Sin Eaters: Devotion Book One (17 page)

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Authors: Kai Leakes

BOOK: Sin Eaters: Devotion Book One
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Khamun listened as Eammon quietly crossed his arms over his chest to stand calmly. Eyes cast downward, he watched various cars, ambulances and police vehicles drive by below them. Some vehicles swerved past multiple potholes, others hit each bump in the road as they slightly shook or bounced with the impact.
“Where I grew up, we were limited on Guardians, due to civil unrests. As you know, the protocol dictates that every region must have Guardians. So my family has a history of being just that—Disciples who train as Guardians.”
Eammon kept his glaze ahead, studying Chicago's skyline. “When I was twelve, I went back to my father's home in Kingston, where I met my grandfather. He taught me how to be the Guardian Disciple I am today. He explained that you protect the innocent as if they were your family. That is number one always. Then when I went to my mother's home to visit my great-grandparents in Nigeria, they gave me the tools to be strong in my sight. Tamar . . . I dreamed of her. I never understood who she was to me, but I knew if I ever met her that I would protect her with my all. But then I grew up and met my wife. I moved on in my role as a Guardian until my wife passed of cancer, and I got into a car accident that changed my perspective on many things.”
“I'm sorry.” Khamun glanced at the elder and quietly listened in communal respect. It was embedded in every Nephilim youth that you listen to your elders; otherwise you may miss your blessing or the knowledge needed as a key in life. They had many stories that could help or assist in making you see within yourself. Mainly, it was due to the fact that Elders were chosen not because of how long they physically lived, but by how many soul incarnations they had, as well as diplomatic experience. Nonetheless, he still listened to this man who was his elder in years, because they too were meant to be respected, as dictated by family creeds.
“It is okay. Iyiah was a good woman. She was the one who made me remember my dreams. She told me to protect this woman and her children, and that the car accident will serve a purpose. It wasn't until I met Tamar that it all became clear. It also became clear that, like me, you, my boy, care deeply for her daughter.”
“Uh . . .”
Eammon chuckled. “It is okay, son. At your age I didn't understand my heart fully yet either. I just tell you this, so you can know. I will protect them as if they are my own.” He pointed to a semi mini-version of himself below and smiled. “My son, Zion. He also has the gift of sight and is a strong Slayer. So do not worry, my boy. We will see each other soon. My role in Tamar's life is not over. I believe it is just beginning.”
Silence took over the pair as Khamun took in the rising sun. Colors washed across the sky comforted him as a soft smile played across his handsome face, amusement and respect swelling within at the elder's wisdom.
“Yes, sir, I believe we will meet again, but I wanted you to understand that I know it's against protocol to step over the line. A Guardian never falls for their Guide.”
“Well, my boy. You know that everything has changed. She is no longer your Guide, but something tells me that you had crossed that line well before knowing that.”
A quiet smirk briefly lit up Khamun's face as he thought on the erotic nights he had spent in Sanna's mind before Eammon's deep chuckle drew him back to reality.
“Ah yeah. Yes, sir, I knew.”
Eammon walked near the roof's edge as he spoke to the air. His sturdy and muscled arms rested behind his back. “That role is as old as time, but you do know that it has been broken and will continue to be broken until the old ways adapt?”
Khamun stretched and closed his eyes. His cell vibrated erratically while his mind began to ache with a sudden SOS making him process everything. “Yes, now I do. Sanna comes from such a union, which has changed everything . . . including what I previously knew about her.”
“Indeed,” Eammon murmured as they glanced over the dark city streets quietly communing.
Chapter 10
“Talk to me.” Khamun quietly combed the room, pacing as he headed back to his charge.
“We have an issue.”
Khamun stopped in his tracks as he cracked his neck and gripped it, rubbing it to ease the tension. “Speak on it.”
“The Nile building has been compromised. We cannot relocate your Vessel there. St. Louis is officially kill zone for her and her family.”
“
What
!” Khamun's voice dropped a thousand octaves as he listened on. “Explain to me how that . . .
shit
could happen. I thought you all had the streets on lock! Lenox.” He heard the subtle, simmering anger dancing against his best friend.
“When the team secured your Vessel's home, a Shroud-Eater was spotted a couple of days later in the same vicinity. Which you know means that we cannot hide her there anymore. They have her scent. We need to relocate and move the team, including your Vessel.”
“
Shit
! I can't believe this. We did everything to the code. Are we sure they are tracking her still?” He could see Lenox racking a hand through his raven hair as he stood near Sanna's now burning home. Shit was an understatement. This had turned for the worse.
“Do we want to risk it? We cleaned what we could. From the intel I've picked up, they are thirsty for her blood, and since other Guides have been hidden as well, they want the freshest pick they can find, and they found yours. Their Dark Witches and Warlocks managed to break through the barriers. We can't keep her in her zone, we need to move to the central outpost. And it's time. You know what that means.”
