Nocturnal Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 2)

by C. N. Crawford

  “Good boy,” she whispered in his ear.

  The sound of beating wings made her turn her head. Bael flew twenty feet away, the lunar wind ruffling his dark hair.

  “That’s better,” he shouted over the wind.

  “Thanks.”

  “Lean forward, and allow your weight to shift with each beat of his wings.”

  Ursula leaned forward until her chest was inches from Sotz’s neck. The position felt a bit more unstable. But when she began to shift her weight with each beat of Sotz’s wings, she saw that Bael was right. The ride smoothed out into a smooth glide.

  “That’s it,” said Bael. He and Vesperella swooped under her and Sotz. With two great beats of Vesperella’s wings, he took the lead. “Follow me!”

  Ursula marveled at his change in demeanor. He seemed so comfortable on the bat, like he actually enjoyed life. It was hard to believe this was the same man who’d slit Massu’s throat just hours ago.

  Bael led her and Sotz in a great curving turn back toward the rooftop. When they were a hundred feet away, Bael and Vesperella dove for the roof at a terrifying speed. At the last instant, Vesperella spread her wings, landing gracefully on the marble.

  Now he’s just showing off. She leaned forward to whisper in Sotz’s ear. “We got this, big guy.” She tried to bring the bat in slowly, but as the roof rose to meet them, she instinctively leaned back. Sotz tensed as he tried to decide whether to land or to pull back up into the air. He chose landing, but they hit the roof with a jerk that knocked her straight from his back. She slammed against the marble, rolling a few times before coming to rest on her back.

  When she opened her eyes, Bael stood over her, a look of concern on his face. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Still lying flat on her back, Ursula brushed the dust from her jacket.

  “Good, because you must be in one piece for this evening. We have been invited to dinner at Asta with the lords and their wives.”

  Chapter 29

  A few hours later, Ursula and Bael stepped down from his carriage and onto the marble, on the very top level of the crystal spire. The sun burned bright in a black sky—thankfully, not at its zenith, yet.

  She wore a gown of shimmering white silk, with a plunging backline, now covered by a pale blue cloak.

  She stole a quick glance at Bael. “Remind me again why we’re here?”

  “As lord, I’m required to attend dinners at the spire.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “And remind me why I needed to come?”

  “Because your presence will distract everyone enough that I won’t need to speak to anyone.”

  She cocked her head, the wind whipping through her hair. “I’m not sure that I distract everyone. I think that’s just you.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Everyone watches you.”

  That’s disturbing. Steeling her nerves, she glanced out at the dancing swarms of lunar moths. Asta’s purple light shone through their wings, as they wove and dodged silently around the spire. For some bizarre reason, she felt strangely at home here. At peace.

  She reached into her cloak pocket, rolling the silver ring around in the palm of her hand.

  “We should enter,” said Bael.

  She turned to see him pulling open a black door that led into a dark hall. She stepped inside, walking at Bael’s side. Some insane impulse overtook her, and she slid her arm through his.

  She felt his muscle tense as she touched his elbow, but he kept silent.

  The hallway opened into an enormous rectangular hall, the walls painted silver. A spray of ravens had been painted over one of the walls. Black chandeliers, lit with candles, hung from ceiling above two long, onyx tables.

  The lords sat in silver chairs around the table—apart from Hothgar, who sat in an enormous, throne-like chair at the head. The wives sat at the other table.

  A small oneiroi servant bustled up to Ursula, beckoning her forward. “This way, milady.”

  The servant led her to an open seat at the wives’ table, then held out her hand for Ursula’s cloak.

  Ursula pulled it off. “I’ll keep it with me, thank you.” She wanted to keep the silver ring as close as possible. She’d need her little good luck charm to get through tonight.

  As she draped her cloak over the chair, a hush fell over the group. Eleven pairs of eyes locked directly on her, taking in her pearly gown. And as before, she was seated near Viking, Goth Princess, and Talons.

  She glanced at Viking, dressed in a sea-green gown. A deep purple bruise discolored her chin. She nodded to Ursula.

