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  Ursula slid her soup onto the counter, then followed Cera into the next room, where a number of baskets and hampers lined the wall. Cera muttered to herself, rummaging about in one of the hampers until she produced a pair of leather pants, a form-fitting black top, and a pair of boots.

  Ursula smiled. “Ah. Perfect. I believe I left these behind the last time I was here.”

  “I thought they might be useful.”

  “I’m going to grab a shower.” She frowned, remembering something Bael had told her the night before. “Bael said the hot water was broken?”

  Cera let out a long sigh. “Now that he’s decided that we’re all on equal footing around here, he insists on doing everything himself, except he doesn’t know how.” She followed Ursula into the dark-tiled bathroom, then fiddled with the knobs, and steam began to fill the room. “Let me know if it’s not warm enough.”

  Ursula laid her clothes on the tile counter and pulled off her robe. She stepped into the scalding water, watching her skin turn pink under the punishing stream. She grabbed a bar of silver-flecked soap and began scrubbing at her skin.

  After a few minutes, she stepped out of the shower, water dripping down her body. After drying off, she pulled on her clothes.

  She found no sign of Cera when she crossed back into the living room—just Honjo, sheathed and lying on the sofa. She strapped her sword around her waist, feeling herself again with her blade on her.

  From the floor below, voices in the atrium drifted through the air. She crossed to the balcony, catching a glimpse of Bael and a small group of oneiroi, some of them lying on cots, bleeding.

  Bael looked up, catching Ursula’s eye, his forehead furrowed with concern. “Ursula. Can you help?”

  Ursula’s pulse raced at the sight of blood, and she ran to the elevator, pulling open the metal door. As the elevator creaked down to the atrium, she wrapped her hands around the bars, staring down at the pitiful scene on the tiled floor.

  The closer she got, the worse it seemed. Blood leaked through hastily wrapped bandages, and some of the oneiroi on the litters appeared to be missing limbs.

  When the elevator reached the floor, she yanked open the door. “What happened?”

  Bael shook his head. “One of Abrax’s golems found their hiding spot. These are the survivors. They need to be healed.”

  Without responding, Ursula crossed to the closest oneiroi. Blood oozed from a deep wound on his scalp, and his eyes held a dazed look. She knelt by his side and began incanting Starkey’s Conjuration, the magic tingling over her skin. As she spoke, the man’s wounds began to knit together. He didn’t speak when she finished, instead staring at her with clear, silver eyes.

  Another oneiroi moaned nearby, and she turned to help, the words of Starkey’s Conjuration already on her tongue.

  Slowly she moved through the group of oneiroi, incanting the spell as quickly as she could, the magic tingling over her body. Bael helped, too, bringing in more wounded oneiroi and directing the process.

  By the time she’d finished, her limbs felt completely drained, and the sensation of Emerazel’s fire in her veins held a dull pain of its own.

  Worry nagged at the back of her mind, and she met Bael’s gaze. The golems were ruthless. “We need to fortify the manor. It’s only a matter of time before Abrax realizes we’re here and sends his golems in.”

  Beal scrubbed his hand over his mouth. “Already working on it. And I expect there will be more injured survivors.” He pointed to a group of oneiroi clustered around a table. “Cera has already set up a food station for survivors.”

  From the crowd of oneiroi, Cera bustled over to Ursula, thrusting another mug of hot soup into her hands. “You never finished yours. I won’t let you starve here.”

  While Ursula sipped her soup, Bael got to work directing some of the oneiroi to help fortify the manor. She watched him directing one group to fill in holes with rubble, and another to erect scaffolding near a particularly precarious part of the manor’s walls. Cera was right. Bael was a natural leader, but she knew it wasn’t enough. An army this size made up of injured oneiroi could never defeat Abrax.

  Where the hell is Lucius?

  Chapter 38

  Bael and the oneiroi worked for hours, filling in holes and constructing fortifications. Ursula had continued to heal groups of oneiroi as they straggled into the refuge, exhausted and hungry. After a few hours, Zee had wandered down from her perch on the roof. She’d looked exhausted as well, and Ursula had wondered just how much effort she was expending to maintain the glamour on the entire manor.

