Black Howl Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  BLACK WINGS

  “A fun, fast ride through the gritty streets of Chicago, Black Wings has it all: a gutsy heroine just coming into her power, badass bad guys, a sexy supernatural love interest and a scrappy gargoyle sidekick. Highly recommended.”

  —Nancy Holzner, author of Bloodstone

  “An entertaining urban fantasy starring an intriguing heroine…The soul-eater serial-killer mystery adds to an engaging Chicago joyride as courageous Madeline fears this unknown adversary but goes after the lethal beast.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Fast action, plenty of demons and a hint of mystery surrounding the afterlife make for an entertaining urban fantasy populated by an assortment of interesting characters.”

  —Monsters and Critics

  “Henry shows that she is up to the challenge of debuting in a crowded genre. The extensive background of her imaginative world is well integrated with the action-packed plot, and the satisfying conclusion leaves the reader primed for the next installment.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “I love the world-building…The take on demons and angels is sufficiently different to separate Black Wings from the recent spate of tales in that milieu…I do recommend Black Wings if just for the unusual world and enjoyable plot and characters.”

  —Errant Dreams Reviews

  “Readers will enjoy a fast-paced adventure with an interesting cast, especially Beezle, the gargoyle, and be ready and waiting for a future still yet unwritten. Pick up your copy of Black Wings today, and stay tuned for Black Night.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “A fast-paced first novel… Black Wings is a lot of fun.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Henry does an excellent job of unveiling the first layers of her unique world and its fascinating inhabitants. There’s plenty of kick-butt action and intriguing twists to ensure that this story grabs you from the very first page. One to watch!”

  —RT Book Reviews (4 stars)

  “The story was a nonstop action blast full of smart-alecky gargoyle guardians, devilishly handsome (and enigmatic) love interests, arrogant demons, wicked witches and more jaw-dropping revelations than a Jerry Springer show. I barely had time to catch my breath between chapters.”

  —All Things Urban Fantasy

  “Fast-paced, action-packed and hard-core—breathing new life into the vast genre of urban fantasy…Black Wings is intense, dark and full of surprises.”

  —Rex Robot Reviews

  “Amazing…Henry’s pacing is incredible and keeps you absorbed; plus the characterization is fantastic…I strongly urge all you [urban fantasy] fans to get this book!”

  —Read All Over Reviews

  “I finished this book in one sitting and will definitely look out for more by this author.”

  —Bibliophilic Book Blog

  “A fast-paced book that I had a hard time putting down…I can’t wait to read Black Night and find out where Gabriel, J.B., Antares and Beezle all stand in Maddy’s world.”

  —A Romance Review

  “Black Wings was one of the better beginnings to a series that hit every point that it needed to hit. This is a series that I plan to continue [reading] and will continue to enjoy if Christina Henry maintains this caliber of writing.”

  —Books By Their Cover

  “It isn’t often that a first book grabs your attention and refuses to let you go. Christina Henry’s book was that book for me. I loved every minute of this newest paranormal story about one woman’s struggle to figure out her place in the world when everything around her seems to be changing.”

  —Fantasy Romance Writers

  “I read Black Wings in one day, and I loved spending that time with Madeline (and Beezle). I recommend Christina Henry to readers who enjoy the dark humor of Ilona Andrews’s Kate Daniels series and the demon politics of Stacia Kane’s Megan Chase series.”

  —Fantasy Literature

  Ace Books by Christina Henry

  BLACK WINGS

  BLACK NIGHT

  BLACK HOWL

  BLACK

  HOWL

  CHRISTINA HENRY

  ACE BOOKS, NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  BLACK HOWL

  An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Ace mass-market edition / March 2012

  Copyright © 2012 by Tina Raffaele.

  Cover art by Kris Keller.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  EISBN: 9781101560402

  ACE

  Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ACE and the “A” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  For Henry, because he never complained when I was writing this book, even though he didn’t see his mom very much for a few weeks while I was finishing it.

  I love you, little bear.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks, as always, to my super-awesome editor, Danielle Stockley, and my equally incredible publicist, Rosanne Romanello.

