Black Howl bw-3

by Christina Henry

  “Of course you are,” J.B. said in a tone that implied I was an idiot. “It’s in the best interests of the Agency to publicly suppress all the weird shit that seems to happen at this address.”

  “The neighbors do notice, then?”

  “They’d have to be either dead or stupid not to. So tell me why it looks like there’s been a war in here, and why you’ve got bruises on your throat.”

  I summed up the morning’s events. J.B.’s eyebrows went up to his hairline when I told him that it was the Hound of the Hunt in the basement.

  “I don’t know whether to be impressed or depressed,” J.B. said.

  “I often feel that way around Madeline,” Gabriel said, and the two of them shared a look of understanding.

  “What’s to be depressed about?”

  “You’re going to have to pay a price for killing Metatrion,” J.B. said.

  “That happens to me all the time,” I said.

  “And your enemies, which include my beloved mother, will perceive you as a greater threat since you managed to kill such a powerful being. Which means they will redouble their efforts to kill you.”

  “Well,” I said, clapping my hands together, “what’s a few extra death threats when you’ve already got dozens of them? I have something more important to show you, anyway.”

  I recounted the story of the cubs’ kidnapping and what I’d found in the cave as J.B., Gabriel and Beezle followed me into the basement. I pulled the bag of cameras from the dryer.

  “That’s some security system you’ve got there,” J.B. said sarcastically.

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my house was destroyed this morning and I’ve hardly had time to think about putting these in a safer place. Besides, now you can take them back to the Agency and put them behind a million layers of lead and steel if you want.”

  J.B. untangled the knotted sleeves of my coat and pulled one of the machines from the bag, inspecting it. “It looks like a digital camera.”

  “I know. I can’t figure out what they were doing to the cubs, but it definitely damaged their brains. The older cubs were acting exactly like the ghost I found.”

  “So, is whatever is in this machine killing them? Or is it just damaging them beyond repair and their deaths are unrelated?”

  “I can easily see someone dying by accident once they’ve been exposed to this machine,” I said slowly. “They could walk into traffic, or step off a cliff, and never even know where they are.”

  “But it still doesn’t explain why they aren’t being tracked by the Agency. We’re finding these ghosts by accident, not at the sites of their deaths. If they have souls, then we should know when and how they’re going to die. But that’s not happening.”

  “What if the mental damage is affecting the way the Agency perceives these people? They still have souls, but the Agency isn’t recognizing them as such because of…whatever it is that this machine does.”

  J.B. looked doubtful. “We’ve taken the souls of people in many different mental states over the past several millennia. Recognition has never been an issue.”

  “What else could explain how so many people are disappearing from the Agency’s radar?”

  “I don’t know,” J.B. said, obviously frustrated. Then he grinned at me. “But I’m sure that if I wait, you’ll find out for me.”

  “That’s nice,” I muttered. “Like I don’t have enough to do. And somehow I have to make new windows—and a new wall—appear out of thin air.”

  “I can do that,” J.B. said, and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He barked a few terse orders at the person on the other end of the line and hung up. “Someone will be here in about an hour to fix everything.”

  I stared at him. “You know, yesterday morning you were acting like I had a contagious disease. You haven’t spoken civilly to me for weeks. Do you have a multiple personality disorder or something?”

  He shrugged and looked uncomfortably at Gabriel and Beezle, who were not disguising their interest in the least.

  “Don’t mind them,” I said. “I can’t do anything these days without an audience.”

  “Maybe I thought about some of what you said yesterday, and realized I was being unfair to you.”

  “Can someone run and check the temperature in Hell, please? Because that sounded a lot like an apology.”

  “You could just say, ‘Thank you for the windows, J.B.,’ and stop giving me a hard time.”

  “Thank you for the windows, J.B.,” I parroted.

  “And thank you for these,” he said, tying the knot of my coat back together and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll let you know what I find. Don’t forget your pickup at two.”

  “So that’s when it is,” I said. “You wouldn’t, uh, happen to know where it is, would you?”

  He rolled his eyes and pulled the piece of paper with the information from his pocket. “I had a feeling.”

  “I’ve never missed a pickup before,” I said, stung. I might have chaos around me at all times but I’d never failed in my duties as an Agent.

  “You’ve never had a dead body in your basement before,” he said, leaning forward to kiss my cheek. I let him, because I do love J.B. Just not the way that I love Gabriel.

  Gabriel stiffened and J.B. smiled. “See you around, Black.”

  It was only after he left that I realized he’d taken my winter coat with him.

  I sighed, locked the door and turned to see Beezle fluttering in the air with a hopeful look on his face.

  “I don’t have time to go to the restaurant before the window guys get here,” I said. “I’ll make your cinnamon rolls from scratch.”

  Beezle grinned. “I don’t care how I get them, as long as I get what I want.”

  I thought of Lucifer and the Grigori, and every other creature around me that seemed to stop at nothing until they’d achieved their aims. “Yeah, you and everybody else.”

  8

  BY DINNERTIME I HAD A REPAIRED APARTMENT, A COMPLETED soul pickup and a cinnamon-roll-stuffed gargoyle. And I do mean stuffed. He ate enough rolls for a whole family of gargoyles. I didn’t say anything, though. When Beezle is upset he eats, and he was really upset about Samiel, even if he didn’t say it.

