Black Wings

by Christina Henry

  Antares. I couldn’t believe that I had ever thought I wanted a brother when I was kid. My only sibling had been a giant pain in the behind from the moment he kicked me down the front porch stairs until I snuffed his life out.

  My stomach rumbled. Okay, maybe my appetite wasn’t completely gone.

  “Let’s have pizza.” I thought that there was a strong possibility that this could be my last good meal on Earth. “And wings. And maybe cheesecake. I’m buying.”

  19

  AS WE ATE, GABRIEL AND I DISCUSSED MY LAST VISION of Evangeline, the one that I’d had while at Azazel’s court. Beezle smelled pizza and fluttered in from outside, wordlessly thrusting an extra plate at me to fill for him. Gabriel still seemed astounded by what I had learned.

  “I cannot believe the Archangel would take Lucifer’s children as his own,” Gabriel said wonderingly. “How did he manage it? He could not pass them off as his own blood, even if they were infused with his grace. Mating with a mortal woman would have resulted in his expulsion from paradise.”

  “He did it somehow.” I shrugged. “Anyway, the important thing here is that Evangeline has filled in a lot of holes for us.”

  “Such as?” Beezle said through a mouthful of cheese and dough.

  I put down my slice of pizza to tick off points on my fingers. “Number one, I am definitely from Evangeline’s bloodline. You said yourself, Beezle, that Lucifer’s power was that of collecting souls. That’s what I do. That’s what every Agent does.”

  Beezle’s eyes widened. “And the Morningstar’s power was disguised when Michael infused the children with his grace. How could I have been so stupid?”

  “I do not believe that anyone could have predicted this. We have long suspected that Evangeline and the children were lost or killed, and that Agents were created by the light for the purpose of replacing Lord Lucifer,” Gabriel said.

  “Agents probably were created for that reason,” I said. “But we weren’t created out of thin air. We came from Lucifer’s line. Anyway, point number two. There was one survivor of Evangeline’s scorched-earth policy, and that being is probably the one controlling Ramuell’s puppet strings.”

  “That’s an awfully big leap,” Beezle said. “How do you come to that conclusion?”

  “Because I seem to be targeted specifically. Because Evangeline heard an angel speaking of her death and the deaths of her children as a way to destroy Lucifer. Because if Ramuell’s puppet master wanted to kill Lucifer, what better way than to destroy the last direct descendant of Evangeline?”

  “And how do you know you’re her last direct descendant?” Beezle asked.

  “She’s spending an awful lot of time sending me visions,” I said. “You think she’d bother if I was just some yahoo? Obviously she thinks I need this information now. Evangeline wanted me to see her escaped captor, so that I will recognize Ramuell’s master when I see her.”

  “Or perhaps she just wanted you to know that one of her captors survived so that you can turn over that angel to Lord Lucifer’s justice,” Gabriel pointed out. “It could have nothing to do with Ramuell at all. But I agree that it is likely you are her last direct descendant. It is doubtless the only reason that she was able to awaken these memories in your blood.”

  I lifted my eyebrows at Beezle, as if to say, “See?”

  “Whether she wanted me to see the face of her captor so that I could tell Lucifer about it or capture Ramuell, it doesn’t matter. The point is that she’s leading me toward this angel for some reason and I should probably find out what that reason is.”

  “But if it is not related to Ramuell, we cannot afford to waste valuable time on what is, essentially, a matter of old justice,” Gabriel said.

  “Do you really think that Lucifer would view the fate of his lover and her children as ‘old justice’?” I said.

  Gabriel looked uncomfortable. “Of course not. But it is essential that we capture Ramuell and his puppet master. That is the task that Lord Azazel has left to us. And besides, how would Evangeline’s captor know that you were her last descendant?”

  “Because she saw Michael take Evangeline and the children. She witnessed the whole thing from a mountain-top. That means that she alone besides the involved parties knew the fate of Evangeline and the children. I’m telling you,” I said, “that I think that my visions are related to our problem with Ramuell.”

