Black Howl

by Christina Henry

  “Am I interrupting something?” an amused voice said.

  I knew that voice, and so did Gabriel. He pulled away from me, his eyes panicked, but I pressed my hand to his shoulder so he wouldn’t dump me on the ground in his haste to stand up. I put my forehead against his, made him meet my eyes.

  “This was not a mistake,” I said for his ears alone, even though I knew our observer could hear me.

  Gabriel shook his head, and I could see everything he had just revealed sinking back inside him, and his regret at showing me in the first place.

  “This was not a mistake,” I said fiercely. “Don’t you dare go back to the way you were before.”

  His face was stiff as he nodded. I knew I had lost him, again. And that made me angry. I pushed off him, and Gabriel scrambled to his feet, bowing low.

  “Lord Lucifer,” he said.

  I stood up and crossed my arms at my distant relation. “What the hell do you want now?”

  I heard Gabriel’s sharp intake of breath.

  Lucifer chuckled. He seems to find my defiance amusing. It was probably the only thing that kept me from being blasted from the face of the Earth, because I knew for a fact that no one else was allowed to talk to Lucifer this way.

  He leaned against the tree that stood in the corner of my backyard, wearing a particularly natty suit and very shiny shoes. His golden hair shone under the light from the streetlamps, and his glossy black wings were folded behind him. He pushed away from the tree and walked toward us. Gabriel stood at parade rest, his hands crossed in front of him, his face revealing nothing.

  “Perhaps I just wanted a visit with my grandchildren, immediate and otherwise,” he said.

  “Or perhaps you’ve come to ruin my day, as you seem to enjoy doing that,” I snapped back.

  I never liked seeing Lucifer at the best of times, and I was particularly irritated that he had shown up just in time to drive another wedge between Gabriel and myself.

  “I must confess that I do have an ulterior motive for my appearance,” he said.

  “Color me surprised,” I muttered.

  Lucifer stopped in front of me and reached toward my hair. He pulled a dead leaf from my no-doubt completely tangled mess and dropped it wordlessly to the ground, his eyebrow raised.

  I lifted my chin. I was not going to apologize for breaking the laws of his kingdom when those laws were stupid to begin with. Especially if he wasn’t inclined to enforce them at the moment.

  “The Grigori are convening in two days’ time to try Samiel ap Ramuell for his crimes,” Lucifer said.

  My arms dropped to my sides. I felt cold. “They can’t.”

  “They most certainly can. Samiel has broken the laws of the kingdom. He released a nephilim from its prison and willfully set it forth to harm.”

  “His mother forced him to do that, and you know it,” I said fiercely.

  “Did his mother force him to harm my own blood?” Lucifer said, grabbing my left hand and holding it up. The missing two fingers were like a condemnation.

  I yanked my hand away. “He’s your blood, too. If I don’t blame him for that, then it’s none of the Grigori’s business.”

  Lucifer looked amused. “You would be surprised, I think, at what the Grigori consider their business.”

  “I promised Samiel that I would keep him safe,” I said.

  Lucifer shrugged. “Then it is, I suppose, your duty to keep your promise.”

  “He’s your grandson. Why don’t you just call the Grigori off?”

  He spread his arms wide. “Even I must cleave to the law if I am to maintain order.”

  “That’s a load of bullshit,” I said. “I think you just want to see how it all plays out.”

  Lucifer smiled like the Cheshire Cat.

  “What are you doing delivering the message, anyway?” I asked angrily. “Don’t you have some toady to do it for you?”

  “You killed my messenger,” Lucifer reminded me.

  “I’m sure you’ve replaced him by now,” I said tightly.

  “One can never replace a child,” Lucifer said, and there was a flash of real sorrow in his eyes.

  I didn’t want to see that emotion, to know that I was responsible for it. Baraqiel had broken the rules of the kingdom, too, and he’d tried his damndest to kill me. “I told you before, I didn’t know he was your son.”

  “And I asked you before, would that have made a difference?”

  “No,” I said decisively. I wasn’t going to quibble or make excuses.

