Nocturnal Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 2)

by C. N. Crawford

  Ursula’s heart was beating so hard, it threatened to break her ribs, but she gently guided Sotz lower, joining the line of riders on the dock. As she flew closer, she could see that the starting positions on the dock alternated directions—some facing clockwise, and some counterclockwise. Apparently, these would be the two groups.

  She picked out Bael’s muscled form at the end of the dock, facing clockwise. Her pulse racing, she angled Sotz lower to the dock. As she approached, her pulse racing, she was gripped by the terrifying fear that she’d overshoot the bloody thing entirely.

  At the last moment, Sotz skidded to a halt, clinging on to the dock’s edge. At his clumsy landing, she lurched forward, grunting, before regaining her balance. Sotz inched back, and Ursula took a deep breath, surveying her competition.

  She’d landed between a lanky demon with a narrow mustache, and a noseless creature with skin the color of ice. The iceman turned to glare at her, growling.

  Leaning forward, she glanced down the row again at Bael. They faced the same direction. In theory, she could follow behind him—assuming he really meant to help her.

  At the end of the dock, Hothgar stalked closer, his dark eyes gleaming in the sunlight like black pearls. “Ah, Emerazel’s dog. I realize a bitch like you is used to riding your way to the top, but you won’t be doing it by opening your legs today.”

  She snarled at him. “Don’t you have some unfortunate dolls you need to seduce in your temple?”

  Hothgar’s eyes flashed with rage. The lanky man to her right barked a laugh. Ursula shot a quick glance at Viking, who laughed behind her hand. Suddenly, she was glad she’d brought the katana. She wanted to show the city what a woman could do—that they didn’t need to submit to their men because they were weak.

  As her muscles tensed, ready for battle, Ursula tried to flash her bravest smile at Hothgar’s wife.

  Above the spire, the sun blazed bright—right above the peak. A cold sweat broke out on her brow. She swallowed hard, tightening her grip on Sotz, feeling his heart thumping through his fur. As she leaned forward, she surveyed the riders once more. Each demon dressed in muted shades of gray, blue, and black—some in furs and armor. Only one rider stood out—the Gray Ghost, draped in white, his face covered by a scarf.

  At the end of the line, Bael wore his black fighting gear, his lion pendant glinting in the sun. He faced forward, his grip tight on a long lance.

  In a race like this, a long weapon like a lance was a huge advantage. Might have been nice to train with one.

  Hothgar’s voice boomed, “The race will commence when I sound the gong, at the sun’s zenith.”

  Ursula’s blood roared in her ears. Her palms were sweating so much, she wasn’t sure she could keep hold of Sotz’s fur. Her eyes wandered to the crater’s floor, hundreds of feet below. What would a body look like if it fell from this height?

  The pause that followed seemed to stretch for eternity, and Ursula closed her eyes, trying to marshal control over herself, trying not to picture the explosion of guts from a person’s mouth.

  At last, the gong crashed, reverberating around the crater. She tightened her thighs on Sotz.

  Sotz launched into the air.

  Around her, the riders soared, the wings of their bat beating the air. Ursula leaned down, urging Sotz forward. As they arced around the spire, she fell slightly behind the rest of the pack, and she stared at the back of Flesh Scales. There was no shame in hanging behind the others. If this was a fight to the death, might as well let the front of the pack take the brunt of the attack.

  The crowd below cheered, and her heart pumped harder. The other half of the champions must be close.

  They burst into view, weapons glinting in the sun.

  Ahead of her, Bael and the other riders spurred their bats to a faster pace, and the two camps collided in clashes of steel. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Bael’s lance punching straight through a demon’s chest.

  Keeping out of weapons’ range, Ursula watched two bodies fall to the crater’s floor, leaving puffs of smoke just like little meteorites.

  “Two kills!” the announcer shouted. “Ten remain!”

  Arcing behind the main fray, she looked up.

  Her stomach leapt into her throat. The Gray Ghost was flying directly for her, his face covered with his scarf. He pointed an enormous ash lance directly at her chest.

  Ursula gripped Sotz’s fur tighter. She couldn’t fight a lance with a sword—the lance would knock her off Sotz before she got within striking distance. But hadn’t Bael said a good rider could avoid a lance with the right moves?

