Black Night

by Christina Henry

  “From where?” I asked, holding my hand to the side of my face. I thought I’d heard something crack when my cheek hit the wood.

  “I’ll get Azazel,” he said.

  I had to think for a minute about why that was bad. “If you get Azazel and he comes here and finds Gabriel missing, he will kill him.”

  “If I don’t get Azazel now and you bleed to death in your own backyard, he will kill me.”

  “Don’t get him. I’ll figure out something.” The last person I wanted to see at that moment was Daddy dearest.

  The wind picked up, and I shivered inside my coat. Beezle was having trouble staying close, his wings buffeted by a breeze that was fast becoming a gale. I reached out and grabbed him, stuffing him inside my pocket before he blew away.

  “What the . . . ?” I said, and crawled slowly toward J.B., who wasn’t moving at all. I felt for a pulse and found one, but he did not stir at my touch.

  The wind racketed around us. My hair came free of the woolen hat I was wearing. I covered J.B.’s still body with my own, clinging to his shoulders.

  A faint red light appeared just above my garden, and the light grew until it was a circle the size of a city Dumpster. Inside the circle, wind swirled and electricity pulsed.

  Beezle poked his head out of my pocket.

  “It’s a portal,” he shouted.

  I knew that. I just didn’t know who was in it, and if they were friend or foe. My magic crackled feebly across my fingertips. I was too weak to do anything.

  A figure emerged from the portal, tall and blond and radiantly beautiful. He brushed some imaginary lint from his white-feathered wings. The portal closed behind him and the wind died down. The angel looked up, and the natural arrogance on his face turned to surprise.

  I had been wrong. There was one person that I wanted to see less than my father.

  “Hello, Nathaniel,” I said to my fiancé.

  3

  NATHANIEL HURRIED TOWARD THE PORCH, TAKING IN the situation in an instant.

  “Madeline, what has happened?” he said, as he pulled me away from J.B., put me in his lap and checked my wounds. “Where is your bodyguard?”

  Nathaniel never referred to Gabriel by his name, which was just one of many things that I disliked about the man whom my father had engaged me to against my will.

  “Antares,” I said briefly. I felt dizzy, and Nathaniel wasn’t helping by shaking me around.

  “How did you incur these injuries?” he said, covering each with his hands one after another. I felt a familiar heat, like the light of the sun was burning through my veins.

  This kind of healing used to be very painful for me, when I was still mostly human. Now that I had acknowledged my heritage and my heart had been replaced by an angel’s heartstone, it was only slightly less painful. The half of me that would always be human knew that the sun was not supposed to run wild in your blood, nor was it supposed to heal you. The angelic half of me welcomed the heat and the burn like homecoming.

  The blood ceased to flow, and I felt the skin knit together painfully. I didn’t feel like getting up and dancing around yet, though. The kind of healing that Nathaniel did could close up injuries but it didn’t help with recovery time.

  “Thanks,” I said, and tried not to sound resentful as I did. It wasn’t Nathaniel’s fault that my father had affianced us without my permission, or that I wanted someone else. It was his fault, however, that he was totally unlikable in every way.

  “What about J.B.?” I asked, squirming off his lap and onto the porch.

  Too much proximity to Nathaniel made me uncomfortable. He is beautiful, and it is hard not to be drawn to beauty. But he is also a giant jerk, and no amount of attractiveness can make up for that. I did not want to think about our wedding night.

  “J.B.?” he said, his eyebrows raised. “This human that you were . . .”

  He trailed off, staring at J.B.’s limp form.

  “Gods above and below,” he swore, and rushed to J.B.’s side. He lifted J.B.’s eyelids, checked his pulse, and then picked him up as if a six-foot-plus man weighed nothing. “What have you done with Amarantha’s son?”

  I looked at Beezle, who was perched like a crow on the railing of the porch. He looked surprised.

  “Who is Amarantha, and what does she have to do with J.B.?” I asked, pulling myself to my feet. The world wobbled in many directions.

