Aisha said, "we were going to tell everyone when it was right. We had to take care of – "

"Aisha, we get it. Everyone gets it. We've got a dozen or more heads looking at the House of Hikpodu to save their Covens. The Internet is a hell of a thing and you'd be surprised how many vamps are up on it too. But you know what the best thing about this is? We can do this and everybody is going to be on our bra straps when we do. Unfortunately, and you all know this, we can't do it with Kaya. No offense, Chief Witch, but if she dies it'll be a terrible loss and if she lives it'll be the same."

"What kind of talk is this?" Bill said leaping off the couch. "Are you her friend or not?"

"Dad."

"She saved lives tonight and if you were there, she'd've saved your life without hesitation. And you're here trashing her, ready to kick her out in the street as if she were some stranger? Where is the goddamn loyalty in this outfit?"

"Dad!"

"People, people," Victor interjected, "maybe we should all calm down a bit. It's been a strange kind of night and there's still the little problem of getting a Coven for my ladies."

"Yes," Aisha said. "We should head to the House before daylight hits. You all can stay there until we get this thing sorted."

"No."

They all turned to Azyra who'd been in a dark corner looking out of the window toward the midnight sky.

"Azyra..." said Leigh.

"I haven't seen a sunny blue sky in 53 years. That's a lot of time in the dark. Not but minutes ago I find out I could've walked in the broad open day like everybody else. If I'm going with you, I'm going when the sun comes up," she said. Azyra looked down at the people walking in the street, encapsulated by the importance the next minutes their life would take. They rushed to the night shift or to the nearest club, some decided to take in movies or enjoy the bustle that was the city. She felt, for the first time in 53 years, she could be one of those people if only for a moment. Azyra turned to everyone watching her and opened the window.

"Matter-of-fact," she said looking at Leigh, "y'all gone do what you need to – without me," and she disappeared out of the window.

"Azyra!" Victor said rushing toward the window. The Balloon Man pulled him back.

"Sit on down there, Victor. She got her dander up but she'll be back."

"It's not safe for her to go back to the park, where's she going to go?"

"Away from me," Leigh said, looking out of the window.

"You guys were just roaming around the world in darkness for over 50 years?" Victor asked Leigh.

"Let it be, Son," the Balloon Man said.

"You guys could've done some daytime strolling, geez, especially her since she's Royal Blood and all."

"You found the Royal Blood?" Si'rah asked. "The chick that just left out the window?"

"Didn't you know she was a Sun Toucher?" Victor continued.

"Victor," the Balloon Man said tapping his shoulder.

"Yes," Leigh replied.

"Why didn't you just tell her? You made her. You can walk in the sun exactly like everybody else!"

"Victor!"

"After hundreds of years of darkness, it isn't as easy as you think it to be," Leigh said as she took her leave out of the open window.

"I don't understand it, Balloon Man, why didn't she say something? Azyra looked pretty pissed, what if she doesn't come back?"

"Oh, I expect she'll come on back. She don't stay mad at things for too long," the Balloon Man said.

"Maybe, but I can't see why Leigh didn't tell her they could walk around in the daytime. She wouldn't be mad in the first place if she just told her."

"She didn't tell her," Aisha began, "for the same reason I let her turn Kaya, she wasn't ready for her to go."

"But she could walk in the daylight too..."

"Leave it, Victor," the Balloon Man said.

"When the Royal Blood returns," Si'rah said, "we should take her to Hikpodu and let our Elders decide."

"You are not going to start this, like, ludicrous conversation again are you? Because I am not changing my mind and it's disrespectful for you to bring it up," Jenna said.

"Oh don't sit there and try and put this on me like I'm the bad guy," Si'rah said. "I remember when Ramel had you eating out the palm of his hands. It was you that was trying to sway us to get him in the Coven so don't act all innocent now."

"I didn't know how serious Kaya was, none of us did! I think she pretty much proved herself and we owe her for that," Jenna said pointing to the room where Kaya lay.

"You bring this dumbass idea to the Elders and they say, 'OK', I'm out of here," Aisha said tears rolling down her face.

"What?"

"You fucking heard me. I'll present the Royal Blood and whatever rituals needed but if you say that Ramel bullshit and they go for it, I'm gone."

Jenna walked over to Aisha and stood by her side, "Me too." Bill followed sandwiching Aisha between himself and Jenna.

"I go where my daughter goes. And Kaya goes."

"Sisters, I'm trying to be the voice of reason. Look at the calendar, we barely have a week left before it's July! Who else do we have? Ramel will do the job because he wants it and the material shit that comes with it. We could tell him to run through the Macy's Kids' Department with no damn drawers on and if he doesn't get caught, he's Conductor. He would do it butt ass naked and pick up some toys for the kids! We have him where we want him and since we don't have the time for this, we need him."

"That's not entirely true," said Victor. "On my website, there are some geeks who study the old traditions. One guy says an Exodus can be done without Conductors. Who you need jumped out the window, like, ten minutes ago."

"Fine. There's our solution. We'll present the Royal Blood and we don't speak to Ramel. We'll do the Exodus without Kaya."

"Fuck outta here," Kaya said stumbling out of Victor's room. Her face was ashen her body, weak.

"Baby!" Aisha ran to her.

Si'rah stood her ground.

"Kaya, this is nothing personal against you but we have rules. You've been turned."

"I heard you in here yappin'. I respect your rules but like you said, we don't have time for this. And ain't no way you bringing that bitch-ass nigga into our House."

"Technically, Kaya – "

"Oh c'mon, Si'rah! 'Technically?' You're going too far with this. What's gotten into you?" Jenna was astounded but worried. Technically, Si'rah was right. Kaya is a yearling; she would have to seek sanctuary in the Coven. There would be a vote whether or not they'd accept her in the collective. If they didn't want to, for whatever reason, she would be on her own left to look for a Haven or one of the new covens with the confused riff-raff Jenna always felt sorry for. Jenna didn't see Si'rah as a political or manipulative witch but her overzealous behavior aroused suspicions.

"Let's go to the House," Bill suggested, "and see how to get this all straightened out. We shouldn't be arguing like this."

"She can't come with us unless she is presented!" Si'rah said.

"What the – you're buggin'!" Aisha exclaimed.

"Chief Witch, I must protest! It is forbidden!"

Kaya stood on her weak legs and moved away from Aisha toward Si'rah. She pulled up her left sleeve revealing a tattoo that had not been there before. The scythe and snake were replaced with a figure in a black cowl holding the scythe. The figure's face could not be seen, only its arms. One arm was bare bone, holding a lamp with a six-pointed star shining bright near the hood of the figure. The other arm, which had flesh, was pointing to the east. The arm with flesh on it had markings, which made Victor gasp; he looked at the feet of the figure Kaya's tattoo for what he knew would be there – a snake wrapped around its ankles, binding its path.

"Chamiel!" he exclaimed.

Si'rah's eyes grew wide with astonishment.

"Yeah," Kaya said lifting her arm closer to Si'rah's face, "let's see what Daddy has to say about that."

*

"I don't like this," Marco said getting out of the black Explorer. He gazed at the entrance to the church. "He's a criminal, Daniel, I've heard his family name in certain circles."

"The Father knows them, DeMatteo, they're not a part of that lifestyle anymore."

"Are you kidding? They may not be shedding rivers of blood in the streets or making headlines like the Gambino family used to but make no mistake, the Domitrovich family are a bunch of psychopaths. Gregor is the worst of them all."

"I understand your concerns, they are duly noted. Now come on, the least we can do is see why Father Turin thinks what the psycho has to say is so important."

Marco absorbed what he could of the small cathedral. It would be splendid during the day, if this business had been conducted then. He'd often wondered if his love for the Catholic Church was born out of his admiration of church architecture. Gothic columns, flying buttresses, gargoyles, the beautiful craftsmanship of stained glass windows, even the votive candles were something that gave him a great sense of peace each time he crossed the threshold.

Tonight was different. Marco was not proud of what was about to take place, there was no skill required. The fact is, things like this happened all of the time in government, business, and on occasion the Church participated in seeking assistance from the underworld. Marco thought they were supposed to be different. The Brotherhood of the Sacred Seed was an organization that vanquished the very ilk rising from deep dark pits; why should they have to negotiate with the human scum on Earth? Marco did not want to pay the price of sullying the honor of an old institution for information they could obtain through the proper channels or some good old-fashioned feather ruffling. Dealing with Domitrovich, in his mind, was like dealing with one of the devil's own – they might as well stop what they're doing than continue the hypocrisy.

Climbing the steps to the door Marco asked, "What if it's a trap?"

"I've known Father Turin for years, Marco, it's not a trap."

"But what if it is?"

"We've got a potential lead on major activity. If you do not think you're up to the task, Marco, feel free to turn around and wait in the truck. Otherwise, we go inside, listen and investigate, just like normal. Got it?"

"Sure," Marco answered. But it would be nothing like normal for him. Once they crossed the threshold and began speaking to Domitrovich, they would be just like him, a criminal who wasn't much different from the beings they hunted.

In the building, Marco made a straight shot toward the candles. The urge had overcome him to light two, for Joseph and for the mysterious vampire who could have killed him but didn't – she was among the living dead. Marco mused, if he were in the same position but his life was in Gregor Domitrovich's hands he would be a dead man. He understood Daniel's desire to strike a tremendous blow to the world of darkness by eliminating a legitimate Coven. It could very well upset the balance sending many into confusion and chaos. He and the rest of the Brotherhood would be spiritual janitors with brooms and mops cleaning up the mess such a deed could do. But Marco watched his friend approach Father Turin as the Father introduced him to Gregor and he wondered, at what cost?

"Is this your apprentice, Daniel?" Father Turin said beckoning Marco to them.

"You could say so, Father. He's the best candidate I have to replace me should something go wrong. Taught him most of what I know," Daniel said with pride.

Father Turin gestured toward Gregor, "Gentlemen, this is Mr. Domitrovich. He has something that might interest your constituents."

"Please, please, Padre," Gregor said with open arms, "Mr. Domitrovich is my grandfather. It's OK for you all to call me Gregor."

"Mr. Domitrovich," Marco began, "what is it you have that couldn't wait until morning?"

"I get it. Nice and formal, eh? You guys are real sticklers," Gregor said with a chuckle.

"If we were truly 'sticklers', as you say, this meeting wouldn't be taking place at all," Marco shot back.

"What's stuck up his a- butt? You got a problem with me, Pal?"

Daniel intervened. "Gregor, our organization is a very busy one. We don't necessarily entertain every request made to come and visit, especially since you've gone to such lengths to make this a clandestine meeting. If not for Father Turin, you wouldn't be speaking with us at all."

Gregor looked at Marco then to Daniel and relaxed.

"I understand what you mean. I'm a busy man too, so believe me when I take some time off and request guys like you, it must be an emergency. And you guys, I have to tell ya, you're not easy to find. I went through a lot of trouble to show you this; I think you should check it out." Gregor flashed them the mini camcorder, patting the computer bag at his side.

"Let's go in the back to the rectory, gentlemen. It would be a more suitable place to discuss these matters," Father Turin said.

Once he made sure everyone was situated, Father Turin set off to find what he called the "drinking wine", leaving his guests alone to speak of things he didn't mind not knowing.

Daniel and Marco watched the night vision green images flash before them on Gregor's computer screen. They listened to the screams of the bodyguards who disappeared like magic. They couldn't see what was happening to the men or who was dispatching them but Daniel heard enough screams and sounds coming from the computer to recognize what was going on. Gregor, who'd been watching Daniel's face, paused the clip to gauge his response.

"So? What do you think?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Domitrovich," Marco began, "what were we supposed to be looking at?"

"You know, don't you?" he answered pointing to Daniel.

"Let us say, for the sake of argument, that I do know what you're implying. Why don't you spell it out for us to make sure we're all on the same page," Daniel said.

"All right," Gregor continued, "you want to play this kind of game?

"There's no hiding who I am, my family; this one's had a problem with me since you guys walked in the door," he said pointing to Marco. "I'm not here to apologize for who we are especially to outsiders who don't understand sh- a thing. So here's the Disney version: an employee decided it would be a good idea to steal from my family's business. For the record, it's not a good idea. I had someone in the HR department take care of the issue and several of my employees didn't come back alive – that's what you see in the video."

"I can't see anything in that video except a bad attempt at making a bad movie in the dark," said Marco.

"Are you kidding me?" a frustrated Gregor said as he stood up. "What kind of professionals are you guys?

"I come from a line of men who are absolutely fearless! My mother isn't too shaky either. When I said we needed to take action against the thief my father and my grandfather said to absolutely leave this alone. Guys who have looked down the barrel of an AK-47 and didn't flinch told me to let a guy who stole from us go! One of my good friends, as tough as me, saw this 'bad movie' in person. He lost his mind and cried in my house when he told me what he saw: vampires!"

"There's a start," Daniel said. "Can we speak to your friend? Ask him what happened?"

Gregor shook his head, wishing he hadn't the need to dispose of Erick. Survival of his family was first priority and for that, Gregor didn't hold his feeling of regret that long.

"Sorry, under the circumstances he thought it best that he take a leave of absence."

"Wow that's just rich! Can you believe this him?" Marco asked Daniel. "You know what that's code for, don't you? We're never going to be able to question his 'friend' if there was a friend to begin with!" He pressed the "space bar" on Gregor's keyboard to resume the clip and asked, "You expect us to believe you caught vampires on fil-?"

Before Marco could catch himself, he saw Ralph's face fill up Gregor's computer screen and flinched, he'd recognized him.

"What did you see, DeMatteo?" Daniel asked.

"I thought... No, it was nothing. I didn't see anything."

"Oh you saw something, alright," Gregor said pausing the clip again. "Trying to keep a lid on it because of me, eh?"

"DeMatteo," Daniel interjected, "this is not the time to let your personal feelings cloud your judgment. We have a mission to accomplish with a window that's closing on us, fast!"

Reluctantly, Marco pointed to the frozen image of Ralph's face. "That guy. Joseph and I were tailing him. He was at the Lynbrook house."

"He sicked those things on my men! Fellas, seems like we have a common enemy here."

"But we do not," Daniel said. "We are on a mission to destroy those who would destroy us – all of us, including people like you. You only seek retribution for yourself as evidenced by you disobeying your family's strictest of orders to stay away. We thank you for bringing this to our attention and ask that you please obey your family and stay away from this matter. We will handle it."

"Since we're being all, tell the truth about everything, let me tell you now, that's not the way I work. I brought this to you and I can help you as well as you can help me. For example, my people haven't found my girlfriend's body so it's up to me. And you can rest assured that the jerk you see in that clip is not going to get away with what he did. Some how, some way he's going to pay. Now I can make him pay with you guys in my way or I can make him pay with you guys by my side, it's up to you."

Father Turin walked in his rectory with a bottle of Merlot and three glasses – he saw the taut faces of the men. He was right to stay away from the conversation. Choosing to break it up, he handed each man a glass.

"Gentlemen, we should toast to something associated with longevity and the blessings the Lord has given us."

"You know, the Padre is right fellas and if you don't mind, I'd like to propose the toast," Gregor said.

"Now there's the spirit," the Father replied watching Marco wince. Father Turin felt the same disapproval he saw in Marco's eyes. He was aware of the things the Brotherhood had done, he'd seen the records with its history and he felt them to be a noble organization. He also knew of the Mr. Domitrovich family, a not so noble bunch. A union between them and the Brotherhood could be formidable and very dangerous. Father Turin wondered if the two representatives he'd summoned, to dismiss Gregor, knew of the ramifications a partnership like the one Gregor was pushing could have. Father Turin saw Marco's face and had no doubt he knew. Daniel was a harder man to read but something told Father Turin that Daniel was a man who would get results, no matter what the cost.

They all raised their glasses as Gregor said, "To new acquaintances and strong alliances we thank you for the crossing of paths that allows us to vanquish those who would wrongfully misuse us. Amen."

"Amen," each man repeated, except Marco. He placed his glass on the table, untouched and headed out the rectory to the SUV. Moments later Daniel joined him.

"I know you aren't very comfortable with this, DeMatteo."

"You accused me of letting my personal feelings get in the way. Perhaps you're letting ambition blind you. May I speak freely, Brother?"

"I wouldn't dare stop you."

Marco hesitated before squeezing the steering wheel of the Explorer and looked Daniel in his eyes.

"He is a criminal, just like you said. He's only in this for one thing, retribution. He killed that him Daniel. His friend? He killed him, probably so his competitors, other criminals, wouldn't find the chink in the Domitrovich armor. That would be the last thing they needed, people going around disguised as vampires, making some very superstitious men nervous. Their hold on the underbelly of this city would be considerably weaker and, with young Gregor at the helm, he can't have that happen.

"Gregor won't fail, not when he's the one having more success than generations before him, noooo he cannot fail. And God help us, Daniel...

"Me with my lack of control. Why did that kid have to make a video? Why is he helping those vampires and why are they helping him? And we're here, making a deal with a devil to catch demons! Where does it stop?"

Daniel felt the concern had by his apprentice. If they were not on the edge of a critical moment he would take a step back to regroup – the approaching eclipse did not afford him that opportunity. Daniel was tired of bits and pieces, the here-a-vampire there-a-vampire way the Brotherhood had been catching these creatures. Man has done so many dreadful things to each other, he thought, but at least there are ways we can dole out penalties for our crimes. The horrific things these parasitic creatures do can't be dealt with because we only scratch the surface with catching them.

"We need to strike them with a mighty blow," he said aloud to Marco. "People like the Domitrovichs, when the law stops turning a blind eye, we do catch them. And we have jails for them. Some will give themselves to God, some will continue the vicious cycle they're caught in, and some will die.

"What of these night stalkers, Marco?" he asked. "They will outlive our efforts and they fear no repercussions from mere men. But if mere men fight them and fight them hard then the tide swings in our favor and of our future generations. We have to take a stand and if dealing with Gregor Domitrovich on a temporary basis helps us to strike that blow then so be it."

"Just," Marco began, "just tell me this isn't about you taking out a Coven."

"Time is running out, DeMatteo," was Daniel's reply.

Marco started the Explorer and put it in gear.

"We need to pay Mr. Jacob's friend a visit in the morning," Daniel said.

Marco said nothing, looking out on the road before him.

For the first time since his initiation into the Brotherhood Of The Sacred Seed, Marco DeMatteo didn't know who the bad guys were.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Instinct has kept man alive for millennia. The inexplicable ability to know when something is and react accordingly is far more valuable, in some cases, than the cold hard deductive and inductive argument that is logic. There are those who would not dispute the instinct of a woman is one of the most impeccable, albeit unexplainable, wonders in the known Universe. Whether or not it is so, Sankofa's instinct called out about her husband and she was listening.

Hotep wasn't the same after the Consecration. He was aloof, secretive, and evasive. She'd also seen what Bill saw when he and Kaya interrupted the ceremony – fear. It was all over the face of a man that, since she'd been with him, never showed an ounce of knowing what it was.

The final red flag for Sankofa was Hotep's daylight walking, it stopped. He was just like the rest of them in their House, though he wasn't like the rest of them.

Hotep was a very proud man, perhaps too proud which caused some resentment amongst those in the House. Hotep showed no compassion when announcing his forays into the dawn. Many didn't care he was a Sun Toucher; there were those who pretended not to care, more were afraid of him and said nothing, regardless if they cared to see the light of day and couldn't.

Hotep didn't speak of the past with Sankofa, the memories were too painful and he had the convenience of her shock on his side. Sankofa couldn't recall much – only that she loved reading that stupid Herman Melville book. Hotep tried to purchase the collection but she only wanted "Moby Dick". His gift was received in high spirits but Hotep could see her sadness as she looked at the cover for what seemed like hours before she thanked him for the book. Sankofa tried to remember something about the book but couldn't grasp what.

She felt it best to look toward the future and it made for a very long lasting, sweet relationship with Hotep. It was supposed to be made sweeter with the coming of the Exodus and the long rest after. Their possibilities were endless as Hotep had been fond of explaining to her. He often spoke of vast hidden treasures. Valuable paintings, jewels, bonds were at his fingertips intercepted from the gangsters that stole them. He spun a tale of how he and Sankofa could be amongst some of the richest most powerful people in the world if they wanted – there wouldn't be another eclipse for another century and they could leave the House to go on their own. She'd never seen Hotep so excited in all the time she had been one of the Damned (if only she could remember when that was) and she became excited with him. Then the Consecration took place.

The books – it was the one book in particular...

Sankofa paid attention to the erratic behavior of her husband. She saw him present the larger records given as a gift by the traitor, Ramel, to the Record Keeper. The smaller book, the one that caused great suspicion in her, he placed on a shelf he'd commandeered knowing no one would dare go near it – save Sankofa herself. By the time her curiosity compelled her to go read its contents, the book was no longer there.

She'd resolved to dismiss the whole thing until she saw the book again, in Hotep's hands as he carefully tried to conceal it while he spoke with Jenna, then he headed for the wine cellar. Sankofa followed him, always remaining careful to not get close enough to alert him, when she realized she could be as loud as a raging bull and Hotep would not have noticed. His preoccupation with whatever information the book contained only awakened a greater sense of urgency.

Her husband was never sloppy, it was the way he protected their House – attentiveness and foresight. He was an unofficial general, a strategist of war when some of the lesser covens decided to attack instead of negotiate. The Hotep Sankofa followed down to the wine cellar would be unsuccessful against ambitious enemies; this Hotep would get them all killed.

Going down the stairs she observed the location he chose to rest – in the cellar with the others. He could be in a bed with her; the morning sunrise would not be a threat to either of them. Dark curtains over all of the windows dispelled any fears of light seeping in and the drapes were made with a very heavy fabric. Even their great Elder, Hikpodu, chose a vast room, dark and heavy curtains pulled to, as instructed by Hotep himself. But for her husband a large shiny coffin in the spacious dank and dreary wine cellar.

He hadn't looked back once as she continued to follow him, the book clutched in his hand.

Hotep stopped in front of his coffin, opened it and pulled back some of the lining, placing the book where she knew no one was going to search for it. He patted the bedding and closed his coffin shut as he walked back up to the main floor, unaware that Sankofa ducked behind one of the racks lining the cellar. She listened for the door to close and sprang into action, opened his coffin, and carefully pulled back the bedding, which revealed the mystery book.

When she opened its pages memories came flooding back to her at the sight of familiar handwriting. It was the same bold leaning cursive that taught her how to read, that opened her to a world beyond cleaning horse shit in the stables, that let her believe there was much more to her life than the sting of a leather strap delivered at will by a bitter woman who'd lost her husband and was determined not to lose her son.

The book fell from Sankofa's hands back in the coffin. It sat pristine against the silk bedding. For a while she stood by the coffin looking at the familiar scrawl of a man she'd lost so long ago. She remembered their walks and Frederick's dreams to take her away from his mother and father to Washington D.C. Sankofa could see it as if he'd been standing right near her, the excitement on his face when he told her about the money he had that his parents knew nothing about.

I was a slave.

Sankofa reached for the book, hand shaking, to touch the worn pages with Frederick's thoughts spread before her. She remembered something else, something very important.

I loved him!

"How could I have married Hotep? Why didn't anyone stop me?" she asked aloud. Silence was the single response echoing through the racks of wine bottles.

She heard the door open and placed the book back in its hiding place before Hotep found her standing beside his coffin.

"Why are you down here?" he asked.

"I was thinking of changing my place of rest to be with you, Husband. Since you don't wish to take a room upstairs, I will come down here, by your side as I should be."

Hotep tried hide his apprehension.

"You can if you want to, Sankofa, but I won't be down here for long. It's just I need to be here now because of everything that's happening..."

"We've done this once before, Hep, what is different now?"

Hotep looked at Sankofa and she returned his gaze. Somewhere in the whispers of her memory, she had been afraid of him. Not anymore.

"What did you call me?" he asked.

"Call you? I did not call you, Husband," she said watching him struggling to mask his unraveling cool, "I asked you what makes this year different from our last Exodus?"

Hotep rubbed his temples attempting to compose himself. He'd almost forgotten that he came back to the cellar to get a few bottles of wine. He was on his way to hide the book at the same time Jenkins was on his way down. Hotep volunteered to fetch the wine. It wasn't until he'd reached the second door that he realized he didn't bring the bottles, which would arouse suspicion he didn't need, so back he went. And now he could swear that he'd just heard Sankofa address him by a name he hadn't answered to since the death of Mr. Green. The last thing he needed was dissent in his household – or for him to be losing his mind. Frederick was an insidious problem. He couldn't rest until he dealt with him and deal with him he would.

"Hotep, you're not going to answer me?" he saw the look of concern on his wife's face. He felt bottles in his hands unaware he had them or when grabbed them in the first place.

"Sankofa," he began, "don't you see? There was a traitor in our midst! He snuck in when I was at post! That doesn't reflect well on me so pardon my behavior, I have a lot on my mind. I can't have my House losing faith in its Sergeant at Arms."

"OK. I'll stay in the room upstairs until the whole mess is over."

"Thank you."

Sankofa waited until she was sure Hotep left the cellar before she opened his coffin again. She took the book, careful not to drop it a second time. She looked at the words, awash in bittersweet memories. Sankofa would shed no tears as she hugged the book to her bosom.

She opened it and read.

****

Many years had passed since Hotep had been on the hunt. He didn't miss it although he did like the thrill of the chase. Especially the daylight chase – one never knew he was behind them until it was too late.

On the night of the Consecration, Ramel made a point of bringing his friends to show off what he thought would be his glorious moment. Many of the witches saw them but they did not notice Hotep taking a mental note of the strangers in their midst. When he was later ordered by Hikpodu to stop the ceremony because Ramel was the one they chose, Hotep had a sick feeling about inviting someone so reckless into the fold. His instincts told him then that Ramel was dangerous, a peril for them all. Hotep never suspected the danger would be his. He replayed the night he heard his wife call him a name long gone from her memory. She tried to be coy but Hotep was not mistaken, Sankofa called him "Hep" and he wondered how much of her memories were returning.

When Sankofa went into shock, Hotep was pleased. It was the best thing that could have happened for the both of them. Hotep was aware, although he kept it buried and out of sight, the shock would wear off, Sankofa would remember something and the questions would come.

He told himself he would deal with her questions and had no illusions about the difficulty of that task. But Frederick being alive, when he told her otherwise, was a serious complication in the outcome being a manageable one. Hotep also knew with Frederick alive there was the possibility he would seek refuge with the Coven – in his House! He would never get it; they would kill him without mercy for his crimes. But what if Frederick was given the opportunity to explain his motivation – Hotep's name would be mentioned and there would be punishment.

Hotep placed the responsibility of Frederick's behavior on his broad shoulders – he was as much at fault for the death of an Elder as the man who struck the final blow. He would receive the wrath of Lilith herself, Hotep thought. It was vital he destroy Frederick.

He started by tracking the friend closest to Ramel, Mike. Hotep had seen him meet with Ramel several times, always speaking in hushed tones or doubling back around blocks. It appeared, from what Hotep could overhear in certain conversations, that Ramel's not making Conductor was a point of contention for Mr. Frederick Duval, and Ramel feared for his life. Hotep thought it audacious, Ramel's fear of Frederick, when he was the real threat.

"All of these years later and things have not changed," Hotep raged, "a weak man garners power and prestige he doesn't deserve."

Feeling his ire build and The Thirst intensify, Hotep calmed himself.

He'd been on edge for days, unaware of Sankofa (and Bill) taking note of the change in him.

Hotep watched Ramel and Mike meet, have breakfast or lunch and plot how to get back in the good graces of the witches who considered voting him in. Every once in a while the other one would show up – Chester, to the annoyance of Ramel, and suggest they not continue down the path they were going, plotting out silly ideas. Chester would always end his contribution to the conversation by telling them to call the "white boy" who recommended the job to them in the first place – all Ramel had to do was swallow his pride and ask.

"Using simple niggers to do your job as usual, right Massa Frederick?" Hotep said to himself, while listening to them making aimless plots.

Hotep stayed patient, camping out at the usual places he saw them, which weren't as glamorous as Ramel used to frequent. He waited for any mention of Frederick until it became evident to him that Ramel was trying to avoid Frederick at all costs. Hotep even overheard Ramel speak of placing vampire barriers around his apartment.

After following him to a supermarket, one day, Ramel vanished. Hotep cursed himself for letting someone like Ramel give him the slip but reasoned he would pick up the trail with Mike. Mike, as Hotep observed, was preoccupied with Kaya.

He would follow Mike to an old building with a splendid art deco façade where he deduced Ramel's apartment must be, courtesy of Frederick he was sure. Mike would stay for a while, come out of the building with a worried look on his face, which turned to anger, then head to the bank during Kaya's work hours and sit in the park across the street.

For the first few days, Hotep sat with him, unseen. Mike's face was a mask of misplaced hatred, the kind Hotep had seen before. It was the kind that made men do very foolish things. Hotep intended on being a convincing deterrent if Mike planned on doing something stupid.

On the day Mike went to the bank to negotiate with Kaya, Hotep slipped in right behind him, unseen by Kaya or the nosey Record Keeper. He listened to the conversation, marveling at Mike audacity, trying to slick talk his way in the Coven as if it were he chosen to lead the Exodus. Hotep tried to stifle a laugh he felt forming at the pit of his stomach.

"These are new niggers, young Massa," he said in a whisper, "they feel entitled to what you promised them and will run over anyone to get it. You picked the right bunch, Massa Frederick, the right bunch."

Hotep was proud he hadn't picked the "wrong" one. He had no idea it was to be Kaya in the end when Hikpodu declared Ramel the choice. But he objected, knowing there was something more to Kaya than he thought the Elder could see. Although, Hotep should have known the Elders see many things and Ramel wouldn't have ever enter their noble House.

He continued to watch them and Kaya dismissed Mike with a poise Hotep knew his own temperament would not allow him to maintain. All he saw was a lost fool doing the bidding of a plantation owner who should have been dead a century ago and he wanted to detach Mike's ignorant head from his stupid body. Hotep slipped out of the revolving door after Mike left in a huff. The fresh air reminded Hotep of the bigger picture – the puppet master was still out there and he had to keep tabs on the puppet.

Unfortunately, the puppet disappeared too. Hotep saw him come back to the park across the street from the bank after the big blow-off but soon Mike stopped frequenting the park. It never occurred to Hotep that Mike changed his observation time to the nightshift. There was only one more link before he would have to start his search all over again – Chester.

At the same time Mike made the mistake of shoving a 9mm in the base of Frederick's skull, Chester was trying to negotiate with the doorman to let him in. He was informed that Ramel Jackson was not in his apartment therefore Chester couldn't enter unless he was wearing a brown outfit with the letters "UPS" embroidered somewhere on it.

"You gonna play me like that, Hector? Yeah, Hector. I know your name because you be seein' me come in here, dawg. You need to stop actin' brand new."

Chester gave up his fight after a few epithets were hurled at an unruffled Hector, and went on his way unaware of Hotep following him. His pulsed raced thinking how he could extract information from Chester but that way would leave a body in the daytime and attention he didn't want. Shoving his hands in his pockets, another idea came to Hotep which he knew would be much more clean and effective. He tapped his money clip and walked faster toward Chester. It was easier than he imagined.

"So, Ramel isn't home then?" Hotep said sidling beside Chester.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Someone you spared getting cursed out by the doorman. Thanks, by the way," Hotep said extending his hand.

Chester examined Hotep. A tall stately dark skinned man stood before him; someone who looked younger than his old, experienced eyes did. This man was a soldier, Chester had seen the look in his eyes on a bunch of his friends who'd come back from the war – this guy had been to battle, a lot, no matter how friendly he tried to make his face look. Chester's eyes grew big as saucers when he looked over Hotep's pinstriped suit. He is a businessman, wearing a suit during the summer! Chester grabbed his hand nearly shaking it off of his arm.

"Sorry 'bout that, man! Damn, it's gotta be you. It's you ain't it?" he said still pumping Hotep's hand.

"That depends on who you're looking for, uh...?"

"Chester. I'm Chester. See, I kept tellin' those niggas... You the nigga that came out and picked Ra for the job, right?"

"I'm the guy," Hotep said smiling.

"See! I knew it. I kept tellin' them talk to the white boy or talk to you. Look, Ra really wanted that job but that equal rights shit jammed him up. I understand business and you gotta hire lesbians and shit. You know, diversity. Long as she deserved to get it then fair is fair. But if you recommended him that means you like the nigga so you could recommend him for a different position, right?"

"I could..."

"I knew it! Man, I don't why those niggas don't listen to me, it's simple! I told Ra, I said, 'Send that nigga your resume!' I know there's other stuff in the company.

"OK, I gotta admit something. Me and my nigga, Mike snuck on your property but we didn't damage anything, I promise. Plus the staff chased us off with some big ass dogs, we got the hell up outta there."

"Well," Hotep said, trying to keep his composure, "I appreciate your honesty."

"I only said that to say I saw the place. Look here, my nigga, we could throw some hot parties in there. Not regular shit either but like Diddy shit, some exclusive shit, you feel me?"

"Yes, I see what you mean. The place is big."

"Nigga the spot is a mansion! I got ideas. You could hire me too, I can be your idea man," Chester said grinning from ear-to-ear.

"That sounds like an idea but it's not a decision that I can make alone, Chester."

"The white boy, right? That's no problem just call him up and tell him about me, he knows me."

"Does he?"

"Yeah, I think he's trying to renegotiate with Ra because he's been coming around the crib a lot. They usually send me out to get shit, think I don't know how to talk business. I don't even care because the white boy has cash and likes to give it to moi!"

Hotep pulled his money clip from his pocket watching Chester's face change. He was hypnotized.

"Tell you what," he began, "seeing as how you're the idea man let's talk a little business of our own. The white boy and I aren't seeing eye-to-eye lately. Can you believe it, he's not even taking my calls?"

"For real?" Chester replied eyes still glued to the money clip.

"For real. I am going to give you 500 cash for your troubles. And I'm also going to give you my direct line. Do not hesitate to use this number. I want you to call me whenever they have these secret meetings I haven't been invited to, OK?"

"Oh shit! Are they trying to do a corporate takeover on you?"

Hotep looked at Chester and couldn't believe the ease this particular hunt had, he almost felt guilty of the deplorable way he would take advantage of Chester. Hotep handed him an additional $500 trying his best to look hurt to heighten the effect.

"Chester, I need you to keep this a secret. You're my eyes and ears in there. I'm counting on you, Brotha. Anytime they meet or if they are scheduled to meet, you text me."

"I got your back, man."

Later that evening, before entering the cellar for another night he knew he wouldn't be able to rest peacefully, Hotep received a text from Chester: Mtg 2nite @Ra's. He was aware Frederick preferred to meet surrounded by his lackeys. Hotep decided to forego his pursuit of Frederick that night – he had no idea of the number of lackeys he'd have to deal with or how much Frederick told them, better to be safe than staked. After sending Chester a reply to the text and the promise of more cash, he set his mind on the trap he would spring.

It had him blending with the shadows in an inconspicuous alleyway across the street from his first encounter with Chester. He stood as still as stone, a live statue in the daylight, an alleyway gargoyle, unbeknownst to the many who passed him doing their daily routine. Hector, the doorman, was unaware of Hotep watching him dive in his nose searching for untold treasure only his index finger could find. He remained unmoved by Hector's search as he eyed the treasure he'd been seeking – Frederick!

To the human eye it was as if he appeared from out of thin air. Hector was surprised to see Frederick standing beside him and turned a bright shade of red while jerking his finger from his nose. Hotep stared at the two of them, Frederick making small talk, Hector flicking the dried booger stuck on his finger into the street, and perked his ears to hear more of their conversation. Frederick said he would take the side entrance as he usually did, which sent a hot rush throughout Hotep's body.

Hotep "widened" his sight observing there were no cameras near Frederick's favorite entrance. He'd sealed his own ambush and a large wicked grin crawled across Hotep's face. He would streak across the street unseen and finish what he should have so many years ago.

There was a buzz in Hotep's pocket as he turned to take his first step. As fate would have it, Sankofa was calling.

"Yes?" Hotep answered sounding annoyed.

"Am I interrupting something, Husband?" she replied coldly. Her icy response caused him to take his eyes of off Frederick.

"What is wrong?" he asked concerned.

"You need to return, there is a gathering."

"You didn't have to call me for that, you coul-."

"You've been distracted, Husband. It is hard for me to reach you telepathically as of late."

"Yes, there has been a slight preoccupation but there won't be much longer," he said, eyes back on Frederick who was still engaged with Hector.

"Come now," she said.

"I'm on my way in a minute."

"Whatever it is will have to wait, Hotep. The Conductor has been shot. Come now," she said and the line was dead. He held his phone, in disbelief, for a few seconds before he shoved it back in his pocket and looked back across the street. Frederick was gone.

Hotep swore. He had been so close to cleaning up one major mess only to receive news of another. Hotep was convinced that Frederick somehow had his hands in the latest, tragic blow. The attempts to slow him down, to virtually destroy his kind as if Frederick was a member of the Brotherhood would not go unanswered this time. He looked at the building and spat in the street disgusted. He promised himself that this would be over soon and he would stand victorious alongside those in his House.

"I know where you are, boy. I'll see you soon."

*

Kaya took in the vastness of the room, although it was smaller than the bank vault beneath her job. Still, it was quite the space to be placed inside of a house, a "mansion" if Chester were describing it. The large doors leading to the room were hidden by a tapestry which was why she was surprised when she saw what was behind it – she'd thought she was one of the few human residents that found all the coolest spaces there were.

Kaya, Victor, and Leigh sat in chairs in the middle of a circle the witches and some of the House's "chief" vampires formed around them. Kaya looked for Hikpodu, if he was there she didn't see him. She was more aware of the other vampires in the room. The last time she sat in the center of the circle it wasn't a hot seat and the creatures in the room were nothing more than tiny orbs of red light. Faces with smiles, frowns, wrinkles, and some that looked as if they were taken while they were adolescent, gazed at her, their voices crashing in at once. She concentrated on one voice, Hotep, whom she could feel growing frustrated as Bill recalled the events that led her to her present "condition".

"So you had the Royal Blood with you and you let her walk away?"

"We didn't let her, per se. She wanted out so she left. But these guys say she'll be back so we're in business," Bill said.

"Did you impress upon her the urgency, the importance this has for all of us? Including her, Record Keeper?" Hotep said fuming.

"If I may be so bold?" Victor said standing as he spoke.

"Who is this person?" Hotep asked.

Si'rah spoke, "My Lord, this is one of those who seek sanctuary."

"You answering out of turn now, Sister?" Aisha shot Si'rah a dirty look. Si'rah bowed her head.

Dorian, standing to Hotep's right, noticed the tension and spoke.

"Speak freely, Witch," he said to Si'rah, "we need to know everything that is pertinent."

"They think I'm being rude and ambitious but I'm not. We have rules and the Chief Witch's feelings are clouding her judgment at such a critical time."

"You're trying to be Chief Witch? What a time to make a power move!" Jenna exclaimed.

"And as you see," Si'rah continued, "when I express myself I'm accused of trying to take someone's position. But I'm not.

"Aisha, you all know my heart and this can't happen. We've got rules that have been in place long before you or I was allowed in this House. Each Coven under our Great Mother Lilith follows these rules. The Royal Blood saved your fiancé so you both will carry on with your lives. But as far as what we need to do for our Coven, the rules say that Kaya can't be our Conductor, so she can't. No matter how you personally feel about it, that's how it is and you as the Chief Witch know that's how it is."

"You're being very disrespectful, Si'rah," Aisha began, "no matter how you try and sugarcoat the shit. You act as if we're three, four months out when it's a matter of days. You talk all this mess as if I don't know what this has cost my woman and me! I know the rules, Si'rah. As the Chief Witch I'm versed in the rules. So let me give you the facts: Kaya wasn't inducted in the House as a vampire, circumstance turned her into one. You talking this way and suggesting that we bring Ramel back here, even though he was banished AND probably responsible for Kaya getting shot, would automatically result in your expulsion too. You are aware of that rule, aren't you?"

Jenna lit up, "That's right! Makes it look like you're working for Ramel too. Not good, Si'rah."

"Bitch please! Now who's making a power move? OK, if it's decided that I have to go then fine. I'm not going alone. Kaya will be walking out of the door with me."

"Fuck outta here," Kaya said sitting up in her seat. "What is your problem with me all of a sudden?"

"You will all stop this incessant bickering!" Sankofa said. "There is a wickedness coursing its way through our House and it's attaching its poison to everyone. It will stop right now!"

The room was silent.

"Since everyone wants to be wrapped up in his or her personal problems, I'll ask you myself," Sankofa said as she walked in the circle toward Victor, "Who are you?"

Victor gulped. "Uh well, I'm actually here for the ladies... I'm with..." He pointed toward Leigh who remained silent watching the exchange. Her mind swirled with the noise of all those who surrounded her, some asking her questions the humans could not see nor hear. The telepathic barrage wasn't as severe for her as it was for Kaya; Leigh was old enough to block out those whom she cared not to communicate with. It was a skill that became effortless as time passed but her block was an unconscious one, Leigh was listening for one voice.

Azyra disappeared. She'd gone after her and found she was chasing shadows, hearing whispers that she imagined to be her Princess, which turned out to be nothing more than the night crawlers luring prey for the kill. Leigh even risked returning to their old resting place and found no indication that Azyra had been there. The police had done such a thorough job of combing the crime scene, that between them and the Parks Department, and the owners of the Books Boutique it looked as if Leigh and Azyra, or any nocturnal creatures, had never been in Tangled Woods at all. It crushed her to walk through the trees, the thickness of her loneliness palpable, as she strained to hear the familiar beat of Azyra's heart. The quiet had never been so frightening as it was to her now.

When Leigh ran out of ideas she decided to go back to Victor's with the hope that they'd crossed paths, missing each other, and Azyra would be sitting in a corner near a window taking in the morning sky. Leigh was ready to receive any argument she knew Azyra would have for her. She was going to accept every harsh word and apologize for keeping her, a child of the sun, hidden away in the darkness of night because Leigh had been lonely for so long. She wished for an argument as long as it meant Azyra would be there.

She wasn't.

Upon Leigh's return she saw they'd been waiting for her. The witches had stopped arguing, for the time being, and the Conductor lived. Kaya was awake adding to the tension that filled the room. Leigh was informed they were going to the House of Hikpodu where she and Azyra could get sanctuary and they'd sort the business of Kaya's new circumstance. Leigh heard herself say, "That's if we can ever find her again," but didn't know whether she spoke loud enough for all of them to hear. She didn't care. She wanted to be focused on one voice, one heartbeat to fly away when she heard the call.

The arguing around her was invading her quiet. Victor making his appeal was a temporary calm but there was going to be another round, she could feel it and wanted out.

"If this load of bollocks is what is expected in a coven, I don't need it," Leigh stood. "I'm better off on my own."

"How dare you!" Dorian said stepping forward. Leigh drew her cane bracing for attack.

"Whoa! Whoa! This is how you treat your guests?" Victor said standing between Leigh and Dorian.

"You aren't on your own, Avenger," Sankofa said calmly. She pointed to the inscription on the sphere.

"I know what that is. There are people in that, who are a part of it. It's like your very own House."

Leigh looked at Sankofa and felt a force reach out and pull her closer. She didn't resist and glided toward her, the serene feeling emanating from Sankofa spread across Leigh's body. Sankofa reached out her hands and took Leigh's head, touching her brow with her own, listening to the volcano set to erupt in Leigh. The silence flooded her senses as she felt the familiar pain of loss.

"We have a lot in common, Avenger," Sankofa said and it felt as if her words danced all across Leigh's body. She let herself fall in the comfort of Sankofa's voice. She dropped her cane, the wood making a loud clacking noise in such a quiet room, startled Victor.

