Shadows & Flame Complete Boxed Set: Demons of Fire and Night Novels

by C. N. Crawford

  The water grew colder, freezing her skin, and shivers wracked her body. Her lungs ached for a breath.

  “But there is darkness in her, too,” said the first voice.

  “And pain. She did a terrible thing,” hissed the gravelly one.

  “What should we do with her?”

  She needed to get away, to get to air and out of the water. She kicked her legs frantically, her fingers clawing for a surface that no longer seemed to exist.

  I need to breathe.

  “She wants to visit the Shadow Realm.”

  “But her fire is forbidden.”

  “Then we take it from her.”

  “Yessss,” said another voice. “Her flames will warm us. It is so very cold here.”

  Her body shook in the frigid water.

  Something cold and slimy brushed her cheek, and the words deadman’s fingers rang in her mind. She thrashed in the darkness as an ice-cold hand grabbed her foot. What the fuck is happening?

  More hands grasped her limbs, pulling her deeper. Agony inflamed her lungs, as water began to trickle down her throat. She jerked and twitched in the grasp of the fingers. The hands were all over her, clammy fingers pulling her mouth open.

  Cold water rushed in, and her lungs spasmed. I’m dying. With each spasm, more water filled her lungs, dousing the flames of her magic.

  “Remember the darkness. Only the darkness will save you.” the voices whispered. The hands released her, and a light appeared above her.

  Am I dying? No, she couldn’t accept it. She’d hardly begun to live, and she still had no idea who she really was.

  The voices were lying—where there was light, there was air. Life.

  Fighting her body’s desire to convulse, she stretched out her arms, kicking her legs to swim upward. The circle of light grew larger. Her lungs burned.

  She kicked her legs, reaching for the light. If she weren’t drowning, she would have sighed with relief as one of her hands brushed something solid. A final kick and her fingers broke the surface. Pain ripped her mind apart, and it took every last bit of strength to control her body. She clawed, grasping at an edge. With the last of her strength, she heaved herself up.

  And then she was gasping. Coughing. Cold water pouring from her mouth, hot tears streaming from her eyes.

  Chapter 4

  Ursula lay on a marble floor in the fetal position, as she coughed up another lungful of water.

  Cera wiped the wet hair from her face. “Earthly gods below, what took you so long?”

  She sucked in a deep breath, trying to find her voice again. “There were dead things in there, dragging me down.”

  “Oh, dear. The Forgotten Ones found you?”

  Ursula rolled onto her back, staring up at a ceiling painted with constellations. Her teeth chattered, and she hugged her naked body. “The Forgotten Ones? Is that what they are? They took my fire.”

  Cera sighed. She’d already dressed in a cozy-looking black robe. “There wasn’t time to warn you, but at least we’ve escaped the dragon.”

  Ursula forced herself up on her elbows, surveying her surroundings. She lay in the center of a round room, her feet dangling in a clear, circular pool no more than six inches deep. Was it really possible that she’d been drowning in this shallow water just moments ago? She’d nearly died.

  Around the room, thin columns flanked windows that reached from the floor to ceiling. Through the glass, a gray landscape stretched out under a canopy of gleaming stars. Only a few rocks interrupted the flat horizon—no buildings, nor trees or any sign of life. Where the hell are we? Her teeth chattered.

  Before she could form one of the million questions on the tip of her tongue, the little demon came up behind her and handed her a velvet robe. “Perhaps you should put this on.”

  Ursula took it gladly, wrapping it around her freezing shoulders. Instantly, her muscles began to relax.

  Enveloped by the robe, she glanced out the window again.

  She drew in a slow breath, her gaze drifting upward. Above the stark landscape, the pale wash of the Milky Way splashed across the night sky, more vivid than she’d ever seen. Too vivid. This is not Earth.

  Her breath caught in her throat. “I guess we’re not in Brooklyn.”

  Cera snorted. “No, we’re not in Brooklyn. The Shadow Realm is on the moon.”

  “The moon,” she repeated, turning to gape at Cera.

  “Of course. Nyxobas’s water carried you here,” said Cera, crossing the room to a black door. She cast a critical eye over Ursula’s bedraggled hair. “Shall I show you to your quarters? You look half-dead.”

