Chapter 24

Ursula landed with a thud on Sotz’s back, and she grappled for balance, her legs intertwining with Cera’s. Sotz soared over the water, and the wind whipped at Ursula’s hair.

“How did you find me?” Ursula shouted.

“Bael tracked you.”

“Bael?”

“He’s right behind us.”

Ursula twisted around to see Bael, clutching the fur of his lunar bat. And behind him, clinging to his massive body as if her life depended on it, her face pale as milk, was Zee. Bael’s fierce eyes were locked on Ursula’s, but the dragon’s scream pulled his gaze away.

“To the Statue!” Ursula shouted.

On the back of the lunar bat, they winged over the water. Sunlight dazzled over the waves, and the briny sea breeze kissed her skin. She shot a quick glance at the dragon, who swooped toward them, his green scales shining in the light. Excalibur whispered in the back of her mind, Fight, and her pulse raced.

Bael’s voice boomed through the air. “Aim for the torch.”

Cera pulled up on Sotz’s fur, guiding him higher as they raced through the sky. Higher they soared, flying steeply upward, shooting past the soft, pale green contours of Lady Liberty. At last, they arced over the edge of the torch, before veering sharply downward. They landed on the torch’s balcony with an ungraceful lurch. Ursula tumbled off, smacking her head into the wall. Dizzy, she refocused her vision just in time to see Bael land gracefully.

Zee leapt off the bat, visibly shaking. “Well? What now?”

Bael crossed to Ursula, holding out a hand. As she grasped it, rising, she glanced out at the water, her heart thundering against her ribs at the sight of the dragon closing in on them. Her legs began to shake—only now, it wasn’t fear. It was battle fury that sang in her blood, spurring her on.

Bael crossed to a door on the balcony, but it was locked. He rammed it with his shoulder, and Ursula felt the blow reverberate through the stone—but the door didn’t budge.

Excalibur called to her, and she pulled it from its sheath, staring at the dragon as it raced for them, piercing the air with its shrieks. Ursula longed to thrust her blade into its neck, but there wasn’t much room on the narrow balcony that wrapped around the torch.

She turned to Bael, who still hammered at the door with his shoulder. She gripped her sword. “Get out of the way.”

Bael shifted out of the way, and Ursula swung Excalibur at the locked door. As the steel clashed against the lock, sparks flew into the air. With the second strike, she cut through the lock. Ursula kicked open the door to reveal a dusty shaft. When she peered over the edge, her gaze landed on an iron ladder.

“Go,” said Ursula, ushering Cera and Zee in front of her. They clambered down the ladder. The interior of the statue smelled like old pennies.

“Ursula.” Bael touched her back. “Go.”

She sheathed her sword again, turning around to hurry down the ladder. She’d descended ten feet before she realized Bael wasn’t on the ladder. She looked up at his hulking silhouette, still by the doorway. He crouched, his sword drawn.

“What are you doing?” asked Ursula.

“Protecting you.”

The walls of the shaft rumbled as something slammed into them, and a dragon claw punctured the copper skin above them. A stream of bright light pierced the dark shaft. With another thundering boom, a scaled, reptilian hand ripped away part of the walls above their heads. Debris rained down on them, and sunlight poured into the shaft.

“Hurry,” Bael snarled.

Ursula’s sword bounced against her thigh as she clambered down. Another blow slammed into the statue, and claws ripped through the top of the torch, knocking the ladder loose. Ursula lost her grip, tumbling off the ladder in an avalanche of falling debris, dust, and fragments of steel and copper.

Her heart skipping a beat, Ursula plummeted lower. Frantically, she grasped around, her fingers tightening around a rung. Pain tore through her shoulder as she barely held on. Coughing through the dust, she squinted into the shaft of light streaming into the ruins of the arm. There was no sign of Bael.

“Bael!” she shouted.

Silence greeted her—until Cera’s voice broke it from below. “Jump. We’ll catch you!”

Just as she let go of the rung, the dragon’s head peered into the hole. The creature opened its jaws and screamed, the sound sending a shudder of dread up her spine.

Zee’s armsnearly broke her fall, but Ursula slipped through them, slamming onto a metal catwalk that rattled violently. Pain splintered her hip, but at least the walkway had broken her fall, and she still had her sword.

