Chapter 32

Ursula and Cera stood on the roof of the manor, looking out over the crater. From the black sky, the pale light of the sun shimmered over Asta’s spire, and warmed her skin through her clothes.

She shielded her eyes with her hand, glancing at Cera. “Thank you for teaching me to ride Sotz.”

Cera shot her a stern look. “You’d better not die today.”

Icy dread flooded her body. “I’ll do my best.”

Cera leaned closer, giving her hand a squeeze. “If you don’t go now, Ursula, you’ll be late.”

Ursula put her fingers to her lips, whistling for Sotz. After a few moments, a shadow passed over their heads, and Sotz landed on the rooftop, just by the building’s edge.

Her stomach turning, Ursula crossed to the bat. Her fingers grazed her katana’s hilt. A part of her wondered if Bael had been right. Maybe she should have listened and left the katana at home. But she couldn’t exactly rely on someone who kept saying he planned to kill her.

Taking a deep breath, she settled herself on Sotz’s shoulders, gripping tightly with her thighs. Sotz clambered to the building’s edge, then took flight over the crater.

As Sotz winged toward the spire, she rehearsed her plan: stay alive. She’d try to stay out of the fight and engage only if attacked.

She soared over the crater, thrilling at the feel of the wind in her hair. As Sotz drew closer to Asta, she tightened her grip on his fur. Around Asta’s peak, workers had erected a great wooden platform that ringed around the spire. And from the platform, a long wooden dock jutted out into the lunar winds, like a wharf.

Ursula circled closer. In the center of the platform, Hothgar stood, flanked between his wife and his giant gong. The other lords mulled around, sipping from silver goblets. How fun to drink cocktails while watching death rain down on the city with a perfect, panoramic view.

The other riders already soared through the air, showing off by turning flips and racing around the peak. Bael flew in a lazy circle around the perimeter, apparently unconcerned with showboating.

Arcing closer, Ursula glanced down at the crater. A vast sea of Brethren swarmed around the spire’s base. Unlike the arena at Lacus Mortis, this venue stood right in the center of the Shadow Realm. Anyone in the entire kingdom could get there—and it appeared the entire kingdom had, in fact, showed up to watch the champions die.

A loud crash rang through the air, reverberating through her gut. Hothgar’s gong. Things are about to get started.

Hothgar raised his hands to the sky, his dark magic swirling around his body. As he spoke, his voice boomed over the crater. “The sun has nearly reached its zenith. The riders must approach the dock.”

Ursula’s heart was beating so hard, it threatened to break her ribs, but she gently guided Sotz lower, joining the line of riders on the dock. As she flew closer, she could see that the starting positions on the dock alternated directions—some facing clockwise, and some counterclockwise. Apparently, these would be the two groups.

She picked out Bael’s muscled form at the end of the dock, facing clockwise. Her pulse racing, she angled Sotz lower to the dock. As she approached, her pulse racing, she was gripped by the terrifying fear that she’d overshoot the bloody thing entirely.

At the last moment, Sotz skidded to a halt, clinging on to the dock’s edge. At his clumsy landing, she lurched forward, grunting, before regaining her balance. Sotz inched back, and Ursula took a deep breath, surveying her competition.

She’d landed between a lanky demon with a narrow mustache, and a noseless creature with skin the color of ice. The iceman turned to glare at her, growling.

Leaning forward, she glanced down the row again at Bael. They faced the same direction. In theory, she could follow behind him—assuming he really meant to help her.

At the end of the dock, Hothgar stalked closer, his dark eyes gleaming in the sunlight like black pearls. “Ah, Emerazel’s dog. I realize a bitch like you is used to riding your way to the top, but you won’t be doing it by opening your legs today.”

She snarled at him. “Don’t you have some unfortunate dolls you need to seduce in your temple?”

Hothgar’s eyes flashed with rage. The lanky man to her right barked a laugh. Ursula shot a quick glance at Viking, who laughed behind her hand. Suddenly, she was glad she’d brought the katana. She wanted to show the city what a woman could do—that they didn’t need to submit to their men because they were weak.

As her muscles tensed, ready for battle, Ursula tried to flash her bravest smile at Hothgar’s wife.

Above the spire, the sun blazed bright—right above the peak. A cold sweat broke out on her brow. She swallowed hard, tightening her grip on Sotz, feeling his heart thumping through his fur. As she leaned forward, she surveyed the riders once more. Each demon dressed in muted shades of gray, blue, and black—some in furs and armor. Only one rider stood out—the Gray Ghost, draped in white, his face covered by a scarf.

At the end of the line, Bael wore his black fighting gear, his lion pendant glinting in the sun. He faced forward, his grip tight on a long lance.

