Chapter 2

Ursula pushed the luggage cart into the hall, and Cera followed behind her. As they moved into the hall, Zee hurried past them and into the elevator.

“Zee?” said Ursula. “Where are you going? What the bloody hell is going on?”

Zee’s blond hair was uncharacteristically messy, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes. “I’ll be right back to explain. Did you talk to anyone on your way in here?”

Ursula frowned. “Only the guards at the door to the elevator. The ground floor was empty. What’s happening? I need to get Bael medical attention somehow.”

The lift door began to close, and Zee slammed her hand on it to stop it. “Did you give the guard your name?” she demanded, ignoring Ursula’s questions.

“No, I only told him the apartment number.”

“Okay. That’s good.” The doors closed on Zee.

Ursula’s stomach clenched as she crouched next to Bael, feeling for his pulse at his neck. It was there—faintly. “He’s losing too much blood. We’ll need to stanch the bleeding.”

“Get some goldenseal root powder!” Cera barked.

Ursula stood. “What? I don’t have that.” She bit her lip. “We need to sterilize it, then apply pressure. I think. Can you please fetch the sterile gauze from the bathroom? It’s in the medicine cabinet.”

Her pulse racing, Ursula dashed into the kitchen. First, she washed her hands, scrubbing them hard to get off any New York grime that could infect Bael. Then, she yanked open a cupboard door.

Saline solution was supposed to be good for cleaning wounds. With shaking hands, she snatched a container of salt from the cupboard, then a glass bowl. She dumped at least a cup of salt into the bowl. Good thing Bael is unconscious, because I am about to literally pour salt into his wounds.

This wouldn’t help his blood loss—they’d need a transfusion for that—but maybe they could at least clean the wound and stop him from losing more blood.

Ursula rushed back into the hall, and pulled the raincoat off Bael. Dark blood had pooled onto the cart beneath him, dripping onto the marble floors, and she winced at the sight of his ravaged hip. Slowly, she poured the saline solution over his hip, and it trickled into his wound. She had no idea if she was doing it correctly.

Cera’s footfalls sounded in the hall, and in the next moment, the little oneiroi was crouching by the cart, frantically ripping through the packages. “No goldenseal root powder,” she muttered. “Savages. Absolute savages.”

Ursula grabbed the gauze from Cera, then stuffed it into Bael’s wounds. “Help me bind this together.” She unfurled a long piece of gauze, and tried shoving it under Bael’s enormous, muscled form, her hands slick with blood.

Cera reached under him from the other side, pulling the gauze through. Ursula pressed down hard on the bundle of gauze stuffed in his wound, then tied the long strips of gauze together over his hips as tight as she could. Her hands soaked in his blood, she pushed down hard on the gauze, applying pressure.

“Okay,” she said. “What next? What do we do about the blood loss?”

Before Cera could respond, the lift pinged, and the brass doors rolled open. Zee stepped out, standing over Ursula. “What are you doing in New York? You were supposed to be in the Shadow Realm. It’s not safe for you here.”

“Safe?” said Ursula. “Bael and I were instructed to slaughter each other in an arena while thousands of bloodthirsty shadow demons looked on. A demigod and several immortal demons want to slaughter us. I wouldn’t call that the safe option. And perhaps you’ve noticed that Bael is bleeding to death right now. How can we get him a doctor?”

Zee glanced down at the naked body of the shadow demon. One of her eyebrows twitched slightly. “But he’s one of Nyxobas’s brethren?—”

“He is the lord of Abelda manor,” Cera interjected.

“And he saved my life in the Shadow Realm,” said Ursula. She wasn’t going to go into the whole betrothed thing. Not now.

Zee shook her head. “Like I said, you aren’t safe here. After the dragons attacked, everything went to shit.”

“Dragons?” said Ursula and Cera simultaneously.

“A whole clan of them showed up just after you left. Why don’t you know this?”

“I’ve been on the moon.”

Zee nodded. “Right. Well, they’ve razed most of lower Manhattan. Every night they destroy more of the city.”

“Bloody hell,” said Ursula. “When we were first flying to the Shadow Realm we were attacked by one, but I didn’t think they wanted to slaughter the whole city.”

“They don’t. That part is incidental.” Zee looked stricken. “They’re hunting for you.”

Ursula felt like she’d been kicked in the gut. “What are you taking about? How do they know who I am? I don’t even know who I am.”

“I have no idea, but they definitely want you. Come with me.”

Ursula looked down at Bael, the gauze already stained red. “Cera, keep applying pressure to his wound.”

Cera nodded.

“Come on, Ursula!” Zee shouted, beckoning her down the hall. “It’s nearly noon. The news is coming on, and you need to see this.”

“So a doctor is out of the question?” said Ursula as she followed Zee into the living room, practically running to keep up.

When she stepped into the living room, Zee was already pointing a remote at the TV. “Just watch.”

The TV screen flickered to life, and a grave-faced news anchor, his black hair perfectly coiffed, spoke in hushed tones. “We can see movement by the door of the pedestal.” The screen changed to a view of a granite doorway. A gorgeous blonde woman stepped out. Her makeup was immaculate, and she wore a glimmering golden dress that hugged her figure. She stopped at a low table, and appeared to be speaking, but there was no sound.

“What the hell?” asked Ursula.

Zee held up a hand, and the video changed to what appeared to be a raw internet feed. The woman looked the camera while reading slowly from a piece of paper, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

“Citizens of New York,” she stammered. “It has been one hundred twenty-four days and still you have not delivered the woman to us. We will continue to be a scourge upon your island until you return her.”

Her eyes terrified, the blonde held up a slightly faded piece of news print. The title of the article read, “Mystery Girl Dead.”

Ursula’s mouth went dry. An old school picture of her stared out from the page—a photo from when she was fifteen, with frizzy hair and a fuller face. Thank the gods they didn’t have a more recent photo, or the guards would have recognized her. What. The. Fuck.

The blonde looked down at the note again. “Deliver the girl and we will release the hostages.” Trembling, the woman stared into the camera, and then the feed cut. Zee lowered the volume, but images of destruction still flickered over the screen.

Ursula’s stomach flipped. “I don’t understand. Why would they want me?”

“Every day at noon,” said Zee, “the dragons repeat their demands. I don’t know why. I don’t know what they want with a hellhound who has no magic.”

Ursula shook her head, her legacy as the ‘Mystery Girl’ rearing its ugly head again. “That woman was a hostage, I take it?”

“That was Gabby Rousseau. She’s a model,” said Zee. “Or she was, before she was abducted by the dragons.”

Nausea climbed up Ursula’s throat. “Why the hell would dragons want me?”

Zee shrugged. “Honestly, no one knows, but as soon as the dragons took the first hostages, they began demanding that we find you. Every day, they send out a hostage to ask for you.” Zee held up a finger. The anchor was speaking with a white-haired man in a dark suit, and Zee turned up the volume again.

“Senator Ranulf,” asked the anchor, “has your team had any luck finding the girl?”

The senator frowned. “We are asking the public to be our eyes and ears on the ground. If you see or hear something, call the police. We believe this woman is dangerous. Very, very dangerous to humankind.”

“And the reward?—”

The senator brightened. “We have raised it to ten million dollars for information on her whereabouts.”

Zee turned to her. “That’s why I had to run downstairs. If the guards had recognized you, the entire city would drag you from the building. Or at least, what’s left of the city. I had to glamour the guards in case they were doing their jobs.”

Cera appeared at the door, her hands stained with blood. “Ursula,” she said her voice cracking. “It’s Bael. I think he’s dying.”