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.”

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.

When he reached her, he clamped his fingers around her waist—a little possessively, but not too hard. “Ursula. Are you all right?”

She blinked, taking in his stunning features—the beauty of a Greek god, all golden skin and black hair sweeping over his forehead. And despite the red bloodlust tinging his eyes, he actually sounded concerned. “Are you all right?”

“I will not hurt you.” He stared into her eyes. “I’m in control.”

Ursula could see a war raging within him—a desire to drink her blood combined with a need to protect her. “Are you sure?”

He nodded solemnly, and she breathed in the faint scent of sea air that curled off his powerful body—and under that, the scent of sandalwood. The smells of his homeland, where he’d once lived as a human, before the gods dragged him into their wars. Tightening her fingers, she resisted throwing her arms around his neck. Gods, it was good to see him, but he was clearly pretending to be feral, and she wasn’t going to blow his cover.

Around them, chaos reigned. Abrax’s oneiroi fought Hothgar’s guards in a whirlwind of clashing blades. And above it all, Abrax hovered above them, leathery wings beating the air rhythmically.

“We need to go,” said Bael.

“We need to bring Kester.”

Bael scanned the chaos. “There.” He pointed with his manacled hands. Across the room, Kester fought a pair of demons. Blood flowed from a cut on his arm, but he’d managed to grab a sword.

Ursula sucked in a sharp breath. “Let’s grab him and get the hell out.”

She made a move for Kester, hurrying across the room by Bael’s side. But before they could make any headway, Hothgar’s guards leapt into their way. Unarmed, Ursula dodged. Bael snarled, twirling the chain attached to his neck over his head like a cowboy’s lasso until he slammed it into the closest guard’s face.

“Kester!” Ursula shouted.

Kester turned to look at her, green eyes flashing while two oneiroi guards surrounded him. “There are too many! I’ll find you outside.”

Before Ursula had a chance to argue, Bael grabbed her arm. “This way. He’ll be fine.”

With guards closing in around them, she didn’t have time to debate. On her way to the doors, she caught one last look at Kester. He leapt into the air. In a single spinning move, he decapitated the two guards who’d surrounded him.

Oh. That’s why they call him the Headsman. And apparently Bael was right. He’d be fine.

Without looking back, Ursula turned to follow Bael’s enormous form. He led her through the melee, clearing a path with brutal but precise lashes of his chain. By the time they reached the tunnel, the crowd had thinned.

Bael and Ursula raced down a granite passage that opened into the cold, lunar air. From here, Ursula caught a glimpse of the carriage at the end of the platform. But ten yards from the tunnel’s opening, Bael pulled her in close to him, pressing her body against his.

She stared at the tunnel’s mouth, where five lunar bats swooped onto a platform. Each one carried a rider dressed in black. And as the riders slipped off the lunar bats, Ursula recognized their eerily smooth movements. A shudder danced up her spine. The golems from Abrax’s roof.

“Bael,” she whispered. “They’re golems.”

Bael put his fingers to his lips, whistling. At the piercing sound, the golems swiveled to look at them.

“What are you doing?” Ursula hissed. “They’ll tear us to pieces.”

As if he didn’t hear her, Bael was already charging toward the golems, spinning the chain above his head.

Ursula raced after him. Bloody hell, Bael. There is no way we can defeat five golems armed only with a piece of chain.

The golems spread out at the tunnel’s mouth, moving as gracefully as dancers. Ursula knew the slim blades they held in their hands made them absolutely lethal.

Just as Bael moved within range, he cut sharply right, sprinting toward the edge of the platform. Ursula followed, running as fast as she could with the manacles around her hands, and with the stupid gown trailing at her ankles.

A shadow passed over their heads as another bat winged into view, heading right for them. Ursula’s heart plummeted—until she recognized the silver hair fluttering behind the rider, the wide eyes. Cera—riding on the back of her lunar bat, Sotz. Ursula’s chest unclenched just a bit at the sight of her little friend.

“Ursula, get over here!” shouted Cera as she swooped along the edge of the platform.

The dusty lunar air burned Ursula’s lungs as she raced full speed toward Cera, golems close behind her. From the periphery of her vision, she could see Bael’s enormous form slamming golems off the side of the platform.

“Ursula!” Kester’s voice boomed behind her, and she whirled to see him bursting from the tunnel, a horde of guards behind him.

“Now!” yelled Cera. “We’ll get Kester on a second pass.”

Ursula’s throat tightened. No. I’m not leaving him here. Golems were surrounding him, and he had no idea how dangerous they were.

“Kester,” Ursula shouted. “Watch out.”

She reached into herself, channeling her rage. Her mind blazed with images of Abrax, of Emerazel—everyone who wanted to control her—until hot wrath simmered in her blood. With a volcanic explosion of fury, flames erupted from her body, searing hot. Good thing flames wouldn’t burn a hellhound like Kester.

The fire raced for the golems until a fireball engulfed them. She didn’t stop to watch their bodies melt, or to wonder if they felt pain, she simply screamed for Kester to run to Cera’s lunar bat. She heaved a sigh of relief as he made it aboard.

Overhead, wings beat the air. On a second lunar bat, Bael swooped lower, slowing the flight just long enough for Ursula to jump on in front of him. Frantically, she swung her leg over the bat’s body, struggling in her long dress, until the hem hiked up to her thighs. She was barely clinging onto the creature, completely unsteady. But bloodlust or not—she knew Bael wouldn’t let her fall.