  She clung tightly to Sotz, arcing away from the attack. Then, she clung to Sotz’s neck, and let her body slide down, so that her legs dangled beneath him. The lance grazed Sotz’s shoulder.

  As she flew hanging from Sotz, adrenaline burned through her nerve-endings. In the distance, she heard the announcer calling out two more deaths. The lunar wind whipped through her hair, and she gently urged Sotz upright again. When she righted her bat, the Gray Ghost had disappeared. The other riders surged forward, already moving on to begin another circle around the spire.

  Ursula leaned down, trying to keep pace with the three riders winging ahead of her. Bael’s silver lion insignia flashed in the sunlight.

  She urged Sotz forward as they arced around the edge of the spire, the violet crystal gleaming in the sunlight. If she weren’t moments away from possible death, it might have been exhilarating.

  As soon as they slammed into the riders a second time, her hackles were raised. Three riders were already charging for Bael. She arced closer to him, watching as his lance rammed into the chest of the lead rider. The horned demon shrieked, falling from the sky.

  Still, two other riders pressed on Bael—and one of them slammed a lance right into Vesperella, goring the bat. Blood sprayed in the air, and Vesperella’s wings folded together.

  To Ursula, it was like watching in slow motion, even though it happened in an instant. Panic ripped its claws through her heart, and she watched as Bael released Vesperella’s neck. He stood on her back for a moment. Then, a thousand feet in the air, Bael leapt towards the rider who’d just killed his mount, grasping at his feet. Vesperella tumbled, blood spraying from her hide as she grew smaller in the sky. Bael’s lance sparked in the sun as it fell.

  Bael hung by one hand, dangling from the bat’s foot, and two other riders moved closer. Vultures, waiting for their chance to finish him off. One moved a little too close, and in a gravity-defying move, Bael swung his body into the air. He landed on the rider’s back. It took only an instant for him to fling the rider off.

  The remaining rider began to close in on Bael. With Bael unarmed and on an unfamiliar mount, the ice-skinned demon saw a chance for easy prey. He unsheathed a cutlass.

  Clenching her jaw, she raced lower toward Bael, the glacial lunar wind whipping over her skin. Saving Bael wasn’t part of the plan, but she wasn’t ready to watch him die. She ripped her katana from its sheath, charging for the ice-demon. Her body moved fluidly with Sotz’s, as if she’d been doing this all her life, and her gaze locked intently on one thing. Her prey.

  No one expected death to come from the woman. From the bitch. No one expected her sword to find its way clean through their neck.

  Crimson blood sprayed through the air as she cut through the demon’s head.

  The demon’s body slumped, then rolled off his bat.

  “Twelve down!” Hothgar’s voice boomed.

  As Ursula glanced down at her blood-soaked sword, a chill spread through her veins. Predator. It seems, the answer is predator.

  Chapter 33

  Ursula stared at the thick blood dripping from her sword, then sheathed her weapon. Eyeing her, Bael nodded mutely, then began winging back to the dock. She swooped behind him, still catching her breath. Despite the cold lunar air, sweat matted Sotz's fur and dampened her clothes. Every one of her thigh muscles burned. She wanted to soak in a warm bath for
days.

  As she closed in on the dock, she maneuvered Sotz to land a little more gracefully this time. He touched down between Bael and a lanky demon in a black doublet. He turned to her, giving a little bow.

  She leaned into Sotz, whispering, “That was some good flying.” The bat looked up at her with his beady eyes in an expression that could have been mistaken for relief.

  “Nice swordsmanship,” Bael said, studying her. “A natural assassin.”

  “It was an easy kill.” Okay. I sound a little like a sociopath.

  An image burned in her mind—her sword slashing through the ice-demon's neck. It had come naturally to her.

  Wherever she’d come from, F.U. had been a formidable predator. Ursula swallowed hard, eyeing Bael, the sunlight sparking in his eyes, a pale blue-gray, the color of ice floes.

  If she needed to kill this man, she’d need F.U. to come out and finish the job. Ursula just wasn’t quite psycho enough.

