Black Spring

I shook my head. “No. Daharan doesn’t mean me any harm. If he won’t go up against Alerian, it’s for some reason of his own. And if I ask him, he will tell me.”

Nathaniel looked doubtful. “I hope your trust in him is not misplaced.”

We had walked east in an aimless manner, unconsciously putting distance between us and Alerian’s wrath. I realized we had ended up on Michigan Avenue. “Let’s go to the Ghirardelli shop by Water Tower.”

“There is a crisis of epic proportions at hand and you are thinking about chocolate?” he asked.

“No, I’m thinking about ice cream. Ice cream with peanut butter and hot fudge and whipped cream on top,” I said, heading north through the usual midday cluster of people on Michigan.

“There is a crisis of epic proportions at hand and you are thinking about ice cream?” he said.

I laughed, taking his hand. “I’m pregnant and I will not be denied. Besides, there’s a crisis of epic proportions every five seconds around here.”

“I love you, but I do not understand you,” Nathaniel said, allowing me to tug him in the direction of the store.

We strolled along, not speaking much. I was trying to enjoy the moment, to allow myself these few moments to pretend that we were as normal as we looked. It was not the first time I had wished that my life had turned out differently, that I had a future that didn’t involve blood and magic and darkness covering the world.

As a child I’d yearned for sitcom normality—a mother who packed Wonder Bread lunches and volunteered at school instead of running off to collect souls at all hours, a dad who was actually present. Even though I loved Beezle and could not imagine life without him, there were still occasions when I wished for a puppy instead of a grumpy talking gargoyle.

Over time I’d come to a kind of peace with the presence of the Agency in my life. But since I’d discovered my relationship to some of the most powerful creatures in history, I yearned for that normality more than ever. The impending birth of my son only intensified this feeling.

Parents want their children to have what they did not, and I had never had stability. I did not want my baby to enter a world that was constantly under the threat of magical destruction. I especially did not want him to grow up like I did, always waiting at the window hoping Mommy would come home to give me a kiss before bedtime.

The worst of it was that I could not see how I could change my fate, or his. Everywhere I turned there was another wall to box me in.

“Madeline?” Nathaniel said. Something in his tone told me he had tried to get my attention more than once.

I shook my head, wishing I could shake away my gloomy contemplations of the future. “Sorry.”

“We have arrived,” he said, pointing at the white-and-blue awning in front of us.

The intense craving that had seized me earlier had by this time faded, but ice cream would still help my mood. There is no mood that cannot be improved by a giant sundae.

Nathaniel expressed no interest in eating. He watched me enthusiastically attack my ice cream, all the while wearing what I thought of as his I-do-not-comprehend-humans expression.

“Don’t you like ice cream?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Most angels do not see the appeal of sugar. It does not seem to affect us as it does humans.”

I thought back and realized I’d never seen Gabriel or Nathaniel eat anything dessert-like.

“Is it because of differences in body chemistry?” I wondered aloud. “Or because angels have such long lives that simple things become boring?”

“Perhaps some of both,” he said. “I have often wished I could take comfort in small pleasures, as you do.”

Somehow it had never occurred to me that Nathaniel might have some of the same longings I did, a desire to be more human. Part of this was because he had expressed contempt for humanity so often that I’d assumed he would never give up any aspect of the “superiority” of angels. The changes that occurred since his magical legacy had been released still surprised me.

“Well, there’s no time like the present to start learning,” I said.

I scooped a big spoonful of vanilla ice cream mixed with hot fudge and peanut butter sauce and held it out to him, smiling.

He looked at me, then at the spoon, then back at me again. The smile faded from my face. Suddenly the action seemed fraught with implication. Something shifted in his eyes. There was a light and a heat that was not there before. My hand seemed frozen in place, and everything inside me stilled. I could not take my eyes from his mouth as it moved toward the spoon.

“Ms. Madeline Black?” a voice asked from somewhere above my left shoulder.

I dropped the spoon to the table with a clatter, the spell broken. Several patrons glanced over at the noise and my face reddened. The shop seating area was small and the tables were stacked beside one another with barely enough room to maneuver through the aisles so privacy was completely nonexistent.