Black Night

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Black Night Page 24

by Christina Henry


  I decided to try to make a small light and try to focus it like a slender beam of a flashlight. Like so many new spells, though, I required an extra dose of concentration to get it going.

  That meant I was a little distracted when the creature came screaming out of the darkness of the dunes and crashed into me.

  The sword was knocked from my hand and flew away. A hand came around my throat and squeezed. The creature stood, slowly crushing my windpipe. My legs kicked underneath me as I clawed at the fingers holding me up. Lamplight fell across the creature’s face, and my hands fell away in shock.

  It was Baraqiel. One wing stood white and proud in the moonlight, and the other was just a few ragged shards of feather. He smiled at me, and his mouth was covered in wolf’s blood.

  I felt my magic surge up in anger, and a blast of heat burst out of me. Baraqiel shouted and dropped me to the ground. I rolled over, gasping for air, and stood up, facing him.

  “You?” I said in disbelief. “You?”

  His silver blue eyes glittered in the light, and I realized I had seen those eyes before. They were the eyes of Wade’s most recent pack member, James.

  “You’re a shapeshifter,” I said, astonished. I had never heard of such a thing—an angel that could shift its shape. And I had certainly never heard of a shapeshifter that had more than two shapes. Baraqiel could become James the human, James the wolf and the hideous blue monster in the alley. What other tricks did he have up his sleeve?

  “Lucifer does enjoy seeing the results of his affairs,” Baraqiel said. “I am unique among all of his children.”

  “Lucifer?” I said. I was starting to sound like an idiot.

  But it made sense. When I’d felt the magical pulse of energy and found the body of the first wolf, I’d thought that it felt like Ramuell, a thing not meant to be. I’d been half right. Baraqiel wasn’t a nephilim, but he was, like Ramuell, a thing not meant to be. Was there nothing Lucifer wouldn’t copulate with? What was he trying to do, manufacture the perfect monster?

  There were things I didn’t understand, though. “Why would you kill all these wolves? Why the pointless bloodshed?”

  “Pointless?” Baraqiel growled. “The wolves have thwarted and defied my father at every turn. Tyrone Wade has been a sworn enemy of Lucifer for more than thirty years.”

  “Yeah, well, I defy him at every turn, too,” I said.

  “A fact that I was attempting to remedy,” Baraqiel said, and his insane grin made me shudder. “I tried to plant evidence of your involvement at the sites of the killings, but Wade seemed to believe your innocence. I thought that if a body was found right on your doorstep, the wolves would demand your head as compensation and Wade’s hand would be forced.”

  “Does Lucifer know that you’re doing this?” I asked.

  “Who knows what my father does and does not know?” Baraqiel said craftily. “In any event, I do not think he would be bothered by a few dead wolves.”

  “But he might be bothered that you’re trying to incriminate me,” I said. “He kind of likes me, you know, because of Evangeline.”

  “Yes,” Baraqiel hissed, and for a moment his form shifted back to that of the blue monster before returning to his angelic one. “That is all I hear about, all anyone hears about. Madeline Black, his beloved granddaughter, last child of Evangeline’s line. No child of his own has ever been more adored than you.”

  Well, that came as a surprise. I knew that Lucifer was partial to me because I was the last direct descendant of Evangeline, but he wasn’t exactly an affectionate relation. Most of our exchanges seemed to involve commands and threats.

  “Whatever my relationship—or yours, for that matter—to Lucifer, these wolf killings end now. I’m going to make sure that you are brought to justice for this,” I said. “And if Lucifer won’t do it, then I’m sure the wolves will take care of you.”

  Baraqiel stalked toward me. “What makes you think I am going to let you take me?”

  I sighed. “I didn’t think you would make it easy for me.”

  He reached for me again, and I flew upward, dodging away. His missing wing made it impossible for him to give chase once I was above the ground. I focused my power, pushed it through my heartstone, and let loose the blast of sunlight that I had used to kill Ramuell.

