“Why Urusula, you look simply ravishing now.” A sly smile. “Did you know you have beautiful skin when you don’t look near death?”
“Are you really flirting with me right now?”
Kester shrugged. “I don’t see why not. We’re both alive. Things could be worse.”
Ursula leaned back on her hands. “I don’t understand why we’re both alive. Why didn’t Abrax kill me after he failed to get what he wanted?”
As she spoke, she studied Kester. If Abrax had been telling the truth, did Kester know? Had he put it all together, the way Bael might have?
Probably best to just lay it all out there and see how he responded. “Kester, Abrax said—”
Just then, the door opened with a bang, and Abrax stood in the center, flanked by his usual pair of oneiroi guards.
Ursula rose, already summoning Emerazel’s fire.
“Which one of you told him?” Abrax shouted, his voice sharp with rage.
What now? “What are you talking about?”
“Hothgar. He’s demanded an audience. Someone told him you were here.”
“And you think it was us?” said Ursula, heat rising in her chest. “The two people who’ve been chained and imprisoned the whole time? There’s something very wrong with you, you know that?”
Abrax’s eyes narrowed. “No one else knows you’re here.”
“Last time I spoke to Hothgar, he told you to kill me. He wants me dead. Even if I’d managed to find my way out of here, Hothgar wouldn’t exactly be first on my list of people to visit.”
“Obviously you have a leak in your manor,” said Kester. “One of your guards, perhaps?”
“That is impossible.” Abrax’s icy voice echoed off the walls.
Ursula folded her arms, still a bit ticked off about the whole “manacle torture” thing. Not to mention the attempted soul-reaping. But she wasn’t wearing manacles now. One incubus—two guards. She may not get a better moment to fight back than this.
She cocked her head. “If the Sword of Nyxobas found out you’ve been keeping us imprisoned without his knowledge, you’ve got no one to blame but yourself. What is the punishment for disobeying his orders?”
With a roar of rage, Abrax lunged for Ursula. She dodged out of the way like a toreador evading a bull. As Abrax reached her, Ursula slammed into him, sending him sprawling to the floor.
Flames sprang from her hands as she leapt on Abrax. She pressed her palms to his chest, and he screamed as smoke rose from between her fingers.
As she seared Abrax’s chest with her fire, Kester lunged for the nearest oneiroi, catching him off guard. In a single motion, he drew the guard’s sword from its scabbard. In a blur of speed, he severed the guard’s head. Hot blood sprayed across the wall of the cell.
Under Ursula’s firm grip, Abrax writhed, until he vanished beneath her fingertips—only to reappear across the room in a swirling cloud of shadows. Ursula shouted a warning to Kester, but she was too late. Already, Abrax was sending strands of shadow magic twining around Kester’s ankles. He yanked them, and Kester slammed to the ground.
Ursula started to rush for him, but the remaining guard leveled his sword at her throat. The blade pressed against her skin, and the oneiroi’s large eyes gleamed, promising death if she moved. As she raised her hands, Abrax sent shadows snaking across the room, and they slid around her chest.
Abrax’s shirt was smoking where she’d burned him, but that didn’t stop him from kicking Kester hard in the gut.
Ursula tensed, waiting for Abrax’s attack. Instead, he beckoned her forward.
“You’re coming with me, little dog. Hothgar asked for you specifically.”
Ursula winced as she stepped over Kester’s prone body and into the hallway, but she knew a kick to the ribs wouldn’t keep Kester down for long. Still, she needed to find a way to get him out of here. Even if Abrax was snapping a fresh pair of glowing manacles to her wrists right now.
“This way,” said Abrax, and she begrudgingly followed him down the sleek-walled hallway.
As Ursula padded barefoot over the floor in her ragged gown, she couldn’t help but think of Bael. Once, Bael had been Nxyobas’s Sword, living for years in isolation. She had the feeling that he hadn’t let anyone in at all, for all those millennia—until he’d met her. Could he really have been involved in her mum’s death?
She didn’t have long to think about this, because the hallway opened up into Abrax’s stark atrium. This time, a cage-like elevator stood in the center. Ursula felt a pang of sadness as she saw that it was almost an exact replica of the one at Bael’s manor. She followed Abrax into the metal cage, avoiding getting anywhere near him. The door slammed closed.
