Black Wings

by Christina Henry

“Yes, there is a problem. Because Antares owed allegiance to Focalor and you owe allegiance to Azazel, there are two possible outcomes. The first is that Azazel and Focalor will engage in combat to the death, in Lucifer’s court, before witnesses.”

  “And the other option?” I said.

  “Azazel can give you to Focalor as an apology.”

  My stomach lurched. I could imagine what my fate would be.

  “That’s not good,” I said.

  “No. It is not.”

  18

  GABRIEL DIDN’T SPEAK TO ME ALL THE WAY HOME. I felt that the silent treatment was a little unfair, considering that I was the one who was going to get handed over to an unknown Grigori court to be used as a plaything. It never crossed my mind that Azazel might engage in blood combat for me. Gabriel had indicated to me time and again that Azazel would do nothing to risk his court or the sanctity of Lucifer’s kingdom.

  Beezle was in the kitchen when we returned. He was watching a bag of popcorn go around on the microwave plate. I could see three torn and discarded bags at the top of the garbage can.

  “What happened?” he asked, yanking the bag of cooked popcorn from the microwave and shoving fistfuls in his mouth. “Why were you gone so long? Did you find out anything in the Hall of Records?”

  Gabriel crossed to the cabinet where I kept the hot chocolate and pulled out three packets, and then he filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove. Apparently he was in need of some therapeutic chocolate. He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter next to the stove, stony-eyed and silent.

  Between Beezle’s nervous popcorn binge and all of the extra hot chocolate being consumed, there was a trip to the warehouse store in my future. I wondered if I would have time to do something as ordinary as shop for groceries ever again. And if I did have time, what were the chances that I would be able to get through a trip without being attacked by something freaky?

  “We didn’t find anything in the Hall of Records. Ramuell, Antares and a bunch of demons attacked the field office. Dozens of Agents are dead. J.B. has powers that I have never seen before, and I didn’t have any time to really ask him about them. I tried burning Ramuell to death and he escaped into a portal. Gabriel chased Antares away from the building and I caught up with them. And then I nuked Antares. Oh, yeah, that’s a new power of mine.”

  My dispassionate summary hardly seemed to convey the difficulty and horror of the last few hours, but Beezle appeared suitably shocked.

  “You did what to Antares?” Beezle shouted, dropping the bag of popcorn to the floor. Kernels spilled everywhere. What I had done must have been pretty bad if it caused Beezle to waste perfectly good popcorn.

  “I didn’t know,” I said. I felt strangely numb inside. I didn’t want to think too hard about the consequences of killing Antares or I might break down again. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “No,” Beezle said furiously, pointing a claw at Gabriel. “It is his fault. You were supposed to protect her. You swore to me that you would. How could you allow this to happen?”

  “It appears that our little Madeline has—how do you put it?—‘powers beyond our understanding.’ She manifested yet another ability that I have never seen before. Additionally, she manifested this ability so quickly, and without prior warning, that I had no opportunity to stop her.”

  He said all these things in a monotone. His coldness hurt almost as much as the fact that he was talking about me like I wasn’t in the room.

  “I didn’t know, okay?” I shouted, furious and hurt and scared. The tears I had wanted to hide rose to the surface, filling my eyes and falling down my cheeks, unbidden. “I thought I was supposed to be smiting the bad guys! Every time I turn around you’re telling me that I’ve violated some rule that I don’t even know about. Four days ago I was happily making a fucking pear tart and worrying about money and the stupid paperwork I would have to file for J.B., and now I have to worry about my own damned father turning me over to a fallen angel so that I can be tortured for the rest of my life! I didn’t know!”

  My voice got louder and louder as I spoke, and the flames of magic inside me rose higher and higher. The air around me crackled with energy. I turned my burning gaze on Gabriel, who had gone very still.

  “Uh, I’m going to go outside, okay? Just in case ...” Beezle said, and flew out the kitchen window.

