Black Heart bw-3 Page 6

  I couldn’t do much about philosophical questions regarding my unlucky bloodline. There was no way to determine Nathaniel’s trustworthiness from here. What I could do was find out what had happened between these fae and Lucifer. And I had to gain their trust so that my wings could be released, but I couldn’t wait forever for that to happen.

  When I’d left Chicago, Puck, Alerian and Lucifer had met for the first time in centuries. I didn’t think it was a good idea for the three of them to run around unsupervised for long. And twice since coming here I’d dreamed of Gabriel warning me that “they” were not to be trusted.

  Did he mean the fae, or was he warning me of others I had not yet met? Was I actually hearing Gabriel speaking to me from beyond the dead, or was it all just a projection of my anxieties?

  Usually when I had this many questions, I took action. I tracked somebody down. I followed clues. I smashed and burned things. I smote my enemies. At the moment there was nothing for me to do except cool my heels.

  Unless I wanted to use my power to terrorize the fae, burn down their village and slaughter them one by one until they gave me what I wanted—my wings. But that seemed like the sort of thing a bad person would do. Someone like Lucifer. A monster.

  I was still trying hard to be a good guy. According to Beezle, the jury was out on whether or not I was succeeding. Killing a bunch of innocents just so I could get my way would definitely cross a line.

  So I waited. The moon set. The sun rose. My eyes remained open. As the first rays of sunlight touched the tops of the trees, I thought I saw a figure moving among the branches. Aside from my physical discomfort, the sensation of being watched made it impossible for me to fall back asleep.

  Whatever was making the back of my neck prickle was probably the same creature that had disturbed the birds earlier. It was just a flash of something green. It might have been nothing but a branch moving. Or it might have been yet another creature that wished me harm.

  My throat was scratchy from lack of water. The fae clearly thought it was fine to live on mead or whatever had been in my cup yesterday, but I was having elaborate fantasies about a truckload of iced bottled water falling from the sky.

  Barring that, I’d settle for some rain. Surely the water gods wouldn’t have dominion over flying drops from the clouds. But the sky was clear and cloudless, and no relief was coming from there. So I waited. And waited.

  The sun rose higher. I got more hungry, more thirsty, and a headache built behind my eyes. There was very little movement from below.

  The whole village seemed subdued. I started contemplating doing something stupid, like climbing down through the porthole, blasting nightfire at whoever stood guard and then taking Batarian hostage until he released my wings.

  I heard movement on the walkway below and leaned carefully out over the edge to see.

  Litarian was crossing underneath the platform, carrying a bowl and a cup. I was trying to figure out how he would get up the ladder with that stuff when a rope flew up from beneath, wrapped around one of the poles holding up the roof, and returned to Litarian’s waiting hands.

  He placed the bowl and cup inside a sack and tied the sack to the rope.

  “Won’t that spill everything?” I muttered, but the sack was already on its way up to me.

  The bag was made of soft, aged leather. I unknotted the tie at the top, expecting to see the contents slathered all over the inside. But the bowl and cup rested neatly on the bottom, almost as if Litarian had placed them on a tray and carried them to me.

  I took out the bowl, which had something oatmeal-porridgy in it. The cup was filled with the same honey-colored mead drink I’d had the day before.

  Once I’d emptied the bag, Litarian yanked on the rope until the sack returned to him. He coiled up the rope and continued without so much as a nod.

  “Well, good morning to you, too,” I said loudly.

  I tipped the bowl toward my mouth—Litarian hadn’t bothered to provide a spoon—and tentatively tasted what was inside.

  The porridge was good, kind of nutty, and seemed to have been cooked in milk. I gulped down the mead, though it was very unsatisfactory and left me feeling more thirsty than before.

  The silence of the forest was broken by another of the eerie, metallic cries that had interrupted my sleep. This time another voice joined in, and then another, and another.

  The sound seemed to worm inside my ear and permeate my brain. I threw myself on my belly and covered my head with my arms, trying to block out the noise. It grew louder and louder as more voices joined the chorus. Below, the faerie were running to and fro again, as they had the day before.

  However, the warriors did not enter the forest. They set up a perimeter around the village and waited, watchful and still. The alien song grew louder, more persistent, and I knew that whatever made that noise approached the village. It was an army, and the fae were ready for war.

  The pain in my head made my eyes squint. Just as the song reached a crescendo, it suddenly stopped. I raised my head, my breath held. The first creatures leapt from the forest, a poison green blur.

  The fae fired arrows, and when the creatures were close enough the warriors pulled out daggers for hand-to-hand fighting. Both the fae and their enemies moved so quickly that I couldn’t easily identify the creatures.

  After a few moments I realized what they were, and why their cries were so familiar to me.

  Just before I had given up my Agent’s status forever, I had lost a soul named Jayne Wiskowski. She had been killed by one of these monsters, which looked like giant preying mantises. When I’d fought with the overgrown insect, it had threatened me, told me it was the vanguard of a vast army to come.

  I’d never discovered who had sent the thing. Shortly after that I’d killed my father and defeated a city full of vampires, so I never gave the bug another thought.

