Conquer the Dark (11 page)

“Making it up as we go along,” Maggie said, nodding emphatically. “Would have helped if somebody told us stuff before it happened. I feel like my life got hijacked sometimes, then at the same time I’m so thankful that it did, given the downward spiral I was on, but it’s all so bizarre and unsettling and miraculous and just weird.”

“That’s why I told Paschar no. I wasn’t sure and he was acting really crazy, and I wasn’t sure what that meant.” Melissa glanced around the group. “Was that right or wrong? See what I mean? How do we know?”

“Beloveds, none of us knows what the right thing is. I have lain with BK as a pure human when we solidly knew the rules meant that would doom him … and every year that passes, I look older and he stays the same. Fate can be loving and nurturing toward our growth, and yet it can also be a demanding and cruel bitch when it comes to the fragile human ego. Yin and yang of it all, I suppose. I’m still learning and coping, young sisters. None of us is perfect or gets it right all the time.” Aziza released a rare forlorn sigh. “But we do the best we can. When we know better, sometimes we do better. Yes?”

“I suppose,” Melissa murmured. “I guess that’s why something down deep told me to back Paschar off for now.”

Celeste closed her eyes. “I didn’t have that much willpower in me … shit.”

“Ditto,” Maggie said, and just shook her head. “I can’t say no to that man. Gavreel makes my knees turn into jelly. What can I tell you?”

“But what I’m saying,” Celeste whispered in a horrified rush, “is that I mighta really messed up—correction,
we
mighta messed up, big-time. There was
no control
happening in our room, trust me.”

“Well, how in the hell are you supposed to have willpower against the frickin’ Angel of Death? Give yourself a break,” Maggie said, wringing her hands, then going to Celeste to hug her. “I mean, Paschar has vision, so maybe he saw down the road a bit and could, you know, like temper his behavior because of seeing the future or whatever … and Gavreel … well, he
is
peace—so while he took liberties that I gladly enjoyed, he wasn’t out of his mind completely. At least I don’t think he was. But the fact is, the control part isn’t on you. So don’t blame yourself; it is what it is, or was what it was.”

Celeste groaned as she allowed her forehead to rest on Maggie’s shoulder and the other women came to her to rub her back. Maggie’s advice was always so blunt and so accurate that you couldn’t avoid its impact, whereas Melissa gnashed the facts to death. Then Aziza would come in to say her piece so philosophically that her words sometimes made people not worry about stuff they should really have been insanely worried about. One could be too mellow
when action was called for. But in a circumstance like this, what the hell action was there to take except freaking out?

“Girl, you are so not making me feel better right now,” Celeste said into Maggie’s shoulder. “But I love you anyway.”

“We love you, too, honey—but what you gonna do?” Maggie shrugged. “It’s done now and there’s no going back.”

Celeste released another groan. “I know.”

“Maybe Azrael can un-intend or something?”

Melissa’s attempt at problem solving only made Celeste’s shoulders slump more.

“Would you be serious?” Maggie fussed.

“Well, who knows what all these guys can do? They don’t even seem to know the full range of their powers down here yet. I’m just saying it could be worth a try and a conversation with the man.”

“I really don’t think that’s something you’d ask an angel to do, Mel.” Maggie shook her head and Celeste could feel Maggie’s entire body become rigid as she responded to Melissa.

“Okaaaay, I’m sorry. Don’t get bent. I’m just trying to come up with practical solutions before lightning bolts start flying from the sky at our van,” Melissa replied, sounding genuinely hurt.

“Do you hear yourself? Stop scaring her,” Maggie said, her voice beginning to escalate.

“Maybe it wasn’t that bad,” Aziza hedged, then placed a calm hand on each of the arguing women’s arms, dispelling the negativity through touch.

“Oh, it was bad,” Celeste countered, and let out a
frustrated sigh as she squeezed her eyes shut more tightly. “His wings came out so hard he splattered the carpet with blood, then turned over tables and chairs and rearranged furniture with wind turbulence.”

“Holy shit,” Melissa said, covering her mouth.

