Infernal Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Demons of Fire and Night Book 1) (18 page)

T
he library was just
as she’d left it, with blood drying on the rug. She collected the grimoires, organizing them on the table. In one pile, she stacked the volumes that were way off-topic—the farming spells, and curses.

She flipped through the
Picatrix,
but it was a jumble of arcana, astrological facts, and descriptions of heavenly deities. Into the discards it went.

That left only one book:
DAEMONS.
As if its title wasn’t forbidding enough, the heavy volume was bound in a black leather that reminded her of Abrax’s wings. Dread whispered over her skin as she cracked it open. Someone had rendered a long-toothed demon in excruciating detail, his head capped with a blood-soaked conical cap, a pile of bones laying at his feet. Along the top of the picture were two words:
Red Cap
.

She flipped the page. Amongst a pile of gold and jewels sat a monstrous man with bull horns protruding from his temples. Above his head his name read:
Raum
.

With a shiver, she reminded herself that these were her people now.

At least this book was going in the right direction. It didn’t include any words—only pictures—but it appeared to be some sort of demonic guide.

She flipped through from the beginning:
Aamon, Apollyon, Abezethibou, Abrax, Abyzou
… She stopped. Flipped back one page. Even without the name
Abrax
emblazoned on the top, she’d have recognized him: black wings, talons sharp as knives, and the face of an angel. The incubus had his own page, and someone had written in the margin—Henry’s spindly scrawl, by the look of it.

Ursula shut the book. To say that he’d reappeared would be a major understatement.
Bloody hell.
The fact that he had his own page suggested she was up against one of Nyxobas’s most powerful demons. She gritted her teeth. She still didn’t know where to find him.

She glanced at the clock—two a.m. Her body burned with a mixture of adrenaline and exhaustion, and she scanned the shelves again, searching for Henry’s ledger again. She’d scanned through it quickly before, but maybe there was something in there about Abrax, considering Henry had been researching him.

She pored through the ledger, filled with page after page of conquests, starting in the 1830s.

Near the end, where he’d written about Starkey’s Conjuration, he’d written the name
BAEL.
Below, he’d scrawled:

Bael.
That was the beautiful man upstairs.

Her heart raced as she reopened
DAEMONS
. With a trembling hand, she thumbed through to the letter
B
. The sleeper’s perfect, wrathful face glared at her from the page, his features etched with sublime fury, lip curled back from his teeth. An enormous pair of golden wings jutted from his back. At the bottom of the page, written in Angelic, were the words
Sword of Nyxobas.

She dropped the book, and the bang of the cover hitting the table shattered the silence.

She’d been calling herself an angel of death tonight, but the real deal lay on a bed just one floor above her.

* * *

U
rsula stood
in front of the iron-studded door, the reaping pen in one hand, and a contract in the other. She wasn’t going in there without a plan, and for extra security she’d strapped a kaiken dagger to her belt.

After spending the last three quarters of an hour arguing with herself, she kept returning to the same conclusion: her only option was to wake Bael.

She’d read Henry’s journal entries from the beginning, starting from the time he first contacted Bael to the moment he captured him. He was a little sparse on the details, but she’d learned Bael was some sort of high-value prisoner. Henry had planned to use him as leverage in negotiations with the night god.

Even with this sketchy information, it was clear that all roads to Abrax ran through Bael, and the sleeping demon was her only connection to the incubus.

She just had to wake an ancient demon and convince him to tell her where to find the incubus.

Fear slithered over her skin. It wasn’t just that she had to wake Bael that turned her stomach—it was
how
she had to wake him.

Her grip tightened on the dagger, and she chanted the word
Louisa
. After the glow around the door dissipated, she pulled it open and stepped inside.

The interior was just as she remembered. Gold astrological symbols glittered against midnight blue wallpaper. Dusty alchemical glassware stood solemnly on the shelves. Yet this time the air held a strange tension, like the room was holding its breath.

She moved toward the bed, gripping the reaping pen. She had a plan to get a little leverage of her own, but the idea of it sent fear racing through her body.

