Black Wings (30 page)

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Authors: Christina Henry

Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Contemporary

BOOK: Black Wings
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“Damn,” I said, backing up a little to stand in the doorway as Gabriel picked through the mess. “Who could have done this, and why?”
“I am not sure,” Gabriel said, picking up a silver locket, examining it and discarding it.
“Someone needs their apple juice and cheese crackers,” I said, examining the destruction, and then I smelled it.
The whiff of sulfur came a breath too late. Antares already had his claws around my neck, even as I was turned, even as I tried to tap my magic. He yanked me close to his body and bent his head close to mine.
“Hello again, little sister,” he crooned in my ear. His saliva spattered on my neck and my skin burned where it touched.
“Oh, well, that answers that question,” I said as his claws pressed into my flesh. Warm rivulets of blood flowed into the neckline of my peacoat. At least my stupid half brother was alive, and I definitely would not be tortured for killing him. Of course, he was probably going to kill
me
momentarily, so it all came out in the wash, I suppose.
“How is it that you managed to survive?” I said calmly. “I was sure I nuked you to bits.”
Antares laughed, and I could feel his chest rumbling against my back. I tried not to show how completely and totally I wanted to pee my pants.
“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he said.
“Tricks your mommy left you,” I taunted, and his arm tightened around me. “No tricks of your own.”
Gabriel stood motionless in the middle of the room, watching us. I could see the calculation in his eyes.
“Do not even think about it, outcast,” Antares hissed. “I will have slit her throat before you can conjure a spell.”
“Do it, Gabriel. He’s going to kill me anyway,” I said. I felt strangely calm. “Of course, he’s going to cheat and use one of Mommy’s spells because he’s too weak to produce one of his own, but still. You might as well take him out, too.”
Antares snarled in my ear and then slammed my face against the doorframe—twice. The second time I heard something crack and I felt hot fluid running out of my nose.
The distraction was enough. While Antares was breaking my nose, Gabriel blasted him in the chest with nightfire. Antares screamed and dropped me to the ground, making sure to kick me in the process. Since he was a demon and a hell of a lot stronger than a human, his kick didn’t just crack my ribs. It cracked my ribs
and
launched me across the room into the wall. I smashed into a framed Ansel Adams photo and fell heavily to the ground, the whole time thinking,
Wow, Antares’s control issues are worse than mine. I wonder if that’s a family trait?
Then I saw stars and birdies for a few minutes. The smell of sulfur, sage and apple pie filled the air. I could hear the sounds of Gabriel and Antares grunting and snarling at each other as they dueled. The occasional bolt of magic careened around the room.
The little match flame inside me flickered. I needed to get up and help Gabriel. He wasn’t allowed to kill Antares—the rules about not harming another demon’s thrall still applied no matter what Antares’s crimes—but Antares would have no compunction about harming Gabriel. Antares was already an outcast of Azazel’s court and facing punishment for killing humans. Offing Gabriel would be nothing to the demon.
I wanted to hurry up, to get to my feet, but all the broken things inside me hurt like hell. I pushed myself to a sitting position and hoped that Antares would be too distracted by Gabriel to launch any spells at me.
While I was pulling myself together the battle had moved into the hall. I was amazed that Greenwitch’s upstairs neighbors weren’t banging on the front door. It sounded like Antares and Gabriel were smashing every piece of glass and wood in the place.
I staggered to my feet, sucking in air spasmodically. Beezle and Gabriel had counseled emotional control for my magical abilities. Now I needed to control the pain so that I could focus on my power.
I let my breathing slow and tried not to think about the pain radiating just above my belly. The little match flame surged up suddenly, and the power pushed me upright like a string pulling a marionette. It helped me forget about the pain.
“Now,” I said, fingertips crackling with energy. “You’re mine, little brother.”
I strode into the hallway just as Gabriel blasted Antares into the kitchen, which was across the hall from the workroom. The demon slammed into the refrigerator, leaving an indentation that looked like a mold of his body, like in the cartoons where the coyote gets hit by a train and smashed into a canyon wall.
Gabriel never took his eyes from the demon as he blasted Antares again with blue flames. Antares howled in fury and stumbled away, swiping his hand across the counter and knocking over several vases of wildflowers. He fell to his knees, his back to us.
“Can we capture him and bring him to Azazel?” I said, coming to Gabriel’s side.
“Yes. I can restrain him.” He furrowed his brow and blasted Antares again. The demon collapsed to his stomach, panting, seemingly spent.
Gabriel mumbled to himself and conjured what looked like a pair of blue-lightning handcuffs out of the air. The cuffs crackled with electricity. He strode forward and reached for Antares’s arm, which was tucked underneath the demon’s chest.
Again, I felt something was not right. Again, I was a whisper too late. “Gabriel, wait ...”
Antares came to his feet with a roar and a maniacal grin filled with razor teeth. He plunged his clawed hand into Gabriel’s stomach and then pulled it out again, covered in gore and gripping what looked like a little nugget of the sun. The rock shone like daylight in Antares’s blood-covered fist.
Blood bubbled out of the half angel’s mouth as he folded up like a paper fan and collapsed to the floor. I screamed in horror and grief, and all the magic came blasting out of me in a wave, all focused on the creature that had harmed Gabriel.
Antares couldn’t move quickly enough. Electricity danced over the demon’s skin, searing away the red flesh. It smelled like really bad barbecue. He dropped the shining rock and it skidded across the floor, rolling under the refrigerator. Antares clawed at his skin, howling and tearing off shreds of muscle down to the bone, trying to get my magic off and out of him.
I ignored the furious demon and ran to the refrigerator, dropping to my stomach and peering underneath. The rock was just underneath the lip at the bottom of the refrigerator.
