Black Wings bw-1

by Christina Henry

J.B. looked like he wanted to throw up. I was surprised he hadn’t already—the stink of sulfur was overwhelming. I cupped my hand over my nose.

  “Let him go, Antares,” I said in the most commanding voice that I could. It wasn’t very commanding since my hand was over my nose. I ended up sounding like I had a cold.

  Antares smiled and showed his mouthful of sharp teeth. He pulled J.B. a little closer and stroked one claw down J.B.’s neck. J.B. was pale but to his credit he made no sound.

  “But your friend and I are having so much fun,” Antares said. “Isn’t that right, Jacob?”

  “A laugh a minute,” J.B. said, his voice hoarse.

  Antares threw his head back and guffawed. “You are quite brave for a man about to have his throat slit.”

  I dropped my hand from my face and stepped forward. The little match flame inside me roared to about the size of a candle and then sank back. I had no magic. But Antares didn’t need to know that.

  “Let him go,” I said again, this time putting the force of my will behind the command. I saw Antares’s face flicker for a moment—confusion? fear?—then return to a smug expression.

  “And what,” Antares said silkily, “will you give me in return, little virgin?”

  Antares’s compatriots snorted and leered suggestively at me. The sight of them nauseated me more. Antares looked like a Hollywood stereotype of a demon—the red skin, the bat wings, the black claws and horns. His friends, however, looked more like the Thing in the Carpenter movie. One demon was a mass of loose, rubbery gray flesh that oozed from side to side as it paced—I assumed it paced; I couldn’t see anything resembling feet—behind Antares. Underneath the flesh something moved, like millions of maggots were crawling beneath the demon’s skin.

  The second demon had a more humanoid form, but it was squat and grossly fat. Its skin was pale and its eyes were a slitted purple. When it opened its mouth to smile at me, I saw blood caking its teeth.

  “How about you give me J.B. and I keep Gabriel here from kicking your ass from here to next Tuesday?” I said sweetly.

  Antares had been steadfastly avoiding Gabriel’s gaze up to this point, but now he was forced to acknowledge Gabriel’s silent presence beside me. The angel seemed content to let me handle the talking while he did the menacing bodyguard thing.

  My demon half brother said nothing for a moment, clearly unsure how to proceed. If he handed over J.B., he might not be humiliated in front of his little buddies. If he didn’t hand over J.B., he woulddefinitely be humiliated in front of his little buddies. He apparently decided to continue the show for his audience.

  “I do not fear Azazel’s thrall. He cannot lay a finger on me without endangering his own life or the life of his master,” Antares sneered.

  I wondered if that was true. Gabriel had said that my father had sworn an oath in order to save Gabriel’s life, an oath that said Azazel would keep Gabriel from becoming a monster like his father. But did that mean that Gabriel couldn’t physically defend himself from another demon? I didn’t want to appear uncertain or ignorant, so I mustered up my own bravado to match Antares’s.

  “So if Gabriel defeats you in combat, you’ll run and tattle?” I tutted. “Not exactly the most demonic response ever.”

  If Antares’s face hadn’t already been red, I’m sure that a blush would have risen on his cheeks. His eyes narrowed into slits as he yanked J.B. closer and opened his palm threateningly over J.B.’s neck. I watched, mesmerized by the sharpness of the claws that hovered over J.B.’s pulse.

  “I would not have to tattle, as you put it,” Antares hissed. “I would return to my master with the thrall’s entrails as my necklace as well as those of this foolish human.”

  “See,” Gabriel murmured for my ears alone. “Same material as always.”

  Then he took a step forward, motioning with his hand that I should stay back.

  “Regardless of what you believe the outcome might be were we to engage in combat, you know as well as I do that the Accords forbid the spilling of innocent human blood,” Gabriel said. “I do not believe Focalor would welcome the punishment our lord Lucifer would mete out if one of Focalor’s subjects violated the agreement in his name.”

  Behind Antares the other demons shifted nervously. The fat one spoke to Antares in a language I didn’t understand. It had an ugly, harsh sound, made worse by the demon’s wet, slurping voice.

