Black Howl

by Christina Henry

  “I’m not underestimating you,” Beezle said. “But if by some miracle you do win Samiel back, what do you think you’ll have to give in exchange? ‘Free’ is not a word in the Grigori’s vocabulary.”

  I didn’t say anything. I knew Beezle was right, but there wasn’t a lot of point in worrying about it. If I freed Samiel, then I would pay whatever price I had to when the time came.

  A little before noon I stood outside the closed doors to Azazel’s court. Gabriel, J.B. and Jude stood around me. Of the three, Jude had naturally been the most reluctant to help when I’d called him.

  “Why should I care about some court matter of the fallen?” Jude asked. “My pack is dealing with more important matters at the moment, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, Samiel risked his life to help return the cubs to you. I think Wade would want you to assist us.”

  “I don’t know what Wade would want, because he’s not here,” Jude growled.

  I sighed and waited in silence. There wasn’t a lot I could say to that.

  “Fine,” Jude said after a few moments. “I will be there.”

  Jude had arrived at my house wearing his usual worn jeans, flannel shirt and vest. In concession to the frigid cold the vest was down instead of denim and he’d shoved a wool hat over his red hair. He looked like a Bears fan ready for a tailgating party.

  Gabriel wore a white dress shirt with black slacks, which was all he ever wore. J.B. had come from work so he was dressed similarly to Gabriel, except his shirt was light blue and his pants were gray.

  I’d decided against dressing up. I always feel stupid in a skirt, and pretty much all of my nice clothes seem to end up torn and bloody anyhow. I didn’t want to feel any more self-conscious in front of the Grigori than I already did, so on went one of my many long-sleeved black tees and my favorite blue jeans. Beezle just rolled his eyes when I clomped out in my usual uniform, my boots laced up over my ankles.

  So we look a little ragtag, I thought, surveying my crew. Beezle snored away on my shoulder. But they were still an impressive collection of power, enough to give the Grigori pause. And if the fallen didn’t recognize what was before them because we didn’t present an impressive appearance, then that was okay, too. All the better to underestimate you with, my dear.

  That was, I hoped they would. Lucifer, at least, knew what I was capable of, but who knew if he would bother to enlighten the others? I was certain Lucifer was looking for some advantage from this, but not being privy to every twist of his labyrinthine mind I had no idea what that advantage might be. It was probably best not to worry about Lucifer at all and just hope his wants didn’t really conflict with mine.

  The doors swung open, and I had a moment of déjà vu when I saw Nathaniel standing there, looking golden and haughty, as he had been the first time I’d arrived at Azazel’s court.

  “The Grigori are ready for you now,” he said, and he gave me a little half smile.

  On closer inspection Nathaniel didn’t look quite as polished as he usually did. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair looked a little more mussed than usual. I wondered if Azazel was blaming Nathaniel for my revocation of the engagement. It would explain why Nathaniel had that slightly hunted look. He was probably getting needled by Azazel day and night.

  We went through the open doors, me in front and the other three shoulder to shoulder directly behind me. I paused for a moment when I realized the ballroom had been transformed.

  The room was normally an open floor plan the approximate size of half a football field. It was shaped like a rectangle and lined floor to ceiling with windows on the long sides of the rectangle.

  Each time I had been here it was like a never-ending party. Low sofas and chairs lined the walls. Members of Azazel’s court would mingle and mill about, while being served champagne and canapés by thralls and demons.

  Azazel would hear grievances and conduct court business at the far end, opposite the doors we’d entered. There was a plain wood chair there that nonetheless managed to convey “throne.”

  Now all of that was gone. The loitering partygoers of the court were nowhere to be seen. The comfy sofas had been removed. There was no one circling with appetizers.

  At the far end of the ballroom, two high structures had been put in place. They were long benches that stood about six feet off the ground. The benches were paneled in front so that you could see the creatures that sat upon them only from the waist up, like a judge’s seat in a courtroom.

