Birth of a Dark Nation (13 page)

"Hardy har har," Steve replied. "Trust, I got
the five best people, male or female. Also, I hired Mrs. Greene as
the live-in house manager and Mr. Saunders and Ms. Hancock for
nights and weekends."

"Excellent! I remember them from back in the
day, before the big layoffs. I'm glad to have them back. We are
doing big things, here. Anyway, I've decided to hire Quinn Turner
to be the director of technology."

"The young lady?"

"No, the young guy fresh out of American. His
portfolio was fantastic. He has a grasp on both the creative things
I want done as well as the engineering. He knows his way around a
database. And he also has a desire to teach and design programs.
I'm a little worried he might have too much on his plate, but we
have enough in the budget to hire another person in that
department."

"Our budget…" Cissy said.

"Yeah," I smiled. "We're crazy rich right
now!"

"It's a blessing," Cissy replied. "I'm still
worried, though. What if this all goes away?"

"It won't go away, Cissy. You've seen the tax
forms for the Foundation. They're filthy rich. Their money makes
money. And they've given us enough to have the nonprofit of our
dreams."

"And we're responsible with it, you know?"
Steve added. "We're not wasting their money. We're about to build
Magdalene House into something bigger and better than it's ever
been. This technology thing is about to put us back on the
map!"

"Okay, okay," Cissy relented. "It's just too
good to be true, almost."

"I hear you," I said. "But I believe in us.
The Foundation picked the right people to move us forward.
And…well…I'm just happy to be able to work with my friends."

Steve and Cissy smiled with me.

~

After work was done for the evening, I walked
over to Dante and Victor's place, where I'd taken to parking my
car, since I spent so much time there. When I got there, I saw that
the door was ajar. I tapped on it then walked in.

Dante and Victor were once again engaged in a
bitter argument.

"I asked you to load the van hours ago,"
Victor said, glancing at me angrily while he berated Dante.

"I'm sorry, shit. I told you, I've been
busy."

"The fuck have you been busy with?" Victor
asked. "Getting fucked by this piece of meat over here?"

"Watch your fucking mouth," Dante said,
baring his fangs.

"You wanna go?" Victor said, baring his fangs
also. "We can rock and roll."

"Guys, please," I begged. "Can you just stop
arguing for once? I'll help load the van, jeez."

Victor retracted his fangs and glared at
me.

"Thanks." He disappeared in a brown and black
blur of skin and dreadlocks.

"Why does he treat you so badly?" I asked
Dante, as we retreated to the basement. Dante opened the back door
while I picked up a set of congas.

"He's an asshole. Always has been."

"But why?" I struggled with the heavy drum
and Dante took it from me.

"If you ask me, I think he misses home."

"Africa?"

"Yeah…the Razadi valley, I guess. What's left
of it."

"Did something happen to your home?"

"We got conquered in one of the Oyo
wars."

"What are the Oyo? Like, other vampires?"

Dante paused, stared at me, and then
laughed.

"The Oyo are another tribe in West Africa.
They're human."

"I really should have taken some African
studies classes in college," I mused.

Dante smiled.

"It's ancient history now," he continued. "I
haven't looked back since we left. Every place we've been since
then has been new, different…but still, home. I'm at home wherever
my brothers are."

"But your brothers treat you like shit.
Victor, at least."

"You ever heard of deference?"

"Yeah. Like when a younger dude in a frat has
to be nice to the older dudes in a frat, even if they don't deserve
it?"

"Exactly. Victor's older than me. It's just
part of our system. I'm supposed to defer to him. He defers to
others."

"Your system stinks."

"Maybe. But it's just how we do things." He
bent over, pushing instruments further into the van. I poked him in
his sides and he turned around.

"What's up?" he asked. I sat down in the back
of the van and pulled him down next to me. I rested my head on his
shoulder. He placed his warm hand against my cheek.

"Tell me more," I requested.

"Like what?" he asked.

"I want to know everything," I said. "But
don't do that psychic thing. That was crazy. Just tell me."

