Black Heart (4 page)

His face darkened. It seemed he was dwelling on some bad memory. I didn’t want to get persecuted just because he was remembering someone who had tricked him before. Someone like, say, Lucifer.

“Listen,” I said. “You want to talk, let’s talk. But I need to eat. It won’t do you any good if your prisoner passes out in the middle of the interrogation.”

Sakarian shook his head. “We cannot trust her. She will flee as soon as we loose her bonds.”

“What do you want to keep me for, anyway?” I asked. “You don’t trust me, but I didn’t attack you. You attacked me. Twice. You’re acting pretty self-righteous for a people who initiated the conflict.”

Sakarian started to speak again, but Batarian held up his hand. I could see him weighing his options, trying to determine the best tack to take with me.

“Release the bonds on her arms and legs but keep her wings tied,” Batarian said.

“You know,” I said conversationally. “Once my hands are free it’s nothing for me to get my wings unbound. So you might as well save me the trouble and take care of that as well.”

Batarian gave a short laugh. “You would not be able to release yourself. These cords can be undone only by the voice of our people.”

I remembered the guard holding his hand over the knots tied around my ankles, how he had spoken words in his own language before they had released.

“Okay,” I said. “But it would still be polite to untie my wings. They’re not just accessories, you know. It hurts when they’re bound up like this.”

“I think it is not a bad thing for you to suffer some discomfort,” Batarian said. “It will remind you of your place.”

Sakarian came forward to release my ankles and wrists. He unknotted the cords that had been wrapped around my body until all that remained were, as promised, the bindings around my wings.

His eyes dared me to try anything as I sat up, rubbing my limbs to get feeling back into them.

If I wanted to, I could have done a lot of damage now that my hands were free. I could have killed all three of them and escaped on foot before anyone realized what was going on. Three things stopped me from doing just that.

One, I didn’t really have a grievance with them despite the fact that they had captured me for no apparent reason. No one here was my enemy, and my life was not in immediate danger. So it didn’t seem very sporting to kill them just because they were holding me up.

Two, I was never going to reach the portal on foot. I needed my wings to fly over the ocean, and according to Batarian, only one of his kind could release them. I needed to ingratiate myself to my hosts so that they would trust me enough to unbind my wings.

Three, I was hungry. Really, really, really hungry. And I’d had no luck finding anything edible on this world so far. So I might as well let them refuel me before I went tripping through the wilderness again.

I stood up carefully, wanting to get the blood flowing again, but my knees buckled. All three of the faerie started at my sudden movement and three knives appeared from nowhere.

The third man, whose name I still did not know, brandished a dagger in one hand and my sword in the other. It was more than a little insulting to be threatened with my own blade. I wanted to rip it from his hands and knock him in the head with the hilt, just to show that I could.

But it didn’t seem like a productive way to achieve my ends, and I would probably wind up wrapped in knots again so I held my temper. Beezle would be proud of me. If I ever saw Beezle again.

I held up my hands to indicate that I meant no harm. The three faerie relaxed, the knives disappearing into the secret pockets from which they had emerged. Batarian spoke to Sakarian for a moment. The younger man went to the door and called to someone. There was a brief conference, and then Sakarian returned. I hoped he was arranging for food to be brought; otherwise I was going to start chewing on the furniture.

Batarian indicated that I should sit on one of the tree-branch chairs. I eyed the seat dubiously, but it didn’t seem wise to refuse. When I settled in one, I realized I was right. It was like sitting on wicker furniture, only two thousand times less comfortable.

The lashed branches were bumpy and round and didn’t evenly remotely conform to the shape of the human body. My bound wings made it impossible to lean comfortably against the backrest. The other three settled easily into the other chairs and appeared perfectly at ease, so it must have been comfortable to them. Me, I could have gone for a nice down-stuffed cushion and some synthetic fabric.

I also realized my injured leg was puffy and tender. I needed to heal it, but revealing such a power in front of Batarian seemed the height of stupidity.

Batarian followed my gaze to the arrow wound. “You need a poultice for that. Litarian.”