Khamun inwardly cursed and then slammed a fist into a nearby wall. He had been avoiding going home for a decade now. He loved his family, but how could he go home with the changes that were going on with him? His mother would be the first to pick up the transformation in his body. She would see he wasn't just a watcher anymore, he was something more.
“A'ight, okay. You know what went down up here. So as—”
Lenox smoothly cut Khamun off with his sudden appearance next to him and continued the conversation. He was dressed in a clean all-black suit, Italian leather black shoes, and he sported a pair of diamond cuffs in the shape of their House crest. You couldn't see the weapons hidden throughout his athletic, built frame as he moved around. Like his clean-cut suit, you couldn't tell that the man wearing it could kill you without moving from where he stood, or that he could kill you with just a tap of his hand on your shoulder.
Lenox was in his business zone and ready to kill as he flashed a bright smile, “Sorry to cut you off. The rest of the crew is on their way, My Lord.”
Khamun was about to respond when Lenox added, “Also, you know I got this. As you settle down and step back into your rank as Lord of the House of Vengeance, the Vessel will be told that her establishment will be moved here. Everything as was planned before is being taken care of as we speak, and we will move her here smoothly.”
Standing shoulder to shoulder with Khamun, Lenox crossed his arms and stood wide-legged. “I've already sent the letter of acceptance into my law firm for your Vessel's brother and his protector. Some of the Chi-town crew has moved down to our spot and is already holding down the region. Everything is going to work out fine.”
“So you say. But you just don't know how this shit is going to go. You really don't.”
“Look, My Lor—”
Khamun shot Lenox an icy look that had him holding up his hands and sighing.
“Okay, Khamun. We've been fighting side by side for generations. What you are, your mother will accept, and you know your dad is going to follow suit because he wants to still have his wife by his side. So. Chill. It is what it is. This is good. Our House has been working on limited resources as is. Hell, we've developed our own resources and made it better. Don't you think the other Houses need our insight? So we can stop losing Guides and Vessels as is?”
Turning to face one another, both men clasped hands and gave a shoulder bump. “I hear you, man. Between you and Calvin, I don't know where I'd be right now. Probably running around killing everything I can touch with Marco. Thanks.”
Lenox laughed and nodded. “It's all good. Now let me get to my part of the game. As your conscience, I love inspirationally pissing you off with the cold, hard reality of various situations. Also, as your boy and the legal/financial head of our House, I love consciously toying with the bourgeois' mental every time I present them with new legal documentation and House notaries. No one is as cold as I am with this.”
Both men pounded each other's fist.
Lenox reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright green apple. He took a bite before speaking again. “So, okay, I'm heading to my offices in order to get your Vessel's brother in check with a job, and you go do what you do, and I got the linguistics.”
Khamun gave a quick nod and threw Lenox his SUV keys. He chuckled as he heard Lenox whistle low.
“Damn. I get to drive the baby, huh? I'll treat her right. Been wanting to see what Marco put under the hood.”
That was his cue to head out. Fading through the streets, flying and using the shadows as his energy, Khamun tapped his Bluetooth and rang Marco. Nothing but screaming and varied huffs of annoyance hit his ear as he shook his head laughing.
“Ey, woman! Now I told you, I got it! I know how to work this tech crap, a'ight!
Coño
! 'Sup, cuz. So you know about the move, huh?”
Khamun couldn't help but laugh at his cousin. “Yeah. So you and Kali are going at it again, huh?”
“Of course. Same thing every day since we've been reinforcing the compound and laying down the packing stones.
Every
damn thing has to be tagged and bagged in her ‘computer,' so we don't lose anything.”
Marco's exaggeration of Kali's voice when he stressed
computer
had Khamun rolling as he let his mind connect to the visual of the compound. Everything was in chaos. Kali was running around with a tagging gun, and Marco clicked away on the main computer.
“She acts like I don't know this shit. Expects me to be the typical
acere
and go play with my cars.”
“Hey, hey, Marco, she just don't know, huh?” Laughing, Khamun clutched his stomach as he listened to his cousin's exasperated voice lighten up with humor.
“Naw, cuz, she don't. I like to sit back with my cup of coffee, listen to NPR, and catch up on my sports pages or Washington Post shit!”
Both men started laughing hard as Khamun heard Kali scream at Marco in the background.
“Look, you got me acting extra,
mami
. I'm talking to Khamun, giving him the update!”
“Bet. Let me hang up. I see everything is in line and ready to go.”
“Oh, yeah, we'll be up in Chi as soon as you send us the signal. I figured it'll be the old compound.”
Khamun quietly exhaled. It had been years since he'd used his old haunt. Nestled in obscurity in the middle of Chicago, he knew Kali would love it for its ultimate security and the fact that it blended in perfectly with the city.
“Yeah, you might want to head up there first, check if the power is on and all that good crap.”
“I will, Marco. Just take care of home in STL for me, and I'll handle that,” Khamun replied, walking through an opulent garden and punching in an access code.
