Black Night

by Christina Henry

  I blew out a breath in frustration and decided diplomacy was overrated. “What will it take to get you to stay home?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “There is nothing you can say or do to compel me to remain in Lord Azazel’s court. I have suspected for some time, Madeline, that you are not taking our betrothal seriously. You must. You are bound to me by Azazel’s word before the court.”

  “I do not and will not consider myself betrothed to you unless it is by my word, not Azazel’s,” I shot back.

  Nathaniel loomed closer, crowding me, and I glared up at him. “Don’t try to physically intimidate me. I’m not afraid of you.”

  He sneered. “Because your loyal dog is in the next room?”

  “Because I know that I can blast you down those stairs and out of this building if I want to.” And just as if I had called it, I felt my magic alight within me again, feral and hungry, fed by my anger and frustration.

  A small part of me knew that I should rein it in, not reveal myself to Nathaniel in this manner. I had been very careful over the last month whenever we met, and had pretended not to shudder when he touched my arm or placed his lips on my cheek. I knew that any coldness on my part would be interpreted as nerves or shyness by my father and that he would explain my behavior to Nathaniel as such. I shouldn’t be showing him now that I despised him.

  “Don’t push me,” I said raggedly, trying to keep my magic and my temper under control. “I did not choose this.”

  “Nor did I,” he replied angrily. “Do you think it is my wish to be engaged to a woman who clearly hates me?”

  I looked up at him in surprise. There had been something in his voice, some hurt that I hadn’t suspected. It flickered in his eyes for an instant before he covered it with anger.

  “I don’t hate you,” I said, and the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. Anything less than the truth would encourage him. But I had to walk the line that Azazel had laid out for me until I could figure out a way to break free of the binding.

  Nathaniel looked uncertain for a moment. Then he surprised me, leaned forward as if he intended to kiss my mouth. For a second I felt a strange, unwanted flare of desire. The thought was so foreign that I couldn’t help my unconscious reaction, and stepped back until I felt my butt hit the counter. Irritation flared in his eyes.

  “If you do not hate me, you are doing an excellent approximation of it.”

  “What does it matter to you?” I said, feeling slightly embarrassed. “You get to marry Lord Azazel’s daughter, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said tightly. “I do. I will arrive in three days to escort you to the court.”

  He swept into a mocking bow and then exited out the open back door. And that reminded me.

  I followed him to the top of the stairs and shouted down. “You’re going to pay for those doors you broke, buddy!”

  “Yeah, good luck with that,” Beezle snorted from behind me, and I turned around. He had flown in while my back was turned and was in the process of pulling a clawful of cookies from the cookie jar. I wondered how much of my conversation with Nathaniel he had listened to. “You could just use the money that Azazel gave you to fix them. Nathaniel was here on Azazel’s business.”

  “I don’t want to touch that money,” I said.

  Beezle shrugged and shoved chocolate mint cookies in his beak. “I don’t see why not.”

  “You know why not. It’s just a rope by any other name, and I will not be bound to Azazel’s plans any more than I already am.”

  “You won’t be bound to his plans by using that money to fix your doors.”

  “No, but I’ll feel indebted to him. And he wants that. He wants me to accept what he offers so that he can manipulate me into place like a chess piece. Lucifer does, too.”

  “Yeah, well. REALLY good luck trying to extricate yourself from those two. They’ve been tying mortals in knots for ages untold.”

  “Yes,” I said, rubbing my head. I felt a headache coming on. This day, like so many others of late, had exhausted me. I remembered with fondness a time when the most difficult part of my day was filling out forms in triplicate.

  I wandered listlessly into the living room, thinking I could convince J.B. or Gabriel to spring for a pizza for all of us.

  “So,” J.B. said as soon as I entered the room. “I hear you’ve got a big mission coming up.”

  I glared at Gabriel. “What did you blab about that for?”

  Gabriel looked surprised. “Because he is Amarantha’s son.”

