The lost, as if unburied from the soil
Uncovered from the dankest roots of oaks.
Darkling, remember. Will you ring death knells
for Mount Acidale, kingdom of fire?”
“The sword was lost. The Darkling gets the sword, and rings the death knell for Mount Acidale. You appear to have the sword. You are capable of wielding it, and I have no intention of destroying anything. If anyone is the Darkling, it’s you.”
“The sword is safe with me. I will keep it from the dark one’s grasp.” Lucius’s eyes blazed as he looked at Ursula, until a commotion by the tunnel broke his gaze.
A pair of heralds in gold-accented crimson doublets strode into the room, blowing a short fanfare on brass trumpets. Lowering their trumpets, they shouted in unison, “Please bow for His Royal Highness, King Midac of Mount Acidale.”
They stepped to the side, and eight men entered, carrying a litter on their shoulders. It was painted blood-red with gold leaf. Seated on a chair in the center sat a thin man with a long, brown beard, which he stroked with bony fingers. A robe, embroidered with gleaming, colored gems, covered his thin frame. At the sight of him, her heart began to race.
Lucius had risen from his throne. Before the king had come in, he’d hidden Excalibur somewhere, and Ursula yearned to see it again. What the hell had he done with it?
Lucius bowed deeply. “Welcome, your Highness.”
Ignoring him, King Midac flicked his long fingers. “Bring me closer.”
The men, dressed in simple black clothing, moved slowly under his weight, until they stopped about half way down.
Slowly, King Midac’s gaze swerved to her. A long, pointed tongue darted out, and he licked his lips. “Is this the girl? Come closer, girl.” Venom laced his voice.
From behind, a guard pushed her forward, and Bael snarled. She peered up at the king, at his giant cheekbones, and the ruddy skin that nearly matched his robe. He squinted at her, knitting his overgrown, curling eyebrows. “You are Ursula?”
She studied him, her pulse racing. He knows more about me than I do. He was the king of a land where she was born. For reasons she didn’t understand, she was important to him—and most disturbingly of all, something about him seemed eerily familiar. A warmth that radiated from his skin. She stepped back involuntarily. Emerazel’s fire.
The king grinned, exposing long, widely spaced teeth. “You can sense my power, can’t you? The fire flows in my veins, just as it does in yours. Is it true that you now work for the Goddess of Fire?”
She straightened. “I am a hellhound, bound to collect the souls of those who’ve made a pact with Emerazel.”
“Excellent. You will return with me and teach me what you know.”
What? “So... this isn’t about me being the Darkling?”
“No.”
The king glared at the Drake. “Bring the sword to me, as well.”
Lucius inhaled sharply. “The sword?”
“Don’t play games with me, Lucius. I know you recovered Excalibur.”
Lucius paled, then slunk back to the throne. His body trembled as he bent down and picked up the sword from the ground. Slowly Lucius drew the blade, his hand shaking.
“Bring it here.” The king’s voice boomed.
“How did you know I had the sword?”
The king chuckled, a dry, rough sound. “I’m not going to take it from you, Lucius. I merely wanted to see it.”
Relief washed over Lucius’s face, and he sheathed his sword again. As he did, a dragon’s shriek echoed off the stone walls. Ursula whirled. From the mouth of the tunnel, a dragon’s head rolled into the room, blood spewing from its severed neck. What the fuck is going on?
Immediately, hooded figures stalked from the tunnel, moving with a preternatural grace that seemed oddly familiar. Ursula didn’t have time to study them closely, because Lucius charged past, knocking her to the ground.
And that’s when all hell broke loose. The dragon guards transformed with the snapping of bones, the growing of scales. King Midac’s chair-bearers nearly dropped him, and the captive models screamed, running around the room.
With her hands still bound behind her back, Ursula rose. Icy fear licked up her spine as a new figure walked into the room, his body shrouded in dark magic. She knew that magic, that power. With the enormous, leathery wings cascading through the haze of shadow magic, there was no mistaking Abrax in all his demonic glory. Abrax, demigod, son of the God of Night. Abrax—the powerful incubus who wanted her dead. Or worse.
