Birth of a Dark Nation (14 page)

"My dude, you aight?" Dante asked,
positioning himself between me and the young man.

"You aight?" he mocked in an impossibly
high-pitched voice. "You aight? Yooooouuuu aight?"

"This nigga high," Dante said to me. "Let's
go."

"I'm high! I'm high! I'm high from only the
best herb grown in the Razadi gardens!"

In a blur, Victor left the van and Dante
approached the dude. He was unfazed: his eyes were glazed over like
he had smoked weed every day for the past week.

"What did you say?" Victor hissed.

"I said…the Razadi grow the best herb this
side of Yorubaland!" He laughed heartily.

"What's your name?" Dante asked.

"Puddin' tame! Ask me again and I'll tell you
the same!" he replied.

With that, Victor slapped the shit out of the
guy.

"Look at me," he said, grabbing him by the
collar. "Tell me your name right now!"

"Moooooorlaaaasssss!" the man growled. His
chest heaved up and down. Victor slowly released him.

"What do you want?" Dante asked.

"I have…what I…came for," he growled. "The
boy…is mine."

"Okay," Victor said. "So…we're okay here,
right?"

"The Razadi are okay with me," he said
resuming his high-pitched, mocking voice.

"Alright," Victor said.

"By the way," he purred. "You might want to
know something."

"What's that?" Dante asked.

"The Anubis Society…has your brother," he
growled.

Victor and Dante froze.

"Aborişade?" Victor asked.

"Anubis…has him. Draining him."

"Where?" Dante asked.

The young man began convulsing.

"Oh my God," I said. He began to collapse and
Dante helped him lay down on the ground.

Almost as quickly as his seizure began, it
ceased. The man, seeming more like a boy with every passing second,
opened his eyes. He was…different now.

"What the fuck is going on?" he asked in a
quite normal baritone voice.

"What is your name?" Victor asked calmly.

"My name is Farid," he said. "Where am I? Did
I pass out?"

Victor and Dante looked at each other.

"Yeah man," Dante said. "You passed out. Had
a little too much to drink tonight?"

"I'm Muslim. I don't drink." He sat up on the
ground.

"Take it easy, buddy," Dante said.

"I'll be fine," he said. I could tell from
the look on his face that he wasn't afraid. He was more upset.
Almost like he was saying "not again" on the inside.

"Can we give you a ride?" Victor asked.

"No. I got it. I live nearby."

"Be careful, then," Dante said. He helped
Farid to his feet. He was wobbly, but he was walking on his
own.

"What the fuck?" I whispered. Dante and
Victor walked back toward me.

"Get in the van," Victor barked at me, then
turned to Dante. "Go around the block once, then follow him home. I
don't want him to make a move without us knowing."

Dante sped away in a blur.

"Who was that, Victor?"

"The less you know, the better."

"He said his name was Farid, but before, he
said his name was…Mor…Morlas?"

"Justin, seriously."

"What?"

"Stop it. You know too much as it is."

Victor pulled off. The light I seemed to see
in his face for that brief moment was gone. His eyes darted back
and forth and his all-too-familiar sneer crept back over his face.
The sight of Farid and whatever was in him gravely concerned him,
but I knew better than to try to probe.

I was supposed to be going back to my
apartment, but I suppose Victor was too upset to think straight. We
sped past Kennedy Street entirely and I kept my mouth shut until we
got back to Northeast.

As soon as we parked, Victor wasted no time
unloading all of the equipment himself with the speed of a
hurricane's winds. He was done by the time I stepped out of the van
entirely.

It made me wonder why he always forced those
around him to work twice as hard to do the same job he could do in
seconds. I guess that was just his privilege as the elder
Razadi.

I followed him into the house. He poured
himself a glass of water and leaned against the wall.

"Dante will be back soon enough. You don't
have to worry," he said.

"I'm not," I lied. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said. "Goodnight."

He sped off to his room and I heard the door
slam within seconds. I walked up to Dante's room and started to
undress. Within seconds, I was passed out on top of his bed.