  The benches were placed at an angle from a throne that had been positioned in the middle so that the benches made a giant V. The throne was at the point of the V and the benches were the long sides.

  The throne was a resplendent monstrosity of gold leaf and sparkling jewels, and it floated on a little puff of white cloud so that the angel that sat upon it was about half a head higher than everyone else.

  Lucifer (for who else would sit on something so ostentatious?) smirked down at me from the throne. The Grigori sat upon the benches—Azazel at Lucifer’s right hand, and the others, whom I did not know, arranged down the line according to rank, I presumed.

  There was no sign of Samiel, and a whole lot of empty space between us and the scowling members of the court. I raised my chin and strode forward, the heels of my boots ringing loudly on the marble floor.

  The others followed silently behind. They were all tall men. Jude outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds and he was carrying Metatrion, but they all managed to walk more quietly than I did. Well, it had been well established that I was a klutz of the first order. Walking gracefully was not one of my strengths.

  I came to a halt at a spot in between the benches at the widest point of the V. I wanted to be able to see all the faces of the Grigori without twisting my head back and forth.

  I had a moment of surprise when I saw Focalor sitting at the far end of one of the benches. I’d thought that he’d be chained up in Lucifer’s basement for all eternity for his attempted uprising. But then again, Lucifer had probably devised something completely diabolical that did not involve physical torment. From the sullen look on Focalor’s face I had probably guessed right.

  I looked up at Lucifer. “You left something at my house.”

  Jude came forward and flung the body of Metatrion on the floor. Several of the Grigori gasped and muttered angrily.

  “Yes, I was wondering where my Hound of the Hunt had gone. His quarry returned without him.”

  I pointed to the purple bruises on my throat. I’d asked Gabriel not to heal me so that the Grigori could see the evidence of Metatrion’s actions. My voice was still pretty raspy, too.

  “He tried to give me a present that I had to refuse. And speaking of quarry and returning, you can give Samiel back to me now.”

  “Samiel is to be tried before this court for his crimes,” Azazel said.

  I ignored my father. I was getting really good at doing that.

  “Tried for his crimes, or for your amusement? Because I’m pretty sure you could stop this circus with a word,” I said to Lucifer.

  Lucifer quirked an eyebrow at me, but said nothing. Azazel looked thunderous.

  “How dare you speak to Lord Lucifer thus!” he cried, rising to his feet.

  “That’s nothing. You should hear the way he talks to me,” I retorted.

  “You will not disrespect this court,” Azazel shouted.

  “And you will not treat me like a child to be punished for some imagined infraction. I am not on trial. I am here for Samiel, and I will not leave without him.”

  “You have insulted this court by treating Metatrion with such disrespect.”

  “And you have insulted me by taking my friend from my home by force and bringing me here for a trial that does not appear to be happening.”

  Azazel gave me a look that promised retribution later. I was so not worried about this. Once upon a time—only two short months before—I’d been afraid of him. I’d wanted
his respect and his love, the two things I’d never had. But that was before he’d tried to marry me to a man I did not know, before he tried to treat me like another pawn in his power struggle with the other courts. One thing I’d learned very quickly about the fallen was that if you did not assert yourself, they would walk all over you.

  “Very well,” Azazel said. “If it is a trial you wish, then it is a trial you shall have. Bring out the condemned.”

  Two fallen toadies that I hadn’t noticed lurking behind the tall benches went to the front of the room and disappeared into one of the doors there.

  “Condemned?” I muttered under my breath to Gabriel. “That sounds like they’ve already decided.”

  “They very likely have,” he replied in a whisper. “I warned you that the Grigori do not have the same notions of fair play that you do.”

  I’d expected that, but I hadn’t expected them to condemn Samiel before the trial had even begun. It reminded me that my bravado was just that, and that Samiel’s life hung in the balance. It was harder to be cavalier when I considered that the Grigori had already made their minds up.

