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

by C. N. Crawford

  Run. Maybe I need to run. From his platform, she could hear Hothgar announcing first blood, but her eyes were locked on Bael.

  Her mind raced. If she was going to get away, she’d need a diversion. The obsidian blade glinted in her hand, and she threw it at his shoulder. Effortlessly, he snatched it from the air.

  Bollocks. She’d just thrown away her only weapon, but it had bought her time. She turned, scanning the arena for an escape route. Carnage assaulted her eyes—demons tearing into each other, hacking through limbs, half of them using their teeth. Two giant twins, dressed in wolf furs and metal armor, swung claymores at their opponents. Where the fuck do I run to? Romulus and Remus over there don’t look like a good bet.

  Before she could pick an escape route, Bael slid a powerful arm around her waist, pulling her close to him.

  “You’re unarmed,” he said. “If you run, you’re going to die.”

  He pointed to a demon with blood-red eyes stalking toward them. The creature held a nasty looking broadsword. In a moment, the only possible escape path would put her within range of him.

  The rabid-eyed demon grinned. He had replaced his teeth with steel spikes. Already, blood dripped from them into the sand.

  Fear coiled around Ursula’s heart. It was Steel Jaws or Bael. She swallowed hard, her nails digging into Bael’s arm. She had nothing left to fight with.

  From behind her, the sound of metal against metal pierced her ears. He’s drawing another weapon. She braced herself for the final blow.

  Instead, Bael stabbed a katana into the sand by her feet.

  Hope sparked in her chest. “What are you doing?”

  “Take the blade,” he said. “I was trying to give it to you.”

  “I thought you were trying to kill me.”

  “Do you think I have no honor?” he growled.

  “When we were in the carriage, you literally said, ‘I’m going to kill you.’”

  “You deserve a fair fight. Take the blade.” He loosened his grip on her, and Ursula pulled the blade from the dirt.

  With the katana in her hand, she felt like herself again, like the metal was an extension of her body.

  Bael pointed to the right. “That half of the arena is yours,” he commanded. “If anyone gets close, kill them.”

  He turned his back to her, facing his side of the arena. They stood, back-to-back, so close she could feel the warmth coming off his body, could smell the faint scent of sea air that wafted from his skin.

  Apparently, Bael wanted her to fight defensively. It made sense. Might as well let the others take the risk while trying to go unnoticed.

  Except she wasn’t really going unnoticed. Jaws raised his broadsword, grinning at her. Katana or not, she still looked like easy prey.

  A few meters away, just out of range of his steel, the Gray Ghost slipped over the dirt like a phantom. As before, he’d concealed his face with a head scarf, and he gripped a dagger in each hand.

  Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t tell if he was heading for Jaws, or for her.

  Either way, I need to be ready. She took a step away from Bael, gripping the katana’s hilt. A part of her wanted to throw herself into the fray, to feel her blade cut through the air. Maybe that was Emerazel.

  Jaws was coming right for her, raising his broadsword now. But before he could get to her, the Gray Ghost leapt for him, daggers flashing like a serpent’s fangs. The blades cut into Jaws’s back, soaking his clothes in blood.

  Jaws’s scream curdled her stomach. He fell to the ground, and Gray Ghost ended his torment with a quick slash to his throat.

  Her eyes scanned for the next threat, and she stared at a trident-wielding demon, his skin elephant-gray. In a blur of black leather and teeth, Massu launched himself into the air. Screaming like a banshee, he attached himself to the demon’s head. Ursula could distinctly hear the crunch of bone as he began to chew through the demon’s face. Fuck me sideways. I do not want to fight an oneiroi.

  She took a step closer to Bael.

  Bael touched her arm, and she jumped. “Come with me.”

  She turned, keeping her back to the wall as they moved.

  They moved back-to-back, swords drawn, but they might as well have kept them sheathed. The other demons ignored them. Instead, like sharks scenting blood, they charged toward the skirmish in the center of the arena.

  “Five, six, seven deaths,” Hothgar’s voice boomed, his glee audible. “Only nineteen more will die today.”