  “The court that I’m supposed to be going to.”

  “Yup,” J.B. said.

  “That’s your mom.”

  “Yup.”

  “Do you think you might have mentioned sooner that you were a faerie prince?” I said, annoyed.

  “Do you think you might have mentioned sooner that you were the daughter of one of the fallen?” he retorted.

  “I didn’t find out until . . . Never mind,” I said, not wanting to get into a childish argument. “Whatever. So, you’ve got an in with the court. You can help me negotiate with your mom, then.”

  J.B. shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’m her heir, but she doesn’t really like me.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. “Is there any useful information you can give me?”

  “Yeah. Don’t go. The last emissary from the fallen was beheaded in front of the entire court.”

  I stared at J.B., who looked completely serious. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

  He shook his head. “The negotiator sent by Lucifer so offended the queen—”

  “Your mom,” I interjected.

  “—that she had him summarily executed in front of the assembled court. Upon review of the diplomat’s actions, Lucifer agreed that offense had been given and that the queen’s actions were correct. However, it’s taken almost a year for the queen to accept the possibility of a new negotiation. My mother tends to hold grudges.”

  “I see. I’m so looking forward to this trip. Hey, wait a second,” I said. “When I told you that I was Azazel’s daughter, you acted like you knew nothing of the fallen.”

  “Which is exactly what I was supposed to do until I had discussed the matter with the queen.”

  “Why?”

  Gabriel glanced at J.B. “Faerie courts are very tightly protected, even among supernatural beings. Faeries tend to be quite . . .”

  “. . . rigid and unreasonable,” J.B. finished. “There is a certain order, a certain procedure, for everything.”

  “So that’s why you’re such an anal stick in the mud when you’re at work,” I said.

  He ignored my jibe and continued. “Contact with other species is strictly limited by clearance from the queen. I came into contact with you at work, but that did not mean that I could reveal to you what I knew about the fallen without telling you my own identity.”

  “If your identity is such a big secret, then how come Nathaniel knew who you were?”

  “I met with him during the negotiations to accept a new diplomat to the court. I am frequently my mother’s errand boy,” he said, and he didn’t look too happy about it.

  I supposed I could be annoyed at J.B. for not telling me about this sooner, but really, what right had I to the information? We were friends, but nothing more than that. Still, it made me look at him in a new light. He seemed just as constrained by his heritage as I.

  “Are there any useful tips you can give me at all? I’d really like to make it through my first diplomatic mission without getting my head chopped off.”

  J.B. blew out a breath. “There are so many rules, so many potential breaches of etiquette . . .”

  “I am not entirely sure that Madeline is the best person for this mission,” Gabriel said.

  “Sarcasm is not productive,” I said.

  “I am not being sarcastic. Lucifer surely has members of his own court that understand the complex rules of the faeries and could negotiate them better than you.”

  “Th
at means there’s some special reason why he wants me there,” I said.

  “What reason could that be?” J.B. asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” I said grimly. “But I will find out, sooner or later.”

  “Let’s hope that in the meantime you manage to keep your head,” J.B. said.

  Literally and figuratively, I thought. My temper always ran close to the surface. And when my emotions were high it became difficult for me to think clearly. For some reason, my magic seemed to feed off this and encourage it. A quick temper and unstable emotions—not to mention almost total lack of knowledge about the species in question—were not the best combination for a delicate diplomatic mission.

  Lucifer was obviously up to something—besides yanking my chain, that is. He had some plan that I couldn’t see yet. And while I was trying to figure out that plan, I had to make sure I didn’t take an early trip to the Door.

  J.B. seemed recovered enough to head home and rest, so Gabriel and I helped him into a cab and sent him on his way. As J.B.’s cab pulled away in the light of the rising sun, I remembered that I had another pickup—an early one.

  “No rest for the weary,” I said, sighing.

  Gabriel glanced at me. “Or the wicked.”