Coated in dust, Zee peered down at her. “Are you all right?”

Slowly, Ursula sat up. “Yeah.”

Cera knelt, helping Ursula to her feet. “Where is the lord?”

Ursula peered up at the shattered torch, the sunlight streaming through the dust. The dragon had disappeared—for now. She shook her head. “He was still in the torch. The dragon ripped him away.”

Ursula’s heart thundered, her legs shaking. What had happened to Bael?

Cera grabbed her arm. “We must find the lord.”

Ursula’s pulse raced. “The bats. If Bael were falling through the air, Sotz could have found him. Bael rides the lunar bats better than anyone.”

From above, the screech of shearing metal echoed off the walls—and then, the bloodcurdling sound of a dragon’s scream as the creature ripped away another chunk of the statue.

“We need to get out of here!” Ursula shouted.

Zee flashed a blade—a delicate, mother-of-pearl dagger inlaid with gold. “Agreed. I’m just not sure I brought a sufficient weapon.”

“Not to worry.” Straining her eyes through the dust and debris, Ursula eyed a locked door at the end of the catwalk. “I’ve got the only weapon we need.” She crossed to the door, unsheathing Excalibur. She swung her sword at the lock—once, twice—steel clashing against steel. She smashed the lock, then kicked the door open into a curved hall of crisscrossing metal beams: the crown of the statue, where sunlight streamed through narrow windows onto a metal walkway. Just as Ursula hurried to the window, desperate to catch a glimpse of Bael, a claw came into view, heading right for them. The sound of screeching metal pierced her eardrums again, and she stared through the window as the dragon peeled off a layer of metal like he was peeling an orange.

Ursula whirled, pointing to a spiral metal staircase. “This way.” Gripping her sword, she ran to the stairs, with Cera and Zee close behind.

They sprinted down the steps into the darkness, spiraling lower into the depths of the statue, while above them, the dragon sheared off portions of the statue. The sound of tearing metal was deafening. Ursula’s footfalls pounded the stairs, her body propelled forward by an irresistible force, the song of Excalibur singing in her blood. The past doesn’t matter anymore. Only what lies ahead. As she ran, she tuned out the sounds of shearing metal.

At last, as they neared the bottom, new voices echoed off the metallic walls—the voices of young women.

“What is going on?” someone was shouting.

Another answered. “It’s Wiglaf. He tore out of here hella fast.”

Ursula slowed her pace, listening to the voices from below as the stairwell reached a large hall.

“Why would Wiglaf tear everything apart like this? It must be the girl, don’t you think?”

“He’s coming!” someone shouted.

Ursula stopped walking, peering over the railing. Just below her, twenty women stood on a concrete floor, surrounded by makeshift cots. Despite the shabbiness of their surroundings, they were all dressed glamorously—short gold cocktail dresses, black strapless gowns—each one as gorgeous as a supermodel, most nearly six feet tall. A dragon’s harem of sorts.

Ursula gripped the railing, surveying the danger. An enormous guard, his shoulders the width of a refrigerator, stood guarding a door, gripping a battle-axe. His muscled body oozed menace—but the dragons were nowhere to be seen. She could almost feel their power, their ancient, primal magic vibrating through the building, and she needed to find them. More importantly, her sword needed to find them.

Another screech of shearing metal echoed through the hall as the dragon tore at the statue.

An idea sparked in Ursula’s mind, and she turned to Zee. “Can you glamour us to look like supermodels and movie stars?”

Zee chewed her thumb. “I think so. I’ll just need to fix your clothes and makeup. Your face is good enough, I guess.” She frowned at Cera. “But I’ll need to change nearly everything about this one.”

Ursula stroked the hilt of Excalibur. “Just don’t change the sword.”

Cera glared at Zee, who lifted her hands, her body glowing with a pale, pearly light. With her eyes closed, she muttered under her breath. As the pale light curled around her, Ursula felt her leather clothing transform into silk that slid against her legs, and she stared down at a plunging neckline. From the waist down, folds of tulle and silk hid her sword. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Zee had darkened her hair to a deep brown.

She glanced at Cera, who grew taller—her hair now a long, platinum blonde, her eyes changing, now almond-shaped and hazel. Cera straightened, flicking her long hair over her shoulder.

