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

by C. N. Crawford

  The White Tower stood in a small clearing of oaks at the top of the hill, built of pale marble with only narrow windows interrupting the stone. Cautiously, they encircled the monument, searching the shadows for signs of their mysterious “friend.” A door was inset into the stone tower, but no one seemed to be lurking around the place.

  “Do you think he’s already here?” Ursula whispered.

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Before Ursula could respond, Bael charged at full speed into the tower door. He slammed through it, wood splintering around him.

  So much for the stealth approach.

  Taking a deep breath, she rushed in after him. Already, Bael seemed to have disappeared into the tower, and she stood alone on a marble floor. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she made out a marble staircase that curved upward.

  Drawing out her dagger, she began to climb the curving stairwell, winding her way up the interior of the tower. The arrow slits illuminated brief portions of the stairs, but for the most part she was hidden in shadows. Of course Bael had to rush ahead on his own.

  As she neared the top, more silver light began to filter in from an open doorway that she thought led to the roof. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger. From her position in the stairwell, she had no way of knowing who or what was on the roof.

  Keeping as low as she could, she peeked out.

  The first thing she saw was Bael’s body lying on the stone only a few feet from her. As she stepped out onto the tower’s balcony—about to kneel down next to Bael, a metallic clicking sound stopped her. From behind, something hard and cold pressed into the back of her head. Not good.

  “If you move, you die,” said a man’s voice. Gruff and cold as the night itself.

  Bloody hell. Ursula remained still, but the muzzle of the gun pressed against the base of her skull.

  “Drop the blade.”

  Ursula let go of the dagger. It struck the tower stairs, then spun off into the darkness below.

  Ursula stared at Bael’s prone body on the stone balcony, and panic clawed at her chest. “What did you do to him?”

  The man didn’t answer, instead pushing the gun harder into the base of her skull. His intent was clear—leave the relative safety of the stairs.

  Slowly, she climbed onto the roof of the tower. A pair of glowing manacles lay on the stone.

  “Cuff yourself.” He pushed the barrel of the gun harder into the back of her skull.

  She knelt and clasped her wrists together. The man pushed her forward, toward the edge of the tower, and her gaze flicked to Bael. He lay face down, and the sight of glowing manacles on his wrists eased some of the panic in her chest. If he’d been cuffed, he was still alive. A rope had been tied around his feet, and white cloth was wrapped around the back of his head. He didn’t move as she passed.

  The man directed her forward, until she reached the crenellations that ringed the tower’s edge. Her muscles tightened. What does he want from me?

  “Don’t move, or I will have to pull the trigger,” said the man. He pulled the muzzle of the gun from the back of her head.

  Ursula stood as still as she could. Far below her, the gravestones rose from the mist like the stumps of an ancient, petrified forest. In the distance, the gray slate roofs of Mount Acidale pierced the fog beside the broken towers of Calidore Castle. A cold wind nipped at her, and she shivered.

  From the opposite side of the tower roof, the man spoke. “Now. Turn around slowly.”

  Chapter 21

  Ursula turned to survey her assailant. Dressed in a soldier’s uniform, he was older than she expected, his hair a shock of white in the darkness. One of his arms was missing, but with his other hand, he pointed a pistol at Ursula. Narrowing his eyes, he moved closer to her, staring at her face as though trying to memorize it.

  After a moment, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped slightly.

  “It’s really you…” said the soldier, sounding stunned. “I’m sorry, but I had to be sure it was you.” He lowered the gun.

  Fury rippled through Ursula’s mind. Might as well gain the upper hand while I can. She charged across the tower and slammed her left side into the soldier’s chest, pain splintering her own shoulder. His pistol flew over the side of the tower, and he fell hard on the marble. He stared up at her, stunned. Her hands were still manacled, but she pressed them to his throat anyway and began to channel fire into her palms.

  The soldier gasped. “Gods below, Ursula. What are you doing?”

  “I want you to answer some of my questions. Starting with—who the hell are you?”