~

An hour later, I woke up to Dante laying down
next to me in the darkness. I'd already peeled my shirt off and had
my button undone on my jeans.

"Where you been?"

"Go back to sleep," he said.

"No, I'm up now. Who was that kid?"

"His name is Farid, like he said.
He's…ill."

"How did he know about the Razadi?"

"He doesn't."

I paused.

"He's possessed, isn't he?"

Dante sighed.

"Yes. He's possessed."

"Mmm, mmm, mmm."

"What?"

"I'm just learning so much. But it doesn't
surprise me, for some reason."

"You were meant to be part of this life."

"You think so?"

"I know. Listen, don't tell Victor I told you
any of this, okay? You've got to be very careful. The being that
was in Farid is dangerous to humans. They don't hurt Razadi, but
they're tricky. Sometimes they work with us. Give us information.
Keep us safe."

"So, they're like another race or something?
What are they? Like ghosts?"

"No, they're not dead. They're Djinn. You
know how the Bible says man was made from the earth? Well they say
Djinn are made from smoke and fire. And what's dangerous about
them—to humans, at least—is that they can appear to be just like
you. Entire colonies of Djinn live in certain places of the world,
indistinguishable from humans. But those ones are mostly cool. They
are just humans with something extra. Powers. But some Djinn…some
are just pure evil. Monsters. Demons. And they can and will possess
you if you let them. Morlas is one of them."

"That Djinn… Morlas. He saw me. How do I know
he won't jump into me next?"

"He won't. I won't let him. Morlas has who he
wants. And thank goodness he has loose lips. We would have never
known where Orlando was otherwise."

"That's right! He said some society has
him?"

"The Anubis Society. But don't get worked up
about it. We'll get Orlando. You just rest up."

He kissed me on my temple and, soon after,
fell asleep. I lay in silence in the dark while my mind raced,
struggling to come to terms with everything I'd learned in the past
few hours.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Mr. Kena! I got held
up at the office with a major project. I hope I haven't
inconvenienced you."

"Not at all, Ms. Esteban," I said. I'd waited
for her at the swanky restaurant on the West End for twenty
minutes, but at least I had the chance to tinker around on my smart
phone while I waited. I rose to shake her hand and instead she
hugged me.

"Please, call me Selena," she said, with the
faintest Spanish accent. Selena Esteban was the Executive Director
of The Friends of the Crown/Los Amigos de la Corona, an
organization of Spanish nationals located in America who donated
big bucks to advance the philanthropic mission of the Spanish royal
family.

"And you can call me Justin," I said while
pulling her chair out. She sat down and her summery, Carolina blue
dress fanned out beneath her like a dancer. Her light brown hair
cascaded to her shoulders. She was an older woman, but still
pretty. I couldn't tell how old she was exactly, but her refinement
suggested that she had a lot of experience dealing with people.

"I was so glad to receive your letter of
introduction," she said, while sipping on her mineral water.

"It was my pleasure to re-introduce Magdalene
House to you."

"Mm-hmm," she said. "Where did you go to
school?"

"Syracuse. I'll be coming up on ten years
very soon."

"The time flies, doesn't it?"

"It does."

"Must be tough being an Orangeman in a town
full of Hoyas?"

I laughed.

"I tend to crawl in a hole and hide until
basketball season is over. I can't stand the rivalry."

"Not a sports fan?"

"Not so much. I was always into computers and
gaming."

"You honestly don't seem like a computer geek
to me," she said matter-of-factly. I smiled.

"I'm part of the new generation," I said
confidently. "We don't all look like Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg
anymore."

"Thank goodness for that. I went to
university back in Spain, when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Had I
not been such a party girl, I would have married one of those quiet
computer guys. They're all millionaires now."

"But how do they look?" I winked.

She laughed.

"I guess money can't buy handsomeness," she
admitted.

