Black Lament

by Christina Henry

  It was slimy, and soft, a lot like touching an exposed organ. But I couldn’t think about what I was feeling, or give the mantis a chance to attack. I sent electricity careening through my body and out my fingers, into the soft parts of the monster.

  It gave a hideous cry, high-pitched and ear-shattering. The hubbub on Southport quieted as several people cried out, “What’s that? What now?”

  I held tight to the creature as it struggled, its body shaking and trembling, my feet suspended above the sidewalk. The air filled with the smell of cooked insect. I gagged, barely holding on to the pancakes churning in my belly.

  After a few moments I let go, and the creature’s blackened corpse fell to the sidewalk. I hung in the air for a moment, breathing in and out through my nose until my stomach settled. Then I lowered to the ground and looked at the burned and twisted thing smoking there.

  I couldn’t leave the corpse in the middle of the sidewalk. No one could see it, but they might step on it. I heaved a sigh and went around behind the mantis to drag it into the alley.

  The body was surprisingly heavy. Despite the extra dose of strength that came from being half-angel, it was still a struggle for me to pull the creature about ten feet to the nearest Dumpster.

  I stood, huffing and puffing and trying to get my pounding heart under control before I attempted putting the remains in with the other garbage.

  “Madeline… Black…”

  I shrieked and jumped back as an eerie, metallic voice came from the monster I’d thought I’d killed.

  8

  “MADELINE BLACK,” IT SAID AGAIN, AND ITS VOICE WAS tinny, fading away.

  I raised my sword above my head to finish it off.

  “All… your… fault,” it said, coughing. “Here… for you.”

  Was this creature telling me that Jayne had died because of me? That she was a lure to get to me?

  “Who sent you?” I demanded.

  It laughed, or tried to. It was hideous to watch it try to speak. Burnt flesh and armor fell from its beaklike mouth, crumbling into ash in the bitter wind.

  “Find out… soon enough,” it said.

  I heard the rattle of breath, the last exhalation of the dead. But I wasn’t taking any chances.

  I cut off its head anyway. Then I cut off its arms, and then its legs, and then I began hacking away at its torso, which was much more vulnerable to the slice of my blade now that it was burned up.

  After a while the red haze of anger receded. I realized I was dripping sweat over a pile of smoking insect parts. The wind cut through the holes in my battle-damaged coat, and I shivered.

  This was stupid on so many levels. I was standing out in the cold, pregnant and exhausted, and while I was mindlessly hacking up the mantis, one of my many enemies could have snuck up behind me.

  “At least it’s easier to put in the garbage now,” I muttered, scooping up the parts and tossing them into the Dumpster.

  I adjusted my hat, put away the sword and went to find Jayne Wiskowski.

  Her soul, of course, was gone.

  There was crime scene tape up around the spot where her body had fallen, and several police officers stood around talking to one another and shooing away the curious. Her body was nowhere to be seen, which meant it had been already transported to the morgue.

  Given the trauma of her death, it was unlikely that the soul was still attached to the body. She’d probably broken free of her mortal shell pretty soon after her ectoplasmic self had caught a glimpse of her separated head. Which meant that she was wandering somewhere.

  I gritted my teeth, knowing I’d have to hunt for her, and settled in for the long haul. Given all the problems at the Agency, there was no way I could submit paperwork on a lost soul. Of course, the Agency could have helped me out by sending another collector instead of leaving me hanging in the wind.

  For half a second I entertained the idea that the Agency had wanted me to fail, and that was why they’d sent me out on my own even though they knew there was a strong possibility this collection would go pear-shaped.

  Then I realized that the constant persecution from enemies known and unknown was making me paranoid. The Agency couldn’t be after me, too, could they?

  Well, maybe they could, but I couldn’t worry about it. I had enough to worry about. I’d limited the monster’s kills to one, and if—no, when—I found Jayne’s soul, I’d have this pickup all tied up with a ribbon, just the way upper management liked it.

