He allowed Lilith to seethe. He ignored her blinding wrath and concentrated on the tiny questions nagging his mind. Why wasn't he able to torch the two lower-generation vampires, when he'd been able to ash all the others? She didn't need to know that his attempts had failed, or contemplate how two vampires had been able to hide behind a shaman's prayer line... why was a small cabin impervious to his black lightning strikes when the Guardian compound and the Covenant's safe house had so easily burned to the ground? They were missing something crucial. He could feel it in his skin, but he kept chuckling with haughty disdain in his countenance and avoided glancing at the small compartment hidden in the center of the table beneath the fanged crest that only he could open, allowing Lilith's ego to make her twist.Oh, darling, I have such a prize in there .

"Dante, I dredged every man's dreams trying to wrest out Rivera's location. Nothing!" she shouted, oblivious to the chairman's mood shift as she railed on. "They were only able to try to sendten thousand measly dollars toa human that had to write it down. That'sall Rivera has left. My harpies ripped open the belly of that aircraft, searching in vain for his coffin, in case he was still one of us! Nothing! And if a Neteru had been on board, we would have known the moment he or she launched into battle."

She swished away, leaving the chairman to seal the deep gash in his face, his black blood splattering the front of his robe and blending into it. "The female Neteru did not come for her Guardians, even when I sent the plane to crash and burn. No male Neteru rose to the challenge to come to their rescue, either. The last remnants of the Covenant were even on that aircraft, and no Neterus came... no Isis blade or disc of Heru was ever raised."

Lilith shuddered and gave Dante her back to consider, knowing she was running out of options. If she didn't find the Neterus quickly, she'd have to destroy the embryo, lest it ever be discovered. Or, worse, turn it over to her husband and try to claim that in her search for the dead Neterus, she'd discovered it. Either way, she refused to concede total defeat. If there was no bounty to be won to take over all the weaker realms, shecould not lose favor on level seven. Her mind raced for a back-door solution.

She'd blame it on Dante, if she had to give up the egg. The egg had passed through his chambers, and this had been a Vampire Council matter, originally. But that bitter black pill was something very special that she was saving for when she'd exhausted every measure. To prematurely unveil that it even existed meant potentially tipping her hand, if the Neterus were somehow still alive. Dante was holding something back from her; she could sense it. So she skillfully changed the subject and allowed herself to appear totally spent. He could never know her ultimate aim. Men were foolish. There were no friends in this game.

"Warrior angels made it necessary to back off... but the plane went down. There was no way anyone on board could have survived. Damnable daylight interfered, but they're history." Lilith covered her face with her hands and breathed in deeply, causing her wings, tail, and talons to recede as she regained her composure.

"Hmmm... are you quite sure? The same way I was so sure that Rivera had been burned alive by the sun?" The chairman shook his head. "Very sloppy-or did you say that to me not long ago?"

"I looked themeach in the eye before we decimated their aircraft at dawn, and all I saw was frightened humans. No Neterus. The plane went down over a holy region that even I cannot penetrate without my husband's assistance. I'm officially banned from that area, except the Red Sea, by truce," she wailed, suddenly becoming so distraught that she waltzed back to the table and took a shaky sip of clotted blood from the chairman's goblet and set it down hard.

"Perhaps, if warrior angels showed up, they're masked. Did you ever consider that? It has been done before." He studied his goblet and circled the rim of it with his finger.

She stared at him without blinking.

"You seem awfully impatient, my dear. That is not like you. Maybe you should call my father to help you-"

"Don't fuck with me, Dante," she screeched, growing fangs again. "This is a catastrophe!"

"I thought our goal was to kill them, anyway?" He risked another sly smile, baiting her further as he took a slow sip from her abandoned goblet. "Calm yourself. My remaining councilmen are in stasis repose in their vaults, and we must conserve our energy for the future-"

"What future, Dante? If we don't deliver them, there is no bounty," she said flatly, leaning into him. "Our Dark Lord deals in absolutes. I will not suffer his wrath for failing!"

He stood and chuckled. "Or, if I did indeed kill them both, first, then what you mean is, I've won the challenge-and didn't fuck up so badly after all." He caught her hand before she could strike him and caressed her face with his free palm. "Come, come now, dearest Lilith," he whispered, his fangs growing to battle length as his form bulked to shadow hers. He squeezed her wrist until the bones within it snapped and she winced. "Is that any way to treat the possible ruler of theentire dark realm?"

CARLOS WATCHED with morbid detachment as each member of the team was attended back to reasonable health. The odd sensation that he and the others were not alone kept him on guard, staring out into the crystal blue water. The vast expanse was dotted by lush land, green with foliage as though Eden. No one, for all the stilted discussion, had made even passing mention of the spirits he'd seen. The angels, their parents-it was such a powerful phenomena-and yet, it hadn't come up as the basic logistics were argued.

