Black Lament
Page 12

Beezle translated this rather gleefully for Nathaniel, who looked puzzled.
“There is no need to remind me every second of the day that none of you trust me,” Nathaniel said icily. “I am well aware of your feelings on the matter.”
“And if we want to remind you of them, then you will just have to deal with it,” Jude said.
“You’re the one who came here seeking asylum,” I said.
“I came to protect you, as per Lord Lucifer’s orders,” Nathaniel said.
“Because it was the only option to save your life. If your own skin hadn’t been on the line, you never would have come back here,” I said.
“How can you be sure?” he asked.
My temper flared. “Look, you want consideration from the rest of us? Then stop playing games. Maybe if you stopped pretending to be enthralled with me and put your agenda on the table, everyone would stop threatening you every second of the day.”
“You give me no credit at all, do you?” Nathaniel said angrily.
“What’s it going to be?” I asked. I felt the flare of magic under my skin, but pushed it down. I was getting better at controlling my power, at keeping my abilities at bay when my emotions were unsteady.
Nathaniel stared at me from the other side of the table. I matched his stare beat for beat. Jude and Samiel flanked me, ready to lunge at my say-so.
After several moments he turned his head aside. “Have it your way.”
“That doesn’t really sound like a concession,” Beezle said, landing on my shoulder.
“Very well. I will admit to being interested in saving my own life. But I hardly think that is an unreasonable desire.”
I acknowledged this with a nod. “And?”
“And what?” Nathaniel challenged.
“And what else were you planning when you came here?”
“I intended you no harm, if that is what you are asking.”
“What do you intend?” Jude asked.
“To regain Lord Lucifer’s favor by protecting the most beloved child of his line,” Nathaniel replied.
“So you just want your status back,” Beezle said.
“If I admitted to anything further, I would be accused of falsely manipulating Madeline’s emotions,” Nathaniel said. “So, yes.”
The four of us exchanged silent glances. I could tell we’d all come to the same conclusion. He probably really was interested in regaining power, and as long as I didn’t interfere with that, I was probably safe. But if I ever got in his way… Well, let’s just say I didn’t buy Nathaniel’s protestations of affection.
“I guess I have bigger things to worry about than you stabbing me in the back, especially since every freaking faerie thing that ever was seems to be crawling out of the storybooks to kill me.”
“Does that mean you will permit me to stay?” Nathaniel asked.
“Yes,” I said.
He’s not sleeping up here, Samiel signed.
“I was going to put him in the basement.”
Samiel shook his head. He can stay with me. That way I can keep an eye on him.
“Won’t that cramp your style with Chloe?” I asked.
To my surprise, Samiel blushed. We’re not… I don’t know what Beezle told you…
“Ah,” I said. “She comes on pretty strong, huh?”
Yes, he replied, nodding fervently.
I tried and failed to smother a grin. It was so cute to see Samiel disconcerted by a punk-rock scientist half his size.
Don’t laugh or I’ll sic her on you next time she comes over, Samiel warned. She’s dying to see where the famous Madeline Black lives.
“Who’s laughing?” I said, attempting to school my face in lines of sobriety.
“So the angel will stay,” Jude said. “And so will I.”
“It’s going to be interesting trying to feed everyone around here on your non-salary,” Beezle said.
“Some of us might have to do without second helpings occasionally,” I replied.
“Some of us need to keep up our strength in order to fulfill our duties as home guardian,” Beezle replied loftily.
“The only thing I’ve seen you guarding lately is the popcorn bowl,” I said.
“Even the hardest-working gargoyle needs a break occasionally.”
“Or forever.”
Jude laid a hand on my shoulder. “I will return to the pack this night and speak with Wade. I will arrive back here tomorrow. With my own clothing.”
“Okay,” I said. I didn’t want to admit that I would be relieved that he wouldn’t be using Gabriel’s things.
“Bring food,” Beezle added.
“How dire is your situation?” Jude frowned.
“Very,” Beezle said at the same time that I said, “Not bad.”
He looked from Beezle to me. “Which is it?”
“It’s okay if it’s just me and Samiel eating,” I said. “But two more mouths would be a stretch.”
