Several people have asked if BLACK SPRING is really the last BLACK WINGS book. Yes, it really is. There were a lot of reasons for this, but a couple of reasons were 1) it felt like a natural stopping point for Maddy’s character, and 2) I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I am always disappointed in series that seem to go on and on with no direction. I’ve always had a general plan for Maddy’s story and while I could have written two or three more books it seemed like this was the place to wrap things up. Plus, I have tons and tons of ideas for other books and I’d like to try my hand at writing something different.
I want to thank everyone who has come along on Maddy’s journey with me. I hope that you will try ALICE, the first in a 2-part book series, which will be released next August. It is very different from the BLACK WINGS series but I am extremely excited about this new direction for my writing.
It’s called ALICE, and it will be released in August of 2015. Here’s a little teaser I wrote up:
Some time in the past, or maybe some time in the future…
The City is a warren of crumbling buildings, desperate people, thieves, murderers, con men and whores. The wealthy live in a gated ring around the teeming darkness of the City, keeping the undesirables contained. Sometimes people go in, but no one ever comes out.
An asylum stands deep in the heart of the City. A girl named Alice is held there. She was found wandering the streets in a torn and bloodied dress, repeating two words over and over, “The Rabbit. The Rabbit. The Rabbit.” She had a friend named Dor, and now Dor is gone. There is a hole in Alice’s memory where her life used to be, and all she can see is the looming face of the Rabbit, promising death and despair.
In the cell next to hers is a man called Hatcher, and he is one of the few who knows what is in the basement of the asylum. He calls it the Jabberwocky, and even the lunatics think he is mad.
But then one day there is a fire at the asylum, and Alice and Hatcher find a way out. Alice must find the lost bits of herself, and to do that she must find a creature no one believes exists – the Rabbit.
And the Jabberwocky now stalks the streets of the City…
I woke to the sound of dogs barking. My eyes drifted open halfway, just enough to register the sun streaming through the open blinds. Nathaniel’s arm was thrown around my waist, his body snuggled into my back. The child inside my belly shifted under his hand. The scent of bacon cooking drifted from the kitchen.
My three dogs, Lock, Stock and Barrel, nosed inside the bedroom door, their nails clicking across the hardwood floor. They came around to my side of the bed, their doggy faces set in mute appeal, tongues lolling.
It seemed like a pretty typical domestic scene, except that there is nothing typical about my life. The dogs weren’t dogs at all, but Retrievers—powerful magical creatures who’d given me their allegiance when I’d freed them from slavery to the Agency.
The man in bed with me wasn’t a man, but the son of an angel and a . . . Well, I wasn’t sure exactly what Puck was, but he was definitely something old and powerful. Besides his lack of humanity, Nathaniel also wasn’t the father of my child. He wasn’t even my lover, or my boyfriend. I didn’t know how to define our relationship status as any other way except “complicated.”
The person cooking the bacon in the kitchen was my many-greats-uncle Daharan, brother of Lucifer, dragon shapeshifter, creature of fire and something older than the Earth itself.
As for me, I was the daughter of a fallen angel and an Agent of Death. Lucifer was my grandfather. My baby had the blood of a half nephilim inside his veins, a legacy from his dead father. I had more enemies than I could count. I’d spent the last several months trying to stay alive while those enemies tried to kill me and my very ancient family members plotted around me.
We were definitely not going to win any awards for normality in this family.
The dogs needed walking, but everyone pretended not to notice because no one could control them except me.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I grumbled, sliding out from beneath Nathaniel’s arm.
This was harder than it sounded. I was only three months pregnant, but it appeared that I was twice that. I’d never fully appreciated the ease and elasticity with which I’d rolled out of bed before I took on the aspect of a hippo.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Nathaniel murmured.
“No one is going to mess with me while I’m walking these three,” I said. “Besides, it’s been a quiet couple of weeks.”
And it had been, I reflected as I got dressed. Since I’d killed Titania, the faerie queen. Since Nathaniel’s half brother—and heir to the court of Titania and Oberon— Bendith had been killed by his biological father, Puck. Since Puck had tricked me into freeing him from his bondage to Titania.
Since I’d had an adventure in another space and time, and discovered the darker places in my heart, the black menace at the core of my magic. I’d worked hard to force that dark- ness to recede, to let my natural personality reassert itself. But it seemed that since I’d tapped into that power, it floated closer to the surface, shadows seeping into my edges.
Like so many things that I’d discovered since becoming aware of my ancestry, my new magical abilities were impossible to undo. And my darling grandfather Lucifer definitely preferred it that way. All the better to tempt you with, my dear.
Lucifer cherished a long-held hope that I would give up my life and become heir to his kingdom. I’d rather eat nails for breakfast than manacle myself to the first of the fallen. Besides, Lucifer’s crazy lover Evangeline was pregnant with his child, and I knew very well that she was angling to put that kid on the throne. If I expressed even the smallest iota of interest in taking Lucifer’s offer, she would set a thousand assassins upon me, regardless of what Lucifer might want.
No, embroiling myself further in Lucifer’s machinations was definitely not at the top of my to-do list. I pulled on a pair of jeans I couldn’t button. The taut roundness of my lower belly protruded over the fly. I pushed a rubber band through the buttonhole, looped it and wrapped the other end around the button to keep the pants from sliding down. A long, baggy Cubs sweatshirt completed this uber-stylish look. I shoved my slippers on and padded out of the room.
In the kitchen, my uncle Daharan was making pancakes and bacon in large quantities and placing them on covered platters I didn’t even know I owned. He’s not your garden-variety uncle. He’s an ancient being, one of Lucifer’s three brothers, and he spends at least part of his time in dragon form. For the moment he was living in the apartment downstairs.
Locks didn’t keep him out, and he came and went freely between my place and his. Somehow I couldn’t be irritated about this. There was some quality about Daharan that made me trust him, trust that he would do me no harm. Beezle wasn’t so sure, as he tended not to trust anyone so closely related to Lucifer, but as I entered the kitchen I noticed his mistrust of Daharan did not extend to disdain of his cooking. Beezle was perched on the counter next to the platters filching as much bacon as he could while Daharan’s back was turned.
The dogs trotted ahead of me, down the hall, and stopped before the front door while I paused in the kitchen.
“That’s a whole lot of breakfast for three people and a gargoyle,” I remarked.
“You’re eating for two,” Beezle said before Daharan could answer.
“And you’re eating for five,” I said.
Daharan ignored the byplay. “We will be having guests this morning.”
“What guests?” I asked warily.
The last thing I wanted was for one of Daharan’s brothers to show up. Alerian terrified me. Lucifer infuriated me.
And Puck . . . Well, when I thought of the way Puck had manipulated me into destroying one of the oldest creatures in the universe for his own personal gain, those shadows on my heart threatened to overtake me. I truly thought I could beat Puck bloody with a crowbar and it wouldn’t bother me in the least. Of course, when I had thoughts like that I knew that the darkness was spreading inside me like a cancer. I wasn’t sure if there was anything I could do to stop it.
“You will see when they arrive,” Daharan said.
I’d almost forgotten I’d asked a question, so caught up was I in thoughts of vengeance on Puck.
“Did you invite someone?” I asked.
“No,” Daharan said mildly, but with a finality that let me know he wasn’t going to tell me anything more.
Lucifer and all of his brothers could see aspects of the future. Daharan was able to see with the most clarity. So someone was coming. Someone whose arrival Daharan had foreseen, but he didn’t want to share with me for some reason.
I shrugged and went to the waiting dogs, who panted in anticipation. As soon as I opened the front door they crowded out in a rush, jumping all over one another in their eagerness to leave. They thundered down the steps ahead of me, whining when they reached the closed door at the bottom of the stairs.
I trudged slowly after them. I might be imbued with some of the strongest magic in the universe, but I was an ungainly waddler just like every other pregnant woman there ever was. I finally made it to the bottom and opened the door.
The dogs created another bottleneck in the foyer, where a final door, this one clear glass, made the first threshold between me and mine and anything nasty that might come knocking. I managed to herd the dogs to one side so I could get the door open. They ran down the front porch steps and out to the sidewalk, terrifying a nanny walking a couple of babies in a double stroller.
The former Retrievers looked like oversized black mastiffs, and while I was pretty sure they wouldn’t attack an innocent human being, they definitely looked intimidating. She gave me a look like she wanted to chastise me for defying Chicago’s leash law, but then gave the dogs a second glance and obviously thought better of it. She hurried down the street with the kids, eager to get away.
I’d tried to keep Lock, Stock and Barrel on leashes. But they would weave in and out and get tangled up, and finally I threw up my hands. They would do what I said—mostly— so why bother with leashes?
The dogs ran in three different directions to do their business. They each had a preferred spot staked out. I monitored them from the sidewalk in front of my house, wondering idly why supernatural creatures made of darkness and bearing the power to destroy souls needed to crap on the neighbor’s lawn in the first place. Was it because I expected dogs to do such things? The Retrievers had become more doglike as I considered them so. They were connected to me in a way I didn’t fully understand. I could feel their presence always in the back of my mind. It wasn’t as disturbing as it should have been. It was comforting. It kept me secure in the knowledge that they would come to my defense if I needed it. More important, they would come to the defense of my baby.
I placed my hand over my protruding belly, secure in the knowledge that my son was safe inside me. I hardly allowed myself to consider what might happen after he was born. At night I was plagued by dreams of him being rent from my arms, stolen and kept by one of my enemies—or worse.
My own family might try to take him from me. Lucifer had made no secret of his interest in the child. Did I have the strength—and the allies—to keep Lucifer from my son? Maybe. But I didn’t want to be forced to find out. I was thinking all these things, lost in my own worries, when the growling of the Retrievers brought me back to the present. 3N
They crowded around me in a protective circle, making horrible noises low in their throats, just waiting for me to give the signal so they could leap, rip, tear.
A figure approached cautiously, the object of the Retrievers’ suspicion. The person was dressed like a college student, a slouchy gray T-shirt over loose-fitting jeans and beat-up sneakers. But the baggy clothes could not disguise the obvious strength in his body, or hide the muscles flexing in his arms. Nor did the grimy Cubs cap completely cover the gold- blond of his hair or shade the brilliance of his green eyes.
He’d veiled his wings, and his eyes were unsure as he stopped a few feet from me. The Retrievers growled more intensely, but I put my hand on Stock’s neck, and they quieted instantly. They were obviously still on their guard, though.
The man before me stood silently, waiting to see what I would do.
“Samiel,” I said.
Everything was knotted up inside me. I wasn’t sure how to feel. There was happiness, and pain, and lots and lots of anger. Samiel was my brother-in-law, and seeing him again reminded me of happier days, when Gabriel was alive. But I was also reminded that he had left me, left me when I was in need of help, left me after I’d taken him in and sheltered him. He’d left even though I’d risked my life to save him from the court of the Grigori. He’d left knowing I carried his brother’s child, blood of his blood, and knowing that child needed protection.
As I thought these things the anger and the darkness rose up inside me, and he took a step back, like he could feel the pulse of dark magic. The Retrievers crouched, ready to strike.
“What do you want?” I asked, and my voice did not sound like my own. The effect was lost entirely on Samiel, who was deaf. But he could see my face, and read my lips, and know he was not welcome.
His hands moved tentatively, signing out the words,
Maddy, I’m sorry.
He meant it. I could see it in his eyes, in the pleading lines of his face. He was sorry.
Part of me wanted to unbend immediately, to take the apology that was freely given, to return back to the way things were before.
The other part of me knew that we could never return to who we were before, and that part wanted to hold on to the anger and the hurt, to rage in pain and make Samiel suffer, make him hurt as I had when I thought everyone had abandoned me.
An image of Samiel bent and broken, blood seeping from many wounds, flashed across my brain.
That shocked me out of my anger, made me realize it was wrong, all out of proportion to his crime.
The Retrievers would take him down if I gave the words. They were attuned to my feelings, had sensed the building inferno inside me. I willed that anger away, fought to remember who I was.
“Stand down,” I told Lock, Stock and Barrel. They immediately sat back on their haunches and let their tongues loll out. I sensed their watchfulness despite their easy posture. “He’s a friend.”
Some of the tension seeped out of Samiel’s body, but not all of it. Am I? he signed.
“Are you?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. “Or have you come to try and eliminate me before I give birth to this baby, who just might be a monster unleashed on the world?”
Samiel looked shocked. I could never hurt Gabriel’s child. And why would you think your own baby is a monster?
It was a thought I allowed myself only rarely and briefly. Mostly because I was sure I would still love and protect him, no matter what he was.
“It’s always been a possibility, hasn’t it?” I said. “Gabriel was Ramuell’s son, and Ramuell was most definitely a monster.”
But Gabriel wasn’t. And neither are you.
“Are you sure about that?” I asked, thinking of all the things I had done, the dark compulsion that was becoming more difficult to control.
Samiel shook his head. I know who you are, in your heart. I nearly killed you twice. I cut off two of your fingers. And yet you saw how my mother had twisted my love for her. You forgave me. You made me a part of your family.
“And you left me,” I said. There was no anger now, only hurt and sadness. “I trusted you. And you left.”
I was confused, he signed. It’s not an excuse. I just wasn’t sure what would happen after everyone in the world saw you on television destroying those vampires. And Chloe . . .
Here he stopped signing and frowned.
“I know,” I said. “You wanted to protect her from the hordes you thought would be breaking down my door at any moment. She’s your girl. I get it.”
