Black Wings bw-1

by Christina Henry

  “Assuming that the power didn’t blast them off the face of the Earth,” I pointed out.

  “I am not certain that we can count on that happening,” he said. “Obviously, your power affected me differently from Ramuell. The next time, it may do something else entirely.”

  A sudden thought occurred to me. “Just tell me that Beezle slept through this.”

  “I have not seen the gargoyle,” Gabriel said.

  “Good,” I said. “Because I don’t want to hear any lectures right now.”

  “Lectures?” His right eyebrow quirked up.

  “Beezle thinks that it’s dangerous for me to . . . involve myself with you.” I watched his face carefully as I said this, and my heart sank when he turned grim.

  “The gargoyle is correct,” he said. “It is very dangerous for you, which is why this must never happen again.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, and I cursed the plaintive note in my voice. Why did he make me feel this way?

  “For us to be involved, as you put it, would threaten your life and mine. Lord Azazel would not thank me for putting his beloved daughter’s life in peril.”

  “But you haven’t explained why,” I said. I wanted to cry out in frustration or to beg him not to say these things, and I thought that attraction was a terrible thing if it made you so vulnerable.

  “Maddy, no matter how much I may want you,” he said steadily, “it cannot be.We cannot be.”

  I turned my head away, embarrassed by my longing for him, by the way I had thrown myself at him.

  “Don’t,” he said, putting his finger under my chin and turning my face back. “Do not turn from me in shame. The fault is not with you, but with me. I allowed myself to be overcome by my own jealousy.”

  “Jealousy? Of what?” I asked.

  “Of that puling human Bennett,” he said, and his vehemence startled me.

  “Bennett? J.B.?” I asked incredulously.

  “You do not see the way that he looks at you,” Gabriel said. “And you think he is attractive.”

  “Well, yeah,” I said. “Because I’m not blind.”

  The pouty expression on his face made me laugh. “Gabriel, there are many, many attractive men in the world, but not one of them holds a candle to you. You’re an angel, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Half angel,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, you seem to have gotten your looks from your mom. Ramuell got beat hard with the ugly stick. And besides, J.B. is a pain in my ass at the best of times and a total flaming jerk otherwise. It doesn’t matter how cute he is. I don’t think too much of his personality.”

  “You did not think too much of my personality recently, either,” he said. “You were quite furious with me for entering your mind.”

  I colored in embarrassment. “Well, yes. And I’m still annoyed about that, to tell you the truth. It was wrong of you.”

  He nodded.

  “But you saved my life a few times, so I’ve decided to forgive you. Besides, I’m sure that you were acting on my father’s orders.”

  “Yes.”

  “So he’s the one I need to yell at.” I sobered, remembering why we were having this conversation. “But I still don’t understand why you’re breaking up with me before we’ve even gone on a date.”

  Gabriel exhaled heavily and pushed off the sofa, pacing the room like a restless lion. “The nephilim’s lives were preserved because the Grigori did not want to murder their own children, however monstrous. But neither did the Grigori want further generations of nephilim. So the nephilim were forbidden to reproduce, and since I am half nephilim, this edict also falls on me.”

  I stared at him. “So, you can’t have babies. Does that mean that we can’t be together? Hello, birth control?”

  Gabriel’s mouth twisted. “Human methods of preventing conception would be unable to stop you from getting pregnant. We are supernatural beings. There has never been a case where an angelic being has not impregnated his human partner. I have every reason to believe that if I made love to you, you would conceive my child. And for that sin, we would both be brought before Lucifer and punished.”

  “By ‘punished,’ you mean killed?”

  Gabriel nodded.

  I stared at him. “So, you’re saying you’ve basically been condemned to a loveless existence because you can’t reproduce, and if you do, you and your lover and your child will be slaughtered?”

  He nodded again.

  I pushed myself up to my elbows and felt another wave of dizziness. I was furious, but I felt too tired and sick to move any farther. “You’re being punished for all eternity because your mother was raped by a nephilim? That’s ridiculous. That’s cruel.”

  “That is Lord Lucifer,” Gabriel said. “His word is law, and his law is binding. These are the terms of my existence. Should I attempt to appeal them, I am certain he would remind me that I could have been struck down while still an infant.”

  I wanted to go on, to argue some more, to find a way for us to make it work. It was beyond unfair that I had finally found someone to be with and he had a sword of Damocles hanging over him that would come down the second we knocked boots.

  But there were, as always, more important things to worry about. I decided to revert to professional mode and worry about my tangled feelings later.

  “Gabriel, I had wanted to go to the Hall of Records today. And now that J.B. has seen Antares, he’s more likely to cooperate.”

  Gabriel looked a little surprised at my sudden shift in topic but seemed to realize it was best not to spend any more time talking about the whole forbidden-lust thing.

  I continued. “I was planning on going there so that I could look for other people like my mother and Patrick—people whose records don’t show their choice after death. I thought it could help me find Ramuell.”

  “And it still may,” Gabriel said thoughtfully. “Ramuell’s victims may help us define his purpose here if there is a pattern to his choices. It also may help us identify his puppeteer. Whoever loosed this creature did so for their own foul purpose.”

