Lovely. “Can you tell me what happened to damage the manor?”
Cera swallowed the last of her meat. “When the lord returned, we were very happy. He had been away a long time. Having the lord in the manor makes it feel complete. Like we’re protected. But he was hurt. When the other lords learned of his injuries...” Cera swallowed, her pale eyes glistening. “They attacked. Our lord—he bravely fought them. He was able to defend the manor, but many oneiroi died. Only a few of us remain now. And he doesn’t come out of his quarters anymore.”
“What do you think will happen?”
Terror trembled in Cera’s voice when she spoke again. “The other lords will find another way to kill my lord. Among the warrior lords, only the strongest are considered fit to live. The weak are sacrificed to the void.” Ursula swallowed hard. “I don’t understand. If Nyxobas wants me protected, why did he put me with a mortal lord everyone wants to murder?” Cera lifted her tear-streaked face. “No one else knows you’re here. My lord is weakened, but Nyxobas trusts him like he trusts no other. When Nyxobas ordered the lord to protect you, he knew he would follow through with every ounce of strength remaining in his body. Even if he doesn’t like you.”
Gods willing, that will be enough. “I didn’t realize I was meant to be a secret here.” She nodded at the window. “Can’t people see me through the giant windows?” Cera shook her head. “No. The light reflects off them.” Cera rose. “Thank you for the meal. I’ll return tomorrow.”
“I hope you enjoyed it.”
Cera’s chin glistened with steak juices. “It was the best thing I’ve eaten in years.”
As Cera left her quarters, Ursula stared out the window at Asta. The protection of the night god was the one thing keeping Bael alive. And here, in the Shadow Realm, Bael was the one person keeping her alive. Terrifying as the god of night was, she needed him on her side.
Chapter 8
After Cera left, Ursula tidied away the clothes the little oneroi had left behind. She tucked the knickers into her bureau, then hung the dresses and shawls in her bedroom closet. As she organized, she ran her fingers over the soft fabrics: cotton dresses for home, delicate embroidered tulle for speaking to the lord.
Nothing she could fight in, but apparently that wasn’t supposed to be her role here. She just had no idea what her actual role was.
In her bedroom, she pulled off her bloodstained gown and slipped into a black cotton dress that hung to her ankles. And conveniently, the simple dress had pockets by her hips—so she wouldn’t need to store anything in her panties.
She glanced around the bedroom—the stark gray walls and clean lines of the violet bedspread weren’t exactly inviting. What were the chances Bael would allow her to decorate this place? She needed a reminder of her most calming dreams—of the dusty-blue forget-me-nots and yellow aster, bathed in the amber light. Those beautiful but intangible memories she could never quite grasp... Honeyed sunrise, blue flower petals, tall blades of grass. The warmth of a landscape so different from Nyxobas’s Shadow Realm.
With a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, she crossed to the enormous windows. What, exactly, was she supposed to do with her time? There was no TV in this place, no armory where she could hone her skills, not even a bookshelf with a collection of novels.
She stared out at the vast crater. The opposite side of the rim was so far away, its enormity dizzied her. Even Asta, with the strange, gray clouds that swirled around its violet peak, looked thin and delicate from this vantage point.
Ursula glanced down at the houses that clustered around the valley floor. Could she glean anything about the habitants by looking at their homes? In the darkness, it was difficult to make out much. What I wouldn’t give for a telescope right now.
Still, if she strained her eyes, she could tell the houses were small and built of stone. Among the sea of darkened windows, a few lights twinkled. Did Cera and other oneiroi live in those humble dwellings? From the crater’s valley, they could literally look up to their lords in the imposing lunar palaces.
How long had Bael lived here in the Shadow Realm? At the thought of his otherworldly power, a shiver ran up her spine. Instinctively, she reached for her white moonstone—her lucky charm. Her stomach flipped. Of course, it had been left behind when she’d stripped off in the subway. Bloody hell. She’d had that thing for as long as she could remember, not that that was very long, but still it had been the one constant that had travelled from her former life to her new one.
