Black Howl bw-3

by Christina Henry

  By the time I was ready Samiel and Gabriel were already standing at the door like two sentinels. Beezle fluttered to my shoulder.

  “Up, up and away, Team Black,” I said dryly.

  A couple of minutes later we stood at the corner of Addison and Sheffield in front of the statue of Billy Williams. Wrigley Field loomed silently behind us. We were invisible from human eyes.

  A steady stream of commuters poured across the intersection as the Red Line stop was only half a block away. Storefronts housed ticket brokers and shops that hawked Cubs merchandise, most of them silent this time of year, when baseball season and the heat of summer seemed like hazy memories.

  The bars that liberally dotted the area were quiet tonight, with very few Blackhawks fans willing to brave the freezing temperatures just to drink overpriced beer and watch a game they could just as easily see at home.

  I straightened up when I saw him—Cole Stuart Janowik. There’s no glowing light, pointing arrow, chorus of hallelujahs or anything like that when I see a marked soul. I just know, like all of my power locks onto that person with a laser sight.

  Cole was young, mid-twenties maybe, and he moved with the stream of people that had gotten off the El and walked west on Addison. He talked on an expensive-looking smartphone as he walked, a wireless headset on his head, the phone in his hand.

  This was not a dangerous neighborhood, but the guy was totally unaware of his surroundings. A blond kid who had the look of a strung-out junkie pushed Cole just as he reached the curb, then tore the phone from his hand. The thief sprinted across the street toward Wrigley just as the light changed to red.

  Cole, intent on retrieving his phone, did not even notice the custom furniture company truck accelerating across Addison on Sheffield.

  “Splat,” Beezle said.

  “That’s a little cruel,” I said.

  I tried not to let death affect me too much. I saw a lot of it, and the weight would be unbearable if I let it. But it seemed so stupid and pointless to die under the wheels of a furniture truck because an addict needed to sell your phone to get a fix.

  I told my overprotective entourage to stay back, and went to offer the soul of Cole Stuart Janowik his final choice.

  We were flying back home from the Door a short time later. Everyone seemed to be in a contemplative mood and not inclined for too much conversation. Lucifer’s edict had cast a pall over us, and no amount of wisecracking would relieve the heaviness in my heart. Lucifer had cornered me good and proper.

  I was flying on autopilot, glancing idly at the scene below, when something caught my eye. I pulled up short so fast that Beezle lost his grip on my shoulder. He fell a few feet, then flew back up, looking irritated. Gabriel and Samiel had paused a little ways ahead, and looked back at me, confused.

  “What was that all about?”

  “That,” I said, and pointed.

  Far below us was a semi-industrial area. I knew that some of the larger buildings housed a cable company and the power company.

  One of the buildings was coated in a seething mass of energy that looked like green mist. From a distance the feeling of malevolence rising from it was palpable.

  “I’m sure that it is not a good idea to do whatever it is you’re thinking of doing,” Beezle said.

  “I think we should check it out,” I said. “There’s obviously something wrong with that place.”

  “Like I said, not a good idea,” Beezle retorted.

  I ignored him and drifted slowly downward. As the ground approached, more features came into view. A short distance away I could see the lights on Addison and Western, the fast food restaurants and the giant structure of Lane Tech High School.

  We landed in the parking lot of a plaza that housed the cable company and a large facility that ran kids’ soccer programs. The building in question was at the far end of the lot.

  As we approached it I felt a wave of nausea rising. Whatever was coming off the structure was making me feel sick, just like that time I was in Amarantha’s forest and Nathaniel and I ran into the…

  “Spider,” I gasped.

  Samiel and Gabriel looked questioningly at me.

  “When I was in Amarantha’s forest, I was attacked by a giant spider,” I said slowly. It was hard to talk through the sickness rising in my throat. “The spider was surrounded by this same green misty stuff, and it makes me feel like I’m gonna…”

  I turned away and heaved, Beezle leaving my shoulder.

