Black Howl

by Christina Henry

  Lucifer lost the merry look in his eye that had been there when he’d given Beezle the doughnuts. “Gabriel has used the power of the nephilim.”

  Gabriel suddenly went still.

  “What?” I said. “What now? What ridiculous bit of kingdom law have we broken? If you are here to tell me that Gabriel is going to get taken away, you can just forget it.”

  “The conditions on which Gabriel is allowed to keep his life preclude his using the power of the nephilim,” Lucifer said.

  “Ramuell was YOUR SON!” I said angrily. I’d had enough of the fallen to last me a lifetime. “Gabriel is your grandson. He’s closer in blood to you than I am. I’m separated from you by thousands of generations. He’s not. Do not even try to tell me that you’re going to let the Grigori haul him away and kill him.”

  “No,” Lucifer said, looking troubled. “I am supposed to kill him myself.”

  My magic roared up inside me, hot and angry. The parking lot was suddenly lit by the sun. I was vaguely aware of the massive insult I was doing Lucifer by showing him the full extent of my power, but I was exhausted and sick of angelic politics. Not even Lucifer could take Gabriel from me.

  “I will not let you,” I said, and my voice did not sound like my own. The ground trembled, and everyone except Lucifer and Samiel covered their ears.

  “Do not make the mistake of crossing me, granddaughter. In my kingdom, my word is law.”

  His voice seemed to come from everywhere. Lucifer grew larger, his wings outspread, his eyes winking pools of starlight, until he looked much like he had in my vision of Evangeline, so long ago.

  “You cannot frighten me,” I said, and to my surprise it seemed that my power grew to match his own. “You cannot intimidate me. I am not simply a child of your line. I am an Agent of Death, and Death is my dominion.”

  “Even Death cannot defy the laws of the kingdom.”

  My body was filling up with power, power that I hadn’t even known was inside me. There was too much of it. My skin felt stretched to bursting, and I knew with a sudden surety that if Lucifer tried to fight me in that moment, he would lose.

  “I will defy whoever and whatever to keep Gabriel safe. You cannot have him. He belongs to me.”

  “Belongs?” Lucifer asked, his voice full of innuendo.

  “Not as a thrall, but as my equal. I claim him as such, and tell you that he will no longer be a slave of the fallen.”

  “Very well,” Lucifer said suddenly, and shrank back to his normal self.

  I was so taken aback that my power receded suddenly like a deflating balloon. I stared at the Morningstar. “Very well?”

  “Very well,” he said, and the merriment was back in his eyes. “Gabriel, come forth.”

  Gabriel walked warily to stand in front of Lucifer and beside me.

  “Hold out your hands,” he instructed.

  I held out my right hand, Gabriel his left. We both looked at each other in confusion. The snake on my palm wriggled in anticipation.

  “As Madeline has claimed you as her equal, so you shall be,” Lucifer said to Gabriel.

  He did a little finger wiggle and our hands were suddenly clasped together, palm to palm, bound by golden cord.

  “By the laws of my kingdom and by the power of my will, so you, Madeline Black ap Azazel and Gabriel ap Ramuell, are joined now and forever in this life. Henceforth Gabriel will no longer be a thrall, but a husband. As I have proclaimed it, so it shall be.”

  He clapped his hands together and looked around in delight at the lot of us and the varying expressions of shock on our faces.

  “Married?” I said, looking down at the golden cord.

  “Married,” Lucifer said.

  Gabriel fell to his knees, and because we were bound together, so did I.

  “My lord,” he said, and his voice was full of emotion.

  I looked up at Lucifer, who had a surprising expression of tenderness on his face. It reminded me of something that the faerie queen, Amarantha, had said once—Everyone knows Lucifer is fanatical about his bloodline.

  “Rise,” Lucifer said, “and go forth a free man.”

  Gabriel bowed his head, and I saw one single tear fall to the pavement. Then he turned to me, and held out his other hand. I placed my free hand in his and we rose, facing each other, the reality and the wonder of it finally dawning on us.