  He stared at her. “You don’t know?”

  Ursula continued to let the fire simmer in her veins as she studied the man’s face more carefully. He looked about sixty, with a long, white scar that bisected his left cheek. Still, he might have been handsome once, with a strong jaw and blue eyes. There was something familiar about those eyes.

  She gasped, realization dawning. They were the same deep blue as her own eyes.

  “How did you know my name?” She couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice.

  “I’ve known your name for as long as you’ve been alive, Ursula Anne Thurlow. Please stop trying to burn me.”

  Ursula’s mind whirled. He had her eyes. He knew her name. He’d just said her full name, in fact. A name she hadn’t remembered.

  She blurted the only thing that came into her mind. “What was with the gun bollocks?”

  The man sighed. “I just had to be sure it was you. I thought you were dead. I’m your grandfather, Ursula.” He looked at the fire licking about her fingers, then he ran his fingers through the flames. “Your fire doesn’t hurt me. It runs in my veins as well. I pledged myself to Emerazel, too.”

  Ursula fell back on her haunches. “Are you my mother’s father?”

  “Yes.”

  She swallowed hard. “Then you managed to survive even after she committed treason.”

  Her grandfather laughed, but there was no joy in it. “I’m a tough old codger.”

  He slowly crawled to his feet. His collar was scorched at the edges, but he was otherwise unharmed, the skin of his neck unblemished.

  Ursula stood, and a million questions flowed through her mind. What had happened to her mother and the rest of her family? Why hadn’t he looked for her? Okay, Ursula. One question at a time.

  She swallowed hard, staring at him. “How did you find me?”

  “I’m the head of King Midac’s guards. I was there when Lucius told the king that he’d been attacked by a demon and a woman who fit your description. Fortunately, the king’s spies report directly to me. I was the first to learn your whereabouts.” He paused to look at her, concern showing on his face. “But here’s what I don’t understand. You don’t seem to recognize me at all.”

  “I have no memories of my childhood. When I was fifteen, I turned up in London with complete amnesia. Nothing but a scrap of paper with my name on it, and a warning about turning eighteen.”

  Her grandfather stepped toward her. He limped, but it was his expression that unnerved her, sadness shining in his blue eyes. “You’ve been in London all these years? I thought you were dead. Hard to believe it’s really you here.”

  “I was in London. No idea how I got there. They found me in the smoking rubble of St. Ethelburga’s Church.”

  Her grandfather nodded. “There was a sigil there. It stopped working. Was the church completely burned?”

  “There was nothing left after I arrived.”

  “Why can’t you remember anything?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea. I thought you might.”

  “Then you don’t know about your mother?” he asked softly.

  “I know she died.”

  Her grandfather nodded without looking at her. “My daughter did a terrible thing. I believe she deserved her fate.” When he looked back at her, his eyes shone with tears. “What happened after you arrived in London? How did you find y
our way back here?”

  “On my eighteenth birthday, Emerazel sent a hellhound for me. I’ve been working for her ever since. I was supposed to collect souls, but I had a bit of a detour in the Shadow Realm, and I got caught up in an incubus’s plan to overthrow the god of night. You know how it goes.” She folded her arms. “How is it that you came to have Emerazel’s fire? Isn’t it outlawed here?”

  The old man sighed. “Before your mother died, King Midac had a magical dagger that allowed him to carve people with Emerazel’s sigil. He used it to build a great army.” His eyes seemed to burn into Bael. “When Nyxobas learned of what Midac was doing, he sent his demons to attack—”

  Something shifted behind Ursula and she spun. Bael had rolled onto his side, and he glared at them. Her grandfather had wrapped the white cloth around Bael’s mouth as a gag.

  Her grandfather spoke gruffly. “Do you want the honor of killing this shadow-creeper? I can’t imagine what the demon did to you while you were his captive.”

  Ursula blinked in surprise. “He made me soup, for one thing. I’m not his captive.”

