Infernal Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Demons of Fire and Night Book 1) (13 page)

U
rsula lay
on her back and stared at the eggshell-white ceiling, trying to will herself to move.

But the first step was peeling herself off the bathroom floor. Her legs tingled with pins and needles, and she almost cried with relief when she moved her toes. She pushed herself up, onto her hands and knees. She crawled closer to Zee, panting. Hadn’t Abe said the opera was the perfect place to put aside one’s anxieties?
Wanker.

She crouched next to Zee, her heart tightening at the sight of her. The fae girl’s chest hardly moved. Blood stained her dress and matted her hair, though Ursula was pretty sure that belonged to Abe.

She reached out, feeling for a pulse on Zee’s neck. It was faint, but blood flowed gently beneath her translucent skin. If she could only get her outside, there was a Bentley waiting for them by the Met’s entrance.

Thank God Abe hadn’t killed her, but she wasn’t about to walk out of here.
How the hell do I wake her up?

Once, she’d seen someone come back from the dead. Braden, a boy in her first foster home, had a nut allergy, and he’d chowed through a packet of almond macaroons without realizing. He’d passed out in less than five minutes, but an EpiPen had completely revived him.

That was what epinephrine did, right? It sent hormones racing through your veins. She just needed to get her hands on one. Her pulse raced. This was
not
a good situation.

She panted, still trying to catch her breath, her knees pressed into the cold tile. Maybe this was a good time to call Kester.

As she glanced around for her purse, she heard the door creak open.
She lifted her head, bracing for another fight—not that she
could
fight at this point. A silver-haired opera patron, dressed in a beige suit, stood in the doorframe. Ursula blinked through the fog of exhaustion, trying to make sense of this new player in the game.

Half-conscious, her first thought was
What sort of knob wears a cravat?
And her second was
He’s going to call the police.

For a moment, his eyes locked on hers, and she recognized the horror in his face. “Good god!” He shouted. “What did you do?”

With a tremendous effort, Ursula sat up. Her eyes flicked to Zee, whose jaw hung open like a corpse’s. Of course the man was panicking. He’d just discovered two women on the bathroom floor covered in fresh blood, one of them apparently dead. It was a small mercy he couldn’t see Hugo’s corpse slumped over the toilet in the stall.

She imagined how the next twenty minutes would go down. First, Silver-Hair would alert security and call the police. They’d find Hugo’s carcass. None of the authorities would believe her when she described Abe’s death kiss, and as the only conscious person in the room, she could find herself accused of the pop star’s murder, as well as some sort of assault on Zee. Her heart thrummed.

“I’ll get the police,” he stammered. “Security.”

So much for staying in the bloody shadows. I’m getting sent straight to the inferno when Emerazel learns of this.
In a few minutes the bathroom would be full of security guards. If she’d had any energy, she’d have lit the place on fire to give herself enough time to escape, but she could feel her embers dulled.

“Wait,” she said, holding up a hand. She couldn’t let him leave.

There were two options: she could create a diversion using hellfire, or she could find some way to attack the man and get out of here with Zee. Only, she couldn’t manage either of those things without energy.

Shit.
What would a normal woman do in this situation? Probably not thinking about lighting things on fire and stabbing people, for one thing.

A normal person would cry.

“Wait,” she repeated. She let her eyes fill with tears, and pouted, choking out a sob. “She wasn’t feeling well,” she sniffed, letting the strap of her gown drop again. “I told her not to order the salad. She didn’t have her EpiPen. Or her inhaler. And I tried to take her to the women’s room, but she said she couldn’t make it. So we came in here. And then she slipped on the tile and cracked her head. She’s my dearest friend. Please help us.” She let a tear roll down her cheek.
Please, please, please, convince him.

“Oh. That’s awful.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No!” she shouted, before letting her face soften again. “It will take too long for them to get here. If she doesn’t get an EpiPen now, she’ll die.”

His face blanched. “Where do I get an EpiPen?”

“There are three thousand people in here. One of them is bound to have an allergy.”

He cleared his throat. “Shall I… shall I interrupt the performance?”

She let the genuine desperation show on her face. She didn’t know how long Zee would have before her heart gave out. “Please hurry, before it’s too late.”

The man turned, flinging open the door and breaking into a run. As Ursula was left with her own thoughts, she could feel some of her energy returning. She could call Kester now, but she didn’t want to bring him into this until she’d already gained control of the situation. She didn’t need to call him just to tell him she’d become entangled in another disaster.

She reached down, feeling Zee’s pulse again. Still there, but growing fainter. Panic twisted through Ursula. She couldn’t let Zee die. Maybe this
was
the time to call Kester. She turned, reaching for her purse that lay on the tiles, when Silver-Hair slammed the door open, a green tube in his hands.

“I’ve got it!” he said, beaming. He rushed across the tiles and handed it to Ursula.

“Thank you so much. You’ve saved her life.” She popped off the blue cap, sliding the EpiPen out of its tube and scanning the directions.

“We should call an ambulance,” said the man.

