Free Black Night by Christina Henry Page B

in the middle of a weekday morning. This was important. I had to remember it so I could think about it later, when I didn’t have forty anvils pressing on my brain.
    But first I had to get up and get some medical help. Medical help. I felt around inside my jacket and found my cell phone, still intact. I kept a couple of throwaway cells on hand at home since I often lost phones when flying through the air, and I’d just lost one.
    I managed to keep it together long enough to call an Agent Medi-Team and give them my location, and then I closed my eyes and went to sleep for a while.
    My last thought before I conked out was of Gabriel. Where was he?
    I woke to darkness in my own bed, and there was a figure snoozing in a kitchen chair beside me. For a moment my heart leapt, thinking it was Gabriel. Then a shaft of light came through the window and I saw that it was J.B.
    I cautiously raised myself from the bed. I still felt sore all over. There was a large patch of gauze taped to my back where I had been cut by the Dumpster. A matching bandage was wrapped around my forehead. My fingers touched my cheek and I moaned in pain. My whole face felt puffy and tender, and the rest of me didn’t feel that great, either.
    J.B. shifted in the chair and opened his eyes blearily. “I’m not sure you should be sitting up in your condition. In fact, I’m not sure that you should be breathing in your condition.”
    I slumped back against the headboard, exhausted from the effort of sitting up and taking stock of my injuries. “Is it that bad?”
    He rubbed his eyes. “You’ve looked better. Like when you’ve come to work without showering and still wearing your house slippers.”
    I raised an eyebrow at him. “You are the soul of tact, J.B. No wonder all the women want you. What are you doing here, anyway?”
    “Your gratitude is overwhelming, Black. I arrived with the Medi-Team and brought you home when they were done repairing you.”
    “This is repaired?” I said.
    “Well, they can’t do that magical healing thing that your guard dog can, but they patched you up as best they could. Where is your shadow, anyway?” J.B. asked.
    I felt a pang in my chest when I thought of Gabriel. “He’s gone.”
    “Gone, how?”
    I explained about the body we’d found in the alley, and how Gabriel had disappeared without a trace a few moments before I’d been attacked.
    “Do you think his disappearance had something to do with your attack?” J.B. asked.
    “I suppose it could,” I said slowly. “But it could also have something to do with the wolves. Or with Antares, for that matter.”
    And when I thought about it, Antares seemed a likely suspect. He had a whole host of magical tricks up his sleeve, and disappearing acts were a favorite of his.
    “Are you saying that Antares is working with Samiel?” J.B. asked. “Isn’t it enough that you’ve got enemies coming out of every nook and cranny? Do they have to be conspiring against you as well?”
    “I didn’t say they were conspiring. Antares may have taken Gabriel as part of some nefarious plot of his own and Samiel just happened to show up a few minutes later.”
    “I don’t know,” J.B. said doubtfully. “Coincidence sounds even more unlikely than conspiracy.”
    “Well, you figure it out, then. I’m feeling a little worn-out right now.”
    “No need to get cranky with me, Black.”
    “Oh, gee, why would I feel cranky, Bennett? It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that I nearly got beaten to death a few hours ago, would it?”
    J.B. sobered. “Yes, but why?”
    “Why did I get beaten up? Because I killed Samiel’s father, that’s why.”
    “No, why did he beat you? Why didn’t he use magic?”
    Once J.B. said it, I realized that it was completely bizarre that Samiel had used such a mortal method of exacting vengeance. Ramuell had possessed magical abilities that had been terrifying in their execution, and Ariell had been an angelic being loaded with