Black Spring

by Christina Henry

  “Yes, a normal life with wings and the power to destroy worlds,” Nathaniel said. “I do not think the American white picket fence is part of our future.”

  “Probably not,” I said, and smiled. “But I make great apple pie. Ask Beezle.”

  “I try not to speak to the gargoyle unless absolutely necessary. For some reason I find I become quite enraged when I do,” Nathaniel said, taking my hand and leading me from the room.

  I grabbed Lucifer’s sword and swung it over my shoulder. Alerian probably wouldn’t try to hurt me. Probably. But it was hard for me to leave the house without it. That sword had saved me more times than I could count. And even if Alerian meant me no harm, that didn’t mean some other freaky thing wouldn’t pop out of the woodwork. That seemed to happen to me a lot.

  “I think Beezle’s cultivating that effect on you,” I said. “He could be less annoying if he wanted to be.”

  “And I could rise to the bait less often, hmm?” he said as we went down the front stairs.

  “It might discourage bad behavior,” I said. “But I make no promises.”

  I stopped when I got to the front porch. “Umm, do you know where we’re going?”

  He shook his head. “No. But I do not believe it matters. Can you not feel him? It is just as it was when he was rose from the lake. We will be able to find him without trouble.”

  Now that Nathaniel mentioned it, I could feel Alerian’s presence in a way that had not been there the day before.

  “He must be exerting a great deal of power for it to be palpable to us,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I do not think so. I think we are more aware of him than the other three brothers.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” I said. “I can feel Lucifer in the back of my mind almost always. And I know when he’s approaching.”

  Nathaniel looked thoughtful. “I believe that is because you are bound to him through more than one line. Your child is also blood of Lucifer’s blood, and that strengthens your connection to him.”

  I nodded. “I’ll buy that. But we both have no direct tie to Alerian. You’re a closer relative than I am, being the son of his brother, but neither of us is a direct descendant. So why do we sense him so strongly?”

  Nathaniel looked troubled. “I do not know. But I am not certain it bodes well for either of us.”

  “There is something more elemental about Alerian, isn’t there?” I said as we cloaked ourselves from human sight and took off flying.

  “Daharan has that quality as well,” Nathaniel said. “But it seems that he deliberately banks the effect, whereas Alerian makes no attempts to hide it. Still, we all feel slightly uncomfortable around Daharan. He cannot hide his true nature completely.”

  “I don’t feel uncomfortable around him,” I said, surprised. “In fact, I feel exactly the opposite.”

  “Yes, well, the one thing the gargoyle and I can agree upon is that Daharan has an unnatural interest in you,” Nathaniel said.

  “He’s the only person related to Lucifer who has never asked anything of me,” I said, annoyed that Beezle and Nathaniel thought Daharan was plotting behind my back.

  “Yet,” Nathaniel said darkly.

  “He doesn’t mean me any harm,” I said. “I can feel it.”

  “But that does not mean that he has no agenda of his own,” Nathaniel said. “He had not been seen or heard from by his own brothers for many long years, and then he coincidentally appeared just when Puck sent you to that strange planet.”

  “To protect me,” I said impatiently. “He knew Puck was up to something and he wanted to keep me safe. And he was just as aware as the other two that Alerian had risen again. It’s only natural that he would come here with me, since Chicago has become ground zero in the struggle between all these ancient creatures.”

  “Because you are here,” Nathaniel said.

  “You’re here, too,” I pointed out. “And since your legacy from Puck has been revealed, you’re just as powerful as I am. Maybe more so.”

  “The old ones are not interested in me as they are you,” Nathaniel said. “There is something special in you, and they all wish to control it.”

  “Daharan doesn’t,” I said.

  Nathaniel said nothing, only looked at me from the corners of his eyes.

  “He doesn’t,” I repeated.