“Let me concentrate.” It came out harsher than she’d meant it. “Please.”

She pulled off the blue safety, reared back her arm, and jammed the pen into Zee’s leg. She counted to ten, watching as Zee’s eyelids fluttered.

“See, she’s getting better.” She couldn’t believe this had worked.
“You saved her. You’re an amazing, beautiful man.”
Too much, Ursula. Rein it in.

He cleared his throat. “She’s not awake yet. I really think we should call that amb—”

Ursula slapped Zee in the face as hard as she could, and when the fae’s blue eyes opened, Ursula leaned over. “Zee, you had a reaction to the salad. It was the hidden walnuts.”

Zee’s gaze met hers, registering understanding.

Ursula leaned in close and whispered: “You need to
tell
this man you’re OK.”
I really hope she can still glamour them.

“I—I’m OK.” Zee’s voice wavered, but Silver-Hair nodded.

Silver-Hair stepped closer, leaning over her. “Let me help you up.”

Zee shot up, grabbing the man by his collar. “I’m feeling much better now. You are no longer needed. Get the fuck out, and don’t tell anyone about me.”

In a daze, he rose and tottered out the door.

“Calm down, Zee.” Ursula sat back on the tile, letting out a long breath. “I asked you to glamour him. Not assault him.”

Zee’s eyes were wild. “What did you do to revive me? I feel like I want to kill something.”

“Epinephrine.”

Zee shook her head. “What is epinephrine?”

I really have no clue.
“I think it’s some kind of life-giving hormone. Anyway, it fixed you. Let’s get out of here.”

Scowling, Zee lifted a hand to her cheek. “Did you slap me?”

Ursula shook her head. “Nope. Just an effect of the epinephrine, I think.”

Zee narrowed her eyes before glancing down at her dress. “Whose blood is on my Valentino?”

“Abe. I think he was a shadow demon. He tried to kill us. Look, we need to get out of here. Can you walk?”

Zee slowly stood, smoothing her hair. “I can’t believe that prick ruined my dress.”

Clutching her wyrm-skin purse, Ursula rose, unsteady on her feet. Zee shot her a sharp look before slipping her arm around Ursula’s waist. They staggered into the corridor, and Ursula kept her gaze on the floor, hoping to remain unnoticed.
Nothing to see here, folks. Just two chicks in opera gowns, drenched in demon blood.

S
tepping
out of the cold winter air, Ursula folded herself into the soft seat of the Bentley like a bird settling onto its nest, and Zee followed, shutting the car door.

Zee clutched her chest, shrinking into the corner. “I don’t feel so good.”

Ursula rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself. “Holy fuck. That was a close call.”

“My heart is racing,” said Zee.

“Are you okay?”

The fae took a deep breath, staring out the window. “I’ll be fine. Where are we going?”

Ursula glanced at the driver. “Take us to my place, please. The Plaza Hotel.” Just as she was letting out a sigh of relief, she realized she wasn’t out of trouble yet. Her target’s soul had been claimed by a shadow demon, and that meant Emerazel would murder her slowly. Dread raced up her spine.

The driver turned on the engine and tried to edge into the stalled traffic.

Outside, the wind beat against the sedan’s windows. Ursula rubbed her temples. “What the hell kind of demon was that? I think I’m in huge trouble.”

Zee didn’t answer, instead staring out her window. But something was wrong with the angle of her neck—she wasn’t moving. Ursula moved closer, touching Zee’s shoulder. The fae’s head slumped to the side; her mouth hung open and her eyelids fluttered.

“Zee!” Ursula gripped Zee’s shoulders. She slapped her cheek again, but this time Zee didn’t wake up—didn’t even flinch.

Horror tightened around Ursula’s heart. “Driver! We have a situation.” She dug around in her purse until she found her mobile. With trembling fingers, she scrolled to Kester’s number. He picked up after a few rings.

“Kester?” she shouted, pulse racing.

“Is everything okay?” Apparently the cell phone had no trouble conveying the panic in her voice.

“Zee’s unconscious.” The words poured out of her. “And I think Hugo’s dead. Something called Abe kissed me and he sucked out my fire. And then he kissed Zee, but I stabbed him. I gave her an EpiPen—”

“Slow down. Hugo’s dead?”

Ursula took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I went to the men’s room to talk to Hugo. I didn’t think he was there at first, but then I found him in a stall in the back. He’s dead. I think. Abe was kissing him, and said he’d drunk too deeply.”

“What
exactly
did Abe look like?”

“Tall. Gorgeous. Golden skin. Grey eyes. His touch was like ice cubes. He made me feel—” Her stomach clenched. She wasn’t going to go into the whole arousal scenario. “Do vampires exist?”

There was a long pause. “He made you feel
how?
”

Ursula thought she detected a note of anger in his voice. “He made me think I wanted to kiss him.” That was both a euphemism and a secret she had no desire to share with Kester, but maybe it would help identify whatever the hell that thing was.

“Not a vampire,” he snarled. “Where are you?”