  The other women weren’t quite so friendly. Goth Princess turned away, showing Ursula her pale back, clad in black lace.

  Talons scowled at Ursula, tapping a long red claw on her silver goblet. Talons’s silver hair tumbled over a violet gown. “Who invited the dog?”

  Ursula narrowed her eyes. “The name is Ursula.”

  Viking twirled her champagne flute, shooting a sharp look to Talons. “Easy, Budsturga. We’re not supposed to make a scene.”

  So that was Talons’s name—Budsturga.

  Goth Princess shot her a dark look. “It upsets the balance to have a human in here. And the smell is unbearable.”

  Ursula cocked her head. You want to do catty? I know how to do catty. “That’s funny. Your husband Abrax doesn’t think I’m human. Apparently, that’s what he likes about me.”

  Princess glared. “He has a perverse fascination with freaks.”

  Ursula plucked her glass from the table. “Doesn’t speak well of you, does it?”

  Viking slapped the table. “I said, we’re not to make a scene. Honestly, ladies. Who is the real enemy, here?”

  Budsturga’s face was incredulous. “What in the heavens are you talking about? The oneiroi?”

  Viking leaned in, whispering, “When was the last time you saw a woman fight? Our husbands say we must do as they say because women are weak.” She gazed right at Ursula. “But Ursula is proving them wrong. If they are wrong about Ursula, maybe they’re wrong about all of us.”

  Goth Princess crossed her arms, practically pouting. “What makes you hate your husband so much, anyway?”

  Viking shrugged. “I hate yours, too. He is a monster. But Hothgar is the one I have to live with. You see this?” She pointed to the purple bruise on her chin. “That was because I lost a bet on the melee.”

  Budsturga stabbed her talon into a canapé. “Men are brutal, yes. Best avoided.”

  Viking turned to Ursula. “Surely Bael is different. He’s unmarried. But I’m told he does like women. Is it true what they say about him as a lover?”

  Ursula cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know. We train together. That’s it.”

  The furrow in Viking’s brow suggested she didn’t believe this. “Of course, ladies of the Shadow Realm would never bed a man before marriage. But I assumed a woman such as yourself...” Her sentence trailed off.

  Ursula’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t realize demons had rules about sex before marriage.”

  “Not all demons,” said Goth Princess. “Only the nobles of the Shadow Realm.”

  Ursula nodded. “And let me guess. It only applies to female nobles.”

  “Of course,” said Budsturga.

  Viking leaned in close. “It really doesn’t seem fair. We should get to try them out before committing. The first time I kissed Hothgar was at our claiming ceremony. It was a horrific disappointment, but by then it was too late.”

  Ursula took a sip of wine, nearly too engrossed in the conversation to notice the waiters bringing bowls of steaming mushroom soup. “What’s a claiming ceremony?”

  Viking slurped her soup. “It’s the ceremony when a husband claims his wife. It is the one tradition the warriors of Nyxobas adopted from the oneiroi. And because it comes from the beasts, it’s positively savage.”

  Ursula shook her head. “But what is it?”

  Budsturga stabbed another crudite with her talons. She’d have
a hell of a time eating soup. “When a warrior claims a woman, they exchange rings. Then, the contract is sealed with a public display of lust. Nothing too far, Nyxobas wouldn’t allow that. But the warrior must show sexual domination over his woman.”

  “As you can imagine,” the Princess sighed, “Abrax took things a bit far.”

  “It’s a marriage ceremony?” asked Ursula.

  “More like an engagement,” said Budsturga.

  Viking’s cheeks reddened. “Hothgar proposed in Asta’s spire, then forced his tongue down my throat in front of the other lords. He ripped off my top. Frankly, that was the last time he showed any interest in me, and that was over a thousand years ago.”

  Goth Princess shrugged. “Men only want what they can’t have.” Her dark eyes slid to Ursula. “The forbidden flesh. And yet you’re telling us Bael has no interest in you?”

  Ursula’s cheeks warmed. “Apparently not.”

  Viking wiped the soup off her chin, staring at Goth Princess. “Asharoth. Why does your husband hate Bael so much?”