  “They’re not getting him,” I whispered fiercely. “I promised Samiel. I promised.”

  “Be careful,” J.B. said from my other side. “The more you want, the more they will try to take from you. Just like my mother.”

  Jude stood stiffly on the other side of J.B., glaring up at Lucifer. If looks could kill, the Morningstar would have imploded by now.

  Lucifer, for his part, appeared to be doing an admirable job of ignoring Jude entirely. I was certain that he recognized the wolf—how could he not?—but he was no doubt holding his acknowledgment in reserve unless it served his own purpose.

  I heard a scuffle behind the tall benches.

  A moment later, two guards dressed as Hunt soldiers appeared holding Samiel between them. His hands were bound and he had a few bruises, but those were probably from the incident at my house. He still wore the white T-shirt and gray sweatpants he’d worn the day before. His feet were bare, and this made him look oddly vulnerable.

  He gave me a strained smile when he saw us, and then the guards led Samiel past our group to stand in the middle of the room. The guards stepped away from him to take their places at the foot of the benches. Samiel was alone under the glare of the Grigori’s judgment.

  He lifted his chin and set his shoulders. Good. I was glad that the fallen hadn’t broken his will.

  Azazel stood again. I noticed Nathaniel had taken his place next to Azazel, and that the angel to Nathaniel’s left must be Zerachiel, Nathaniel’s father. He looked like he could be Nathaniel’s twin. Angels don’t seem to age at all after a certain point. I looked older than Lucifer and he had me beat by several thousand years.

  “Samiel ap Ramuell, you have been brought before this tribunal to answer for your crimes. Your crimes will be read out to you and you will acknowledge that which you have done. Then sentencing will be passed upon you.”

  “What about his defense?” I asked loudly.

  Azazel turned a glare upon me as several of the Grigori murmured behind their hands. I was sure that Azazel’s stature among the other fallen was taking a hit every time I talked out of turn. I don’t reflect well on my father’s court, as Nathaniel has so often reminded me.

  “This is not a human court of law,” Azazel said icily. “This is a place of judgment. The Grigori do not hear ‘defense.’”

  “Forget that,” I said. “What did you bring me here for if not to defend Samiel?”

  “You were not brought. You came of your own volition,” said one of the Grigori halfway down the bench.

  “That’s Chezaquiel,” Beezle whispered. Apparently he’d finished his nap.

  “I had no choice but to come. You sent the Hound of the Hunt to break down my walls and take Samiel from my home. If you give Samiel back now, you can have the remains of this loser,” I said, nudging Metatrion with the toe of my boot, “and I’ll just forget the insult that you gave me by sending soldiers into my home.”

  “This creature,” another Grigori said, “is accused of setting free the nephilim Ramuell so that Ramuell could hunt and kill.”

  “That’s Shamsiel,” whispered Beezle.

  “How can you tell them apart?” I said out of the corner of my mouth. Shamsiel looked blond and young just like the rest. The only Grigori that stood out were Azazel, who was dark haired and dark eyed like me, and Focalor, trapped forever in his demon’s body for defying Lucifer. Lucifer had golden hair and black wings—one of the few angels who did.

  “Many innocent lives were lost because of Samiel’s actions,” Shamsiel continued.

  “Please,” I scoffed. “Like any of you give a flying faerie about innocent human lives. If it served your purpose, you’d wipe out every last person on the face of the Earth. I, on, the other hand, do care about the human lives that were taken. And I punished the creature responsible—Ramuell. Samiel shouldn’t be made to pay for the sins of his father.”

  “He released the monster from the Forbidden Lands,” said Zerachiel.

  “And those monsters wouldn’t even exist if the Grigori had kept it in their pants the first time they saw human women,” I said angrily. I have a terrible temper, and I was riding on the edge of it.

  “Real smooth,” J.B. whispered.

  “It is not for you to question the actions of the Grigori,” Azazel shouted.