  A blaze lit up the beach and for a moment it looked like a midsummer’s day. Then the blaze faded, and Baraqiel stood there, laughing at me, his missing wing magically regrown.

  “Thank you, cousin,” he said. “That was exactly what I needed.”

  Okay. So apparently the sun, which was fatal to Ramuell, made Baraqiel rejuvenate his powers like Superman. Wonderful. Nightfire didn’t work, sunlight didn’t work, and I’d lost the sword. What was I supposed to do, annoy him to death?

  He launched from the beach and came after me. I feinted to one side and then flew the other, swooping low over the sand and desperately searching for the sword.

  It was then that Baraqiel let loose a magical pulse. As it rippled across me, my wings disappeared, my power flickered out and I fell to the ground.

  I rolled over, my mouth and eyes full of sand. I scrabbled desperately at my face, trying to clear my vision. Baraqiel fell upon me, his hands closing around my throat again.

  I kicked up and into his crotch with my boot. Yup, that works on pretty much any male, no matter what their species. He yelped and loosened his grip for a moment, which allowed me to push to my feet and sprint down the beach as fast as I could.

  I had no magic, but it seemed that Baraqiel didn’t have much in the spell department except for the ability to shapeshift and knock out other creatures’ powers. So at least we were on even footing there.

  Of course, he had wings again, and I didn’t, and he was about fifty times as strong as me. So big advantage to Baraqiel.

  I heard his wings pulsing behind me, and I picked up speed. It wasn’t easy. Sand is not the fastest surface to run on, especially when you’re wearing combat boots and are totally out of shape.

  I tripped over my own feet just as Baraqiel swooped in for the kill. Thank goodness I was the clumsiest thing going.

  Lucifer’s sword glittered in the sand right under my nose.

  I grabbed it and pushed up to my knees as Baraqiel made another turn. His silver blue eyes were alight with murder and madness. I let my sword hand hang at my side and allowed him to carry me into the air, his hands closing around my neck.

  I didn’t struggle against him, but I lifted the sword and ran it through his chest. I felt his heartstone give under the blade, and for the second time that night there was a gigantic explosion of light.

  I held tight to the sword as Baraqiel’s hands went limp and he dropped me into the sand again. I was lucky I didn’t land on the blade. I jumped to my feet immediately and ran back to where his body lay in the sand, bluish black blood pumping out from the hole in his chest.

  He glared up at me, his face both angry and resigned. “I cannot believe that Lucifer’s own sword chose you over me.”

  I glanced down at the sword, wondering. Had it just been a coincidence that Nathaniel had given me the sword, or had the sword planted the idea in his head? It was a little creepy to think that a piece of metal was that sentient.

  “Yeah, well, I seem to defy expectations everywhere,” I said. “For some reason my enemies never seem to think much of me.”

  I wasn’t taking any chances. I’d seen enough horror movies to know that if you left the monster alone just when you thought it was dead, then it would pop back up and try to kill you one more time.

  I swung the sword for the last time, and the head of Baraqiel ap Lucifer rolled away into the sand. A few moments later the head and body started to decompose rapidly until all that was left was a kind of tarlike goo.

  I kicked a whole lot of sand over the goo so no one would step in it accidentally. Also, I wasn’t sure that Baraqiel couldn’t regenerate from the light of the sun even in this condition.

&
nbsp; I was pretty sure I’d buried him well enough that no one would dig him up accidentally—it was winter, after all, and not many kids would be down here with their sand pails for several months. The sun was just starting to come up, which meant that I’d been out for at least three hours. Samiel had probably woken, and Beezle might be up, too. They were probably panicking.

  Unfortunately, my magic was still out and my cell phone was still in my travel bag, sitting on the floor of my kitchen.

  I sighed, and started to climb the dune. It was going to be a long walk home.

  19

  AS I’D EXPECTED, BEEZLE WAS UP AND TOTALLY freaking out when I got home. He, Samiel and Gabriel were all sitting in the dining room with their heads together, apparently devising some action plan.