Aziza gathered Celeste away from Maggie’s hug and turned Celeste around to face her. Placing her hands squarely on her shoulders Aziza spoke with dignified calm. “We are not going to give way to panic, fear, or worry. We are going to cross that bridge when we come to it. What happened might not exactly be in the divine law, but then again, who knows, given all the changes and new circumstances that have come out of all our unions and prayers. So let’s move forward on a positive vibe and take each day as it comes. Besides, we have bigger concerns right now. Let’s stay focused, okay?”

Even though the thought of returning to the mission produced its own brand of stress, just hearing Aziza’s wise counsel made Celeste’s shoulders relax. Everything that had happened in the hotel room might just have been a stress reliever, now that she really thought about it. Maybe Azrael hadn’t lost the ultimate control and was just battle hyped. After all, as her sister said, he was the frickin’ Angel of Death and therefore probably took the whole battle thing more deeply into his bones than the others. Maybe. That was the pretty lie she was going to tell herself to help keep from freaking out.

Meanwhile, each woman’s hug added an additional sealing balm to Aziza’s and soon they were all ready to smile again.

“Okay, we’ve been gone long enough,” Melissa warned.
“A few minutes more and they’ll know we’re talking about them and might get suspicious.”

It was the simple truth and enough to make them begin to quickly file out toward the lobby. But Celeste had to chuckle as Maggie held her back a bit with a mischievous grin.

“Knocked the furniture over from wind turbulence? Really?”

“If you say a word …” Celeste shushed her and dragged her out of the restroom trying hard not to laugh.

Emotions running high and needing downtime to recover from the flight, Celeste said a futile prayer that plans had changed and everyone could take a much-needed nap. Knowing that wasn’t going to happen, she trudged past the lobby with the group and steeled herself for the blast of heat that almost knocked her over when the hotel front doors opened.

Her body longed for the soft duvet and cool temperatures inside. Just a few hours and she’d be ready to go wherever they insisted. Instead she found herself back in the small white van on a mission. Thankfully the trek by vehicle was only fifteen minutes from the hotel, and a wide-open landscape soon emerged from the horizon. A hundred-yard parking lot preceded the monuments, as did a formal park ticket-stand entrance barricade with rest-stop-style toilets. However, they didn’t have to stop. Isda and his advance team had taken care of acquiring the nearly-impossible-to-get-pyramid entrance passes.

“You need to stop yawning and give me a little credit, mon,” Isda fussed over his shoulder toward Azrael and Gavreel. “You know how hard it is to get into the big
pyramid? People stand in line at five o’clock in the morning to be sure they can, and by dis time of day, sold out.”

“Thank you, man,” Azrael said in a mellow tone, stifling another yawn.

“In your debt, bro,” Gavreel said, leaning his head back on the seat and closing his eyes. “For real.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Isda muttered as he pulled their small vehicle into a space by behemoth tour buses and lines and lines of parked vehicles. “
Dis
-mount!”

“Ya think this whole leadership-in-the-land-he-knows-best thing is really going to brotherman’s head?” Bath Kol muttered to Azrael as he passed him. “Just sayin’.”

Azrael held up a hand, seeming too exhausted even to contemplate the matter.

But as soon as every warriors’ feet touched the sand, Celeste watched them snap to attention, their senses keen, their eyes roving the terrain.

“Is everything all right?” Melissa asked, touching Paschar’s arm.

He shook his head. “Not at al, Mel.”

Celeste hugged herself as they followed Isda, feeling the unease creep into her bones with every footstep.

Camel drivers stood swatting flies and hawking rides right next to arts-and-crafts vendors who claimed everything was handmade, but looked as if it had been manufactured in China. Aggressive youngsters plied everything from mini-maps to small plastic pyramids and light-up Tutankhamen lens.

“Ladies, stay next to your guardian,” Isda said under his breath, circling back to protect his group. “Here ain’t like the States. If you’re female and unescorted, you’re fair
game for whatever, feel me? If you get separated from your man, just claim to be the wife of one of the other brothers. Here, they got more than one wife and may even try to buy you from your mate for, like, twenty camels or some shit. Cool?”

“Are you serious?” Maggie looked around the faces in the huddled group.

“Very,” Aziza confirmed. “So stay close.”

“Especially when we go over by the camels,” Isda added.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Celeste said, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Why in the world would we need to travel on some huge, smelly beasts that from where I stand have crap all over the ground near them?”

“My question
exactly
,” Maggie said, folding her arms.

