Black Night bw-2

by Christina Henry

  “That’s J.B.,” I said. “Let’s get this party on the road.”

  10

  AS SOON AS I STEPPED ONTO THE PORCH, J.B. WHISTLED at me.

  “You look awesome,” he said, looking me up and down several times.

  I said nothing but gave Nathaniel a pointed look.

  “I still think you look like a secretary,” he said in reply.

  “Yeah, but a sexy secretary,” J.B. said. He wore an extremely expensive-looking tailored suit under an equally tailored coat, and he’d tucked his glasses away somewhere. His eyes were a brilliant green.

  “Okay, enough with the compliments, or lack thereof,” Beezle said. “Let’s get a move on, here.”

  “How are we getting there?” I asked J.B. “Portal?”

  “Nah. Mom’s sending a car,” he said. “It’ll pick us up in the alley.”

  So we tramped down the gangway to the backyard with our luggage, Beezle fluttering behind me. It was kind of amazing that none of our neighbors had ever seen him, especially since we hadn’t exactly been secretive about his presence lately.

  We stood in the alley, blowing our breath on our hands and stamping our feet. It felt about ten degrees colder than the day before. At least this time I was properly dressed, with a hat and gloves and scarf in addition to my long wool coat. I noticed some dried mud that I had missed in my hasty cleaning this morning and tried to brush it off with my glove. Nathaniel shook his head at me pityingly.

  “This negotiation is doomed before we even begin,” he said.

  “Will you stop acting like I’m dressed like a peasant?” I snapped.

  “You’re covered in mud.”

  “Do you want to be covered in blood?” I said. “Because that can be arranged.”

  “Children, children,” J.B. said.

  Just then a long black limousine rounded the corner and came toward us.

  “Why did we have to get picked up back here?” I asked J.B.

  “Because the driver is part troll,” he replied as the limo came to a smooth stop in front of us. “He’s a little conspicuous. Try not to stare.”

  Trolls mostly lived in isolated wilderness areas because of their size, which could reach well over twenty feet. Since wilderness areas weren’t generally in my pick-up range I’d never had the opportunity to see one. I’d heard a lot of stories from Agents who’d transferred from rural areas—apparently trolls tended not to cooperate with the Agency very well. I was a little curious about how a troll half-breed had happened. They were so big I didn’t think they would be able to crossbreed with anything humanoid. Then I realized that the breeding process was probably horrible for the non-troll, and decided to stop thinking about such things. They were not conducive to an easy mind, and I was more than a little nervous about this meeting.

  Lucifer was counting on me, and aside from the fact that I really didn’t want him upset with me, I wanted to have my debt to him cleared. This job was a repayment for killing his son. Now, his son had done his damndest to kill me several times and was a monster by any calculation, but Lucifer was still bothered by it. I owed him a boon, and this was it. Once I got clear of this, then we were back on an even footing, or as even as one could be with the devil himself.

  The driver of the limo got out and came around to open the door for us. I tried to take J.B.’s advice, but it was hard not to stare. The troll was dressed in a typical chauffeur’s outfit—black suit, white shirt, black hat. He was roughly human-sized, about six feet tall with the bulging muscles of a bodybuilder straining the fabric of his suit. All this would not have been in the least notable except that he had the face of a furless boar.

  He had a pig’s snout, longish pointed ears with tufts of hair at the end, small cunning eyes, and fangs that jutted over his upper lip. The effect was so disconcerting that it was difficult to look him in the eye as I stepped into the car ahead of J.B. and Nathaniel.

  “Ambassador Black,” he said, and his voice was low and growling.

  I nodded at him—it seemed like the appropriate thing to do—and then settled myself on one of the plush seats.

  J.B. managed to slide in next to me, cutting Nathaniel out so that he was forced to sit on the opposite seat. Nathaniel glared at J.B. as the latter slung a friendly arm around my shoulders. Apparently Nathaniel’s fawning respect for J.B. had evaporated in the face of male territoriality.

  J.B. leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you . . .”

  “Don’t eat or drink anything while we’re in the court,” I whispered back. “I know. I don’t want to be trapped in the faerie court for the next hundred years. I have enough problems. I packed plenty of snacks.”