  Three hours later the wind had frozen me into a Popsicle, and I was dizzy from flying in circles. Jayne had disappeared, and I hadn’t the remotest clue where she might have gone.

  My face was frozen, my stomach was rumbling and Beezle had probably worked himself up into a tizzy, so I decided to head home.

  I cut over to Addison and flew straight west toward my house.

  Beezle was on the kitchen counter with his beak in a gigantic sack of Kettle chips. His bottom half stuck out of the bag as he burrowed through like an earthworm. Rapid crunching sounds emitted from inside.

  I grabbed him by the ankle and yanked him out. Chips skidded all over the counter. He looked guilty for a second, then covered it with defiance.

  “What? Nobody else wanted them,” he said.

  “I might have wanted some,” I said. “I see you were not even remotely worried about me. Where is everyone?”

  “Jude had to meet with Wade about some pack thingy. He called and said he would be back soon. Nathaniel is downstairs sulking, as usual. Or maybe he’s plotting. It’s hard to tell the difference. Samiel is playing Skyrim on the computer.”

  “Do I want to know what Skyrim is?”

  “Probably not,” Beezle said, dusting chips off his face.

  “I need to eat something,” I said as my stomach growled.

  “We should get Potbelly sandwiches,” Beezle said hopefully.

  “No,” I said. The closest Potbelly was right across the street from the place where Jayne Wiskowski had lost her head. I didn’t need to be reminded of that debacle while I was eating.

  “Can we go to Costco and get a hot dog, then?”

  “You just ate. I’m the one who needs to eat something.”

  “Those chips are mostly air,” Beezle said. “I need something substantial.”

  A hot dog did sound good. And there was a bookstore on Webster, near Costco. I could stop and get a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Demon Baby.

  “Okay, we can go to Costco,” I said.

  “Really?” Beezle said. He seemed disappointed that I hadn’t put up a bigger fight.

  “Yes, but you only get one item off the menu,” I said as he climbed into my coat pocket.

  “Just one?” he whined. “How can I possibly choose between the hot dog, the ice cream bar and the churro?”

  “Choose wisely,” I said. “Because I’m not sharing whatever I get.”

  Beezle tucked himself under my lapel, grumbling.

  The store was packed, as usual. Beezle finally settled on an ice cream bar after much dithering. I took off my coat and laid it over the child seat in the shopping cart so that Beezle could camp under there and eat without attracting notice.

  I bought a hot dog and soda and pushed the cart through the store, even though I had no intention of buying anything. I like to walk through the aisles sometimes, looking at things that I’ll never be able to buy. I stopped in front of the jewelry case, but the gleam of diamond engagement rings made me twist my wedding band around my finger in an unhappy way, so I moved on.

  In the center of the store was a collection of tables displaying new clothing. One of the tables was covered in baby clothes, pinks and purples and blues and greens.

  I picked up a tiny infant sleeper and had a moment of panic. Babies were small. Really small.

  “How am I supposed to take care of something this small?” I said aloud.

  “What was that?” Beezle said. His voice was muffled by my coat and the ice cream in his mout
h.

  “Nothing,” I said, dropping the sleeper back on the table and pushing my cart away.

  How could I be responsible for someone so little, someone so breakable? How could I ever keep a baby safe? I’d barely managed to keep myself safe so far.

  After Beezle had finished eating an ice cream bar as big as his torso, we ditched the shopping cart and flew over to the bookstore on Webster.

  I stood in front of the pregnancy and child-care section, awed by the number of books relating to the birth, care and feeding of children.

  Beezle poked his head out of my lapel. “Gods above and below. Who says kids don’t come with instruction manuals?”

  “Yeah, but how do I know if I’m picking the right one?” I asked.

  “No matter what you choose it won’t cover your extenuating circumstances,” Beezle said. “These books are for human babies.”

  “What did my mom do?” I asked, my eyes scanning the rows of titles.

  Beezle shrugged his little shoulders. “It was the seventies. There were no books on babies in the seventies. You popped the kid out and figured things out as you went along.”