No, he signed, then backtracked. I mean, yes, I did want to protect her. But she’s not my girl. At least, not anymore.
“She kicked you out and now you’re here looking for a roof over your head?” I asked, getting annoyed again.
No, Samiel signed, shaking his head. It’s not like that. We broke up because I wanted to come here, to make amends.
“Let me guess,” I said. “Chloe didn’t agree.”
You could say that, Samiel said, grinning.
I could imagine how that argument went. Chloe has an extremely strong personality. And once she’s decided something, no force in the universe could make her change her mind.
“What’s the heaviest thing she threw at your head?” I asked.
A cast-iron frying pan.
“Seriously? A little cliché, that,” I said.
She had just finished cooking breakfast, he signed. I thought it would be a safe time to raise the subject since her stomach was full.
“According to Beezle her stomach is never full,” I said.
Beezle should talk.
And just like that, it was all right. I didn’t want to be angry at Samiel. I had enough legitimate enemies without spurning an apologetic friend just to soothe my pride. I stepped forward and he put his arms around me. I felt safe and warm there. He leaned back, his hands on my shoulders for a moment, and looked me up and down, shaking his head.
“Don’t say anything about my weight,” I warned. “Don’t say it looks like I swallowed a basketball, or that it looks like I’m about to pop, or ask me if I’m having twins.”
Samiel shook his head. I was just going to say you look tired.
“And don’t say that either,” I said. “When speaking to a pregnant woman, only compliments should flow from your lips. ‘You look great’ is an excellent fallback.”
Even if it’s not true?
“Especially if it’s not true. I already feel like a whale on two legs. I don’t need anybody to tell me I look like one.” I sighed. “I have to clean up after the dogs. Why don’t you stay here for a minute and get to know them?”
Samiel crouched warily before the three Retrievers, holding his hand out for them to sniff. I went away to collect the dogs’ leavings, confident that Samiel would make friends with them. Everyone loved Samiel.
And if for some reason the dogs didn’t like him . . . well, at least Samiel could fly if necessary.
I went down the gangway between my house and the next to drop the plastic bag in the garbage can in the alley just outside the back fence. When I reentered the backyard I noticed someone standing there, his back to me.
“No wonder Daharan made so many pancakes,” I said. “Apparently it’s my day for a family reunion.”
Jude turned around, his shaggy red beard and piercing blue eyes as familiar and welcome as Samiel had been. He looked like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“They told me you were dead,” he said hoarsely, taking a step toward me.
“I could say that thing about death and rumors and exaggeration, but you probably wouldn’t get it,” I said. Jude was very old, and very serious, and very literal-minded.
“I thought you were dead,” he repeated.
I realized I’d been a little thoughtless. Jude remembered the “B” in B.C. He also had lived through the “A” in A.D., long ago, when he was called Judas Iscariot and his name became infamous. He’d lost someone he’d pledged his life to, and for more than two thousand years he hadn’t made a pledge like that again. Until me. And he’d thought I died.
“Jude, I . . .” I began.
Several things happened at once. The back door flew open. Beezle, Nathaniel and Daharan streamed out onto the porch, all looking frantic.
The Retrievers came howling down the side of the house, chased by Samiel, who also appeared panicked.
Jude spun to face the new arrivals just as Beezle cried out, “Maddy, get away from him!”
And then a huge red-and-gray wolf leapt over the neighbor’s fence, into my yard, and tackled Jude to the ground.
Jude transformed into a matching red-and-gray wolf. The two canids tangled with each other, biting and clawing while I—and everyone else—stood frozen in surprise. Beezle flew to my shoulder.
“That’s not Jude,” he said. “I figured that out,” I said. “But is the other one Jude?” “Yes,” Beezle said, squinting at the two snarling wolves.
I knew he was looking through all the layers of reality to see the creatures’ true essence. “It’s a good thing he showed up when he did. You looked like you were about to hug the fake Jude.”
“I was,” I admitted. “So who’s the fake?”
Beezle’s answer never came, for one of the wolves suddenly yelped and then bounded over the side fence into my neighbors’ yard. The other wolf growled and made to follow it.
“Wait!” I called, then glanced at Beezle. “I’m assuming that’s the real Jude there?”
“Jude, wait,” I said.
He turned toward me, his muzzle streaked with blood, and growled low in his throat. He didn’t want to let his quarry escape. But I hadn’t seen Jude since before I destroyed the vampires infesting Chicago. He’d gone away to attend to some pack business, and he’d never come back. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed him.
“Jude, stay,” I said, and fell to my knees. Beezle fluttered away.
Jude took a half step toward me, then looked back in the direction of the imposter.
“We’ll find him,” I promised. Tears sprung to my eyes.
I wiped them away with the heel of my hand. “Only— don’t leave. I can’t bear any more leavings.”
Everyone in the yard was silent, watching. The last time I’d fallen to my knees in this place I’d covered Gabriel’s bleeding body in the snow. Jude had helped me stand again, pulled me away from the snow and the cold and blood. It was spring now, and Gabriel was gone forever, but Gabriel’s heart lived on inside me, in the beating heart of his child.
The tears fell fast and thick now, and I could hardly see in front of me. Jude’s cold nose pressed against my cheek, and then I buried my face in the thick ruff of fur at his neck. He whined softly in his throat.
The spell was broken by Nathaniel, who abruptly took to the air, flying into the thick leaves of the catalpa tree that grew in the corner of my yard.
I heard someone familiar say, “Ow! You can’t do that!”
I came to my feet and spun toward the tree. Nathaniel emerged grim-faced, holding Jack Dabrowski by the collar of his jacket like a truculent child. He landed in front of me with Jack wriggling under his grasp like a worm on a hook. Nathaniel held a video camera in his free hand.
Daharan moved up to my left side, Samiel to my right. Beezle returned to his perch on my shoulder. The dogs crowded around our ankles, treating Jude like he was part of their pack.
Nathaniel looked at me, then at the camera.
“Break it,” I said.
“Naw, you can’t—Oh, man!” Jack said as Nathaniel looked at the camera and it burst into flame. A second later nothing was left but ash, which Nathaniel dumped in the grass.
“I told you to leave me alone,” I said to Jack.
“And I told you that I wasn’t going to stop,” Jack said, his feet dangling above the ground. “Hey, can you get your goon to let me down? It’s kind of hard to breathe when I’m in this position.”
“It’s kind of hard to breathe when angry supernatural creatures decide to punish you for not leaving well enough alone,” I said, but I nodded at Nathaniel to release Jack.
He did so, but made sure to stand close by and loom over the blogger. Nathaniel looms well. His height—well over six feet—helps with that.
Jude gave Jack a pointed look and growled. Jack gave Jude a nervous glance and backed away a few inches, which naturally caused him to bump into Nathaniel. He glanced up at Nathaniel’s cold, hard face, muttered, “Sorry,” and tried to find a position far from both Jude and Nathaniel.
Since we were all crowded around him in our best menacing fashion, this necessitated a lot of uncertain shuffling on his part. I watched him with a mixture of amusement and frustration. He was so far out of his depth, but he refused to be scared away.
Jack had waited his whole life to discover that all the things he believed in were real. He’d blogged about supernatural happenings in Chicago before anyone had realized there actually were supernatural happenings. And now that normal folk had become aware of things like vampires and angels, Jack Dabrowski had become something of a high priest among the faithful and the true believers.
Unfortunately Jack’s hobby conflicted with my own personal preference to stay under the radar as much as possible. He’d decided that I needed to be an intermediary between the magical world and the regular world. I didn’t want this job for numerous reasons, starting with I had enough trouble and ending with I am not a people person. 3N
“You need to leave me alone, Jack,” I said. “Every time you meet me I break something that belongs to you. So far it’s only been your electronics.”
I let the threat hang in the air, hoping it would have some kind of effect.
Jack made a dismissive gesture. “You can’t fool me. I’ve been asking around about you since the last time you threatened me. I know you don’t hurt innocents.”
“Not on purpose, anyway,” Beezle mumbled. “But if you’re in her path when the avalanche starts rolling, watch out.”
I ignored Beezle. My heart had gone cold at Jack’s words. “Who have you been asking about me?”
He shrugged. “Around online. You know, you have quite the reputation. Did you really kill the High Queen of Faerie?”
“Gods above and below, you’re not even supposed to know that there is a High Queen of Faerie, much less that I killed her,” I said. “I don’t know how you found out about that, but you need to stop talking about me, especially online. You don’t know who you’re conversing with.”
My mind seethed with possibilities, all of them bad news for Jack. Leaving aside all the creatures that hated my guts and could potentially use Jack to get to me, he might draw the attention of Lucifer. And if Lucifer decided that Jack’s pursuit of me was attracting too much notice to his court, he would squash Jack like a bug.
“Like I don’t know how to trace people online?” Jack scoffed. “Believe me, I’ve verified the identity of every source I’ve ever had.”
“Are you crazy?” I shouted. “Do you want to be killed? Do you know how insanely dangerous it is to track down powerful beings who use the Internet for its anonymity?”
“Didn’t I say he was too stupid to live the first time we met?” Beezle said.
This was even worse than I thought. He was actively seeking out dangerous people in the name of research. Sooner or later he would stumble into a situation that would get him killed. And I would be responsible, because I couldn’t stop him.
Nathaniel looked at me. He understood a fair bit of what passed inside my mind without my saying a word. Ever since I’d released his magical legacy from Puck, there had been a powerful connection between us.
“You’ve warned him,” Nathaniel said. “His fate is in his own hands.”
Daharan nodded. “You cannot save everyone, Madeline.”
Their solemnity penetrated Jack’s bravado in a way my anger had not.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he said defiantly.
“Oh, yes, it is,” I said softly. I could almost see it happening—his capture, his torture, his death. A cloak of darkness seemed to settle over him, the resolute hand of the Reaper on his shoulder. We all felt it. We were attending Jack Dabrowski’s funeral.
“I’m not going to die!” he said angrily, desperately, backing away from me.
Nathaniel moved aside so Jack could free himself from our circle, from the relentless certainty of his death.
He held his hands palms up in front of him, to plead, to defend. “I’m not going to die.”
Jack backed into the fence, fumbled with the gate, stepped into the alley.
“I won’t,” he said before the gate slammed shut and we heard his footsteps running away.
“You will,” I said softly behind him. “Everything dies.”
BLACK SPRING will be released on October 28, 2014.
Are you ready for KICKING IT? Featuring stories by SHANNON K. BUTCHER * RACHEL CAINE * LUCIENNE DIVER * CHRIS MARIE GREEN * CHRISTINA HENRY * FAITH HUNTER * CHLOE NEILL * KALAYNA PRICE * ROB THURMAN
The Maddy and Beezle story, RED ISN’T REALLY MY COLOR, takes place between the events of BLACK NIGHT and BLACK HOWL. Maddy gets an assignment from her least favorite relative (guess who?) and has to track down a pair of mythical red shoes said to force the wearer to dance until they die. Will Maddy succeed? And given that the assignment is from Lucifer and involves a magical object that tortures people, does she even want to?
“You have to get out of the house—now,” J.B. said.
“Why?” I asked.
I faced the front window, the portable phone tucked under my ear. A strange black shadow slid across the surface of the glass, like an oil slick.
“Sokolov has sent the Retrievers after you,” J.B. said. “You have to go. You have to go now.”
The side window in the living room was drenched in the same shadow. So were the ones in the dining room. I ran through the house, looking for an escape, but there was none. The things looked like nothing more than black liquid, but I could feel their hate. They wanted me, and they would not leave without me.
“It’s too late,” I said, backing into the dining room. I felt Nathaniel’s arms close around me.
“They’re already here.”
We watched in silence as the black fluid oozed over each of the windows.
J.B.’s voice was in my ear. I realized I was still holding the phone to my ear and he was still talking.
“Don’t try to fight them,” J.B. said. I’d never heard that tone in his voice before. He was pleading. “It will be much, much worse for you if you do.”
“I’m not afraid of them,” I said.
But my bravado was false. I was afraid. The apartment had been sealed shut by darkness. The Retrievers would not leave an opening for me to escape.
Someone was pounding on the door at the bottom of the stairs. J.B. was still talking, telling me not to be dumb, telling me if I fought the Retrievers, then I would be returned to Beezle in a thousand bloody pieces.
“Beezle’s gone,” I said.
The pounding repeated. I looked at Nathaniel. He shook his head from side to side.
“Good-bye, J.B.,” I said.
I clicked off before he could say anything else.
“J.B. says not to fight,” I said. “What do you think?”
“He knows more of the Retrievers than I,” Nathaniel said. “Perhaps you should heed his advice.”
“They’re not taking me,” I said. “On the off chance that they leave me alive, they would surely take—or kill—my baby as soon as it’s born. And I am not spending the rest of my life in some Agency prison.”
There was the sound of splintering wood below. The Retrievers were breaking in.
“Surely Lord Lucifer will not permit this to happen,” Nathaniel said. “Call for his assistance.”
“Lucifer’s a little busy right now with Alerian,” I said.
“He owes you more than this,” Nathaniel said angrily. “You would not be in this predicament were it not for him. He forced you to cross into the realm of the dead and retrieve Evangeline’s soul.”
“If you haven’t noticed, Lucifer’s not real big on helping out those in need,” I said.
“Run,” Nathaniel said. “I will stay here and hold them off, distract them.”