  The demons swarmed the center of the arena like piranhas fighting over a corpse. Between shouts of pain, blood sprayed in the sand. From the melee, the sound of clashing steel rung through the air. Around them, the bodies of the fallen champions twitched.

  “Eight... nine deaths,” Hothgar shouted. “Prepare to light bitumen sands.” His voice boomed over the arena like a death knell.

  Cold fear washed over Ursula. The bitumen sands? The oneiroi, holding torches, ran to the edges of the arena.

  “On my command,” boomed Hothgar.

  “Get your blade ready,” Bael growled. “We need to move.” He stalked toward the bloodbath in the center of the arena.

  As she hurried after Bael, her eyes flicked to the oneiroi, who stood at the arena’s edges with their torches.

  “Now,” said Bael.

  There wasn’t time to ask what was going on—she just had to decide to trust him. At least for now. Ursula’s heart thundered in her chest, and she broke into an all-out sprint, heading for the melee. She no longer had any choice but to fight.

  Around the perimeter, they dropped their torches. A ring of fire burst to life, encircling the entire arena. From the edges, the flames spread inward, searing the darkness. Hothgar was forcing them into the melee. As she entered the fray, she tried not to stare at the carnage—at the demon slicing through another’s neck with a scimitar, at the blood spurting from his stump like a geyser. If she stared too long, she’d completely shut down mentally.

  Still sticking by Bael’s side, she looked to the right, at a demon who loomed over her with a broadsword. Blood dripped down his black beard, and he glared at her through milky eyes. “Are you ready to die, hound?”

  “Can you handle him?” asked Bael.

  Before she could actually answer Bael’s question, Blackbeard lunged, swinging for her head. She parried, grunting as his sword slammed against hers. She dodged out of reach.

  He swung again, but this time she was able to duck the blow entirely. With a savage thrust, she stabbed at his chest. Growling, he jumped back. The tip of her blade sliced the skin over his ribs. Blood sprayed her face.

  “Bitch,” he said through gritted teeth. “I will rape you to death.”

  A hot flood of anger blazed through her nerves. If she’d had Emerazel’s power in her veins, she would have immolated him. Instead, raw fury burned away her fear, and she narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

  She lunged, thrusting. This time, the blade slid deep between his ribs. With a twisting motion, she directed it upward to where his heart should be. The demon’s milky eyes widened with shock. A fat drop of blood rolled from his chin. Groaning, he slumped to the ground, and she pulled out her sword.

  “Fifteen deaths!” roared Hothgar to the cheers of the crowd. Their cries had grown increasingly bloodthirsty as the last of the sunlight seeped from the sky.

  Behind her, she heard the clash of steel. She stole a glance over her shoulder. Bael was locked in combat with the two enormous demons—Romulus and Remus.

  “Can you handle them?” she shouted.

  Bael swung for Romulus, grunting.

  Was that a yes or a no?

  Bael’s sword was parried in a clash of steel. Romulus twisted his wrist, catching Bael’s blade. He drove Bael’s katana into the earth with a thud.

  Instantly, Remus lunged for Bael’s chest, but Bael slipped away, moving like the wind.

  He’d dodged the strike, but a third opponent came up behind him—a winged m
an who slashed at Bael with his talons.

  Ursula gritted her teeth. Time to jump in.

  The three demons boxed Bael in. He fought in a blur of clashing steel, whirling and ducking with astounding grace. No wonder he’s so confident. He parried the blows that assaulted him from both sides. So fast—she could hardly see what was happening—he sliced through the neck of the winged man.

  “Sixteen deaths!” Hothgar boomed.

  Still, Romulus and Remus pressed their assault. Two against one isn’t exactly a fair fight. “Hey!” she shouted. “Wolf-boy. Right here.”

  Remus turned, snarling. “You disgust me, dog. I will eat your flesh off your bones.”

  She tried to ignore her body’s trembling. He was maybe four times her size. Speed was her greatest asset here.

  He swung for her, and she ducked. They circled each other, swords glinting in the starlight. Remus lunged for her, and she dodged back, but not fast enough. His blade ripped through her shoulder. The blazing pain threw her off balance, and she faltered.

  Fight, Ursula.