The shadows thinned around him, and his pale eyes pierced the dim light. “I’ve come for the girl.”
Bael stepped forward, his body taut with fury. “I have claimed her, as you know.”
Abrax’s eyes turned to Bael, his eyes blazing with pale light.
“I said, bring me the girl!” Abrax’s voice echoed off the hall.
Two guards grabbed her by the arms, their fingers digging into her flesh as they dragged her forward. Abrax’s lips curled in a smile. “Then kill the Lord of Abelda.”
The men behind Abrax threw back their hoods, revealing the blank, gray, featureless faces of golems. Just as they rushed for Ursula, two of the dragons lunged for them, swiping at them with their claws.
Bael’s voice boomed from behind her, “Run!”
Ursula swung her body, freeing herself from the guards. She kicked hard, taking out one of them, then she ran for Bael. Just as she was about to reach him, tendrils of shadow lashed out and wrapped themselves around his chest.
Abrax landed next to him, his leathery wings outstretched. “Still hanging around with Emerazel’s cur. You have the most extraordinarily bad taste in women.”
Bael strained against his bonds, but they held him fast. Then Lucius stepped from the shadows.
“What are you doing here, Abrax?” asked the Drake.
“Taking what is mine,” Abrax growled.
“You want the Darkling?”
A ghost of a smile crossed Abrax’s lips. “Is that what you think? That Ursula is the Darkling?” He cocked his head. “Actually, I don’t really care what you think. It’s time for you to die, Lucius.”
Lucius shook his head slowly. “I’m not going to die.” He unsheathed Excalibur. With his eyes locked on Abrax, he slowly raised the blade. The hair on his head glowed brightly, like a lit torch, and a deep red flame began to flicker along the blade, covering his arm. Ursula sucked in a breath. Even Abrax would have trouble fighting a man ensconced in Excalibur’s armor.
In the next moment, he was grunting, his body hunching over as the blade disappeared underneath him. The hair on his head blazed red, and crimson scales sprouted from his skin. Claws grew from his fingers, and his body expanded. When he lifted his head, Ursula stared into the face of a dragon, its eyes glowing like embers.
Abrax flapped his wings, lifting into the air. “Kill the dragon!” he shouted at the golems.
The faceless creatures charged the Drake, leaping on him. They hacked at his scales with their knives, but their blows merely bounced off. In what seemed like slow motion, he twisted his neck, looking up at the ceiling, then opened his mouth to scream.
Only this time instead of a piercing shriek, a gout of flame raced into the air, pouring from the Drake’s throat in an unending stream. The golems leapt and tumbled to avoid the flames, and the room blazed with heat.
Bael growled, still bound by Abrax’s magical cords. Ursula turned to help him, but he shook his head. “Get out of here. Leave me. I’ll be fine.” Shadows darkened his eyes. “Now, Ursula!”
The flapping of wings turned Ursula’s head, and her world tilted as she looked up at Abrax in his terrifying demon form, with sharp, dark talons curling from his hands. Before she could run, he snatched her, lifting her into the air, his powerful wings beating the air.
“Ursula!” Bael’s voice echoed off the hall.
Fear raced up her spine as Abrax lifted her higher, and she gaped at the chaos below her. The Drake and the other drag
ons battled the golems. King Midac’s litter lay smashed, surrounded by the bodies of his bearers. He’d disappeared, and a pentagram burned in the center of the wreckage. He escaped using Emerazel’s sigil.
And Bael—he still struggled on the floor. He’d ripped one arm free, and three golems surrounded him, knives drawn. Her heart climbed into her throat, and Abrax’s talons pierced her flesh under her ribs. He’s unarmed. Mortal. There is no way he’s going to survive this.
“Bael!” she shouted.
He looked up. If she wasn’t dangling in Abrax’s grasp she would have hit him. She’d seen that look before, the one that said I’ve accepted my fate. But this time, she thought he might be right.
Abrax leaned down, whispering in her ear. “How will it feel to watch your lover die?”
