Shadows & Flame Complete Boxed Set: Demons of Fire and Night Novels

by C. N. Crawford

  Dead. The word rang in her mind like a death knell, and a wave of sadness washed over her, threatening to pull her under. Met a fate she didn’t deserve. Had her mother tried to protect her daughter, before she fled Mount Acidale? Ursula swallowed hard, determined to find out the answers—someday. First, she needed to survive the bloody dragon apocalypse, and then she’d learn the truth about herself. Or perhaps, those two goals would be one and the same.

  Her fingers tightened around the bag. She still needed to find Kester—he alone knew how to stop these dragons, apparently. But before that, she needed to find a warm place to stay until the sun rose.

  As the rain started to let up, Ursula strode down Wardour Street, heading for District 5, the underground bar often full of students and alcoholics from the film industry.

  In the shadows of District 5’s doorway, Katie’s blond hair shone in a streetlight. She was standing by herself, puffing on a cigarette. When she spotted Ursula, she dropped the butt in a puddle, her face lighting up. She ran to Ursula, throwing her arms around her.

  Ursula hugged her back. “Good to see you too.”

  “I thought you was dead. Seriously. That’s what they told me.”

  Ursula pulled away from the hug. “I’m so sorry, Katie. I wanted to call, but Kester said I needed to start a new life.”

  Katie was a few inches shorter than Ursula, and she wore a red dress that hugged her curves. She pushed a flyaway blond hair from her eyes. “What are you on about? Who’s Kester?”

  Ursula shivered as a sharp gust of wind plastered her shirt against her back. “He’s like my boss. He’s the one who faked my death.”

  “He sounds like a knob end, but he can’t be worse than Rufus. Rufus makes me look at his workout pictures on his mobile phone. Every bloody day, I have to pretend to be impressed.”

  “Kester’s definitely not that bad. He’s missing now.” Ursula rubbed her arms for warmth.

  “You’re freezing. I can get you some dry clothes from the lost and found.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. No one ever comes to collect that rubbish.”

  Katie started toward the door of the club.

  “Wait,” said Ursula. “Is Rufus in there? I really don’t want to run into him.”

  “He’s inside, but he’s locked himself in his office to count his money. Doubt he’ll come out. Why don’t I meet you in the ladies’ washroom? He’ll never go in there.”

  “All right.”

  As Katie led Ursula down the stairs, the pounding of bass music reverberated off the walls. Ursula’s stomach knotted as the memory of her last time in the club came roaring back. She’d burned a club patron, and Rufus—her ex—had fired her, right before introducing her to his new girlfriend. It was quite possibly the worst birthday of her life, though given her memory problem, she couldn’t be entirely sure. As she moved into the club—at this point, populated only by the very drunk—she kept her head down and let her wet hair cover her face.

  She pulled open the door to the women’s room, the blue tiles of the room illuminated by teal lights above the sinks.

  Shutting the door behind her, she let out a long sigh. The bathroom was empty. She turned to look at the mirror and pushed her hair from her face.

  I look like a drowned rat.

  She grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dabbed it over her face. The cheap paper scratched her skin, but at least it soaked up some of the rain.

  The door creaked open, and Katie slipped into the bathroom clutching a bundle of clothes. “Got you some dry things.” She held up a pair of leopard-print leggings and a turquoise halter top. “Sorry, hun. There wasn’t much in the way of selection.”

  “It’s fine,” said Ursula, already pulling her soaked T-shirt over her head. Shivering, she slipped on the halter top. Although it left her arms and back bare—not to mention her cleavage—at least the dry cotton was a welcome relief.

  Katie raised her perfectly tweezed eyebrows. “So are you going to explain the dragon thing, then?”

  Ursula pulled off her damp trousers and shoved them into her plastic bag. “I don’t honestly understand it any better than you do. I still have no memory. The dragons are after me. And a hag in the Thames just told me my mum was dead.”

  Katie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God!”

  Ursula pulled her boots over her leggings. She looked like a deranged stripper. “It’s fine,” she lied. “I don’t remember her.” For now, Ursula would leave out the bit about her trip to the moon. Might be a bit much to explain at three a.m. in the ladies’ room of a dodgy club.