"What is she doing?" he whispered to Dorian.

"She's welcoming her to our House. You're privileged to see such a thing, human," he scowled.

Leigh could not hear their exchange, only the sound of Sankofa's soothing voice.

"This is a trying time, for all of us. We're surrounded by those who wish us destroyed," Sankofa said.

"Yes."

"We'll need her help."

"She won't... I took something from her..."

"She will forgive you. It takes time, which we never seem to have enough of. Find her and she'll help – tell her we all need her. She'll come. You both will help make our Coven strong again."

"I will try."

"And then, I will need you to do something for me when this passes. Promise you will do something for me."

"What is it?"

"You will carry out your duty, Avenger. When the time passes."

"Yes, I promise," light blood stained tears ran down Leigh's face.

"Now go find her and bring her to us," Sankofa said and released Leigh.

She picked up her staff, looked at Victor and started toward Dorian.

"Open the circle and let her pass," Sankofa said. "And she is welcome in our House."

"My Lord?" Dorian said looking at Hotep.

"Do you question my wife's decision?"

Dorian bowed his head, "No, my Lord."

"Then step aside."

The circle opened for only a brief moment, in an instant, Leigh vanished.

"Sheesh, I'm never going to get used to that." Victor said shaking.

"What do we do with him?" Dorian asked pointing to Victor.

Victor raised his hand and said, "Personally, I'd let me get back home since I did my duty and would be much more helpful out there – alive!"

"You've seen things no outsider is supposed to see," Hotep said.

"And I'm not one to judge," Victor replied. "Besides, I'm very good at keeping secrets and seeing nothing. I can be very helpful, just ask Leigh. Oh. The lady, she just left... When she comes back, ask her. I was the one who warned them about the Brotherhood."

Dorian froze. His cherubic face displayed all of the innocence of a young boy but he was old enough to have had a run-in with the Brotherhood in his past. He did not take Victor's words lightly.

"What do you know of them?" he asked his pale face becoming flush.

"I know the lovely gentlemen paid me a visit and have been hacking my site since I gave them the brush off. I also know that while everybody else thinks Covens are ancient history, these guys don't. They aren't going to rest until they destroy one or two – or all."

"My Lord," Jenna said, "we must settle the question of our Conductor. We can't leave this decision in limbo, especially with what Victor has told us."

"You must uphold the law of our Great Mother, my Lord," Si'rah added. "It is our way."

Hotep's mind traveled to the far end of the large room they were all in. Behind a long thick red curtain sat Hikpodu, still and saying nothing. He had been that way since his House was moved to the estate. Hotep wanted to defer the decision to him. Why did he get to sit and do nothing but claim the glory of this Coven?

He regretted the thought as soon as it left his mind and apologized, hoping his sincerity would reach the back of the room and fill Hikpodu's ears. Frederick was permeating his thoughts, taking him off his game and keeping him distracted. He would have to deal with the problem or put his House (and himself) at further risk.

The safety they had, the shelter, the supply of blood without having to kill, the wealth; Hikpodu provided it all. Hotep needed to be the guardian, the leader many who came to his House respected, admired, and feared. He would make a decision, tough as it may be, and he would lead his people to safety and protect them all at whatever the cost.

"Kaya, please stand," he said.

"Here we go with this shit again," Kaya replied, annoyed.

"You are one of us now," Dorian said, "you will show some respect."

Kaya turned to Dorian, eyes ablaze like a bright orange flame.

"Ramel ain't even here and he's got everybody crazy! What is this? Hotep, I ain't trying to be disrespectful to your rules, I'd be the first one out the door if we had that luxury but we don't. We're talking about me now! As chunky cheeks over here says, I'm one of you. If we don't get this right I'm going to fry or worse – one of those Sacred Seed dudes are going to come and kill me in my sleep. Sorry but I'm not chancing it and I'm not going anywhere unless the Big Man kicks me out."

"In this House I am the representative for our Elder, Kaya. It is also my responsibility to keep us safe. Don't think for a minute that I would not hesitate to cut you down if that is what's called for," Hotep said.

"My Lord, I must voice my ob-."

"Silence, Chief Witch! Your Sister is right – you are not yourself in this matter. The law is here to protect us so that we may go on as long as time allows. The law also calls for the safety of our kind, which is why my decision is to let things stay as they are. Kaya was not one of our kind when she was Consecrated, she should not be punished because she is now. And as one of us we can be sure she will have our best interests at heart. Everything you were promised as Conductor still applies – so do your duties."

Si'rah was stunned.

"My Lord... There has never been one as-."

"Then there will be one now! Make sure it is written, Record Keeper."

"With pleasure," Bill said beaming.

"My Lord, we also have a duty! We must obey the Covenant of our Great Mother. How can she be our Conductor when the marks were taken from her?" Si'rah said.

"What about your father?" Victor asked.

The circle turned its attention to Victor. He shifted, wishing he hadn't spoken or ever gotten involved in the squabble to begin with – but he was.

"Her husband," he pointed to Kaya. "She's got the marks of Chamiel on her. That's Lilith's husband, isn't it? Or the father of you guys or something?" Victor gulped looking at all of the many colored eyes fixated on him. He was nervous and wondered if any of them had eaten yet. This is a bad place to be, he thought. In a coven full of pissed off and possibly hungry vampires.

"I, uh, and she's got the key. You can't walk in a shop and say, 'Hi, I'd like to buy a key to the other side made by Death.' I was just pointing that out because, see, she's wearing it and it's not a fake."

Hotep took Kaya's hands and pulled up the sleeves on her shirt. He examined the new tattoos on her arm and studied the key. The compass rose tattoo that once resided on her back was around her wrist in the form of an odd looking watch. He could see the gears and cogs moving the rose as different markings glowed brighter with each second passing. It was counting down the time until the eclipse, just as the tattoo on her back had. Hotep spied the hourglass, only it was half of the glass and that half was filled with sand. He'd heard of this device, used to move through ages. She couldn't travel through space and time, Hotep knew she'd have to have a full hourglass embedded within the cogs, but she could open the portals they needed. Hotep smiled, grateful he'd been given the chance to make the right decision.

He clapped his hand on Kaya's shoulder. "She has the markings she needs. My word is final, witch," he said looking at Si'rah, "do you wish to question it further?"

"No, My Lord," she replied, head bowed.

"He will have sanctuary here too," Hotep said pointing at Victor. "Dorian, accompany him. He needs to tell us everything about the Brotherhood he knows. They've adapted for this time and we must know how much."

"I will, Lord Hotep."

"Brothers, Sisters, and our most loyal sentinels, we are being attacked and our enemy is more vigilant. He does everything in his power to see our downfall but we must not allow this, we must stay alert. If it's a battle he wants before we rest then we will make the streets red with his blood!"

The circle dispersed leaving Aisha, Jenna, Bill and Kaya standing side-by-side looking at a defiant Si'rah.

"Look, it's like I said before, nothing personal. I'm just trying to do what's best for the Coven, in the name of our Great Mother."

"Sure," Jenna began, "so we should get ready for the next stage then, right? Because, Hotep pretty much said what needed to be said and we shouldn't have to talk about this anymore."

"Got it." Si'rah walked out of the room leaving them to their own thoughts.

"She's gonna hold a grudge," Bill said.

"I don't give a damn about her grudge, I can hold one too," Aisha replied.

"Is it me or did it seem like Hotep was talking about someone in particular when he was giving his little speech?" Kaya asked.

"Girl, somebody's going to get to' up from the flo' up," Aisha answered.

"I'd hate to be that guy," Bill said.

Outside of the large doors, Sankofa stood listening to the group. She agreed with Kaya, she could feel Hotep's anger during his rant. Unlike the others, she knew the object of his discourse and felt her own rage building through her body.

Sankofa disagreed with Bill.

She'd hate to be Hotep.
CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mike cursed Ramel for making him wait out in the hallway.

"It's gonna cost him an extra thousand," he said adjusting his sling.

The doorman let him in the building because Ramel was in his apartment. One would think Ramel would leave his door open because he knew Mike was on his way up. Not Ramel. Mike's admiration for him didn't wane but he wasn't very fond of his friend's idiosyncrasies – his "funny ways" as he and Chester called it. They were well aware of the exclusive apartment complex, the douchebag doorman, and the ultra snobby neighbors who gave strange looks when they stepped in the elevator. Mike didn't feel he had to be reminded of it by standing in the hallway waiting for Ramel open the door each time they paid him a visit, or worse, he summoned them.

"Yo Ra, this ain't funny! You don't have a girl in there so open the door!" Mike said banging harder.

The door swung open and Ramel ready with a witty retort on his lips; it dissolved in his mouth upon viewing Mike's arm in a sling.

"I need 2K, where's the stash?" Mike asked, eyes darting around the apartment.

"You need – what the fuck happened to you?"

"Is it in this room here or the bedroom, Ra? Speak up, man, I gotta bounce."

"No. What you gotta do is slow down and tell me what's going on," Ramel replied. He stood squarely between Mike and a nook that lead to the kitchen.

"I'll tear the place upside down, nigga, don't play. The bed- hold up. You are such a cornball," Mike said. He pushed Ramel aside and entered his kitchen. He opened the freezer where he saw a few frozen pizzas and bricks of cash. He grabbed the bricks, placing them on a counter. When he closed the freezer he saw Ramel with a meat cleaver in hand. Mike was surprised, more by the bitter look on Ramel's face than the butcher knife. If the look alone could have killed Mike, there would be no use for the knife Ramel was wielding.

"What's up with that?" Mike asked.

"That's what I asked you in the first place," Ramel replied.

"I got shot, OK?"

"And what does that have to so with you coming to my house to essentially rob me?"

"Rob you? Nigga, it ain't just you! What happened to the crew? We all supposed to be down for whatever and ballin' 7-11."

"Yeah but it's my connects that have us ballin'. You guys should be thankful for the ride."

"It's like that? You only got one connect – Frederick. And if you ask me he's getting a little tired of your ass.

"Who's idea was it for you to stash the paper he was getting you? Who told you about the car dealership that takes cash on the spot, no questions? Me and Chester went to LI checking out that spot for you when you couldn't get near it and I put in work. Don't give me that shit, Ra. Especially when I got your black ass back in that bitch."

Ramel looked at Mike and lowered the meat cleaver. He'd seen by example when "the crew" tried to help him they only made things worse. Ramel examined Mike's sling noting how new it looked. He thought back to the last time he saw Mike and could only remember the incident in the car, he was stalking Kaya at the bank.

"Who shot you, Mike?"

"Two-five that works at that bitch's bank," he said counting the money.

Ramel slammed his hand on the counter giving Mike a start.

"Did you try to rob the bank?"

"Rob –?' Mike reached in his waistband and pulled out the gun, slamming it down near the frozen money, "I bodied that bitch, Ra. She's history and they're gonna beg for your help now."

Ramel looked horrified. Thanks to Mike there was a murder on his hands. Ramel was a man who dealt with semantics and realized he was indirectly responsible for many murders but to him they didn't count – they were vampires. Even with all of the public lust for them, the intrigue of immortality, and the tightrope walk between good and evil, there weren't many of his friends who would believe him if he said they really exist and was a witness to the fact. As it stood, Mike didn't believe one word until after Ramel showed him a commissioned portrait of Frederick, proof the Duvals were rich cotton plantation owners.

Kaya's murder was real, she was a human being who could be traced right back to his doorstep. Mike stood triumphant as if he should be rewarded, counting money he did nothing to deserve – there would be a police investigation that would bring questions Ramel could not answer.

"...that's why I need the money," he heard Mike say. "My cousin knows a guy who takes bullets out of you, no questions asked. But also takes cash on the spot. He don't get the dough, he does like a doctor is supposed to and reports the shooting. It's only cause he's fiendin' after my cousin that I was able to get the bullet out for $4000.00 when the nigga charges five. I told him I was good for it – I know this rich guy who could give me the rest, no problem, and I told him I'll get it by today. Today, Ra."

"So why are you trying to extort an extra $1000.00 from me?"

"You can call it my expenses and waiting fee. You always do that dumb shit with me and Chester. Even with the rest of the crew – wait outside when you know we're coming up. We can't come up here unless you're here and the bitch-ass doorman let's us in the building, so why the wait? We know you got money now, nigga, ain't nobody questioning that. Just don't keep throwing that shit in our face all the time."

"I'm going to give you $1000.00 and then you're going to take your stupid black ass out of here and don't come back again!" Ramel was frothing at the mouth. He lowered his voice and continued between clenched teeth, "Are you a fuckin' moron? You put a body at my door. I have to use every dime I have now to get the fuck out of town, twice!"

Mike looked puzzled. Ramel confused him more than ever. They could never listen to him without making things so complicated. It was the very reason Kaya was laying on somebody's cold slab now: he tried to talk some sense into to her before he had to resort to street justice.

"They ain't talking."

"OK," Ramel said dripping with sarcasm, "I feel much better now. Michael Loring has assured me they won't say anything. I can take off my clothes and have a wonderful nap now, can't I? Because obviously you managed to get the dead body away from the scene and hide it in your sling."

"You trying to play me, nigga?"

"NO! You are trying to play me! The dude was a cop. A cop! You got that, Mike? And he shot your dumb ass. You smoke his little dyke girlfriend and he's going to do what, give you a citation and shit? Nah, nigga, he's going to call other cops to find the niggas responsible and next thing you know, badges are beating down my door!"

"They ain't talking, man."

"You know this, how? Matter-of-fact don't answer that. Let's go with your theory, they don't talk to the cops. They don't have to, you know why? Because they have an army of evil blood sucking creatures of their own that know exactly what I look like. And guess what, they will turn the Earth upside down looking for all my stupid little friends and me. They're gonna think I gave the order to kill their precious Conductor and the revenge they'll want is my head on a stake. But, much to their surprise, they'll find my dead body instead. Know why? Because I promised Frederick no more killing, I said we were going to do some talking, try reasoning with the witches. All the while my genius-of-a-friend, Mr. Loring, goes off with his own little project in mind, tossing every single bargaining chip I have."

"You don't have to tell Frederick shit. By the time he finds out, you'll already be in there and it won't even matter."

"Do you hear yourself when you talk, man? The witches run that shit. You killed the main witch's girlfriend! How the fuck am I getting in anywhere?"

"From all this rich expensive stuff Frederick gives you, all the hot stuff they was going to give you when you had the job, you can tell the Conductor thing is important. They don't want your ass they need your ass. They're going to have to take you whether they want to or not. Check out Frederick, if he got that mind reading thing so do they, and they can tell if you sent me to get Kaya. Once they see you didn't, you're in there because you're needed in there. And I expect you to not forget who put you in that spot."

Mike reached for the gun but was thwarted by Ramel's quick grasp.

"I'll hold on to this," he said. "Now, take your money and beat it. I have a meeting with Freddy. He wants to speak to Kaya's girlfriend. Thanks to you, I'll have to convince him why his idea, is not so great anymore when I said it was. So don't you worry, Mike, I won't forget who put me in this spot."

"You still have bargaining power, nigga, think! Frederick wants you in position so he got somebody on the inside that can tear the place apart. Once you get in, you can warn them! That proves your loyalty, Frederick is out of the way and you still get to keep all the hot shit everybody wants to give you. Keep your eyes on the prize, Ra, and we all make out like fat rats." Mike walked over to Ramel, cold money bursting out of his pockets and patted him on the back. "You worry to much, my nigga. We are in here, just keep calm and you'll see that mansion and better cars than the one you got now."

When Mike left Ramel stood looking at the closed door, unaware that he was still holding the gun he'd taken from Mike. He agreed that he must calm down and regain his resilience. There was a larger picture at hand and he'd been losing sight of it with all of the distractions: Ramel was walking toward untold power.

In the end he would expel Aisha, she would be a rebellious hindrance within the House. He would have Hotep's loyalty because he knew his secret, a secret he wouldn't want his dear Sankofa to ever find out. Ramel would hand over Frederick to his adversary, guaranteeing Hotep's cooperation in carrying out certain not-so-popular changes upon his arrival. Then Ramel would tell Hotep all about Mike.

He tapped the barrel of the gun against his thigh.

"Don't worry, Mike. I won't forget a thing."

*

Elena was sequestered in Ralph's guestroom. She'd only eaten part of the scrambled eggs he brought. Her apartment was a mess when she left it days ago and she'd managed to make the room in Ralph's house the same kind of mess.

She'd risked going back there for the charger to her cell phone, some extra clothes and "lady things" as Ralph put it. As much as he tried to convince her that she was not a prisoner in his house, Elena was convinced she was. She couldn't go back to her apartment, continue her life the way it was before the night she volunteered to be Gregor's muscle and collect from Ralph.

For the first two days Gregor called her like a madman, she not having the courage or the right story, declined to answer his calls. When the calls stopped she assumed that he thought her dead. How long would that last? Someone would start looking for her. Thinking it would be best, or not thinking at all, she called her parents to let them know she was all right. Elena emphasized the urgency that they not tell anyone she contacted them.

"It's because of that boy, isn't it? You know I didn't like him from the very first day your father and I met him," her mother said.

"It'll be OK, Mama. I'm safe and at a friend's."

"Do you still speak to Victor? He was a nice one. You always go for the – "

"Mama, please. I'm all right. I have seen Victor, he's fine too."

"OH? Is he the 'friend'?"

"So long, Mama."

It was her undoing. Elena knew her mother well enough to know that she'd ignore her pleas for caution.

Seconds after she disconnected, news of Elena's "lively" condition was filling the ears of her mother's good friend, Sheila, who told Donna who was happy to mention it to anyone who cared to know that Elena had finally gotten rid of her abusive boyfriend.

Unfortunately, there were those who knew Elena's abusive boyfriend, Gregor. By the time he'd received news of Elena's resurrection the tale was embellished to the point of her being pregnant with child. Gregor didn't care much about the exaggerations, he focused on the one element that bothered him the most – Elena was alive. If she was the only survivor of the massacre of his men and she wasn't answering his phone calls Gregor concluded that she had set him up. That would not do. He was going to let the Brotherhood Of The Sacred Seed handle Ralph's new bodyguards but he would pay special attention to Elena. She had to be punished for her betrayal.

In the quiet of Ralph's home, save the occasional pecking from the keyboard, Elena knew Gregor was going to find a way to come for her. Happy that Ralph didn't go out much, and those creepy girls left the house days ago, she found solace in the fact that Gregor would have a hard time finding where she was. If there was anything to worry about it had to be the road back to Victor. He would be the first person Gregor would put pressure on for the location of her whereabouts. Knowing him, he'd bargain her life for a few computer favors from Victor, sending him spiraling back in the tech black market. Elena believed it would serve him right for hanging around freaky girls and not telling her anything of his new life. The whole mess could have been prevented if he would have come back to the collective, made a few dollars for Gregor and then he could return back to his Goth and blood freaks. A couple of silly programs are a piece of cake for him but he wanted to sit on his high horse as if he didn't need Ralph anymore – he didn't need her...

It occurred to her that Gregor might not want to bargain anything, if he thought she had something to do with the closed accounts and the death of his men. One of those guys was his best friend. Ralph had informed her that Gregor's friend is missing. This painted a whole new picture. He would harass her family, her parents, to the point of bodily injury. He would go after Victor, guns blazing, and it wouldn't take him very long to disclose the "safehouse" she was staying in. When Gregor got to her, the retribution would be slow and painful. She'd heard stories of his family's reputation for maiming their enemies – "Domitrovich will make you beg for death!"

Elena was going to take control of her fate before the situation between her and Gregor would cause any collateral damage. She had to call him. She couldn't risk doing it at Ralph's with all of the listening devices and scanners around. Elena was going to get dressed and head to a nice public place like the Long Island Railroad station. Ralph could drop her off and she would take a ride to Manhattan, to Victor, anything to make her less of a sitting duck after she spoke to Gregor.

She knocked on the door to Ralph's attic lair.

"I need to go get some more of my things. You gotta take me to the train station."

"You're not moving in here," Ralph said from behind his computer screen.

"Just take me to the train and stop being a dick!"

"Fine. But you should stay home. You're not a hostage and I don't care if my Grammie does like having a woman around, you're not the right woman. And make sure you mention to your boyfriend that I wasn't holding you against your will. I wouldn't want to have my friends pay him a visit."

"You got me and Vic in this mess in the first place, Ralphie. Because of you, Gregor is probably not my boyfriend anymore. So when you stop looking at Internet porn, take me to the damn train."

"Why would I need to look at an Internet whore when one is trying to move in my house?" Ralph said letting out his braying chortle.

"You're such a prick. Hurry up!"

Elena was on edge. She slumped down in the seat of Ralph's Mustang so anyone looking in would only see the top of her head. Ralph said nothing of her odd behavior, he was happy she was leaving and taking all thoughts of Gregor Domitrovich Jr. with her.

"Bye!" he said waving, "Don't bother to come back anytime, you're not welcome." Elena could hear his self-righteous braying as he drove away.

She looked around, feeling more vulnerable outside with strangers tending to their business than she did cooped up in Ralph's musty guestroom. She dug deep inside her duffle bag sized purse searching for her cell phone when a man walked too close for her comfort. Two more people stood by the man looking at her. Elena buried her face in her bag hoping the people would go away. When they didn't move she braced herself for an ominous message from Gregor via the man invading her space.

Elena was relieved when he said, "Excuse me." He was trying to look around her at the train schedule.

With shaking hands Elena held her resolve and dialed Gregor.

"My phone must be having a séance or something," he said when he heard her familiar, "Hello".

"Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated, as someone once said," she replied trying to lighten her mood.

"Yeah, a lot of exaggerations going on these days. I heard a good one."

"Really?"

"Oh sure. A girl that I took into my confidence, my family, said she was going to take care of a very expensive investment for me. I don't usually let women who aren't in my family tend to such matters but seeing how she says this job was a piece of cake – "

"Greg," she interrupted, "it was an easy job, I – "

"Are you interrupting my story? That's very rude, Elena, especially since I didn't get to the good parts yet. May I finish?"

"I'm sorry, Greg."

"You should be. In conclusion, the girl disappears, so does my fucking money and I look like an asshole to my father! But the best part is I got a bunch of dead guys and I was under the impression that the girl was dead too but she isn't. So I'm supposed to believe that this was some crazy turn of events and you didn't fucking set me up and make off with my fucking money?"

"Greg, Baby, I did just as I said I would. Ralph, he's harmless. That was the reason why I met where he would feel comfortable because I knew I could talk to him. The craziest thing I thought he would do is bring Victor with him and, Baby, I could have talked Victor back. He's the real talent. But then there were these girls and they started killing..."

"Victor, eh? That's where you've been all this time with Victor? You guys make a special account with my money and you run away with him?"

"Greg, you know it's not that way. I didn't know Victor would even be at the meeting. Ralph called Victor in. And those girls they – "

"So where have you been all this time, Elena? I'd like to know, particularly the times when I called your cell phone."

"Gregor, my phone died," she lied.

"Heh heh – seems to be the theme. But yet you speak to me, from the same phone I was trying to reach you on. What a miraculous recovery! That seems to be the theme too. Tell you what, since, everything is being recovered; why don't you come back to my apartment with my recovered money?"

Elena looked at the phone in her hand as if it had turned into a poisonous snake. She wanted to throw it away and take her chances going to Victor's. Elena knew Gregor would come to look for her there but before that would happen she would tell Victor to take her back to Ralph's. As long as his grandmother didn't mind her staying there she would wear out her welcome; it was the only place that didn't fall under Gregor's long dark gaze. She started to walk to the ticket machine when she heard Gregor speak in his very cold way.

"Where are you now, Elena?"

"I'm – I don't know," she replied lying again. "I escaped from those assassins and I'm trying to find a place to catch a cab."

Gregor shook his head on the other line. He surmised she was telling the truth about being ambushed by Ralph but he would have to eliminate her anyway. To him, it was obvious she had feelings for Victor she wouldn't address and he was not going to risk his operation being compromised, especially with what she could spill to Victor. Gregor needed to determine where she was and he would, at the very least, figure out where he and his new Brotherhood friends could start looking for the "assassins". Once that was done he would concentrate on Elena.

He tried his best to refrain from telling her she could never be lost with the expensive GPS program he had that thieving nerd install on her phone. He played along.

"They kidnapped you? Find a main street so you can tell me what it is. I'll send somebody over to get you and we'll talk."

It was then Elena saw her days with Gregor were done. She could hear him thinking and she knew none of the thoughts would bode well for her. She'd lied to him twice and she was sure he was aware of it. Elena had to buy herself some time and she knew how she was going to do it. As for going back to the safety of Ralph's, that could never happen again. While she tried to insert her money for a train ticket to Manhattan, as quietly as she could, she made up her mind she would give up her hiding spot. Ralph should be safe because of the creepy girl assassins protecting him.

"They took me to Ralph's house, Greg. I escaped from there and I'm all turned around. It's been ages since I've been here. Things look so different and I've been walking around trying to find a familiar looking street."

"They're with Ralph? As in, they live in his home?" Gregor asked trying to quell his excitement. He couldn't believe that much of a lucky break had been placed right in his lap. He wouldn't disobey his father or his grandfather by stepping foot on Ralph's property but his family had no jurisdiction over the Brotherhood. Gregor would call them and once they picked up their end of the bargain, he would conduct his business as he saw fit, upon informing his family of the change of plans. Nothing would save Ralph then.

"Go back to where they were keeping you, before you get discovered. I'll send someone to get you, Elena."

Elena froze at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the train platform. She had no intention of being anywhere Gregor Domitrovich Jr. could send someone to "get her".

"You'll be in danger, Greg," she stalled. "Didn't you see that video? I saw it in person and it wasn't pretty – it still scares me. I don't want to go back there."

"You don't know where you are and it works better this way. They're going to look for you wandering around like that. But if you go back before they start looking, you'll be fine. I'm sending someone from the Church. They can protect you," Gregor said.

Elena agreed that Gregor's plan was a good one and assured him she could retrace her steps back to Ralph's house. She mumbled how much she loved and appreciated him, hanging up her phone before the roar of the train speeding over tracks gave away her location.

She bounded up the stairs making it in the train car before the doors closed. Victor had to help her out of this mess.

Gregor looked at the quiet cell phone in his hand not sure whether Elena would be waiting or not but that wasn't a problem he cared to dwell on. There had been a development that would stay Elena's execution for the time being.

He called Daniel.

Upon learning there was a new lead in the hunt, a path that led right back Victor Jacobs; Marco was ecstatic. When Daniel also announced Ralph's name and address he had some concerns. He remembered the Lynbrook fiasco; it wasn't quite as old a wound and enough time hadn't passed for Marco to be confident he would be allowed to redeem himself.

The rest of the team listened to Daniel emphasize caution and a complete plan of action, their eyes focused on his face to avoid Marco's further embarrassment. They all knew the casualty sustained and questioned whether Daniel would allow Marco to accompany them the second time around.

After the briefing, Daniel was cornered. He saw the look on Marco's face but wasn't going to let it sway him, he'd already made up his mind, Marco was to sit this portion of the mission. Daniel would not let him return to the scene and there were few Brothers willing to ride with him.

"I guess that's that," Marco said complying.

"There are two stages to this DeMatteo. You won't be involved in the first leg. I need you to organize – "

"The B-Team. I get it, Daniel. I'm not up to par so I get to play with the second stringers!" he said pounding his fist against the wall. His action did not go unnoticed by a few of his teammates. Daniel pulled Marco into an office where they could speak more privately.

"I appreciate your energy, DeMatteo. Perhaps you should rethink how you communicate your enthusiasm and realize that it's not only you here. We are an organization; if one team needs help than those of us who are more experienced are expected to lend a hand. There are some that would have you take a leave, DeMatteo, but you assured me you are fine. I'm taking your word for it – are you fine?"

"Yes," he answered unable to argue.

"Good. Have your men ready to go when we call, we're taking a different approach this time."

"What kind, if I'm allowed to ask?"

"Of course you're allowed to ask. You may feel like you're being punished, DeMatteo but you aren't.

"Mr. Jacob's friend has them or he knows where they are, according to Gregor's source. We're going to Ralph's house, pick up the source, and hopefully smoke them out of their hiding place."

"Wait, Gregor? May the Lord forgive us. So we're his personal taxi service now? How do we know his source is telling the truth, Daniel?"

"His interests are our interests, DeMatteo. This is a good lead."

"Nothing good will come of this. He's a criminal, Daniel. You just – not five seconds ago you told me this is an organization. You're right, it is. A righteous Brotherhood dedicated to do the work of God, not a criminal enterprise. Our interests are to save our people, mankind, from an evil that walks on this earth among us. Some evil doesn't always go bump in the night, Daniel. Gregor Domitrovich Jr. and his entire family is that kind of evil. Do not be mistaken, their interests are always their own!"

"Doesn't the Lord use the bad to teach the good, sometimes even help us, as is His way? The sooner we find these creatures, the sooner we rid ourselves of Mr. Domitrovich. Are you on board or not?"

"I am. But we need to be careful or this won't end well."

Marco's warning wouldn't leave Daniel's head, and was still ringing in his ears as his team approached Ralph's address. The house looked gloomy and dark even though the evening sun hadn't set. He studied the trees, through infrared glasses, looking for any signs of an ambush waiting to happen. Daniel saw there was nothing and was saddened. Maybe DeMatteo was right and the source was lying. If so he had a reason to end his arrangement with Domitrovich and go back to the old fashioned way he used to hunt vampires: skill, hard work, and patience. The Brotherhood had their own reliable sources and he would have the team shake some branches amongst their people.

The old ways are too slow and we only get a few of them at a time – we have to strike hard, he thought. A couple here, maybe five or six there, that wouldn't put fear in the black hearts of these beasts like his brethren of old had.

Daniel was a voracious student of the history of the Brotherhood Of The Sacred Seed. He knew its scandals and its triumphs. He read of the days when Covens were wiped out, causing great waves of membership for the churches in whatever township the scourge was erased. There was also the cessation of fear from the townsfolk who were free to walk where they wanted. It was the demons, the wicked succubi that were the prey when the Brotherhood was strong.

Lack of belief, Church scandal, budget cuts... The Brotherhood and the Church had become weak, concentrating on the frailties of humanity because no one wanted to continue to believe that the dead can come back to life! And they will feed on the living to sustain their life. The homage to God and the warriors He sent to protect humankind turned to glorification of the wicked that comes to feast on your soul – mankind wanted to become the beast. Daniel looked at Ralph's house with dismay.

Mankind helps the beast.

"And now it's become stronger and we must rid ourselves of it," he said aloud.

He ordered his team to get in position surrounding Ralph's home, unaware that Ralph had his own devices that were watching since Daniel and his team pulled up. Ralph put on his "good sweats", his game face and was ready for whatever the men in the black SUVs would try this time.

Daniel rang his doorbell.

"Mr. Makowski?" he asked.

"How do you know my name?" Ralph asked from behind the screen door. He made no effort to unlock it or let anyone in.

"Mr. Makowski, if I could come inside and talk, it is somewhat of an urgent matter."

"Talk outside. I know my rights and I don't have to let you in my house."

"Fair enough, I'm Brother Daniel Greeley. I'm an associate of your friend Mr. Jacobs, we kind of spoke – "

"And call off your dogs too. Otherwise I call the real cops to have them escorted off my property. The least you could've done was try to pass off a phony looking warrant, it would've showed you have imagination."

Daniel, frustrated by Ralph's arrogance, signaled his team off the property nonetheless. He was going to take a gamble using another approach, he could feel those vampires were special and he didn't want them to slip from his grasp.

"Have it your way, Ralph, how is this for imagination? You have two dead girls in your house but they're not entirely dead, are they?"

His statement took Ralph by surprise and it showed. He tried to cover it with a snort but it was too late, Daniel saw what he needed all over Ralph's beet red face.

"There's also a live girl and Gregor wants her back. We should discuss the particulars of that right now, don't you think?" he asked reaching for the knob of the screen door.

"If that crook wants to talk about anything with me, let him come down here and do it himself. It's like I told his girlfriend, she was never a hostage; she was free to go and she left. And I still don't see a warrant." Ralph slammed the door in Daniel's face.

He went back to his SUV smiling, the gambit had paid off. Daniel ordered his team to meet him two blocks away from Ralph's house, hoping they would be out of range of his sensors.

"Floyd," Daniel said, "you go back around to the subject's house on foot. Let me know the minute something changes or you see movement. Try not to look conspicuous! This might be our chance so get ready gentlemen."

Their chance was sooner than Daniel anticipated. Moments later Floyd reported Ralph was flying the coop.

"He looks real spooked," Floyd said as he watched Ralph jump in his Mustang and speed away.

Daniel commanded both of his teams get in motion, he had Ralph in his sights and he had no intention of losing him. "Fly you beautiful bird. Take me right to them."
CHAPTER TWENTY

Kaya stared at the same turkey and cheese sandwich for the second day in a row. With her heightened senses, she wondered why she could no longer smell the freshness of rye bread when she could see its pores. Never before had she noticed the crevices and valleys, which reminded her of a primordial landscape, accented by caraway seeds jutting out of the bread as if they were volcanoes, placed strategically forming some kind of bread-island within the gastronomic sea of tangy tastes she so desperately wanted to sample. Another day and she hadn't eaten. The inevitable was creeping in her mind even as she fought to silence the voice.

No more sandwiches.

She tried against the admonitions of Aisha, to have a simple slice of pizza and became violently ill, vomiting to the point of exhaustion. Later that evening Dorian visited Kaya in her apartment and advised to never eat "human" food again. Raw meat that she killed would suffice only because of the blood but a cooked steak would poison her. It was then she learned that her first years as a vampire would be hard, because of the difficulty to let go of what was – Kaya would never be able to eat the way she had again.

Many of the night dwellers felt Sun Touchers blessed, they could walk about the day. They could view oranges, yellows, and a blue you can only see in sunlight. They could talk to people and not be feared, their opinions would matter to those who could see the faces giving them. But those who dwell in the sun are pretenders. There are no friendly lunches and brunches. They could not enjoy the tastes of a fresh breakfast nor, depending on blood or proxy, could they stay in the sun as long as folklore would have many believe. And the pallor; it mattered not what nationality a person was because they all shared the same ashen look.

Like their night dwelling counterparts, they have The Thirst and are bound by it. Those who are affiliated with rich Houses or well to do covens didn't have to trick unsuspecting fools, who felt something wrong but journeyed on in the trap anyway. The rich, as they do in the "human" world, had access to abundant supplies of blood – animal and human. There were bars and private clubs that catered to the creatures who preferred to feel the puncture of flesh or taste the endorphins flood their senses as the blood flowed across lips like the sweet aromatic elixir of the Green Faerie. Blood is thicker than water and often the Sun Touchers joined their brothers and sisters in the night. No matter how hard they tried to blend in they could never entirely hide what they are and they could never hide The Thirst.

Kaya heard it growing in her ears and realized, to her dismay, she was tuning in to the collective heartbeat of the people in her bank. The rhythm was calling her as much as she tried to deny it. Kaya's mouth watered.

She blinked heavy eyelids, keeping as still as she could in her cubicle. The tremors were getting worse yet she still refused to drink the packet of blood Dorian gave to her after he handed her his list of "dos-and-don'ts".

"You'll hear this a lot from those of us who have been here longer," he said, "you don't want to temp The Thirst. Covens like ours, loyal witches, are a blessing from the Great Mother. We are lucky to have our blood supply. Attacking a human is never as glamorous as it's made to seem – once The Thirst overtakes you, you can't control who you kill – they don't tell you that. Many of us have stories."

Kaya figured she had a few more days before The Thirst would consume her and perhaps by then she would have built up the courage to drink the packet. She looked at the drawer in her desk that held the cooler with it in there and sighed. Because she had the esteem she did in the House, Dorian was ordered to give her human blood, she would have much rather preferred to start off with a cow's.

"At least it would be like I was drinking a steak or something," she said aloud to her desk. How many laws was she breaking with a bag of some guy's blood sitting in a drawer?

"And they want me to drink it or they tell me next time I come to work, I'll kill everyone that walks in here. Great," Kaya said.

Bill heard the mumbling in her cubicle and sidestepped the furrowing brow of Frank Spiros who was in with a client – a male client. He would be able to check on Kaya but not for very long.

Bill didn't like what he saw. For the time he'd known her, Kaya had never been a rotund person, but she wasn't someone who'd completely said "no" to a dessert or two, she had curves. The person sitting before him, hypnotized by a turkey and Swiss on rye, was close to gaunt, almost angular in appearance. Her skin was thin and drawn and her eyes had become the strange blue color he'd seen in the eyes the Royal Blood who turned her. Bill could see capillaries in her face and the tremors in her hands had increased from the day before. It was like she was playing an invisible piano and somewhere far off could hear her requiem. He noticed the spots on her desk and looked at her mouth, she'd been drooling.

"You OK, Kiddo?" he asked.

"Bad news Bill," she replied, him straining to hear her answer.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

She turned to look at Bill, which seemed to take forever. Her head moved slowly in his direction. He half expected to hear a loud creaking sound and a release of steam when she faced him.

"You have to record this, Record Keeper. I'm fired today, no more job."

"Who – did that bastard, Frank, do this? Because believe-you-me, we have a lot of dirt on him. You don't have to leave without a fight," he said.

"Nah, Bill. I'm firing myself. It's too dangerous for me to work here anymore. This thirsty thing they talk about, I can hear that shit, Bill. I can hear your pulse, everybody's pulse. I can feel – I feel their fear! I can smell it. People are afraid all the time coming in here, Bill. It's going to drive me nuts. And... And I'm afraid too."

"Of those vampire hunters? It's like Victor said, all you have to do is stick to a routine and they won't suspect a thing. You're a Sun-."

"Not that, Bill. I'm afraid I'm going to kill everybody in here."

Kaya turned and continued to stare at her uneaten sandwich. Bill had never wanted to cry as much as he did now. This person was a shell of his friend and he was struck by a horrible thought. Bill read about cases like Kaya's recorded in the history of their House. Some can't let go of the full life and breadth of humanity. Those who don't starve themselves and petrify going back to the ash and dust from whence they came. Many an odd looking statue would appear in even odder places crumbling at the slightest touch of the person who discovered it. Bill could not let that happen to Kaya.

"If you want to petrify you be my guest but you do it on your own time. My daughter and Aisha need you right now," he said.

Kaya turned and looked at Bill with a peculiar expression on her face.

"What the – what is 'petrify'?"

"It's when you turn yourself to a statue, you don't eat, because you want to kill yourself."

"Are you deaf or something? I said I was going to kill every-one-else-up-in-here, not myself. Who said I was killing me?" Kaya asked, still looking at Bill as if he was insane.

He chuckled more out of relief than anything funny. The situation was a serious one. Whether she was trying to petrify or not, she would if she didn't begin feeding.

"I know you're not a corny pep talk kind of gal, Kiddo. But you have to drink the blood they give you. Maybe you could pretend it's like those electrolyte drinks, like Gatorade or something. Or maybe it's jumbo-sized Capri Sun? But you have to drink it. For Aisha, you remember her, your fiancé?"

"What about Ish?"

"She saw the way you kissed that Royal Blood when she was doing that tongue thing to, you know, turning you into yah yah," Bill placed his index fingers near his lips where fangs would be if he had any. He made grunting sounds not wanting to utter the word "vampire" for fear someone would hear him and alert hunters; the paranoia in the House had taken hold of him too.

"She kissed me, man. Her lips were... Anyway, she kissed me, not the other way around. My Baby doesn't have a thing to worry about," Kaya said.

"If you'd drink your blood, you'd be blushing right now and you'd be in big trouble. Frank is starting to stare so I better leave your office. I suggest you get past this blood thing because you need it and Aisha already thinks she's losing you."

"She what?" but Bill was gone.

Petrify. Kaya opened the drawer in her desk and took out the cooler. She grabbed the packet of blood, placing it on her desk, and put the turkey sandwich in the cooler.

No more sandwiches.

She stared at the packet on her desk for a moment before taking it in her trembling hands.

"It's Gatorade. The thick, nasty, came-out-someone-else's-body kind and it's got electrolytes." Kaya drained the packet of all its contents in three gulps. The tremors stopped and she began to feel warmth in her extremities. It had done what it was supposed to with one side effect, she wanted more. There wasn't an overwhelming desire for it at the moment but she knew she would be drinking human blood again, which disturbed her. Kaya expected to be appalled, even ashamed of the act; she drank the very life elixir of her fellow human beings and liked the taste of it.

She remembered the one thing Dorian stressed during his conversation to enlighten her: Kaya was not a human being anymore. She shared the same physiology as humans, she even looked the same (almost) as she did when she was human herself but her appearance told her lies.

The things she'd held fast would slip through her fingers. As she began to live without aging, observing the growth or descent of her friends and family, as she noticed hypocrisies, as her tolerance for them began to wane, her philosophies would change. Dorian explained that it wasn't only the mental differences but the physical – the development of her telepathic abilities, her strength and speed.

"We are not immortals so don't listen to the yearlings who tell you otherwise. And we do age too, it just takes a lot longer before it's noticeable," he said. "And we can be killed as you've been made privy but we do have very long lifetimes. If you can live your lifetime and never kill a human, you'll be better for it. If you do kill one, everything changes. Your little threads of humanity are gone – instantly." Dorian apologized that he couldn't explain it any better than he had and added, "You'll become a predator and we are different from the others. But it isn't so terrible. Simply put, if you're a human asshole, you'll be the worst asshole as a vampire."

Kaya wondered if drinking that packet of blood was the beginning of the end. She looked at her hands, examining the boney protuberances she once called knuckles, the veins flowing beneath her skin, and the effortless way her fingernails grew like her own personal daggers. Did the rest of her look this eerie and thin? It didn't escape her that she had to purchase some better fitting pants and a jacket that didn't swallow her up the way her old one did. No one said a word about the stark changes to her features – it made her wonder if she really changed that much or if it was more of her wild imaginings.

She left her cubicle thinking there was only one way she could find out, she needed to see Aisha.

She walked in Frank's office where he'd since dismissed his client and said, "Frank, I'm taking a leave starting now."

"Sure, sure. I was going to suggest you go home anyway because you look kind of sick. Tell me you won't be out with the flu?" he replied.

"Not the flu, Frank."

Kaya walked back toward her cubicle out of the front door, she tossed her ID card over the wall where it landed safely on her desk. She walked past Bill flashing him the "peace" sign and said, "Deuces. I'll see you around the House."

Once outside she took in the afternoon sky and removed her jacket. It was hot, July hot, and things were about to be a lot hotter than the Julys of the past. This was a different time and she was a different person. Not so different, she thought, that she wouldn't at least celebrate The Fourth when it rolled around in a few days. She smiled. Maybe she wouldn't be the worst asshole.

Kaya headed for the subway, never seeing Bill's face as he watched her disappear in the crowd, never looking back to see the last of the building she worked in.

No more job.

*

Aisha didn't have to hear the apartment door close or the light footsteps in the hall to know Kaya was standing in the doorway of their bedroom. She was hunched over the bed, preparing her uniform for the drama that was sure to take place during the hospital's night shift, when she felt Kaya's eyes boring into her back. Aisha chose to ignore her and continue on as if Kaya wasn't there.

After ten minutes of complete silence, Aisha felt a breeze blow by her and turned around to see no one at all.

"You held out for a while but made you look though," Kaya said emerging from a corner in the bedroom.

"Funny, Kaya," she said. She sounded annoyed.

"If you knew I was here, why didn't you say something?"

"Why didn't you?"

