Black Howl
Page 33
“We had to tie him; otherwise he kept trying to bang his head against the wall,” Chloe said apologetically.
Her hair was pink today, and she wore a leather vest with a tiered black skirt. She gave Samiel a very suggestive smile.
“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get this party started.”
Nobody spoke as Chloe pushed a button to turn on the camera. Gabriel took my hand and squeezed it. My whole body was taut. The man in the chair went rigid as the scanner met his eyes.
“We’ve attempted to speed up the reinsertion process,” Chloe said as the machine did its work. “It seems, from what we could determine in analyzing the spell, that the memory extraction takes a number of hours.”
“And you think it’s safe to put the memories back in there faster than they were taken out?” I asked, skeptical. A human brain is a delicate and complicated organ. It didn’t seem that quickness was wanted here, but rather care.
“We have no idea if this is safe at any speed,” Chloe said frankly. “I erred on the side of rapidity only because we have so many victims to restore.”
“Plus, we don’t know how many more may be out there. Our resources are taxed as it is taking care of the ones that are already here,” J.B. said. “I’ve got special teams all over the city looking for warehouses like the one you found.”
“I can help with that,” I said, surprised that he hadn’t asked me.
“There’s no point in putting you in charge of a team,” J.B. said. “Chaos follows you everywhere you go, and I don’t need to deal with any more property damage.”
“I don’t think you are taking the long view,” I said, my cheeks reddening. “The people in the warehouse were saved.”
“By J.B. and his team,” Beezle pointed out.
“Who didn’t have to deal with the monster arachnids,” I said.
“Enough,” Gabriel said.
Beezle and I both subsided, glaring at each other.
The man in the chair moaned. We all stared at him. I would have squashed Gabriel’s knuckles into powder if he hadn’t been supernatural. J.B.’s hands were balled into fists in his pockets. Chloe had her arms crossed, her mouth drawn in a straight line. On my other side Samiel slung a comforting arm around my shoulder. Beezle fluttered around the room nervously.
The man moaned again, louder this time, and then he shouted, “Janie!”
He began to thrash in his restraints. I released Gabriel’s hand and stepped forward, only to have Chloe cut me off.
“Wait,” she said.
The man tore back and forth, screaming now. It was a different kind of screaming than when we had removed the victims from the cameras. That screaming had a kind of dull, automaton quality to it. This screaming was a soul-deep cry of pain. Blood leaked from the corners of the man’s eyes.
I started to move around Chloe, to go to the man who was screaming so hard and long it was breaking my heart.
“Wait,” she repeated, her hand on my chest. “The process isn’t complete yet.”
“His eyes are bleeding,” I said furiously. “You think that’s a good thing? He could be having a stroke.”
“Trust me,” she said, her face desperate.
I think she knew I could blast her out of the way if I wanted.
“Wait, Maddy,” J.B. said. “Just wait.”
He sounded as deeply unhappy as I felt. Beezle landed on Samiel’s shoulder and covered his little ears.
Gabriel touched my shoulder, pulled me back to him. “Wait.”
We all watched in various states of distress as the man howled, rocked, tried to tear at his bindings. But his eyes never moved from the camera.
Suddenly the man went completely rigid and silent, and then he slumped forward, his eyes closed.
I pulled away from Gabriel and ran to the man. Chloe was right next to me, untying the restraints. Together we eased him down to the floor and I checked for a heartbeat.
“He’s still alive,” I said, lifting his eyelids. His pupils were normal, but there were streaks of blood on his cheeks.
“Good,” Chloe said. “I think he’ll sleep for a while now.”
“And when he wakes up he’ll be good as new?”
“Well, sleeping helps memory function in normal people,” Chloe reasoned. “So we assumed that after the memories were restored, the victims would need to sleep for several hours. Their brains need to process the restored information.”
“Don’t try this on anyone else yet,” I said.
She shook her head. “We’ll wait and see if it takes.”
Chloe stepped into the hall to find someone who could help her bring the man back to the rooms they had prepared for the victims.
I stood, feeling drained, and looked at J.B. “Call me if you want me to help the special teams.”
He nodded. “I think we have it under control, but you could help by trying to find out where Focalor is. We know from my mother that he’s part of this.”