Inside the elevator, the chain clanked and rattled as they rose toward the roof, passing by floor after floor of obsidian walls and doors. When she’d first come to Bael’s manor, she’d been terrified of him, and the surroundings hadn’t helped. The Bael she’d come to know over time seemed so different than the terrifying Sword of Nyxobas she’d first encountered, brooding on his dark throne. But he still held secrets he hadn’t revealed to her.
When they reached the roof, Ursula shivered as an icy lunar breeze slipped through the remains of her dress. Like in Bael’s manor, the view from the roof was magnificent. The great walls of the caldera curved thousands of feet above them, and the violet spire of Asta sparkled in the distance.
Abrax, of course, didn’t stop to admire the view, immediately striding toward a black carriage at the far end of the roof.
Footsteps clacked over the roof, and a new set of guards flanked her. She walked between them, following Abrax to the carriage. When they reached it, Abrax stopped to open the door. Ursula climbed inside, her chest tightening. Being in the Shadow Realm without Bael felt completely wrong. She shuddered as Abrax sat next to her and the oneiroi guard.
As they rose into the sky, Ursula got a final view of Abrax’s manor in all its glory, the gleaming glass and steel. But the hair on her arms prickled as she got a good look at the roof. Lurking in the shadows stood a large contingent of oneiroi—and behind them, at least five golems.
Chapter 5
The lords’ chamber fell silent as they entered, heels echoing off the marble hall. At a semicircular granite table sat Hothgar, flanked on either side by the ten other demon lords. Hothgar—Sword of Nyxobas—wore a thin chain-mail shirt, his hoary beard and eyebrows giving him a wise appearance. Which, based on what Ursula knew of him, was completely misleading. He gripped a gavel, his petty little symbol of power.
Ursula cast her gaze over the other demon lords—high demons, each one. The luminescent mushrooms lining the hall cast a faint, violet light over their bestial faces. If Ursula had any hope of breaking out of here, it was snuffed out when she noticed the phalanx of guards standing behind the lords.
For their part, the lords—including Hothgar—were glaring at both Abrax and Ursula, hatred gleaming in their dark eyes. It took her a moment to realize the God of Night himself sat in the room, towering over all of them in his dark throne, dark magic curling around him in shadowy tendrils, black eyes gaping wide. He probably had no idea what the hell was going on here. Lost in the void, as usual. Even in a trance, he was a creature of nightmares, cloaked in darkness.
Abrax grabbed Ursula’s arm, pulling her forward until Hothgar held up a hand. The old Sword of Nyxobas nodded to his guards, and five of them began marching toward Ursula and Abrax.
“What’s this about?” Abrax started forward.
“Stay where you are, incubus.” Hothgar didn’t bother to hide the anger in his voice.
Abrax let out a low growl in response.
The five guards encircled the pair of them, and one of the oneiroi pulled Abrax’s sword from his scabbard.
Abrax’s shadow magic whipped around him in sharp coils. “I am a son of Nyxobas. How dare you treat me this way?”
“Your soldiers attacked my family at the Lacus Mortis—”
“Oh
. That.” Abrax sighed. “Are you still whining about that? I told you that was an accident. I briefly lost control of my men—”
“People died.”
“People die sometimes. In any case, I made reparations. It is time we put this behind us.”
His diplomacy skills were somewhat lacking, Ursula thought.
Hothgar continued to stare stonily at Abrax.
One of the guards by Abrax’s side grunted, then held up a lethal-looking dagger. “He was concealing this on his person.”
“It is for my personal protection,” said Abrax. “Look.” He flicked his wrist, producing another knife from his sleeve. “I have another blade here.” He held up a thin needle of steel. “One can never be too careful.”
The guard’s eyes widened, and he snatched the blade from Abrax.
Abrax shoved his hands in his pockets. “Now may I take my seat at the table?”
“No, you may not,” growled Hothgar.
“And why is that?” Abrax straightened, throwing his shoulders back slightly.
