Nightingale Girl (22 page)

Today, I feel strong.

I’m going to confront Jim.

I shower and dress myself in jeans, a blue top, and a fitted jacket. I put on boots, then secure my blade in its holster on my thigh. The thought of using it on Jim causes the blade to hum to life.

Not bothering to knock on the door to the Hellions’ lair, I push it open and enter, uninvited. Jim’s standing at the bar. He looks annoyed to see me. I cross the room, taking note of the three Hellions at the pool table.

“Meg,” Jim sneers.

I want to call Jim by another name instead of the one he was given. A variety of inappropriate terms comes to mind, but instead I say, “Jimboy.”

He scowls.

I sit on a stool.

“Where’s Sparrow?” I ask.

“As a Hellion, he is under my command, and I appoint him as I see fit.”

“He’s been gone two days.”

“So?” Jim swallows a shot of bourbon.

“House of the Rising Sun” is playing on the stereo. I hate that song for the pure fact that it is Jim’s favorite, and it reminds me of the things he did when we were engaged.

I try not to think of my past life with Jim. Instead, I focus on my future with Sparrow, even if it is dwindling.

“Last time you sent him to
wherever
, he came back half-alive.”

“Not my fault your little cherub won’t snack from the Bloodwhores.” Jim laughs. “If he did, maybe he wouldn’t feel so guilty about nearly draining you.”

“You’re running him ragged. What in the name of Lucifer are you making him do?”

Jim takes an intimidating step toward me. Even though there’s a countertop separating us, I’m not confident in its ability to keep Jim from me.

“That is none of your trashy business.”

I open my mouth to respond with some very unangelic choice words, but I halt when Jim’s body stiffens and he sniffs the air. His head snaps toward the open door to the lair.

Nightingale is standing there looking as innocent as a baby deer and dressed like a goddamned playboy bunny in short shorts and a crop top.

“Holy. Shit,” Jim growls.

Nightingale’s eyes widen.

The Hellions in the room snarl.

Jim rounds the bar, moving toward Nightingale.

I reach out to stop him, but he slaps me away so hard that I go flying across the room and crash into the wall.

“Run!” I yell to Nightingale.

She screams and takes off on her roller skates.

I get up, stumble to my feet, and run after them, making it to the door just in time to see Nightingale exit the burning caves and lift off into the air, her dark wings flapping feverishly.

“Noah!” I shout into the hall. “Clea!”

My mother’s figure comes floating down the hall.

“Child?” She looks confused.

I shake off the pain of being tossed across the room, stand, and run for the cave entrance.

“They’re going after Nightingale!” I run out of the cave only to be confronted by a horde of walking dead.

Noah finally appears at my side.

“Where were you?” I shout.

Noah holds up a bag. “Getting your breakfast.”

Clea gets closer; the dead back off.

“We have to find her.”

With grim determination and a wisp of dust, Clea transforms into the Argentavis. “Come.” She tips her left wing down, and I climb on her back.

“Come on!” I shout at Noah.

He drops my breakfast on the ground and climbs on. Clea hops twice before launching herself into the air. I scramble to grip her feathers and hold on for dear life.

Clea follows the figures in the distance, which only seem to get smaller and smaller, for miles and miles, until they are only tiny pinpoint dots, and then . . . nothing.

Darkness falls, but Clea keeps flying toward the last spot in the sky—the speck that turned to nothingness.

“We have to go back,” Clea finally says.

“We can’t. We have to find her.”

“It’s too dark. We’ll never find her at night.” Clea glides, tips to the side to turn in a wide arc, and heads home.

My heart sinks. I remember what it’s like to be chased by the Hellions. And I remember what it’s like to be alone out there in the Kingdom of Hell.

“We’ll find her,” Noah whispers.

Clea lands at the burning caves. Dust swirls as she turns back into the figure of my mother. She looks pale and a bit drawn, even for a ghost of a soul. A burst of energy pulses around her, nearly tossing me on my ass. Noah catches me as I stumble to regain my balance.

“What was that?” I ask.

“I sent a command to the dead to look for Nightingale.”

“But they sleep at night.”

“Not if they’re told to stay awake.” She starts floating toward the opening of the cave. “Come. We must talk with Lucifer.”