  “Did you pack enough for you and Beezle? Because I’ve seen the way your gargoyle eats. And don’t speak too freely in front of Tyree—the driver,” he said. “He reports everything right back to my mother.”

  “Got it,” I said.

  I glanced over at Nathaniel. His face had turned brick red with annoyance. I wanted to tell him that J.B. and I weren’t flirting—it only looked that way. But then I remembered that I didn’t want to marry him anyway. I don’t know why I kept having these concerns for his feelings. I didn’t want to think that Nathaniel might be growing on me, especially when he hadn’t even said anything nice about my outfit.

  J.B. kept his arm around my shoulders, but I resisted the urge to sink back and relax. I had too many things to worry about, and most of all I missed Gabriel. He had only been a part of my life for a few months, but nothing seemed right without him. And I hated to think of him being harmed and unable to defend himself.

  I looked out the window and let my thoughts drift—Amarantha, Lucifer, the wolves, Samiel, Focalor, Antares. So many players, so many pieces on the chessboard. The question was—was I pawn or player? I wasn’t sure yet. I wasn’t even sure what Lucifer wanted me to negotiate with Amarantha. He’d said he wanted to reestablish relations, but once I did that what else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t privy to Lucifer’s needs and wants, and I wasn’t sure if furthering his agenda was the best thing for the world in any case.

  After a while my eyes closed of their own volition. I don’t know how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes again I was curled into J.B.’s chest and it was dark outside. I looked sleepily up and saw that J.B. had a very satisfied smile on his face. Beezle was coiled into a sleeping ball on the other side of the seat from him. Nathaniel stared out the window, his face frozen.

  I pushed away from J.B. and stretched. “How much farther?”

  “You actually woke up just in time,” he said. “If you look out the window, you can see the castle as we approach.”

  “The castle,” I said. I don’t know why I thought that Amarantha would live in an ordinary house. My own father lived in a rather palatial home.

  But when I glanced out the window I saw that Amarantha lived in a real, honest-to-goodness faerie castle, with high towers, winding turrets, catwalks—the works. The whole thing was about the size of five or six city blocks, and it was surrounded by a genuine moat. As we approached the castle, a drawbridge came down to allow us access into the courtyard.

  “Grog and meat, anyone?” I muttered. I noticed that several faeries carrying bows and dressed like the warriors we had met in the woods patrolled the catwalks. Apparently these were Amarantha’s soldiers. I wondered why she felt she needed them when her forest was full of freaky things that ate intruders. Was her kingdom that threatened, or was she just that paranoid?

  The limousine pulled to a stop in front of a huge arched doorway. Tyree shut off the car and stepped around to open the door for us.

  “Remember,” J.B. said. “The court follows very strict rules. Do not show any disrespect to the queen.”

  “And do not treat the servants as your equals,” Nathaniel said.

  “And don’t eat or drink anything that’s offered, but refuse it politely,” Beezle reminded me.

  “And also . . .” J.B. b
egan.

  “I don’t need three babysitters,” I said. “I know to be careful.”

  “But you don’t know when to stop running at the mouth,” Beezle said.

  “Look who raised me,” I said pointedly.

  “What are you trying to say?” Beezle said, looking offended.

  I rolled my eyes and stepped out of the car behind the others. Beezle fluttered down to my shoulder and landed with a grunt. I decided to start practicing my tongue biting now and withheld the comment about his weight. Best to begin as I meant to go on.

  J.B. led the way to the front door. Before we reached it, the door swung open wide without a sound. A glitteringly perfect faerie stood there with a fake smile of welcome on her face, and suddenly I understood why Nathaniel had said I was underdressed.

  She was about five foot ten with the body of a lingerie model, and she wore a floor-length purple silk gown that clung to every curve on the way down. Her blond hair was piled artfully on her head and she wore jewels everywhere they could be worn. She held her hands out to J.B.

  “My prince,” the faerie said, and of course she had a breathy, Kathleen Turner–type voice on top of that body that screamed sex.

  “Lady Violet,” he replied, kissing her fingers.