Who cared which way they should walk, how they would get back to any modern transportation? They were alive. Didn't they see the angels? A small part of him wondered if he were still losing his mind.

Dan knelt by the edge of the lake. He was babbling something about needing water. Carlos watched dispassionately as Shabazz grasped the junior Guardian's arm and warned him about parasites. True enough, but it still didn't make sense. A jumbo jet had crashed in the mountains, but hadn't immediately exploded. Everyone on the united teams had walked away-surely a divine hand had been the cause. Parasites were the least of their problems.

The moment the thought crossed his mind Carlos squinted. It seemed as though the vaporous mist hovering just over the surface of the still lake was parting. Then out of nowhere, they were there-three old men with scruffy white beards in long white tunics and small, embroidered, flat round hats peered at him from the tiny canoe. They seemed as old, dark, and weathered as the ebony wooden canes they leaned on for support. Their canoe eerily moved forward on its own accord. Carlos waited a full thirty seconds before his teammates even saw them.

"Yo!" Rider shouted, jumping back a few steps. "We've crashed-a little assistance?"

Marlene held Rider's forearm to quiet him and the team waited. The old men's cloudy, bluish-white eyes followed the sound of Rider's voice and the rustle of Marlene's robe.

The eldest among them lifted his cane and pointed toward Carlos. "The voice is not the one we seek. The woman cannot go to the island of knowing. Only one travels with us."

"No can do, brother," Shabazz said, stepping in front of Carlos in a protective stance. "He's one of ours, and we all go down as a team. State your business."

"He must learn things before the apex that only we can show him," the second old man said, his blind eyes traveling to find Shabazz's face as he pointed his stick toward the sun.

"He must learn his true name, then he will guide you home," the third old man said, and then turned to motion toward a far-off island.

Carlos placed a hand on Shabazz's shoulder to indicate he was willing to give the strange request a shot. "It's cool, man. If these old dudes have wisdom, I'm down for whatever." He watched Shabazz rub his chin then stand aside reluctantly. "Hey, they came out during the day," Carlos said with a half smile. "Beats the courier service I used to have."

"You sure, man?" Big Mike asked, grunting as he stood with effort.

Carlos simply nodded and walked forward until the edge of the water dampened his sandaled feet.

Grit and dust stung Damali's eyes as she dismounted from the helicopter and reached for Telek's hand. She couldn't get the image of blue water and smoke out of her mind. Panic had covered her skin with a cool sheen of perspiration, and no amount of small talk and platitudes could make her shake it.

Without a word she trudged behind her overly hospitable guides, listening to nothing except the hard yellowish dust crunch beneath her feet. This land was one of contrasts, like so many others she'd seen. Gravel and dust, but also shade-producing trees. In Askum there were white stone monuments and an eerie vacancy all around, but it also gave one the feeling that eyes were everywhere.

"He is not far from here," Telek said proudly as he waved toward the litter of palace ruins and stelae bearing strange inscriptions. He smiled broadly. "You feel the ancestors watching from the many underground tombs, if you stand very still."

Damali glanced around nervously as she picked up her pace. "Yeah, I sorta had the feeling that there was some seriously old energy around here."

"Indeed. My grandfather is so near the St. Mary of Zion Church people always want him to allow them to board there while on pilgrimages. It is one of the holiest shrines, the church, and it is said that the Ark of the Covenant is hidden somewhere here, however grandfather claims that three seers have long since moved it to an island home." Telek chuckled and shrugged as he kept walking. "Who knows? But grandfather is very peculiar and particular about whom he allows in his home. Dirt from his yard, and granite pieces from the huge obelisks in Stele Field, are believed to be mystical." Her guide leaned in closer and offered Damali a jaunty wink. "Local people even swear that the water pumped into his small well actually travels beneath the ground, past the ancestors' resting places, from Queen Sheba's pool."

After a winding path, Telek stepped through a low iron gate into a circular courtyard where a small, one-story, whitewashed brick house stood surrounded by pink-and-red blossoms on prickly vines. He walked around toward the back of it, where a high wall protected it from the north, and the majestic mountains in the distance seemed to stand guard. The high iron gate on the far side of the courtyard led to what seemed to be a centuries-old church or temple that she now knew was the one Telek had mentioned earlier. But the tall, intricately carved granite obelisks that flanked it made Damali stop for a moment and stare. Telek smiled and motioned to a large, leafy tree that she could not name and bade her to sit down beneath it. Dori began to walk away, and only then did Damali summon her voice.

"Our pilot, though..."

"Dori is not an elder. He cannot be here. The children cannot be here. The mothers and fathers do not come to grandfather's compound unless invited." He hugged his cousin and said something to him in the language she would never fully learn, and then took his time to go to a small pump by the house to fill a flat metal pan with water. Balancing the water with care, he set it down before Damali. "I must wash your feet before you enter. We should do this near the door, and you must leave your shoes outside. Grandfather is very particular about the spirits you could walk over on his threshold."

