might be able to stop Focalor before his plans unfolded but that would be a guaranteed death sentence for Gabriel.
I could try to rescue Gabriel. But, one: he had probably been moved by now. And, two: even if he hadn’t been moved, I wasn’t sure I could find the oubliette. It wasn’t as though I was an expert in the geography of the Forbidden Lands.
I wasn’t sure who might have him now, and what purpose he might serve for their plans. Basically, I wasn’t sure of anything except for the fact that it was half past five and there was no way I was going to be able to sleep again after that vision.
“Oatmeal?” I asked Beezle.
He made a face at me. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Chocolate-hazelnut spread on toast?” I guessed.
“Now you’re talking,” he said, and followed me into the kitchen.
After breakfast I was no closer to a solution than before. I felt that Gabriel’s safety was paramount, but Beezle argued that if there was a war between the courts, Gabriel probably wouldn’t be much safer than the rest of us. On top of everything, my trip to the faerie court was today, and there was no way that I could put it off after the burning-down-the-forest debacle.
So I packed my things with a heavy heart and made an effort to dress like a grown-up. I usually wear black boots, blue jeans, and black sweaters every day in the winter, but buried in the back of my closet were a couple of suits and a nice skirt and blouse. I tried everything on to make sure that it fit okay. The suits were a little tighter than they used to be—my curves were a lot curvier than I remembered. Beezle opened his mouth to say something and I glared at him.
“Not one word,” I said. “You’re the one who makes me keep all the junk food in the house.”
“I’m a growing gargoyle,” Beezle said.
“Yeah, growing horizontally,” I muttered, but not loud enough for him to hear.
Nathaniel came upstairs a little before ten. He was all spiffed up in a dark suit and a blue tie that made his eyes look electric bright. He looked over my gray pencil skirt and black blouse with a critical eye.
“Don’t you have any colors that are not drab as winter?” he said. “Amarantha is not going to be impressed by your appearance.”
“She doesn’t have to be. She just has to listen to me,” I said, my pride stinging. I’d actually made an effort to fix up my hair, put on makeup and heels, and generally look neater than usual. He could at least have offered a token “You look nice.”
He frowned. “I’m not certain that she will take you seriously when you look like someone’s secretary.”
I actually felt the blast of nightfire crackling under my fingertips before Beezle laid a restraining claw on my shoulder.
“You can kill him later,” he said, and I eased down. I didn’t need Nathaniel’s opinion to validate me, anyway.
The doorbell rang right at ten.
“That’s J.B.,” I said. “Let’s get this party on the road.”
10
AS SOON AS I STEPPED ONTO THE PORCH, J.B. WHISTLED at me.
“You look awesome,” he said, looking me up and down several times.
I said nothing but gave Nathaniel a pointed look.
“I still think you look like a secretary,” he said in reply.
“Yeah, but a sexy secretary,” J.B. said. He wore an extremely expensive-looking tailored suit under an equally tailored coat, and he’d tucked his glasses away somewhere. His eyes were a brilliant green.
“Okay, enough with the compliments, or lack thereof,” Beezle said. “Let’s get a move on, here.”
“How are we getting there?” I asked J.B. “Portal?”
“Nah. Mom’s sending a car,” he said. “It’ll pick us up in the alley.”
So we tramped down the gangway to the backyard with our luggage, Beezle fluttering behind me. It was kind of amazing that none of our neighbors had ever seen him, especially since we hadn’t exactly been secretive about his presence lately.
We stood in the alley, blowing our breath on our hands and stamping our feet. It felt about ten degrees colder than the day before. At least this time I was properly dressed, with a hat and gloves and scarf in addition to my long wool coat. I noticed some dried mud that I had missed in my hasty cleaning this morning and tried to brush it off with my glove. Nathaniel shook his head at me pityingly.
“This negotiation is doomed before we even begin,” he said.
“Will you stop acting like I’m dressed like a peasant?” I snapped.
“You’re covered in mud.”
“Do you want to be covered in blood?” I said. “Because that can be arranged.”
“Children, children,” J.B. said.
Just then a long black limousine rounded the corner and came toward us.
“Why did we have to get picked up back here?” I asked J.B.
“Because the driver is part troll,” he replied as the limo came to a smooth stop in front of us. “He’s a little conspicuous. Try not to stare.”
Trolls mostly lived in isolated wilderness areas because of their size, which could reach well over twenty feet. Since wilderness areas weren’t generally in my pick-up range I’d never had the opportunity to see one. I’d heard a lot of stories from Agents who’d transferred from rural areas—apparently trolls tended not to cooperate with the Agency very well. I was a little curious about how a troll half-breed had happened. They were so big I didn’t think they would be able to crossbreed with anything humanoid. Then I realized that the breeding process was probably horrible for the non-troll, and decided to stop thinking about such things. They were not conducive to an easy mind, and I was more than a little nervous about this meeting.
Lucifer was counting on me, and aside from the fact that I really didn’t want him upset with me, I wanted to have my debt to him cleared. This job was a repayment for killing his son. Now, his son had done his damndest to kill me several times and was a monster by any calculation, but Lucifer was still bothered by it. I owed him a boon, and this was it. Once I got clear of this, then we were back on an even footing, or as even as one could be with the devil himself.
The driver of the limo got out and came around to open the door for us. I tried to take J.B.’s advice, but it was hard not to stare. The troll was dressed in a typical chauffeur’s outfit—black suit, white shirt, black hat. He was roughly human-sized, about six feet tall with the bulging muscles of a bodybuilder straining the fabric of his suit. All this would not have been in the least notable except that he had the face of a furless boar.
He had a pig’s snout, longish pointed ears with tufts of hair at the end, small cunning eyes, and fangs that jutted over his upper lip. The effect was so disconcerting that it was difficult to look him in the eye as I stepped into the car ahead of J.B. and Nathaniel.
“Ambassador Black,” he said, and his voice was low and growling.
I nodded at him—it seemed like the appropriate thing to do—and then settled myself on one of the plush seats.
J.B. managed to slide in next to me, cutting Nathaniel out so that he was forced to sit on the opposite seat. Nathaniel glared at J.B. as the latter slung a friendly arm around my shoulders. Apparently Nathaniel’s fawning respect for J.B. had evaporated in the face of male territoriality.
J.B. leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you . . .”
“Don’t eat or drink anything while we’re in the court,” I whispered back. “I know. I don’t want to be trapped in the faerie court for the next hundred years. I have enough problems. I packed plenty of snacks.”
“Did you pack enough for you and Beezle? Because I’ve seen the way your gargoyle eats. And don’t speak too freely in front of Tyree—the driver,” he said. “He reports everything right back to my mother.”
“Got it,” I said.