  Nathaniel kicked open the door and flew up the back stairs to my apartment without answering me. I heard a crash as he knocked out the door upstairs as well.

  “Those locks cost money, you know!” I shouted, annoyed by both his high-handedness and his abandonment of me. Did he think I could walk or fly in this state? “What crawled up his ass?”

  “Amarantha is the queen of the local faerie court,” Beezle said. “I didn’t know J.B. was her son.”

  Beezle was like a phone book of things that go bump in the night. He knew every species, every subspecies, every hierarchy and every rule. He could run the gamut from werewolf law to the vampire courts to the reigns of demons. There was very little that Beezle did not know. I wondered how J.B. had managed to conceal his status from my gargoyle.

  “Well, presumably Amarantha is someone with a lot of influence or else Nathaniel wouldn’t have touched J.B. even if he were wearing gloves,” I said, staggering toward my back door. “On the upside, this means that he is probably healing J.B. as we speak, and I don’t have to threaten him to do it.”

  I grabbed the doorframe and leaned on it for a minute, which gave me a good look at the damage Nathaniel had done to the lock by kicking it. The door normally locked with a dead bolt. The bolt had torn through the wooden frame and was now totally useless, which left my abode uncomfortably open to the aforementioned things that go bump.

  A threshold, even without a door, is enough to stop most supernatural beings of power. Vampires, werewolves, fallen angels, demons . . . none of them could cross a threshold without an invitation. Nathaniel had been (reluctantly) invited inside by me before, so he was able to cross the threshold without penalty.

  But there were plenty of lesser magical beings for whom the rules were a little more fuzzy. They could construe an unlocked or open door as an invitation. I didn’t fancy an infestation of gremlins eating all of Beezle’s precious popcorn stash or an imp whispering nasty things to me while I slept. And repairs cost money, money that I didn’t have. I usually generate some income by working as a freelance recipe developer, but since I’d been running around trying to keep up with my Agent duties and Azazel’s demands, I hadn’t had much time for that work lately. Although I supposed that since Nathaniel had done the kicking and the breaking I could get him to pay for the repairs.

  I dragged myself up the back stairs, holding on to the railing as if it were a lifeline. Beezle fluttered around my head, cajoling me to keep moving forward when I wanted to stop and rest.

  When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw that Nathaniel had repeated his destroying act on the upstairs door, which hung drunkenly from its hinges like a scene from a Bugs Bunny cartoon. I slumped on the landing, exhausted and annoyed.

  “Come on, Maddy, get up,” Beezle said, pulling ineffectually at my collar.

  I waved him away. “Leave me alone. I’ll get up and go inside when I’m ready.”

  “I want to find out what Nathaniel’s doing to J.B.,” Beezle said, tugging at me again.

  “So go,” I said, leaning my head against the wall and closing my eyes. I heard Beezle flap uncertainly for a moment, and then the sound of his wings receding as he went inside the apartment.

  I want Gabriel, I thought. I couldn’t help it. When he was away from me, I was like a planet without a sun. I wasn’t supposed to love him, and maybe if I could have had a normal relationship with him, I could have gotten him out of my system. But the longing . . . the longing . . .

  “Madeline, wake up.”

  Gabriel?

  “Madeline, please. Madeline.”
/>   I’m dreaming you. I need you.

  “Madeline.”

  Hands on my shoulders, on my face. Warmth like the light of the sun.

  I opened my eyes. His face was so close to mine that I could see the stars deep in his black eyes, and as I watched I saw one of them burst and flare and fall away, and I knew that my eyes looked the same.

  His breath was on my lips, a whisper away.

  “Madeline, what has happened? Why are you sleeping on the stairs?”

  His words reminded me of J.B. and Nathaniel only a few feet away inside the apartment. If I gave in to the impulse to kiss Gabriel and Nathaniel found us, Gabriel would be dead before you could say “Jack Robinson.”

  I shook my head to clear away the cobwebs, and shifted away from the wall. Slowly I realized that Baraqiel stood a few feet behind Gabriel, watching us with an avid gaze. There was a knowledge in his eyes that I did not like, and I wondered how much of my need for Gabriel had been revealed to the messenger.