  There was something not quite right here. I frowned. “One thing I don’t get about this puppet master theory, though—if my father sent you here to protect me because only you can contain Ramuell long enough for him to be re-bound, then how could a puppet master control the nephilim? I mean, you said it took all the magic of the fallen to bind the nephilim before, right?”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said, and a crease appeared between his brows.

  “So who, besides you, could possibly have the power to contain it in between rampages?” I asked.

  “There could be more than one master,” Gabriel said. “It would make sense. Only the combined magic of many powerful creatures could contain even one nephilim.”

  “Unless you are a descendant of one,” I said, and I felt a little tickle in the back of my brain.

  Gabriel looked at me with the same dawning comprehension in his eyes. “You think Ramuell has another child.”

  “It makes more sense than a confederacy of the fallen, doesn’t it? I mean, how would that many masters hide what they were doing from Lucifer?” I asked.

  “I think you are underestimating the number of enemies Lucifer has,” Gabriel said with a half smile.

  “But are there that many enemies who share the same purpose?” I persisted.

  “Another child of the nephilim,” Gabriel mused. “How could one be unknown to us? My birth was so unusual, so unwanted by above and below, that I was sentenced to death virtually at the moment of conception. How could Ramuell’s other offspring be hidden?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, feeling suddenly tired. It seemed that every answer I found brought new questions. “There is something else ...”

  “And what is that?”

  It was hard to say this without sounding like a child. Every time someone mentioned my father, I felt confused. On the one hand, to be the object of his apparent adoration was a heady thing for a fa
therless little girl. On the other hand, I was angry at his desertion of myself and my mother, and even angrier that he still didn’t see fit to be present when my life was obviously in danger.

  “I want to see my father. Can you take me to him?”

  Gabriel looked shocked. “Madeline, you cannot simply appear in Azazel’s court. There are protocols to follow.”

  “Am I his daughter, or aren’t I?” I said angrily. I had been attacked by demons and nephilim, been overwhelmed by visions and new powers and assorted revelations, and the being responsible for the whole mess was two states away. I wanted to look him in the eye, to at least see the man who had conceived me and left me with a giant target on my back.

  “You are his daughter, yes, but ...” Gabriel looked more uncertain than I had ever seen him. “You cannot demand to see him. He is a lord, and if you do not follow the correct protocol, you could endanger my life and your own.”

  I felt a little tremble at the thought that Gabriel might be hurt. I didn’t want to subject him to any more harm than he had already obviously suffered at Azazel’s hands, but at the same time I didn’t want to back off. I wasn’t going to wait for Azazel to decide he felt like being a father. By the time that happened, I might be carved into tiny, bite-sized pieces by Ramuell.

  “Then tell me the protocol. I want to see him.”

  “But . . .”

  “Make it happen, Gabriel,” I said. I was uncomfortably aware of the fact that I had just given him an order, and that he must follow it. I was Lord Azazel’s daughter, and he was a thrall. The gap between us loomed up, dark and sudden, and I realized that even without his unfortunate bloodline it would be nearly impossible for us be together.

  His body stiffened. He hadn’t missed the command in my voice, either.

  “As you wish, my lady,” he said, and I shivered at the coldness in his voice.

  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and went into the kitchen. I heard the murmur of his voice, too low for me to make out the words.

  I went to the front window and looked out. The black field of night was turning blue, and some early risers were already out walking their dogs. It was another day, the fourth since I had stood at this window and waved good-bye to Patrick for the last time.

  It was hard to remember that he was gone. So much had happened in the last few days that the girl who lost Patrick was like a dream. We had sat in this room and gorged on pizza and bitched about J.B.’s predilection for paperwork and that had seemed like the most important thing in the world. Would Patrick even know the person who stood here now, the person who had just behaved not like Madeline Black, but like the daughter of Lord Azazel?

  I heard Gabriel reenter the room behind me and I carefully wiped my face of tears before I turned. His face was like stone.

  “Lord Azazel would be happy to receive you in his court later this morning, my lady,” Gabriel said.

  “Not that crap, again,” I said. “Listen, I’m sorry I acted so high-handed before ...”

  He lowered his eyes from mine. “But you were correct. In Lord Azazel’s realm you are akin to a princess, and I no better than a peasant. I should not show undue familiarity with my betters.”

  “I had no right to talk to you that way, no matter what I am in Lord Azazel’s realm.”

  He looked up at me again, and some of the ice had melted. “The court is a very different place, and we must get into the practice of behaving correctly.”

  “I hope you won’t let me make some stupid blunder that will get us both killed,” I said.

  “That all depends on if you will actually listen to my advice,” he murmured.

  “Are you trying to imply that I don’t listen well?” I asked.

  His lips quirked, but he wisely chose not to respond to my question. “Since you are akin to a princess, perhaps you should change into something a little more presentable?”

  I looked down at myself and realized I was still wearing my baggy sweats over my nightgown. My feet had been bare when I ran outside after J.B., and now they were covered with dirt and grass.

  “And when I looked like this, you couldn’t resist me?” I asked incredulously.

