Infernal Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Demons of Fire and Night Book 1) (22 page)

T
he 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 a 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 own thoughts and memories, stripped of everything but identity. But she had no identity, hardly had any memories, and there was nothing but 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 with her 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.

U
rsula hugged
her coat around her, stalking over the icy pier to Kester’s tugboat. Cold wind nipped at her face as she rapped on his door.

Kester pulled it open and smiled, his cheek dimpling. “Ursula. Did you miss me?”

“Terribly. It’s been at least eight hours since I dragged your body from the fae realm.”

He arched an eyebrow. “And you’ve come back for more of my body? In that case, come inside.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping onto the boat. Her eyes flicked to the floor, where blood had soaked into the wood. “Sorry about the blood stains on the floor.”

“Was that your work? I didn’t know you had such a vicious side.”

“I
did
let him live, which was more than he was going to do for me.” Pulling off her coat, she plopped onto his green sofa. Tonight, she was back in her spring colors—sky blue and amber. She needed a night off from being a lethal, blood-soaked assassin.

Kester collected a bottle of whiskey from one of his bookshelves, and began pouring it into two glasses. “You impress me. Did you come by to celebrate your first victory?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Zee has been in my apartment all day pounding champagne and ranting about shadow demons. She seems a little on edge.”

He joined her on the sofa, handing her a tumbler. “That’s just how she is.”

“And I don’t understand the deal that Emerazel made with Nyxobas. Why would Emerazel want to give up a hellhound for half the year?”

Kester sighed. “The gods have been warring for a hundred thousand years. They always will. If they strike a deal, it’s because they think they can get some advantage over the other. My guess is that they both think they can use you in some way. I imagine Emerazel hopes you’re going to spy for her.”

“Lovely. So no matter what happens, I’m going to enrage at least one of them, and probably both.”

“You’ll need to be very careful. You’ll need my guidance, of course.”

She took a sip of her whiskey, rolling the peaty taste around her tongue. Her muscles still burned, and she still hadn’t managed to sleep more than an hour at a time. Every time she’d closed her eyes in her bedroom, a vision of the void had haunted her. Was that where Bael was now? Her chest tightened. Maybe Nyxobas had chosen to spare him. Bael was terrifying, but she didn’t want to be responsible for his fiery afterlife.

Her gaze slid to Kester, his skin a beautiful gold in the warm lantern light. “Why would Emerazel want me to be her spy? I don’t even know what I’m doing. Isn’t that obvious?”

He held her gaze. “You’re not a normal hellhound.”

“There are normal hellhounds?”

He smiled. “More normal than you. Hellhounds who don’t burn when they encounter their goddess. Hellhounds who don’t repel incubi, and who have a basic grasp of their own history.”

Cold dread prickled over her skin. “I’d seen Nyxobas before. I saw his eyes in my dreams.”

Kester eyed her over the rim of his drink. “You’ve certainly earned your nickname.”

“And you yours.” The whiskey leant her boldness. She had to know about Kester’s past. She took another sip, and it burned her throat as she swallowed. “Who was Oriel?”

Surprise flickered across his features, and he studied her face for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to tell her. At last, he spoke. “My sister.”

“Were you close to her?” She must have died centuries ago.

“I was.” His eyes glistened with pain. “Until Abrax stole her soul, sent her to the shadow void.”

A lump rose in Ursula’s throat. “Because you were a hellhound?”

“That’s
why
I became a hellhound. I needed power to avenge her. And I still haven’t succeeded. Abrax is Nyxobas’s son. He’s not an easy man to kill. But Emerazel made me a promise: once I’d filled my ledger, she would find a way to reclaim Oriel’s soul. I just needed to do everything she told me, to please her in every way. Every soul I reaped, every person I killed—it all had a purpose. It was all in the name of getting Oriel out of hell. Only I’ve started to wonder if Emerazel has any intention of sticking to her bargain. As I’ve come close to filling my ledger, she’s only added more pages. And yet I keep going, because if I fail, all of it was for nothing.”

Ursula swallowed hard, almost wanting to look away from the raw pain etched on his face.

