Infernal Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Demons of Fire and Night Book 1) (15 page)

H
e turned
to one of his bookcases and began retrieving magazines from a shelf and tossing them onto the floor. Each featured a boat on the cover, and had titles like
All Things Sailing
and
Anchors Away.

She narrowed her eyes. “Is there some sort of nautical solution to Zee’s missing soul?”

He leaned over, staring into the shelf. “I need to consult my grimoires. We need to conjure a protective ward to prevent the incubus from using his shadow magic on us.”

“You know when a magical ward would have been helpful? When I was at the opera.” She stepped closer, peering over his shoulder. The magazines had hidden a metal button, and Kester pushed it. Something clicked loudly, and a nearby bookcase swung forward on a hinge, creaking over the floor. On the back of the bookshelf was a small collection of swords and knives, but the real treasure seemed to be a hidden alcove in the wall, that glowed with that magical amber light. As she peered over his shoulder, she saw that the light protected a small collection of books, just like the ones in the Plaza apartment.

“I’m going to need your help in a minute.”

That was something she’d never thought she’d hear him say. “What do I need to do?”

He glanced at her. “A ward spell derives its strength from the souls of the people who create it. Magic is always more powerful when there are multiple spell-casters. If we cast one together, it will be doubly strong.”

“And we’ll be reading from one of those books?”

“Yes.” He held his hands over the amber light, closing his eyes. Slowly he intoned a single word, his deep voice a velvet caress over her skin:
Oriel.
As soon as he’d enunciated the final syllable, the glow on the bindings ebbed away.

The driving wind battered the boat, and Kester ran a finger along the spines of the volumes, muttering to himself. “The
Heptameron
is too celestial. The
Liber Juratus
should have it.” He pulled it from the shelf and began flipping through the pages, skimming the text. “Ok, here it is. Honorius’s Armor—this will repel almost any magic.” He pointed to the looping lettering written on the page. “It’s Angelic. Do you think you can read it?”

She stepped over to his side, looking down at the yellowed pages. She couldn’t quite understand the words, but she knew how to sound them out—just as she had when she’d first summoned Emerazel. Obviously, F.U. had done something useful with her time. “Definitely.”

Kester began to read and Ursula joined in. As soon as they began to speak she felt the magic rushing over her skin, like she’d just stepped into a warm bath. As they intoned the spell, her skin grew warmer and the sensation grew more sensual. The words almost seemed to draw her closer to Kester, like a magnetic pull. Underneath his cedar smell was something darker she couldn’t identify, something that drew her in. The dull ache of loneliness that always seemed to gnaw at her heart began to soothe.

As they intoned the final stanza, she felt his arm brush against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. But at the final utterance, the spell between them snapped away. Ursula gasped like she’d been dropped into the river outside. For a moment, her skin felt like it was encrusted with ice, then a dull fatigue took over again.

“What was that? I felt something…” She struggled to describe the sensation.

He closed the book, sliding it back onto the shelf. “That was a magical aura, a byproduct of casting a spell. It’s strengthened my aura, giving me a sort of magical armor from fae weaponry. On top of that, any spell I cast will be more powerful now.”

“Your aura? What about mine? You said the spell would protect
us
.”

“It protects me, and I will protect you. There’s a good chance we’ll need to fight our way out of there.”

She fumed. “My role is to be protected? I thought I was supposed to be a demon warrior now.”

“Swords are great, but you don’t know any magic.” He crossed to Zee, scooping her up from the table. “Look, I’m going to tuck Zee into bed and get myself ready. We’ll leave in five minutes.” He disappeared into one of the rooms in the bow of the boat.

Alone in the main cabin, Ursula had time to look around. The fire crackled invitingly in the stove, while the spray from the river lashed the portholes.

With a groan, she stretched her arms over her head. Her whole body ached like she’d just gotten over the flu. Giving Kester part of her aura was apparently hard on the nervous system—not to mention the rest of the magical shitstorm she’d been through this evening.