  As Remus prepared to strike again, she steadied herself, blocking his attack. Somehow, the surge of adrenaline flooding her system washed the pain away. The air filled with the sound of her sword clashing against Remus’s. The bastard had the advantage of a much longer reach, and her muscles burned as she struggled to keep up with the fight.

  And yet, as she fought him, a strange surety filled her. It was almost as though liquid shadow flowed through her muscles, making her movements fluid. Time seemed to slow down. And if she concentrated, she could predict what his next moves would be, could easily block them. Strike from the left. Dodge. Thrust.

  If she moved in closer to him, he wouldn’t be able to strike her with accuracy—not with his giant arms. In fact, he wasn’t used to fighting someone her size.

  He swung for her in a giant arc, and she ducked. He’d been pressing her and would expect her to dodge back. Instead, she leapt in closer. Unable to strike her with his sword, he slammed a meaty fist into her head. Her vision went dark.

  Only the darkness will save you.

  Yet even as her vision darkened, some ancient part of her brain took over, fighting for survival. She swung her sword, somehow certain of her mark.

  And when her vision cleared again, she stared at her blade, plunged clean through Remus’s neck. She gripped her sword, kicking him in the chest to pull her blade out.

  Hothgar shouted, “Nineteen!”

  Three kills left.

  Before she could catch a glimpse of Bael, a sharp blast of pain ripped through her shoulders, knocking her off balance. She landed hard on the arena floor, bits of gravel biting into her palms. If Cera hadn’t made her the reinforced leather jacket, she’d be dead by now. Even so, if they kept striking at her shoulders, she wouldn’t be able to hold a weapon.

  Her heart thundering, she grasped for her sword. Her fingers gripped the hilt, and she immediately swung from the ground at her attacker. Her sword found its mark in a leg, cutting into flesh and bone. Her opponent, wielding a giant scythe, screamed. He swung for her with his blade, she rolled out of range, but not before the tip of his blade carved a furrow in her back.

  In an instant, she was on her feet, staring at the reaper. I have you. She swung her katana in a wide arc, her steel cutting through the flesh and bone in his neck. The reaper’s head rolled over the crater’s floor, and his body toppled to the ground. A strange thrill rippled through her body. Victory.

  “Twenty-one!” boomed Hothgar.

  Her eyes flicked to Bael. He was still fighting. In hand-to-hand combat with Romulus.

  The giant roared, “My brother has been slain!” Bael had dropped his sword. In its stead, he used the obsidian blade. My blade. Bael’s movements were so fast, she could hardly track them. Starlight shone off the black rock, flashing in his hand. Even without the use of his magic, Bael’s skill was breathtaking.

  With a vicious strike, he ducked and stabbed Romulus in the groin. The demon shrieked. When Romulus doubled over, Bael slashed open his throat with a casual flick of his wrist, then rose.

  “Twenty-two deaths!” shouted Hothgar.

  Ursula’s heart raced. One more.

  She turned slowly, gripping her blood-stained sword, ready to slay. A bestial shriek curdled her stomach, and she turned to find Massu, burying his teeth into the back of a demon’s neck. With an audible crunch, he snapped the demon’s spine.

  Hothgar’s voice sounded like a thunderclap. “Twenty-three. The melee has ended!”

  Ursula’s entire body shook, and she let out a long, slow breath. Nausea welled in her stomach, and she hunched over, trying not to vomit. I can’t believe I made it. Her body shrieked in agony where the blades had ripped her shoulders.

  Soaked in blood, Bael crossed to her, his expression grim. He held the blood-soaked dagger before him. “Where did you get this?” he asked.

  She tightened her lips. She was pretty sure a demon like him could tell when you were lying, but she wasn’t about to get Cera in trouble, either. “I’m not answering that. I’m pleading the sixth...eighth...whatever Americans call it.”

  He rolled the hilt in his hands, inspecting it, before fixing her with one of his piercing glares. “The oneiroi are not your friends.” A hint of steel laced his voice. “I hope, after what you just saw, you understand that.”

  Chapter 24

  Ursula stood in the middle of the arena, next to the remaining demons. Strewn with gore, the dirt floor looked like a butcher shop. She shoved her hand in her pocket, gripping on to the reassuringly solid contours of the silver ring.