  Lucifer gave me his enigmatic smile again. “The court will convene two days hence at noon in the home of Azazel. I trust you know how to get there.”

  “I think I can figure it out,” I said.

  “I wonder. Your father tells me he has seen little of you since your visit to Amarantha’s court.”

  I was not going to get drawn into a conversation with Lucifer about my duty to my father. It would have given me great pleasure to never see Azazel again, but no matter how hard I tried to avoid him it seemed I was always drawn back into his orbit. I was certain the location of Samiel’s trial was not a coincidence.

  “Is there anything else you wanted?” I said.

  “Have I managed to ruin your day?” Lucifer asked.

  I said nothing, and Lucifer laughed.

  “I will see you in two days’ time, then,” he said. He looked at Gabriel, who bowed low again. “I think you should attend the court as well, thrall.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Lucifer. “What for? And don’t call him that.”

  “The Grigori respect strength,” Lucifer said. “And I will remind you, Madeline, that in my kingdom I will do as I wish. If you desire something different, you may remember my offer to you when last we spoke.”

  I remembered his offer—his offer to be his right hand, to be the heir to his kingdom. He’d dangled Gabriel’s freedom in front of me in exchange.

  “And you may remember my answer,” I said.

  “Things change,” Lucifer said. “And I have all the time in the world.”

  His wings spread out, and he took flight. I watched him until he was gone.

  When I turned to Gabriel, I found that he was gone, too.

  I stood alone in the dark, and watched the stars winking above me, and thought I heard the echo of Lucifer’s laughter in my ears.

  I hardly remembered climbing the stairs and making it to my bedroom. I fell asleep immediately and woke the next morning to blazing sunshine in my face and a crabby gargoyle pressing his beak to my nose.

  “Are you going to get up and feed me or what?”

  I pushed him away from my face and he fluttered into the air. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, feeling like I hadn’t slept at all.

  “Are your hands broken? You’re more than capable of feeding yourself.”

  “You promised me cinnamon rolls, and no cinnamon rolls have appeared.”

  “I did not.”

  He pressed one claw to his chin like he was thinking. “I seem to recall discussing cinnamon rolls in exchange for information.”

  “And I seem to recall telling you that if you didn’t tell me what you knew, I would get rid of all your cheese puffs,” I said, swinging my feet to the ground. I glanced at the clock. It was eleven a.m., and I knew that I had a pickup sometime today, but I’d forgotten exactly when it was supposed to be in the insanity of yesterday.

  Most of my life had been defined by my duties as an Agent, but lately it seemed like tending to the souls of the dead was at the bottom of my priority list. Now I spent most of my time trying not to become a dead soul myself.

  “C’mon, you know you want a cinnamon roll,” Beezle whined.

  I stood up, stretched and realized I’d slept in my clothes from the day before. There was probably rock dust all over my sheets.

  “I don’t have time to make a junk-food run for you today, Beezle,” I said, going into the closet to change into my robe. I needed a shower.

  “Why? What do
you have to do that’s so important?”

  I stuck my head out and glared at him. “Oh, gee, I don’t know. I have to find Wade. I have to figure out what’s causing the ghost problem. I’ve got some fences to mend with Gabriel and, oh, yeah, Lucifer showed up last night to tell me that Samiel’s trial is tomorrow.”

  Beezle looked alarmed. “What? Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

  “Why?” I asked. “What’s the problem?”

  “You don’t think that the Grigori are just going to let you saunter into court with Samiel tomorrow, do you?”

  Beezle sped out of the room. I hurriedly pulled my robe on and followed him. Beezle was right. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it. To the Grigori, Samiel was a criminal, and he would be treated as such.

  Samiel sat on the couch in the front room doing a sudoku puzzle. He wore a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. His golden hair was rumpled from sleep. He looked just like any college student relaxing on a Saturday morning—that was, except for the wings. He looked up in puzzlement as Beezle landed on his knee.

  That was when the light shining through the picture window disappeared. My eyes widened. The biggest angel I had ever seen hung suspended in the air just beyond the glass, his enormous white wings blocking out the sun.