Tendrils of inky magic curled off Bael’s body like smoke, and the air around him crackled with a dark power. Her gaze flicked to the crimson gore staining the sheets. She recoiled, bile rising in her throat. He’d had wings in the picture—beautiful, golden wings. Had Henry cut them off during his interrogations?

Her eyes roamed his chiseled features, his face perfect in repose. His arms, even after months asleep, still rippled with muscle. Despite his otherworldly beauty, the sight of him terrified her. Even unconscious and bound in iron chains, he exuded raw, dark power.

Clenching her jaw, she touched his hand, already feeling his dark magic flowing through her like waves of electricity. She slid the reaping pen into his enormous fingers, folding them around the pen until they loosely gripped it. She held the contract up to the pen’s nib, and in a haphazard scrawl, she scratched the letters B A E L.
Bingo.

She had no idea if that counted as a legitimate signature, but it was at least worth a shot. He was immortal, so he shouldn’t care too much, but if he was pledged to Nyxobas, he’d surely want to reclaim his soul for his shadow god. And that meant he’d need to do what she wanted if he wanted to retrieve it.

Taking a steadying breath, she folded up the contract and shoved it into her pocket before drawing the kaiken dagger. Dread inched up her spine.

What she had to do next was even more horrifying than touching his hand.

According to the books, there was only one way to wake someone from Perrault’s Enchantment.

Tonight, Ursula would have to kiss the Sword of Nyxobas
.

She clutched the dagger, her entire body rigid with tension, before exhaling slowly.
I’ve got this.
Surely demons like him were bestial creatures, and the scent of fear would only stoke his predatory instincts.

She leaned over him, somehow repelled and attracted at the same time to the shadowy tendrils of power coiling off his muscled body.

“Relax,” she reassured herself. “He’s bound in chains, and I’ve got his soul.” Still, she placed the tip of the dagger against the soft flesh between his ribs. If he attacked, it would take only one thrust to puncture his heart.

She leaned closer. He smelled of sandalwood, a scent both ancient and exotic. His eyelashes twitched. She almost jumped across the room, but then she realized it was her own nervous breath that had made them flutter. She eyed his lips. For a man made of pure muscle, they seemed oddly sensual.

Marshaling her resolve, she closed her eyes, leaning closer. Her heart threatened to gallop out of her chest as she pressed her lips against his warm, soft mouth.

F
or a moment
, nothing happened, then a powerful thrill rippled over her skin, and she jumped away from him.

Bael’s eyelids snapped open, and he surveyed her with glacial, pale eyes that sent raw fear snaking in her gut. Her pulse racing, Ursula’s grip tightened on the dagger.

His eyes flashed with ancient wrath; his voice rumbled through the room like thunder. “What did you do to me?”

She tried to stop herself from shaking. She couldn’t show him her fear or he’d find a way to rip through the chains and pulverize her. “We’ll get to that.”

“Who are you, little girl?” he barked. “Where is the other hound?”

“I’m Ursula. Henry is indisposed.” Probably best not to mention
he’s been eviscerated
just yet.

He narrowed his icy eyes, studying her. “Do you know with whom you speak?”

“Bael. Sword of Nyxobas.”
Shit. Maybe he hates that name.

“Good. Now release me,” he growled.

“Sure. I can release you.”

When she didn’t move toward him he added, “Now.”

“I’ll release you
after
you tell me where I can find Nyxobas’s lair.”

The tendrils of dark magic swirled around him. “No.”

She raised the kaiken. “Abrax stole my friend’s soul, and I want it back. And he has another soul that belongs to me.”

His smile was a thing of terror. “Do you mean to threaten him with your little dagger, hound?”

“I have a sword.”

“Abrax is the Lord of Alnath, the eldest son of the Nyxobas. A little hound like you cannot stand against him.”

Holy hell.
She’d felt pretty good with the sword tonight, but she was clearly way out of her depth. Still—she had no choice. Finding Abrax was the answer to every one of her problems.

“Henry was able to bind you pretty well.” She looked pointedly at the iron chains that wrapped round the demon. “For a mere mortal, he put you in quite the predicament.”

