Black Lament (5 page)

Nathaniel drew himself up haughtily. “I will have you know that Azazel considered me one of his finest warriors.”

“You got captured by Amarantha’s guardians in her forest. And you fell under the influence of her spell.”

“I hardly think that should be held against me. She cast a spell on the whole party,” Nathaniel said angrily.

“Which did not have any effect on me,” I pointed out.

“Yes, well, no one seems to be certain why you were immune, so I would not brag about it.”

“You were also captured by the Grimm.”

“As was Samiel,” he said.

“And every time you and I have fought,
I
have won,” I continued relentlessly. “When you tried to rape me in Amarantha’s castle. When you tried to kill me in Azazel’s ballroom. It seems more likely that I would end up protecting you from the Big Bad Wolf than the other way around.”

“This is why you have always had contempt for me? Because you are stronger, more competent than I?” Nathaniel asked. “If so, then you should lower your standards. I have never known any creature to match you in strength of will save Lord Lucifer himself. You are so much more his child than Azazel’s.”

That gave me pause for a moment, but I couldn’t contemplate my and Lucifer’s shared traits just now.

“Nathaniel,” I began. “I have had contempt for you, yes. It’s an ugly trait, and I’m not thrilled to admit it. But I have felt that way, and it has nothing to do with your strength or weakness.”

“Then why?”

“Because you valued appearance and status above everything else. Because from the moment we met you treated me like a trophy you’d been awarded without having done anything to earn it. Because I believe that you would not choose to do the right thing unless it was also the most useful to your purpose. I believe you value yourself above anything else.”

Nathaniel’s face had gone bloodless during my litany.

“And these are not the traits of a husband—is that it?” he said through his teeth. “These were not the traits of your precious thrall.”

“Don’t call him that,” I spat. “And Gabriel doesn’t come into this.”

“Yes, he does. His shadow has stood between us from the very first, and now his shade will linger there forevermore. How can I compete with a ghost?” he said bitterly.

I looked at him uncertainly. “The way you’re talking, it’s almost like you wanted me as something other than a prize.”

“You never gave me a chance,” he said. “How could I prove that I wanted to be a better man?”

“
Do
you want that?”

“Does it matter?”

It kind of did matter, because I was starting to wonder if I had horribly misjudged him. And if I had, I had lost the chance to gain at the very least an ally. The Morningstar knows I needed as many allies as I could get.

And yet… Beezle and J.B. had warned me before that I was too trusting. Nathaniel might legitimately want to be my friend. Or he might see me as the clearest path to fulfilling some agenda of his own. This was a time when a little of Lucifer’s foresight would come in handy.

“Did Lucifer strike a deal with you?” I asked. “Did he promise you something in exchange for acting as my bodyguard?”

“He said he would allow me to live,” Nathaniel said. “Although Lord Lucifer understands that I only acted as instructed by the lord of my court, rebellion is still a serious matter.”

“I’m surprised he gave you as much leniency as he did,” I said.

“As was I,” Nathaniel replied. “I asked for mercy, but I did not expect to receive it.”

“Why didn’t you go to ground like Azazel?” I asked.

“I will not live my life like a hunted animal. Either I would die honorably by the sword before Lucifer’s court or I would benefit from his mercy. I would not run.”

There was a kind of strength in that, a nobility I hadn’t expected from Nathaniel.

“But if you fail in protecting me, Lucifer will kill you,” I said. I was very uncomfortable with the idea that Nathaniel’s life was dependent upon my benevolence.

“I truly believe that Lucifer expects I will die in defense of you,” Nathaniel said.

“You seem awfully calm about it,” I said, searching his face for any sign of fear.

He shrugged, and the gesture seemed so out of character for him that I smiled. The smile faded when he spoke again.

“It is not such a bad thing to die in battle. Perhaps I could regain some of the honor I lost. Perhaps you would then think better of me.”

I felt that the longer he spoke, the more confused I became. It was easier to think of his actions as black-and-white, to think of Nathaniel as the enemy. I didn’t want to credit him with humanity.

We stood in the little foyer, staring at each other. And then I jumped about six feet in the air when someone knocked on the outside door. It was J.B., standing on the other side of the glass with a grim expression on his face.

