Black Night
Page 8

“Are there any useful tips you can give me at all? I’d really like to make it through my first diplomatic mission without getting my head chopped off.”
J.B. blew out a breath. “There are so many rules, so many potential breaches of etiquette . . .”
“I am not entirely sure that Madeline is the best person for this mission,” Gabriel said.
“Sarcasm is not productive,” I said.
“I am not being sarcastic. Lucifer surely has members of his own court that understand the complex rules of the faeries and could negotiate them better than you.”
“That means there’s some special reason why he wants me there,” I said.
“What reason could that be?” J.B. asked.
“I don’t know yet,” I said grimly. “But I will find out, sooner or later.”
“Let’s hope that in the meantime you manage to keep your head,” J.B. said.
Literally and figuratively, I thought. My temper always ran close to the surface. And when my emotions were high it became difficult for me to think clearly. For some reason, my magic seemed to feed off this and encourage it. A quick temper and unstable emotions—not to mention almost total lack of knowledge about the species in question—were not the best combination for a delicate diplomatic mission.
Lucifer was obviously up to something—besides yanking my chain, that is. He had some plan that I couldn’t see yet. And while I was trying to figure out that plan, I had to make sure I didn’t take an early trip to the Door.
J.B. seemed recovered enough to head home and rest, so Gabriel and I helped him into a cab and sent him on his way. As J.B.’s cab pulled away in the light of the rising sun, I remembered that I had another pickup—an early one.
“No rest for the weary,” I said, sighing.
Gabriel glanced at me. “Or the wicked.”
“Hey, I’m supposed to be one of the good guys,” I said, a little offended.
“Try to remember that when you are about Lucifer’s business.”
I felt myself growing angry. “Do you think I chose this?”
“I know that you did not,” he said patiently. “But Lord Lucifer has a way of making choices seem . . . gray.”
I wanted to tell Gabriel that one of the reasons I was forced to do Lucifer’s business in the first place was to keep him breathing, but I didn’t. I knew enough about Gabriel to know that he wouldn’t want me to do anything for his sake. And anyway, it was my choice, even if it sometimes seemed like my options had been taken away from the moment I had discovered I was Azazel’s daughter.
“I think I can hold my own against Lucifer,” I said. “I am aware of his reputation.”
“Do not make any assumptions where Lord Lucifer is concerned,” Gabriel warned. “He has forgotten more about human nature than you will ever know.”
“That’s the second time today I’ve been told that,” I said. “Don’t you have any faith in me?”
“I have plenty of faith in you, Madeline,” Gabriel said. “I just know Lord Lucifer better than you do. He has been playing chess for centuries, and he knows how to win. And who to sacrifice.”
I felt myself grow cold. Somehow, I hadn’t considered that Lucifer might be sending me to the faerie court to get rid of me.
“I thought that I would be more valuable to him, being the last direct descendant of his union with Evangeline.”
Gabriel stared broodingly after J.B.’s taxi. “I’m not sure that family ties are that meaningful to Lord Lucifer. I am his grandson, after all, and I only barely managed to escape the knife at my birth.”
“But he was furious with me for killing Ramuell,” I said thoughtfully. “I think maybe his family is more important than you think. I don’t think he would have let the Grigori kill you no matter what. I bet he just wanted to see how things would play out, and who would speak out against his grandson. I’m sure he’s holding it against any Grigori that did so.”
“I suppose it is possible,” Gabriel said, still staring off into the middle distance somewhere.
“Hey,” I said, taking his hand. I felt the familiar hum of electricity that always sparked between us at the slightest touch. “It doesn’t matter what Lucifer wants or doesn’t want. I want you, son of Ramuell or not.”
His hand gripped mine tighter but he still did not turn his head in my direction. “Son of Ramuell is what I will always be, and that is why we cannot do this. I have told you over and over and you will not listen.”
I pressed closer to him, made him look at me. His eyes were tormented.
“And I have told you over and over,” I said, my face very close to his, “that I do not care what the rules say.”
He gave me what I wanted, pressed his mouth against mine for an instant, and then pulled away. His face was full of need and regret.
“It is madness, Madeline, and I cannot do it. I will not be responsible for your death.”