I closed my fingers around it and nearly dropped it. It was jagged and small enough to fit inside my closed fist but it was as hot as a coal from a roaring fire. Smoke swirled from my closed fist, and the smell of my own cooking flesh was added to Antares’s.
I crawled to Gabriel and knelt beside him, lifting his head to my lap. His face was chalk white but that wasn’t what scared me. When I laid my hand on his face, he was colder than stone.
“Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no,” I moaned. I covered the hole in his stomach with my hands. I could feel the blood pumping out between my fingers. “Oh, God. Just hold on, Gabriel. Hold on.”
“The outcast is dead,” Antares hissed.
I looked up at the demon with furious eyes and gave him another blast of magic for good measure. He screamed and fell to the floor, writhing.
“Gabriel,” I said, my tears falling on his face. “Gabriel, can you hear me? What can I do?”
He opened his eyes. There were no stars, no meteors, just the empty blackness of deep space. The heart of the universe.
“You ... have ... to ... get ... me ... to ... Lord ... Azazel,” he said, and then closed his eyes again.
“Oh, no, no. You stay awake, Gabriel. Do you hear me? You stay awake!” I screamed.
A snide, cold voice came from the doorway. “What has happened here, Madeline?”
I looked up. Nathaniel stood in the doorway, goldenhaired and dressed in a Burberry coat and scarf. Disgust was etched on his features. I realized that Antares was gone—again. He must have done his disappearing act into a portal while I was concentrating on Gabriel. Apparently there was no amount of pain that could kill Antares’s instinct for self-preservation.
“Nathaniel, you have to take Gabriel to my father,” I said, pulling my hands away from the wound. I realized I was still holding the daylight rock and I opened my palm. There was a jagged circle branded on the skin. “Antares took this out of him. I don’t know what it is.”
The angel looked revolted. “It is a piece of his heart-stone. If the thrall dies, it is none of my concern. Lord Azazel sent me here to protect you, and I find you not at home, but out doing the precise thing he has ordered you not to do.”
I could not believe my father wanted me to marry this asshole. I strode across the room and slapped him across the face. He looked shocked, holding his hand to the place where I’d hit him.
“Gabriel’s life is slipping away. You are the only one here who can open a portal. Take him to my father
now
,” I shouted.
“If you were not Lord Azazel’s daughter, I would kill you for that insult. I am not going to touch a half nephilim, and no fiancée of mine should be touching him either,” Nathaniel said haughtily.
My magic swirled up, hot and angry, and I knew that my eyes must have changed, because Nathaniel took a half step away from me. “You ... will ... bring ... him ... to ... my . . . father. If he dies, or if he even suffers a moment longer than necessary because of you, then believe this—I will ensure that you bleed every single day for the rest of your very, very long existence.”
He looked at me for a moment, and I saw the fear flicker across his face. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Believe it, scumbag,” I said, and as I spoke my power grew and grew, pushing until I felt that my skin was all that was holding it inside me.
Nathaniel seemed to consider; then he held out his hand for the stone. I placed it in his palm without a word and he grasped my hand with his free one.
“Know this, Madeline Black. I only do this as a favor to you, because you are my betrothed. But in the future, you will cleave unto me as your husband, and it is my wishes that will be obeyed.” His eyes were frosted with ice.
“We’ll see about that,” I said, and yanked my hand away.
He strode to Gabriel and lifted the half angel under his shoulders and knees. Gabriel did not stir. I could barely see the rise and fall of his chest.
Nathaniel opened a portal in the kitchen. Mist swirled inside.
“Take him directly to my father,” I said.
“As you wish, Madeline. For now,” he said, and stepped inside.
The portal closed behind them, and I was alone in Greenwitch’s kitchen, my hands soaked in Gabriel’s blood.
20
FOR THE SECOND TIME IN TWO DAYS I BROKE DOWN. I fell to my knees and covered my eyes with my bloody hands and sobbed until there were no more tears. Then I crawled out of the kitchen. The floor was coated in Gabriel’s blood as well as bits of Antares’s skin and muscle, and it smelled like a slaughterhouse. My knees left dragging tracks in the mess.
I hauled myself to my feet, using the doorway as a support. I’d forgotten about my nose and ribs in all the excitement. The pain now returned to pummel me into submission. My head felt like it had been cracked open with a nut hammer and the throbbing in my ribs made every breath a punishment.
I leaned in the doorway and took a quick assessment of my situation. I was severely injured. My most trusted ally was mortally wounded. My enemy had managed to escape yet again, which meant he would be back at the most inconvenient time possible to try to kill me. Not that there was ever a convenient time for my murder, really.
I still had to track Ramuell or Evangeline’s captor or both, and I had basically zero control over my magic. It was miraculous that I had managed to blast Antares with something magically useful, like electricity. I could have just as easily launched feathers in his face.
Without Gabriel, without control over my powers and without a clue how to magically track anyone, I felt pretty hopeless about my cause.
“I don’t know what to do. Help me. Help me. I’m all alone,” I whispered. I didn’t even know who I was asking for help. I just knew that I couldn’t do this by myself.
You are not alone
.
I stood upright and stared around the room wildly. I knew that voice.
“Where are you?” I said. “Show yourself.”
Evangeline appeared before me, small and thin with a long tumble of dark hair. She wore a simple white robe that made her look very sweet and very young. She shimmered as she hung in the air, an idea without corporeal presence.
I looked like her. Not in an obvious way, but it was clear there was a family resemblance in the eyes and the mouth and the shape of the face.
“Are you a ghost?” I said. She didn’t really look like a ghost. More like a TV signal that kept flickering on and off.
No,
she said.
I am a memory that has been locked in the blood of my descendants for many generations.

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