Black Spring
Page 13

“It might discourage bad behavior,” I said. “But I make no promises.”
I stopped when I got to the front porch. “Umm, do you know where we’re going?”
He shook his head. “No. But I do not believe it matters. Can you not feel him? It is just as it was when he was rose from the lake. We will be able to find him without trouble.”
Now that Nathaniel mentioned it, I could feel Alerian’s presence in a way that had not been there the day before.
“He must be exerting a great deal of power for it to be palpable to us,” I said.
He shook his head. “I do not think so. I think we are more aware of him than the other three brothers.”
“I’m not sure about that,” I said. “I can feel Lucifer in the back of my mind almost always. And I know when he’s approaching.”
Nathaniel looked thoughtful. “I believe that is because you are bound to him through more than one line. Your child is also blood of Lucifer’s blood, and that strengthens your connection to him.”
I nodded. “I’ll buy that. But we both have no direct tie to Alerian. You’re a closer relative than I am, being the son of his brother, but neither of us is a direct descendant. So why do we sense him so strongly?”
Nathaniel looked troubled. “I do not know. But I am not certain it bodes well for either of us.”
“There is something more elemental about Alerian, isn’t there?” I said as we cloaked ourselves from human sight and took off flying.
“Daharan has that quality as well,” Nathaniel said. “But it seems that he deliberately banks the effect, whereas Alerian makes no attempts to hide it. Still, we all feel slightly uncomfortable around Daharan. He cannot hide his true nature completely.”
“I don’t feel uncomfortable around him,” I said, surprised. “In fact, I feel exactly the opposite.”
“Yes, well, the one thing the gargoyle and I can agree upon is that Daharan has an unnatural interest in you,” Nathaniel said.
“He’s the only person related to Lucifer who has never asked anything of me,” I said, annoyed that Beezle and Nathaniel thought Daharan was plotting behind my back.
“Yet,” Nathaniel said darkly.
“He doesn’t mean me any harm,” I said. “I can feel it.”
“But that does not mean that he has no agenda of his own,” Nathaniel said. “He had not been seen or heard from by his own brothers for many long years, and then he coincidentally appeared just when Puck sent you to that strange planet.”
“To protect me,” I said impatiently. “He knew Puck was up to something and he wanted to keep me safe. And he was just as aware as the other two that Alerian had risen again. It’s only natural that he would come here with me, since Chicago has become ground zero in the struggle between all these ancient creatures.”
“Because you are here,” Nathaniel said.
“You’re here, too,” I pointed out. “And since your legacy from Puck has been revealed, you’re just as powerful as I am. Maybe more so.”
“The old ones are not interested in me as they are you,” Nathaniel said. “There is something special in you, and they all wish to control it.”
“Daharan doesn’t,” I said.
Nathaniel said nothing, only looked at me from the corners of his eyes.
“He doesn’t,” I repeated.
I didn’t care what Nathaniel or Beezle said. Daharan didn’t want to control me, or take my baby, or make me his heir or anything else. Neither of them trusted my intuition (which, admittedly, had not always been super-accurate) but I knew I was right.
“Don’t worry about Daharan,” I said. “Worry about Alerian.”
“I can multitask,” Nathaniel said.
I snorted out a laugh. “Have it your way, then.”
I’d been so caught up in our conversation that I barely noticed where we were headed until we were there. That was the second or third time I’d found myself focused on one thing to the exclusion of everything else. It was a dangerous habit. If I wasn’t awake and aware of potential threats, I was going to get taken down by something magical and nasty.
“Trump Tower?” I said, screwing up my face at the silver needle-topped structure. “I hate this building.”
“I am sure Alerian did not choose it with your sense of aesthetics in mind,” Nathaniel said as we headed down the side of the building toward the sidewalk. “It is close to the river, close to the water.”
“Why not Lake Point Tower?” I asked. “It’s right on top of the lake.”
“Do not ask me to explain his reasons,” Nathaniel said.
“It would be nice if this Alerian-radar-thing we have also came with some handy illumination-of-intentions,” I said as we entered the building under a veil.
There was far too much glass and white and modern-looking furniture in the lobby for my taste. The ceilings were extremely high and there had been some attempt at softening the effect of all the sharp angles by placing huge potted plants at strategic intervals.
We maneuvered easily around the bustle of people in the lobby—guests checking into the hotel, businessmen speaking staccato into phones as they hurried to meetings.
Outside the glass the Chicago River was bluer than usual and it looked . . . “Alive” was the only word that seemed to fit. Normally the river is a muddy-looking churn. Even on sparkling summer days the water never really looks appealing the way Lake Michigan can. But now the river seemed like a powerful, electric thing, like it was giving off its own energy.