  I looked down at him. “Was she ever worried about what I would become, being a child of Azazel?”

  The gargoyle’s face was grave. “She worried, yes. She didn’t know if you’d come out of the womb with visible wings or blazing magic. She didn’t know if she would survive the birth at all.”

  “Why would she take that risk?” I asked.

  Beezle looked at me pointedly. “Why do you?”

  “Because I loved Gabriel,” I said, and my heart hurt. “I loved him, and this child is the last piece of him that I have.”

  “And, as hard as it may be for you to believe, that’s how Katherine felt about Azazel. She loved him. She lost him. And you were her last link to him.”

  It was hard for me to reconcile the idea of Azazel as a longed-for lover with my image of him as a vicious killer, but I supposed that my mother must have never seen that side of him. Or—and this was even more disturbing to contemplate—she had seen that side of him, and made her peace with it.

  “If she hadn’t loved him, I wouldn’t have had you,” Beezle said. “And even though you were little and wrinkly and had a terrible temper, I loved you. And still do, even though you never listen to me.”

  “I love you, too. Even though you eat all of the popcorn.”

  Beezle rubbed his eyes. “All right, enough of the mushy stuff. Get your instruction manual and let’s get out of here.”

  I smiled. At least I knew I could count on Beezle, who actually had some child-care experience. Presumably he would make sure I didn’t screw up too badly.

  I chose a book that looked fairly comprehensive, paid for it and left.

  As we approached our street, I saw a plume of smoke rising in the air. A cold ball of dread formed in my stomach. There was no good or innocent reason why smoke would be rising from the vicinity of my house.

  And I was right.

  When I landed on the front lawn, Samiel, Jude and Nathaniel were all standing around the smoldering remains of what must have been a bonfire. All three of them were covered in soot and looked exhausted.

  “Is everyone okay?” I asked, rushing to Samiel. “What happened?”

  He nodded, his face grim. We’re okay, but I don’t know how they managed to build this so fast.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Faeries,” Jude spat.

  He moved to one side so I could see the scarecrow that lay in the snow. It looked like an oversized rag doll, cloth and stuffing, with long black yarn hair, a black overcoat, and the star of Lucifer upon its face. It was quite obviously a stand-in for me, and I felt my temper rising again, though I struggled to keep it under control.

  “Their information must not be up-to-date,” I said, trying for a light tone. “Their voodoo doll needs a haircut.”

  “Don’t joke about voodoo dolls,” Beezle said, his claws squeezing my shoulder. “If the faeries had put a spell on that scarecrow and these three hadn’t managed to put out the fire, you would have been burned to cinders by now.”

  I stared at the smoke-stained doll that someone had meant to be my death by proxy. My death, and my child’s.

  “Enough,” I said, and heard the anger I couldn’t suppress in my voice. “This stops now.”

  It was just past the middle of the day, but the lawn suddenly seemed brighter as the power of Lucifer flared inside me.

  “They are not getting away with this. They are not going to terrorize me or keep me looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”

  “What are you going to do?” Beezle asked as the other three stared at me.

  “I’m going to Titania and Oberon’s court and I’m going to show them once and for all that I am not to be trifled with,” I said.

  I could feel the magic surging in my blood, the heat of the sun, the brightness of my anger. If Titania and Oberon wanted me for an enemy, then they could face me instead of hiding behind threats and rag dolls.

  “How will you get to the court?” Nathaniel asked. “The pathways are hidden, and fraught with risk. Titania and Oberon do not welcome uninvited guests.”

  “I think I know someone who can get me in,” I said.

  “J.B.?” Beezle asked. “You’ll put him at risk.”

  I shook my head. “Not J.B.”

  I tilted my head back toward the sky, let my power and my anger spill forth. Jude, Nathaniel, Samiel and Beezle covered their eyes as I lit up like the heart of the sun.

  “LUCIFER!” I screamed, and my voice was not my own. It was a thing of terrible beauty, full of darkness and sharp as a thousand blades.

