Chapter 44

She snatched the billfold from where it lay on the floor, then sprinted to Bael.

“Cera!” shouted Ursula as she ran. “I’m going to need your help. I have his wings.”

“Flip him over!” Cera shrieked. She ran over to where Bael lay and grabbed the wallet from Ursula’s hands.

As Cera carefully withdrew the wings, Ursula turned to Bael’s still body. His chest wasn’t moving. Could she really still save him? Grunting and using all her strength, she pushed Bael’s body over, so he lay flat on his front.

“Hurry,” shouted Cera.

Ursula grabbed the fabric at Bael’s shoulder and began to pull.

“Wait.” Cera pulled out a knife, then began cutting the shirt off his back, and drew the blade through his bandages. Fresh blood oozed from the wounds where Bael’s wings had been.

Looking at his ravaged back, Ursula snatched the wings from Cera. The wings were featherlight and transparent, glowing with a pearly magic. “What do I do?”

Cera chewed her lip. “I think you just put them on the wounds.”

Slowly, Ursula pressed a wing onto the closest wound. She paused for a full second, but nothing happened.

“I think it needs to be both of them,” whispered Cera.

“Right.” Holding her breath, Ursula carefully placed the remaining wing on the second wound.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the wings began to glow brighter, with a silvery light like a burning star, until they shone so brightly Ursula had to cover her eyes. Relief bloomed in her chest. It’s working. A wild joy bubbled through her.

When she opened her eyes again, Bael was sitting before her. His bare, tattooed chest glowed with an unearthly light, and the room filled with the scent of sandalwood. He drew in a deep breath, standing and extending his hand to Ursula.

“Thank you,” he said, the light fading. Shadows began to swirl about him once again, and dark wings cascaded behind him.

He looked like a god, and Ursula’s jaw dropped.

“You returned my wings to me.” He pulled her closer, enfolding her in his powerful arms.

Ursula could have hardly thought it possible, but his body felt even stronger, like steel cables now reinforced his muscles. He kissed her, and she melted into his embrace.

A deep cough interrupted them.

Lucius was pulling dead fragments of shadow magic off his body. “I’m sorry to intrude, but where is Excalibur?”

Ursula whirled, turning to find Abrax. But he wasn’t there.

In fact, where he’d been lying, she saw only a smear of blood. Hadn’t she slashed his throat? And his chest?

“How did he survive that?” she cried. “I thought the sword could kill him.”

A sound somewhere between a growl and a roar rumbled in Lucius’s chest. “That sword is mine.”

“So we will retrieve it,” said Bael.

Lucius gripped his hair. “The demon could be anywhere now.”

Ursula frantically racked her brain. What use would Abrax have for Excalibur?

That was when a terrifying realization sparked in her mind. “I know where he’s gone. He wants to kill his father. He’ll be at Asta, hunting for Nyxobas.”

At Asta’s spire,Sotz landed on the platform. The violet crystal glowed faintly in the bright light. Bael climbed off from behind her, and Ursula followed, her gaze flicking to Cera and Lucius as they landed gracefully.

With a sickening snapping sound, Lucius shifted into his human form. He clapped his hands together, his face reddened. “Let’s get my sword, shall we?”

They stalked into the tunnel, and Ursula reached out to touch the walls of the passage. Without Emerazel’s fire in her veins, the crystal didn’t feel ice cold. If anything, she could feel the deep hum of magic thrumming all around her, seeping into her veins.

Ursula could hear the distinct sound of hammering when they entered the hall of the lords, and she strained her eyes in the dim light. The faint indigo gleam of the crystal cast a pale glow on the empty stone tables of the demon lords.

Ursula’s gaze flicked to Nyxobas’s throne, where he sat, as usual, in a dark-eyed daze. But he wasn’t alone, and that was where the sound of hammering was coming from. Abrax stood just before the sleeping god, gripping Excalibur. He grunted, rearing back to swing for his father’s head. But his aim was off, and it slammed into the stone next to Nyxobas for what must have been at least the hundredth time. The rock sparked, and shards of crystal sprayed onto the floor of the throne room.

“Put it down, fool,” Lucius bellowed. “You cannot handle the blade. Only Excalibur chooses who may wield it.”

Abrax turned, his face a mask of fury, blood streaming from his throat, his chest. “I am the son of a god. I can do what I want.”

“Surrender yourself,” said Bael. “You are outnumbered and half dead.”

“No.” Abrax stumbled toward them, his pale eyes wide.

“No?”

“Did you not think I would have a contingency plan?” He pointed to a dark form in the corner. A man, wrapped in shadow magic.

Ursula’s stomach clenched when she recognized Kester’s sandy hair.

Abrax grinned. “All I have to do is snap my fingers, and the shadows will coil around his throat.”

“Do you think we won’t sacrifice Kester?” said Bael.

“She won’t.” Abrax pointed to Ursula.

“Bael,” said Ursula. “Let me talk to him.”

Bael’s dark wings cascaded gracefully behind him. “Ursula, wait.”

But she was already striding across the marble floor.

Abrax smiled at her as she approached. “I knew you would save your friend.”

“Release him.” Nyxobas’s power thrummed over her body, coiling between her ribs. Maybe her fire magic was gone, but now she felt the thrill of night magic—cold, ancient, and strangely familiar.

Abrax narrowed his eyes. “Your soul for his.”

“Ursula!” shouted Bael in warning, but Ursula was already leaping, the shadows carrying her as if on a phantom wind.

She appeared next to Abrax. Before he could strike her with Excalibur, she drove Honjo into his ravaged chest. Abrax’s eyes widened as she jerked the sword upward.

“You cannot kill me. I am immortal.”

“I know you can feel pain.” She twisted the blade, watching his face contort with agony.

Abrax’s body began to quiver, his bones contracting, his face becoming demonic.

“No you don’t,” said Ursula, grabbing him by the throat and pulling his face closer. “You were right. I’m drained of Emerazel’s fire. But that only leaves room for Nyxobas’s shadows. They’re drawn to me, like they belong to me. I’m a creature of the night. I always have been. Do you remember what happened when you tried to kill me on the sands of Lacus Mortis?”

There was fear in Abrax’s eyes now. “I am immortal?—”

“But that won’t stop me from consuming your magic.”

Ursula breathed in, sucking Abrax’s shadowy magic into her body. Dark and wispy as smoke, it imbued her body, pooling around her skull, her ribs. She felt herself lured into the void, that clean expanse of nothingness, where she didn’t have to feel. She fought to stay focused, drawing Abrax’s magic from him.

Abrax’s pale eyes widened. As Ursula drained him, a voice boomed all around her, penetrating her skull. “Enough!”

She looked at Nyxobas where he sat on his throne, his eyes now sharp and clear as rays of light.

She stared into the god’s ancient face, and the darkness of the void drew her under.