Black Night bw-2

by Christina Henry

  “I think I can handle myself,” I said.

  They both said nothing but pointedly stared at my face, the very visible site of most of my injuries.

  “What, you think that just because Samiel train-wrecked me that I can’t maneuver among the intricacies of the courts?”

  Their silence told me everything I needed to know about their opinion. I took a deep breath and told myself it would not be good to kill them.

  “Let’s not talk about me,” I said, pinning a bright smile on my face, and then I winced. It hurt to smile, or to do anything more strenuous than talk through my teeth. “Let’s try to figure out what happened to Gabriel.”

  “Why don’t you just tell Azazel? He probably has the resources to find him,” J.B. said reasonably.

  I shook my head. “He might have the resources to find Gabriel, but when he found him Azazel would kill him.”

  J.B. looked astonished. “For being kidnapped?”

  “He failed in his duty to protect me, and his life already hangs by a thread,” I said grimly. “If Azazel finds out that Gabriel is gone, then that thread will be cut. We have to make sure that my father doesn’t know about this.”

  I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the amount of problems that had presented themselves in the last day. First I’d been assigned this crap job in the faerie court and Nathaniel was supposed to accompany me. Then Antares and Samiel showed up with the sole goal of grinding me into small pieces. I’d totally stepped in the middle of some long-standing problem between Lucifer and the wolves, and Gabriel had disappeared. And it was imperative, absolutely imperative, that Azazel not find out about that. I didn’t know if I could live with myself if anything happened to Gabriel because of me.

  “How are you going to make sure Azazel doesn’t find out?” Beezle said. “The kidnappers may have contacted him already to ransom Gabriel. And even if they haven’t, Azazel is in almost daily contact with him, checking up on you.”

  “How do you know that?” I said.

  “I have ears,” Beezle said. “He does live downstairs, you know, and sometimes his windows are open.”

  It annoyed me that Azazel was following my life that closely and that Gabriel hadn’t said anything to me about it. But that was to be expected. I’d told myself time and again that Gabriel’s first loyalty was to my father, not to me.

  I had to stop thinking of Gabriel as a potential lover—a thing that was likely never going to happen—and instead as a potential enemy. Maybe J.B. and Beezle were right. Maybe I was naïve. I had to let go of these girlish dreams and focus on what was really happening around me.

  And right now, Gabriel’s loyalty was not the issue. His life was. I had to find him before I could worry about anything else.

  “And what are you going to do when it’s time to go to the faerie court?” J.B. asked. “Wasn’t Gabriel supposed to accompany you? How are you going to find him in two days without Azazel finding out, and in your condition?”

  J.B. was right. Even without a clue to go on, I was hampered by my injuries. I needed some angelic healing, and there was only one place that I could get it. But it was risky—extremely risky. If there was anybody’s loyalty in doubt, it was his. But maybe I could make it work. Maybe we could broker a deal that would make both of us happy.

  “I think,” I said, breathing deep and hoping that I wasn’t making yet another horrible mistake, “that I need to give my fiancé a call.”

  “This is incredibly stupid,” Beezle said the next morning as he primped the pillows around my head on the couch. J.B. had left after breakfast, promising to call later and check up on me. He’d also arranged to find substitutes for all of my pickups for the week, which definitely made my life easier. I had enough things on my plate without worrying about lost souls.

  “Your opinion has been duly noted,” I said dryly. “About eight hundred times over.”

  “You don’t want Azazel to find out about Gabriel, but you’ve called the one angel who is likely to run straight to him and report? Did Samiel beat all of your brains out of you?”

  “I’ve got to find some way to heal or else I’m not going to be able to find Gabriel, or negotiate with the faeries, or anything else,” I said patiently. “Nathaniel is the only angel I can ask.”

  “But you can’t trust him,” Beezle said. “He only wants to marry you because you’re Azazel’s daughter. He’s not really a fiancé.”

