Black Night (23 page)
“Jude!” I called, jogging to catch up with him. Beezle flew behind me.
He continued walking down the hall like he hadn’t heard.
“Jude!” I cried, more insistently.
It seemed like he walked a little faster.
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered. “Are you seriously going to pretend that you don’t hear me?”
I sped up until I caught up to him and then tapped his shoulder. I lost Beezle, who panted several feet behind me. Jude turned on me with a snarl.
“What is it, spawn of Lucifer?”
I backed up a step. His fangs were showing. It was very off-putting to see a wolf’s fangs in a human’s mouth.
“Okay,” I said, holding my hands up. “First off, I’m not precisely Lucifer’s spawn.”
“Intervening generations do not change the fact that you are of his blood,” Jude growled.
“Okay, whatever,” I said. I wasn’t about to get embroiled in genetic technicalities with Jude, who clearly wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t near me. “Listen, can you tell me how to get to the throne room? I seem to have made a wrong turn somewhere.”
He smirked at me. “All the powers of the devil don’t come with a compass?”
“Fine, don’t help me,” I said, pushing past him. Obviously Jude had some issues that precluded the possibility of his acting like a civilized human being.
“Wait a second,” he said, and grabbed my shoulder roughly.
Something flashed through my head—Nathaniel holding me in place by my shoulders. I turned on Jude with a yell and knocked his hand from me. My breath came hard and my hands were curled into fists.
He stepped back a little and held up his arms to show he wasn’t dangerous. I could see him examining my face closely and I felt a wave of embarrassment redden my cheeks.
“Who hit you?” he growled.
“Nobody. I fell last night, remember?” I looked down. I couldn’t believe I was lying, making excuses.
He put his hand under my chin, more gently than I thought him capable, and forced my face up to his.
“Somebody hit you,” he said. “I can smell a lie.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, getting some of my gumption back. “I blasted him across the room, so he paid for it.”
“Good,” Jude said shortly, and dropped his hand away. “Follow me. I’m going to the throne room anyway.”
He started down the hallway again. I trotted after him, which was necessary because he was quite a bit taller than me and it took me five steps for every one of his.
He didn’t say anything else, and I was okay with that. I didn’t know what to make of that moment in the hallway, and I’m sure he didn’t either. He was probably already regretting being nice to a descendant of Lucifer. Beezle had caught up with us and settled on my shoulder, letting me do the heavy lifting.
Several minutes later we were at a side entrance to the throne room. Apparently this was the way you came in when you weren’t being formally announced. There were several knots of courtiers already assembled in little cliques around the room.
Amarantha was receiving the various parties that had arrived that morning. There were a couple of different faerie factions from other parts of the country coming in. She looked completely in her element, and I wondered how long she’d practiced that look of benevolent tolerance before she’d perfected it.
Jude took off for the small party of wolves on the opposite side of the room and I looked around for J.B. Wade saw me and gave me a friendly wave, but his brows were furrowed as he consulted with the other wolves.
None of the other courtiers seemed inclined to invite me into their group. I stood awkwardly off to the side, looking hopefully around for someone who would want to talk to me. It probably didn’t help that Beezle had fallen asleep on my shoulder and he was snoring loud enough to wake the dead.
I felt a tap on the shoulder that wasn’t hosting a fat, lazy gargoyle and a second later J.B. was in front of me. I took Beezle off my shoulder because my right ear was deaf and stuffed him in one of the patch pockets on the front of my suit. His arms and head hung over the seam of the pocket, but he kept snoring. I was getting a little worried about Beezle.
I wasn’t exactly sure how old he was, but he definitely seemed to be slowing down lately. What would I do if he turned to stone?
“You look like Molly Ringwald in that movie where she shows up at the prom without a date,” J.B. said.
“Does that make you my Andrew McCarthy?” I asked.
“Only if you promise not to call me Blaine,” he replied, and then his face creased in anger. I knew he’d seen the shadow of the bruise through my makeup. “What happened to you?”
“Can we not talk about it?” I asked. I really wasn’t up for telling the whole story now, and my lies were so pathetically feeble that J.B. would see right through them.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the side of the room, away from nosy courtiers.
“No, I really would like to talk about it, because there’s only one thing that could make a bruise like that. A fist.”
I sighed. J.B.’s testosterone was up. The last thing I needed was him going after Nathaniel. I didn’t even want to think about what kinds of problems that would cause between the courts of the faerie and the fallen.
“Okay, you win. I got hit, but I hit him back and now it’s all over so you don’t need to ride to my rescue,” I said quickly and quietly. “I was in a lot more danger when I faced Ramuell.”
“Just tell me who did it,” J.B. said grimly.
“No,” I said. “I don’t want you to get involved in this.”
“For chrissakes. When the hell are you going to trust me?” he said, rubbing his hands through his hair in frustration.
I looked at him in surprise. “I do trust you. You’re probably the closest friend I have after Beezle.”
There was speculation in his green eyes. “Really? Closer than Gabriel?”
“Gabriel is my bodyguard,” I said stiffly.
J.B. snorted. “He wants something to do with your body, but it ain’t guarding that he’s thinking about.”
That was the second time in less than twelve hours that my relationship with Gabriel had been questioned. Apparently, we had done a super-crappy job of trying to keep things secret. What made it even worse was that
nothing
had really happened between us. There was just a lot of longing and the restless nights that go with it.
nothing
had really happened between us. There was just a lot of longing and the restless nights that go with it.
And this was yet another topic that I was not keen to discuss in a room full of avidly watching courtiers.