  “You are aware of what he is?” Ursula could sense confusion in her grandfather’s voice.

  “I am. He’s a friend. He saved me in the Shadow Realm.” Probably best to leave out the whole engagement bit.

  Her grandfather’s brow furrowed. “So he didn’t kidnap you?”

  “No. He’s helping me.” Ursula suddenly remembered what her grandfather had said about being the head of the king’s guard. “We’re trying to steal Excalibur from Lucius, the Drake. We think the Darkling has arisen, and only Excalibur can defeat him.”

  Her grandfather’s expression was indecipherable. “Do you really believe the prophecy is being fulfilled?”

  Ursula nodded. “Have you heard of Abrax?”

  Her grandfather nodded. “He and this one”—he pointed to Bael—“led the assault on Mount Acidale.”

  Ursula sucked in a deep breath. “We’re pretty sure he’s the Darkling. He’s trying to overthrow the gods. He says he wants to free mankind, but honestly, he just wants to rule them. He’s got a bit of an ego problem.”

  Her grandfather shook his head. “Even if that’s so, it would be impossible to take Excalibur from Lucius now. He’s shifted into his dragon form. The blade is part of his body.”

  “The prophecy says, Darkling, remember. Will you ring death knells for Mount Acidale, kingdom of fire? If we don’t stop Abrax now, he will destroy the Shadow Realm, and then he will attack Mount Acidale.”

  Ursula’s grandfather thought for a long moment, stroking his chin. “Well, there is one possible way—”

  From the ground, Bael slowly rose to his feet, clearing his throat loudly, but Ursula ignored him.

  She held her grandfather’s gaze. “Tell me how I can defeat Lucius. I’ve been told no one’s ever defeated him.”

  “That’s not entirely true. The White Dragon defeated him.”

  Hope rose in Ursula’s chest. “And how do I find the White Dragon?”

  Her grandfather shook his head. “She hasn’t been seen in millennia.”

  “Is she dead?”

  “I don’t think so. Dragons are immortal as long as they aren’t killed by man. No one has claimed to have killed her.”

  “So where do I find her?”

  “That’s the problem,” said her grandfather. “She is believed to live on Mount Acidale itself.”

  Ursula glanced at the city’s gray roofs.

  “No,” said her grandfather. “Not the city. Hidden behind all these clouds and smog is a great mountain. It’s where the White Dragon is said to dwell.”

  “Do you believe the rumors?”

  “I don’t know…” said her grandfather. “But people disappear every year. There are tracks, markings in the snow—”

  Bael grunted, his pale eyes gleaming in the darkness.

  “Maybe I should take off the gag now,” said Ursula.

  Her grandfather stepped back, and Ursula crossed behind Bael, reaching all the way up to untie the gag from behind his head.

  Bael glared at her grandfather, his eyes pure ice. “The White Dragon is a myth. And even if she were real, she would kill us in an instant should we find her.”

  Ursula’s grandfather’s eyes narrowed, and Emerazel’s fire began to dance about his fingers. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because my granddaughter said you were her friend.”

  Ursula held up a hand. “It’s already decided. Bael, I’m going to look for the White Dragon.”

  Bael cursed under his breath.

  Her grandfather raised his hoary eyebrows. “It’s not the worst thing in the world. You’re not safe here. Midac will learn who she is, if he hasn’t already. Once he does, his guards will search every house in the city until he finds her. Go up to the mountain for a few weeks. Let things cool off down here, and then you’ll be able to leave.”

  “Or, maybe we’ll have found the White Dragon by then,” said Ursula.

  Neither Bael nor Ursula’s grandfather looked exactly convinced, but they didn’t argue either.

  Chapter 22

  Ursula’s grandfather managed to convince Bael to swear on Nyxobas’s void that he wouldn’t hurt Ursula, and only then would he release them. After they made their way down to the bottom of the tower, Ursula collected her dagger from the gravel path. The mist had thickened, and a chill rippled over Ursula’s skin, even through her shawl.