  A pulse of magic left me like an aftershock, following my voice along the line of blood that connected me to Lucifer. I felt his presence as I had never felt it before. My eyes could see for thousands of miles, and far away, farther than I’d imagined, I saw Lucifer upon his throne. And I knew when he heard me.

  His eyes widened, and then he disappeared.

  “He’s coming,” I said, in that same terrible voice. “Go inside.”

  For once, none of them argued with me. I don’t think any of them wanted to get caught in between Lucifer and me. They all hurried toward the house, except for Beezle.

  “Where are you, Maddy?” he asked, his face troubled.

  “I’m still here,” I said, but it felt like a lie. Madeline Black was buried beneath the light of the Morningstar.

  “Somewhere,” he said. “Don’t lose yourself.”

  Losing myself seemed less important than surviving another day. I couldn’t survive if I continued to let Titania and Oberon set the rules.

  Lucifer approached, and a storm came with him. Black clouds rolled over the sky, blotting out the sun. The light inside me blazed brighter as the day was cloaked by night.

  And then he was before me, magnificent in his darkness, his wings darker than a raven’s, his eyes twin pools of starlight.

  “Granddaughter,” he said, and the ground trembled at his voice. “How dare you summon me thus? How dare you show your power to me in anger?”

  “How dare you abandon me thus?” I said, my temper surging again. “Over and over, Titania and Oberon have threatened my life, the life of your grandchild. Would you allow your enemies to destroy me to feed your own purpose?”

  “Perhaps I thought you did not need or welcome my assistance,” he said silkily. “You have never been particularly loving toward me.”

  “Perhaps that’s because you’ve brought nothing but trouble to my door,” I replied.

  “And what would you ask of me, now that you have me here?”

  “I want you to take me to the court of Titania and Oberon, so that I may end their quest for vengeance,” I said.

  “Do you believe that you can stop them?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity. “Do you believe that you can match wits with two of the oldest creatures in existence and come away without paying a
price?”

  “Take me to them and you’ll see,” I said.

  “The ways are hidden to mortals,” he said.

  “I am not completely mortal,” I replied.

  “And… they are perilous. You may not get as far as the court,” Lucifer said.

  “Are you refusing to take me?” I asked.

  “I can take you to the start of the path, and no farther,” he said after a long pause.

  “Another test?”

  “No,” he said impatiently. “I am bound by treaties written long ago, treaties that prevent the old creatures from encroaching on one another. I cannot enter Titania and Oberon’s realm without express invitation, as they cannot enter mine without the same.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Show me where to go and I’ll take care of them without you. Just as I’ve taken care of every other problem you’ve brought me.”

  “You seem very contemptuous of me, granddaughter,” Lucifer said, and he seemed to grow larger. The magic in the air grew stronger, thicker.

  But my anger was greater than his, and my power pushed back. This was the second time I had gone head-to-head with the Prince of Darkness. The last time, he’d backed down because it had suited him to do so.

  This time, he didn’t.

  His power roared up in the darkness, a sudden blaze of fire like an exploding volcano. The blood that connected us turned against me, and I saw before my eyes the horror that Lucifer could bestow upon the world if he so chose.

  “No,” I said, but instead of shrinking before him, I grew stronger. It seemed that he hesitated for a moment, shocked that I had not withered before his assault.

  He had tried to turn the power against me, but he was feeding it. I no longer belonged only to myself. Gabriel’s blood was inside me, too. Gabriel’s child was closer to Lucifer than me, separated by only two generations, and that child could feel the call of Lucifer’s magic, and embraced it.

  “You can’t scare me,” I said.

  He diminished suddenly, returned to his normal self, his wings hidden beneath his coat. And then he applauded.

  “Oh, yes. Titania and Oberon won’t know what to do with you, my dear,” he said.

  I returned to normal as well, the light and power shrinking in the face of his sudden surrender. I felt as if I’d somehow been tricked again, that Lucifer had gotten something he’d wanted.