  Hothgar stalked toward them, his black cape floating on the wind. “The remaining champions must now choose their opponents for the duel. Of the fifty-seven original champions, eight remain. And what an interesting lot you are.” He smirked. “Bael the Fallen of Albelda, Zoth of the giant of Pleion, Inth of Alboth, Bernajoux of Zobrach, Valac of Phragol Mocaden, Chax of Azimeth, and our phantom rider, who could be absolutely anyone.” His nostrils flared. “And how could I forget Emerazel's filthy bitch.”

  Ursula’s fingers tightened on her sword's hilt. “Why do I have the disturbing feeling that you’ll be animating a ginger-haired doll when you get home tonight?”

  “Silence!” Hothgar roared, his cheeks reddening. When he’d regained his composure, he smoothed the front of his shirt. “You must now choose your opponents. With eleven kills, Bael is our leading Champion. He will choose first.”

  Ursula swallowed, as dread filled her veins. He had been promising to kill her. So did he want to get it over with or delay the inevitable? An icy wind toyed with her hair, rippling over her skin.

  Bael shot her a quick glance, and for a moment, her stomach clenched. “I will fight Zonth of Pleion,” he announced, his voice booming.

  A giant man, dressed in furs and silver, snarled, revealing a row of jagged teeth. Apparently, that was Zonth.

  Hothgar raised a hand. “After Bael’s eleven kills, the second choice goes to the man all the commoners are calling the Gray Ghost."

  From behind his scarf, the Gray Ghost shouted, “Chax of Azimeth.”

  Hothgar nodded. “Next to choose—my champion, Bernajoux.” Hothgar flashed a mirthless smile. “As lord of the Pleion, I will select Bernajoux’s champion for him. He leads my legion. He slaughtered twenty-seven men at the battle of Mt. Acidale.”

  The lanky man in the doublet bowed his head. With his delicate mustache and thin hands, he didn't look like a formidable opponent.

  Of course, looks could be deceiving. Hothgar glared at her. “Bernajoux will slaughter the dog. I have so wanted to see what her insides look like.”

  A chill washed over Ursula’s skin, and Bernajoux bowed deeply.

  Urusla straightened on her mount. Okay. That was creepy, but my opponent could have been worse. At least I'm not stuck with Zoth. Or worse—Bael.

  “That leaves Valac of Phragol Mocaden vs. Inth of Alboth,” continued Hothgar. He raised his hands to the pale sun. “The duels will be held at the Lacus Mortis in two days.” As he spoke, his voice seemed to boom over the entire crater, rumbling through her bones.

  Below, the bloodthirsty crowd erupted with cheers.

  * * *

  Cera waited for her on the roof, her white skirts billowing around her.

  When Ursula landed, Cera rushed over to her. “What happened?” she asked, her silver eyes frantic. “Where is the lord?”

  Ursula's muscles groaned as she stepped off her mount. “He’s fine. He’s on his way.” She stumbled as she stepped off Sotz.

  Cera steadied her, squeezing her arm. “What else? Who do you have to fight at the duel?”

  Ursula’s muscles still shook from the adrenaline rush. “I need to fight a demon named Bernajoux. He didn't look quite as intimidating as the rest, to be honest. But Hothgar really wants his own champion to slaughter me.”

  She glanced out at the crater, catching a glimpse of Bael soaring through the sky.

  Cera squeezed Ursula's arm again. “He really is magnificent.”

  “Too bad we have to slaughter each other,” Ursula muttered.

  Cera’s eyes glistened. “The lord will give you a quick death. He is merciful.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Bael arced over their heads, then landed on the roof. He stepped off his mount. In the sunlight, blood and gore glistened off his black clothes.

  Cera frowned at his mount. “Where is Vesperella?”

  “Dead.”

  “I’m sorry, milord,” said Cera. She looked him up and down, taking in the bloodstains that soaked his clothes. “I will lay out fresh clothes for you.” She hurried off, leaving Ursula alone with Bael.

  Suddenly cold from the damp sweat soaking her clothes, she shivered.

  Bael studied Ursula. “Ursula. You will join me in my chambers in three hours.”