“You have brought a hound of Emerazel’s into our realm without permission.” Hothgar looked pointedly at Ursula.
Abrax shook his head. “And what of it? She already knew of the realm. She spent considerable time here.”
“I am done with your excuses. You will remain quiet while I interrogate the cur.”
Hothgar turned his dark gaze on Ursula. “Why have you returned to the Shadow Realm?”
“I just love it here so much.”
Hothgar continued to stare at her.
“Abrax abducted me,” she continued. “I’d never have come here willingly, considering the last time I was here, everyone tried to kill me.”
Hothgar’s eyes narrowed. “The bitch lies. You will tell us the truth.”
From behind, a guard shoved her hard in the back. She fell, sprawling to the stone floor. Arsehole. Her hands still manacled, she scrambled to her feet again.
Hothgar stood. “You will have one chance to name your co-conspirators. If you want a clean death, you will not lie.”
Why is he not getting this? “What are you talking about? Abrax kidnapped me. He was holding me against my will. I want nothing to do with you and the Shadow Realm.”
Hothgar nodded at another one of his guards—a demon with a massive barrel chest and a neck like a tree trunk.
“Bring out the prisoner,” said Hothgar.
Kester?
Ursula stared as the guard disappeared into a tunnel that led out of the hall. When she glanced at Abrax, he looked as perplexed as she was. So he doesn’t know what’s going on either.
After a few minutes, the doors slammed open, and the guard returned, leading a demon with a chain attached to an iron collar on his throat.
Not Kester—the muscular form draped in tattered, dark clothes was far too large. Enormous golden manacles clasped his hands, thicker than any Ursula had seen before. A black hood covered the man’s head. She took in the beautiful, golden color of his skin—
But she didn’t have long to admire it. The prisoner pulled on his chain, fighting and snarling like a wild animal, and she almost wondered if he’d rip through it. As the guard dragged him past the granite table of lords, the prisoner lunged for them. A sharp pull on his chain from the prison guard stopped him in his tracks.
Abrax spoke, his voice disdainful. “I cannot believe this creature is your source. How can you believe a man who has betrayed his god?”
The guard yanked the hood from the prisoner’s head, and Ursula gasped. It was Bael, dark and powerful shadows whirling off his body. The former Sword of Nyxobas—and her betrothed. Except, he wasn’t exactly looking at her with love in his eyes. In fact, he was staring at her with a feral hunger, his eyes blood-red. Bael had been corrupted by the old way, the feral state that overtook shadow demons when they drank blood. And right now, he kind of looked like he wanted to rip his fiancée’s throat out.
Ursula hardly noticed the burning pain of Emerazel’s fire as it filled her veins.
“Where did you get him?” Abrax’s voice boomed across the room.
Hothgar gripped his gavel. “A guard found him wandering around his manor. He said you’re plotting against the realm. That you’d kidnapped the bitch.”
“He’s insane. Obviously, he drank the bitch’s blood and is corrupted by the old way.”
Hothgar raised an eyebrow. “But he was right about the bitch—”
Ursula raised a manacled hand. “You do realize that I’m standing right here? My name is Ursula.”
Hothgar glared at her. “And you’re also a female hound. Which makes you one of the goddess’s bitches. I am merely addressing you using our technical term.”
Ursula smiled pleasantly. “Sure. That’s the technical term. Having spoken to your wife, I believe the technical term for you is something like ‘conjugal disappointment,’ but you don’t hear me banging on about it.”
“Let’s stick to the point.” Abrax pointed to Bael. “He’s gone feral. He’s lost his wings and his seat at the lords’ table. We should be discussing the best way to put him down. And yet, you’re telling me that you believe his word over mine?”
Hothgar’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t lie about the hound.”
Bael growled, a low, inhuman sound that sent an icy shiver dancing up Ursula’s neck. Was the real Bael under there somewhere, buried beneath the feral rage?
Hothgar laid his hands flat on the granite table. “Is there anything else you’ve been keeping from us, Abrax?”
Abrax cocked his head. “No, there is nothing else.”
Liar! Ursula wanted to scream. Should she tell them what she knew now?
Hothgar’s eyes narrowed, and his lips flattened into a line. “Are you sure there is nothing else you’d like to confess?”