  Antares barked back at the demon in the same language and it shrank away from his vehemence. He turned back to Gabriel, who had a smug little smile on his face.

  “Your friend is smarter than you,” Gabriel said. “Or at least, he has a stronger sense of self-preservation.”

  The second demon now joined in the protests of the first. Antares shouted at this one, too, but it didn’t seem to be as easily cowed as its companion. There were a few moments of heated exchange while J.B.’s life hung in the balance.

  I clenched my fists at my side and cursed my own powerlessness. If I could summon up another of those starbursts, I could blast Antares into oblivion and that would be the end of it. Of course, having zero control over my power, I would probably blast J.B. into oblivion, too.

  “Just wait,” Gabriel murmured, sensing my frustration. “I do not think that bloodshed will be necessary this day.”

  The second demon’s voice rose, and then it turned away from Antares. Antares shouted after it, but the second demon ignored him. It moved a few feet away from Antares and called to the fat demon, who hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure what side his bread was buttered on. Antares said something threatening to the fat demon, but it shook its head and ran to the side of the oozing demon.

  The oozing demon said a single word in that ugly language, and for the second time that day I saw a rent in the fabric of reality. A dark hole opened out of thin air in front of the oozing demon. All I could see inside it was a swirling vortex of smoke. Then the oozing demon disappeared inside the vortex and the fat demon followed.

  Antares wavered for a moment, long enough that the hole began to close a bit. Then he abruptly dropped J.B. to the ground and dove after his companions. The hole closed just as Antares’s barbed tail flicked inside.

  “Well, that was anticlimactic,” Gabriel said.

  “What the hell was that thing they used to get away?” I asked as I hurried down the steps to J.B. He attempted to stand but his legs buckled under him. I tried to put my arm under his shoulder to help him up, but he waved me away. I was hurt for a moment by his rejection, until he rolled over and puked on my lawn. Then I was just grateful.

  “A portal. Demons and angels use them for ease of travel over long distances,” Gabriel said as we waited for J.B. to pull himself together.

  “I saw Ramuell disappear into one of those before I blacked out,” I said.

  “Really?” Gabriel asked, intrigued. “A nephilim has no power to open a portal. This certainly lends credence to the notion that Ramuell’s puppet master is one of the fallen, most probably an enemy of Lord Azazel’s. It also explains why Ramuell did not destroy you when you were vulnerable.”

  “His master called him home at the wrong moment,” I said.

  “Precisely.”

  J.B. struggled to his feet, waving off my attempts to help him. “Water,” he croaked.

  I crooked a finger at him and bade him follow me inside. Gabriel went ahead of us. Beezle fluttered down from his perch on the roof to land on my shoulder.

  “Did you enjoy the show?” I asked mildly.

  “The denouement kind of sucked, but up until that point I had high hopes,” Beezle said. He glanced around at J.B., who was staring. “What are you looking at, ape?”

  “An ugly little what-the-fuck-are-you?” J.B. answered, following me up the stairs.

  I covered my mouth so that Beezle wouldn’t be offended by my snort of laughter, but his stony stare indicated that I hadn’t been very subtle.

  “Beezle is a gargoyle. He’s the protector of this house,” I said, when
Beezle didn’t deign to answer.

  “And the stinky horror-movie monsters? What were those?” he asked as we entered the kitchen. I got a glass of water from the sink faucet and handed it to him. He drank deeply until the glass was empty, and then handed it back to me and said, “More, please.”

  I took the glass and refilled it. “Those things on the front lawn were demons, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘please’ before.”

  “If you could have heard my thoughts while that thing was holding on to my jugular, you would have heard a lot of ‘pleases,’ ” he said, and smiled.

  I smiled back, and was reminded of how handsome he was. He was always such a flaming jerk it was easy to overlook his positive points.

  Gabriel cleared his throat, and I was suddenly reminded that he was in the room, and that Beezle was still perched on my shoulder, following this little exchange with avid interest.