Kaya tried to read her, looking deep in her eyes while Aisha returned her gaze. There was nothing, an abyss of unyielding blackness that she couldn't glean a single answer from, Kaya hit a formidable wall. She scanned her face for what to do next and settled on remaining at a stalemate. Kaya would be unable to joke her way out of this, Aisha was very upset and she was the reason, only she couldn't pin down what misdeed she'd done.

"And don't do that shit again," Aisha said resuming her uniform routine. "You try that with the wrong one, maybe even a more powerful witch than me and you'll have porridge for brains."

It occurred to Kaya that she'd stayed away from Aisha after she was turned.

In her imagination Kaya surmised Aisha must believe that she had become some kind of vampire snob, thinking nothing more of her than a subservient human, a loyal witch to do her bidding. Kaya couldn't find the right time or the right words to express to her that she stayed at the House because she felt it the best way to keep Aisha out of danger. She'd heard the stories about yearlings and then the L'Ordine della Vendetta di Sangue was here, active in the States, killing rogue vampires who, as it turned out, were mostly yearlings.

Kaya was a bundle of emotion, still toiling over her lunchtime blood drink, which she hadn't expelled as her logical side told her she would. It reinforced Kaya's conviction, everything would go, especially her restraint. She didn't want to think the thoughts that were nagging her but released them in one clear picture that shot across her mind's eye, where she could not escape it. Kaya would not catch her thirst in time and Aisha would be torn to pieces by her lover's hand, trying to slake the beast within. Kaya shuddered at the images that danced across her eyes, blood everywhere and the gurgles of Aisha's cries going unanswered as Kaya plunged her fangs deeper and deeper in her artery, silencing her for good.

She'd been so wrapped up in the horror that she hadn't felt Aisha standing beside her, gently caressing her cheek.

"I have to get used to this," she said softly.

"Used to what?" Kaya replied.

"You're cold. Your skin... I'm going to have to keep some things around to warm you up," she said walking out of the bedroom.

"I want you to be with me, Ish."

"Won't that be a problem for your new girlfriend?" she teased.

"She kissed me!"

"Oh really? When was this?"

"I don't want to argue with you, Ish. I want you to move out your apartment for good and stay here 'til we get married. Then I could get us a house on an island somewhere so we could live out the days we have together..." Kaya couldn't finish. It occurred to her in that moment that she would outlive Aisha. Of course there was always a 50/50 chance of that being the case, in any relationship. It was different for her because she knew it to be without doubt – Kaya would outlive Aisha by decades, even centuries.

Suddenly, to Kaya, her brand new, exciting condition with all its inexplicable nuances was a larger sacrifice than she had ever imagined. Part of her resigned to stumble in a pit of despair but a much larger portion of her psyche, the part that knew Aisha wouldn't have her moping around in a giant vat of pity, saw it best that she let be what needed to be.

"I quit my job," she said.

"Well," Aisha said smiling, "you lasted a lot longer than I thought you would."

"What do you –?"

"Some of the Sisters gave you until the end of the week; Jenna, she was the most kind thinking you'd probably last for about two. I gave you about half a day. All those people coming in and out of the bank and you being a martyr not wanting to drink blood – I really didn't think you would go to work today."

Kaya continued, "I want you to get all your witchy stuff and move it in here and I'll even clean out a closet for you..."

"Somehow, I feel a 'but' coming on, Kaya."

"Ish, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to come in one day and attack you like I'm some crackhead looking for drugs. I don't know what I'd do if I – I couldn't..."

Before she could control it, a loud laugh escaped from Aisha lips. Kaya, not expecting Aisha's reaction, was startled.

"So some chick bites you and you become a big ole punk? Baby, I'm a witch, in a vampire Coven, doesn't that count for something? They don't call me the 'Chief Witch' because I'm sexy. I can chant the chants and hold gatherings, plus I know my way around vamps – just a li'l bit," she said pinching her fingers together. "Li'l bit."

"Don't laugh, Aisha, I'm serious."

"And I'm very serious too, Boo-boo. I've been at this for a while as God is my witness and the Great Mother Lilith honors her Covenant.

"There's a balance to this, Kaya. Witches of a vampire Coven know what it is we deal with daily – the Children of the Damned. Our Great Mother rewards us with material things, which do have their place, but most important is the knowledge we need to assist those who, if not for restraint, would kill us too. We know about The Thirst and the powers many use to manipulate most just so they can quench it. Well, we have our tricks too, to bring y'all back down to earth and not get a witch's foot up your ass."

Aisha walked closer to Kaya, standing inches away from her.

"Now, as I was trying to tell you before," she said, "you don't invade someone's mind, you ease your way in. Subtlety is the name of the game. You try forcing your way in someone's business, you could end up crazy – they don't tell you that part in the fancy books, do they? Start with something simple like their name or the name of a child, or lover. Once you get it you are in and they will give you the rest."

Kaya was confused. She couldn't hear Aisha, her mouth was moving but there were no sounds, yet Kaya knew everything she said – she'd heard it in her mind. Aisha was telepathic like her benefactors!

"Yes, but it takes practice to actually use it. And some don't even know they have the ability. My Sisters are working on it and Jenna's the closest one," Kaya heard her say. Kaya continued to look astonished.

"I can do that thing like Hikpodu, where my lips don't move but I'm talking!"

"Yes," Aisha said aloud, "but there's no need to squish your face up like that, people will know you're talking to someone. You have to assume that everyone has telepathy and you don't want to give away the fact that you do too. It keeps you from getting picked out by the hunters because they look for stuff like that. They can tell when you're talking. Subtlety, Baby.

"Here," she handed Kaya a glass of the viscous green liquid most of the Covens kept on hand. "It's Absinthe. There's no replacement for the blood you need but wormwood seems to take the edge off. A lot of vamps drink it but not as often as they'd like. Now, the good stuff? We make it. That's right, real witches; that lightweight mess they sell in the liquor store is the government's answer to it being banned a while ago. Take it."

The sweet taste of licorice was familiar, minus the strong minty blast to the pallet, Absinthe tasted like Hikpodu's blood. It was no wonder to Kaya that the Elders were as protective of each other as they were those in their House – Royal Blood made a strong case for mutiny.

"You're supposed to savor it, Bay, not gulp it down like it's a shot," Aisha said watching Kaya polish off the last drop from her glass. She took the glass to refill it when Kaya reached out and grabbed her, planting a passionate kiss on her lips stopping everything around them.

"You taste like cinnamon," she said looking deep in her eyes.

"I taste like a lot of sweet things," Aisha replied.

Kaya pulled her closer, anxious to kiss her again and do much more. Her senses were on overdrive, mind racing, her entire body was on fire filled with longing for Aisha and nothing more.

"Not here," she thought she'd heard Aisha say from a place far away.

"Kaya, loosen your grip, I said. Not here."

She looked around as a person coming out of a fainting spell to find herself in the kitchen, Aisha's face stern but patient. Aisha extended her hand and led Kaya to the door of the room Kaya planned to convert to a home office. The door was closed with a clay SATOR Square hanging on it. Kaya never noticed the new decorative addition to the apartment nor did she have an idea what it was when she saw it. She only felt anxious and wanted to get away from it as fast as she could.

Aisha let go of her hand and opened the door. What should have been an empty space with one large three-legged desk Bill salvaged from a neighbor was a dimly lit room filled with all manifestation and color of candles and weird symbols. The desk was still there but it had been turned to an alter where red, pink, and white candles were being lit by Aisha. There were very large mason jars filled with what Kaya assumed was dirt. There were Canopic jars but she declined to venture a guess as to the contents. The walls had been freshly painted a lovely chocolate brown and there was a fluffy looking pallet on the floor covered with silk sheets.

"See, I already have some of my 'witchy' stuff here. You get Bill to come with you and y'all can help me move the rest."

"When did you find the time to do all this?" she asked stepping toward the room.

Kaya felt overwhelmed with anxiety. Everything in her cried out for her not to enter that room. She wanted to run away but her pride was stronger than the fear rising up the base of her spine, she didn't want to look weak in front of Aisha. Kaya began to talk to herself, almost curse herself for being afraid in her own apartment. She wanted Aisha, who was no more than ten feet away from her but could not move an inch toward the room Aisha made so inviting.

Aisha couldn't hear the war of words her love was having in her mind but her face told everything.

"As I said, Bay, I can handle vampires."

"Why can't I walk in a room in my own apartment?"

"Because I haven't invited you in here yet."

"How are you inviting me in a room I've already been in?"

"Because it isn't the same room. I made a little tweaks. So when you get on my nerves, I have someplace to go."

"Oh really?"

"Really. But you can come in here now. I really want you in here now."

Just as suddenly as it had come, her fear vanished and Kaya walked in what she would affectionately call Aisha's panic room. It was as comforting as it looked from the hallway. The smells were a blend of exotic spices, passion fruit, and cinnamon that stirred Kaya's senses. She could hear the light knocking of a small wind chime hanging in the shaded window, deciphering each tone made by hollow bamboo tubes. The small candle flames had more colors in them than she'd ever seen through her human eyes. Aisha's breath was soft but Kaya could hear it; she closed her own eyes inhaling and exhaling in time with her.

Aisha squeezed a concoction in her hands and began rubbing them together walking toward Kaya. She stopped, looking at her as if she'd walked out in public with raw egg all over her face.

"Baby, I know you're not just standing there looking at me? Say something."

"Huh? I was just... You're beautiful, Ish."

"Mm hm, off with your clothes then."

Kaya started for the watch she'd been given by Sama'EL.

"No, no. Not that. Don't ever take that off unless you're alone. Truly alone, Kaya, like on the toilet or something."

"What about in the shower?"

Aisha smiled, "I said alone, Baby. You might have some company in the shower."

"Why can't I take this off?"

"Is it uncomfortable?"

"No."

"Good. No more questions, now take off my clothes."

Aisha's blouse fell to the floor near the pallet, her bra followed close behind. She rubbed the clear coconut scented gel on Kaya's bare shoulders, throwing her shirt in the corner with the rest of their clothes.

The gel sent tingling sensations all over the surface of Kaya's skin, warming it to Aisha's touch and causing an orange glow to cast shadows across the lit room. Nothing permeated the dark shade where they were escaping into each other. Kaya kissed Aisha, paying special attention to her belly button as she held her breasts, obeying her every command, with the care of someone holding a delicate flower. Every touch sent waves of exquisite pleasure arcing back and forth between them, Aisha's unique witch's ointment warming parts of her body, soaking in her skin.

Kaya could hear her heartbeat, listening to it speed up with every pass of her hands across Aisha's erect nipples and every kiss of a nook, every pass of her tongue on areas she didn't know were as sensitive as they were. Wrapped around each other – human pretzels, so close to her veins, Kaya couldn't resist any longer and flipped Aisha over on her stomach. Her back was a road map of capillaries carrying precious, sweet cargo that Kaya wanted to sample.

Her fangs were out but not large and ferocious as she thought they would be; she struck Aisha just above her shoulder blade causing her to cry out. The yield looked a lot worse than it was and Kaya licked the bright red stream off of her back. Aisha moaned with pleasure. After a couple more love bites on her back and Aisha's potion having the desired pleasurable effects on Kaya, she turned her over and made her way below Aisha's belly button.

Kaya felt the sway of Aisha's hips, her legs pulling her closer. Kaya felt her arching back and heard every muscle sing its own song as Aisha's body wanted more and commanded Kaya to continue. In that moment, just before Aisha was to come crashing back down, Kaya heard the sound of one loud heartbeat ringing in her ears. She and Aisha had found the same incredible rhythm, they were one body and she was a witness to it all.

Kaya had a firm grasp on her hips responding to the moans she could hear over the furious thump of the heartbeat. Kaya felt shaking underneath her. Aisha's hand shot out and her fingers grabbed a handful of Kaya's hair. The vibrations weren't coming from outside. The tremors grew stronger like a small earthquake shaking the entire building; the orange glow surrounded them both. Aisha's eyes rolled, only the whites could be seen through barely opened eyelids, no sounds came out if her open mouth. Jars on the desk at the far end of the room exploded into a bunch of small pieces flying all over the room. Some of the shards fell on Kaya and Aisha like glass snow from the sky.

"I'm going to have to move those," Aisha said breathing heavy.

"Yeah, if that's going to happen every time," Kaya replied, lifting an exhausted arm pointing at the broken jars on the desk.

"Since we're laying ground rules, you can't be doing that biting thing all the time either. I don't need you messing up my skin. You can do that with your new girlfriend."

"C'mon, Ish. She's not my girlfriend," Kaya said annoyed. "Besides, I think her girl, Leigh, would have something to say about that."

"Leigh? Baby, Leigh's not – Azyra is Leigh's companion. She loves her, you can definitely tell that but Leigh's lonely. I guess when you live that long..."

Kaya wrapped her arm around Aisha's waist and snuggled closer to her back.

"Go ahead, Bay, finish your sentence," Kaya said.

Aisha couldn't. She only placed her hand on top of Kaya's, which was still wrapped around her and squeezed.

"Don't turn me, Kaya. I love you to death, I do, but I'm happy being a witch and I don't fear death. I'll stay with you as long as you'll have me, I'll even pick out a companion for you when I'm grey and wrinkles are all over my body but I don't want to be..."

"I get it. I didn't want to be either, Ish." She felt Aisha's body tense against hers.

She thinks I blame her.

"But I'm glad I'm here, alive," she said reassuring her. "Look, I'm going to get all this vamp business done, then you and me, we get away from here as fast as we can. Start enjoying life, every waking moment of it, even the arguments that we'll have – let's enjoy those too."

"OK, Bay. But see how you feel in a year," Aisha said turning to face Kaya.

Kaya sat up on the pallet looking down at her, worried.

"So what, you don't want to marry me now?"

"It's not that, Kaya. You need to be around them especially the older ones; they can teach you so much. You're lucky to be a part of a Coven, Bay – one of The Six. If you saw the reckless yearlings out there 'free' – they're murderous. A lot of them roam around sorrowful with so much baggage and guilt, they're aimless and then there are the ones who like killing, wasteful brutal killing. It doesn't matter to them that there's cloned blood, plasma substitutes, animal blood, crazy humans who volunteer to be... They only want what they have to kill for so of course, they're always fighting each other for power. You don't want to be with covens like that, Bay, walking around lost and happy because you can scare little kids.

"Just go, stay with the House for a year and I'll be here waiting for you. Then you can decide after that time if you still want to marry me."

Kaya sighed, "OK, it'll be like summer camp or college. And I am going to marry you so keep my ring – "

"Oh, I didn't say a damn thing about giving you my ring back, did I?"

"No Ma'am, you did not," Kaya smiled. "Check this out, I'll see you in six months. Most of the House is going to be at rest for six months after the eclipse happens anyway so I'll learn what I can when they wake up. But you teach me what you can while they're sleeping, Chief Witch. Fair enough?"

"I guess that can work," Aisha replied.

"One more important thing."

"Which is?"

"We have to move to the bedroom because I got shards sticking me in my ass."

Kaya got up from the pallet extending her hand to help Aisha. They walked across the floor; the jars' shrapnel spread further than either one of them thought. Upon closing the door Aisha said an incantation. She looked at Kaya, telling her she'd clean the mess tomorrow. Kaya pulled her closer, picked flecks of broken glass from her air and kissed her forehead.

"This isn't tough, Bay," she said. "We've been through some realer shit that had nothing to do with vampires. We got this one too, OK? I'm happy I'm alive, I'm happy I'm with you."

Aisha held her tighter, whispering, "I love you," in her ear. She wouldn't let her go, she didn't want Kaya to see the tears running down her face. She was also happy Kaya was alive but Aisha had been dreaming.

Since Kaya had been turned she had one recurring vivid dream. Aisha rationalized if Kaya stayed in the safety of the House whatever disaster she felt was on the horizon would pass without them. She was excited, proud she was the Chief Witch of her House as she counted the days, but Aisha wanted nothing more than for the Black Sun to come and go so she and Kaya could begin to reassemble some fraction of sanity back in their lives. She cursed her growing paranoia.

As she and Kaya headed to the bedroom she also cursed Kaya's lack of need to be confined like most yearlings. Kaya had no desire to sleep in a coffin; she only wanted a bed with her fiancé lying beside her. Aisha didn't want to lie beside her, she didn't want to risk the chance that she might call out in her sleep, waking Kaya and having to explain herself. Aisha said a silent prayer that her sleep would be restful without shouting fits.

She slept through the night, Kaya beside her as still as corpse, without screaming herself awake. And she did dream, the same horrible dream.

Darkness surrounded Aisha although she felt as if she were not alone in the dark. She saw a fist reach out of the black, Kaya's fist. She knew it was Kaya's because the watch given to her by Sama'EL adorned her wrist. Boney hands clawed at the closed fist and arm until it snatched the watch off of her. The area of the arm where the watch once was burst into flames – then came the skin crawling screams. The flames were bright but shed no light in the surrounding darkness. All Aisha could see was flesh falling from the burning arm and closed fist. She braced herself for what she knew was coming next, a high-pitched painful scream calling her to help. Aisha didn't know where to go, she couldn't see who needed her and she fell to her knees heartbroken and weeping. The final part of the dream was always the worst. The charred fist came closer to her face as she sobbed heaving cries of remorse for someone she didn't know and couldn't see. The fist opened.

In the middle of Kaya's unburned palm sat a shiny black marble.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Victor planned to meet with Ralph at the Mills Street Center for Men, the Balloon Man would be with him, and they'd all go to Ralph's for a good Fourth of July BBQ. Ralph, there since 9 o'clock, was picking up some top quality cuts of meat a few of the men at the Center were able to negotiate from the grocery store butcher and Victor could already taste Grammie's secret spices.

Victor felt festive, inviting some from the House to come join in on the celebrating. He was looking forward to showing off his pyrotechnic skills, though he couldn't assume all the credit for the idea, it was something the Record Keeper suggested – Bill is his name? Or was it Archie? None of it mattered to Victor, for the first time since he'd gotten in this occult mess he was happy and was looking forward to sharing his happiness.

Victor was also looking forward to seeing the Conductor; he hadn't seen Kaya since she'd been turned. He'd been frequenting his site doing what he could do to locate Azyra without tipping off the Brotherhood spies. He was aware of the dummy accounts they'd created to monitor his traffic.

As Victor scoured his page, his concern for Kaya grew. He read tales told by those claiming to be yearlings, who spoke of hallucinations, changing skin color, changing hair color, being able to shape shift into bats, uncontrollable blood lust, killing humans as an aphrodisiac or having no desire at all for human blood.

Some of the things he chalked off as complete fabrications but the blood lust was something he didn't take lightly. Kaya seemed like a nice enough person, she and her girlfriend, the witch, but what would happen if the Brotherhood caught Kaya?

His thoughts ran to Azyra. The Balloon Man said she would return once she got over her misunderstanding with Leigh. That would do her no good if she waltzed right in a Brotherhood trap! All of the ducking, hiding, and very careful planning would be for nothing. Victor allowed himself to imagine the sheer boredom, the agony the success of the Brotherhood would bring – he would be stuck with a bunch of human poseurs doing terrible things to themselves and each other in the name of what they think a vampire is.

"When they have the real thing amongst them and they do nothing to help protect them. All a bunch of pussies when it comes down to taking action," he said to himself.

However, his bitter thought of poseur apathy wasn't the reason for his anxiety. Elena called him. She was coming over and Victor was furious.

Of all the days it could have been, it was Canada Day when Ralph called Victor about Elena. He remembered that piece of info because Ralph made a point to comment on the Canadians having their day so close to the Fourth of July. Victor told Ralph he'd excuse it since some of his favorite hockey players are Canadian. He'd been wondering about Ralph's fascination with Canadian holidays when he interrupted his thought by announcing Elena was no longer there; she'd opted to go home. Ralph added that she might try and do a double-cross and come back to his house but she wasn't welcome.

"That will be up to Grammie, Ralphie. Not like you have too much say in the matter, it's her house and you know Elena will go over your head."

"Let her try! She's not staying here, you'll have to take her," Ralph replied.

"No way! You know that means Gregor at my door. He's afraid of you, remember? You're the one who made the tape, not me. He'll have no problem coming to my place to piss all over me!"

When Ralph had no further updates about Elena or said anything about her joining them for the holiday, Victor assumed she made it back to her family. The nagging sensation that clawed at him, wanting him to consider she may not be safe, Victor shoved deeper in his mind.

That was until he received a call from her yesterday evening: she was taking the train straight to him in the morning.

"You can't do that, I'm leaving to go to Ralph's. We've got some community work to do before – "

"Great! I'll come with you and help," she interrupted and hung up the phone before he had a chance to respond.

The nagging was gone and disgust came pouring in its place. Victor was fed up with Elena's foolish behavior and planned on teaching her a lesson. If she'd survived for two days after Ralph had given him the call, Elena would continue to survive since she, more than likely, had something valuable Gregor wanted. Victor tried not to let it weigh on his conscience that she would have to face Gregor alone, after all, she had no problem dealing with him in the past. These were different circumstances but he refused to have his plans altered because she decided she could show up whenever she had a whim to do so.

Ralph called him and Victor broke the news.

"I've got some important stuff to take care of. That'll give you time to tell her she can't come and don't cave, Victor!"

"Cave? What is this, 'cave'? I'm – she's not coming, I'm not changing my mind, Ralphie! She's not coming and she's not staying with me so get the room ready for her at your place," Victor said.

"Sure. She'll find a way to schmooze you then it's over for ya, pal. Ah screw it! You're going to cave. I'll talk to you later."

Ralph hung up and moments later, Elena was pressing Victor's buzzer to be let in.

He began to pace his apartment, a habit he noticed he'd developed recently and made a mental note to stop – as he continued to pace. Victor stopped in his tracks when he heard Elena banging on his door. Victor walked to the door and snatched it open causing Elena to nearly fall on her face.

"What's your problem, Loverboy? Not happy to see me?"

"Not really," he said frowning and he slammed his door closed. "Why did you come here? You were safe at Ralph's."

Elena gave Victor a sheepish look.

"It smells funny in there. You know, Ralph is the youngest out of all of us but he has the demeanor of a 70 year old man who doesn't eat enough fiber."

"Yet, there he was," said Victor, "saving your ass."

"He got us in this mess, Victor! Who told him to go off half-baked and bring in some goddamn assassins? Are you kidding? I would've talked to Gregor if Ralph wanted out. There would have been one last job to do and he could've had his sorry life with his grandmother – "

"But it wouldn't be one last thing, Elena. Guys like Gregor Domitrovich never want one last thing. They want everything and if you don't want to give it to them then they will dispose of you and find someone else who will get them what they want," Victor replied.

"You always stick up for Ralph, even when we were a team. If Ralph said something then it had to be right. When you left to go do your fetish website – don't give me that look, Vic, it's a fetish! You and a bunch of other losers get together to talk about drinking people's blood and staying in the dark all the time, what would you call it? You can't get it up during the day with the lights on, like us normal people? All that talent to make a site for some pathetic morons who talk to each other with fake pointy teeth in their mouth! And that poor sucker of a friend of yours gets involved; he probably went to your site to find the freaks that killed Gregor's men.

"Now I'm on the run from my own boyfriend!" Elena yelled.

"If he's really your boyfriend, you shouldn't be running from him. But that's your M.O. isn't it? Run away from him like you run away from everything else."

"What's that supposed to mean, Victor?"

"It means that you got me and Ralph in this because you were always competing with him in the crew. Oh look, you have boobs! You're a girl! You never got it did you? None of us cared! You're smart and you have something more than any of those guys, including Ralph have, you're a hustler! As long as you could hang with us, we didn't give a damn about your estrogen!

"We made some good money and got out before the government types started snooping around. That was because of you! Your instincts let me know the getting was good. Nobody wanted to see the crew disband but jail wasn't an option any of us wanted either. We were clean, Elena! Not too many can say that, much less say they are clean with something to show for it. But no, you had to be the friggin' boss, and drag Ralph in with you, straight to somebody like Gregor. You did that and you want to put this on Ralph? Don't bullshit Chief Shits With Bulls, OK?"

Victor's face was a bright shade of crimson as he jabbed his finger at Elena. Memories of her and the unceremonious exit she made from his life to be with Domitrovich came flooding back faster and stronger than he thought would happen. Once upon a time, he felt Elena was the perfect fit for his ideas, some of which they'd discussed on their more romantic nights. Although Victor never showed her, it hurt him when she made rude comments about his books and the website he'd built to promote them. Elena was supposed to be a part the small empire he'd built, she was supposed to be Enoch's queen.

"And if you think I was taking Ralph's side," Victor said standing inches away from her, "it was because you were always picking on him. Why'd you have to put him down all the time in front of the crew? That wasn't cool – ever!"

Elena walked away from Victor's accusing eyes. She scrapped her idea to seduce him, or at least give him the impression of seduction. The direct approach was going to have to suffice in this case, she'd burned her bridge with Ralph and she knew Gregor would not receive her without consequence, no matter how charming he made himself sound over the phone.

"We have a lot of memories, Vic, which I'm sure we'll see differently. You say potato... The fact of the matter is I need a safe place to crash so if you don't mind – "

"No. No way, Elena. You had a safe place to crash, at Ralph's. You left, he didn't throw you out and frankly, there's no way he could've. Do you know how long his grandmother has been taking care of boys? Nothing but boys! You're the first girl to come along and you think she would've thrown you out? No! Go back to Ralph's – "

"I can't!" Elena said with a mixed look of guilt and fear in her eyes.

"Why can't you go to Ralph's, Elena? What did you do?" he asked, recognizing her expression.

"He's safe. It just won't be safe for me – "

"WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"I called Gregor. But Victor, he put pressure on me! He thinks that I have the money, that I know where it is. But I don't, you know I don't. None of us do! He doesn't believe Ralph would've zapped so much money. And... I told him I was at Ralph's."

"YOU DID WHAT?" Victor began his frantic pacing again.

"Victor, it's OK. The goofball is safe. He was going to send someone to get me out of there. Damnit, Victor, you know he would have handed me right over to Gregor's goons! He has the assassins protecting him; what have I got?"

Victor shook his head trying to dislodge some magnificent idea that could remedy the mess he saw spiraling out of control. Nothing came.

"Why are you so blind?" he asked.

"What?"

"Why are you so blind, damnit? You were there, you saw those girls. They aren't some arbitrary assassins; you know what the hell they are! Ralph is a fucking sitting duck now!"

"Victor I don't know – "

Victor grabbed Elena by her arms squeezing them tight; he pulled her as close as he could.

"You know what you saw. They couldn't stay in Ralph's grandmother's fucking basement for eternity, Elena. They aren't there anymore because they had to go be among their own kind. So you basically sent your psychopath boyfriend to ambush Ralph."

"Shit..." Elena suddenly felt very ill and rushed to Victor's bathroom. He paced as he tried calling Ralph who, by this time, was not picking up his phone. He punched his QWERTY board, sending his friend an urgent text, warning him to stay away from his home. He called Ralph again – still no answer.

"Happy July 4th," Victor grumbled to himself. He thought of many large firecrackers he wouldn't mind fitting in the orifices of one Gregor Domitrovich and Elena too, as an honorable mention of course. He was working through the dilemma of lighting said firecrackers when Victor was struck with the urge to call Ralph's grandmother.

After four rings, Victor was elated to hear Grammie's voice cut through half of the fifth ring. All was safe for now, until Grammie informed him that the Church was outside of her house.

"The church? Like Jehovah's Witnesses?" he asked knowing in the pit of his stomach that wasn't what she meant.

"Noooo, Victor," she answered. He always thought it funny when she pronounced his name, "Week-tor", but he wasn't laughing when she spoke further. It was all he could do to prevent himself from fainting into a pile on the floor.

"They have black sue-it. You know Week-tor, Church. Ca-tho-lic Church. They drive big car, wait for Ralph then escort Ralph. Is good for my boy."

"No, Grammie, it's not good for your boy."

"Yes, Week-tor. Good for Ralph to go to Church," she replied.

Victor spoke with Grammie for another two minutes, the longest two minutes of his life.

"Elena! Come here!" he called.

"Don't worry, I didn't make a mess in your bathroom," she said.

"This is important. Who did you call before you called Domitrovich?"

"I didn't call anyone. I didn't even want to call Gregor."  
"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm su- wait, I called my mom but that's it."

"But your mom isn't Catholic."  
"Uhhh, no. Duh!"

"I can't see the connection. Why would they be waiting until now to start stalking Ralph? Why aren't they camped outside my door?" Victor mumbled.

"Do you want to clue me in here?"

"I don't know how, I didn't even think Gregor was allowed anywhere near a church, but your boyfriend might be connected to the Brotherhood Of The Sacred Seed."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding. The Brotherhood of what? Goodness, Victor, you think it was money that sent me to Gregor? No, it was this! You are not living in reality, this land of fantasy and comic books. Your new site, your stories, surprised the rest of the guys but I wasn't. I'd heard all this fantastic journey bullshit before and needed something more stable."

"First of all, you people really need to get it right, they are graphic novels. Second, you don't find it strange at all that the only people you said you spoke to is your mother and Gregor and suddenly, when I call Grammie, the Brotherhood is camped outside Ralph's door?"

"What's the Brotherhood, Victor?" Elena asked with a look of exhaustion on he face.

"It's an unofficial bunch of guys the Vatican knows about but will never go on record saying they do, who protect humankind against creatures of the night, primarily vampires."

Elena looked at Victor and rolled her eyes. She was disappointed that she walked into the same scene she'd thought she left years ago. Elena didn't know where she would go but she had to leave Victor – again – before she became as crazy as he seemed to be. For a moment, she'd almost entertained the idea that the freaks he'd found on the Internet were what he said they were and she knew then, she couldn't stay.

"I don't know why I came here," she said grabbing her bag and heading for the door.

"Me neither. And I see you have no problem doing your favorite dance, the 'Time To Go' boogie."

"And you need to grow up, Victor. You might drive yourself crazy with all this talk but you're not going to take me with you," Elena said and opened the door.

Standing before her, with a large grin and an even larger gun was Gregor – he brought company.

"Well hello, Gorgeous, is this where all my money is hiding?" he said lifting his foot, kicking Elena in the stomach. She went flying backward into Victor's apartment.

Victor started to rush to his bedroom; his gun was tucked away between his mattresses, but was deterred by the large men with their own weapons cocked walking toward him.

"You lied," Gregor said and closed Victor's door after the last large man walked through. "There I was, about to come rescue you from danger at the thief's house and I turn on this phone. You know what this phone is?" Gregor asked leaning over Elena. She'd vomited again, a small spot in the middle of Victor's floor, doubled over in pain clutching her stomach. Gregor brushed strands of hair out of her face with the barrel of his gun before he turned to Victor with a broad smile on his face.

"You geeks make some pretty amazing things," he said. "Take your thieving friend, Ralph for example. I had him come up with this GPS program that could track anyone through their phone, even if they turned the phone off. Now it was lucky for me that my loyal girlfriend over there gave me a call so I could upload the tracking software to her phone while she was filling my precious ears with lies. And even if she hadn't, I'd have to be a deaf idiot not to hear she was standing near a train station. People talk a lot louder in the background than you would think."

If only I were really Enoch, Victor thought to himself, I'd do what Azyra and Leigh did to the pricks he sent after Ralph. And for the finale, Victor thought, I'd put in a better security system since people keep walking in the building without buzzing!

Victor felt hopeless. Gregor brought his goons for emphasis – to make the point that he was going to get what he wanted. There was no helping Elena, Gregor was going to do very bad things to her. As for him, he'd be killed if didn't agree to work for Gregor again. Forget the millions Ralph erased with the stroke of a key, he'd be a slave for the Domitrovich family for as many Bentleys, tropical islands, beachfront properties, expensive art, gold, diamonds, silver and whatever else Gregor decided his geek squad could get him.

"What do you want, Gregor?" Victor asked.

Gregor strode over to Elena grabbing a tuft of her hair and dragging her to where Victor stood. He turned her head so she would see him.

"This guy! You should have convinced this guy to join me, instead of that cowardly thief!" Gregor released Elena and turned to Victor, "Sit down."

Victor went to his couch and sat in the far corner of it. He stuffed himself as tight as he could, when he remebered that he had another gun tucked away in the cushion. He had to be precise when he retrieved it or he would be dead.

Victor saw with great relief, Gregor paced as much as he did.

"The string bean is your friend, I take it? It's OK, we all have different kinds of friends," he began, his back turned to Victor. "And we have loyalties to our friends. Seeing how your friend stole from me and I can't get too close to his family – "

"Didn't stop you from sending the Brotherhood after them," Victor said. His fingers felt the familiar cold of gunmetal.

"That was for the best. His family was associating with some questionable types. Besides, he started it! Anyway, those church folks will clean out the unholy and your friend and his family will have a new beginning.

"Speaking of beginnings, I need one and I would like you to be a part of it, Victor. We'll start from scratch, erase all mistakes of the past and move forward. Your friend made me look real bad. Made me look like I couldn't run Domitrovich investments, if you know what I mean. My Mom goes to make a big-ticket purchase and gets turned away for insufficient funds. Do you know how embarrassed my Mom...? They all turn to me with that look like, 'This would never happen with your father!' But my father would never make as much money as I did in such a short period of time. Technology, you know, it's the future. They don't approve of it but they don't mind spending the money technology provides. Like, what is that, right?"

Gregor turned around to find Victor standing on very shaky legs with a Gloch aimed at his forehead. He put his hands above his head and cursed himself for bringing his father's morons with him.

"Oh my god, Victor what are you doing?" Elena asked looking shocked by him holding any sort of weapon, much less a gun.

"Shut up!"

"Whoa, he told your ass, huh?" Gregor said. "Well, Tough Guy, you're the geek you must know that three of my guys are more than one of you."

"Yeah and you know us geeks like theories. How's this for one: your three guys will be the only ones living because I will put a bullet in you before they kill me. If you don't want me to put it to the test then you will tell them all to get where I can see them!"

Gregor didn't want to underestimate any scared desperate man and waved his henchmen toward him so they were all visible. He hoped he would be able to talk Victor into joining with him; his admiration for the man became substantial when he pulled out the gun. Gregor saw Victor as someone who would take care of whatever business he had himself, one-on-one, unlike his friend, Ralph. He had no plans of forgiving the thief but if this man, a man who he was quite sure had never shot or killed anyone in his life, had the audacity to make his first shot someone like Gregor he would wipe Ralph's slate clean.

"You ever use that before, Victor?" Gregor asked.

"Don't try that psycho babble crap on me, man! This gun has bullets and I will use them.

"I'm not joining your little club. What you want there isn't enough of and that's going to get me in jail. And a piece of advice for you for free, it will get you killed! And I don't look forward to being kidnapped by your competition who will want me to do the same thing you want me to do, only they'll want even more! I have a life. It's not as flashy as yours but it's my life and I intend to keep it!"

Gregor's phone rang in his pocket; the special ringtone indicated it was his father.

"Can I get – Vic- I have to get this, one second? I promise hands go back in the air, OK?"

Victor was in the land of the surreal. He watched Gregor speak on the phone looking more dejected with each passing moment of the conversation. He kept his gun leveled at his head, slightly pivoting when Gregor moved but never faltering off its target.

Gregor ended his conversation, tucked his pistol in his belt and signaled the henchmen to join him.

"Sorry, Victor, gotta go. Great talking with you, um, we have to do this again sometime, without pistols, huh?" He glanced at a disheveled Elena; Victor still had the gun in his hand aimed at his face.

"What do want me to do with her?" Gregor asked pointing to Elena.

"Nothing. She was on her way out before you arrived."

"Whoa! What did you do to your friend Victor? Must've been more lies. She does that you know. Let her stay here for safekeeping, so I know where she is. See you around, Victor."

Only when Victor saw them get in the cars they'd parked across the street did he exhale and place the gun in his shaking hands on his coffee table. Victor sat still on his couch until he felt a hard slap on the back of his head. He hadn't realized Elena was still there.

"He fucking kicked me in my stomach and you were going to throw me on the street to him? Do you know what he would've done to me?"

"I wonder who he was talking to?"

"Go to Hell, Victor! Ralph got us in a mess and all you could do was think of is who Gregor was on the phone with and some damn Brotherhood?"

"Which you heard for yourself, your boyfriend says exists."

"Go to HELL!" she said swinging to connect with another slap. Victor dodged her fingers feeling the wind pass against his face. He was angry.

"How many times am I going to have to say this before you get it? You brought this to us – to MY DOOR! You did!"

Elena began to cry. She would never get Victor to understand...

"Mop it up, Elena, I mean it. My friend is out there with some shadier men than Gregor because they'd have to be if they're working with him. We need to come up with a strategy.

"If anything happens to Ralph, I swear, I will take you to Domitrovich and deliver you in a big red bow myself."

*

By the time Ralph received the text from his friend it was only a confirmation of what he'd known the day he left his house to look for (and warn) his "angels", the Brotherhood was out in force and they had their eyes and ears pointed in Ralph's direction.

Ralph avoided darting in and out of traffic, deciding to let whatever minions they had tailing him follow.

He'd always planned spending part of his Fourth with some of the Veterans at the Mills Street Center for Men before heading back home for a grand BBQ, Grammie style. It had been a while since Victor had joined him in celebrating with his grandmother and Ralph had been looking forward to setting up the fireworks for his block to enjoy. He and Victor were legends before they parted ways. Anticipating whispers were going back and forth among Ralph's neighbors who suspected they would have their very own Macy's fireworks show right outside their front porch – the boys were getting back together!

Then he'd do another show at the Coven.

Ralph prepared the rubs for the meat the men were going to BBQ, as his favorite resident of the Center chattered on and on about government conspiracies. Ralph was always his most attentive audience member but on this occasion he could see there was something weighing on his mind.

"Front and center, Private," he said to Ralph.

"Sorry, Wally – eh, Captain Darkhorse. I have to go soon, man. Will you finish up these steaks for me?"

"What's going on?"

"Someone's tailing me and I have to lose 'em to warn some people. I'll be back."

"SS? CIA?"

"Nope. Church."

"Heav-vy. OK, gotcha covered, Private. Remember how you duck those bastards?"

"Never let them see you in the first place."

"Right. Even a big twig like you can be camouflaged. Get in, get out, and before you know it you'll be back before they knew you left in the first place."

"Thanks Captain."

Ralph slipped past Daniel's SUV with help from the same men who'd helped Victor and the Balloon Man elude Marco's attempts days before.

Daniel had been watching Ralph's travels since he rushed from his house to come to the Center. So far his surveillance yielded nothing. Ralph drove his car the exact speed limit straight to the Mills Street Center for Men, parked in a private garage around the corner, was greeted by the staff, and stayed inside for a couple of hours before coming back outside. He hopped in his car and took off for home, where he stayed and Daniel's sting went dark. None of the instruments they had could listen in on any of Ralph's personal conversations nor could they get in any of his computers or servers. Infrared scanning of the house showed he was up in his attic and his grandmother was moving around all of the rest of the house; there was no sign of "the two" Marco encountered.

Now, back at the Center, it looked to Daniel as if the same routine would be repeated.

"But they have to be around here somewhere because you ran away, Mr. Makowski. Where were you running to?"

"Sir?" the driver of the SUV asked looking at Daniel through the review mirror.

"Brother Jeremiah," Daniel started, "how long do you suppose the object has been in that building?"

"I'd say about an hour, Sir. We've been parked here for at least that."

"Yes. It is time for me to visit those in need."

Daniel, already clad from head to toe in black raiment, placed a heavy looking 24karat gold Crucifix and chain around his neck. Carrying his Bible, Daniel started across the street to the Center.

Once inside, Daniel looked around the hall for Ralph but only saw a bunch of men setting up chairs, tables, and many patriotic decorations for what was going to be a wonderful feast. For a fleeting moment Daniel thought he might be wrong about the whole thing. He could hear Marco's objections echoing in his head, he shouldn't trust Gregor Domitrovich Jr. Ralph was here to help but Daniel came to judge based on the words of a man whose family is known to have a criminal empire. Ralph looked terrified when he rushed out of his house and Daniel thought there had to be something to that.

He decided to look for Ralph a few minutes more and if he couldn't find him, he'd drop this line of investigation. Daniel didn't figure he would find Ralph out in the hall hanging up Uncle Sam posters given what little talk he was able to get before his listening devices were rendered useless – his grandmother spent the night extolling the proper way to apply a rub.

Daniel needed to find the kitchen.

He called Marco. If he was going to scrap this mission, he didn't want teams in the city wasting time.

"I'm in the Center," he said. "I don't see the object right now but – "

"You're actually inside?" Marco asked.

"Yes. Is there a problem, DeMatteo?"

"Watch who you speak to. Those guys are pretty loyal to Victor which probably means they're going to be loyal to the object as well."

"Stand by, DeMatteo."

Daniel spotted a man carrying a large pot and followed him. He was feet away from the kitchen when Flavo stopped him in his tracks.

"You some kind of Father?" he asked crossing himself as he looked at Daniel's Bible.

"I am more of a Brother, Sir."

"Well a brotha would know ain't nobody allowed back there 'cept staff so you need to turn around."

"That is understandable. Tell me have you seen a rather tall gentleman around here, his name is Ralph? It's important we speak."

Flavo looked at Daniel suspiciously. Victor warned him about strange men who would come to the Center asking questions about him and Ralph. As far as Flavo was concerned Victor and Ralph were good young guys trying to get their lives together. They come to the Center and volunteer with the men. He'd never seen "brother" Daniel.

"What did you say you name was, Brotha?"

"Sorry for taking your time, Sir. May God be with you," answered Daniel and he spun on his heels heading back toward the hall.

Upon bursting through the doors he ran smack into a man who'd become an unofficial mascot at the Center. Rain or shine he was there, asking forgiveness of his sins and the sins of his brothers in arms. At first glance, Bert "The Mouth" Ryan seemed unassuming, like a modest accountant who prepared taxes in at a grey cubicle 24-7. However, according to his lengthy confessions (mostly to Ralph, who was the only one who would listen) he'd done some horrific things that resulted in a couple of massacres, the displacement of villagers, and several coups. He volunteered every chance he could, teaching the men basic math and reading skills to those interested because, according to one of his many purges, it helped him sleep at night. When Daniel came tumbling back in the hall, almost knocking Bert over, he was in one of his confessional moods. Seeing Daniel in his garb exacerbated the situation.

"Father, please Father. Let me speak with you."

"Confession is best done in a church, my Son. You should go there and many will help," Daniel replied making his way to the front door.

"But you're here right now, Father. Please. Couldn't I just talk to you for a minute?"

Daniel had a flash race through his mind and asked, "What can you tell me about my friend, Mr. Makowski, um...?"

"Bert. My name is Bert, Father. But I'm afraid I don't know a Mack – Mack-."

"Ralph. His first name is Ralph."

Bert gasped. "Ralph's with you? Oh, bless you, Father. I talk to him all of the time and to think, he was sent here by you and the Hand of God. But he's not here now, he probably went to the tombs."

"Tombs?"

"Yes. To spread the Gospel."

"Uh, where are these 'tombs', I'd like to go myself sometime."

"In the subway. There are bunches of people I help him feed down there. He starts at the – "

"MOUTH! Front and center," Captain Darkhorse said. He'd been watching Daniel speak to Bert when he began to have a funny feeling that Daniel wasn't who he looked like he should be. When he'd heard him mention Ralph's surname he knew Daniel was one of the Church people his friend had been so worried was following him.

"It's OK, Captain, he's a Father. He's going to hear my confession."

"We got plenty of guys that listen to you, now front and center!"

"Sorry, Father," and Bert scurried off toward the Captain.

"What outfit are you from – Father?" the Captain scowled.