Zee merely gave herself a few more inches, transforming her outfit into a short cocktail dress, her eye-makeup glittering, lips a deep blood red.

Ursula touched the sheath under the folds of her gown for reassurance. “Let’s go.”

Standing tall, they walked down the final turn of the stairwell. While the guard stared up at the destruction above—the dragon tearing through more of the statue—Ursula and her friends slipped into the crowd of women.

The guard gripped his battle-axe, his eyes blazing red as he stared at the women. Dark, shadowy magic curled off his body. “Get to the warren, now!” his voice boomed. “All of you!” He flung open the door into a dark hall.

A dark smile curled Ursula’s slips, and Excalibur hummed by her side. The warren. Exactly where she needed to go.

The women scrambled around, hurrying, and in the chaos, Ursula slipped into their ranks right behind Cera. She kept her head down as she moved toward the guard by the door. But before they could go through the threshold, the guard’s hand shot out, and he grabbed Cera’s arm, his eyes blazing red.

“I don’t remember you.” He growled. “Did Lucius bring you here?”

Cera smiled at him sweetly. “Yes. Of course.”

The guard slowly looked her up and down. “You look like one of his.”

Cera winked at him, and his grip on her arm eased up. Ursula kept her head down, passing through the door into a dark hall. All around her, the dragon’s magic thickened the air, a shimmering, metallic glow. Her sword seemed to vibrate by her side.

Here, in the bowels of the statue, the dragons had dug a large tunnel. As they moved closer, a low growl vibrated off the walls. Ursula shuddered as a dragon’s head appeared in the opening. A ray of sunlight pierced the hall, sparking off the beast’s shimmering scales. Its magic grew sharper, and the dragon seemed to glow as if lit from inside like a lantern, eyes beaming with pale light. An icy shiver of fear snaked up her spine. But this time, she had the sword.

The dragon blinked slowly, then nodded once.

From behind them, the demon guard stepped into the hall. “Follow me, captives!” His voice boomed.

As the dragon turned and moved into the tunnel, Ursula and the other women filed after him into a passage the size of a subway tunnel.

With the dragon’s back toward them, Ursula considered drawing Excalibur from its sheath under the folds of her dress, and she ached to carve its blade into the reptile’s flesh. She could probably get in a good swing or two before the dragon turned around, assuming she didn’t kill it outright. Still, she hesitated. It wasn’t time yet. She needed to get into the warren itself.

Its movements serpentine, the dragon slithered through the hole, further into the warren’s interior. Among the women, a nervous energy buzzed—almost terrified.

A tall blonde woman by Ursula’s side was staring at the ground, muttering under her breath as she walked, her entire body shaking. “The Drake. The Drake was here... He has complete control over everything.”

What was she talking about? Ursula cleared her throat. “The Drake?” she prompted.

The woman’s eyes widened, her beautiful face smudged with mascara, and she put a finger to her lips. “Shhhhh...”

From Ursula’s side, Zee grabbed her arm. “Ursula,” she whispered. “This isn’t good. Drakes aren’t supposed to exist. King Oberon killed the last one.”

“What the hell is a Drake?” Ursula whispered back.

“In fae lore, they were the leaders of the dragons. Immensely powerful, imbued with the magic of gods?—”

The blonde glared at them, raising her finger to her lips again. “Shhhhhh. Don’t speak of him.”

Behind the dragon, they rounded a corner, and the tunnel expanded into a cavernous hall. Carved from the bedrock, it was shaped like an amphitheater, with giant concentric platforms of stone that led down to a stage. Three sleeping dragons reclined on the stones, their scales shimmering in golden torchlight. A metallic scent hung in the air, so thick she could taste it on her tongue.

The demon guard led them down the stone ramp, and Ursula glanced at the massive dragon bodies, their hides slowly expanding and contracting as they slept. Her fingers went to the hilt of her sword. Not yet, Ursula. The Drake was the dragon she needed to defeat first. Cut off the head of a serpent...

As they moved down the ramp, a man stepped from the shadows. He was gigantic, at least eight feet tall, and clad in a suit of armor. He gripped a massive broadsword. But it was his hair that drew her eye—a bright red, the color of poppy flowers. It glowed with an inner light, shimmering even in the dim light of the warren.

And here he was—the Drake. Ursula reached for her sword.