Chapter 34

She leapt away, hitting the floor hard and rolling behind the bookshelf they’d moved earlier. Somewhere on the other side of the cabin, her attacker chanted in Angelic—a spell for light—and a luminescent orb appeared in the center of the room. So much for hiding in shadows.

Kester had told her not to enter a fight unless she had a good chance of winning, so she wanted to get an idea of exactly who she’d be fighting. From her position, peeking around the bookshelf’s edge, she could see his outline glinting in the orb light. Armor—fae armor. She’d killed one fae tonight. She’d kill another if she had to.

The fae soldier’s heels clacked over the boards, and she reached over her shoulder to unsheathe Honjo, stepping out from behind the bookshelf.

The man had long, honeyed hair, and his handsome face split into a wide grin. His suit of armor was ornate complete with silver vambraces to protect his forearms. “Looking for a fight, little girl?”

“Yes, unless you want to take this opportunity to piss off, which I strongly suggest. For your own benefit,” she added, for emphasis. She was going to have to work on her sword fighting smack-talk.

Laughter danced in his eyes, but in the next moment, his face hardened, telegraphing an imminent strike.

Ursula parried gracefully, knocking his sword into one of the wooden bookcases. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I already killed one of your brothers tonight. What’s one more?”

The guard ignored her, yanking his sword free with a growl.

His movement left an opening, and with a flick of her wrist, she slid her blade between his hand and the vambrace, slicing his skin. He grimaced, and she pulled away her blood-stained sword. “I did warn you.”

“My orders are to bring you to Oberon. Dead or alive.”

This time, he didn’t telegraph his strike, and she had to dodge behind the stove. He stalked after her, armor creaking, backing her into a corner. She sliced Honjo, but the fae parried, sparks showering from their swords. He rounded the edge of the stove, swinging for her face. She ducked, and his blade whistled through the air only inches above her head. She had to do something offensive, but she didn’t know how to penetrate that fae armor without room to wind up in the cramped corner.

The image of Kester’s falling body blazed through her mind again, and fury flooded her. She lowered her shoulder and charged.

The force felt like tackling a steel beam, but she’d gotten the leverage right. The guard toppled back, hitting the floor with a crash that sent his sword skittering across the room.

Ursula stood over him, pointing Honjo at his throat, piercing the skin just enough to draw a small drop of red blood. “I did warn you.”

Fear shone in his eyes, his grin gone. “Have mercy.”

“A coup de grace then?”

“Please don’t kill me…”

“What happened to Kester?”

“I don’t know…” he stammered.

“Don’t lie to me.” Her voice came out in a cold roar, almost foreign to her.

“He died,” the fae yelled. “He fell to the ground and died. His body was mangled. He’s with his beloved fire goddess now, which I’m sure is what the filthy dog always want?—”

Ursula stabbed downward, but not into his throat. Instead she drove Honjo into the gap between breast plate and pauldron, her blade tugging on the sinews of his shoulder until it thunked against the wooden boards. He screamed piteously, but dark fury filled her. “I didn’t like where that sentence was going.”

The guard moaned.

“Don’t worry. You’ll live.” She wasn’t sure where this cold, icy Ursula had come from.

She crossed to the other end of the boat, pushing open the door to Kester’s room. She cast one last glance at the moaning fae. “If I hear any spells or incantations, I’ll be back to reap your soul.”

Dim light from two portholes illuminated Kester’s bedroom. Tucked into his bed, Zee slept, her chest rising and falling slowly.

Ursula scanned the room, her throat tightening. The walls were steel blue and the bed was covered in a grey duvet. The room was tidy, and a small bookshelf hung on the wall above his bed, lined with more old novels. This was Kester’s home. He’d been alive for four hundred years, and she’d led him to his death tonight.

Apart from the bed, the room was sparsely furnished with a small reading chair and a dresser. Something glittered on the top of the dresser—Kester’s reaping pen. Ursula stuffed it in her pocket before turning to pull the covers off Zee, who still wore her bloodstained opera gown. Ursula slid her hands under the fae girl’s petite shoulders, lifting her from the bed. She was lighter than Ursula expected, and she carried Zee back into the the main room, cautiously eyeing the soldier. He was just where she’d left him, pinned to the floor like an enormous entomologist’s specimen. “What do you want with that whore?” he spat.

“She’s a friend of mine.”

“You know she’s tainted? King Oberon never lets a fae leave his troop unless they’re unclean.”

“King Oberon is unclean,” she shot back. She didn’t know what that meant exactly, but clearly the old fae king was a filthy bugger. She hoisted Zee over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and gripped Honjo’s hilt. “I’m going to free you now, but only because I want my sword back.”

She ripped the blade from the fae’s shoulder. He screamed, hands gripping the wound.

She trained the point of the dripping blade at him, backing away. “If you get up, I’ll stab you through the other shoulder.”

She stopped when she reached Emerazel’s sigil. Holding Zee tight, she whispered in Angelic. At the last words, she and Zee disintegrated in a burst of flame.

Ursula was gaspingfor breath by the time she reached the gothic bedroom in the Plaza apartment. It wasn’t every day that she carried a limp body up a flight of stairs.

She dropped Zee on the black canopy bed, ignoring the animal skulls that lined the walls. She tucked Zee under the blankets and slipped out the door, her body aching.

A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it on the back of her hand. She’d retrieved Zee’s body, only to learn that Kester had died in the fall—died trying to clean up her mess, in fact. She’d only just been getting to know him, still hadn’t gotten the chance to learn his secrets. Who had Oriel been, and what had she meant to him?

No use wondering about it now. She still needed to figure out exactly how to hunt down an incubus lair. Kester would have known what to do. The man had been an experienced hellhound with an encyclopedic knowledge of spells and arcane magic.

Of course, she did have a literal encyclopedia of arcane magic in the library below. A lick of hope ignited, and she rose.