Damali nodded. "Marlene has some of these ways, too," she said, slipping off her sandals. She allowed the earth to warm her feet as she again took Telek's hand. But an inner wave of despair hit her as soon as her soles connected with the bare earth. Tears sprung to her eyes and she shut them as images reeled against her mind and made her temporarily cling to her guide for support.

Women so weary that tears would no longer come to their eyes pressed skeletal-weight infants too weak to suckle to their flat, milk-empty breasts. War and famine, disease and drought so treacherous that it had left babies mere brown skin and loose bones. Damali covered her mouth as Nzinga's voice filled her ears.You had to see this, queen sister. Your suffering pales by comparison. This is whom you raise your Isis for. Always remember the ancestors in your quest .

Damali knelt, the dust and gravel of the outer yard eating into her knees as her hands skimmed it blindly. She touched the surface as though a gentle lover, revering those that had gone before her. "But you never gave up," she whispered, her tears wetting the ground.

"No..." the ground whispered back. Damali lifted her face and turned quickly toward the huge tree above her. "All over the world," the tree murmured in the breeze. "The children are dying. The earth has been desecrated." She picked up a small pebble that suddenly rolled toward her. "Take me," it echoed, "I was here in the beginning and can tell you much." A tiny beetle pushed its way between blades of rough grass. It stopped and stared up at Damali, its beady black eyes unblinking as she looked deeply into them. "Collect seven stones," it murmured. "The flat ones worn smooth by my friends, time and water. They will find you. Just open your hand." Then it parted its hard outer metallic green casing, spread a pair of sheer tawny wings, and flew away.

Telek gazed down at her with a warm smile as she sought his gaze for confirmation. When he nodded she opened her hands and laid them palms up in the grass and waited. The tree shuddered as another breeze disturbed its branches. A small brown bird lit upon a low limb and dropped a smooth, clear quartz rock near her hand and was gone.

An elderly man appeared in the doorway of the house and grinned a full dazzling white smile. His leathery, brown skin sparkled with youth just beneath it, and he motioned to Telek to bring Damali forward. He said several long sentences, and looked at Telek, then gazed at Damali tenderly.

"My grandfather is Ephener, his name means 'to have plenty' He says that his garden likes you. This is good. You may now wash your feet and enter his home. The rest of your stones are on the way."

Carlos walked into the water shin-deep, the lake silt making his sandals slippery against the bottom. He was unsure about how to climb into the canoe without tipping it and sending the blind old men splashing into the water, so he studied the problem for a moment until the eldest one leaned over and offered him a hand, bracing his long walking stick against the shoal.

It was amazing, the strength in the old man's grip. Carlos was certain he'd felt a mild current run through him as he clasped the gnarled hand and stepped up into the narrow craft. But it never wavered, nor did the surefooted elders budge. Then he watched with pure awe as the two on his flank each reached out into the air and grabbed at nothingness, as though the air were a blanket to be balled into their elderly fists and they were closing an invisible cloak around them.

He could see his teammates' shocked expressions, could see everything going on along the shore as they panicked and rushed about, hollering behind the slow-moving boat as though it were gone. The two men chuckled and threw open their arms, the one on the left flinging open his left arm at the same time the elder on Carlos's right flung his right arm away from him. A new shore stood before them with a small, white sand bank that gave way to lush, tall green lake grasses. Beyond it loomed a white stone monastery, weathered gray by wind and storms. Moss ate at its mortar, creating velvet down between each centuries' old stone.

The oldest man in the boat calmly stepped into the water, his walking stick guiding him as he simply waved for Carlos to follow. He bowed toward the shore, then toward each cardinal direction, but never actually stood on the shore.

"Before you enter, you must be cleansed by the waters of life," he said, "and reborn to be given a new name."

Carlos gingerly stepped out of the boat into the mystically still water, but unlike the old man, when he stepped down into it, he was waist deep. The old man came to him, bent, and dipped his hand in the water, drizzling it over Carlos's head. He handed off his long stick to one of his brethren, and placed a flat palm on Carlos's back and one on his chest. Before Carlos could protest, a pair of strong arms that belonged to a twenty-year-old man had dunked him backward.

He came up sputtering and coughing to nods and smiles of approval.

"You areAlemayehu ," the man who'd dunked him exclaimed. "This is also the name of an Ethiopian prince. Two words made together, just like the two halves of yourself.Alem means 'the world' in Amharic. You have wanted the world.Ayehu means 'I see.' You have also seen many worlds," he said, pointing upward and then down to the ground. He made two fists and pounded them together. "World vision, or the world I see. To balance your energy, this must be connected to the one called beautiful vision-for the world I see. Damali Alemayehu. You are one. Together means beautiful vision for the world I see." He stared at Carlos hard. "You understand, now?"

