Black Night bw-2

by Christina Henry

  “Lucky for me neither of them are here,” I said dryly. “Look, I’ll just clear my mind or whatever and get through it. I’m not powerless.”

  “It’s not a matter of clearing your mind. Do you think this is some simple enchantment that will skim the surface of your brain? The Maze is a living thing, a creature of immense power. It can see into every nook and cranny. It will find horrors that you never even were aware of deep inside you,” J.B. said.

  Now I was starting to get scared. But I wasn’t going to tell them that.

  “I have to do it,” I said.

  J.B. grabbed my shoulders. His face was desperate. “Doesn’t it mean anything to you that you’re going to die for someone who can never love you? Doesn’t it mean anything to you that I am standing right here and that I need you?”

  He’d been so good-natured when I’d turned him down that I hadn’t realized he felt this way. I hadn’t thought that there was more to it than a flirtatious attraction.

  I shook my head and swallowed the tears that I felt burning in my throat. “I’m sorry, J.B. I’m more sorry than I can say. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  His hands fell away, his shoulders slumped. “That’s what girls always say when they don’t want you.”

  “I guess being the children of immortals doesn’t exempt us from stupid human clichés,” I said, trying to smile.

  He gave a hollow laugh. “That will be a real comfort to me when they bring back your body.”

  I took his hands and stood up, my eyes on his. “You believed in me before. Believe in me now. I will come back.”

  “In how many pieces?” Beezle said.

  “One,” I said. “I promise.”

  “You can’t make that promise,” J.B. said.

  I smiled. “I’m Lucifer’s granddaughter. Promises are a family specialty.”

  J.B. left, and Beezle went with him.

  “I can’t stay here and watch you tick down the moments until your inevitable death,” he said.

  “Give me a break, Beezle,” I said, hurt that he didn’t believe in me, that he didn’t want to stay with me. “I figured you’d want to make gloomy pronouncements until it’s time to go. It helps me get psyched up.”

  He shook his head, his face unusually grave. “Not this time.”

  And that more than anything terrified me. If Beezle couldn’t crack wise about the Maze, then maybe there really was something to be scared of.

  Maybe it really was worse than Ramuell. I hadn’t thought that was possible.

  I scrounged up a small bag of almonds that Beezle had somehow overlooked, drank some bottled water, and changed into my regular, non-ambassador clothes. I’d packed my favorite blue jeans and a long-sleeved black tee plus my black Converse sneakers. I took down my stupid updo and carefully braided my hair into one long plait that ended in the middle of my back. Then I wrapped the plait around my head so I looked a lot like Princess Leia, but at least my hair was out of the way and couldn’t be used as a weapon by anything scary that I might meet in the Maze.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. This was as good as it was going to get. I was ready for battle.

  “It would be nice to have a machete or something, though,” I muttered to my reflection.

  “Would a sword do?” a voice said from the connecting doorway.

  I whirled around. Nathaniel stood in the doorway watching me. He clutched one arm around his middle where I had burned him. I saw white bandages showing under his unbuttoned dress shirt. His face was pale and he looked like he was in horrific pain.

  “You look terrible,” I said with a total lack of sympathy. “Why haven’t you healed yourself?”

  “It seems,” he said, struggling a bit with the effort of speaking, “that the spell you used on me cannot be healed in the usual way. I must wait for my body to reknit itself.”

  “You know it’s no less than you deserve,” I said.

  He nodded. “I am well aware that my behavior was reprehensible. But there was something . . . You must believe that I did not feel like myself.”

  “You felt like a rapist?”

  “No,” he said slowly. “More like I was under the influence of a power not my own.”

  I didn’t want to give credence to this. Nathaniel had hurt me. But I had a flash of remembrance, the feeling I’d had of something alien looking out from Nathaniel’s eyes.

  “What power could have overcome you?” I asked. “You’re not the weakest of Azazel’s court.”

  Nathaniel’s eyes flashed. “Whose castle do we presently reside in?”