“He may just be in his court,” I said, thinking of Focalor’s appearance at Samiel’s trial.
“We’re not going to try to beard the lion in his den again, are we?” Beezle asked. “Because that didn’t go so well last time.”
“No,” I said. “I think I’ll give Grandpa a call.”
I dialed Lucifer’s number—yes, that really is as weird as it sounds, giving Satan a phone call—and waited for him to pick up. I got his voice mail.
“Azazel said Lucifer hasn’t been answering his calls,” I said to Gabriel.
“You think Lord Lucifer is in some kind of danger?” Gabriel asked.
“More likely he’s on vacation in Aruba and has his phone shut off,” I said.
“Or he’s decided to see if you can handle the pressure from your marriage yourself,” Beezle said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He gave you what you wanted; now he wants to see if you deserved it,” he replied. “I could kill for a cupcake right about now.”
“Forget it,” I said, thinking over the implications of what Beezle had just said. “You think Lucifer is purposely waiting to see what kind of fallout there is because I married Gabriel?”
“It is an excellent way to see which of his courts would openly object, and which would fall in line,” Gabriel said. “Remember what we discussed this morning.”
I believe, truly believe, that we are permitted to exist only at his sufferance, and because it does, as you say, amuse him to watch us.
“If that’s the case, then Beezle’s probably right—”
“I usually am.”
“—and Focalor probably will send someone to kill me.”
J.B. looked troubled. “Should I assign a team to you for protection?”
I shook my head. “I can handle whatever Focalor’s got.”
And I don’t want any more blood on my hands than I have already, I thought. Most Agents, even highly trained ones, were not even remotely prepared for the kinds of horrors that lurked in a demon court.
“Make sure she doesn’t get hurt,” J.B. said to Gabriel, and they shared a long look.
“Why is it that when you two decide to be manly men you act like I’m not in the room?” I said crossly. “Come on, I’m sure we need to feed Beezle something healthy.”
“Carrot cake has carrots in it,” Beezle said hopefully.
“Yeah, and cream cheese frosting has calcium, too, I suppose,” I replied.
“I think the food pyramid is really about interpretation,” Beezle said.
We retrieved our weapons from security and went out onto the roof. Amarantha was missing, thank goodness.
“I forgot to apologize to J.B. for setting his mother on him full-time. He can’t be happy about that,” I said as we took flight. It was starting to snow lightly—like we needed more snow. It had taken me, Gabriel and Samiel hours to shovel the walk and the gangway.
Samiel tapped my shoulder. Do you think that Amarantha would try to stay in touch with her cohorts, even though she’s a ghost? We still don’t know who the third party is, the one who provided the technology to extract memories.
“You think we should track her?” I asked, intrigued. “That’s a good idea. She may try to get in touch with Focalor or with this other character. I’ll ask J.B. about it. We can probably take turns keeping an eye on her.”
“I wonder what happened to Violet?” Beezle said.
I shrugged. “She must have chosen the Door. Otherwise she’d be hanging around Amarantha, I’m sure.”
Beezle climbed inside my (dry-cleaned) jacket for warmth. I wiped snow out of my eyes, thinking it would be a good idea to get some goggles for this time of year. We landed in the front yard, shaking snow out of our hair.
Samiel scooped up a snowball and threw it at Gabriel’s face.
My exceedingly dour husband gave his half brother the evil eye. It was slightly less effective with snow and ice dripping off the end of his nose.
Samiel gave Gabriel a taunting look and scooped up another handful of snow. Gabriel raised his eyebrow at Samiel but made no move to defend himself. Samiel tossed the snowball toward him and Gabriel blasted it out of the air with nightfire so that it backfired all over Samiel.
“That’s not conspicuous or anything,” Beezle said, peeking out of my jacket.
“Yeah, guys,” I said, laughing at the outraged expression on Samiel’s face. “No magic…”
Samiel threw a bolt of nightfire at Gabriel’s feet and made the snow fly up underneath Gabriel’s overcoat. Gabriel narrowed his eyes.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t think it’s a good…”
Gabriel sent out a bunch of tiny nightfire pulses, almost like an automatic weapon. They surrounded Samiel’s feet and sent high shooting sprays of snow and ice onto his face and coat.