Carlos nodded even though he didn't quite comprehend. Damali's name registered in his ears, however, and if the old man had mentioned her, she wasn't dead.

Oddly, the side of his neck also burned, and he brought his hand up to cover the pain. Then, as he held his palm against the tender skin, he slowly became aware that something just under his skin was moving along the part of his throat that had sustained the original turn bite. As he brought his hand away, the old men around him smiled.

Carlos peered into his palm and a strange, silvery symbol flickered in it for a moment and then was gone. The image was box-shaped, with a line that zigzagged across his palm from right to left and back again in four distinct but connected bars, ending on a platform of four spikes. The shape eerily reminded him of the kundalini snake, but had harder angles. He stared at his opened palm and then at his newfound guides with a question in his eyes.

"Nkyin kyin ohema nkyinkyin-changing one's self. Playing many roles," the eldest guide murmured. "You now wear the mark of our side, which covers what had been and seals off the Darkness. During your apex, this will become permanent. It is a source of strength, also a source of choice. You can determine the next time you sire, and your intent to do so, or not, will be carried through your seed when this burns bright."

The old man nodded, appearing temporarily satisfied, and took Carlos to shore by his elbow as the others jumped down from the canoe and followed as though they were teenagers. Once they were assembled on the white sand, he turned abruptly and laid a hand on Carlos's shoulder.

"You must raise an army."

Carlos nodded. "No doubt. But our resources-"

"Are many," his elder said, cutting him off. The old man motioned for his stick and waited until it was provided by the brethren that held it. He drew large circles on the ground with Carlos inside it. "Seven days from the beginning of your end, you will go through the first ring of your power. You were born this day."

"November fifth," Carlos said quietly.

"The eleventh month plus the fifth day renders the number seven, the number of heaven-the place where the dead are resurrected, and the abode of Asuar... you will die to the old way completely during the eclipse." The elder rubbed his chin. "The eclipse will last three hours and thirty-three minutes. Three threes is nine, your birth year is also nine. You were born in the year 1980. Add each digit, and you have nine. Nine is a number of completion, because after it, one goes back to one, or the One. This death is not defeat, but a stripping away to give you the Light. Your apex will be rushed, because of circumstances."

Although Carlos was truly confused, he nodded. He wanted to get to the part about Damali's whereabouts, so not interrupting the old man seemed best. But the fact that numbers had been swirling in his head now made sense, as well as his fixation on them.

The elder stepped back and drew another ring around the first one, taking his time to be sure the stick bore down hard into the soft sand. "Normally, leading up to the time of a male Neteru apex, he has seventy days to build what had been stripped away. Let your woman close to you only after you mourn the losses." He sighed and pointed at Carlos's shoes. "They are hard losses, but you come from people that traveled to where the flat pyramids were built. Olmec."

"Mexico?" Carlos simply stared at the man.

He nodded. "Native to the earth, the Indians and Africans there-we were one. But you have many worlds flowing through your veins, even that of the Visigoths... this is why you and the beautiful vision see the world. Your teams will be one, and from all worlds. You must travel to gather your energies from each land. The time is nigh, old wars cannot be fought while preparing for the one war of all."

Although he wasn't completely clear about everything the old man was rapping about, he did know that it was impossible to mount an offensive against the gates of Hell with a splintered team. All bull had to be set aside. As soon as the thought completed, the old man smiled and began drawing another huge circle around the first two in the sand.

"You should have had seven months of preparation for battle," he said calmly. "Seven days, seventy days, plus seven months-seven, seven, seven, a trinity of sevens be upon you." The old man sighed. "Your brief detention in the dark realms, while unfortunate, did teach you much about how that enemy functions. Use it to your advantage."

"Cool," Carlos said, not moving outside of the rings that felt strangely protective. "So, I'll build an army in seven months, seventy-seven days. We lay low till we're ready, then what?"

"You don't have time. First, you must learn to conceal yourself against your enemies. We have temporarily masked you, but you must carry that energy forward yourself." The old man chuckled, made two fists and gathered the air, and closed it in around himself and disappeared. He reappeared ten yards away.

"That was profound, man..." Carlos said, respect and awe in his tone.

"You are a light bender," the old man said, chuckling as he disappeared again. "Do not believe in the illusion of powerlessness cast by the dark side. Grab the particles of light and magnetize them to you... your new eyes can see them."

The other old men laughed and pointed at Carlos's eyes.

"Silver seekers," one said.

"Spirit finders," another murmured.

"My powers will come back?"

The old men smiled. "Only if you believe you have not been left destitute by the Light."

Carlos didn't know how to answer. .

The eldest in the group of three sighed, his tone impatient. "Young people, humph!" He shook his head. "Did you have visions?"