  I barely heard him. I struggled to control my magic, to not let it control me. I didn’t know what would happen if I allowed it loose when I was in such a high emotional state. I didn’t want to do something else I would have to regret.

  Gabriel pushed away from the counter and moved toward me slowly and deliberately. I panted from the effort to control my magic, to keep it inside me. It felt like a million pins and needles under my skin, pushing, testing, searching for signs of weakness. My hands were fisted at my sides and I felt my hair rise around my face in a halo. Sweat beaded on my temples and the air suddenly smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg.

  The kettle began to whistle on the stovetop and I looked at it and said, “Be quiet.” The gas flame underneath the kettle abruptly snapped off and steam stopped pouring from the spout. Something else I could do that I had never done before.

  Gabriel put his hands on my shoulders.

  “Be careful,” I said, breathing hard. “Be careful. I don’t know what I might do.”

  He said nothing, only leaned forward until his forehead pressed against mine and we stared into each other’s eyes. The stars in his were quiet, bright little jewels in the vastness of space. His hands rubbed up and down my arms, gentling me. My breath unconsciously fell into the rhythm of his, slowing down, becoming less harsh and more steady.

  The magic inside me eased down to a flicker and the crackle of electricity disappeared. I closed my eyes, felt myself returning to normal again.

  Gabriel brushed his lips against mine, once, twice. Just enough to comfort, but not enough to lead to more dangerous thoughts. He pulled away and I opened my eyes.

  He nodded, and the only hint that I had that the kiss had affected him was the shower of meteors deep in his eyes. Then he took my hands, my poor burned and abused hands, and I felt the light of the sun flowing through me as he healed them.

  “I think I need that hot chocolate now,” I murmured.

  Gabriel stayed quiet for a few moments while he fixed the chocolate and then handed me a cup. In silent understanding we went into the living room and took our usual chairs. As I settled myself under a blanket I realized something.

  “You’re going to be punished, too, aren’t you? Because I killed Antares?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  “I don’t understand why you are responsible for my stupidity,” I said.

  “Because the gargoyle is correct. I should have told you that to harm Antares would endanger your well-being. Lord Azazel will most certainly blame me for your actions.”

  “Azazel should be thanking you and me for getting rid of Antares. Anyway, when Antares attacked J.B. you said that if Antares drew human blood, he would be in violation of some kind of accords. Doesn’t that mean he forfeited his rights in Lucifer’s kingdom when he broke the law?”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said slowly. “But he would have been brought to trial and judged by one of the chiefs of the Grigori or perhaps, because of the magnitude of his crime, by Lord Lucifer himself. You have not yet taken your father’s place; therefore, you have no right to judge or punish Antares. You will be treated like a common citizen who has broken the law.”

  “How do you live like this? Bound to this complex web of strictures and dictates, punished when you violate the smallest of rules? Why would any of the fallen choose to conform to such ridiculous laws?”

  “Presumably because they believe that Lord Lucifer’s way is better than what they left behind. And don’t ask what that was. You know I could not tell you, even if I knew.

  “And besides,” he continued, sipping from his cup. “Not all of the
fallen wish to serve Lord Lucifer. My lord is constantly dealing with any number of minor rebellions and struggles for power. It is why his word must be followed absolutely and all traitors punished swiftly. Lord Lucifer must maintain his base of power and ensure that the majority of his subjects are loyal to him.”

  “But their loyalty is based on fear, not respect.”

  “To one of the fallen, it is the same thing. They respect Lord Lucifer’s power and will not violate his laws because they fear the repercussions of that power.”

  I felt myself grow frustrated again with the ludicrous dictates by which I was now forced to live. And thinking of that reminded me that an unpleasant fate awaited me whenever Azazel and Lucifer realized I had smoked Antares. There had to be a way out, but I was too tired and confused to think it through. I decided to focus on the more immediate problem—my out-of-control magic.

