Nocturnal Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 2)

by C. N. Crawford

  The moths parted as they entered, both encircling them at a safe distance. Sotz’s ears perked up, and a low growl rose from his chest. A rich sound vibrated through her gut—the deep thrumming of the moths’ beating wings.

  Sotz winged forward, deeper into the cloud.

  Ursula leaned into him. “We’re not killing today, Sotz. Just riding.”

  Another growl rose from his throat. She had the feeling he wasn’t thrilled about that idea.

  Beating his enormous wings, Sotz rose again, climbing out of the cloud of moths until she could see the black sky once again.

  From here, Bael led her and Sotz around the edge of the cloud. The writhing mass extended high into the dark sky. Form there, the light of Asta reflected off of the moth’s wings, washing them in flashes of purple and violet. There was something almost hypnotic in the way they undulated around the spire.

  One hundred feet above her, a bat burst from the cloud, a bleeding moth in its jaws. Another followed. She could hear the beating of their wings as they passed over her. Sunlight highlighted their forms in the dark sky, beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

  Far above her, another bat burst from the cloud. Ursula gasped. The pale form was unmistakable—the white bat of the Gray Ghost.

  “Bael!” she shouted.

  He turned to look at her, but when she tried to point, the white bat had disappeared.

  “What was it?” he asked, circling back.

  She followed his path, the wind whipping through her hair. “The bat of the Gray Ghost.”

  “Did you see where it went?”

  “No!” Bloody thing disappeared. Much like a ghost.

  Leaning down close to Vesperella, Bael began curving back to the manor. Ursula leaned closer to Sotz, picking up speed to keep pace with Bael. Her pulse raced with a sharp thrill as they swooped lower over the city. I actually think I can do this. I can keep pace with Bael just as well as anyone.

  She might have frostbite on her legs at this point, but the clean feel of the lunar air called to her. Somehow, she felt she was meant to fly.

  And clearly, so was Bael.

  Vesperella dove sharply for the roof of Abelda, and Ursula followed close behind. As the black marble drew nearer, Sotz beat his wings, slowing his descent. He glided gracefully to a landing by Vesperella’s side. Bael was already dismounting.

  She stepped off Sotz. The inside of her thighs burned from exhaustion, and the outside from the freezing wind.

  She straightened, glancing at him. “I take it you miss your wings.”

  “It’s hard to get used to being grounded after twenty-two millennia of flight.”

  She smiled. “The lords’ wives said you were worshipped as a god in the old days.”

  “The lords’ wives have a lot to say about me.”

  “And yet you’re still a total mystery.”

  He eyed her cautiously. “What do you need to know?”

  A chilly lunar wind toyed with her hair. “You said you were from Canaan. Where’s the rest of your family?”

  “Dead,” he said flatly.

  Shit. She shouldn’t have brought that up. She already knew his wife had died. She swallowed hard. “I meant your parents.”

  “Dead. A long time ago.” He climbed back on to Vesperella’s back. “You should get inside. You’re going to freeze.”

  Before she could respond, Bael leaned forward on Vesperalla’s shoulders and whispered in her ear. Vesperella’s wings stroked the air, and Bael surged upward into the black sky.

  Chapter 31

  Ursula sat on the sofa, rubbing a salve into her palms. She eyed the sun, edging dangerously close to its zenith, and her pulse sped up. Not long now.

  She’d been practicing on Sotz for several days, building up her speed and control. And now, the day before the race, her muscles burned with a deep fatigue.

  She pulled up her dress, wincing at the sight of her inner thighs, rubbed raw from spending hours each day winging around the crater with Sotz.

  She dabbed the salve onto her thighs, working it into her skin until some of the red faded to a pale pink.

  F.U. may not have ridden a bat before, but she seemed to understand the principles of controlling a beast, making it conform to her will with subtle shifts in muscle, little twitches of her hands. Feeling every movement of Sotz’s muscles and sinews. Directing him as though he were an extension of herself. She wasn’t as skilled as Bael, of course, but she was getting there.