She bit her lip. She’d been stripped of everything on her journey here—her magic, her sword, and her touchstone.
She turned, scanning the room. She’d just have to find a new lucky charm. Her gaze landed on a mahogany jewelry box that rested on the dresser.
She lifted the lid, momentarily dazzled by the small treasure inside. Among the silver and diamonds, she found a beautiful brooch. Inset into the silver setting, a cameo stone depicted a lion’s head. She ran her thumb over the surface. Somehow, it didn’t feel soothing.
She dropped it back in the pile, and picked her way through rings and necklaces. Too delicate. She needed something strong and solid.
As she dug her way to the very bottom, she found a ring of solid silver. The thing was enormous—far too big for her own fingers, but heavy enough to feel like an anchor. More importantly, it fit perfectly into the palm of her hand. She stroked the smooth metal, then slipped it into her pocket.
With the ring tucked safely in her pocket, she returned downstairs. She’d already grown more comfortable in the living room than anywhere else in her living quarters.
On the sofa, she curled up into the corner and pulled a snowy blanket over her body. Before she let her eyes close, she glanced around the room. She could still spruce it up a little, bring a bit of life to the place. Some apricot and bronze paints could go a long way...
She let her eyes close, rubbing the solid ring between her fingers. And when she drifted into the dream world, she visited a man with gray eyes, his body hewn of pure muscle. Around them, a room burned and screams pierced the night air...
It seemed like only few moments had passed when Cera tapped her on the shoulder.
“Ursula.”
Ursula blinked, slowly waking. Cera peered down at her. Outside, stars still shone in the dark sky. Bloody hell, this place was disorienting. It felt like she’d only been asleep for a few moments.
She sat up, trying to clear the fog of sleep. “How long, exactly, does the night last on the moon?”
“The lunar day lasts twenty-seven Earth days. The sun won’t rise for another...” Cera looked at the clock. “The sun will rise in one hundred and eight hours.”
Ursula’s eyes widened. “It’s dark for a month at a time?”
“No, it’s only dark for half of that. For just over thirteen days, we see the sun.” She gestured at the window. “Lucky for us, the tinted glass blocks out most of the light. Anyway, you need to get dressed. The lord’s carriage leaves in thirty minutes. If you want a shower, now is the time to do it.”
“The lord’s carriage?”
“He has requested your presence. He did not explain why.” Cera thrust a silky dress at her.
Of course he didn’t. She took the dress from Cera, unfurling it. Deep indigo silk, so dark it almost look black, embroidered with fine silver stitching. This time, a delicate silver bra and panties lay on top of the fabric, plus a pair of indigo flats.
Cera turned her back. “Please hurry.”
Ursula stepped out of her clothes, then folded them neatly on the sofa. She slipped into the panties and bra, then plucked the silver ring from her dress pocket, tucking it into the front of her cleavage. “A carriage, you said?”
“Precisely. The lord awaits you. We weren’t given much warning.”
Ursula stepped into the dress, pulling it up over her hips and sliding the sheer sleeves over her shoulders. From the tops of her thighs down, the dress grew increasingly sheer, sparkling with silver thread
. The wide hem gave her more freedom of movement than yesterday’s dress. The neckline plunged, giving off a view of her cleavage. Apparently, Cera was enjoying creating fashions for hellhounds with no sense modesty.
She stepped into the shoes. “It’s gorgeous.”
Cera turned, frowning. “Let me help you.” She tugged at Ursula’s hair with her fingers, twisting and forcing the waves into submission. When she’d finished, she appraised her work. One of her black eyebrows flew up. “Open your mouth.”
Ursula did as instructed, and Cera whipped out a small silver canister, spraying her mouth with a minty liquid. In the next second, Cera was slicking her lips with red gloss. “Perfect. You have everything you need.”
“There is one thing this ensemble really needs,” said Ursula.
“What?”