  “Anyone for cinnamon rolls?” I asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

  They all looked up, three identical expressions of surprise on their faces. Beezle flew toward me first and put his clawed hands on my face, examining first one side and then the other.

  “New bruises on the neck but nowhere else,” he announced. “Where in the four hells have you been?”

  So I sat down at the dining room table and told them about Baraqiel—how he was Lucifer’s son and the wolf-killer, how he could shapeshift, and how he had tried to first frame me and then kill me. Gabriel looked graver than usual when I finished my story.

  “You have killed another of Lord Lucifer’s progeny,” Gabriel said. “He will not be pleased with you.”

  “Believe me, I’ve thought of that already,” I said, waving my right hand. “I try not to contemplate Lucifer’s feelings too closely. It makes me queasy.”

  Samiel grabbed my hand out of the air and turned it over, looking at it. Then he looked up at me, questioning.

  I stared. There was a mark there that I hadn’t noticed before. It looked almost like a henna tattoo, and it was the exact shape of the snake that adorned the hilt of Lucifer’s sword. The snake seemed to wink at me as I looked at it.

  “It couldn’t be,” I said. I crossed the room to the place where I had left the sword leaning against the wall. The blade was still covered in blue-black ichor from Baraqiel’s body.

  I picked up the sword and examined it. The snake had disappeared from the hilt. I looked down at my hand again.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. “I think the sword branded me.”

  “Perhaps that will save your life when Lord Lucifer discovers you have killed Baraqiel,” Gabriel said. “In all the years that Zerachiel and Nathaniel carried the sword it never marked either of them.”

  “Did you know? About Baraqiel?” I asked Gabriel.

  He shook his head. “The fallen have always known Baraqiel only as Lord Lucifer’s messenger. I do not know how he managed to hide the evidence of his paternity, but one should never question the Morningstar’s ability to deceive others. As I have told you time and again, he is a law unto himself.”

  “Right,” I said, and sighed. “Well, I should call Wade and tell him I’ve solved his pack problem. And that he should come and pick up the body in the alley.”

  “Speaking of alleys,” Beezle said thoughtfully. “We never did find out who put that portal in the alley where we found the second body, the one that led to Amarantha’s kingdom.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe it was Baraqiel. Maybe he wanted a fast way to get in and out of the kingdom.”

  Beezle shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. That location is far from anywhere useful in her kingdom.”

  “I don’t think I’m up to solving any more mysteries this week,” I said. “We’ll just have to die not knowing.”

  “Ignoring this problem means it will come back to bite you in the ass,” Beezle warned.

  He was probably right. He usually was. But I really wasn’t up to any more investigating. The mystery of the portal would just have to be.

  A couple of hours later Wade and Jude arrived to pick up the body of their pack mate. We had moved it out of the alley and into my garden shed, which looked totally suspicious but again, none of my neighbors seemed to notice. Gabriel had magically wiped the alley clean of any blood and gore.

  Wade and Jude loaded the body in the back of their pickup truck. Baraqiel hadn’t had a chance to tear the body to pieces like the others, so at least they would be able to bury this one.

  Wade shook his head as my entourage and his stood awkwardly behind the truck bed. “I cannot believe that we were all so deceived by James. How could we not know that was not his true form?”

  “He was a spawn of Lucifer,” Jude growled, and he directed his glare at me. “They are most adept at deceit.”

  “Don’t look at me,” I said. “I’m the spawn of Azazel.”

  “And Madeline Black was the one who stopped Baraqiel for us, so we owe her our gratitude,” Wade said, his voice mildly reproving.

  Jude shut up, but I didn’t think he’d be thanking me anytime soon. He turned without another word and climbed into the driver’s seat of the truck.

  “You must not mind Jude,” Wade said. “He has a . . . history with Lucifer.”

  “Whatever.” I shrugged. “I’m getting used to people not liking me.”