Her hair was pink today, and she wore a leather vest with a tiered black skirt. She gave Samiel a very suggestive smile.
“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get this party started.”
Nobody spoke as Chloe pushed a button to turn on the camera. Gabriel took my hand and squeezed it. My whole body was taut. The man in the chair went rigid as the scanner met his eyes.
“We’ve attempted to speed up the reinsertion process,” Chloe said as the machine did its work. “It seems, from what we could determine in analyzing the spell, that the memory extraction takes a number of hours.”
“And you think it’s safe to put the memories back in there faster than they were taken out?” I asked, skeptical. A human brain is a delicate and complicated organ. It didn’t seem that quickness was wanted here, but rather care.
“We have no idea if this is safe at any speed,” Chloe said frankly. “I erred on the side of rapidity only because we have so many victims to restore.”
“Plus, we don’t know how many more may be out there. Our resources are taxed as it is taking care of the ones that are already here,” J.B. said. “I’ve got special teams all over the city looking for warehouses like the one you found.”
“I can help with that,” I said, surprised that he hadn’t asked me.
“There’s no point in putting you in charge of a team,” J.B. said. “Chaos follows you everywhere you go, and I don’t need to deal with any more property damage.”
“I don’t think you are taking the long view,” I said, my cheeks reddening. “The people in the warehouse were saved.”
“By J.B. and his team,” Beezle pointed out.
“Who didn’t have to deal with the monster arachnids,” I said.
“Enough,” Gabriel said.
Beezle and I both subsided, glaring at each other.
The man in the chair moaned. We all stared at him. I would have squashed Gabriel’s knuckles into powder if he hadn’t been supernatural. J.B.’s hands were balled into fists in his pockets. Chloe had her arms crossed, her mouth drawn in a straight line. On my other side Samiel slung a comforting arm around my shoulder. Beezle fluttered around the room nervously.
The man moaned again, louder this time, and then he shouted, “Janie!”
He began to thrash in his restraints. I released Gabriel’s hand and stepped forward, only to have Chloe cut me off.
“Wait,” she said.
The man tore back and forth, screaming now. It was a different kind of screaming than when we had removed the victims from the cameras. That screaming had a kind of dull, automaton quality to it. This screaming was a soul-deep cry of pain. Blood leaked from the corners of the man’s eyes.
I started to move around Chloe, to go to the man who was screaming so hard and long it was breaking my heart.
“Wait,” she repeated, her hand on my chest. “The process isn’t complete yet.”
“His eyes are bleeding,” I said furiously. “You think that’s a good thing? He could be having a stroke.”
“Trust me,” she said, her face desperate.
I think she knew I could blast her out of the way if I wanted.
“Wait, Maddy,” J.B. said. “Just wait.”
He sounded as deeply unhappy as I felt. Beezle landed on Samiel’s shoulder and covered his little ears.
Gabriel touched my shoulder, pulled me back to him. “Wait.”
We all watched in various states of distress as the man howled, rocked, tried to tear at his bindings. But his eyes never moved from the camera.
Suddenly the man went completely rigid and silent, and then he slumped forward, his eyes closed.
I pulled away from Gabriel and ran to the man. Chloe was right next to me, untying the restraints. Together we eased him down to the floor and I checked for a heartbeat.
“He’s still alive,” I said, lifting his eyelids. His pupils were normal, but there were streaks of blood on his cheeks.
“Good,” Chloe said. “I think he’ll sleep for a while now.”
“And when he wakes up he’ll be good as new?”
“Well, sleeping helps memory function in normal people,” Chloe reasoned. “So we assumed that after the memories were restored, the victims would need to sleep for several hours. Their brains need to process the restored information.”
“Don’t try this on anyone else yet,” I said.
She shook her head. “We’ll wait and see if it takes.”
Chloe stepped into the hall to find someone who could help her bring the man back to the rooms they had prepared for the victims.
I stood, feeling drained, and looked at J.B. “Call me if you want me to help the special teams.”
He nodded. “I think we have it under control, but you could help by trying to find out where Focalor is. We know from my mother that he’s part of this.”