  7

  THE ANGEL WORE A FULL SUIT OF ARMOR FROM THE neck down, and his eyes blazed with a strange red light.

  “Metatrion,” Beezle said.

  The angel opened his mouth to speak, and his voice shook the walls of the building. Books tumbled from their shelves. Furniture scraped across the floor.

  I grabbed the archway between the living room and the dining room for support as dust rained down from the ceiling. Samiel stumbled away from the window to join me. Beezle landed on my shoulder. We all stared at the apparition just beyond the glass.

  “Samiel ap Ramuell,” Metatrion boomed. “You are called before the court of the Grigori to be charged for your crimes against the laws of Lucifer’s kingdom. You will present yourself before me to be brought to holding, or else face the consequences of your defiance.”

  The building stopped shaking once Metatrion stopped speaking. Samiel looked at me in confusion.

  I quickly explained what Lucifer had told me the night before. Metatrion still hung outside the window like a looming portent of doom.

  I should go out to him, Samiel signed.

  “No way,” I said fiercely. “I won’t have you brought before the Grigori in chains.”

  But the trial is going to happen no matter what.

  “Yeah, and I’ll be the one to bring you. I told you I’d keep you safe, and I will. I won’t let the Grigori punish you for your father’s crimes.”

  What about mine? He picked up my left hand.

  “Like I told Lucifer, if it doesn’t bother me, it shouldn’t bother them. Besides, it’s supposed to grow back.” I glared at the place where the missing digits had been like I could make them grow back with just my force of will. “Anyway, Skippy there can’t get in without my permission.”

  “Ummm, about that…” Beezle began.

  Metatrion narrowed his eyes like he’d heard me. Then he drew back his fist and punched it through the front picture window—a thing that he should not have been able to do. I could see his hand very clearly cross the border of the building.

  I shouted in anger and blasted nightfire as Metatrion pulled the broken shards away from the point of impact. The nightfire bounced harmlessly off Metatrion’s armor as he climbed through the window. I took Samiel’s hand and tugged him backward as Metatrion stalked toward us.

  I tried to blast the angel with the same spell that I’d used in the cave, but again the armor seemed to dissipate its effects. I could only conclude that it was impervious to any kind of magic.

  “Cheater,” I muttered as we backed through the dining room.

  Samiel picked up one of the dining chairs and heaved it at the giant angel. They are oak, and heavy, and have been in my mother’s family for generations. Metatrion caught the chair before it hit him and snapped the frame in half as easily as if he were breaking a tree branch.

  Lucifer’s sword lay on the side table next to the front door with my keys and cell phone. I picked up the sword and pushed Samiel behind me. Metatrion paused, staring at the sword.

  I didn’t want to think about how absurd I must look. I was about two feet shorter than Metatrion and wearing nothing but a ratty blue terry-cloth robe. But the pointed tip of the sword was just a few inches from Metatrion’s unarmored throat, and I bet he’d bleed the same as anyone else if I pressed forward.

  “Leave,” I said. “You can’t have Samiel.”

  “I am the Grigori’s Hound of the Hunt,” Metatrion rumbled, and I winced at the close proximity of his voice. It seemed to shake the very cells of my blood. A couple of wineglasses in the cabinet shattered.

  “I am charged with returning Samiel ap Ramuell to the court of the Grigori for his trial. No walls can bind me, and no creature can stop me, not even you, Madeline ap Azazel. I will not cease until the hunt is complete.”

  I stood a little straighter, pushed the blade to his skin. Metatrion’s eyes narrowed.

  “My name is Madeline Black,” I said. “And you cannot have him.”

  “When you are breathing your last breath, remember that you chose this,” Metatrion said, and he closed his hand over the sword. As he did he opened his mouth and gave a primal scream.

  I closed my eyes in pain, keeping a tight grip on the sword. Metatrion tried to bend it or pull it from my grasp; I don’t know which. I wasn’t strong enough on my own to keep my hold on it, but the snake on my palm did not seem to like Metatrion’s behavior and held the handle to my skin like it was magnetized there.

