Drawing the kaiken dagger from her boot, she began cutting the fabric into strips.
As she stuffed the strips of fabric into his wounds, Bael groaned. Ideally, she would have boiled these first to prevent infection, but she didn’t exactly have that option right now. The strips were staunching the blood flow, but they wouldn’t stay in place on their own. With a bit of effort, she pulled off his belt, and threaded it under him. Then she buckled it into place across his chest.
She sat back, surveying her work. The blood wasn’t pouring from the wounds any more. He could still die, but she’d bought them some time. How exactly could she get his soul back to him? She still wasn’t clear on that point, but she didn’t want him bleeding out before she got the chance.
She glanced up. The rising sun was beginning to stain the sky a dusky rose, chinks of pale light dappling the snow. Morning already. She shivered in the brittle air, tugging her jacket tighter around her bare skin. This would be a good time to use Emerazel’s fire to heat herself, but she was far too exhausted for any sort of anger. An icy wind rustled the oak leaves above her. They needed to get out of here before they either froze to death or fell victim to a vampire slaughter.
She dug out the flask of scotch, pushing back the tears. This had been the worst night of her life. Or at least, I think it was. It’s not like I know for sure. She took a swig, the whiskey burning her throat. Then she stood and began to pour it in the shape of Emerazel’s sigil.
Ursula stood in the shower’s hot water, letting it thaw the tips of her toes and pound against the tired muscles in her shoulders. She squeezed some shampoo into her hand and began to lather her hair. The scent of eucalyptus mixed with the hot steam.
Bael still slept on the floor of the sigil room. She hadn’t been able to move his enormous frame.
She rinsed her hair. Her entire body ached like it had been pummeled with tiny fists. After she got out of the shower, she wanted to sleep, just for a few hours, so she didn’t completely lose her mind.
She turned off the water, stepping into the bathroom. Her black clothes made a sorry-looking pile on the floor. Of course, she was never putting them on again—they were soaked in Bael’s blood. She wrapped herself in a towel and padded back to her room, where she slipped into a cotton t-shirt and knickers.
Too tired to dress further, she crawled under the covers, her entire body burning with fatigue. Pink morning light filtered in through the blinds, warming the room.
When was the last time she’d eaten? She had no idea at this point. She stared at the wildflowers she’d painted on the wall, but they didn’t feel like home anymore. How could anything feel like home when you had no idea who you were in the first place? She let her eyes drift closed, feeling a wave of sleep wash over her, soothing her body. Her mind filled with images of fields of aster, bathed in moonlight—
A pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders, and her eyes snapped open.
Bael kneeled over her, the strap of his belt tight across his chest. His cold gaze bored right through her. “Where’s Fiore?”
Ursula’s heart raced, and she blinked away the sleep. “Fiore?”
His enormous hands tightened on her shoulders. “Why are we here? Why aren’t we at the lair?”
She pushed his hands away and sat up, having forgotten what she was wearing—or rather, not wearing. For a moment, Bael’s eyes flicked down her body before he averted his gaze. She pulled the sheets up around her. “I used Emerazel’s fire to bring us here. You were bleeding to death.”
Bael looked at the window, unwilling to make eye contact. “Fiore cannot hide from me. I will rip his sinews from his bones until he talks.”
“I’m not sure he’ll be talking any time soon. I pinned his body to the ground with his own sword before I cut off his head.”
Bael head swiveled back to look at her, and his eyes darkened. “You did what? I needed information from him.”
“I only cut off his head after he told me me where to find Abrax.”
A hint of surprise flickered in Bael’s eyes. “Where is the usurper hiding?”
“I’m not sure I entirely trust you yet. You did offer up my soul to Fiore, if I recall.”
“That was a tactical decision. Fiore wouldn’t have agreed to a duel if there weren’t something in it for him.”
“What if you’d lost?” She looked him straight in the eyes. “Oh, wait you did lose.” Bael let out a low growl, but Ursula held his gaze. “If I tell you where Abrax is, you must promise never to sell me out again. One of those promises on the honor of Nyxobas or whatever you said before.”
The demon’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. Ursula suspected that the nod might have been a tactical decision as well—not nearly as binding as a verbal pledge.
“Fiore said Abrax went back to Oberon’s,” said Ursula. “Probably should have gone back there to begin with, since that was the last place I saw him.”