"Yeah... I sorta saw-"

"You see worlds and angels and spirits." He scratched his scraggly beard. "Your eyes changed first. There are more changes." He came close to Carlos, sniffing, and then looked at the others. "Not yet, but soon."

"His hands," one said, making Carlos look down at his palms. "You heal?"

"Well, not exactly, I-"

"Feel the pain of others!" the eldest shouted, making birds fly from the trees and settle down slowly.

Carlos nodded, feeling foolish for even making the old man go there.

"Your mind," he said in a tired voice, "a steel trap of logic. Negotiations. Battle tactics. Soon, you'll be impervious to the demon bite." He finally smiled. "But you have to wait till your birthday, and not slip into some of your old ways."

Carlos looked at the ground.

"We were not always old or wise, but this is critical."

"I hear you," Carlos said, duly chastised.

"Good. Then stop fretting about the endurance or strength that comes soon... like the five senses. For some odd reason, these are blooming last, instead of first, but you did arrive to us from a very circuitous route." He looked at the others. "We never expected our Neteru to come from the realms we do not name. So, one can only assume that his development is unique."

"You mean I'll get my night vision back, and everything else, too?"

They smiled. "A lot of it. Not all of it. But what you do get will be more than adequate."

Carlos wrestled the dangerous question that nagged him out of his mind. He wanted in the worst way to know about Damali, and if it would ever be the same between them again. But this wasn't the time nor place. There were greater concerns. That could wait. But when the old men laughed at him, he simply closed his eyes.

"Thirteen gifts," the eldest man said, chuckling. "All Neterus have these."

"I counted twelve, though... not being funny," Carlos said, his gaze going to the shore. "I'm not being disrespectful, but if we're going into battle-"

"Twelve?" the man said, seeming perplexed. "How did you arrive here?"

"By plane, or plane crash, to be more accurate," Carlos said, now looking at all three of them.

They sighed in unison.

"A plane did not crash on this island, son."

Carlos blinked. "Travel through... I don't know... uh... Y'all did some mystical thing, and we were here."

"Light displacement and dimension distortion," the eldest replied. "I know you miss your old transportation methods, but did you know Neterus can move through time and space?" He belly laughed when Carlos just stared at him. "We in the Light rings invented it. The others only imitate it!" He walked away scratching his head, seeming completely amazed. "Angels do it all the time, son. Spirits to help humanity come to rescue those in peril. Did you bump your head and lose all your senses in the crash? Who saved you, then, anyway? They showed you the thirteenth gift,then ."

"Can I try it?" Carlos whispered in complete awe.

"Only if you're ready, and you need to be," the eldest urged, taking Carlos's hands without crossing the circles. He extended Carlos's arms. "Concentrate on the particles and grab them as you ask their permission to be held with your mind. Then pull them around you like a cloak." He smiled. "The dark ones are blind to it, even in the moonlight-but other Light benders can see you within it. We know where we are."

Excitement riddled him as he gazed first at one hand and then the other. Power...

"No!" the old men said in unison. "Defense!"

The eldest among them sighed. "The dark ones take from the Light without permission and abuse it for cheap tricks and to make war and chaos. You must ask permission to conceal yourself for protection, to aid those in need. Raw power is no better than lust. Go down that road, and you will never learn or have what you need!"

Duly chastised, Carlos nodded. "All right. I'm sorry. My bad. Old habits die hard."

Albeit disgruntled, the three teachers sighed and nodded.

"Light," Carlos said quietly, feeling a bit insane to be talking to nothingness, "may I have your permission to proceed?"

"Say it like you mean it," the eldest said firmly, pounding his stick on the ground. "Both in your mind and from your words. Soon you can do it without saying it out loud. But for now, practice. Again!"

Carlos took a deep breath and put emphasis in his voice. "Light," he shouted. "May I have your permission?"

The old men looked at each other.

"It's not in his heart and we are running out of time."

"He has to think of something he wants to get to badly enough to-"

"I got it, I got it," Carlos said. "I'll focus."

The threesome fell silent, but the scowls on their faces made them seem unconvinced. Carlos closed his eyes and turned his face toward the sun. He could see her eyes. That was all he needed, all that had ever penetrated his facade down to the core.

"Light, please work with me! May I have your permission?"

"Feel the energy tickle your palms and build like lightning tickles the clouds before striking," an excited elderly voice said.

It made Carlos open his eyes. Carlos stared at the eldest man before him, remembering what a lightning strike felt like and concentrated harder. Soon his palms tingled and became hot.

"Now close the cloak!"

Carlos did as he was ordered and felt so light that it was hard to keep his footing. He stumbled forward and opened his arms to hold his balance. "Did I do it? Did I disappear?" He looked around expectantly to the smiling faces that soon broke out into full laughter.

"So clumsy, but yes," one of his teachers admitted.