  I felt a weird little flutter, almost like jealousy, but I decided that couldn’t be it. I did want to ask J.B. when he had suddenly turned into Rico Suave, but the skinny bitch clinging to his arm gestured for us to join them.

  “Ambassador Black, I am Lady Violet, the queen’s right hand,” she purred, giving me the once-over and finding me not worth her time. “My queen is awaiting your arrival in her court. Lord Nathaniel ap Zerachiel, you also are welcome as a member of Ambassador Black’s party. And who . . . is this?”

  Violet couldn’t keep her nose from wrinkling in distaste as she looked at Beezle, still perched on my shoulder.

  “This is my gargoyle, Beezle,” I said.

  “A gargoyle. How . . . quaint.”

  “I’m assuming he’s as welcome as everyone else in my party,” I said pointedly.

  J.B. widened his eyes at me, but I wasn’t going to let her or anyone be rude to Beezle. And really—I was a princess, not just an ambassador. I outranked her, and from everything J.B. and Beezle had told me, rank was everything with these faeries. Best to remind her of that.

  Violet’s face had reddened slightly at my rebuke and she flashed me a venomous look before she had a chance to hide it under the smooth mask of welcome. Oh, well. I didn’t think we were going to be BFFs anyway.

  “Of course. You are welcome to Queen Amarantha’s court . . . Beezle.”

  Beezle gave her a regal nod from his perch, like he was a king deigning to acknowledge a peasant. High color flared in Violet’s cheeks. I wanted to give him a high five but that seemed like it would be bad form.

  I felt rather than heard Nathaniel give a little sigh next to me. Whatever.

  Violet turned on one spiked heel, her arm still firmly curled around J.B.’s.

  “If you will come this way, please, Ambassador. Your coats and luggage will be brought to your rooms.”

  We pulled off our outer things and handed them to more faeries who appeared out of nowhere. They didn’t speak, simply took our coats, bowed, and slipped away again.

  “Passages in the walls, you think?” I whispered to Beezle.

  He nodded thoughtfully, then took off from my shoulder to fly ahead a little. I think he wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation between J.B. and Violet. The two of them were having quite the little tête-à-tête as we strode along.

  If there were passages in the walls, that meant there was always a chance of our conversation being overheard. I made a mental note not to speak too freely while we were here.

  J.B. and Violet walked ahead of us down a long stone corridor lined with medieval armor. Amarantha apparently really enjoyed playing queen of the castle, down to all of the accessories. Then I got a closer look at one of the helmets on the suits. Inside was a human face, frozen in terror, mouth open, eyes wide. I gulped.

  Nathaniel noticed the direction of my gaze. He leaned close to me as we walked.

  “Those are soldiers from the War of the Roses in 1460,” Nathaniel whispered. “Amarantha kept them as trophies when she helped the Earl of Warwick defeat the Lancasters at the Battle of Northampton. She added the armor later.”

  “Isn’t that in England?” I said.

  “Yes. Amarantha had her castle moved brick by brick when she migrated here two hundred years ago.”

  “Just how old is she, anyway?” I asked. This corridor seemed to be taking forever, especially now that I knew the suits of armor were filled with bodies.

  Nathaniel frowned. “I am unsure of her precise age, but I believe she has recently entered the 1107th year of her reign as queen.”

  “Wonderful,” I said sotto voce. “How come everyone I meet is a kajillion years older than me? They’ve all had centuries to practice being crafty. Me, I’m just a thirtysomething thrown in the deep end of the pool without a floatie.”

  “I am your floatie,” Nathaniel said.

  I giggled. I couldn’t help it. Nathaniel looked so stiff and formal, as he always did, even when he said the word “floatie.”

  “You do not believe my assistance will be valuable? I assure you, I have had many dealings with Queen Amarantha,” he said, his voice frosty.

  “Of course I believe you’ll be valuable,” I said, not wanting to deal with one of his hissy fits right now. “It’s just that—”

  I was cut off as we finally rounded the corner at the end of the corridor and we were greeted by a set of polished oak doors. Violet finally took her claws off J.B.’s arm and turned to face us.

  “If you will wait here for a moment, I will alert the queen to your presence.”

