Nocturnal Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 2)

by C. N. Crawford

  He slammed his mallet into the gong with a thunderous crash, and the sound vibrated through her bones.

  She kept her eyes locked on Bael—that perfect, godlike face. His chiseled chest. He stood unmoving, shadow magic flickering about him.

  And if there was one thing that terrified her about Bael, it was his stillness.

  His eyes bored into hers. He wasn’t going to move until she attacked. She’d already watched him fight.

  The other champions had tried to attack him first, and that had backfired on all of them. Brutally. Like the Gray Ghost, she needed to get him to move.

  “Are you going to fight?” she yelled.

  He didn’t stir. Not a single twitch of a muscle.

  She tightened her grip on the sword. “It was me, by the way. I broke into your quarters.” A risky move. He might give her a painful death now instead of an easy one, but she wanted to throw him off balance.

  The sad truth was—even though she knew he’d come here to kill her, that he’d do whatever he could to reclaim his manor—she still couldn’t bring herself to drive her sword through his chest. Not unless he was coming for her, his sword drawn.

  She still wasn’t thinking like a real predator. And how could she? She’d saved his life—but he’d saved hers countless times. He’d healed her wounds, taught her magic. He’d brought her a sword, freshly sharpened.

  So how the fuck am I supposed to muster up any bloodlust?

  She swallowed hard. His wife. Cera had told her what he’d done—he’d murdered his own wife. There simply wasn’t a good explanation for that, no matter how much she wanted to like him.

  She let the words play in her head like a mantra... Wife-killer...wife-killer...wife-killer....

  She needed to shatter that cool, impenetrable exterior. If she wanted any hope of saving her own life, she had to light a fire in him, to see the real Bael.

  A chill spread through her body, and she looked him dead in the eyes. “Don’t give me any of your false chivalry,” she said in a cool, even voice. “The women in the Shadow Realm are just property, isn’t that right? Nothing more, nothing less. I thought maybe you were different, but now I know the truth.”

  A muscle twitched in Bael’s jaw, and a deathly silence fell over the arena. Maybe the Brethren knew what she was talking about.

  “Nice of you to keep Elissa’s portrait up there for a while.” A gnawing void seemed to open in her chest as she spoke. This wasn’t her—but it was a role she had to play if she wanted to live. She had to let the ice take hold of her heart. “Until you stuffed her back into your storage room.”

  Across from her, Bael’s muscles tightened. The shadow magic flickered around him, thickening into a mist. At that moment, Ursula knew she had him. Her pulse raced hard, and her fingers gripped the hilt so hard her knuckles turned white.

  “Because what would you be without your guilt?” she said. “Forget Abelda Manor. Regret is your real home, and you’d be nothing without it.”

  With a terrifying roar, Bael charged, shadow running right for her. Ice rushed through Ursula’s veins. But she was ready. At the last possible instant, she ducked, and brought her katana up, spearing him in the gut. Hot blood pumped onto her hands.

  Her eyes flashed to his sword hand, searching for a counter attack.

  But he hadn’t brought his sword. He’d charged without his weapon.

  The world seemed to sway below her feet. What the fuck have I done? “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tilting her head to look up at him.

  He stared at her, his eyes wide.

  Her hands shaking, she pulled the blade from his gut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again.

  He clutched his stomach, blood pouring between his fingers. But he didn’t fall. Instead, he stood, staring at her, his eyes darkening to a wrathful black.

  Now, she no longer saw Bael looking back at her. Near death, the primal part of his mind had switched on, and the void itself stared back at her.

  Chapter 47

  The Bael she knew was gone. And now, she’d meet the real predator.

  Faster than a heartbeat, one of his hands clamped around her throat. And in the next moment, she fell back, her skull slamming against the ground.

  The knock of her head against the sand dizzied her, and she looked up at Bael. He pinned her to the ground, a dagger pressed into her heart.

  Despite the damage she’d done to his stomach, he seemed to be at full strength. Obviously, she wasn’t a real predator. She’d missed all the organs.