Ursula thrashed in his grip, but as she did, another figure rushed onto the stage—long legs moving in a torn black cocktail dress, pale hair streaming behind her. Cera. As she raced for Bael, she reached into her purse and pulled out a black ball. No, not a ball. An apple. The one filled with Bael’s shadow magic. What the hell? Hadn’t he said it hadn’t worked?
“Bael!” Cera shouted as she tossed the fruit to him. In his free hand, he caught it, and in a single motion brought it to his mouth, biting just as the golems leapt. As soon as the apple touched his mouth, his eyes blazed a deep red.
Abrax snarled, and shadow magic wrapped over Ursula’s head like a shroud.
CHAPTER 28
U rsula could see nothing but shadows. Chilly wind whipped at her skin, and she shivered in Abrax’s grip. Why had Bael told her that he wasn’t able to get his magic back? With a sinking feeling, she had a feeling that it had been her. With his magic, he thought he was a danger to her, driven by blood lust. So he’d given up his magic for her, and the thought tightened her stomach. If he’d had his magic when they’d stormed the dragon lair, the dragons wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Abrax’s powerful wings beat the air like a war drum, the rhythm melding with the pounding of her heart. Frigid air rushed over her skin, and as they flew, she pushed out the talon tips piercing her flesh—pushed out all thoughts, in fact—except for Bael. The dragons, the golems, the Drake—they all wanted him dead. But Ursula had seen him fight, and she knew he had a chance.
They must have been flying for ten minutes at least when the beating of Abrax’s wings began to slow. Her stomach lurched as they descended, and her feet brushed the ground, then she stumbled to her knees.
“Abrax?” She hated herself for showing weakness, and he didn’t respond. Still blinded by shadow magic, she crawled to her knees, grasping around on the damp earth, feeling only pine needles beneath her fingers. The air smelled sharply of evergreens. So she was in a forest. Figuring that out didn’t exactly help—the fact remained that she couldn’t see and was shackled.
“Get up.” Abrax grabbed her cuffed wrists, roughly pulling her to her feet.
He pushed her forward, and she stumbled over roots and the uneven forest floor. It took all her concentration just to stay upright. “Where are you taking me?”
He didn’t answer, but she could feel the roots start to thin, the ground growing more sparse, and a breeze rushing over her skin. A clearing, perhaps.
Abrax pushed her forward, and she stumbled over a wooden step. The breeze stilled as they entered a stairwell of some kind—a damp space that smelled of wood. Abrax’s dark magic crawled all over her body, making her shiver as she climbed the stairs. At the top of the stairs, Abrax leaned past her, and a shudder ran up her spine. The sound of a door creaked.
“Move,” said Abrax, pushing her forward again.
She stumbled forward onto a wooden floor that creaked beneath her feet, and into a room that smelled of mold and decay. Her heart thundered against her ribs. Where is he taking me?
After ten paces, Abrax opened another door. “Watch your step.”
He shoved her and she tumbled down, her body flailing against the wooden stairs, until she slammed against the ground. At least it was soft—dirt—but even so it hurt. Her arms and ribs were bruised, and she’d smacked her head on the dirt. The smell of mold nearly suffocated her. As she pushed herself to her feet with a grunt, her pulse raced. She was in a basement. This was not good.
She tried to turn, to run back the way they’d come, but Abrax shoved her again. Arsehole.
“Don’t worry,” he snarled. “We’re almost there now.”
“Almost where?” When he didn’t answer, she said, “If you hurt me, Bael will come for you. And Emerazel will send Kester after me.”
Abrax merely dragged her forward by one of her elbows. After only a few steps he stopped. For just a second, his fingers brushed her check. In the next instant, those same fingers were around her throat. He reached behind her, breaking through the shackles that bound her wrists. Her hands were free, but she still couldn’t see. Already, he was pushing a blade against her belly.
“I need you to strip,” he said.
Ursula’s heart threatened to gallop out of her chest. What was he playing at? He’d never shown any real sexual interest in her. The one time they’d kissed, he’d been oddly repulsed by the experience.
“Why?” she asked.
His blade cut into her hip. “I won’t ask again.”
