Black Night

by Christina Henry

  I wasn’t exactly sure how old he was, but he definitely seemed to be slowing down lately. What would I do if he turned to stone?

  “You look like Molly Ringwald in that movie where she shows up at the prom without a date,” J.B. said.

  “Does that make you my Andrew McCarthy?” I asked.

  “Only if you promise not to call me Blaine,” he replied, and then his face creased in anger. I knew he’d seen the shadow of the bruise through my makeup. “What happened to you?”

  “Can we not talk about it?” I asked. I really wasn’t up for telling the whole story now, and my lies were so pathetically feeble that J.B. would see right through them.

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the side of the room, away from nosy courtiers.

  “No, I really would like to talk about it, because there’s only one thing that could make a bruise like that. A fist.”

  I sighed. J.B.’s testosterone was up. The last thing I needed was him going after Nathaniel. I didn’t even want to think about what kinds of problems that would cause between the courts of the faerie and the fallen.

  “Okay, you win. I got hit, but I hit him back and now it’s all over so you don’t need to ride to my rescue,” I said quickly and quietly. “I was in a lot more danger when I faced Ramuell.”

  “Just tell me who did it,” J.B. said grimly.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t want you to get involved in this.”

  “For chrissakes. When the hell are you going to trust me?” he said, rubbing his hands through his hair in frustration.

  I looked at him in surprise. “I do trust you. You’re probably the closest friend I have after Beezle.”

  There was speculation in his green eyes. “Really? Closer than Gabriel?”

  “Gabriel is my bodyguard,” I said stiffly.

  J.B. snorted. “He wants something to do with your body, but it ain’t guarding that he’s thinking about.”

  That was the second time in less than twelve hours that my relationship with Gabriel had been questioned. Apparently, we had done a super-crappy job of trying to keep things secret. What made it even worse was that nothing had really happened between us. There was just a lot of longing and the restless nights that go with it.

  And this was yet another topic that I was not keen to discuss in a room full of avidly watching courtiers.

  “Did Wade tell your mom about the wolf killing last night?” I asked.

  “Yes, and she’s not happy about it,” he said with a small smile. He seemed to enjoy his mother’s annoyance.

  “Why not?” I asked. “I mean, beyond the obvious.”

  “It’s a terrible insult to the wolves that this occurred in Amarantha’s own courtyard. It indicates a breach of security and violates a ton of faerie rules involving etiquette and the safety of guests.”

  “So she’s pissed because now they have more leverage to negotiate for that land that they want. They’ve been insulted and she has to repay them,” I guessed.

  “Uh-huh,” he said. “She’s in a real snit about it.”

  “Well, if she’s anything like my father, then it would be good for her to not get her way now and then.”

  “I think so, too . . .” he said, and trailed off.

  He stared at something over the heads of the courtiers. The room had gone completely silent except for the swishing of fabric as everyone turned to look at the main entrance to the court.

  I stood on my tiptoes and tried to see. Unfortunately that only made me five foot two instead of five foot. Considering that most of the faeries were built on the tall and lean scale this meant that all I saw were a lot of shoulder blades.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Shh,” J.B. said.

  The faerie toady who stood by the door announced the arrivals. “Lord Focalor of the kingdom of the fallen, escorted by Antares ap Azazel and sundry demons, and bearing a gift for Queen Amarantha.”

  Antares. Focalor. What in the four hells were they doing here?

  The crowd parted as they approached the throne. I could see Antares, and the demon that had been in my vision, the one that had negotiated with Samiel. So my guess was correct—he was Focalor.

  A crowd of smaller demons followed behind Focalor and Antares. Antares held a leash in his hands attached to a figure who walked between my half brother and his lord.

  His back was covered in lash marks, he was filthy, his black wings drooped, and his hands were bound behind his back. But his head was high and his dark eyes burned with anger.

  It was Gabriel.