Another shook his head, laughing. "And this is our warrior? We have troubles."

"Indeed," the eldest said, "but he is what we have." He sighed and pointed to the ground. "The earth has energy. Neteru, a small piece of the Creator, is in all natural things. Ask for permission to be of it. The chameleon can be green, like the leaf, or brown like the tree trunk. You, too, can melt away and conceal yourself until danger passes. When you are stronger, you can conceal an army. Until then, sleep within the circles."

He would have felt better if he'd been given an offensive weapon but accepted the gift of their knowledge with an appreciative bow. "Thank you," Carlos said, truly meaning it. "I will try to learn quickly to protect the Neteru."

Puzzled glances passed between the old men.

"You are the Neteru," the eldest said, scratching his beard. "Explain."

A weird sensation coursed through Carlos, causing mild alarm within him as he tried to carefully choose his words. "She... Damali... is the Neteru."

They tilted their heads and stared at him and then huddled and began talking in hushed, animated tones in a language he couldn't fathom.

"I must understand!" the eldest one finally said, pounding his walking stick in the dirt. "We are to prepare a male Neteru for his apex, and in males it happens in his twenty-fourth year, two plus four is six, his death to life as a man and his beginning as something greater-then follows the concentric rings of trinity sevens!" Thoroughly agitated, he waved his arms about. "You have the silver vision. Your blood casts silver prisms within red, so no demon can turn you if bitten. Your hands will hold Light fire soon... you can walk undetected. The shield of Heru and his sword have your name on it-Alemayehu. No woman was sent to us. Your father-seer was on the shore."

"The Guardian female... the other seer," one of the teachers said, pacing. "But she was past the age of-"

"No. She is a Guardian," the third said.

"Damali is definitely the Neteru," Carlos argued, becoming more worried as they argued. "In my old life," he said carefully, "the entire sixth realm of darkness was looking for girlfriend, and I-"

"The vampires hunted her down?" the eldest man asked, cutting off Carlos's explanation. "We live a cloistered existence here. The things of the other seers are not our concern. Our mission is singular, to wait for the male Neteru!"

"Yeah," Carlos said, now stepping beyond the circle. "Fact. But the Light sent two this time, I guess?" He glanced around, confused. "You all don't talk amongst yourselves?"

The three old men stared at each other, seeming as though they were silently conferring.

"And she..."

"Spiked?" Carlos said, answering the eldest teacher's lingering question. "Yeah. Produced the scent that started a damned civil war underground and topside."

"We thought that was the beginning of the Armageddon." The eldest looked at the others. "We were told that a sign was to come. But, then..."

Carlos tilted his head and looked out toward the distance. "She fell off your radar, didn't she?"

They nodded. "We thought..."

Carlos rubbed his palms down his face, renewed guilt stabbing him. "Yeah. She did go dark for a moment-but fluxed back."

"Her condition was so tenuous that she was concealed, even to us?"

"Probably," Carlos said quietly, knowing within his heart that she had to be. Any strong Neteru team would have smoked his baby girl if they'd seen her. The Light had held out hope after all.

"She's not just a Guardian," one teacher whispered, his eyes wide.

"Not just his Guardian mate," the other said, leaning on his stick, stunned.

"We got one half of the whole," the eldest murmured and closed his eyes, turning his dark, lined face toward the sun. "She's cloaked. This is more than was even foretold."

"Okay, I know it's deep-but do you know where she is?"

They opened their eyes and stared at Carlos.

"Yes. Of course we do. She is learning battle formations to assist you-we thought. But, she's not your assistant; she's your equal. You're her equal. We thought we were ensuring your Guardian mate's safe passage, but a Neteru was being ferried. That isentirely different." They all looked around nervously as the eldest teacher spoke. "Do you understand what that implies?"

"Not totally, but-"

"Do you know why our land was never conquered?" the eldest shouted, pointing his stick at Carlos. "How people so small with so little could never be defeated?"

All Carlos could do was stare at the man.

"Touch my stick and close your eyes. This was carved from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden." He chuckled sadly as he looked at it. "I made assumptions, and didn't use my own gifts fully." They shared a smile. "Happens to the best of us. Be gentle with yourself. You are never too old or too wise to learn."

Carlos didn't move. What this teacher implied was beyond profound. "The Tree .. ."he whispered. "Hombre, that's a lot of juice to be pointing at a newbie. Now, I'm no punk, but I know about getting fried, and-"

"Touch the stick," the elder commanded. "We were almost about to make a grave error. Something has hidden her so deeply away that even we could not see her. It has receded her power, taken her Isis to keep her hidden from evil until you are readied as one."