  “What happened to you guys?” I asked. “You were gone forever.”

  “Baraqiel suggested we observe the human investigation for a time to see if they discovered anything. I sensed the death of the wolf was important to you and thought you would be safe enough with Bennett for a short time. Apparently, I was mistaken. What happened?” he repeated.

  I told him that Antares had attacked us as I shuffled into the kitchen and filled the teakettle with water. The muscles in Gabriel’s face froze one by one.

  “I should not have left you,” he said, and his voice was filled with heat.

  I shrugged, not wanting to get into this in front of a witness. Something about Baraqiel told me he was collecting everything he saw and filing it away for later use. I wondered what he would report to Lucifer.

  I could hear a murmur of voices from the living room. I couldn’t understand what was being said but Nathaniel’s tone was absurdly deferential, almost as if he were talking to my father. I wondered again what it was about J.B. that made Nathaniel act this way.

  “Madeline,” Gabriel said, frowning. “What did Antares do?”

  “Oh, the usual,” I said lightly. “Threatened to pull my entrails through my nose. Clawed me up some. J.B. got set on fire.”

  “How did you escape? You were completely powerless,” Baraqiel said. He still had a speculative look on his face, like he was trying to decide whether or not it would be worth it to blackmail me over Gabriel.

  I shrugged. “My powers came back. For a little while, at least.”

  “And now?” Baraqiel persisted.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why are you so interested, anyway?” My tone of voice indicated that I was Azazel’s daughter and he was just a messenger. Sometimes it is an advantage to be royalty in a highly hierarchical society.

  His manner immediately became deferential. “I apologize, my lady. I am only concerned for your welfare.”

  I wasn’t so certain about that. “Baraqiel, you never did tell us what you were doing when you were waylaid by Samiel.”

  He bowed so deeply I thought that he was going to fall over. “Again, my apologies, granddaughter of Lucifer. I was sent by the Lightbringer to deliver a message. I have been astonishingly remiss in that capacity.”

  I rolled my hand in his direction, indicating that he should continue.

  Baraqiel reached underneath his right arm and pulled out a small piece of parchment that had been rolled and tied to his wing. He presented it to me on his outstretched hand in such a way that I could avoid touching him if I so chose. I wondered if most of Baraqiel’s recipients disdained the touch of a lowly messenger, and my face burned when I thought of how I had spoken to him a moment earlier. I realize it’s the lifetime goal of many little girls, but I don’t really enjoy being a princess.

  “Thank you,” I said, taking the parchment from him and unrolling it. I could feel my face growing thunderous as I read Lucifer’s message.

  My grandfather is a totally manipulative bastard—big surprise—and it was obvious that he had been holding this task for me in his fist until he felt the time was right.

  Trouble was, if I refused Lucifer, he would likely kill Gabriel—or rather, have the Grigori do it for him. And after that, he would probably kill Beezle. And then J.B. And so on, until he had taken everything from me and broken me to his will. That was why he was the first of the fallen, and the lord high devil himself. He knew that emotional pain is a far more powerful motivator than physical pain, and he also knew that I would do anything to keep those I loved safe.

  “What is it?” Gabriel asked.

  I thrust the parchment at him wordlessly and waited while he read it. His mouth was grim when he finished and handed it back to me.

  “Lord Lucifer requires me to wait and bring a response,” Baraqiel said. He inched away from me a little when I looked up at him.

  “Don’t,” Gabriel said, his voice full of warning.

  I swallowed the “tell Lord Lucifer he can stick this parchment up his ass” that was on my tongue and attempted to modulate my voice. “Tell Lord Lucifer that his granddaughter would be pleased to fulfill this duty for him.”

  Baraqiel raised his eyebrow slightly, but he nodded and said, “I must return to my lord immediately with your response.”

  “Don’t you want to wash your face first?” I asked. Baraqiel was still covered in the blood that he had shed during his altercation with Samiel.