  At Cera’s insistence, she’d even dipped her toe into the art of clasping her arms around Sotz’s neck to ride upside down, her hair dangling toward the moon’s surface. That particular move still made her heart leap into her throat, but she’d attempted it, nonetheless.

  She slid her hand into her pocket, glancing at the door. The one thing that had been conspicuously absent over the past few days was Bael. He’d completely disappeared after their conversation about his dead family. Nice one, Ursula.

  Instead of training her, like he’d said he would, he’d just disappeared into his manor. She wasn’t even sure anymore if he still planned to help her in the race, or if he planned to knock her out of the sky. Apparently, stabbing someone with a corkscrew was a forgivable offense. But ask someone a personal question, and you’ve taken things too far.

  She rose, crossing to the bar. Cera had left a neatly folded pile of riding clothes—her racing outfit for tomorrow. Cera had fashioned a leather outfit of a shimmering black—so she could blend into the sky. Ursula ran her fingers over the soft leather, frowning.

  Why, in particular, was it important that she blend in to the sky? If they were only racing, she didn’t need to disguise herself.

  Unless, of course, there was more to it.

  A little knock sounded at her door—Cera’s knock, and she hurried across the room. Her stomach rumbled. All this riding had given her an uncontrollable appetite, and with any luck, Cera had brought her dinner.

  But when she opened the door, she found Cera standing with a bag of clothing instead of a tray of food. Clear sunlight streamed through her hair, and she lifted the bag. “A new dress.”

  Ursula pulled open the door, motioning for her to enter. “And why, exactly, do I need a new dress right now?”

  “The lord has requested your presence at dinner.” She thrust the bag at Ursula. “I’ve made the dress distracting. I have a feeling the lord needs a bit of distraction.”

  “Where has he been for the past several days?”

  Cera shrugged. “How should I know? He doesn’t run his schedule by me.”

  Ursula frowned. “Cera, can you give me more specifics about this race? Why, exactly, would I need to be camouflaged.”

  Cera’s silver eyes widened. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

  Ursula’s stomach dropped. “Tell me, Cera.”

  “I believe the lord is going to fill you in over dinner. Now get dressed, and go meet him in his quarters.”

  * * *

  Ursula stared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d piled her hair on her head in a messy up-do, and she wore a silk-wrap dress—with an appropriately plunging neckline. She ran her hands over the smooth silk, the same pale gray as the clouds of moths. The skirts seemed to float around her legs.

  A black-jeweled necklace completed the ensemble—the same color as her knickers. Not that Bael would ever know that.

  As she put on her eyeliner, she hummed to herself—David Bowie’s “Major Tom.” A terrible dance remix of that song had always played in District 5, but suddenly the lyrics seemed much more meaningful to her.

  What she wouldn’t give right now for a normal night. Cheap wine from the Crobar, loud music, maybe a greasy burger before a night bus home. Granted, her life before Kester burst into her kitchen had been pretty shit. Unemployed, single, and completely broke. But at least she hadn’t been surrounded by psychotic demons hell-bent on destroying her.

  As she stood back to admire her reflection, a loud bang came from
her door. Bael’s knock.

  On her way to the door, she pulled on a black cloak, shoving her hand into her pocket to feel the reassuring smoothness of the silver ring. She pulled open the front door to find Bael standing in the gleaming sunlight in a fitted gray suit.

  “Ursula.”

  She crossed her arms. “There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you’d fallen into the chasm.”

  “I had matters to attend to over the past few days.” He turned to cross the bridge, clearly expecting her to follow.

  Outside, an icy breeze rippled over her skin. “So you weren’t avoiding me?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  They crossed into the atrium, and she shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just that you said you’d train me to ride, and then you disappeared into your man cave for days. Coincidentally, it was directly after I asked you a personal question.”

