Still shivering, she turned to face Bael. “The man who broke the window. He was riding a white bat.” She bit her lip. “Pretty sure he was wearing gray, too.”
He stared at her. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I didn’t know it was important.”
“Every detail is important.”
She glanced down at her dress, torn at the hem by the Gray Ghost. She’d ruined every dress Cera had given her.
At the thought of Cera, a lump rose in her throat. “We need to tell Cera about Massu.”
“I was on my way to tell her when I saw you.”
“Sorry about the...the nudity.” She had no idea why she felt the need to apologize.
Bael slipped back into the shadows. “Return to your quarters at once. You’ll be warm and safe there. At least, until the melee.”
Chapter 21
Back in her quarters, Ursula curled up in her usual spot on the sofa. With the slowly rising sun staining the sky a bright purple, fear tightened its grip on her heart. She had about five hours until someone bashed her skull in.
She’d spent her last five hours staring at Asta, the palace of nightmares. The view of the crater no longer seemed so starkly beautiful. Now Asta’s shimmering spire and the clouds of moths only reminded her of the danger the day held for her. In eight hours, when red tinged the sky, she would be in a fight for her life, thousands of miles from home.
She curled up, pulling her blanket tightly around her shoulder. And when she slept, she dreamt of Bael, standing over her with a silver sword, ready to strike.
It must have been only a few hours when Cera tapped her on the shoulder. “Ursula?”
“Mmmmghh.” Ursula started her morning eye rubbing routine, but stopped when she saw Cera’s face. The oneiroi’s eyes were raw, her hair looked like a bird’s nest.
“I guess Bael spoke to you.”
“The lord told me about Massu. And you. I couldn’t sleep.”
Ursula sat up, the memories of the ceremony crashing down on her. Tears stung her eyes. “There must be some way for us to get through this.
Cera shook her head. “No one violates Nyxobas’s edicts.” She lifted a shopping bag from the floor, her jaw fixed with resolve. “Still. I won’t have you appear in front of the melee looking a mess.”
Ursula frowned. “This hardly seems like the time to bring me a dress.”
“It’s not a dress. I’m tired of you destroying my outfits. Besides, a dress wouldn’t be appropriate for the melee.” She tossed the bag to Ursula. “Try it on.”
Ursula peered inside at the folded pile of midnight-black leather.
“What did you make me?” Ursula stood, pulling out a pair of black leather trousers, a leather corset—reinforced with steel. A leather jacket—also reinforced. And to top it off, thigh-high boots, stitched with a dozen knife-sheaths.
Despite everything she was about to face, a smile curled Ursula’s lips. “This is amazing.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
It took only a few minutes for Ursula to zip up in the figure-hugging black leather. It fit her like a glove, and had pockets—where she could store her new lucky charm. That little ring she’d pilfered from Bael.And more importantly, she felt like she could fight in this. “You’re amazing, Cera.” She leaned down, hugging the oneiroi.
“You’d better not hurt Massu,” Cera cautioned. “Or I’m taking it all back.” Cera wrung her hands. Confusion clouded her features. “I mean, I know both of you can’t live, and the lord... I just don’t want to see you all hurt each other. And maybe you’re right. Maybe if you live long enough, there will be some way out of this. Just make it through the melee alive, okay?”
Ursula clamped a hand on her shoulder. “I will. And we will figure something out. Maybe a loophole...” Her voice trailed off. Nyxobas probably didn’t give a fuck about loopholes. “Anyway, thank you so much for making this outfit. I’ll try really hard not to trash it.”
Cera folded her arms. “Even you couldn’t trash it. The leather stitching is triply reinforced, and the leather lined with a thin sheet of steel. And that reminds me.” She snatched the bag off the floor, plucking out a knife. “It’s not much, but I wanted to give you this.”
Ursula took it from her, a smile brightening her face. “Finally. A real weapon.”
“I believe it’s what you call a shiv,” added Cera.
Ursula held it up to the light. The blade, black as the void, had been carved from stone. She let out a low whistle. Gorgeous.
She examined the lethal tip. “What’s it made of?”