  “What a waste of perfectly good pizza,” he said.

  Gabriel produced a bottle of water from nowhere and I took it gratefully.

  “Better?” he asked after I’d collected myself.

  I nodded and looked at the building. “What do you think is in there?”

  “A bunch of spiders, obviously,” Beezle said. “So do we really want to voluntarily go into a place full of giant arachnids?”

  “Want? No.” I shuddered. I have a moderate case of arachnophobia, and almost getting eaten by giant spiders twice had done nothing to improve my symptoms. “Should? Yes.”

  “Why is it our job to check out every freaky thing that happens in Chicago?” Beezle whined.

  “Who else is going to do it? The cops wouldn’t know what they were getting into.”

  I approached the building slowly, Gabriel and Samiel moving to either side of me. Both of them seemed unaffected by the miasma, just like Nathaniel in the forest. The mortal half of me was annoyingly susceptible to malignant spells. It was hard to concentrate, to be aware of what was going on around me, when I kept having to stop and fight the urge to boot again.

  A small door faced the parking lot. Unlike the rest of the warehouse, which looked like it was in violation of several city codes, the door appeared brand-new and very secure. There was a magnetic strip machine next to the door. You obviously needed a card to enter.

  There were no windows on this side of the building, so we flew around it to see if there was another means of entry. Nothing. No windows, no doors, no vents. Nothing. Just the solid blank face of crumbling concrete and that door.

  We returned to the starting point.

  “I bet Samiel could smash it in,” I said.

  Samiel nodded and signed, I’ll give it a try.

  Gabriel stopped him with a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  “You will certainly set off an alarm.”

  I rocked back on my heels, annoyed. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about an alarm. Of course whatever was in there would be protected by more than just green miasma.

  Beezle snapped his fingers. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. Maddy, you can go in.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You can pass through walls. You’re the Hound of the Hunt.”

  “Can I do that even if I’m not on Lucifer’s business?” I asked skeptically.

  Beezle shrugged. “We might as well try. If it doesn’t work, we can go back to staring blankly at the door.”

  I sighed. “So I get to go into the creepy haunted warehouse all on my own. Hooray.”

  “You’re the one who said we needed to check this out,” Beezle reminded me.

  Gabriel put his hand on my arm. “I do not like this.”

  I turned toward him, touched his cheek. “You can’t always protect me.”

  He frowned. “I do not know any other way to be.”

  I kissed him swiftly and turned away, aware of Beezle and Samiel watching us with unabashed curiosity. One of these days I was going to take Gabriel to a deserted island, far away from prying eyes.

  I took a deep breath, trying to quell the nausea that would not leave and the feeling that I was about to do something incredibly stupid. Again.

  I put my hand on the wall next to the blinking light of the magnetic strip. Lucifer’s sword rattled in its sheath, and the snake on my palm tingled.

  “I am the Hound of the Hunt,” I said, the words flowing easily, as if I had said them before. “No walls can hide my quarry
.”

  The surface felt suddenly fluid beneath my fingers and my arm slid through it as easily as water. I glanced back at the others. Gabriel looked tense, Samiel worried. Beezle gave me a thumbs-up.

  “Draw your sword,” Gabriel whispered. “You know not what enemies may await.”

  I pulled the sword from its scabbard and readied myself.

  “I’m going to try and open the door from inside without triggering the alarm. If I can’t do that and I’m not back in half an hour, call J.B. and tell him to bring a retrieval unit.”

  Gabriel nodded. I slipped through the wall, sword at the ready, and shocked the hell out of the charcarion demon sitting at a receptionist’s desk.

  The demon’s mouth dropped open. I took two fast steps forward and threw the sword like a javelin at the demon’s head. The sword passed cleanly through the demon’s open mouth and pinned him like an insect to the wall behind him.

  I had to have had some supernatural help on that one because there was no way that I was that competent a swordswoman. I looked at the snake on my hand and it winked at me. I may never get over the extreme weirdness of having a sentient tattoo.