  “Actually, I think it’s more that I’m Lucifer’s granddaughter.” I shook my head. “But maybe I need to start treating him as an actual betrothed.”

  Beezle’s mouth dropped open. “Are you telling me that you are giving in to Azazel’s will and accepting the marriage?”

  It rankled when Beezle put it like that. “No. I most certainly am not. But maybe if I treat Nathaniel decently, he will do the same.”

  Beezle rolled his eyes. “Remember what I was saying earlier about naïveté?”

  “I have to try, Beezle,” I said. “And stop fussing with the pillows. I’m fine.”

  “Fine,” Beezle said darkly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He flapped to the front window without another word and disappeared out to his perch.

  I rested my head back against the pillows and closed my eyes. Beezle was wrong. I wasn’t naïve. I knew exactly the risk that I took in asking for Nathaniel’s help. I also knew that I would never find Gabriel in this condition, and that I couldn’t afford to wait weeks to heal.

  I must have fallen asleep for a while. When I opened my eyes, Nathaniel was kneeling beside me, his hand holding mine. There was an expression on his face that I couldn’t define. I realized that my blood was burning hot, and I touched my face. The swelling was gone, the pain disappeared. He had healed me while I slept.

  I rubbed my eyes and sat up, feeling remarkably hale and whole. My tongue touched the place where my teeth had been loosened by Samiel’s punches and found them solidly implanted in the gum. Thank goodness. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life looking like a hockey player or a hillbilly.

  “Thank you,” I said, and I said it without begrudging Nathaniel his existence, the way that I usually did. I didn’t know how I would have survived for this long in the angelic world without healing. The injuries that I had incurred from Ramuell alone would have killed me or crippled me for life if it had not been for Gabriel’s abilities.

  “Such a fragile thing,” Nathaniel said softly, and it was like he could hear my thoughts. “That little strain of mortality. Small things hurt you so.”

  He rubbed my fingers gently as he talked. I fought the urge to pull away, the feeling that I was somehow being disloyal to Gabriel by letting Nathaniel touch me. I needed him on my side, and it wouldn’t do to get his hackles up by acting like he had an infectious disease.

  Nathaniel turned my hand over in his, touching the places where my hands were rough or dry from work. “The hands of a servant, not a princess.”

  This time I did pull my hand away, insulted. “I’m not the kind to fool around with manicures. And I don’t have servants to do my dishwashing and bathroom scrubbing.”

  He folded his hand in his lap. “But you do not have to. You could live with Azazel in his palace. You could give up this life.”

  “And give up who I am, too,” I replied fiercely. “I am not a toy for Azazel to play with.”

  Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at me. “Is that what you believe? That your father treats you like a toy?”

  “I don’t believe that my wishes are paramount in his view,” I replied, trying to calm down.

  This was not how I had intended to go on with him. I’d wanted to present my case simply, to get him to agree to a trade. If I lost my temper or made him lose his, then we would never get anywhere. Luckily, he had already healed me without my asking, so that was one thing I would not have to bargain over.

  “Let’s not talk about Azazel,” I said firmly, swinging my legs to the floor and forcing him to back away. I indicated t
hat we should both sit in the dining room. I wanted to be eye level with him, not lying prone with Nathaniel looming over me.

  “No, let us discuss your injuries,” he said as he followed me into the next room and sat down across from me. “How is it that you are so horribly injured and the thrall has not healed you?”

  “His name is Gabriel,” I said through my teeth. “Why do you always talk about him as if he were slime on your shoes?”

  “And why do you always behave as though he were something more than that?” Nathaniel said. His voice was calm and reasonable but his blue eyes lit with anger. “You treat him as if he were your equal.”

  “Because he is. And you don’t exactly endear yourself to me by acting like a prince.”