“Okay, fam, I got you. We'll do that. Know this, though. I'm not ready to return either, cuz, but we gotta do this. I hate to even admit this shit, but Lenox is right. Ey! Bring that ass back here! You play too much, Kali! Let me roll out. We got it on lock here, cuz. Love ya, fam. One.”
Khamun chuckled and hung up as he stood outside of his Chicago home nestled in Lincoln Park. He could see the lights on and knew his staff was keeping the place in line. He definitely wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready to talk on his full role as a head of a Nephilim Society House, especially since it was a royal sector of the Light lines. Within the Nephilim sect, there were no official Kings or Queens. That title was reserved to the Most High, who gave them the original task of protecting the innocent of the world. Even though the title Prince was thrown around, it was more of a de facto title. Those in high rank, and oftentimes with multiple rebirths, were given the title of Elder or Eldress. These privileged elite had central control of all the Nephilim in each part of the world, which was determined by global Houses and a council of dignitaries.
The Elders watched over the community, while the young were allowed to serve within the dignitary council. As a youth in a Royal House, the first founding House within the Nephilim world, he had a right to being head of the dignitary council. But when Khamun turned twenty-five, which allowed him to join the DC, as he called it, he wasn't ready, and it hit him and his father hard. Especially when his once silver wings began to darken, leaving him with silver feather highlights, and he gained a set of diamond-hard fangs, instead of the normal steel incisors. He also woke up with cravings with an ability to sniff out any demon he could find. Which he later learned allowed him to break bone with his fangs and cloak his area with ease. Yes, he could blend in with his people, but he was vastly different and he was alone.
The day he woke up in a church in Detroit, covered in demon blood and their essence released to the heavens, he knew he had to come up with some reason to start his own house. A house which would later consist of others like himself, people in the middle, people who would be shunned by the Nephilim society.
The memory of it all hit him as if it was yesterday.
 
 
“You are serious about this, son? You want to start your own house and not have a dignitary seat in the council?” His father sat at his oak desk, looking at his computer screen. Papers, books, scrolls and other important documents lay in order around him while he clicked his mouse and saved whatever he was working on.
“Yes, sir. I feel that is best for me right now. I-I just am not ready, Pops.” Khamun observed his father's incisors crest. His eyes flashed white, and his body tensed. All of this always reminded Khamun that he was standing in front of a full-blooded Arch more powerful than he.
“Ready? You are my seed! You carry the generations of Mi'kahl and Le'la, the founders of our Society, of one of the first houses in your DNA. Hell! You carry the very memories of your past life as a warrior, whoever you may be awakening too soon, and you say you are not ready?”
He wanted to defend himself, but custom dictated listening to one's Elders, and he was double bound to his silence because that Elder was also Head Elder, Region King.
“Boy, you were created ready. Don't give me that rubbish. What is going on with you?”
Khamun could tell his father was fired up because, while he yelled, his Ethiopian-laced British accent thickened. So he did what any scolded child would do. He kept his gaze at his feet, his fists clenched, as he tried to hide his own dropping fangs. He slowly exhaled while his father's booming voice slashed through his mind.
“Nothing. This is just what I want. I'm at the place to pick what I want, and I want what I want. Which is to the start this House.”
Khamun watched his father rise from his desk, his hands sliding behind his back as he kept his eyes on him. He sat bone-straight, chin held high, ready to go to battle for his choice in his life. He had been trained and educated since birth under his father's hands, even through college, and here he sat trying not to make his father understand his choice, but to make The Elder understand that he couldn't take his spot. He didn't know what he was yet and did not want to be a threat to his people.
His father leaned against the front of his desk. His arms crossed over his chest before he ran a large hand over the sparse salt-and-pepper hair on his crown. “An unrecognized House, consisting of you and Marco? A House of riffraff, of outcasts, of degenerates, because that is what the Dignitary Council and Region Elders will have you all believe, son. Are you ready for that shit?”
Khamun's nails gripped the arm of his chair. He couldn't believe the shit pouring from his father's mouth. He wasn't degenerate, and neither was Marco. And they both could give a damn what others thought, but his father was speaking truth through it all. What he was doing would bring the Nephilim Society at his feet, ready to go in on what they feared the most.
“Pops, either you give me your blessing, or I do me. Either way, if I don't have it, I have it from Mom. Her House is ready to back me.”
His father's body language was next to impossible to read. The man stayed silent. His six eight muscular frame held tight, restrained frustration, as his eyes narrowed and flashed a warm sepia hue.
“Do you?” His father held his hand up quickly to silence Khamun's impending words. “Son, do you understand what you are asking? You are a Prince of this region. My own son, a Guardian more experienced than any at twenty-five years of age. Ready to be groomed by the Eastern, Central, Southern, and even Ambassador to the Mother Region Africa, and you are ready to walk away to form your own House?

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