Chapter 44

The whole room seemed to vibrate, and Ursula hoped the roar wouldn’t fell the entire tree. Shadows whirled, and Nyxobas appeared in front of her, his eyes black and bottomless. Icy darkness washed over her, then she was standing at the edge of the void again, staring into its depths. A few glimmers of memory whispered past her eyes—the fields of wildflowers in the moonlight, someone teaching her to fight—a woman, her hair like fire. But then the images disappeared, drifting away like smoke in the wind.

She stared once again into the darkness, ice gripping her chest.

Nothing.

This was what death looked like: cold and solitary. Everyone died alone, left only with their thoughts and memories, stripped of everything but identity. But she had no identity, hardly had any memories, for her there was only the void.

Her fingers itched to touch her smooth, round rock, but it was lost. She had nothing but the gnawing emptiness, drawing her deeper. Soul-crushing grief pressed on her chest, so cold and harsh she could hardly breathe.

“Release his soul at once.” Nyxobas’s voice rang into the void.

The desolation was so sharp and oppressive she could barely speak, until at last she choked out the word “No,” her body trembling.

“Then I will kill you.”

Nyxobas was terrifying, but she had nothing left to lose. As she looked up at him, her vision refocused. She concentrated on her feet, planted firmly on the floor. “Kill me, then. I’m going to die anyway. Abrax stole a soul I was supposed to collect. When Emerazel finds out she’ll send me straight to her inferno.” Ursula felt the fire begin to burn within her. “So you can kill me now or you can wait for Emerazel to do it for you, but I’m not going to give you Bael’s soul.” Not to mention, she didn’t even know how to return a soul.

Nyxobas’s eyes darkened. Before she could stop him, he grabbed her arm in an iron grip. She could feel his power race through her, cold and lethal.

The god reached into her jacket, yanking her flask from her pocket. Pushing her away, he began to pour it on the floor. It took her a moment to recognize Emerazel’s sigil. He chanted—some sort of spell for fire—and as the flames flickered, he summoned Emerazel.

At his final words, the goddess appeared with a burst of flame. Immediately, the room felt unbearably hot, like Ursula had been shoved in an oven. Across from her, Abrax and Bael writhed in agony.

This time, Ursula knew not to stare her into the goddess’s eyes.

“You summoned me, Nyxobas?” the goddess hissed.

“Your cur tricked one of my demons into signing a pact against his will.”

Ursula could feel her body burn; Emerazel’s burning gaze must have turned to her. “Oh really?”

“So I tricked him,” shouted Ursula. “Since when are demons supposed to play fair?”

“Let me see the paper,” said Emerazel, her voice simmering with rage.

Shaking, Ursula dug in her pockets, but they were empty. “I can’t find it. It must be back at the Plaza,” she sputtered, like an idiot student who’d forgotten her homework.

“I saw the contract,” said Bael, eyes burning with fury. “I felt it. The fire whore has my soul.”

Nyxobas’s lips peeled back from his teeth. He looked like he might roar again.

“Well, that settles it, then,” said Emerazel. “There are no rules about how a pact is signed. His soul will hold a place of honor in my inferno. He is a gorgeous specimen of man, and I’m sure I can make use of his body.”

“Perhaps we can make a deal,” said Nyxobas, his voice icy.

Ursula’s gaze raised just high enough to catch Emerazel’s ashy smile. “Oh, I think not. I can tell Bael has a powerful soul.”

Nyxobas’s cold gaze flicked to his son. “Get the Headsman.” Without a word Abrax disappeared into the hall. A few moments later, he returned, dragging Kester’s body over the floor.

“What have you done to Kester?” said Emerazel. The room grew hotter, like the inside of a volcano.

Please make it stop.

“I took his soul,” said Abrax. “He wasn’t very careful.”

Heat rolled off Emerazel in waves. Even Nyxobas seemed to be affected, wiping a line of sweat from his brow.

“Fine. A soul for a soul,” said Emerazel at last.

Abrax lowered Kester to the ground. For a moment the incubus looked at Ursula, his expression burning with pure hatred, then he knelt. With an unnatural jerk, his back arched and a golden light unspooled from his mouth, curling into Kester’s. As the last of Kester’s soul passed from between Abrax’s lips, the incubus fixed his eyes on her. They were black as pitch, his expression almost feral. There was no doubt in her mind that he desperately wanted to kill her.

Even from where she stood, Ursula could see the color begin to return to Kester’s face. His eyelids twitched, and he moaned softly.

She cleared her throat. “What about Zee and Hugo’s souls?”

Abrax stared at her, disbelieving. “Those were fairly acquired.”

“Hugo agreed to give me his soul.” Emerazel’s voice sizzled through the room like water on hot iron.

“What will you give me in exchange?” asked Nyxobas.

“What do you want?”

The god of darkness looked at Ursula, a small smile on his lips. Dread tightened Ursula’s chest.

“Her?”

“Yes.”

Emerazel frowned, considering. Ursula wanted to scream. This couldn’t be happening. Just one peek at the void of shadows had been terrifying. Now she might be sent there permanently.

Nyxobas, sensing Emerazel’s reluctance, added, “I don’t need her entirely. Just a portion of her soul would suffice.”

“I’ll share Ursula with you. You’ll get her skills for half of each year.”

Nyxobas grinned. “This is acceptable to me.”

“Wait,” Ursula sputtered. Emerazel’s eyes blazed, and Ursula could feel the goddess begin to control her. There would be no arguing her fate, but maybe she could save another.

“Are you returning Zee’s soul too?”

The night god’s smile widened. “Whatever you want, my little hound.”

Ursula wasn’t sure if she wanted to drop to her knees with relief or run screaming through the halls, but at least everyone was going to live.

On the floor, Kester moaned again, and Ursula rushed to him, putting her hand on his chest. His green eyes fluttered open.

“Ursula?” he whispered.

She cupped his cheek. God, she was glad to see him. “Yes, Kester. It’s me.”

He smiled weakly. Then his body spasmed, eyes rolling back into his head. He’d passed out. Apparently regaining your soul wasn’t easy on the nervous system.

The room suddenly went cold, and Ursula looked up. They were alone. Emerazel, Nyxobas, Abrax, and Bael had all disappeared. She gotten everything she’d wanted, but an uneasy feeling still whispered over her skin. Why had Emerazel agreed to that deal? Why give up a perfectly good hellhound for half the year, just to get the soul of a pop-star and to save a fae girl she could not care less about? It didn’t make any sense.

A rhythmic sound vibrated through the walls—the drumming of hundreds of feet. The fae soldiers must be looking for them. Whatever Emerazel’s motives, Ursula didn’t have time to unravel them now.

Straining her thigh muscles, she dragged Kester into the center of the sigil Nyxobas had lit on the floor. She held Kester’s limp body, intoning the sigil spell, and with a scorching heat they burned into ash.