The fact that Uriel and Skaal walked rather than sifted across the distance told me something I already knew. Uriel was intensely powerful, and no one of demonkind was getting close to my cottage without an escort now.
I backed toward the door and held it open for the two of them. “Come on in.”
So interesting to see this high demon and archangel side by side. Yes, Skaal had always worn danger like a cloak, an alertness to his dark gaze that said he watched and saw everything. But Uriel… It wasn’t danger or the threat of menace that hovered around him. It was a pure, potent force—a dormant power one might not heed or recognize until it was too late. His cool exterior hid what was burning in the depths of his cerulean gaze. And it wasn’t a threat or a warning that haloed his being. It was a promise.
Skaal took a seat on the sofa. Deimos didn’t budge from his spot in the corner on my white wool throw. Uriel leaned against the wall next to the mantel of the fireplace, the flames crackling.
“I’m glad you got wards around your place finally,” said Skaal, his tender expression aimed at me, tinged with a small pang of hurt. He’d offered before but I’d told him no. Demon wards only kept out angels. What good would it have really done when we knew there was only one person, a very high demon, who meant me harm?
“Honestly, I didn’t know anything about it.” Looking up at Uriel, it didn’t seem as if he’d comment at all but finally did in his typically detached manner.
“It was necessary.”
Necessary? Sure. But I was still shocked he took it upon himself to do it. The process could be draining for the spell-caster. And I didn’t think Uriel wanted to weaken his strength one tiny iota considering what was ahead of him. The real problem was I’d never wanted the wards, because they were like a flashing neon sign to any otherworlder in the vicinity. Ward barriers gave off a low-frequency vibration that warned angel and demonkind to stand back.
“I never wanted wards for a reason,” I said to Uriel whose cool gaze remained unnervingly steady.
He shrugged. Shrugged.
Taking a calming breath, I said, “If any demon is in the area, he’ll know that something or someone is on the other side of the wards that’s worth sticking around to find out.” It was like an arrow pointing to my cottage. To me.
“Nothing can get past my wards,” he stated matter-of-factly. Confidently. Because it was true. His power was immense.
“That’s not the point. The wards put a target on my back.”
“You said yourself that demons don’t come here. It’s the middle of nowhere. No one could find you here.”
“Yes, but there’s always a chance one could stumble through.”
“Exactly,” he said with steel in his rumbling timbre. “And if one should happen to pass through, he’ll never get across my wards.”
“But if he waits for me, and—”
“Then I’ll kill him.”
I could do nothing but stare before I said low, almost in a whisper, “You won’t always be around.”
Uriel looked as if he’d say more, but he clenched his jaw tight, his mouth closed. Skaal had remained quiet throughout our argument. I was glad when he broke the tense silence swallowing up the room.
“You were right.” He was looking at Uriel. “Vladek is using captured angels and demons who break his laws or just piss him off to make drakuls.”
Tearing my gaze away from Uriel, I asked, “How?”
“Have you ever heard of a snuffer?”
I shook my head.
“We killed them all over a millennium ago after they wiped out a third of humanity,” muttered Uriel.
“Yeah. I remember the Dark Ages all too well. Not a fun time,” Skaal gritted out sarcastically. “Vladek found a few of his own somewhere in the bowels of hell. There are dark corners there where creatures can survive for centuries in the shadows.”
“What are they?” I asked, growing impatient.
“They are essentially life-force feeders.”
“Like the soul collectors?” I remember seeing one of the five soul collectors, also called the rivers of the underworld. Her name was Styx, a pale, banshee-like creature with white eyes and black lips who fed on otherworld beings.
“Almost,” said Skaal, “but not exactly. The collectors feed on souls. Once they’ve devoured their prey, the eaten disappear into Erebus.”
Erebus. The deepest, darkest pit of the underworld.
“Snuffers are small,” interjected Uriel. “Like demonic fairies. They can inhale the essence of any living creature—human or of the otherworld. So, how’s he getting the essence from the snuffers into the drakuls? The metal coins.”
Skaal winced, his lip curling in disgust. “Once the snuffers are bloated with essence, he uses a spell to turn them into metal statues. His forgers melt and pound them into the coins. And that’s how we’ve got a magical currency being passed around.”
Pressing a hand to my stomach, I said, “That makes me sick.”
Skaal reached over and covered the hand in my lap with his own, giving me a squeeze. “That’s because you’re good, Nadya,” he said softly. “Most demons don’t care and would probably relish the idea if they knew the truth. The only reason Vladek is keeping it a secret is because he wants to be in charge of the valuable currency.”
“So he remains top demon,” added Uriel, his gaze on Skaal’s hand over mine.
“Exactly.” Skaal straightened, taking his hand with him. “I have other news.”
“What is it?” I asked, lacing my hands together in my lap.
“I’ve gotten you passage into the first circuit of fighting pits,” he told Uriel. “The first is under the command of a high demon named Yorick in Prague. You’ll meet your escort on the Charles Bridge at midnight in three days’ time. There’s only one problem that we didn’t discuss before.”
“What’s that?” asked Uriel.
“You need a master. A demon master.”
