Primeval Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  Ursula lowered the burning blade, letting the hellfire cool in her blood. As the fire left her veins, the armor around her slowly faded, the flames waning from her blade.

  Bael inhaled a deep breath, staring at her, before he finally spoke. “How did you do that?”

  “I just summoned my fire magic, and Excalibur seemed to draw it in from my body. I don’t know how the rest of it worked.”

  Bael studied her sword. “May I see it?”

  Ursula handed it to him—already, it was cool to the touch.

  He turned it over, as if entranced. “I’ve never seen magic like this. It looks like King Oberon forged the spell directly into the steel, and it amplifies your magic.” He handed the sword back to Ursula, a faint smile curling his lips. “I think you’re ready.”

  THE ELEVATOR DOOR ROLLED OPEN, and she and Bael stepped into the brightly-lit foyer. A rich smell of roasting meat hung in the air. Before leaving the subway station, she’d pulled her tattered tank top back on.

  Ursula crossed the kitchen, finding Zee standing over a large bowl of steaming mashed potatoes, smelling of garlic and butter. She was eating directly from the bowl.

  “That was fast. You’re done training already?”

  Bael slipped into the kitchen, ducking his head under the doorframe. “The sword is more powerful than I thought. The dragons won’t be able to hurt her. It’s as if the sword was meant for her.”

  With a spoonful of mashed potatoes hovering in the air, a range of emotions flickered across Zee’s face: skepticism mixed with hope that the siege of the city might be over. “Are you sure?”

  “I will be there to help.”

  Cera’s voice cut in as she appeared behind Bael. “The roast will be ready in twenty minutes. Don’t touch the potatoes!”

  Zee scooped out another spoonful. “What do you mean, exactly—that the sword was meant for Ursula?”

  Ursula quirked a smile. “Well, for one thing, I was able to finally disarm Bael.”

  Bael grunted almost imperceptibly.

  Zee’s eyes widened. “How?”

  “It’s hard to explain. It amplifies my magic, making it more powerful. It also seems to create a sort of magical armor around me.”

  Zee whistled softly, lowering her spoon. “Angelic Armor.”

  “What is that, exactly?”

  “You know how the fae are unaligned, right? Unlike your shadowy boyfriend here, we are not allied with the gods of light or dark. We’re just, like, angels who came to earth to enjoy all the good food and cocktails. Anyway, in the very early days after the fall, we needed protection from all the demons. So the First Fae created a magical ward that made them nearly indestructible. It was called Angelic Armor. I had no clue it would work on a hound of Emerazel. It’s supposed to be for godlike creatures. No offense.”

  “None taken.” Ursula sniffed the air, scenting something smoky. “Is the roast burning?”

  Cera shoved past Bael and raced across the kitchen, her pale hair flying behind her. “The roast!”

  Zee frowned, scooping another spoonful of potatoes into her mouth. “We’re trying to have a conversation here.” She pointed her spoon at Ursula’s ripped tank top. “You look like shit, you know that? Good way to get the dragons to leave you alone.”

  Ursula crossed her arms. “Right. Perhaps a shower is in order before dinner, then.” As she crossed out of the room, a smile curled her lips. Angelic Armor. Surely, a creature like the Darkling wouldn’t be able to wear the armor of angels, right?

  URSULA’S HAIR was still wet from the shower as she made her way to the dining room, dressed in a yellow sundress. Cera had announced dinner was ready while she was still wrapped in a towel so there hadn’t been any time to dry it.

  When she entered everyone was already seated. Someone, probably Cera, had put a fresh tablecloth down and set the table with expensive looking china. In the center was a steaming hunk of meat. Despite the smoke and Cera’s consternation, it looked perfectly cooked.

  There were bowls of mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus, and a large white porcelain vessel full of gravy. The room smelled amazing.

  Bael sat by the meat with a large knife in hand. “You want some of the roast?” he asked her. Ursula saw that his hair was wet too—apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d opted for a quick shower.

  “Thank you, I’d love some.”

  While Bael carved the meat, she found a seat across from him, next to Zee. Zee was carefully carving her chunk of meat into bite-size pieces.

