Up close, he was downright terrifying. Where Abrax was all lethal grace, Bael was pure, shadowy power. His arms were massive, knotted with muscle. She was certain he could tear her limb from limb without breaking a sweat. He’d certainly rearranged her entire apartment in only a few minutes.
“How do you move so quickly?”
“Emerazel gives you access to her infernal flame, Nyxobas lets me draw upon his shadows.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but his expression told her that she wasn’t going to get any more than that. He cast her another disgusted look. “Your natural smell is polluted by Emerazel. It sickens me.”
“You know, in the human world, it’s kind of weird to comment on how people smell.”
“You’re not human.”
As they walked down the stairs, Bael continued to glare at her, but didn’t speak. God, he was unnerving.
She cleared her throat, watching as he pushed the elevator button. “How are we getting to this lair?”
“We drive.”
Drive? “We’re not using some kind of magic method?”
“I can’t fly, and without my wings…” As they stepped into the elevator, he studied her carefully, a look of uncertainty on his face. “I don’t have all the magic we need, since one of your brethren mutilated me.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we’ve got Joe.”
His pale eyes slid to her, as if he was staring right through to her soul. “I must warn you that you’re in way over your head.”
She nodded grimly. That much was clear.
Ursula and Bael stood on a crumbling pier, completely alone. A row of industrial tanks roughly the size of two story buildings towered over them. The black waters of the East River flowed nearby.
Chilled by the winter winds, she hugged herself. “So this is the lair?”
Bael growled. He hadn’t said much in the car, beyond giving basic instructions to the driver—“right,” “left,” and “next exit” being the entirety of his dialog. Not that Ursula had been in the mood for talking. While the streets had flickered by, cold and desolate in the early morning darkness, she’d rested her head against the window and shut her eyes. She desperately needed sleep at this point.
Now she stamped her feet to stay warm in the cold. Out of habit, she took a mental inventory of the weapons she carried. One, Honjo strapped to her back. Two, Kester’s reaping pen stuffed in her pocket. Three, a kaiken dagger hidden in her boot.
Lastly, zipped into her jacket were a flask of scotch and a plastic lighter.
Scanning the buildings, Bael gripped the great Chinese Zhanmadao sword. She suspected he had a bunch of other weapons hidden beneath his coat, pilfered from the armory during his rampage.
“Down here,” he said at last, nodding to a stairwell that led to the river.
She followed him down a flight of rickety steps to a rusty old pier. The air bit her skin, and she wished she’d brought a warmer coat.
Bael muttered the spell for light, and a small orb bloomed into existence above his head. He peered around, looking for something, then bent and pulled on a rope that dangled into the water. From the shadows under the pier, the hull of a small rowboat glided into view.
“We’re going onto the river in that?”
Bael nodded, then turned the boat over to dump out the water.
Ursula shivered as her toes slowly lost feeling.
“Get in,” Bael said at last.
She sat in the front, while the demon took the middle seat, his weight creaking the boat’s old wood. He pulled a pair of oars from under the seats. Dipping them into the water, he pushed off, maneuvering them onto the river. As she sat in the bow, her back to the river, she could see the whole of New York City lit up before her. With each stroke of the oars, the gleaming lights seemed to get a little smaller. Had it been only a few days since Kester first brought her here? Her whole world had changed in the blink of an eye.
Bael rowed silently, his oars gliding effortlessly in the water, the river rippling behind them.
Ursula twisted around to see where they were headed. In the gloom, a dark shape loomed. She strained her eyes, just making out the form of a small island.
“Are we going to that island?”
“Yes.”
“That’s were Nyxobas’s New York lair is?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Man of few words. She peered at the island again as they rapidly drew closer. Trees covered the land, but no lights glinted from the forested depths.
They pulled up on a gravelly beach and Bael hopped out into knee-deep water, dragging the boat onto the rocky shore.
Ursula stepped onto the rocks. Ice slicked the stones, but the tread on her boots gripped them tightly. She glanced at Bael, who already stood at the tree line, his pale eyes watching her impatiently as she hurried up the beach.