Daniel felt he had as much information as he was going to get and hurried toward the front exit. Captain Darkhorse was a menacing looking man in his own rite, and he wanted no more parts of the Mills Street Center for Men

"I'm sorry for wasting your time, Gentlemen. Bless you and God be with you," he said as he raced out the door running to the waiting SUV.

He phoned Marco.

"This is something big," he said as excitement filled his voice, "He says he goes down to a part of the subway system they call the tombs, do you have any idea where that is?"

Marco once made the acquaintance of a witch hunter that told him about "ex-witches" who retired and chose to live deep in the tombs.

"No," Marco lied.

If asked why he did, he wouldn't be able to explain why. Part of him wanted to see Leigh, without the distraction of them trying to kill each other but that wasn't quite right either. Marco couldn't stop the nagging feeling that Leigh wasn't trying to kill him. In fact, he didn't think Joseph would have been killed either, had he not drawn his weapon. The prospect of having to reevaluate his doctrine wasn't as upsetting as he imagined it would be, especially since the collaboration of their strange bedfellow, Mr. Domitrovich Jr.

Marco needed to get to the tombs before Daniel or Gregor figured where they were. He had no idea what he was going to ask Leigh if he saw her but he knew he was not going to let Gregor Domitrovich Jr. and any of his ilk take her away. It didn't matter to him what kind of deals Gregor made with Daniel, he was not part of the Brotherhood and he had no right to be a part of Brotherhood business. He couldn't imagine what Ralph had done to cross Gregor to begin with but he wished Ralph never involved the vampires.

"Take your team and spread them out along Penn Station, 125th St., go as far as 149th St. too if you have any left. Let's stay on the west side for now and I want all suspicious behavior reported immediately, DeMatteo. All. And if you see the object you pursue but don't engage. And call me!" Daniel hung up.

"Curse you Ralph Makowski," Marco said throwing his cellular phone in the backseat of his car.

*

Ralph had a hunch and he decided he would play it: find the Balloon Man and he'll lead you to Azyra. As soon as he jumped off the abandoned platform, down to the vast stretch of track he saw Azyra. His hunch paid off. Ralph followed them up the tunnels to the Balloon Man's town.

"Oh, c'mon an' listen to the boy, Zeera," the Balloon Man said as they stood outside his home, a brand new duct tape reinforced cardboard refrigerator box. Victor made good on is promise to have the Balloon Man in a cozy apartment but it was no use. Whenever he had the chance, the Balloon Man came back to the tombs where he was mayor and the people were happy to see him.

"Yeah," Ralph continued. "You both are my angles. I know you can do your thing separately but you work together. Maybe you can be mad later? It'll be safer for you both to be in that House. I live out there – on Long Island, so does Grammie and you like Grammie. We could come visit..."

"How 'bout this, Zeera, I'll come with you. Hear 'em tell it, they got lots of rooms for us."

"It's true," Leigh said stepping out of the shadows, "and two have been naughty boys.

"I asked you, Antoine, and you looked me in my eye and lied, quite convincingly I might add. And you," she said turning to Ralph, "you've got the devils breathing down your neck, don't you?"

"I gave them a good run around. They'll be waiting at my house with their thumbs up their ass," Ralph replied.

"Your problem's with me," Azyra said. "I needed some time, asked them to cover for me and they did."

"Sorry we lied, Miss Leigh, but maybe you can get her to the House. Go on tell her they waitin' for her with all them rooms just for her," the Balloon Man said.

"Princ-," the name died in her throat. "There is room. But the most significant piece, the Brotherhood is unaware of its location.

"I know I will never be able to replace all the time I have taken from you. My reasons have been selfish since the very beginning. The Thirst overtook me and you were there, I was alone and you became my family, I was afraid to live in the day..." Leigh stopped and cleared her throat. She struggled to continue.

"They have property large enough for us not to see each other, if you wish it. But we have to leave here, it isn't safe anymore," she said.

"Besides, once the eclipse happens, Victor says you won't be able to go outside during the day for six whole months, so think of it as you got training in advance," Ralph added.

"Nice try, Ralph, but you'd make a horrible solicitor," Leigh said.

"We packin' up to go, ain't we Zeera?" the Balloon Man asked.

"Since y'all insisting on it, I'll have a look but it don't mean I'm staying," Azyra replied.

Ralph's startled gaze caused the group to turn. They all saw the familiar looking gun being held by Marco.

"No one goes anywhere or makes any fast movements, OK? This way nobody gets hurt," Marco said, gun trained on Leigh's head.

"You the one with the gun, Honey," Azyra answered, disgusted.

"How's your arm?" Leigh asked.

"I'm holding this gun pretty steady so what do you think ?"

"Pretty snazzy looking, high-tech cast you got there. Looks military, like what the Black-Ops guys get for fast healing to go back in the field. What's the Church doing with Smart Casts?" Ralph asked.

"Enough chatter, where are you guys going?" Marco asked.

They all gave Marco the same blank stare.

"Give me a break guys. I just heard you talking about leaving. Where are you going?"

"We were planning a trip to Disneyland," Ralph said. "My angels have never been and if you can believe this, neither has the old man here."

"Watch who you calling old now. But now that you mention it, I would like to see that ole rat Mickey," the Balloon Man said with a chuckle.

"Damnit, can't you see I'm trying to help?" Marco asked through clenched teeth. "There are going to be a lot more people and your old friend, Domitrovich, sent some of them, Smartass," he said looking at Ralph.

"Pardon if you ain't that convincing, Son. It's that gun you got aimed to blow the Lady's head off that's causing some doubt," the Balloon Man said.

Marco lowered his weapon just as one of his team members sidled up behind him with a larger gun aimed at Azyra.

"DO NOT MOVE, DEMONS! Fall to your knees with your hands in the air so you may be restrained. Failure to do this will result in instant termination!" he bellowed.

"Stand down, Brother. Everything is under control here," Marco said.

"Brother Marco, I can see them through the goggles. At least two have signatures and we can't tell if these others are possessed."

"Well, I can tell. I'm looking right at them, they're not posing a threat, and Brother Daniel said not engage so stand down."

The team member took several steps backward, his gun trained on Azyra. Marco stepped forward toward Leigh while his team member watched carefully ready to fire. "Keep everyone very still," he said to her under his breath, "these new guys are high-strung. I'm going to try and see what I can do to get you out of here." He turned to his team member raising his voice, "Yeah, you watch them closely, Brother. They won't try anything but just in case." Marco asked for forgiveness as reached for his Taser.

Just as he was going to make his move, a man from Daniel's team walked up the tracks to join them. Marco cursed to himself. They were going to have to be taken in now and he would have to find a way to get them out of Brotherhood Headquarters.

"Why aren't the demons restrained?" Daniel's team member asked with his most official posturing.

"All of them aren't demons and as you can see, no one is making a move to escape. We have this under control," Marco replied.

"Good. But if it's all the same, I'm going to restrain them, you go up there and help the Brothers round up people."

"Uh, who are you, Brother?" Marco asked. He could feel his face becoming flushed with anger.

"I'm with Team A."

"That's funny," Ralph said snickering, "you don't look like Mr. T."

"I know who you are, Brother DeMatteo," the blonde military looking man continued, pointing at Marco's cast, "There were some mistakes made the last time you were in a position like this. We're going to make sure we have no casualties. So, like I said you go up there and I'll take care of here." He turned to Azyra, "You first Afro-puff. Kneel and receive your restraints or be terminated."

"Hey! That's not happening! Team B was first on the scene. As you can see my friend and I have this. Second, those people up there are homeless and they mind their own business; they have nothing to do with what's going on right now. But if you're so concerned about them why don't you take your team up there and get them in some homeless shelters while we tend to the situation at hand. And just in case you're a moron, Brother Daniel specifically said not to engage, at least until he gets on the scene. Oh look, I don't see him, do you?"

"We'll see when he gets here," the military looking man said with hostility, "but like it or not, all of them are getting cuffs." He signaled for another of his team members to bring the special electromagnetic handcuffs.

"I'm going with them," the Balloon Man said pointing to Marco and his team member. "Way I figure it, they was here first, like he said, and they got manners."

"I agree. I'll go with the B-Team too," Ralph said as he folded his arms.

"Me too, Honey."

"And I don't think we should be cuffed," Leigh chimed in pointing to Marco, "they weren't going to cuff us."

"You don't have a say in the matter!" the military looking man exclaimed.

"Neither do you," replied Marco. "I'm taking my prisoners out of here right now and you can play with the rats if you want to. Brother," Marco said to his team member, "you're on point, cover me."

As they all walked past the military looking man, he called out, "You will stop! Now!"

Both the A and B teams, who'd been rounding up some of the citizens of the tombs, stopped when they saw Marco walking with a line of people behind him. One of the more "high-strung" Team A members slid his goggles over his face. He was able to make out which two were vampires and walked parallel to Marco's line.

He drew his gun, praying for a sure shot that would break the spell the vampire demons must have on his fellow Brother and the other two who would dare to help them.

The Balloon Man had been watching the young man and when he saw him draw his gun, he knew it was with the intent to fire – it would hit her. He pushed Azyra as hard as he could, shoving her into Ralph, and he cascaded like a giant domino on Leigh. They all watched the old man flail his arms as though he were holding giant rags washing a large window, while he screamed at the top of his lungs. Marco saw everything moving in slow motion. He moved his mouth but could not be sure if anything he shouted could be heard. There was a loud BOOM and he saw a misshapen silver pellet the size of a nickel exit the Balloon Man's back. The Balloon Man was lifted off of his feet and hurled backward to almost the exact spot he stood before he left the line. Pandemonium broke loose, people running in all directions screaming for their own life.

Azyra ran to the Balloon Man where he lay dying.

"You forgive me, Zeera, don'tcha? You forgive..." She listened to his last breath leave his body. The sound was a lazy summer day in her special field back home.

The Balloon Man died before he could hear her answer.

Azyra stood frozen in the chaos. Her best friend was dead and the Brotherhood soldiers were not – she would change that.

Suddenly, Azyra was grabbed from behind and thrown further up an unused tunnel where Ralph stood, glasses broken and dirty face smeared with tears; Leigh had delivered him there seconds before. Azyra turned to go back down the tunnel, toward the action, when Ralph placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't."

Azyra stayed and listened for Leigh to join them in their escape when she realized Leigh was sacrificing herself to the Brotherhood so she and Ralph could make it to the safety of the House.

Azyra stretched her sight down the tunnel and saw them shock Leigh into submission before they cuffed her unconscious body.

"There were others," she heard one of the men say to the man she assumed was Daniel.

Marco was furious.

"Let's get a perimeter so we can lock them down," Daniel ordered.

"These hot heads botched things up and they got away, Daniel! I had them all walking with me – no cuffs, no tricks! You put me on Team B and Team B had them walking of their own free will right to the wagon. Damnit, I could've had them march all the way to China – they were cooperating! Then numb nuts, here –!"

"Marco!"

"Not this time, Daniel! This is not on me! An old man is dead. An old human man, Daniel; where's the justification in that? We've got a bunch of hot heads that watch too many action movies and think that's the way we do things. And what of the rest of these people?" Marco pointed to the 20 residents who didn't get away during the mêlée.

"You know a cleaning must be done, DeMatteo. These people obviously assisted their dark agents, if they are not already possessed themselves," Daniel replied.

Marco stepped closer to Daniel, "And what if they aren't possessed? What if all we have are a bunch of discarded people who came down here to seek shelter from a world they think they don't belong to?"

"Places like these are equivalent to small towns, DeMatteo – everyone knows what goes on. I'm not convinced they didn't know what they were harboring in their filthy little utopia. We have to clean here."

"I'm taking her in. Your team screwed this up, let them do the cleaning."

"Marco, we did well here. She's an important one I can feel it. Don't worry yourself we'll take care of the cleaning and I'll be sure to deal with everyone you name in your report. Be happy, Brother, we've made tremendous progress."

"Have we, Daniel?"

Marco ran for the stairs that would take him out of the small, stifling tunnel.

Further up the line no one heard Ralph asking Azyra what she saw.

"Can you see if Leigh's alright?"

Azyra grunted a response and pointed Ralph in the opposite direction to a different set of stairs.

"What's going on now?" he asked her.

"They said something about cleaning up before they leave," she said, shoving Ralph up through a doorway.

Azyra urged Ralph to speed up their escape and they were well on their way before 20 gunshots echoed up the tunnel behind them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Gregor stood in shock while his father continued to speak. Two words, two words he never thought he would hear uttered from his father.

This is what I get for being nice, he thought to himself. He regretted not walking up to Ralph and putting a bullet in him. The Church wouldn't be involved, Ralph would never have expected it, and his family's reputation, his reputation, would have grown that much more. All Gregor needed to do was walk right up to Ralph's front porch and pull the trigger, of course he would have had to go inside and finish off Elena. He would leave his grandmother alone to grieve because if he touched the old lady, his father would kill him. Besides, he wasn't an animal.

Gregor looked at his father's face while he spoke to him. There was not an ounce of frivolity to be seen. He had the feeling this was under consideration for some time. Gregor wondered if the debacle with Ralph had been the last straw?

And how did a geek like Victor get the drop on him and three of his father's top bodyguards? Ralph had taken away the very thing he wanted most of all when he started working in the family business, respect. If a lowly freak, who Gregor vouched for, could get away with stealing 25 extra large, others would try to press the issue and test the Domitrovich strength.

He could see it, a big black railroad spike of a nail in the coffin, which had a special engraving with his father's two damning words: we're through.

"We have plenty of money, Son. It's time to get out while we can still enjoy the good times one has with his family."

"But... Pop, that guy, he stole from us. If it gets around... What about our reputation?" Gregor asked.

"Reputation is for those who have honor enough to respect it. Look what we're surrounded by, savages! They don't care about reputation they only care about the dollar and the body count. It's the video game generation, they have no fathers like you and I have to guide them."

"There you go with that 'video-game generation' stuff again. Technology made this family a lot of money – with hardly any blood on our hands. Not like your generation, Pop. You guys left them piled high in the streets. At least we don't have to get our hands dirty," Gregor said.

"Maybe you should get them a little dirty and you wouldn't have thieves in your ranks. The same technology that gave you the money, dirt free, took it all away, Son. And there was plenty of dirt to go around on that one."

Gregor stiffened, feeling shame and anger. His father validated all of his suspicions. The family business was being dissolved because of him. Gregor brought shame to the Domitrovich name and this was an attempt to leave before it became worse than it was. If the older Domitrovichs announced their retirement, they could disappear and become relics, reminders of a grand time that had since passed. But there would always be a lingering cloud for Gregor, the son who forced the Domitrovich Crime Family away to Florida or maybe they'd consider Arizona? Anywhere they wouldn't have a fast paced life that resembled New York, Gregor thought, his family was slinking away to bury their heads – all because of him.

As if his father could read his mind he said, "Our stepping away has nothing to do with that, Son. The business isn't what it used to be even Papa says so. Your ideas are fantastic, Gregor, and they worked because you're a very innovative boy. Your grandpa and I would never have taken the route you did and it would have taken years to make the investments you did. We even have legitimate businesses! We can retire with more than enough, legally, because of all the things you did with those computers."

"It wasn't enough, Pop! That bastard stole from me, he stole from us! I can't imagine how Mom must have felt when she went in that store. This would never have happened with you. Or Papa, they'd be afraid to think of stealing, much less do the actual deed. If we let that go people will think we've gone soft, that they can just step all over the Domitrovich name whenever they want!"

Gregor's father scoffed.

"Bah! Who? Who matters today, eh? Many want to be Mafia guys living off of their family names. The ones who can tell the tales were smart enough to get out a long time ago. What about wanna-be guys with the big gaudy chains? Do we need to matter to them? Black guys who steal Italian names and make no bones? Those guys couldn't hold onto a quarter of what we have because the minute they get it, they spend it on cheap diamonds and big fancy cars. Or maybe we need to matter to the House of the Flying Chopsticks? Heh? Those guys don't want anybody who's not a chink involved in the business! Or the drug dealing Columbians and Mexicans – I could go on forever about them! Animals all of them, Gregor!

"These people don't matter. Dollars and bodies, that's all that counts with them, not honor. And then this thief in our midst doesn't take his punishment like a man, he brings wickedness to our door..."

The old school superstitions had taken hold of his father and his grandfather too. They didn't think Gregor knew but he was well aware his grandfather consulted soothsayers, mystics, and those who call themselves conjurers. He knew of the ridiculous poultices kept in jars to draw out demons and the even more sublime, be they rocks, sticks, or cards, which his grandmother used to protect their house from "imps" and witches. At times Gregor felt he was stuck in a page ripped from the High School history books he infrequently opened, a lone man walking around mired in the ignorance of the Dark Ages.

Yes, he knew his father had apprehensions about continuing the business because of what Ralph did but the true reason for his absolute insistence, he feared, lie in the hands of a grizzled old stereotypical Gypsy woman named Myrna. The potential for hundreds of millions was washing away because an arthritic woman turned over a card with a pretty picture on it and said Domitrovich should retire. Gregor thought it quite unfair.

"What did Myrna say, Pop?" he asked irritated.

"Who?"  
"Who? That's your reply? I'm sorry, but I smell goats and menthol all over this. It's got to be Myrna. I'm old enough to know what's going on and I know Papa and Mamma talk to Myrna. I know all the crap she claims she can do. You guys are running because that dried up old bitch has everybody scared!"

"Junior..."

"C'mon, we're better than this. We took on some tough Italian families without flinching, the Russians were worse but none of them mess with Papa. His rep is that strong! What will it be if we back out now? You have to let me make this right, Pop. You have to."

Gregor Domitrovich Sr. looked in his son's imploring eyes and placed his hand on his shoulder. It was without doubt or condition that he loved him and needed to keep him safe. He'd grown to be an obstinate man, a formidable successor to the throne but he could not let Gregor assume the kingdom. Times had changed and the Senior Gregor needed to make that clear to his son, even if it meant stepping on his enormous Domitrovich pride.

"Listen to me, Junior," he began, "do you know how Papa was able to best his foes? He listened to good advice when given. Sometimes it was his own father; sometimes his mother, he'd ask a priest, and on some occasions, Myrna. He listened to them all. And you kids today, you like to poke fun at people who are different, who're gifted, well Myrna, she saved this family many times.

"So when my son says, 'hear me' and Myrna says it, I will hear my son but I will listen to Myrna. And don't look so down, I knew that skinny boy was getting squeamish enough to try something foolish, Gregor. Yes, I knew because you drove him too hard and because Myrna warned us about your drive. That is why the loss was more of a loss of pride than money.

"Myrna told us something, Son. This skinny kid, Ralph? He's tapped into an evil he doesn't even realize and he's started a chain of events that could destroy our family. You can't deny what you saw with those – those 'girls', whether you call us superstitious or not. I told you, people have no honor in this anymore, they don't settle their debts man-to-man; they create a debt and expect you to pay it off! Your friend went insane in our house, Junior. I do not want to see that for you – Papa doesn't want that for you. Son, you have to let this go. Nothing is worth your sanity."

Gregor wrestled with the idea of letting sleeping dogs lay. His father's point about the amount of wealth they still had was a valid one. Start from scratch, get a broker do some legal investing, wash his filthy riches clean and walk around town with upstanding snobs.

The thought mortified him.

Unless they moved to Miami – city lights, beaches, bikinis, sun and he could open up a fantastic nightclub. One could never have enough nightclubs, Gregor imagined, as the thought of retirement started to appeal to him.

As much as Gregor tried, whenever he thought of Ralph, he could only see someone getting away with murder. Gregor wished Ralph were a fearsome gangster tycoon, it would be better settled in his mind; he was bested by one of his peers. But Ralph was a gangly nerd that found two badass women who frightened the crap out of his father and grandfather. How could his father stand before him, look him in his eyes and ask him to let a spindly half of man run him out of town without so much as a peep?

"Pop, I can't just pick up and leave, I have to tie up some things. And I'm not going unless I get a say in where we go. And I say we go to Miami."

Domitrovich Sr. was elated to hear his son begin to see the right way. He felt in due time, Gregor Jr. would realize that retirement was for the best. A new life with endless possibilities awaited his family. He was delighted his son would be a part of their frontier.

Domitrovich Sr. wanted to clean up his son's loose ends himself but decided against it. He was well aware Gregor blamed himself for the family's situation and didn't want to feed this feeling by demoralizing him further.

"Son, you will see, this is the best way. Miami? Well, I'll let your grandfather talk everybody into that one. If I bring it up the women will think I want to look at all the bikinis!" he said chuckling.

"Yeah, let Papa do that. I will be there seconding the motion so don't let me miss that meeting," he said laughing with his father.

Domitrovich Sr. gave his son a warm embrace. When he was done he looked at Gregor.

"I know you're upset now but this is for the best, you'll see."

"OK, Pop. Don't start with the waterworks, I got it. Like I said, I have to take care of some easy stuff and then it's Miami fun and sun."

Gregor cast his die. Ralph had to pay for what he'd done. It was no longer about the money but the honor of his family's reputation. People died because of him; his own hand dealt with his best friend. Blood was shed because of Ralph and he couldn't rest nor could he hold his head high if he walked away from it all leaving him unscathed.

His pride would not let him.

Ralph must be punished.

*

Frederick's hands were shaking with anticipation. Ramel thought he'd been starving himself again and he had no problem letting the ruse play out. Ramel was less apt to bother him when he thought Frederick was starving. Frederick was happy with that; he was able to think in peace and he had much to think about.

Ramel was almost successful in talking Frederick out of a sound plan, pointing out that he was his emissary and the witches would not be so obliged to make his acquaintance. The more Ramel spoke the more Frederick saw the danger of surrendering himself to the House of Hikpodu, especially if his adversary, Hotep, had any say there at all. It was Ramel who suggested to get in by way of the witches and Frederick had to admit it was worth a shot.

The witches, as he'd learned during his long life were loyal to their masters and, for the most part, fair minded people. It surprised him when Ramel suggested that Frederick appeal to the Chief Witch and her love for her girlfriend.

"If we emphasize the danger that's ahead, she's bound to think things over," he'd said. It was an angle that he didn't mind taking since it didn't involve killing anyone else. If worse came to worse, he could throw himself at her mercy and give up Ramel. Once he crossed the threshold, Frederick did not care what they did with his failed protégé.

He'd become more of a liability than he was worth and Frederick had only one goal now, to lay eyes on Sankofa. Frederick's life after that was of no consequence to him; Hotep would be exposed and Frederick would have the opportunity to dispel whatever lies he'd placed in her head.

Because she had to be under a spell in order to have married the beast that turned her into the creature they roamed Earth as today.

Frederick counted himself lucky to have seen the advances people in his time could never have dreamed. It only filled him with anger and despair. In his heart he felt he could've lived a good life with Sankofa, the kitchen girl he loved with everything good that was in him. The world was against them but they would have each other – and maybe children...

The thought of him having sons and daughters with Sankofa and his children having children, with a family line stretching long enough to reach this amazing day he existed in, a time when they can live and be who they are with the determination of their progenitors coursing through their veins, sent a stream of bile in his mouth that was all too familiar. Frederick swallowed it down, along with the lump in his throat, before his hatred overtook him.

Frederick needed to know why Sankofa chose to be with Hotep after all he'd done to destroy their lives. He considered that perhaps she didn't think they'd make it. As hard as he tried to push such a thought out of his mind, it held fast. Sankofa could have simply realized it would be much easier to live as a Black woman with a Black husband than live as a Black mistress.

"But why hide her when he knows for certain that I am alive?" he asked himself aloud.

Frederick wouldn't speculate another second, he was going to appeal to Aisha and what would be, would be.

"Mr. Jackson, you are finally showing a modicum of brilliance and you chose to negate it, why?" Frederick asked when Ramel insisted on a different course of action.

"I'm saying, Freddy boy, you know and I know that witch don't like me," Ramel replied.

"This was entirely your proposal."

"Yeah, now I'm unproposing it."

"I am going to seek her out with or without you, Mr. Jackson. I will speak to her."

"When you put it like that, it'll work," Ramel said, still nervous. Frederick was right, this was a good idea because Frederick was willing to give himself up. It would be a fair exchange.

"It would've," Ramel said aloud.

"What 'would've', Mr. Jackson?" Frederick asked.

"Nothing. Look, I'm going to get changed. I have to get my mind right."

"This will be the fourth time you have changed your attire and we have not stepped a foot outside of this box," Frederick noted.

"I need to get right. We can go soon as I'm done."

Ramel went to his room wringing his hands. Stupid ass Mike, messed up a brilliant scheme. Ramel would be a hero bringing in the vampire who killed one of their leaders – they would have to show their gratitude somehow.

Now, thanks to Mike, Ramel might be walking in a death trap. He killed Kaya and no one would know that he never told Mike to do it. They'd only see Ramel as a friend of his and his association with Mike would assume his guilt. How could he negotiate that?

The only silver lining was Frederick; his would be the face they saw. But what if he turns against me too, Ramel thought.

"I promised him no more killing, that we'd talk it all out. Damnit, Mike!" If Frederick pulled a miracle from somewhere on high and survived imminent death at the hands of those seeking retribution, his first task would be to execute Ramel for breaking his promise. He needed back up; something he could use to connect the whole fiasco to Mike, as it should be.

Frederick would be angry walking in a place blind of all the facts but if he knew that Kaya was dead, and a member of his crew was responsible, he wouldn't go to the meeting at all.

Ramel had been counting the days since he discovered the date of the Black Sun and there were only six left. His redemption was in Kaya's death – there could be no arguing that they were in need of a Conductor. And Ramel knew, no matter vampire or witch or human being, everyone was bent on survival. If a total solar eclipse, something he and many others took for granted, stood to wipe out their entire race he was sure that rules would be bent if not broken. Feelings would be bruised but the ceremony would continue. As much as they might want to kill him, in the end, they would have to be grateful for the very lives his actions would save.

"I'll wear all black," he said. He strode to his dresser and opened his shirt drawer for a fitted black shirt that made his figure look sleek. He might as well look the part, blend in with his new Coven of sharp dressed Gothic looking creatures. They all didn't look dark, but those he could see, did. And there was something much important that he took note of: they looked mysterious.

When he lifted the shirt out drawer he spotted Mike's gun. He gripped the gun in his hand feeling a jolt of power surge through his arm.

"So this is the weapon that dropped the mighty Kaya?" he said examining it. "I told that bitch," he whispered to it, "that it was my job. I told all of them. They picked me, personally; did you know that? Then this bitch wants to cry to her girlfriend to get her in, and that ex-pig. Well who's laughing now?"

Ramel finished dressing and tucked the gun in the small of his back before putting on a black blazer.

"Don't worry, Cousin," he said looking in the mirror, "when this is all over, I'll get at Freddy boy for your death. Why should the vamps have all the fun with him?" Satisfied with his appearance he walked to the room where an impatient Frederick waited.

"Let's go," Ramel said.

The gun made a slight movement with each step Ramel took but was unnoticeable – except to him. When it touched his back it sent a surge of power throughout his body. He felt like a man that had taken Excalibur from its rock much to the chagrin of King Arthur. Ramel was the chosen one.

Frederick's thoughts were only of how much closer he was coming to the end of his journey and the light that he hoped would shine on him – Sankofa.

He walked with Ramel and felt an uneasy yet familiar presence. Hotep...

He intended to trap them both. He'd save Mike for later and bring him to the House alive where he was certain Kaya would want to have a very "intimate" conversation. Frederick was a different matter.

Hotep traveled there everyday waiting for a glimpse, all the time that he needed – one last glimpse, but never saw either of them, until his old friend Chester showed up. On this visit he saw Chester had no problems with the doorman and was able to walk right in the front door.

An hour later, Chester walked into the smiling face (and wad of cash) of his friend Hotep. He was unable to keep the secret he'd been sworn not to tell, Ramel's new travel pattern. He'd convinced Frederick that developing a routine would only serve to invite danger in for a closer look. Chester rattled on to Hotep about his concerns for Ramel's new found paranoia and wondered if the money was worth his sanity. He continued on about the scarcity of his friend, Mike, until he finally gave him a jewel of information: they had a meeting with Kaya's girlfriend to negotiate a job for Ramel.

Hotep made sure he would attend that meeting.

Frederick never saw Hotep as he and Ramel headed for the train that would take them to Aisha's Brooklyn apartment. He didn't feel Hotep board the same train two cars away from them and he didn't see him watching their light banter while the train sped them to their destination.

None of the men were aware of what good fortune it was that Aisha was at her apartment. She'd been making it a habit to be with Kaya and wasn't home as much as she used to be. Aisha moved most of her clothing when Kaya got the job at the bank and subsequently, the new apartment, but she kept her "witchy stuff" in her own place, sleeping there when she felt the need to. Since Kaya's change, Aisha frequented her own apartment but decided she needed to be near her fiancé now more than ever. Kaya had no objections.

Aisha spoke to Bill and he agreed that Jenna, Kaya, and he should help her move the rest of her "witchy stuff".

Aisha looked around at the half packed boxes, the strange jars, bowls, masks and other items without names and nodded. It was time for her to go and she wouldn't miss the place one bit. She had wonderful memories but it was time for her to make better ones with Kaya.

She heard her bell and without a second thought, assuming Kaya had come early at Jenna's prodding, pressed the button opening the door for Frederick and Ramel.

Ramel followed Frederick who seemed to know which floor and what apartment belonged to the Chief Witch. It wasn't something he could explain nor did he want to. His path crossed with Aisha's somewhere in the spiritual realm, and they alone would share that. Frederick had come to make his confession.

Ramel had no idea Aisha's door was unlocked and pounded like a desperate man trying to get in. Frederick frozen in one spot, couldn't enter. When he heard her coming toward the door Ramel ducked away in the vestibule leading to the Fire Exit.

Aisha opened the door wide and was startled to see Frederick staring at her. She was pleased she wasn't terrified as she had been when he'd appear in her dreams. Upon closer look, he seemed like a scared and sad young boy whose eyes were filled with sorrow.

"So, you're here," Aisha said.

"Yes, Ma'am. I am here," he replied.

"Can't come in, huh?"

"No. Doesn't seem that way," he said flashing a faint smile.

She smiled back.

"You're not going to use your special charm, try and coax me into letting you come through?"

"I could if I knew it would work. Will it work?"

"Probably not."

"Could I press you to invite me in of your own free will?"

"Do you know how to pack?"

"Pack?"

"I'll show you some stuff and you carefully put them in boxes. And don't touch anything I don't tell you to touch."

"Pack. Well, yes Ma'am. I can do that."

"Come on in then."

Relieved to be free of the weight of anxiety that threatened to drive Frederick insane, he entered her apartment and set to work. He wrapped bowls and jars in paper and bubble wrap for 10 minutes before Aisha uttered another word to him.

"You are the only man that me and my girl dream about. What is your name, Mr. Nightmare?"

"Frederick Duncleif Duval, Miss Aisha."

"You reading me?"

"No. You've met my constituent and he has spoken your name. You have been a part of my dreams as well, although I would not call them nightmares."

"Then I don't want to know anything about them. I don't get down like that."

"Oh, they aren't that kind – they..." Frederick found himself blushing.

"Will you look at that? I've embarrassed a vampire. And not just any old but the one who has everyone in chaos days before the Black Sun, the one who has the Brotherhood on our asses hurting our friends; the one who brought us Ramel Jackson."

"I... I will not take credit for the Brotherhood, Miss Aisha. You know they always hunt, especially around this time. The chaos, that is indeed something that can be set at my feet – at least some of it can."

"Ramel Jackson?"

"Ah, yes... That was a mistake."

"What kind of dreams are you having about me, Pretty Boy?"

"I have come to confess my sins and throw myself at your mercy."

"What if I don't have any more mercy, Frederick Duval?"

"I... Please, listen to me. I did not care a whip about the fate of your people; they epitomize evil that needs to be destroyed as far as I am concerned. But I have been made aware that someone I love dearly is going to perish because of my actions and I have come to make it right."

"How can you make it right when you can't accept that you are one of my evil people? I've seen vamps close to being petrified. They look skinny, wasted and you don't look like you've lost many meals. You're a blood drinker Frederick Duncleif Duval and like it or not, you're down with that evil."

"That is true but we were not supposed to be this way. Nevertheless, I want to help to save my love, I have to save her. And if I have had any real grasp of what I saw, your Coven is in danger. You all were on the brink before I did the stupid things that led to this mess.

"When I ingratiated myself in the House of Ayalu she had a warlock who was powerful, Miss Aisha. I was focused on what I felt to be my life's mission. I... I could have helped foil some of the wicked deeds I know he has on the horizon, but I didn't. He's called 'Jessie'. Of course, his actual name – "

"Who's 'we'?" Aisha asked interrupting Frederick.

"Pardon, Ma'am?"

"You said that 'we were not supposed to be', you know, like vamps. You and who else?"

"Sankofa. Is it true, is she still alive?" Frederick asked almost trembling.

"Queen Sankofa? Hotep's wife?" Aisha asked.

"I will surrender myself to you, Miss Aisha. I know you will not let me leave here, it is your duty to take me to your Coven for judgment but that hypocrite, that treacherous vile thing will not judge me!"

"Hotep?"

"He was 'Hep' when I knew him and a slave of my father's friend. I will not lie to you, good lady, I am familiar with plantation life and slaves; I was cursed to fall in love with one. A most lovely woman – I was going to marry her – I did not know how but I would have, and the traitor came and took her away from me. He damned her to this immortal existence rather than let me love her for the finite time we had as the flawed creatures we were.

"I thought she died in the fire... I will go with you and let you issue whatever manner of punishment you see fit, but NOT HIM!"

Aisha was dumbstruck. Her guilty pleasure unfolded before her eyes and she was about to take part in it – a romance. She became giddy when she realized this was a grand romance that spanned a century. Frederick's fury caused a major inconvenience and it was almost a given that the Elders would sentence him to death for the execution of their sister but what a love story! It was like one of the many novels she'd packed before Kaya arrived – Kaya was a romantic, deep down, but had no use for Aisha's "silly story books".

"I always thought she had sad eyes too. I mean, Hotep wasn't nasty or violent toward her. But it always felt like she was in a different place. No wonder why they never discussed her origins..."

Frederick was elated. If only for a moment, he would break the spell and set them both free of the iniquity Hotep enveloped them in.

"OK, this is what's going to happen. I'm going to trust I won't have to bind you to stay here and leave you in the apartment, which will probably be close to empty. Then when I get back to the House, I'll talk to Queen Sankofa and bring her back here to see you. But after that, you'll have to come with me and the Elders will decide what to do with you."

"You are an angel sent from the heavens, Miss Aisha! I know they will kill me; I've made my peace with it. But I'll help you in any way I can before they do, Ma'am, I swear to it. I will tell you all that I know so you can use it to keep yours safe – and Sankofa. Please keep my dear Sankofa out of harm's way." Frederick embraced her, holding her tight as if to let her go would make everything crumble away into dust of his most melancholy dreams. After all this time he would finally be able to lay his heavy burden to rest.

He never saw Hotep slip through a window he'd been invited in many times for consultation of his Chief Witch, he never saw the hateful snarl that curled Hotep's lips as he watched him holding Aisha in his arms. Frederick only felt the powerful hand on his shoulder, ripping them apart.

"Again, I find you pouring your putrid lies in the mind of a woman far above your station! What's the matter with you, boy, that you can't leave us po' niggras alone?" he scowled.

Frederick was livid, "She loved me! That was your only problem. Not some self-righteous quest to free your people! You could not be settled with her true happiness because it would have been with me and not you!"

They rushed at each other, knocking over boxes and breaking some unpacked bowls and plates. Hotep pinned a squirming Frederick to the floor while Frederick clawed at his arms, with his free hand, tearing through his jacket leaving deep gashes in his flesh.

"He displays his guilt! He is a traitor as I've said," Frederick protested.

Hotep raised his large fist, ready to strike, when he found he could not move his arm. He looked at Frederick beneath him, seeing he no longer squirmed, he knew what had been done. Aisha was indeed a powerful witch and bound them both.

"Change of plans," she said, "I'm going to wait until Kaya gets here with everybody. Then, since I know you two won't play nice, Jenna's going to stay here because she's turning out to be real good with her spells and she's going to keep this one going until I get back. When I get back I'm bringing Sankofa and for you, Lord Hotep, since can't nobody really mess with your strong ass I'm going to ask my Boo to tell our Elder to come join this party. Two things I know about that, he's coming because likes my woman and you ain't about to win a fight against Hikpodu!"

Hotep's voice filled Aisha's senses.

"You are making a mistake, Chief Witch," he said telepathically. Neither he nor Frederick could move a muscle.

"OK, you have to pull back a little. I'm not deaf. And if I am wrong, Lord Hotep, you can do whatever you think is necessary because of my insubordination. But," she said leaning close to his frozen face, "you've been acting weird and everybody in the House says so. We all thought it was because the Black Sun is so close but now, I'm not so sure."

Aisha clapped her hands and split the two apart. They now stood as upright and stiff as statues on opposite sides of her room. She reached in a jar and made a circle of salt around each of them, chanting while she spilled the crystal granules to the floor.

"This way you don't try any tricks with Jenna while I'm gone."

"Yes, Miss Aisha," Frederick's voice filling her head replied, "stick to your merit. I have no more to hide I will – "

"You hush too, Frederick Duncleif Duval. And I expect you to tell me everything about this danger you said is coming, and this 'Jessie' person. Don't think for a minute I wasn't paying attention."

Ramel was listening to the exchange as best he could in the vestibule. He heard no mention of him being reconsidered as their Conductor. He had, however, heard Hotep's name mentioned and Sankofa's and concluded Freddy boy was going to pull a switch on him! Frederick would get in their good graces and turn Ramel over to them before he'd had a chance to rat Frederick out for what he was – the killer of an Elder. It was classic, like he'd been planning this all along and Ramel walked headfirst right into the trap.

He supposed he should be angry but part of him believed Frederick didn't have the cunning to pull the switch. How could he give them Ramel without incriminating himself? Frederick wanted to live and see his long lost Sankofa, didn't he?

Ramel's confidence diminished when he heard, Hotep's voice coming from inside Aisha's apartment. When had he gotten there? Hotep must have been hidden the whole time. They were going to use him to capture me, he thought. Ramel was more despondent when he heard voices echoing up the stairwell behind him. There was a particular voice, a familiar voice...

"We need to tell Aisha we'll come back one more time, there are developments at the House," Jenna said as they walked up the backstairs.

"What kind of developments?" Bill asked.

"Si'rah didn't want to say on the phone so..."

"Maybe she can make a spell that'll give our friend here some sense," Bill replied pointing his thumb at Kaya.

"Oh Daddy, not this again."

"Nah, Jen, your dad is mad because he likes being with the losers and thinks – "

"I think determination and grit make champions, not big bucks. Obviously, being a vampire has done nothing for your judgment," Bill continued.

"Don't be mad because we got determined and gritty owners who know excellence and want it on their team. Yo, Ish has some cream that's the bomb – just trust me when I say so; I think it'll help you. I'm going to ask her to make you a special batch to open up your brain cells, Archie Bunk!" Kaya laughed.

"I thought the children of the dead didn't need caps," Bill replied, "so what's with that black one, Kaya? And to sully such a fine color with their team logo. Aren't the colors, oh and here's where they get creative, Jenna, blue and white?"

"It's called classic, Old Man. Nice streamlined, simply classic. It's what winners do. I'm so sorry we can't all walk around like half a pumpkin in your blue and orange loser wear."

"WE'VE GOT – "

"OK, the two of you, like, really? Baseball again? We need to get up there and help Aisha before she kills us for being three seconds late or something," Jenna said.

"We're not done, pal," Bill said.

"Not by a long shot, Archie," Kaya replied.

Ramel was horrified. She's alive! He couldn't begin to comprehend how they managed to bring her back from the dead so he assumed that Mike botched up the job.

"This is great," he said aloud. "She's alive so she can personally point the finger at me. She'll say I sent Mike out to kill her and they'll believe her – all of them will believe her because... Frederick is with them. He's in there right now dealing for his life and I'll be left to take the fall."

Ramel left his hiding place, crossed the hall to Aisha's apartment and walked in the open door. He saw Hotep and Frederick standing across the room from each other. They stood still saying nothing as he stepped further in the apartment.

Aisha emerged from her closet, box in hand, saw Ramel and rolled her eyes.

"Ah man, what...? Who let this nigga in here? This is send-in-the-clowns day and nobody told me?" she asked.

He turned to Frederick saying, "Your plan the whole time, Freddy boy? You were going to throw me straight under the bus!"

Frederick stared back at Ramel unable to move or say a word.

"You just gonna look at me cause I caught your ass out here serving me up? Oh and look what we have over here," he said pointing to Hotep. "All that bullshit about this being your arch enemy and here you stand chatting it up with him. Nothing to say?"

Frederick remained mute.

"He's bound, genius. They both are," Aisha offered as she continued to pack her boxes.

"What does that mean, 'bound'?"

"It means they're bound. They can't move until I say so."

"Well unbind them then."

"You know what?" Aisha began, "Why don't you unbind your ass out of my apartment while you still can, Ramel. I'm busy right now and don't have time to deal with your foolishness."

"I'll leave but Frederick is coming with me," Ramel said standing his ground.

"Actually," Aisha said, "he's not. We have business that has nothing to do with you. Look at this as a favor, one you'd never get from me, little man. Your boy did a wicked thing that you probably put him up to but I have more important stuff going on than messing with you. Think of this as a head start because I will find you and you will have a problem, if my Boo doesn't catch your bitch-ass first. So get moving and get it out your head, Frederick is staying," she said.

"Still a bossy dyke bitch," Ramel said walking toward, Frederick. "Doesn't matter what you say though because he is leaving with me."

He placed his hand on Frederick's arm and was thrown to the opposite side of the room. He slid down the wall like he was a plateful of spaghetti. Aisha strode toward Ramel; the sound of vibrating cowry shells filled his ears. Ramel shook his head thinking he had a concussion but the clicking would not go away.

"It matters a whole lot what I say in my house and you won't be speaking to me any old way. You want to be here?" she said in a soft voice, "Your sorry ass will be here then." She raised her arms and spread her fingers as wide as she could, palms facing Ramel. He went sliding back up the wall until his feet no longer touched the ground. His heart was beating faster in his chest and he had the overwhelming urge to evacuate his bladder.

Aisha stomped her foot on the floor sending tremors through the whole building and the sidewalks outside.

"Something's wrong," Jenna said concerned, looking up the stairwell. "Did you hear that?"

"No," Bill answered.

"Yeah, sounds like – what does it sound like?" Kaya asked.

"Shells. Aisha is casting a spell."

"Why?" Bill asked.

White light shone from the tips of her fingers then Aisha made a fist. Arrows came out of the walls flying at Ramel, tacking him high above Hotep's head.

"Now stay there and shut the hell up."

He felt the pressure of the grip of Mike's gun smashing in his back. He wiggled in his pinned blazer until he tore his arm free. He grabbed the gun, feeling the power return to his body, and aimed it at Aisha's back.

Frederick saw the look on Ramel's face from where he stood frozen – he was a man possessed. He called out to Aisha, filling her mind with his voice.

"WATCH OUT!"

POP! POP!

"Where did those gunshots...?" Bill said unable to finish his thought. He looked at his daughter and Kaya.

"Ish!"

They flew up the stairwell, Kaya leading the way to Aisha's apartment.

Aisha's spell broken, the arrows could no longer hold Ramel's weight and he came crashing down to the floor. He saw that Frederick and Hotep were making slight movements and they both had vengeance in their eyes – they were looking at him.

"Fuck y'all," he said firing the gun at them and he ran out the door to the corridor toward the front entrance stairwell.