“Obsidian. Be careful with it. It’s very sharp.”
Ursula rubbed her thumb over the hilt. It was perfectly weighted. “Did you make it?”
Cera shook her head. “No. It’s been in the family for generations. When Nyxobas and his henchmen first arrived one hundred millennia ago, his demons confiscated all the onerois’ metal weapons. Fortunately, their spells can’t distinguish between your average moon rock and a knapped blade.”
Ursula slid the dagger into one of the sheaths in her boots. Straightening, she felt a certain confidence return. At least I have a weapon, tiny as it might be.
Already, her nerves were buzzing with adrenaline. She shot a panicked glance at the window. When the sun began to rise here, it would be setting on the other side of the moon. “Is it time?”
“Yes. I’ll be taking you to Lacus Mortis.”
“I’m not going in the carriage?”
“No. The lord is taking the carriage. We will be traveling by bat. Sotz is waiting outside. It is time.”
“Right.” Her stomach fluttering, she glanced at the sky again, certain it was brightening.
Never before had the concept of sunrise seemed so soul-crushingly terrifying.
* * *
Sotz was waiting for them on the bridge, his feet clutching the railing. His beady eyes blinked as they approached.
“Turn around,” Cera commanded.
Slowly, Sotz rotated his body until his rear faced them. As she had in New York, Cera mounted his saddle at the shoulders, and Ursula clambered on the back.
Cera turned to face her. “Take this,” she said, passing Ursula a black ribbon. “Tie it around your mane of hair to keep it out of your face.”
“Thanks.” What I wouldn’t do for a helmet right now. As instructed, she fasted her hair in a ponytail behind her head.
“Are you ready?” Cera asked.
Ursula swallowed hard, trying to steel her nerves. This was it. Once in the air, there would be no turning back. They were heading right for the Lacus Mortis. And while her Latin knowledge wasn’t spectacular, she had a feeling that name translated to, “the place where you’re about to die.”
“I guess I’m ready.”
Cera whispered in Sotz’s ear, and the bat climbed over the railing. “Hold on tight,” Cera shouted.
An instant later, the cold lunar wind whipped over Ursula’s skin, and they were diving toward the valley floor. With her hair fastened behind her head, the improved view proved so terrifying that she shut her eyes anyway. She opened them only when Sotz leveled off.
“Are you okay?” Cera shouted above the wind.
“Yeah.” And by “yeah,” I mean I’m so terrified I might puke into the wind. “Is it strictly necessary for Sotz to dive like a maniac every time we take off?”
“It’s the easiest way for him to build up enough speed to sustain flight. A bat’s not really built to take two riders.”
Her stomach twisted. Brilliant. Perfectly reassuring.
Sotz flew in a lazy curve until they faced the wall of the crater. The frigid air bit at her skin, even through her leather. Still, now that they weren’t hurtling at the ground, her muscles began to relax.
Sotz slowly beat the air with his wings a few times. Then he dove toward the side of the crater. They were heading for a sheer cliff of lunar rock at a terrifying speed.
Ursula gripped onto the sa
ddle so tightly she was about to rip the handles off. “What are you doing?” she shouted. “We’re about to crash into the side of the crater!”
A moment later, in conjunction with Ursula’s terrified screams, they plunged into a narrow crack in the side of the cliff. Sotz had taken them into complete darkness.
Ursula strained to see anything, total darkness enshrouded them. Unlike the subway, no lights hung to illuminate their flight. If she’d had the nerve to release her grip for a second, she wouldn’t have been able to see her own hand in front of her face.
“Where are we going?” she shouted.
“Can you be quiet?” Cera barked. “All your shouting will interfere with Sotz’s echolocation.”
Right. Best not deafen the bat. Ursula tried to peer into the darkness for a few more moments, but she kept imagining stalactites dangling from the ceiling and smacking her in the face. So she shut her eyes and buried her face in Cera’s back.
The air rushed around her, but the sensation of Cera’s soft sweater against her cheek made her feel secure. After a while, the air around her seemed to warm.