Bael yanked on his chains. “Fetch him for me.”

“That won’t be possible.” Her heart still thudded hard, but Bael at least seemed well contained by the chains. “He’s dead.”

“How?” Bael didn’t so much say the word as growl it.

“He was murdered.”

He closed his eyes, and took a long breath. For a moment, she almost thought he’d fallen back asleep—until he unleashed a roar that shook the entire building. It was a terrifying, bestial sound that threatened to tear her apart. She fought every instinct screaming at her to flee into the hall and down the elevator. When he glanced at her again, his eyes were black as night. “He was
mine
to kill. Who killed him?”

“I don’t know.”

“I will find the one who did it and rip his heart from his chest.”

Nerves of steel, Ursula. Nerves of steel.
“I don’t doubt that, but from your current position that may take some time.”

Bael studied her, his eyes seeming to peer into her very soul. For a moment she thought he might roar again, but then he gathered himself. “Tell me how he was killed.”

“He was found in Central Park. Apparently, his intestines were strung from the trees like Christmas tree ornaments.”

Bael strained against the iron shackles, his muscles taut. “Let me out of here,” he roared.

“Will you help me find Abrax?”

“I’m going to find Abrax and tear his ribs through his back. Henry stole something from me, and Abrax was the one who murdered him. That means Abrax has my possession. So let me free if you want to find him, little hound, because you don’t stand a chance on your own.”

She shifted uncomfortably, her pulse racing. She was going to have to tell him about the soul thing. If he didn’t know about her leverage, he’d just eviscerate
her
.

“I was a little worried you might be opposed to working with me,” she began, “since you’re a shadow demon.”

“It’s true. I feast on Emerazel’s creatures.”

Her mouth went dry. “Right. So, as leverage, I got your signature.” She pulled the contract from her pocket, unfurling it so he could see, and focused on trying to keep her voice steady. “I put the pen in your hand and made you sign. Now, if you want your soul back, you have to do what I say.”

For a moment, a deathly silence filled the room, and Ursula could hear only her own heartbeat. Then, Bael’s face shifted—eyes darkening and horns growing from his brow. Cold fury glinted from his black eyes, and Ursula stumbled back, hands trembling. Bael threw back his head and roared again, the sound shaking the entire building, rattling the chandeliers and floorboards. Dark magic swirled wildly around him, snaking through her body. Every instinct in her body told her to run.

When his roar quieted, he closed his eyes, his body shaking with fury, and after a moment, his face returned to normal. He glanced at her, eyes a pale, icy grey again. “Unchain me.”

Suddenly, she no longer wanted to release him. He was going to slaughter her. She swallowed hard. “I’m not sure you won’t kill me.”

“I can’t kill you, as you so cleverly ensured. You have stolen my soul and given it to that great monstrous whore, Emerazel. You have your leverage. Unchain me, so I can murder Abrax and get my soul back.”

Ursula crossed her arms to hide their shaking. She didn’t want to anger him, but she had the upper hand now, and she was going to find out what she could. “What did Henry take from you?”

Bael’s furious gaze never left her eyes. “Do you see these bloodstains beneath me? He cut off my wings.”

“Why would he do that? Part of your interrogation?”

“And because they’re incredibly valuable.” He studied her carefully. “What sort of a hound are you?

Apparently, she’d asked a stupid question. “I’m new. How did you know I was a hellhound?”

“You smell of Emerazel’s fire.” There was a hint of distaste in his voice.

She glanced at the stains again. “Why does the blood look fresh?”

“The wounds aren’t healed. If they heal, it won’t be possible to reattach my wings. Until I find them, I must remain mutilated. Do you have any more questions, girl?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

Bael glared at her, the
yes
left unsaid.

Ursula paused, considering what to say next. Which, in hindsight, she should probably had been doing all along. “What makes your wings so valuable?”

“They allow me to fly,” he snarled. He didn’t say
obviously
, but his tone clearly implied it.

She shook her head. “Abrax already has wings, and I saw him fly.”

“You saw him in his true form?” Bael interrupted, surprise flickering across his face. “And you survived?”