“You could have waited,” she grumbled when she reached him.
“We were exposed on the beach.”
Before she could ask where they were headed, he started into the dark forest.
It was slow going as her boots crunched between frozen kudzu vines. She had to shield her eyes from branches that clawed at her face. After a few minutes they broke clear of the underbrush onto a narrow animal track. Bael paused, sniffing the air. A thin dusting of virgin snow covered the ground. No one had been here.
“It looks like we’re alone,” she said, more to break the tension than anything else.
“That may not be true. Most of Nyxobas’s brethren are nocturnal, and most can fly.”
In her mind’s eye, an image flashed: Abrax standing over her, his great leathery wings beating the air. She reflexively reached to touch Honjo’s hilt from where it protruded from the sheath on her back.
With Bael in the lead they moved along the path, deeper into the island, until the dense underbrush cleared. This would have allowed Ursula to see more of the interior, had the canopy not simultaneously thickened.
On her left, a dark form towered above them, but Bael hardly paused as they neared it. Up close, she could see more clearly in the pale moonlight—an abandoned building, completely overgrown with kudzu, as if the vines were trying to suffocate it. The path wound on between more abandoned buildings, totally desolate in the cold light. Ursula had a distinct feeling of déjà vu, like she was again walking between the towering blue stones on her way to her trial with the moor fiend.
At last, the path opened into a clearing. Bael held up a hand, and Ursula stopped behind him.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“We’ve reached the lair.”
Chapter 38
An enormous Victorian building towered over the other side of the clearing, its dark windows staring vacantly like empty eyes. A dark wrought-iron gate covered its door, giving the appearance of a row of black teeth. Her mouth went dry. She knew it was stupid, but right about now, she really wanted her lucky stone—her anchor. She had to wonder if all of this would have been an ordinary day in the life of F.U.
She shivered, staring at the building. “What is this place?”
“It was once a hospital. The brethren of Nyxobas live here now.”
“This is his headquarters?”
“Were you expecting something more grand? You’ll find that Nyxobas is less concerned with aesthetics than your monstrous goddess.” He sniffed, his back stiffening. Drawing his sword, he stepped into the center of the clearing. Ursula unsheathed Honjo, gripping it like her life depended on it. Which, come to think of it, it probably does.
“I am Bael. I wish to speak to Abrax.” His voice boomed through the forest, rustling the leaves and sending shivers over her skin. Ursula scanned the building, but saw nothing move.
A voice hissed from the darkness of the ruin, “We were wondering when you would finally deign to visit us.” A dark form materialized in the shell of a window on the second floor, face hidden in shadow.
“I seek Abrax,” Bael roared.
“Abrax sends his
regards, and offers his apologies that he couldn’t be here to see you die in person.” The silhouette disappeared into the depths of the decaying structure.
Bael spoke softly. “Get ready to fight, Ursula.”
Her pulse raced, adrenaline igniting her nerve endings. This did not seem like a good situation, even with the Sword of Nyxobas on her side.
He leaned closer, whispering, “The only way to kill a—”
There was a movement in front of Bael, a blur of shadow so fast she couldn’t make it out. Bael’s sword flashed in the moonlight, and something thumped on the ground. A severed head rolled before her feet, its mouth lolling open. Ursula suppressed the urge to vomit as the head shriveled and blackened before crumbling into ash. The crunching of bone cut the silence, and she turned to see Bael holding a dripping heart in his hand. “The only way to kill a vampire is to cut off its head and rip out its heart.”
She swallowed. “Right.”
Footfalls sounded to Ursula’s right, and she swung Honjo reflexively, the blade slicing into something soft—a young woman’s stomach. Bile rose in her throat as the girl shrieked.
Ursula froze. This was different than the fae—she didn’t even know who this woman was yet, or if the woman had meant to kill her. And moreover, her opponent looked like an innocent teenager, her blond hair cascading over a pink, floral dress. Sobbing, the girl at the end of Ursula’s sword tried to pull the blade from her gut, and Ursula’s stomach turned.