  “Kissing is traditional,” Lucifer said.

  For the first time I felt hesitant. Gabriel and I had done a lot of kissing in secret, but never with everyone I cared about in attendance.

  Gabriel, however, felt no hesitance at all. He bent his head to mine, and I had never felt such sweetness from him before, never felt so much love. After a few moments, however, Lucifer cleared his throat.

  “Perhaps you want to, as they say in the vernacular, get a room,” Lucifer said.

  I smiled at Gabriel, and then looked questioningly at the first of the fallen.

  “Why? I thought that you, too, were bound by the laws of your own kingdom.”

  “Nah.” Lucifer grinned. “I can pretty much do whatever I want.”

  He winked, and then disappeared.

  “I thought so,” I muttered.

  The golden cord binding our hands together dissolved. In its place were two beautifully carved golden bands, one on Gabriel’s ring finger and one on the ring finger of my right hand (as I was lacking a ring finger on the left). I inspected the ring more closely and saw it was carved with the serpent, the symbol of the house of Lucifer.

  “Well, that was a beautiful wedding,” Beezle said. “The bride has spider goo in her hair and the groom smells like sulfur. The parking-lot-in-front-of-the-burning-warehouse location leaves something to be desired, and there was a distinct lack of refreshments, but otherwise, just lovely.”

  I looked down and realized my coat was slashed and covered in my own blood. I smelled like burned spider. There was the sound of sirens approaching.

  “We should get out of here,” I said. “The firefighters are coming.”

  We all took flight, Beezle coming to rest at his usual place on my shoulder. Gabriel held on to my hand like he was afraid I was going to disappear.

  J.B. flew east a short distance with us, then turned off to head downtown. I shook free from Gabriel for a moment and followed him.

  “J.B.,” I said, and when he turned to look at me I didn’t know what to say.

  “Congratulations,” he said, and I could tell he didn’t really mean it.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and I tried to put a lot of meaning into those two words. I was sorry he was hurting, and that his hurt was caused by my happiness. I was sorry I couldn’t feel about him the way he felt about me. I was sorry.

  He nodded. “Come to the Agency in the morning. I want to show you something we found with those cameras.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there,” I said, and watched him fly away. He seemed very alone.

  I turned back to Samiel, Beezle and Gabriel, all waiting for me. Gabriel held out his hand, and I took it.

  “I hope the two of you aren’t going to be mushy all the time now,” Beezle said, resuming his perch on my shoulder. “You were kind of unbearable before, when you couldn’t actually touch each other.”

  “I hope you aren’t going to keep up a running commentary on our marriage. Because that might make me lose my motivation for buying snack cakes,” I replied.

  Samiel tapped me on the shoulder. So I’m your brother, too, now.

  You already were, I replied. I wouldn’t have fought the Grigori for you otherwise.

  They aren’t going to be happy now. Especially Azazel.

  “Azazel can suck it,” I said fervently. “And so can Nathaniel.”

  “Ooh, yeah, Nathaniel,” Beezle chortled. “I wish I could be there when he finds out about the two of you.”

  “I’d already told him I wouldn’t marry him,” I reminded Beezle.

  “Yeah, but he thought Azazel’s will would prevail.”


  “It might have with anyone else. But Madeline has the strongest will I have ever known,” Gabriel said, and his voice was filled with pride.

  “You make it sound like it’s a good thing,” Beezle said. “Just wait until you have your first argument. Then you’ll see how annoying it is.”

  “It wasn’t my will that led to this marriage,” I said slowly. “It was Lucifer’s.”

  “Don’t examine that thought too closely,” Beezle advised. “It’ll suck all the joy out of the moment.”

  “You’re right,” I said, shaking my head and smiling. “Who cares why Lucifer did what he did? Gabriel is free, we’re married, and Azazel and Nathaniel are out of it.”

  But as we continued home the smile faded from my face. I may have gotten what I wanted, but so did Lucifer. And it was hard not to wonder why it suited him to marry me to Gabriel.