  13

  THE ROOM BROKE OUT IN FURIOUS MUTTERS. MOST OF the faeries seemed shocked that Focalor had not only entered Amarantha’s court under his own banner and not Lucifer’s, but that he’d done Amarantha the insult of bringing lesser demons with him. I knew all of this was important. I knew that it probably meant that Focalor was moving openly against Lucifer. But I only had eyes for one person.

  “Gabriel,” I whispered, and I started toward him.

  “Don’t,” J.B. said, and he grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

  “Why not?” I said angrily under my breath. “I’m within my rights to take him back. Gabriel is my bodyguard.”

  “But he came here with Focalor’s party. You would be insulting Amarantha if you tried to take him from the demons in front of the entire court.”

  “Do you think I care about insulting the queen?” I hissed. “Do you see him? Do you see what they’ve done to him?”

  J.B. squeezed my hand. “I see. I know. Don’t worry. We’ll get him back. But let’s find out what they want before we go in all guns blazing.”

  Focalor had approached the throne. Antares stood a few feet back with Gabriel. I could see the metal collar they had put around his neck. It was lined with spikes that protruded from it every few inches and Antares was obviously taking pleasure in yanking on the leash so that Gabriel’s flesh would bleed anew.

  The little knot of demons stood farther back in the center of the room, and all the faeries were taking care not to brush up against them accidentally. The courtiers had pressed back against the walls and cleared an area of several feet around the demons.

  Amarantha appeared to be disgusted by the whole proceeding. Violet, standing at the queen’s right hand as always, looked like she was either going to puke or faint. I couldn’t blame her. The stench of the demons, that sulfuric cloud that always seemed to follow them, was slowly filling the throne room. The servants were attempting to discreetly open the gigantic windows that lined one side of the room, but the courtiers pressed back so far that it was difficult for the servants to do their jobs.

  I, on the other hand, pushed forward so that I was in front of the crowd, close to the throne and with a clear view. Antares caught my eye and winked menacingly. I felt magic crackle over my fingers and suppressed the urge to blast him into kingdom come. I was sure that would violate some desperately important accord of the faerie court, and the only thing I wanted right now was to get Gabriel back. If I had to control my temper for a few minutes, then so be it. But Antares was going to pay for this, sooner or later.

  Focalor bowed low to Amarantha. It was the kind of bow that seemed correct but there was something disrespectful about it all the same. Which he probably was.

  “Queen Amarantha, most beautiful light of the faerie court,” Focalor began, and his voice oozed with the false compliments.

  “Lord Focalor,” Amarantha replied, and her voice was polite although her teeth were gritted. “How dare you come to my court under your own banner, and sully this place with these low creatures?”

  She gestured to the demons, who were flicking their tongues and growling and oozing all over the place.

  Focalor bowed his head. “Forgive me, my lady. I was under the impression that it was customary for a lord to be escorted by his retinue. Do not your own accords state that hospitality shall be given even unto the escorts of a guest in your court?”

  He
smiled, and I wondered how Amarantha would get out of this one.

  “You have not been invited, nor have you been accepted; therefore you are not yet a guest of my court,” she replied. “If you have come to bargain with me, then your retinue must remove to the courtyard.”

  Focalor narrowed his eyes. I saw Amarantha make a small movement of her index finger. The servants who had been hovering unobtrusively in the background moved swiftly to the front of the crowd and stood at parade rest. Ah. So the servants were also warriors, and Amarantha wanted them on hand in case things got ugly fast.

  For a moment it seemed her paranoia was justified. Focalor looked like he was ready to loose his demons on the courtiers rather than submit to Amarantha’s will. I readied my magic. Next to me I saw J.B. draw a long wooden rod from his pocket. I had seen him use this once before. Apparently it gave him some extra powers.

  Then Focalor smiled his hideous smile, and said, “As you wish.”

  The demons went snarling out of the room, followed by a couple of warriors to make sure that they went the right way. Antares and Gabriel stayed. I tried to catch Gabriel’s eye, but he stared stoically ahead, seeing nothing.