“Did Wade tell your mom about the wolf killing last night?” I asked.
“Yes, and she’s not happy about it,” he said with a small smile. He seemed to enjoy his mother’s annoyance.
“Why not?” I asked. “I mean, beyond the obvious.”
“It’s a terrible insult to the wolves that this occurred in Amarantha’s own courtyard. It indicates a breach of security and violates a ton of faerie rules involving etiquette and the safety of guests.”
“So she’s pissed because now they have more leverage to negotiate for that land that they want. They’ve been insulted and she has to repay them,” I guessed.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “She’s in a real snit about it.”
“Well, if she’s anything like my father, then it would be good for her to not get her way now and then.”
“I think so, too . . .” he said, and trailed off.
He stared at something over the heads of the courtiers. The room had gone completely silent except for the swishing of fabric as everyone turned to look at the main entrance to the court.
I stood on my tiptoes and tried to see. Unfortunately that only made me five foot two instead of five foot. Considering that most of the faeries were built on the tall and lean scale this meant that all I saw were a lot of shoulder blades.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Shh,” J.B. said.
The faerie toady who stood by the door announced the arrivals. “Lord Focalor of the kingdom of the fallen, escorted by Antares ap Azazel and sundry demons, and bearing a gift for Queen Amarantha.”
Antares. Focalor. What in the four hells were they doing
here
?
here
?
The crowd parted as they approached the throne. I could see Antares, and the demon that had been in my vision, the one that had negotiated with Samiel. So my guess was correct—he was Focalor.
A crowd of smaller demons followed behind Focalor and Antares. Antares held a leash in his hands attached to a figure who walked between my half brother and his lord.
His back was covered in lash marks, he was filthy, his black wings drooped, and his hands were bound behind his back. But his head was high and his dark eyes burned with anger.
It was Gabriel.
13
THE ROOM BROKE OUT IN FURIOUS MUTTERS. MOST OF the faeries seemed shocked that Focalor had not only entered Amarantha’s court under his own banner and not Lucifer’s, but that he’d done Amarantha the insult of bringing lesser demons with him. I knew all of this was important. I knew that it probably meant that Focalor was moving openly against Lucifer. But I only had eyes for one person.
“Gabriel,” I whispered, and I started toward him.
“Don’t,” J.B. said, and he grabbed my hand and pulled me back.
“Why not?” I said angrily under my breath. “I’m within my rights to take him back. Gabriel is my bodyguard.”
“But he came here with Focalor’s party. You would be insulting Amarantha if you tried to take him from the demons in front of the entire court.”
“Do you think I care about insulting the queen?” I hissed. “Do you see him? Do you see what they’ve done to him?”
J.B. squeezed my hand. “I see. I know. Don’t worry. We’ll get him back. But let’s find out what they want before we go in all guns blazing.”
Focalor had approached the throne. Antares stood a few feet back with Gabriel. I could see the metal collar they had put around his neck. It was lined with spikes that protruded from it every few inches and Antares was obviously taking pleasure in yanking on the leash so that Gabriel’s flesh would bleed anew.
The little knot of demons stood farther back in the center of the room, and all the faeries were taking care not to brush up against them accidentally. The courtiers had pressed back against the walls and cleared an area of several feet around the demons.
Amarantha appeared to be disgusted by the whole proceeding. Violet, standing at the queen’s right hand as always, looked like she was either going to puke or faint. I couldn’t blame her. The stench of the demons, that sulfuric cloud that always seemed to follow them, was slowly filling the throne room. The servants were attempting to discreetly open the gigantic windows that lined one side of the room, but the courtiers pressed back so far that it was difficult for the servants to do their jobs.
I, on the other hand, pushed forward so that I was in front of the crowd, close to the throne and with a clear view. Antares caught my eye and winked menacingly. I felt magic crackle over my fingers and suppressed the urge to blast him into kingdom come. I was sure that would violate some desperately important accord of the faerie court, and the only thing I wanted right now was to get Gabriel back. If I had to control my temper for a few minutes, then so be it. But Antares was going to pay for this, sooner or later.
Focalor bowed low to Amarantha. It was the kind of bow that seemed correct but there was something disrespectful about it all the same. Which he probably was.
“Queen Amarantha, most beautiful light of the faerie court,” Focalor began, and his voice oozed with the false compliments.
“Lord Focalor,” Amarantha replied, and her voice was polite although her teeth were gritted. “How dare you come to my court under your own banner, and sully this place with these low creatures?”
She gestured to the demons, who were flicking their tongues and growling and oozing all over the place.
Focalor bowed his head. “Forgive me, my lady. I was under the impression that it was customary for a lord to be escorted by his retinue. Do not your own accords state that hospitality shall be given even unto the escorts of a guest in your court?”
He smiled, and I wondered how Amarantha would get out of this one.
“You have not been invited, nor have you been accepted; therefore you are not yet a guest of my court,” she replied. “If you have come to bargain with me, then your
retinue
must remove to the courtyard.”
retinue
must remove to the courtyard.”
Focalor narrowed his eyes. I saw Amarantha make a small movement of her index finger. The servants who had been hovering unobtrusively in the background moved swiftly to the front of the crowd and stood at parade rest. Ah. So the servants were also warriors, and Amarantha wanted them on hand in case things got ugly fast.
For a moment it seemed her paranoia was justified. Focalor looked like he was ready to loose his demons on the courtiers rather than submit to Amarantha’s will. I readied my magic. Next to me I saw J.B. draw a long wooden rod from his pocket. I had seen him use this once before. Apparently it gave him some extra powers.
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