  Nathaniel smoothed the cuffs of his perfectly white shirt with his perfectly buffed fingernails before responding. He wore a trim-cut black suit, no tie, and his blond hair looked like it had been professionally coiffed. His glittering white wings were tucked neatly behind him, not a feather out of place. The overall effect was one of golden beauty, but that beauty was cold. And his natty dressing habits only made me feel worse about my lack thereof, particularly when I was wearing nothing but a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. I could not see myself waking up next to this flawless creature every morning for the rest of my life. Did anything rumple him?

  “But I will be a prince, when I marry you,” he said calmly, looking into my eyes. “I do not think that you should be criticizing my behavior but looking at your own. You hardly behave in a way that is appropriate to your position.”

  My fingers curled into fists and I could feel my nails pressing into my palms. My magic rose up, hot and angry, and I could tell when Nathaniel sensed it. The atmosphere of the room changed. He sat up a little straighter, looked a little more wary.

  I concentrated on controlling myself. I will not blast my fiancé, I will not blast my fiancé, I will not blast my fiancé . . .

  “I hardly think that my behavior is any of your business,” I said, when I felt like I could talk again.

  “Of course it is. Your behavior reflects poorly on me in the eyes of the court.”

  I had to get this conversation back around to finding Gabriel or I was going to kill Nathaniel before he ever had a chance to help me.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, forced my magic down and said, “Enough already. I asked you to come here because I need your help.”

  He quirked one golden eyebrow at me in question.

  “You ask why Gabriel hasn’t healed me. Gabriel has gone missing, and I need your help to find him.”

  “And why should I assist you in finding the thr . . . Gabriel?” he amended, but Nathaniel said the name like it was poison dripping from his tongue. “His life is already forfeit since he has abandoned his duties to you.”

  “He didn’t abandon me,” I said angrily. “He wouldn’t. There is nobody in this world who is more devoted to my safety than Gabriel.”

  Nathaniel spread his hands wide. “Then where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, my shoulders slumping. “I think he was taken.”

  I explained about the various incidents in the alley, from our following of the power signature to my attack. I left out the part where I had accidentally reestablished relations with the wolves, and pretended I didn’t suspect the identity of my attacker. There was no need for Nathaniel to know anything about Samiel right now.

  He looked thoughtful, something I hadn’t expected. “How could the . . . Gabriel have been taken without your knowledge when he stood in such close proximity to you?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Beezle thinks it was the wolves.”

  “Beezle?” Nathaniel asked.

  “My gargoyle,” I said, waving my hands impatiently. “Do you have any way of tracking power signatures? Gabriel could do it, but he didn’t show me how.”

  Nathaniel’s nostrils flared and his lips thinned. “That ability appears to be the exclusive provenance of the children of Lucifer.”

  I could tell that it cost him something to say this. He wasn’t the type who enjoyed admitting weakness. But while it was an interesting fact for me to tuck away for later (being a child of Lucifer, I theoretically could manifest this power at some point) it didn’t really help me with my immediate problem—finding Gabriel.

  “Besides,” Nathaniel pointed out, “if the kidnappers did not use magic, there would be no power signature to trace.”

  “You think something swooped in from the sky and plucked Gabriel out of the alley without me noticing?” I said doubtfully.

  “You have not yet visited the courts of other fallen,” Nathaniel said grimly. “There are horrors there that you cannot comprehend.”

  Horrors, I thought. Once more, a warning of horrors that I could not understand. I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. Nathaniel’s eyes widened at something behind me.

  “Down!” he shouted, his hand reaching across the table as something smashed into the dining room window and slammed into me.

  6

  THE BREATH LEFT MY LUNGS IN A TREMENDOUS whoosh as something heavy crashed through the chair, into my back and then fell to the floor with a thunk. The apartment immediately started to fill with smoke. I shook my head, trying to collect my thoughts.

  A firm hand grasped my elbow and yanked me up from the table.

  “You have to get out of here,” Nathaniel said, dragging me away from the table and the source of the smoke.

  I shook my arm free from his grip. “No, I have to get whatever is smoking out of my apartment before the whole building blows up.”