  “Hey, I’m supposed to be one of the good guys,” I said, a little offended.

  “Try to remember that when you are about Lucifer’s business.”

  I felt myself growing angry. “Do you think I chose this?”

  “I know that you did not,” he said patiently. “But Lord Lucifer has a way of making choices seem . . . gray.”

  I wanted to tell Gabriel that one of the reasons I was forced to do Lucifer’s business in the first place was to keep him breathing, but I didn’t. I knew enough about Gabriel to know that he wouldn’t want me to do anything for his sake. And anyway, it was my choice, even if it sometimes seemed like my options had been taken away from the moment I had discovered I was Azazel’s daughter.

  “I think I can hold my own against Lucifer,” I said. “I am aware of his reputation.”

  “Do not make any assumptions where Lord Lucifer is concerned,” Gabriel warned. “He has forgotten more about human nature than you will ever know.”

  “That’s the second time today I’ve been told that,” I said. “Don’t you have any faith in me?”

  “I have plenty of faith in you, Madeline,” Gabriel said. “I just know Lord Lucifer better than you do. He has been playing chess for centuries, and he knows how to win. And who to sacrifice.”

  I felt myself grow cold. Somehow, I hadn’t considered that Lucifer might be sending me to the faerie court to get rid of me.

  “I thought that I would be more valuable to him, being the last direct descendant of his union with Evangeline.”

  Gabriel stared broodingly after J.B.’s taxi. “I’m not sure that family ties are that meaningful to Lord Lucifer. I am his grandson, after all, and I only barely managed to escape the knife at my birth.”

  “But he was furious with me for killing Ramuell,” I said thoughtfully. “I think maybe his family is more important than you think. I don’t think he would have let the Grigori kill you no matter what. I bet he just wanted to see how things would play out, and who would speak out against his grandson. I’m sure he’s holding it against any Grigori that did so.”

  “I suppose it is possible,” Gabriel said, still staring off into the middle distance somewhere.

  “Hey,” I said, taking his hand. I felt the familiar hum of electricity that always sparked between us at the slightest touch. “It doesn’t matter what Lucifer wants or doesn’t want. I want you, son of Ramuell or not.”

  His hand gripped mine tighter but he still did not turn his head in my direction. “Son of Ramuell is what I will always be, and that is why we cannot do this. I have told you over and over and you will not listen.”

  I pressed closer to him, made him look at me. His eyes were tormented.

  “And I have told you over and over,” I said, my face very close to his, “that I do not care what the rules say.”

  He gave me what I wanted, pressed his mouth against mine for an instant, and then pulled away. His face was full of need and regret.

  “It is madness, Madeline, and I cannot do it. I will not be responsible for your death.”

  There wasn’t a lot I could say to that. I watched him walk away from me, the way he seemed to over and over.

  4

  MY HAND HOVERED INSIDE THE BAKERY CASE. I WAITED a second or two, trying to decide which doughnut was the right one. The two doughnuts that remained were filled with some kind of cream and both had chocolate icing on top. I grabbed the one on the right.

  “That’s not the right kind,” Beezle muttered from the inside pocket of my coat. “That kind has cream inside, not custard.”

  “How can you tell from there?” I hissed, putting the doughnut back.

  “I can smell it,” he replied, his voice muffled by the wool.

  “Well, I can’t tell the difference so you get what you get,” I said.

  “Just get the other one,” he said. His short gray horns and yellow cat eyes peeked out from underneath the lapel of my black winter coat.

  A harried-looking woman with two small boys in her grocery cart pushed past us to get at the baguettes.

  “Look, Mommy, there’s a rat in her pocket!” one of the boys shouted, pointing at me. Several other people shopping in the section turned to look.

  The mother widened her eyes at Beezle, grabbed her French bread and tossed it in the cart. She “shushed” the little boy while moving away from me as quickly as possible.

  I gave the other shoppers a sickly smile. “It’s my guinea pig,” I said, moving away from the doughnut case and shoving Beezle back in my pocket with my free hand.

