I looked up at Gabriel, whose face spread in a rueful smile. Samiel grinned.
I laughed and picked up Beezle and pulled him into a hug. His tiny arms went around my neck as he squeezed me for a moment. Then he leaned back and gave me a serious look, his clawed hands on my cheeks.
“No matter what Lucifer tries to make of you, you are still Maddy Black. Remember that.”
“I’ll remember,” I promised. “And you’re right. A pepperoni pizza would not go amiss.”
“Yes!” Beezle said, pumping his little fist in the air. “With mozzarella sticks?”
“Don’t push your luck,” I said, and went to place the order.
I wondered if the Hound of the Hunt was a paying position in Lucifer’s court. Probably not. My checking account was dangerously low, as usual. I’d sold a couple of articles in the last month but it can take a long time to get paid for freelance work. Lately, my main source of income was Gabriel’s rent checks, and it seemed like a long time until the first of February.
After we’d all stuffed ourselves I said, “We’re just going to go on as we were before. If Lucifer thinks I’m going to live at court because of this Hound of the Hunt business, he is out of his tiny mind.”
“What of your duties?” Gabriel asked.
“What of them?” I replied. “I’m sure if Lucifer needs me for something, he’ll let me know. I still have my Agent commitments.”
“And you promised to help J.B. with ghost-hunting. And you still have to find Wade. I don’t know that there is enough time in the day for you to do all those things and go to the bakery,” Beezle said.
“I guess I’ll just have to prioritize,” I said dryly. “Speaking of duty and priority, I think I have another pickup tonight.” I patted my pockets like I was going to find my Agent list there.
“You do, at Addison and Sheffield,” Beezle said.
“Close to home; that’s nice,” I said. “Wait—how do you know?”
“J.B. hung your list on your bedroom mirror yesterday.”
“Well, I don’t know what he was thinking doing that. I never look in the mirror.”
“Yes, we all can tell,” Beezle said.
“I will accompany you,” Gabriel said.
Me, too, Samiel signed.
“What’s with the protectiveness? I think I can go eight blocks from home by myself.”
“You made several new enemies today, whether or not you realize it,” Gabriel said. “The Grigori do not like to be thwarted.”
“That’s swell,” I grumbled. “I can’t even tell most of them apart. How am I supposed to know which one hates me and which one doesn’t?”
I looked up at the clock. It was half past six. “What time is my pickup?”
“In fifteen minutes,” Beezle said calmly.
I stood abruptly and ran for my shoes. “I would have appreciated a little advance warning.”
“What’s the big deal? You’re only two minutes away by wing. Besides, it’s not my fault you never comb your hair.”
“I comb my hair…”
“Could have fooled me.”
“I just don’t stare in the mirror while I’m doing it.”
I hurriedly pulled on my boots and a blue peacoat that I usually reserved for early autumn. J.B. still had my winter coat, as he’d used it to carry the cameras to the Agency.
By the time I was ready Samiel and Gabriel were already standing at the door like two sentinels. Beezle fluttered to my shoulder.
“Up, up and away, Team Black,” I said dryly.
A couple of minutes later we stood at the corner of Addison and Sheffield in front of the statue of Billy Williams. Wrigley Field loomed silently behind us. We were invisible from human eyes.
A steady stream of commuters poured across the intersection as the Red Line stop was only half a block away. Storefronts housed ticket brokers and shops that hawked Cubs merchandise, most of them silent this time of year, when baseball season and the heat of summer seemed like hazy memories.
The bars that liberally dotted the area were quiet tonight, with very few Blackhawks fans willing to brave the freezing temperatures just to drink overpriced beer and watch a game they could just as easily see at home.
I straightened up when I saw him—Cole Stuart Janowik. There’s no glowing light, pointing arrow, chorus of hallelujahs or anything like that when I see a marked soul. I just know, like all of my power locks onto that person with a laser sight.
Cole was young, mid-twenties maybe, and he moved with the stream of people that had gotten off the El and walked west on Addison. He talked on an expensive-looking smartphone as he walked, a wireless headset on his head, the phone in his hand.
This was not a dangerous neighborhood, but the guy was totally unaware of his surroundings. A blond kid who had the look of a strung-out junkie pushed Cole just as he reached the curb, then tore the phone from his hand. The thief sprinted across the street toward Wrigley just as the light changed to red.
Cole, intent on retrieving his phone, did not even notice the custom furniture company truck accelerating across Addison on Sheffield.
“Splat,” Beezle said.
“That’s a little cruel,” I said.
I tried not to let death affect me too much. I saw a lot of it, and the weight would be unbearable if I let it. But it seemed so stupid and pointless to die under the wheels of a furniture truck because an addict needed to sell your phone to get a fix.
I told my overprotective entourage to stay back, and went to offer the soul of Cole Stuart Janowik his final choice.
We were flying back home from the Door a short time later. Everyone seemed to be in a contemplative mood and not inclined for too much conversation. Lucifer’s edict had cast a pall over us, and no amount of wisecracking would relieve the heaviness in my heart. Lucifer had cornered me good and proper.
I was flying on autopilot, glancing idly at the scene below, when something caught my eye. I pulled up short so fast that Beezle lost his grip on my shoulder. He fell a few feet, then flew back up, looking irritated. Gabriel and Samiel had paused a little ways ahead, and looked back at me, confused.
“What was that all about?”
“That,” I said, and pointed.
Far below us was a semi-industrial area. I knew that some of the larger buildings housed a cable company and the power company.
One of the buildings was coated in a seething mass of energy that looked like green mist. From a distance the feeling of malevolence rising from it was palpable.
“I’m sure that it is not a good idea to do whatever it is you’re thinking of doing,” Beezle said.
“I think we should check it out,” I said. “There’s obviously something wrong with that place.”
“Like I said, not a good idea,” Beezle retorted.
I ignored him and drifted slowly downward. As the ground approached, more features came into view. A short distance away I could see the lights on Addison and Western, the fast food restaurants and the giant structure of Lane Tech High School.
We landed in the parking lot of a plaza that housed the cable company and a large facility that ran kids’ soccer programs. The building in question was at the far end of the lot.
As we approached it I felt a wave of nausea rising. Whatever was coming off the structure was making me feel sick, just like that time I was in Amarantha’s forest and Nathaniel and I ran into the…
“Spider,” I gasped.
Samiel and Gabriel looked questioningly at me.