  At the time I’d assumed it had been sent by Azazel or Titania, and I had not seen another one since. Until now.

  But how had a creature from this world wound up in Chicago? One of my enemies had to have a way into and out of this place, despite Batarian’s insistence that the borders of the world were closed, even despite the evidence of my own magic, which would not create a portal for me to leave.

  There was a way, but who controlled it? Whoever it was would not be friendly to me, for sure. The mantis I had killed had told me that Jayne Wiskowski’s death had simply been a way to get to me. That girl had died for nothing, just another casualty in an ongoing war.

  The revelation of my blood ties to Lucifer had caused me to accrue more enemies than any one person should have, and they were here even in this strange place.

  Why, why, why had Nathaniel sent me here? It was disturbing to think that I had shared intimacies with him and that he had still managed to trick me, to betray me.

  Of course, it was possible that he hadn’t betrayed me at all, that this was all just a coincidence. It was hard for me to buy that, though. Coincidence didn’t play a huge role in my life. Pretty much everything that happened to me was by somebody’s design.

  I didn’t know whether the collection of mantises below was their entire population or just a small portion of it, but there seemed to be a lot of them. And the fae did not appear to be doing very well.

  I remembered fighting the mantis myself, remembered the tough carapace that resisted the blade of my sword. The only part of the insect that was vulnerable was its joints.

  The fae bowmen were excellent shots. I saw more than one mantis fall after a perfectly placed arrow pierced its neck. But the trouble was that there were a lot of mantises, and it took time for even a preternaturally fast archer to nock the arrow, draw the bow, and let it fly.

  The end result was that the faerie were falling as fast as the insects. I didn’t know whether the fae here were my enemies or my friends. The only faerie I’d ever met who hadn’t tried to kill me was J.B. But I knew the insects were definitely not the good guys.

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sp; So I could help the fae, if they would let me. I scrambled back to the trapdoor, opened it, and peered down the ladder. As I expected, no one was guarding me. They had their hands full with the insect attack.

  I climbed down the ladder to the balcony on the third level. There was no one on this floor as far as I could see. They were all down below, fighting, protecting their children, building fortifications to prevent the insects from climbing into the tree.

  I’d never tried this spell from a distance. Usually I was in a hand-to-hand situation when I decided to set something on fire. I didn’t want to accidentally hit any of the faerie, so instead of targeting the insects in the fray, I aimed for a group of mantis that were just emerging from the forest.

  I took a deep breath, felt the power of the Morningstar flow through me, and let the lightning fly. Electricity crackled through the air, leaving behind the scent of ozone. It slammed into the knot of mantis, which screeched and fell to the ground, their flesh smoking. The air filled with the scent of burning insect.

  Several of the mantis screamed and pointed upward at me, and a number of the fae turned to look as well. From this distance, I couldn’t tell whether they were scared or grateful. I almost didn’t care which it was so long as they realized I was not to be trifled with.

  Besides, it felt so good to release some of the magic that had built up inside me. I hadn’t realized it was like bottled tension, that the breadth and depth of the Morningstar’s power was so huge that it needed to be released at regular intervals. Normally I was fighting bad guys on a regular basis, so I had more than enough opportunities to blow off some steam.

  Even before I’d come into my legacy from Lucifer I’d had an Agency pickup at least once a day. I’d always been able to release my magic before it got too dangerous. I hadn’t even known it was dangerous.

  I wondered how Lucifer dealt with this. Maybe after so many millennia it didn’t bother him anymore. Or maybe he had some secret outlet for his magic. It was slightly amusing to think of Lucifer hanging out in space somewhere, smashing planets just to get rid of his pent-up energy.

  Amusing, and more than a little frightening.

  I continued blasting at the insects for a few more moments, taking down several of the creatures and evening up the odds for the fae.

  Finally, one of the creatures gave out a call, and the remaining mantis—the ones fighting hand to hand with the fae—retreated into the forest.

  The exhausted warriors below turned as one body to look up at me. They did not seem grateful. They looked frightened, or angry, but none of them looked ready to thank me.

  I curled my fingers around the banister, magic still humming under the surface of my skin. The urge to take off, to disappear into the sky, was tremendous. My wings strained against the tether that bound them. As it had when my wrists were tied, the cord seem to grow tighter with my struggles, to squeeze more painfully.

  My palms were smoking against the wood of the railing. It didn’t hurt, but when I lifted them away I could see the imprint of my hand charred into the surface.

  There was a pounding of feet from both sides of the walkway as fae poured up the stairs. They were coming for me.

  I stood still and waited. I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t fly away. All I could hope was that Batarian would interpret my actions as trustworthy.

  The fae appeared on either side of me, Sakarian leading one group and Litarian the other. Sakarian looked wary, but defiant. Litarian appeared unruffled as always. He held a coil of rope in his hands.

  “You’re not tying me up again,” I said.

  “Lord Batarian has ordered you bound and brought before him,” Sakarian snarled.

  “I will kill all of you and burn this place to the ground before I will submit any further,” I said.

  As I said it, I knew it was true. I didn’t have to tolerate them.

  “You cannot kill us all without incurring harm to yourself,” Sakarian said.

