“We asked not be bothered,” said the large man.
“I was told there were gentlemen here playing whist,” said Bael. “I was hoping for the opportunity to play a few hands.”
The guard took a moment to size Bael up. With an almost imperceptible nod, he said, “Let me confer with my party.”
The dragon shifter closed the door, and Ursula and Bael waited in silence until the shifter pulled open the door again.
He met Bael’s gaze. “The buy-in is one hundred and fifty pounds.”
“That is perfectly acceptable,” said Bael. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed the guard a leather purse. “You can hold this for the duration.” The guard opened the purse and peeked inside. He nodded again, then slowly opened the door wider.
Bael crossed inside, but when Ursula started after him, the guard blocked her path.
“Just you, sir.”
Bael didn’t blink. “But the woman brings me luck. If she can’t come, I’ll have to take that money back.” He started to reach for the purse.
From behind him, another voice called out. “Oh, let him in, Harry. Someone needs to replace Hamish. He’s completely trollied, as usual.”
Another voice slurred in a thick Scottish accent. “Who took my fuckin’ bottle a gin, you fuckin’…”
The guard opened the door wide enough to allow Ursula to enter. Around a table sat four enormous men. Like Bael and Ursula, they also wore masks, but theirs were the scaled faces of dragons. Three wore masks in varying shades of green. The fourth’s mask was dyed a deep red. And that would be Lucius—the Drake.
When he spoke, his voice confirmed his identity. “As I was saying, you may take Hamish’s seat. He was just popping out for a fag break.” Lucius said it with the firmness of an order.
Immediately, one of the green-masked shifters stood and stumbled away from them. As Bael took his seat, Ursula got a better look at the room. Behind the dragons, flickering lantern light washed over an oak bar and a small stage. Jazz played from an ancient-looking gramophone, and a topless girl, who couldn’t have been much older than Ursula, danced halfheartedly, her eyes glazed. As she hadn’t been invited to sit, Ursula stood awkwardly in the corner of the room.
The rest of the room was richly upholstered in cream and gold-colored fabrics, along with more of the thick Persian rugs she’d seen in the brothel. Rows of windows surrounded them, and as she watched, Hamish struggled to open a pair of French doors to a rooftop patio. Ursula could find no sign of Excalibur, but she supposed Lucius was unlikely to just leave it lying about.
“Let me deal you in.” Lucius shuffled a deck of cards, and began to toss them out to Bael and the other shifters. Once he’d finished, he leaned back in his chair. “We will be playing by Hoyle’s rules. You may bet after every trick.”
Lucius looked at his cards, then laid a small pile of gold sovereigns on the table. They began playing their cards one at time. It took Ursula a minute or two to deduce that Bael was paired with one of the green-headed dragons, while Lucius was paired with the other. As the game went on, Bael began to win trick after trick.
Lucius laid down his final card. “Well played, sir.”
Bael quietly raked his gold sovereigns across the table.
As Lucius dealt the next hand, Ursula realized she’d been forgotten, and she surveyed the room again. The topless dancer continued to gyrate listlessly. Hamish stood on the balcony, smoke rising from his cigarette.
Ursula crossed to the bar, her gaze flicking to Lucius as she passed him. Her heart leapt. She recognized the pommel of the sword strapped to his waist as Excalibur’s. Bingo. Now we just need to find a way to steal it.
She tried to catch Bael’s eye, but he was focused on the game. She poured herself a glass of wine at the bar, lifting it to her lips to mimic drinking it. I’m getting the distinct impression that Bael might end up gambling for the sword itself.
He lost a crucial trick in the next hand, but in the following hand won back all the money he’d lost. A few hands later, Lucius stopped the game and asked the topless dancer to bring over an ancient-looking bottle of scotch and some whisky tumblers. After pouring everyone three fingers of the amber liquid, he dealt another hand. Hamish returned from his smoke, stumbling over to lean on the bar next to Ursula.
“It’s time I won some money,” Lucius announced to no one in particular. He threw down all of his remaining coins. “I’m all in on this trick.”