  “And you believe this angel bided her time for thousands of years, waiting for an opportunity to kill Evangeline’s descendants? Why not kill the children when they began acting in their father’s stead as soul collectors?” Gabriel asked, his tone doubtful.

  I threw my hands up in frustration. “I can’t fill in all the blanks here. I just know what Evangeline has showed me, and what I feel in my gut. Evangeline could have sent these visions to me anytime in the last thirty-two years. I have to believe that she is sending them to me now to help me capture Ramuell and whoever is controlling him. Evangeline loved Lucifer. She sacrificed her life with him to protect him and his children.

  “And besides, I don’t care how much money he’s given me—I am not at Azazel’s beck and call. If I want to trace the angel instead of following Ramuell’s path directly, then that’s my business.”

  Beezle threw his hands up in the air. “Here we go again.”

  “No, I’m serious,” I said. “After what I did to Ramuell today, I don’t think that Azazel could make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

  “What makes you think you will be able to summon that ability—or any ability—again at will?” Gabriel said reasonably.

  “Oh, sure, now I get a lecture about my magical deficiencies,” I said, crossing my arms and glaring at him.

  “You do not know how to control your power or your abilities. You admitted as much yourself. And in any case, it is not simply your own life that you risk when you defy Azazel.”

  The reminder that Gabriel’s fate was tied to my own was sobering. And he was right. I shouldn’t put myself or him in a position where we could be punished by Azazel simply because I made a threat and was unable to follow through when my magic went haywire at the wrong moment.

  “So we’re back to the same issue I brought up earlier. I need to understand how to control my powers. Before the next big, bad whatever tries to kill me.”

  “You’re not going to be able to learn control in three and a half seconds,” Beezle said. “You’ve got to keep your emotions in check, for one thing.”

  “Well,” I said, holding my arms out. “There’s no time like the present, is there?”

  Beezle and Gabriel looked at each other and shrugged.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’”I said. “Let’s finish eating so we can get started.”

  Four hours later I flopped onto the couch with a blazing headache. I had changed out of my semi-fancy clothes and into a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. We had practiced in the basement so as not to destroy any furniture that I actually liked. My pants were covered in dust—it had been a long while since I’d thought to vacuum the basement. The shirt was drenched in sweat and my hairline was soaked.

  Gabriel and Beezle had run me through the wringer. First, Beezle had instructed me to find the source of my power (the little thing in my belly that I thought of as a match flame), then helped me focus my concentration so that I could metaphorically increase or decrease the flame at will. It required me to link my brain and the source of my magic together. I imagined the match flame connected to a knob that I could flick on or off with a thought. It seemed the best way to help me focus.

  It took me several tries and a lot of cursing—on my part and Beezle’s—before I could focus on the power without falling into a meditative state. As Beezle pointed out, it was not a good idea to need that much concentration in order to tap my powers. Ramuell would have devoured me by the time I got into the proper frame of mind.

  Once I could tap the source of power pretty quickly, Gabriel started testing me. He blasted me
with different spells, occasionally taunting me. It was up to me to stay focused and controlled and not let the magic flame up too quickly. I also had to produce the correct abilities at the correct time—offensive blasts, defensive shields and so on.

  Gabriel was a patient teacher, but I was not a patient student. About half the time I got so irritated that I blasted a massive, and completely unnecessary, amount of magic back at him and ended up exhausted and tapped out, magically speaking. I’d needed time to recharge in each instance—time enough to get my goose cooked in a real battle, as Beezle so helpfully pointed out.

  I never realized just how little self-control I had. My loner lifestyle had left me at a disadvantage. I’d never had to control my temper for the sake of another person, or keep my cool under pressure in a job. For all intents and purposes I had the emotional control of a three-year-old.