  I didn’t care what Nathaniel or Beezle said. Daharan didn’t want to control me, or take my baby, or make me his heir or anything else. Neither of them trusted my intuition (which, admittedly, had not always been super-accurate) but I knew I was right.

  “Don’t worry about Daharan,” I said. “Worry about Alerian.”

  “I can multitask,” Nathaniel said.

  I snorted out a laugh. “Have it your way, then.”

  I’d been so caught up in our conversation that I barely noticed where we were headed until we were there. That was the second or third time I’d found myself focused on one thing to the exclusion of everything else. It was a dangerous habit. If I wasn’t awake and aware of potential threats, I was going to get taken down by something magical and nasty.

  “Trump Tower?” I said, screwing up my face at the silver needle-topped structure. “I hate this building.”

  “I am sure Alerian did not choose it with your sense of aesthetics in mind,” Nathaniel said as we headed down the side of the building toward the sidewalk. “It is close to the river, close to the water.”

  “Why not Lake Point Tower?” I asked. “It’s right on top of the lake.”

  “Do not ask me to explain his reasons,” Nathaniel said.

  “It would be nice if this Alerian-radar-thing we have also came with some handy illumination-of-intentions,” I said as we entered the building under a veil.

  There was far too much glass and white and modern-looking furniture in the lobby for my taste. The ceilings were extremely high and there had been some attempt at softening the effect of all the sharp angles by placing huge potted plants at strategic intervals.

  We maneuvered easily around the bustle of people in the lobby—guests checking into the hotel, businessmen speaking staccato into phones as they hurried to meetings.

  Outside the glass the Chicago River was bluer than usual and it looked . . . “Alive” was the only word that seemed to fit. Normally the river is a muddy-looking churn. Even on sparkling summer days the water never really looks appealing the way Lake Michigan can. But now the river seemed like a powerful, electric thing, like it was giving off its own energy.

  “It is because of Alerian,” Nathaniel murmured quietly in my ear, his hand on my elbow.

  “I know,” I said, just as quietly. People tend to freak out if they hear disembodied voices. “How is it that nobody else seems to notice? Everyone seems so relentlessly normal.”

  “They may notice,” Nathaniel said as we approached the elevators. “But not the way you or I would. They would simply remark that the river looks pretty today.”

  “It looks pretty, all right, but it also looks wrong,” I said. “Don’t survival instincts exist anymore?”

  “There would likely be less crime if they did,” Nathaniel said.

  We fell silent as we entered an elevator behind an exhausted-looking family of tourists. They did not notice our presence; nor did any of them remark when Nathaniel pressed the button for Alerian’s floor and the button seemed to magically light up on its own.

  Of course we were invisible to mortal eyes, but you could still hear us if you listened closely, and you can always smell another person near you—their shampoo or body lotion or cologne. But the family remained oblivious, bickering about where to go for lunch.

  I guess what Nathaniel said was true. Most people had no survival instincts. No flicker of awareness on the back of the neck, no sense of wrongness. I’d have been dead long ago without those little cues.

  And yet despite seeing the evidence of vampires, angels and werewolves with their own eyes, there was no sense of concern, no frisso
n of alarm evident on the faces of the family who clattered out on their floor without noticing the presence of two creatures that could have killed them all in an instant.

  It made me angry. I’d pushed my mind and body to the brink over and over, trying to keep oblivious cows like those people innocent and safe. They couldn’t even have the courtesy to be aware of their surroundings.

  My baby shifted, his wings fluttering more rapidly as my anger built. Nathaniel’s arm went around my shoulders as the veil dropped away.

  “Madeline, calm yourself,” he murmured. “You are in no fit state to confront Alerian.”

  I nearly roared at him in response, then realized my anger was out of proportion. I took a deep breath, trying to push away the haze of red.

  “It is the shadow,” Nathaniel said. “It magnifies your emotions.”

  “I can’t stand it,” I said. “If I don’t keep perfect control at all times, it looms up, tries to influence me. And it’s all because of that damned Puck.”

