Chapter 7

Shivering, Ursula climbed the steps. She crossed the deserted river walkway, gripping the tattered scrap of fabric between her fingers. As she crossed back to the darkened parking lot, a heavy sadness weighed on her chest like a ton of rocks. The parking lot was completely empty, the only noise the wind rustling the leaves.

In a rubbish bin in the corner of the lot, she fished out a plastic bag and stuffed her mother’s wet rag inside. Water sloshed between her toes as she walked, and she began to seriously regret her decision to run into the river. She hung a left at the end of the dark parking lot, just as thunder rumbled over the horizon and a few fat drops of rain dropped into her skin.

She turned into a park to her right, not quite sure where she was heading. She had no wallet, no phone—and worst of all, she had no weapons. She’d left her sword back at Kester’s flat, and her reaping pen and kaiken dagger had been in her rucksack. Right now, she had nothing but a sad old rag.

Mist pooled in the dark park. Normally it might have been a good spot to find some uni students sharing a bottle of merlot, but at this hour, with the rain, she’d be lucky to find a drunk pissing in the bushes.

Shivering in the rain, she turned onto a road lined with brick buildings. So what had she learned? Kester was possibly in Avalon, and she had no idea how to get there. She’d learned that she had tried to kill her father, a man she couldn’t remember at all, and that her mother was dead, leaving behind only a ragged bit of blood-stained cloth. Ursula’s breath hitched in her throat.

Dead.The word rolled around her mind like a curse.

Ursula had sometimes wondered what her mother would look like now. Red hair graying at the temples, maybe—an older version of herself. Even if she’d never had a clear picture in her mind of reuniting with her mother, in the back of her mind, possibility had bloomed like a wildflower. There’d been a possibility of reunion.

Death certainly changed that, the certainty of it weighing on her chest like a ton of rocks. She’d never felt more alone. Worse, the knowledge that her mother had died, and that she’d tried to kill her father, only confirmed her gnawing suspicions that she had rid herself of her memories because she couldn’t face the truth. What the hell had happened in Mount Acidale—wherever that was? Was it something to do with the dragons hunting her?

The dark thoughts roiled in her mind and she hardly knew where she was going. She wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek. She needed to find somewhere to stay for the night, and she wasn’t sure she could check into a hotel at this hour. If she could get to a phone… She climbed the dark steps to the pedestrianized bridge, heading north of the river.

Ursula shivered as she crossed the bridge. Her trousers were sodden and freezing. Summer nights in London were chillier than in New York, and she hadn’t dressed for the chill. Fog drifted off the river, the cool air kissing her skin.

As she crossed back toward the Thames she reached into the plastic bag, grasping the fabric again. Under the riverside lights, she examined it. It was part of a blouse, really just a sleeve and a ragged chunk of the bodice, made of purple velvet with gold thread embroidered along the sleeve. Given the quality of the silk, it must have been expensive. A lump rose in her throat as she gently rubbed the fabric between her fingers.

She couldn’t remember this fabric. When she thought of her mother, it was only faint, insubstantial flashes—the red hair, a sword glinting in the sunlight. She couldn’t remember the fabric of her mother’s clothes, or the smell of her skin. Had Ursula once sat on her mother’s lap and rested her head against this bit of dress? Had her mother stroked her hair, kissed her forehead, and pulled her against this purple silk when she was upset? Had her mother worn this fabric, bending over Ursula in bed to tell her stories or sing her lullabies before she fell asleep? She didn’t know. For just an instant, she felt a sharp pang of longing so intense it nearly toppled her.

Dead.It was the certainty of it that robbed her of her breath.

As she walked across the bridge that spanned the Thames, Ursula wiped her hot tears on the back of her hand. The death of a possibility, pronounced in the crone’s gurgling river-water voice.

What else had the woman said? ‘Betrayed and betrayer.’ Something about ‘meeting a fate she didn’t deserve.’ Dread licked up Ursula’s spine. Had her mother been murdered?