“A sword.”
Cera snorted. “Fat chance of that. Here, women are meant to please the eye. Not pluck them out with blades. That’s men’s work. Let’s go. The lord awaits you.”
Cera turned, hurrying into the hall. Ursula quickened her pace to keep up with Cera as she crossed the bridge, the wind whipping her auburn hair into her face.
When she crossed into the half-shattered atrium, her heart skipped a beat. A metal cage stood in the center, with a hinged door. It looked like something that belonged in a medieval torture chamber. “Um, what is this, exactly?”
Cera yanked open the door. “Don’t be afraid. On Earth, I believe you call this an elevator.”
Ursula glanced up at the thick steel chain that rose from the cage’s ceiling. “Right.” As
Cera held the door open, Ursula stepped inside. Without entering, Cera closed the door on Ursula.
“You’re not coming?” asked Ursula.
The little demon crossed the smashed tile. “No. The lord only requested your presence.”
Ursula wrapped her hands around the elevator’s bars, watching as Cera pulled a lever. A great creaking noise pierced the air, and the rattling chain slowly lifted the cage from the ground.
“Good luck!” shouted Cera from below.
Chapter 9
The cage rose slowly, swinging gently from side to side with metallic groans. Ursula laced her fingers through the bars to steady herself. A chilly wind rushed over Ursula’s skin, raising goosebumps.
On her journey upward, she passed one balcony after another. This place was enormous—practically its own city. Except, as she passed each floor, darkness greeted her. No candles lit the rooms, no voices warmed the air. Starlight shone through cracked glass shards of shattered windows. Instead of art, ragged holes interrupted the sleek walls, and burn marks scarred the marble floors.
The only signs of movement were the pale curtains, dancing in the lunar breeze.
Before the attack, this place would have been stunning, and perhaps teaming with life. As the elevator continued to rise, the walls narrowed. The cage slipped through a narrow gap in the roof, and into the night air.
On the slick roof’s surface, the icy breeze blew more strongly through the bars, bringing with it a faint smell of creosote.
A dome of stars spread out above, and Bael stepped from the shadows. Starlight caressed the sharp planes of his cheeks, glinting in his eyes. He wore a dark cloak around his broad shoulders, fastened with a silver lion clasp. Another piece of cloth covered one of his arms. From under his hood, his pale eyes pierced the night like stars.
As he opened the elevator door, his expression appeared grim, almost hostile. The door creaked as he opened it. “Tonight, you will do everything I say.”
She frowned. She hadn’t expected high-fives and cookies, but there was a hint of rage in his voice she hadn’t heard before.
Her stomach fluttered. “What’s the matter?”
“Who did you tell about your visit to the Shadow Realm?” Vicious shadows whorled in his eyes.
“No one.” She eyed his cloak enviously. Too bad Cera hadn’t shown up with a jacket. “The only people who know are Emerazel, Zee, and Kester. None of them would tell a soul. And they certainly don’t gossip with shadow demons.”
Bael cocked his head. He was doing that creepy demon thing—the eerily still body and penetrating eyes that she was certain could read more than she wanted them to.
He took a step closer, his powerful magic rippling over her skin. “Somehow, someone has told Hothgar about you. He’s specifically requested that you show fealty to the council,” he snarled. “Your presence here was supposed to be a secret.”
“I take it Hothgar is one of the lords?”
“A lord without honor.”
Whoever Hothgar was, he’d probably put at least some of those holes in the palace. “Abrax knows I’m here. He wants me dead.”
“Abrax wants you for himself. It would not be in his interest to inform the council about you. Once they learn of your presence in the Shadow Realm, they will howl for hellhound blood. The location—the very existence of the Shadow Realm—has been protected for millennia. Outsiders within our boundaries have never left the realm alive. And worse, you belong to Emerazel.”
Ursula shook her head. “Nyxobas specifically requested my presence.”