  “My lady, I have come to you to establish relations between our courts,” Focalor said.

  “We already have in this court a representative of Lord Lucifer,” Amarantha replied. “Lady Madeline Black ap Azazel. It is not necessary for your lord to send more than one ambassador at a time.”

  Focalor showed his pointed teeth. I remembered Beezle telling me after my vision of the Forbidden Lands that Focalor was one of the fallen, not a demon, and I wondered why he didn’t look angelic like the other fallen. What had he done that had twisted his appearance so thoroughly?

  “I have not come as a representative of Lucifer. I have come to establish relations with my own court and under my own banner as an independent entity.”

  There was an intake of breath in the room, and several heads craned around to stare at me. So this was it. Focalor was moving against Lucifer publicly. What power was he holding that made him think he could succeed?

  I knew that I couldn’t let Focalor’s statement pass without comment. I was there as Lucifer’s representative.

  I stepped forward, heard J.B. whisper, “Carefully.”

  Beezle still snored away in my front patch pocket. His arms hung over the side and his head drooped. Unbelievable. I’m sure that I looked really authoritative with a snoozing gargoyle as an accessory. But I marched up to the throne and stood within a foot of Focalor, even though the stench of him turned my stomach. I didn’t try to look at Gabriel this time. I didn’t want everyone in the room to see the desperate need that would surely be on my face. I was learning that I didn’t hide my emotions well.

  “Lady Amarantha, if I may speak?” I asked, and she nodded. I directed my comments to Focalor. I tried to make an effort to sound all formal and ambassador-y. “I believe Lord Lucifer would be somewhat surprised to discover that you are, as you say, an ‘independent entity.’ The laws which have bound you these thousands of years have not recently been altered, have they?”

  “The laws which have bound me have begun to chafe,” Focalor replied.

  “So put some cream on it and deal,” I replied, dropping the formality. I just didn’t have great people skills. I wondered again why Lucifer had chosen me. “You know, I know and everybody in this room knows that what you’re doing right now is sedition.”

  Focalor bowed in acknowledgment. “If that is what my lady chooses to call it.”

  “I call you a traitor to Lucifer’s court,” I said.

  Focalor stepped closer to me, and I glared up at him. I reallllllly hated that I was so short. I could never look eye to eye with anyone. The heat and stink coming off his body was intense and I tried to breathe through my mouth.

  “That is a strong word, Lady Madeline. Be careful. Words can get you into trouble.”

  “Trouble is a word you’d better get used to, because Lucifer is going to bring the freaking thunder down on your ass,” I snapped. “I’m not going to stand here and exchange smart comments for the rest of the day. If you have even an iota of intelligence, you’ll take your little demon toys and my worthless half brother and go home. But you can leave Gabriel. He is my father’s thrall and you have done Azazel an insult by taking him. If you leave now, I will speak to Lucifer on your behalf. Perhaps he’ll be lenient since no harm has yet been done.”

  “I am not afraid of Lucifer or Azazel,” Focalor hissed. “I have access to powers that they cannot comprehend. Lucifer will no longer reign supreme on this Earth. And I do not have to accept the insults of Azazel’s whelp.”

  There were several shocked intakes of breath.

  “You should remember,” I said, and I felt my magic moving through me, eager for the fight, “that I am not only Azazel’s daughter. I am Lucifer’s granddaughter, and the power of the Morningstar flows through me. What you have done is tantamount to declaring war on my grandfather’s kingdom. Whatever powers you think you have, they won’t do you any good when I pull your heartstone from your chest.”

  That was kind of an icky and demony threat coming from me, but I wanted to make sure that Focalor knew that I meant business. I also knew that there was this rule and that rule and the other rule about harming other members of the courts of the fallen, but I thought Lucifer might give me a pass if I averted a massive war by killing Focalor. I’d probably get stuck doing another shitty favor for old Granddad, though.

  “Enough,” Amarantha thundered.

