“I just don’t think you know what you’re getting into with the Grigori.”
“That’s what you said about Amarantha and the faerie court, too.”
“Look how well that turned out.”
“I think it turned out fine. I defeated Focalor’s uprising, suppressed Amarantha’s plan to breed a child of Lucifer’s bloodline and survived the Maze.”
“And now Amarantha and Focalor hate you and want to hunt you to the ends of the Earth.”
“I can’t worry about the fallout from doing the right thing. Every time I turn around I have another enemy no matter what, just because I’m Azazel’s child or Lucifer’s descendant. And I don’t think that you should underestimate me just because everyone else does.”
“I’m not underestimating you,” Beezle said. “But if by some miracle you do win Samiel back, what do you think you’ll have to give in exchange? ‘Free’ is not a word in the Grigori’s vocabulary.”
I didn’t say anything. I knew Beezle was right, but there wasn’t a lot of point in worrying about it. If I freed Samiel, then I would pay whatever price I had to when the time came.
A little before noon I stood outside the closed doors to Azazel’s court. Gabriel, J.B. and Jude stood around me. Of the three, Jude had naturally been the most reluctant to help when I’d called him.
“Why should I care about some court matter of the fallen?” Jude asked. “My pack is dealing with more important matters at the moment, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, Samiel risked his life to help return the cubs to you. I think Wade would want you to assist us.”
“I don’t know what Wade would want, because he’s not here,” Jude growled.
I sighed and waited in silence. There wasn’t a lot I could say to that.
“Fine,” Jude said after a few moments. “I will be there.”
Jude had arrived at my house wearing his usual worn jeans, flannel shirt and vest. In concession to the frigid cold the vest was down instead of denim and he’d shoved a wool hat over his red hair. He looked like a Bears fan ready for a tailgating party.
Gabriel wore a white dress shirt with black slacks, which was all he ever wore. J.B. had come from work so he was dressed similarly to Gabriel, except his shirt was light blue and his pants were gray.
I’d decided against dressing up. I always feel stupid in a skirt, and pretty much all of my nice clothes seem to end up torn and bloody anyhow. I didn’t want to feel any more self-conscious in front of the Grigori than I already did, so on went one of my many long-sleeved black tees and my favorite blue jeans. Beezle just rolled his eyes when I clomped out in my usual uniform, my boots laced up over my ankles.
So we look a little ragtag, I thought, surveying my crew. Beezle snored away on my shoulder. But they were still an impressive collection of power, enough to give the Grigori pause. And if the fallen didn’t recognize what was before them because we didn’t present an impressive appearance, then that was okay, too. All the better to underestimate you with, my dear.
That was, I hoped they would. Lucifer, at least, knew what I was capable of, but who knew if he would bother to enlighten the others? I was certain Lucifer was looking for some advantage from this, but not being privy to every twist of his labyrinthine mind I had no idea what that advantage might be. It was probably best not to worry about Lucifer at all and just hope his wants didn’t really conflict with mine.
The doors swung open, and I had a moment of déjà vu when I saw Nathaniel standing there, looking golden and haughty, as he had been the first time I’d arrived at Azazel’s court.
“The Grigori are ready for you now,” he said, and he gave me a little half smile.
On closer inspection Nathaniel didn’t look quite as polished as he usually did. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair looked a little more mussed than usual. I wondered if Azazel was blaming Nathaniel for my revocation of the engagement. It would explain why Nathaniel had that slightly hunted look. He was probably getting needled by Azazel day and night.
We went through the open doors, me in front and the other three shoulder to shoulder directly behind me. I paused for a moment when I realized the ballroom had been transformed.
The room was normally an open floor plan the approximate size of half a football field. It was shaped like a rectangle and lined floor to ceiling with windows on the long sides of the rectangle.
Each time I had been here it was like a never-ending party. Low sofas and chairs lined the walls. Members of Azazel’s court would mingle and mill about, while being served champagne and canapés by thralls and demons.
Azazel would hear grievances and conduct court business at the far end, opposite the doors we’d entered. There was a plain wood chair there that nonetheless managed to convey “throne.”
Now all of that was gone. The loitering partygoers of the court were nowhere to be seen. The comfy sofas had been removed. There was no one circling with appetizers.
At the far end of the ballroom, two high structures had been put in place. They were long benches that stood about six feet off the ground. The benches were paneled in front so that you could see the creatures that sat upon them only from the waist up, like a judge’s seat in a courtroom.
The benches were placed at an angle from a throne that had been positioned in the middle so that the benches made a giant V. The throne was at the point of the V and the benches were the long sides.
The throne was a resplendent monstrosity of gold leaf and sparkling jewels, and it floated on a little puff of white cloud so that the angel that sat upon it was about half a head higher than everyone else.
Lucifer (for who else would sit on something so ostentatious?) smirked down at me from the throne. The Grigori sat upon the benches—Azazel at Lucifer’s right hand, and the others, whom I did not know, arranged down the line according to rank, I presumed.
There was no sign of Samiel, and a whole lot of empty space between us and the scowling members of the court. I raised my chin and strode forward, the heels of my boots ringing loudly on the marble floor.
The others followed silently behind. They were all tall men. Jude outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds and he was carrying Metatrion, but they all managed to walk more quietly than I did. Well, it had been well established that I was a klutz of the first order. Walking gracefully was not one of my strengths.
I came to a halt at a spot in between the benches at the widest point of the V. I wanted to be able to see all the faces of the Grigori without twisting my head back and forth.
I had a moment of surprise when I saw Focalor sitting at the far end of one of the benches. I’d thought that he’d be chained up in Lucifer’s basement for all eternity for his attempted uprising. But then again, Lucifer had probably devised something completely diabolical that did not involve physical torment. From the sullen look on Focalor’s face I had probably guessed right.
I looked up at Lucifer. “You left something at my house.”
Jude came forward and flung the body of Metatrion on the floor. Several of the Grigori gasped and muttered angrily.
“Yes, I was wondering where my Hound of the Hunt had gone. His quarry returned without him.”
I pointed to the purple bruises on my throat. I’d asked Gabriel not to heal me so that the Grigori could see the evidence of Metatrion’s actions. My voice was still pretty raspy, too.