  I’d completed my pickup and decided to hit the Jewel for a few necessities. Of course, Beezle had a different notion of necessity than I did.

  “What about my doughnut?” he whined.

  “You only get doughnuts if you can stay incognito,” I hissed.

  “How is this not incognito? Am I inside your pocket or what?” Beezle grumped. “It’s hot in here.”

  “Yesterday you were cold; now you’re hot,” I said.

  “People are staring,” Gabriel murmured next to me.

  “Oh, gee, why would they stare?” I said. “It’s not like I’m having an argument with my coat lapel or anything.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up as I tossed a couple of oranges in my basket.

  “That is fruit, not a doughnut,” Beezle muttered. “We don’t want any of that healthy stuff.”

  “You know, it would probably be good for you to replace some junk food with fruit. You’re getting pretty heavy in there.”

  “Gargoyles are supposed to be round,” Beezle said, and his tone was clearly miffed. “We are home guardians.”

  “And I ask it again: then why the hell don’t you stay at home instead of making me drag your heavy ass all over town?”

  I was spared Beezle’s reply because just then I felt a wave of energy pulse through the store, the same power signature that I’d experienced only a few hours earlier. Gabriel looked alarmed, and I felt Beezle stiffen inside my coat.

  “The wolf-killer,” I said, dropping my basket on the floor and heading toward the front of the store. “Where?”

  Gabriel fell into stride beside me. “Nearby, but not too close. The pulse didn’t disable you this time?”

  I felt the familiar flicker of magic under the surface of my skin. “No. Either I’m getting used to it or ground zero was far enough away not to harm me.”

  “Or you were protected by the building,” Beezle said, his voice still muffled. “Earlier you were in the sky, completely exposed.”

  I looked at Gabriel questioningly and he shrugged. “Your magic is a constant mystery to me, Madeline. It seems to operate differently from others I have known.”

  We exited the store and stoo
d for a moment in the morning sunshine, trying to get our bearings. It was hard to find the source of a supernatural event that had already happened, but Gabriel had some skill in tracking power signatures. He looked around, then pointed north.

  “This way,” he said.

  We crossed the parking lot and then Wellington. This was a busy area, with two strip malls right next to one another and a large development of condos across the street behind them.

  “I can’t believe this creature would do anything in an area this crowded,” I said. “Someone must have seen it.”

  Gabriel didn’t look at me. He was intent on following the traces of magic to their source. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. People tend to see only what they want to see.”

  The two strip malls faced Ashland, which was a main thoroughfare that ran north-south through the city. A few blocks away was the Lincoln-Belmont-Ashland intersection, a major convergence of traffic and businesses. In between were blocks stuffed with homes and apartments.

  Gabriel tracked through the post office parking lot, across another street, and into an alley. We wandered for a few moments, turning left and right, and then I could smell it before I saw it. Burnt cinnamon, and raw meat.

  “He’s killed someone again,” I breathed.

  We turned to the right at a T-junction and saw the bloody remains scattered all over the alley, just like the last time.

  I heard bone crunch underneath my boot and looked down to see the shredded remains of a furred paw.

  “Another wolf,” I said, breathing shallowly. “Why is Samiel killing wolves?”

  “How do we know it’s Samiel?” Beezle said, sticking his head out of my pocket.

  “Are you trying to say that Ramuell might have another unknown child running around somewhere?” I said, as I picked my way carefully among the remains. Gabriel moved silently through the alley, checking as I did for a clue, something that would tell me why these wolves were being targeted.

  “It might have nothing to do with Ramuell at all,” Beezle said insistently. “Someone could just be trying to point you in that direction.”

  “But why?” I said. “How could anyone know that I would just happen to be nearby two murder sites? Don’t you think it’s a little presumptuous to assume this is all for my benefit? And besides, if this death was planned, a part of the natural order, where is the Agent? Where is the soul?”