Black Howl (14 page)

“I thought you told me you knew how to play chess.”

I’d just been outplayed. Again.

“I TOLD YOU THERE WOULD BE A PRICE TO PAY,” BEEZLE said for the hundredth time since we’d left Azazel’s court.

“I know,” I groaned, slumping forward to hide my face in my arms. “How many times are you going to say, ‘I told you so’?”

“I’m not even close to being done yet,” Beezle said. “You think you’re so smart. You think you can outwit Lucifer. He’s had epochs of practice time.”

We sat at the kitchen table—Samiel, Gabriel, Beezle and me—and the mood was positively funereal. You wouldn’t think we managed to save Samiel from certain death.

J.B. had shaken his head at me and gone back to work without a word, while Jude had looked at me like I’d contracted some new and contagious disease that involved blisters and boils before returning to his pack.

Samiel rapped on the table so that I would look up at him.
I’m so sorry. This is my fault.

“No, it isn’t,” I said heavily. “Lucifer has been looking for an excuse to move me closer to his inner circle, and he took it.”

“Yeah, but how could he know that you’d kill the Hound of the Hunt? Nobody has ever managed to before,” Beezle said.

I rubbed my eyes. “He didn’t know that I would do that. But he did know that I wouldn’t let Samiel go without a fight, and I’ll bet anything that Lucifer would have found some way to force me to trade myself for Samiel.”

“No bet,” Beezle said gloomily. “I wouldn’t gamble against Lucifer.”

We all stared at the table. After a few minutes, Beezle cleared his throat. “I’d just like to point out that it’s been several hours since any of us have eaten, and that a pepperoni pizza would not go amiss right now.”

I looked up at Gabriel, whose face spread in a rueful smile. Samiel grinned.

I laughed and picked up Beezle and pulled him into a hug. His tiny arms went around my neck as he squeezed me for a moment. Then he leaned back and gave me a serious look, his clawed hands on my cheeks.

“No matter what Lucifer tries to make of you, you are still Maddy Black. Remember that.”

“I’ll remember,” I promised. “And you’re right. A pepperoni pizza would not go amiss.”

“Yes!” Beezle said, pumping his little fist in the air. “With mozzarella sticks?”

“Don’t push your luck,” I said, and went to place the order.

I wondered if the Hound of the Hunt was a paying position
in Lucifer’s court. Probably not. My checking account was dangerously low, as usual. I’d sold a couple of articles in the last month but it can take a long time to get paid for freelance work. Lately, my main source of income was Gabriel’s rent checks, and it seemed like a long time until the first of February.

After we’d all stuffed ourselves I said, “We’re just going to go on as we were before. If Lucifer thinks I’m going to live at court because of this Hound of the Hunt business, he is out of his tiny mind.”

“What of your duties?” Gabriel asked.

“What of them?” I replied. “I’m sure if Lucifer needs me for something, he’ll let me know. I still have my Agent commitments.”

“And you promised to help J.B. with ghost-hunting. And you still have to find Wade. I don’t know that there is enough time in the day for you to do all those things
and
go to the bakery,” Beezle said.

“I guess I’ll just have to prioritize,” I said dryly. “Speaking of duty and priority, I think I have another pickup tonight.” I patted my pockets like I was going to find my Agent list there.

“You do, at Addison and Sheffield,” Beezle said.

“Close to home; that’s nice,” I said. “Wait—how do you know?”

“J.B. hung your list on your bedroom mirror yesterday.”

“Well, I don’t know what he was thinking doing that. I never look in the mirror.”

“Yes, we all can tell,” Beezle said.

“I will accompany you,” Gabriel said.

Me, too,
Samiel signed.

“What’s with the protectiveness? I think I can go eight blocks from home by myself.”

“You made several new enemies today, whether or not you realize it,” Gabriel said. “The Grigori do not like to be thwarted.”

“That’s swell,” I grumbled. “I can’t even tell most of them apart. How am I supposed to know which one hates me and which one doesn’t?”

I looked up at the clock. It was half past six. “What time is my pickup?”

“In fifteen minutes,” Beezle said calmly.

I stood abruptly and ran for my shoes. “I would have appreciated a little advance warning.”