As she descended the bridge’s steps, Ursula’s mind churned. Before the river hag, she’d had nothing to go on. Now, she had a name: Mount Acidale. If she wanted answers about herself, her parents—about why the dragons were after her—that was where she needed to go. Her mind whirled as she walked, roiling with the possibilities of discovery.

The rain picked up, dampening her hair, and she walked down the narrow lane at the end of the bridge. Most of the shops and restaurants here were closed, and almost no one was around at this time of night. She shivered as she walked, hugging herself. She’d tried to kill her father? She had no memories of him whatsoever. Not even a faint wisp. Was he still alive? And if he was, were they enemies? Maybe she’d fled to London to get away from him.

She hugged herself, her clothing soaked by the rain. So what were her options now? She could sigil back to Kester’s house, but it had apparently been taken over by vamps. They didn’t take kindly to hellhound intruders. They couldn’t move about in the daylight, so she’d have to wait until morning. Maybe she could get her bag then. For now, she had to find a place to sleep for a few hours. Too bad she had nothing—no wallet, and no phone. Just a rag, covered in her mother’s blood.

What she needed right now—desperately—was a friend.

At the end of the street, she caught sight of a sign before the door of a stone building: Studio 67. Ursula hurried toward it. She practically cried with relief when she saw a few people milling under the awning, smoking on the pavement. She walked up to the crowd, clutching the plastic bag tightly in her hand.

A man in a dark jacket, his hair styled in gelled tufts, took a drag from a rollie.

Ursula nodded at him as she approached, catching his eye. “All right? My phone’s dead. Do you mind if I borrow yours?”

“Sure.” Puffing on his cigarette, he pulled a phone from his back pocket.

She flicked open the cell phone screen, trying to decide whom to call. There weren’t many options. There was her former flatmate, Katie, and her ex-boyfriend, Rufus. Considering she’d rather punch herself in the face than speak to Rufus again, that left Katie. On the third ring, Katie picked up.

“Hello?” Music with a heavy bass pulsed in the background.

“Katie, it’s… um… It’s…” Ursula paused for a moment. After Ursula had become a hellhound, Emerazel’s agents had told Katie she’d died of a drug overdose. How would she break the news to Katie that this wasn’t actually the case? “It’s Ursula. I’m not dead.”

Ursula heard a sharp intake of breath. “Ursula? I’ve seen you on the news. What’s all this about the dragons? I thought you was dead for ages. That’s what they told me. I didn’t even know demons was real until a few months ago. Then you’re on the news with the—seriously, what the fuck is going on?”

“I’m not dead,” Ursula reiterated. “It was… well, it was sort of a conspiracy. Look, you can’t tell anyone I’m here.”

“All those demon-hunters in America are after you. You know that, right?”

“I just learned recently. And right now I’m sort of stranded in London.”

“But I don’t get it. If you was alive, why did you disappear? Why didn’t you ever call me? Seriously, what the fuck, Ursula?”

“I wanted to call, but I couldn’t. I—look, it’s a long story. Can I meet you somewhere?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m not far from Charing Cross. I’ve lost my cash and—well, everything, to be honest.”

“Can you walk to District 5? I can keep it open a bit later for you.”

“You work at Rufus’s bar?” Ursula asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there. Give me time. I’m walking.” She hung up the phone, handing it back to the man in the dark jacket. “Cheers.”

He waggled an eyebrow at her. “You need anything else, love?”

Yeah. Just to find my hellhound friend in a mythical city so he can tell me how to defeat an army of dragons.“Nope.”

Clutching the plastic bag, she picked up her pace, hurrying through the dark city. The closer she moved to Soho, the more people she passed, stumbling around in groups, trying to find night buses.

Dead.The word rang in her mind like a death knell, and a wave of sadness washed over her, threatening to pull her under. Met a fate she didn’t deserve. Had her mother tried to protect her daughter, before she fled Mount Acidale? Ursula swallowed hard, determined to find out the answers—someday. First, she needed to survive the bloody dragon apocalypse, and then she’d learn the truth about herself. Or perhaps, those two goals would be one and the same.