  Panic ignited. This is it. This is what I’ve known was coming.

  The crowd roared, but Ursula could hardly hear them over her own rushing blood. She wouldn’t be able to move an inch without Bael thrusting his dagger into her heart. He had her completely pinned to the ground, under his control.

  Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, and she gazed up at him.

  The void had left his eyes, and he stared at her instead with his pale gray eyes.

  Terror ripped her mind apart.

  He said he’d kill me quick.

  Longingly, she looked up at the earth, and a deep sadness welled in her chest.

  Tears wet her eyes. “I’m sorry about what I said.” She had no fucking clue why she was apologizing to a man about to kill her. “About the guilt, and the painting, and that I went into your quarters.”

  A weariness—a sadness glinted in his eyes. His lips moved. She couldn’t hear him over the crowd, but it looked like he breathed the word, Sorry. Shadows thickened around him, and his magic whispered over her skin—almost as if he were soothing her before the kill.

  This is the end of my life, and no one knows who I am.

  With his free hand, he brushed a finger down her cheek.

  “Please do it fast.” She closed her eyes. She was going to die here, as far from home as it was possible to be, and she still didn’t know who she was. She slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out the ring to feel it one last time between her fingers, rubbing its smooth surface. All she knew was that it reminded her of home, of something solid and constant.

  And god, she wanted something constant, tangible. Something she could feel—anything but the void.

  She gasped another shaky breath. All around, the crowd screamed for blood.

  After a few moments, she forced herself to open her eyes again. But Bael’s gaze had landed on the ring.

  His ring.

  Distantly, she heard Hothgar’s voice. “Kill the hound, and take back your wings.”

  “Just do it,” she whispered. “This is agony. Make it quick. Please.”

  Instead, he pulled the dagger away, snatching the ring from her fingers.

  What the hell is going on? He couldn’t wait until after he’d killed her to take the ring back?

  “Where did you get this?” he growled.

  “The ring? I found it in the jewelry box.”

  Bael grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her up. She stumbled, nearly falling into him. Her legs shook, and Bael wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. He stared at her, his piercing eyes burning with ferocity.

  Then, he held the ring above his head. “I claim the hound as my wife,” he shouted.

  Ursula’s jaw dropped. What the fuck?

  Bael yanked the cord from his neck, slipping off the thin silver ring. He grabbed her left hand, holding it up so everyone in the arena could see. Then, he slid the ring onto her finger.

  Ursula stared at Bael, realization dawning. Asharoth had told her that a man is forbidden from killing the woman he’s claimed. And more than that—no one else may harm her, either.

  “No!” Hothgar bellowed. “She is a demon of the infernos. A whore of Emerazel. You cannot claim her!”

  “I take what I want,” roared Bale. “There is no law forbidding such a wife. A warrior may choose any wife he pleases.”

  The crowd had fallen completely silent.

  Hothgar’s black eyes glared at them. “Does the hound consent t
o the proposal?”

  Bael pressed the thick, silver ring into her hand, and he fixed her with a fierce stare.

  On the one hand, he killed his last wife. On the other hand, this seems like the best way out of certain death right now. She exhaled, then shouted, “I consent.”

  Bael cupped the side of her face, seemingly oblivious to the wound in his stomach. He leaned in, his breath warming the shell of her ear. He smelled of sandalwood. “I need to claim you now. Publicly.”

  She nodded, looking up at him. In the next instant, his fingers tightened around her waist, pulling her closer. Dark tendrils of his magic thrummed over her skin, healing the slash in her leg, snaking up her thighs. It was as if he were doing it on purpose, running his fingers over the most intimate parts of her body.

  His body’s heat warmed her, and his piercing gaze mesmerized her. He threaded his fingers into her hair, gently pulling back her head. Slowly, he grazed his teeth over her throat, one of his hands lazily stroking her back. Then he kissed her neck softly. Her back arched into him. Heat shot through her belly, and her heartbeat raced.