  “My lady, I would find you irresistible in any costume,” he said.

  “Watch out, buddy, or some might think that you are getting familiar with your betters,” I said, my cheeks reddening. I headed to my room to change into something “more presentable.”

  “I would like to be a great deal more familiar with you,” he murmured.

  I gave him no sign that I heard him, but I could not stop the smile that spread across my face.

  14

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER I STOOD NERVOUSLY NEXT TO Gabriel in my postage stamp of a backyard. Beezle perched on the railing of the back porch, arms crossed and looking desperately unhappy. He had spent several minutes telling me that my father was, essentially, an untrustworthy scumbag. I’d patted and comforted him as best I could and assured him that I was too smart to be fooled by Azazel. But he was still distressed and most definitely did not want me in Azazel’s territory.

  Beezle’s attitude had done nothing to reduce my worry. For all of my bravado, I was scared stiff at the prospect of meeting my father. I had no idea what kind of reception I’d get.

  Gabriel spoke. “When I open the portal, we will have but a few moments to take advantage. It requires a great deal of magical energy to open and direct the portal to our location, so it is urgent that you step into the portal immediately. I will follow once I am certain you are safely inside, and then I will close the door behind me.”

  “What’s going to happen once I’m in the portal?” I asked.

  “It will not be comfortable,” Gabriel averred.

  Beezle let out a little caw of laughter. “That’s the understatement of the century. You’re going to feel like your head is being squeezed between two cast-iron pans wielded by a sumo wrestler.”

  “Beezle, I don’t know where you get your similes but that is definitely conjuring up some weird imagery,” I said.

  “It is not quite that bad,” Gabriel said.

  “It will be for her,” Beezle snapped. “She’s half human; you’re not. Your body is designed to withstand this kind of rigor.”

  For the first time Gabriel looked uncertain. “Surely my lord Azazel would have thought of this. He would not risk Madeline’s well-being.”

  “I’m not certain that he wouldn’t,” Beezle said darkly.

  I held both of my hands up in a “stop” motion. “All right, all right. Look, the more we stand here talking about it, the worse I feel. Let’s just get it over with. If my head gets squashed, then at least Ramuell won’t have a chance to eat me.”

  “And that’s going to be a real comfort to me,” Beezle said, his face twisted up in unhappiness and anger.

  “Beezle,” I said, and I crooked my finger at him. He flew to me and wrapped his little arms around my neck, and tears pricked in my eyes. He was the only creature in the world whom I had loved and who had loved me all those long years without my mother. “I will come back to you in one piece.”

  “You’d better,” he sniffed. Then he pulled away and turned to Gabriel, pointing a claw in the half angel’s face. “If one hair of her head is harmed, I am holding you accountable.”

  Gabriel swept into a bow. “I give you my word that I will keep her safe.”

  Beezle looked as though he didn’t think too much of Gabriel’s word, but he nodded anyway and returned to his perch.

  “My lady?” Gabriel said.

  My heart was in my mouth so I just gave a frozen nod.

  Gabriel said a few words in another language. It wasn’t the harsh syllables of the demons’ tongue, but something lovelier and more ethereal. As I listened, I felt that I could almost understand it, like the translation was just out of reach, tickling the back of my brain.

  A moment later an opening appeared in the air before me, growing longer and wider quickly. The hole was filled wi
th swirling white mist.

  “Step inside,” Gabriel said.

  Two cast-iron pans wielded by a sumo wrestler, I thought, and then said, “What the hell.”

  I stepped inside.

  Immediately my body was sucked forward as if into a vacuum tube. The skin of my face was pushed back until my teeth were bared. My lungs gasped for air. And yes, the pressure between my ears was so intense that it did feel like my head had been clamped between iron. All around me was wind and white mist, like I was caught inside a tornado.

  All I wanted was for the pain to end. And abruptly it did. I tumbled out of the tornado and crashed onto a cold marble floor. Half a second later, Gabriel appeared beside me, stepping coolly out of the portal just before it closed.

  “How come you didn’t crash?” I asked sulkily as he helped me to my feet.

  “I have done this a few times,” he said, looking around as he spoke.

  I followed suit. We had landed in some kind of antechamber, a small room with double doors at the east and west ends. The floor was black marble, the walls a stark white. There were no paintings, sculptures or decorations of any kind except on the doors. The doors were a heavy dark wood, polished to a high gloss. In the center of each set of doors was carved a large five-pointed star, and crossed over the star was a sword with a rose wrapped around its hilt. Outside the eastern set of doors was a small bench, with cherry legs and a red velvet cushion.

  There was no one to greet us, and no movement from behind the doors. I felt a little tremor of nerves in my stomach. I was about to meet my father.

  “I know it is not in your nature, butplease hold your tongue and let me speak when we enter your father’s court,” Gabriel said as we approached the eastern set of doors.

  “Afraid I’ll start a civil war?” I asked dryly.

  “Something of that nature,” he said. “And you must not mention Evangeline unless you are alone with Lord Azazel. My lord has not revealed your visions to Lord Lucifer as of yet.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “Isn’t that a little . . . seditious?”