“I’m so sorry—” she stammered.
“Don’t apologize,” barked Bael. “Cut off her head,”
Ursula yanked out her sword, and the girl lunged at her, fangs bared. She ducked, slicing upward, and Honjo’s razor-sharp edge ripped through the girl’s jaw. Through her remaining teeth, the girl growled, ready to attack again. The little blonde no longer seemed quite so human.
“The whole head, Ursula,” Bael shouted from somewhere in front of her.
“I’m working on it.” Don’t you have someone to fight?
Slowly, the girl circled her, the wound in her gut apparently forgotten.
More footfalls crunched over the snow, moving in a blur of motion to her left. A dark-haired man appeared by her side, fangs bared. They were trying to flank her. Shifting her weight, she slashed toward the man. In one fluid motion, Honjo ripped through his spinal column like a freshly sharpened butcher knife. She arced her sword right, slicing through the neck of the jawless girl. Two heads thumped to the ground.
“Good,” said Bael now at her side. He leaned down, punching through the man’s chest cavity to rip out his heart. Almost instantly, the body turned to ash, and he moved on the girl. Then he disappeared in a swirl of shadows.
Gripping Honjo, Ursula scanned her surroundings for movement, attuning her ears for footfalls. A clash of steel turned her head, and her gaze landed on Bael, locked into combat with a trio of men before the hospital’s gates.
His movements were swift as a storm wind, his sword gleaming like quicksilver. The fighting sped up, so fast she couldn’t track their movements. Blades flashed. A head thumped to the ground. Then, with a spinning slash, Bael separated two more heads from their necks.
As the bodies of the men crumbled, Ursula stared at Bael in disbelief. Even without his wings, he moved like a god. What would he be like with them?
After ripping out three more hearts, Bael turned to the derelict hospital, and Ursula gaped at the empty windows, trying not to think about what other demonic nightmares might make their homes within the decaying hospital.
“Don’t provoke my wrath, Fiore. Your little vamps are outmatched. Besides, I have no quarrel with you. I’m here for Abrax.”
“Who’s Fiore?” Ursula whispered.
“The leader of this pack of vampires.”
The dark form appeared at the window again.
“Abrax has promised me a place in Nyxobas’s inner council if I bring him your head.” Fiore’s voice was faintly accented and cold as tundra.
“You and I both know that’s not going to happen,” said Bael.
“He showed me your wings. Without them, you’re just as mortal as that mongrel you brought with you.”
He’s mortal? No wonder he was so desperate for his wings back.
Bael growled. “I will get them back. Why don’t you come down here and fight me, Fiore? If you win, your reward is the soul of a hellhound.”
“What?” Ursula raised her sword.
“He won’t win,” said Bael simply.
She glared at him. Pretty confident for a mutilated demon.
Fiore’s silhouette disappeared from the window. A moment later he reappeared by the entrance. Unlike the vampires they’d decapitated, he was a mass of pure muscle—only slightly smaller than Bael. A pair of katanas gleamed in his hands. A smaller vampire with cherubic blond curls stood by his side.
Bael squared his shoulders. “Do you accept my challenge?”
“It really is sad how far you’ve fallen,” said Fiore. “If you’d like me to put you out of your misery, I accept. Emerazel’s cur will be your second?”
Bael nodded. “To the death then.”
Bloody hell. Ursula’s palms sweated on Honjo’s hilt.
Bael backed into the clearing, raising his blade—nearly five feet of lethal steel.
Fiore circled, his katanas poised like the fangs of a serpent. There was a flash, followed by a great clash of metal, as they struck in unison.
Through a blur of shadow and steel, Bael spoke. “I will give you a clean death if you tell me where to find Abrax.”
“The only death you’ll be getting is your own.” Fiore’s voice gave no hint of exertion.