  “Whatever Jude may feel, our pack owes you a debt of gratitude. You may call on us whenever you feel the need, Madeline Black, and we will be there to assist you.” He placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head. “You are a friend to our pack.”

  “Thanks,” I said. It was nice to be welcomed by someone for a change instead of being threatened. “Back at you.”

  Wade smiled. “Until we meet again. En Taro Adun!”

  “Uh, Wade?” I said, and he stopped and turned back to me. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “ ‘En Taro Adun’?” Wade said. “It’s from StarCraft.”

  “StarCraft?” I said blankly.

  “It’s my favorite computer game,” he replied.

  “So, you’re like the world’s biggest dork?” Beezle asked.

  “How do you think I won leadership of my pack?” Wade said. “I am the reigning StarCraft champion.”

  He got in the truck as we all stared after him, wondering whether or not he was joking.

  Jude glanced back before he pulled away. The snake on my palm shifted restlessly, like it recognized his stare, and then they drove down the alley and out of sight.

  Azazel called a couple of hours later, demanding the whole story. It seemed that the tale of my slapping Amarantha had already carried back to his court and he was royally pissed at me. Somehow the tale-carrier had neglected a few details, so I told him everything that had happened from the time Gabriel had been taken up to and including my killing of Baraqiel. I left out Nathaniel’s assault. That was between me and Nathaniel.

  Azazel was silent after my recitation. “Well, I cannot say that Lord Lucifer will be pleased to hear of Baraqiel’s death, but it does seem that you have averted a war between Focalor’s court and my own.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “Did you pick up Antares?”

  “When we arrived, the cage was open and Antares was gone,” Azazel said.

  I shook my head even though I knew Azazel could not see me. “I swear, when the apocalypse comes and all living things in the world are wiped out, Antares will be the last man standing.”

  “And you should have told me of Gabriel’s disappearance,” he rebuked.

  “You would have killed him, and that is not acceptable to me,” I said.

  “Do not begin to start getting ideas above your station, daughter. You are still below me in rank,” Azazel said angrily. “It is my word that is final, not yours.”

  I looked at the palm of my hand and the squiggling serpent there. “I’m not so sure that you still outrank me, Father. And since I have more than proven my worth by averting a demon uprising and by being the only person to ever survive the Maze, I think you should start giving me a little more respect. I’m not a child to be pushed and manipulated by
you. Don’t expect me to behave that way anymore.”

  Azazel sputtered into the phone.

  “Oh, and I’m not marrying Nathaniel, either,” I said, and hung up.

  Okay, so there would be some fallout from that conversation, but I’d really had enough of Azazel. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that I’d ever wanted a father when I was a child.

  I turned to see Gabriel staring at me moodily. “You should not speak to Azazel thus. He is still your father.”

  “And I’m still his daughter,” I retorted. “I’m not his slave.”

  Slave was probably the wrong word to use. It hung awkwardly in the air between us.

  “What are you going to do with Samiel?” Gabriel asked.

  He glanced into the living room, where Beezle was gleefully beating the half nephilim at checkers. Beezle is a sore winner, but I had a feeling that Samiel would be kicking his little gargoyle butt on a regular basis once Ariell’s son figured out the rules.

  “Like I said, he’s staying,” I said firmly.

  Gabriel stared moodily at Samiel. “It is strange to find that I have a brother.”

  “But kind of nice, too, isn’t it? To have family?”

  “I do not know,” Gabriel said. “My family members have always wanted to kill me.”

  There wasn’t a real easy segue from that. I looked down at my left hand and wiggled my three remaining fingers.

  “I can try to heal you,” Gabriel said, and took my injured hand.

  It was the first time he’d touched me since I’d released him from the cage in Amarantha’s forest. My breath sucked in sharply and he dropped my hand. There was a meteor shooting across the black expanse of his eyes.

  “I do not know how we will resolve this, Madeline,” Gabriel said. “We cannot be.”

 

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