  I couldn’t see his expression but I’m sure he disapproved. I dropped to the floor, coughing and covering my mouth and nose with the neckline of my T-shirt.

  A hissing noise emanated from just behind the chair I had been sitting in. I squirmed along the floor on my belly, feeling in front of me for the source of the noise. My vision was only slightly clearer than it had been when I stood up. The smoke was quickly filling the room. I could make out the vague shapes of furniture but nothing more.

  “Open a window!” I shouted to Nathaniel. He didn’t respond, so I assumed he had found the nearest exit and gotten out of the building. Which is what a smart person would do. But still, not very gallant of him, considering he was engaged to me.

  The hissing noise grew closer. I belly-crawled toward it, fingers of my right hand outstretched, the other hand holding my T-shirt over my nose.

  There was a blast of cold air on my back and the smoke seemed to lift temporarily. I glanced behind me and could make out the shape of Nathaniel in the front living room, opening all of the windows. Huh. So he hadn’t left me, after all.

  I turned back toward my goal, and saw that the smoke had dissipated just enough for me to see the source of the noise. I crawled toward it and carefully examined it without picking it up. It looked like a medium-sized black bowling ball with gray smoke emitting from a hole in the top. There did not seem to be any kind of incendiary device on it but I wasn’t about to take chances.

  I came to a crouch and then carefully lifted the ball into my arms. It is an unfortunate testament to my total lack of fitness that despite my newfound angelic strength, the ball felt heavy to me.

  I began to move through the house toward the back door. A moment later, Nathaniel was next to me, taking the ball from my arms.

  “Where?” he asked shortly.

  “Down the back stairs, to the yard and into my rain barrel,” I said. I was embarrassed that I was huffing and puffing, but it wasn’t all laziness. The smoke had obviously affected my puny mortal lungs more than it had affected his.

  Nathaniel disappeared into the kitchen, streaming a trail of smoke behind him. I walked through the apartment opening windows and letting the frigid November air inside. Luckily, we hadn’t gotten into a period of deep frost so there should just be a thin coating of ice on the rain barrel. I just hoped that whatever was inside that ball would respond the w
ay smoking things usually responded to water—by getting doused. If the item was magical, there was a good chance that it might blow up when it hit the water. You could never tell.

  When I’d finished opening the windows and the air had cleared somewhat, I went back to the dining area to survey the damage. The ball had completely smashed the window—no surprise there—and rendered the back rest of the chair I had been sitting in to splinters. I put my right foot down and felt something sting. I stood on the opposite foot and looked at the oozing wound on the sole.

  “Well, of course there would be glass on the floor, dummy,” I muttered to myself. I hopped down the hall to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet. There was a small sliver of glass embedded in the ball of my foot. “I don’t know how I survived this long on my own wits.”

  I reached down to the cabinet underneath the sink, pulled out my nail kit and collected the tweezers. Then I grabbed some rubbing alcohol and cotton balls, all while twisting around on the seat with my right leg crossed over my left and my right foot dripping blood on the blue tile floor. I dumped a little alcohol on the cotton ball and swabbed the tip of the tweezers. Then I added some more alcohol to the other side of the ball and applied it to the wound. I hissed as the alcohol stung.

  You would think that after nearly being killed by a nephilim I would have more tolerance for pain.

  I bent over my foot and began the business of trying to extract the glass. I grabbed at the sliver with the tweezers and pulled, whimpering as it came free from my flesh.

  “I am so not cut out for a life of adventure,” I muttered, wiping more alcohol on the wound to make sure it wouldn’t get infected. My eyes teared up as the alcohol did its thing.

  I finished bandaging the cut and stood up to test my weight on it. I would survive. A moment later, Nathaniel slammed the remains of my back door. I stepped gingerly into the hallway to meet him and had to cover my mouth with my hand to stifle my laughter.

  Well, I’d wondered if he’d ever get rumpled, and now he was. He looked kind of like that cartoon coyote after the dynamite has gone off in his face.