“What’s the big deal? You’re only two minutes away by wing. Besides, it’s not my fault you never comb your hair.”

“I comb my hair…”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I just don’t stare in the mirror while I’m doing it.”

I hurriedly pulled on my boots and a blue peacoat that I usually reserved for early autumn. J.B. still had my winter coat, as he’d used it to carry the cameras to the Agency.

By the time I was ready Samiel and Gabriel were already standing at the door like two sentinels. Beezle fluttered to my shoulder.

“Up, up and away, Team Black,” I said dryly.

A couple of minutes later we stood at the corner of Addison and Sheffield in front of the statue of Billy Williams. Wrigley Field loomed silently behind us. We were invisible from human eyes.

A steady stream of commuters poured across the intersection as the Red Line stop was only half a block away. Storefronts housed ticket brokers and shops that hawked Cubs merchandise, most of them silent this time of year, when baseball season and the heat of summer seemed like hazy memories.

The bars that liberally dotted the area were quiet tonight, with very few Blackhawks fans willing to brave the freezing temperatures just to drink overpriced beer and watch a game they could just as easily see at home.

I straightened up when I saw him—Cole Stuart Janowik. There’s no glowing light, pointing arrow, chorus of hallelujahs or anything like that when I see a marked soul. I just know, like all of my power locks onto that person with a laser sight.

Cole was young, mid-twenties maybe, and he moved with the stream of people that had gotten off the El and walked west on Addison. He talked on an expensive-looking smartphone as he walked, a wireless headset on his head, the phone in his hand.

This was not a dangerous neighborhood, but the guy was totally unaware of his surroundings. A blond kid who had the look of a strung-out junkie pushed Cole just as he reached the curb, then tore the phone from his hand. The thief sprinted across the street toward Wrigley just as the light changed to red.

Cole, intent on retrieving his phone, did not even notice the custom furniture company truck accelerating across Addison on Sheffield.

“Splat,” Beezle said.

“That’s a little cruel,” I said.

I tried not to let death affect me too much. I saw a lot of it, and the weight would be unbearable if I let it. But it seemed so stupid and pointless to die under the wheels of a furniture truck because an addict needed to sell your phone to get a fix.

I told my overprotective entourage to stay back, and went to offer the soul of Cole Stuart Janowik his final choice.

We were flying back home from the Door a short time
later. Everyone seemed to be in a contemplative mood and not inclined for too much conversation. Lucifer’s edict had cast a pall over us, and no amount of wisecracking would relieve the heaviness in my heart. Lucifer had cornered me good and proper.

I was flying on autopilot, glancing idly at the scene below, when something caught my eye. I pulled up short so fast that Beezle lost his grip on my shoulder. He fell a few feet, then flew back up, looking irritated. Gabriel and Samiel had paused a little ways ahead, and looked back at me, confused.

“What was that all about?”

“That,” I said, and pointed.

Far below us was a semi-industrial area. I knew that some of the larger buildings housed a cable company and the power company.

One of the buildings was coated in a seething mass of energy that looked like green mist. From a distance the feeling of malevolence rising from it was palpable.

“I’m sure that it is not a good idea to do whatever it is you’re thinking of doing,” Beezle said.

“I think we should check it out,” I said. “There’s obviously something wrong with that place.”

“Like I said, not a good idea,” Beezle retorted.

I ignored him and drifted slowly downward. As the ground approached, more features came into view. A short distance away I could see the lights on Addison and Western, the fast food restaurants and the giant structure of Lane Tech High School.

We landed in the parking lot of a plaza that housed the cable company and a large facility that ran kids’ soccer programs. The building in question was at the far end of the lot.

As we approached it I felt a wave of nausea rising. Whatever was coming off the structure was making me feel sick, just like that time I was in Amarantha’s forest and Nathaniel and I ran into the…

“Spider,” I gasped.

Samiel and Gabriel looked questioningly at me.

“When I was in Amarantha’s forest, I was attacked by a giant spider,” I said slowly. It was hard to talk through the sickness rising in my throat. “The spider was surrounded by this same green misty stuff, and it makes me feel like I’m gonna…”

I turned away and heaved, Beezle leaving my shoulder.