We follow her down stone hallways and dark stairwells, closer and closer to that ubiquitous gnawing and crying from the center of the stairwell, until she enters a large room.

Lucifer is sitting at a giant desk of polished black stone.

“Father.” Clea moves to Lucifer’s side. “They’ve gone after Nightingale.”

“Perfect” is Lucifer’s bored response.

“And Meg hasn’t seen Sparrow in over two days,” Clea adds.

I step forward. “Something is wrong.”

Lucifer barely glances at me. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“This girl—” I turn. Holy crap, I’ve never seen Jim’s father Vine before, but he looks just like Jim, well, before Jim’s face half melted off. “She has always brought trouble where it needn’t be. My son will find the Angel and return her to the caves.”

“Jim is the one who went after her,” I point out. “He chased her.”

Vine stares me down with an expression so potent I fear I might shrivel up and turn to sand.

“Enough.” Lucifer holds up his hand. “The souls are out searching. They’ll find them both by morning.”

“And if they don’t?” I ask.

“We will resume searching in the morning.” Lucifer finally looks up from his desk. “Go to bed.” He dismisses me.

Clea tips her head toward the door, urging us to leave.

I open my mouth to argue, but one look from Lucifer persuades me otherwise.

I sulk all the way back to my room, feeling worthless and worried. Lucifer is pure darkness, and I don’t think he cares much about sins and death. Sparrow and Nightingale probably mean nothing to him. I probably mean nothing to him. The only person I’ve seen Lucifer care about is my mother.

“See you in the morning.” Noah disappears as I’m entering my room.

I shower and change into my regular clothes. Sleeping fully clothed is nothing new. If something happens in the night, I want to be ready to go.

The elf owl has come to visit again, hooting from the railing of my balcony. I move to the window to watch it catch moths in the moonlight. A thousand thoughts cross my mind. I think of Sparrow and Nightingale, before my thoughts turn to Teari. Does she miss us? And then there is Gabriel. I would rather take the punishment from stealing Sparrow’s books rather than the one I’m going to get for losing his sister. She’s far too innocent to be lost in Hell.

I try to figure out how this all went so wrong. What happened these past few weeks down here? In an effort to cure Sparrow, we dropped ourselves straight into the lion’s den. I let myself be holed up and used as dinner. I let Sparrow treat me like crap. I let the birds of the underworld hypnotize me into complacency. I forced Lucifer into hiding an Archangel’s daughter in the bowels of Hell.

I focus on the elf owl.

The owl is the bringer of death.

Oh. Shit.

Poof.

I return to the Seven Kingdom’s of Heaven and find Gabriel sitting in the dining room of his castle. Like Sparrow, before he became a bloodsucker, the man eats whatever he can get his hands on. Good thing they’re giants, or I’d worry about their caloric intake.

Gabriel is sitting at the head of the table, his chin resting on his fist, deep in thought. He is a living Rodin’s
Thinker
. Others have warned me that he is losing his mind, but I believe the man is simply a genius. The Angels are always telling each other they are crazy. I’m beginning to think they all are.

“Father,” I say, disrupting him.

He lifts his chin from his fist, surprised. “Meg.”

“Something is wrong in Hell.”

He makes a face. “Usually is.”

“No. Something is horribly wrong. Sparrow is missing, and now Nightingale.”

Gabriel stands. “For the love of God and all his children. I thought Remiel was jerking my chain when he said his daughter was missing.”

“Well, she’s been in Hell . . . with me. But Jim went after her with the Hellions. She flew away, and we can’t find her.”

“Christ.” Gabriel starts walking out of the room. He cracks the knuckles on one of his giant fists. “About time someone freed that poor girl from her asshole of a father. Like a pet songbird let out of a cage. Bet she has no sense of direction.”

I follow Gabriel through the castle.

“You’ve been back here, as well, haven’t you?” he asks, as I skip to keep up with him.

“Yes. I had to get some books from Sparrow’s house.”

“Knew it.” Gabriel shakes his head. “I was going to warn you something strange was going on down there. Deacons have been chattering. Word made its way up here.” He stops and turns. “I tried to visit you. Hid in the shadows of your room but couldn’t find the right moment to get your attention. You seemed very distracted down there, and I’m not exactly welcome in that castle.”