  She slid her arms over his broad shoulders, pressing her body against him. She could feel his heart beating hard under his skin. Bael traced his powerful hands down her back, then slid them under her bottom, lifting her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist. His powerful arms encircled her, his fingertips stroking her thighs. Here, in Bael’s arms, she felt safe for the first time in weeks. Years, maybe.

  Her pulse raced, and desire burned through her, lighting her on fire. Kiss me, already.

  As if hearing her thoughts, he pressed his lips against hers. Slowly, his tongue parted her lips, brushing against hers. The kiss grew deeper, sensual. As a wave of pleasure rushed through her body, she lost all sense of time. He tasted of the sea.

  The gong clanged again, pulling them out of their kiss, and Bael lowered her to the ground.

  All around, the Brethren roared. Bael grabbed Ursula’s hand, and turned to address Hothgar. “I have won the duel, but I will not kill my betrothed. Return my wings.”

  Hothgar’s eyes burned with cold fury. “Kill them, Abrax.”

  Chapter 48

  Panic tore its claws through Ursula’s mind.

  In a blur of shadows, Abrax leapt onto the sand of the arena. Powerful shadow magic swirled around him—a vortex of night. A black tendril flew over the sand wrapping Bael’s chest, and in the next moment, he was on his knees, blood pouring from his wound.

  Ursula could hear his ribs crack as Abrax’s magic slowly constricted, and she screamed.

  Abrax stared at her, a smile curling his lips. “You killed one of my golems, harlot. And your boyfriend destroyed the other. I hope you don’t mind if I kill your man.”

  She glanced around for her sword. How many demons could she fight at once?

  Hothgar’s eyes were black with rage. “He claimed a hound as his wife. He has desecrated Nyxobas’s realm. The god of night could not protect him now.”

  Ursula could see Bael’s muscles straining as he fought against the magical bonds, his face turning blue.

  Rage, cold and ancient, burned through her veins. She gathered the last of the shadow magic in her body, concentrating on a spot just next to Abrax. She tore over the sand, slamming into Abrax’s side. Knocking him to the ground.

  Instantly, his shadow magic lashed at her, wrapping around her chest. Like a giant serpent, it constricted, squeezing the air from her. She could feel her bones flex.

  One of her ribs cracked, and she gasped at the pain. Why was Nyxobas never here to oversee his own laws?

  Abrax chanted in Angelic, and his magic began to leach into her. She could feel its icy tendrils searching through her veins. The pain was exquisite, like she’d been injected with liquid nitrogen. The magic sucked the warmth from her, wrapping her heart in ice.

  Filling with raw panic, she glanced at Bael. He lay on the sand across from her, his eyes open, but unfocused.

  There is no loophole, he’d said. The gods always win.

  Bael had been right.

  Slowly, Abrax’s magic crept up her neck, stealing her breath. Horror slammed into her as shadow magic slipped into her skull, enveloping her in darkness.

  She stood at the edge of the void. Its infinite vastness spread out before her. An endless chasm. A bottomless abyss. If she stepped off the edge, she would fall for eternity. Only the darkness will save you.

  The lure of the void called to her, a dark lullaby. A siren song. My mother. My father. My home.

  She took a final step off the edge, and she fell into the abyss. All around her, she sensed Nyxobas’s dark power, growing stronger.

  “Hello, little one.” An ancient voice chilled her to the bone.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Is it not obvious? I am Lord of the Realm of Shadows, the god of night, king of the void.”

  A voice rang in her head, clear as a bell, a siren song. Kill the king. Kill the king.

  “When I look at you, why do I hear the words, ‘kill the king?’”

  “So you remember.”

  “Remember what?”

  Cold silence greeted her, and dread snaked up her spine. She didn’t want to be here. She needed to explain that this was all a mistake. “Abrax and Hothgar have betrayed you.” Even as she said the words, they felt meaningless to her—the squabbles of the living seemed inconsequential in the vastness of the void.

  “Abrax is foolish and weak,” he said.

  “He sent me here against my will.”

  “Then leave.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “The same way you arrived.”

  “Abrax cast a spell on me.”

