Black Night

by Christina Henry

  I put my hand on the cherub and felt carefully around for a button or a lever, anything that might trigger the door to open. When I ran my fingers under the cherub’s wing, I found a tiny switch and pushed it. The door swung into a hidden corridor.

  “Whaddya think?” I asked Beezle, indicating the corridor.

  “It’s probably not the smartest idea in the world,” he said, putting one claw to his mouth like he was considering the situation. “It might be a breach of protocol to go wandering around the castle uninvited.”

  “It might also be a breach of protocol to install me in a room where we can be spied upon,” I said. “I’m sure Amarantha carefully considered which guest room to put us in.”

  Beezle clapped his hands together. “An offense for an offense—just the stuff successful negotiations are made of. Let’s go. If you could talk your way out of the last mess, I’m sure you can talk your way out of this one.”

  I didn’t need any further encouragement. My curiosity overrode propriety. I wanted to know where the tunnels went. We walked into the surprisingly well-lit corridor. Lamps burned every few feet, and the stone floors were sparkling clean. There wasn’t a cobweb in sight. This was not the haunted passage of those old movies that Beezle loved.

  Before I swung the door closed I realized we should have some way of knowing which door was mine, and also how to reopen the door from the corridor.

  “Beezle, run and grab my lipstick from my makeup bag,” I said.

  “You mean the lipstick that you spent twenty-five dollars on and never use?” Beezle asked.

  “Just get it and keep your comments to yourself,” I said.

  I examined the exterior of the door while Beezle flew back in the room on his errand. There was a small lever at doorknob height, built flat into the door. There was just enough room under the lever to slide my fingers and pull it out. As I did, I heard a click. Easy-peasy.

  Beezle flew back to me and wordlessly handed the lipstick out. I closed the door and then drew a line just above the lever with my lipstick. Hopefully it was small enough to go unseen by anyone walking this way. No matter what I told Beezle, I really didn’t think Amarantha would tolerate another offense from me so soon after the last one.

  The corridor stretched out in both directions with no defining features or useful signs, like “Watchtower this way” or “Ballroom on the next level.” I’d tried to pay attention to where we were taken but the castle had such a profusion of floors and twisting stairs that maintaining any sense of north-south orientation had been impossible.

  With no clues to go on, I decided to go right. I remembered vaguely something that I’d read in a historical novel once. The characters had been attempting to negotiate a maze, and one character had said that if you always turned right when possible, you would reach the heart of the maze.

  I didn’t know if turning right continuously would take me to the heart of the castle, but at least it would make getting back easier. I would just turn left until I found my corridor again.

  We’d only gone a few feet when I heard Nathaniel’s voice. I stopped for a moment and looked guiltily around before I realized the voice was coming from his room. I crept closer, pressing my ear to the wall. Beezle gave me the big what-the-heck-are-you-doing eyes. I waved him away.

  “Yes, of course. This delay won’t change anything. No, Lord Azazel is not aware of any of this. He has no inkling.”

  Interesting. So Nathaniel was sneaking around Azazel’s back. But what was he up to?

  “Do you take me for an idiot? I can handle her,” Nathaniel said angrily. “I said, I can handle her.”

  Her? Who was he talking about? Me? Amarantha? Or some other player in whatever scheme he was involved in?

  “I will speak to you tomorrow,” he said firmly. I heard the push-button tone as he clicked off his cell phone.

  I waited a few minutes longer but he didn’t make any more illicit phone calls and I heard nothing more interesting than the shifting of mattress springs. I yielded to Beezle’s insistent gesturing and continued down the corridor. We turned right when we reached the end and only then did we feel it was safe to talk in whispers.

  “What in the four hells did you do that for?” Beezle asked. “How do you know Nathaniel doesn’t know about the secret doors? You could have been caught.”

  “I’d be surprised if Nathaniel knows about the doors. He doesn’t strike me as observant generally.”

  “He doesn’t strike me as the sort to sneak around on Azazel, either,” Beezle retorted. “I didn’t think he had the stones.”

  “I know. He always seems like the world’s biggest kiss-ass.”

  We walked along for a while, turning right when the opportunity presented itself and going down stairs when we found them.

  We heard nothing more exciting that the gossip of servants, which seemed to be everywhere. It made sense, I guess, that a castle of this size would need a lot of people to run it.

  Amarantha seemed universally revered, which was surprising. Most monarchs would have managed to sow at least some discontent in a one-thousand-plus-year reign. Lady Violet, on the other hand, was despised by pretty much everyone. She “acted above her station,” made unnecessary demands and in general behaved as though she were the queen of the castle, not Amarantha.

  I managed to avoid detection by the servants by putting out my wings whenever I heard footsteps approaching. Beezle would hover up near the ceiling out of sight.

  My wings were far too large and unwieldy to leave out, though, even folded on my back. A couple of times I’d had to hold my breath as I pressed up against the wall while a faerie passed by. I ran my finger inside the rather snug waistband of my skirt. Maybe Beezle was right. Maybe I did need to take up jogging or something.

  We had just about decided that we’d pushed our luck long enough when we heard the wolf howling.