  “Amarantha? Why?”

  “Perhaps she wanted to drive a wedge between us. Perhaps she wanted to destabilize your base of power in her court.”

  “Well, she succeeded,” I muttered. I crossed my arms, then let them fall at my sides again. I wasn’t going to hide from him. “Was there something you wanted?”

  “The gargoyle told me that you are to enter the Maze.”

  I was surprised. I didn’t think Beezle would have left me only to talk to Nathaniel, who was not one of his favorite people at the best of times.

  “What’s it to you?” I said.

  “I would rather you returned from the Maze alive than dead,” Nathaniel said. “I have come to give you a gift.”

  He stepped out of the doorway, and it was then that I saw the sword he carried in his free hand.

  It was about four feet long, and the metal was silver in color, but it gleamed like no metal I had seen before. The blade was carved with a series of strange sigils that glittered in the lamplight. The cross guard and grip were black as obsidian but shone with a strange light in their depths. A serpent was carved around the hilt. Its black eyes seemed to see me, weigh me, judge me in a moment.

  I knew that I was looking at something that was not of this earth.

  “It is the sword of my father, the angel Zerachiel,” Nathaniel said. “He had dominion over the earth at one time. Lucifer gifted him with this sword many millennia ago.”

  I reached out to touch the strange blade, but then drew my hand away. “Why would you give this to me?”

  He looked away from my questioning gaze. “I had hoped to give it to our son one day. Since that future is no longer to be, I wish you to use the sword to survive the Maze. It was forged by Lucifer’s own hand, and it has powers of its own. The sword would be pleased to be held by Lucifer’s blood again.”

  I still hesitated, and Nathaniel read my hesitation correctly.

  “It is a gift freely given. There will be no price to pay. I ask only that, if you return from the Maze, you think better of me. You cannot know how I regret what occurred last night,” he said.

  I didn’t think I’d be thinking any better of his character anytime soon, and it was difficult for me to reconcile his apparent regret with the terror and helplessness I’d felt. Even if there was a strong possibility that he had been under a spell, the memory would stay with me forever.

  But I appreciated any help I could get surviving the Maze, even if I didn’t know the first thing about swordplay. I just hoped that I wouldn’t cut off one of my own limbs accidentally.

  “Thank you,” I said, and I reached for the sword.

  As soon as the hilt met my palm, I felt something deep inside me sing out with joy. The snake seemed to writhe against my skin, and the blade noticeably gleamed brighter.

  “It recognizes you,” Nathaniel said softly. “It has been waiting for you.”

  There was a power surging in my blood, a power that had been buried so deep that only the sword could have drawn it from me. I looked up, and Nathaniel gasped.

  “Your eyes,” he said.

  I turned my head toward the mirror, and instead of the field of stars that manifested when I wielded my magic, I saw the burning heart of the sun, the light of the Morningstar.

  “I think that when Focalor sees you, he will think twice about crossing Lord Lucifer,” Nathaniel said.

  “Never mind Lucifer,”
I said, and the new power inside me called out for battle. “He’d better worry about crossing me.”

  15

  NATHANIEL FITTED ME UP WITH A SCABBARD THAT slung across my body so that I could carry the sword on my back. Despite my growing suspicion that someone had been controlling Nathaniel during his attack, it was difficult to stand still while he touched me. Whether by his own power or another’s he was the one who had put his hands on me with the intent to harm.

  When he was done—with a lot of apologies on his part and a lot of indrawn breaths on mine—he made me practice my draw.

  “Better swordsmen than you have cut their own necks drawing their swords this way,” he said. “But you are so small that you would not comfortably be able to carry the blade at your waist.”

  Despite my total lack of experience the sword leapt to my hand easily and smoothly every time.

  Nathaniel stood back, satisfied. “It is coming to your call. That is good. It will help you when you face the unknown.”

  There was a knock at the door, and I opened it. A servant stood there.