  “Okay,” said Ursula absently. Barefoot, she padded over cold marble as she followed Cera, still trying to process the fact that she’d left the earth. She didn’t feel any lighter. Shouldn’t she be floating around the room?

  Cera pushed open the door. “This way.”

  Ursula followed the oneiroi into the cold air, her heart skipping a beat as she realized they were outside.

  Outside. On the moon. Without a spacesuit or helmet. They stood on a milky, marble bridge, a thousand feet above a deep, cratered valley. The bridge spanned the space between two round towers.

  Ursula paused as a bitterly cold wind ruffled her hair, gripping the marble ledge to peer into the crater. Her pulse raced. In the center of the caldera, a towering spire of purple glass loomed above them. Unlike the sleek lines of New York’s skyscrapers, this tower was all jagged edges and sharp angles.

  All around them, stark palaces of shining, silver towers jutted from the crater’s walls. If she strained her eyes, she could see a faint horizon on the far side of the spire, the gleam of distant buildings.

  She gazed down at the vast valley spread out below, filled with stone dwellings. She drew in a slow breath. The human race had managed to send twelve people to the moon, and yet here was a vast kingdom no one had ever noticed.

  She searched the skies for the Earth—home, something familiar—but only stars twinkled in the black sky. Out here, the air smelled faintly of creosote, and dizziness overwhelmed her. She glanced at Cera, who moved at a fast clip across the bridge, her silver hair trailing behind her.

  “Wait!” Ursula called out. “I don’t understand. There’s a whole colony on the moon? Why doesn’t NASA have pictures? And how can I breathe if there’s no atmosphere? And why doesn’t the gravity feel any different?” Those were just the first four questions that entered her mind, but she could keep going.

  Cera paused near the other end of the bridge before a gray door. She pointed at the sky. “Can you see that glimmer there?”

  As Ursula walked, she looked up at the dome of stars. At first she couldn’t see what Cera meant, but then she noticed a faint shimmer along the horizon. Like the sheen of gasoline on a puddle.

  “A glamour of magic surrounds us,” said Cera. “It both hides us from satellites and gives us air to breathe. And it takes care of the gravity problem.”

  “How?”

  “Magic.”

  “Oh,” said Ursula, searching again for signs of the earth. “Are we on the dark side of the moon?”

  “Yes. The far side, some call it.”

  A dry wind toyed with Ursula’s hair. Shivering, she pulled the robe tighter around her. When she’d left for the Shadow Realm, she hadn’t realized it would be quite so far from home.

  Cera pulled open the black door. “It’s freezing out here. Are you quite finished gaping?”

  Not yet. She pointed at the spire. “What is that?”

  “It’s called Asta. Where the god of night dwells.”

  Ursula looked back at the building, trying to imagine what the home of a god might look like inside.

  “Are you quite ready?” said Cera impatiently. “I prefer to walk around clothed and wearing shoes.”

  Ursula hurried toward the door, her eyes focused straight ahead. As soon as she glanced at the bridge’s ledge, she knew dizziness would overwhelm her.

  Through the doo
r, Cera led her into an octagonal hall—half of it black marble. The other half lay completely destroyed, as if a giant fist had smashed through the wall, opening it to the night air. What happened here? Hugging herself, she surveyed the space.

  The hair rose on the back of Ursula’s neck. On the mangled side of the hall, sheared steel beams twisted into the air like gnarled fingers. Wind rushed between them, chilling her skin. Shards of glass glinted in the starlight from the remains of old window frames. On the floor, a tile mosaic of a lion’s head lay half smashed. Part of the beast’s mane had been scorched and half its face smashed to dust. Opposite where she stood, steps climbed to a small platform with a circular black door. Some sort of crystalline stone—obsidian maybe.

  “Okay. What happened here?” she asked aloud this time.

  “A battle.” Cera’s eyes shone in the darkness like starlight. “Our lord is very strong. He protected us.” She turned, crossing to a door in one of the remaining marble walls. “This way to your quarters.” She yanked open the door.

  Carefully, Ursula tiptoed over the shards of smashed glass and tile, following Cera onto another towering bridge. She kept her eyes on the demon, refusing to look over the vertigo-inducing railings as she crossed.