  Katie’s blue eyes widened. “Is it true what Rufus said, that you lit someone on fire here in the club? Like, with your hands?”

  Ursula shrugged. “It was an accident. I didn’t have control of my magic then.”

  Katie’s jaw dropped. “So you’re, like, a witch then? Rufus’s girlfriend has a thing about witches.”

  “No, I’m not a witch. I’m sort of a…” She had no idea how Katie would react to this, but it couldn’t be much weirder than what she’d already heard about her in the media. “I’m a hellhound. I can use fire magic.”

  Katie shook her head, disbelieving. “Since when? Why did you never tell me?”

  “I didn’t know, not till the night I disappeared.” She pointed to the scar on her shoulder, exposed by the halter top. “I wasn’t born a hellhound. Sometime before I lost my memory, I carved this. No idea why, but that meant when I turned eighteen, a hellhound came to collect me.”

  Katie’s brow furrowed, and she took a step back. “So you’re like… a demon, innit?”

  “Look, you were my flatmate for a year. I’m the same person now as I was then.” Ursula said it as convincingly as she could, but it rang hollow in her heart. The Ursula who’d worked at District 5 might as well have died the night she’d met Kester.

  Katie bit her lip, still looking unsure of herself. “So what brings you back to London then? Escaping the dragons?”

  “It’s complicated—” Ursula started to reply, but Katie gasped.

  “Oh my God! Is that blood?” She pointed to the plastic bag that held Ursula’s mother’s blouse. Red liquid dripped from the bottom onto the floor.

  “I think so. I was trying to figure it out myself. The river hag gave it to me.”

  Katie’s face paled, and she gaped at Ursula.

  “I’m serious. It was the river crone. She said it was my mother’s.”

  Katie nodded slowly. “Right. Look, maybe it’s best if you get out of here. There’s all sorts of people looking for you.” Some kind of internal war seemed to be playing out on her features. “Do you have a place to stay?”

  Ursula shook her head. With vamps in Kester’s flat, she was shit out of luck. “Not exactly.”

  Katie took a deep breath. “Fine. Stay with me for the night. We’ll figure something out, okay?”

  Relieved, Ursula loosed a breath. “Thank you, Katie.”

  “Just try not to light anything on fire, would you? That flat is a death trap as it is.”

  When Ursula stepped out of the bathroom, clutching her plastic bag, her stomach flipped. Madeleine, Rufus’s girlfriend, leaned against the bar in a tiny black dress with a gold jacket, clutching a glass of champagne. At the sight of Ursula, she slammed her champagne flute on the countertop and whipped out her phone. “Rufus!” She shouted over the thumping bass music. “We’ve got a situation!”

  Ursula tried to shield her face with her hand, hurrying for the door. “I was just leaving.” But Madeleine was going to pass on her image to the authorities. All the demon hunters in America were after Ursula. She stopped in her tracks, feeling the fire burn in her veins, and she turned to face Madeleine again.

  Madeleine was shoving the phone back in her hand bag, all innocence. “I thought you were leaving.”

  “Give me your mobile.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Madeleine, fiddling
around in her handbag. In all likelihood, she was trying to upload the video already. “I don’t even have my mobile on me.” She turned her head back to the office. “Rufus! What the bloody hell are you doing?”

  As her head was turned, Ursula snatched Madeleine’s Chanel handbag off her shoulder. Quick as lightning, Ursula’s fingers were on the phone. She’d burn the bloody thing.

  But as the hellfire erupted from her fingers, pain seared her muscles. The flames were actually burning her. What is wrong with my fire? The screen popped, shattering with the acrid scent of burning plastic.

  “Rufus!” shouted Madeleine. “It’s Ursula. She’s here. She’s mugging me!”

  By this point, a small crowd had begun forming around them.

  Ursula dropped the scorched metal husk back into the Chanel handbag. “Sorry about your phone.” She thrust the bag back at Madeleine. “I have a feeling you can afford a new one.”