“Run where?” I asked. “They’ve got the house surrounded.”
Nathaniel murmured something, and a portal opened up in the middle of the living room. I stared into its swirling depths.
“Where does it go?”
“Someplace safe,” Nathaniel said. “Run. I will close the portal behind you and ensure the Retrievers do not follow.”
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs.
“But . . . how will I be able to get home again?”
Nathaniel grabbed my shoulders, gave me a fierce, hard kiss, then shoved me toward the portal. “I will speak to Lord Lucifer. We will find you. Go.”
The door to the apartment splintered as the thing outside slammed into it.
“Go!” Nathaniel shouted.
He turned toward the door as it slammed to the ground and something awful came through. I caught a glimpse of darkness, terrible darkness, as I dove into the portal, a shadow reaching for Nathaniel even as I fell. I called his name once, but I was already gone.
The portal pressed in on me, making my head squeeze in agony. I had no time to wonder where Nathaniel had sent me. Before I knew it, I was falling out of the portal, crashing into soft moss below. I stood up, brushed off my clothes, gathered my dignity up, and looked around.
Wherever Nathaniel had sent me appeared pretty primeval. I was in a lush forest, surrounded by ferns and moss and broad-leafed trees. Candy-colored flowers bloomed everywhere I looked. A little waterfall trickled over rocks and into a slender stream to my left. It was a completely alien world, as far from my urban jungle as I was likely to get.
My legs felt suddenly shaky, the aftereffects of the appearance of the Retrievers hitting my system. I sat down on the moss and took stock.
I was alone in a strange world with no food or water. I had my sword and the clothes on my back. And my last friend in the world might be slaughtered by the Agency’s bogeyman for helping me escape.
No. I couldn’t think that way. Nathaniel was powerful, even more so now that he had come into his legacy from Puck. I had to believe that he would be able to defend himself. I had to believe, too, that the Retrievers would ultimately leave him alone.
Everything I knew about the Retrievers said that they were like attack dogs that went after a specific target. Kind of like the Hound of the Hunt, I thought. So chances were very good that Nathaniel would be ignored since they weren’t after him. But if he picked a fight with them, put himself in their way . . .
Every instinct I had told me to open another portal, go back home, and fight until the Retrievers were destroyed. I am not a runner. It is not in my nature to leave a fight. But J.B. didn’t seem to think I would have a chance against the Retrievers, and J.B. understood pretty well what I could do.
Did that mean that the Retrievers were more powerful than Lucifer? Than Puck or Alerian? And speaking of Alerian, what were his intentions now that he had risen from his long sleep?
I rubbed my forehead. There were too many problems. I could solve none of them from here. Wherever here was.
The first thing I needed to do was find some food and a safe place to sleep for a while. I’d had no rest except for a catnap in the backyard after I’d fetched Evangeline from the dead world for Lucifer.
I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Nathaniel and I were on our way to make pancakes when the Retrievers had arrived. Pancakes. I could go for a giant stack of them right now. Too bad there wasn’t a handy pancake tree. I was going to have to forage for food.
If Beezle were with me, he would laugh his little gargoyle butt off at the idea of me foraging. When I was young I’d tried camping in the backyard once. I found an old tent in the basement and got an idea in my head that I would have an adventure.
Of course, I’d thought that backyard tenting experience would be a stepping-stone to an adulthood where I would travel the world with nothing but a backpack, sleeping on the ground in the Andes and the Pyrenees and wherever else my feet would take me.
I didn’t even last the night. The rats scurrying through the yard from the alley kept me up for hours. In the darkness, my mind magnified the rodents to dog size. Around midnight I gave up and trudged inside the house.
Beezle was snoring on the banister when I entered. He opened his eyes just long enough to say, “I told you so,” before closing them again. And that was the end of my camping adventure.
I felt a little pang, thinking of Beezle, and resolutely put it aside. Beezle had always been the constant in my life. But he had chosen to leave. Dwelling on it now wouldn’t help me survive.
So I stood up for a second time. I pulled my sword out and glanced around the sky. The sun was hidden by a canopy of leaves. There was no guarantee that the sun here moved the same way as the sun did at home, in any case. I wasn’t sure where I was, but it didn’t feel like I was in my own solar system. Or even my own galaxy, for that matter.
I started walking in the direction I faced, following the meandering path of the stream. As I walked I made a small hash mark on every third tree or so, thinking it would make it easier to tell if I got lost and started walking in circles.
Insects buzzed in the trees and grass, keeping up a continuous cicada-like noise. Some of the insects flew from tree to tree, or flower to flower. They were disconcertingly large. I saw a beetle-type bug with an iridescent green shell that was the size of my hand. Butterflies as big as Chicago pigeons flapped around my head. I didn’t see any mammals.
As I walked along, the stream broadened and I saw some fat amphibians hopping from rocks into the water. The occasional silver flash of a fish darted under the surface. I wondered if I dared drink some of the water from the stream. There was a risk that it was contaminated with alien bacteria that could kill me. I didn’t have any purifying tablets handy. Starting a fire wasn’t a problem, but I wasn’t carrying a container in which to boil the water.
I was thirsty, but I wasn’t at a point of desperation. Yet. I kept my eyes peeled for anything that looked like it might stand in for a camp pot. Melonlike fruits dangled from the high branches of a tree. I flew up to a branch and yanked one off, inspecting it. The shell didn’t seem sturdy enough to withstand the heat of a fire, but the fruit inside might be edible. And if it was, I could probably take care of my hunger and my thirst in one shot.
I flew back to the ground, placing the heavy fruit on a flat rock covered in moss. I lifted the sword high and split open the fruit. The halves separated easily, revealing glistening yellow-orange flesh. Grabbing fruit by the handful and shoving it in my mouth would be stupid. The melons could be poisonous. I cut a tiny, mouse-sized bite off and put it in my mouth.
My intention was to eat it, wait a couple of hours, and then see whether it upset my stomach. But I didn’t get that far. As soon as the fruit hit my tongue, I spit it out. It tasted like diesel fuel.
“Well, that’s not going to work,” I said, looking longingly at the stream again. I wanted to get the foul taste of the fruit out of my mouth. I would probably be safe if I just rinsed and spit the water. As long as I didn’t swallow it, I would probably be okay. Probably.
I approached the water, knelt beside the stream. It was clear in the way water is when it’s been untouched by man and pollution. I was sure I’d never seen water this perfect, this silver and crisp. I dipped my cupped hand in the stream and lifted it to my lips.
Sweetness exploded on my tongue, and it tasted so delicious that I swallowed involuntarily. The cool liquid slipped down my parched throat, and it felt so good that I couldn’t help myself. I took another drink, and another, and another, until I was lapping at the stream like a dog. I wanted to take all my clothes off and crawl inside.
My hands were at the hem of my shirt before I realized what I was doing.
Wait. Think. This is not the way you would normally act, no matter how thirsty you are.
The thought was like a bolt of lightning, and it seemed to help me shake off the drunken haze caused by the water. I stood up and backed away, wiping the liquid from my mouth with the back of my hand. I’d been so worried about germs I hadn’t even considered the possibility that the stream might be enchanted. Now, too late, I realized how foolish I’d been.
Little spots of light danced before my eyes. The trees and flowers and ferns suddenly seemed dusted with gold. All around me everything shimmered in the sunlight. Deep inside my belly, my son fluttered his wings faster and faster.
Was it too late to reverse the effects? The first sip hit my bloodstream, making me stagger. I shoved my finger in my throat, trying to make myself gag. Bile rose, but the enchantment fought back, resisting me. I coughed, choked, but I was unable to bring up the water I’d drunk.
I felt it coursing through me, freezing the fire in my blood. The world tilted to one side, and there was suddenly moss and dirt under my cheek. I pushed up to my hands and knees, shaking. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, or maybe my vision was just darkening. It was hard to tell.
Sweat broke out on my forehead. My baby beat his little wings, a frantic hummingbird inside me. I sat back on my haunches, wiped the sweat out of my eyes. I tried deep breathing but the extra oxygen only seemed to make the effects of the enchantment worse. I squinted into the trees. Shadows moved there, just out of the reach of the light.
The surface of the stream shifted, and figures rose from the water. They were humanoid in shape, but carved from liquid instead of flesh and bone. I struggled to my feet as their arms reached for me. One watery hand enclosed my wrist. I tried to shake it off, but it clamped around me with surprising force.
“Get off,” I slurred, and swatted at the thing’s hand.
The water creature seemed to smile at me. At least, the topographical shape of its face changed. It was difficult to distinguish actual features. It was difficult to think.
The other creatures moved toward me. I had a sudden vision of being overwhelmed by these things and drawn down into the water.
“No,” I said.
I put my free hand over the creature’s, the one that was holding me tight, and blasted it with nightfire. The fire was swallowed immediately by the water.
Of course it was. I wasn’t thinking clearly. In a battle between fire and water, fire loses. I suspected that the other tools in my arsenal—electricity, big giant sunbursts—wouldn’t do me much good against a being made of water. So I fell back on my old standby—my sword.
I reached for it as the creature drew me closer. Its other arm went around my waist, wrapping me in its embrace. My fingers scrabbled at my back, feeling for a sword that wasn’t there.
I looked around wildly. The metal gleamed dully in the dirt where I had dropped it on the side of the stream. The creature pulled its arms tighter, like a straitjacket around my body. Its face was pressed very close to mine. I turned my head to one side and tried to draw up my magic. Nothing.
The water I had drunk seemed to have slowly dampened my abilities, which were born of the sun. It would have been handy to have some of my uncle Alerian’s power at that moment.
My wings beat against my back in desperation. My feet rose an inch or two off the ground. The creature’s grip on me loosened a little, as if it were surprised.
I took advantage, wrenching my arms out and beating my wings harder. As I lifted off the ground, the creature and its fellows threw their arms around my legs, hissing. Fangs formed in their gelatinous faces.
Hoping for a miracle, or at least a successful Jedi mind trick, I held my hand out toward Lucifer’s sword. Nothing happened. I couldn’t be so lucky.
The weight of the water creature was pulling me down again. My legs felt like they were about to separate from my torso. I had no sword, no magic, only the force of my own will.
I would not be killed by a bunch of water demons. I would not die alone in this unknown place. My wings flapped. I pounded on the heads of the creatures with my fists. And then suddenly I was free, soaring above the stream.
The creatures spat and shook their fists at me. I went up just high enough to be safely out of reach. I still felt the effects of the water and didn’t think it was a good idea to go flying all over the place at the moment. It seemed too likely that I would get tired or dizzy and come tumbling out of the sky. And there was no one here to catch me.
Plus, I wasn’t going anywhere without my sword. I flew to a nearby tree and settled into the crook of a branch, my back pressed against the rough bark. The water creatures twisted and writhed on the surface of the stream like a mass of snakes. I heard them hissing their frustration. They obviously couldn’t leave the water, so I was safe enough in the tree. For the moment.
I’d already had enough of running from the Retrievers. As soon as I could, I was going to hop out of the tree, grab the sword and make a portal to bring me back home. It seemed ridiculous for me to run around on an alien world encountering new things that wanted to kill me instead of just dealing with the thing that wanted to kill me in my own home.
I relaxed against the tree, ready to wait for the creatures to give up and disappear under the water again. I blinked, and it was night.
My body felt as through it had frozen in position. My eyes were gritty. I realized I had fallen asleep in the tree. I was lucky nothing had come along to eat me while I snoozed. I shifted on the branch, my legs dangling on either side of it, and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
You never fully realize how dark the night is when you live in a city. In Chicago there was always light coming from somewhere—a streetlamp, a traffic signal, the headlights of passing cars. There are patches of deep night in a city, but there is always relief somewhere nearby. In a forest, away from the artificial glow, there is no such relief. The sky had more stars in it than I could have imagined.
I was slowly able to distinguish the shapes of things in shadow. Here a tree, there a rock, there the glistening water of the stream reflecting the starlight. I flexed my fingers. The sleep had restored my magic as the enchantment had dissipated.
My stomach rumbled and I felt a powerful urge to pee. I was pregnant, and I had biological needs that had to be met. But I didn’t want to jump down and potentially attract the water creatures’ attention. If they woke up before I managed to get the sword back, I’d have to wait them out again, and who knew how long that would take?
I peered into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of the sword on the ground. I thought I saw a flash of the hilt, but I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t my imagination. The sword was on the far side of the stream. I’d been able to see it from my perch in the tree when the sun was up.
But the landscape seemed to have shifted in the dark. I wasn’t sure exactly where the sword was now. There was nothing for it. I was going to have to get closer and hunt around. At least I would be able to fly above the surface. The water creatures would not have another opportunity to grab me.
I was about to lift off the branch when I heard something large moving through the brush. Something very large. It snorted, and I realized it was only a few feet from me. I froze. I couldn’t tell what direction the sound came from.
The night was a place of deception, a place where predators thrived. It didn’t seem like a very good idea to fly around attracting attention, especially as it wasn’t safe to assume whatever was nearby didn’t have wings. I’d been chased by plenty of monsters that flew.
And even if it didn’t fly, it could have giant tentacles to snatch me out of the air. No, it was best just to stay still and wait. And hope that the creature passed by me in the dark without noticing my presence.
JUDE, SAMIEL AND NATHANIEL STOOD IN FRONT OF the TV, their eyes grave. They cleared a space for me so I could see.