Ursula looked to Bael, but again he ignored her. Without speaking, he pushed in a matching number of coins, scraping them over the table. Lucius flipped over his card, revealing the king of clubs, and the other shifters followed. Bael was last. He took a sip of his scotch. Then he flipped over his card.
Ace of clubs.
Lucius growled a swear, throwing his drink across the room. Glass shattered against the wall.
“Well, that does me for the night,” Lucius announced, trying to regain his composure.
“You’re finished?” asked Bael.
“That’s right,” said Lucius, smoothing out his bright red hair. Even with his face hidden behind the dragon mask, Ursula could tell he was on the edge of flying into a rage.
“Perhaps you would consider gambling something else?” Bael proposed.
Lucius paused. “You wish to make a non-monetary wager?”
“Perhaps,” said Bael, deftly setting the trap. “What else of value do you have?”
Lucius leaned forward. “If I am to make a gamble such as the one you propose, it will have to be on equal terms.”
“Of course,” said Bael.
“Then I’ll wager this sword for your lucky kitty.” He pointed at Ursula, licking his lips, and her stomach turned.
Bael reached across the table, shaking Lucius’s hand. “I believe we have a deal.”
“Excellent.”
Lucius collected all the cards, and began to reshuffle. “We play one trick. If I win, I add your woman to my collection. If you win, you take the sword.” He dealt the cards, until at last, he flipped over the last card. Hearts was trump. As Lucius studied his hand, his foot moved under the table. Gently, he tapped his partner’s calf.
Cheating, of course.
Bael’s partner went first, leading with a jack of hearts. Lucius’s partner followed with a ten of hearts, followed by Bael with the king of hearts.
Ursula held her breath as she waited for Lucius to play his card. As long as he didn’t have an ace, Excalibur was all theirs.
Lucius flipped over his card, and Ursula sucked in a short breath as she glimpsed the ace of hearts.
Chapter 19
Okay. Time for a Plan B. And this was probably going to be the arse-kicking plan.
“No.” Ursula stepped out of the shadows. “I saw you cheat.”
“Is that true?” Bael rose, pushing back his chair.
Lucius sputtered for a moment. “Are you questioning my honor?”
“I saw you tap your partner under the table.” Ursula crossed her arms. “You were communicating.”
Lucius glared at her, and Bael lunged for the sword. Surprisingly, Lucius was faster. Spinning, he slammed his foot into Bael’s chest, knocking him to the floor. Instantly, the other two shifters at the table jumped on him. Bael strained against them as they pinned his arms.
Ursula started forward to help, but Hamish grabbed her by the forearm in an iron grip.
The shifters pulled Bael to his feet, each gripping one of his arms with their considerable dragon strength.
Ursula’s stomach clenched. Bollocks. I’d say this is not going well.
“I always like to know a man before I kill him.” Lucius pulled away Bael’s mask. As he did, Bael lunged forward, smashing his forehead into Lucius’s face.
“Gods dammit,” Lucius snarled. Blood streamed from his nose, and his red hair flashed like a torch. He stared at Bael for a long moment, then slapped him hard on the cheek.
“I should have suspected you’d try something
like this.” He pivoted, staring at Ursula, his eyes piercing. “Hamish, is that the ginger tart who killed Vortigan?”
Hamish pinned her arms with one arm, wrestling off her mask with the other. He reeked of gin. “It’s her.”
Ursula struggled against Hamish, but he pulled her closer, roughly grabbing her hair. Ursula jammed her heel into his foot, hard enough that she heard something crack. Hamish grunted, his grip slackening. That was all Ursula needed. She drove a knee into his groin.
Hamish went down hard, and she snatched the wine bottle off the counter, smashing it until it shattered against the wood. She drove the jagged stumps into Hamish’s shoulder, and he yelped.
Ursula spun. Bael still struggled against the pair of shifters. Ursula charged, but one of her heels snapped mid lunge. She fell flat in front of Lucius. Before she could stand, he’d pressed the tip of Excalibur into her throat.
“You poor thing. Was it his idea to dress you up like a whore?” Lucius cocked his head. “Live like a whore, die like a whore.” He lifted the sword as he prepared to strike.