  And while I learned how to find the magic inside of me, and turn it up or down as needed—if I stayed in control—I didn’t know how to call specific abilities. Twice I used the electromagnetic pulse to defend myself without knowing how I’d called it to me. And since neither Gabriel nor Beezle had ever seen abilities like mine, they didn’t know how to tell me to do it. Both of them just counseled control, control, control until I was ready to blast them with nightfire just so that they would shut up.

  And that, I thought to myself, is exactly the reason why they told you to stay in control in the first place.

  By the end of the training session I’d broken an old futon that I had been meaning to sell or give away and blasted apart several boxes of accrued junk. All in all I felt lucky not to have nuked Gabriel by accident or had a massive starburst explosion that collapsed the entire building. Beezle went in the kitchen to make popcorn—again—and Gabriel went downstairs to his apartment to change. I closed my eyes and let myself doze.

  I opened my eyes when I heard Gabriel open the front door. His face was troubled.

  “What’s the problem?” I said.

  He hesitated, and I saw an indefinable emotion flicker across his face.

  “Lord Azazel has ordered that we do not track Ramuell at this time. After the incident at the Agency he is wary of your drawing too close to Lucifer’s enemies.”

  I wanted to retort that one more enemy wouldn’t make much of a difference, but I bit my tongue. Gabriel didn’t deserve to be shouted at just because I didn’t want my every breath approved by Azazel first. Although I was pretty annoyed that he had talked to Azazel. It made me wonder if I would ever come first in his eyes.

  “And he is sending Nathaniel to you to ensure your safety,” he said.

  “What!” I exploded, coming to my feet in one angry motion. “I don’t want that pompous jerk hanging around and annoying me while we have work to do.”

  “You do not have a choice, Madeline. He is your betrothed,” Gabriel said softly.

  “We’ll just see about that,” I muttered. “Look, it’s almost daylight. Ramuell attacked me in the alley near Greenwitch’s house. You may be able to trace him directly from there. And maybe we can avoid Nathaniel while we’re at it.”

  “He would still be able to trace you,” Gabriel said.

  “How?”

  He held up his cell phone.

  “You don’t have to answer that, you know.”

  “Yes,” Gabriel sighed, “I do. And you cannot ask me to directly ignore an order of Lord Azazel’s.”

  Which told me everything I needed to know. When push came to shove, Gabriel would choose Azazel over me. It made the feelings between us a little easier to ignore, I supposed. I wanted him but there was a universe of obstacles in our way.

  “Fine. You don’t have to ignore Azazel’s orders, but I can.”

  Gabriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if he were searching for patience. “It is seditious for you to ignore the will of your father.”

  “If my father wanted me to respect his will, then he should have hung around. As it is, he missed the key personality-formation years and therefore can stick it.”

  “Madeline . . .”

  “No,” I said, growing angry. “I am not going to sit around and wait for Ramuell to come after me again. I am not going to wait for him to tear some innocent bystander to pieces. I am going after him. Are you helping me or not?”

  Gabriel looked at me. I gazed steadily back. Beezle rotated his head back and forth between us, trying to see who would break first.

  Something shifted in his eyes. “Lord Azazel did not, I suppose, directly order you to stay away from Greenwitch’s.”

  I nodded.

  “And I am bound to stay at your side.”

  I nodded again.

  “Then I suppose I must accompany you there, and if we happen to come upon Ramuell’s traces, then it would be folly not to follow them.”

  I smiled. Maybe the obstacles between us weren’t so great after all.

  “Can nephilim come out in the daytime?” I asked.

  “I suppose so,” Gabriel answered. “Why?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that I’ve only seen Ramuell at night. I was wondering if maybe sunlight ...”

  “Burned the nephilim to ash like a vampire?” Beezle snorted. “Maddy, remember that the nephilim are half-angel, and angels are born of the sun.”