At first I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. A reporter’s voice came intermittently over the images, but the camera kept jiggling everywhere, and it was hard to see exactly what was going on. People were screaming and running, but I couldn’t see what they were screaming at and running from.
Then the camera finally stabilized, and I realized what I was looking at. It was live footage from Daley Plaza, and the camera was shooting the action just in front of the Picasso statue.
There were vampires everywhere, and the sun blazed down on the plaza.
“Gods above and below,” I whispered. “Azazel’s formula worked.”
The angle of the camera shifted and tipped to one side. Blood splattered over the lens. The reporter stopped speaking. The animal growls of vampires and the sickening squelch of flesh being eaten broadcast far too clearly.
“We have to do something,” I said.
“You can’t fly anymore,” Beezle pointed out. “No wings. And you’re wearing your pajamas.”
A woman’s high-pitched wail broke through the sound of feasting.
“I can carry you,” Nathaniel said, and I ran for my things.
Jude had already changed into a wolf, discarded his clothes, ran to the door.
I grabbed my sword, pulled my boots over my pajama pants, yanked on my coat and followed Jude. Nathaniel was right behind me, Samiel close on his heels.
Beezle launched from the mantel to my shoulder as I opened the front door. Jude darted down the stairs in front of me.
“Why can’t you stay home where I know you’ll be safe?” I said to Beezle as he crawled inside my coat.
“Like I would miss this,” he said, his voice muffled. “And besides, somebody needs to make sure you don’t go dark side.”
I ignored his jibe. I’d made some questionable choices lately, to be sure, but when I looked back over them I wasn’t sure I could have made different ones. And there were far more important things to worry about right now than my shades of gray.
Jude burst through each of the front doors and bounded onto the porch, my apartment door slamming against the wall as he went through with a burst of speed.
By the time Nathaniel, Samiel and I had clattered down the front steps, Jude was already gone.
Nathaniel scooped me up, carrying me like a child, and opened his wings. Samiel lifted off a moment later. As we rose above the treetops I realized that neither of them was under a cloak of magic.
“That was a little conspicuous,” I said. “I wonder what the neighbors will make of two angels taking off from my front lawn.”
“Given all the weird shit that occurs in the nexus in and around our house, they probably won’t be surprised in the least,” Beezle said. “Besides, vampires are eating up all the nice little commuters in the middle of the day. I don’t think the regular rules are going to apply from now on.”
As we sped downtown as fast as Nathaniel and Samiel could fly, I knew Beezle was right. In a single instant everything had changed. The world that had been hidden from normal people, a world of creatures they’d seen only in their dreams and nightmares, had been split wide-open. Nothing would ever be the same again.
The news report had come from Daley Plaza, the distinctive figure of the Picasso statue looming in the background of the shot. Nathaniel angled a little west from the lake and headed toward the plaza.
As we got closer I could see traffic snarled on the surrounding streets, buses and taxis at a standstill, drivers abandoning their vehicles to run. People crammed on the stairwell to the El, pushing, shoving, stepping on anyone who tripped and fell. The vampires were monsters to be feared, but people didn’t exactly show the best face of humanity at times like this.
Then we were over the plaza, and it was worse, far worse, than I’d imagined.
I’d thought that Azazel’s potion had to be limited, that there couldn’t possibly be that many vamps colluding with him. And even if there were, I’d assumed his death would have cut off the production of the serum that allowed the vamps to walk in sunlight without turning to flames.
After all, Jude, Nathaniel and I had fought several perfectly ordinary vampires at Azazel’s mansion only a couple of weeks before.
But there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of vampires on the streets below. They poured from the blue line subway station, emerged from the sewers through manhole covers, an endless seething mass of bloodthirsty insects falling upon any human they could find.
I’ve never liked vampires, even when they’ve kept a low profile. I’d always suspected their veneer of civility was just that, and I’ve never bought into the notion that it’s romantic to have your blood drained by a vamp.
This was one occasion when I would have been happy to be proven wrong. It was pretty clear from the carnage going on below us that vampires didn’t entertain any romantic notions about humans. To them, we were nothing more than walking, talking bags of meat.
Beezle poked his head out of the lapel of my coat and looked down. “Gods above and below. Where do you even start?” For once there was no sarcasm in his voice.
“We just have to do what we can,” I said, and tried to sound confident. “Let’s go, Nathaniel.”
He brought us down to the platform that the Picasso statue rested upon, which gave us a slightly elevated view of the plaza. On any given day you can see a few brave kids climbing the tilted platform and sliding, whooping and hollering, to the ground below.
Today it was covered with the spattered blood of dozens of victims.
I leapt from the top, swinging my sword to slice the head from the nearest vampire I could find. When that one was dust, I moved to the next one. I was vaguely aware of Nathaniel and Samiel fighting around me, and of Jude joining the fray, snarling and barking as he tore the vamps’ throats out.
I don’t know how long we fought. I punched, kicked, hacked, slashed and watched heads roll away, disintegrating into dust as they went. And I kept doing it, over and over and over again.
Still the vampires came.
Still more of them poured from the ground like cicadas emerging from hibernation. And nobody showed up to help us.
The Agency was a short walk from where we fought the tide. I imagined large numbers of Agents were engaged with trying to keep up with the souls pouring from the bodies of the dead, but why not send the rest of the Agents to fight the vampires? The Agency’s willfully blind attitude about not getting involved in the actions of other supernatural courts surely couldn’t extend to ignoring a massacre under their noses.
Or maybe it could, since the cavalry never arrived. After several hours of killing vampires, I slipped. I was tired, hungry and pregnant, and I wasn’t completely on my game after a week spent fighting battle after battle.
My boot heel skidded in a pool of blood, and so I was just a little shy of complete decapitation on the vamp I battled. I landed backward, banged the back of my head against the sidewalk, and saw stars for a moment.
My field of vision was filled with the slavering jaws of the vampire I hadn’t quite killed, ready to eat my face off. There was no time to think, no time to perform a spell.
Then the vampire was gone, and Nathaniel picked me up from the ground and carried me away.
“What are you doing?” I screamed. “We can’t leave. We can’t leave those people down there alone.”
“We cannot do any more,” Nathaniel said grimly. “There are four of us, and thousands of them.”
“We can’t leave,” I said again. I’d never run from a fight in my life.
Nathaniel landed on a nearby roof. Samiel was beside us holding Jude, still in wolf form, in his arms.
“Look,” Nathaniel said angrily, holding me by the shoulders so I could see what was below. “The city is overrun. We can’t do anything else.”
I stared down. It was so much worse from up here, where you could see the pouring mass of vampires undulating through the city streets, into the buildings and buses, leaving empty husks of humanity behind them.
It seemed that the more people who were killed, the more ferocious the vamps became.
“It’s a feeding frenzy,” I said, sickened. “How can we leave them down there, without anyone to defend them?”
“The police are fighting back,” Beezle said, his head popping out of my jacket.
From our vantage point on the roof we could see the teams moving in, hastily mounting barricades. The percussion of gunfire was added to the chorus of screams that echoed in the canyons of the city. My city, overrun by vampires.
“No,” I said angrily. “We have to go back. We have to help.”
Nathaniel’s hands rested on my shoulders and he spun me around to face him. His face was twisted in anger and, to my surprise, fear.
“Just what is it that you think you can do?” he said, giving me a little shake. “Do you not value your life at all?”
I saw Samiel move out of the corner of my eye, obviously intending to defend me from Nathaniel, but I slapped my ex-fiancé’s hands away before Samiel could.
“I value my life as much as you do yours,” I said. “But I don’t value it more than any of them do.” I pointed toward the terrified mass of humanity below.
“So you would kill yourself to save one of them?” Nathaniel said.
“I don’t think I’m superior to them the way you do,” I said coldly.
Nathaniel threw his hands in the air. “Gods above and below, you are the most thickheaded woman I have ever met. Do you really think this is about superiority? Think about your baby. Think about the people who love you. Don’t throw yourself away on the impossible.”
I stared at him, startled to realize that the fear in his eyes had been for me. He correctly interpreted the look on my face and sighed. “I do not know why you cannot credit me with human emotions, even after all we have been through.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that. There would always be a part of me—although that part was shrinking almost daily—that would be suspicious of Nathaniel, that didn’t trust his veracity.
Samiel tapped me on the shoulder. This really isn’t the time for a heart-to-heart.
“Yeah,” Beezle agreed. “We need to get out of here before the police start firing on us just because we look weird.”
“The gargoyle is right,” Nathaniel said, lifting me up again. I felt a magical veil settle over us, hiding our appearance from human eyes. “The humans are in a state of panic, unable to distinguish friend from foe.”
“That, and Maddy’s covered in blood and carrying a sword,” Beezle added.
As we flew away I turned my head from the carnage below. I knew Nathaniel was right. I knew that continuing a battle we couldn’t win was foolish and pointless. We’d barely made a dent in the endless stream of vampires. But I’d never run away before, and leaving felt less like good sense than defeat.
We continued north toward my house. Sturdier barricades were being assembled by the police farther away from the epicenter of the attack. It looked like the authorities were trying to contain the vampires to the Loop.
The sad truth was the density of commuters and residents downtown would probably keep the vampires busy there for a while. There was no need for the vamps to leave that area as long as there was food, and there was plenty of food to be found.
I could feel the pent-up tension in Nathaniel’s arms as he held me, and knew that he longed to have another go at me over my hardheadedness. He held back likely due to the presence of an audience. Of course, if he was waiting for an opportunity to get me alone, he would be waiting forever. There was always someone hanging around my house these days, and Beezle had completely lost all sense of personal boundaries.
We landed on the front lawn, Samiel and Jude beside us. In silent concordance we all trooped back upstairs to my apartment. The television was still on. Jude returned to human form, pulling on his discarded clothing.
I stopped in front of the TV, staring. Nathaniel took my coat from my shoulders. Beezle flew out of the pocket and went straight to his brooding spot on the mantel.
A sober-voiced anchor spoke over footage shot from a helicopter. I guess they weren’t stupid enough to send another cameraman into Daley Plaza.
“We are trying to identify the nature of this threat; however, as unbelievable as it may seem, eyewitness reports have indicated that these creatures are attacking anything in sight, biting and, it seems, feeding on the victims. They are like . . . like some kind of vampires. All we know for certain is that there are hundreds of them, as you can see from our aerial footage of the Loop. The police are attempting to halt the creatures’ progress as best they can. A spokesperson for the mayor’s office has said that the mayor has contacted the National Guard and that he will be making a statement to the press in approximately thirty minutes. The mayor and his staff have been airlifted out of the danger zone . . .”
“What about everyone else?” I murmured. I’d been there, fighting all morning, and it looked so much worse on TV. The news camera was far enough away that detail was blessedly lost, but the black horde seemed to swell even as I watched, a pulsing, cancerous growth engulfing the heart of Chicago.
I saw dark spots before my eyes. The picture on the screen went blank. A few moments later I opened my eyes to see four anxious faces above me.
“What happened?” I said. Somehow I’d ended up prone on the couch.
“You fainted,” Beezle said.
“I did not,” I said. I don’t know why, but I was embarrassed.
“You did,” Beezle said.
“And no wonder, since you have been exerting yourself and have not eaten since yesterday,” Nathaniel said.
“You look thinner,” Jude added.
“I can’t have lost weight since yesterday just because I didn’t eat breakfast,” I scoffed.
“Who knows what this baby is doing to you?” Beezle said ominously.
I really didn’t enjoy it when Beezle implied that Gabriel’s baby was trying to kill me from the inside out, so I waved the lot of them away without replying and sat up. Mistake. Everything went wobbly again.
“For the sake of the Morningstar, just rest for a moment,” Nathaniel said, pushing me back down.
“Quit manhandling her,” Jude growled.
“I will do what I must to get her to take care of herself,” Nathaniel snapped.
“You didn’t show such a touching concern for Maddy’s health when you were trying to kill her in Azazel’s mansion during the rebellion,” Jude said.
Nathaniel stood to face Jude, his hands curled into fists. “I do not have to explain myself to you, wolf.”
“Not this again,” I muttered, then louder: “Enough, both of you. I don’t need you talking about me like I’m not here. If you want to be helpful, you’ll go and get me something to eat.”
“I wouldn’t mind a little something myself,” Beezle said.
“You don’t need it,” everyone in the room replied, including Samiel, who signed the words.
“If you’re going to be that way about it,” Beezle grumped. “We are,” I said. Samiel went into the kitchen. Nathaniel and Jude continued bristling at each other.
“Why is my life filled with men?” I said to no one in particular.
“Beats me,” Beezle said. “It’s not your charming personality—that’s for sure.”
I gave him a sour look.
“I don’t even have to try,” Beezle said. “The punch line was right there.”
“Stand down,” I said to Nathaniel and Jude.
They both turned to look at me, and it was only then that it really registered that they were both covered in blood. And so was I. I was abruptly aware of the gore drying on my face, of my red-stained hands. It was a sad commentary on my life that I was so frequently covered in blood that I wouldn’t notice its presence even when I was soaked in it.
Samiel reentered the living room carrying a sandwich. The thought of eating it while covered in the ichor of doz- ens of vampires made my stomach turn.
“Help me up,” I said.
Nathaniel rushed to help me but I gave him a pointed look. “I asked for Samiel.”