  Across from her, Cera looked on nervously.

  “Is it all right? she asked, her voice quavering.

  Zee nodded. “It’s perfect.”

  Ursula saw that instead of a piece of meat, Cera had laden her plate with mash, asparagus, and a large roasted portobello mushroom cap. Of course—she couldn’t eat meat, unless she wanted to become Corrupted and lose her mind.

  Bael passed over a plate with a slice of roast, and large helping of each of the sides. It smelled amazing. Ursula took a bite of the meat. It tasted amazing too.

  “The roast is delicious,” she said, directing her gaze at Cera. The little oneiroi beamed back at her.

  Zee sipped her champagne. “Explain to me specifically how we’re going to defeat the dragons. Am I part of this?”

  Bael poured himself a glass of wine. “No. Ursula can lead us, of course, but clearly we need an army to fight an entire legion of dragons. I plan to raise one from the fae realm. They owe me some favors, though it will take some time. Months, perhaps.”

  Ursula’s jaw dropped. “We don’t have time. You saw what they did to Avalon.” She tightened her grip on her fork. “You know, you have this habit of withholding crucial information until the last minute.”

  Bael arched an eyebrow. “You can’t seriously expect the two of us to defeat them all, can you?”

  How could she tell him she felt it was her destiny? She didn’t know why, didn’t have a rational explanation for it. She just felt it. Niniane’s blood-stained face flashed in her mind. Months of delays, and how many more innocents would die? “It’s what the sword is for. And the sword has chosen me. I think I’m supposed to do this on my own.”

  Shadows darkened Bael’s eyes. “Don’t be absurd. I’m not letting my betrothed into a dragon’s lair without an army.”

  Her cheeks reddened. “I’m not actually your betrothed.”

  His jaw tightened. “I know that. But I still have a duty to protect you.”

  “I don’t know what I did in my past, or who I am. All I know is that it’s my fault that the dragons attacked New York. I alone should be the one to fix it. This is my chance to actually do something meaningful for a change. Don’t you understand? I’ve been a nobody ever since I can remember. A fuck-up—no purpose, no identity, the screwed-up mystery girl with no past. And this is my chance to change that. I could be a hero, but I have to accept my fate. The sword has chosen me, and I go alone.”

  Bael stared at her, the air seeming to frost in the room, but she didn’t wait for him to respond. She stood, hurrying from the dining room, desperate to get her fingers on Excalibur again. She needed to sink its metal into a dragon hide like a vampire needed blood. She hurried up the stairs to her room, where Excalibur lay on her bed. Before allowing herself to snatch the sword, she pulled off her dress, then slipped into her fighting gear: leather trousers, an armored corset, and a steel-reinforced leather jacket. Though, given what she’d discovered about the sword, perhaps she wouldn’t need all this reinforced leather. A cowboy hat completed the ensemble, just enough brim to keep her face covered from an aerial view.

  She zipped up her boots, then finally snatched Excalibur from her bed. The sword glinted in the soft light, and its ancient song of war seemed to sing in her veins.

  Reunited with her sword, she moved swiftly through the hall, rushing down the stairs, the blade igniting her body with its power.

  As she stood by the lift, waiting for the elevator to arri
ve, she wondered if someone would try to stop her, but she only heard the faint sound of Zee and Bael arguing in the dining room. Gently, she stroked Excalibur’s hilt, and the elevator dinged. At last. This was her destiny.

  CHAPTER 23

  A s Ursula walked uptown, she wrapped her fingers around Excalibur’s hilt. The buildings loomed above her like dark tombs, the city deathly quiet. She needed a plan—her own plan.

  The simplest would be to simply turn around and return to the plaza to wait for Bael’s fae army. The guy had a point. It wasn’t necessarily a brilliant plan of action to take on an entire dragon legion on your own just because you had a magic sword. And yet... how many people would die before she stopped the dragons? And what if this feeling in her gut was right, the one that said this was her fate? She’d never felt so sure about anything in her life. At least, as far as she could remember.