She wanted to shout
obviously
, but instead she shrugged like it was no big deal. Bael didn’t have to know that she’d almost bled to death in the library. “You didn’t answer my question about why he’d want the wings.”

He clenched his jaw. “They were a gift from Nyxobas himself. I will be condemned for eternity if I don’t find them.”

“How do you know he hasn’t given them to Nyxobas already?”

“Because if he had, I’d be withering in the shadow void, not trapped in a room with one of Emerazel’s dogs.”

“Why wouldn’t he have—”

“Do you always ask so many questions, little girl? I can’t give you these answers. Only Abrax knows. If you free me, I will take you to him.”

Ursula gazed into his pale eyes. If she could ignore the fact that he was terrifying, he had a certain sublime beauty, his grey eyes such a stark contrast with his golden skin—warm and cold coming together, like storm clouds tinged by a rising sun. He looked like a god himself—hell, he practically
was
one as far as she could tell.

She wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t murder her when she removed the chains, but what choice did she have? If she didn’t get to Abrax, both she and Zee would lose their souls. “I’ll release you. If you help me find Abrax without killing me, I’ll give you your soul back.” She had no idea how to give a soul back, but she wasn’t about to mention that now. Anyway, he was immortal, and he’d never need to know.

“If you fail on your promise to return my soul, your fate will be worse than Henry’s.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Now unchain me,” he roared.

She took a deep breath, eyeing the chains. The links were dull grey. Compared to the glowing wards that had guarded the bookcases and the door to Bael’s room, the chains appeared positively mundane.

“How do these chains hold you anyway? They don’t look magical.”

“Henry forged them with magic. You can’t see it,” said Bael with an audible sigh.

“So is there a lock somewhere?”

“Melt the links with your fire.”

She winced. She was liable to set his whole body on fire, and then she had no doubt he’d tear her limb from limb. “I don’t, um, exactly have very good control of my fire.”

“Of course. I almost forgot that you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Ursula picked up a link of chain, testing the metal with her fingers.

“I only just learned I was a hellhound a few days ago. I have no memory. Kester just showed up in my kitchen—”

“Kester? The Headsman? He
lives?
”

Grief flooded her, and she forced back the tears. “Not anymore. Not since a few hours ago.”

Bael growled. “You lie. I killed him at the great battle of Mount Acidale.”

“What? No. I’ve been with him the whole time. Abrax just murdered him.”

Bael’s eyes blackened again, the horns once again appearing. He thrashed on the bed, the chains around his body smoking. He screamed in frustration, but his face had returned to its beautiful, human form. Against his skin, the iron links sizzled and hissed. The room filled with the smell of burning flesh. Through gritted teeth he spoke. “Release me. Now.”

“I’m trying to, but you need to stay still.”

The chains were white hot. Whatever spell Henry had worked into the iron, it was fighting back, burning the demon. She paused, her hand inches from the smoking metal.

“It won’t burn you. Hellhounds are immune to fire,” said Bael. The only clue that he was in agony were a few clipped vowels.

Ursula closed her eyes. She needed to channel her fire. Draw just enough to melt the chain. Her stomach clenched a little. This time, if she lost herself to the flames, Kester wasn’t standing by with a fire extinguisher.

She thought of Rufus’s smug face—her old standby for calling up the hellfire—and heat began to kindle in her fingers.
It’s working.
Her fingers glowed, and a thrill of excitement raced through her.

On the bed, Bael lay perfectly still, probably enduring intense agony as she gathered her flames. He hadn’t taken a breath for a minute or two. Was he alive? She glanced at him, at his beautiful face that stared at her with anticipation. It was like she was trying to solve a math problem with the teacher standing just over her shoulder—an exceptionally handsome teacher. The fire in her veins sputtered and died.

“Bollocks.” She unsheathed the kaiken dagger. This, at least, she was good at.

“You know you can’t kill me with that.”

“I’m not going to kill you. I do hope you’ll return the favor.” She flipped the knife in her hand. With all her strength she stabbed downward, thrusting the tip of the dagger into the gap in one of the links. Then, with a twist, she snapped the chain in two.