I set the basket on a countertop near Emilia. She inched away, keeping her eyes on me, but spoke to Nadya.
“I can have Hans deliver your goods.”
“We can take it now,” I said, not wanting to have the witch worried about her deliveries when we needed to be elsewhere.
Nadya glanced up at me. “The crate needs to be delivered by horse and cart. It’s too heavy to carry.”
“We’ll take it now,” I repeated, holding her gaze.
She was apparently searching for more words and another protest when Emilia piped up. “It’s right over here.”
On the ground was a large wooden crate double the width of my chest. It seemed Nadya’s homemade soaps and such bought quite a bit of food. More likely, this woman Emilia felt sorry for her living alone in the woods. Good humans had kind hearts. Even for those who didn’t deserve it. Bending into a crouch, I hefted the large crate in my arms and stood. Emilia gasped. Nadya stared, crystal eyes widening more. Then I sifted away through the Void, snapping out right in front of her cottage door.
There were no wards blocking entry anywhere in this place, so I could easily sift from here to there in a blink. After opening her door and setting the crate inside her kitchen, I rounded to leave when her kitten bounded up and attacked my boot, falling to its side and kicking out with tiny hind legs and claws, doing no damage to the thick leather.
I actually chuckled and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. “You’ll have to do better than that, little one.”
He stared at me, batting the air, trying to swat a loose lock of hair along my cheek. With a quick wrenching of the crate with one hand, I opened it up and found a jar of milk on top of a round of cheese and some cured meats. There was a bowl on the ground, apparently belonging to this terror of hers. Pouring some into the bowl, I set him down and resealed the lid.
“That should keep you while I take your mother on a little errand.”
With that, I sifted out in a blink and reappeared directly where I’d been minutes before in Emilia’s storage room. Both of them jumped, Emilia clutching both hands to her chest. She definitely hadn’t seen many otherworlders since this had all begun. Realizing my abrupt actions and curt manners were disturbing to them both, I tried to appear more polite, even when I didn’t feel the need. Always best to show nonthreatening mannerisms, especially when everything inside of me was threatening.
Holding out my hand to the witch, I said, “Shall we go now?”
She stared at my outstretched palm, her heartbeat thrumming faster again. I watched and waited while she debated all the reasons she shouldn’t trust me or go with me or touch my hand. Then, finally, she set her small hand in mine. Without a second’s pause, I gripped hers firmly, pulled her closer, and clutched her shoulder with my free hand. Best not to lose her in the Void. And then I sifted us out to Moscow.
Chapter Three
Nadya
The second we zapped out into the blistering cold, he let me go. I swayed off balance. Not from his sudden release of me, but mostly because this archangel tilted me away from myself. His eyes may be glacial, but his touch was all heat and masculine strength. His stark beauty and undeniable power punched me with an emotion I didn’t want to feel. Didn’t even want to think about. I had to admit it shook me.
Glancing around, I tried to get my breathing and my body back under control. The rushing of the Moskva River behind us and the desolate emptiness of Red Square snapped me out of my stupor pretty quick. I crossed my arms against the cold.
“Where does this Skaal live?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to the frigid wind in his simple black long-sleeved shirt and black cargo pants. And yet, somehow, he looked as if he belonged here. A white-winged archangel with ice in his eyes.
Searching the skyline, I sought and found the unique onion-domed Saint Basil’s Cathedral. The vibrant greens, reds, blues, and whites of the domes were a beacon in Red Square.
Uriel stepped closer and scoffed. “He can’t live in the cathedral.”
“Of course not.”
Demons couldn’t cross the threshold of sacred ground, which included any church which had been blessed by a pious priest at some point. Even though the cathedral was a museum now, or had been before the apocalypse, the remnants of thousands of priests’ blessings since its construction by Ivan the Terrible had made it off-limits to the damned.
I pointed in the direction across the street from the cathedral and outside the Square. “The Ritz-Carlton.”