  “Yes,” Nathaniel said. “But do not think of him now. It will affect your ability to deal with Alerian.”

  The elevator doors opened and we moved into the hall. There had been no discussion where to go. The two of us moved in perfect synchronicity, Alerian’s presence pulling us like a homing beacon. I’d half expected my uncle to have taken a fancy penthouse suite, but we appeared to be on a floor of regular rooms.

  Of course, when we knocked on the door and Alerian answered, I realized “regular” was relative. This wasn’t a roadside motel, after all. The room behind my uncle was richly appointed, with floor-to-ceiling-window views of the Chicago River.

  “Nathaniel. Madeline,” Alerian said in a voice as cool as the sea. His hair was blue-green again and so were his eyes, shifting like waves. He was so clearly not of this world that I was surprised he’d been able to stand so close to the mayor without eliciting concern from the mayor’s bodyguards, even with his unusual hair color covered up.

  The three of us stood there for a moment, Nathaniel and I side by side, our hands clutched together, and Alerian across from us, ancient and roiling with power beneath the surface of his gaze.

  I’d been a terrible student in school. I was lucky that I remembered how to add and subtract. Yet a fragment of a Tennyson poem I’d heard in some long-ago English class came back to me as I stared into the storm in Alerian’s eyes. Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea, His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep . . . Until the latter fire shall heat the deep; Then once by man and angels to be seen, In roaring he shall rise . . .

  Alerian was rising. That was why Nathaniel and I could feel his presence at all times. His power was drawing up, building in a way that it had not since the ancient days. What did he intend to do once he reached his apex?

  If Alerian truly was related to Lucifer and Puck, then he would have some complex machinery in place, a knotted web that I’d spend a great deal of time cutting through before I finally figured out the plot.

  These thoughts passed lightning-quick behind my eyes in the moments we all stared at one another. Then Alerian smoothly moved to one side and gestured for us to enter.

  4

  Nathaniel and I silently passed through the door. The room was pristine, not a personal object in sight save the jacket that matched Alerian’s pants slung over the chair.

  He closed the door, and I felt an uncomfortable prickling on my skin. With the door closed, his presence seemed to fill up all the empty space in the room. The energy coming from the river intensified the feeling that I was surrounded on all sides by Alerian.

  My uncle did not sit. Neither did we.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company—finally?” Alerian said. “I have been in your city for close to four months and neither of you have sought me out to pay respects as you should.”

  “You haven’t stopped by my place for a barbecue, either, pal,” I said.

  Beside me, I felt rather than heard Nathaniel’s nearly inaudible sigh. I was scared out of my wits and staring down a very old and very powerful being, but my mouth shot off without any consideration for the possibility of harm at the hands of that being. I blame Beezle.

  Alerian stiffened at my tone. “I did not receive an invitation.”

  “You didn’t send us one, either,” I said.

  His gaze grew icier.

  “See, that’s your problem right there,” I said. “No sense of humor. Lucifer or Puck would have been right there with me, snappy rejoinders at the ready.”

  “I do not play at life as my brothers do,” Alerian said.

  “No, but you’re happy to play with life,” I said, taking the opening. “Tell me about these shapeshifters of yours.”

  Alerian grew more still, if that was possible. I’d never seen anyone with such fine muscle control. He seemed not to even breathe.

  “I can only assume that Daharan has betrayed my confidence,” Alerian said. He said it in a way that implied, And my brother will pay for his treachery.

  I had no doubt that Daharan could defend himself, and he’d surely had plenty of practice dealing with his own sibling. But I couldn’t let the possibility of a threat against him stand.

  “Leave Daharan out of it,” I said. “He didn’t betray you. I saw one of your shifters myself.”

  A flicker of surprise moved over his face before he was able to disguise it again. “That is impossible.”

  “Obviously it is possible,” I said. “Based on your response, I’m going to assume you didn’t know one of them was out running around, terrorizing innocent wolf packs.”