  It felt strange to go to bed that night without Samiel in the house. I’d become used to hearing him moving around the apartment, and to the easy company he provided. Samiel was just about the only person in my life who didn’t ask anything of me.

  Gabriel had returned to his own apartment downstairs after the repairmen had completed their work. I didn’t follow him. I honestly wasn’t up to another emotional battering.

  I hardly slept, even though I desperately needed it. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined the Grigori torturing Samiel for his crimes, and that is hardly conducive to a restful night. At dawn I gave up the pretense and climbed out of bed. Beezle was already awake and digging into the emergency chocolate.

  I leaned against the kitchen counter and raised my eyebrow. He ignored me and stuffed a handful of dark chocolate squares into his beak.

  “Those are meant to be savored, you know,” I said.

  “Believe me,” Beezle said, through his stuffed mouth, “I am savoring every bite.”

  I watched Beezle for a few more minutes, and then wandered over to the refrigerator to see if there was anything edible in there. Two eggs, half a carton of milk and one sad-looking stalk of celery in the crisper drawer. I didn’t even have condiments on the door. For a person who occasionally freelanced as a food writer my fridge was pretty pathetic.

  “So, how are you planning on pulling this one off?” Beezle asked. “You can’t get around the fact that Samiel did release Ramuell, and Ramuell did kill a whole bunch of people. Plus, Samiel kidnapped Gabriel and sold him to Focalor, and I can’t even begin to explain to you how many rules of etiquette he broke by doing that.”

  “Don’t you think the murder of dozens of people would rank higher than some infraction of e
tiquette?”

  “The Grigori have been alive for ages untold. They’ve had plenty of practice being petty.”

  I stared out the new windows that had been installed the day before in the breakfast nook. They were nicer than the old windows, which had been ancient and drafty and lacking the double-paned fanciness of the new ones.

  “I don’t think the facts are ultimately that important to the Grigori. I think if I can demonstrate that I am an adversary to be respected, then I’ll win. If I can’t, then Samiel…”

  “Will be beheaded in front of the whole court, no doubt,” Beezle said.

  “You’re such a comfort to me,” I said.

  “And just how are you going to demonstrate that they should respect you?”

  “It’s about power,” I said slowly. “Not only the power that you wield, but also the power that you command. That’s why Lucifer is always trying to collect me.”

  “You don’t have anyone in your pile of chess pieces,” Beezle said.

  “Maybe not directly. Maybe not the way that Lucifer or Amarantha would. But I do have friends, and allies. And with the fallen, so much is about perception. If they perceive my allies as pawns that I control, then in the eyes of the Grigori I am powerful.”

  “Who are you going to get in the next couple of hours besides that moony-eyed devil that lives downstairs?”

  I gave him a look.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you were doing in the yard the other night.”

  “Okay, Dad. Anyway, J.B. would come, and Jude, probably.”

  “Yeah, that’ll be great. The son of the woman who tried to help Focalor with his uprising against Lucifer and a wolf who despises anything to do with the fallen. Excellent choices, Maddy.”

  “It’s the best we have,” I said, stung. “Besides, we need someone to carry Metatrion, and Jude is the strongest creature I know besides Samiel.”

  “I almost forgot about Metatrion. This is going to be awesome. You show up with two crummy allies and the remains of the Hound of the Hunt.”

  “I have Gabriel, too,” I reminded him.

  “The half brother of the accused.”

  “You act like I shouldn’t even bother showing up,” I said.

  “I just don’t think you know what you’re getting into with the Grigori.”

  “That’s what you said about Amarantha and the faerie court, too.”

  “Look how well that turned out.”

  “I think it turned out fine. I defeated Focalor’s uprising, suppressed Amarantha’s plan to breed a child of Lucifer’s bloodline and survived the Maze.”

  “And now Amarantha and Focalor hate you and want to hunt you to the ends of the Earth.”

  “I can’t worry about the fallout from doing the right thing. Every time I turn around I have another enemy no matter what, just because I’m Azazel’s child or Lucifer’s descendant. And I don’t think that you should underestimate me just because everyone else does.”

  “I’m not underestimating you,” Beezle said. “But if by some miracle you do win Samiel back, what do you think you’ll have to give in exchange? ‘Free’ is not a word in the Grigori’s vocabulary.”

  I didn’t say anything. I knew Beezle was right, but there wasn’t a lot of point in worrying about it. If I freed Samiel, then I would pay whatever price I had to when the time came.

  A little before noon I stood outside the closed doors to Azazel’s court. Gabriel, J.B. and Jude stood around me. Of the three, Jude had naturally been the most reluctant to help when I’d called him.

  “Why should I care about some court matter of the fallen?” Jude asked. “My pack is dealing with more important matters at the moment, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, Samiel risked his life to help return the cubs to you. I think Wade would want you to assist us.”

  “I don’t know what Wade would want, because he’s not here,” Jude growled.

  I sighed and waited in silence. There wasn’t a lot I could say to that.