Uriel made a cynical sound in his throat but said nothing more, strolling in that direction. I fell into step, lengthening my stride to keep up.
Yes, demons liked luxury. Loved it, even. That was no surprise. And high demons took the best of the best as their lairs. To be honest, Skaal was being humble by taking the Ritz. He could’ve taken the Kremlin itself. Or even the Four Seasons, which was more luxurious. But to be honest, the Ritz was more his style. The furnishings had an old-world feel, not the sleek modernism of the Four Seasons. Skaal had always been a fan of the old. It also had a better view of Red Square and of Moscow, in general. Taking a hotel as his residence with his many guards in tow gave him access to as many rooms as he needed to board warriors, their masters, and entertain large parties to celebrate victories following matches.
That was one thing I’d not explained to Anya and Dommiel when they’d fought in his pits, mostly because they didn’t have the time to spare. But it was common practice for the victorious warriors to be applauded and celebrated in a party following the pit fights. There was nothing demons loved more than a party. If Uriel wanted to play this game, he’d have to endure these kinds of events, praising and elevating him. Uriel would be disgusted by it. But if he wanted to climb the ranks, he’d have to tolerate the demonic pomp and circumstance of pit fighting.
We walked side by side in silence, completely alone on the streets. Strange that in Erzgebirge, it was just as quiet, but here in a city that should be bustling with humanity, it felt far emptier. Desolate and lonely. Moscow was the hopping, hunting ground for demons and humans who preferred their company. No one would be awake at this hour. They only crept out when darkness enfolded it in its seductive embrace.
I led us around another corner onto Tverskaya Street. Within minutes, we came to the glass revolving doors. Turning, I offered my hand.
“You won’t get across the demon wards without my assistance.”
He arched a brow. “I suppose since you’re more like a demoness, you can cross without trouble, right?”
Angry at his accusation, but knowing it came from a pit of pain, I answered coolly, “No. I carry some of Skaal’s essence so that I can enter any of his houses. He has always offered me sanctuary.”
He didn’t ask why a high demon needed to offer me sanctuary. And I wasn’t about to tell the idiot anyway.
“Give me your hand,” I commanded more hotly than intended.
He arched a single perfect brow, but then wrapped his large hand around mine without another comment, enveloping it completely. The instant his skin was on mine, a jolt of awareness shot through me. How often had I watched him when he was Lisabette’s prisoner, sensing the leashed power beneath that tortured archangel? When he touched me now, the full force of his capabilities sizzled through me. And there was something ridiculously alluring about having someone like him on my side. But was he on my side?
I squeezed into the turn-style door first, pulling him into the same revolving section with me, knowing what we’d encounter on the other side. Once through, I stepped out onto the cream-colored marble floor with black marble inlay designs. The familiar round black columns of marble—five men thick—topped with gold filigree and towering candelabras on both sides of the entry greeted us. I glanced at the marble staircase winding to the right with exquisite wrought iron rails before swiveling back to look at the contrast to all this beauty—the har
d-faced, black-eyed beasts who guarded Skaal.
Catching sight of me, the four demons relaxed at my unexpected, early morning entry, but then clenched their automatic weapons—surely stocked with ether ammo—and aimed them above my head as Uriel stepped in close to my back, his heat an uncomfortable searing along my spine. I held up my palms in a submissive stance.
“Wait. He’s with me. We come with a business proposition for Skaal.”
“Skaal doesn’t deal with the likes of him.”
“I think we should let Skaal be the judge of that.” The sandy-haired demon—all muscle and roping tattoos up his throat and full sleeves down his bare arms—was oddly attractive. In the same way a fierce dog who was unmistakably loyal was attractive. “Please, Gabor.”
Gabor was his head of security. He eyed Uriel behind me with menacing hatred, his black eyes glinting with possibilities. Apparently, I’d have to bring out the big guns to make him see sense.
“Gabor. Imagine what Skaal will do to you when he finds you turned me away at his doorstep.”
He flinched. That seemed to get his attention. Was I imagining things or had Uriel edged closer, the heat of him more prominent along my shoulder blades?