  Her grandfather disappeared into the fog, returning a few minutes later in a carriage. He stepped out, opening the door for Bael and Ursula. “This should get you where you need to go. My ancestral home is in Saint Meratz. Can you find your way there?”

  Bael nodded. “Certainly.”

  “When you arrive, tell the owner of the Three Pigs that you’re guests of mine. They’ll lead you to my chalet. I’ll send a pigeon to him, so he should be expecting you.”

  Bael climbed onto the front seat, collecting the reins to drive the carriage.

  Ursula’s grandfather looked at her, his blue eyes bright in the darkness. “Ursula,” he started to say. “I’m so glad you’re alive. When all this is over, I hope we can find each other again.”

  A strange, empty sort of guilt pierced her chest. She didn’t remember him at all. “Of course. You called me Ursula Anne Thurlow, but I don’t know your name.”

  He smiled. “My name is Frank, but as a girl you always called me Papa.”

  She cocked her head. “I’ll be back soon, Frank.” She couldn’t bring herself to call this stranger Papa. “And then I want to hear everything about my life before I escaped to London.”

  With a dull ache in her chest, she climbed up onto the front carriage seat with Bael. The void seemed to blossom within her, a gnawing emptiness. When she’d cut off her memories, she’d severed an important part of herself, and now she missed it like a phantom limb. She peered at Frank waving goodbye, and Bael led them down the gravel path into the mist.

  “You don’t remember him at all?” asked Bael.

  Ursula shook her head. “No. And it’s like I’m missing something. Like I’m not complete.”

  Bael’s gaze slid to her. “You’ll remember, Ursula, if you want to.”

  As the carriage picked up speed, they raced through the darkness, bumping over stones and pits in the road, and Ursula stared at the sky. A faint glow had spread across the horizon, the rising sun tinged the clouds with pink, and a dusty rose color stained the rocky landscape. They were moving away from the city, over rolling hills dotted with trees. She shivered in the cold, and Bael shifted a wool blanket over her legs. Ursula pulled it up tight, but she found herself leaning against Bael for warmth anyway.

  “Not much farther,” said Bael softely.

  Amber sunlight illuminated an alpine forest of pines and firs. To the east, the landscape fell off steeply into a deep valley. Snow dusted the tops of the trees, sparkling brightly as they caught the first rays of the sun. At the far end of the
valley, a small town nestled into the hillside. Inhaling the cold mountain air, Ursula could smell the faint wood smoke from their chimneys. A significant improvement on the corpse wagon they’d taken to get here.

  Bael pointed at the village. “That’s Saint Meratz.”

  “Oh,” said Ursula. “It’s beautiful.”

  A huge peak towered above them. It rose into the sky like a massive pyramid, its slopes a mix of white snow and sheer cliffs of stone. Snow blew off the summit in a high-altitude wind, puffing into the air.

  “That’s Mount Acidale?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Bael. “You used to be able to see it from Calidore Castle, but in recent years, coal fires have left the city shrouded in smoke and smog.”

  The road curved, and they raced into the aspen forest toward Saint Meratz.

  By the time they arrived, the sun had fully risen. Bael steered the horses toward a brown, three-story building with a peaked roof and curling white eaves.

  A boy ran to the horses as they stopped, and Bael handed him the reins. A sign above the building’s doors read Three Pigs.

  Ursula stepped down from the carriage, then followed Bael through a creaking door into a small, crooked-walled tavern.

  Three Pigs was a quiet place—or, more likely, sunrise wasn’t its most popular time of day. A pair of older men sat at a table playing backgammon.

  An elderly bartender nodded to them as they approached, cleaning a pint glass with a cloth. “You must be the friends of Frank’s?”

  “Yes,” said Ursula. “He said you could direct us to his chalet.”

  “Certainly,” said the bartender. “My boy Callum will show you the way.”

  Ursula turned, jumping a little to find that a young boy had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

  A smattering of freckles covered his nose, and he blinked at Ursula. “Are you Frank’s guests?”