In a race like this, a long weapon like a lance was a huge advantage. Might have been nice to train with one.

Hothgar’s voice boomed, “The race will commence when I sound the gong, at the sun’s zenith.”

Ursula’s blood roared in her ears. Her palms were sweating so much, she wasn’t sure she could keep hold of Sotz’s fur. Her eyes wandered to the crater’s floor, hundreds of feet below. What would a body look like if it fell from this height?

The pause that followed seemed to stretch for eternity, and Ursula closed her eyes, trying to marshal control over herself, trying not to picture the explosion of guts from a person’s mouth.

At last, the gong crashed, reverberating around the crater. She tightened her thighs on Sotz.

Sotz launched into the air.

Around her, the riders soared, the wings of their bat beating the air. Ursula leaned down, urging Sotz forward. As they arced around the spire, she fell slightly behind the rest of the pack, and she stared at the back of Flesh Scales. There was no shame in hanging behind the others. If this was a fight to the death, might as well let the front of the pack take the brunt of the attack.

The crowd below cheered, and her heart pumped harder. The other half of the champions must be close.

They burst into view, weapons glinting in the sun.

Ahead of her, Bael and the other riders spurred their bats to a faster pace, and the two camps collided in clashes of steel. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Bael’s lance punching straight through a demon’s chest.

Keeping out of weapons’ range, Ursula watched two bodies fall to the crater’s floor, leaving puffs of smoke just like little meteorites.

“Two kills!” the announcer shouted. “Ten remain!”

Arcing behind the main fray, she looked up.

Her stomach leapt into her throat. The Gray Ghost was flying directly for her, his face covered with his scarf. He pointed an enormous ash lance directly at her chest.

Ursula gripped Sotz’s fur tighter. She couldn’t fight a lance with a sword—the lance would knock her off Sotz before she got within striking distance. But hadn’t Bael said a good rider could avoid a lance with the right moves?

She clung tightly to Sotz, arcing away from the attack. Then, she clung to Sotz’s neck, and let her body slide down, so that her legs dangled beneath him. The lance grazed Sotz’s shoulder.

As she flew hanging from Sotz, adrenaline burned through her nerve-endings. In the distance, she heard the announcer calling out two more deaths. The lunar wind whipped through her hair, and she gently urged Sotz upright again. When she righted her bat, the Gray Ghost had disappeared. The other riders surged forward, already moving on to begin another circle around the spire.

Ursula leaned down, trying to keep pace with the three riders winging ahead of her. Bael’s silver lion insignia flashed in the sunlight.

She urged Sotz forward as they arced around the edge of the spire, the violet crystal gleaming in the sunlight. If she weren’t moments away from possible death, it might have been exhilarating.

As soon as they slammed into the riders a second time, her hackles were raised. Three riders were already charging for Bael. She arced closer to him, watching as his lance rammed into the chest of the lead rider. The horned demon shrieked, falling from the sky.

Still, two other riders pressed on Bael—and one of them slammed a lance right into Vesperella, goring the bat. Blood sprayed in the air, and Vesperella’s wings folded together.

To Ursula, it was like watching in slow motion, even though it happened in an instant. Panic ripped its claws through her heart, and she watched as Bael released Vesperella’s neck. He stood on her back for a moment. Then, a thousand feet in the air, Bael leapt towards the rider who’d just killed his mount, grasping at his feet. Vesperella tumbled, blood spraying from her hide as she grew smaller in the sky. Bael’s lance sparked in the sun as it fell.

Bael hung by one hand, dangling from the bat’s foot, and two other riders moved closer. Vultures, waiting for their chance to finish him off. One moved a little too close, and in a gravity-defying move, Bael swung his body into the air. He landed on the rider’s back. It took only an instant for him to fling the rider off.

The remaining rider began to close in on Bael. With Bael unarmed and on an unfamiliar mount, the ice-skinned demon saw a chance for easy prey. He unsheathed a cutlass.

Clenching her jaw, she raced lower toward Bael, the glacial lunar wind whipping over her skin. Saving Bael wasn’t part of the plan, but she wasn’t ready to watch him die. She ripped her katana from its sheath, charging for the ice-demon. Her body moved fluidly with Sotz’s, as if she’d been doing this all her life, and her gaze locked intently on one thing. Her prey.

No one expected death to come from the woman. From the bitch. No one expected her sword to find its way clean through their neck.

Crimson blood sprayed through the air as she cut through the demon’s head.

The demon’s body slumped, then rolled off his bat.

“Twelve down!” Hothgar’s voice boomed.

As Ursula glanced down at her blood-soaked sword, a chill spread through her veins. Predator. It seems, the answer is predator.