  “Queen Amarantha requires your presence in the throne room, Ambassador Black.”

  I glanced back at Nathaniel. “Showtime. Are you coming?”

  He shook his head. He looked tired, and sad, and in pain, and I didn’t know how to feel about that. “Go with the grace of the Morningstar.”

  I nodded, and then followed the servant to the throne room.

  I tried not to think about what was going to happen. Nathaniel’s gift had given me a little more confidence, but the odds still did not look good. The fact that no one had ever survived the Maze was something I tried not to think about.

  The courtiers were assembled when I entered the throne room. The wolves stood near Amarantha’s throne at the front of the crowd. Wade looked deeply troubled, Jude frowned like he wasn’t sure about how to feel, and James . . . There was a strange, almost bloodthirsty, light in his eyes.

  I didn’t have time to wonder about the wolves’ feelings. I had my own skin to worry about.

  I crossed the room, and as I passed the courtiers they whispered.

  “Did you see her eyes?”

  “Where did she get that sword?”

  Focalor and Antares stood in front of Amarantha’s throne and they both turned to watch me approach. When Focalor saw my eyes, his jaw clenched, and I thought I saw a flash of fear in his demon eyes. Antares was too stupid to be worried about any threat from me. He looked pathetically eager.

  I saw J.B. and Beezle standing a little to the side. Beezle rested on J.B.’s shoulder and I felt a strange pang of hurt. Beezle never did that with anybody but me. J.B. looked like he was going to be sick.

  Amarantha clapped her hands together in satisfaction when she saw me. I was happy to see that she had put on something more substantial than the lingerie model getup she’d had on earlier, although the dress’s low cut still didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. Subtle, thy name is not Amarantha.

  Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if he was being punished for defying Amarantha earlier, or if she just didn’t want him anywhere near me before I went into the Maze.

  “Ambassador Black, you will be pleased to hear that Lord Focalor has agreed to participate in the challenge of the Maze. His representative Antares will be entering the Maze with you.”

  “Big surprise,” I muttered.

  “The terms are as follows,” Amarantha continued. “Ambassador Black will enter from the east side of the Maze. Antares ap Azazel will enter from the west side at precisely the same time. The thrall Gabriel ap Ramuell is held at the center of the maze. Whoever reaches the thrall first will take him as their prize. Once you have successfully returned with your prize, I will commence negotiations with the winning court. Are these terms acceptable to you both?”

  Focalor nodded. “I look forward to negotiating a treaty with you, my lady.”

  So Focalor seemed to have gotten his confidence back. Apparently a little power of Lucifer manifesting inside me wasn’t enough to worry him.

  “Are the terms acceptable to you, Ambassador Black?” Amarantha said.

  “I have one term of my own,” I said.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw J.B. close his eyes in frustration. Well, I wasn’t going to get anything without asking for it, and even if I managed to get out of the Maze alive and with Gabriel, there was still the Focalor problem to deal with. The least I could do was to make this contest about more than Gabriel. If I could stop the demon uprising, then it was worth any amount of pain I might endure.

  I turned to Focalor, who quirked his eyebrows at me, as if to say, “I’m listening.”

  “If I find Gabriel before Antares and make it back here first, you drop your grievance against Lucifer.”

  Focalor narrowed his eyes. “My grievance with Lucifer is long-standing and far-reaching. Why should I sacrifice my legitimate claim against him?”

  “If a representative of your court is defeated by a representative of his—or vice versa—is that not enough to satisfy the laws of the kingdom without further bloodshed?”

  Focalor showed his teeth to me. “You are implying that further bloodshed is something I wish to avoid.”

  “Do you agree or not?” I said impatiently. “You seem to think I’m going to lose anyway so why not consent? If Antares comes back first, you get to be as mad at Lucifer as you want to be.”

  He looked thoughtful. “But what if you come back first, as unlikely a possibility as that may be?”

  “Then you go back to your court, apologize to Lucifer and hope like hell he doesn’t smite you off the face of the earth.”