Her fingers tightened around the bag. She still needed to find Kester—he alone knew how to stop these dragons, apparently. But before that, she needed to find a warm place to stay until the sun rose.

As the rainstarted to let up, Ursula strode down Wardour Street, heading for District 5, the underground bar often full of students and alcoholics from the film industry.

In the shadows of District 5’s doorway, Katie’s blond hair shone in a streetlight. She was standing by herself, puffing on a cigarette. When she spotted Ursula, she dropped the butt in a puddle, her face lighting up. She ran to Ursula, throwing her arms around her.

Ursula hugged her back. “Good to see you too.”

“I thought you was dead. Seriously. That’s what they told me.”

Ursula pulled away from the hug. “I’m so sorry, Katie. I wanted to call, but Kester said I needed to start a new life.”

Katie was a few inches shorter than Ursula, and she wore a red dress that hugged her curves. She pushed a flyaway blond hair from her eyes. “What are you on about? Who’s Kester?”

Ursula shivered as a sharp gust of wind plastered her shirt against her back. “He’s like my boss. He’s the one who faked my death.”

“He sounds like a knob end, but he can’t be worse than Rufus. Rufus makes me look at his workout pictures on his mobile phone. Every bloody day, I have to pretend to be impressed.”

“Kester’s definitely not that bad. He’s missing now.” Ursula rubbed her arms for warmth.

“You’re freezing. I can get you some dry clothes from the lost and found.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. No one ever comes to collect that rubbish.”

Katie started toward the door of the club.

“Wait,” said Ursula. “Is Rufus in there? I really don’t want to run into him.”

“He’s inside, but he’s locked himself in his office to count his money. Doubt he’ll come out. Why don’t I meet you in the ladies’ washroom? He’ll never go in there.”

“All right.”

As Katie led Ursula down the stairs, the pounding of bass music reverberated off the walls. Ursula’s stomach knotted as the memory of her last time in the club came roaring back. She’d burned a club patron, and Rufus—her ex—had fired her, right before introducing her to his new girlfriend. It was quite possibly the worst birthday of her life, though given her memory problem, she couldn’t be entirely sure. As she moved into the club—at this point, populated only by the very drunk—she kept her head down and let her wet hair cover her face.

She pulled open the door to the women’s room, the blue tiles of the room illuminated by teal lights above the sinks.

Shutting the door behind her, she let out a long sigh. The bathroom was empty. She turned to look at the mirror and pushed her hair from her face.

I look like a drowned rat.

She grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dabbed it over her face. The cheap paper scratched her skin, but at least it soaked up some of the rain.

The door creaked open, and Katie slipped into the bathroom clutching a bundle of clothes. “Got you some dry things.” She held up a pair of leopard-print leggings and a turquoise halter top. “Sorry, hun. There wasn’t much in the way of selection.”

“It’s fine,” said Ursula, already pulling her soaked T-shirt over her head. Shivering, she slipped on the halter top. Although it left her arms and back bare—not to mention her cleavage—at least the dry cotton was a welcome relief.

Katie raised her perfectly tweezed eyebrows. “So are you going to explain the dragon thing, then?”

Ursula pulled off her damp trousers and shoved them into her plastic bag. “I don’t honestly understand it any better than you do. I still have no memory. The dragons are after me. And a hag in the Thames just told me my mum was dead.”

Katie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God!”

Ursula pulled her boots over her leggings. She looked like a deranged stripper. “It’s fine,” she lied. “I don’t remember her.” For now, Ursula would leave out the bit about her trip to the moon. Might be a bit much to explain at three a.m. in the ladies’ room of a dodgy club.

Katie’s blue eyes widened. “Is it true what Rufus said, that you lit someone on fire here in the club? Like, with your hands?”