Hotep went straight for Frederick, grabbing him around his neck. His vice grip tightened.

"First, I'm going to get that parasite you let loose on my House, then I'm coming for you, Boy. Do you hear me talking to you? I'm going to finish what I should have years ago." He pushed Frederick away and flew out the window.

Frederick ran to Aisha's dying body and cradled her in his arms.

"May the Lord bless you and keep you, showing you His kindness and mercy as you have shown me. I am sorry," he said.

Kaya burst through the door to see Frederick holding Aisha's limp body in his arms. She rushed toward him tearing him away from her in one sweeping motion that sent him flying out the front door of the apartment, sliding right at Bill and Jenna's feet.

"YOU!" Bill said catching his breath. He looked in the open door to see Aisha, fading fast, and Kaya crouched over her.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" he cried, punching Frederick in his face. "You dirty son-of-a-bitch!" He continued to scream at the top of his lungs calling Frederick a son-of-a-bitch with every blow until Frederick stopped his falling fists in mid punch. He pinned Bill against the wall outside the apartment, face bloodied and bruised.

"I am sorry," he said as he continued to restrain Bill. "This is my fault and I will make amends but I'm not the only one who has wronged you tonight. Look," he shoved Bill in the apartment for him to see Ramel's torn, empty blazer on the floor. Bill turned and Frederick was gone.

Jenna stood over Kaya whose moans were painful to hear, Jenna couldn't help but cry as well.

"Don't she got something in these boxes or jars that can help, some kind of potion?" Kaya asked.

"Maybe – maybe you could turn her like Azyra did for you, huh Kid? Maybe she could be – "

"...no..." Aisha responded. She was very weak, Kaya could hear her pulse and the loud clear thump of her heart was slowing to a soft drag.

She grasped Kaya's hand with as much strength as she had left. She had to warn her, to warm them all. "...danger... save us... Kaya..."

"I got you, Bay, don't worry. I got it."

"...Jessie."

"Jessie? Who's that a friend of Ramel? I don't even care, Baby, I'm getting all of them. There's no place they can hide, girl, I'll get them all."

Aisha smiled. She looked in Kaya's eyes at a place far beyond the room she was in. Blood stained her teeth and she reached out to touch Kaya's cheek.

"Baby..." she whispered and drifted away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

They heard screeching tires and barking commands by men of authority. Kaya sat on the rooftop that neighbored Aisha's building, listening to the organized confusion that was the start of the investigation of another dead witch; the Chief Witch of the House of Hikpodu.

The police didn't know that. Theirs was a job of routine: they would take pictures of her, place little plastic numbers by the shell casings that were spent, they'd chew gum, formulate theories, tell jokes, talk of their lovers or some potential conquest. Some would assume, because it is always "such a waste" when a pretty girl is killed, that her boyfriend or husband probably did it. And when Aisha's neighbors and co-workers were questioned they'd come looking for her – Kaya. She would move to the head of the list of suspects. The thought of people assuming she would do anything to hurt Aisha infuriated her.

"They're going to blame me for this shit," she said through clenched teeth.

Bill turned and looked in the direction Kaya sat. The roof was dark, a smart place to hide and observe what was happening from a distance. Kaya didn't want to leave the apartment and she was in no shape to explain what they witnessed, particularly since she continued to say she had every intention of killing Ramel and his merry band of men. Bill decided it would be best if he left the scene too because contrary to belief, police are a talkative group. He knew it would look suspicious, him being at a third murder scene where another witch was killed. So Jenna stayed behind and called the police, along with three different people in Aisha's building, opting to give a statement.

Bill looked at the red orbs, which were the only thing he could see of his friend seated deep in the rooftop shadow. He'd also heard a constant clicking sound. With nothing else to do, Kaya began fidgeting with the watch given to her by Sama'EL.

"Jenna's my kid, she'll do it right," he said nervous for his daughter. "She gives us a call, we count a few Mississippis, then go over to the apartment. We'll probably have to show up at the Precinct for questioning, they're not going to want us to stay at the scene. We can do this, Kaya. You stay distraught and stick to the story because it's the truth, it's just that we have to stretch time and leave out certain bits.

"We were going to help Aisha move some stuff to your place. We went around to find a parking spot then got to talking – about food, something, anything... Jenna went in first, saw the body and called the cops. Hell, we can go over there right now like we found a spot. We walk in and look surprised. That'll take you off the hook for a good while; I wouldn't even worry about prints because you're supposed to have prints there. But you have to suck it up. You have to or this piece of crap, Ramel, he gets away with the whole deal."

And Kaya did. She dried her tears and wore a mask of melancholy happiness. Those watching couldn't tell that her heart was shattered. As they climbed each stair the weight of what they would see (again) pressed on their shoulders but Kaya continued to look the part of a doting lover wondering what all the fuss was about the building. They saw the police officers stationed outside of Aisha's apartment and ran toward them. She let herself be restrained by officers who begged her to wait down the hall. Her heart breaking all over again, she cried and wailed, causing the officers to turn away and allow her to have her moment of grief.

An officer, not knowing the perspicacity of Kaya's hearing, volunteered his theory to one of the others guarding the scene.

"I see this kinda stuff all the time," he whispered. "Some girls want a little bit of fun on the side and think their crazy boyfriends won't find out. Problem is they do find out and BANG!"

Kaya shot up on her feet.

"What did you say?" she asked pointing to the officer.

"Huh?"

"You can't hear now? What the fuck did you say about my fiancé?"

"I... Miss, you need to sit down and stay where you are," he said, taking his gun from the holster as Kaya advanced toward him.

"Nah, man, say that shit to my face. Say my girl needed some dick in her life and I was just some bitch on the side – say it to my face!"

Bill stepped in front of Kaya before she made another move.

"We don't need this. You become a suspect, he gets away," he said. "He gets away."

The officer with the theory remarked to his colleague, "I wasn't talking that loud was I? How did she hear me?"

Bill spoke with the officer in charge while Jenna sat in a corner at the end of the hall with Kaya. She looked catatonic. Jenna wanted to get out of the building, a negative place that Kaya shouldn't be. It was all too much too soon.

Jenna would have to be the one to break the news to the House that they'd lost their Chief Witch – not to mention, judging by the way she looked, the Conductor was in no shape to conduct. It didn't seem fair, this was the one thing Aisha wanted to do as a witch and she wouldn't be here to do it. Jenna closed her eyes, refusing to think of any more miserable thoughts when Bill approached them to leave at once.

They hopped in his car driving around in circles, a thick wall of silence among them. Bill thought it best they all stay together, in Jenna's small apartment, but decided on taking the trip to the House. At the very least they would be among friends and others who felt the loss as they did. But no one felt as great a loss as Kaya.

Bill needed to collect his thoughts and pulled into a well lit, empty McDonald's parking lot. He turned off the car and looked at Jenna in the driver's seat and at a very still Kaya through his rearview mirror.

"OK. Heeks, you did a great job. Their preliminary is going to be Aisha's boy- I'm sorry, Kaya, but they found a man's jacket so they'll assume that she had a boyfriend," Bill said feeling pangs of sadness having to tell her. "She was moving out to give the girl thing a try and the boyfriend came in, with company, and..."

"And what, Bill?" Kaya asked. It startled him when she spoke because she'd been so still in the backseat.

"And... The boyfriend pulled out a gun which probably scared away the people he brought with him then he shot her – he shot – he shot her in the back..."

Kaya sighed. Bill looked in the rearview mirror and saw her winding the face of the watch, staring into a faraway place that he wished he could pull her out of.

"She knew," Jenna said, tears still streaming down her face. She forced herself to turn around to look at Kaya and the misery she would see in her eyes.

"That black marble, she knew. We didn't – "

" 'We?' " Bill asked. "You knew too?"

"I didn't think it would be this soon," she said looking back at her father, "it wasn't something we expected like this. She thought she had time..."

Kaya continued to wind the watch saying nothing.

"She knew she'd be killed? You both knew she'd be killed and you guys didn't utter a peep!" Bill replied. He was angry.

"She thought Kaya would be killed!"

Kaya stopped winding.

"Me?" she asked.

"She'd been having those dreams about that guy who was at the apartment, you know, the one you shot in the park, Daddy, remember? And the black marble didn't help matters so she decided to relinquish the lives of the cat."

"Did what? Heeks... I'm so lost I can't..."

"Witches – did you ever notice our connection to cats? If you ever want to know who's a cat lady and who's a witch, a witch will always have a pure black cat somewhere in the bunch. No white stars, no socks, purely black with bright yellow or green eyes. Just like cats, witches have nine lives. I can't explain much more than that."

"But Ish didn't have any cats," Kaya remarked.

"I know," Jenna said. "She couldn't because she gave up all her lives to make sure you were safe. When you were shot you should have died, Kaya. It was already too late for the Royal Blood to turn you but here you are. Our Great Mother honors her Covenant."

"Then Ish is alive! She should have some life left, like about eight, right?"

"No. You're not a witch, Kaya, and you weren't a vampire at the time. Our Great Mother had no Covenant with you. There had to be an equal exchange. The life of a cat for you as you were then would be like exchanging the life of a mouse for that of a 747 or an elephant. Or the life of a grasshopper for a bear. Do you understand?"

"I think I do," Bill said.

"Nah. This is crazy. Why would she do something like that and not tell me?"

"She felt the danger coming and didn't want you to die for something you didn't believe in. She loved you so much. She gave all of her lives in something she believed for you, a non-believer, to live. She knew she'd probably go but she didn't think – we didn't think it would be this soon. Not this way..."

"But I always believed in my Baby," Kaya said and fell silent.

"Wait just a damned minute, Heeks. You don't have cats either."

"I know, Daddy," she said looking at her father.

"No. No way! You take it back and get yourself a bunch of cats right now!"

"It doesn't work that way," Jenna answered.

"Well how the hell way does it work, goddamnit! You unwork it and get yourself..." Bill slumped over the steering wheel and began crying. His body shook the car and he squeezed the wheel tighter. This could not be happening, he thought. His good friend is a vampire and her fiancé, a woman younger than him, is dead. He'd been a cop, a detective, a security guard and he was the one breathing through all the danger he'd seen. A young woman who'd never shot anyone in the back, his friend, was dead and the coward that killed her walked the streets. His daughter had a way to live a long life yet she gave it up so he could live. It wasn't fair that his daughter should have this power, to have a say in sacrificing her 2nd, 3rd, maybe 4th chance so that he could live to be a white-haired old man. The love of his daughter would allow him to witness her death.

"Did she say anything to you about a guy named Jessie?" Kaya asked Jenna.

Bill wiped his face, composing himself for the sake of his friend. Her grief was new, real, and not hypothetical – her grief is now.

"I've never heard of a Jessie," Jenna responded.

"You think it's one of Ramel's friends?" Bill asked.

Kaya sat looking out in the parking lot in silence for what seemed like hours to Bill and Jenna. A flash danced across her burning red eyes and for the first time since the night began, a grin crossed her face.

"We can find out," she said.

Bill smiled too. He turned on the car and was ready to back out of the parking lot. His friend wanted to hunt Ramel and he wanted in.

"Damnit, you're right. I've been the biggest mope in the world! Hello, Record Keeper! I've got the prick's address in the books when he faked his way in the House."

"I'm talking about we can ask Aisha who Jessie is," Kaya said.

"Oh geez," Bill looked at Jenna worried, "I think she's delusional."

"Am I?" she said and she tapped the face of the watch.

Kaya grasped the edge of the gold watchface and turned it clockwise. All of them could hear what sounded like giant clock gears grinding in the distance. She turned the face again with considerable effort and watched as the delicate blue Topaz crystals began to glow inside their container.

"What's going on with your watch there, Kiddo?"

"It's the gift from Chamiel," Jenna said, eyes transfixed on the brightening blue light.

"We're going to see her," Kaya said to Bill.

The light in the watch became brighter, too brilliant for Jenna to look at and she turned her head.

"Daddy, grab my arm," she told Bill, the grinding sound drawing closer to the car. She grabbed Kaya's hand just as the light filled the entire car and transported it on the bank of a river.

She was much farther than the first time she'd been there but Kaya recognized her surroundings. They all exited the car and stood on the dark bank looking at where they were. Bill had been a party to many unusual things since becoming the Record Keeper for his daughter's friends but this was, by far, the strangest yet.

"So we're not at McDonald's anymore, huh, Dorothy?" he said.

"No," Kaya answered looking up at the clear stalactites; she prayed she didn't see Aisha's face up there. It was a difficult time for her heart but she would be devastated if Aisha was trapped in such a hopeless purgatory.

"It is not their time," the tall dark robed figure said appearing before them.

Kaya rushed toward Sama'EL asking, "Where is she?"

"You are not a Reaper. It is not their time," Sama'EL said pointing a boney finger at the car on the bank.

Kaya looked past his dark robes and saw a line of people waiting on a small, dilapidated looking pier. Aisha stood among them.

"Look, she's right there!" Kaya pointed and started to walk around Sama'EL. He placed his hand on her shoulder sending shooting pain throughout her arm. She fell to her knees until he released her. Kaya looked up in the hooded robe and saw nothing but depths of black and darkness she'd seen in the room while she was on the precipice. She rolled up her sleeves and showed her tattoos.

"You remember me now?" she asked rubbing her shoulder. She tapped the watch, "How did I get here? You gave me this, you don't remember that?"

"You are not a Reaper, Ms. De LaCroix and it is not your time. To impede me from performing my duties will result in your banishment," he said as he lifted his giant scythe toward the roof of the cavern – at the stalactites. He stood still then turned his back on her, looking upstream for the ferry to arrive.

His voice suddenly filled her head, "I will excuse your impudence. You have only moments before the ferry draws near and she will board it; then you will be a mere shadow to her. Let your friends take her to the carriage you came in. Do it quickly, the vessel comes. Now!"

Kaya ran away from Sama'EL and told Jenna to rush to the pier as fast as she could and bring Aisha back to the car.

"Pump those legs girl because we only have seconds."

Once by the edge of the bank Kaya grabbed Aisha in her arms and kissed her. Aisha pulled away from her embrace.

Bill cleared his throat, "Ahem, guys. It's dark here and I can see the lantern on the boat coming this way."

"What happened? What are you guys doing here?" she asked with worry.

"We're not dead, Chief Witch. Kaya kind of, well the watch of Chamiel, she brought us here."

"I had to see you... Why did you do it?"

"It was my choice, Boo. And I'd make it again, OK? You have to hold it down for us. And keep Azyra in your sight, you need to learn from her – she needs to learn from you too.

"And Baby, I know you want to get at that fool, Ramel but you have to be focused because he is the least of our problems."

"You know I can't do that, Ish. He's the only problem and I'm going to take care of him and anybody who's down with him too."

"And you'll be closed up and bitter and will never love again. Baby, I don't want that for you. I love you and I love the way you loved me back. Someone else should have the opportunity to feel that with you. Don't listen to everything Dorian says, OK? Yes, vampires can become indifferent but there are still human elements left, especially if you have an open heart. Don't let Ramel close your heart, Bay," she said and reached out to touch Kaya's face.

"This is lovely, ladies but that boat is getting closer," Bill said.

"Let's get in the car, it'll buy us a little more time," Kaya said.

Jenna looked at her friends, the way they should be arm-in-arm, and felt a knot form in her throat.

"When y'all get back tell everybody that Jenna's the new Chief Witch. Shouldn't be a dispute because it'll be written in the Witches Stone. You know my family is going to bury me. It'll be important to them so let it happen but make sure you have a couple of Sisters at the funeral. You bring my body back and do it the witch's way. Make sure, Jenna, you know their way could be dangerous."

"I will, I'll take care of it. Do you want the fire or the stone?"

"I'd prefer the stone but we don't have a choice. You must do fire."

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" asked Bill. "Are you saying you're going to dig her up once you bury her? C'mon now, Jenna, this is too much!"

"The Grim Reaper is outside your car waiting for us to finish talking to my dead wife. I think we're a little beyond 'too much', Archie."

Bill looked out the window as the light from the lantern brightened the pier. The look in the eyes of the people waiting there became vacant. It was time to go.

"Damnit! Time's up," he said.

"Baby, my body is dead. We never really die do we?" she leaned over and tenderly kissed Kaya on the cheek.

"Maybe if I drive a little bit upstream..."

"DAD! Do not do that."

"Fine, damnit! Wait-a-minute, Aisha, this Jessie character, is he some kind of friend of Ramel's?"

"He's a powerful warlock they call Jessie because of his initials, J. S. I. The dude is bad news! You need to speak to... to..."

Aisha's eyes glazed over with the familiar sheen they'd seen on the people by the pier. Bill looked out his window in the darkness for a small beam of light. If he could find something that looked like a road he was going to drive as fast as he could until Aisha got better. They couldn't move the ferry without her, and that would get them just enough time for her to tell them more about Jessie. He turned on his high beams only to see Sama'EL standing before his car pointing his stark white boney hand toward the pier. His dark robe absorbed all the light shining from the headlights and it startled him to no end.

"Jesus!" he said as he nearly jumped through the roof of his car.

"Not so much," Sama'EL replied. "It is her time."

Aisha walked toward the line of people and the waiting ferry in a daze.

"I'll miss you, Sister," Jenna called after her.

Aisha turned to look back at them grinning as if they were memories of a faraway place.

"I know you! I know all of you," she said pointing in their direction. Her face started to fade.

"Release her or your grief will keep her stagnant. She does not deserve that," Sama'EL said to Jenna, pointing to the roof of the cavern.

"Will she be, OK?" asked Bill.

"You are not a Reaper, Record Keeper."

"C'mon you're Death. You have to know if she's going up the river or down. You know don't you?"

"We all know our destination by the advancement of our journey. She knows where she travels just as you know where you must go. Enter your carriage, Record Keeper, you have arduous tasks ahead."

Kaya waved good-bye, pausing before she entered the car when saw (she thought she saw) Aisha wink at her before she turned to board the ferry.

"She's going to be fine, Archie. We have to get out of here, we don't belong."

"I will see you again soon, Ms. De LaCroix. You will not be alone."

Bill closed the door to the car and looked in the backseat at Kaya. She had her hand on the watch.

"You know it won't be so easy to come here for Aisha again. Unless that little trinket can tell us where the boat's going. And I love you, Kid, but I'm not coming back until it's my 'time'."

"I'm not bringing you guys back here again."

"Ooooh," father and daughter said in unison.

"Don't worry, it'll be his time," Kaya said. She twisted the face of the watch and the car vanished from the dark river's sorrowful bank.

Standing in the ferry, scythe pointed up river, Sama'EL's Reaper moved the ferry forward.

"It will," he said with a smirk.

*

They stepped out of the car looking at the great hallway they'd taken for granted so many times before. Jenkins walked toward them, unruffled by the sight before him, extending his hand for Bill's keys.

"I'm sure you would like me to find a more appropriate place for your vehicle, Sir?" he said as Bill gave him the keys.

"I think you made a wrong turn at Albuquerque there, pal," Bill joked.

"We're supposed to be here," Kaya said looking toward the large doors, "it's time."

"'It's time.' Everybody keeps talking about time like we have so much to spare," Bill said and he pounded the roof of his car. Aisha's death had taken more of a toll on his emotions than he'd expected. He began to wonder how he could get Jenna away from all of the psychotic turmoil that was happening around him – that was yet to come.

The remaining witches in the House descended the main stairway in one effortless glide; all had white cowls with black lining shimmering with each step, and formed a circle around Jenna. Si'rah held a black cowl in her arms presenting it to Jenna.

"We must begin, Sister. The hour is upon us and we salute you, our Chief Witch," Si'rah said.

Jenna couldn't savor her moment, one that left a bitter taste in her mouth. She dreamt of having this position, however, she wanted her mentor with her, critiquing the finer elements, divulging secret spells – she wanted Aisha to present her to the Coven as tradition called for. There would be no room for tradition this go round. Jenna put on the black cowl of protection, greeted her sisters mourning in white and brought forward the Conductor. The job was hers regardless how she came by it. She had to fulfill her duty.

Si'rah pulled her out of the circle to speak.

"There's more loss here, Jen- Chief Witch, that's what we were trying to tell you about when..."

Jenna sighed, "It's fine, we don't have to rest on formalities now, not so soon after. What's going on?"

"The Royal Blood is here. Your fake vampire friend brought her but not without casualties on their end. They want sanctuary and they say the Brotherhood is out in force. They're looking for us, ALL of us Jenna – they ain't taking prisoners."

"What are you talking about?"

"Their friend was a civilian. The Royal Blood told, Enoch or Victor or whatever his name is, that they killed a bunch of homeless people who they thought were helping them. Now you know what that means? It means we're going to have the Brotherhood after our asses too, like some Salem stuff.

"When we finish the ceremony we have to get ourselves to safety," Si'rah said.

"The Black Sun comes and brings war with it," Jenna replied.

"We can't go to war, Jenna. Really, we don't have to. They're going to have to do some extensive searching to find where the witches hide and they don't know who we are."

"I can't believe you're saying this. We're guardians!" Jenna's voice echoed causing her Sisters, Bill, and Kaya to look in their direction.

Jenna lowered her voice and continued, "You think it should have been you, don't you?"

"Are you seriously bringing this up now? All right. Aisha was a young Chief Witch and her successor was picked based on emotion rather than tradition. Had she lived a little longer we'd be looking at a different scenario. But I will do my job because I love my Coven, Chief Witch."

"Aisha was very wise for her age and a lot more powerful than you will ever know. She chose me using her wisdom! You know all the rules and that makes for a good leader but so does heart. Judging by what you just said, I can see which one of us has more of it. We take care of them, Si'rah – it distinguishes us from other witches. We are the true daughters of Lilith and you would ask us to abandon the one thing she charged us to do?"

"Do you even hear what I'm saying? They killed innocent civilians – we don't have to die, Jenna. Once we get them someplace safe we do what we always do, blend right in with society. More important we stay alive. We can't help a damn soul if we're exterminated," Si'rah shot back.

"We might as well be dead! We are the Daughters of Lilith, the Charges of the House of Hikpodu, Keepers of the Covenant and we won't run. It's been foretold we'd rise to war. If this is it we WILL NOT run," Jenna stomped her foot for emphasis, walking away from Si'rah toward her Sisters awaiting instruction.

She glanced at her father with an air of authority that made him proud. Bill resigned, knowing he could never convince Jenna to get cats, not one, not even a stray. He stared at his daughter, marveled by what he saw. There was a piece of her mother, a wife long gone who couldn't stand danger or the thought of her loved ones in it – if only she could see what they'd made. A person who was fearless, a person who would protect them with her very last breath – a good woman.

"Sisters we prepare the door. Record Keeper, bring the Conductor."

Jenna led the witches to the oversized doors where they walked in a dark and cavernous room to prepare . Kaya started to follow but was stopped by Bill and redirected up the stairs to the room she chose her first day there.

They entered her room to find a white gown with fine copper threads sewn throughout, lying on her bed. Beside the gown were a pair of copper threaded slippers and leather bound book.

"OK, Kid, we have to do something that Jenna would be doing if... She mentioned it to me at the crime scene, just in case you decided to go through with this."

Kaya removed all her clothes and walked to the bathroom.

"I know Archie, great hearing now. Remember?"

"There's oils and stuff I gotta rub on you but I'll let you take care of your lady parts because... Well, you get the gist. If you can remove the watch, I'll – " Bill reached for her arm but was stopped.

"OK, OK. You do realize you're a lot stronger than before. I don't need you to break anything, kinda like my arm."

"You get everything else, Archie. Don't worry about this," Kaya said pointing to the watch.

Bill poured the prepared witch's brew over Kaya's back and arms. He scrubbed sweet smelling oils on her skin with the concoction that was left and poured fresh water over her head rinsing everything off. He made her cup her hands and poured a special mixture of dandelion roots, spring water, and an extra ingredient Jenna wouldn't divulge for her to wash her face. Bill saw her sick pallor improve instantly.

Kaya removed the watch and scrubbed her arms observing the new markings given to her by Sama'EL and grateful for them – they were important to her entry into – where was the place they'd just come from? She let Bill dry her, arms first, before she put on the watch, the robe, and the slippers. Kaya felt compelled to pull the hood on the robe over her head.

"Well you smell fantastic and you gotta be the cleanest person on Earth," Bill said trying to force a smile. He looked in the eyes of his friend and saw grief he couldn't bear.

"You have to sign this book before we go back down."

"So what happens now?" she asked.

"I've been doing a little reading," Bill began. "A door is going to open. It stays open for the first three months after the solar eclipse and everybody that goes in, goes in. The last three months stuff comes out the door, good spirits and stuff, I've heard, like they're coming off sabbatical or something. But only stuff comes out; once that door closes whoever or whatever's in there has to wait for 100 years before it opens again."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You're the key, Kiddo."

"I say some magical words or something?"

"No you're the key. Each Conductor helps so that one door is opened somewhere and The Six do whatever it is they do – the details are a little sketchy on that. But our good pal, Sneaky Pete who slipped away from us earlier got rid of everybody so it's just you. You're going to open the door for all of them. That's the best way I can explain it, I know things because of the records but the vamps aren't all that chatty about it. As far as I can tell, you're the key."

"Guess we'd better do this then," Kaya said.

Bill led Kaya to the large doors where Jenna stood waiting. He gave Jenna the book Kaya signed stating, "It's been written, she's ready," and he handed Kaya over to her.

Jenna took Kaya's hand and led her past the large oak doors, Kaya saw intricate carvings of symbols and bat-like creatures that she hadn't noticed before, as she was walked in the tremendous hall the doors hid. Witches closed the door behind them while Jenna continued forward with Kaya to a large disc centered in the middle of the hall. She looked down and saw more symbols engraved in the marble, similar to the ones she had tattooed on her back before they were removed.

Kaya stood transfixed by the disc, just raised from the floor. Her mind wandered to the danger Ramel would soon experience by her own hand and the intense pain she intended to inflict. She looked around the room sensing others with her. Besides the obvious cadre of vampires, she saw the witches and thought only of Aisha – the reason why she decided to go through with this at all. Aisha took it seriously so I will too, she reasoned, but then I'm out of here.

Patience will bring your retribution.

The voice that entered her mind was an unfamiliar icy whisper. Kaya closed her eyes concentrating on pinpointing its owner. She heard nothing more and opened her eyes to find glowing orbs around her. The darkness of the room had also been lit by hundreds of candles.

"You need to focus, Shug," Azyra said. Her eyes were colder and more determined than Kaya remembered. "Before the rise of the Black Sun, we'll both see blood is spilled."

Azyra motioned for Kaya to stand on the disk as the witches proceeded with the ceremony. They each, save Jenna who carried a black candle, had a copper pitcher filled with water pouring it in the small moat around the disc as they invoked their Lilith Ritus greeting. They continued in two circles walking around Kaya, the ring of five women walking counter clockwise while the other six walked clockwise.

"Great Mother demonstrate your influence of mercy and enhance us with the power of eleven," Jenna chanted.

They continued to walk around Kaya, each woman in the outer circle exchanging her pitcher with one of the inner circle. They poured the water a splash at a time creating a rhythmic beat that resembled a pulse. Jenna walked dripping hot candle wax with each pass, asking that the Great Mother honor and forgive them for not having 12 witches.

Lilith gave her answer.

Kaya saw Jenna's surprised grin and looked at the water in the moat. The black candle wax drops had been following Jenna's slow trip around the inner circle when they started to speed up, blend into one giant drop, and outrun her passes. Soon the water in the moat was as black as the candle she held, traveling around the disc like a whirlpool.

The energy in the hall was palpable, coursing through Jenna. It wasn't anything like the other ceremonies. She knew if this were to be successful she would have to surrender herself to what was coming. Jenna removed her hood and her Sisters followed in turn. They continued their orbit around Kaya, Jenna stepped out of the inner circle and stood at the top of the disk facing Kaya. Jenna placed her finger in the liquid hot wax dabbing a black dot on her forehead; her sisters passed where she stood to receive their mark of protection.

Jenna raised her hand and the witches stood where they were. Kaya could hear the black water rushing around the marble disc on which she stood.

Jenna turned and placed the candle on the ground next to a copper goblet, which she picked up and raised above her head. The witches walked away from disc and lined up on either side of her, five on the left, five on the right, facing each other.

"Conductor," Jenna said, "you must drink of the chalice and the phallus."

"Say what?" Kaya said. The rituals were foreign to her but this one did not sound promising and she removed her own hood preparing to object.

She saw the faces of the witches, blank, their eyes closed. When their eyelids flew open at once Kaya saw that all the color in them disappeared. Each witch came toward Jenna, whose own eyes were glowing a white light, and poured water in the goblet she held. Kaya focused, stretching her vision on the goblet. From where she stood she could plainly see that the water each witch poured turned to blood.

Si'rah was the last to pour the blood water. Jenna walked by Kaya, who remained entranced by what she saw, toward the "chalice" formed by three vampires. On further examination Kaya saw Abizu, in her giant form, in the middle with Azyra at her right and Matrota, also standing as a giant, to her left. Jenna produced a gold knife and cut the wrist of each one, emptying their blood in the goblet. She then walked to the head of the disc, through the gauntlet of her Sisters toward the "phallus". They all stood as regal giants: Avers, Hakash, and Hikpodu arms extended to receive Jenna's careful cut and contribute their blood in the brew.

Jenna said an incantation in a language she didn't know she could speak. Jenna stopped at the edge of the moat and handed the goblet to Kaya who eagerly accepted.

This time there was no compunction about drinking the contents of a witch's brew. With each swallow she could feel power rushing through her body and tingling in her fingers and toes. She drained the cup, careful not to waste a drop, licking her face for any traces that could have been missed. Kaya realized it wasn't the taste of blood that fueled her thirst but the refreshed feeling she had after she quenched it. Blood was life and that was how she felt standing in the middle of the large hall – alive and more aware than she'd ever been as a human.

The tingle in her fingers and toes increased its intensity causing her to look at the palms of her hands. She was saddened that the symbols were gone but her fingertips glowed a bright orange color. Kaya looked down at her feet to see if her toes also had beams of light shooting from them and saw the thin copper slippers were alight.

Just as she was about to remark on her slippers the hall was a vacuum of silence.

"Something's about to hap-."

BOOM! It was loud and filled the hall, creating a wall of bright orange energy that surrounded her. Kaya felt herself being levitated and an electrical force tore through her. Bright orange light shot from her eye sockets and she could hear loud rumbling all around her. The hall shook as the disc beneath her feet split into four concentric circles turning clockwise and counter clockwise. Kaya rose higher in the air, unable to move any of her limbs as the hall continued to rumble from the force of the turning discs.

She could see those who stood beneath her holding hands forming the phallus, "L" and the chalice "V", chanting – she couldn't hear what was said over the loud crashing noise. Kaya was trapped in the middle of a violent storm.

When she looked beneath her feet she saw the circles stop and a small beam of light was focused at the center. It was quiet again although Kaya was still floating over everyone.

"Oh shit," she said anticipating the worst.

The beam of light blasted through Kaya's body causing her to scream out. She threw her head back and yelled as loud as she could; light streamed out her throat casting a ray across the ceiling of the hall. She was the only one who heard the sound of her voice in agony.

As quickly as she started screaming she stopped, hearing many voices in many languages flooding her head. Kaya could no longer see those in the room with her but felt herself being pulled through space, across a starry sky until she landed near an abandoned church.

Kaya walked to the side door as if she'd been there before. She could not understand how everything seemed so familiar when knew she'd never crossed the threshold of that building. Kaya walked through the dark edifice unafraid, toward a couple of conspicuous looking pillars. Everything else looked old and in disrepair but the pillars and the obelisk that stood tucked between them looked as if someone cleaned them regularly. Behind the obelisk, Kaya saw a small door without a knob and tried pushing it open. It didn't budge.

"'K, now what?"

She turned to walk away and noticed a smaller version of the disc she'd been standing on back in the hall. There were also symbols on it and a distinct handprint in the middle. Kaya placed her hand in the print and turned it as far as she could. The click echoed through the empty church, followed by the sound of cement blocks scraping against each other – the door was opening.

Kaya walked in, ducking her head through the small archway. She was Alice walking through the tiny door into a magical wonderland. Only Kaya's wonderland was a room of beautifully lit yellow candles, jet-black wrought iron candelabras, and pure white and pink marble drawers with large intricate brass handles.

"This is the place," she said.

She saw an alter by one of the more intricate candle holders and noticed six clear crystal balls, each with its own marble stand, each stand set on a silk violet cloth.

"Guess I have to take you back with me?" Kaya said to the crystals sitting on the alter.

She put each ball in the pouch it rested on and looked for the way out. Kaya walked around the mausoleum and wondered how large it was and how it could have remained hidden all these years in a dilapidated church?

"Where do those stairs go?" she asked gazing down the end of the long candlelit hallway. Kaya took a step forward and felt herself being pulled back out the door up her rabbit hole, across the black star filled sky and back in the great hall where the witches and Elders were waiting for her.

She looked down and saw the disc was one solid piece again but the moat was still a fury of energy circling around her.

"I think you guys are supposed to have these, there were six of them..."

Kaya looked at everyone who stood in the same two columns as the witches. She held up the six pouches with crystal balls inside and could see that the contents of the pouches began shining their own blue light.

"Oh damn, now what?" she asked.

"Brace yourself, Conductor," Hikpodu answered with a wink.

Silence filled the hall once more before the muffled explosion that sounded like an atom bomb, filled the air. Kaya saw a shaft of brilliant white light appear from nowhere before her face. She shielded her eyes but could still see the shaft growing wider and she realized another door was opening. The rumbling and shaking didn't stop until the door was completely opened and a mystical doorjamb, made from copper and gold shined like the mid-afternoon sun.

The water in the moat turned one last time with a resounding crash of waves on the rocks then the moat was dry again. Everything seemed as still as it was before Kaya stepped on the disc, except there was a door in the middle of the hall that hadn't been there before, leading to who knows where.

"Ah! You are a fine Conductor," Hikpodu said smiling brilliantly, "Kaya Antoinette De LaCroix!" He swept the pouches from her hands and turned to Jenna.

"Your beloved Sister chose wisely, Chief Witch. Come now, we all have work to do," he handed the pouches to Jenna.

Kaya stepped off the disc toward Jenna. She was exhausted.

"So we do need these. What for?" Kaya asked.

"I'm sure Dad told you, once you walk in this portal you've opened – congratulations by the way. Ish – she would have been real proud," Jenna said.

"Of you too, Chief Witch," Kaya replied, sadness in her smile.

"OK, enough with the love fest," Si'rah interrupted, "we're not done."

"These crystals, and the gift Chamiel gave you, are the only way you can get in or out of this portal before the time," Jenna said.

"I was in a church. Is that what's through this door?" Kaya asked pointing over her shoulder at it.

"Not really. The church you were in is where those who heard you call will be led to safety from the Black Sun. Some will ignore the call and find someplace else deep and dark to hide. Then there are those who are stupid enough to think that just because there's a solar eclipse and it's dark out that it's safe to go outside – they're going to die finding out that's wrong. Then there are those who will hear the call and come here, we'll accommodate them – all of them. We're the North American representatives.

"These pouches I'll give to the Elders, will allow them to take care of their own Houses. They'll go through the portal here and come back out here whenever they want. None of them will return until after six months anyway."

"Except me, Honey," Azyra said reaching for one of the pouches.

"That's right," Jenna said.

"Why do you need a crystal?" Kaya asked.

"She is going in Ayalu's stead. She is Royal Blood," Si'rah replied.

"Ayalu was the South American representative, Kaya. We can't let them all die. There would be some hell to pay if we just let them all die," Jenna said.

Kaya looked at Azyra, grabbed her arm and said, "You make sure you be careful. There are some debts to settle and we're the collectors. So you get back here in one piece if you want in."

"I'll be back before you knew I was gone, Shug," Azyra said and she vanished through the portal.

"Cool," Kaya said, her face weary. "Am I done here?"

Jenna handed Kaya a pouch with the crystal ball in it.

"There will be those drawn to you, witches too, asking you for help and guidance. You should know the charlatans from those who are real, Kaya," Jenna said. "Anyway, the real ones, if they ask for sanctuary bring them here and the head of the House will make sure they're all right.

"There may be some who know of the portal and want to go through it, like Chief Witches or Warlocks or Kings and Queens of Hives. They don't have a crystal, they don't get one and once they cross the threshold, they have to wait for three months in order for the current to change before they can come out. They need to know that if they wait too long and if they're not out by the end of those last three months, it'll be a while before... Well, you know."

Kaya turned to Hikpodu, "So why do I get this and not you?"

"Because this is the year I am fortunate enough to not have to run around like my siblings do – not yet anyway. Everyone that wishes to be here will be here. Which means I can go there," Hikpodu said pointing to the portal. "There is always a time when one must allow the children to fly. Do not let your anger blind you, my friend, you need to see so much.

"Go and speak with Sankofa, she will assist you. I look forward to seeing you soon, Kaya Antoinette De LaCroix. Sunrises are fun to watch with good company and you will enjoy them again one day." Hikpodu's giant arms wrapped Kaya in a loving embrace before he turned and disappeared into the portal.

After the last of the Elders entered Jenna signaled for everyone to leave the great hall. The doors closed behind them with a giant thud and Si'rah noticed the doors were as flat as a wall. The intricate carvings were still there but the door handles, hinges, and keyholes had vanished.

"How we are supposed to get back in there? This'll be embarrassing, witches and high ranking vampires come to our Coven for sanctuary and we can't give it to them?"

"Stop panicking, Si'rah. Kaya knows what to do," Jenna said.

"I do?" Kaya asked.

"Yes, you do," Sankofa said. Dorian was with her and bowed when he saw Kaya.

"Conductor, we are moved by your loss. Please let me assure you, it is a loss for us all. I know it is close to the Black Sun but if you permit me, I will gather some of our best and we will find the coward and dispatch him to farthest darkness we know."

"That's what I'm talking about. But you find him you keep him alive because I'm going to dispatch his ass myself.

"Where's Hotep so I can give him this and talk to him about finding – "

"You will give the crystal to Dorian. He is capable and will be the new King of this House. I'm afraid my husband is not as reliable as I once thought."

"Sankofa, what's going on?"

"I know the man of your nightmares, Conductor. I know why it was difficult for your lover to close her eyes. He wasn't always that way and I've found that if not for my husband's deception, you would never have crossed his path – nor mine."

Sankofa handed Kaya Frederick's diary.

She stood dumbfounded. Staring at the intricate stitching of the book, her vision became blurred by her tears.

"Are you telling me Hotep was responsible for Ish getting killed?"

"Hotep's intent would never be to place us in danger. I think he has lost his way and brought dishonor to himself and this House."

Kaya wiped her face, "So how long did you know?"

"Not long. But I hold myself responsible. A woman knows when something is wrong and I knew he hadn't been himself for a while."

"I'm going to kill him too," Kaya declared.

"No, you are not. This is something we will handle – I will handle, Conductor. You are a vampire now and a yearling at that. Hotep is many ages and would destroy you in one breath. If you were lucky enough to actually complete your task, there would be retribution. You would have to plead the blood."

"You're bugging if you think I'm going to let that nigga get away with the bullshit, Sankofa. I am going to kill him!"

"Stop being headstrong! There are other ways to deal with this than your suicide, Conductor!"

"See, that's where you're wrong," Kaya said through clenched teeth. "Nobody else in my camp is dying. You want to talk retribution? Well that's my job. Payback is a bitch named 'Kaya' and I'm late for work!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

To Lieutenant Jonathan Brisbane, Daniel was a man of epic stoicism, but the other guy, DeMatteo, was a different story. Brisbane knew from his line of work that the difficult tasks needed to be done without the crutch of emotion. A man who'd seen the things he saw, the things he was witnessing now, had to be as cold and heartless for his own survival. Daniel had it – Marco did not.

Even behind the doors of a Brotherhood headquarters satellite, Brisbane was irritated by the incident in the tombs; having to clear the collateral damage was something he felt should have been handled by the B-Team. On top of it all, there were the audacious claims made by DeMatteo which caused instant animosity and he promised himself he would get even. There was no question, Brisbane saw everything running smoothly, almost textbook, until the enemy of emotion compelled Marco to let dangerous prisoners walk where they wanted without being secured. What happened down there turned into a fiasco and the blame should be placed at Marco's feet. Brisbane had the unshakable feeling that deadly objects escaped their grasp and were free to go on killing human beings – American citizens.

He didn't understand why Daniel kept DeMatteo around. Had he forgotten a man died because of his carelessness? Nonetheless he was happy, given the accusations, he was allowed in the interrogation room.

Brisbane heard rumors, all types of stories and tall tales but he stood alongside Brother Daniel and Marco DeMatteo in the presence of a living, breathing vampire. There was nothing like witnessing it for yourself.

She was such a lovely woman it was almost hard for him to believe beneath all of her exquisite beauty was a heartless killer. He observed the alabaster tone of her skin, delicate as if she were a porcelain doll. Brisbane was tempted to reach out and smooth the raven black hair from her cheek but thought her skin would crack under his slightest touch. The stark red color of her lips accentuated the slight rose color in her sharp cheekbones, one of which had been bruised by her fall in the tombs. He'd also heard through the grapevine that she was one of the two who slipped through Marco's fingers the first time he encountered her and wondered if it were she who snuffed out the life of young Brother Joseph. She would have to pay for what happened, regardless of her direct or indirect involvement. Brisbane hoped, as did Daniel, that this one would lead them to a greater hoard – an elusive branch of one of The Six.

As composed as Daniel looked to Brisbane he was reeling inside. This was one of the oldest he'd ever had in his custody. Fingerprint analysis didn't produce a thing – as he had expected. Daniel switched gears, trying the psychological approach.

Once she was secured in a prison cell, he entered, boasting of the conquest of many of her kind with added emphasis on those most recently eradicated in the tombs. He gave his typical self-righteous speech on protecting the human race against the evil released by the devil and his wicked mistress. Usually Daniel didn't make it to the end of his monologue because on each occasion his prisoner would make an angry declaration of immortality and revenge. Leigh only rolled her eyes and said, "You killed a bunch of the human race tonight, without any help from my kind, stupid tosser."

Daniel admired her reserve for she said nothing else after but her sentence was an abundant gift. Her origins weren't American and to have the fortitude she displayed, he knew she had to be more than a century.

When Leigh was moved to the interrogation room she was chained to a chair with silver links and shackles that were bolted to the floor. Part of the chains were woven through the legs of an iron table, also bolted to the floor; the table had a single bag of O negative placed right in the middle – they were using the Pavlov technique. Just as the Doctor's poor dog could not help slathering at the mouth when a single bell rang for dinnertime, no matter what time he rang the bell, the Brotherhood found the same effect applied to vampires when they hadn't fed and the slightest amount of blood was around to tease them. Daniel saw many become cooperative, giving them locations to small bands they'd formed or speaking with great detail of adversaries and friends. Of course, the technique was more effective because of the blood they drained from the object first, leaving them weak and ravenous.

Leigh sat hunched over the table by the weight of the chains staring at the glass Brisbane, Marco, and Daniel watched her through.

"Can she see us?" Brisbane asked loudly, trying to mask his nervousness. "The way she's looking at us – Brother Daniel, she looks like she can see us."

"Of course she can see us," Marco said, "someone as clever as she is. She got the drop on me, looking through a mirrored window shouldn't be that big a deal."

"She got the drop on you because you didn't follow procedure and call for back-up, my friend," Brisbane replied sarcastically.

Marco ignored him and asked, "Daniel is this necessary? They were cooperating. They were going to come in on their own until Private A-team bungled everything. Maybe if I could talk to her – "

"I've got your 'Private', Buddy. Don't try to put your screw-ups off on me! You were about to let dangerous objects walk around among people – "

"And you got innocent people killed. Brother Joseph was a soldier in God's army, ready to give his life! Who were those people who had to be 'cleaned' because of your mistake, huh? Civilians!"