  It wasn’t long before Bael was directing people into rooms to sleep. Then, he went out to search for more survivors.

  Exhausted, Ursula climbed into his bed on her own. She closed her eyes, mentally reviewing all the possible outcomes of a battle with Abrax. Tonight, as her mind whirred over battle scenarios, the image of her mother’s dying face did not haunt her dreams.

  Instead, a thunderous bang jolted her from sleep. She flew upright in bed, her heart galloping at the sound. The entire building shook, and her pulse raced. Abrax?

  Grabbing Honjo, she ran to the balcony, finding the atrium in chaos. One of the scaffolds had been ripped out, and a horde of oneiroi was pouring in through the gap. Dressed in black uniforms, they wielded swords and daggers. Ursula’s blood thundered in her ears. Abrax’s army has found us.

  She could hear Bael shouting as she scanned the balcony for a way down. The metal elevator wasn’t on her level, and she didn’t relish the idea of getting stuck inside it with a pitched battle going on five levels below.

  She rushed to find a stairwell, when a door at the far end of the balcony burst open. A pair of golems stepped out—followed by Abrax himself. Like ink in water, dark shadows swirled around him, and his eyes shone like starlight through the gloom. Her stomach dropped at the sight of him.

  He shouted, pointing in her direction.

  Even with Honjo in her hand, Ursula knew this wasn’t a fight she was going to win. Two golems would eviscerate her in moments.

  So—the only option was to run. She turned, sprinting over the balcony, only to find that it ended abruptly, torn apart as though by a massive talon. As she neared the end, she realized this was one of the portions of the manor Bael had been trying to repair. Bits of scaffolding spanned the gap three floors below. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she turned to look back at Abrax.

  The incubus had disappeared, but his golems loped toward her with easy movements that belied their speed. She had only seconds to decide what to do, and adrenaline burned through her nerve endings.

  Sliding Honjo into her sheath, she crouched at the edge of the broken balcony. A bit of iron bar poked out horizontally into the gap. With her heart in her throat, she gripped it with both hands and swung out into space.

  She hung for a moment, suspended above the throng of violence below her. Bodies surged in the small space of the atrium, and oneiroi screamed as they stabbed and bled onto the floor.

  Kicking her legs, she swung her body—once, twice, three times.

  A golem appeared above her as she leapt onto the balcony below. With a quick glance, she confirmed that the balcony was empty. When the golem’s legs swung into view, she slashed at them with Honjo. The blade ripped through bone—or clay, or whatever it was golems were made of. The golem didn’t make a sound as its legs fell to the ground. It just silently pulled itself up to the upper balcony.

  From the lower balcony, Ursula considered her options. If she could leap about ten feet across, she could make it to an even lower balcony. She should be able to find a way down from there.

  Battle fury began humming in her blood. I can do this.

  Holding Honjo tightly, she sprinted, leaping into the air. Time seemed to slow, and she hung suspended above the drop. Then she was landing, rolling on the rough balcony a full floor lower.

  As she clambered to her feet, a thumping sound jolted her, like the whirring of a helicopte
r’s blades. She knew that sound—detested that sound.

  Slowly, Abrax rose into view, his black wings beating the air. His eyes blazed with an otherworldly light, and talons had replaced his hands and feet.

  Ursula’s heart slammed against her ribs, and she turned to run. She sprinted down the dusty balcony, but Abrax swooped behind her. She reached another break in the floor—a second place where Bael’s manor had been fractured. This one too far to jump.

  “You can’t escape me,” Abrax hissed from behind her.

  With two beats of his wings, he was ahead of her, alighting on the edge of the fractured balcony. The floor shook as he landed on it and began stalking toward her.

  Ursula trained Honjo on him, battle rage filling her blood.

  “I see you’ve got your pretty sword back.” Abrax prowled closer, his movements eerily smooth. “But you and I both know it’s not going to help you.”

  “I’ve stabbed you before, demon. And I’ll do it again.”