  Asharoth—apparently, that was her name—cocked her head. “He is the son of a god. He demands worship. And Bael has never been sufficiently submissive. His role as Sword of Nyxobas always rankled Abrax.”

  Viking threw back a long gulp of wine. “Hothgar isn’t even a demigod, and he demands worship. You should see the inside of his temple.”

  Ursula ate a spoonful of her soup. This sounds good. “And what would I find in the inside of his temple?”

  Viking giggled. “We can’t always get humans here in the Shadow Realm. They simply die so easily. But when we run low on human slaves, Hothgar has his dolls.”

  Ursula leaned in over her soup. “What does he do with his dolls?”

  Viking held her hand to her face, whispering. “He gets drunk on vodka, and uses his magic to animate them. He has them bend down to worship him, calling him Nyxobas. One or two he declares to be heathens, and he crushes them beneath his feet.”

  “And the whole time,” added Budsturga with a wicked smile. “He has his lunar staff out.”

  “And I thought my husband was perverse,” said Asharoth.

  Ursula’s lip curled. “And you’re not allowed to have any fun with other men while your husbands do whatever they want?”

  Asharoth’s jaw dropped. “Of course not.”

  Ursula sipped her wine. “You ladies are getting a raw deal.”

  Asharoth shrugged. “It’s not all horrible. As soon as a man claims you, you are protected. No man may touch another man’s wife. No one may harm us. And men are forbidden from killing the women they’ve claimed.”

  Ursula stared. “That’s it? They can’t kill you? Like I said, you’re getting a raw deal.”

  Before anyone could respond, a commotion erupted at the lord’s table.

  Bael stood. His dark magic whipped the air around him. “Abrax attacked me in my manor. He crossed my threshold uninvited.”

  Hothgar held out his hands, a placating gesture. “I know you’re angry—”

  “I’m not angry.” And yet, icy wrath laced his voice. “But I want the fealty to which I am entitled.”

  Hothgar waved a dismissive hand. “As I said already, you killed his champion.”

  “His champion attacked me like a wild animal. If Abrax hadn’t invaded my house, his champion would still be alive. I’m owed a fealty.”

  Hothgar rose. “And as I said, your killing of his champion is fealty enough.”

  “I know you two are colluding. A lord’s manor is sacrosanct. A real Sword of Nyxobas would never allow this transgression.”

  Abrax leaned back in his chair, studying his nails. “Maybe you should have been more careful and not lost your wings.” His gaze flicked to Bael.

  “If you weren’t Nyxobas’s son, I would have slaughtered you months ago,” Bael snarled. He turned, walking from the table and out of the hall.

  Abrax’s gaze slid to hers, and Ursula’s stomach turned. Time to get out of here.

  Budsturga leaned in to her, whispering, “I think you should follow him.”

  Ursula rose, yanking her cloak off the back of the chair. You don’t have to tell me twice.

  Chapter 30

  Bael waited for her in the carriage, and she ran across the onyx platform. She yanked open the door, clambering inside.

  She took her seat across from Bael, trying to catch his eye. As the team of bats pulled the carriage into the air, he studied the window intently.

  She shoved her hand in her pocket, toying with the silver ring. “The lords’ wives really aren’t that bad.”

  He cut her a sharp look before fixing his gaze out the window again. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

  She closed her eyes, trying to rid her mind of the image of Hothgar parading before a congregation of animated dolls, stroking his lunar staff. Despite herself, laughter escaped, and she covered her mouth.

  “What in the gods’ name is funny at this moment?” asked Bael.

  “Did you know that Hothgar animates dolls to worship his knob?”

  Bael’s eyes widened. Slowly, a smile curled his lips. “I did not. Perhaps I could have lived without that knowledge.” He kept his eyes on her, studying her intently. All traces of tension had left his face. “Would you like to go riding when we return to the manor?” he asked quietly.

  “On bats, I assume?”

  Bael nodded.

  “I’m not really dressed for it.” Ursula glanced down at her evening gown. “I suppose, with the enormous slits Cera cut up the front, I could get my legs around a bat.”

