Retribution, Devotion Read online

  Tossing an apple back and forth between his hands, Marco rolled his shoulders. The white button-down shirt he wore seemed to tighten slightly with the swelling pressure of his bulking muscles while he processed his thoughts. “I have this feeling that you know, man. That you were thinking on it already.”

  Going back to the memory of the past, Khamun’s stare locked onto his cousin with a curt nod. “We go in like phantoms, and we extract. Covert ops like before.”

  “Naw, hermano. You can say it. After what I saw last night, there’s no saving her. You have my word as your brother and as your Shield. I release you from the vow you made to me and my mother.”

  Wow. He wasn’t expecting that. A weight like a boulder surreally released from his shoulders as he felt that vow lift away. He noticed the truth in his cousin and he had much respect for that. The day was finally here and he was sorry about it all. Over the years, they had tried all they could to get word if Reina was alive and if she was okay. Over the years they had also run into the minions of Reina, the Dark Lady, never realizing she was Marco’s twin until several years ago.

  Through her malicious hands many Nephilim and humans disappeared or died. Blood soaked the streets wherever the Dark Lady landed and the Nephilim Council wanted her head. Unfortunately, Khamun had made his vow to his aunt after he watched her fall to her death at the hands of Marco’s father, her words of thanks and other secrets echoing in his young mind. When she died, he had later heard rumors by Cursed minions that it was due to childbirth, but this was not the case and only he, Lenox, and Marco shared that truth.

  Processing everything, he inwardly sighed. He never realized until now that Marco knew of the vow, which made him silently assessed his solemn brother before asking, “This is your wish, my man?”

  Marco bowed his head in contemplation, his fist clutching by his side. The rolled-up sleeves of his button-down showed his many insignias against his smooth sepia dark skin and they glowed while his mind shifted in deliberation.

  “Yeah, man. Been thinking about this for a long-ass time. When she went after our Oracle, the future of our kind, I knew she could not be allowed to continue, so you have the right to end her. There is no saving what is beyond gone. And if any light is still within her, ending her now saves that slither my mother left behind within her. ¿Comprende?” he simply stated.

  Khamun understood too damn well. This was not a decision that was being made lightly, but he knew that for Marco’s sake, that vow would always be a part of him. No, he would not be foolish enough to think they could save her. But, when the time came, he would let the Most High be the judge, and he the tool in either saving her light or ending it.

  “Yeah, bro. Then the plan is changed. We go in, we extract those who have not been tainted yet, and we exterminate those of the Dark,” Khamun proposed.

  Both men gave a silent nod of understanding then froze staring at the figure in the entryway to the kitchen. Pressing a fist to their heart, they bowed their heads and both men waited for reprieve.

  “My sons, that is not necessary,” Eldress Neffer warmly interjected, walking through the kitchen then grabbing a pomegranate.

  “Sauté this then add this into her omelet. Sanna needs as much energy as possible my heart,” she instructed.

  Khamun reached for a sauté pan then added the pomegranate seeds. His mother was dressed in her deep purple Eldress robes, which signaled an official meeting. In such a case, protocol dictated etiquette supersede family law, which was why both he and Marco had given her the royal respect she deserved.

  “There is something I wish to discuss before we go into officially introducing Sanna to her training and soon, Society. Since meeting her and syncing with her, my visions have cleared up, though I am no way as powerful as she, I am still considering myself your House’s head oracle.”

  Both men raised their eyebrows and Khamun chose to step forward. “Eldress. Mom, now that Sanna has come into her Awakening, I understand the need for you to act as a stand-in while you train her but she is Oracle. I am confused as to why you would take her rank?”

  Khamun dropped his head during which his mother rested her hand against his jaw. The touch of his mother brought a comfort only a mother could while she softly spoke up.

  “Because, my son, she is a Throne and His mouthpiece, the Oracle. Since she wasn’t able to go into her Awakening naturally, her Oracle gifts seem to be diminutive. From just touching her, and from what she divulged, she sees a lot, knows so much, but she is not able to speak on it. Her visions are linear but as she tries to speak it, half of what she knows only verbally relays. The past mixes with the present visions. This can be a problem for your House and Society could use it to twist it and call her broken.”