She walked to one of the bookshelves. For some bizarre reason, learning that Kester was a voracious reader was the most shocking revelation of all tonight. She scanned the spines—a row of the classics: Shakespeare, Melville, Dante, Dumas.

Ursula pulled out a volume of Homer and flipped it open. The pages were stiff and smelled of fresh ink; he wasn’t reading these books. The shelf below held more recent novels: Doyle, Verne, Burroughs, Christie, even Brontë. The spine of Jane Eyre was creased and faded. Flipping through, she noticed some underlined passages.
I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.

Kester’s heels clapped over the boards, and she nearly jumped out of her skin, suddenly overcome by the feeling that she was invading his privacy. She shoved the book back on the shelf before glancing at him.

He now wore a moss-green shirt, open to his stomach to expose his chiseled chest, and leather bands around his wrists. His trousers were midnight blue velvet, and fitted to his body, and boots were laced up to his knees.

Ursula gave a low whistle. “You look amazing.”

He frowned. “I look like a knob. But this is how they dress.” He picked up the white fur jacket he’d spelled into existence and passed it to her. “Joe will be here any minute. I’ll instruct you in the car on the way over. Are you sure you’re up for this?”

She shot him a sharp look. Ursula was gradually coming to understand that F.U. hadn’t been a girl to be trifled with. “Don’t underestimate me, Kester Peele. Let’s go.” She slipped into the jacket, and strode off his boat into the stormy winter air.

T
he Bentley stopped
on a deserted New York City block, the street lined with darkened brick buildings. Ursula stepped out of the car, tugging the fur coat tightly around her flowing green dress. A rusty steel door in a brick wall wasn’t exactly what she’d expected for a portal to the faerie realm. There was nothing around it but a small buzzer set into the brick, and a camera discreetly positioned above the door. The air smelled of stale piss.

Wrinkling her nose, she clutched her wyrm-skin purse, her good luck charm tucked safely inside. “Are you sure this is the right place?” she asked.

“Yeah, this is it.” His green eyes flashed a look that said
don’t second guess me
. “Do you remember your instructions?”

“Of course.” How could she forget them? He’d made her repeat them to him on the way over in the Bentley. “Don’t speak to anyone. Don’t eat or drink anything, but somehow manage to convey debauchery while not having any fun whatsoever.”

“You’ll have to maintain control. You’ve never been exposed to a legion of fae auras before. Even going in there might make you susceptible to hedonistic impulses.”

“And you won’t be susceptible to these impulses?”

“Males don’t react to the fae aura in the same way. We’re more likely to get possessive or territorial. All the more reason for you to stick near me, so I don’t have to murder anyone who tries to take advantage of you.”

“I feel like we’re walking into some kind of caveman era.”

“Their culture is different from yours. The women are submissive. They’re only around to please the males.”

She shuddered.
What did he mean by ‘your culture’?
She made a mental note to ask him about that later. “What century are these people from?”

He shrugged. “The king is nearly a hundred thousand years old. So, yes, caveman era.”

Her stomach tightened. “Are you serious?”

“I’ll need to act as though I’ve claimed you. An unclaimed women can be taken by the king.”

“What does
claiming
me mean?”

“It means it’s a good thing you find me attractive.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?” she sputtered.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice.” He adjusted his leather wristbands. “Anyway, that’s not important. Abrax will probably be swanning around Oberon. We need to get invited into the king’s inner circle. You’ll have to catch his eye, while making it clear you’re with me, or he’ll try to drag you away to mate with you. The fae are quite keen on redheads.”

“Drag me away to mate? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Just let me do the talking. I know you’ll hate it, but in the fae world, these matters are only handled by men. They respect physical strength.” The frigid wind rippled his dark hair.

“Can we just get this over with? It’s no wonder Zee got the hell out of the fae world.”

Kester pressed the buzzer. Nothing sounded, but after a few moments, the door cracked open. A young man with long, silver hair peered out, the room behind him obscured in shadows.