Abrax stood with his hands in his pockets, perfectly relaxed. “I may have indulged in a few too many gin and tonics last night. Is that the sort of thing you’re looking for? In my defense, they were made with Harris gin and a hint of coriander. Nearly impossible to resist overindulging, as I’m sure you’d agree.”
Hothgar’s lip curled. “Bring out the other prisoner!”
The guards around Abrax drew their swords, pointing them at his throat, but he never shifted from his relaxed posture. The doors slammed open again, and the guards dragged in another prisoner. Just as with Bael, this prisoner wore ragged clothes and a black hood. Not as large as Bael, but struggling just as hard against his bonds. The guards shoved him until he stood a few feet from Bael.
Kester.
When the guard pulled the hood off his head, Ursula stared back at her green-eyed friend, a rag stuffed into his mouth and tied behind his head.
Every powerful ally she had was now in this room, chained up as prisoners. And one of them was raging with bloodlust.
Well, this is a pretty little mess we’ve got ourselves into.
Chapter 6
“Remove the gag. I want to hear what he has to say,” said Hothgar.
The guard drew a short knife from a scabbard on his belt. With a dexterous flourish that belied his impressive girth, he sliced Kester’s gag.
Kester spat the rag onto the floor.
“Who are you?” asked Hothgar.
Kester glared at the hoary-faced demon. “You know who I am.”
Hothgar loosed a sigh. “For the rest of the room.”
“I am Kester.” His voice boomed over the hall. “Hound of Emerazel.”
Hothgar pointed at him. “In fact, he is the one they call the Headsman. He is the one who slew Innas the Black, the one who carved out Bothrop’s eye, the one who murdered Vesper the last succubus of Maremount.” Chatter buzzed among the demon lords before Hothgar held up his hands to quiet the room. “And, do you know where he’s been for the last month? He’s been a prisoner in Abrax’s manor. The incubus has been holding him captive. A prize such at this should be shared. Each lord should carve a piece of his flesh.”
&nb
sp; Ursula’s stomach tightened into knots. Well, that does not sound wonderful for us.
A hush fell over the room. Hothgar’s outstretched finger moved to point at Abrax. “He has hoarded the greatest prize for himself. He has prevented the course of justice. He has lied to the lords. He is a traitor to the realm!”
The guards around Abrax stepped closer, their swords inches from his throat.
“Hothgar,” said Abrax almost nonchalantly. “Stop acting like a prat. First of all, must I remind you that I am immortal. Your demons and their little swords cannot kill me. Secondly, I am the son of Nyxobas. I only want what is best for the realm. You’re a fool to question my motives. You have no right to interfere with my business.”
Hothgar shook his head. “The lords have cast their ballots. You are to be imprisoned.”
The air in the room dropped to a frigid temperature, the violet lights seeming to dim, suffocated by shadows.
“No,” Abrax barked, but Ursula could see fear in his eyes. “I will not be imprisoned again.”
Hothgar didn’t reply, simply nodding at the guards.
So much happened in the next few moments that it was almost hard for Ursula to process it.
Wings sprouted from Abrax’s back as he transformed into his demon form, talons emerging from his feet and hands. As his wings beat the air, a chorus of screams erupted. Abrax’s oneiroi were attacking the other guards.
If Ursula’s eyes hadn’t been instinctively drawn to Bael, she might not even have noticed what he was doing in all the chaos of the battling guards. But as it was, he drew her gaze like a magnet.
Across the room, Bael grabbed the chain attached to his collar and ripped it from his jailor’s hands. Once free, he raced across the room, his wrists still bound. The chain dragged behind him, clanking over the stone. Ursula’s blood roared in her ears at the sight of him, a confusing mixture of relief and fear.
“Ursula!” he rasped, his throat hoarse and his eyes burning like embers. He’d gone completely feral. And yet…
Even though her pulse raced wildly and her heart pattered like a frightened rabbit, she stopped herself from moving away from him. Bael won’t hurt me. Not even when he’s twisted by the old way.
Shadows & Flame Complete Boxed Set: Demons of Fire and Night Novels Page 73