  “Rufus!” Madeleine screeched. “The demon is here! A demon!”

  Abruptly, the music stopped, and the club lights flicked on. Rufus pushed open his office door, narrowing his eyes at Ursula. “What the hell is going on in here?”

  Madeleine pointed, her finger shaking. “That’s the woman the dragons are after. I think she might be one of their own.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Katie. “Everyone knows Ursula’s in America. This is just someone who looks like Ursula.”

  A valiant attempt at deflection, but an unconvincing one.

  An overweight man stumbled forward, his beer sloshing from his pint glass. “Fuckin’ hell, is that really the dragon girl? How much money they offerin’ for her?”

  Ursula’s body tensed. “It’s been lovely catching up, but I’m afraid I have to go.”

  As she headed for the door, the overweight man blocked her path. “Hang on a minute, love.”

  Before Ursula could push past him, Madeleine was by her side again, clutching a vial of red powder, which she flung into the air. The sensation when it landed on Ursula’s skin was unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was pure unrelenting pain, like her skin was being peeled from her muscles. She screamed, falling to the floor.

  Madeleine stood over her. “Rufus. You need to take her to the Brotherhood. The iron dust will extinguish her dragon magic. You can handle her.”

  Rufus scratched his blond stubble, staring down at her. “Take her how?”

  “Don’t touch her!” shouted Katie. “Your girlfriend’s a crazy bint. You know that, right? If you touch her, I will fucking glass you. I’m not messing about.”

  Rufus held out his hands. “Now that’s uncalled for.”

  Katie leaned down, catching Ursula under the shoulders and pulling her up. “Can you stand?”

  With Katie’s help, Ursula managed to push her way up to her feet. And as she did, she caught a glimpse of the ring of lit up cell phones around them. Bollocks.

  Madeleine scowled. “Rufus! You need to stop her!”

  “I just feel a bit awkward about it,” Rufus whinged.

  Leaning against Katie, Ursula stumbled toward the door, desperate to wash her skin of the iron dust. Kester had warned her about this stuff—not only would it singe away her magic, but it would sear her skin in the process. She shuffled to the door, trying to block out the agony.

  At last, when she made her way through the door, the cold rain was a blessed relief on her skin. She pulled away from Katie, tilting her face to the sky. She let the raindrops wash the powder from her face, cleaning her. Her muscles relaxed just a little, and she wiped the mixture of dust and rain off her skin.

  “Thank you for helping me,” she said to Katie.

  “No problem. Rufus is a total bell-end, and Madeleine’s a stuck-up psycho cow. I’m sure you know that.”

  “Won’t you be fired? He doesn’t like people defying him.”

  “Probably, but I was planning on quitting anyway.”

  Behind them, the door creaked open, and Rufus stood in the doorway, appraising her with his cool blue eyes.

  “I have you on video,” he said.

  “I don’t really give a shit.”

  “The reward for your return is ten million dollars.” He adjusted the cuffs of his crisp white shirt. “The rent in Soho doesn’t come cheap, you know.”

  She crossed her arms. “What do you want?”

  “Is it true that a demon pays you? In gold?”

  Absolute wanker. He’s trying to blackmail me.

  As the iron dust washed off her skin Ursula could feel the fires of Emerazel pooling in her body, caressing her ribs. Staring at Rufus, she held up a hand. Raindrops sizzled and popped as flames started to lick along her skin. Fire burned from the tips of her fingertips, and a wicked smile curled her lips. “Do you really think that will happen, Rufus?”

  She watched his throat bob as he swallowed. “It was Madeleine’s idea.”

  “The demon hunters she’s mixed up with are not a good crowd. Do you understand me?”

  His skin had gone pale, and he nodded mutely, seemingly transfixed by the flames that danced along her arms.

  “You need to give Katie a raise. If I hear that you’ve fired her, I will come back and brand my name on your arse. Do you understand?”

  Rufus nodded again. “Of course,” he stammered.

  Ursula held out her hand. “Now I just need the money I was never paid the night you fired me. My last paycheck.”