  She disappeared inside the double doors so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to peek at the throne room behind them. Based on the rest of the castle, though, I was sure that Amarantha’s court would be dazzling, ostentatious and probably a little scary. I took a deep breath and steeled myself. Beezle fluttered back to my shoulder and gave me a reassuring squeeze of his claws.

  A few minutes later the doors swung open and I heard a voice announce, “Ambassador Madeline Black ap Azazel, on behalf of Lord Lucifer. Lord Nathaniel ap Zerachiel, escorting. Prince Jonquil of Queen Amarantha’s court, escorting.”

  I gave J.B. a sideways look. “Jonquil?”

  He took my arm very firmly and pressed his lips together. “Not a word.”

  “Oh, no,” I whispered. “I am definitely not going to forget this.”

  We stepped into the breach, J.B. on one side of me and Nathaniel on the other, both of them holding my arms. I felt like Dorothy skipping down the yellow brick road between the Tin Man and the Scarecrow. Too bad I didn’t have a basket to put Beezle in.

  The throne room was pretty much what I’d expected, although from a slightly different era. Rather than sticking with the medieval theme here, Amarantha had gone for Baroque. The ceiling was high and covered in gold foil and curlicues. The windows were draped with pink velvet and gold tassels. The parquet floor was polished to a high gloss. I half expected to see Louis XIV come striding down to meet me.

  The room was the size of a ballroom rather than a throne room, and it was packed to the gills with faeries dressed like they were at a black-tie wedding. Amarantha’s throne was on a raised dais at the opposite end of the doors, so that we had to promenade in front of the assemblage in order to reach her.

  As we entered the room, there was a momentary hush, and then the murmur of voices started up again, many of them declaring in disparaging tones that I looked terribly ordinary and other things to that effect.

  I was reminded of the first time I entered Azazel’s court, when so many of the angels had found me wanting. I just hoped that this visit wouldn’t end the way that one had—with someone getting their head chopped off. I still had nightmares sometimes abou
t Greenwitch’s head rolling to my feet, her pale eyes staring forever into the void.

  J.B. patted my arms reassuringly. “You’re better than they think.”

  I smiled at him. “I know that, but thanks for saying it anyway.”

  He smiled back, and I felt that little flutter again, this time in the vicinity of my heart.

  The crowd parted before us in ripples, and I finally got a look at Amarantha. She was looking pretty damned good for a woman over a thousand years old. She didn’t even look old enough to be J.B.’s mom. Of course, Azazel looked like he could be my handsome older brother. That was just a symptom of being the half-human child of an immortal.

  Amarantha had mahogany hair pulled to a low knot at the base of her neck, the same glittering green eyes as J.B. and a perfect heart-shaped face. Rather than go overboard on the fashion front (as I’d expected, given the crazy gold and velvet all over the room), she’d chosen to set off her flawless skin with a simple, fluid dress the color of champagne. It left her shoulders bare and highlighted the diamond the size of my thumb that she wore nestled between her perfect breasts.

  We drew to a halt in front of the dais, and the queen rose from her throne to greet us. She did not, however, step down to our level. Point taken. Her eyes were hard and watchful, and I could almost see the calculations moving behind those green orbs. She was taking my measure and, like so many others, finding me to be less than she’d expected. Well, that was fine. When people have low expectations of me, I find that it’s easier to take them by surprise.

  “Ambassador Black,” she said, and as she spoke I heard conversations hush all over the room. Nobody was going to miss this one. “You are welcome to my court as a representative of Lucifer.”

  I gave a tiny nod of my head. I wasn’t going to bow and scrape. I knew my place in Azazel’s court and she wasn’t ranked that far above me. I also wanted to avoid showing this woman my neck, just on principle.

  “Queen Amarantha, I come to you as a representative of Lord Lucifer’s court for the purpose of reestablishing relations between the kingdoms of the fallen and the faerie,” I began, quoting directly from a speech Lucifer (or one of his flunkies) had written out for me. I’d barely had time to look at it over the past couple of days what with all the excitement that had been going on. That morning I’d been frantically trying to memorize it over breakfast. I’d felt like I was cramming for a final.