  As she crossed by a broken shop window, a TV flickered. The volume had been turned down, but the screen displayed an announcer, standing with his finger to his ear. In the background, the Statue of Liberty loomed over him.

  As Ursula stared at the telly, an inkling of an idea began to spark in her brain, and she leaned in for a better view. They were filming across from the Statue of Liberty itself.

  Her pulse quickened, and she picked up her pace, heading for the part of the city that lay broken and burned.

  IT HAD BEEN hours now since she’d left the Plaza, hiking along Fifth Avenue. From under her cowboy hat, sweat trickled down her temples. Power blazed up Excalibur’s blade, curling around her body like an embrace, yet the summer heat seemed to steal her breath. She’d kill for a bit of air conditioning right now.

  Around her, ruins smoldered. The dragons had decimated Lower Manhattan, demolishing buildings like they were sand castles. Dust and smoke hung thick in the air, burning her lungs. Ahead of her, light broke from between a pair of skyscrapers that leaned against each other. Beyond the buildings was clear air. Energy sparked through her veins. She was almost there.

  With her sword by her side, she threaded her way between burnt-out cars and heaps of shattered concrete. As she neared the ocean, the smell of smoke receded, replaced by the briny scent of the sea.

  As she walked through Battery Park, she found it surprisingly intact. Dust coated the benches, but apart from that it looked untouched. Sunlight streamed through leafy tree branches, dancing over the grass. Only the absence of people in the park hinted at the dragon apocalypse.

  She bit her lip as she walked, trying to figure out where to go next. From what she’d seen on the telly, the news team had a good view of the Statue of Liberty, with the statue framed on the right side of the screen. The meant she needed to turn left.

  Just as she veered left by a small stone building, voices echoed off the pavement. Instinctively, she jumped back behind a corner, her pulse racing. She strained to hear, and a few words floated along the sea breeze: “…Phil Rickter reporting live…”

  Ursula smiled. She might be exhausted, but she’d found her camera crew. She pulled off her cowboy hat, dropping it onto the sidewalk, before peering around the corner. Sparse trees lined one side of a wide stone walkway, and the ocean lined the other.

  The camera crew stood next to a low metal railing, right at the edge of the water. The entire crew consisted of a camera man and a guy holding a boom mike. The gray-haired newscaster was pointing at the Statue of Liberty as Ursula approached. Her sword sang darkly by her side.

  Maybe it was her bobbed hair, or the TV presenter’s focus on the statue, but the reporter didn’t seem to notice her at all. “—Gabby should be at the doorway at any moment,” he said solemnly.

  “Hello?” said Ursula raising a hand.

  Frowning, the reporter turned in her direction, irritated at the interruption. He looked about sixty, with a serious set of eyebrows.

  Ursula spoke more forcefully. “Hello, I’d like to be on the telly please.”

  The reporter nodded at the boom operator, who began lowering the mike.

  Ursula’s jaw tightened. “Look, I would like to turn myself in to the dragons. And I don’t know any other way to get touch with them.”

  A whole bunch of things happened at once: The reporter’s eyes widened, the camera man spun to face her, and the boom operator lowered his mike to her face.

  “It’s her!” he shouted, jabbing the microphone at her forehead.

  Ursula took a step back, holding up her hands. “Look, I come in peace. Everyone relax.”

  The reporter pointed at her, his face reddening. “Grab her before she gets away!”

  “Stop,” she yelled, but the man was already barreling at her. Ursula dodged. “What is wrong with you?”

  Before he could answer, a shadow passed overhead, and Ursula looked at the sky, where a dragon’s iridescent, green body materialized in the air, like a chameleon shedding its camouflage. With an ear-splitting scream, it swooped lower. The camera crew ducked, cowering on the grass. Ursula’s heart thundered as the dragon circled. Screeching again, it dove for them, landing with a thundering boom that shook the earth, shaking the leaves from the trees. She looked away, trying desperately not to stare into its yellow eyes.