“What a waste of perfectly good pizza,” he said.

Gabriel produced a bottle of water from nowhere and I took it gratefully.

“Better?” he asked after I’d collected myself.

I nodded and looked at the building. “What do you think is in there?”

“A bunch of spiders, obviously,” Beezle said. “So do we really want to voluntarily go into a place full of giant arachnids?”

“Want? No.” I shuddered. I have a moderate case of arachnophobia, and almost getting eaten by giant spiders twice had done nothing to improve my symptoms. “Should? Yes.”

“Why is it our job to check out every freaky thing that happens in Chicago?” Beezle whined.

“Who else is going to do it? The cops wouldn’t know what they were getting into.”

I approached the building slowly, Gabriel and Samiel moving to either side of me. Both of them seemed unaffected by the miasma, just like Nathaniel in the forest. The mortal half of me was annoyingly susceptible to malignant
spells. It was hard to concentrate, to be aware of what was going on around me, when I kept having to stop and fight the urge to boot again.

A small door faced the parking lot. Unlike the rest of the warehouse, which looked like it was in violation of several city codes, the door appeared brand-new and very secure. There was a magnetic strip machine next to the door. You obviously needed a card to enter.

There were no windows on this side of the building, so we flew around it to see if there was another means of entry. Nothing. No windows, no doors, no vents. Nothing. Just the solid blank face of crumbling concrete and that door.

We returned to the starting point.

“I bet Samiel could smash it in,” I said.

Samiel nodded and signed,
I’ll give it a try.

Gabriel stopped him with a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“You will certainly set off an alarm.”

I rocked back on my heels, annoyed. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about an alarm. Of course whatever was in there would be protected by more than just green miasma.

Beezle snapped his fingers. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. Maddy, you can go in.”

“What? Why?”

“You can pass through walls. You’re the Hound of the Hunt.”

“Can I do that even if I’m not on Lucifer’s business?” I asked skeptically.

Beezle shrugged. “We might as well try. If it doesn’t work, we can go back to staring blankly at the door.”

I sighed. “So I get to go into the creepy haunted warehouse all on my own. Hooray.”

“You’re the one who said we needed to check this out,” Beezle reminded me.

Gabriel put his hand on my arm. “I do not like this.”

I turned toward him, touched his cheek. “You can’t always protect me.”

He frowned. “I do not know any other way to be.”

I kissed him swiftly and turned away, aware of Beezle and Samiel watching us with unabashed curiosity. One of these days I was going to take Gabriel to a deserted island, far away from prying eyes.

I took a deep breath, trying to quell the nausea that would not leave and the feeling that I was about to do something incredibly stupid. Again.

I put my hand on the wall next to the blinking light of the magnetic strip. Lucifer’s sword rattled in its sheath, and the snake on my palm tingled.

“I am the Hound of the Hunt,” I said, the words flowing easily, as if I had said them before. “No walls can hide my quarry.”

The surface felt suddenly fluid beneath my fingers and my arm slid through it as easily as water. I glanced back at the others. Gabriel looked tense, Samiel worried. Beezle gave me a thumbs-up.

“Draw your sword,” Gabriel whispered. “You know not what enemies may await.”

I pulled the sword from its scabbard and readied myself.

“I’m going to try and open the door from inside without triggering the alarm. If I can’t do that and I’m not back in half an hour, call J.B. and tell him to bring a retrieval unit.”

Gabriel nodded. I slipped through the wall, sword at the ready, and shocked the hell out of the charcarion demon sitting at a receptionist’s desk.

The demon’s mouth dropped open. I took two fast steps forward and threw the sword like a javelin at the demon’s head. The sword passed cleanly through the demon’s open mouth and pinned him like an insect to the wall behind him.

I had to have had some supernatural help on that one because there was no way that I was that competent a swordswoman. I looked at the snake on my hand and it winked at me. I may never get over the extreme weirdness of having a sentient tattoo.

The demon gurgled and flailed for a moment, then went still. I pulled the sword from its body, the blade coated in green-gray blood.

Now that the immediate threat was over I was able to look around. The interior was surprisingly clean and new-looking. It could have been the reception area of any office downtown—paneled walls, light gray carpet, half-moon reception desk.