Reluctantly, Carlos stretched out his hand and gingerly touched the wet, sandy end of the long stick that was held before him. Instantly a bright light scored the inside of his lids, causing him to drop the end of the wood and cover his eyes. But the image held as the blinding brightness bored into his skull, carving past his normal sight, searing his brain until the hair on his head stood up with static charge. For a fleeting moment he saw it. Glistening gold, its long lid ajar, spilling forth waves of iridescent light, the sound of metal swords and the clamoring voices of eager angels made him drop to his knees. "You have the Ark of the Covenant here?" Carlos croaked. "They said it was a myth."

The elder withdrew the stick and shoved the tip of it into the sand, stopping the intense vision. "It has always been in Ethiopia, the land of Eden and the first peoples. Its Jerusalem location was a myth. Our fighting sticks, like that of the Mother-Seer; also come from here and hold the power of the Donga. The words from our land are legendary. Know this, our eyes are within the wood."

"He could see it," the second elder said. "He is Neteru."

"He is the one who is supposed to work with the sixth ring!" the eldest said, grasping Carlos's hand and yanking him to his feet. He began drawing circles to create seven layers in all.

"Look," he ordered, not even allowing Carlos to recover. "You sank to the depths of the sixth realm of darkness and must be quickly reinstated to the sixth ring above."

The old man walked back and forth, his robes kissing the sand and using his stick as a pointer. "Ring one is where the ancestors go. Spirits that guide us and help us until we are strong enough for them to leave us after they've crossed over. Ring two is where they prepare for their ascension and lessons, after they have helped others close to the edges of transition. Ring three is where those guides that inspire and impart wisdom reside to make the human existence better-art, music, science, medicine, all. Ring four are carriers of prayers-they bear up the intercessions and answer them... we have ancestors there, too, if we are so blessed. They keep family lines going and merge them to one worldness. Ring five are the keepers of the Akashic Records of all knowledge and they protect the keepers of the seals... they are also responsible for healing, nature, the things we must teach you to fight in a different way... but ring six are where the generals are... the warrior angels that fight the righteous causes and fear not the depths of Hell." He stopped speaking and closed his eyes. "My short description does not begin to explain the power of the rings. More will be revealed as your strength grows."

The old man had broken out into an impassioned sweat, beads of it rolling down his temples as he spoke. "They are strong enough to fly into Hell danger zones, extract the lost, and return them to the Most High's realm, even after death has tried to seal their fate." He stared at Carlos. "Only the sixth-ring warriors can see the Ark. After that ring, only seventh Heaven exists-where the Creator of All resides. You've seen warrior angels."

"Yes," Carlos whispered, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Only those that do not fear even Hell itself, and would walk through it for another soul's salvation can see them. You have done this."

Carlos nodded and swallowed a sob. "For her. Yes."

"You went into Hell for the female Neteru?"

Emotion caught in Carlos's throat as he nodded and tears streamed down his face. "For her and her team... and my brother."

The old man clapped his hands and spun around in a madman's circle. "You were demon once and did this! It is all so clear now!"

"Vampire... a councilman, to be exact," Carlos said, bristling at the memory.

"A dark throne-level demon, recanting power? You chose love overthai ?" the old man asked, astonished. "All for her. And you come to us with Guardians and the Covenant brethren as protection to stand in the sun on hallowed ground... the oldest in the world?" He threw his head back and laughed, opening his arms to the sun.

Carlos didn't know how to answer. "Something brought me back, but I burned in daylight and served my sentence." He raked his fingers through his hair. "All I know is three hugehombres with gold shields and blades drawn got me and lifted me up... the same guys that kept the plane from going down hard, I think."

"No," the eldest said. "You cannot have mere Neteru powers-not entering into the big battle with the female Neteru at your side. This hasn't been done since Eden." He shook his head and the others appeared to agree, their indecipherable mother tongue creating a cacophony of chaotic voices on the small beach. "We did not expect this and must confer," he finally said, walking away from Carlos toward the temple with the other teachers quickly following him. "We must hasten your lessons and give you offensive weaponry to address what's headed your way."

"You must go to the place where the Blue Nile meets the White Nile," Telek said, repeating his grandfather's words. "He says your power is in the coming together of the Light and the Darkness, represented in the two sides of the Nile... you are a child of the Nile, Kemet-and women are water. Draw from the natural energy of the water that gives life."

The old man took Damali by both hands and stood her in the middle of the dirt floor. He waved to her right side, as though motioning for a missing person.

"Your mate stands there," Telek said, drawing a chuckle from his grandfather. "He says that he will have a new name, and his first name will become your son's last name-it is a good one to keep the family strong."

Damali smiled, but the recent miscarriage made it less than brilliant. She swallowed away her melancholy as she focused on the lesson, remembering what the land had shown her about other people's losses. Then it slowly dawned upon her, if he was forecasting, then Carlos and her whole team were definitely still out there somewhere-alive!

The old man nodded, as though reading her thoughts, and then drew a flat line along each cardinal direction, north, south, east, and west.

