Beezle poked his head out of my lapel. “Gods above and below. Who says kids don’t come with instruction manuals?”
“Yeah, but how do I know if I’m picking the right one?” I asked.
“No matter what you choose it won’t cover your extenuating circumstances,” Beezle said. “These books are for human babies.”
“What did my mom do?” I asked, my eyes scanning the rows of titles.
Beezle shrugged his little shoulders. “It was the seventies. There were no books on babies in the seventies. You popped the kid out and figured things out as you went along.”
I looked down at him. “Was she ever worried about what I would become, being a child of Azazel?”
The gargoyle’s face was grave. “She worried, yes. She didn’t know if you’d come out of the womb with visible wings or blazing magic. She didn’t know if she would survive the birth at all.”
“Why would she take that risk?” I asked.
Beezle looked at me pointedly. “Why do you?”
“Because I loved Gabriel,” I said, and my heart hurt. “I loved him, and this child is the last piece of him that I have.”
“And, as hard as it may be for you to believe, that’s how Katherine felt about Azazel. She loved him. She lost him. And you were her last link to him.”
It was hard for me to reconcile the idea of Azazel as a longed-for lover with my image of him as a vicious killer, but I supposed that my mother must have never seen that side of him. Or—and this was even more disturbing to contemplate—she had seen that side of him, and made her peace with it.
“If she hadn’t loved him, I wouldn’t have had you,” Beezle said. “And even though you were little and wrinkly and had a terrible temper, I loved you. And still do, even though you never listen to me.”
“I love you, too. Even though you eat all of the popcorn.”
Beezle rubbed his eyes. “All right, enough of the mushy stuff. Get your instruction manual and let’s get out of here.”
I smiled. At least I knew I could count on Beezle, who actually had some child-care experience. Presumably he would make sure I didn’t screw up too badly.
I chose a book that looked fairly comprehensive, paid for it and left.
As we approached our street, I saw a plume of smoke rising in the air. A cold ball of dread formed in my stomach. There was no good or innocent reason why smoke would be rising from the vicinity of my house.
And I was right.
When I landed on the front lawn, Samiel, Jude and Nathaniel were all standing around the smoldering remains of what must have been a bonfire. All three of them were covered in soot and looked exhausted.
“Is everyone okay?” I asked, rushing to Samiel. “What happened?”
He nodded, his face grim. We’re okay, but I don’t know how they managed to build this so fast.
“Who?” I asked.
“Faeries,” Jude spat.
He moved to one side so I could see the scarecrow that lay in the snow. It looked like an oversized rag doll, cloth and stuffing, with long black yarn hair, a black overcoat, and the star of Lucifer upon its face. It was quite obviously a stand-in for me, and I felt my temper rising again, though I struggled to keep it under control.
“Their information must not be up-to-date,” I said, trying for a light tone. “Their voodoo doll needs a haircut.”
“Don’t joke about voodoo dolls,” Beezle said, his claws squeezing my shoulder. “If the faeries had put a spell on that scarecrow and these three hadn’t managed to put out the fire, you would have been burned to cinders by now.”
I stared at the smoke-stained doll that someone had meant to be my death by proxy. My death, and my child’s.
“Enough,” I said, and heard the anger I couldn’t suppress in my voice. “This stops now.”
It was just past the middle of the day, but the lawn suddenly seemed brighter as the power of Lucifer flared inside me.
“They are not getting away with this. They are not going to terrorize me or keep me looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”
“What are you going to do?” Beezle asked as the other three stared at me.
“I’m going to Titania and Oberon’s court and I’m going to show them once and for all that I am not to be trifled with,” I said.
I could feel the magic surging in my blood, the heat of the sun, the brightness of my anger. If Titania and Oberon wanted me for an enemy, then they could face me instead of hiding behind threats and rag dolls.
“How will you get to the court?” Nathaniel asked. “The pathways are hidden, and fraught with risk. Titania and Oberon do not welcome uninvited guests.”
“I think I know someone who can get me in,” I said.
“J.B.?” Beezle asked. “You’ll put him at risk.”
I shook my head. “Not J.B.”
I tilted my head back toward the sky, let my power and my anger spill forth. Jude, Nathaniel, Samiel and Beezle covered their eyes as I lit up like the heart of the sun.
“LUCIFER!” I screamed, and my voice was not my own. It was a thing of terrible beauty, full of darkness and sharp as a thousand blades.
A pulse of magic left me like an aftershock, following my voice along the line of blood that connected me to Lucifer. I felt his presence as I had never felt it before. My eyes could see for thousands of miles, and far away, farther than I’d imagined, I saw Lucifer upon his throne. And I knew when he heard me.