Black Night

by Christina Henry

“Enemy.”

  Enemy, enemy, enemy.

  “Maddy!” Beezle shouted, and he sounded so angry with me, and I woke up.

  Beezle crouched at my shoulder, looking scared and annoyed. I shifted onto my elbows and realized the bedsheets were soaked in sweat.

  “You were having a nightmare. It was keeping me awake,” Beezle said. “What were you dreaming about? You kept screaming ‘enemy’ over and over again.”

  I sat up farther and rubbed my face with my hands. “It wasn’t a dream, I don’t think.”

  Beezle held up his hands. “Oh, no. No more visions. Remember the last time you had visions? You were possessed by Evangeline and tricked into the nephilims’ prison.”

  “Well, that turned out okay,” I said, annoyed. “I did defeat Ramuell in the end.”

  “And lost some of your humanity in the process,” Beezle reminded me.

  I put my hand over my chest to the place where my heartstone pulsed in place of my human heart. It felt warm there, like the sun. Samiel had wanted to tear out my heart, just like Ramuell had. I shuddered and threw the blankets off, nearly tossing Beezle across the room in the process. He scowled at me as he fluttered above the bed.

  “All right, let’s hear it,” Beezle said. “Tell me about this latest complication.”

  I told Beezle about the vision—Gabriel in the pit, Samiel and the demon. He looked troubled.

  “It sounds like they might be arranging a trade for Gabriel,” Beezle said.

  “That’s what I thought, too. The only question is, which of them took him in the first place and which of them wants him badly enough to trade?”

  “Actually, there’s a more serious problem here. If a representative of Focalor is dealing for Gabriel, that’s tantamount to declaring war on Azazel’s court. Gabriel is Azazel’s servant and he’s your bodyguard. Even though he’s a half-breed, everyone in the courts knows of his importance to Azazel. And if Focalor is making such a bold move, that means he is prepared for the consequences.”

  I stared at Beezle. “The whole power structure that Lucifer has built could collapse.”

  Beezle nodded. “If Focalor attacks Azazel’s court openly, then other courts with grievances will see it as an opportunity to attack their enemies as well. The whole of Lucifer’s kingdom could fall to pieces in a few days. This is why Lucifer and the Grigori keep such a ruthless hold on the courts.”

  “It only takes the tipping of one domino for the whole run to be knocked down,” I said. “I had no idea that the kingdom was so fragile.”

  “Lucifer has kept control of some of the most dangerous creatures in the world for millennia. A lot of those creatures would be unbelievably deadly to humans if they did not abide by his rules and stay within his confines, and I’m not just talking about the demons, either.”

  I couldn’t imagine what would happen to the world if Lucifer’s control was broken. Would there be demons running amok? Open warfare among the angels? Would demons rise up against their masters? All of those things would probably happen, and more. It would be horrible beyond imagining.

  “Horrors beyond your comprehension . . .” That was what Antares had said. Had he known about this? If he was close to Focalor, he probably would have known of his master’s plans. And Antares certainly would relish an opportunity to get back at Gabriel, who had humiliated him in front of his demon buddies. Had Antares taken Gabriel in the alley for Focalor? Why would Samiel want him?

  And was any of this connected to the hidden portal in Amarantha’s kingdom? I still didn’t know who had put that portal there, or why, although Antares had done a good job of using it to his advantage and destabilizing my relations with the faerie court before I even arrived.

  I put my hand to my head in the place where a stress headache was rapidly forming. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate, I needed to prevent the total collapse of Lucifer’s kingdom as well?

  Beezle watched me silently, and I’m fairly certain he guessed most of what I was thinking. He can be a pretty perceptive gargoyle when he wants to be.

  The problem was that I wasn’t exactly sure what I should do with this knowledge. If I went to Lucifer, he might be able to stop Focalor before his plans unfolded but that would be a guaranteed death sentence for Gabriel.

  I could try to rescue Gabriel. But, one: he had probably been moved by now. And, two: even if he hadn’t been moved, I wasn’t sure I could find the oubliette. It wasn’t as though I was an expert in the geography of the Forbidden Lands.

  I wasn’t sure who might have him now, and what purpose he might serve for their plans. Basically, I wasn’t sure of anything except for the fact that it was half past five and there was no way I was going to be able to sleep again after that vision.

  “Oatmeal?” I asked Beezle.

  He made a face at me. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Chocolate-hazelnut spread on toast?” I guessed.

  “Now you’re talking,” he said, and followed me into the kitchen.

  After breakfast I was no closer to a solution than before. I felt that Gabriel’s safety was paramount, but Beezle argued that if there was a war between the courts, Gabriel probably wouldn’t be much safer than the rest of us. On top of everything, my trip to the faerie court was today, and there was no way that I could put it off after the burning-down-the-forest debacle.

  So I packed my things with a heavy heart and made an effort to dress like a grown-up. I usually wear black boots, blue jeans, and black sweaters every day in the winter, but buried in the back of my closet were a couple of suits and a nice skirt and blouse. I tried everything on to make sure that it fit okay. The suits were a little tighter than they used to be—my curves were a lot curvier than I remembered. Beezle opened his mouth to say something and I glared at him.

  “Not one word,” I said. “You’re the one who makes me keep all the junk food in the house.”

  “I’m a growing gargoyle,” Beezle said.

  “Yeah, growing horizontally,” I muttered, but not loud enough for him to hear.

  Nathaniel came upstairs a little before ten. He was all spiffed up in a dark suit and a blue tie that made his eyes look electric bright. He looked over my gray pencil skirt and black blouse with a critical eye.

  “Don’t you have any colors that are not drab as winter?” he said. “Amarantha is not going to be impressed by your appearance.”

  “She doesn’t have to be. She just has to listen to me,” I said, my pride stinging. I’d actually made an effort to fix up my hair, put on makeup and heels, and generally look neater than usual. He could at least have offered a token “You look nice.”

  He frowned. “I’m not certain that she will take you seriously when you look like someone’s secretary.”

  I actually felt the blast of nightfire crackling under my fingertips before Beezle laid a restraining claw on my shoulder.

  “You can kill him later,” he said, and I eased down. I didn’t need Nathaniel’s opinion to validate me, anyway.

  The doorbell rang right at ten.

  “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 flutteri
ng 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. began.

  “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 blo
nd 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.