  “Eldress . . .” Marco stepped forward but Eldress Neffer held her other hand out and cupped his face. Motherly concern shined in her gaze and he continued. “Tia, if they register her as a broken oracle, they may try to submit her to an asylum and banish her, regardless of her being the Oracle. The same was almost done to me. We have to do something, sí? I don’t understand how her gift could be this way; she spoke in clarity before.”

  Khamun pushed the skillet away in frustration. He stepped out of his mother’s touch with a shake of his head. “Marco is correct, Momma. As Oracle she spoke clearly how—”

  Neffer sternly stepped forward to reach out and grab Khamun by his bicep gently gaining his attention. “But as Sanna, she does not know how to control her gifts yet, which is why I am here and why I will teach her until her mind works out the kinks. I will help with not only what she tells us when not speaking as Oracle, but also when her visions are skewed. I will help because she also will still have her migraines, son. I’m sorry, my sweetheart. She told me not to tell you because she didn’t feel as if she could yet. She told me when Oracle used her up and Darren in the fight, she had a migraine. It was nothing as it used to be but she still has them and I wanted you to know.”

  Painful frustration filled Khamun. “Shit! I guess even Oracle has her limitations.”

  Neffer slowly nodded, hugging her son then turning to hug Marco. “I’m sorry, my boys. We came a long way today. We achieved something many Houses and teams around the world have not. We have a living and surviving oracle and not just any oracle, the Oracle. You cannot know how proud I am of you all.”

  The soft rustles of her robes kissed the marble floor with her movement around the kitchen fixing Sanna’s plate while watching him and Marco. He could tell in his mother’s eyes what she thought. Grown men though they were, Neffer would always see the two young boys who came to her, covered in blood, ash, dirt, sweat, and water after pulling off an elaborate heist that seasoned adults haven’t been able to. That was the day his mother had learned that her son was something more and that was the day she met her Cursed nephew, who immediately claimed as her own, a boy who should not have existed.

  “Yes, we did well, Momma, but what about Sanna, what about this House? She is ours to protect, which . . . damn it! We can’t let Society know Oracle’s true identity. Tell me what do we do then, Mom? Marco, what you think? Because my mind is not clear right now,” Khamun urgently asked pacing the kitchen thinking about everything.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Marco reached to rub the back of his neck, thinking. “Hey, I know you know, primo. You said it. We have to protect her, and like you have to do every day in the streets, it’s time she does the same: hide. We hide that she is Oracle. We can’t hide that Oracle is back because of the spies but—”

  Khamun interjected, beaming with a quiet understanding. “Like the Attacker. Well, the Reaper is a myth, so will Oracle be and if they think she is back but they don’t know who she is; then we use this as a diversion until she is strong and we find more books. That’s what’s up.”

  “Exactamente, acere. Exactly, homie.” Marco laughed. Both men knocked knuckles giving each other dap during which Eldress Neffer watched on smiling.

  Pushing her
dark red locks to the side, she continued to clean the kitchen before finding a tray. Speaking in motion, she cleared her throat. “Ahem, I have one more thing to say. I had a vision, which Sanna lead me to clearly see. Marco, sometime soon, you need to go back to St. Louis and check the team. While you are there, you will find a Guide who you must watch and remove from her current working environment. She will lead us to something associated with Ryo, and there is a third thread I’m not clear about, but it will lead us to someone who was lost. My sons, it’s all related to the books, and Ryo let us know that one of the books was already taken awhile ago.”

  “By who? The Cursed?” Khamun asked.

  Marco shook his head then reached out to help his aunt, as he shrugged. “Wouldn’t even surprise me, primo.”