  The demon gurgled and flailed for a moment, then went still. I pulled the sword from its body, the blade coated in green-gray blood.

  Now that the immediate threat was over I was able to look around. The interior was surprisingly clean and new-looking. It could have been the reception area of any office downtown—paneled walls, light gray carpet, half-moon reception desk.

  The entry door was behind me, and when I turned to look at it I saw a flashing keypad. Chances were good that it was rigged to sound an alarm if it was opened without a code. So if I opened it up and let the others in, then I might as well have let Samiel break down the door in the first place. I guess I was on my own for the moment.

  To my right was a long hallway. Several closed doors faced the hall. To my left was another door with a magnetic strip for a key card.

  The doors to the right were likely offices. I didn’t want to take a chance on disturbing anyone at work who might raise an alarm. Besides, the presence of extra security meant that whatever was interesting in the warehouse was probably behind that door.

  I took a deep breath and then a giant step through the door, my heart pounding in my chest, terrified that some guard on the other side of the door would raise a cry as soon as I went through.

  There was no guard on the other side. There was no need.

  Three gigantic spiders hung suspended from the ceiling, which was several dozen feet above me. The miasma filled the room so thickly I could hardly breathe. I felt my stomach heave in protest. I swallowed rapidly and breathed through my nose. Puking on the floor would definitely attract the spiders’ attention.

  Once I got myself under control (and was able to look away from the horror of the spiders), I surveyed the rest of the room. My heart sank.

  The room was filled with people, maybe sixty or seventy of them, all sitting bound and silent in plain wooden chairs. Their eyes were taped open and in front of each person was one of those camera things doing an eyeball scan with a laser. Several people were pale and slumped over.

  There was nothing for it. I needed help. There was no way I’d be able to free all of these people and herd them out (screaming, no doubt) under the watchful eye of the spiders. The creatures appeared to be dozing right now, which was the only way I’d managed to escape detection.

  I was about to step out quietly when a movement about halfway down the room caught my eye.

  The familiar silvery wisps that indicated a soul rose from the body of a young woman in her mid-twenties who’d just breathed her last breath. There was no Agent present but me, which meant that this death was not a part of the natural order.

  I unfurled my wings and blinked out of sight. I just hoped the spiders wouldn’t be able to see me anyway. I’d learned the hard way that some supernatural creatures can see through the Agent’s veil.

  I flew over the heads of the other prisoners and touched down softly next to the woman’s body. Her soul was emerging much more slowly than a soul usually did, and it was twisting and writhing as it came.

  Usually a soul looks just like a mirror image of the living person—except, you know, see-through. But this soul didn’t seem to know what it was supposed to look like. The pieces of her face kept scattering and re-forming, and even then the result didn’t look quite right, like a digital image missing some pixels.

  Despite her indistinct features, I could tell her eyes were wide, staring up, her mouth open in a silent scream. I thought she was reacting to the trauma of the machines, but I realized a second before it landed on my head that she was watching one of the giant spiders descending swiftly and silently. I stumbled away as the spider picked up the dead body and began to wrap it in silk. Her soul struggled in terror, trying to break free of her mortal shell.

  Oh, no, I thought.

  I hurried forward, praying to the Morningstar that the spider wouldn’t detect me. I couldn’t let her soul in its already terrified state get stuck inside the silk, still attached to her body as the spider began to eat it.

  The stink of the spider’s rotten breath and the miasma that poured off it filled my nostrils. I gagged, covered my face with my sleeve and hoped Lucifer’s sword would cut through the ectoplasmic cord that held this poor woman’s soul to her body.

  I usually use magic to cut the soul since my mother’s dagger had melted in the flesh of a dragon on my front lawn a couple of months before. But I worried the spider would notice magic being performed under its nonexistent nose, and I didn’t have time to do the usual ritual and offer the woman a choice.

  I crept closer to the spider busily wrapping up its prey. The soul was struggling, pulling on the cord that bound her to her body. I lifted the sword and struck a clean blow just under the spider’s jaws.