  “Fine,” Jude said after a few moments. “I will be there.”

  Jude had arrived at my house wearing his usual worn jeans, flannel shirt and vest. In concession to the frigid cold the vest was down instead of denim and he’d shoved a wool hat over his red hair. He looked like a Bears fan ready for a tailgating party.

  Gabriel wore a white dress shirt with black slacks, which was all he ever wore. J.B. had come from work so he was dressed similarly to Gabriel, except his shirt was light blue and his pants were gray.

  I’d decided against dressing up. I always feel stupid in a skirt, and pretty much all of my nice clothes seem to end up torn and bloody anyhow. I didn’t want to feel any more self-conscious in front of the Grigori than I already did, so on went one of my many long-sleeved black tees and my favorite blue jeans. Beezle just rolled his eyes when I clomped out in my usual uniform, my boots laced up over my ankles.

  So we look a little ragtag, I thought, surveying my crew. Beezle snored away on my shoulder. But they were still an impressive collection of power, enough to give the Grigori pause. And if the fallen didn’t recognize what was before them because we didn’t present an impressive appearance, then that was okay, too. All the better to underestimate you with, my dear.

  That was, I hoped they would. Lucifer, at least, knew what I was capable of, but who knew if he would bother to enlighten the others? I was certain Lucifer was looking for some advantage from this, but not being privy to every twist of his labyrinthine mind I had no idea what that advantage might be. It was probably best not to worry about Lucifer at all and just hope his wants didn’t really conflict with mine.

  The doors swung open, and I had a moment of déjà vu when I saw Nathaniel standing there, looking golden and haughty, as he had been the first time I’d arrived at Azazel’s court.

  “The Grigori are ready for you now,” he said, and he gave me a little half smile.

  On closer inspection Nathaniel didn’t look quite as polished as he usually did. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair looked a little more mussed than usual. I wondered if Azazel was blaming Nathaniel for my revocation of the engagement. It would explain why Nathaniel had that slightly hunted look. He was probably getting needled by Azazel day and night.

  We went through the open doors, me in front and the other three shoulder to shoulder directly behind me. I paused for a moment when I realized the ballroom had been transformed.

  The room was normally an open floor plan the approximate size of half a football field. It was shaped like a rectangle and lined floor to ceiling with windows on the long sides of the rectangle.

  Each time I had been here it was like a never-ending party. Low sofas and chairs lined the walls. Members of Azazel’s court would mingle and mill about, while being served champagne and canapés by thralls and demons.

  Azazel would hear grievances and conduct court business at the far end, opposite the doors we’d entered. There was a plain wood chair there that nonetheless managed to convey “throne.”

  Now all of that was gone. The loitering partygoers of the court were nowhere to be seen. The comfy sofas had been removed. There was no one circling with appetizers.

  At the far end of the ballroom, two high structures had been put in place. They were long benches that stood about six feet off the ground. The benches were paneled in front so that you could see the creatures that sat upon them only from the waist up, like a judge’s seat in a courtroom.

  The benches were placed at an angle from a throne that had been positioned in the middle so that the benches made a giant V. The throne was at the point of the V and the benches were the long sides.

  The throne was a resplendent monstrosity of gold leaf and sparkling jewels, and it floated on a little puff of white cloud so that the angel that sat upon it was about half a head higher than everyone else.

  Lucifer (for who else would sit on something so ostentatious?) smirked down at me from the throne. The G
rigori sat upon the benches—Azazel at Lucifer’s right hand, and the others, whom I did not know, arranged down the line according to rank, I presumed.

  There was no sign of Samiel, and a whole lot of empty space between us and the scowling members of the court. I raised my chin and strode forward, the heels of my boots ringing loudly on the marble floor.

  The others followed silently behind. They were all tall men. Jude outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds and he was carrying Metatrion, but they all managed to walk more quietly than I did. Well, it had been well established that I was a klutz of the first order. Walking gracefully was not one of my strengths.

  I came to a halt at a spot in between the benches at the widest point of the V. I wanted to be able to see all the faces of the Grigori without twisting my head back and forth.

  I had a moment of surprise when I saw Focalor sitting at the far end of one of the benches. I’d thought that he’d be chained up in Lucifer’s basement for all eternity for his attempted uprising. But then again, Lucifer had probably devised something completely diabolical that did not involve physical torment. From the sullen look on Focalor’s face I had probably guessed right.

  I looked up at Lucifer. “You left something at my house.”

  Jude came forward and flung the body of Metatrion on the floor. Several of the Grigori gasped and muttered angrily.

  “Yes, I was wondering where my Hound of the Hunt had gone. His quarry returned without him.”

  I pointed to the purple bruises on my throat. I’d asked Gabriel not to heal me so that the Grigori could see the evidence of Metatrion’s actions. My voice was still pretty raspy, too.

  “He tried to give me a present that I had to refuse. And speaking of quarry and returning, you can give Samiel back to me now.”

  “Samiel is to be tried before this court for his crimes,” Azazel said.

  I ignored my father. I was getting really good at doing that.

  “Tried for his crimes, or for your amusement? Because I’m pretty sure you could stop this circus with a word,” I said to Lucifer.