“Wait here,” said Gabor, leaving the other minions as he walked behind the long countertop.
Gabor picked up a phone, punched some buttons, then grumbled into it after a brief pause. He waited, nodded, hung up, then rounded back to us, his aura of this-is-bullshit still apparent and even thicker.
With a flick toward him and a sharp glare over my shoulders, he said, “Follow me.”
We did with his second, the even beefier, black-haired Oska. Gabor walked through the elegant lobby toward the elevators, punched a button, and we waited. When it dinged open, he entered first, standing next to the button panel, then I followed. In the past, I’d met Skaal in some lobby side room or the bar. Perhaps we were being taken to a conference room on another floor.
“Wait,” said Oska in his gravelly voice that sounded like rocks scraping the bottom of a riverbed.
He entered and pressed close to my side, then waved with his gun for Uriel to enter in the only space left—directly in front of him. If Oska thought a demon with a weapon pointed at his back would put fear into him, then he would be sadly disappointed. Uriel didn’t even blink, his gaze slicing to me then away as he filled the elevator with his wide expanse of wings, somehow not touching any of us in the small space.
Gabor hit the top floor button and we rode up in tense silence. When it opened, we stepped out into a marble foyer. Gabor led us to an open doorway and stepped through first, taking a position inside at the entrance as we filtered into the luxurious living room suite. I unclasped and removed my white cloak, but before I could drape it over my arm, Gabor plucked it from me.
I smoothed down the skirt of my plain but pretty ash-rose dress. The top had a simple round neckline, the sleeves long, and the bodice fitted to my hips where it flared to my ankles in a serviceable fashion. My brown boots were wet from the snow, but still kept my feet warm and dry. Though I knew my dress covered everything I wanted covered, I couldn’t help but fidget with the edge of one sleeve, making sure they went past the wrist bone. It was a nervous habit I wasn’t sure I’d ever get over.
Bach floated softly from hidden speakers somewhere. Definitely not a conference room. This was his personal home. Draped in gold brocade, red silks, and black velvets, the floor covered in a wine-red carpet, the room was the epitome of elegance and taste. A white stone fireplace burned brightly and a mantel-to-ceiling mirror framed in gold cherub filigree elevated the room from lavish to stunningly opulent. Such a shocking contrast to the hard-edged high demon of Moscow who ran the fighting pits of Odin Shans.
“Nadya,” came the familiar crooning baritone from the blond-haired, leather-clad demon striding from what must be the bedroom.
His eyes kept to me as he approached, raking me with that look of adoration I’d come to expect. He didn’t stop until his hands landed on my shoulders—the one place he knew I’d be comfortable allowing him to touch. Any man to touch. His green-eyed gaze swept over my face, a smile tipping up his beautiful mouth. Skaal’s features were too sharp and too brutal to be called handsome, though somehow, he still was. It was because of his wide, perfect mouth and the unrelentingly genteel expression of his eyes. Well, when they were fixed on me, that is. I’d seen those same eyes spark with frightening fury before he’d lopped off the head of an enemy before. I never wanted to be his enemy. But that would be impossible. Not after all he’d done for me. I was in his debt. And yet he never demanded payment in the way he wanted most. No. He would never do that or ask that of me. But here I was asking for another favor.
“You look well,” he said softly.
“I am,” I assured him.
He squeezed my shoulders, exhaling a deep breath, his hands sliding down my arms to cup my hands where he gently held them in his.
“It’s good to see you,” he said quietly. Intimately.
“And you, my friend.”
I almost didn’t catch the flinch at my use of the word friend. He let go of one of my hands and faced Uriel. Christ. The archangel had cemented into a block of formidable ice since our entrance. He looked harder and colder than I’d ever seen him. And all of that glacial intent was aimed at Skaal.