  We both turned to look at her. I’d kind of forgotten that we were standing in her court, actually. I was all wrapped up in trying to figure out how to take Focalor down before he slashed my throat open with his claws.

  “Whatever the arguments between the courts of the fallen, my court is not the place to air your grievances. You have both done me a grave insult by bringing this here.”

  “He started it,” I muttered.

  “Lord Focalor, in exchange for this insult, I demand that you leave Lord Azazel’s thrall with me.”

  I started to protest, but Focalor cut me off.

  “That suits me very well, my lady, as I had intended to gift the thrall to you in any case.”

  What? What purpose could Focalor possibly have in giving Gabriel to Amarantha? Well, besides the obvious purpose of pissing off Azazel.

  Amarantha looked deeply pleased. There was something else going on here besides Focalor openly declaring war on Lucifer.

  “That is an exceptional gift, my lord Focalor,” Amarantha purred. Suddenly all of Focalor’s insults were forgotten. “Violet, take the thrall to my chambers.”

  I looked at Gabriel, who still wore a stony expression; at Amarantha, who could barely disguise her glee; and at Focalor, who gave me a smug smirk. I didn’t bother looking at Antares. There was no doubt that he was thrilled to pieces at pulling one over on me.

  “You can’t accept Gabriel as a gift,” I said, trying to control my temper. I was not in Amarantha’s good books at the moment. “He’s not Focalor’s to give. Gabriel is Azazel’s thrall and in Azazel’s absence I speak for him.”

  “It seems to me,” Amarantha said silkily, “that you should have taken better care of your father’s thrall in the first place. The thrall is in Focalor’s possession, not yours. Therefore you have no claims over him.”

  “Thank you for accepting my gift, lady,” Focalor said.

  “In exchange for this generosity, you may remain as a guest of my court,” Amarantha said. “However, due to the delicate nature of my courtiers, your demons must remain outside.”

  “Understood, my lady,” Focalor said.

  Violet stepped forward to take Gabriel’s leash from Antares. Amarantha stood from her throne. She practically hummed with anticipation.

  Two of Amarantha’s warriors/servants came to Focalor’s side and escorted the fallen lord and Antares from the throne room, presumably to show them to their quarters.r />
  This was ridiculous. I was going to start shouting and blasting everything in the throne room in a minute. Amarantha could not possibly be accepting Focalor’s claims of independence from Lucifer. She could not possibly be taking Gabriel from me.

  Amarantha turned to enter her receiving room. I started after her, but felt a hand on my shoulder.

  I turned to shout at the person holding me and saw that it was Wade.

  “Don’t,” he said quietly. “Don’t give her more ammunition to hurt you. If you want your bodyguard back, think before you act.”

  To my horror I felt tears filling my eyes. Violet led Gabriel into the receiving room behind Amarantha.

  “Don’t let them see you cry,” Wade said.

  “Yes,” I said, and I blinked until I felt the tears receding.

  I would not cry in front of Antares and Focalor. I would not give them the satisfaction of knowing how much they had hurt me.

  “Good girl,” Wade said. “Now, come away. I need to speak with you.”

  Everyone in the room was staring at us. The other wolves gathered around me. J.B. joined them.

  “Come away,” Wade repeated.

  He took my arm and I let him. I wasn’t sure I could walk without support. The rush of adrenaline had left me and I felt shaky. I marched out of the throne room with my head held high, the werewolves flanking me like a guard of honor. As soon as the throne room doors closed behind me, we heard the explosion of chatter.

  “So glad to know that I’m good entertainment,” I said.

  “We must find a place where we cannot be overheard,” Wade said, looking to J.B.

  “The east tower,” J.B. replied. “My mother designed it specifically for privacy. No one has the key except members of the family.”

  J.B. led us through the maze of Amarantha’s castle. I barely registered where I was putting my feet. What was Amarantha going to do with Gabriel? How was I going to get him back?

  Gabriel. I needed Gabriel. Amarantha had Gabriel. These thoughts chased around my head to the exclusion of everything else.