"Gentlemen! Brothers! What is done is done," Daniel said eyes still focused on Leigh. "Now unless either of you can undo it I suggest you both calm down or you'll be scrubbing pews until Christmas.

"DeMatteo, if you believe you can speak to her with successful results then you may try. The hunger for blood would have kicked in a bit and I'll wager we get some interesting conversation going. I will give it a few more hours because this one is far stronger than most but you will have back up. Brisbane and a few of his unit will be present and I'll be in the control room recording, make sure you keep her talking – she'll eventually tell us everything we need to know. You need to be patient with this one, DeMatteo, she's special."

Daniel walked closer to the glass, his breath causing a small fog that blurred his vision of Leigh. He could see through the hazy cloud she looked like an angel.

"An Angel of Death," he said.

"It would help if we knew more about her, like her name," Brisbane said, joining Daniel near the window.

My name is Leigh, Marco.

"In a few hours, she'll tell us all we want to know," Daniel said.

Marco gulped, startled by Leigh's voice in his ears. He looked through the glass at her and swore he saw her smirk back at him. Brisbane and Daniel stood transfixed not noticing Marco becoming a little paler himself.

"Uh, her name is Leigh," he said.

Brisbane and Daniel turned, both staring in surprise at Marco.

"How do you know this, DeMatteo?" Daniel asked.

"I forgot in all the excitement of... She told me."

"See? You make allegations against my team and me when the incompetence lies with you! Anything else slip your simple brain?"

I will avenge those senselessly slain by your "Brothers", Marco.

"No!" Marco said looking past them at a chained Leigh.

"Nothing else? You sure you haven't lost anything that could hamper this interrogation?" Brisbane asked.

Angered by his sarcasm, Marco stared at Brisbane while speaking to Daniel.

"She's stronger than she looks, Daniel. You could wait two hours or two days, she's not going to give us much and – "

"How do you know? You're some kind of expert all of a sudden?" Brisbane chimed.

"And," Marco continued, "she's going to kill those responsible for the death of her friends. I suggest pretty boy here not be present during the interrogation."

"No way you're taking me out of the loop. Don't let him do this, Brother Daniel. We work just as hard as he does and he has no right."

"When did she tell you she would have her vengeance, DeMatteo?"

"Sir?"

"When did she tell you this? She has been unconscious for most of the time you've seen her. She was out during the trip here, we drained a lot of blood from her; this is the first time we're seeing her awake, as it were. Are you beguiled?"

"No, Daniel! I'm... She mentioned it to me when I got to the scene first," he said turning to Brisbane, "that if I hurt any of her people that she was going to get me," he lied.

"You're scared that she's going to do the same to us when we have the upper hand?" Brisbane scoffed.

"We can never be too careful, Daniel."

"You're right. That is why I want Brisbane and his team there when you question her. This needs to be done with the utmost care. There are others higher up in this organization that will be anxious to see our results. Gentlemen I suggest you both cooperate."

"Then we shouldn't wait another minute. I say we go talk to her now," Marco replied.

"If you think so we'll do it. Give us 20 minutes for preparation."

"She really doesn't like Brisbane, Brother," Marco whispered to Daniel. "I think it would be safer for him and his team to sit this one out."

"Your ambition and deceit knows no bounds, does it?" Brisbane said.

"If I was trying to be deceitful don't you think I would have had the good sense to speak to Brother Daniel privately? Your need to be correct – your need to be one up on me is going to put us all, your own men, in jeopardy. Are you truly ready for that, a mistake of that magnitude here in our home?"

"How very dramatic – "

"Both of you stop! I can have someone else question her, DeMatteo, and bring in a whole different team as back up on the questioning. Both of you can get the dust rags and buffing towels and start on the pews in Father Turin's church, I'm sure he'd be quite thankful. OR, you can be ready in 20 minutes to question the object, the choice is yours, Brothers." Daniel stormed by them both continuing to the control room. The two of them stood in silence.

"Let's not play games here," Marco said breaking the silence, "there's no love lost between us. So you have to believe me when I tell you that it'll be better for you if you just watch this one from the control booth and let me handle – "

Brisbane started for the door not bothering to excuse himself.

"Let's hope she'll talk to you, eh, DeMatteo? Otherwise I'll have to impress upon the Brotherhood hierarchy how useless you've become," Brisbane said.

Marco entered the room where Leigh still sat in chains, pen and pad in hand. He knew it was nothing more than a security blanket as it dawned on him that Daniel was in the control room recording what was transpiring; Brisbane entered right behind him.

Marco was nervous. "Hi," he said.

Leigh looked at him, smirking, and then turned her sights to Brisbane.

"I guess righteousness is defined by those holding the sword at your throat," she said staring at Brisbane.

Marco looked over his shoulder to see Brisbane and another armed man standing ready to fire. How was he supposed to get her to talk to him with two uptight morons with itchy trigger fingers watching every move?

"How do you know my name?" Marco asked.

"Don't you remember you told it to me when you had me in a corner?" she grinned weakly and Marco was entranced. He couldn't understand her reason for doing it but he was glad she supported his lie.

"Yes, yeah – I... Something I've been wondering for a while, why didn't you kill me at that house when we first, um, met?"

"You didn't want to die," she answered flatly.

"Neither did my friend!"

"Nor did mine. My Princess..." Sadness darkened Leigh's face when she thought of Azyra. She only hoped that she was able to escape and complete the task that would save them all – she hoped she could one day be forgiven.

"Princess?" Marco asked trying to mask his enthusiasm.

"My friends were being threatened by your friend. The attack on him was provoked, nothing more."

"I was a threat to you too."

"Were you?" she asked.

"I..."

"I had the advantage. I was in a hurry, you were disabled, and you didn't want to die, at least not then."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Marco asked.

"It means you feel guilty and would trade you life for his. It was your irresponsibility that got him killed, you should feel guilty," Leigh replied.

"She got your number, eh, DeMatteo?" Brisbane grunted.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Marco said averting his eyes.

"I do. I have some blunders in my past. What you've done is permanent but who is to say that you would not be dead instead of him, had you followed procedure? All you can do to honor his memory is learn from your mistake and don't make the same one again. Clichéd but true."

"Which of The Six do you belong to?" Marco asked, coldly.

"Of course if you insist upon death, I can kill you along with the rest of them," Leigh said jerking her head at Brisbane.

"Big talk for a chained and starving vampire," Brisbane snorted.

"How old are you?" Marco asked as he reestablished control of the interrogation.

"The cheek!"

"OK, a lady who doesn't reveal her age. Sorry. Got it. So I guess you're not old enough to know The Six?"

"Everyone knows The Six, Marco. Your organization has been unfortunate to capture many who don't believe they exist anymore."

"And you do?" Marco asked in disbelief. She was forthcoming which baffled him as he scrawled notes on his pad. He was happy he brought it with him.

"The question is not whether I believe or can even locate them, it is rather, to which Coven I belong is it not, Marco?"

"Well which of The Six is it?" he asked in anticipation.

"I am with L'Ordine della Vendetta di Sangue. You ought to know this – it says so on my staff," she said smiling. For the first time since he stepped in the room with her, Marco was afraid.

Daniel, listening in the control room, was in mid-sip of his cup of tea when he lost control of his hands and dropped it crashing to the floor. His associates scrambled to mop up the mess and clean the scattered cup pieces only to have him shoo them away.

"Her staff..." Daniel said to himself as the color drained from his face. "She's lying."

"The what?" Brisbane asked perplexed.

Leigh looked at Marco, "Ask your Brother Daniel, Marco. It should make for an interesting yarn."

"Depending on who's holding the sword, right?"

"Cheeky you are, and clever."

Marco heard his earpiece crackle with static then Daniel's authoritative voice.

"Stop the interview, DeMatteo, and meet me in the debriefing room now. And have them move her back to her cell."

"But she's – "

"I said now!"

"Cheers, Marco," she said her eyes following his movement.

"How did you...? I need to stop asking you that. The interview is done for now. When I resume I'll have a lot more questions that I expect you to answer."

"If you wish to stay alive, you won't come back."

Marco felt a chill creep up his spine. He forced himself to exit the room slower than he needed to because he wanted to bolt and not look back. Brisbane and his cronies were watching his every move, waiting to pounce on his fear and serve it on a platter as weakness, but Marco calmed himself as much as he could, showing little emotion.

"Brother Daniel wants you to take her back to the cell so get more of your guys here," then he added, "Be careful."

"We know what we're doing over here, DeMatteo. That's why you're being called to the Principal's office and we do real work like we're supposed to."

The lights in the interrogation room dimmed; Daniel made his orders clear, there would be no more interviewing for the day. Marco threw caution to the wind, caring very little what Brisbane thought and exited. There was something in her voice, the way she smiled when she mentioned her Order. It wasn't a joke or a contest of who would catch what evil creature, because for Marco, the mention of Leigh's Order was enough for him. He still felt her beautiful and, he reluctantly admitted jogging down the hall to the debriefing room, he was beguiled by her charm but there was no time for silly schoolgirl crushes. Regardless of how he turned it around he was dealing with a predator and thinking anything less would get him killed – as it had Joseph.

Brisbane was a man who had might and muscle, which he knew gave him an advantage over anyone or anything since he was skilled in using both.

A lighter four-man version of his team stood in the room surrounding the table Leigh was still chained to, the packet of blood still sat in the middle of the table taunting her.

"She looks little," one said walking toward Brisbane with the special facemask he was ordered to bring.

"Yeah and she's hot too," another man said.

"Anything without a cock is hot to you, Marks," Brisbane replied. "Or maybe you hope she does have a cock?" and he and the rest of the men laughed.

Marks looked around the room then yanked the chains that kept Leigh bound.

"You think the cameras are still rolling?" he asked.

"Why? Wait a minute! Marks, you sick fuck, are you going to try and get some of that?"

"If it's OK with you," he said answering Brisbane. "I'll put the headgear on her so I don't get any unwanted bites and..."

"It won't be alright with Marco," Leigh answered.

"That pussy?" Brisbane replied. "By the time this whole thing is done he'll be out of here."

"Your Brother Daniel won't appreciate you're behavior either," Leigh replied.

"She's right about that, Marks," the first man said. "We should just clamp her down and move her back to the cell before DeMatteo gets back here. Besides, it's not right to do – "

"Do what, Trevors?" Marks asked becoming agitated.

"Rape. That's what this is and you're condoning it, Brisbane, if you let him do it."

"Yeah, Trevors?" Brisbane replied. He was angered by the question of his authority. "What is she going to do call the police? She going to get a rape kit done, huh? Look around you, Tough Guy, we're under a church! When DeMatteo comes back he's going to question her and if she doesn't answer those questions we have sanctions to do whatever we want to make her answer. Ha? You think we're just going to let her back on the street once we're done? Wake up, Mother Superior, she's nobody, not even on the radar. Hell we don't even exist according to records. We're just regular guys with secret bank accounts that work for private contracting firms living a boring life. Who have you told what you really do, huh? Who would believe you?"

"Doesn't matter if we exist or not, it's still rape and it's wrong."

"Excuse yourself, Trevors. Go on over to Team Bitch and see how far that gets you. I don't need anyone with me that's going to get me and my people killed."

"I want you to note that I object to this," Trevors said and he walked out.

"I object to thisth," Marks said mocking Trevors.

"Hey, Trev is a good guy, man. And he's right, Brother Daniel is not really going to like this," his teammate said.

"Oh you too with this, Bret?" Marks replied.

"I'm saying, man, look at the chains, they're slack. She's barely moving herself; she's like, really weak. What if we break her or something?"

"So you'd rather have a go when she's a full fledged, strong as fuck vampire, Bret? You're a brave man," Brisbane scoffed.

"I'd still hit that, I'm just saying I'm not into no dead fish," Bret replied.

"Look get this over with before the knitting club comes back here and sees you with your pants down and your little pecker out."

Marks, unable to control himself, shoved his hand in Leigh's shirt and fondled her breast.

"Wow, she's cold as ice, guys. Let's adjust the chains so we can get the chair out from under her."

"And you still want to fuck her?" Brisbane asked. "Remind me to never take you to a party with me."

The remaining three men carefully let the chains slacken as Brisbane removed the chair causing Leigh to almost collapse on the floor. They grabbed the chains, Leigh looking as if she was in a macabre suspended animation, or a twisted pale spider caught in its own silver web.

"See?" Bret replied, "wet fish. You might as well put your dick in a hand puppet."

Marks positioned Leigh face down on the table while he pulled down his pants. He leaned over her back whispering in her ear.

"Are you warm on the inside?"

"Not as warm as you are, I'm sure," Leigh answered.

None of the men saw the glint in her eye as she waited for Marks to pull his underwear to his knees. She flipped over on her back so quick he screamed when he saw her face. Leigh wrapped her legs around his torso and lunged her upper body thrusting her head toward her mark. Blood splashed out of the left side of his neck but her eager mouth was there to catch each drop. Every geyser-like burst gave her the strength her silver shackles had taken away; the parched desert that occupied her body was becoming an oasis of power and retribution.

Marks, nearly drained of all life within seconds, slumped on top of Leigh. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and his eyes had the faraway dead man's stare that Bret noticed, way too late.

"Holy SHIT!"

Leigh pulled the chains and Bret flew over her crashing in the interrogation room wall. Brisbane, who'd let go of his chain, aimed his machine gun at her – he wasn't fast enough. She slammed him against the wall and he felt his ribs break.

"Betcha wish you would have gone to the Principal's office too?"

"You... you can't escape, bit-." Leigh shoved him in the wall with more force causing his ribs to puncture his lungs. Brisbane died in silent agony.

Bret picked himself off the floor and surveyed the carnage. Brisbane was dying or dead and he was quite sure Marks, what little blood he had slowly running out of his neck, was dead. He looked around the room and saw the metal chair pulled up to the table with the bag of blood placed in the middle. Leigh was on the opposite side of the table.

"Are you still in the mood to 'hit this', Bret?"

In an unsubtle move, Bret reached for his holster.

"What is it with boys and their guns?" Leigh said. She dragged the broken legged Bret to the chair and tied him up with the very chains and shackles she'd been subjected to earlier.

"Do you feel my pain, Bret? I don't think you feel my pain."

Leigh clamped down on his shoulder blood streaming down his back. He looked up at a horrid red smile on her face and peed his pants. Leigh started to leave the interrogation room. She looked back at Bret remembering something important.

"Now you feel my pain," she said sliding the packet of blood inches away from his face. "That looks like a nasty wound, Bret. Let's hope you aren't so invisible they leave you here to bleed to death." Leigh disappeared into the halls.

Just as Marco reached the door to the debriefing room a force threw him past the door and further down the hall. Dust cleared around him he saw her eerie figure standing before him, blood stained lips, eyes ablaze. Instinct told him to draw his weapon but he only stood transfixed on the specter that held his gaze.

"It's your call," he said.

"You could die if you want? That is, if you're still feeling overwhelmed by guilt."

"The others?"

"Not going to miss them much, Marco. It was their own fault; they should have followed your orders. Trevors is still alive."

"Why him?"

"He's an honorable man who didn't want to die. My turn to ask questions, Marco. My staff, I'd very much like to have it back, where is it?"

"What if I don't –?"

Leigh's eyes turned cold, "Really, Marco, you and I don't have time for pleasantries. I've asked politely. I could resort to taking the answer from you."

Marco, knowing what that meant, did not want to be on the business end of Leigh's bad side. He didn't know why he knew but he felt this would not be their last encounter.

"There's a room with artifacts down the hall and to the right. No one is in there so you don't have to kill anybody else. In the room, at the end of it, there's a table, your staff is on the table. As a matter-of-fact above the table there's a vent that should lead you to the church's rectory and out of here."

"Why would you help me?"

"When I sound the alarm they will lock this place down – you won't make it out of here alive and I know you'll kill a lot of good men in a futile escape attempt. Besides, you don't want to die," he said.

"You are very clever, Marco. You should sound the alarm when I leave."

"You've got five seconds."

Marco stood in her wake confused by his conflicting emotion. He ran as fast as he could to Daniel, screaming that Leigh escaped.

*

Ramel lay on his back staring at the ceiling in Chester's sister's room – she was away at summer school. He tapped his fingernail on the handle of the gun swearing to himself; he couldn't stay another two days in the house with Chester and his family.

He was a fallen king reduced to hide out among the minions and simpletons, back to being the ordinary kid whose father thought to reinforce the idea that he would be nothing more than ordinary.

"But I'm not as ordinary as you think, Dad."

As annoying as Ramel found Chester to be, he was not disrespectful and his sister's room was explicitly off limits to him – Chester obeyed her rules.

Of course, this did not stop her from renting the room to her brother's friends (who could afford her rates and his 15% finder's fee) because it was comfortable and not overly feminine. To Ramel it was a cheap motel room he had no business being in, much less paying for, especially after he'd been so close luxury and Chester had the opportunity to stand on his coattails.

Though everything seemed lost he took great comfort in the fact that he was not the only one inconvenienced. He spoiled the party by showing up with a surprise no one was prepared for. And they were looking for him too, which wasn't the mark of an ordinary man, no one looked for ordinary men.

Ramel took to the Internet, searching local news sites and the mention of Aisha's death. They treated it like many others, another example of man showing contempt for his fellow man, until he saw The Light of Enoch Media site. He created a profile using Chester's sister's information (just because her brother respects her privacy didn't mean he had to) and saw he was a famous man – a wanted man.

Enoch called for those in the know to be aware of the murderous coward who was not only responsible for the death of a great Chief Witch but was also involved in the killing of several vampires. Ramel assumed the vampire Enoch was a powerful one who was probably a friend to Frederick. How else could he have such detail on what was going on? He also saw that there was a small group who wanted to hear his side before they devoured and skewered him. The impartial nature of some of the comments lightened his mood until he saw a comment left by one of the witches of his cousin's Hive. She accused Ramel as the person who killed her.

He lay a wanted man accused of a crime he did not commit, surrounded by people he wanted to get away from.

Chester sent Mike a message to get Ramel some money. Ramel was going to hide at the Tangled Woods Park. It was the safest place he could think of. The reported murders kept people away during the nighttime hours and more police patrolled the area.

Days passed before he heard anything from Mike. Ramel was anxious, assuming Mike had taken his money and ran as fast as he could to save his own skin. He held that thought until Chester invited a "special guest" in his sister's room.

Mike looked nervous throwing a black duffle bag at the foot of the bed.

"This door stays open. It's not my business what y'all two do outside of here but inside I ain't havin' it," he said.

"You mean yo' Mamma ain't havin' it," Mike jabbed.

"His mother isn't having what?" Ramel asked.

"Go on and tell him, Chess."

"It's not my business, man. Do what you want but the door stays open," he said and walked to his own room.

"His mother thinks we're fuckin'," Mike said.

"Gay? Are you crazy?? As if I don't have enough stupid gossip."

"Well you don't have to worry cause I got the dough and your ass can walk out of here tonight," Mike replied.

"Yeah, it took you long enough. What happened Mike, decided not to run?"

"Look at this ungrateful nigga here. Yo, in case you ain't heard from relaxing all day with Chess, the block is hot. I had to dip on the way to your crib a couple of times because cats is watching. I'm hiding, Ra. I got a body, remember? So me getting your shit was a real personal risk and you should be a little more appreciative."

"I see you took an 'appreciation fee' just in case," Ramel said looking through the duffle bag. "You never told me you where a ghost hunter, though. A killer of things paranormal and specter-like."

"The fuck you talking about, Ramel?"

"Because you see, people are following you but they are following you to get to me! And that kill you made, well, when I made my actual kill your dead body was running up to meet me."

"Riddles, nigga? I don't understand – "

"Kaya's little witch girlfriend is dead, really dead, and I know because I, unlike you can kill something and it stays dead!"

"You did... Why did you go and do that? They couldn't do shit without Kaya and I took care of it. You didn't have try and clean up shit. You just made things worse, man."

"Yeah, I did have to clean up! She was in the way, Mike. And Frederick, that dude was going to sell me out to them; he was with Hotep, talking to the nigga like they were the best of friends... Anyway everything is all over. They definitely can't do a damn thing without their Chief Witch – nobody gets a thing."

"That's some greasy shit, Ra."

"You're one to talk."

"Yo, I handled mine because we was going to be in a mansion, throwing the best exclusive parties, making that gwappo crazy, and swimmin' in bitches! It was supposed to be money, cash, hoes, Ra. The bitch was disrespectful and blockin' so I got rid of the roadblock. You just wanted to show off, prove you was down or some shit, I don't know."

Ramel grabbed Mike's hand and slapped the gun in his palm clasping his fingers.

"You feel that, Mike? You feel that power, the pulse of it? That's the way a gun is supposed to feel when you complete your job. It's like that Highlander shit, it knows there's only one and you're the only one standing.

"Did you feel that power when you shot Kaya, Mike?"

"Man, you're talking real crazy."

"Did you? Let me answer for you, 'no'. Because you didn't kill her, Mike. I heard her voice, laughing and joking with her pig friend coming up the stairs to trap me. Laughing. Tell me how a dead chick laughs, Mike? Now, her girl, she's dead and they are looking for me not your sorry ass because you don't have the power. There's only one, Mike, and it's me."

Mike snatched his hand away and much to Ramel's satisfaction, he was afraid. They'll all fear me, he thought.

Neither one of them saw Chester in his sister's doorway, his face dark and furious.

"You don't got to go but you got to get the hell up out of here," Chester said.

Chester stood fast, unafraid, and Ramel surmised he was too dimwitted to know his life could be erased with a thought. The idea made him giggle as Chester pointed to the exit.

"Chess..." Mike tried to explain but could not find any words.

"My Uncle Steve is gay, he's my favorite uncle. I don't got nothing against gay people. If you two want to get down, that's your thing, I like chicks myself, and personally that's more chicks for me. But killing people, nah, you niggas got to raise the fuck up out of here. Mike, you my boy and you know I ain't no snitch but you can't come back to my Mamma's house, especially not with that nigga," he said pointing to Ramel who'd already zipped the duffle bag, ready to go.

"Chester, I would say it was a pleasure making your acquaintance but I would be lying. You, your family, and your useless friend made a lot more money, at my expense, than anyone would ever pay you because you're annoying and incompetent. But because you're entertaining I'll spare your sorry existence and don't you worry, if I was dead I wouldn't come back to this bitch to haunt it. Bye." With that, Ramel walked by Chester and out the door. He knew it would be the last time he'd ever see Ramel Jackson and he felt an overwhelming sense of relief until he turned to his friend.

"Look, give it a couple of days or something, son. Let's find out if that chick Kaya is alive, and if she is, we wipe the slate clean. OK? We both got some cash. We can promote a bangin' party on our own and we make our own money away from that nigga. What do you say?"

Mike looked dejected. He invested his time with Ramel, a man he thought had ambitious goals that he would achieve. Mike hoped by standing in his wake some of the charisma, some of determination for the future would rub off on him instead of the excrement that tended to linger. He'd been had by a two-bit wannabe who had no sense of the streets or respect for the code one lived by to survive them. Ramel Jackson was a little man who didn't have the drive to get it done. Ramel wouldn't put it on the line – he didn't have a brotha's back. Chester interrupted his thoughts.

"You with it, son, or what?"

"I'm..."

"Think about it, I mean really think about it. And think about this too, Ramel lost it. He wasn't the weakest nigga around but, c'mon, we gotta admit he was a little herb. Look at him now, the dude walks different. He thinks he's that nigga. And he's got the look in his eye, Mike, that look like whoever he was is gone and not coming back anytime soon. You feel me? I'm just sayin', stay away from that nigga, son. I don't know what went down but you got a chance to be free and make this little piece of dough with me, like we wanted from the jump. Hanging around that dude, not a good look. Just consider it, Mike."

"Yeah, yeah, alright. I'm good, Chess give me a minute to regroup and we can do this thing. I need a little minute though," Mike said and walked out of the room.

"Sure, that's cool," Chester said. He heard his front door close and Mike was gone. Chester went to the door to listen to Mike's footsteps as he walked away from his apartment; despair took over him once more.

Chester knew it would be the last time he'd ever see his friend again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"She's the harbinger, Marco," said Daniel.

After two days in secret conferences with Bishop Peterson and no communication with anyone in his branch of the Brotherhood of the Sacred Seed, Daniel opened the door of his modest office and called Marco in. It was apparent that Daniel hadn't eaten, and he slept in his office while planning with Bishop Peterson.

Brisbane and the remains of the men who stayed in the interrogation room were long gone, all evidence of them cleaned like a fresh batch of laundry. Donald Trevors was transferred without protest to a Sergeant-At-Arms job at a church in Queens.

"We need soldiers in the eyes of God," Daniel said sitting behind his desk. "We let too many mercenaries infiltrate our ranks. They only want the Church's money and have no real allegiance to the cause. This is the time that will bring us what we need and it will be a fight for the greater good. You'll see, Marco."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with Leigh?" Marco asked.

Daniel opened a file cabinet drawer in his desk and pulled out a large, old, leather bound book. Sighing, he opened the book to a plate Marco needed to see. Even with each intricate detail displayed in black and white, Marco recognized the etching of the wretched creature portrayed in Daniel's book, hair wild, lips curled in an evil grimace, staff raised high above her head, silver point aimed toward the heart of a valiant man trying to stop the succubus from striking. It was Leigh and beneath the picture read the date: 1465. She had been alive for over five centuries!

"The man is one of my ancestors, an uncle I was told. You recognize the vampire who slaughtered him, don't you?"

Slaughtered him!

Marco felt ashamed. He'd been foolhardy, listening to his feelings instead of his logic and his duty. Leigh was a predator, plain and simple no matter how bad he wanted to believe she was a woman first. Just because she didn't kill him once or the second time she had the opportunity, didn't mean their next encounter would be as lucky. Marco was confused.

"The men of my family have always been soldiers for the Lord. I was told the stories of old and I could not wait to be inducted in the Brotherhood. When I was a kid most of my peers were afraid of Halloween creatures, werewolves and goblins and the like – I was the slayer of them all. Suffice it to say, not many children came to our house for trick-or-treating," Daniel said with a weary smile.

"It is written, right here," he tapped the page for emphasis, "that upon her return the Brotherhood would go to war. There is something wicked on the horizon, Marco, and unfortunately I may not survive its defeat."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you talking about, if you don't survive? Do you have cancer or something?"

"Listen to me closely, Marco," he said. Daniel didn't often use DeMatteo first name and having done so several times during their conversation gave him pause.

"We haven't found a branch of The Six. If we did it would cause major devastation within their ranks. Many of the ones we do slay have no clue of the influence those old Houses hold over their existence. You're in the field, this picking them off in bunches here and there has become more difficult over the years. Believe it or not, humans have been helping them to survive. Idealized kids who find out the true identity of some aren't as afraid and they offer themselves to be fed on by this wickedness. The ranks of witches swell and they tell those who will listen about their history and the Covenant with the Great Harlot!"

"May she be forever damned!" Marco exclaimed.

"Amen. There was a time, Marco, when the stupid and arrogant would come out during the eclipse and be destroyed before the eyes of many. Our explanation was a good one: spontaneous combustion was applied to 'humans' as well as hay and other material – people bought it. There was a lot more innocence back then, more insight...

"It is prophecy that the harbinger would come in the second millennium during the first Black Sun and the Brotherhood of the Sacred Seed would have to do battle. I am the only male on my father's side that is a part of the cause, Marco and my death during this battle is foretold. It is written and I accept it. I need you to accept it and realize that you will be my successor – you will help to lead us to victory."

"Are you kidding? Because some Latin words in a 500 year-old book says you're going to die in what millennium, Daniel? What if they were talking about your ancestor? He's obviously getting the crap kicked out of him, no offense, they could mean the millennium he's in, right?" Marco said.

"No. It clearly states that the time will be upon us when she returns and I see her. She returns," he said pointing at the plate with the etching of Leigh. "We are going to war, Marco, there is no question about it. I spoke with the Bishop and he will alert the forces, forces that will be under my command. Real soldiers of God who know our history – forces that I need to know that you will lead when I fall."

"Our history? What his- you want me to lead something and I don't know the first thing about it!" Marco protested.

"The picture, 1465 we went to battle with them. L'Ordine della Vendetta di Sangue. They are vampire slayers. More specifically, they are slayers of those who kill their kind and since civilians don't go out looking to kill vampires they were being destroyed by their own. Politics within Covens, some trying to oust others, the treachery was wonderful for us. But the Harlot would not have it, she wouldn't allow her children to annihilate each other nor would she let us.

"It was a bloody perfidious battle where a Nun who was a witch in disguise betrayed the Brotherhood. According to this record, Leigh alone killed many of our men and sent the traitors of her kind to Hell where they belong.

"Something much worse is coming Marco, we need to be ready. The Church has no intention of losing this one," Daniel stated.

"I still don't understand, Daniel. This is a little... I don't know."

"You're a fast learner. You have a good head-to-heart ratio, regardless of how you feel about your decision with Joseph. You are a good leader and there is much more for you to learn."

"Daniel, this is ludicrous. You're talking about dying in battle and me leading some army. You see how this could sound like a Madame Zorba circus act, don't you? It's prepost-."

Daniel held up his hand stopping Marco in mid-sentence. His patience was legendary throughout the Brotherhood and Marco had been testing it through the whole conversation. He leafed through more pages in his well-preserved book until he came to another plate. Daniel pushed the book toward Marco, who upon seeing the image, gasped and nearly fainted.

There was no mistake. Marco was looking at his own image etched forever in the annals of Brotherhood history. He stood firm, jaw set, anger and determination in his eyes with robes blowing in a wind he could feel now, in Daniel's muggy office. His arms were thrusting upward and in his hand was Leigh's unmistakable staff being driven through the skull of a very large monster trying to attack him. What made him gasp, the object that almost made him fade away like a man swooning in unbearable desert heat, was the clear picture of Leigh laid out by his feet. She had a wound that looked fatal, even though it was an etching. Marco pulled up a chair near Daniel's desk and collapsed in it.

"We have time," Daniel said, "and you have a lot to learn, Brother. I hope you've brushed up on your Latin."

****

Ramel headed back to the scene of the crime, the place that was the beginning of the entire flying crapstorm he was involved in. He was delighted to see the girl with the neon colored hair greet him with the same lackadaisical flair she had shown during their first encounter. He was elated when she led him, no questions asked, to the basement. As he descended the stairs his panic, the uncontrollable rash of gooseflesh that overtook his body during his first visit was gone. In fact, Frederick's lair seemed more like a dank, dark, musty smelling basement than the house of horrors his mind told him he was walking into before. It was a lonely place without Frederick's presence there to fill up the room but Ramel did not come for a trip down memory lane.

Ramel assumed Frederick would never to think to look for him there. He figured Frederick would try his luck with the apartment, waiting around until he showed up, or he'd look for Mike and Chester. Neither one of those idiots had a clue about the library. By the time Frederick figured it out, if the thought crossed his mind at all, Ramel would be long gone.

"No, Frederick doesn't want to die now," Ramel thought with a smile. " Old Freddy boy has something to live for, his girl Sankofa."

Ramel would only have to wait until Saturday when all the dark creatures who'd heard the call of the Conductor slipped away for their hibernation and Sunday would begin his freedom, then Ramel would come out from hiding and walk among his own people.

Shelter wasn't the only reason for his return, he needed the books he'd seen in Frederick's possession. The journal and the Book Of Records for the House of Ayalu were gone but there were other things, spells and rituals, mystical things that he'd never find in a bookstore. And the library, although they had a modest collection of the occult, did not have anything near the age and authenticity of what Frederick had collected in a century. Ramel needed a way to maintain the power the gun had given him – he was a new and confident man. He felt indestructible with his new clip of silver bullets. It set him back a few dollars but he still had a considerable stack of money in his duffel bag and the bullets were a necessary investment. Ramel had to look out for himself and ridding himself of the fear of vampires was one way he would start. With Frederick's books, he could place a spell on the clip so the bullets wouldn't just sting, there would be a nice surprise for any vamp that stepped too close.

"Damnit!" he exclaimed thinking of spell books. "I was right in a witch's crib and didn't get one spell book? The bitch had two vampires frozen solid and I didn't catch that. Stupid Ra, just plain stupid."

Running from the police is not an excuse, he declared to himself slapping the palm of his hand to his forehead. He thought of the library of spells Aisha had to have at her disposal and he left every single one behind. There was no use in chastising himself any further, he was here now and he had to make use of what was available to him.

Ramel thought it all through: after a year, he would return to New York like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. He intended to finish what Mike started.

Why stop at Kaya? When he acquired the power he needed he would take over the House that ousted him so unjustly. The witches could stay but he would get a new Record Keeper and in turn, he could get rid of Jenna. She is Aisha's friend and he'd have no sentimental longing for the past in his new regime. New vampires could join but there would be severe punishments meted for any disloyalty or betrayal. Double-talking, fantasy sellers and promises of dreams deferred – he would have nothing more to do with people who couldn't deliver.

An awful rotten smell smacked him in the face as he rounded the corner where Frederick's coffin lay. Ramel turned on the flashlight and aimed it toward the ground; he didn't want to step in anything that would make him have to throw away his shoes. Frederick hadn't been down here in weeks, although someone was paying the minions to keep a watchful eye on the place. The coffin looked as polished as it always did, there were fresh candles even though they hadn't been lit, and the smell was of a rotting animal carcass. It seemed his ex-employer decided to feed again. Love is indeed a powerful thing.

"But it makes you weak," Ramel said aloud, deftly avoiding the slabs of meat strewn too and fro. "Ambition is better. And insanity," he said realizing he was talking to himself.

Ramel laughed, "Most geniuses are crazy anyway," and patted himself on the back for his quick thinking. The outcome could have been much worse; he could still be crashing at Chester's for three days.

He opened the lid to the coffin. Nothing. He peeled back the silk lining and found nothing more than empty wood, its grain had demented faces that mocked him for thinking it would be so easy. Ramel aimed the beam on the small table Frederick placed most of his books on and it was empty, recently moved as evidenced by the square the dust hadn't settled on.

"Shit. Where did he –?"

A thought struck him, the false bottom! He was aware that Frederick hid important paperwork in a false bottom he had installed in his coffin. Ramel just needed to remember, which handle was the one that opened the drawer. He walked around it, lighting the candles for a better view, concentrating on how he saw Frederick open the surprise.

"Come on, man, you need those books. It's the only way you'll be able to take out Hikpodu like he did Ayalu," he said tapping his temple. Then he had it.

He walked to the head of the coffin and pulled the knob toward him. He heard a small "click" and saw the drawer at the bottom of the coffin, jut out enough to pulled further. Ramel found a single piece of paper with a message in Frederick's flourishing handwriting: You think too loud, Mr. Jackson.

Furious, Ramel crumpled the message in a ball and threw it in a dark corner across the room.

"Now that I recall the incident, it was not a defeat as much as it was a sacrifice," Frederick said, startling Ramel.

Frederick emerged from a shadow on the far side of his coffin.

"I believe she knew I would show up and she gave her life for something greater. That is not something you can comprehend, Mr. Jackson."

"So you've been reading my mind all this time? If you have you know I'm not the same dude, I've got power now!"

"Yes, yes, and you have come here to gain more power. I know. Do you see? I do not have to read your mind, Mr. Jackson, you have become so predictable."

"You moved everything, Freddy boy. You were gone! Why did you even come back here?"

"It is time for me to make amends, Mr. Jackson," Frederick said walking toward Ramel. He knew well what Frederick's intentions were but he had no fear. The gun pressed against the small of his back and though he had not yet cast a spell over the bullets, he was sure he could do enough damage to get away from him – live to fight another day.

"You said a life for a life, Freddy. Of course, that was a bunch of bullshit too, huh?"

"It was genuine until you took a life, Mr. Jackson. Perhaps it is fair for you to say it was bullshit, you were going to die from the start of this whole quest. I used you but you cannot deny that you returned the favor. You were free to go away, be out of my life forever with your own existence still in tact but you did the lowest of things... I must admit that was something I would not have predicted."

"That's right! None of you have a hold on me anymore. Matter of fact, you should be on your way and look for your girl or something, man. You can't talk all pretty and self-righteous thinking that gets you off the hook for killing my cousin. Let's just say I forgive you and you back the fuck up out of here," Ramel said, slowly moving his hand toward the gun.

"Shooting me only fans my ire, Mr. Jackson."

"I'm not afraid of the dark anymore, Freddy," he said. Ramel snatched the gun from his belt and fired two shots. One missed but the second hit Frederick, who hadn't moved an inch, in his shoulder.

The pain was excruciating but Frederick did not flinch. He only smirked thinking to himself, Ramel is full of surprises. It was time to close his bag of tricks.

Frederick was ready to pounce.

He paused, a familiar and imposing presence filled the room – Ramel had not been very careful in hiding his tracks.

"And you have proven yourself to be the man you will always be, Mr. Jackson, overcompensating for your many inadequacies," Frederick said.

Hotep emerged from the darkness behind Ramel and with incredible speed grabbed him in one graceful movement, hoisted him in the air, and tossed him like a rag doll in the remaining offal; the stench of it almost suffocated him.

"It looks like you are not as capricious as you continue to think you are and led the devil right to us, Mr. Jackson," Frederick replied, a smug expression plastered across his face.

Hotep stood over Ramel, pressing his foot on the side of his face, smashing him further into the rotting, stifling mess. The soft consistency of it did nothing to cushion his fall and he was in unbearable pain from a dislocated shoulder.

"I am going to squash you like the house nigger cockroach you are, then I'm going to go over there and take care of your massa, boy!"

A useless animal, this is how I am going to die, Ramel thought. The horrid smell overcame him and he passed out.

Frederick thrust himself at Hotep. He went flying backwards into one of the many pipes that lined the ceiling and wall of the sub-basement lair.

"I will be the judge in this case, Hep. Ramel Jackson's punishment will come from me."

He didn't want to stay in this tomb any longer than he needed to. Hotep would make haste with Frederick and Ramel – there was much more important business he needed to attend.

"Always the arrogant paleface, think you own vengeance too," he said striding to Frederick who held his ground. "You are not the master here. You never were!"

Hotep lunged. Frederick stepped aside but he didn't back away quick enough. Hotep reached out his long, powerful arm grabbing Frederick, sending them both crashing into Frederick's coffin. It exploded. Splinters and shards of wood flew all over the room and down the corridor. A sharp piece of wood lodged itself in Ramel's leg waking him from his faint.

Dazed, Ramel forgot where he was or why he bothered to come to such a smelly place. He looked forward and saw the blur of Hotep and Frederick's battle. Hotep had Frederick pinned and having noticed the hole Ramel put in him earlier, he jabbed his finger in it forcing the silver slug further in his body. Frederick growled in agony, his eyes were bone dry and filled with fury.

"You should have stayed dead, Boy! You should have left me and Sankofa alone."

"No! You should have left us!" Frederick felt a surge rush through his body and grabbed Hotep's arm, pulling him closer to him. Without warning he twisted his body hurling Hotep near the pile of carcass Ramel was pulling himself out of. Their eyes locked, Ramel paralyzed by fear. He had to think fast or he'd be dead in an instant.

The gun – his power.

Ramel squeezed off three shots in Hotep's chest. His terrible cries of pain let him know that all three hit their target. Ramel wasted no time hobbling away from Hotep and Frederick – he would live to fight another day.

Frederick, having no further interest in Ramel let him go. It was Hotep's turn to be pinned, trapped like a rat in an elaborate maze.

"Where is she, Hep? Where is your House?" he asked pressing on Hotep's chest.

"I am not your slave, Boy. I told you, this is a new day where your orders have no relevance."

"You tell me how to get to your Coven and maybe I will spare your life long enough for you to say goodbye."

Hotep laughed, "Look at you, son of a slave owner. You sound like your daddy and the rest of the so-called men on the plantation. Trying to get rid of a po' ole darkie so you can own something that never belonged to you in the first place. I'm not telling you where my House is so stop wasting my time. Whether it's these catacombs or the darkness of the coming Black Sun, I will die a free man, Frederick Duncleif Duval, the way I was born – long before your sad life began."

Catacombs! Images came flooding his senses, his mind recalling the voice of the Conductor. So many would come, they wanted to be safe it was their way to survive. She would come he was sure.

Sankofa would be there...

"Then you will die alone, Hep. I have no intention to," and he shoved his hand down with such force he felt Hotep's sternum break.

Frederick ran searching for the back way out of the basement. He was under no illusion that he'd killed Hotep but he did give himself a head start. Frederick only needed to buy a little time, enough to see her once more.

*

After careful thought, Mike decided Chester was right: Ramel has gone crazy. He had noticed the change in his walk, the way he spoke to them as if they were his personal servants, and consideration was a complete afterthought. What right did he have to treat them in such a despicable manner after they put themselves on the line? Poor Chester was a man with great ideas that were wasted on the likes of Ramel. Mike thought Ramel should have kept his mouth shut and let Kaya and her girl keep talking. They were breaking the rules and one of the witches would have to call them on it – they would've been tossed out, banished by their own actions and Ramel would only have to sit back and enjoy his front row seat to the show. Or he could have been a better cousin to Tarah, and then there wouldn't be a secret note about the kind of irresponsible fool he was. That's the way Mike would have done it.

He shook his head and felt sorry for his former friend. The man tried so hard when everything was given so easily. Frederick must have been desperate selecting Ramel as his beneficiary.

"When had he held a gun before I showed him mine? He wasn't down, he wasn't built for this. He got his props through me, and after all that, me handling the business, the nigga couldn't close the deal. I'm tired of rollin' with broke, shit talkin' niggas," he said.

"And ain't no way I'm toppin' a fine ass chick like Aisha. There wasn't no call for that. Frederick should've put me in charge," he said. In Mike's mind he would be the guy who'd have it all right now, if only he'd been the one given the opportunity.

Instead, he gambled and lost by placing his bets on Ramel. It didn't matter to Mike now because he was going to get his compensation.

Behind the building Ramel called home, while he was the king of the city, is an older brick building squatters had overrun. To avoid detection they occupied the first three floors, "living" at night; sleep and errands were reserved for the day. Their system worked well enough so those in the neighborhood never had reason to complain or alert the authorities.

However, they didn't go unnoticed.

Ramel had a telescope, another toy bought to impress, but Chester was the one who looked in the thing and noticed people skulking about. When Ramel decided he would take his new wealth to a bank for safe keeping Mike saw an opportunity that would keep unwanted IRS agents at bay. He proposed to Ramel the outlandish idea to hide his money on the fifth floor of the squatters' residence. He and Chester made it a habit to watch the people who mulled about and noticed that none of them roamed on the 4th or 5th floors of their commandeered establishment. Mike convinced him it would be an ideal spot where he could always keep a watchful eye and more important, the taxman wouldn't be breathing down his neck asking a lot of questions he knew Ramel had no answers for. It wasn't until he mentioned Frederick walking in and taking back all the money he'd given him that Ramel was convinced – he would leave his money in a semi-abandoned building located behind his own apartment.

Mike walked toward three very large black suitcases, opened them, saw the rolls of cash, bonds, and gold vouchers, and was happy Ramel had gone for the idea. He walked toward the window and flipped the bird at the apartment building he saw outside. Mike knew Ramel wasn't there looking through the telescope, able to witness his triumphant grin but he hoped anyway. Chester and he would be dividing the spoils long before Ramel had the guts to return. Mike had no sympathy.