Ursula lifted her head, opening her eyes. A dim, indigo light shone through the crack. Sotz’s wings beat steadily. The light slowly grew brighter.
Suddenly, the tunnel widened and they burst into an enormous cavern. A tremendous cacophony of chirping and squeaking assaulted her ears, echoing off the cavern walls. It sounded like a tropical rainforest amplified through a speaker. Down here, the humid air warmed her skin. She breathed in, taking in the sharp, almost chemical scent. It took her a moment to identify it—ammonia.
A luminous glow rose from beneath them. Ursula leaned just far enough to the side to peer over Sotz’s side. She gasped. They were flying over a great forest of glowing mushrooms. Enormous fungi, the size of trees, grew from the surface. Each glowed with a blinding cornflower-blue light. And between the fungi, something slithered.
Her stomach fluttered as she realized what they were. Monstrous caterpillars, the size of buses.
“What is this place?” she whispered.
“This is the rookery, for the bats.” Cera pointed above. “Look. You can see them up there.”
Ursula craned her neck, peering into the darkness. On the ceiling hundreds of feet above, furry bat bodies squirmed like a brown fungus.
Suddenly, Sotz jerked to the side. Out of the corner of her eye, Ursula saw a blur of brown plunge from the ceiling. It struck a mushroom with an audible splat.
“What was that?”
“Guano,” said Cera. “The bats aren’t exactly polite.”
Ursula’s stomach turned. Lovely.
As they continued through the cavern, Sotz continued to dodge falling guano.
“This is gross,” Ursula muttered.
“The guano feeds the mushrooms,” said Cera. “It’s a well-functioning ecosystem.”
Eventually the walls narrowed, and the ceiling sloped lower. As the sounds of the bats faded, the cavern grew dark again.
Sotz flew through the darkness for what seemed like hours. Ursula rested her head against Cera’s back, breathing in the smell of garlic and bread that still hung on her clothes from the last time she’d cooked. Apart from the flapping of wings and the rush of air around them, the only sound Ursula could hear was Cera’s drumming heart through her back.
Without warning, they burst free of the crevice. Ursula blinked, trying to focus her eyes. When she tried to ask Cera what was going on, her breath caught in her throat. There was no air, the sun hadn’t yet risen on this part of the moon. Brutal cold bit at her skin. They were floating in the vacuum of space.
Cera pulled a purple crystal from her sweater. Her mouth moved but there was no sound. Suddenly, dark magic flashed around them. This time, when Ursula gasped, air filled her lungs.
“I’m so sorry, milady,” said Cera. “I forgot that you wouldn’t be able to breathe.” Ursula coughed uncontrollably, wiping frozen tears from her eyes. Dark magic swirled around them, keeping the vacuum at bay.
“You don’t need air to breathe?” asked Ursula.
“Some air. But oneiroi can hold our breath for a long time. It’s one of the ways we are able to live on the moon.” Cera pointed up. “Have you seen the Earth yet?”
Suspended above them, the earth filled the sky, a crescent of emerald and blue. Gleaming like a shadowed gem. She hadn’t realized until now that from the moon, the Earth had phases, too—waxing and waning. She blinked, trying to process the rich colors.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Cera. “Before Nyxobas came, the oneiroi worshiped the Earth as a god.”
“I’d seen the pictures from NASA, but in person—” She spotted the outline of Europe, and felt a lump rise in her throat. “I didn’t realize quite how far away it was.”
Cera whispered in Sotz’s ear. The bat adjusted his course, bringing them lower—closer to the barren lunar surface. They streaked over a great field of stones and boulders. Only the intermittent pockmarks of ancient meteor strikes interrupted the flat landscape.
She glanced at the sun over the horizon. Not long, now. “Where are we?” Ursula asked.
“The Lacus Mortis.”
“What does that mean, anyway?”
Cera cleared her throat. “Just... Just Lake of Death.”
Yep. Just like I thought.
Ursula studied the barren plain. “This is it?” Why had Hothgar ordered the melee be held here? “There’s bugger-all here!”
“The Lacus Mortis is what remains of an old lava flow,” said Cera. “It’s where Nyxobas built his great amphitheater.”