  “And you’ve discovered I’m immortal. You cannot kill me. Not even with that lovely piece of steel. Give up now, and your death will be painless.”

  Abrax prowled closer, and Ursula took another step back, fury igniting in her blood. Below her the battle raged on. She considered jumping over the railing, but she was still four stories from the floor of the atrium, too high to make it.

  Fight or flight, Ursula. First, fight.

  With a familiar power roiling through her body, she lunged for Abrax. He shifted, and she sliced his wing. She attacked again, striking him between his ribs, and he roared.

  “Ursula,” he bellowed. “You can’t defeat me.”

  True, but at least she’d hurt him.

  Black magic began snapping around him—and that would be her cue to get out of there. Flight time.

  She turned and ran. From behind her, Abrax lunged forward, his talons raking on the balcony floor. Her heart fell as she saw a golem blocking her path, holding a dagger in each of its hands. I can only win by trickery.

  She lunged forward, gripping Honjo. She feinted, at the last instant diving right. She flew past the golem, her momentum carrying her over the edge of the balcony and into the abyss.

  Chapter 39

  She had no time to correct her position as she smashed into the scaffolding. An audible crack sounded as her shoulder rammed a piece of wood. Blinding pain lanced through her, and she clawed for purchase on the scaffolding. But her hand wouldn’t work properly, and she slipped, plummeting toward the tiled lion mosaic of Bael’s atrium.

  And yet as she hurtled toward the floor, the night wind whipping through her hair, she felt strangely at home—even in mid fall. Time seemed to slow down. She belonged in the air, in the darkness. As if she had phantom wings, she directed her fall—aiming for one of Abrax’s men to cushion her impact.

  But before she could slam into him, a pair of strong arms caught her. With a shock of horror, she looked up into Abrax’s ice-cold eyes.

  “That wasn’t very smart,” he said coolly. “Almost got yourself killed.”

  He gripped her hard, his wings thumping the air, and he started to rise. Didn’t he know that getting this close to her was dangerous?

  Fire kindled in Ursula’s blood, and as flames licked about her arms, Abrax’s face contorted with pain, his clothing burning. As he began to summon his own icy magic, she slammed Honjo’s hilt into his throat. A crack echoed over the atrium. She’d crushed his larynx.

  The temperature in the room plummeted, and Abrax dropped her. She began to fall, this time tumbling awkwardly to the floor. She braced for impact when Bael slammed into her with a blur of shadows.

  He knocked the breath from her lungs. Instead of splattering on the floor, they crashed onto a balcony. Flat on her back, Ursula groaned, as pain lanced through her injured shoulder. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air.

  “Are you all right?” asked Bael.

  Ursula grimaced. “That hurt my back. On the plus side, I managed to light Abrax on fire.”

  “Can you stand?” Bael held out a hand.

  Ursula grabbed it with her good hand, and he pulled her up.

  “Where’s Abrax?” said Ursula, scanning the atrium. She smelled his burned flesh, but found no sign of him. “I crushed his larynx.” She smiled darkly. “He won’t be able to command his soldiers very well without a voice.”

  Bael returned her smile. “Beautiful work.” He picked up Honjo from the floor and handed it to her. “He flew off after you injured him.”

  For the first time, Ursula noticed the blood covering Bael’s body. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He looked down at himself. “Of course. None of this is mine. We should get out of here. Abrax will be back once he heals himself.”

  By Bael’s side, she crossed to the balcony’s railing. Here, they were just one story above the atrium floor, and she peered over the side, staring at the oneiroi battling below them. Abrax’s horde had pushed Bael’s soldiers back, cramming them near the entrance to his chambers.

  Without another word, Bael leapt over the balcony’s ledge, landing gracefully on the floor. He spun like a lethal gyre, his sword clearing a circle in the seething mass of oneiroi. Blood misted the air as his blade cut through his enemies.

  “Jump. I’ll catch you,” he yelled.

  Ursula rolled her eyes. She didn’t need him to catch her. She’d felt something earlier, the first time she was falling—a sense that she belonged in the air, that phantom wings could carry her. Ursula sucked in a breath, then she leapt, carefully directing her flight so she landed next to Bael.