As their swords engaged, Ursula’s eyes began to adjust to the intense speed, tracking their strikes. Fiore slashed; Bael parried. Before Bael could recenter his blade, Fiore’s second sword drove at his chest. It was a brutal strike, but Bael managed to leap out of range, rolling across the snowy clearing to rest on his back.
While Bael lay on the snow, Fiore closed on him like a shark sensing blood. The Sword of Nyxobas didn’t move. Ursula reached for her sword, but then Bael lashed out with his foot, his toe connecting with the back of Fiore’s knee.
The vampire’s leg buckled, and he fell to his knees. In a whirl of shadow, Bael sprung up and kicked the katanas out of reach. He lowered his own sword to the vampire’s neck, just piercing the skin. “Tell me where to find Abrax.”
Fiore’s lips pressed together in a thin line. The two demons glared at one another.
“Any last words?” asked Bael.
Fiore’s eyes flicked to where the blond vampire stood. From under his coat, the blond vamp drew a small crossbow.
Ursula lifted her sword, but it was too late. The bolt flew through the air, piercing Bael’s mortal chest. Ursula’s entire body went cold as she watched Bael topple back into the snow.
Fiore scrambled to his feet, snatching up one of his swords to deliver the final death blow. Power flooded Ursula as the night wind rushed over her skin, and she charged across the snow, Honjo ready in her grasp. A bolt whistled by her head, just as she swung for Fiore’s blade. She knocked Fiore’s strike off course, his blade driving into the dirt only inches from Bael’s neck.
Fiore’s dark eyes widened as he pulled his sword from the frozen earth. “What are you?”
Before he could strike again, she kicked him hard in the groin. He grunted, hunching over, swords falling to the snow.
Ursula pressed Honjo against his throat. Just as she’d seen Bael do, she kicked Fiore’s swords out of reach. She scanned the building, looking for Fiore’s second, but the smaller vamp had disappeared. She called into the darkness, “If you shoot me, I swear my last act will be to slice Fiore’s head from his shoulders.”
No one responded, but neither did an arrow come winging at her heart.
She glanced at Fiore, whose face had gone white. “Help me move Bael.”
He grunted.
“Do it, or I wil
l cut off your head.” Ursula pushed Honjo against his throat. A thin line of blood wetted the edge of the blade.
“Okay.” Fiore held up his hands, and she eased up on the blade, giving him room to bend over.
Fiore gripped Bael’s jacket, and she heard the high demon groan.
Thank God he’s not dead. “Drag him into the trees,” Ursula commanded, imbuing her voice with as much authority as possible.
Fiore dragged Bael by his shirt, pulling him into the trees, and Ursula followed, her blade never more than an inch from his neck. When he’d pulled Bael out of the clearing, he rose, and Ursula pushed her blade against his throat again. “Where is Abrax?”
Fiore’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pressing into a thin line again.
“No one is going to save you this time,” said Ursula. “Blondie ran away.”
Fiore closed his eyes. “I will die and deliver my soul to Nyxobas.”
“Who said your soul was going to Nyxobas?” Still holding Honjo to his throat, Ursula pulled the reaping pen from her pocket. It glinted in the moonlight. “I’m sure my goddess will happily provide you a warm place to live.”
His eyes snapped open. “No.”
“Then tell me where to find Abrax.”
“I don’t know where he is.” For the first time, his eyes betrayed real fear. “He didn’t tell me.”
“What do you know?”
“He spends all his time at Oberon’s. They’re working together on something. I don’t know what.”
“Good. Now you get what Bael promised you.”
“What?”
“Your clean death.” Ursula swung Honjo, severing his skull from his spine.
Chapter 39
The vampire’s body crumpled to the ground. Bloody hell, do I really need to cut out his heart? Maybe F.U. had been a trained killer, but New Ursula didn’t feel like a full-blown psychopath. Just a few days ago, she’d been painting wildflowers on a wall and clothes shopping like a normal person, and now she stood over a vampire’s headless body, trying to decide if she should mutilate it further.
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