  “So tell me again,” J.B. said. “What exactly is going on around here, Black? Was one of those demons the thing that you’ve been complaining about for the last couple of days?”

  “No,” I said, irritated at his dismissal of the nephilim as “that thing you’ve been complaining about.” “If it had been Ramuell, he wouldn’t have let you go. In fact, he wouldn’t have waited for me to watch—he would have just devoured you and told me about it later.”

  “Fine, then fill me in about this Ramuell so we can take care of him,” J.B. said, his natural arrogance reasserting itself now that he was out of danger.

  I shook my head. “First of all, you can’t just ‘take care of’ Ramuell. He’s nothing like you’ve ever imagined. And second—now you believe me? Now you’ve decided I’m not a crazy murderer?”

  He looked abashed. “Well, what the hell was I supposed to think?”

  “You were supposed to think better of me. You’ve known me for years.” I glared at J.B. and he glared back. It was almost as if the incident on the lawn had never happened. We had returned to status quo with barely a ripple.

  “Madeline,” Gabriel interrupted. “May I speak with you a moment?”

  I glanced over at Gabriel. He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, his face impassive. If I didn’t know him, I would have thought that he was as calm as Lake Michigan on a clear day. But I could see stars burning deep in his eyes.

  “His eyes are like yours were,” J.B. said wonderingly. “Just what is going on here? Are you in some kind of cult?”

  “Cult? No, it’s ...” I said, and Beezle gave me a warning squeeze of his claws. I realized quickly that he was right. J.B. would have to be on a need-to-know basis, and I wasn’t sure yet what he needed to know. “. . . a really long story. Listen, J.B., why don’t you go home? There is nothing else we can do tonight.”

  “That’s it?” he said. “You’re just going to shuffle me out the door without an explanation?”

  “Yes,” I said firmly, taking him by the elbow and leading him to the door. “I’ll meet you tomorrow morning at ten in your office, and explain everything. In the meantime, go home and get some sleep.”

  “I have a meeting with McConnell and Baroja tomorrow at ten A.M. to review some procedures,” he said.

  Now, that was the J.B. I knew. Never mind the demon attack; procedures needed reviewing. “Ten thirty, then. I promise to explain everything. And don’t mention this to anyone else, all right?”

  I unceremoniously pushed him out the door and shut it behind him.

  Beezle lifted off my shoulder and said, “I’m ready for a nap.” He flew out the front window without another word, leaving me alone with Gabriel. And being alone with Gabriel suddenly made me nervous. There was something very predatory in his eyes at that moment, something that made the match flame of power inside me flutter.

  “You wanted to talk to me?” I said.

  He said nothing, merely continued to stand with his arms crossed, leaning against the counter, stars firing in his eyes.

  “You know, I have had a very stressful few days, and if you have nothing important to say, then I think that you should head on down to your own apartment,” I snapped.

  Still he said nothing, and he didn’t move. I walked to the front door and pointedly opened it, standing beside it with an expectant look on my face.

  He moved then, and if I had a better sense of self-preservation, I would have gotten the hell out of the way. But I knew he was coming for me, and my heart sang out in welcome. He stopped in front of me, close enough for our thighs to brush together, and he closed the door with a flick of magic.

  I watched him, not speaking, hardly daring to breathe. Though I didn’t often think about the complete and utter lack of romance in my life, I felt terriblyvirginal at that moment. I didn’t really know what to do, or how to make sure that he did what I wanted him to do.

  And as he had done so often, Gabriel seemed to understand all of this without my saying a word. He put his hands on my shoulders, gently but firmly, and pulled me closer so that I could feel the heat of him pressing against me. It felt natural to put my arms around his neck, to turn my face up to his like a flower seeking the sun.

  He hesitated an instant, his mouth a whisper away from mine, and then he kissed me, a kiss so sweet and gentle that it brought tears to my eyes. I pressed closer to him, and his arms came around my back and his kiss deepened, and I heard a little moan escape my mouth. The sound seemed to break the spell, and he pulled back from me, his eyes fierce and blazing.

  “This is madness,” he said. “I cannot do this.”