My brother-in-law put the sandwich on the coffee table as Nathaniel backed away with a frozen look. I knew there was a reckoning coming with Nathaniel. Sooner or later I’d have to decide whether he was an ally or an enemy. I couldn’t keep him floating in the netherworld between forever.
Don’t touch that sandwich, Samiel signed to Beezle. “I know how to get my own food,” Beezle said loftily. Don’t touch that sandwich, Samiel repeated. He came around to take my arm as I stood. Now that the adrenaline of the fight had worn off, my legs had turned to mush.
“Bathroom,” I said, and Samiel helped me limp along while the other three silently watched us go.
Samiel helped me as far as the tub, then looked at me expectantly, his face red.
“Yes, you do need to help me get my clothes off,” I said. “I’m sorry. Chloe would be better for something like this.” Samiel’s face went tight at the mention of Chloe. The Agents we saved from Azazel were taken to Northwestern.
I overheard Sokolov’s goons talking about it.
Sokolov. The lapdog of the Agency administration who seemed to have devoted his life to making mine miserable. Just thinking about him made my fists curl.
I knew what Samiel was worried about. Northwestern Memorial Hospital was downtown, just off Michigan Avenue. But it was several blocks north and west of Daley Plaza.
“Don’t worry,” I said, and I was glad Samiel could only read lips. I didn’t sound very convincing. “The barriers were being set up south of the river. The hospital is well north of there.”
You know and I know that if the vamps get inside the hospital, it will be a bloodbath, Samiel signed.
“Chloe’s tough,” I said.
She’s also recovering from major trauma.
“All right. All right. We’ll go get her,” I said. “Just let me clean up first.”
Thank you, Samiel signed, his face relieved.
We managed to get me through the bathing process with a minimum of embarrassment on both sides, and Samiel helped me dress. As I pulled a tank top over my head he touched the long scabs on my back where my wings used to be.
Do you miss them? he signed.
I put a sweater over the tank top and nodded. “I never thought about how much I relied on them before they were gone.”
I wonder if you’ll ever get them back.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “They were part of my Agent’s powers, and I’m never going back to the Agency.”
But you’re Lucifer’s granddaughter.
“Much diluted by thousands of intervening generations.”
Samiel shrugged. You’ve had other latent powers appear.
“I suppose,” I said doubtfully, looking at the missing two fingers of my left hand. Lucifer had assured me some time ago that the digits would grow back, and they never had. So I wasn’t putting a lot of stock in the idea that I might regrow my wings.
Samiel left the room for a few minutes. When he returned I’d managed to get my socks on. He carried a plate with a sandwich.
“That doesn’t look like the same sandwich,” I observed.
Can you guess what happened to the other one? Samiel signed. Now, eat up. I swear you are looking thinner by the minute.
I’d thought they were all exaggerating about my appearance, but I’d noticed my jeans were looser than they were yesterday. This was probably a worrisome development, but given all the other worrisome developments in my life, losing a little weight ranked low on the priority list.
I stuffed the sandwich in my mouth. I didn’t realize just how ravenous I was until I took the first bite.
“There’s one thing I want to do before we go to the hospital,” I said after chewing the last bit of sandwich. “Call J.B.”
He won’t be able to help us, Samiel signed. He’s on thin ice with the Agency as it is.
I had a flash of J.B. spread-eagled on a table, tortured by Sokolov and his goons. “Yeah, you could say that. But he’ll be able to confirm the location of the hospitalized Agents for us.”
I’ll get your phone, Samiel said, and went out again.
I could hear raised voices coming from the living room, but I didn’t have the energy or inclination to intervene in yet another argument. Jude and Nathaniel probably needed to have it out once and for all anyway. I just hoped they didn’t destroy the living room in the process. My house had been trashed enough in the last month or so.
Samiel returned and handed me the phone. I saw that there were four missed calls, all from J.B.
I dialed his number and waited for him to pick up. There was barely half a ring before he barked into the receiver. “What’s the point of having a phone if you never pick it up?”
“So sorry. I was busy battling the vampire menace taking over the city,” I said dryly.
“I know where you were,” J.B. said. “I saw you, and so did everyone else in Chicago with a television set. You and Jude and Nathaniel and Samiel.”
“We were on the news,” I said, dread filling me. This was not good.
“Goddamn right you were on the news. And you’d better be more careful from now on. Half the reporters have decided you’ve been sent from heaven to save humanity from the plague of vampires, and the other half have declared you should be shot in the street with all the other monsters,” J.B. said. “I’ve got to go. It’s total chaos here. The whole Agency is in lockdown mode.”
“Wait,” I said. “Can you tell me if Chloe and the other Agents we saved from Azazel are still at Northwestern?”
“Yeah, the Agency hasn’t had time to move them with everything else going on. We can’t even come close to keeping up with the new souls. The board is diverting Agents from other regions to help. Wait—why do you want to know about Chloe?” J.B. asked warily.
“Samiel wants her with us,” I said shortly. “Why doesn’t the Agency put together an army to fight the vamps instead of struggling to clean up the mess?”
“You know the answer to that,” J.B. said.
“If the Agency doesn’t get off their ass and do something, there won’t be any souls left to collect in this city.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” he said. “But I’m not exactly a trustworthy figure around here anymore. No one in upper management is going to listen to me.”
“You spend too much time with me.”
“That’s the way I like it,” he said. “I’ll call you later. My mother is outside the window doing her best banshee impression.”
“I thought you had devised some spell to keep Amarantha away from you,” I said.
J.B.’s mother had been a faerie queen of her own court before I’d killed her. Unlike most creatures, she had chosen not the Door but an existence as a ghost. I think she did it just to piss off me and J.B.
“The spell will keep her out of the Agency and out of my home, but it won’t stop her from hanging around outside and driving me crazy. Try not to burn down the hospital.”
He hung up before I could respond.
“Why does everyone think I’m going to destroy a building as soon as I walk into it?” I asked Samiel.
Your track record speaks for itself.
“But those were accidents,” I protested.
Most people don’t have those kinds of accidents more than once.
“Most people don’t have supernatural enemies trying to kill them every second of the day, either,” I said, standing up cautiously.
The shower and the food had gone a long way toward making me feel human. I felt better equipped to fight another horde of vampires, although with any luck I wouldn’t have to.
The barricades were north of the bridges that crossed the Chicago River. I didn’t know how long city authorities would be able to contain the vamps in that area once the monsters ran through their food supply.
Of course, they would likely be evacuating most of the Loop and Michigan Avenue soon. And if they moved the patients at the hospital, we would have a lot of trouble finding Chloe.
“She’s probably safer away from me, anyway,” I muttered. The sad fact of my life was that the low mortality rate of my companions was more luck than anything else. Since Gabriel had died I’d been braced for impact, waiting for the next, inevitable loss.
What was that? Samiel signed. You have to look at me when you’re talking or else I can’t read your lips.
“Nothing,” I said. “Let’s go get Chloe.”
“Madeline!” Nathaniel cried.
I slammed the foyer door behind me and unlocked the door to my apartment. Beezle and Samiel hadn’t followed me in. I wondered what they were doing.
I wondered what Lucifer had planned now.
I hung up my coat, took off my boots and realized I’d left the groceries out in the snow. A second later Samiel and Beezle came in. Samiel carried the grocery bags into the kitchen, patting me on the shoulder as he went by.
I looked at Beezle. “What’s Lucifer up to?”
Beezle shrugged. “It is not for me to comprehend the ways of the Morningstar.”
“He had to know that I wouldn’t accept Nathaniel,” I said. “Why send him here?”
“Lucifer has to be thinking of the child,” Beezle said. “He wants the baby protected.”
I looked at Beezle incredulously. “And you think that Lucifer thought Nathaniel was the best choice to protect a child he will no doubt despise because of its parentage?”
Beezle shook his head slowly as the smells of something cooking came from the kitchen. Samiel was getting pretty good at turning a small amount of ingredients into something delicious.
“No. I think that Lucifer presented an unappealing option that he knows you’ll refuse out of hand so that he can then send you the person that he really wants here.”
I nodded. It made sense. It was exactly the way Lucifer operated.
“And his leniency toward Nathaniel is no doubt dependent on Nathaniel’s ability to get me to cooperate,” I said.
“Which is why Nathaniel is still on the porch,” Beezle said. “He said he’ll sleep there if he has to.”
I thought about calling the cops to remove him, but Nathaniel would just return over and over again until he got what he wanted. I didn’t believe that he cared about me one whit. I knew for sure that he cared about keeping all his body parts in their proper places, and that meant that he would go to any lengths to please Lucifer.
Fine. He could stay on the porch if he wanted. I hoped he froze to death.
“Maybe you should think about accepting Nathaniel,” Beezle said thoughtfully.
I stared at him. “That’s the second insane thing you’ve told me to do tonight. First I’m to make a pact with Lucifer; now I’m supposed to accept Nathaniel?”
“Think about it,” Beezle said urgently. “You’d have leverage with Nathaniel. You could use him to find out what Lucifer is up to. Plus, you’d definitely throw the Morningstar a loop if you accept a bodyguard he was certain you’d reject.”
“Nathaniel is a killer,” I said heatedly.
“So are you.”
“I didn’t kill innocents. And I don’t try to justify anything I did saying I was under orders from someone else.”
“Nathaniel can’t help that,” Beezle said, shaking his head. “It’s something you never understood about Gabriel either. You’ve never submitted to anyone’s authority in your life—not your mother, not me, not your Agency supervisors, not your teachers at school. You were born contrary.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I’m an independent thinker.”
“Or, depending on one’s perspective, you’re a stubborn mule, but that’s not the point. The point is that you’ve never understood why angels don’t contradict their master, why they follow orders that would seem unreasonable to you. It’s because they’ve had respect for the hierarchy drilled into them from birth. They’ve been taught to be unquestioning, to do what they’re told even if it’s something a human would consider morally wrong.”
“So they’ve been brainwashed?” I said skeptically.
Beezle sighed. “No. Think of them as soldiers in an army. A soldier might doubt the validity of a commander’s order, but that soldier would still do as his commander said. Because that’s the way he’s made. That’s the way he’s been taught to behave, because an army is not made up of one person. Its strength comes from the sum of its parts.”
“So all the angels are taught to do as they’re told because it’s so important for each court to preserve its base of power.”
“Yes,” Beezle replied. “It’s also why rebellion is never initiated from the bottom. Most of the lower hierarchy could never conceive of going against Lucifer. But Azazel and Focalor are both Grigori. They have their own courts. They are used to answering only to Lucifer, and in recent years it seems he has given them more leeway.”
“But why?” I asked. “You told me once that Lucifer would do anything to maintain his base of power. And Gabriel once said that he thought Lucifer had enough power to have dominion over all things.”
“I’m pretty sure he does,” Beezle replied.
“Then why loosen his grip?” I wondered.
“To see what would happen,” Beezle said. “To see who is truly loyal to him.”
I scowled. I really disliked the idea that Lucifer would allow a rebellion to fester just so he could watch the game play out. I was also disturbed by the idea that Nathaniel might not be entirely at fault for his part in the memory-selling enterprise. He wasn’t completely blameless, not by a long shot, but it seemed it would have been difficult for Nathaniel to refuse Azazel.
He had tried to kill me in Azazel’s court. But he had also helped us save Wade’s cubs.
I shook my head. I didn’t know what to do about Nathaniel right now. It seemed too complicated to sort out what was right and what was wrong, and that worried me. Those shades of gray were Lucifer’s provenance.
Samiel came into the dining room carrying a tray full of food. He set three bowls on the table.
“Yum, chili!” Beezle said, diving toward his portion.
“Use a spoon,” I said before he went headfirst into the bowl. “You’re not a pig at the trough.”
Beezle muttered crossly to himself, but he perched on the edge of the bowl with a spoon held in his fist. He scooped chili into his beak with the rapidity and care of a toddler just beginning to use utensils. Food dribbled from his mouth to his stomach.
Don’t look at him, Samiel signed. You’ll lose your appetite.
I try not to look at him generally, I replied.
Samiel went back into the kitchen and returned with a plate of corn bread and three glasses of milk. He indicated I should sit down across from him, looking inordinately pleased with himself.
“This looks great,” I said.
I wondered where he had found all the ingredients in my very bare kitchen. I was pretty certain I hadn’t bought all of this stuff with Beezle, so I asked Samiel.
I had most of the stuff downstairs, he signed, pausing between bites.
His bowl was almost empty already, and I’d had only a small taste. Samiel eats like a teenage boy who’s not sure where his next meal is going to come from.
“But where did you get the money for the groceries?” I wondered aloud.
Lucifer gave it to me.
I raised my eyebrow at that.
He knows that I don’t work, and he was worried about you because he knows you depend on the rent from the apartment.
“Yeah, I’ll just bet he was worried,” I muttered into my chili so that Samiel couldn’t read my lips.
Everywhere I looked Lucifer was there, entangling me in his spider’s web. I knew Samiel was loyal to me, but I also knew that Lucifer was very good at making simple things look confusing.
If Samiel continued to accept an allowance from Lucifer, then one day in the future the Morningstar might come to Samiel asking for a favor. And Samiel might think that one little favor was small repayment to the angel who had given him so much. Then Lucifer would ask for one more thing, and another, and another, until Samiel was well and truly trapped.
“Aren’t you eating?” Beezle asked, breaking my reverie.
I glanced over at him and wished I hadn’t. He was covered in chili from horn to claw and was presently stuffing corn bread in his beak. The bread crumbs sprayed everywhere as he chewed. I covered my eyes.