Ursula shrugged. “It was an accident. I didn’t have control of my magic then.”

Katie’s jaw dropped. “So you’re, like, a witch then? Rufus’s girlfriend has a thing about witches.”

“No, I’m not a witch. I’m sort of a…” She had no idea how Katie would react to this, but it couldn’t be much weirder than what she’d already heard about her in the media. “I’m a hellhound. I can use fire magic.”

Katie shook her head, disbelieving. “Since when? Why did you never tell me?”

“I didn’t know, not till the night I disappeared.” She pointed to the scar on her shoulder, exposed by the halter top. “I wasn’t born a hellhound. Sometime before I lost my memory, I carved this. No idea why, but that meant when I turned eighteen, a hellhound came to collect me.”

Katie’s brow furrowed, and she took a step back. “So you’re like… a demon, innit?”

“Look, you were my flatmate for a year. I’m the same person now as I was then.” Ursula said it as convincingly as she could, but it rang hollow in her heart. The Ursula who’d worked at District 5 might as well have died the night she’d met Kester.

Katie bit her lip, still looking unsure of herself. “So what brings you back to London then? Escaping the dragons?”

“It’s complicated—” Ursula started to reply, but Katie gasped.

“Oh my God! Is that blood?” She pointed to the plastic bag that held Ursula’s mother’s blouse. Red liquid dripped from the bottom onto the floor.

“I think so. I was trying to figure it out myself. The river hag gave it to me.”

Katie’s face paled, and she gaped at Ursula.

“I’m serious. It was the river crone. She said it was my mother’s.”

Katie nodded slowly. “Right. Look, maybe it’s best if you get out of here. There’s all sorts of people looking for you.” Some kind of internal war seemed to be playing out on her features. “Do you have a place to stay?”

Ursula shook her head. With vamps in Kester’s flat, she was shit out of luck. “Not exactly.”

Katie took a deep breath. “Fine. Stay with me for the night. We’ll figure something out, okay?”

Relieved, Ursula loosed a breath. “Thank you, Katie.”

“Just try not to light anything on fire, would you? That flat is a death trap as it is.”

When Ursula steppedout of the bathroom, clutching her plastic bag, her stomach flipped. Madeleine, Rufus’s girlfriend, leaned against the bar in a tiny black dress with a gold jacket, clutching a glass of champagne. At the sight of Ursula, she slammed her champagne flute on the countertop and whipped out her phone. “Rufus!” She shouted over the thumping bass music. “We’ve got a situation!”

Ursula tried to shield her face with her hand, hurrying for the door. “I was just leaving.” But Madeleine was going to pass on her image to the authorities. All the demon hunters in America were after Ursula. She stopped in her tracks, feeling the fire burn in her veins, and she turned to face Madeleine again.

Madeleine was shoving the phone back in her hand bag, all innocence. “I thought you were leaving.”

“Give me your mobile.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Madeleine, fiddling around in her handbag. In all likelihood, she was trying to upload the video already. “I don’t even have my mobile on me.” She turned her head back to the office. “Rufus! What the bloody hell are you doing?”

As her head was turned, Ursula snatched Madeleine’s Chanel handbag off her shoulder. Quick as lightning, Ursula’s fingers were on the phone. She’d burn the bloody thing.

But as the hellfire erupted from her fingers, pain seared her muscles. The flames were actually burning her. What is wrong with my fire? The screen popped, shattering with the acrid scent of burning plastic.

“Rufus!” shouted Madeleine. “It’s Ursula. She’s here. She’s mugging me!”

By this point, a small crowd had begun forming around them.

Ursula dropped the scorched metal husk back into the Chanel handbag. “Sorry about your phone.” She thrust the bag back at Madeleine. “I have a feeling you can afford a new one.”

“Rufus!” Madeleine screeched. “The demon is here! A demon!”

Abruptly, the music stopped, and the club lights flicked on. Rufus pushed open his office door, narrowing his eyes at Ursula. “What the hell is going on in here?”

