Black Night bw-2

by Christina Henry

  I felt my magic rise up again, my anger peaking once more. “Do not attempt to threaten me.”

  He cowered back, the crafty light in his eyes winking out, and dropped his head. “You are right. I am sorry. You are right.”

  “And it wouldn’t be her word against yours anyway,” Beezle said from the doorway. “I am a witness, and Azazel knows that I must speak the truth. So you’d be fucked for sure if she decided Azazel needed to know.”

  I hadn’t heard Beezle reenter. He hovered near the door, his small face full of thunder.

  “Get out of here and do not even breathe in my direction for the next three days,” I said.

  Nathaniel stood unsteadily, his right hand covering the exposed muscle in his chest. He staggered to the connecting door without a word and stumbled through.

  I watched him, my body full of tension and magic, until the door closed. Then I looked at Beezle.

  “When did you get here?” I asked.

  “Right after you blasted that thrice-bedamned bastard into the mirror,” he said.

  Beezle hardly ever swore. Neither did I, for that matter. That, more than anything, told me how upset he was. We looked at each other in silence.

  “I shouldn’t have left,” he said. “I didn’t think he would try something like that.”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

  “We probably should have suspected after we overheard him on the phone,” Beezle said.

  “Right. Sneaking around behind Azazel,” I replied.

  “If he could do that, he could do anything,” Beezle said.

  “Yes,” I said faintly.

  He flew to me, hovered in front of me, put his tiny claws on my cheeks. “It’s okay to cry.”

  “Okay,” I said, and I did.

  After a good cry, and a thorough washing in the shower in which I scrubbed everywhere Nathaniel touched at least a thousand times, I curled up in bed with the blankets over me and my eyes wide open. Try as I might, I couldn’t sleep a bit. Beezle didn’t sleep either, maintaining a watch over the connecting door despite the fact that we’d hooked a chair under the doorknob.

  When the first rays of dawn trickled in through the window, I sat up in bed and threw the blankets off, done with the pretense of trying to sleep.

  “Breakfast?” Beezle asked, stretching.

  “I’m not hungry,” I said.

  I didn’t want food. I wanted Gabriel. If he had been here, Nathaniel never would have even tried to hurt me. If Gabriel had been here, I would never have been alone with Nathaniel in the first place.

  But you took care of yourself, didn’t you? I thought. Well, yes, I had. When it came down to it, I didn’t need to cower behind a big, strong man. But it would be nice to have a partner to lean on, and that was what Gabriel was to me. When he was with me, I felt all the broken, empty parts of me were filled, and just at that moment it seemed like there were more broken and empty parts than usual.

  I walked to the window, looked down at the hustle and bustle in the courtyard. It appeared that more parties were arriving at Amarantha’s court. Several black limousines were lined up near the front door.

  I wondered if Wade had told Amarantha what had happened last night, and I wondered where Gabriel was now, if he was safe, if I would ever be able to find him.

  I noticed J.B. walking arm in arm with Violet as they greeted the new arrivals. I felt that little flutter in my chest that I had felt the day before, the one that had felt like jealousy, and I knew that it was unfair. If I wasn’t going to date J.B., then I couldn’t be upset if he chose someone else.

  But really, the catty part of me whispered, couldn’t he have chosen someone better than Violet? I guess she was okay if you wanted a great body and a snotty personality, but I’d always thought J.B. had more depth than that.

  “And really, don’t you have enough man issues without adding J.B. to the mix?” I mumbled to myself.

  “What was that?” Beezle said. “I’m an old gargoyle. I can’t hear you.”

  I turned to answer him and found him digging in the carry-on bag full of snacks that I’d brought. Empty wrappers and banana peels were strewn on the floor. In the few moments that I’d been at the window he had devoured more than half the food I’d brought.

  “Beezle!” I shouted, and he looked up at me guiltily. “That food needs to last three days!”

  “I can’t help it,” he whined. “You know I’m a nervous eater. And this stuff isn’t exactly nutrient dense, you know. Not like a slice of cake, say, or a doughnut.”

  “I think you need to reexamine the definition of ‘nutrient,’” I said. “I packed that stuff because it was nutrient dense.”

  “Yes, but where is the fat and the sugar? When did you decide to get on a health kick?”

  I rolled my eyes and turned away to dress. I didn’t want to spend time explaining to Beezle that healthy foods were easier to pack and that we shouldn’t be eating so many doughnuts anyway. It didn’t matter if he ate the whole sack of food in any case. I wasn’t sure I would ever feel like eating again.

  Whenever I thought of what had happened the night before, a ball of shame burned in my stomach. I knew that it was Nathaniel who should feel ashamed, and that I had done nothing wrong. But I felt humiliated and helpless, even though I had defended myself.