  Thanks to Sarah Kaiser, Faith Park, Anne Posner and Pamela Schneider for moral support when I was trying to finish this book without having a nervous breakdown.

  Much gratitude is due to Cynthia, Pedro, Jessie, BJ and all the wonderful staff at Einstein Bros. on Southport (my unofficial office).

  Love to all of my family, especially Chris and Henry, who keep me going.

  Table of Contents


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  19

  1

  “LEGS IN THE AIR, HEELS TOWARD THE CEILING. CRUNCH, quick!”

  I lay flat on my back, legs extended up, and started crunching as the instructor counted off reps. After about three movements the atrophied muscles in my abdomen started to scream for mercy. My legs dropped toward the ground.

  “Uh-uh-uh. No, no, no,” the instructor said to me as he walked around the classroom checking our form. He was a tall, handsome African American man with the demeanor of a drill sergeant. “Keep those legs up.”

  He grabbed my ankles and jerked my legs back into position. I tried to remember why I had made this asinine New Year’s resolution to lose weight in the first place. Beezle had laughed for a full half hour when I told him I was going to an aerobics class.

  “You should be going with me, too,” I’d said. “Except that you’d scare the crap out of all the fit people.”

  Beezle had patted his round tummy indignantly. “I’ll have you know that I am the perfect shape for a gargoyle.”

  “Yeah, a gargoyle that gets out of breath going to the kitchen for snacks,” I’d replied.

  “Better to get out of breath in pursuit of chocolate than in pursuit of a fitness you will never achieve,” Beezle had said.

  I’d sworn then and there to lose thirty pounds by June. In retrospect, this was a stupid thing to say out loud, because if I didn’t lose the weight, Beezle would harass me about it for the rest of my life.

  “Fifty more!” the instructor shouted.

  I groaned and glanced at the clock. Aside from my possibly fruitless pursuit of rock-hard abs, I had a secondary motive for getting up at the ungodly hour of five a.m. and making my way to the local YMCA. I had a soul to pick up, and that soul was Harry Lopardo, presently crunching his way up and down on the mat next to me, scheduled to depart this earth in about eight minutes. Harry was a super-fit middle-aged guy who could easily have been in one of those magazine ads for protein bars. He had that no-body-fat look.

  If I knew that I had only eight minutes left on my sand timer, I would definitely be doing something besides crunches. It would probably involve getting Gabriel, the unrequited lust of my life, naked as quickly as possible. Of course, there was a universe of obstacles in the way of that happening.

  See, I’m an Agent of death. What that means is that once a week I get a list of names, times and places. The names are souls whose deaths have been foreseen by Agency prophets. My job is to be in the right place at the right time to take the soul to the Door. I’m not sure precisely what’s behind the Door, but I know that the soul has a choice of many worlds.

  Death is a bureaucracy. It’s ordered, and filled with paperwork, and pretty much everyone is on a need-to-know basis. As a lowly Agent (a crappy job I inherited when my mother died) my need-to-know ranking is pretty low.

  “Leg lifts, slow, then quick, go!” the instructor shouted.

  I looked at the clock again. Two more minutes. Thank the freaking Morningstar, because I wasn’t sure if I would be able to bend at the waist ever again if this went on for much longer.

  “Fifty more!”

  “Fifty more, fifty more…Is that all he knows how to say?” I muttered.

  Harry looked over at me and grinned. “I know it’s tough, but if you stick with it, you’ll see results.”

  “No talking!” the instructor shouted.

  I huffed and puffed my way through another few reps, and then Harry’s legs dropped to the ground and he clutched his chest. His face turned purple.

  Heart attack.

  I came to my knees and called out to the instructor. “Hey, you should call nine-one-one! I think this guy is having a heart attack.”

  Everyone in class turned to look at us. I took Harry’s hand. “It’s okay, it’s okay; just look at me.”

  People started crowding around. The hip-hop music that blared from the speakers kept running, out of sync with what was happening in the room.

  “Clear the way, clear the way; give him some air!” the instructor said.

  I dropped Harry’s hand and scooted back behind the crowd. This gave me the perfect opportunity to disappear.