  “Right.” I nodded and went into my room to change. But I was thinking about the ragged shreds of skin left on Ramuell after I’d blasted him with the starburst. That power seemed to have a lot in common with the sun. Maybe every nephilim wasn’t vulnerable to sunlight, but Ramuell could be. His father was the Morningstar, after all, and Beezle had said that the traits of the angels were twisted inside the nephilim. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that a father so closely associated with the sun could have a child that couldn’t bear the touch of it?

  It was something to think about, anyway.

  We managed to get out of the house before Nathaniel arrived. Beezle promised to delay the angel as long as possible so that Gabriel and I could work uninterrupted. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when we arrived at Greenwitch’s place. It was too early even for the coffee shop on the corner to have opened yet.

  The building looked much the same as it had the last time I had been there. Gabriel stepped up to the door. He put his hand over the doorknob and muttered something under his breath. I heard the dead bolt click open inside.

  “It can’t be that easy,” I said, hesitating on the threshold.

  Gabriel stepped inside and headed down the staircase. “My magic is not insignificant, Madeline. I, too, am a descendant of Lord Lucifer.”

  I dithered for a moment in the doorway and finally decided it was better to follow him and close the door. No sense standing on the stoop, yelling after him and waking the neighbors.

  The air inside was filled with the scent of herbs, thyme and sage most predominantly. It didn’t have that unused smell that living spaces get when the occupants are gone for more than a few hours. Greenwitch hadn’t been gone for that long but still, I’d have expected the air to be a little stale.

  “I didn’t say your magic was insignificant. And I’m not interested in playing a who’s-closer-to-Lucifer’s-bloodline game,” I said as I hurried after him. “I said it can’t be that easy. Greenwitch was an extremely powerful demon. She probably had a lot of enemies.”

  Gabriel had already turned into the workroom where Greenwitch had taken me on my last visit. “And your point is?” he called back, sounding distracted.

  “The point is that she should have had some protective wards or something. We shouldn’t have been able to walk right in. Something isn’t right here.” I rounded the corner after Gabriel and plowed into his back. “Hey.”

  “You’re right,” he said, stepping aside so that I could see the room. “Something isn’t right here.”

  It looked as though an extremely destructive pack of toddlers had been through the room. The wardrobe where Greenwitch had kept my charm had been broken open and the doors w
renched from their hinges. Charms and herbs were scattered everywhere and the air was redolent with the smell of the crushed leaves. Her worktable had been smashed in half by something very big, very strong, or both.

  “Damn,” I said, backing up a little to stand in the doorway as Gabriel picked through the mess. “Who could have done this, and why?”

  “I am not sure,” Gabriel said, picking up a silver locket, examining it and discarding it.

  “Someone needs their apple juice and cheese crackers,” I said, examining the destruction, and then I smelled it.

  The whiff of sulfur came a breath too late. Antares already had his claws around my neck, even as I was turned, even as I tried to tap my magic. He yanked me close to his body and bent his head close to mine.

  “Hello again, little sister,” he crooned in my ear. His saliva spattered on my neck and my skin burned where it touched.

  “Oh, well, that answers that question,” I said as his claws pressed into my flesh. Warm rivulets of blood flowed into the neckline of my peacoat. At least my stupid half brother was alive, and I definitely would not be tortured for killing him. Of course, he was probably going to kill me momentarily, so it all came out in the wash, I suppose.

  “How is it that you managed to survive?” I said calmly. “I was sure I nuked you to bits.”

  Antares laughed, and I could feel his chest rumbling against my back. I tried not to show how completely and totally I wanted to pee my pants.

  “I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he said.

  “Tricks your mommy left you,” I taunted, and his arm tightened around me. “No tricks of your own.”

  Gabriel stood motionless in the middle of the room, watching us. I could see the calculation in his eyes.

  “Do not even think about it, outcast,” Antares hissed. “I will have slit her throat before you can conjure a spell.”

  “Do it, Gabriel. He’s going to kill me anyway,” I said. I felt strangely calm. “Of course, he’s going to cheat and use one of Mommy’s spells because he’s too weak to produce one of his own, but still. You might as well take him out, too.”