I opened the door, scowling. “Give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”

“What’s he doing here?” J.B. asked, jerking his thumb at Nathaniel.

I looked at my raggedy ex-fiancé and sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is,” J.B. said. “Can I have a word?”

“Come on up,” I said. “Nathaniel…”

“I will remain outside,” he said.

He and J.B. slipped past each other in the doorway. I swear I could see their hackles rising as they passed.

I silently led J.B. upstairs and waved him into the apartment, closing the door behind us.

“I’m assuming you’re here because of the body,” I said.

“What body?” he asked sharply.

“Um, never mind,” I said, backpedaling.

“Black…” he said menacingly.

“Oh, fine,” I said, and explained about the Grimm’s attack.

J.B. listened intently until I was finished “Well, I guess I’m a little late in warning you.”

“Warning me about what?” I asked warily.

“The blood price on your head.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Whoever wants to kill me now had just better take a number.”

“Certain factions of my kingdom are demanding your life in exchange for killing the queen.”

It took me a second to remember what J.B. meant by “kingdom.” It was hard for me to recall sometimes that he was now king of Amarantha’s court.

“How can there be factions demanding anything?” I asked. “I thought they all fled when Lucifer punished Amarantha.”

“Now that the stigma of a monstrous ruler has been lifted, the court has returned.”

“So none of them would openly support Amarantha while she was disfigured and lived, but now that she’s dead they’re demanding vengeance?” I said skeptically.

“Don’t ask me to explain how faeries think,” J.B. said. “At any rate, there are some very vocal groups asking me to take action.”

“And one of them sent the Grimm.”

“Very likely.”

“Can’t you keep control over the court?” I said, thinking of what Beezle had told me earlier about the rigid caste system in the fallen courts. “Don’t faeries love order?”

“They also love playing politics. I have not had many opportunities to establish authority and gather allies. The Agency management is pressuring me to clean up the mess from the memory-stealing incident.”

I realized then how tired J.B. looked, and how thin. “You’re getting it from all sides, aren’t you? You shouldn’t be here worrying about threats against my life. I’m small potatoes.”

“Like I would stand by and let some discontented faeries take a swipe at you? You should think better of me.”

“I didn’t mean that,” I said, irritated now. “I just meant that I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But I do,” he said, brooding.

“Faerie magic can’t take me down,” I said lightly. “At least, it hasn’t managed to yet.”

“You haven’t seen the worst the faeries have to offer,” J.B. said.

“What can be worse than the Grimm? The Maze? Giant spiders and tentacled monsters?” I asked.

“There’s worse.”

“Oh.” I tried not to imagine what might be worse than what I’d already faced. I had enough trouble sleeping as it was.

“At any rate, I’m doing my best to ferret out the fractious individuals. Until I find them, watch your back. Do you want me to arrange for protection?”

It wouldn’t do me any good to feel irritated that yet another male in my life seemed to think I needed a human shield to get through the day. I knew J.B. was asking because he cared, not because he had a secret agenda.

“I’m cool,” I said. “I can always call Jude for backup if I need it.”

“What’s Nathaniel doing here? Weren’t we trying to get rid of him?”

I explained about Lucifer’s deal with my former betrothed.

“I don’t like it,” J.B. said. “He could be double-dealing again. Who’s to say he’s not a plant from Azazel come to stab you in the back when the time is right?”

“I don’t disagree,” I said. “I’m not sure I can trust him, which is why I’m not officially accepting him yet. But I don’t think I can send him back to Lucifer knowing the Morningstar will kill him for failing.”

“You seemed perfectly happy to stab him to death a week or so ago in Azazel’s court,” J.B. said.

It annoyed me that J.B. was presenting the same argument I’d given Beezle only a short time before.

“That was different,” I said crossly. “He was the enemy then.”

“And now he’s not?” J.B. pressed.

“I don’t know!” I said angrily. “Call it the privilege of a pregnant woman. My hormones are confusing me…”

I trailed off, because J.B.’s face had gone white.

“I forgot that you didn’t know,” I said in small voice.

“When did you find out?” he asked, sounding strained.

“Today,” I said. “Lucifer told me.”