“I have been,” I agree, as I lean forward and sniff him. Gabriel smells sweet, like candy and sugar cane. I never noticed before.

After giving me a curious look, Gabriel resumes walking.

“So what are we going to do?” I ask.

Gabriel stops in front of a metal door. He pushes it open, and we enter a giant room filled with weapons and armor.

“Kick some ass,” he replies with a smile.

Gabriel starts to dress in armor that covers every inch of his large body. Lastly he draws a sword, much like Sparrow’s but twice as long. The weapon glows in his hand.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Take us.” He holds out his hand.

I have been cautious to touch my father in the past; when I finally did I felt nothing but warmth and belonging.

This time I don’t hesitate; I take his hand.

Poof.

We are outside the caves of Hell.

It is still night, but none of the dead sleep. I can hear them schlepping it through the forests and the abandoned roads, searching for two lost Angels.

“Still no wings.”

It’s not a question.

I shake my head.

“Call on your mother.”

“Clea,” I shout. “Noah!”

Gabriel turns to me. “Who is Noah?”

“A friend from the earthen plane.”

“And why is he here?”

“He died.”

“And went straight to Hell?” His brows rise.

“Yes.”

“Did you have any friends who didn’t marinate their souls with the sins of the earthen plane?”

“None that stuck around.”

Gabriel makes a face of frustration.

I would argue with him about my upbringing, but Noah and my mother exit the burning caves together. Noah runs. Clea floats, stopping in front of Gabriel. Her image wavers. I am quite sure my father hasn’t seen her since she fled Heaven in an effort to give me a better life.

Something passes between them. I feel embarrassed to be watching.

“Will you fly them?” Gabriel asks Clea. “As you know, our daughter lacks wings and faith in God.”

Dust whips around us as Clea transforms into the Argentavis. She lowers herself to the ground. I climb on her back; Noah follows.

Clea hops a few times, then launches herself into the air with a powerful thrust that nearly knocks me off her back. Strong wings beat and propel us up and up, above the treetops.

I search for Gabriel and find him to the left, flying with the use of his own giant white wings.

“North.” Gabriel points.

Clea flaps her wings. I grip her feathers and feel Noah do the same behind me.

“Why north?” I ask.

“The Deacons say Jim is digging in Canada.”

My head snaps in his direction. “Where?”

“Not sure exactly. Deacons are shifty—always out for themselves. We can stop at a Safe House and see if they have more information.” Gabriel grips the weapon secured at his hip. “Wouldn’t mind putting the fear of God into those punks.”

“We owned a cabin in Kingston on the earthen plane,” I say. “Had dual citizenship. Just in case.”

Jim was always planning for something: taking me on hikes through the wilderness, stockpiling guns and bullets, buying survival gear. That was all before he tried to kill me, before I killed him instead. That was before I found out what he was, and who I was. Thought we were nothing but two small-town kids with a baby on the way.

“In case what?” Gabriel asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know. The apocalypse or something. It was Jim’s idea.”

Gabriel’s brow furrows. “Screw the Safe House. Can you locate the cabin from the air?”

“Probably.”

Clea flies faster. I have to lie down on my stomach to keep from falling off. Turning my head to the side, I see Gabriel keeping up with the rapid, powerful thrusting from his wings. There’s a smile on his face. I look down at my mother, unable to gain much from her beady eyes and beak. I think they’re racing.

Daylight breaks.

“The border is below,” Gabriel shouts.

I lean to the side. A stretch of water dotted with islands is below us. I recognize Wellesley Island crossing and see the locked gates topped with barbed wire. A man steps out of a guard shack, looking up at us.

Last time I was here, the guard called me a filthy American; he didn’t care about my dual citizenship. I guess none of it really mattered. At the time I didn’t know that I was actually in Hell—thought I was on Earth—and something really strange was happening. The guard made us cross the border by way of a crumbling dam, cold water flowed over the collapsing cement, and the walking dead milled about just below the water line. If one of us fell, we’d die. Sparrow almost jumped, nearly risking his life for a snowy owl feather.