“Your names,” he prompted. His fingernails were filed into points and painted white.

“We’re on the list under Peele,” said Kester, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Guests of Luis.”

The man’s eyes flicked to Ursula’s red hair, and she tossed it over her shoulder for emphasis.

“Of course.” He shut the door, and they waited. At least a minute passed as Ursula drummed her fingers against her thighs, trying to force images of Emerazel out of her mind. With Zee’s soul missing, there hadn’t been time to think about her own fate yet. But how long could Kester keep the fire goddess in the dark about her failure tonight?

Kester shot her a sharp look. “Relax. You look like you’re on a suicide mission.”

“We
are
on suicide mission,” she snapped.

At last, the man reopened the door and beckoned them into a high-ceilinged hall, draped on one end with lush green curtains. The walls were bare, seemingly made of tree bark, and dimly lit with honeyed light. At first she thought the light came from candles, but when her eyes adjusted she saw miniature luminescent orbs hanging in the air above them.

The fae’s eyes matched his silver hair; she hadn’t once seen him blink. It was deeply unnerving. “Welcome to Oberon’s.” Halfheartedly, he held out a hand. “May I take your coat?”

Ursula pulled off her jacket and handed it over, but the fae simply yelled, “Mavelle!”

A raven-haired female in a transparent red gown hurried through the curtains, grabbing Ursula’s fur jacket before disappearing again.

I guess that’s the female submission thing.
God, she was going to hate this place.

The male fae beckoned them toward the curtains. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled them aside, revealing an enormous pair of wooden doors, ornately carved with oak leaves. A large stag’s antler was affixed to each door as a sort of handle. The doors were inscribed with gold letters that seemed to twist and move like living creatures—just like the walls in the locked room she’d broken into.

Without a word, the fae grasped the antlers, pulling open the doors.

Ursula sucked in a breath, gaping at the enormous hall. They walked forward onto a small balcony, and she peered down at a stairwell that curved to a dance floor below. Fae danced and drank over a floor carpeted with wildflowers and grass.

Still, her eye was drawn upward. Great columns of wood, as thick and sturdy as the trunks of redwood trees, supported a ceiling so far above them it disappeared into darkness. Glowing orbs lit the hall, some as small as insects, others as large as horses, swirling and dancing in the air above their heads like sea creatures buffeted by an unseen tide.

“How does this place exist?” Ursula breathed.

Kester slipped a hand around her waist. “Magic,” he whispered.

She glanced down at the crowd, at the fae dressed in stunning styles she’d never seen before—flowing silks of sapphire, plum, and fern green; limbs ensconced in curling gold jewelry. One woman sported hair that pulsated blue and green like the lights of a deep-sea fish. Another, dressed only in gossamer film, spun in a circle, sparks of magic streaming from the tips of her fingers like summer fireworks. Around the edges of the hall, leather clad men sat in wooden chairs, watching beautiful women dance in nothing but a few strategically placed seashells and flowers. Deep, resonant music filled the air, vibrating through Ursula’s body, and she inhaled the rich scent of moss and lilacs.

Flipping heck.
She hadn’t even drunk the alcohol, and she was already getting seduced by the atmosphere.

“Stay focused.” Kester grabbed her hand, leading her down the stairs. “Abrax will be skulking somewhere near the king.”

As she stepped onto the dance floor, fae brushed against her. They moved effortlessly, their bodies swaying in perfect rhythm to the beat that trembled over her skin. There was a charge—an energy—in the air; it intoxicated her, and she had to remind herself why she was here.
I’m here for Zee.

Kester slid his fingers down her arm, leaving a trail of tingles, and grabbed her hand. “Scan the crowd, but he’ll probably be in the king’s inner circle. He doesn’t trifle with commoners.”

“What are you going to do when we find him?”

His jaw suddenly tightened, and a hint of violence glinted in his green eyes. “I’m going to try not to rip him limb from limb, but I make no promises.” The terrifying look on his face was enough to shove the lingering waves of pleasure to the back of Ursula’s skull, and she let him lead her between the dancers.