"I got brains too," Mike said dragging the suitcases to the fire escape side of the empty room. He sent Chester a text, telling him to bring his car and made sure he emphasized it would be worth his while. He and Chester were going to do the things they wanted to do. Mike guessed there had to be close to $150,000.00 in cash alone. There was no telling how much the bonds and vouchers were worth, after all, Frederick was an old man, whatever the value it most assuredly appreciated.

He made one of the longest trips down a fire escape he'd ever done. The suitcase was cumbersome and he hadn't planned on the money to be so heavy.

Mike was careful because he wasn't one of the squatters. He didn't need any strange looks or interferences with the task before him. The haul belonged to him and Chester, he wanted to get it and leave unnoticed.

Once back on the fifth floor Mike thought it a better idea to climb down to the third floor and drop the suitcase in the pile of garbage where he stashed the first suitcase. His idea was a success. It prompted him to drop the last suitcase and sprint down the fire escape after it. His future lay amongst some garbage bags and broken cardboard boxes, a treasure amongst the refuse.

A dark figure crouched over an unzipped suitcase examining its contents. Mike couldn't make out who it was and figured it to be Chester. He reached for his gun and swore – Ramel had it. Mike shifted his hand to his pocket for the knife he carried.

He tried squinting to see who was there. He had no malice toward any of the squatters but he would have to hurt this person – there were no plans for a three-way split.

"Chess?"

No answer.

Mike took an authoritative stance, brandishing his knife at the figure.

"Yo, my man, that's enough. I know you got a pretty good look at something nice but I'm going to tell you one time to back up away from my property and forget what you saw or it's the last look you gone have."

The figure stood upright and faced him. Mike was stunned when he saw Kaya's face, baseball bat in hand . He started for a moment, her complexion was so pale he thought he'd seen an apparition – Ramel had been right after all. She set herself between him and the three suitcases she'd lined in a neat row while he was coming down the fire escape. Holding the bat between her nimble fingers, she let it sway back-and-forth like the pendulum of a Grandfather clock.

"I went back to her apartment, looked through some things and found this," she said, baseball bat still swaying in her hand. "She got this for me in black – you know I couldn't find the white paint marker she bought with it? Opening season at Yankee Stadium next year, and she was going to hit the dugout before the game, have everybody sign it for me. I had a bet that she couldn't do it and she was so sure she could. I think I would've lost that bet..." Mike was mesmerized by every slow and deliberate word she spoke.

"Look, I didn't have nothin' to do with toppin' your girl," he said. Kaya's demeanor, the methodical way she spoke, made him feel uneasy.

"You had no hesitation shooting me though, right?"

"That was business maybe a little personal. You was disrespectful, Kaya, I told you. It ain't nothing sweet out here in these streets."

"Uh huh, whatever. Where's your boyfriend?"

Mike stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the outline of the suitcases behind her.

"Check this out. It's obvious you ain't a snitch cause I didn't get no visits from the cops. I can break you off a little insurance so you and the rent-a-cop friend you got can relax somewhere. This should be a bygones thing. I'm sorry about Aisha, she was fine as hell but that was Ramel's call. It's time to move on for everybody."

"Where is Ramel, Mike?"

"I don't know," he said irritated. "I'm saying, I don't roll with that nigga no more. Now, do me a favor and step aside because you're interfering with my business."

Kaya scoffed, "Really? Your business? I'd say I'm in the right place because your business is with me."

"See? I'm trying to be a gentleman but you keep messing with me. I offer you a little something something – ," Mike said trying to size up the situation. Maybe he could tackle her over the suitcases.

"There is nothing you have that I want and what I want you don't have the ability to bring back," she said stepping in the shadow. Kaya flopped down on two of the three suitcases, making herself comfortable. Mike was furious.

"What you a fortune cookie now? I ain't going to beg a bitch to take a good deal but you do need to raise up off my cash. My dude is going to be here soon and we're taking our shit then we gone; if I have to treat you like a nigga in the street then I'll do that, no problem, that bat won't save your ass. I'm sayin', who the fuck you think you are anyway?"

"I'm the Conductor."

"The Conduct- whatever, bitch. Look," he said brandishing the knife, "I don't know where that crazy nigga Ramel is and I don't like it when people fuck with my money. Get off the suitcases."

Kaya bolted upright standing her ground. The swinging and swaying of the baseball bat stopped and Mike saw something different in her eyes. He would swear it was the dim light playing off of the dull reflective surfaces on the side of the building but the explanation he kept repeating in his head gave him no comfort. Her eyes were red. They weren't the type of red that you see in a bad photograph, it was as if the whole eye was suddenly and slowly bursting into flames. Her irises were aglow, a bright orange color, and he began to believe that he was talking with a ghost, one that had come back for revenge.

Mike could see it happening as if he were watching on television but his limbs would not move. Terror was immediate even though his pride commanded him to stay and fight her – fight the ghost and teach her a lesson!

Nothing on his body responded to the signals being blasted through his nervous system. He imagined he must be catatonic but in reality, he was too slow. Mike could see the graceful arc Kaya made swinging the bat, her face contorting into a terrible mask of a murderous beast. Her lips peeled back revealing enormous bone white fangs, her eyes were on fire, and her hand looked like the hand of death itself. He continued to watch in awe the bat's path down, a slow moving backward "S", until it made a horizontal slash headed straight for his knee. If he'd been watching this happen to someone else the entire scene would be missed. Kaya's single movement took place in a split second and Mike had no time to react at all.

But he was there, smack in the middle of what could only be a terrible nightmare. He had to wake up soon, at least before the bat hit his knee.

Mike heard an enormous "POW!" like the sound of a truck backfiring. He thought that would wake him.

Then it came. A deluge washing over his body of the most intense excruciating pain he'd ever felt. He looked down at his leg; bone from his shin jutted out at him. Kaya shattered his knee and in the process, sent his lower leg pointing east – the remaining bits of his knee and his thigh opted to point west. Mike crumbled on the alley floor in a pathetic heap.

Rumbling started from the base of his feet and rolled up his legs until it reached his throat where Mike opened his mouth as wide as he could and let out a guttural cry. The pain was unbearable and he was sure he would pass out within the next minute.

"BITCH! Damnit you bitch! Take the bags, take them!"

Kaya laid the bat across the suitcases and hoisted Mike from ground, slamming him against the side of the squatter's building. His leg, dangling like a piece of raw meat, sent fresh rivers of pain skating through his body.

"So, you still don't know where Ramel is?" she asked.

"Are you deaf or something? I just told you, I don't hang with that nigga! You broke my fuckin' leg, bitch! For NOTHING!"

"Not for nothing, Mike. You didn't possibly think you were going to get away with shooting me, did you? Streets is watching and all that, remember?"

Bright orange flooded Kaya's eyes causing new waves of fear that suffocated him. Kaya had him pinned against the wall with one hand while she stretched her fingers on the other. She could feel her fingernails growing and she watched them form to little points, her own personal daggers. Kaya smelled the stink of fear all over Mike and it made her pulse race; the lust was taking over her. She'd forgotten she was a yearling, she'd forgotten her adverse feelings about drinking human blood and could only hear the rhythm of Mike's pulse and the precious cargo that flowed through his veins. Kaya was going to take him.

She closed her fingers and her hand looked like a spear point. She thrust it upward into his chest, taking care to stay away from his heart. Kaya could feel her fingers pushing past breaking bone, slicing through soft flesh and muscle, Mike blacked out. Kaya tossed him in the piles of garbage. She walked to him, picked up the bat from the suitcase and tapped him on his forehead. He didn't respond and she swung the bat in her deadly arc, crashing it down on his collarbone – it snapped like a twig. He woke, barely, from the daze he was in and she tapped his forehead with a little more force. The knocking sound of a bat tapping against his head caused him to reach out with his unbroken limb, to open the door for someone in the distance of his mind.

"You like putting holes in people so I gave you a hole all your own, Mike," she said standing above him.

"Who...?" he said, still woozy and confused.

Kaya leaned over him, grinning a terrible grin with her terribly white, wicked teeth and all he could do was beg for his brain to wake him up.

"What – what are you?" he asked, tears streaming down the sides of his face.

"I'm dead, Mike. Remember? You killed me," and Kaya clamped on his neck letting the sweet rush take her in. Each draw of the magical liquid felt like she was taking a breath and the rhythm of his heartbeat was an exhalation. She knew everything about him, his likes, dislikes. His closest kept secrets flooded her mind in vivid color.

The colors began to fade and his memories were nothing but dim tones that ran away from her to a distant place beckoning her to follow. Mike was dying. This was a test for Kaya and her survival as a vampire – she had to let go. If she chased after his knowledge, followed it to the black, she would be sucked in with it. The rhythm of his heartbeat was becoming slower and she needed to release him before hers was in sync with his, dying right along with him. She couldn't allow herself to suffer the fate so many yearlings had – and her business in the land of the living was not finished. Mike would go but he was not going to bring her with him. She tore herself away leaving him gurgling on a pile of garbage in an alley.

Kaya stood over him again, feeling refreshed. Her lips were stained with the familiar crimson that dripped down her chin. There was one more thing she needed to do. She twisted the watch face, awaking the special blue Topaz crystals. The loud sound of moving gears filled the alley and she grabbed hold of Mike's limp body.

He was awake, finally, but he couldn't identify his surroundings. It was dark and it looked like he was outside but he didn't see the moon or stars in the sky. He could see above him and he was in the inside of a cave. Had he gone camping?

"Damn, what was I drinking?" His hand shot to his neck and he check thoroughly for bite marks he did not find. He stood up and felt no pain. Mike jumped up and down, both his legs feeling better than ever. But he couldn't relax until he figured out where he was.

At that moment he felt something behind him and he spun around. He saw Kaya. She looked a lot less menacing than before although she still had the bat with her, it swaying back-and-forth. She was standing beside a tall hooded figure. It was unnaturally quiet with the exception of a steady ticking sound. Mike heard it and looked in the sound's direction, it was coming from Kaya but it was too loud to be the tick-tock of an ordinary wristwatch, even if the watch wasn't digital.

"That bat, you hypnotized me or something with that shit, swinging it like that. Seriously, where we at?" Mike asked Kaya.

The ticking stopped with one final "TICK!", a palpable silence filling the space like water. Mike's thoughts felt loud in his head, as if he were screaming them at the top of his lungs, though he said nothing.

"It is time," Sama'EL announced stomping the base of his scythe in the ground. He pulled back his hood and Kaya saw the handsome man she first met, Mike's vision was something far worse. They walked toward him and as Kaya got closer, he could see a door opening to the side of her, it followed each step she took until she stopped mere feet away from him. Sama'EL continued his march toward him, opening his robe as he did so.

Mike looked through the door and saw himself lying in an alley amidst garbage and trash. His tongue lolled out his mouth to one side, his leg, twisted and grotesque, looked like it belonged to someone else. There was blood everywhere, his neck was completely stained with it and the hole in his chest looked like he'd been shot with a double-barrel shotgun. The twisted mess that was his face was the expression of a man who'd been scared to death and could do nothing to allay his fear. Only a few feet away stood the three suitcases filled with more riches than he'd ever had in his life – he was devastated.

"Good-bye, Mike."

"Nah, nah! What is this place, where am I?" he began to panic. The Grim Reaper closed in on him.

He raised his scythe to the cave ceiling creating light that danced off the stalactites. Kaya was aware of a large one that had been formed since her last visit – it was empty. She walked toward the portal to leave.

"Yo, what the fuck? OK, I'm not playin'! This is that bullshit, I don't even know where I'm at!"

"Don't worry," Kaya said, "you'll have company real soon. I'll see to it myself."

"It is time," The Grim Reaper placed his hand on Mike's shoulder. He could hear his full name being bounced along his ear canal and he screamed for his life. Swathes of black wrapped around him, stifling his frantic attempts at escape and muffling his screams until they could barely be heard. Kaya looked, the black mummy figure didn't move. A single beam of light surged out the top of it toward the empty stalactite.

"You won't be alone, Mike," she said and stepped through the portal.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

It was quiet in the House, nothing but the echoes of Ralph tapping on the keys of his laptop. The staff was still around, a skeleton crew of Jenkins and a few others who stayed to assist but everyone else, the vampires, had cleared out. All seemed empty without them slinking by or emerging from dark corners. There was a desire for a grandiose gathering of debaucheries with the spectacular and macabre enjoying a decadent absinthe party.

The illustrious hall, entered before one was greeted by the beauty of a long marble staircase and the intricately designed gilded elevator, seemed cold and dull despite the bright light that shown from the three-tier chandelier hanging above.

They looked like a group of students waiting on their professor. Victor, Elena, Bill, Jenna, Ralph, and Leigh sat at the bottom of the staircase. Each was lost in thought afraid to break the silence with the question that was common on their mind: what do we do now?

In 48 hours the Black Sun would come and in an instant it would be gone. Afterward, there would be nothing but chaos.

The Brotherhood was coming.

When Leigh escaped she fled without hesitation to the safety of the mansion. The Brotherhood's arrival was the first thing she warned everyone about. It wasn't hard for her to deduce they would make a major move against them, she could feel it all over Marco before she left; it permeated his thoughts. Leigh also felt his concern. He was worried, which caused her some trepidation, about her survival. She couldn't glean specific details from Marco's scattered mind, but she knew if it was anything like the last encounter she had during the massacre in 1465, the bloodshed could be much worse.

"Man has improved his ways of destroying one another. I'm quite sure his appetite for destruction extends to my kind as well," she'd told them.

Victor sat concentrating on a corner, made darker by the heavy black drapes that hung there, believing someone stayed behind. Any moment someone was going to step out of the shadow and join them at the base of the staircase. They would add their ideas on evading the conundrum he and his hodge-podge of new friends found themselves in. All he saw was the slight movement caused by a draft which sank him deeper in his melancholy thoughts.

It was only the beginning. His friend is dead – murdered, innocent people died and Ralph's grandmother had been harassed. Victor was questioned and followed, his life was never going to be the same after all he'd witnessed and according to Leigh, the Brotherhood was only getting started. If it were as bad as he imagined it to be, for the safety of all things he held dear, he would have to move. Disappear without a forwarding address.

Some of the very people sitting with him would participate in a bloody battle or two. There was the distinct possibility that he would never see any of them alive again.

Azyra...

Si'rah, unsuccessful at taking a nap, came down the stairs and joined the group. After 30 minutes of silence she chose to break it.

"Where do we go from here, Chief Witch?" she asked Jenna.

Jenna stood to face her haggard looking friends.

"Early tomorrow we need to be at our Sister's burial. We have to be sensitive to her family but when the time comes we can give her a proper funeral," Jenna replied.

Elena, who opted not to speak to the strange group of people she found herself among, thought Jenna's statement rude. Everything about the conversation was wrong. She wanted to be away from this place and she wanted her life back the way it was.

"I don't know who your sister is but I'm sure that the rest of the family will feel the funeral they're giving her will be just fine!"

"She wouldn't," Si'rah fired back. "We're carrying out her wishes as a witch. And we aren't the kind of people that would disrupt her family setting. We're grieving spectators like everybody else."

"It doesn't sound to me like you're everyone else. Something tells me there's a lot more to it than you all just showing up at her funeral," Elena said.

"Look, you. I'm not going to sit here and try and explain witch business to someone who's not going to get it anyway. Our Sister wanted a proper funeral and she's going to get it. And that's that."

"Si'rah, it's fine," Jenna said. "You're not going to understand it," she continued to Elena, "but we know she wanted what would be considered a proper burial by our customs." Elena was satisfied with Jenna's explanation. Her demeanor gave Elena a sense of comfort. In her opinion, she was the one who seemed the sanest out of all of them.

The logical side of her brain continued to tell her that the crazy one who showed up, the one who escaped – the one who killed Gregor's men, was a lady assassin with a fetish for blood. Her eyes told her otherwise. Upon seeing her pale skin, the fangs, and hearing her talk about battling men in the 1400s she was beginning to think she might have developed the fever along with Victor and Ralph. She wouldn't allow herself to say it out loud but for the sake of her own sanity, Elena chose to think it. She made room for the possibility that she was seeing what she would not tell another soul. The blame game started again and she cursed Ralph for being such a fool and Victor for supporting him in his foolishness. She wanted to continue to be angry with Victor but thanked God he was there with her, she couldn't maintain her reason if she had to absorb all of this on her own. Elena leaned closer to him.

"What is a proper witch burial?" she whispered. Her question traveled throughout the hall for everyone to hear. Si'rah rolled her eyes in disgust.

"OK, whispering," he whispered in return, "as you can hear is, well, it's just silly. According to them," he continued in his normal tone, "she needs to be cremated."

"Why wouldn't her family want to honor her wishes? Being cremated is a common, it's done all the time. That doesn't make any sense, Victor."

"It's the way they have to do it. I don't want to get into this right now, Elena."

"You've barely spoken to me since you brought me here. I can't call anyone to tell them where I am, it's like I'm in jail!"

"You could be enjoying a nice meal right now if you would've stayed put at Ralph's."

"We're about to go there again? That's what you want?" Elena asked.

"Actually you might want to get into this, man," Ralph interrupted, averting an explosive argument.

Everyone diverted their attention to the gangly man hunched over his laptop.

"They called an emergency meeting of several Bishops and there's like, 45 minutes worth of minutes missing," Ralph said.

"It's started," stated Leigh.

"What are you snooping around in, Ralph?" Victor asked.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"What's started?" asked Bill.

"The war," Leigh answered. "When they have a meeting of Bishops and the subject of the meeting is off the record, that is the sign they are putting together a war council, they will be coming for us – expeditiously."

"How can you be so sure?" asked Bill.

"Because she was there the last time they put a council together to attack us, Dad, remember? Something has them agitated and they want to strike first, when they feel we're at our weakest. They'll probably try something on the day of the Black Sun."

"Maybe it's that guy Aisha was trying to tell us about before she... That guy Jessie, maybe he blabbed for some kind of redemption or something. She said he was a warlock so maybe he found God and didn't want to be-."

"'Found God', Dad? So to be a warlock you have to be godless?"

"Aw, Heeks. You know what I mean. Say he wanted to be a Catholic or something. You can't be a Catholic and a warlock can you?"

"But you act like the Catholic Church has the monopoly on God or who and what God is," Jenna countered.

"OK, not a good time to be arguing about God when we all are about to have our asses handed to us on a platter," Victor said. "Leigh's seen this when they were using bows, arrows, and cow dung – no offense, but they've got access to some impressive stuff now-a-days. They are going to stop at nothing to track us all down."

"Including putting holes all over your site," Ralph said. They walked closer to Ralph and crowded around him for a better look.

"All the dummy profiles, except for mine, are gone. They're just monitoring everyone who traffics here, Victor. They've already tried tracking down the home address of three of my fake profiles. I had a fourth and a real one that I erased as soon as I met you ladies," Ralph said looking up a Leigh.

"You were checking out my site? I thought you didn't care-."

"No time to get sentimental, man. Besides look at what the security camera picked up at my fourth address."

They watched grainy footage of an empty warehouse for a few minutes when they saw shadows moving around on the ground. Men dressed in black poured in view of the camera, their faces covered, black armbands with gold embroidered crosses were their only accentuations – movements measured and precise. It looked as if they were watching a video game, each small group of men scanning a particular area then returning back to the previous location they'd left only moments before.

Their movements changed, some men disappeared off the screen and did not come back while others reached in small black bags.

"Are they setting –?" Si'rah started.

"Wait for it," replied Ralph.

The men evacuated the screen and a fireball filled up the area before it went black.

"Did they...?" Bill asked with an incredulous look on his face.

"It was an old warehouse in Farmingdale. A friend of mine, his father was trying to sell it and didn't have much luck. Sometimes they throw a few raves in there, that's why he installed cameras, you know to cover his ass but otherwise it's empty. That was the physical address I used for my profile. The one the Brotherhood traced. Let's just say my friend's Dad will get a nice little check because of a 'gas leak' explosion. Look at the time stamp, two-weeks ago. And did you notice the armbands? Face it, these guys have been ready to go to war long before any Bishops' meeting."

"I'm going to help," Victor announced.

"What?" Elena said.

"I'm going to shut down my site and build a new one. It'll be like an underground railroad."

"Excuse you?" Si'rah said with raised eyebrow.

"This is not your fight, Victor," Leigh said. "They do not know who all of you are that assist us. You can go on and live your life without threat."

"They killed my friend. The Brotherhood murdered him in cold blood. Ralphie, you were there, you saw it! You think I'm going to let them get away with that?"

"Leigh's right, kid," Bill added. "They can't go around killing humans however they want, whoever they want. It's careless and it leaves too much evidence, which leads to questions. You're safe as long as you don't go jumping on the vamp bandwagon. Sit this one out and enjoy your life."

"Are you kidding? They KILLED my friend. And just so that you know, I'm already on a list among their cast of characters so what peace will I really have? You just heard Ralph say they are all over my website spying. I'm going to help and you can take it or leave it."

"Well you're not going to get me killed!" Elena shouted.

"Nobody asked you to join me," Victor responded.

"Are you insane? These people," Elena said gesturing to Leigh and the witches, "haven't murdered us and they're basically saying we can go, Victor. The 'Brotherhood' people have no idea what we know and," Elena looked at Jenna, "we won't tell them. We can just walk out of here – listen to them. This isn't our fight."

"You know, your boyfriend is partially responsible for sending them in our direction," Ralph pointed out.

"There is no way I'm going to let you blame this on me, Ralph. You quit when you should've come and spoken to me. If you wanted out that bad I would have convinced Gregor to let you go."

"Yeah right," Victor scoffed.

"Laugh if you want to," Elena said, "Ralph made the first move."

"By wanting his freedom?"

"No, Victor. By bringing in your killing spree girlfriends instead of talking."

Victor had enough banter with Elena. He stood and walked up the marble stairs not knowing where he was headed. He didn't want to call her a coward because like the rest of them, Elena was afraid. It was in the air, he was sure his vampire hosts felt it too, something more than the impending eclipse. But the nagging feeling he had that Elena couldn't wait to bail – again, was something that was not going to go away. She was right, the fight was not his but what would she stand up and fight for? Victor wanted her to, just once, stick around, dig in and defend something – him. But he hadn't felt that way about her in a long time. She, Ralph, the rest of the crew may have been a team at one point in their lives but to Victor the veil had been lifted. It was never about the group for Elena, never about Victor, it was always her needs first and foremost. What he had ever seen in her was gone and for the first time since they'd parted ways, he didn't feel bad about it.

"I'm staying," he said to her, "and somebody will take you home but it won't be me."

"How generous of you, Loverboy! And what am I supposed to tell Gregor when he comes around looking for me?"

"Tell him what you need to survive. Don't forget your credo, Elena. You'll think of something."

Elena was hurt. The aloof way he delivered his message cut her deeper than Victor would ever know. That he would think her heartless was an even greater insult than his constant defense of Ralph and his bungles. Elena was afraid and wanted him to come up with a clever plan to save her, no matter how preposterous, at least it would show her that he still cared.

The old homeless man meant a lot to Victor and he wanted to do something to feel that he was a part of making things right. What had she done to change anything? They'd all judge her, brand her a coward for leaving and perhaps she was. But Elena looked at her current situation: something serious was going down that could get people very close to her killed – she could be killed! If they wanted to label her a coward because she wanted to live then so be it. Let them go off to their flights of fancy, she wanted to be as far away from the whole sordid business as she could be.

"When we go to the funeral tomorrow, we'll drop you where you want then," said Jenna.

"That's fine with me," Elena answered.

Leigh approached Victor and said, "You should go with them, Victor."

"Not happening," he said standing his ground.

He meant to carry out his mission, whatever he thought his mission to be. His thoughts were jumbled and Leigh didn't want to go deeper in trying to figure him out. It was pointless. Everyone there was on edge, the tension so thick you could see it. She hadn't felt anything like this before, even when she was thrust in the middle of war herself. There was a cloud as if they all knew something greater, much more sinister than a simple battle of wills was on the horizon.

A loud clap echoed behind them and they all turned toward the large doors. White light beamed from the doors' hinges and a giant latch appeared where there was none before. The doors opened and a weary Azyra walked into the hall, doors closing behind her.

"Princess!" Leigh ran for her, catching her before she fainted to the floor.

"Jenkins! We need – " Before Jenna could finish her command, Jenkins and staff were hovering over Azyra, attaching bags pumping her full of as much of the life saving fluid as they could.

"Why don't you let her drink it?" Bill asked.

"Please, Sir. Let us do what we must," Jeeves replied.

"She starts feeding in her condition we can't be sure she won't attack any of us," Si'rah said.

Elena rubbed her neck wishing she had stayed at Ralph's.

"They took it all, Shug," Azyra said looking up at Leigh.

"You must relax, Your Highness. Regain your strength then catch us up," Leigh said.

With great effort and support from Jenkins, Azyra stood on weak legs. She let tubes rush the blood through her veins but it did not satiate her hunger. She wanted to feed but would have to settle for a glass of absinthe.

"There was nothing left," she began as one of the staff handed her a crystal glass filled to the brim with the familiar green liquid.

"Left of what?" asked Victor. He was ecstatic to see her, which did not go unnoticed by Elena.

"The House of Ayalu, what was left of her House. They cleared everything out of there. I was looking around for your paraphernalia and stuff I've seen in your ceremonies and wasn't none of it there. Crosses and bibles were all over the place, they converted it into a makeshift church with pews and everything." Before she knew she had, Leigh gasped.

"I know, Shug. They took everything, burned anything, and ran the flock out into the surrounding forest. I found a bunch of them dead – pulled the fangs right out of their mouth, some were very hungry but too afraid to hunt, even for little critters and creatures." Azyra looked at Jenna, "I don't know what happened to all the witches – if they all got away. They said some of them did, went back down into town but..."

"We've been betrayed," Si'rah said.

"First they kill her then they sell her out to the Brotherhood," Bill said.

"Excuse me, 'kill her'? Kill her who?" asked Victor.

"Ayalu was killed some time ago, Honey. Pretty much started all this confusion and drama we got going on now."

"Isn't she one of The Six, one of Lilith's kids? What kind of super powers does the Brotherhood have if they can just fly to Brazil, walk in a House, and kill one of the original and strongest vampires of all time? Geez, why weren't we mounting an attack the minute we knew she was dead? Aren't there more of the Della Vendetta people we can call and get these guys?" Victor asked. By now he was panicking.

"Ramel knows the man who started this. I say we get that guy so he can tell us where he is. We need to know what his mystery man knows," suggest Si'rah.

"Kaya's not going to like that," replied Jenna.

"She'll like it if she's the one who gets to extract the info from him," Si'rah said.

"Dear Sister, what an excellent idea. We need to find the Conductor."

"Won't do you any good, anyways," said Bill.

"Why not? She can get him to talk," Si'rah replied.

"Damnit, Dad! You didn't!"

"This doesn't sound promising," Victor said.

"I did and I would again! He killed her fiancé – might as well say her wife because she sure as hell was going to marry her. And he killed her in cold blood. I couldn't give her that scoundrel's address fast enough. So we'll have to figure out how to find Ramel's mystery guy ourselves because there's not going to be enough Ramel left to talk to when Kaya gets him."

As if called by some unseen force, Jenkins left the group and headed for the front door. When he returned Kaya was with him. A staff member brought the tray, on it a glass filled to the brim with absinthe.

Kaya looked like a shocking phantom dressed in black. The black baseball cap she'd worn the day she, Bill, and Jenna were to help Aisha move was pulled low to her face. She had on a long black jacket, similar to the cowls the witches wore; her classic black "Chucks" had become an accessory as essential as the black baseball bat she continued to carry.

The dried blood on her face caused a stark contrast which made her look more frightening to her friends who found it difficult to judge her state of mind. Azyra had been here before – she was unabashed.

"It's going to be hard to get used to feeding on animal blood or even the cloned stuff once you've tasted the real thing," she said taking a handkerchief and wiping Kaya's face.

"There's only one other I want then I can do meat like everybody else," Kaya said.

"That's some bold talk for a yearling," Si'rah commented.

"It is," Azyra added. "And how you supposed to feed in the meantime, Shug?"

Kaya snatched the handkerchief from Azyra walked to Bill. She gulped the rest of the absinthe in her glass handing it to Jenkins; he filled it again.

"If you didn't get him, who was...?" Bill pointed to her chin at the remaining dried bloodstain.

"The fool that shot me," Kaya replied.

"This is all very interesting but we have more pressing issues at hand, wouldn't you say?" Leigh said. It stung her to hear Azyra call anyone else "Shug", even if it was the Conductor. Regardless of the slow process it took for them to age she realized time could not be stopped. It was constant, forever stretching forward no matter how far back one looked behind them. She and Azyra would forever be bound in blood, there was no way to get away from it, but they were growing apart, as is the inevitability of such a relationship.

They had been together since she turned her. There was never a time Azyra went out to explore who she was, as this brand new creature. Leigh knew the day would come when she would want to – without her. Azyra had become all she'd known, and she worried about terrible loneliness.

Leigh's selfish anxieties would have to be placed aside for the greater picture. She would rather be lonely, having lost her family of one, than suffer the agony of jealousy causing the annihilation of everything she loved, especially Azyra. Leigh needed to contact The Order – every hand would be essential in this fight.

"Look, Kiddo, we need you to find Ramel alive and keep him that way for questioning," Bill said.

"That's not going to happen," Kaya replied deadpan.

"It has to happen," Jenna said.

"Well it's not!" Her words bounced around the hall for what seemed like forever before the deafening silence followed.

"He shot her in the back. The dude wasn't even man enough to look her in the face and tell her what he thought of her – he was a bitch-ass nigga and shot her in the back! I ain't having a fuckin' conversation, invite him for tea and scones, ask him questions... He's dead. Period."

"You think that you're the only one in pain? She was our leader and our Sister. We lost someone very special to us too. And like, no offense, we knew her before you did, OK? I know she wouldn't stand in your way knowing you really want to hurt Ramel but not if it made you like this," Jenna said waving her hands up and down the height of Kaya's body. "You're a mess. You can't starve yourself until you catch him because, as good as you are, you don't know where he is, Kaya. You don't know when you'll find him. If you starve yourself until The Thirst takes over, you'll hurt someone. And don't bother saying you won't because we've seen and heard enough stories to know you will, Conductor or not – The Thirst always wins!

"Another thing, Aisha wouldn't want you to get in the way of anything that could help the safety of her family – all of her family and that includes us. You can't kill Ramel until after we're able to question him. There's a traitor in our midst and he knows who it is."

"You done?"

Si'rah approached Kaya, "Take this seriously, it's our survival we're talking about. He knows who the traitor is."

"So do I."

They were astonished.

"It's Hotep," she said.

"Hotep? That's ridiculous. He is the guardian of our House, our king and he wouldn't put us in jeopardy. You must be mistaken," Si'rah responded.

"I'm not mistaken. Sankofa told me so herself. When I find him, he's getting it too."

"I had a feeling... Well you know, he never did like me," Bill said.

"He had his reasons, Record Keeper," Si'rah spat. "That doesn't mean he would bring down the entire Coven."

"Kaya," Jenna said stepping toward her, "is it possible Sankofa could be, I don't know, maybe have her facts mixed up?"

"Do you see him here, any of you? This place is a graveyard, ain't nobody here. The one person who should be here making sure everything is cool, making sure I'm OK, is not. He's the king of the castle, right? Well, where is he? Doesn't the captain go down with the ship? Nothing? Yeah, I thought so. Sankofa's word is enough for me. Whoever comes first, Ramel or Hotep, when I see them it's a bad night."

"For you maybe," Si'rah said. "I know you're not in your right mind, Kaya so I'll pretend I didn't hear your blasphemous accusations. I will say this, you're a yearling. You ain't even that old; you're all fresh, wet and new. If you go off attacking Hotep he will be forced to defend himself and he will crush you. This is how you would honor our Sister's memory, you think Ish would want that?"

Kaya rushed Si'rah standing inches from her. She could see every pore, each mark that made up the character of her face. Si'rah was a formidable witch who had seen many things – she hadn't flinched, even when Kaya bared her fangs.

"I don't want to hear you say that name. I don't care how long you've known her, you never call her that – that's us," Kaya said so low Si'rah had to strain to hear her.

Leigh went to Kaya and placing a gentle hand on her arm. She led her away from Si'rah although Kaya's eyes never left her face.

"You have to open the door for us," Leigh said. "Because if you are correct and Hotep has betrayed us then we know where he will be. You have to take us there."

"Take us where?" Victor asked.

"We are going to our resting place, Honey. If his treachery runs that deep, we'll probably have Brotherhood company," said Azyra.

"Great Mother! He could wipe out 90% of the vampires in the Western Hemisphere," Jenna exclaimed.

"Probably more," said Leigh.

"So we're supposed to walk through the door that Azyra just came out of? The door with no visible lock, hinges, or doorknob to open it?" Victor asked.

"No we are," Azyra said walking to Victor. She kissed him on his cheek and smiled, "Here is where we part ways, Honey. It's been a lot of somethin' but you can't get yourself involved any deeper than this."

"But – "

"No. You better believe me and Leigh gone take care of those men that killed Antoine. But right now you got to round up your friends and go to a funeral."

"I want to help," Victor said with a pained look.

"Yeah, I'm helping too, man," Ralph added.

"You can help by showing your face at the funeral. When the Conductor opens the door, we gone zip in there to take care of business and you can be her – "

"I'm coming with you," Kaya interrupted.

"Cheers, we can handle it," Leigh said.

"If Hotep told the Brotherhood where the church is they're coming fully loaded. You'll need as much help as you can get. Besides, some people in Ish's family never liked her relationship with me – they'll be there. I'm coming with you."

"Oh screw them! Her parents love you, Kaya," Bill said.

"You should show up anyway and to Hell with those other people!"

"Show up? So they can see me like this? It'll be fuel for the family rumor mill. Nah, I'll be back in time to attend her real funeral. Y'all know what you have to do so let's do it."

"OK then, let's get this door open so – "

"No way, Archie Bunk. You go with Jenna, give her parents my love. We got this one."

The battle was about to begin.

It always started with the weight of the world on somebody's shoulders and for once Bill wished the weight were his to bear. They were splitting up which, in his mind, was never a good thing; someone always had to say goodbye. He would play the charade with Jenna, Si'rah, Victor, Ralph and Elena showing up at this miserable funeral.

Bill would watch Aisha's family cry tears of frustration and anguish over their tremendous loss. He knew Aisha's murderer able to roam the streets, as a free man, with all the answers to their questions, would compound their pain. They would never get the closure they desired. And Kaya was right, there will be rumors combined with police speculation that would eventually put Aisha's murder at her feet: "She was killed because of that woman she was with"; "A man could have protected her"; "Probably a man who didn't like a woman as the competition". Kaya's glaring absence at the funeral would only add fuel to the fire.

Bill decided to go through the motions and express his sympathy, unable to tell Aisha's mourning parents any of the truth he knew; that justice was coming but not by way of the badge, only blood – rivers and rivers of blood.

And what of their future? Bill watched as Azyra, Kaya, and Leigh walked to the door. Kaya turned her watch face and they all heard the sound of gears grinding away, she had the key for the tumblers of a magickal lock.

Bright light outlined the door and they all could see hinges and a handle. Kaya grabbed it and a lock appeared. The grinding continued until a loud click signaled it was unlocked. She pulled open the door revealing the splendid room, the portal still open.

Kaya looked back at Jenna and Bill standing by the open archway. They saw Azyra and Leigh walk in the portal, each of them disappearing to wherever they'd be taken. Bill hoped it would not be for the last time.

"Tell her mother... Don't let them talk bad about me, Archie. Tell her parents, I'll catch him," then she turned and disappeared in the portal.

As the outer doors to the room began to rumble closed Victor turned to Jenna.

"Make sure you get them away from here. Take Elena back to Ralph's after the funeral. She'll be safest there."

"Ah man, no way! She's a slob!" Ralph objected.

"Victor, what do you think you're doing?" Elena demanded.

"I can help. I have to help her," he said and he bolted for the closing door. He barely made it through, scraping his arm on the way in. They all saw him through a tiny sliver jump in the portal before the outer door closed shutting everyone out.

"Damn stubborn, kid!" Bill exclaimed.

"We have to get him back!" said Elena.

"He made his choice. We need to get going," Si'rah said.

"Get going?! What kind of people are you?"

"She's right, Elena. All we can do now is honor his wish in keeping you safe." Jenna replied.

"Don't you know where he is? It's your set-up isn't it?"

"We won't know exactly where until after the Black Sun passes. It's then we witches and warlocks get the location of the where they slumber."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Wait a minute," Ralph said, "this guy Hotep is where they're going?"

"More than likely, yes," Jenna said.

"Alright then. I need a full description of him and someone who'll be able to get away from the funeral."

"Why? What do you have in mind there, Chief?" asked Bill.

"From what I hear this guy, Hotep, likes to walk around the town like everyone else – who's human. Well, I figure if I hack in some city cameras that I know are around churches, maybe I can find him."

"Whoa ho hooo! We have got a regular genius over here," Bill said.

"We find Hotep, we find Victor."

"That seals the deal," Bill said. "We'll go to the funeral and pay our respects. Let's go in separate cars, park out of the way so they don't notice anything suspicious. Elena, we'll find your friend.

"Ralph, you're with me."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The atmosphere was thick with heartbreak and despair. Bill was relieved when he felt the vibration of his phone against his leg – Ralph had a lead.

The sight was one of pomp and circumstance. Her family insisted on a horse drawn carriage, which pulled Aisha's casket to the burial site. Upon seeing such a spectacle, people who had no affiliation with the family or her friends joined the procession hoping to catch the name of who'd passed. They were respectful but Bill found it odd that so many continued to gather as they drew nearer to her final resting place.

Her Sisters of the Craft struck Bill, they looked like angels in stark white cowls as they blended with the crowd of her family dressed in black. Their faces were serene and they whispered a prayer in a language that Bill didn't understand. A couple standing next to Si'rah with a resounding "Amen!" each time they heard her pause. The spectators within Aisha's family behaved less admirable than the lookers-on, whispering (as Kaya warned they would) their assumptions on the outcome of the tragedy. The primary topic of conversation was Kaya.

"She was making good money at the hospital, of course she made a will. She was smart like that. She's probably going to leave her money to that girl she lived with," Bill heard someone whisper.

"She hung around a bunch of weird folks, I hope she was saved before this happened," said another. That comment stopped Si'rah in the middle of her prayer. She glared at the woman; scaring her so bad she said nothing else until she left the funeral proceedings. The gross assumptions and attacks that infected Aisha's cousins became intolerable to Bill. He wanted to scream at all of them. He often wondered why distant family gathered around tragic events, speaking of the dead as if they'd been a part of the richness of their life when they were alive.

The truth was her Coven had become more family than the strangers Bill saw gawking and gossiping. Instead of helping to spread joy while she was alive they preyed on her parents, creating tension and rifts along family lines with their vicious innuendo, rumors and outright lies.

Bill could not help but feel sorrow as he watched Aisha's parents. They wanted their daughter back. He looked at Jenna. She was otherworldly in her white cowl mourning Aisha; he knew he'd feel the same way had he been in their position. Aisha's father, a modest man, looked weak and helpless clinging to his distraught wife. With each sound, a bird flying out of a tree, one of the horses snorting, she looked like she expected to see someone come rescue her from the rest of the unhappiness that would be her life.

She was looking for Kaya and Bill knew it.

Regardless of the family gossip or the rift some tried to make between mother and daughter, their bond was solid. It was because of this bond Kaya's friendship with her mother and father blossomed, much to the chagrin of Aisha's cousins. The animosity grew worse when her brother took Kaya's side and forbade several of his cousins entry in the home of his parents until apologizes were given. When Bill saw her look around he knew she was searching for her would be daughter-in-law.

"She should've come anyway, they wouldn't have started nothing here. I'd've kicked them out if they started here," Josh said to Bill. Bill hadn't noticed Aisha's brother creep up beside him.

"She's – she's not herself, you could say," Bill answered. "Uh, she sends her condolences, she... Your sister was very special to us all, Josh. Kaya found the body so you know it's kind of hard for her..."

"Tell her not to stay away," he said holding back tears, "Mom and Dad want to see her. They don't blame her for any of this. Tell her that. OK?"

"I'll tell her, I promise."

The sadness was oppressive and his silent prayers were answered when Ralph sent him that text. He did want to stay because this was a familiar ceremony – normal. He wanted to throw his rose in the grave with the coffin, say a prayer and wish Aisha the best on her new journey. Most of all, Bill wanted to comfort as best he could, her parents. As a police officer he'd seen some terrible things done to innocent children and oftentimes he'd hear an officer say, "No parent should have to outlive their child." Seeing the grief of Aisha's parents who lost their daughter too soon made him thankful Jenna was still alive. However, his solidarity for Aisha's parents was in knowing that whatever was on the horizon could leave him with the same fate, he would have to bury his daughter.

So Bill absorbed it all, the determined look in his daughter's eyes when he signaled to her he was leaving; he remembered the way Aisha's mother grasped the tear stained handkerchief in her hand, as if to take it away would unravel the last vestige of composure she had left; he remembered the way they tried to look strong when he approached them explaining why he had to leave; Bill also remembered how large the lump grew in his throat when her father broke down, racking sobs shaking his whole entire body, while he begged Bill to come out of retirement so he could find the guys who did this to his daughter. Bill would forever remember the look of hope he had on his face as tears started to stream down his own cheeks when he said, "I've got a few leads, Gene. Kaya's looking too and we're going to get the guy. We'll get him."

He didn't notice the change in his walk, like a man going to battle. He did not see the looks of intimidated viewers who gave him a wide birth as passed by. His stride was long with purpose and all he could think of was getting back to his car, the memory of another man's sorrow still fresh in his mind.

When his car came into view he didn't realize Ralph was watching him and Ralph saw Bill was different – angry. He couldn't guess what could have happened at a funeral to make Bill look so mad but he looked like he was ready to kick ass and Ralph was fine with that. Bill put his hand on the door handle and his car came to life. It didn't automatically start, there was no magick spell, he only knew there was an inexplicable feeling that conveyed victory. There would be no more losses for his team, at least not on this night. It was enough of a start for him.

"You got a location, Ralphie?" he asked as he started the car.

"Yeah but we have company," Ralph said pointing out the windshield. They both saw Elena running to the car.

"Damnit."

He wanted to be as subtle as he could in his departure. If he rushed out of the graveyard it would attract unwanted attention, not to mention the disregard for other burials happening at the same time. He swore a second time, as she got closer to the car, Elena was going with them.

"The girls have my address, Elena, they are going to drop you off, not us."

She ignored Ralph sliding in the seat beside Bill, "I'm coming with you guys."

"It'll be safer if you go to my Grammie. Safer for us because you won't be in the way," Ralph said.

Elena turned around to Ralph in the backseat and frowned.

"You're not Victor's only friend, you know. I don't know these people and he's the only one who can get me my life back. I am going."

"Whatever, man," Ralph grunted.

"Suit yourself," Bill said. "But you're going to listen to what I say, my car my rules, understand?"

"Yes."

"And you're going to show a little more respect to Ralph."

"But he – "

"My car, my rules."

"Fine," Elena said.

"Good. Whether you believe any of this or not, it's really happening, little lady. We're in it together. Got it?"

"Sure," Elena said. "So where are we headed?"

"Hopefully," Bill answered, "not another funeral."

*

Victor's stomach growled. It was as he suspected, he'd been walking around the labyrinth for hours. There was no telling whether it was day or night outside because he'd been slinking around inside and inside had no windows.

The walls, made from polished marble, looked 15 feet high and there were drawers, each with its own shiny brass handle, which spanned from the floor to the ceiling. Six-foot tall candleholders seemed welded to the floor but blended perfectly with the brass accents – each one looked freshly polished. There were no lit candles, the light near the top of the wall cast a soft white light throughout the room and it was that way around every corner Victor turned.