  Neffer placed an empty glass on a tray with a pitcher of ice water and the plate of food Khamun had cooked earlier. She walked ahead then paused, looking back at her two overwhelmed sons. “He explained it was them. We need to dig into that book more, sons. Come, let’s get Sanna her food so she can help us look the books over. I am hoping Oracle speaks to help us clearly to gain a better footing because apparently these books are needed for our livelihood; and with the Cursed having one and we having one—”

  “Whoever gets the next book will out trump the other,” Khamun interjected. He took the tray out of his mother’s hands and let her walk out.

  Chapter 7

  The brief meeting with Sanna, the Royal Eldress, and the rest of the house, minus Khamun and Marco, was still playing in his mind. He jettisoned one hand in the air and watched as he hit his goal. It was a clean sweep. Ball met net. It glided smoothly into the basket then bounced back to him only to end up taken by the newest member of the team. Lenox rolled his broad shoulders. His chest heaved in and out. His pectorals and well-defined abs constricted in exhaustion. Sweat ran down his broad bronze back, which accented the Polynesian tribal tattoos and Celtic weaving angel wings inked into his flesh.

  Down the middle of his spine were biblical verse numbers and the Templar’s creed: “A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.” The script was written in Celtic, Kemetian, and Polynesian script, and was indicative of his past cultures and his current heritage. A large hand ran over his close fresh low-cropped hair. It used to be thick, curling black hair that fell around his shoulders but once he, Khamun, and Marco decided to walk away from Society to start their own thing he had cut it in a symbolic release and eventually grew it back to where it curled around his neck. Now with this second transition, he decided to cut it again. Thanks to this beating heat, he was thankful for the decision. He tugged at his oversized basketball shorts, which hung low on his hips, revealing his defined hip lines while crouching low.

  Behind him were his teammates flanking him and slick talking while he watched his opposing players.

  “Hey, bruv, you’re always spitting that splange but you need to worry about your wack defense.”

  Lenox inwardly chuckled at the bass-dropping Barbadian and slight British-fused accent behind him. He didn’t have time for the slick talking around him, though he was laughing his ass off about it. His concern was about keeping the ball in his hands. His icy gaze could read every move his opponent was about to make, from the way his opponent shifted left then right on his feet, repeating the motion again. Yeah, young blood was about to try to take him. A flash of a smile had Lenox move to the side then turn to dogged Take, who tried to block him from heading after Darren. Amit slipped by. Nox passed him the ball.

  “Make the hit, my man, I have you! They won’t foul you up trust me!” Lenox roared, ducking under reaching hands. He moved his feet quickly to make it back on his side of the court.

  The new blood in the house was uplifting. It meant that their team was growing and could establish a strong base within Society. He needed this. Needed this change and needed these people to focus on. He had worked hard to provide his best friends and Region Princes of Society a place they could comfortably maintain. He had done it for himself to honor not only his family but also all of the outcasts of Society.

  At thirty-three and the eldest of the House, he had ended up doing that and more. It blew his mind at all that he and his family had created in such a short time span. What was short in the Nephilim world was almost eons in the human world. Sadly for him, his Prophet-gifted human parents, with whom he had traveled the world to collect the history of the Nephilim race, hadn’t lived long enough to see what their only son had done. But, that was another story saved for another time.

  This new generation of Disciples would come to understand the way the house worked. They would learn exactly what it took to establish what his brothers and he had almost missed out on creating. Lenox’s mind returned to the present. He leaped in the air to snatch the ball Amit had thrown him, allowing him to turn and make a jump shot, a clean win, and victory. Now he could relax and stop showing the new blood what he could bring to the table on the court. They had other things to focus on. It was time for them to head to the training center to learn more about their new culture, while he had to get back to the office and return to his routine life.

  “Now that we beat your asses, you both need to hit up the training simulations back at the compound,” he joked, heading to the side of the court to pick up his water bottle.

  They were outside in the sizzling heat of Chicago on the South Side, which demons always frequented. It was a great place to train newbies whose minds were now open to seeing who were humans, verses humans living with Cursed demons within them. The same went for humans who were Gargoyle-class entities, like Kyo and Ryo. The streets were thick with both breeds. Where they were playing, bullets were known to fly and demons loved to hunt.