“What about me?” Beezle said.
“If you didn’t eat for the next year, you still wouldn’t be back at fighting weight,” I said.
“She’s trying to kill me,” Beezle said to the room at large. “An old gargoyle, one that has devoted the best years of his life to raising and protecting an ungrateful child…”
“I can pay my own way,” Jude said.
“As can I,” Nathaniel said.
“Thanks,” I said, and meant it. It would be a huge relief to not have to worry about stretching my meager food budget.
Jude clapped me on the shoulder. “I will return soon, Madeline Black. Your husband’s clothes will be outside when you’re ready to collect them.”
Jude disappeared through the back door.
I pressed my hand to my cheek. The claw marks hurt, and I was extremely tired all of a sudden.
“I can heal you,” Nathaniel offered. “Those marks will scar you permanently otherwise.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I don’t want them to be healed.”
I didn’t want to have the pain taken away by an angel’s magic, an angel other than Gabriel. More than that, I wanted those marks to stay, to remind me every time I looked in the mirror I was still human. No matter how many monsters chased me, no matter what politics I was expected to play, I was still a human being. And my child would be part human, too, even if it would be the smallest part of him.
Nathaniel looked like he wanted to speak again, then changed his mind.
Come on, Samiel signed, pointed him to the door. Let’s get your sleeping arrangements sorted.
I translated, and Nathaniel followed Samiel without another word.
Beezle stayed behind a moment when the others left. “You should let Nathaniel heal you. Your strength is being sapped enough by the baby. If you run yourself down on top of being pregnant, you’ll make yourself sick.”
“I don’t want to be indebted to Nathaniel,” I said.
“You may not have a choice.”
“I lived fine for plenty of years without magical emergency care,” I pointed out.
“You also lived plenty of years without knowing who you were and without dozens of enemies waiting outside to kill you.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I said.
“Just don’t let your pride get in the way of doing what’s necessary,” Beezle said.
Then he flew out the back door, slamming it shut behind him.
And I was alone. The tick of the analog clock that hung over the stove sounded like the beat of a drum. It was the middle of the afternoon, but I felt like I could go sleep for twelve hours. I needed to get some pregnancy books or something so I could find out if it was normal to be this tired.
“Yeah, I can probably squeeze that in between hunting Azazel and fending off faerie assassins,” I said to myself.
I doubted the pregnancy books would cover supernatural births, in any case. Somehow I didn’t think there would be a chapter on what to do if the father of your baby was part nephilim.
I dragged my heavy feet into the bedroom, pulled off all my clothes and went to shower off the blood from the wounds the Hob had given me.
The marks on my right thigh were not deep but they were raised and swollen. Jude hadn’t disinfected them while we sat in the kitchen with the others.
I scrubbed the wound until the scabs came off; then when I was out of the shower I poured hydrogen peroxide into it. I hissed as it stung and the peroxide bubbled.
The heavy, wet mass of my hair kept falling in the way as I bandaged my leg. Irritated, I threw it over my shoulder but it kept falling back. It had been months since I’d gotten it cut and it was well past the middle of my back now. Gabriel had loved my hair.
I straightened, the bandaging complete, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The humidity from the shower made my curls coil with wild energy around my head. The slash marks from the Hob’s claws stood out in bright relief against my white skin. The dark circles under my eyes added nothing positive to the overall impression.
I looked like a mad Medusa, the kind of woman people crossed the street to avoid.
The impulse was there, so I didn’t stop to think about it. I opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a pair of scissors. Then I started to cut.
Some time later I was surrounded by a pile of hair. What was left on top of my head was a shapeless mess, but it was short. I rubbed my hand over the nape of my neck, which felt bare and exposed. I looked down at the remains of my crowning glory, remembered Gabriel with his hands in my hair.
Tears welled up again, but I suppressed them ruthlessly. I had made this choice, and it was too late for regrets.
I dusted the hair off me with a towel, then swept up the rest of it and dumped it in the trash. I went into the bedroom without looking in the mirror again. I pulled on a tank top and pajama pants and fell into bed.
My dreams were filled with blood and ash and snow.
Someone was touching my hair, a featherlight hand brushing over my head.