Clearing my throat and trying to snap him from staring death-daggers at the one whose help we needed, I said, “Skaal, this is Uriel. He’s the one—”
“I know who he is,” said Skaal, no note of anger in his voice, yet there was something there…something I couldn’t identify. I’d known Skaal for a long time. His moods and tones of voice were as familiar to me as my own. And yet, I’d not heard the overly polite tenor laced with a sliver of steel now edging out of his throat. Skaal squeezed my hand tighter, gently tugging me closer. A possessive move that unnerved me. “Come have a seat. We’ll talk.”
Skaal let go of my hand, but then there was a light pressure on my back, nudging me to take a seat on the sofa where he sat at my side. Uriel sat on the loveseat across from us. There was no history between these two. And yet, there was something brewing all the same. A slow-kindled fire simmering across the small space of this luxurious suite. It must just be that they were on opposing sides of the war.
Skaal was definitely a high demon who enjoyed his status in Moscow and his connections in the netherworld, including one of the top men to Vladek. Still, he’d defied Vladek and saved me from him. So, I suppose Skaal had a sliding scale of whose side he was on. At the moment, he was definitely on the side not with Uriel. This could be problematic.
I angled myself toward Skaal, hands curled in my lap. He reciprocated, his knee closest to me nudging mine. The touch made me want to inch back. It wasn’t him. It was the touch of any man. He knew this. And he knew why. He usually kept these boundaries well in place, but for some reason, the second I strolled into his suite he’d been overstepping our usual lines.
“So, what brings this exceptional pleasure to my home?” He braced his arm along the sofa back behind me.
“I hate to always come to you for help,” I started gently with a smile.
“I don’t mind offering you whatever help I can.” His alert gaze swept my face. “Whenever you need me, I’ll always come.”
I swallowed hard against the emotions he had for me. I couldn’t return them. We’d had that discussion long ago. I glanced away at Gabor and Oska.
“Might we have some privacy?” I asked.
Skaal’s gaze lingered on my eyes, caressed down my cheeks to my mouth, and then he spoke over his shoulder. “Wait outside the door.”
Gabor looked about to protest but refrained from defying his master with a quick nod, then both guards stepped out into the elevator foyer. Skaal swiveled back to me. “I take it, this has something to do with the angel.”
“A
rchangel,” Uriel corrected, his first word since we’d entered the building. And it was a hard, distinct, fully enunciated word.
He was making sure Skaal understood his level in the hierarchy of beings. An archangel held the same potency as a demon prince. Never mind the fact that Vladek had caught him and kept him under Lisabette’s thrall. That was a sad mistake on Uriel’s part. A pulse of power radiated over the room, emanating from the man sitting on the opposite sofa. The wave slipped through flesh and bones, touching too much of me on the inside. I barely held back a gasp.
“No need for theatrics,” said Skaal, his attention now on Uriel. “What is it you want?”
“I want to fight in Vladek’s arena,” he answered succinctly.
Skaal leaned more fully against the sofa and chuckled, his other hand resting casually on his thigh. Even so, I could see the blade sheath attached to his ankle beneath the hem of his pants. He wasn’t taking chances with Uriel, no matter how casual or relaxed he appeared.
“That’s not so easy, archangel.”
I decided I’d better intervene before this confusing pissing contest between these two escalated.
“Dommiel and Anya asked me to help Uriel get into the circuit that leads to Vladek’s arena. I told them that there was a very slim chance it would work.”
Skaal angled his attention toward Uriel. “Oh, it could work. But what’s the end game? What do you expect to get out of fighting in the prince’s arena? If you survive, that is.”
Uriel held the high demon’s gaze, that crackling tension rising even more. What the hell was going on?
“Skaal.” I drew him back to me. “It’s the drakuls. He wants to find where Vladek is making them.”
“No,” Skaal chuckled, still holding my gaze. “He wants more than that.”
“What—?”
Before I could finish my question, Skaal went on, “And so you think by gaining access to Vladek’s castle, you’ll be able to just wander around and find his little dungeon of money-making. Put a stop to it?”
Coldest Fire (Dominion series) Page 3