  Bael cleared his throat. “The cloak will keep you warm. It’s beautiful, hunting in the daylight, the way the sun catches the moths’ wings.”

  How could she say no to that? “I suppose I could really use the practice.”

  “Good.” He leaned back in his seat.

  Pale sunlight streamed through the window, sparking off his icy eyes and illuminating the perfect contours of his face. She had the strongest impulse to reach out and touch him, but he’d already told her how he felt about “hounds.” And if she thought about it, the rebuke still stung. Obviously, he didn’t like hellhounds. So what kind of women did he like?

  She bit her lip. There was no reason she should care. They were going to fight to the death in less than a week, if she even made it that far. Clearly, the wine and the altitude had already gone to her head, muddling her thoughts.

  What she needed was to focus on the race that lay ahead of her.

  She drummed her fingertips on the seat. “For this race coming up, is there anything else I need to know besides flying?”

  He shook his head. “You’ll only need to follow behind me, and try to stay on the bat.”

  “Where does the race take place?”

  “Around Asta’s spire. We race in three loops.”

  She nodded slowly. “And the winners are the fastest?” She frowned. “I really do need the extra practice. I can’t imagine anyone there will be slower than me.”

  “Just try to keep up with me.”

  She felt the carriage touch down on the roof, sliding over the marble, and she grasped a handle to steady herself.

  Bael opened the door, and she stepped out onto the gleaming roof. Bael stared up at the black sky, and he put his fingers in his mouth to whistle for the two bats.

  As the carriage lifted into the air, she hugged her cloak tightly around herself. “Did you say something about hunting?”

  “Yes. Hunting for moths.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Do we have to kill them?”

  His brow rose. “Are you suddenly wary of drawing blood? That’s not the warrior I saw slaughtering demons twice her size in the melee.”

  She shrugged. “I have a strange affinity for the moths.” Because they’re prey, and so am I.

  “We needn’t kill them, if you don’t want to.”

  She shielded her eyes, catching a flicker of movement in the dark sky.r />
  Gracefully, the two bats glided onto the roof, just a few feet away.

  Bael mounted Vesperella, gripping his neck while Ursula climbed onto Sotz’s shoulders. She wrapped her legs around Sotz, and the fabric of her dress fell away from her thighs. I’m going to have a bit of wind burn by the end of this journey. Bael stared at her for a moment longer than necessary before lifting into the air.

  By the time she and Sotz found their way to the roof’s edge, Bael was already circling in a wide arc above her.

  She tightened her thighs around Sotz, leaning forward to whisper into his ear. “Follow Vesperella.”

  Sotz beat his wings, taking flight off the roof’s edge. He climbed higher, until he flew just beside Bael and Vesperalla.

  “Nice work!” Bael shouted over the wind.

  “Soon, it’ll be second nature.”

  Bael’s flight climbed higher in the sky, rising above the crater’s rim, and Ursula followed a few yards behind, moving in time with the beating of Sotz’s wings.

  “See if you can keep up,” Bael yelled. He leaned down, increasing his speed.

  Ursula leaned low over Sotz’s neck. Simply adjusting her weight was all the encouragement he needed. His wings beat more strongly as they raced around the crater’s edge in the pearly sunlight. Ursula’s hair blew wildly about her head, but she could still see a stunning view of the crater.

  Ahead of her, Bael and Vesperella charged forward, extending their lead and climbing higher into the sky.

  Ursula crouched even closer to Sotz. “Can you catch them?”

  Sotz’s wings whooshed thorough the air and they sped up. Ursula’s pulse raced as the wind whipped over her skin.

  Despite the icy cold that bit into her exposed knees, a strange feeling rippled over her body, almost as if she belonged here, up in the air under a clean, black sky.

  She pulled alongside Bael, thrilling at the speed of the flight. They’d climbed higher than she’d ever flown in the carriage, swooping up above Asta’s spire. A frothing sea of moths rose up before them.

  With a whoop, Bael directed Vesperella straight at the moths. Sotz plunged after them so fast, Ursula almost lost her grip. She tightened her grasp on the bat just as they hit the edge of the cloud.