  He turned to her just long enough to arch an eyebrow. “As I said, I had matters to attend to. And I understand Cera was able to train you. She tells me you’ve been improving remarkably well.”

  In the narrow tunnel, her heels echoed off the ceiling. “Speaking of the race. Can you tell me why Cera made me a black suit for the competition?”

  “I would imagine she thought it contrasted rather fetchingly with your fiery hair.”

  “Is that another one of your jokes?” She nudged him with her elbow. “I meant, why did she mention it was important for me to blend into the dark sky? Why would I need to go unnoticed, if we’re only racing?”

  Bael cleared his throat as they crossed into the cavern. “She should not have mentioned that.”

  Hot anger ignited. “I knew you were hiding something from me!”

  “We will discuss it over dinner.” He pointed to the narrow stone bridge. “I don’t want you losing your footing again as we cross the bridge. There are only so many times I can catch you mid-air.”

  “Right,” she said through clenched teeth.

  She trod carefully over the stone bridge, trying not to stare too deeply into the abysses on either side. If she lost this race, she’d find herself permanently trapped in the void, in complete isolation for the rest of eternity. Just the thought of it made her stomach tighten with dread.

  She stared at Bael’s back as he gracefully crossed over the bridge, his movements fluid. At least one of us is going to end up in the void. A lump rose in her throat.

  Bael crossed to a black marble table laid out with a domed platter and two glasses of wine. She pulled off her cloak, then took a seat across from him.

  His gaze flitted over her neckline, and she heard the sharp intake of breath.

  His brow creased. “I thought we’d talked about your dresses distracting me.”

  “We did. I decided that I definitely do not care. Now will you tell me what’s going on with the race?”

  Sighing, he pulled the lid off the platter, revealing a roast ham with glazed carrots on the sides. Her mouth watered. Apparently, Bael knew exactly how to distract her, too.

  Greedily, she pulled two slices of ham onto her plate and cut into them.

  “During the race, you must stay as close to me as possible.” He served himself a slice of ham.

  “You said to follow you. I don’t really understand why. I can’t exactly beat you if I’m stuck behind you.”

  “If you’re going to survive, you’ll need to stay near me.”

  She stopped eating, her stomach clenching. “Why?”

  “So no one slaughters you while you’re riding.”

  She stared at him. “You told me it was just a race. You never said I needed to practice with a sword. This is a major disadvantage.”

  “Learning to ride a bat is complicated enough. If we’d added a sword into the mix, you wouldn’t have survived the training.”

  Her fingers tightened around her fork. “You didn’t even give me a chance,” she spluttered. “Tell me everything I need to know. Now. Don’t spare any more details.”

  He sipped his wine. “Like I said, the race is around Asta’s spire. There are two groups. We start at the same place, but fly in opposite directions.”

  “The groups pass each other at the opposite side of the spire?”

  “Exactly. The goal is to make three passes between the points. Or we stop when twelve have died.”

  “Three passes?”

  He shrugged. “They’ve never gone further than two.”

  Her mouth went dry. “What kind of weapons are used?”

  “The same as the melee. Nothing ranged or magically enhanced. The best riders always win. A good rider can evade even those armed with lances.”

  “Right. Sounds wonderful. I’m bringing my katana.”

  “You have a better chance of survival if you stick near me.”

  She nodded slowly. “And I’m just supposed to trust your judgment. You’ve withheld crucial information about the race until I no longer had the chance to practice. Plus, every now and then you point out that you will kill me.”

  Gold candlelight danced over the fine planes of his face. “I will have to kill you. Just not tomorrow.”

  Something cold gnawed at her chest. “And you’re okay with that?”

  His jaw tightened. “It doesn’t matter if I’m okay with that. We don’t choose the rules. The gods do, and they do not care for our lives. You must choose if you are predator or prey. There is no in-between. And while I’m pretty sure that F.U. was a predator, I’m not sure you’re quite the same.” He leaned in closer. “If you don’t even have the stomach to kill a moth, how do you expect to survive a brutal sword fight while flying on Sotz? You’re better off hiding behind me.”