They threaded their way through the sea of writhing fae as she scanned for Abrax. They moved deeper into the hall, and the men’s clothing changed, becoming more formal—stiff golden brocades and ruffled lace collars. The women, of course, still wore transparent gowns and scraps of lace. As Ursula watched the ladies dance, it was hard not to let her own hips sway, or feel a thrill at Kester’s body brushing against hers.

She leaned into him, whispering. “What’s with the Elizabethan ruffs?”

“These fae are part of King Oberon’s court.”

Just as she was going to ask what the king looked like, she glimpsed something between the dancers: surrounded by armed males dressed in golden armor, a tall fae sat enthroned on a low wooden dais. His pale hair shone in the light, his body radiating a shimmering golden glow.

Ursula gaped. “Is that the king?”

Kester stepped in front of her. “Don’t look him in the eye yet.”

“What’s the matter?”

“You’re new here. And you stand out. If we want to get into his inner circle, we want him to notice you, but not claim you.” He slipped one arm around her back, touching her cheek with his other hand. “I need them to know you’re here with me.”

With Kester standing so close, it was hard not to breathe in his delicious loamy aroma, and she wanted to wrap her arms around him. The music trembled over her skin in rushes of pleasure. Part of her mind screamed that Kester had an arrogance problem, that she hated guys like him, that she needed to stay focused on… something. Only she couldn’t remember what. Her gaze landed on a beautiful blond fae dressed in white lace lingerie, dancing for one of the fae males.
It would be so great if I could just let go…

The slow, sensual beat reverberated through the hall, hypnotizing her, and her gaze flicked to Kester’s stunning mouth. She glanced up at him, licking her lips. God, he was gorgeous, and the carnal glint in his eye was driving her crazy. Her pulse raced.

The music rippled over her body, sending thrills through her as the beat slowed down. With the rhythm pulsing, Ursula let her hips sway against him. She slipped her arms over his shoulders, pressing her body against his solid muscle. Delicious warmth radiated through his clothes.

Slowly, he leaned down, tracing his soft lips over her throat, his thumb lazily stroking her back.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, her pulse racing faster.

“Showing them you’re taken,” he murmured into her neck. He slid his fingers into her hair and gripped it tight, pulling back her head, then grazed his fangs along her throat. A hot thrill rushed through her belly, all rational thought leaving her mind. Was there some reason they’d come here?

High above them, magical orbs flashed like strobe lights and the bass reverberated through her very core.

“The king’s watching,” Kester whispered, his breath warming the shell of her ear. “I’ll just make sure he understands he can’t claim you.”

Ursula ran her hand down his strong back, and his eyes took on a glazed look. He leaned closer, pressing his warm mouth against hers. The touch of his soft lips sent fire racing through her veins, and she arched into him, her lips parting. His tongue brushed hers, and she wanted to rip off his clothes and run her hands all over his golden skin.
This
was why they’d come here, right? Heat coursed through her; she wanted him to pull her into a corner and—

From behind, a hand gripped her shoulder, ripping her out of the kiss. With a tremendous effort, she pulled away from Kester, and turned to see two guards in golden armor, their blond hair and pale blue eyes exactly like Zee’s. Ursula’s stomach tightened, and she forced herself to move away from Kester as she surveyed the men. That kiss had completely knocked her off her feet, and she could hardly think straight.
Focus, Ursula. This is life or death.
The men’s breastplates were finely-tooled, with silver stags around an oak leaf—but her gaze darted straight to the sheathed swords, encrusted with glittering pearls.
Always good to know where the weapons are.

One of the guards spoke. “Oberon has requested an audience.”

“We would be honored to speak to the king,” said Kester.

The guards pivoted, flanking them. As they were escorted to the dais, the fae stopped dancing, and hundreds of eyes followed them. Ursula swallowed hard as the guards led them right up to the edge of the dais, where the king stood, flanked by soldiers.