Madeleine pointed, her finger shaking. “That’s the woman the dragons are after. I think she might be one of their own.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Katie. “Everyone knows Ursula’s in America. This is just someone who looks like Ursula.”

A valiant attempt at deflection, but an unconvincing one.

An overweight man stumbled forward, his beer sloshing from his pint glass. “Fuckin’ hell, is that really the dragon girl? How much money they offerin’ for her?”

Ursula’s body tensed. “It’s been lovely catching up, but I’m afraid I have to go.”

As she headed for the door, the overweight man blocked her path. “Hang on a minute, love.”

Before Ursula could push past him, Madeleine was by her side again, clutching a vial of red powder, which she flung into the air. The sensation when it landed on Ursula’s skin was unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was pure unrelenting pain, like her skin was being peeled from her muscles. She screamed, falling to the floor.

Madeleine stood over her. “Rufus. You need to take her to the Brotherhood. The iron dust will extinguish her dragon magic. You can handle her.”

Rufus scratched his blond stubble, staring down at her. “Take her how?”

“Don’t touch her!” shouted Katie. “Your girlfriend’s a crazy bint. You know that, right? If you touch her, I will fucking glass you. I’m not messing about.”

Rufus held out his hands. “Now that’s uncalled for.”

Katie leaned down, catching Ursula under the shoulders and pulling her up. “Can you stand?”

With Katie’s help, Ursula managed to push her way up to her feet. And as she did, she caught a glimpse of the ring of lit up cell phones around them. Bollocks.

Madeleine scowled. “Rufus! You need to stop her!”

“I just feel a bit awkward about it,” Rufus whinged.

Leaning against Katie, Ursula stumbled toward the door, desperate to wash her skin of the iron dust. Kester had warned her about this stuff—not only would it singe away her magic, but it would sear her skin in the process. She shuffled to the door, trying to block out the agony.

At last, when she made her way through the door, the cold rain was a blessed relief on her skin. She pulled away from Katie, tilting her face to the sky. She let the raindrops wash the powder from her face, cleaning her. Her muscles relaxed just a little, and she wiped the mixture of dust and rain off her skin.

“Thank you for helping me,” she said to Katie.

“No problem. Rufus is a total bell-end, and Madeleine’s a stuck-up psycho cow. I’m sure you know that.”

“Won’t you be fired? He doesn’t like people defying him.”

“Probably, but I was planning on quitting anyway.”

Behind them, the door creaked open, and Rufus stood in the doorway, appraising her with his cool blue eyes.

“I have you on video,” he said.

“I don’t really give a shit.”

“The reward for your return is ten million dollars.” He adjusted the cuffs of his crisp white shirt. “The rent in Soho doesn’t come cheap, you know.”

She crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

“Is it true that a demon pays you? In gold?”

Absolute wanker. He’s trying to blackmail me.

As the iron dust washed off her skin Ursula could feel the fires of Emerazel pooling in her body, caressing her ribs. Staring at Rufus, she held up a hand. Raindrops sizzled and popped as flames started to lick along her skin. Fire burned from the tips of her fingertips, and a wicked smile curled her lips. “Do you really think that will happen, Rufus?”

She watched his throat bob as he swallowed. “It was Madeleine’s idea.”

“The demon hunters she’s mixed up with are not a good crowd. Do you understand me?”

His skin had gone pale, and he nodded mutely, seemingly transfixed by the flames that danced along her arms.

“You need to give Katie a raise. If I hear that you’ve fired her, I will come back and brand my name on your arse. Do you understand?”

Rufus nodded again. “Of course,” he stammered.

Ursula held out her hand. “Now I just need the money I was never paid the night you fired me. My last paycheck.”

Rufus pulled his wallet from his back pocket, handing it to her. She cracked it open, counting the pound notes.

“Only a hundred and thirty pounds? Business not doing so well?” Pocketing the cash, she turned to Katie. “I’ll cover our cab fare home.”