  I never thought it would happen to me. Maybe because I’d spent so much time sheltered from other people. Maybe because I’d thought Nathaniel would always respect Azazel even if he didn’t respect me. I guess everyone thinks it will never happen to them.

  I pulled on one of my suits—a black pin-striped one that reminded me of Dana Scully. All I needed was a pair of super-high heels and a red bob, but all I had was black flats and my own messy mop. I pinned my hair in something resembling an updo, and slapped makeup on my face like armor.

  My mouth and cheek were bruised where Nathaniel had hit me. I did my best with the cover-up but everyone was going to know I had been hit.

  Beezle fluttered up to my shoulder and landed there. He squeezed his claws comfortingly. “No one has to know.”

  “They’ll know something happened,” I replied.

  “Just glare if anyone tries to ask. You are royalty, after all. You don’t have to answer questions if you don’t want to.”

  I practiced my best haughty do-not-speak-to-me-youpeasant look in the mirror. It might put off strangers, but I shuddered to think what J.B. would say when he saw me.

  Then I took a deep breath and went out of the room, where I promptly managed to get lost.

  After much rushing around hallways listening to Beezle’s useless directions and not seeing anyone to help me, I spotted Jude coming out of a guest room. Great. My least favorite wolf. But at least he would be able to point me toward the throne room—I hoped.

  “Jude!” I called, jogging to catch up with him. Beezle flew behind me.

  He continued walking down the hall like he hadn’t heard.

  “Jude!” I cried, more insistently.

  It seemed like he walked a little faster.

  “Are you kidding me?” I muttered. “Are you seriously going to pretend that you don’t hear me?”

  I sped up until I caught up to him and then tapped his shoulder. I lost Beezle, who panted several feet behind me. Jude turned on me with a snarl.

  “What is it, spawn of Lucifer?”

  I backed up a step. His fangs were showing. It was very off-putting to see a wolf’s fangs in a human’s mouth.

  “Okay,” I said, holding my hands up. “First off, I’m not precisely Lucifer’s spawn.”

  “Intervening generations do not change the fact that you are of his blood,” Jude growled.

  “Okay, whatever,” I said. I wasn’t about to get embroiled in genetic technicalities with Jude, who clearly wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t near me. “Listen, can you tell me how to get to the throne room? I seem to have made a wrong turn somewhere.”

  He smirked at me. “All the powers
of the devil don’t come with a compass?”

  “Fine, don’t help me,” I said, pushing past him. Obviously Jude had some issues that precluded the possibility of his acting like a civilized human being.

  “Wait a second,” he said, and grabbed my shoulder roughly.

  Something flashed through my head—Nathaniel holding me in place by my shoulders. I turned on Jude with a yell and knocked his hand from me. My breath came hard and my hands were curled into fists.

  He stepped back a little and held up his arms to show he wasn’t dangerous. I could see him examining my face closely and I felt a wave of embarrassment redden my cheeks.

  “Who hit you?” he growled.

  “Nobody. I fell last night, remember?” I looked down. I couldn’t believe I was lying, making excuses.

  He put his hand under my chin, more gently than I thought him capable, and forced my face up to his.

  “Somebody hit you,” he said. “I can smell a lie.”

  “Yeah, well,” I said, getting some of my gumption back. “I blasted him across the room, so he paid for it.”

  “Good,” Jude said shortly, and dropped his hand away. “Follow me. I’m going to the throne room anyway.”

  He started down the hallway again. I trotted after him, which was necessary because he was quite a bit taller than me and it took me five steps for every one of his.

  He didn’t say anything else, and I was okay with that. I didn’t know what to make of that moment in the hallway, and I’m sure he didn’t either. He was probably already regretting being nice to a descendant of Lucifer. Beezle had caught up with us and settled on my shoulder, letting me do the heavy lifting.

  Several minutes later we were at a side entrance to the throne room. Apparently this was the way you came in when you weren’t being formally announced. There were several knots of courtiers already assembled in little cliques around the room.

  Amarantha was receiving the various parties that had arrived that morning. There were a couple of different faerie factions from other parts of the country coming in. She looked completely in her element, and I wondered how long she’d practiced that look of benevolent tolerance before she’d perfected it.

  Jude took off for the small party of wolves on the opposite side of the room and I looked around for J.B. Wade saw me and gave me a friendly wave, but his brows were furrowed as he consulted with the other wolves.

  None of the other courtiers seemed inclined to invite me into their group. I stood awkwardly off to the side, looking hopefully around for someone who would want to talk to me. It probably didn’t help that Beezle had fallen asleep on my shoulder and he was snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

  I felt a tap on the shoulder that wasn’t hosting a fat, lazy gargoyle and a second later J.B. was in front of me. I took Beezle off my shoulder because my right ear was deaf and stuffed him in one of the patch pockets on the front of my suit. His arms and head hung over the seam of the pocket, but he kept snoring. I was getting a little worried about Beezle.

  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.