  She wasn’t going to argue with Bael about Cera—not now. In fact, she couldn’t get her mind off the carnage she’d just witnessed, the images replaying in her skull. She clamped her eyes shut, willing her mind to fill with darkness.

  It didn’t work.

  She turned to Bael, letting her eyes run over his battle-stained clothes. “Are you injured?”

  He sheathed his katana. “No. But you are.”

  Not a question, but she answered anyway. “It hurts like hell.”

  From his platform, Hothgar raised his arms to the dark sky. “Let us congratulate the champions for a well-fought battle.”

  Around them, the crowd stood and roared their approval from their seats.

  For just a moment, a thrill flickered through Ursula. And then, the images burned in her mind again: the severed tendons, the sprays of blood. The reaper’s head. Her own blade, buried in the giant’s chest.

  They’d fought each other like rabid beasts. And Ursula had been right there, in the thick of it, slashing away to the dark cheers of the onlookers. Something had taken over her body, and she’d joined in the grim symphony of slaughter.

  She closed her eyes again, trying to cleanse her mind of the blood. A part of her yearned for the cleanliness of the void. The words of the Forgotten Ones whispered in the back of her skull. Only the darkness will save you.

  Maybe this was Nyxobas’s plan, to give her the choice between turning into a monster and joining him in the void. Or if not, surely this was his punishment for stabbing him with the dagger.

  She glanced at the statue of Nyxobas that loomed over the amphitheater, its eyes blazing. She couldn’t understand any of his actions. Why did he summon her here in the first place? Why did his own son, Abrax, hate him so deeply that he had tried to overthrow the kingdom? And above all, what made him think Abrax was no longer a threat?

  Maybe the will of gods wasn’t really meant to be understood. In all likelihood, they were completely mental from all the time they spent in hell.

  By her side, Bael stood perfectly still, his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. Entirely unperturbed by everything he’d just seen. Just another day in the Shadow Realm.

  Hothgar banged the gong, and the noise of the crowd died.

  “Of the fifty-six champions who joined the melee, twenty-three remain in his mortal realm. In gl
orious battle, twenty-three more have joined the void to live for eternity.”

  As Hothgar spoke, black-cloaked oneiroi jogged silently into the arena. Remembering Massu’s ferocity, she shuddered. But these oneiroi weren’t here to fight. They were here to clean up the corpses. Silently, the oneiroi dragged them from the arena. The bodies left red smears over the dirt.

  Hothgar thrust his hand into the air. “Massu, can you step forward?”

  Cera’s brother stepped forward, his mouth dripping with fresh blood.

  Ursula heard the pause, the sharp intake of breath before Hothgar spoke again. And when he did, he spoke through clenched teeth. “This has been the first melee to include an oneiroi,” said Hothgar. “Despite his inferior status, he killed five demons, the most of any champion. As ordained in the warrior code, this accomplishment grants him pole position for the race.”

  Massu bowed deeply.

  Hothgar continued, “The race will be held at Asta. We will commence when the sun reaches its peak above the spire.”

  Lifting his hammer, the Sword Of Nyxobas smashed the gong a final time.

  The demons around her turned to leave, and Ursula bit her lip to stop the tears welling in her eyes. She turned away from Bael so he couldn’t see her face.

  Sure, she could use a sword. She could fight if she had to. But this had been a complete nightmare. A savage display of bloodlust, for absolutely no purpose.

  And the scariest part was that she’d fit right in.

  Blinking away the tears, she searched the sky for a sign of Cera. Maybe Bael thought they couldn’t be friends, but whether he liked it or not, Cera was her ride home.

  “Ursula?” Bael touched her arm, and she turned back to him.

  He leveled his intense gaze on her. Apart from the blood spattering his cheeks, he looked perfect. Like a god himself—golden skin, thick lashes framing violet eyes, and full lips.

  “You should come with me,” he said quietly. “I’ll heal you, but not here.”

  “Where’s Cera?”

  “She had to return to my manor.” He turned to walk for one of the open archways, expecting her to follow.