The third man placed my sword next to Batarian and went out of the room. I wondered vaguely why all their names ended in “-rian.” I looked at my sword, just sitting there, leaning against the chair.

I could grab it right then and hold it to Batarian’s throat, force them to release my wings. Except that I still had not eaten. I was starting to feel like Beezle. I didn’t really care what happened next so long as someone gave me a meal.

“What are you called?” Batarian asked.

“Maddy,” I said. “Maddy Black.”

No one called me Madeline except fallen angels. They liked the formality of it, I supposed.

“Maddy Black,” Batarian said, rolling my name around in his mouth like an exotic food. “And what is it you are doing here, Maddy Black?”

“Trying to get home,” I said honestly. “I’ve got no interest in staying here.”

“But how is it that you have come to our land in the first place? We have had no visitors for thousands of years. This world was closed off in honor of the accord between our people and Lucifer.”

“I kind of ended up here by accident,” I said. No need to go into the whole business with the Retrievers. “But I want to leave, believe me. And the longer you hold me prisoner, the longer it’s going to take me to get out of here.”

“But we cannot trust that you are simply an accidental traveler and that you mean us no harm,” Batarian said. “We have only your word of this.”

“Well, it’s not like I can prove it,” I said. “I’m a stranger here. No one is going to vouch for me.”

“Yes, you are a stranger. A very strange stranger, I might add,” Batarian said. “One with wings.”

“You’ve got pointy ears and a bow,” I said. “In my town that would be considered strange in itself, pal.”

“You will not speak so disrespectfully to Lord Batarian,” Sakarian said.

Ah. Here was familiar ground. “I speak disrespectfully to everyone. You’d better get used to it.”

“Everyone?” Batarian raised an eyebrow. “Including Lucifer?”

“Especially him,” I said without thinking.

Sakarian pounced. “So you are an associate of Lucifer’s, then.”

“‘Associate’ is too strong a term,” I said, trying to backpedal. Damn me and my stupid mouth.

“Father, Lucifer has broken the ancient accord,” Sakarian said. “He sent this spy upon us. We should execute her immediately and assemble an army against him.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, holding my hands up in front of me in a “calm down” gesture. “Way to jump to conclusions.”

“I do not know why you speak of jumping, spy,” Sakarian said.

So they spoke English but their dialect wasn’t up-to-date. Interesting.

“I mean you’ve made a decision without knowing all the facts,” I said. “I’m not a spy for Lucifer.”

“Then why do you have his mark upon your palm?” Sakarian challenged.

I wondered why Batarian seemed content to sit back and let his hotheaded kid take the reins of the conversation. Was it because he wanted to observe my responses? Whatever the reason, now was not the time for telling the truth. If I said I was Lucifer’s descendant, they would definitely think the worst.

“It was kind of an accident,” I said. This was true. I’d used Lucifer’s sword in the Maze and against Baraqiel. Somewhere along the way it had marked me.

“You certainly seem to have a great number of accidents,” Sakarian sneered.

“Hang around me long enough and you’ll see that’s true,” I said. “How is it that you know of Lucifer, anyway?”

“We will ask the questions,” Batarian said.

Just then Litarian reentered the room carrying a small woven bag. Behind him were several other faerie. The first two held a table between them, which they set before me. The other faerie silently placed dishes of food on the table.

There were several plates of vegetables, one with some kind of meat and one that appeared to be roasted insects in sauce. I was not so hungry that I was going to eat bugs, especially if other options were available.

I glanced at Batarian to make sure it was okay for me to eat before I dove in. He nodded, and I grabbed a plate of something that looked like a salad. There were no utensils so I used my fingers to pick up bits of some peppery greens. There were also berries, round and red like cranberries, but when I bit into one, it had none of the tartness of a cranberry. The sweet juice burst over my tongue. It tasted so delicious it was hard for me to hold back.

My stomach twisted as the food hit it, reminding me to take it slow. If I gobbled down too much at once, I was just going to make myself sick.

Litarian silently handed me the bag he was holding. It was filled with bitter-smelling herbs.