“He tasked me with protecting you from Abrax. But he won’t risk upsetting the cohesion of his council if they all find out. I cannot protect you from the other eleven lords if they want your neck.”
The wind picked up her hair. Maybe this was an opportunity. “Maybe I should return to Earth. You don’t want to start a war with Emerazel over me. I’m really not worth the hassle.”
“For whatever reason, Nyxobas wants you here. But he’s not fully protecting you. If he were, you’d be in Asta or he’d have issued a decree to protect you. He’s done neither.”
Her forehead crinkled. “So...what’s the deal? Surely there are easier ways to kill me than bringing me to the Shadow Realm.”
“He hasn’t seen fit to fill me in. Whatever he has planned, I view it as my duty to protect you. Tonight, you will come with me to the council.” His tone was pure command. “They must understand that you’re not here as an enemy, but as a captive. You must convey the message of captivity through acting submissive. It’s what they’ll understand.”
Sounds like a great time. She crossed her arms, shivering. “Can you tell me more about Hothgar?”
“He is the new Sword of Nyxobas.” Cold rage laced his voice. “And he belongs in the void.”
The cold wind stung her skin and she tightened her fingertips on her forearms. Bael’s gaze flicked to her shivering arms. He pulled the dark cloth from his arm, handing it to her. “Put this on.”
She took it from him—a black wool cloak, identical to his. She wrapped it around her, savoring its warmth, and fastened it with the silver clasp. A lion, just like Bael’s.
“You’ll need to cover your head.” Bael leaned in closer, pulling up the hood. “It is important you don’t draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. And your hair is difficult to ignore.” He turned from her, facing the crater, then put his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply.
A shadow crossed over their heads, and Ursula glanced up. Flying above them, a team of lunar bats pulled a black carriage, fastened to the creatures by silver cords. It looked like a gothic chariot from the eighteenth century.
I’ve either wandered into a nightmarish version of Cinderella, or a hellish Christmas tale, with lunar bats instead of reindeer.
With the whoosh of beating wings, the bats lowered the carriage to the roof, then landed on the slick marble with an ear-piercing scratching of claws.
A male oneiroi hopped down from the front of the carriage, his black hair slicked back off his pale face. He opened the door to the main compartment, then bowed to Bael.
Bael gestured for Ursula to enter.
She tugged her shawl tighter, her gaze skimming over the magic swirling around the carriage’s thin, black wheels. That’s what keeps this thing in the air—shadow magic.
Inside, the indigo seats
faced one another. Ursula nestled into the one that faced the front of the carriage. Shutting the door behind him, Bael climbed in the seat opposite. He kept his gray eyes locked on her, and he rapped on the window glass behind him.
With a lurch, the carriage surged into the sky. Through the window, she had a clear view of Bael’s manor. Built against the cliff’s side, it loomed above the crater, a shining tower of glass and silver. It looked like a skyscraper from a war zone. Jagged holes marred the walls, and great beams of metal twisted into the darkness like metallic innards. Thick dust covered some of the floors, like funeral ash.
Her heart tightened at the sight of it. She didn’t know Bael very well, but the loss of all those people must have been catastrophic.
Bael glared at her from across the carriage, not a single muscle moving. “When we get to Asta, you will stay by my side. Keep the hood over your head to cloak your face in shadow. Speak to no one.”
Ursula nodded, half-listening. Asta, with its stunning violet glow, came into view through the window. The enormity of the Shadow Realm astonished her. The crater’s rim curved around them, and thousands of buildings filled the vast space.
She pointed to the stone buildings below. “Who lives down there? In those small homes?”
“They are the homes of the brethren, and the oneiroi.”
“Who are the brethren?”
“Nyxobas’s followers.”
She shook her head. “So the oneirei aren’t all Nyxobas’s followers? How did the oneiroi end up here if only followers of Nyxobas are allowed, on pain of death?”
“Very astute.” He arched an eyebrow. “The oneiroi dwell within the crater because they were here first.”
Nocturnal Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 2) Page 5