“He may just be in his court,” I said, thinking of Focalor’s appearance at Samiel’s trial.
“We’re not going to try to beard the lion in his den again, are we?” Beezle asked. “Because that didn’t go so well last time.”
“No,” I said. “I think I’ll give Grandpa a call.”
I dialed Lucifer’s number—yes, that really is as weird as it sounds, giving Satan a phone call—and waited for him to pick up. I got his voice mail.
“Azazel said Lucifer hasn’t been answering his calls,” I said to Gabriel.
“You think Lord Lucifer is in some kind of danger?” Gabriel asked.
“More likely he’s on vacation in Aruba and has his phone shut off,” I said.
“Or he’s decided to see if you can handle the pressure from your marriage yourself,” Beezle said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He gave you what you wanted; now he wants to see if you deserved it,” he replied. “I could kill for a cupcake right about now.”
“Forget it,” I said, thinking over the implications of what Beezle had just said. “You think Lucifer is purposely waiting to see what kind of fallout there is because I married Gabriel?”
“It is an excellent way to see which of his courts would openly object, and which would fall in line,” Gabriel said. “Remember what we discussed this morning.”
I believe, truly believe, that we are permitted to exist only at his sufferance, and because it does, as you say, amuse him to watch us.
“If that’s the case, then Beezle’s probably right—”
“I usually am.”
“—and Focalor probably will send someone to kill me.”
J.B. looked troubled. “Should I assign a team to you for protection?”
I shook my head. “I can handle whatever Focalor’s got.”
And I don’t want any more blood on my hands than I have already, I thought. Most Agents, even highly trained ones, were not even remotely prepared for the kinds of horrors that lurked in a demon court.
“Make sure she doesn’t get hurt,” J.B. said to Gabriel, and they shared a long look.
“Why is it that when you two decide to be manly men you act like I’m not in the room?” I said crossly. “Come on, I’m sure we need to feed Beezle something healthy.”
“Carrot cake has carrots in it,” Beezle said hopefully.
“Yeah, and cream cheese frosting has calcium, too, I suppose,” I replied.
“I think the food pyramid is really about interpretation,” Beezle said.
We retrieved our weapons from security and went out onto the roof. Amarantha was missing, thank goodness.
“I forgot to apologize to J.B. for setting his mother on him full-time. He can’t be happy about that,” I said as we took flight. It was starting to snow lightly—like we needed more snow. It had taken me, Gabriel and Samiel hours to shovel the walk and the gangway.
Samiel tapped my shoulder. Do you think that Amarantha would try to stay in touch with her cohorts, even though she’s a ghost? We still don’t know who the third party is, the one who provided the technology to extract memories.
“You think we should track her?” I asked, intrigued. “That’s a good idea. She may try to get in touch with Focalor or with this other character. I’ll ask J.B. about it. We can probably take turns keeping an eye on her.”
“I wonder what happened to Violet?” Beezle said.
I shrugged. “She must have chosen the Door. Otherwise she’d be hanging around Amarantha, I’m sure.”
Beezle climbed inside my (dry-cleaned) jacket for warmth. I wiped snow out of my eyes, thinking it would be a good idea to get some goggles for this time of year. We landed in the front yard, shaking snow out of our hair.
Samiel scooped up a snowball and threw it at Gabriel’s face.
My exceedingly dour husband gave his half brother the evil eye. It was slightly less effective with snow and ice dripping off the end of his nose.
Samiel gave Gabriel a taunting look and scooped up another handful of snow. Gabriel raised his eyebrow at Samiel but made no move to defend himself. Samiel tossed the snowball toward him and Gabriel blasted it out of the air with nightfire so that it backfired all over Samiel.
“That’s not conspicuous or anything,” Beezle said, peeking out of my jacket.
“Yeah, guys,” I said, laughing at the outraged expression on Samiel’s face. “No magic…”
Samiel threw a bolt of nightfire at Gabriel’s feet and made the snow fly up underneath Gabriel’s overcoat. Gabriel narrowed his eyes.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t think it’s a good…”
Gabriel sent out a bunch of tiny nightfire pulses, almost like an automatic weapon. They surrounded Samiel’s feet and sent high shooting sprays of snow and ice onto his face and coat.