  Growling, it stalked toward her, and she tightened her fingers on Excalibur. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

  “Ursula!” She turned, her heart skipping a beat. Someone was riding a lunar bat—in fact, it was Cera, her white hair streaming behind her, soaring on the back of Sotz. “Jump on! I’ll take you to the island.”

  The dragon screamed again. It didn’t look like it planned to allow her to turn herself in. No, it looked like it wanted to eat her. Cera was right, she needed to get to the Statue.

  As the sound of dragon footsteps thundered behind her, Ursula ran for the sea railing. She leapt, planted a foot on the edge of the railing, and launched herself into the air.

  CHAPTER 24

  U rsula landed with a thud on Sotz’s back, and she grappled for balance, her legs intertwining with Cera’s. Sotz soared over the water, and the wind whipped at Ursula’s hair.

  “How did you find me?” Ursula shouted.

  “Bael tracked you.”

  “Bael?”

  “He’s right behind us.”

  Ursula twisted around to see Bael, clutching the fur of his lunar bat. And behind him, clinging to his massive body as if her life depended on it, her face pale as milk, was Zee. Bael’s fierce eyes were locked on Ursula’s, but the dragon’s scream pulled his gaze away.

  “To the Statue!” Ursula shouted.

  On the back of the lunar bat, they winged over the water. Sunlight dazzled over the waves, and the briny sea breeze kissed her skin. She shot a quick glance at the dragon, who swooped toward them, his green scales shining in the light. Excalibur whispered in the back of her mind, Fight, and her pulse raced.

  Bael’s voice boomed through the air. “Aim for the torch.”

  Cera pulled up on Sotz’s fur, guiding him higher as they raced through the sky. Higher they soared, flying steeply upward, shooting past the soft, pale green contours of Lady Liberty. At last, they arced over the edge of the torch, before veering sharply downward. They landed with an ungraceful lurch. Ursula tumbled off, smacking her head into the wall. Dizzy, she refocused her vision just in time to see Bael land gracefully.

  Zee leapt off the bat, visibly shaking. “Well? What now?”

  Bael crossed to Ursula, holding out a hand. As she grasped it, rising, she glanced out at the water, her heart thundering against her ribs at the sight of the dragon closing in on them. Her legs began to shake—only now, it wasn’t fear. It was battle fury that sang in her blood, spurring her on.

  Bael crossed to a door on the balcony, but it was locked. He rammed it with his shoulder, and Ursula felt the blow reverberate through the stone—but the door didn’t budge.

  Excalibur called to her, and she pulled it from its sheath, staring at the dragon as it raced for them, piercing the air with
its shrieks. Ursula longed to thrust her blade into its neck, but there wasn’t much room on the narrow balcony that wrapped around the torch.

  She turned to Bael, who still hammered at the door with his shoulder. She gripped her sword. “Get out of the way.”

  Bael shifted out of the way, and Ursula swung Excalibur at the locked door. As the steel clashed against the lock, sparks flew into the air. With the second strike, she cut through the lock. Ursula kicked open the door to reveal a dusty shaft. When she peered over the edge, her gaze landed on an iron ladder.

  “Go,” said Ursula, ushering Cera and Zee in front of her. They clambered down the ladder. The interior of the statue smelled like old pennies.

  “Ursula.” Bael touched her back. “Go.”

  She sheathed her sword again, turning around to hurry down the ladder. She’d descended ten feet before she realized Bael wasn’t on the ladder. She looked up at his hulking silhouette, still by the doorway. He crouched, his sword drawn.

  “What are you doing?” asked Ursula.

  “Protecting you.”

  The walls of the shaft rumbled as something slammed into them, and a dragon claw punctured the copper skin above them. A stream of bright light pierced the dark shaft. With another thundering boom, a scaled, reptilian hand ripped away part of the walls above their heads. Debris rained down on them, and sunlight poured into the shaft.

  “Hurry,” Bael snarled.

  Ursula’s sword bounced against her thigh as she clambered down. Another blow slammed into the statue, and claws ripped through the top of the torch, knocking the ladder loose. Ursula lost her grip, tumbling off the ladder in an avalanche of falling debris, dust, and fragments of steel and copper.