Free Conquer the Dark by L. A. Banks Page A

zigzag almost as if he were drunk. Inside the cooled building, he improved slightly and endured the paperwork processing like a root canal without Novocain. Within the hour, their small troupe had made it to the front of the airport, freedom within their grasp.
    Leaning against a building column, Isda greeted them with a wide smile.
    “You feel the power hit here, mon?”
    Bath Kol pounded his fist followed by the others.
    Isda glanced around. “How you ladies doing?”
    “I just need to get out of here and breathe real air,” Celeste said, feeling her stomach begin to get queasy again.
    “No worries. Got a small minibus parked out front—got people who know some people watching it and giving me a few minutes parked illegally to break da law.” Helaughed at his own joke and slapped Azrael’s backpack. “Need me to carry that for you, mon? You know, I have to eat my words and give BK his due. As much as I hated coming back here, I still have a
lot
of good memories of this place, and I’m just glad the main protests are over so we can maneuver a little bit, feel me? The loves of my life were here. Whew. I got your bags, mon, seriously.”
    “No, I’m good,” Azrael said, his breathing labored they neared the door.
    “You don’t look good, mon. Look like the vortex is kicking your natural ass.”
    “I said I was all right!” Azrael said way louder than was necessary.
    “Hey, I’m in the Light, bro. Remember?” Isda said, chuckling, and seeming to delight in his brother’s distress. “I tol’ you this wasn’t no place for no punk, right? Told you the energy was old and hard and was a wicked old bitch that didn’t care.”
    “Shut up, man. Where’s the van?” Azrael rumbled.
    “Right over there,” Isda said with a wide grin, unfazed.
    Bath Kol gave Isda a hard look. “Brother, you’re manic. This is the memory high before you crash and burn, and you’re getting on everybody’s last nerve. You’re gonna go up real fast and come down real hard, because your DNA is linked to this region—so
chill
.”
    “Whatever,” Isda flipped back, rolling his eyes as he walked ahead of them. “Kiss my ass. I’m happy. Get over it if you’re not.”
    A trickle of perspiration rolled down Celeste’s back and between her breasts as a blast of unseasonal Egyptian heat, sweltering for that time of year, suddenly accostedher the moment the airport doors opened. Isda pointed at a white Toyota minivan that looked as if it could seat twenty passengers, but was dubious in the air-conditioning department. However, the reliability of the rickety vehicle was a much lower priority than the increased tension she noticed among the brothers.
    As they walked across the pavement and their footfalls connected with actual concrete, each of them slowed his gait, their lids closing in what seemed like slow motion as a thick, blue-white spill of energy bubbled up to cover their feet and climb up their bodies. The sight stole her breath and stopped her in her tracks.
    Isda glanced over his shoulder at her. “They’ll be all right. Gwan fuck ’em up for a few hours, tho.”
    She hurried forward with the other mortals in the group at Isda’s insistence and climbed into the van as he chided his overwhelmed brethren.
    “You comin’ or what, mon? Standing on a street corner in Cairo ain’t no place for a lady, or ain’t you get the memo?”
    His admonishment seemed to break the trance as a muezzin call went out over the city. The long, mournful wail enveloped the group, producing a serenity that had previously eluded them. Like large hunting dogs, the brothers closed their eyes and tilted their heads, quelled by the sound, and then they moved as a unit toward the van.
    “All respect to the Mu’aqqibat—our protector brothers in the Light, angel forces of the Quran, while we inhabit this land … hear our prayer and keep our mortal charges from death until its decreed time by Allah,” Isda said as the brothers piled into the