"There's so much to tell, though. Just ask me
what you want to know."

"How many Razadi are there?"

"47."

"Just 47?"

"Yes. 47. There have been more. But we are
now at 47, spread out all across the western hemisphere. Four are
attached to DC."

"Attached? Like, live here?"

"Yeah, supposedly. Right now, it's just me
and Victor."

"Where are the other two?"

He was silent.

"Dante?"

"I don't really want to talk about them right
now."

"Okay."

"But I can tell you more about how we're
organized. The 47 have been divided into cells. We try to stay in
major cities where there's a significant African American
presence."

"So you can stay under the radar."

"Right. A house full of black men in Laramie,
Wyoming is gonna stick out a whole lot more than in DC, New York,
or New Orleans. Our most senior member lives by himself out west,
though. He's…"

"The chairman of the foundation, of course,"
I interrupted. "So he makes sure all the cells are properly funded
and that you can survive, but everything else is on your own."

"You're smart."

"It's a brilliant set up. He's probably the
only person who knows exactly where each cell is at any given
moment, too. Because if you all knew, like through a network, then
it could take just one person to expose the whole system."

"Right. He's the Godfather, if you will. He
makes sure we have what we need to protect ourselves. But please
believe if any of us went rogue, he'd make sure we were dealt with.
Luckily, loyalty has never been an issue for our kind."

"Does he know where your other two cell
members are?"

"I said I didn't want to talk about them." He
got up from the van and went back into the basement to gather more
instruments.

"Babarinde has it all under control," he
said, emerging with a covered keyboard, which he handed to me. "I
trust him. I believe in him more than Victor ever has. And if Baba
says Orlando and John are safe, then they're safe."

Orlando and John, eh?
I made a mental
note of their names as I put the keyboard in the van.

"Maybe we should try to find them?"

Dante laughed.

"A human searching for a daywalker would be
like looking for a needle in a haystack. Baba has a different
imperative for us right now, anyway."

"And what's that?"

Dante walked back over to me and planted a
quick kiss on my lips.

"The interrogation is over," he said. "Maybe
another time."

I nodded. There were only 47 Razadi. I'd
heard plenty conspiracy theories in chat rooms and message boards,
but never anything like this. But with a group so small and
diffused, of course they'd fly under the radar for centuries.

As long as I had lived in DC, I'd never liked
go-go music. It was loud for no damn reason, with hood rats
shouting over dissonant melodies and flat beats.

But I was going to the go-go to support
Victor's debut as the headlining artist of Ol' Skool Revival Band,
better known as the ORB. DC bands always wanted to be acronyms. It
was crazy how many there were. But the kids always knew which band
was which.

As I stood in the crowd at the renovated Ibex
Theater in Northwest, I listened to the young gals in front of me
gossip about the bands.

"Girrrla, it is hot than a mug in here!"

"I know, right! I'm finna sweat this
mufuckin' weave out like shit. When is ORB comin' out? Shit."

"Girl, supposably they up next."

"My muhvah used to listen to the original ORB
like shit. This 'bout to be wack like shit."

"Girl no it's not, neither. The original
muhfucka's son is the lead singer and I heard he fine like
shit."

"He betta be for all this waiting! Shit!"

Victor's plan was coming into place. Streets
were already talking about the comeback of this band that nobody
had seen or heard from in at least twenty years.

Dante appeared with a drink for me.

"Fuzzy navel?" he said.

"Thanks," I said. "Seems like a lot of people
are excited for this."

Dante rolled his eyes.

"He's such a drama queen," he said in my ear.
"Every time we cycle back through to being public, he wants to be a
rock star. The fucking center of attention as usual."

"Well, we've all got something, right? If he
ain't hurting anyone, might as well let him have his moment. These
people aren't thinking about daywalkers."