“I don’t know why, but I seem to have lost my appetite,” I said loudly.
“More for me,” Beezle said gleefully.
Samiel pried my hands from my face so I could look at him.
You have to eat, he signed.
Do you know about the baby, too?
He nodded, looking rueful. Beezle told me.
Listen, Samiel, I signed. Do you want to work?
He looked uncertain. Yes, but Lucifer said I wouldn’t be able to get a regular job, because I can’t hide my wings like you can.
“It’s nice that he’s thought of everything,” I mumbled to myself, then looked at Samiel and spoke. “You could work at the Agency. There are a lot of supernatural creatures working for us that aren’t Agents.”
But I thought you didn’t get paid?
“I don’t. Agents don’t because collecting souls is a ‘sacred duty,’” I said, making air quotes with my fingers. “But the support staff and the management collect regular paychecks. Don’t ask me where the Agency gets its funding from, though. That’s apparently need-to-know only.”
Do you really think I could work there? Samiel looked doubtful.
“Sure. I’ll talk to J.B. about it.” As I said this, it occurred to me that I hadn’t picked up any souls for a couple of days, and I wondered if I had been neglecting my sacred duty while wandering around in a depressed fog.
“Before you start panicking,” Beezle said, reading my thoughts, “you should know that J.B. called a few days ago and said he was reassigning all of your pickups for the next week.”
“Do you think you could actually deliver my messages in a timely manner?” I said. “Or, better yet, don’t pick up the phone at all and let the answering machine fulfill the purpose for which it was created.”
“What?” Beezle said. “You’re getting the message now.”
“That’s not the point,” I began, and trailed off. The snake tattoo on my right palm tingled. I stood up. I’d learned not to ignore Lucifer’s mark.
What’s wrong? Samiel signed.
“Danger approaching. Stay in the house,” I said to Beezle.
Lucifer put his arm around me. It felt comforting, like the act of a parent, a parent I’d always wanted—a father. The air filled with the scent of cinnamon. It reminded me so strongly of Gabriel that the tears that always hovered beneath the surface spilled over.
Lucifer said nothing, only held me as I wept. After a long while, it felt like there were no more tears to be cried. I lifted my head and saw Lucifer watching me with great compassion in his eyes.
“If there is one human emotion I truly comprehend, it is grief,” Lucifer said. “I lost Evangeline and my children so long ago, and I never stopped grieving for them.”
“So it doesn’t stop hurting, then,” I said dully.
“The pain becomes, perhaps, not quite so sharp. In the future, you may find that days may pass when you do not think of him at all, but when you do there will be a tenderness there, like a bruise that has never healed.”
I didn’t need Lucifer to tell me that. A piece of me had been taken forever when Gabriel died. You can’t replace the missing parts of your heart.
Lucifer released me. I felt lost again, empty, except for the flame that burned bright with anger at the thought of Azazel. He would not be able to run far enough.
“Still, all is not lost. Gabriel lives on inside you,” Lucifer said.
“Yes, I’ve heard all the clichés,” I sighed. Beezle and Samiel had been repeating them ad nauseam .
“No, I mean Gabriel really does live on inside you,” Lucifer said. “Here.”
He put his hand on my abdomen, and I looked up in shock.
Far below, deep inside, I felt it.
The beating of tiny wings.
A child. Gabriel’s child. Wonder smothered the grief, just for a moment.
“My grandchild,” Lucifer said.
There was such possessiveness in his voice, in his face, that I pulled away from his touch, covering my stomach with my hands.
“So that’s why you wanted me to marry Gabriel,” I said angrily. “So I can be a part of your supernatural breeding program?”
“That sounds so . . . indelicate,” Lucifer said.
“And yet still true,” I said.
Lucifer didn’t bother to acknowledge this. Instead, he said, “You and Gabriel are powerful beings born of my line. Your child, no doubt, will be magnificent.”
“You can’t have him,” I said fiercely. “He’s mine.”
Mine and Gabriel’s.
Lucifer took me by the shoulders and kissed me on the forehead. I stayed perfectly still, my hands fisted at my sides, until he released me.
“Careful, my dear. Every time you try to cross me you just get pulled further into my orbit.”
He climbed down the steps of my front porch and walked away down the snow-covered sidewalk. I watched him until he was out of sight, his words echoing inside my head.
Every time you try to cross me you just get pulled further into my orbit.
It was true that I hadn’t managed to beat Lucifer at his game yet. It was also true that when I tried, something horrible would happen, like my being named the Hound of the Hunt.
But I was not going to let Lucifer use my child as part of his plan for total world domination. I was not going to let Lucifer take my last piece of Gabriel away.
I felt my shoulders sagging, the familiar weariness settling on me. I wanted to go to sleep, which was pretty much all I’d wanted to do since Azazel had killed Gabriel right in front of me.
I went back inside, locked the front door and climbed the steps up to my apartment. Beezle and Samiel were nowhere to be seen, which meant that they were probably in Samiel’s apartment downstairs watching a movie.
I took off the coat that Lucifer had given me. For half a second I contemplated folding it up and tossing it in the trash, but practicality won. Both of my coats had been ruined in various battles with monsters, and I was too broke to afford a new one. On my best day I couldn’t have bought a coat as nice as this.
I hung the coat up carefully by the back door and wandered down the hall to the kitchen. The idea of a nap suddenly had less appeal. I didn’t want to climb in bed and find myself lying awake thinking about Gabriel or about ways to keep Lucifer from taking my baby.
How was I supposed to raise a baby? I was surrounded by enemies who tried to kill me on a regular basis. The only reason I was still alive and hadn’t died of my injuries yet was because Gabriel had been around to heal me.
And now he wasn’t. And I was back to where I’d started, the place I was always trying to escape but found that I circled back to, endlessly.
Azazel’s sword in Gabriel’s chest. Gabriel falling to the ground.
I was on my knees, my arms wrapped around my body, trying to stop the pain that never left me, the grief that hung over me like a cloud.
I put my cheek on the cold tile floor and closed my eyes, hoping I would not dream of Gabriel’s blood in the snow.
I woke to the insistent tapping of a little gargoyle hand on my cheek.
“Maddy, wake up,” Beezle said.
My eyes felt glued shut. My chest hurt, like I’d run a long way taking gasping breaths of air.
I didn’t open my eyes or sit up. “Go away, Beezle.”
“You need to eat something,” Beezle said.
“It won’t hurt me to lose a few pounds,” I mumbled.
“No, but it will hurt your baby.”
I opened my eyes. It was dark in the kitchen. Light streamed in the back window from the streetlamp in the alley behind my building. Beezle sat frowning on the floor in front of my face.
“How do you know about the baby?” I asked. My voice sounded rusty and unused.
“Gargoyles can see the true nature of things,” he said gently. “I’ve known since the morning after your wedding night.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I said, sitting up slowly. I was tired right into my bones.
Beezle shrugged. “You had enough on your plate. Besides, I figured you’d find out soon enough from . . .”
He trailed off.
“Gabriel,” I finished. “Yes, I suppose he would have known.”
It was hard to know how to feel about that. Gabriel had probably figured out immediately that I was pregnant, just as Lucifer had. But he hadn’t told me.
“Will all the fallen know as soon as they see me?” I asked.
Beezle shook his head. “They can sense children of their own line. Lucifer, especially, is sensitive to the presence of children of his blood. Evangeline would never have been able to disguise Lucifer’s children from him without Michael’s help.”
Evangeline, my crazy ancestor who’d started everything by falling in love with Lucifer millennia ago. She’d been kidnapped by Lucifer’s enemies while pregnant with his children. The archangel Michael had found Evangeline and convinced her that he could keep the twins safe from her lover’s enemies. Michael had covered Lucifer’s presence so thoroughly that the Morningstar never found the children of Evangeline, or the descendants of those children. Until he found me, daughter of Katherine Black, last direct descendant of Evangeline’s line.
He had other offspring, of course. I didn’t know how many. Two of his sons had been insane monsters, and they’d both tried to kill me. I wasn’t in a big hurry to meet any more of Lucifer’s progeny.
“Wouldn’t Azazel have known I was pregnant?” I asked. “I am of his line, too.”
“If he knew, it would only have made him angrier than he already was about your marriage,” Beezle said. “He was never happy with your inability to fall in line.”
“I wasn’t very interested in being a good little soldier for a father who never acted like one,” I snapped.
“And you don’t need to get angry with me about it,” Beezle said mildly. “I’m on your side.”
I rubbed my forehead in the place where a headache was starting to form. “I’m sorry, Beezle. I just . . . I don’t know what to do.”
“About anything,” I said. “I just want to go to sleep and never wake up. I don’t want to face the day. I don’t want to get up in the morning knowing that Gabriel’s not here.”
I was crying again. I couldn’t seem to stop.
“And the baby?” Beezle looked very grave.
“There is a part of me that’s happy,” I said, wiping my face. “A small part. But the bigger part of me is scared, because I know that if I live long enough to deliver this child, he will have a target on his back for the rest of his life. Every enemy that Lucifer has will be after this baby.”
When I thought about it that way, my future looked overwhelming. Was I ever to have a normal relationship with this child, or would I always be on the run, always fending off new threats?
“You’ve got to secure a future for the baby now,” Beezle said. “You can’t wait until the demons are at your door. You have to find a way to make sure he is protected.”
I stared at him. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“Make a pact with Lucifer,” he said. “Now, while you can still dictate your own terms.”
“I can’t believe you’re telling me this,” I said. “You know that I don’t want to be another one of Lucifer’s pawns. Besides, he wants the baby for himself. I can’t trust him.”
“No, you can’t trust him,” Beezle said. “But if you wait until you have no other option for the child’s safety, then Lucifer will make you pay more dearly than you can imagine.”
“Did you have to tell me this today?” I said tiredly. “Don’t I have enough to worry about already?”
“Your problems won’t go away just because you want to put a pillow over your head and pretend they’re not there,” Beezle said.
“You don’t have to tell me that,” I said grimly. “My problems never seem to go away no matter what I do. They just grow and multiply like gremlins.”
We both sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating the sad truth of this statement. Every time I attempted to extricate myself from the fallen, I found that I’d gained more enemies and more entanglements than I had before.
Subtlety is not my best thing. Politics requires a delicate hand. Those qualities are stock-in-trade for the fallen. I’m more of a hack-and-slash-and-then-burn-it-all-to-the-ground kind of girl.
I pushed to my feet, and Beezle fluttered up to the kitchen counter. I stood there for a moment, feeling lost.
“Food,” Beezle reminded me.
“Yes, food,” I said.
I opened the refrigerator door and looked in. There was absolutely nothing in it—not even a jar of mayonnaise.
“When was the last time I went shopping?” I wondered.
“The day that you and Gabriel followed Amarantha’s ghost to the park,” Beezle said.
“Well, that was . . . a while ago,” I thought, trying to count backward and failing. “I guess I have to go to the store.”
“And I’ll come with you,” Beezle said.
“Okay,” I mumbled.
“What? No protest? No smart remark about my being a home guardian?” Beezle asked.
“You can come if you want,” I said tiredly. I couldn’t think of any smart remarks. I just wanted to get through this task so that I could eat something and go back to sleep.
I shuffled down the hall, pulled on my boots and coat, stuffed some cash in my pocket.
“Are you coming?” I asked, turning to Beezle.
He hovered in the hallway, watching me with an indefinable expression on his face.
“You can’t wander around in a fog like this forever,” he said.
“I know,” I said softly.
I did know. Sooner or later, the world would come knocking at my door. Sooner or later, some enemy would appear, some new threat would manifest, and I’d have to wake the hell up and deal with it. But not now. Not yet.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Beezle landed on my shoulder, and we went out the door without another word.
Beezle took advantage of my total lack of energy and convinced me that we needed a lot of junk food that neither one of us should be eating. I was too tired to argue so I just bought whatever he pointed at, paid for it and trudged home.
I had my head down, watching my boots pushing through the snow, and wasn’t thinking of anything in particular except more sleep.
We were almost to the front porch when Beezle tapped me on the shoulder.
“Maddy,” he said. His voice was urgent.
I looked up. There was a figure standing in the shadows on the front porch. Someone tall, wearing an overcoat . . .
“Gabriel?” I said, my heart thundering in my chest.
“No,” the person said, and stepped into the light.
It was Nathaniel.
“You,” I snarled.
I dropped the grocery bags in the snow and charged up the steps. Nathaniel put his arms up in the air, stepped backward, but he was too slow and I was too angry.
I put my shoulder into his stomach, heard his hard exhalation as the breath went out of him. I tackled him down to the porch, kneeling with my legs on either side of his chest, and punched him in the face.
“You,” I repeated. All I could see was Nathaniel’s face under a haze of red.
I felt him struggle, try to push me off, but his arms were locked tight against the side of his body. He should have been able to move me. He was an angel, and I was only a half-blood. But I had a strength I’d never had before, a strength fueled by rage and betrayal.
My hands closed around his throat, squeezing tight. I pushed at the fragile accordion of his trachea, wanting to crush it to a pulp, wanting to kill him once and for all.
“Maddy!” Beezle shouted, but his voice sounded far away.
“Maddy, you’re going to kill him!”
“Yes,” I whispered, and when I looked at Nathaniel’s purpling face I saw Azazel’s malicious grin as he pushed his sword into Gabriel’s heart.