When he walked through the portal he came out in the middle of the aisle of the abandoned church Kaya had been in hours earlier. Some of the pews had been overturned, the pulpit had seen better days, and it looked like there was a leak in the vaulted ceiling; the large brown stain on the dusty red carpet gave him the impression it was getting worse. The saving grace of the old worn building were the beautiful yet unusual stained glass windows. Instead of the common depictions of Christ, Mary, or any number of Saints, Victor was stunned by images of a large snake, three angels pointing west as they admonished a woman (Lilith, he thought), and an assortment of stories he became familiar with from the odd people who visited his site. The most stunning piece of all was that of the beautiful woman, the same one being warned by the three angels, sitting on a golden throne her arms open wide, with hundreds of long fanged demons trying to climb closer to her.

"How could no one know about this place?" Victor asked himself.

Down the long stained red carpet he could see a door that led to the outside. He started for the door, wanting to know where he was. He didn't make it.

As he started to walk Victor heard stone grinding and saw the door to the mausoleum closing. He ran, thinking that Azyra and Leigh must have followed the Conductor through the door. When he made it inside he saw nothing but white and rows of brass handles.

That was hours ago. How many, he could not say but it was enough for his stomach to start growling and him to be irritated. His hand and arm were hurting more than he expected. He thought he'd only a minor scratch as he dove through the doors in the great hall. When he got to the church he saw what looked more like a serious rug burn, he lost a little skin and the exposed nerves were on fire. As he passed another row of brass handles one thought placed itself at the forefront of his mind: this was a bad idea.

He stopped calling Azyra's name. Doubt crept up on him – she might not be here. Or what if she was here and he could not find her? The church outside of this (what is this?) looked large but the mystical place where he'd been walking around in circles was enormous. And it was cold; why was it so cold? It was July and Victor couldn't ignore the winter chill he felt, goosebumps breaking out all over his exposed legs and arms.

A glass of water would satisfy him much more than a pair of pants or a jacket. The cold temperature wasn't unbearable but his throat had become dry from calling out for Azyra. He walked deeper in the maze into more reverent silence so Victor called her name in the loudest whisper he could muster, until he decided to give it up all together. He sat on the floor looking at nothing but the nuances the soft white light produced.

A rash of heat radiated all over the surface of his body, someone was there with him. He stood up, turned, and saw nothing. He tried to laugh at his slight paranoia but he'd seen enough in the last 30 days to not dismiss the feeling. His heart beat faster and he wondered where he would run since everything around him looked like everything else – white, with brass handles. Victor decided to do what he'd seen done in every single one of his favorite horror movies he walked toward his fear. The result was unexpected, the heat he felt before was behind him. Whatever it was doubled back and it was following him.

"Azyra?" he said without turning around, his voice dry and crackling. Something was coming up behind him fast. He looked around in time to see Dorian – very frightening, fangs bared. He grabbed Victor and examined his face, fighting himself not to leave Victor drained dry.

"I know you," Dorian said when he recognized Victor.

"Yes, yes! You know me! Please, you know me!" Victor pleaded.

"You're that impudent one," Dorian responded. He took Victor's scraped hand and arm and held it to his face, "And you are stupid as well."

"I had to help."

"Help?" he said still holding Victor's hand. "Do you know where you are? Do you see everyone around you? We are preparing for the Black Sun. Some have not fed and you come here with this! It is how I found you – I could smell you. You are very lucky my House welcomes you and it was I who found you. Most humans who stumble here when we are resting do not make it out."

Victor gulped.

"I need some water," he said.

"This way."

Victor followed Dorian amazed as they turned corners he'd sworn he walked by but hadn't seen the things he was seeing now. For one, the white faded to a more soft apricot color and as they traveled further he noticed the candles were lit.

They stopped at a strange door. It wasn't made of the white marble; it was wood like the doors in the great hall. On either side of the door were two large stone gargoyles, mouth opened and clear water pouring out into a moat at its base.

Victor cupped his hands to the fountain and drank. The water was a relief to his parched throat. His thought of thirst made him cautious toward his host and he stepped away, putting a little more distance between them.

"I didn't think you would attack people. I mean... I didn't know that you – "

"They do," Dorian said pointing from where they'd come. "Yearlings, those who like to kill, those who aren't as disciplined. I can't say that I blame them. Usually witches are here to lead the drunks, vagabonds, or curious young person out unharmed, back to the world they came from. Sometimes they might get lucky and someone like me will escort them on their way but we get more hunters than stragglers – the hunters never make it out."

"Hunters? Like the Brotherhood?"

"No. They would come with more than miniscule numbers – it would be disastrous if they found us."

"Where is everybody, Dorian? I haven't seen anyone."

"They are all around. You must have passed by hundreds in the outer sanctum."

"Excuse me, I what?"

"The handles you continue to stress, did you pull one?"

"There's...?"

"Yes. They heard the call of the Conductor and many have come."

A chill ran up Victor's spine. He passed by what he thought had to be hundreds of brass handles not knowing that he'd been inches away from slumbering beasts, he with the smell of blood on him. He said a silent prayer, thanking Dorian for coming around at just the right moment then he turned to look at the door with the gargoyles.

"So what's behind door number two?"

"I believe it's where you wish to go."

"It's another one of those no handle jobs. How am I supposed to get in?"

"You're not but I will let you in."

Dorian walked toward the left gargoyle and stuck his hand in its mouth. Victor heard a familiar "click" and the door slid easily along a concealed track revealing a dark stairway leading down.

"If the Royal Blood and the Avenger are here, there," Dorian said pointing toward the dark, "is where they would be."

"You're not coming with me?" Victor asked.

"I have important matters to attend to," he replied.

"Look, you've been a real help so I think I should be forthcoming, we're here to get Hotep. He's a traitor. I heard them talking back at the – I'm telling the truth," Victor said. Dorian looked amused.

"We?" he asked.

"Yes, 'we'. Azyr- the Royal Blood, the Conductor, the Avenger...This whole thing could be compromised. And if each one of the drawers has someone in it we're talking your sanctuary becomes a morgue. We could use your help, unless there is something more pressing than the total annihilation of everyone in here."

"Hotep is not as treacherous as you believe. Let the Royal Blood take care of this, the Conductor should not even be involved," Dorian replied.

"Dude, are you kidding? I've heard this guy Hotep is a monster! We need all of the help we can get! And besides, Sankofa told the Conductor, personally, about Hotep. You have to help us."

"There is no 'us' – only them. I suggest you hurry down there and fetch the Conductor before she is destroyed. Regardless of how much her pain moves her, this is not her battle. She will be exterminated if she continues on like this – and so will you. You aren't a warlock and your continuance in this matter could cause you serious injury. When you recover the Conductor come back up this way, I will mark the path for you to return to the surface. Go quickly."

"But Sankofa told – "

"I am well aware for I too have spoken with Queen Sankofa! Now go and do not delay!"

Victor descended toward the unknown. He wanted to do was help and being a messenger boy was not what he had in mind. Each step he took he became afraid, more for Kaya than himself. He saw the state she was in, a woman with tunnel vision, she was not going to listen to his pleas to join him topside and let the "grown-ups" sort the mess among themselves. And what of Azyra? Was she strong enough to deal with someone like Hotep whose reputation preceded him? Running around the city slaying yearlings was not enough practice to deal with the likes of an Ancient whose very existence preceded their Order by at least two centuries.

He scurried quicker down the stairs, his mission two-fold; Victor had to get Kaya out of there but he needed to convince Azyra to come back with him too. Leigh could join them but she was the most qualified to handle Hotep, she being closer to his age than Kaya or Azyra. Mulling it over he felt ashamed, leave Leigh to fight against a fiend – it was callous to think of it. But he figured she had more experience than any of them and if push came to shove, she could buy them time to escape. Victor was frustrated that he didn't walk into this with a well thought out plan. There was a strong possibility he was marching to his death (or at least a severe maiming) and he hadn't a clue how to fix his circumstance without abandoning everyone.

He stood at the bottom of the steps looking at the small archway that led to another room. He took a deep breath and walked in.

The room was empty, save for a granite pedestal. On it rested a clear cube that stood in the middle of the room beneath an oculus in the domed ceiling. In the dirt floor was a crudely drawn square around the pedestal. Victor looked up at the dome and saw constellations and other esoteric glyphs carved at varying degrees. Some of the glyphs had been done in gold leaf while others looked as if they'd been fashioned from onyx or obsidian. Victor marveled at the ceiling for a moment before turning his attention back to the pedestal.

"It is quite beautiful, is it not?"

Victor spun around and saw Frederick sitting against the wall. He'd been so focused on the room he'd never bothered to look and see if someone was in it. Frederick was pointing at the cube.

"This is the witches' sanctum. I read about it, every sanctuary has one. It is quite extraordinary to see one of those in person. I don't know what they call it. You can view the Black Sun – it is how the witches can tell when it is safe for their royalty to return to the outside," Frederick said.

Victor walked toward the cube, his foot inches away from one of the lines in the ground.

"STOP! Only witches are allowed past the border. To cross that line would not be very wise."

"OK... Thanks for the head's up," Victor said backing away from the cube. "You're not – you aren't Hotep, are you?" he asked.

"I am the man everyone is looking for, one of the many catalysts of these sordid chain of events. You do not have to worry, Sir, Hotep is here somewhere. Perhaps he is lost in the maze of sleeping beasts above us? In any event he is around – I can feel him."

"If you don't mind me asking, if you're not Hotep, who are you?"

"He's the man who's going to tell me where his little dog, Ramel, is," said Kaya walking in the room. Victor looked at the entryway as Leigh and Azyra walked in. They both were perplexed to see him there.

"Honey, I would ask you what you're doing but I don't want to hear you tell me nothing stupid," Azyra said frowning.

"I came to help," Victor answered.

"Example," Leigh replied flatly.

"Look," Kaya said, focusing her attention on Frederick, "I don't want to play any games. Tell me where Ramel is and I won't kill you right now."

"I am very sorry for your loss, I was there when he... Please know, I could have stopped him but she had me bound and could not move an inch to save her. I am sorry," Frederick said.

"Sounds like, Ish," Kaya said, "but that doesn't answer my question. Where is he?"

"I have no idea. He could be hiding among his band of hooligans or he could be trying to wait me out. He has an apartment... He has been avoiding a return but he will eventually stumble back to the creature comforts once his options run out, I am sure."

"One of them already has," said Kaya.

"Ah ha! I see you've begun your retribution, Conductor. It would be disingenuous of me to express any grief toward the loss. I can only apologize for my part in introducing Mr. Jackson to the scenario. He is under the impression that I am unaware of his friend's behavior. I knew, in time, his underestimating Mike's ambition would be a mistake."

"So you must also be aware," Azyra started, "that we aren't here to buy Girl Scout cookies from you, Honey."

"You must atone, Mr. Duval," Leigh said removing her staff from the folds of her long leather jacket.

"Yes, the business at hand is revealed. If I could impose upon your kind nature and ask you to wait for a moment, I intend to meet someone here."

"We don't usually take requests," Azyra answered, brandishing her sword.

"You will this time," Kaya said stepping toward Frederick. "You get 10 minutes with her then these ladies do the job they came here to do. Aisha was into that romantic stuff; I know she'd give you a break. You get it but only because of Ish. We'll wait until she gets here then you have to atone, just like they say."

Frederick looked relieved and stood up. He walked toward Kaya and bowed.

"Thank you," he said. "She'll come, you will see. She has to..." he said looking at Leigh and Azyra.

"Are you sure you want to take responsibility for this?" Leigh asked Kaya. "What if this is just another cloak of deceit and he slips away?"

"He won't get too far, Shug. This here doesn't look like it's the easiest to sashay on out of when you want to. Witches are really important to maintaining something like this. Looks like that includes leaving the breadcrumbs to follow."

"He ain't leaving before he sees Queen Sankofa anyway," Kaya added.

"Queen Sankofa?" Azyra asked.

"Well that'll be easy, she's around here somewhere." Frederick started toward Victor and was stopped by Azyra's blade pointed in his face.

"You're walking a little too fast toward the human. Step it on back 'til you calm down with the crazy-eye, OK?"

"Where is she?" he asked looking past the sword. "Did you see her?"

"I mean... I figure she must be here. Dorian is here and he said he'd spoken with her."

Frederick was crestfallen.

"We can go get Dorian," Victor suggested, "bring him back here. They've been hanging out a lot more so he's got to know where she is in this maze."

"Right, this is the way it will be. Azyra and I will go back up there with our eager helper and you sit tight with him. If this is a trick you'll be on your own – you'll have to dispatch him alone. Can you manage?"

"He ain't going anywhere, Leigh," Kaya answered.

"Can you manage?"

Kaya brandished her baseball bat, "He's not going to leave."

"Cheers. I hope you can use that thing," Leigh said. She turned to Victor with a look of mild boredom and said, "All right, eager helper, mush!"

Victor led them to the arch they'd all come in and was stopped when he saw Ralph walking down the last bunch of stairs.

"Damn, we got a regular party up here now, huh?" Kaya said.

"What are you – why did you bring her?" Victor asked pointing to Elena. Bill pulled up the rear happy to see Kaya was fine. His face darkened when he saw Frederick standing beside her.

"No. The better question is why is he here and why isn't that asshole dead?" Bill glowered at Frederick. He began looking around the sparse cavern for anything he could use to defend himself against Frederick's might.

"Kaya, help me out with this guy, eh? We can get him for Aisha."

"He's staying alive for the time being, Archie."

"He killed an innocent woman who had nothing to do with this except she was going to warn us about his little spy. And he was there, with Aisha! She was Jenna's friend and mine..."

"And it's because of your Chief Witch that he gets a pardon," Azyra added.

"What is everyone hypnotized or something? He kills witches and he's going to die!"

"Not by your hand, Record Keeper. Queen Sankofa will decide," Leigh said.

"Sankofa? What's going on here, kiddo?" Bill asked Kaya.

"Mercy."

Bill was stunned silent. He didn't know how to respond to her calm. It made sense for the killing be put on hold but Bill wanted Frederick to pay.

"Any of you geniuses who were so worried about my well being bring anything to eat? I don't even know how long I've been down here," Victor said.

"I can see how you would loose track of time in here," Elena said, snatching a bag from Ralph's hands.

"Hey!"

"The beanpole brought you something. When we left the funeral it took us hours to find you. We went to pick up some breakfast and came back to the same exact location and the church wasn't there. Victor it's – strange things are happening. Let's find this Sankofa person and go."

"What is she talking about?" Victor asked Ralph.

"We've been searching for you since yesterday. I'm surprised you haven't passed out from hunger," Ralph said.

"That's insane, I don't feel like I'm starving or anything – just a little hungry."

"We've been driving around like gypsies or something looking for you – in a church that we'd already found, just to lose it again, and start from scratch to find it again! Take your sandwich, Victor and let's get out of here," Elena declared.

"Not until we find Queen Sankofa. He pledged to help and he will honor his pledge," Leigh said.

"Mmf, actually," Victor said between bites, "we need to find Dorian. When we get to him we get to Sankofa."

"You gone have to stop stuffing your face, Honey, and lead the way."

"Good. You kids go off and find Dorian, I'll stay here with Kaya and watch this one," Bill said jabbing his thumb in Frederick's direction.

Without warning, the oculus above them opened shooting down a single beam of light. It was bright in contrast to the dim light of candle flames that bathed the room in a litany of shadows. The clear cube sitting on its pedestal absorbed the light, until the beam ceased and the oculus closed throwing the room back in shadow.

They all looked at the cube, which contained a perfect sphere of fire. It spun as a blaze raced across its surface; every once-in-a-while long tentacles of flame would shoot out from the sphere touching the corners of the cube.

"Is that the sun?" Victor asked.

"So it begins," Frederick said.

"What does it mean?" asked Ralph.

"You need to find Dorian before the witches arrive," Frederick answered.

"They're not coming. I told them to stay away from here," Bill said. "The Brotherhood is looking for everyone and my daughter is not going to get caught in the crossfire!"

"Witches will come, Sir. Your daughter is not the only witch devoted to keeping Her Covenant."

"Let's go." Victor said.

They filed out of the sanctum, save Kaya, Bill, and Frederick. Victor turned around at the sound of grinding stone and watched the wall move. The slow rumbling shook the floor beneath them when something caught his eye. Cold sweat beaded on Victor's forehead and he raced back down the stairs but it was too late. He banged on the wall swearing at the top of his lungs, hands frantically probing the wall's smooth surface like a man gone mad. The rest of his companions joined him at the landing, perplexed.

"Holy SHIT! C'mon you guys you have to help me!"

"They gone be alright, Honey. Even vampires need oxygen, it ain't like they sealed up in there. There has to be other ways out."

"Great! If there are other ways out then there are other ways in and we have to get in!"

"Make up your mind, man, are we looking for Dorian or not?" Ralph asked.

"Just help me, will ya? Look for gargoyles in the wall or something. Some kind of carving that sticks out."

"Fine. You stay with your friend and we will fetch Dorian," Leigh said and started back. Victor panicked and grabbed Leigh's arm.

"NO! You can't go, I need both of you."

"You're mad!"

"I saw him. Before the door closed – Hotep is in there!"

*

Hotep saw when Frederick entered the church and was livid. The way Frederick looked down on his kind and his sanctimonious attitude didn't prevent him from coming there, looking as feeble as a sick old man, following all the clues that would lead him to sanctuary and able to take one more breath – as a vampire.

He kept close watch on Frederick trying to sort out a way to get closer and be done with him once and for all. He couldn't kill him in the maze – not everything sleeping was asleep and there was a risk of being caught. He wasn't certain how many of the L'Ordine Della Vendetta di Sangue heard the call but he knew the Royal Blood was one of them. Her power would be extensive and if he managed to somehow escape her wrath he would never escape the punishment he would face for the destruction of a Royal Blood – in this life or the next one.

So he devised the plan to lead Frederick to the witches' sanctum, no vampire would dare cross the threshold – it was too great a chance with his life. But Hotep knew if he made his presence evident, Frederick would do everything in his power to avoid him, at least until he saw Sankofa.

The cat and mouse went on for hours. As Frederick found a place that he thought safe for a rendezvous with Sankofa, Hotep would come within range and send Frederick on the move again.

Until he reached the sanctum...

Frederick couldn't feel a thing for the first time in decades. There was no consistent aching in his chest, there was no fire in his throat from The Thirst that called to him every waking moment; the voices of sorrow and the faces of the dead could not be seen in this peaceful room. There was the intricate beauty of the dome above him and the sweet simplicity of the pedestal in the middle of the room. Frederick slid down the wall, enjoying the beauty of silence waiting for Sankofa.

None of the search party had bothered to check the staging area, a small room where the witches prepared themselves with special divining rods and spells read from their ancient grimoire. It was there Hotep was able to mask himself from Frederick's keen sense; it was there he waited patiently to pounce. Hotep had been in a room like this one several times in his past and if he wasn't careful he could be destroyed by its power. Hotep sat in deep meditation waiting for the time to come, when the eye would open bringing forth the fire in the box, which would do what he needed.

The human, Victor, stumbling in the room it was an unexpected turn of events for Hotep. He didn't want to harm anyone except for Frederick and Victor would spoil any hope for a clean escape. He'd personally see Frederick's body return to the dust, Victor's body would be a lot harder to dispose of. The entrance of the Royal Blood, her companion, and the Conductor had Hotep rethinking his scheme altogether. That many would overpower him and his despair grew as more of them entered the chamber.

Hotep expected witches to follow next, as if the archway was some demented version of a circus clown's car, person after person spilling out and filling up the room. But then a break came in the form of Frederick's weakness – he wanted to see Sankofa. If she had arrived as Victor said, with Dorian, it could take them hours to find her exact location in the maze of bodies. Hotep smiled in the dark. It would be more than enough time for what he needed. He would have to hurt the Conductor, her loyalties are with the Record Keeper who he wouldn't mind killing if he decided to get in the way.

Hotep knew the obstinate boy would try to fight back. He welcomed such a pointless display of "courage" – it would be his pleasure as he dismantled Frederick piece by piece. The arrival of the others made the task at hand that – a task. He would not be able to savor Frederick's termination.

He'd slip away and sleep until the passing of the Black Sun's effects then rise again and be judged by those true to his House. They would have to see he'd acted in their best interest and saved them all from Frederick's treachery.

When Victor, the last one to leave the room, disappeared through the exit, Hotep felt his way around until he found a small lever against the wall. He pulled it up waiting for the desired effect, the room began to turn moving the archway behind a thick wall made of brick – the Black Sun would soon begin.

No one saw Hotep, except Victor, emerge from his hiding place for they were all hypnotized by the sun in the beautiful clear box. Hotep made his move so it appeared as if a breeze blew past them, until they saw Frederick on the floor, his arm inside the perimeter of the box.

Bright light shot up as high as Hotep's waist searing the flesh on Frederick's pinned arm. His screams filled the cavern and before he could think better of it Bill hurled himself at Hotep, sending them both flying in the air before they crashed to the ground with a giant thud.

Bill was no match for Hotep's incredible speed and he hoisted him off the ground like he was a small sack of flour and flung him across the room. Hotep was there before he hit he ground and Bill wished that he'd let him fall to the floor. At least on the floor he would have had a chance to catch his breath but Hotep had him pinned against the wall crushing the very air out of his body.

Kaya dashed to Bill and Hotep, baseball bat ready, and took a swing at Hotep's side. There was a loud crack, the sound of Hotep's ribs, and the bat breaking. He released Bill, doubled over in pain and looked up at Kaya who had the bat over her head ready to bring it crashing down on her mark. Hotep was still very fast and slipped nimbly out of her way; the bat came crashing down on the floor broken in two.

"This is not your fight, Conductor! And it not the fight of the Record Keeper. If you insist on interfering I'll be forced to handle you both!"

"Back off, Hotep. He has our word that he would be safe until he saw Queen Sankofa," Kaya said, her eyes ablaze.

"I didn't promise him a thing," Hotep said.

Bill stood up slowly, doing what he could to catch his breath. His lungs felt like he'd been breathing in shards of glass and he could barely speak when he looked at Hotep.

"You – you're a racist!" he spat out.

Hotep laughed, his face a crazy mask of insanity. Hotep frightened Bill, his fangs gleaming white against his dark skin looked larger than he'd seen on any of the other vampires.

"This coming from a fine officer of the law. Let me tell you, Record Keeper, there have been many officers of the law who saw fit to make silly statements and ask me ridiculous questions while I would take my midnight stroll, they made excellent meals."

"Why you son-of-a-bitch! You're a cop killer too!"

"Yes, you should write that down. You should also stay out of my way," Hotep said advancing toward Frederick.

"Hotep, I gave my word. I'm not going to stand by and let you do this," Kaya said.

"You will not have to," Frederick said favoring his burnt arm. There had been some healing but not enough to satisfy Kaya. She stood between him and Hotep. Frederick nudged her out of his way.

"I have always known this day would come, Conductor. Please step aside, this is my destiny," Frederick said. He looked at Hotep, "You can do whatever it is you think will accomplish your goal, Hep, but you will never win. She chose me of her own free will. I never held sway over her, no one could. She chose me and we will both die knowing that."

"You have no reprieve from me! You are an insect that wants audience with a Queen. Again, over a century later, the slave owner's son feels his sense of entitlement. They all do, Conductor," Hotep said gesturing toward Bill. "Infiltrating our ranks with their claims of superiority – and what do they do when you give them the chance to live forever? They squander it chasing money, power, and trying to take what doesn't belong to them! That story ends tonight. I will restore balance to our mighty House!

"And you will die knowing Sankofa is my wife."

Hotep stood up straight looking taller than Bill or Kaya had ever seen him. His nails grew longer like razor sharp shark teeth. He bared his fangs at Frederick who stood his ground.

Frederick was not afraid.

He charged at Hotep slamming him into the brick wall. Dust and small pebbles cascaded on them as Frederick lifted his "good" arm showing his own razor sharp nails, slashing Hotep's face. Four deep gashes spilled forth their bloody payload enraging Hotep. He grabbed Frederick, puncturing his skin with his iron grasp, before hurling him across the cavern. Unlike his trip with Bill, Hotep let Frederick hit the wall and slide to the floor. In a flash he was standing over a winded and bleeding Frederick, hoisting him up in the air and throwing his limp body across the room again. He hit the wall with a squish that sounded like his insides had congealed and were about to come flowing out his ears.

Hotep strode to where Frederick hit the floor but found no Frederick. He had some life left in him and grabbed Hotep from behind, dragging him to the box and threw him on the floor near the square's perimeter. Frederick had Hotep pinned, forcing his hand in the square drawn in the dirt. Light shot up, this time charring Hotep. He screamed finding strength from deep inside to fling Frederick off of him.

Suddenly, the sphere in the clear box started to dim. Kaya noticed a small sliver of black on the sphere. She was enraptured by it, the black slowly moving around the sphere, sucking away the shooting flames with each part of the sphere it covered.

The eclipse was happening and this was the way they could see it without any danger – almost any danger. Kaya saw the square on the floor dimming too. The entire room seemed to grow darker, the eclipse stretching as far as the candles that kept some light in the room; their flames were duller as the black continued to swallow up the sphere.

Frederick went sailing over Kaya's head breaking her trance. Bill, unable to sit still any longer, stood over Frederick.

"That's enough, damnit! You're not going to kill him, I won't let you."

"You can't stop me," Hotep chuckled.

The room fell in darkness and Bill could barely see anything. The candles were lit but the light was good for nothing but casting shadows.

Bill could see the sphere in the center of the room and it looked as if it were floating above the pedestal, a black ball in the middle of a dark room. Hotep took advantage of his ability to see in the darkest place, raising his hand up high to cut Bill down. His nails were not damaged and Kaya (who could also see) knew if his strike were true Bill's days were done. She flew in time to shove him out of the way and receive the brunt of Hotep's fatal blow. Pain went searing up her back and she could feel her blood pouring out of the fresh wound.

After minutes in the dark, light made its way back in the room. The blackness that wrapped itself around the fiery sphere was receding. Hotep had to dispose of Frederick before the eclipse was over or forever be a shamed fugitive to his House. Hotep glided by Bill and Kaya propped against a wall, oblivious to their presence. Frederick made an attempt to punch Hotep in the face, reopening one of the earlier gashes, but Hotep caught his hand in mid-jab and twisted until he heard the cracking of breaking bones. Frederick was numb to the pain that filled his body. He needed to get back to the middle of the room and he would end this once and for all. He had one last trick up his sleeve if he could just get back to the center.

He began to crawl toward the box, dust from the floor rushing into his nostrils each time he took a breath. Hotep followed beside him kicking him in his side when it seemed Frederick's crawling was stronger. Frederick sighed, taking a short break and continued crawling to the center of the room.

Seeing this made Kaya angry. She picked herself up telling Bill to stay put when he tried to get up too. Something was happening to her.

Kaya grabbed the two pieces of her bat, feeling an energy surging through her back that brought her to her knees. The wounds were healing! She placed the pieces of her bat together, holding the broken spot she said, "Aisha gave me this." Bright orange light passed through her fingers until she released the bat. To her and Bill's amazement the baseball bat was made whole. Her wounds were still tender but it meant nothing to her, she wanted to give Hotep some fresh ones.

The wall to the archway began grinding – the door was opening! Hotep was surprised. He looked at the clear box and saw the eclipse hadn't finished yet. There was still less than half that hadn't receded. Victor! Stupid human must have found the lever that opened the door from the outside.

"No matter," Hotep said aloud. He grabbed the standing candelabra taking it with him to Frederick. Kaya walked right behind him, weapon in hand which by now had the glow of a lightening bolt. Hotep stood over Frederick, his hand burning from the silver candelabra and clutched it tighter in spite of the pain. He raised it high over his head looking down on Frederick.

"You got any last statements you want to make, boy?" Hotep asked.

"Yo, Hotep," he turned stunned to see Kaya, bat cocked and ready to swing, "I got something to say!"

She swung and missed, the breeze from the bat only inches away from Hotep's face.

Dorian appeared behind Kaya and dragged her to the far side of the room.

"What the –? I had him!"

"Stop," he said and Kaya could see. Standing before Hotep in all her splendor was Queen Sankofa. At first Kaya couldn't make out what she had in her hand until she stretched her sight. Sankofa stood against his candelabra with a scythe that was almost as tall as she was.

"HEP!" she called.

The bravado, the angry insanity left Hotep and all Kaya could see was a look of imploring sorrow in his eyes.

"Don't you see what he's done to us, every last one of our kind?" he asked.

"You brought this on yourself and you've failed to save those you swore to protect."

"He's going to die," Hotep said flatly.

"So are you," Sankofa replied.

"I die a free man, Sankofa. And not by the hand of a peasant," Hotep said smiling.

"You are no better than those you condemn, Hep. True freedom is the ability to choose and you were never my choice."

He raised the candelabra thrusting it down with incredible force, stopping mere inches away from Frederick's chest. Sankofa, not knowing he stopped, swung the scythe in a graceful sweeping motion, lopping Hotep's head from his body just as everyone came scrambling through the archway.

"Was that...?" Ralph asked pointing to the head.

"Let's go, Ralph." Victor said pushing Elena back out the archway and up the stairs. The last thing he needed was for her to see another dead body.

"Sankofa? My eyes do not deceive me, it is really you?" Frederick asked picking up his bloodied and bruised body.

She reached in the pocket of her cowl and handed him their worn copy of "Moby Dick". Frederick stared at the book before he fell in her arms, afraid to let go lest she disappear like a dream.

He communicated with her telepathically, their conversation private, spanning over a century. All of the dread and killing seemed to wash away in the moment he stood clutching her in his arms, she returning his embrace. Whatever minute time he had left was moot to him. For this fleeting moment Frederick felt human again.

It was everything he needed.

****

This was real to Bill, more real than it had ever been before the strange life he had with his daughter. Although he told her not to come, she was there with the rest of her Sisters gliding in their lair. They observed the menagerie of battered human and vampire alike with sorrow and they knew what would happen next.

"Hotep?" asked Si'rah as she looked down on his unmistakable headless carriage.

"Yep," replied Bill. "I really wish you girls would've stayed away from here."

"You can wish, Dad, but it's not your call to make. We're committed until the end. Looks like it's getting started."

There was a wedge of black left on the ball of fire in the glass box and the wedge was receding – soon it would be a sliver until it vanished all together.

"It is time, Frederick. Oro Cruorem will wait no longer," Leigh said. Azyra removed her sword and stepped forward to Frederick.

"And me too Avenger," Sankofa said standing near him taking his hand, "you won't forget your promise?"

"No!" Frederick said with dismay. "It's to be me, only me. I killed Ayalu, I killed others – and witches... I accept my fate, my love. They were more generous to me than they needed."

"And we'll go together, Freddy, that's that. They all saw me kill a vampire – "

"To protect ME!" Frederick protested.

"They can argue that I was never in any danger, he would never hurt me. It will look like I was protecting the killer of the House of Ayalu – which I was..."

"But..."

"You can't ask them to abandon their duty, Frederick. Besides, how am I supposed to live now that the veil has been lifted? How am I supposed to go on with all these memories coming back in view? We were never supposed to be here; bad as our day was, we belong back then." Sankofa turned to look at Azyra, "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, that your mantle will be so heavy. You'll have a lot of help and may the Great Mother aid you during your time of need.

"I Plead The Blood and ask forgiveness for the destruction of your child, O Great Mother! If we shall meet along the way I ask that you show mercy and let me pass unharmed, as one of your own that has strayed. I am humbled," Sankofa cried.

"'For his anger endureth but a moment; In his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.' I will not plead," Frederick stood defiant, "this curse was forced upon me. I only ask that you all forgive me, I could not see what I'd be bringing you – all of you are good people. Ask God's forgiveness for that is what I choose, and beg you send me toward my judgment. Amen."

"Quickly," said Leigh leading them both toward the square in the center of the room. The witches formed a circle outside of the square, which allowed them both to enter unharmed. They looked at the clear box as the last sliver of black vanished from the fireball.

"Do you know what to do, Princess?" Leigh asked Azyra.

"Unfortunately, yeah I do, Shug."

The last tiny piece of black left the flaming sphere.

"It's beautiful," Sankofa said squeezing Frederick's hand.

The oculus above them opened again, sending down its concentrated beam and a sudden blast of fire erupted from the floor.

Azyra's aim was true; the beautiful light bouncing off of the polished silver of her merciful sword. Reflections in her blade and a clear box of unafraid, peaceful loving eyes sent them happily on their way – to where they belong.

When the oculus closed they all looked at the clear box. It was unassuming except for the burning ball in its center. The flames shooting out of it appeared more violent and erratic than when it first started. It would be like that for the next six months. Victor peeked in the room seeing a bunch of sullen faces staring at two piles of ash in the center near the pedestal and another pile near the archway, he instructed Ralph not to step in. Elena followed behind him.

"Now what?" Ralph asked.

"I'm not one to judge, but I think we need to find out who's on whose side – what we'll be doing next, you know?" Victor said.

"The kid's right," Bill said looking at Jenna. "Looks like we're in the thick of it and more's coming to stick right on the bottom of our collective shoe, eh? So whatever resources and help," he looked at Victor, "of any kind, we're going to need it."

Dorian spoke.

"First, we pay homage to our new Queen. All hail our new Queen of the mighty House of Hikpodu. The Royal Blood, daughter of Josiah Lee Francis, we welcome you."

Dorian dropped to his knees and bowed before her. Leigh followed his lead and Kaya did in turn. The witches all bowed from waist making sure their heads were lower than Azyra's gaze. Victor began to get on his knees when Bill pulled him up.

"You're not a vamp," he whispered, "a bow like the witches is sufficient, buddy."

Bill's words stung him more than he wanted to admit. It was that moment Victor wished he were a vampire, not someone who would live forever but someone who was strong and loyal – someone who could help Azyra destroy the Brotherhood.

Ralph joined them his body like a giraffe bending down to grab a treat from a tourist. Elena was the only one who stood in her place.

"OK, y'all, you can get up. Am I supposed to make some kind of speech or something?" Azyra asked.

"Do you have any specific instructions, Your Highness?" Si'rah asked.

Azyra looked at the room of people awaiting her command, only she didn't have any. The House needed her and she saw her life of freedom vanishing before her eyes. There was no way to back out of this, nor would she, she was her father's daughter. But she wouldn't do this alone and so Azyra accepted her duty as Queen to defend the House – even if it might cost her life.

She couldn't live in peace if she didn't.

"We need all the help we can get," she began, "so Shug, I'm going need you to go to the Council and tell them it's urgent. We have a traitor problem and the Brotherhood is going to take advantage of that.

"The rest of us need to get back to House and for some books that will help us out."

"What books, Your Highness?" Jenna asked.

"Those books Ramel brought when y'all met him the second time," she answered.

"How do you know about that?" Si'rah asked.

"Careful witch," Dorian said, "you've been treading close to blasphemy."

"We have spies and agents all around us, Lord Dorian. I am simply asking how she knew about this, a secret ceremony?"

"Sankofa told me. If you got any questions or reservations, any of you, air them out now. Once we get started we're not turning back," Azyra said eyes boring into Si'rah.

"There is no problem here, Your Highness. I'm just being precautious," Si'rah replied.

"Alright now, Honey. I know y'all won't like it but take the ashes back to the House too – ALL of the ashes."

"But Your Highness," Jenna objected, "Frederick's ashes are among them. I don't – "

"Did you love your Queen?" Azyra asked.

"Yes, Ma'am. I will tend to it myself." Jenna said realizing her mistake.

"Y'all get on now, we have important work to do. Leigh, Kaya, come with me."

They slipped to the witches' staging area. Undeterred Bill followed them and Victor was not far behind.

"Seems to me like you got some living breathing doppelgangers that won't leave you alone, huh?" Azyra said pointing to Bill and Victor.

"I truly doubt one of them is my doppelganger, Princess," Leigh replied with a smirk.

Victor blushed praying Azyra didn't realized the barb was aimed at him.

"Doesn't matter. We need this recorded anyway. I need you to take the Conductor to be deputized, Shug. I guess she can use that bat, they'll find a way, won't they?"

"I am sure they will," Leigh said.

"They who? What's this deputized stuff?" Kaya asked.

"She's going to take you to the Council of The Order so we can get some back-up for this war that's coming. You don't have any objections to be a part of L'Ordine Della Vendetta di Sangue do you, Conductor?"

"I don't mind but I have business to settle, Your Majesty. That's at the forefront for me. All the rest of this is incidental."

"You're one of us now, Shug, none of this is incidental. You'll find him but if we find him first, we'll save him for you. What do you think about that?"

"I think you'll make a great Queen," Kaya said. It was Azyra's turn to blush, which stirred the small soup of green in the pit of Victor's stomach.

"Is there anything you need me to do, Azyra – uh, Your Highness?"

Azyra smiled and Victor's green soup melted away.

"Yes," she said. "This doesn't need recording, Honey so do not write it down. When we get to the House I need you all especially to look for those books Ramel presented. One was Frederick's journal but the others were part of a series of Records from the House of Ayalu."

"How do you know all this?" Bill asked.

"Because she told me."

"Sankofa saw the books?" asked Victor.

"No. Ayalu. She spoke to me through Sankofa. For all of Frederick's destruction and mayhem he actually saved us by grabbing those books, Honey. Some very important maps were drawn in them that almost fell into the wrong hands. We need to make sure we turn that mansion upside down and when we get them tell me. Only me. Make sure the others don't look in those books just get them straight to me. I'm really hoping y'all find them first."

"Sheesh, what kind of maps are they?" Victor asked.

"They'll lead you to the exact location of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. There are two other trees that aren't spoken about at all but are just – "

"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down there a minute, Queen. Do you realize what you're talking about here?" Bill asked his heart beating faster by the moment.

"Yeah, I do, Honey. While we're fighting to save ourselves, we'll be saving your human brothers too."

"But," Bill began.

"We're alright so far. The door is in our House and you need to get through the door in order to use the maps. Besides, we have a pretty tough key," she said winking at Kaya. "You keep that fancy watch you have on real safe."

"Always," Kaya said.

"Your Highness this is ridiculous! You know what you're saying? People just don't draw up maps to – you can't just waltz on over to... Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack, Honey. Are you with us or not?"

"I'm with you," Victor volunteered. "I'll look for the books as soon as we get the hell out of here, I'll make sure one of us finds them, Your Majesty.

"But I have a question. I went through the portal and wound up here. There's just a bunch of sleeping vampires. What's so important about a map to here? I mean, where else does the portal go?"

Bill looked haggard. This wasn't a fight for his daughter and her weird friends anymore it was a fight for all of humanity. Victor needed to know the gravity of the task he was undertaking. Bill clapped his hand on Victor's shoulder and looked him straight in his eyes; if this freshed faced kid wasn't a man, he would be before this journey was over.

God have mercy on us all if we fail.

"Bill? You wanna share your thoughts?" Victor asked.

"Kid..." Bill only patted Victor shoulder, saying nothing.

"Did I say something wrong?" Victor asked, baffled. "Where else does the portal go? Hell?"

"Ha! That would be easy, we can defeat Hell! There's nothing growing with limitless power in Hell. This is much worse," Bill exclaimed.

"What could be 'much worse' than Hell?"

Kaya stood next to Bill and looked at Victor.

"Eden."
EPILOGUE

Chester is an idiot thought Ramel as he headed back to his secret dwelling in the park. He'd taken a chance coming out after the sun went down but he was beginning to go stir crazy in the old drainage pipe he'd made his new home.

A portion of the water and sewage system flowed underneath the park until the early 90s when the town rerouted the waterway for a cool $7million, out of a $10million budget; no one knows where the difference disappeared to even though, on paper, the entire budget was used for the project. Had it actually been the case, the access to the old drainage system would have been cut off to Leigh and Azyra who used to rest in the very spot Ramel was calling his temporary home.

Ramel had a great time at the club spreading money around and buying bottles of champagne for the prettiest women. It reminded him of how daft Chester was and reluctantly, he lumped Mike in that category too.

He received a call from Chester, whispering frantically, begging him to pick up his "cursed" money.

The telescope system of banking worked for Ramel while they were up in the apartment able to keep an eye on the money. When it was no longer safe to go there, Ramel couldn't peer in his telescope to see what bandits might try to attack his treasure. He never thought he would have to turn his telescope within his own crew.

Chester found Mike's body in the alley near the building. He said it was mangled and Mike looked like he was shot in the chest and thrown off the roof. They got away with two of the three suitcases and Chester had the remaining suitcase with him. He desperately wanted to get it to Ramel.

"Mike tried to steal from me, it serves him right," Ramel said to himself.

When Ramel met with Chester at a bowling alley, Chester's insistence, he thought it only right to offer Chester half of what the suitcase yielded. He wanted no parts of it but Ramel, after counting the bounty in a dark corner, wrapped a $20K brick in a black plastic bag, handed it to Chester and bid him adieu. He was quite content to walk away with $136,000.00 although he wished the vagabonds hadn't made off with the other two suitcases, one filled with more cash and bonds worth more than the measly 100K he left the bowling alley with.

Only Chester knew the squatters hadn't...

Ramel was so deep in thought, and drunk, almost laughing at Chester's affable, simple, superstitious nature, he didn't notice the black limousine rolling at the same pace as his walk.

A jet-black window rolled down and a middle-aged tanned man poked his head out.

"Where are you going, Sir, perhaps I can give you a lift?" he said with an accent Ramel couldn't place.

Damn ass-bandits, Ramel thought before answering, "I ain't swinging in your direction, old man. I'm fine."

"You're drunk. It isn't safe for you to be walking in such a dark place, drunk."

"I ain't that drunk. Are you deaf? I said I was fine."

"That you are. Is it fine for you to be living in the woods when you can be in the comfort of a bed? Is it fine that you had to take a train instead of a car from that nice club you came from?"

"I don't drive drunk. Look, nigga, you following me?"

"Mr. Jackson, I have a proposal for you."

"'Mr. Jackson'? Do I know you, man?"

The limo came to a halt and the man stepped out of the car. He was elegantly dressed; his clothes seemed to flow on him. His shoes shined brilliantly reflecting the color of the amber streetlight they stood underneath.

"We will get to know each other, Mr. Jackson."

"The last person that was with that 'Mr. Jackson' shit screwed me over so you can keep it moving."

"I am Jordão de Silvo Inácio, Mr. Jackson. I have higher aspirations than your predecessor. You should really hear my proposal."

"Oh! A Spanish dude well that makes it all better, right? Kick rocks, man. I don't want to hear shit you have to say."

"This is unfortunate, Mr. Jackson. You know the location of some very special items. I was hoping to work with you and you with me – instead of for me."

"Nigga, I ain't working with you, for you, around you, nothing. You don't know me and I damn sure don't know who you are."

"Unfortunate. I an old friend of yours could persuade you?"

Jessie knocked on the black windows of the car and stepped aside. Ramel's eyes turned to saucers when he saw Gary get out. He was all smiles, fangs bared, and giggling hysterically. Ramel stepped backward, afraid, cursing himself for not having his gun. He tripped over a twig a fell flat on his butt.

"Aw, c'mon, Boss. All we wanna do is talk about some silly books. And just for old times sake, how 'bout when we finish talking I give you a job, just like you gave me, huh?"

"Stay away from me, man!"

Gary's smile grew wider and more gruesome.

"Boss, you're hurting my feelings. C'mon, I promise, I'll take care of you just like you did me. Don't even worry about it," he said leaning over Ramel.

"Why after tonight, we'll be just like brothers."