  “Let’s not worry about Lucifer’s stupid laws right now,” I said. “I need you to help me get my magic under control before I blast the entire city of Chicago off the map.”

  “Yes,” Gabriel said, frowning. “It would be easier if I thought that we had seen the full extent of your powers. But it appears that you have spent many years suppressing your true nature, and now that your magic has been loosed, it is manifesting itself in unforeseen ways.

  “Be that as it may, at a minimum I can help you learn to control your emotions and thereby the flow of power, if not the exact type. Your emotional state seems to increase the likelihood that a buildup of power will occur inside you and explode out with dangerous consequences.”

  “Like that little nuclear blast thing. Or the starburst.”

  “Yes. However, the shield defense that you used against Antares should be quite useful—”

  “I thought the nuclear blast was pretty useful, myself.”

  “—and if you had better control over your emotions and powers”—Gabriel ignored my comment—“you would likely be able to call up the shield at will.”

  “Let’s be fair here. My emotions have been careening in every direction because every time I turn around another curveball is thrown at me.

  “It’s difficult to feel in control when, in the last four days, my best friend has died; a nephilim keeps trying to eat me; my new tenant turns out to be a half angel as, I should mention, do I; my long-lost father tries to gift my virginity to his lieutenant; I discover I have a demon half brother who I finally manage to kill, after he attempts to murder me and everyone I know, only to find out I’ve totally broken some rule I didn’t even know existed, which means I am going to suffer horribly for the rest of my natural-born life. Oh, and I almost forgot—Lucifer’s long-lost lover decides to use me as a megaphone for her life story every time I pass out, an event that has occurred with astonishing regularity from the moment I met you. I think I deserve a little slack here.”

  I was out of breath and dizzy at the end of this pronouncement. Somehow the act of speaking aloud the ordeal of the past few days made me realize just how exhausted I was.

  “I’m tired,” I said, my eyes drooping.

  “Perhaps now is not the best time for magical lessons,” Gabriel said, putting his cup on the end table and standing up.

  I stared up at him stupidly and shook my head to try to jolt some blood back into my brain. “If not now, when? If I go to sleep, I’m just going to get woken up because there’s another crisis, and there won’t be time to teach me anything before the next unknown power manifests itself.”

  “You cannot learn anything if you are so tired you can hardly keep your head up.” He put his arms under my body and lifted me easily.

  I swatted at him ineffectually. It was too easy to rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, especially when he radiated heat like a furnace. He carried me down the hall and into my bedroom and placed me on the bed. The bedcovers were still rumpled and thrown back from the night before.

  Gabriel tried to pull away but I grasped his sleeve. “Stay,” I mumbled.

  He moved toward the chair that he had used to watch over me the night before.

  “No,” I said, my eyes barely slit open. I patted the space next to me. “Stay with me.”

  He shook his head. “It is too dangerous for me to be near you.”

  “Just stay,” I insisted. “And take off your coat, for crying out loud. I know you’ve got wings under there, so you don’t need to hide them when we’re in the house.”

  He smiled at that, and I could see indecision warring in his eyes.

  “I just want you to hold me,” I whispered, my eyes fully closed now. I felt myself drifting. “Before they take me away from you forever.”

  My eyelids were too heavy to open again, but I heard the soft rustling of cloth, and the thunk of his shoes on the floor. A moment later the bed shifted as he settled his weight behind me.

  “Closer,” I demanded sleepily.

  “Yes, my lady,” he said, and his body pressed against my back. His right arm hugged me and his face was buried in my hair. There was more rustling and then I felt something fold over my body, soft as down and as warm as the sun.

  I fell asleep like that, wrapped in his wings.

  When I opened my eyes the digital clock on my night-stand read 11:36 P.M. I didn’t know what time it was when I conked out—I’d stopped looking at my watch after I’d delivered my souls to the Door—but I felt rested and refreshed. And hungry.

  I tried to sit up and realized that I was cocooned in Gabriel’s wings, and that I was very, very warm.