Nathaniel bucked hard, trying to throw me off again, his eyes wide and desperate.
Another pair of hands covered mine, peeled my fingers off Nathaniel’s throat with unnatural strength.
“No!” I said, clawing at Nathaniel’s neck, drawing blood, trying to renew my grip.
Those same arms surrounded me, pulled me from Nathaniel, carried me backward as I kicked and screamed like a madwoman.
“Samiel, no!” I shouted. “Put me down! Let me be!”
I felt Samiel shaking his head behind me. His arms tightened. Beezle fluttered in front of me. Nathaniel coughed, gasping for air.
“Maddy, you have to calm down,” Beezle said.
“I will not calm down!” I screamed. “I want him dead!”
“He didn’t kill Gabriel,” Beezle said. “He’s not Azazel.”
“No,” I spat. “He’s Azazel’s lackey. He sold people’s memories to vampires. He sold children’s memories. He knew Azazel was planning to rebel against Lucifer. And he tried to kill me the last time we saw him; do you remember?”
“He’s a cockroach, I agree. But if you kill him like this, you’ll never forgive yourself,” he said.
“I’ve killed plenty before,” I said bitterly.
Ramuell. Baraqiel. Amarantha.
“To defend yourself, or someone else,” Beezle said. “Not like this. You’re not a cold-blooded murderer.”
I thought of Azazel again, and said, “Yes, I am.”
I could—I would—kill Azazel without a shred of pity or remorse.
Nathaniel got to his feet, rubbing his throat. The sight of him made me furious all over again.
“You’d better run,” I said, struggling against Samiel’s grip. “Because when I get down I’m going to finish what I started.”
“I will not run,” he said. “I came to speak with you.”
“I’m not sure this is the best time,” Beezle said to Nathaniel. “She seems a little . . . unreasonable right now.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” I said. “I’m not a child.”
“Then cease behaving like one,” Nathaniel said.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not doing yourself any favors here, pal. What did you come here for?”
“I told you, to speak with you.”
His calm demeanor was making me angrier, which hardly seemed possible. There was a well of rage inside me that I had barely tapped. I’d been so foggy with grief that I’d forgotten how furious I was until I saw Nathaniel.
“How can you stand there like that, arrogant as ever? How can you stand there and pretend that you’ve done nothing wrong?” I said.
“Because I have spoken with Lord Lucifer and atoned.”
I froze, blank with shock. “You . . . what? You spoke to Lucifer and he didn’t strike you down on the spot? You participated in Azazel’s rebellion!”
“I had no other choice,” Nathaniel said icily. “Azazel was my master, the lord of my court. I must do as I am bid.”
“That’s a really convenient load of bullshit,” I said. “You had choices. You could have chosen to go to Lucifer when you had foreknowledge of the rebellion. You could have saved the lives of the people that were killed before you sucked their memories from them. You could have done a hundred things differently and in the end you chose to do exactly what you were told even if you knew that it was wrong.”
“If I had defied Azazel, I would have paid for it with my life,” Nathaniel said. His voice had an undercurrent of anger.
“So you chose your own worthless skin over the lives of innocents,” I said, letting my contempt show on my face.
“Regardless of my past actions —” he began.
“Your past actions are very relevant,” I said.
“Will you allow me to complete a sentence?” Nathaniel said angrily.
I’d finally cracked his icy façade. Yay for me.
“No,” I spat. “You deserve no courtesy from me.”
“Last time you saw her you did call her ‘hell’s own bitch,’” Beezle pointed out.
“Lord Lucifer has heard my plea and accepted me as a part of his court,” Nathaniel said.
“What you mean is that Azazel’s plan didn’t go the way he intended, and he abandoned you, so you were forced to crawl to someone else,” I said.
“You have never respected me,” Nathaniel said, his eyes sparking furiously in the light from the streetlamps .
“No, I haven’t,” I said. “I don’t see why I should have to.”
“You were my betrothed.”
“Do not bring up that farce of an engagement again,” I said through my teeth.
“It was not a farce to me,” he said. “When Azazel told me that you had married the thrall . . .”
He looked lost suddenly, vulnerable in a way that I had never seen him before. But his reference to my husband as “the thrall” set me off again.
“That’s why I could never respect you. Because you cleave to this ridiculous notion that you were better than Gabriel.”
“I was,” Nathaniel said. “You were the only one who could not comprehend what an insult it was for you to marry one such as him.”
I thought I’d reached maximum rage, but apparently I was wrong.
“Get off my porch. Leave this city and never come back.”
“That will be extremely difficult,” Nathaniel said, icicles dripping from every word, “as Lord Lucifer has bid me protect you as my penance.”
“No,” I said, pushing at Samiel’s arms so he would release me. “No.”
Samiel tightened his grip, and I turned to look up at him. He cocked his head, asking me with eyes, Can I trust you?
“I won’t attack him,” I said. “I promise.”
Samiel looked like he wasn’t sure.
“I won’t,” I said again, and he let me go.
I marched up to Nathaniel, who took a half step back. Good. He’d better be afraid of me.
“Now, hear this,” I said softly. “I don’t care what Lucifer says. I will never submit to this.”
“Lord Lucifer has said that I am to protect you,” Nathaniel said tightly. “That, I will do.”
“And the first time your life might be threatened you’ll run away with your tail between your legs. I can take care of myself, and that ought to be abundantly clear by now,” I said with a pointed glance at his still-bruised throat. Angels heal fast, so I must have really damaged him for the marks to still show.
“You cannot refuse Lord Lucifer,” Nathaniel said, and there was a touch of desperation in his voice.
I had a feeling a lot was riding on his ability to get me to cooperate. Too bad.
“Watch me,” I said, and walked into the house.
In the interest of making the wait easier (or harder, I guess, depending on your point of view), here’s the first chapter of Black Night, to be released July 26th:
I stood in the alley between Damen and Wolcott in the recently trendy neighborhood of Wicker Park. There was a parking lot filled with cars directly across the alley from my position. It was bordered on the other three sides by four-story apartment buildings. Behind the wall that I leaned on the clubs, bars and restaurants of Division Street did a brisk trade in liquor and lust for the upscale singles that had purchased all the new condos in the area. The cold November night was no deterrent to business. After all, if you lived in Chicago then you understood that there are only two seasons – winter and construction. If you let a little cold slow you down then you should probably move somewhere else.
I shifted a little, flexing my toes inside my boots in a vain effort to keep them warm. When I had died and been reborn a month ago, my human heart had been replaced by an angel’s heartstone. As a result, I was usually a little warmer on average than ordinary human beings, since angels’ hearts are made of the sun. But a half-angel’s body is still no match for the Windy City.
My gargoyle Beezle poked his head out of the lapel of my wool peacoat. He’s the color of stone, about the size of an overweight guinea pig and he’s got little wings, the better to flap around my head and annoy me with.
Before we had left the house he had trimmed a child-size scarf for his own use. He had a small strip of rainbow-colored wool wrapped around each horn and a longer piece wound several times around his lower face. The edge of his beak poked through the material. He mumbled something through the cloth and I glared at him.
“I can’t understand you when your mouth is buried like that,” I said.
Beezle narrowed his cats’ eyes at me and commenced unwinding his muffler. He huffed melodramatically before speaking. “I said, have you got anything to eat?”
“How can you possibly be hungry? You ate a whole bowl of popcorn before we left the house.”
“But I am. And I’m cold. And I want a doughnut,” he whined.
“Stop wriggling. We’re supposed to be undercover here. In point of fact, you’re not supposed to be here at all. You’re supposed to be at home, being a home guardian, like all the other gargoyles.”
“Do you think I would trust your life to him?” Beezle snapped.
“He can hear you, gargoyle,” Gabriel said drily.
My tenant and bodyguard, Gabriel, had been so quiet I’d almost forgotten he was there. Almost. He’s a little difficult to overlook – 6 foot plus, dark hair, dark eyes, the face of an angel. I mean that literally. Gabriel was half-angel.
Have I mentioned that I am in love with him and he with me, and that our love is doomed, in a really melodramatic we-will-both-be-killed-if-ever-act-on-our-feelings sort of way?
I’m a half angel, too. My father is Azazel, a fallen angel and a chief of the Grigori, a right-hand man of Lucifer himself. I’d discovered this tidbit only recently, having spent most of my life believing my father to be an ordinary deadbeat (or possibly dead) human dad.
Beezle had been a little unreasonable about my safety ever since I’d had my human heart torn out by a nephilim – long story – and now refused to let me leave the house without him. You’d think the fact that I’d managed to come back from the dead would count in my favor.
Azazel’s orders stated that Gabriel was not supposed to leave my side when I was out of the house. I had spent the last month with a beautiful bodyguard at my elbow and an overweight gargoyle hanging off me like a baby orangutan. It was making my job a little difficult – very difficult, in fact. It’s not easy being unobtrusive with those two around.
When I’m not Azazel’s daughter and Beezle’s doughnut enabler, I’m an Agent of death. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Every week I get a list of names, places and times. I go to the appointed place at the appointed time, pick up the soul and bring it to the Door. At the Door the soul chooses whether to pass on to whatever is behind the Door (don’t ask me, I’m not allowed to know) or to stay and haunt the earth forever.
Most of the time my job is as straightforward as it sounds. I’m kind of like a UPS delivery guy. I don’t know what’s in the boxes and I don’t care. It’s just my job to deliver them on time and to the correct location. I also have to file paperwork – lots and lots of paperwork, and the forms are annoying and redundant. Being an Agent of Death isn’t such a great gig, really, but it’s an inherited job (I got mine when my mom died) and one that doesn’t go away until you take the trip to the Door yourself.
So there I was, a week before Thanksgiving, shivering in 30-degree weather and thinking longingly of my crocheted blankets and a cup of hot chocolate, and waiting to pick up a soul who was scheduled to die at 1:27am somewhere in this alley.
Beezle carefully rewrapped his scarf around his chubby neck. It draped over his wings in the back.
“I hope that this isn’t one of those disgusting alley murders,” he said conversationally. “The last one put me off my feed.”
“Is that even possible?” Gabriel murmured for my ears only, and I smiled. Then I straightened a little, pushing away from the wall. Gabriel came to attention beside me. “What is it?”
“I don’t think you have to worry about hacked-up body parts this time, Beezle,” I said.
“Because I can see the vampire.” I nodded at the innocuous-looking man making his way across the parking lot.
He looked like any moderately successful single guy out on a Saturday night. His hair was blonde and stylishly cut, his clothes were good without being flashy, and his face was sort of ordinary-handsome. You wouldn’t know he was a vampire, which is good for their kind. The most successful hunters are the ones with the best camouflage.
He crossed out of the lot and into the alley, his footsteps slowing as he approached us. We were tucked unobtrusively in a little four-foot depression in the building, one of those architectural oddities that seem to have no explanation. The building went straight across and then it dipped in, like someone had planned to put a closet there, and then resumed its normal course. It was just enough to keep us from being seen by anyone who passed by.
The vampire stopped dead, a few feet away. I saw his nostrils flare.
“I know you’re there, Agent,” he said.
I stepped out of the depression and into the light of the one yellow streetlamp that hung over the parking lot. Gabriel followed and stood behind my shoulder. I said nothing. The vampire’s eyes widened a little when his saw Gabriel.
He smirked. “You must be the famous Madeline Black, the only Agent with a guard dog.”
If the vampire thought he could make a little sport for himself by getting rise out of Gabriel he had another think coming. Gabriel is the type that burns slow – so slow, I wonder sometimes if he’s got a pulse.
“What is your business, vampire?” I asked.
“If you are here, then you know my business,” he said. He raised an eyebrow at me. “You will not interfere?”
“You know I am bound against it,” I said, and there was a little shivering of magic as I said it, as if the source of my power was affirming the truth of that statement.
That was one of the suck things about being an Agent. I saw a lot of death, and most of those deaths would break my heart if I let them. Stupid accidents, horrific murders, deaths of children and young mothers and college kids before their time. But it was not for me to judge which lives should be saved. If their name was on my list, then their death was fated and I was bound not to interfere. I’d learned early on to adopt a circle-of-life attitude for my own sanity. It didn’t mean that I liked it.
The vampire sidled a little closer to me, and I could almost feel Gabriel’s hackles rise. He loves me, he can’t have me, but he does not like other men coming near me. If Gabriel had his way there would be a 36-inch man-free radius around me at all times.
“I have heard stories of your beauty,” the vampire purred. His nostrils flared again. “I see that they are not exaggerated.”
I crossed my arms. My beauty is so not legendary. “Do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck? Get lost. I’m not the helpless victim you’re looking for.”
I saw a glint of fang as he stepped closer. He seemed hypnotized by some scent. “But the blood of angels…I have always wanted…and you are Lucifer’s own…”
I opened my palm in front of me, extended my will, and a little ball of blue flame about the size of a baseball hovered above my hand. “I understand that fire is unpleasant for vampires.”
The vampire hissed and backed away several feet. He shook his head, seeming to come out of a trance. For a moment I thought he would try again, but then he appeared to think better of it.
“Perhaps you are right,” he said, regaining his composure. “There must be easy prey awaiting me if you are here.”
I closed my fist and the ball of nightfire disappeared, leaving behind a lingering trace of sulfur. I flicked my fingers at the vampire. “Move along, then.”