“Place it on your wound,” Batarian said.

I put the bag through the hole in my jeans and onto the swollen wound beneath. I doubted very much that this little sack of smelly stuff was going to help me, but holding the poultice against my leg allowed me to send a healing spell through it without being noticed by the others. I hoped.

I shoveled food into my mouth with one hand and pressed the poultice against my wound with the other. I could feel the three faerie watching me like I was an alien from another planet. Which I was. I certainly was not on the Earth I knew anymore.

I cleared the plate of greens and berries and pulled something toward me that looked like a potato. It might have been a giant bug, though, so I asked first.

“Is this a vegetable?”

Sakarian looked confused. “Vegetable?”

“Is it a plant? Something that grows out of the ground?” There were some interesting gaps in their language. I could understand them not knowing modern American vernacular, but “vegetable”?

He nodded. “That is the root of the halalia plant.”

“Like a potato, then,” I said, digging in. It actually tasted more like a turnip, but at least it wasn’t a giant mealworm.

“You do not eat the flesh of animals?” Batarian asked, tilting his head to one side. It was like he was trying to assemble the puzzle of me in his head.

“I do. But I prefer when it’s cut and wrapped at the grocery store. Never mind.” All three of them had the same confused look. “Ask your questions.”

“Will you answer honestly?” Batarian said, his gaze piercing me. He had disconcertingly blue eyes—very light, like the way Nathaniel’s used to be before he’d been changed by Puck’s legacy. I felt a little pang like homesickness.

I chewed and swallowed a bite of the turnip-thing before answering Batarian. I wanted to get out of here, and practicing duplicity was not the best way to get them to trust me so I could achieve that. However, there was no reason to agree to answer every single thing they wanted to know. Certain information could and would be misinterpreted, especially by Sakarian, who seemed particularly suspicious of me.

“I’ll answer as honestly as I can,” I finally said.

“You will reveal your intentions to my lord, or else you will pay the price,” Sakarian said.

“I would be a fool if I told you everything about me,” I said. “As you would be if you were in my position and you did so.”

“You—” Sakarian began, but Batarian cut him off.

“She is correct. Were I in her place, I would not reveal all. Omission is not necessarily a sin. But I expect the courtesy of truth,” Batarian said.

“I can work with that,” I said.

“You have admitted you are an associate of Lucifer’s,” Batarian said.

“I told you, I’m not an associate,” I said.

“That is difficult to believe. You carry his mark upon your body.”

I could tell them a little, if I was careful. I wasn’t about to explain that I was a blood relative of Lucifer’s. Part of me was amazed that he’d managed to piss off a bunch of creatures in an entirely different dimension. Another part of me was not shocked in the least. Making enemies seemed to be what Lucifer did best.

“The sword gave me the mark,” I said, pointing to the blade that still rested against the chair.

I had a very strong impulse to snatch up the sword and swing it at somebody’s head. That was a worrisome thought. I’d had these dark impulses before, but they usually emerged in the heat of battle, when I was under stress.

At the moment I was sitting peacefully, having a somewhat civilized conversation with three faerie. I wasn’t under any particular stress, but I was feeling frustrated. I didn’t have to tolerate these creatures. They were beneath me. I could destroy their whole village as I had destroyed the plague of vampires upon Chicago.

I realized what I was thinking and made a conscious decision to rein it in.

This must be the way Lucifer feels all the time,
I thought with sudden insight. What must it be like to be a creature of such immense power, always under tightly wrapped control?

I became aware that the room was silent, and that I had not been interrogated further after I’d admitted to being marked by the sword. The other three were staring at me.

Litarian looked stoic. He seemed to be the best at concealing his thoughts. Batarian appeared intrigued. Sakarian looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be amazed or furious.

“What?” I asked.

“You were . . . glowing,” Batarian said.

“And there was a crackling in the air,” Sakarian said. “Like the wind before lightning strikes.”

Not good. All I’d been doing was
thinking
about destroying everything in sight and my power had risen up without my consent. If I wasn’t careful, I would turn into the monster that Beezle feared I was becoming.