  She still gripped Honjo. “Thanks. I’m good.”

  By Bael’s side, she sprang into action, carving her sword into Abrax’s oneiroi. Battle fury imbued her body, and she felt herself moving at the speed of a night wind, every footstep falling into the right place, every arc of her sword finding its mark in her enemy’s flesh. After Mount Acidale, she understood why. She’d been a warrior once—one of the king’s guard. Trained by her mother to fight. The muscle memory, the skill had never left her, and she felt completely herself as she carved her sword into her enemies. They pushed forward, swords clashing with Abrax’s men.

  A scream pierced the air, and Ursula looked up. Abrax’s demonic form appeared above Bael’s fortifications. His army surged forward, crashing into Bael’s remaining force. Screams and blood filled the air as they fought.

  By her side, Bael led the vanguard, fighting with a ferocious brutality. Shadow magic flowed about him like a midnight cloak as his blade carved through oneiroi and golem alike. Ursula moved with nearly the same speed, and she felt a similar dark magic whispering through her body.

  More of Abrax’s forces poured in through the broken fortifications, but instead of leading them toward a possible exit, Bael led them toward the sheer cliff at the back of the manor—where the black onyx stone stood, protecting the entrance to his secret chambers. When he reached the stone, Bael put his shoulder against it. It rolled to the side.

  “Inside,” he shouted.

  The remaining allied oneiroi surged into the tunnel, and Ursula joined them.

  Bael’s shout echoed off the wall, followed by a resounding clash of steel. Then, the stone rolled back in front of the entrance. For a moment, the interior of the tunnel was completely pitch black, until an orb sparked in the darkness. The oneiroi cheered reflexively, as light shone on Bael’s bloodied face.

  Chapter 40

  Ursula sat on the platform in Bael’s chambers, her feet dangling over the abyss. She’d spent the last hour healing the remnants of Bael’s force, and fatigue burned through her limbs—even if there hadn’t been many people left to heal. Seventeen, in fact, if she included everyone. Less than ten if she included those still capable of fighting.

  Her head throbbed.

  She tried not to think of the oneiroi who’d died. A woman with short silver hair—one who’d eaten mushroom stew in Bael’s living room just the day before—had bled o
ut in the first few minutes after they’d sealed themselves in. Two of the dead oneiroi now staining the floor with blood looked like they’d only just gone through puberty.

  But worst of all, Cera and Zee weren’t here, and Ursula wouldn’t allow herself to imagine the worst. She refused to believe they were among the dead out there.

  She sat at the edge of Bael’s stalagmite platform, staring into its impenetrable darkness, until she felt Bael’s powerful arm wrap around her. His soothing, briny, sandalwood scent enveloped her body, making her muscles relax.

  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

  “I just wish we could look for Cera and Zee. I hate sitting here.”

  “Zee’s glamouring powers are formidable,” he said. “I have faith in her ability to disguise herself and Cera well enough that they’d go unnoticed.”

  “True.” She leaned against his shoulder, somewhat reassured.

  “Sir,” said a quiet voice. A young oneiroi stood next to them. It was difficult to judge an oneiroi’s age, but on a human scale, she’d have pegged him as fifteen at best. The boy cleared his throat. “We have a problem in the tunnel.”

  “They cannot move the stone. The ancient oneiroi glyphs prevent it.”

  “It’s not the stone. It’s the cliff face itself. They’re digging into it.”

  Ursula’s blood turned to ice. They had no army left. And what the hell had happened to Lucius and her grandfather’s reinforcements?

  Bael stood, cursing under his breath, and Ursula pushed herself up beside him.

  Following him, she walked over the stone bridge that spanned the void, then crossed into the tunnel. The sound of digging echoed through the tunnel even before they reached the stone—a heavy slamming sound, like a jackhammer banging in slow motion.

  “Any idea what they’re using to make that noise?” asked Ursula.

  Bael shook his head. “I don’t know, but it sounds big. I don’t think the oneiroi are wielding it.”