  The way he barked orders set her teeth on edge. She crossed her arms. “I guess that since you’ve been ordering people around for twenty millennia, you forget how to make a request,” she grumbled, before realizing she’d said it out loud.

  The corner of his mouth twitched in what almost looked like a smile. “Will you join me in my chambers in three hours?”

  She nodded. “Why not? If we’re going to fight to the death in a few days, I might as well learn everything I can about you.”

  “I like the way you think,” he said.

  “And is there a purpose to this visit?” When she thought of what he’d said to her before the race, his words still felt like a slap in the face. As she stared at his ruthlessly beautiful features, hollow loneliness ate at her. “You’ve already made it clear that we’re not friends and you don’t care for me at all, so I’m wondering what the point is.”

  “You must learn to use shadow magic.” He took a step closer, his large form looming over her. “Bernajoux will cut you down if you do not allow me to train you.”

  She nodded. “And you want the chance to kill me yourself?”

  He now stood so close she could feel the warmth emanating from his body. “I will make it painless,” he said softly. For just a moment, he let his fingertips brush down her shoulder. “Bernajoux will not.”

  She looked up at him. He stood over a foot taller than her. “Bernajoux didn’t look that scary.”

  “Bernajoux is powerful and sadistic. There is a reason Hothgar likes him.”

  Chapter 34

  Balancing carefully, she walked across the stone bridge. This time, she’d come barefoot and wearing her simple black gown. She didn’t need to risk plunging off the side of the bridge because she’d stumbled in her heels.

  In her pocket, she gripped the silver ring, feeling its reassuring familiarity between her fingers. For just a moment, her gaze flicked to the abyss, and a shiver crawled up her spine. The darkness called to her.

  “Ursula,” Bael’s voice rose from the shadows, smooth as velvet.

  As she crossed into the main cavern, she caught the outline of Bael’s enormous form, sitting in his onyx throne. Candlelight sparked in his eyes, and wisps of night magic flickered around him. Raw, dark power roiled around him.

  “Come closer,” he said.

  She padded across the cold stone floor, gazing up at him. Seated in his throne, he towered above her. When she stood only a few feet from him, she could see his piercing eyes, so cold against the warmth of his golden skin.

  Suddenly, she felt completely unsure of herself. “What do I need to do?” she asked, rolling the ring in her fingers.

  “I need you to feel the magic.” His cold aura snaked over her skin, caressing her body.

  Power
ful shadow magic thrummed along her ribs, skimming her breasts. It encircled her neck. Instinctively, her head tilted back, exposing her throat. As Bael’s magic wrapped around her body, it seemed to thrill her at the same time as it filled her with dread. A chill spread over her skin, goosebumps rising on her arms. When she exhaled, her breath clouded around her face. Under her cotton dress, her nipples hardened. She hugged herself, and her teeth began to chatter.

  His gaze slid down her body and up again. “You can feel the magic? That is good.”

  “It’s freezing.” She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

  “Yes. Shadow magic comes from the void.” Bael’s voice sounded distant, like he was speaking from a thousand miles away. “It is the cold of the depths of space, the endless nothingness between stars. As you learn to channel it, your other senses will learn to feel it, too.”

  Standing before Bael, she continued to shiver. She wasn’t entirely clear why she had to stand below him like one of his subjects while he loomed over her in his throne. “So how do I learn to channel it?”

  “It won’t be easy. But you’re off to an impressive start. When I was first learning, it took me weeks before I could sense the magic. Perhaps F.U. already had some practice. ”

  As Bael’s magic slid over her body, she was pretty sure her lips were turning blue. “I don’t think I understand the concept of channeling shadow magic. What does it mean?”

  His enormous hands enveloped the ends of the throne’s arms. “Besides Nyxobas, only certain immortal beings can channel shadow magic directly. It’s called gods-magic. Demigods can use it. Nyxobas grants his power to his Sword, so Hothgar has it, as did I before I lost my wings. Abrax has it by virtue of being his son. Now, I can no longer create night magic on my own. Neither can you. You have to learn to absorb it from another source, to take it into your body for later use. That is called channeling.”

  With all this shadow magic in the air, she really should have worn a cloak. “Right. And how do I channel it?”