Black Night

“It’s an angel,” I said.

“Or something that looks like one,” Gabriel agreed. “Gargoyle?”

Beezle squinted, his clawed hands gripping the lapel of my coat, and I knew that he was looking through the layers of reality to find the creature’s essence.

“It’s an angel.” Beezle nudged me with a sharp little elbow. “See, I’m handy to have around.”

“Sometimes,” I agreed.

Gabriel signaled to me to stay behind and J.B. put his hand on my shoulder to make sure that I understood. I shrugged off his touch, resenting their high-handedness. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that I wasn’t up to tangling with anything supernatural at the moment.

My bodyguard approached the body carefully, knelt beside the angel and rolled the creature to its back. The angel’s face was splattered with blood and there was a large and ugly gash across his bare chest.

Gabriel beckoned the ball of nightfire closer to him. “It’s Baraqiel.”

“What’s he doing here?” asked Beezle, surprise evident in his voice.

“Who’s Baraqiel?” J.B. and I asked together.

“Lucifer’s personal messenger,” Beezle said.

I wondered what Lucifer was up to now. Why was his personal messenger lying wounded in an alley only a few feet away from the mangled corpse of a werewolf? Had Baraqiel just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was he the werewolf’s killer?

Gabriel laid his hands on the wound and the alley grew brighter as the light of the sun came from his palms. The air filled with the scent of apple pie baking—a smell that was unique to Gabriel.

Baraqiel gasped for air and his eyes flew open as Gabriel lifted his hands away from the angel’s chest. The wound was healed.

“Gabriel?” he asked, his gaze confused and frantic. “Where am I? Where is he?”

“Where is who?” I asked.

Baraqiel shook his head and sat up, staring at me. His eyes were a startling silver blue that looked almost clear. I shivered. The effect of pale eyes against his blood-covered face was ghastly. He pushed up from the ground and wobbled as he attempted to stand.

Gabriel rose beside him and placed a steadying hand on Baraqiel’s shoulder. “Be at peace. You need to rest. You are still weak.”

Baraqiel shook his head, still staring at me. “There is no time. You are Azazel’s daughter?”

“Yes,” I said.

“You must go. Samiel is coming for you.”

A cave in an ash-burned land. A flash of green eyes, alight with hatred and madness.

“Samiel,” I breathed.

“Who’s he, now?” J.B. asked, obviously bewildered.

The child of an angel and a nephilim. A being who would have every reason to seek vengeance against me. My voice was barely more than a whisper. “Ramuell’s son.”

2

“OH,” J.B. SAID.

“Yeah, oh,” I replied. “You think he’s pissed at me for melting his daddy?”

“Did Samiel do this to the werewolf?” Gabriel asked.

Baraqiel shook his head, surveying the carnage. “I do not know what caused this.”

“What are you doing here, then?” I asked.

“I was to deliver a message to you from Lord Lucifer. I heard the cries of the wolf and came to investigate. Before I reached this place, I was attacked by Samiel.”

“Wait a second,” I said. “I’m confused. How did you recognize Samiel? Nobody even knew of his existence until a month ago. I was under the impression that nobody had seen him but me, and then only for a moment.”

Was it my imagination, or did something crafty flicker across Baraqiel’s face?

“Samiel named himself when he attacked. I also have been informed of his existence by Lord Lucifer, who has been anticipating an attempt on your life.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Really. You’d think he could have informed me of that little piece of news.”

Baraqiel bowed his head. “It is not for me to know the ways of Lord Lucifer.”

“Nor me, apparently,” I said dryly.

To say that Lucifer kept things close to the chest was an understatement. I’d deliberately concealed the knowledge of Samiel’s existence from Lucifer in order to protect Gabriel. Gabriel’s life was pretty much always in jeopardy because of his parentage. Ramuell was Gabriel’s father also, a fact that should have been his death sentence at birth. I hadn’t wanted to draw any attention to Samiel lest the eyes of the Grigori fell on Gabriel, too. How had Lucifer found out?

“I hate to interrupt,” said Beezle loudly, “but I don’t think that this is a place we should be hanging around. It would probably look suspicious to the human authorities.”

“You’re right,” I said reluctantly.

I didn’t like the idea of leaving the wolf’s remains like this. I knew that the police would have no idea what could have been done to the wolf, or even what they were looking at. The average human didn’t know anything about vampires, or werewolves, or angels and demons. And if, in the course of investigating this murder, the police did stumble upon something supernatural, it was highly unlikely that said supernatural thing would just quietly answer questions and then send the nice officers on their way.

At the same time, it wasn’t as though I had any clue as to the perpetrator’s identity. Baraqiel claimed that Samiel had not killed the wolf, but he hadn’t actually seen the wolf’s attacker. And something about the power signature from the pulse had reminded me of Ramuell, which meant only Samiel could be the source. Could the pulse have been created when he attacked Baraqiel?