  There was the crunch of breaking glass again, and I opened my eyes. Two more armored angels were coming in through the side windows in the dining room. Samiel desperately shot nightfire from behind me. I heard Gabriel pound up the back stairs and crash through the back door into the kitchen.

  “Madeline!” he called.

  I couldn’t turn. I couldn’t answer. I strained with every muscle in my body to hold the sword, to keep Metatrion from taking it or Samiel.

  Metatrion swung his other hand toward me and closed it around my throat.

  The other angels crashed into Gabriel and Samiel behind me. There were the sounds of grunts and fists pounding into skin. From the corner of my eye I saw Beezle flutter to the opposite side of the room and pick something up.

  My vision started to close as Metatrion squeezed his armored hand around my windpipe. The only thing holding me upright was the sword and the force of will behind it. He would not take Samiel. I’d promised.

  There was a tiny movement behind Metatrion, and Beezle smashed a sharp-edged metal bookend into the angel’s bare head. It could hardly have hurt him, but it distracted him enough that he loosened his grip just a hair, on both my throat and the sword.

  I thrust upward with all my might, and the sword passed cleanly through his neck and to the other side.

  Metatrion’s eyes widened for a moment before the red light in them blinked out. I put my bare foot on his knee and he toppled backward, the blade pulling free and coated in the blood of the Hound of the Hunt.

  I looked up at Beezle, who grinned at me and dropped the bookend to the ground with a clatter.

  “Now can I have cinnamon rolls?” he asked.

  “Totally,” I croaked. It hurt to talk.

  I realized suddenly that it was far too quiet and spun around. Gabriel’s boot was just visible at the end of the hallway. Samiel and the other two angels were nowhere to be seen.

  I ran into the kitchen, my heart pounding.

  “Gabriel! Samiel!” I shouted, and then coughed violently.

  Gabriel lay on the floor in front of the refrigerator, his face covered in blood. Just beyond the back counter of my kitchen was a small covered porch that I used as a breakfast nook. The back wall of the no
ok looked like it had been blasted through with dynamite. The floor was covered in feathers and spattered blood.

  I fell to my knees at Gabriel’s side.

  “Gabriel? Gabriel?” I said, shaking him. There didn’t appear to be any open wounds on him so I assumed it was someone else’s blood.

  After a few moments he blearily opened his eyes.

  “Madeline?” He sat up a little, leaning on his elbows and looking confused.

  I threw my arms around him and held him tight. He hugged me briefly before pushing me away to stare at me somberly.

  “The soldiers of the Hound took Samiel.”

  My shoulders drooped. “I failed him.”

  I was suddenly acutely aware of how Jude must have felt when Wade was taken. I’d made a promise to Samiel that I would keep him safe, and I’d broken that promise.

  “We both did,” Gabriel said. “There was a third soldier here in the kitchen. He surprised, then restrained, me while the other two removed Samiel.”

  I stood and surveyed the ruined mess that had been my kitchen. Samiel was gone. My home was vulnerable to attack. I needed to make it safe again before any one of my dozens of enemies construed an open wall as an invitation.

  “Lucifer could have warned me of this,” I said dully. “He took the time to tell me of the trial. He could have told me that the Grigori would send Metatrion. Why would he be able to break the barrier that protects the house?”

  “He was the Hound of the Hunt,” Beezle said, landing on my shoulder. “He was like a super-duper ultimate supernatural bounty hunter. If the magic of an abode could keep him out, then how could he fulfill his charge from the Grigori? Anything he hunted would be able to hide behind the walls of their home. So he, and he alone, possessed the power to break the barrier without punishment.”

  “Why do you speak of the Hound in past tense?” Gabriel asked warily, rising to his feet.

  I glanced away from the broken wall to Gabriel, who had a braced-for-impact look.

  “Because I killed him,” I said, rubbing my throat.

  Gabriel closed his eyes. “Madeline. You did not.”

  “Yep, she totally did,” Beezle said gleefully. “I helped.”