  “Fight back. That’s why I brought you here. To see if you are worthy.”

  “I don’t know how to counter his power.”

  “When you learn to accept the darkness, you will have all the power you could possibly desire.”

  The icy magic around her grew stronger. Compressing her into a tiny point.

  “Don’t fight the shadows,” he said. “Accept their power.”

  Shadow magic crawled over her skin, searching for a way into her. She screamed, and inky magic poured down her throat.

  Nyxobas was right. The Forgotten Ones were right. And deep down, she knew this was what she wanted. There was no choice but to give in. To accept it. She let the shadows fill her.

  “Good, little one. Feel the darkness move within you. The shadows will do your bidding. You just need to ask.”

  She opened her eyes, blinking at the sudden brightness of the stars in the sky.

  Abrax hunched over her. His spell had filled her with shadow magic, and now it hummed in her veins. Power she could use. The bonds that wrapped around her chest melted away.

  Abrax jumped back, his pale eyes wide with horror. “Seven hells. What are you?”

  “Right now, I’m your angel of death.”

  Shadows flowed from her, oozing from her pores, pooling on the sand. She bent to pick up her katana.

  Abrax charged for her, shadow running at impossible speed. But to her, it looked as though he was moving in slow motion. She sidestepped, just as she had with Bael, then plunged her katana into his chest.

  Abrax fell, eyes wide with horror. Ursula pressed down on the hilt of her blade pinning him to the sand.

  “I am immortal,” he snarled up at her. “You know you cannot kill me.”

  A strange certainty filled her body, rolled around the inside of her skull. She knew what she had to do. “No, but now I can take your magic.”

  She leaned down, pressing a hand to his chest. She could feel the shadow magic within him. Cold, ancient, and immensely powerful. Slowly she drew it from his body. Abrax’s eyes widened with fear.

  “Stop.” It was Bael. Blood dripped from his mouth where he crouched on the sand. His skin had paled, and he shook violently. “We need to leave.”

  “What about your wings?”

  �
��There isn’t time to get them.” His eyes flicked to something behind her. She glanced behind her at the oneiroi guards now pouring into the arena. Teeth bared, they twitched with the same madness that had possessed Massu. These were Abrax’s oneiroi.

  Slowly pushing to his feet, Bael whistled, and a dark shaped dove toward them. Sotz. The bat flew for them at full speed, but there was only one way to catch him.

  She wrapped her arms around Bael’s chest. Glancing up at Sotz, she imagined the soft fur on his back, and let the shadow magic coil around her muscles. Clinging tightly to Bael, she jumped into the wind, letting the god of night carry her up to Sotz.

  Chapter 49

  She and Bael landed on Sotz’s back—her body facing Bael’s. Bael had a good grip on Sotz with his legs, and he leaned in, grasping for a solid handhold. Ursula wrapped her legs around Bael’s stomach as he tried to steer the bat, breathing in the scent of sandalwood.

  “Can you take us to Bael’s carriage?” Ursula shouted. Sotz’s wings pumped frantically. Barely keeping them aloft, he strained to lift them above the crater’s edge.

  Ursula peered down. Below them, the arena filled with the chaos of fleeing demons and rampaging, flesh-starved oneiroi.

  At the crater’s rim, they landed with a jolt on the dirt next to the carriage.

  “Thank you, Sotz.” Slowly, she helped Bael off the bat. He could hardly stand on his own, and he leaned on her for support. His weight nearly crushed her.

  The door to Bael’s carriage slammed open, and Cera poked her head out. “The lord? What happened? I couldn’t watch. How are you both alive?”

  “We need to get out of here,” said Ursula.

  In the distance, the Brethren’s screams pierced the air.

  “They’re coming for us,” said Ursula.

  Cera ran to the other side of Bael, gamely attempting to support his other arm. From her height, there wasn’t much point. Together, they helped him into the carriage, and he lay across one of the seats, closing his eyes.

  Cera banged on the wall—the signal for the bats to lift off. As soon as they rose into the air, Ursula let out a long, slow breath.