Behind her, Bael roared. The sound was deafening, like standing next to a jet engine. Even though she knew it was Bael, that he’d never hurt her, a primal fear slid through her bones.
Lucius’s sword plunged down. Ursula tried to roll out of the way, but Lucius’s aim was true. He stabbed her shoulder with Excalibur and yanked it out again for another strike. The pain ripped her mind apart, and she braced herself for another blow, unleashing a wild scream. Only when her own voice died out did she hear the thunk of bodies colliding. Lucius flew overhead, slammed into the side of the bar.
Bael stood over her. “Ursula!”
Ursula gasped, the pain leaving her breathless. She rolled over, catching sight of Excalibur on the floor. She tried to reach for the sword, but her arm wouldn’t move properly. Bael grabbed the sword, just as Lucius charged him. He swung the blade, but Lucius managed to dodge it.
Ursula moaned, pain screaming through her shoulder. Blood was pumping from the wound. Her vision began to dim.
Bael roared again, and another shifter flew over her head, shattering a glass window.
“Kill them,” yelled Lucius.
Bael knelt next to her, scooping her into his powerful arms. The room swam as Bael charged for the doors to the balcony. He didn’t seem to be slowing as he approached the glass. Ursula closed her eyes, flinching as Bael smashed right through it.
Outside, icy rain lashed her face, and she shivered.
“Stay with me, Ursula,” said Bael.
Distantly, she was aware of Lucius’s bellowing, and the shrieking of men shifting into dragon form. She caught a glimpse of a shifter overhead, leathery wings sprouting from his back.
Then the world tilted, and Ursula’s stomach lurched as she felt a rush of air over her skin, a sense of falling. In the night sky, storm clouds swirled above them, and they plunged into darkness. Shadows curled around her, sweet oblivion pulling the pain from her body. She was floating, close to the void now.
“Ursula.” Nyxobas’s voice wrapped around her, and she yearned to fall into the void.
Reality yanked her back into focus, and she was back in Bael’s arms, breathing in his sandalwood scent. Cold rainwater soaked her skin, and she shivered uncontrollably.
“Almost there, Ursula.” His voice sounded like it was coming from far away, over the sound of hooves pounding a stony pavement.
“What happened?” Pasqual’s voice.
“Do you have sal ammoniac?” Bael asked.
The sound of crunching glass pierced the air.
“I’m sorry, Ursula.” Bael’s voice.
The vile stench of cat piss forced her eyes open.
“Incant Starkey’s Conjuration,” commanded Bael.
Her head swam as she began muttering the words in Angelic. Bael gripped her hand, his fingers interlacing with hers. She tried to focus on his face, but her eyes wouldn’t cooperate. At the final line, pain burst through her body.
Ursula awoke with the milky light of the sun washing over her, burning into her brain, and she lifted her hand to shade her face. Pain lanced down her arm.
“Mmmght,” she moaned.
Someone shifted in the bed next her.
“Ursula?” It was Bael’s voice.
“Am I dead?”
“We’re in Pasqual’s apartment.”
A few memories came drifting back to Ursula. “Why did you make me sniff cat pee?”
“That was sal ammoniac—smelling salts. I needed you to wake up.”
Ursula shivered, her body aching. “I feel like death.”
“You lost a lot of blood,” said Bael.
“I didn’t even get to kill anyone.” She inched closer to Bael’s warm body, wrapping her arms around him.
Bael brushed her hair from her face. “You should really sleep.”
“The sun is too bright,” Ursula murmured. “And I’m cold.”
Bael wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close until his smell and his soothing magic enveloped her. When she closed her eyes, images from Bael’s past bloomed in her mind—the red sands and blue skies of ancient Byblos, a briny ocean wind sweeping over sandy temples.
Bael touched her cheek.
“Ursula?” he whispered.
She opened her eyes. Bael looked down at her, ruddy light sculpting the chiseled planes of his face. Her head lay on a pillow, and a thick blanket was wrapped around her body. She was on the sofa now, moved down from the loft bed, and Bael knelt beside her.