  Despite what I said, I was careful not to make any assumptions about Alerian’s potential involvement. Just because he was surprised that I had encountered the shifter didn’t mean that he wasn’t aware of its existence. He might have thought the creature safely locked up somewhere.

  I expected Alerian to think, to weigh his words before speaking, but he surprised me by responding quickly.

  “If you know of the shifters, then you also know that Daharan forced me to destroy them,” he said. “Whatever you saw, it was no creature of mine.”

  I glanced at Nathaniel, who gave a tiny shake of his head. No.

  He didn’t think I should push it. The line of inquiry hadn’t revealed any new information anyway, so I was willing to let it go. For now.

  “What about this plan for a supernatural ghetto?” I asked. “Did you come up with that all on your own, or did the mayor help you out?”

  Alerian smiled then, a crafty, malicious smile that chilled me to the bone. “I am merely a consultant offering my services and assistance to the city. I have no power to dictate policy to the current administration.”

  “What a load of bullshit,” I said. “The mayor doesn’t have enough imagination to come up with a plan like this on his own.”

  Alerian moved forward suddenly, quick as a striking cobra, and before I could blink he stood less than an inch from me. Nathaniel stepped toward us, presumably to help, but I shook my head at him. Whatever happened was between Alerian and me.

  “Know this, niece. My other brothers may tolerate such disrespect from you, but I shall not. You will not speak to me thus again unless you wish to suffer the consequences.”

  His power became more palpable, suffocating. My natural inclination was to flip him the bird, which was my fallback response anytime something stronger and more powerful than me tried to tell me what to do. I recognized that this was not a wise play. Unlike everyone else I met, something about Alerian told me that he truly was not to be trifled with. However, I felt that it would set a bad precedent if I let him think he had the upper hand.

  “You will not threaten me,” I said, and lifted my chin.

  “Do you not care for the child in your body?” Alerian said. “I could rip him squalling from your belly and strangle the life from him before you bled out on the floor. You are nothing, a mote of dust in time and space.”

  He had said exactly the wrong thing. E
xactly the wrong thing. I could take any kind of insult to myself, but not to my child. Never to my child.

  The shadow inside me roared up, and with it the push of magic. It pressed against Alerian’s power, furious, seeking to destroy.

  Alerian smiled again and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me close to him. I heard Nathaniel shout, but the sound came from far away, swallowed by the waves of the ocean. Then I was pulled beneath its depths, descending into the cool darkness. There was no light, no air, only a suffocating pressure and the blue-green swirl of Alerian’s eyes.

  I kicked my feet, felt the resistance of the water, but it was fruitless. I was wrapped in the embrace of the leviathan, and he would not release his quarry.

  It was dark, and growing darker, and the shadow inside me smiled. It loved the dark.

  Magic surged, releasing the pressure that threatened to crush me. I kicked toward the surface, and the light.

  Alerian released me abruptly, staring at me. His face reflected no emotion, but I could sense his surprise. Nathaniel dragged me away from our uncle and toward the door.

  Alerian stood where we left him, frozen in place, looking out the window at the river, saying nothing.

  Nathaniel didn’t speak to me either as he hurried me down the hall to the elevator. I could sense all the unsaid reprimands he held back. I also felt him drop a veil over our wings only. We could be seen, but we looked like a normal human couple.

  We entered an elevator occupied by another couple that were either on their honeymoon or having an affair. Nobody in a tired relationship twines themselves around another person like that in a public place.

  The busy twosome took zero notice of Nathaniel or me. My companion and I spoke not a word to each other. Nathaniel kept his hand at my elbow like I was a wayward child that needed guidance.

  When we were outside again he turned to me, his blue eyes snapping with anger.

  “Would you like to explain what the point of that little exercise was?” Nathaniel said. “We gathered no information and you nearly got yourself killed—again.”

  “Look at the river,” I said, pointing at the water.