Here, on the opposite side of the moon, the sun still hung in the sky. But it didn’t look like daylight on Earth. The sun hung in a black sky, bathing the moon in pure, white light.
Ursula scanned the landscape, but she could see nothing. Not a single hovel, much less an amphitheater. She was about to ask what was going on, when she spotted the rim of a particularly large crater. A dome of silver covered the crater, so thin it was hardly visible. Sunlight streamed through the dome.
Sotz carved a tight turn as they soared through the dome of silver magic, and Ursula let out a low whistle. Just below the dome, demons filled the crater, and they sat in seats carved from the inner walls of the caldera. White sunlight shone over an enormous circular pit in the center, flat and sandy on the bottom. It looked exactly like the interior of a Roman Coliseum.
Panic raked its claws into her chest. They’ve all come to watch me die. And I have nothing but a stone dagger to defend myself.
Chapter 22
A cold fear gripped Ursula as Sotz skidded to a stop in the center of the arena. She could feel the eyes on her. The hellhound harlot, here to perform for your enjoyment.
She climbed out of the saddle, wincing. Fatigue burned through her thighs from the flight. Haven’t even started yet, and I’m already knackered.
From Sotz’s saddle, Cera gripped her hand. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.” She glanced around at the empty arena. She was the only one here. “You’re not leaving now, are you? There’s no one else here.”
“They’ll be here, Ursula,” said Cera. “I must go.”
Before Ursula could say another word, Sotz and the oneiroi launched into the air, the wind whipping through Cera’s hair as she flew away.
Okay. So I’ll just stand here in the center of the arena, with an entire planet’s eyes on me. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she stood below the black dome of sky, washed in milky light.
As she stood on the dusty floor, a wave of terror washed over her. Great walls of stone, at least twenty feet high, surrounded her. Every few yards, grated doors interrupted them. And above the doors, Nyxobas’s brethren sat in rows, studying her with a mixture of excitement and fear.
A great clash reverberated through the stadium, and she turned with a start. On a platform at the edge of the arena stood Hothgar, dressed in furs and a silver breastplate. A great silver gong hung b
eside him, and his Viking wife sat behind him, wearing a shimmering gown the color of starlight. Twelve oneiroi stood before him, each bearing a torch. The torch flames danced in the wind.
And at the back of the platform, a giant stone statue of Nyxobas loomed over the arena. Starlight seemed to shine from the statue’s eyes. Ursula shuddered.
She turned, surveying the crowd again. She squinted in the setting sun.
A pig-faced man pointed at her. “Ready to die, whore?”
She swallowed hard. Now I’ll survive just to spite you.
Glass shattered a few feet behind her, and she whirled. Someone had thrown a glass wine bottle at her. Lucky for her, the tosser had terrible aim.
She moved further into the center of the arena, out of range, inwardly cursing Cera’s punctuality. Why did she need to get us here early?
Hothgar’s enormous form cast a long shadow over the center of the crater. When the shadows grow long...
He slammed his wooden mallet into the center of the gong. A silence fell over the crowd, and he stared at Ursula. “I’m so glad you could finally join us, dog. You weren’t too busy rutting in the streets like a bitch in heat?”
The crowd laughed, and Ursula felt a flush rise in her cheeks. Anger simmered. “I’m sorry.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “If you want me to call you ‘Nyxobas’ and worship your lunar staff, you’ll have to control my mind, like you do the other human women who won’t have you otherwise.”
Hothgar paled, but she caught sight of the slight smile that ghosted across Viking’s lips.
Hothgar’s nostrils flared. “Are you prepared to join the melee?”
Definitely not. “I am.” She projected her voice with as much confidence as she could.
“Good,” said Hothgar. “I will enjoy watching you get torn apart.”
A pit opened in her stomach. She couldn’t come up with much of a comeback to that particular jab. She was probably going to die here, and the terror of that thought ripped her mind apart. The Sword of Nyxobas lifted his large wooden mallet. With a brutal strike, he sounded the gong again. Around the arena, the doors opened with a rumbling groan.
Nocturnal Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 2) Page 12