“Because if we are going deep into the desert, a camel is necessary.” Isda looked around the group. “They won’t let cars go to where we need to check out. We brought the ticket to get back here. Maybe we can divine something or get a vibe inside the big boy when we get back, but for now, we ride and we stop when Celeste says stop.” He handed Azrael a camera. “So act like a tourist and stop beefin’. You ought to be really chill by now anyway.”

Maggie glanced at Celeste, whose cheeks were rosy with embarrassment. Celeste set her sight on the camels ahead and pursed her lips. Not a word, she would not say another word for now. Azrael and Gav swallowed smiles, gave Isda the nod, and Bath Kol chuckled as the group moved forward. Only Paschar lagged back a bit, constantly stroking Melissa’s back as they walked.

They hadn’t gone ten paces when they were barraged
by eager vendors. Azrael just shook his head, calmly declining, and he and Isda keeping the group moving. But the children’s bleating pleas broke Celeste’s heart. That’s how Melissa and Maggie got caught. A small boy and his sister offered pencils, then maps, then trinket after trinket, and suddenly the two women had fallen behind. By the time the group turned around, they were surrounded by passionate bedouin men who had begun a healthy bartering among themselves for how much they’d pay in livestock for each woman.

“Be cool, man,” Isda said as Azrael headed back toward them.

Azrael towered over the eager suitors, who were garbed in long, brown robes with their heads covered in thick, white twists of turban fabric.

“Are these your wife?” the taller of the two men asked with a pleasant smile. “I am prepared to make a generous offer.”

Before Azrael could answer, the other man slapped his chest in a cheerful manner. “But I would take good care of them, even if I have less camels—I, Saddiq, am good at what I do!”

The men howled with laughter as Melissa and Maggie quickly got behind Azrael.

“You have two, you should share,” the older man said. “You American?”

“Go help the man out,” Bath Kol said to Isda, shaking his head. “You know Az hasn’t been down here long enough to lie fast on his feet.”

“True dat, mon,” Isda replied, taking off in an easy lope.

“No, no, no. You cannot buy my brother’s wives. I have already told him I would pay two hundred camels apiece for each one.”

“Whooooaaa,” the younger man said, bowing in front of Isda with respect. “If I had so much, I would pay that for any of them, especially her.” He pointed toward Celeste.

“Oh, no,” Isda said with a smile as Azrael frowned and began walking back toward the group. “Mess with that one there and you might lose your life.”

Both men took the comment in stride, holding up their hands and backing off laughing.

“First wife?” the older of the two called back.

“Only wife,” Isda shouted back, and pointed at Azrael.

“Nefertari!” the young man shouted. “He is Ramses—like a bull!” The vendor did a little jig and laughed, much to the delight of his friend and the other vendors who hung back, smoking.

Isda shook his head as the group reconvened. “See what I mean?”

“I confess, I was not prepared for that onslaught,” Azrael said, smiling at Isda.

“Uh, yeah,” Bath Kol said, then raked his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “But it is a hundred and twenty degrees out here, people, with not a butt crack of shade—so can we stop amusing the locals and do this thing?”

Isda resumed walking and chuckled. “Watch your step, ladies.”

He didn’t have to tell Celeste twice. Every two feet inside the perimeter of the camel rides section, which amounted to no more than a long, frayed rope tied to
wooden stakes driven into the ground, the huge beasts had left a pile.

The closer they got to the animals, the more Celeste’s eyes watered from their stench. Unfazed, the camels regarded them with defiant disdain while chewing their cuds and intermittently spitting like old men mawing tobacco on a Southern porch. The flies had declared open season on soft, foreign skin that had been sheathed in sweet lotions. Yet, for all of its repulsive aspects, somehow the situation was still pretty cool.

Mammoth pyramids that had been built so far back in history that it was hard to wrap her mind around them made Celeste feel as if she were suddenly frozen in time. Framing the monumental structures were the beasts of burden that had for millennia been making caravan treks with brightly embroidered blankets and square saddles covering their humps. Their modern-day drivers also looked as if they’d leapt out of a
Raiders of the Lost Ark
film, replete with long, white robes and black-and-white desert-sheikh headgear and bands, while park guards strolled by leisurely toking on Camel cigarettes and toting AK-47s.