"In relationship to where you were born, he says put a member of the Covenant to stand at each direction as your outer ring-the Irishman to the west-as his beliefs reside there. The one from Mexico to the north, he looks to the north for guidance. The monk from Tibet, east. Imam, south, toward here, his motherland." Telek quickly walked around Damali with his grandfather, pointing to the floor etchings as his grandfather gave hasty directions.

"My family, my team-they didn't crash? Where are they?" Damali held her breath as the old man waved away her questions.

"Yes, they crashed, but are not dead," Telek said, dismissing any further details as the short, elderly man glared at them. "The work of angels just off the sacred islands within Lake Tana's mystical shores. Do not break his flow."

The grandfather nodded and grunted, seeming annoyed that he'd been interrupted.

"Between north and west, add two newest male Guardians," Telek said, without looking at Damali's seeking gaze and motioning toward the floor instead. "Between west and south, two old friends-the one who rides the motorcycles and the other one who is tall like a mighty tree."

"Rider and Big Mike?" Damali asked quietly, and was rewarded by the grandfather's avid nod as he clapped his hands with approval.

"Between south and east, your mother-seer and father figure-a couple-are to stand when you fight. Each person in the circle is placed where their strength lies... they are southern directed, and look east for wisdom."

"Makes sense," Damali murmured. "Shabazz is always quotingThe Art of War , and all of Marlene's herbs and wisdom come from the southern hemisphere and the motherland, south of where we live."

"Yes!" Telek shouted in harmony with his grandfather's laughter. "You understand! Now, the young Guardian from the east should be next to the monk's line, between east and north," he said, moving around her back to the top of the circle where his grandfather began, "and the other young Guardian with the broken heart should be next to the priest who will also share the same broken heart for the same reason."

"Jose and Father Lopez?"

The men fell quiet but nodded. Slowly the grandfather entered the circle and drew a line and looked deeply into her eyes and then touched her cheek, before walking away to begin jabbering again.

"The priest must keep to the Covenant and his vows; the girl, once your enemy, will have to become your friend. She has seen much, and has done a good deed for your partner. This will be hard." Telek sighed with his grandfather. "A mother, a daughter, and a son will be added to the inner ring, with a very old friend of yours."

The grandfather shook his head, chuckled, and closed his eyes as Telek conveyed the strange riddle.

"A policeman has his wife, the young Asian will have a challenge, your tree trunk will have a small bird to make a permanent nest in his old branches and make him happy. Two young men will be left without a mate until the circle changes again, but their brotherhood will lessen the hardship. The younger of them needs a friend, the older of them needs to be looked up to. Needs respect. An old warrior will want to kill a demon in his home that is his strange ally, and a daughter spirit will come home seeking her mother so that he won't have to. She is not a Guardian, like the others, but will help you as a friend. Two will bear fangs, flanking your man-but do not worry. This is necessary... his old life will help him, and he will elevate them from the pit. Your new number is twenty-one, which is also three. It should take the time of three sevens to build to this number. But it will be rushed, as time is speeding up. Seven days could be seven minutes, seven months, seven days-you see? There are new variables shifting the sands of time. This is also your age now, three sevens. Twenty-one. All still balances. The universe is mathematics, and must balance."

With that the grandfather waved his hands across the floor, glimpsing up at Telek to be sure his message had been made clear.

"Twelve on the outer ring, seven on the inner ring, then you and your equal warrior. When you go into battles, you must fight this way in this formation. Seven months and seventy-seven days until you are ready, or sooner in sevens-but be at home by November fifth, bury your mate's ancestors so they may rest in peace."

The grandfather straightened his back and leaned on the old, plain walking stick that she now knew contained the awesome purple light, and sighed. He seemed to look his ninety-some years of age after his divination, as though the reading had thoroughly spent him. He mopped his moist brow with a shaky, frail hand, nodded, yawned, said a few words, and left the room.

"He is tired and says to feed you and let you rest. We will make some tea and have food, yes?"

"But my team," Damali protested gently. "If he's giving me all this information about them, then they are definitely still alive, right? And if that's the case, I need to get up with them as soon as humanly possible."

Telek smiled. "Yes. They are still alive. And they are on their way. Still so impatient, little one? Did you not learn to flow with the energies around you, yet?"

Damali had to smile. "True. Where are my manners?" Damali opened and closed her mouth, so intrigued that she could barely wait for the lesson to begin.

"In Africa time is of no consequence, as we original people invented this concept called time. But we respect it, do not rush it; she has her own schedule and seasons. There are some things I have yet to show you," Telek said with a wink. "Like how to grab the Light like a blanket to hide yourself, for starters. Then, how to create a Light wand to replace your lost Isis... until you can draw down the Light into the sacred blade and spew it from the tip toward a dark aggressor."

"SO NOW what?" Rider sat down hard on the shoreline and stared at the water.

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