Dante shrugged. A portly, light skinned man
with about a million freckles, wearing a white t-shirt and gray
sweatpants, took the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "I am
honored to introduce to you go-go royalty. In his debut here at the
Ibex, and debut before the entire go-go community, this is the son
of the founder of the original ORB. For the first time in its brand
new form, I introduce to you Victor Pearl and the Ol' Skool Revival
Band!"

Victor and the band took the stage in
silence. Each player, about eight in total, could have been no
older than twenty years old. There was a full brass section as well
as the standard percussion section that any good go-go band must
have. Victor stood in the center of the stage wearing loose-fitting
jeans and a tight white sleeveless t-shirt, his caramel muscles
flexing as he gripped the microphone with both hands. His eyes
glowed with intensity as his mouth opened into a sneer.

"It's about to be…" Victor sang in a whiny
tenor.

"A motherfuckin' blood…bath…" the band chimed
in with perfect harmony.

.

Bloodbath! Motherfuckin' bloodbath!

Bloodbath! Nigga, it's a bloodbath!

Bloodbath!

Bloodbath!

.

"It's about to be…" Victor sang again. The
percussion was explosive and the brass section whined better than
any band I'd heard before.

The crowd took milliseconds to be one with
the rhythm. The hood chicks I had overheard earlier were quick to
throw their hands up and dance. I, too, moved with the crowd with
Dante at my side.

For someone who was as naturally unfriendly
as Victor was, the boy was good. I could see why he took so much
care in assembling his band. He not only had absolutely perfected
the craft of go-go music, but his stage personal was electric. He
smiled. He growled. He pointed at girls in the audience and winked.
The band even had choreographed moves.

I could tell from the screams of the audience
that they'd never been to a go-go like this one before.

While I lost myself in the music, I saw that
Dante was just as controlled as before. Yes, he bopped around in
enjoyment, but his job was still to make sure everything and
everyone was safe.

After about 20 minutes of Victor's set, I
noticed that Dante's gaze was on another young dude. The guy was
dressed plainly in blue jeans and a gray t-shirt. He was an
alright-looking dude, with thick lips and a wide nose. The odd
thing about him was that he was walking around like he didn't
notice the music and the dancing, as though he were confused.

Dante didn't seem to consider the guy a
threat as he walked past us and toward the restrooms. I shrugged it
off and kept dancing.

Drenched in sweat, Dante pulled his
dreadlocks back behind his head and tied them in a knot.

"We are the Ol' Skool Revival Band. I do this
in honor of my late father, Ed Pearl, who did this thirty years
ago. I love you dad."

I glanced at Dante who was lightly rolling
his eyes as the crowd erupted in applause. I chuckled. Victor
descended from the stage and was immediately surrounded by adoring
fans. The old heads approached him, shook his hand, and talked to
him as he tried to walk by. Victor and I made eye contact and he
smiled.

Victor never did make it back to us before it
was time for his second set. This set was much mellower. Rather
than the aggressive original songs of the first set, ORB performed
go-go covers of the classic R&B hits of the '70s and '80s.

I noticed the young man from earlier once
again wandering around the go-go. He didn't look dangerous.
Just…weird. His eyes seemed empty. I didn't want to be near
him.

The rest of the evening was awesome. ORB had
made me a believer and now I was itching to find more quality go-go
bands, even as the party ended and we helped the band load up the
van. Everyone's energy was high, and for the first time ever, I saw
Victor really happy. He dismissed his band mates and we finished
loading up the van on our own.

"I never liked go-go before tonight," I
admitted to Victor. He glanced over at me as he pushed an amp
through the open back door of the van.

"Go-go reminds me of home," he said gently.
In that moment, I saw a tenderness about him that I didn't know
existed. The harsh fluorescent lights of the parking lot lit his
face up, showing beads of sweat on his brow. In that second, I got
him.

Then I noticed that the young dude who I saw
at the go-go was wandering around us.

"Something's up with that dude," I told
Dante, as he loaded the last horn into Victor's van. He closed the
door of and hurried to my side.

The guy was unsteady on his feet and he
walked closer and closer to us.