  It sounded like it was in horrible pain. I started to run down the corridor in the direction of the sound. We reached a T-junction.

  “Where?” I asked, looking left and right.

  Beezle flew up behind me, panting with exertion. Talk about someone who needed an exercise program.

  “I think it’s outside,” he panted. “Try to get into one of the main rooms.”

  I sprinted for the first door that I saw and opened it. Shelves stacked with bread and cheese and hanging meat surrounded us. We were in some kind of larder. I pushed out the door on the other side and surprised several faeries working in the kitchen.

  “Outside door?” I asked.

  A faerie pointed wordlessly at a heavy oak door on the other side of the kitchen. The wolf’s howls grew louder, more anguished, and suddenly the howls of the other wolves rang out inside the castle.

  I pushed open the door and emerged into the darkness of full night. The forest that surrounded the castle loomed above the outer walls. I listened for a moment to the sound of howls now growing faint, and turned left. The wolf was dying. I could feel it.

  I turned the corner on the castle and was suddenly knocked back by a powerful shock wave. For the third time I was struck by a sense of wrongness, a sense that this was outside the natural order of things. It was the feeling I associated with Ramuell, and I knew the wolf was already dead.

  I didn’t have time to think or to protect myself as the shock wave hit, and I felt my magic wink out in an instant.

  Great. Now I was totally helpless and surrounded by enemies, and the wolf was beyond help. But I could still try to discover the identity of its attacker. I knew one thing for sure—this was the same creature that had killed the other wolves. The shock wave confirmed that.

  The darkness made it hard to see, and my lack of magic meant that I couldn’t conjure up a ball of flame to light my way. Amarantha had lit the catwalks with torches, but here on the ground everything was swathed in shadow. Beezle puffed and panted behind me. The wolf had long since stopped crying, and the howls of the other wolves had ceased.

  I ra
n forward blindly and tripped, flew a few feet and landed on my face in the dirt. Dirt and other things. Thank goodness my mouth was closed.

  I came to my knees and looked around in the faint light. The same scene of carnage that had greeted me twice before was here. The coppery smell of blood filled the air.

  “Dammit,” I said to Beezle. “How many times are we going to be too late?”

  “A question I have asked myself, as well, Madeline Black,” a rumbling voice said behind me.

  I stood and turned to face Wade, Jude, James and another wolf I didn’t know.

  “You didn’t see anyone, either?” I asked.

  “We see you, Agent,” James growled.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said. “I was trying to help him.”

  “Peace, James,” Wade said with a cautioning hand.

  “Why, Wade?” Jude said, angrily pushing forward. He bristled all over with fury. “Three times she has been at the death of a pack member. This time she’s covered in blood. What more do you want?”

  “Uh, how about some evidence?” I asked.

  “I see the evidence all over you,” Jude said, and James growled in agreement.

  Wolves could see much better than I could in the dark. I’m sure that I appeared pretty incriminating, but I wasn’t about to be tried for a crime I didn’t commit.

  “I was racing to help your pack mate and I tripped in the dark,” I said patiently. I didn’t have any magic to defend myself and I wasn’t about to go hand to hand with a wolf a hundred pounds heavier than me.

  “If Madeline Black says that is what happened, then it is so,” Wade said.

  Jude made a noise of frustration, but he stepped away from me. He had to obey his alpha or challenge him in front of the pack.

  I looked at Wade, ignoring Jude. “How was your pack mate separated from the rest of you?”

  I knew that members of the pack generally slept as wolves in a large community pile, and the disheveled appearance of the others indicated that they had settled in for the night.

  “Ethan said he was feeling restless,” Wade said. “Faerie magic is not comfortable for us. Ethan tolerated it less well than others.”

  “So was he followed outside, or did the killer just take the opportunity that presented itself?” I wondered.

  “And was the killer already here under some pretext, or did he follow us and lie in wait?” Wade said. He turned to speak to the other two. “Collect the remains and search for clues.”

  He beckoned me closer, and we moved slightly away from the rest of the pack. “Have you any theories, Madeline Black?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t figure out the killer’s motivation. Is someone trying to sabotage your negotiations with Amarantha? If they are, there are more effective ways of doing that. It would be difficult to connect the deaths in Chicago with the faeries seeing as they did not occur in Amarantha’s kingdom. Why were your pack mates out alone in the city, anyway?”

  “We had come to the city for another purpose. Both times our pack mates were called on their cell phones and left quickly. Neither time did they indicate who had called them or why.”

  “So they were lured by someone. Do you have enemies that could do this?”

  Wade grinned, and it was more the showing of teeth than a pleasant smile. “Our oldest and most determined enemy has long been your grandfather Lucifer.”

  “Oh,” I said, not knowing what to say. I kind of wanted to apologize for my bloodline, but I resisted the urge. “But have you found any evidence that the deaths are related to Lucifer?”

  “Sadly, no,” Wade replied. “But then, there is no evidence that it isn’t Lucifer. There is no evidence of any kind to incriminate anyone. And before you ask, yes, there are other packs with which we have grievances.”

  “So it could have nothing to do with the fallen or the faeries and have everything to do with a pack argument.”