There wasn’t a lot I could say to that. I watched him walk away from me, the way he seemed to over and over.
4
MY HAND HOVERED INSIDE THE BAKERY CASE. I WAITED a second or two, trying to decide which doughnut was the right one. The two doughnuts that remained were filled with some kind of cream and both had chocolate icing on top. I grabbed the one on the right.
“That’s not the right kind,” Beezle muttered from the inside pocket of my coat. “That kind has cream inside, not custard.”
“How can you tell from there?” I hissed, putting the doughnut back.
“I can smell it,” he replied, his voice muffled by the wool.
“Well, I can’t tell the difference so you get what you get,” I said.
“Just get the other one,” he said. His short gray horns and yellow cat eyes peeked out from underneath the lapel of my black winter coat.
A harried-looking woman with two small boys in her grocery cart pushed past us to get at the baguettes.
“Look, Mommy, there’s a rat in her pocket!” one of the boys shouted, pointing at me. Several other people shopping in the section turned to look.
The mother widened her eyes at Beezle, grabbed her French bread and tossed it in the cart. She “shushed” the little boy while moving away from me as quickly as possible.
I gave the other shoppers a sickly smile. “It’s my guinea pig,” I said, moving away from the doughnut case and shoving Beezle back in my pocket with my free hand.
I’d completed my pickup and decided to hit the Jewel for a few necessities. Of course, Beezle had a different notion of necessity than I did.
“What about my doughnut?” he whined.
“You only get doughnuts if you can stay incognito,” I hissed.
“How is this not incognito? Am I inside your pocket or what?” Beezle grumped. “It’s hot in here.”
“Yesterday you were cold; now you’re hot,” I said.
“People are staring,” Gabriel murmured next to me.
“Oh, gee, why would they stare?” I said. “It’s not like I’m having an argument with my coat lapel or anything.”
The corners of his mouth turned up as I tossed a couple of oranges in my basket.
“That is fruit, not a doughnut,” Beezle muttered. “We don’t want any of that healthy stuff.”
“You know, it would probably be good for you to replace some junk food with fruit. You’re getting pretty heavy in there.”
“Gargoyles are supposed to be round,” Beezle said, and his tone was clearly miffed. “We are home guardians.”
“And I ask it again: then why the hell don’t you stay at home instead of making me drag your heavy ass all over town?”
I was spared Beezle’s reply because just then I felt a wave of energy pulse through the store, the same power signature that I’d experienced only a few hours earlier. Gabriel looked alarmed, and I felt Beezle stiffen inside my coat.
“The wolf-killer,” I said, dropping my basket on the floor and heading toward the front of the store. “Where?”
Gabriel fell into stride beside me. “Nearby, but not too close. The pulse didn’t disable you this time?”
I felt the familiar flicker of magic under the surface of my skin. “No. Either I’m getting used to it or ground zero was far enough away not to harm me.”
“Or you were protected by the building,” Beezle said, his voice still muffled. “Earlier you were in the sky, completely exposed.”
I looked at Gabriel questioningly and he shrugged. “Your magic is a constant mystery to me, Madeline. It seems to operate differently from others I have known.”
We exited the store and stood for a moment in the morning sunshine, trying to get our bearings. It was hard to find the source of a supernatural event that had already happened, but Gabriel had some skill in tracking power signatures. He looked around, then pointed north.
“This way,” he said.
We crossed the parking lot and then Wellington. This was a busy area, with two strip malls right next to one another and a large development of condos across the street behind them.
“I can’t believe this creature would do anything in an area this crowded,” I said. “Someone must have seen it.”
Gabriel didn’t look at me. He was intent on following the traces of magic to their source. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. People tend to see only what they want to see.”
The two strip malls faced Ashland, which was a main thoroughfare that ran north-south through the city. A few blocks away was the Lincoln-Belmont-Ashland intersection, a major convergence of traffic and businesses. In between were blocks stuffed with homes and apartments.
Gabriel tracked through the post office parking lot, across another street, and into an alley. We wandered for a few moments, turning left and right, and then I could smell it before I saw it. Burnt cinnamon, and raw meat.
“He’s killed someone again,” I breathed.