  “Why not?” I shot back. “Somebody ought to. It seems to me that the lot of you have had your own way for far too long. You want to talk about wrong? It’s wrong of you to condemn an innocent child for the actions of his parents.”

  This was definitely stretching the truth a little bit, but I continued on.

  “Ariell made Samiel release his father from prison. She’s the one who set Ramuell on the world. She used Samiel as one uses a key to open a lock.”

  “Since you speak of the boy’s mother, it should be noted that Samiel should not have been allowed to live a moment past birth. We have already made an exception for a nephilim’s child,” Focalor said silkily.

  I went cold. They would not drag Gabriel into this.

  I narrowed my eyes at Focalor and felt the familiar buildup of magical energy inside me, the power that seemed to rise with my emotions. Everyone in the room stiffened except Lucifer, who smiled. They could feel the magic coming off me in waves.

  “This is not about Gabriel,” I said steadily. “And you should remember the last time we met, Focalor. I would keep my mouth shut if I were you.”

  I was certain that if Focalor were not already bright scarlet, we would see him blushing. He did not like the reminder that the last time he’d competed against me he’d lost—in front of Amarantha’s twittering court.

  “In addition to his other crimes, Samiel harmed you, the daughter of Azazel and the heir to his court. For that alone he must pay a price,” Zerachiel said.

  Everyone in the room stared at the place on my left hand where two fingers were missing. I resisted the urge to stick my hand in my pocket and hide the evidence.

  “Samiel and I have an understanding about that and I believe his debt to me has been paid. If I don’t require a blood price from him, then neither should you.”

  “The laws of the kingdom state—” another Grigori began.

  “Stuff your laws!” I shouted, my temper breaking. “This whole thing is a farce. I don’t know why you brought Samiel here but it has nothing to do with the laws of the kingdom.”

  “He must pay for his crimes,” Azazel said.

  “He has committed no crime,” I responded.

  “We believe otherwise.”

  “And you’ve already decided that he’ll pay whether he’s guilty or not. I think that you just want to get rid of Samiel because he is a reminder of your own failures, your own weaknesses.”

  Several angry murmurs broke out at this.

  “Besides,” I continued, “he’s Lucifer’s grandson. Are you really going
to kill your lord’s grandson?”

  “People died because of his actions,” Azazel said, but the rest of the Grigori shifted uncomfortably nonetheless.

  It was one thing to view Samiel as a nephilim’s child, quite another to think of him as a close and direct descendant of their highest lord.

  I just hoped Lucifer didn’t decide to remind them that I had already killed two of his children. I glanced up at his face and he gave me a little half smile, like he knew what I was thinking, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Let Samiel go,” I repeated. “I will be responsible for him.”

  Beezle murmured in my ear, “I hope you understand what you’re getting into when you make that promise.”

  “Yeah, a lifetime of the two of you eating me out of house and home,” I replied.

  I knew what it meant when I said I would be responsible for Samiel. It meant that if he put even a fingernail over the line, it would be him and me standing bound before the Grigori next time—if they even bothered with the pretense of a trial before execution.

  Nathaniel leaned over to Azazel and whispered in my father’s ear. All around me the Grigori were speaking behind their hands to one another.

  I didn’t want it to come to this, but I would blast my way out of here with Samiel if I had to. I would not leave him with the Grigori. I think Jude was secretly hoping for an excuse to lunge at Lucifer.

  After several moments in which the Grigori looked like a bunch of kids playing Telephone—“I say kill him; pass it on”—Azazel stood. It seemed he was the voice of the court.

  Lucifer had played no role in the decision-making. It appeared that he had acted only as a witness to the proceedings. Still, I knew that something greater than Samiel’s guilt was at work here. Lucifer was waiting for something.

  “It is the will of this court that Samiel ap Ramuell be remanded into the custody of Lady Madeline Black ap Azazel.”

  I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I guess the “Lucifer’s grandson” argument had carried some weight.