  Rufus pulled his wallet from his back pocket, handing it to her. She cracked it open, counting the pound notes.

  “Only a hundred and thirty pounds? Business not doing so well?” Pocketing the cash, she turned to Katie. “I’ll cover our cab fare home.”

  Chapter 8

  The sun was staining the sky with streaks of pumpkin and violet. She’d tucked her mother’s blouse, still wrapped in the plastic bag, under her arm.

  Here in this kitchen was where it had all begun months ago—where Kester had first arrived and broken the news that she was a hellhound. Back then, her life had been a disaster—but a mundane disaster. No job, no education, no money for rent. Dumped and fired by Rufus in the same week.

  Now she had money, but also a whole lot more trouble. She had an army of dragons after her, and the past that she’d tried to escape from was coming back to haunt her. Her mum was dead. She’d tried to murder her own father. What terrible secret would she uncover next?

  Ursula glanced at the note she’d left for Katie—just a heartfelt thank you, and an explanation that she’d be in touch when she could. It was vague on the details, though Katie might wonder what had happened to her kitchen.

  In any case, Ursula needed her sword back from the vamps, and she was pretty sure she knew where to find it. She grabbed Katie’s vodka off the counter, pouring it around herself in the shape of a fire sigil. When she’d finished, she picked up Katie’s lighter and ignited the sigil, chanting the spell for Kester’s apartment. Flames seared the air around her in a rush of fiery power, and her body crumbled to ash.

  In the next moment, she found herself standing in Kester’s sigil room, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Just as she’d thought, the vamps had taken cover from the sunlight, probably in the basement. As quietly as she could, she crept through the hall, frowning at the crescent moons painted over the walls. There on the rich leather of one of the living room sofas was her rucksack. Even better, the katana lay underneath it, resting in its scabbard.

  She opened the rucksack up and shoved her mother’s blouse inside, then took the opportunity to change into some fresh clothes—black leggings and a matching shirt. Then, she grabbed the bag from the sofa, slung her sword and scabbard around her waist, and crossed to an oak desk that stood in the corner.

  She pulled open the little drawers until she found what she was looking for. Cash. Just as she’d expected, Kester’s desk was crammed with gold pieces and pound notes. For someone with that much money, he didn’t even bother safeguarding it. This was chump change to
him. Still, she’d pay him back. She stuffed a few hundred in her rucksack—along with the money from Rufus, this might come in handy if she needed to stay in hotels while in London.

  Fully stocked with money, her sword, and her rucksack, she crept down the stairs to the front door. She pulled it open onto the milky morning light, squinting in the sun’s rays. She hadn’t slept nearly enough last night, but at least she’d gotten a few hours’ rest.

  Walking around in London with a sword had to be completely illegal. She didn’t know of a specific law against sword carrying, since it didn’t tend to happen often these days, but you weren’t allowed to carry knives, and a sword was a step up from that. Not to mention the fact that she had a kaiken dagger and a reaping pen hidden in her rucksack. Still, she’d just have to count on the fact that Londoners saw enough weird shit around Brick Lane to not blink an eye.

  Her stomach rumbling, she crossed toward Brick Lane. At this hour, hardly anyone was out and about on Fournier Street, but she should be able to find an open coffee shop within a few blocks. Her mouth watered at the thought of breakfast.

  On the narrow, winding street that was Brick Lane—a relic of an ancient brewery—Ursula picked up her pace, a coffee shop in her sights. On the pavement outside a café—charmingly named Wankoffee—she stepped over a sleeping man in a suit who’d obviously had a bit too much fun last night. Gods, it felt good to be back in London, even if she was in the most ridiculous part of the city.

  Inside Wankoffee, a young man with muttonchops, a mesh baseball cap, and an olive green cravat leaned on the countertop, glaring at her from between expensive chrome coffee equipment. Around the room, drawings decorated the walls, along with neon lights and large mirrors.

  Ursula eyed the food in the glass countertop, her stomach rumbling. “Can I please have two bagels with cream cheese, a milky coffee, and an orange juice?” She pulled out a twenty-pound note, plopping it on the bar.