  I pushed my wings from my back and winked out of sight.

  Even though I was invisible I still had to follow the laws of physics. That meant that I had to work around the knot of people surrounding Harry and slip through an opening to get to his body. A second after I knelt beside him again, he breathed his last breath.

  His soul came drifting up from the body, attached by a band of ectoplasm. Harry looked down at himself with confusion, then up at me. His eyes widened when he noticed my wings.

  “A heart attack? Seriously? I was in great shape,” he said. “Are you the grim reaper? Or some kind of angel?”

  “A little of both,” I said, and this was true. My father was Azazel, a fallen angel, and my mother had been an Agent of death. I was also distantly related to Lucifer, and he loved to remind me of that fact.

  Harry watched the class instructor giving his lifeless body CPR. “So I guess if you’re here, that means that CPR isn’t going to do too much for me.”

  I shook my head and held out my hand. “Will you come with me?”

  You have to give the soul a choice. They have to choose to go with you, or stay and haunt this earth forever. Choosing to be a ghost also creates a lot of annoying paperwork.

  Harry put his hand in mine. As he did, he looked me up and down critically. “I meant what I said, you know. If you stick with the class, you will definitely see results.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Got any fitness tips for an overweight gargoyle?”

  I dropped Harry off at the Door and made my way toward home. The flight felt a little lonely without Gabriel. He used to be my bodyguard, at the behest of my father, and therefore went everywhere with me except the bathroom. Now he was my thrall, by virtue of my having won him in a magical contest that I was not supposed to survive.

  The laws of Lucifer’s kingdom said that once you are a thrall, you are always a thrall. You can be passed from owner to owner but you can never, ever be free. I really did not want to be Gabriel’s owner. But I didn’t want him to belong to someone else who would abuse him, either. So mostly I left him alone and avoided making direct requests of him that he would be forced to follow.

  This meant that I spent a lot more time flying solo than I used to, unless Samiel decided to come with me. Samiel was Gabriel’s half brother and he’d recently become a part of my household collection of oddities. He frequently came with me on pickups because he had an insatiable curiosity about anything and everything to do with humans, but Beezle had insisted that Samiel stay home this morning and watch a movie with him. The gargoyle had been strangely mysterious about the choice of film, too, so I just hoped that he wasn’t making Samiel watch something icky, like a really bloody horror movie.

  I was flying lower than I usually do, close to the rooftops, which is why I saw the ghost.

  It was walking in circles on the sidewalk, which was odd behavior, even for an apparition. Every once in a while it would walk toward the brick exterior of a building and bounce off, almost as if it didn’t know that ghosts could drift through solid objects.

  I lowered myself to the ground, so focused on the specter’s weird behavior that I bumped into a kid with a hooded sweatshirt and backpack making his way to a nearby bus stop. The kid stopped and looked behind him, alarmed. Seeing nothing, he continued on, his shoulders tensed as if waiting for an attack.

  That was stupid of me. I shook my head and continued on toward the ghost, who was still walking in circles near th
e newspaper boxes on the corner. As I approached I saw that it was a twentysomething male, and he was talking to himself.

  “Got to get to class—can’t stop—got to go now—sorry red—have to go—can’t stay—don’t make me stay—don’t make me stay—don’t make me stay.”

  He was dressed in that slouchy, worn-out style that a lot of college students favored. As I got closer his voice rose in a crescendo.

  “No, can’t stop—can’t stay—sorry red—don’t make me stay—don’t make me stay—DON’T MAKE ME!” He walked into a building, bounced off the wall and walked back, bouncing off again like a record with a skipping needle.

  “Hey,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Hey, do you need help?”

  He turned on me in terror, his hands raised and his wrists crossed in front of his face as if expecting a blow. “No, can’t stop—don’t make me!”

  I held my own hands up so that he would know that I wasn’t going to hurt him. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe. Can I help you? Can I bring you somewhere?”

  Maybe I could convince this soul to go to the Door. That would probably win me points with J.B., even if he wasn’t my direct supervisor anymore. J.B. hated ghosts. He took the presence of every lost soul as a personal affront to his ordered universe.