  Wade nodded. “Yes, that could be. But if it is pack related, the wolves must be getting magical assistance from another party. Werewolves have the magic to shift from one form to another. We are incredibly strong and heal quickly, but we do not have the ability to spellcast as you and some other creatures do. A wolf attacking another wolf would leave traces of itself behind—in scent, in rent flesh and fur. If another pack is attacking us, then someone is following behind to ensure that no evidence is left behind, and that someone is using magic.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Why is it that the more we talk about it, the more complicated it becomes? If there’s no evidence, how are we going to find the killer and stop him?”

  “Him?” Wade said. “How do you know it is a him?”

  I shrugged. “I assumed, I guess. Somehow I tend not to think of women as being this cruel.”

  And the deaths were cruel. It was one thing to kill—out of need, out of self-defense—but this was not simple murder. The killer had clearly taken a rapacious enjoyment in shredding the victim into pieces.

  “If you think that a female is not capable of this, then you have obviously not spent enough time with Amarantha,” Wade said.

  “Well, that’s comforting,” I muttered. “Speaking of the queen, are you going to tell her about this? I’m kind of surprised the whole castle isn’t out here gaping.”

  “I am not surprised. Faeries are generally reluctant to involve themselves in situations not to their advantage.”

  “So there could be a witness somewhere inside the castle, but we’ll never know because the faerie wouldn’t see the advantage in telling us?”

  “That is correct,” Wade replied.

  “Do you know how much I hate it here?” I muttered.

  Wade laughed, a giant belly laugh that boomed through the courtyard. “Even if you are the granddaughter of Lucifer, I like you, Madeline Black.”

  I smiled back. It was hard not to like the big burly wolf.

  He nodded to me, sobering. “I must assist my pack in the burial of our brother. Until we meet again. En Taro Adun!”

  He turned and walked away before I had a chance to ask him what on earth “En Taro Adun” meant.

  Beezle fluttered up. “Have we had enough excitement for one night yet?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I replied. “Snacks?”

  “Only if you brought something good. I’m not eating any of those granola bars.”

  “Right, because a vitamin might enter your bloodstream and then your whole system would go into shock.”

  We walked back into the castle through a side door. I was forced to ask one of the servants for directions back to my room. He wordlessly beckoned us to follow him.

  After another twisting and turning adventure through the maze that was Amarantha’s castle, we came to our room. I was looking forward to swallowing one of Beezle’s hated granola bars, showering the gore and dirt off me and collapsing into bed. But as soon as I opened the door, I realized I wasn’t going to get my wish anytime soon.

  Nathaniel stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed and a furious look on his face.

  “Where in the four hells have you been, and why are you covered in blood?”

  12

  “UH, I THINK I MIGHT TAKE A FLY OUT TO THE BALCONY I saw down the way,” Beezle said. “Back in a little while.”

  He flew back out the door and pulled it shut behind him. Traitor.

  “What are you doing in here?” I snapped back. I was tired, I was filthy, and I was in absolutely no mood for Nathaniel. “I thought I locked that door.”

  “It is an insult to our future marriage to put a locked door between us.”

  “It is also an insult to your future wife to assume that her wishes have no bearing if they interfere with yours.”

  He waved that comment away. “You did not answer my question. Why are you covered in blood? What have you been doing, killing more of Amarantha’s pets? I warn you, I will not take it kindly if you do anything further to jeopardize the months of hard work I have committed to reestablishin
g relations with the faeries.”

  “Is that all you can think about?” I shouted. “There are bigger things going on here than your advancement in Lucifer’s kingdom.”

  “As my future wife, you should be more invested in my advancement—” he began.

  I cut him off. “Enough. Really, enough. You need to stop acting like you can use our engagement as some kind of lever to get me to do what you want. I don’t want to marry you, and you talking about it like I’m entering into indentured servitude is not making me feel better about the situation.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “So, you finally admit that you hate me.”

  I clenched my fists. “Did I say that? No, I said that I don’t want to marry you. And why would I? I don’t know you. My father forced me into an engagement with you and all you do is tell me how I ought to be acting so that it reflects better on you.”

  “And all you do is sneer at me and treat me with disrespect. It is clear to everyone that you despise me.”

  His anger seemed to be growing with each passing moment. I could feel the aura of magic around him pulsing out, pushing against me in fury. There was something unnatural about that power, something that felt not quite like the power he had shown before. My burned-out magic still lay quiet somewhere inside me, and I felt a little afraid. But my own anger overrode that feeling.

  “You haven’t done very much to try to make me like you.”

  “Did I not assist you in finding the gargoyle? Did I not save you from the spider in the forest when you were overcome by poison? Have I not kept the secret of the thrall’s disappearance from my lord, as you have asked? You do not know in what jeopardy I have placed myself by this action. Lord Azazel would be in his rights to cast me out of the courts of the fallen, to torture me, to sell me to a demon court in punishment.”

  I realized that he had put himself in danger for me, and I felt my anger let up a little. I still didn’t like him very much, still didn’t want to marry him, but it seemed like he was trying. I opened my mouth to apologize, to try to smooth things over, but it was too late.