He gave me a sarcastic bow and continued past us. Gabriel stared stonily at the vampire’s back as he went by. A few feet past us, the vampire stopped. I couldn’t see his face but I was sure he was scenting the air. I felt the thrum of magic that told me a soul was approaching that was marked for death. A moment later a too-skinny blonde came tottering into the alley on four-inch heels.
I sighed and slipped back into the shadows. I didn’t need to see what happened next. I just had to be there to pick up the pieces, like always.
About an hour later I was flying home. Gabriel met me in the air about half a mile away from the Door. For reasons that we don’t understand, Gabriel can’t come within a certain radius of the Door. This tends to make him annoyed, since he is charged with keeping me safe at all times. However, other non-Agents seem to be bound by the same restriction. None of my enemies have been able to cross the invisible line that keeps Gabriel from the Door. I know because I have seen some of them try.
We were about ten minutes from home when I saw it. A flash of green light somewhere on the city streets below, a pulse so large I was surprised that it didn’t wake up everyone in a four-block radius. Then the shockwave hit us.
Gabriel and I were thrown upward by a wave of energy that emanated from the pulse. I let it pass through me instead of struggling against it. As I relaxed, the magical energy inside the shockwave spread through me, and I cried out. There was malice in that magic, a sense of wrongness that chilled my heart.
The wave passed through me, but I was frozen by fear. I had felt something like this before, when Ramuell the nephilim had been released from his prison to hunt and kill me. It was a sense that the natural order had been upended, that death stalked without plan or mercy.
But Ramuell was dead. I had killed him myself. How could this be happening again?
I thought all of this in an instant, but an instant of immobility in the air can kill you. I heard Gabriel’s anguished voice calling my name. I shook my head, realized that I was free falling, my face turned towards the sky. I tried to flap my wings, to turn over and right myself, but my wings had disappeared. They do that, so that I can look like a normal human most of the time. They only appear when I need them for a magical reason, like when I’m carrying out my Agent duties.
But the shockwave had temporarily knocked out my magic, like an electrical surge will cause a fuse to blow. I tried to stay calm, to concentrate on the power inside me, but I was gathering speed. I could see Gabriel’s face, white and strained, as he arrowed towards me in the air, but I was falling too fast. He wasn’t going to make it. I closed my eyes.
And then I was plucked from the air by a pair of strong arms, and I heard a grunt as my speed was arrested. I opened my eyes to see a pair of bright green ones flashing at me through wire-rimmed glasses.
“Next time you might want to try a parachute,” J.B. said as he fluttered us slowly to the ground.
I opened my mouth to speak, to thank him, and was horrified to feel tears pricking my eyes.
“Hey,” J.B. said, and cuddled me closer. “Hey, it’s OK.”
I decided it was easier to cry it out than try to talk through suppressed tears. I buried my face in his t-shirt. He said nothing, only held me there until I lifted my face and sniffled.
“Better?” he asked.
“You can put her down now,” Gabriel said, and his voice had a note of steel.
I looked in the direction of his voice and saw him standing a few feet away, arms locked against his sides as if he were keeping himself from pummeling J.B.
J.B’s arms tightened around me. “Finders keepers. I didn’t see you keeping her from turning into scrambled eggs.”
Gabriel stepped forward. I could see stars blazing in his dark eyes, always a sign of trouble. Like I said, Gabriel is a slow burn. But when he explodes you’d better get the hell out of the way.
“Put her down, human. You’re squashing my ear,” a muffled voice said from inside my coat.
“Beezle!” I gasped. “I forgot he was in there.”
J.B. reluctantly released me, his hands lingering just a moment too long at my back. I would be flattered except that I knew at least part of the reason he did it was to piss off Gabriel.
A few months ago J.B. was my boss, and we didn’t get along. At all. But J.B. had helped Gabriel and I get though a demon attack on the Agency, and in the process we’d developed a kind of friendship. The attack had taken out a lot of the upper management and J.B. had been promoted by virtue of being one of the few supervisors left standing. Demon encounters plus the promotion seemed to have removed the stick that had formerly been lodged up his ass. He was a lot nicer these days.
He’d also shocked me by asking me out on a date. I’d refused, but he’d taken my refusal with surprising grace. It’s not that I wasn’t attracted to J.B. – I was, anything human would be – it was just that my confusing relationship with Gabriel seemed to preclude the possibility of having a confusing relationship with J.B.
Beezle poked his head out, looking distinctly disgruntled. “What in the name of the four hells happened? What’s J.B. doing here? Why aren’t we at home?”
“You didn’t feel that electro-pulse thingy?” I asked. “You didn’t feel us falling out of the sky?”
“I was napping,” Beezle said.
“Napping,” J.B. said in disbelief.
“You can just keep that disrespectful tone out of your voice, Jacob Benjamin. I’m an old gargoyle. And what is that horrible smell?”
Now that Beezle mentioned it, I did notice a distinctly malodorous scent lingering in the alley. And something else. A trace of cinnamon.
“Something angelic was here,” I said.
“How do you know?” J.B. asked.
“Whenever something of an angelic bloodline uses its powers I always smell a trace of cinnamon.”
I started to move cautiously in Gabriel’s direction. It seemed the smell was coming from just beyond him. J.B. followed.
“And there was something else, when the pulse happened. Did you feel it?” I looked questioningly at Gabriel, who was still giving J.B. the hairy eyeball. I saw him take a deep breath and refocus his attention on me.
“Yes. A sense of evil. It felt like…”
“…Ramuell,” I said at the same time.
I felt J.B. start next to me. “Ramuell? That nephilim that you killed?”
Gabriel nodded. “I do not know how it could be. Another nephilim could not have broken free from the Forbidden Lands. Lucifer persuaded all of the Fallen to give some of their power to redouble the creatures’ bindings. It would take more than the power of a single angel or demon to free even one of them. Even I could not do it now, despite my bloodline.”
“And it can’t be Ramuell. He’s dead.”
“Are you sure?” J.B. asked.
I thought of Ramuell burning molecule by molecule, dissolving before my eyes until the last of his essence was gone and the souls that were bound within him were released.
“I’m sure,” I replied grimly.
We crept carefully through the alley. I wasn’t sure where we were – Chicago looks pretty much the same when all you see are dumpsters and the backsides of brick buildings. We had been flying over the north side but the fall had disoriented me.
“Where were you coming from, J.B.?” I whispered as we crept closer to the source of the smell. The odor had to be amazingly powerful to cut through the cold air.
“Dropoff, same as you,” he replied.
“I thought that a regional supervisor would get to delegate the scut work,” I teased.
J.B. shrugged. “The new Midwestern supervisor wants us to do field work. He wants us to stay in touch with our roots or something. Anyway, I saw you flying back and was trying to catch up when that…thing happened. How come you fell out of the sky? What happened to your wings?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “It was like that pulse kind of short-circuited my magic, and when that happened my wings disappeared.”
“That is dangerous,” said Gabriel. “If your enemies were to learn that such a thing could disable your abilities, even temporarily…”
He trailed off. I didn’t need him to elaborate. My enemies, which are many and mostly inherited from conflicts that my father Azazel and grandfather Lucifer created, would turn me into Korean barbecue in the blink of an eye if they thought I had a weakness.
“Let’s not worry about that right now,” I said brightly, trying not to think of my half-brother Antares and his personal vendetta against me. Antares would be more than delighted to short-circuit my powers.
The alley came to a T-junction just as we passed out of the light of a streetlamp. It was pitch black in both directions, the only light coming from the streets beyond. I wondered what happened to the rest of the streetlights.
The smell was nearly overwhelming now. It was something rotted and metallic, and there was a distinct scent of burned fur. Underneath it all was a trace of scorched cinnamon and sulfur – the smell that I associated with Ramuell.
I opened my palm and tried to create the same blue ball of flame that had scared away the vampire earlier. All that came out were a few blue sparks.
“I guess I’m still broken,” I said, and tried not to panic. I had no idea if the effects of the pulse were permanent. “Gabriel, can you?”
A moment later the alley was illuminated by nightfire. Gabriel is a more skilled practitioner than I, and so was able to send the ball of flame ahead of him instead of holding it in his hand. The light danced along down the right turn of the T-junction until I gasped. Gabriel raised the light up higher and turned up the illumination with a murmured word. J.B. covered his mouth beside me and made a retching noise.
It was difficult to make sense of what my eyes were seeing. There was blood – lots of blood, more blood than I thought could possibly be inside one human. And there were parts that were recognizable was human – a tibia, an ulna, a femur – all skinned but with small bits of flesh clinging to the bone. There was a torso that looked as though it had been through a shredder, and some scraps of cloth that might have been a flannel shirt.
But there was no head. And there was a hand that looked almost completely human save the fact that it was covered in fur.
“It’s a werewolf,” I said, trying not to gag.
“What could have done that to a werewolf?” Beezle asked.
“Another wolf?” J.B. said, speaking through his hand.
I shook my head. “There’s not usually that much disparity in wolf strength. Sure, the alpha and his lieutenants will be stronger than the other wolves, but not so much that one wolf could tear apart another like this. And where is the head?”
“More importantly, where is the Agent? This death wasn’t in my paperwork for the week,” J.B. said.
The implications were clear. If the death was not on file, then it was not meant to be. It was a death outside the natural order. And the last time there had been a death outside the natural order was when Ramuell had cut a swath through the innocent of this city.
“It can’t be,” I said as Gabriel stared at me. “It can’t. I killed him. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I killed Ramuell. Lucifer’s been dangling it over my head ever since.”
“Then it must be another nephilim,” Gabriel said slowly.
“You just said that couldn’t happen,” J.B. said.
“Do you have another explanation, Agent?”
“No, but I’m not the one calling Maddy a liar.”
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “I did not call Madeline a liar.”
“You implied it,” J.B. fired back.
“You’d better do something before this turns into a scene from a high school romcom,” Beezle muttered.
I stepped forward, intending to get between them and push them apart – they were practically nose-to-nose – when I heard somebody groaning. I froze, trying to determine the location of the noise but I couldn’t pick it out over the sound of bickering.
“Shut up,” I snapped, and both of them turned to stare at me. “Somebody else is here.”
I heard the groaning again, very faint, further along the alley and closer to the street. I started forward and Gabriel gripped my arm.
“Wait. It may be a trap,” Gabriel said. “Stay behind me.”
“Because I’m small and helpless?” I asked, annoyed.
“Because your powers do not seem to be functioning normally right now,” he answered reasonably.
I supposed I couldn’t argue with that even if it did make me feel useless.
J.B. took up a position behind me and we proceeded slowly toward the sound, picking our way carefully through the remains of the werewolf. I felt things squishing beneath my boots and tried not to think about what I was doing. My body thrummed with tension. What was waiting for us? Another of this creature’s victims, or the creature itself?
Gabriel directed the ball of nightfire toward the sound. There were white feathers splashed with red scattered around just past the gore from the werewolf. A bloodied hand came into view, then an arm, then a gigantic pair of white wings covering a body lying prone on the ground. A golden-haired head was just visible.
“It’s an angel,” I said.
“Or something that looks like one,” Gabriel agreed. “Gargoyle?”
Beezle squinted, his clawed hands gripping the lapel of my coat, and I knew that he was looking through the layers of reality to find the creature’s essence.
“It’s an angel.” Beezle nudged me with a sharp little elbow. “See, I’m handy to have around.”
“Sometimes,” I agreed.
Gabriel signaled to me to stay behind and J.B. put his hand on my shoulder to make sure that I understood. I shrugged off his touch, resenting their high-handedness. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that I wasn’t up to tangling with anything supernatural at the moment.
My bodyguard approached the body carefully, knelt beside the angel and rolled the creature to its back. The angel’s face was splattered with blood and there was a large and ugly gash across his bare chest.
Gabriel beckoned the ball of hellfire closer to him. “It’s Baraqiel.”
“What’s he doing here?” asked Beezle, surprise evident in his voice.
“Who’s Baraqiel?” J.B. and I asked together.
“Lucifer’s personal messenger,” Beezle said.
I wondered what Lucifer was up to now. Why was his personal messenger lying wounded in an alley only a few feet away from the mangled corpse of a werewolf? Had Baraqiel just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was he the werewolf’s killer?
Gabriel laid his hands on the wound and the alley grew brighter as the light of the sun came from his palms. The air filled with scent of apple pie baking – a smell that was unique to Gabriel.
Baraqiel gasped for air and his eyes flew open as Gabriel lifted his hands away from the angel’s chest. The wound was healed.
“Gabriel?” he asked, his gaze confused and frantic. “Where am I? Where is he?”
“Where is who?” I asked.
Baraqiel shook his head and sat up, staring at me. His eyes were a startling silver-blue that looked almost clear. Those eyes made me shiver. The effect of pale eyes against his blood-covered face was ghastly. He pushed up from the ground and wobbled as he attempted to stand.
Gabriel rose beside him and placed a steadying hand on Baraqiel’s shoulder. “Be at peace. You need to rest. You are still weak.”
Baraqiel shook his head, still staring at me. “There is no time. You are Azazel’s daughter?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You must go. Samiel is coming for you.”
A cave in an ash-burned land. A flash of green eyes, alight with hatred and madness.
“Samiel,” I breathed.
“Who’s he now?” J.B. asked, obviously bewildered.
A child of an angel and a nephilim. A child that would have every reason for vengeance against me. A child that I had nearly forgotten.
My voice was barely more than a whisper. “Ramuell’s son.”