  “I have already been gone too long,” he said, and swept out of the kitchen and down the stairs. It was still full dark outside, which was a good thing, because I don’t know what my neighbors would have made of an angel taking off from my backyard.

  I looked at Gabriel, sighed, and then kicked one of the cabinet doors. It made a very satisfying thump.

  “That was very childish,” Gabriel said.

  “Absolutely,” I replied. “But it feels good.”

  I took another deep breath and inspected the damage. There was a crack in the cabinet door. Sometimes I forget that I am stronger now than I used to be.

  “Let’s find out what’s going on with J.B.,” I said, and led the way into the living room.

  J.B. was propped on a pile of cushions on the sofa, and covered in a blanket. His face was bloodless, his eyes were tired and his hair stuck up in every direction. The ends even looked a little singed. Other than that, he appeared surprisingly hale for someone who had been knocked out.

  Nathaniel had pulled a chair from the dining room and sat at his side. His fawning expression gave me the willies.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked J.B.

  “Like I got shot with magical lightning and crash-landed on hard ground,” he said.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Nathaniel asked.

  “No, thank you. You can finish your business with Maddy now,” J.B. said. He looked a little disconcerted by Nathaniel’s solicitous manner.

  I gave J.B. what-the-hell-is-up-with-him eyes and J.B. shrugged in response.

  “Of course. And if there is anything else that I or the court of Azazel can do for you . . .” he said, standing.

  “He’ll let you know,” I said, taking Nathaniel by the arm and tugging him away into the kitchen. I wanted Nathaniel to say whatever it was he had to say and leave so I could talk to J.B. and find out why my fiancé was tripping over himself in J.B.’s presence.

  Gabriel stayed in the living room and I heard him talking quietly to J.B. Nathaniel reluctantly allowed himself to be led into the kitchen. Once we were there, I released him immediately. I really don’t like to touch him more than I absolutely must. I leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed my arms.

  “So what did you come for?” I said.

  His lips compressed in a tight line at the belligerent tone of my voice. “You might show a small amount of gratitude, Madeline. Not only did I save your life; I saved the life of Amarantha’s son.”

  Which is a lot more meaningful to you than to me, I thought, sin
ce I have no freaking idea why Amarantha is so damn important to you.

  But I wasn’t ungrateful to him for helping me, or for saving the life of my friend, no matter what the identity of J.B.’s mother.

  “Thank you,” I said, and tried not to sound surly. “You certainly arrived in a timely manner. Now, was there something that you wanted to speak with me about?”

  He looked like he was considering further taking me to task for my lack of graciousness, but then apparently decided against it.

  “Lord Azazel has asked me to accompany you to the faerie court,” Nathaniel said.

  I stared at him. “How do you know about that? I just received the message from Lucifer a few minutes ago.”

  Nathaniel shrugged. “Lucifer himself asked your father to allow me to escort you on your diplomatic mission.”

  Diplomatic mission. That was a nice way to put it. I was supposed to go to the faerie court and negotiate a new land and power treaty on behalf of the fallen. I knew nothing about the faeries or what Lucifer was after—I had been promised further details upon acceptance of my mission. What I did know was that the faerie court had as arcane and complex a caste system as the fallen, and that since I had a terrible habit of shoving my boot in my mouth, I was just as likely to fail as to succeed.

  I didn’t know why Lucifer was sticking my neck out like this. He was sure to have some ulterior motive beyond a simple treaty. If he was only interested in what he stated, then he would have sent a more adept negotiator.

  And it was beyond annoying that he had specifically ordered Nathaniel to come with me. Well, maybe it was time to try out my diplomatic skills.

  “Listen, Nathaniel—I don’t think it’s necessary for you to join me. It will probably be boring, negotiating a treaty.”

  Nathaniel’s pale blue eyes sparkled. “You have never experienced the wonders of the faerie court, Madeline. I assure you, the negotiations will be anything but boring.”

  Oookay. Time for a different tack.

  “I’m sure my father has more important things for you to attend to in his court.”

  “What could be more important that accompanying my betrothed on a vital mission for our highest lord?”