Uriel’s blue eyes darkened into flinty shards, his jaw clenching tight. “I will not have a master.”
Skaal scoffed. “Then you won’t go. No angel goes into the demon underworld pits without a master of our kind.”
Uriel said nothing, but the electricity sparking in the air warned me he was angry. Very angry.
“Yorick wants you, because no archangel has ever fought in the rounds. He’d be host to the most popular scene anywhere.”
“And ironically,” I added, “he’d make a ton of drakuls off the event.”
“Indeed, he would,” said Skaal.
Uriel said nothing, obviously still infuriated.
“What about Axel?” I asked. “He might be willing to do it for us.” While he’d helped me escape Ivangorod, no one had ever discovered how I’d gotten out or who had helped me.
Skaal frowned doubtfully. “I don’t know. You can ask him. Or he may know someone who will.”
Rising, I exhaled a deep breath. “All right. We’ll check with him and go from there.”
Skaal rose. “I’ll be tending to Odin Shans the night of your fight. If you make it,” he said to Uriel, “I’ll meet you here the following day.”
I winced. Make it meaning survived. The fights in the demonic underworld were always to the death. My heart fluttered with a sickening beat.
Uriel gave a stiff nod as I walked Skaal to the door. He could exit the wards on his own, but I stepped outside with him anyway.
“Thank you,” I said. Skaal paused and looked down, his dark eyes swamped with emotion. “You’ve helped me so much already. Risked so much. I can’t thank you enough.”
He cupped my face gently, stroking his thumbs just below my cheekbones. “I’ll do anything for you, Nadya.” His voice dropped to a low, husky region. “You know I would. How I feel. About you.”
Closing my eyes, I wrapped my fing
ers around one wrist, unable to make the circumference. “I know, Skaal.” Opening my eyes, I wanted him to understand clearly though I spoke the words with gentle intent. “I’d still be there in that castle if it weren’t for you. I owe you so much. But I can’t…I care for you as my friend, Skaal. My dear friend. That’s all I can offer.”
Sadness pierced his expression before he righted it with a small smile. “I know. I understand.” With a gentle squeeze, he dropped his hands away from my face. “I know that you’ll likely never want a man in that way again. I understand why.”
Swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat, I wished I could have feelings of love toward Skaal, the way lovers should, not friends. But he was right. Trusting a man with my heart and soul again felt like an impossibility. And yet…
I glanced toward the open doorway of my home where Uriel stepped through holding my cloak, his expression unreadable. I wondered how long he’d been watching. And listening.
“Thank you,” I told Skaal.
With a stiff nod to me and a stiffer one to Uriel where he glanced at him holding my cloak out to me, he marched across the road, and then sifted out with a flashing spark and crackle.
Clasping my mantle and pulling on my gloves, I walked alongside Uriel across the road and the wards where we could sift out.
“Do you know Axel well?” I asked.
“We’re acquainted.”
“Then you know where to find him.”
“Yes.”
We crunched across the road, then Uriel’s hands slipped under the flaps of my cloak to band around my waist. Sucking in a quick breath in surprise, my gloved hands landed on his chest.
“It was good you made it clear to Skaal that you two would never be more than friends.”
Shocked at his blatant admission of eavesdropping, my heart skipping several beats, I didn’t know what to say. His body seemed closer. His face dipped lower than normal when he took me in his arms to sift away.
“Wh-why?” I asked, the heat of his body radiating into mine.
“He can’t get over you until he knows there’s no chance.” His expression tightened as his gaze swept from my cheeks to my lips then back to my eyes, leaving a heated trail in its wake. “A man needs to know where he stands with a woman he has intentions for.” His voice held a gravelly timbre that seemed to add hidden words he couldn’t say.
“What kinds of intentions? Emotional or just physical?”
“All of the above.”
Then his fingers gripped tighter, digging through the fabric at my waist as we sifted away. Spinning through the Void, my mind turned and turned in unison to the spiraling, dizzying world around us. Since when did Uriel concern himself with the intentions of women’s hearts? And since when did a fire burn behind those icy blue eyes…for me?
Chapter Eight
Uriel
By the time we sifted out onto an empty street in the Shoreditch neighborhood in London, she was trembling in my arms. What possessed me to tell her she was right in quashing any hopes Skaal might have in regard to her, I had no idea.
That’s a lie.
I saw his hands on her face, holding her close like a lover would, and something primal flared in my chest. Where it came from, I wasn’t sure. I’d never had to restrain myself from punching another man—angel or demon—out of sheer jealousy. It was a foreign and unwelcome feeling.
Me. Jealous. Utterly laughable. I didn’t get attached to women. There was no such thing in my life. The closest thing I’d ever had to a relationship was that horror show with Lisabette, a twisted, fucked-up version of domina and slave where I longed to disembowel her every moment of every day.
“Are you cold?” I asked her.
“No.”
She edged out of my grasp, and I let her go. I felt the loss as acutely as I did a knife in the chest, which I’d experienced on more than one occasion in my immortal life.