“He must be thrilled,” J.B. said flatly.

“Oh, believe me, he is,” I said grimly, thinking of the possessive look on Lucifer’s face.

“And you?” he asked carefully.

“I… I don’t know,” I said honestly. “It’s a little piece of Gabriel inside me, and part of me is thrilled to have that.”

“But?”

“But once my pregnancy becomes widely known, the target on my back is going to get even bigger.”

“Does Nathaniel know?” J.B. asked.

“I don’t think so. I’m sure he would have acted like I had an infectious disease if he knew I was carrying the ‘thrall’s’ baby.”

“Don’t tell him until you have to,” J.B. advised. “It might push him over the edge.”

“Yeah.”

We looked at each other.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” J.B. said. “Things would have been a lot easier if you’d fallen in love with me instead.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said sadly. “Your baggage is about as heavy as mine.”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Be careful.”

“And you,” I said.

He left without another word, and I was left alone, as always.

* * *

I tried to sleep, but was dogged by nightmares of blanketing darkness and monsters worse than anything I’d imagined before. At dawn I gave up the pretense and stumbled into the kitchen to find Beezle eating Nutella from the jar with a spoon.

“You look like garbage,” he observed.

“Don’t speak,” I said shortly, feeling my way toward the coffeemaker.

“No coffee for you,” he said with way too much cheer in his voice. “You might harm the little biscuit.”

Right. Pregnant women aren’t supposed to drink coffee. I slumped over with my head on the counter. “Can I have anything that makes life worth living?”

“Herbal tea,” Beezle said.

“I said something that makes life worth living.”

“Sorry,” he replied, and he didn’t sound sorry at all.

“Where’s Samiel?” I asked.

Beezle rolled his eyes. “Entertaining Chloe.”

“Entertaining… Chloe?” I asked.

“You heard me right, so there’s no need to stand there blinking those big brown eyes at me,” Beezle said.

“Chloe who works at the Agency?” I asked.

“Do we know any other Chloe?”

“How long has this been going on?” I wondered how this could be happening right under my nose.

Beezle shrugged. “She’s been sniffing around here pretty much since the first time she saw him at the Agency.”

“How could I have missed this?”

“Easily, since you’ve spent most of the last week in a depressive funk.”

“My
husband
died,” I said. “How else am I supposed to behave?”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t mourn him,” Beezle said hastily. “But you can’t lay around the house in a daze anymore, especially not if the faeries have put a blood price on your head.”

“Been listening at windows again?” I said nastily.

“You don’t have time to cover your head with a pillow.”

“I’ll thank you not to tell me how to deal with my own grief,” I said, storming out of the kitchen and into the bathroom.

I turned on the water for the shower, fuming. It didn’t matter that part of me knew Beezle was right. I didn’t want to be told that my behavior was unacceptable, that it wasn’t okay to feel so sad, so sick with loss that I couldn’t get out of bed. Because if losing your first and only love wasn’t justification for that, then what was?

By the time I’d gotten out of the shower, I’d cooled down. I’d also realized a few things.

One, Beezle was right. (I’d never tell him, though.)

Two, I needed to do something about Nathaniel before Lucifer popped by for a family visit and made the decision for me.

Three, my husband’s killer was still out there and I’d done nothing about it.

I got dressed, combed my hair and wound it into a braid. My face was white and my eyes were rimmed with dark circles. I looked about as sickly as Nathaniel did.

I made a quick phone call to Jude, then marched out of the bedroom loaded for bear. Beezle was nowhere to be seen, which meant that either Samiel was done “entertaining” Chloe and he’d fled downstairs, or the gargoyle was hiding from me so that he wouldn’t have to deal with my wrath. I shoved a granola bar in my mouth and hoped it would suffice for breakfast.

The fancy coat Lucifer had given me hung by the front door. I pulled it on, collected my sword, keys and cell phone and headed downstairs. I peeked through the outside door.

Nathaniel was asleep on the front porch. His back rested against the railing, his eyes were closed and his very long legs stuck out in front of him. His breath rose and fell in an even rhythm. He looked wiped out, and I had to remind myself not to feel sorry for him. Whatever condition he was in now was his own fault. And I still wasn’t sure I could trust him.