“I know you want to sleep, but you need to eat something. I brought you some soup.” He held a steaming bowl that smelled rich and fragrant.
“What kind is it?”
“French onion.”
Ursula’s stomach growled. She tried to sit up, but Bael stopped her. “You’re still hurt. Let me help you.”
He reached under her back and effortlessly lifted her into a sitting position, and a sharp pain stabbed her shoulder blades. Even with Bael’s assistance, Ursula winced.
“Why do I still hurt?” asked Ursula. “I incanted Starkey’s Conjuration, right?”
“Getting stabbed by a sword like Excalibur is different than getting stabbed by an ordinary blade.”
“Because it’s magical?”
Bael reached for the soup. “Yes. If you hadn’t been able to incant Starkey’s Conjuration, you would have died.” He handed Ursula the bowl, his gray eyes shining in the dying sunlight. “It’s hot.”
Ursula took a sip of the soup. It was hot, but it also tasted amazing. “Thank you for saving me.”
“I figured I owed you.”
Ursula cocked her head. “I suppose you did.” She took another sip of the soup. The rich broth warmed her stomach. She was almost too scared to ask the next question. “Did we get Excalibur?”
Bael shook his head. “No. And even worse, we’ve lost the element of surprise. Lucius will be expecting us next time. I don’t think it’s safe for us in Mount Acidale at this point.”
Disappointment welled in Ursula’s chest. She still hadn’t discovered anything about her family.
As the last of the setting sun dipped below the buildings, a knock sounded on the door.
“Bael? Ursula?” Pasqual’s voice pierced the wood.
“Come on in,” said Ursula.
The door creaked open, and Pasqual frowned at her with concern. “How are you feeling, dear?”
“Could be worse.”
“Glad to hear it. You were bleeding like a pig last time I saw you.”
Ursula grimaced. “I hope I didn’t make a mess of your carriage.”
Pasqual smiled broadly, his fangs glinting in the semidarkness. “Darling, I’m used to a bit of blood on my belongings.”
Okay. That was creepy as hell.
“In any case,” Pasqual went on, “I wanted to warn you that the guards are about in full force, searching for Ursula. They say she is the daughter of the would-be King Killer. They�
�re offering an enormous reward.”
Ursula’s stomach lurched. So she was a bit famous here. No wonder she’d escaped to London.
Bael rose sharply. “We need to leave at once.”
Pasqual rubbed his hands together. “That’s not all. Someone already knows where you are.” He handed Bael an envelope.
Bael tore it open. Ursula couldn’t see the text from where she lay on the bed, but she could see the blood-red wax seal. There was no mistaking King Midac’s royal arms.
Bael read the note out loud.
“Dearest Ursula,
You’re in terrible danger. If I could find you, it is only a matter of time until Lucius does, too. Meet me on top of the Light Tower in the Necropolis. The undertaker will escort you tonight.
Signed,
A friend.”
Ursula stared at the note. “Where is the Necropolis?”
Bael scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “I don’t think you’re in any condition to go. Whatever this is, it’s too risky.”
Ursula arched an eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Pasqual coughed. “If I may interject, I don’t think you have much of a choice. The king’s guards will be watching Laverna Church for you, expecting you to leave from there.”
Ursula smiled grimly. Looks like we’re staying, then.
Chapter 20
Ursula was pretty sure Pasqual’s solution was the worst idea she’d ever heard, and yet Bael had agreed, and she went along with it because at least Bael wasn’t demanding they leave Mount Acidale anymore. In any case, the end result was that she was now standing in a dark basement between an open grave and a pile of corpses, holding her nose. The stench was like nothing she’d ever experienced—far worse than the cat-piss smelling salts. She inched closer to Bael. At least her shoulder had begun to feel a bit better.
“I’m sorry.” Pasqual cleared his throat. “I would have cleaned up down here if I’d known you’d be visiting.”
“Why is your basement filled with dead bodies?” asked Ursula. Her voice was nasal due to the fingers holding her nostrils shut.
“They were opium addicts.”
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