  “There is no crisis,” Gabriel murmured sleepily. “You can relax.”

  I turned in his arms so that I faced him. His eyes were at half-mast, still drowsy with sleep. The last four days had been hard on him, too. He’d been chasing around after me and expending nearly as much magical energy as I had. I stroked my hand down his cheek and felt soft stubble beneath my fingers.

  “You need to shave,” I said. “I didn’t think angels would have to worry about hair growth.”

  “I am not perfectly immortal, as Lord Azazel is,” he said, his hand coming up to close around mine. “I do age, but very slowly—so slowly that you would not notice the passing of years on me. There is a small strain of human blood in me, from the line of the nephilim.”

  His fingers rubbed against mine, and our faces were so close together that I could feel the puff of his warm breath on my skin.

  It was easy and natural to move closer, to let our mouths brush together, to pull away and smile, to be happy for this quiet moment together.

  Then my stomach rumbled, and Gabriel burst out laughing.

  I watched him in delight. He almost never smiled, and when he did it never really seemed like a happy smile. I had heard him laugh only once or twice, but it was magical to hear, a bright and shimmering thing that danced in the air.

  His laughter trickled out but he still had a huge grin pasted on his face.

  “Pizza,” I said, giving him a quick kiss and climbing out of bed. He shifted his wings so that I could move. “Someone around here must do late-night delivery. And you’re buying. I haven’t actually gotten any rent money from you yet.”

  “Ah. That,” Gabriel said, sitting up and letting his wings stretch out. His wingspan was about twelve feet and I had to scurry to the foot of the bed to allow him room.

  “ ‘Ah, that’ what?” I said, pushing my feet into my fuzzy slippers.

  It had been hours since I’d thought about my clothes, but I looked down and realized I still wore the black skirt, purple button-down shirt and black blazer that I’d put on that morning to appear in my father’s court. The sharp-heeled, knee-high boots that I had worn were crumpled on the floor next to the bed, and they were caked with gore. I didn’t even want to think about cleaning the leather, so I picked them up and tossed them in the kitchen trash. I found the Cubs sweatshirt that I had thrown aside in haste that morning, pulled off the blazer and replaced it with the sweatshirt.

  “The rent money.�
��

  “Don’t even tell me that there is no rent money,” I said, panicked. “Because that’s going to be a problem. My income has not been too stable for the last few months.”

  He finished stretching and folded his wings behind him again. The chilliness of the room didn’t seem to affect him. He padded around the bed in bare feet, black trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and followed me into the kitchen as I began searching through the stack of takeout menus that I had clipped to the refrigerator.

  “There is no rent money ...” he began.

  “What?” I shouted, turning to him.

  He held his hands up. “Peace. There is no rent money, because now that Azazel has acknowledged you as his daughter he is able to give you the legacy he has been saving for the last thirty-two years.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What legacy?”

  “Lord Azazel is a very wealthy man. And also a prompt one. If you check your bank balance, I am sure that you will see he has given some of the legacy to you already.”

  I couldn’t let that pass without investigation. I marched to my laptop, booted up and logged on to my Internet banking website. When I saw the figures for my checking and savings accounts, all the blood rushed out of my face.

  “I’ve never seen that much money in one place in my whole life,” I said. “Well, maybe in news items about government spending.”

  “And I am certain that it is only part of what you will receive. There are bound to be investments in various forms, scattered here and there. Lord Azazel will no doubt apprise you of these soon.” He smiled at my look of shock.

  My heart did a little jig. No more worries, no more scraping to get by. Then I sobered, remembering what else had happened that day.

  “I don’t think he’ll have to apprise me of anything,” I said, “seeing as I’m going to be given to Focalor.”

  The smile faded from Gabriel’s face. “Yes. Of course. I had forgotten.”

  “Me, too,” I said. My appetite was suddenly gone. At this rate I’d lose the extra fifteen pounds I was carrying in no time. It’s the My Daddy Was a Fallen Angel diet!