  “Oh, yeah?” I said softly. A ball of flame appeared above my palm. “Who wants to try me?”

  All of the fae stared in reluctant fascination at the fire floating above my hand. They had their own magic here, to be sure, but there was nothing like this that I had seen.

  “How about you?” I asked Sakarian. “Do you think you can loose one of those arrows before I turn you into Korean barbecue?”

  I was sure my reference went over his head, but my meaning was clear. I really hoped Litarian wouldn’t try to lasso me. I’d have to hurt him if he did, and if I had to hurt him, it would bother me. Something about him reminded me very strongly of Gabriel. But I would do it if I had to. I’d made the threat, and I would follow through.

  The fae were frozen in place, obviously unsure what to do. I stepped back slightly so I could keep an eye on both Litarian and Sakarian.

  “I will go with you to Batarian,” I said. “But you will not bind me.”

  “You cannot be trusted,” Sakarian said. “Now that we know what you are capable of, we cannot allow you to appear before our lord unbound.”

  “You’re afraid I’m going to kill him,” I said. “I could have done that already.”

  There was a little flicker in Litarian’s eyes, as if he were acknowledging the truth of this.

  “I could kill Batarian even if my hands were bound. And you, and anybody else I wanted.”

  As I spoke, the flames rose higher, and with it, my temper. The air was filled with light, and it came from me. Forget trying to be the nice guy. They needed to know who they were dealing with.

  “I will come, but it will be on my terms, not yours.”

  The eyes of every fae were on me, and the majority appeared terrified. Sakarian was scared but trying very hard not to show it.

  Something predatory awoke in me, something that recognized Sakarian was a weak link. It was a dark feeling, one that frightened me. I wanted to crush Sakarian because I could. I turned toward him. His eyes widened. Before I could find out what I would have done, I heard, “Wait.”

  I looked over my shoulder at Litarian. He held my gaze, tossed the rope over the edge. Sakarian spoke to him in their own language, his voice furious. Litarian ignored him, focusing on me.

  “There are children here,” he said.

  I felt my fury dim a little, the light inside me easing down. “Then keep them safe.”

  He nodded, then spoke loudly to the assembled warriors. The other fae left—most eagerly, a few reluctantly, but they all left—until I stood alone with Litarian and Sakarian.

  Litarian held out his hand to me. “My lady,” he said.

  I raised my eyebrows at him.

  “Only a queen would have the strength you have,” he said in reply to my look.

  Technically I was a queen. I was heir to Azazel’s court, and the fact that I had killed my father and blown my court to smithereens was neither here nor there. I might be monarch of a fallen court, but Litarian was correct. I was a queen.

  I nodded at him, and allowed him to approach.

  “Would you extinguish the flame? I will not attempt to harm you,” he said.

  Sakarian spoke to Litarian again in their own language. I didn’t need a translator to know Sakarian wanted to know what the hell Litarian was doing. I doused the ball of fire, allowed Litarian to take my hand.

  He spoke to Sakarian in a firm voice, and the other fae cursed angrily in response. I looked from one to the other, and realized something I should have sooner. As with Sakarian and Batarian, there was no physical resemblance, but still . . .

  “You’re brothers.”

  This time even Litarian’s face registered shock.

  “Only a witch could know that,” Sakarian hissed. “We should kill her now.”

  “Brothers,” I continued. “With different mothers.”

  “How could you know such a thing?” Litarian said.

  “The way you act toward one another gives you away. You’re older,” I said to Litarian. “But illegitimate.”


  “Perhaps you are a witch,” Litarian said faintly.

  For some reason Litarian was in the stronger power position. Sakarian, despite his protests, had been forced to submit to his brother’s decision regarding me. I wondered what family drama was at work here. It was clearly not widely known, if at all, that Litarian was Batarian’s son.

  In my initial encounter with the king, the power dynamic seemed to indicate that Litarian was below Sakarian. Perhaps this was simply a performance, something that was used to deflect attention away from Litarian. No matter what, the information was obviously useful—and probably dangerous.

  Litarian spoke in a low voice to Sakarian, then gave my hand a tug. “Lord Batarian awaits us,” he said.

  As Litarian led me away, I was abruptly aware of my stinky, smelly clothes, my torn and bloodied jeans, my knotted hair. I thought of Amarantha on her throne, dressed and coiffed like a supermodel. I might be a queen, but I most definitely did not look like one.

  Litarian led me into the main building. I expected to return to the room where I’d met the king earlier. Instead of going down two flights of stairs, we stayed on the present level.

  At the end of the hallway was a large room, much more lushly appointed than the one I’d been in previously. There was more furniture, and all of it of a higher quality. Rugs and blankets woven of some soft- and fluffy-looking material were scattered on the floor or draped over the backs of chairs. The end of the room opened to a private verandah.

  Batarian was there, his back to us, his shoulders hunched and tensed. As we entered, he turned on us, his face drawn in lines of fury. He strode toward me, his hands outstretched like he would strangle me.

  I dropped Litarian’s hand and curled my fists. “Don’t even think about it. You’ll never get a chance to lay a finger on me,” I warned.