“In the Bentley. Outside the Met. Should I come back to the Plaza?”

“No. Tell Joe to take you to the Elysian. Tell him to floor it.” He hung up.

Ursula glanced at Joe. “Elysian. He said to floor it.”

Without responding, Joe stepped on the accelerator, cutting into traffic. They raced up 10
^th
Avenue and turned onto West 66th street, weaving between taxis. She clung to Zee, trying to keep her from bouncing all over the car—there hadn’t been time to think about seatbelts. For a few moments, a city bus blocked their path, but Joe swerved around it like he was driving a Formula One race car, until—at last—he veered wildly into an empty parking lot by the Hudson River. Frantic thoughts ignited Ursula’s mind—Zee’s poisoned body, her own skin blackening in a fire.

The car skidded to a halt, and Joe popped the locks on doors.

“Where are we?” Ursula asked, shuddering at the sound of the wind howling and keening against the car windows.

Joe simply tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Thanks, Joe. That’s really helpful.” She turned to scoop the diminutive fae into her arms, clumsily pulling her closer. As she grasped Zee’s waist and shoulders, someone yanked open the door behind her, and an icy wind rushed into the car.

Kester stood in the dim street lights, the wind tearing at him like a wild animal. Despite the cold, he remained perfectly still, oblivious to the frigid air. He stood barefoot, wearing only a pair of boxers, his strong chest covered in menacing tattoos. Wordlessly, Kester gathered Zee into his arms, eyes blazing.

“Will she be okay?” Ursula asked, stepping out of the car into the freezing air.

“Come with me,” he said, as Joe drove away.

So he’s not going to answer my questions.
She was obviously in trouble—big trouble. He’d warned her that if she screwed up, he’d have to send her to Emerazel.

She rubbed her arms, trying to burn some warmth into her skin. “Is she okay?” she repeated, clutching her purse to her chest.
Please wake up, Zee.

Silently, he pressed on over the icy pavement.

Ursula’s heels clacked over the asphalt as she followed him, and her body burned with fatigue. From the river, the wind whipped off the tops of the waves, blowing a freezing spray that coated everything in a thin layer of ice. Ursula hugged herself, shivering in her flimsy dress.

He led her toward a dock that jutted into the water. Despite his bare feet and state of undress, he navigated the slick planking with ease. Swirls of steam rose from the ground as his fiery body melted the icy ground. Ursula trailed behind, clutching a frozen rail.

At the end of the dock, a paint-chipped tugboat floated in the water, tied to a post. Its stern had been painted with gold lettering:
ELYSIAN
. Not exactly what she’d expected of a place with such a poetic name. It looked like a large, shabby version of a child’s bathtub toy.
Is this where he lives?

Kester slipped over a narrow gangplank, disappearing inside. Teeth chattering, she followed, treading carefully to avoid falling into the churning water.

The boat’s warmth washed over her as she stepped inside. Although the tug’s exterior had suggested a state of total disrepair, the inside was immaculate. Books lined tall wooden shelves between a row of portholes. A wooden table nestled into an alcove, and a fire crackled in an iron stove that stood in the center of the cabin. She eyed a green velvet sofa, fighting the urge to give in to her aching body and rest. The only thing unusual about the place was the dark mark of Emerazel on the floor—another sigil.

Kester held Zee’s unconscious body, examining her face. “I won’t be able to heal her.” His eyes flicked to Ursula’s, burning with accusation. “Were you so enthralled by the incubus that you let him feast on Zee, after you failed at your task for a second time?

“Incubus?” He was clearly accusing her of something, and his words stung. “I don’t know what an incubus is, but I think you well know that whatever powers he used on me were magical and therefore hard to resist. Abe was attacking me, and Zee came in to stop it. Hugo had been sucked dry before I even got in there.”

“Abe.” He spat the word like a curse. “You said he had golden skin and grey eyes?”

“Yes. And dark brown hair. He seemed perfectly charming at first.”

“Abrax,” he choked out the word, laying Zee down on the table. “I can’t believe you succumbed to his charm. I want to flay his skin from his body.”

Holy hell.
“Who is he?”

“He’s an incubus. He works for Nyxobas, the god of night.” He crossed to her, his body crackling with fiery magic. “There aren’t many incubi in the world, and this one is pure evil.”

Dread crawled up her spine. “What, exactly, is an incubus? And what makes him so evil?”

“Incubi like him have the power to drain people. They can drain energy, magic, even souls to give to Nyxobas. That’s what he did to Zee. And an incubus can inflame sexual energy and take power from that. I’m guessing that’s how he transfixed you.”

She cleared her throat, listening to the sound of the howling wind batter the side of the boat. God, she was freezing. “There’s no point rehashing what already happened. It’s over. What do we need to do
now
?”

“It’s amazing to me that you dismiss tonight’s events so quickly.” He stepped closer, boxing her against the wall, his face burning with fury. “You failed to reap Hugo’s soul, and you let a shadow demon claim it. You do realize what this means?”

Fear tightened her chest.
He’s going to send me to Emerazel.