  I looked at my husband—my husband, I thought, cherishing that word deep down inside me—and wondered just what Lucifer had in store for us.

  And I might have imagined it, but Lucifer’s merry laugh seemed to follow us home.

  11

  A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER I WALKED OUT OF THE bathroom, wrapped in my bathrobe with a towel on my head, having finally managed to get all of the spider gunk out of my very long hair. I stopped in the hallway between the bathroom and my bedroom, my heart racing with trepidation.

  My husband was waiting for me, and this was unknown territory. What if I disappointed him? My feet felt like they were stuck to the floor.

  Samiel and Gabriel had rearranged their possessions while I was in the shower. Gabriel’s few things were stacked in the dining room, waiting to be incorporated into my stuff. Samiel had moved his clothes and books downstairs to Gabriel’s former abode. Beezle had gone downstairs with Samiel, saying loudly that they were going to watch a really noisy movie with lots of gunfights and car explosions and that they were definitely not going to acknowledge any sounds that might be coming from my—our—apartment.

  “Madeline,” Gabriel said.

  He stood in the doorway of my—our—bedroom, wearing nothing but his dress pants. His wings were folded behind him and his feet were bare.

  I felt myself staring down the tunnel of the unknown as I had so many times before, and reflected that it was easier to face the prospect of being killed by some horrible monster than to lay myself open, heart and mind and body, before the man I loved.

  He was mine. He was all I’d wanted from the first moment I’d met him, and yet I still couldn’t bring myself to walk toward him.

  “Madeline,” he said again, and he held out his hand. “I will not harm you.”

  I knew he wouldn’t. It wasn’t about harm. It was about my own fears, my own sense of inadequacy.

  I drifted down the hall slowly until I reached him. The air smelled like apple pie baking, the smell I associated with Gabriel. I put my hand in his and smiled shyly up at him.

  He kissed me, and it was an easy kiss without expectation. The little rabbit thumping away in my chest calmed.

  “Let me comb your hair,” he said, and led me into the room.

  He’d turned down the sheets. Only the bedside lamp was lit and it gave off a soft glow that left most of the room in shadow. The window was cracked open about half an inch, letting in the frigid January air. I shivered.

  Gabriel gave me an apologetic look. “I am often very warm, even in winter.”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  The cracked window also let in the sound of thumping bass. One of our neighbors was having a party.

  Gabriel led me to the bed and I sat perched on the edge, so tense I was ready to take off. As the moment drew nearer and nearer I felt panic rising again. It was definitely easier to fight monsters.

  He knelt behind me and pulled the towel from my hair. The curly mess of it fell over my shoulder and to the middle of my back.

  “My hair is too long,” I mumbled, just to have something to say.

  “I like it just as it is,” Gabriel said softly, stroking his fingers through the wet tangles and smoothing them out.

  A moment later he began drawing my cheap drugstore brush through the strands. I wished suddenly that I was a vainer person, that I colored away the rapidly multiplying gray hairs or that I had bought a nicer brush. Plastic bristles seemed like they were not nearly good enough for such a momentous occasion.

  Some of the tension drifted away as Gabriel pulled the brush through my hair with long, sure strokes. Music drifted in through the window, an upbeat dance song about falling in love like a teenager.

  “I was never a teenager like that,” I said.

  “Like what?” Gabriel asked.

  “Like in the song. My mother died when I was so young. You’d think my life would have been one endless party with no parents leaning over my shoulder, but it wasn’t.”

  “What was it like?”

  “Scary, mostly. I became an Agent when my mom died. I was trying to feed myself and not lose the house. That’s not the kind of information you can share with a potential boyfriend, or even a friend. I had to keep so much of my life a secret that I was never able to do normal teenage things, like go to the mall or sneak into R-rated movies or get trashed at parties. I never went on a date, never went to the prom. I never made out in the front seat of a car or got in a fight with my mom over a too-short skirt. One day I was a relatively normal kid and the next day I was responsible for the souls of the dead.”