  “That is not a very appealing option,” Focalor said.

  “Just stop dithering and be a man about it,” I said, impatient to get into the Maze. I wanted to get this over with. “Yes or no?”

  Focalor took a moment longer, seeming to weigh all the options. I could see him calculating the long odds that I would actually survive the Maze.

  “Very well,” he said.

  “You have witnessed it, Queen Amarantha,” I said formally. “If I defeat his representative in the Maze, then Focalor will drop his grievance against Lucifer and return to the fold.”

  Like Amarantha, Focalor would agree to anything because he didn’t think I actually had a chance. Then again, Beezle didn’t think I had a chance either. He was usually my biggest cheerleader, so maybe they were right and I was wrong.

  Amarantha nodded. “And you agree to all terms as well?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Then let us proceed,” she said, and signaled to Violet. “You may follow Lady Violet to the entrance, Ambassador. Antares ap Azazel, you may follow Narke.”

  One of the forest warriors stepped forward to take Antares out a side entrance. Violet indicated that I should follow her out of the main doors.

  I looked at Beezle and J.B., but they both looked away from me. All right, that hurt a lot. The least they could do was say good-bye if they thought I was going to die.

  I turned my back on the throne, and followed Violet to my doom.

  Violet led me through the courtyard and out into the forest without a word. She found a path among the thick and low-hanging branches that I couldn’t have seen with a microscope. She didn’t try to make conversation and I was too busy trying not to hyperventilate to act polite.

  After about twenty minutes of hard walking, we suddenly emerged into a clearing, and in front of us was the Maze.

  A massive wall of stone rose in front of us, blocking out the weak early-winter sun. I realized I’d forgotten a coat and that it was maybe forty degrees outside.

  The wall was covered in strange grayish green vines with enormous leaves. As I looked, the vines shifted like snakes across the surface of the wall. J.B. was right. The Maze was a living thing, and a faint pulse of energy came off it as we stood there: the questing tentacle of a blind animal.

  The pulse moved through me from the
tips of my sneakers to the crown of my head, and I shivered uncomfortably. I felt exposed, like my chest had been peeled back to show my beating heart.

  A moment later an opening appeared in the wall of the Maze. The interior was dark and shifting, and I could see nothing beyond the doorway.

  I stepped forward. “Okay, I guess this is my stop.”

  Violet didn’t answer. I looked around and saw that she had already disappeared back into the forest.

  J.B. could do a lot better than her. Seriously.

  “And I’m going to tell him so when I get back,” I said.

  Then I took a deep breath, thought of Gabriel, and stepped into the Maze.

  The door closed behind me, leaving me stranded in pitch-darkness. Even the top of the Maze was covered.

  I summoned a small blue ball of nightfire to light my way with my left hand, and pulled the sword from its scabbard with my right. The snake beneath my palm nudged my skin, like the comfortable press of a dog’s nose. It felt almost as if I had a friend with me.

  I held the nightfire out ahead of me and checked both directions. There was no obvious difference between the two, so I decided to use my medieval maze trick again and choose right whenever possible.

  I started to move forward with the ball of light ahead of me. My breath came in harsh pants and it sounded unnaturally loud in this enclosed space. My light cast a pitiful circle. The dark seemed to press all around me, brushing over my shoulders, swiping fingertips over my neck.

  “Don’t be afraid,” I told myself, and my voice echoed down the hall, wavery and very, very frightened.

  I could have faced anything if only there had been a little more light. The total darkness was getting to me and I’d only been in the Maze a few moments. How long was this thing? How far would I have to go? It couldn’t be short or else there would be no challenge. The sword in my hand gave me a friendly little nudge again, and I deliberately tried to calm my breathing. There was no point in freaking out when I hadn’t even faced anything yet.

  I tried not to think about Antares and how far he might have gotten already. Did demons even have nightmares? What could he possibly be afraid of that would impede his journey to the center of the Maze?