Ursula leaned against the balcony’s railing and looked down into the crowd, ten minutes before the start of Act One. She wore a long gown, the slate-grey color of a winter sea, which slid silkily against her bare legs. She’d accessorized with a necklace of black pearls, and finished off the ensemble with a spray of lavender perfume. The scent should have encouraged a sense of calm, but it did nothing for her nerves right now.
She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Just before she’d left for the opera, Kester had stopped by her apartment again—knocking this time—and had cast a long, approving glance over her outfit, that carnal look sparking in his eyes again. If only he weren’t a psychotic headsman with boundary issues, he’d be my kind of guy.
She opened her eyes, scanning the lobby. From her perch on the upper level, she had a view of the lower floor and the marble stairs, curving below like the inside of a sea shell. Her hand rested lightly on the wyrm-skin purse, Emerazel’s pen and a pact tucked safely inside, along with her white stone and opera glasses. Not to mention the small dagger. Silk and steel were her weapons, just as Kester had said.
In theory, she had everything she needed—except Hugo. And where the hell is Zee? She’d arrived early with the hope that she might extract Hugo’s signature before the opera began, but as the minutes ticked by that became less likely. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, pushing out all thoughts of hellfire and shadow demons. Tonight, she needed to focus, or she’d have to face Emerazel and submit to those horrific flames again. The thought curdled her stomach. Maybe someday she’d figure a way out of this—maybe even a way to save Hugo—but right now, she had more immediate problems. Like avoiding the wrath of a bloodthirsty goddess.
Someone brushed her elbow and she moved to make room.
“Thanks miss,” said a melodious voice.
She glanced at her neighbor, and found herself staring into the face of a gorgeous, man, immaculately dressed in a black tuxedo. Golden skin and pale grey eyes contrasted with his dark hair, and he flashed her an inviting smile. This was the kind of gorgeous man she should be lusting after—a normal, human man who wouldn’t attack her with swords and tell her friends she’d overdosed on heroin.
The man adjusted his cufflinks, and the way his eyes raked over her body made her want to blush. “My name is Abe. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Ursula,” she said, trying to keep her eye on the lobby.
“Is this your first time at the opera?”
With a great deal of effort, she pulled her gaze away from his beautiful face. She wasn’t here to socialize, and she needed to focus on her target. “First time. Yes.” She stared at the lobby, desperate for a sign of the pop star.
“You seem a little overwhelmed.”
Act normal, Ursula. “Just excited, and a bit preoccupied by work.” Condemning people to hell isn’t a walk in the park, you know. Her hands tightened around the railing.
He kept his gaze fixed on her. “Well, I think you’ll find the opera is the perfect place to set aside life’s anxieties and experience something extraordinary.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.” If only she could set aside her anxieties—her overwhelming fear of Emerazel’s flames, the gnawing guilt at her new role. And what were those images she’d seen when she thought Kester was going to slaughter her—the crumpled body on the floor, drenched in blood? She shuddered.
Whatever they were, this wasn’t the time to delve into it. Focus, Ursula.
The crowd below quieted, all turning to look at the entrance. Ursula’s heart skipped a beat as she watched the crowd part. Hugo and Virginie stepped into the lobby, flanked by three security guards. Ursula’s breath caught. This was her moment to save her own life.
“Ah,” said the man by her side, tapping his fingers on the railing. “A celebrity has joined us.” The lights above flickered, and the lobby quieted. He turned to her. “I think that’s our cue. I do hope you enjoy the show.”
But as she thought of what she needed to do tonight, her blood roared in her ears. She’d come to condemn a man to hell.
Ursula hurried through a warren of red carpeted hallways before finding her seat. Enormous chandeliers hung from the gold-leaf ceiling, glimmering like icy fireworks.
Although the opera was sold out, Kester had managed to buy an entire set of box seats on the second level. Since Zee hadn’t bothered to show, Ursula had it entirely to herself. She plopped into a seat in the front row.