  At the far end, Cera pushed open a door into a pitch-black room. As Ursula stepped over the threshold, candles in silver sconces flickered to life, casting warm light over a dark hall.

  “I will be back in the morning,” said Cera, stepping back to the door. “You’ll have everything you need here.” She pulled open the door, then stepped out and slammed it shut with a click.

  Ursula crossed to the door, tugging on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked in.

  Chapter 5

  Ursula surveyed the wide hall. On one side, a spiral stairwell curved upward. The opposite wall abutted a delicate wooden table, adorned with a display of faintly glowing mushrooms.

  Beautiful, but slightly unsettling.

  Pulling her robe tighter, she followed the hall into a dimly lit, semicircular room.

  A great panel of windows curved in the shape of the tower. Through the glass, she had a perfect view of Nyxobas’s gleaming spire, jutting from the crater like a jeweled spear. Guess I won’t be walking around here naked.

  A set of marble statues flanked the windows, each at least eight feet tall—nude, athletic men with curly hair and vacant eyes. Ancient Greek, by the look of them.

  Arranged about the room, glass cabinets held clay urns and vases, painted with letters from dead languages and geometric designs. Apparently, moon demons had major hard-ons for the Classical era.

  Possibly the hots for human men too, given the choice of statues.

  She scanned the walls, eyeing the fine glassware. She tried not to stare at the black velvet couches that were nestled into the corner of the room, or she’d give in to temptation and sleep in one for days.

  Water portal travel did a number on a person’s body.

  Her eyes lingered on a silver clock on the wall that looked like an antique ship’s clock. It featured a complicated lunar cycle of waxing and waning moons that she couldn’t quite figure out.

  Before she could move on to another room, her gaze landed on a portrait, framed in silver. The subject—a woman—had gorgeous dark eyes, and long brown hair that curled over a delicate white dress. She wore a solemn, regal expression. Olive skin, sharp cheekbones, full lips. Beautiful as hell. The vulnerability in her eyes seemed remarkably human.

  She wasn’t exactly an art history expert, but it looked like something from the Renaissance. From one of those painters who depicted gorgeous women—Botticelli, maybe.

  So maybe Classical Art Demon was into women, too.

  Her rumbling stomach turned her attention away from the beauty. I’m starving.

  She spotted a small bar tucked in another corner of the room. On it was a platter of cheese, grapes, and a carafe of wine.

  Cera might have locked her in here, but at least she’d left something to eat.

  As Ursula drew closer to the food, she noticed a beige envelope resting against the carafe. On it was scrawled her name in deep red ink. She popped a grape in her mouth, then snatched up the envelope, tearing it open. She scanned the letter.

  I have asked Cera to look after you during your stay. She will be able to provide anything you need. This apartment is yours, and you are free to move about as you wish. For your own safety, I cannot give you free rein of the entire manor at this time. We will speak in the morning.

  She crushed another grape between her teeth, letting the sweet juice run down her throat.

  Had Nyxobas written this letter? She’d been expecting to meet him here upon her arrival, but now the idea that a god would greet her personally seemed completely stupid.

  Then again, she hadn’t quite understood Nyxobas’s power until she’d come here. Now she could see it, visually represented. Total domination over an entire planetary body, not to mention the demons he controlled on the earth.

  Grabbing a chunk of bread, she walked over to the window. Nyxobas’s spire glinted in the starlight. She’d been expecting to stay with him, that he had some sort of purpose in mind for her. But clearly, she hadn’t been brought to his palace. So what the hell was she doing here?

  A hollow opened in the pit of her stomach. She was in some sort of manor, and she had no clue who owned it. And the first name that came to her mind was Abrax. The incubus had tried to murder her more than once, and she was pretty sure he was a rapist. He’d pulled some kind of mind-control seduction trick on her. At least, until he’d become disgusted by her and moved on to attempted murder. Clearly, the guy had issues with women.

  A chill snaked up her spine. Not only did he hate her, but she had an unsettling feeling she hadn’t even begun to witness Abrax’s power.

  Suddenly, her appetite deserted her. I want Honjo.