  She shook her head, panic rising in her chest. “This whole thing is insane. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to depend on you one day and then wait for you to kill me the next. And what if I don’t want to play by Nyxobas’s rules? There’s got to be another way out of this tournament that doesn’t involve us killing each other.”

  “There is no way out,” his voice boomed, reverberating through her gut. “Just because you’ve found a way to forget all the horrible things that have ever happened in your life does not mean that everyone gets a happy ending. And just because I’ve trained you out of some misguided sense of duty does not mean that I’m your friend. I must either kill or die, and the same is true of you. You mean nothing to me, hound.”

  His words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she dropped her fork on the table. “You’re a predator, so you say. I mean nothing to you. And you’re determined to kill me.” Humiliatingly, she could feel the tears welling in her eyes. “And yet here you are, asking me to trust you. Asking me to leave my sword behind while you protect me.”

  He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “I feel obligated to give you a fair fight.”

  “Before you kill me?” Angry heat flooded her cheeks. “Bollocks. If I’m destined to die—if I’m prey—then what’s the point of going through all this effort? Why go through the trouble of training me at all?”

  He simply stared at her, the candlelight flickering in his eyes.

  She stood and grabbed a handful of ham to eat alone in her quarters. As she turned to leave, she shot him a final glare. “I’m bringing my katana tomorrow.”

  Chapter 32

  Ursula and Cera stood on the roof of the manor, looking out over the crater. From the black sky, the pale light of the sun shimmered over Asta’s spire, and warmed her skin through her clothes.

  She shielded her eyes with her hand, glancing at Cera. “Thank you for teaching me to ride Sotz.”

  Cera shot her a stern look. “You’d better not die today.”

  Icy dread flooded her body. “I’ll do my best.”

  Cera leaned closer, giving her hand a squeeze. “If you don’t go now, Ursula, you’ll be late.”

  Ursula put her fingers to her lips, whistling for Sotz. After a few moments, a shadow passed over their heads, and Sotz landed on the rooftop, just by the
building’s edge.

  Her stomach turning, Ursula crossed to the bat. Her fingers grazed her katana’s hilt. A part of her wondered if Bael had been right. Maybe she should have listened and left the katana at home. But she couldn’t exactly rely on someone who kept saying he planned to kill her.

  Taking a deep breath, she settled herself on Sotz’s shoulders, gripping tightly with her thighs. Sotz clambered to the building’s edge, then took flight over the crater.

  As Sotz winged toward the spire, she rehearsed her plan: stay alive. She’d try to stay out of the fight and engage only if attacked.

  She soared over the crater, thrilling at the feel of the wind in her hair. As Sotz drew closer to Asta, she tightened her grip on his fur. Around Asta’s peak, workers had erected a great wooden platform that ringed around the spire. And from the platform, a long wooden dock jutted out into the lunar winds, like a wharf.

  Ursula circled closer. In the center of the platform, Hothgar stood, flanked between his wife and his giant gong. The other lords mulled around, sipping from silver goblets. How fun to drink cocktails while watching death rain down on the city with a perfect, panoramic view.

  The other riders already soared through the air, showing off by turning flips and racing around the peak. Bael flew in a lazy circle around the perimeter, apparently unconcerned with showboating.

  Arcing closer, Ursula glanced down at the crater. A vast sea of Brethren swarmed around the spire’s base. Unlike the arena at Lacus Mortis, this venue stood right in the center of the Shadow Realm. Anyone in the entire kingdom could get there—and it appeared the entire kingdom had, in fact, showed up to watch the champions die.

  A loud crash rang through the air, reverberating through her gut. Hothgar’s gong. Things are about to get started.

  Hothgar raised his hands to the sky, his dark magic swirling around his body. As he spoke, his voice boomed over the crater. “The sun has nearly reached its zenith. The riders must approach the dock.”