  “We are not so different. I did not have a ‘normal’ childhood, either,” Gabriel said.

  I twisted to look at him and he stopped brushing. “What was it like, growing up with Azazel?”

  Gabriel’s eyes grew distant. “Difficult. There was never a time when I was not reminded of my status. Many of the Grigori disagreed with Lord Azazel’s decision to raise me. I was often forced to battle creatures from other courts to prove my worth.”

  “What, like gladiatorial combat?”

  Gabriel nodded.

  “How old were you?”

  Gabriel shrugged. “Eight, I believe, on the first occasion. It has been many years. I cannot remember exactly.”

  Eight. He’d been made to fight for his life when I was riding my bike up and down the street and reading Judy Blume books. I guess my childhood wasn’t so bad after all.

  “How old are you, Gabriel?” I asked. I couldn’t believe I’d never thought to ask this question before.

  He smiled briefly. “I am not certain it is wise to answer that question.”

  “Why not?”

  “I believe you are already feeling self-conscious and the answer will make you more so.”

  “Don’t you think your wife ought to know the answer?”

  He sighed. “One thousand and twenty.”

  The light in the room flickered, or it just might have been black spots flickering before my eyes.

  “One…thousand. With three zeros.”

  “Yes,” he said. “But I do not wish for you to, as you say, make a big deal out of this.”

  I laughed. “Right, why would it be a big deal that you’re nine hundred and eighty-eight years older than me?”

  “Age does not matter,” Gabriel said, his fingers under my chin. “Like you, I am not…experienced.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. I’d been so wrapped up in my own worries that I’d forgotten that Gabriel had been forbidden from birth to have sex with anyone. The Grigori would not risk another child of the nephilim’s line being born. And I’d thought I was the last virgin over the age of thirty in the U.S.

  “So, I guess neither of us really knows what we’re doing, huh?”

  “Madeline,” Gabriel said, and this time there was an undercurrent of implication when he said my name. “I believe we can figure out what to do.”

  “Gabriel,” I said, with one last vestige of panic clinging to my voice. “The last time I was on a bed with a guy he tried to rape me.”

  He stroked his fingers over my che
ek, and I closed my eyes. There was so much gentleness in him. I was amazed that Azazel had never been able to beat it out of him.

  “I will never harm you,” he said, and he kissed me again.

  He leaned forward, wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me backward on top of him. He was deliciously hot, and in this position all of our relevant parts were rubbing in all the right places.

  But he didn’t pull my robe off my shoulders, or attempt to remove his own pants. He just kept kissing me, until I grew soft and warm and pliant, until my breath was short and my hands were roaming.

  Only then did he untie the already loosened belt of my bathrobe and toss it away. Only then did his hands go everywhere that ached for his touch, and his mouth followed.

  I unbuttoned his pants, slid my fingers inside, heard him gasp. I was suddenly aware of a power I had never really comprehended before—my power as a woman, the power I had to make a strong man weak—and I smiled.

  He smiled back, and I felt my whole being suffused with joy. This was where I was supposed to be—with this man, with this love—and I saw that love reflected back in his face.

  When, finally, we came together as one, the room was lit up like a solar flare. Magic exploded in my blood and in my eyes, and in Gabriel’s. That magic mingled until the air was drenched with it, until it soaked our skin, until there was one tremendous explosion, a blazing burst of fireworks in the night sky.

  The next morning I woke up with sunshine blazing through the windows. There was the smell of something good wafting from the kitchen. I groggily picked my head up and glanced at the clock. It was already midday.

  I rolled over to my back. The sheets smelled like Gabriel, and I closed my eyes, remembering the night before.

  Then I got up and pulled on my discarded robe, and went to look for my husband.

  He was making pancakes, and whistling. I’d never heard him whistle before.

  I leaned in the doorway, content to just watch him for a while. But he must have sensed me standing there, because he turned and smiled.

  “Good morning,” he said. I hadn’t realized before how fraught with implication a “good morning” could be.