  “Beat our asses? Hey, Take, he said that they beat our asses. Did they beat our asses, bro?”

  Take grabbed a towel with a deep laugh. His head shook left and right, sweat flying like rain around them. “Naw. I don’t recall it that way. Almost beat our ass, maybe. But actually put a foot in it? Nope, never.”

  Dare flashed a dimpled smirk. His amber skin, now a toffee brown from the sun’s caress upon his body, gave a hint of an ethereal glow while he tugged at his Nike shorts. Dare dropped into a squat. His forearms rested on his knees although his large hands moved in the air as he continued slick talking.

  Sweat dripped onto the concrete near his feet with his laughter. “That’s what I thought. I do believe the brotha is trying to persuade the court in falseness and punk-ass hating label-ism, am I wrong, my man?”

  “Label-ism?” Amit questioned. His gray-green pupils were lit up by the sunlight. His Nike-clad feet were planted on the court’s ground as he sat with his wrists on his knees. A wet towel flew in the air from his hands, landing against Dare back as he gripped his side laughing hard.

  “What, damn? Fa’sho, man, label-ism. I made it up. Sounds good, roll with me damn,” Dare joked.

  Take’s voice bellowed out in a rich laugh filtering around the fellow men. He ran a hand down his wet face. “You would be correct, bro. This poor man suffers from delusions of grandeur.”

  Lenox pushed up from his place near the bleachers and held his own laughter in while he held up his iPad. Images flashed on the screen showing the men, playing ball. Each shot, some dunks from Lenox paying homage to Jordan, flashed by with frozen screenshots of Take, Amit, and Dare standing baffled, played for both men.

  “Like I said, I beat that ass. If you were pretty enough and born women, I’d say I rearranged that ass, and owned that ass. Tatted my name on that ass,” Lenox mocked.

  He gave his new brother-in-arms a chuckle with a casual shrug. “But because you both are family now, I think I’ll say that anyway. This old man learned you today. Ball is my sport, had a full ride for being so good, thought you two knew that.”

  “Damn!” Amit yelled out instigating. His shoulders shook within his contained laugh.

  Bag thrown over
his shirt-clad shoulder, Lenox leaned forward to clap hands with Amit, shaking their hands up and down then separating with a fist bump. He coolly strolled to the other two men who watched him in appreciation to give them quick fist bumps. “Speak with you both back at the compound; hit up your twin, Dare, and I will set up sending her here ASAP.”

  “Okay, man, I appreciate that. We both do,” Dare said.

  Lenox heard Take grumble at Dare’s joke. “Damn, I forgot to ask about how this mind syncing shit works. Yo, I’m not trying to be connected to my sis while she and Khamun . . . you know. But everyone else’s females, besides fam, are fair game if you feel me. I’m competitive.”

  Nox chuckled. Taking out a bright red apple, he flipped in the air then took a bite as he disappeared in the sunlight. In his mind, he hoped that one day the House would bring Englewood back to its safe and former magnificence. Until then his team and the other Houses would continue to watch the streets.

  An hour later, he sat at his office combing through case files over several clients he was working with. Various encoded messages from the cold bitch he had not one ounce of trust in his heart for, Winter, detailed where Cursed enclaves were located in the city and around the world. It also detailed whatever information about the Mad King, as she called him, she decided to share. The Dark Witch being their liaison was something he did not approve of. Not with the fact that at anytime she could use the lie that she only killed Light Nephilim to protect her mistresses for the greater good. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He was still riled up over the fact that she used that very same line again and had attacked Khamun.

  He was sorry, but old school rules needed to apply in his opinion. “Know thy enemy and dispose of them the first damn chance you can get” was his own mantra and Winter’s time was ticking away. Lenox exhaled glancing down at the papers. Yes, her work was impeccable; the detailed descriptions always came through. But, the fact that she lined each paper in light made him weary nonetheless; protecting his House and those true people dedicated to healing Society was what made it hard for him to silence his judgment about her. Hell, she is the second right hand to the Dark Lady, the Princess of Hell!