  Her hand was shaking as she placed her bread on the coffee table, and her old, familiar instincts kicked in. If there was one thing that came naturally to Ursula, it was self-preservation.

  I need to find a weapon in case Abrax shows up. Her pulse racing, she scanned the room for something that could be used for skull-smashing or organ-puncturing.

  Bars had knives sometimes, didn’t they?

  She hurried across the room and began pulling open the drawers. Coasters, fancy napkins, toothpicks. Bugger all, basically. Not a lot of damage you could do with toothpicks.

  She yanked open another drawer. A corkscrew. Bloody hell. I won’t get very far fighting an ancient demon with a corkscrew, but it’s better than nothing.

  She shoved the corkscrew into the robe’s soft pocket. Maybe I can find something a bit better.

  She crossed to a door off the living room, pushing through into a bathroom. She scanned the gray tile. The silver, claw-footed bath looked amazing, she had to admit, but she found not a single toilet plunger or towel rack that could be used to smash a head in.

  She ran back to the front hallway, her frantic gaze landing on the spiral staircase. She bounded up it, two steps at a time. At the top, more doors lined a long hall. She flung open the first and walked into a luxurious bedroom: floor-to-ceiling windows and a large bed covered with a violet bedspread.

  A dresser stood against one wall. Candles and a jewelry box resting on the top, but unfortunately, nothing so handy as a knife. She pulled open the jewelry box, finding only actual jewels. Of course. People didn’t tend to keep weapons among their diamonds, but you never knew.

  Her pulse racing, she yanked open a drawer, cursing when she found it empty. One drawer after another, each completely weaponless. Not only was this place completely weapon-free, like a psychiatric facility, but she hadn’t even been given clothes.

  So much for “providing everything you need.”

  She hurried into the hall, flinging open another door to find another bathroom. An enormous tub stood before the curving windows. Not a lot of privacy here.

  She crossed to a
white porcelain sink, yanking open the cupboard below it. She rifled through a few extra rolls of toilet paper, and some ancient-looking vials of green and blue liquids. Not even a toothbrush she could file down to a point.

  Her heart racing, she stood and patted the corkscrew in her pocket. Its thin twist of steel was all she had to protect herself.

  Somehow, it did not reassure her.

  Ursula trudged down the stairs again. Of course there weren’t any real weapons in the apartment. Abrax, Nyxobas—whoever was in charge here—didn’t want a hellhound able to defend herself. As a hound of Emerazel’s she was simply too dangerous to the night demons.

  In the living room, she headed for the bar, then popped the cork off the carafe of wine. She grabbed a wine glass, filling it nearly to the top, then crossed to one of the sofas.

  She plopped down onto the rich, velvet fabric and took a long sip. She’d have to keep the glass nearby. In a pinch, she could smash it and stab someone with the shards.

  Her stomach tightened. One of these days, she’d like to have a normal Friday night. Though hoping for an ordinary night in the Shadow Realm was probably a bit of a stretch. The alcohol warmed her stomach, soothing the tension from her shoulders.

  Abrax or Nyxobas...

  Somehow, Nyxobas didn’t seem like he’d have a golden lion mosaic in his atrium or a suite of rooms filled with classical art. She shivered. Abrax seemed more like the type to relish intimidation through luxury. He was also the kind of perv who’d put her in a glass cage so he could watch her every move.

  She tucked her feet underneath her. If Kester were here, he’d have a clear idea of what she should be doing. He’d stretch out on the sofa, full of confidence. He’d level his green eyes on her and tell her precisely what spells she needed to be practicing and how to evaluate her true threat. Then again, she’d hardly seen him in the past six months. After she’d saved him from Nyxobas, she’d gone to visit him on his tugboat. And that’s when she’d learned the truth—that Kester was in this to save his sister’s soul. She’d felt so close to him that night, like she’d made a true friend. And yet, since then he’d been a ghost. He’d stopped by the flat once or twice with Zee. He turned on his usual arrogant charm. Flirting, double entendres, references to his prowess with a sword. But when she’d asked what he’d been doing, he’d just shrugged. “On a special assignment given to him by Emerazel,” was all he’d said. And then, he’d disappeared again for another month.