Nocturnal Magic (Demons of Fire and Night Book 2)
C.N. Crawford
Chapter 1
Through the wide bay window, a summer breeze blew in, bringing with it the earthy smell of Central Park. Ursula paced over the hardwood floor, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass—her skin ten shades whiter than normal, her curls framing her face in a wild auburn halo. She was on edge tonight, tension tightening each of her muscles, holding her stomach in a vise-like grip.
Zee sat on a nearby sofa, a laptop propped on her knees. “Ursula, you need to relax.”
From outside, a car horn blared, and Ursula jumped.
“See?” Zee let her shoe dangle from her foot. “You’re all tense.”
With a shiver, Ursula glanced through the window at the pearly moon. “What time is it now?”
“Time for you to calm down. No matter what comes next, getting worked up isn’t going to help.” She turned her laptop to Ursula, showcasing a catwalk model dressed in nothing but lilac ribbons, strategically covering her nipples and crotch. “Come look at Francesco Sforza’s fall line. It sort of puts things in perspective, you know? Like, maybe you’re going to be forced to stay in the Shadow Realm with some psychotic demons, but at least no one has made you to wear ribbons over your tits.” Ursula forced a smile, turning to stalk across the room again. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better. I’m having a hard time putting aside my impending damnation, though.”
Zee plucked a glass of chardonnay from the table. “Well, there’s nothing you can do to change it. When you made the deal with him, it sealed your fate.”
Ursula folded her arms. “Emerazel made the deal after I stole Bael’s soul for her.” A twinge of guilt pierced her chest. He got his soul back, but Nyxobas had probably killed him for his failure. “If it hadn’t been the only way to get your soul back, I’d never have agreed to it. Nyxobas literally shows up in all my worst nightmares.” A shiver crawled up her spine. “He always has, in fact. Even before I knew who he was.”
“Well, he didn’t show up tonight.”
Ursula turned to scrutinize the elevator once again, but its bronze doors remained tightly shut—just as they had been all day. Did gods arrive in elevators?
Nyxobas was supposed to summon her to the Shadow Realm today. For six months, she’d have to live with him, work for him, do whatever he wanted. Fear snaked up her spine. And I have no idea what he wants from me.
She glanced at the bags she’d packed. Honjo rested on top of a black duffel. At least she’d have her trusty katana with her, in case that psychopath Abrax tried anything. The incubus had attempted to drain her soul more than once.
But she wasn’t going into this unprepared. In the bag beneath Honjo, she’d packed a collection of daggers and her finest ass-kicking boots. Plus, she had the reaping pen tucked in her pocket.
“Ursula,” said Zee, her glass now empty.
“The bottle’s in the kitchen,” Ursula said absent-mindedly. “If it’s empty, you can open a new one.”
“Ursula!” Zee snapped, her eyes wide. “There’s someone behind you. At the window.”
The hair rose on the back of Ursula’s neck. Now, the wind on her skin felt positively frigid.
Ursula grabbed Honjo from the duffel and spun, ready to defend herself. A dark form hovered in the window, cloaked in shadow. Dread crawled up her throat. Nyxobas had definitely not forgotten about her.
“Ursula?” said the figure, its voice light.
She jumped, her fingers tightening on Honjo’s hilt. She’d been expecting Nyxobas’s deep voice, but this shadowy form was definitely female.
“That’s me,” she said, trying to see into the darkness. Who the hell is this?
“Wonderful,” said the woman as she stepped through the window, hopping onto the rug—not a human, but a small, sharp-toothed demon. The kind with an affinity for human flesh—an oneiroi.
Ursula raised the blade defensively. With her cherubic face, the oneiroi looked harmless enough. Her long, silvery hair hung over a simple dark gown, and something like kindness glimmered in her pale eyes. She was almost matronly. But Ursula had encountered oneiroi in the fae realm. And they’d tried to rip her face off. Matronly or not, if this demon was going to leap for her throat, she’d be ready.
“You’re not Nyxobas,” she said, gripping her sword. Way to state the obvious.
“No, Ursula.” The demon’s pale brow furrowed. “I was sent to collect you. I am Cera.”
“Oh. All right, then.” Ursula couldn’t think of anything better to say.
Cera’s gaze landed on the laptop. “You do have such interesting fashion here. Who is it?”
Zee muttered something that sounded like Francesco Sforza.
“Fascinating,” said the demon, before turning to Ursula, all business again. “Are you ready to go?”