I couldn’t get over it. When I’d first seen this witch in Estonia, I’d hated her. Then she’d shown me kindness. Then she’d fled, taking with her the only compassion I felt in that waking nightmare. When Dommiel insisted she was the one to get me what I wanted, I agreed out of desperation. A means to an end. Then I saw her, standing on that doorstep in her white gown, a kitten snuggled to her breast, innocence softening her lovely face, and a layer of ice calved off the glacier surrounding my heart.
Now, knowing we’d walked parallel paths through hell and had come out alive, stronger than before, I wanted something other than revenge and blood. Something softer…sweeter.
Perilous. This wanting was dangerous.
Swallowing my sudden, urgent revelation, I gestured for her to follow, waiting for her to fall into step. I led her past the club Axel ran, toward the luxurious apartment building at the end of the street.
“Where does he live?”
“On the corner.” I pointed back over my shoulder. “That’s his club, back there, where he plays in that band with his friends Wolfrick and Gustav.”
She nodded and walked swiftly at my side, the sidewalks patchy with snow and ice. No one to clear off the walkways. But I guessed not when there were so few who used them anymore. Seeing a thick patch of black ice across the pavement up ahead, I swiftly gripped her around the waist and flew over the slippery surface. Again, she made that surprised gasp, clutching my arms.
“Careful,” I said, setting her down and taking her hand to keep her upright.
She held my hand tightly and eased close to me on the walkway. I stopped at the stoop where the steps were obviously thick with ice. Turning to her, I held out my arms.
“One more time.”
Her soft expression held nothing but trust as she eased into the circle of my arms, lacing her fingers at the nape of my neck. She’d never pressed herself this close before, the heady sensation nearly knocking me on my ass. Wrapping her waist again, I beat my wings to get us on the landing safely.
Then I froze. So did she. Both of us, standing on a freezing stoop in the middle of a high-traffic demon section of London, just staring at each other. I couldn’t believe I’d once thought she was a witch like Lisabette or anything close to her. Nadya was entirely different. Rather than ensnaring me with wicked, black magic, she beguiled me with pure, white kindness. She didn’t have to risk herself by helping me, or anyone else, but she did. She didn’t have to leave the warmth of her home in the middle of the night to help birth a baby, but she did.
Why?
Because she was good. Beautiful in her pristine purity and compassionate heart.
“That night,” I began, my voice low as I whispered close, “when you helped me from the feast hall when there was a fire in the palace, you were the one who set that fire, weren’t you?”
Her eyes wide, her breath making white puffs in the air, she said, “I did.” After squeezing her eyes closed for a second, she opened them again and said, “I couldn’t watch her have you beaten anymore.”
I couldn’t help the bitterness that lifted one side of my mouth. “She had me beaten almost daily, Nadya.”
“I know.” There was pain in her voice. “But that night, she made that guard just keep going and going and—I thought I’d lose my mind watching it all.” Her fingers unlaced but cupped the side of my neck, her warm palms pressed to my skin. I stiffened at the surprising pleasure of her intimate touch. “I couldn’t bear it, Uriel.”
How could she still be so kindhearted in that evil place? She was a shocking, magnificent wonder.
“Thank you, Nadya.”
Still, pain pinched her expression. I wanted to press my lips to the divot between her brows and smooth it over with a kiss. But that would be a mistake.
“I wanted to help you somehow…that last night, when Lisabette asked me into her chambers…with you.”
Ah, yes. That was a nightmare I remembered
well. Lisabette had me chained to her bed, per usual, and Nadya had knocked on the door to say goodbye. That she was leaving for the feast at Ivangorod. Lisabette often invited others to join her sinister, sexual games. I’d become numb to it all by then. But I remembered the sweet witch who’d helped me escape being whipped into unconsciousness standing at the bedchamber door, staring at me, nude and helpless, then leaving me behind after a sorrowful glance.
“There was nothing you could’ve done,” I assured her.
“I could have,” she said urgently, the pitch of her voice rising. “I could’ve distracted her with something. Gotten you free from her for a night. Just one night.” She glanced away, swallowing hard. “But if I delayed or got into trouble with Lisabette, I’d not have my chance to escape with Axel at the feast. I was being selfish, I—”
I lifted a hand to cup her nape, to get her attention. “Enough, Nadya. There was nothing you could do to get me out of there. I’m glad you took your chance. I’m happy you got away.”
Daylight was slipping by, the gray pall darkening by slow degrees. Demons and the humans who partied with them would be creeping out into the night soon.
“Come. Let’s get inside.”
Opening the door, I let her in, sweeping the street to be sure no one was lurking or watching. Moving ahead of her, I marched to the door on the right. His apartment covered the entire right half of the building.
“How do you know where Axel lives?” she asked, her voice still soft, lingering with the emotions of a few moments before.
“Axel has been working with us on a few recent missions.”
“Really?”
I smiled. “You sound so surprised. He helped you.”
“Yeah. But that was all the influence of high demons like Skaal. Axel just doesn’t seem the let-me-help-angelkind sort of guy.”
I chuckled. She whipped her head up to me and smiled.
“What?”
“That was the first time I heard you laugh.” She smiled, and another layer of ice chipped away. “It was nice.”
Coldest Fire (Dominion series) Page 7