“When my soul was stolen in the fae realm,” he continued. “I experienced just a brief glimmer of Oriel’s torment. Pure, crushing isolation. Complete abandonment in the void. That is what Oriel has felt for centuries. And it hit me like an arrow to my heart: there is no Oriel anymore. After all that pain, her mind would be completely shattered, lost in the rush of Nyxobas’s night winds.”

Sorrow tightened Ursula’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Kester.”

He lifted his glass, his eyes suddenly clearing. “But you got me back from that. I owe you my sad, sorry life.”

She touched his arm. “We got through the impossible last night. We reclaimed your soul, and Zee’s. And I’m spared from Emerazel’s punishment. Maybe we can free ourselves from our debts to the gods.”

He shook his head. “You can’t fight the gods, Ursula, even if you fought Abrax. And didn’t I tell you not to take on fights you couldn’t win?”

“It worked last night, didn’t it? We got everything we needed.”

“But you lost your lucky rock.” Mischief glinted in his eyes again.

“I’m not ready to joke about that yet.” She scowled, then arched an eyebrow. “Wait. How did you know I lost that? I never told you that.”

He reached into the pocket of his grey trousers, pulling out her smooth, white stone.

Her heart sped up. “How did you
get
that?”

“After my body reconstituted on the dance floor, I grabbed this out of your wyrm-skin purse. I would have returned it sooner, but Abrax interrupted me.” He folded his fingers around it, curling it to his chest. “And now, I’m afraid I’d become quite attached to it. It’s brought me such good luck, you see. You’ll have to find your own.”

She lunged forward, spilling her whiskey as he held it above his head, out of her reach. She climbed onto his lap, prying it from his fingers.

As she slid the stone into her pocket, he gazed up at her, his face a picture of innocence. “Any excuse to get your hands on me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, before closing it again. His hand slid around her back. God, he was beautiful. And right now, she could kiss him, feel his soft lips against hers again. But even with the thrilling sensation of his hand on her back, his thumb moving slowly up and down—something stopped her.

She couldn’t unsee the sadness in his eyes. Her own brush with the shadow void had chilled her to the bone, and she couldn’t shake her mind of that soul-crushing emptiness. She slipped off Kester’s lap, hugging herself. Maybe Bael was in that shadow void now, tormented by complete and utter abandonment.

“Are you all right?” he asked, studying her closely.

She nodded. “My brush with Nyxobas left me a little unnerved.”

“The lord of the shadow hell has that effect on people.”

She touched his cheek. “I’m glad to have you back. Even if you kidnapped me the first time I met you.”

“Sorry about that.”

She rose, pulling on her coat. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Just remember to knock, like I did.”

“I wouldn’t dream of barging in.”

Smiling, she pulled her coat tight as she stepped out into the icy winter air. She slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out her white stone to roll between her fingers, its smooth surface comforting her as soon as she touched it.

She had to admit, some things weren’t looking good. Emerazel planned to use her as a double agent, Nyxobas had his own devious agenda, and Bael remained a prisoner, possibly dead.

The cold wind rushed off the East River, biting her skin through her coat as she walked to the Bentley. But at least she was alive, and so was Kester. That was certainly a better outcome than she’d expected last night. And maybe it
wasn’t
so impossible to fight the gods.

Moreover, with every day she spent among the demons, she was one step closer to learning the truth about herself, to learning the story behind her memories of the flame-haired woman, and the person who’d taught her to fight.

Sometimes, the utterly improbable did happen. After all, if Kester could find a tiny white stone in a sea of angry fae warriors at a dance party—maybe there was a chance to free the hellhounds.

She pulled open the back door of the Bentley, stepping into its warmth. As Joe turned on the engine, she let her eyes drift shut, soothed by the car’s soft hum. Before she took on the ancient gods of wrath and death, she’d need at least a few hours of sleep.

* * *

W
e hope
you enjoyed Infernal Magic. Book 2 doesn’t come out until Fall 2016, but in the meantime we think you might enjoy our novel
Magic Hunter
which takes place in the same magical universe.

Yours,

Nick & Christine