A portal. He wanted to take her through a portal. To the Shadow Realm? No fucking way. “I’m not going to take off my clothes.” Abrax stepped back, but the next thing she felt was a powerful force slamming against the side of her skull. And then, nothing.
THE ICY CHILL of the water woke her with a start, and she thrashed about wildly as it closed over her head. She tried to swim, but the currents pulled her down deeper. Her hands were bound again with magic shackles, and water rushed into her lungs. She gagged, thrashing frantically in the dark, sinking to a watery grave.
Something brushed against her skin, and voices began to whisper in her ear. “You have been away so long, little one.” Icy cold fingers stroked along her thigh. “She has more of that delicious fire.”
Ursula bucked, twisting away from the touch.
“No, little one. Stay with us awhile. We are so cold. We need your warmth.”
Ursula thrashed in the water, desperate to get away from the Forgotten Ones.
Her lungs burned, but a force seemed to tug her upwards, and the fingers that brushed over her skin slipped away. At last, as her head breached the surface, she gasped. Abrax’s shadow magic still blinded her, but the creosote smell in the air told her exactly where she was. The Shadow Realm. The fucking moon.
Rough hands—Abrax’s?—dragged her out of the water and onto a cold stone floor. Ice dripped down her back. She was naked. The tension on her bonds slackened, and as she scrambled to pull her knees to chest—shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering—the shadow magic obscuring her vision fell away.
Curled on the floor, she rubbed her eyes, surveying the room. It looked like the water portal room in Bael’s manor, with a pool of water in its center and narrow windows revealing a stark lunar landscape. Abrax stood in the center of the room, pulling a dark robe over his shoulders to shield his body. Without looking at her, he tossed one to her. She’d been right. He had absolutely no sexual interest in her—even if he was an incubus.
“Put this on,” he commanded.
On the floor, Ursula pulled the robe over her shoulders, struggling to get it on with her hands bound, resorting to using her damn teeth. As she struggled, Abrax flicked his wrists, and dark shadows curled from his fingers, wrapping themselves around her. Slowly, she felt the manacles behind her back weaken, until they crumbled away. Quickly, she pulled the dark robe around her, still shivering.
“Follow me.” He crossed to a tall obsidian door.
Ursula flexed her fingers, then padded across the floor, her bare feet leaving wet footprints. She stepped outside into the frigid air, her heart sinking at the sight of the sharp, violet spire that jutted out of the center of the lunar crater.
“Kill her if she tries to use her fire,” said Abrax.
The two oneiroi closed in on her, swords drawn as she followed Abrax down a long hall. The manor looked like Bael’s, with a central hall ringed by balconies, but it was also different—darker, the windows smaller and narrower. While Abrax maintained a similar sparse aesthetic, he had decorated his manor with artwork and gems of silver, black, and purple. Lined by sleek, black doors, the hall ended with a balcony open to the lunar air, and icy winds whipped over Ursula’s skin.
Abrax turned to look at her.
“I must prepare the interrogation chamber. ”
Ursula’s knees went weak. He’s going to torture me. “I won’t tell you anything.”
“And I’m not interested in what you have to say. For now.” He shot a glance at the oneiroi. “Put her with the other one.”
Abrax stepped to the edge of the balcony, and a crack sounded in the air as a pair of wings sprang from his back. With two mighty beats, he had disappeared into the gloom above them.
One oneiroi drew a key from his pocket and carefully opened a narrow door, while the other gestured with his sword that she should enter. Shaking, she stepped inside. As she did, the first guard kicked her in the back, sending her sprawling across the floor.
As she scrambled to her knees, the door slammed behind her, and a key clicked in the lock. Ursula’s heart thudded in her chest, the blood rushing in her ears.
Swallowing hard, she looked around the room. A pale stream of pearly light illuminated gray marble walls—and a silhouette. Ursula gazed up at the figure as he stepped into the light.
Kester.
“Ursula. Fancy meeting you here.”
Her lips curled in a grim smile. “Kester. I’ve been looking for you. Unfortunately, I guess I can’t count on you to save me.”
Primeval Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 3) Page 22