  The soul broke free, screaming, the incorporeal body dissolving and re-forming in her panic and confusion. The spider immediately dropped the body and made a high-pitched chittering noise. I guess it had noticed something, after all. It didn’t seem to see me, because I stood frozen in place less than a foot away from its fangs. But it knew something was wrong, and its chitter had notified the other blood-bloated monsters dangling over my head.

  They lowered quickly to their companion, and I saw stars for a moment. I hoped I wouldn’t pass out from panic. If you are a moderate arachnophobe, the last place you want to be is in an enclosed space with three spiders the size of CTA buses. Actually, after this I was pretty sure I’d be a full-on arachnophobe. Forget moderation.

  The spiders began to click and hiss at one another. Since proximity was making me hyperventilate I backed away slowly, holding the sword in front of me and trying to make my footfalls as soft as possible. It seemed that I might be able to get away and get help.

  Until the heel of my boot knocked into the leg of one of the wooden chairs. The person in the chair toppled sideways and, separated from the machine, began to bellow at the top of his lungs.

  The first spider screamed and bounded forward in a giant leap to the place where I stood, invisible still.

  I didn’t have time to run or to think. I saw the spider’s huge, hairy body above my head, coming down on me, and I jumped back and pushed the sword into the spider’s crazy multifaceted eye as it landed.

  The spider jerked, screeched, thrashed its legs on the floor. I set my feet and yanked the sword free, leaving the spider to its death throes. The blade was unharmed, but some acidic goo had run out of the spider’s eyes and burned the top of my right hand and the cuff of my coat.

  “This is why I can’t have anything nice,” I muttered. “Including hands.”

  The other spiders, quite aware that someone was in the warehouse who was not supposed to be, reared up on their silks a few feet—the better to survey the area with, one assumed. I was torn between running to get help and trying to defeat the other two spiders. I worried that a lot of
innocent bystanders would be harmed if I stayed and tried to take the spiders out.

  Thinking it would be safer for the prisoners if I went out and returned with backup, I resumed my slow backward walk.

  The spiders screamed and dropped toward me with frightening rapidity. I didn’t know what gave me away until I looked downward and saw my boot prints in the slippery blood pouring from the spider’s body.

  “Sometimes I wonder if J.B.’s right about me Three-Stooging my way through life,” I said out loud.

  There was nothing to do now except stand and fight and try to limit collateral damage. The man I knocked over was crying himself hoarse because of his separation from the cameras.

  I lifted off from the ground as the spiders landed on the floor near the body of the dead one. I swooped over the head of the nearest eight-legged monster and then arrowed downward with the sword pointed in front of me. I pushed the blade up to the hilt into the spider’s body. As I did I shot electricity through the blade and into the spider. I was getting really good at that spell.

  There were the smells of flesh cooking and blackened blood, and the spider went still as its insides were fried.

  I yanked out the sword and turned toward the other spider, but it was gone.

  10

  A WHISPER OF MOVEMENT, THE FAINTEST OF CLICKS. I looked up and saw the other spider mere inches from me. I leapt backward off the electrocuted spider. Well, okay, it was a lot more like an awkward motion in which I tumbled ass-over-elbows and landed hard on my side in a big icky pool of spider gore. Lara Croft I am not.

  The last spider landed on the body of its compatriot with a triumphant chitter, and then it realized I wasn’t there.

  I pushed to my feet, discovered the sword had gone flying somewhere and I couldn’t see it. I tried to raise my arms to shoot nightfire at the spider and noticed something else. My right arm hurt like hell, and it was hanging at an awkward angle.

  “Dislocated shoulder. Awesome,” I said through my teeth. It hurt.

  The spider leapt toward the place where I’d landed in blood. I shot upward on my wings, threw nightfire at it with my good arm. The nightfire bounced harmlessly off its hairy body. All I was really doing was giving away my position as the spider threw webs and swung closer and closer to the source of the blasts.