Selena recommended everything that I ate that
day: the house salad, the lobster bisque soup, and a jumbo lump
crab cake to die for. We chitchatted the afternoon away, and I came
to really like this charming, fun, and often irreverent woman who
led one of the city's most prominent foundations. We never once
even chatted about work, not directly at least.

"Justin?" she asked, as she slowly ate the
thick and smooth Raspberry Charlotte from her fork.

"Yes?"

"I'm very interested in your development as a
nonprofit leader. Washington has a wide array of local, national,
and international service organizations. Frankly, very few of them
inspire us. But you…your trajectory is interesting to me. You have
no advanced education. You were a computer specialist. And for some
reason, the Foundation for Community Justice handpicked
you
to lead."

I smiled and chose my words carefully.

"Magdalene House, prior to its
reorganization, had a noble mission and decent programming. It also
had pockets of talent embedded in a bureaucracy typical of a
grassroots organization in this city. I feel very blessed that the
Foundation selected not just a leader, but a team of people who
legitimately care about Magdalene House to make it into what it was
meant to be. And it breaks my heart that the old board and most of
the old staff couldn't join us for the ride, but I believe even
they would be happy with the direction we're heading."

"And you're quite confident you'll be able to
take Magdalene House to new heights?"

"Selena, if I can be candid. My mission is to
house every homeless woman in DC who is living with HIV. But it
goes beyond housing. We're talking job skills. We're talking mental
health. We are talking about taking the people the city have
forgotten and giving them what they need to be leaders."

She nodded.

"The Friends of the Crown will help you in
any way that we can."

I smiled.

"Thank you, Selena." I never knew that the
majority of my job would literally be making friends. This was a
piece of cake. Raspberry Charlotte, to be exact. Rather than
talking business, we continued to chat about the most random
topics. She insisted that she pay our bill and I insisted on paying
the next time.

As we walked down the street after lunch, a
car horn honked.

"Oh, I think that's your driver," Selena
said. I laughed.

"I don't have a…" I began, looking into the
luxury sedan parked near the restaurant. Victor was dressed in a
suit and sunglasses, standing with the door open and waiting for me
to get in.

"Oh yes," I said to Selena. "My driver."

"It's been so nice getting to know you,
Justin! You're going to be a great executive director, I know
it."

"Thank you so much, Selena. That means a lot
to me. Will I see you next week at our grand re-opening?"

"Oh, you most certainly will! The entire
staff will make a day of it!"

"Thank you so much. I'll see you there."

We embraced and said goodbye. Selena put on
her sunglasses and walked down the street with the confidence of
royalty.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Pearl?" I
grinned.

"Just get in," he said. I complied, and he
closed the door behind me. Once we got on the road toward the
office, he began speaking.

"Justin, I'd like to talk to you for a
moment." The lilt in his voice made the statement sound like both a
question and a demand.

"Yeah?" I replied. I tried to pretend as he
didn't frighten me, but he did. Not only had he once had his hand
around my throat, but he was now technically one of my bosses.

"I don't like you," Victor began.

"Well thanks a lot," I said.

"No, listen. I didn't mean it like that.
Well, I did. But what I want to add is that it's not your fault,
exactly."

"Oh, okay. It's not my fault that you dislike
me. Gotcha. Anything else?"

"Listen. The Razadi are solitary people. We
don't often welcome people into our circle who are not fellow
Razadi. It's dangerous to our way of life. And let's face it,
Justin. Even if Dante were to stay with you for the rest of your
life, you would wither away and die in what amounts to the
twinkling of an eye to our kind. We stay to ourselves for our
emotional health just as much as our physical safety."

"So you don't want me to be with Dante?"

"I don't care if you stay with Dante. I've
had dozens of lovers over the years, women and men, who I'd give
anything to see again. I understand. What I am telling you has
nothing to do with you and Dante and everything to do with your
place here, with us."

I crossed my legs and leaned back.

"I'm listening."

"Dante's got it in his head that he's
supposed to be your bodyguard. And Uncle John wants you to lead
Magdalene House. Fine. I'm cool with that. They're sold on you. But
as for me, I need to see a little more."