  I wanted to ask why, to ask questions, to force him to come back to me. But I realized in an instant that I had other powers of persuasion. I stood on my tiptoes and brushed my mouth across his lips, his jaw, his neck below the ear. His breath was harsh and he gripped me tighter. He kissed me then with a bruising ferocity, like he wanted to devour me, and I kissed him back and held on tight.

  He pushed me against the door, his mouth on my face, my neck, my breasts, his hands moving underneath my clothes. I gasped for air, and in the midst of the storm of sensation, I felt something growing inside me, something like that starburst of light that had blasted out of me when Ramuell was on the verge of victory.

  And as before, I couldn’t stop it; I couldn’t control it. My body filled up with heat and light and it exploded out of me in a supernova, and I had no time to think or to worry about Gabriel because I fell away into the darkness.

  13

  “MADELINE. MADELINE.”

  Someone was calling me. I floated in water and darkness, and I was tired, and I wanted to sleep, and someone kept calling me, telling me to wake up. There were hands on my shoulders, strong hands that held tight, tight enough to hurt. I feebly tried to push them off, but they only shook more insistently.

  “Madeline, open your eyes and look at me,” he said.

  “Go ’way,” I mumbled. “Sleep.”

  “No, do not sleep,” he said, and his voice was a command, and the command pissed me off. I opened my eyes to tell him so, and saw Gabriel’s anxious face.

  “Stop looming,” I said crossly, and he released me instantly, the relief in his eyes palpable.

  “Thank the gods you are all right,” he said.

  “What happened?” I asked. “How come I’ve been knocked outagain?”

  “You do not remember?” he asked carefully.

  Images started to filter back—Gabriel’s hands, Gabriel’s mouth—and I felt my face redden. I sat up, and immediately felt dizzy. Black spots danced in front of my eyes.

  “What do you need?” he asked immediately.

  The question was entirely innocent, but our recent activities made it seem very suggestive to me. I wondered vaguely if everyone felt this stupid and awkward after they made out for the first time.

  “Umm, some water,” I said.

  He got up and went into the kitchen, and more memories trickled back, and then I remembered the explosion. I shot to my feet, then swayed and grabbed the doorknob so
I didn’t slide to the floor again.

  Gabriel came back in with a glass of water and saw me hanging on to the wall for dear life. “Gods above and below. You are as white as chalk.”

  He placed the glass on the table and rushed to my side, lifting me easily. He laid me on the couch and would have pulled away, but I grasped his hand and pressed it.

  “You aren’t hurt?” I asked urgently. My eyes roamed all over him, looking for signs that his skin had been blasted off like Ramuell’s. But he looked as perfect as ever.

  “I am unhurt,” he said, and to my surprise the tips of his ears turned pink.

  I looked at him questioningly. “What happened? How come the starburst didn’t mince you up the way it did Ramuell?”

  “I do not know why your power behaved that way, or why it harmed Ramuell and not myself,” he said. “I have never seen a manifestation like that before.”

  “But something happened to you,” I guessed.

  “Yes, well, I imagine it was due to the nature of our activities at the time,” he said, turning his face away.

  I had never seen him less than perfectly composed, and that in itself was so distracting that it took me a minute to put two and two together.

  “It feltgood, didn’t it?” I guessed.

  “Yes,” he said, barely opening his lips.

  “How good?” I pressed.

  “Very good,” he almost whispered. I was surprised to see a bit of red creep up his cheeks.

  I gave out a bark of laughter. “So Ramuell gets roasted alive, I get a hangover, and you get a happy. There is something very unfair in this equation, and I’m pretty sure it’s unfair to me.”

  Gabriel stiffened for a moment, and then some of the tension went out of him and he laughed. He kissed my forehead gently. “I think the issue to address is the source of this power. It seems to manifest itself at unexpected moments.”

  “And, apparently, it has varied effects,” I said.

  “Most important, it appears to exhaust you completely afterward, which is dangerous. If this power burst out of you while you were in combat with Ramuell or Antares, you would be left vulnerable to an attack.”