Kester slipped over a narrow gangplank, disappearing inside. Teeth chattering, she followed, treading carefully to avoid falling into the churning water.
The boat’s warmth washed over her as she stepped inside. Although the tug’s exterior had suggested a state of total disrepair, the inside was immaculate. Books lined tall wooden shelves between a row of portholes. A wooden table nestled into an alcove, and a fire crackled in an iron stove that stood in the center of the cabin. She eyed a green velvet sofa, fighting the urge to give in to her aching body and rest. The only thing unusual about the place was the dark mark of Emerazel on the floor—another sigil.
Kester held Zee’s unconscious body, examining her face. “I won’t be able to heal her.” His eyes flicked to Ursula’s, burning with accusation. “Were you so enthralled by the incubus that you let him feast on Zee, after you failed at your task for a second time?
“Incubus?” He was clearly accusing her of something, and his words stung. “I don’t know what an incubus is, but I think you well know that whatever powers he used on me were magical and therefore hard to resist. Abe was attacking me, and Zee came in to stop it. Hugo had been sucked dry before I even got in there.”
“Abe.” He spat the word like a curse. “You said he had golden skin and grey eyes?”
“Yes. And dark brown hair. He seemed perfectly charming at first.”
“Abrax,” he choked out the word, laying Zee down on the table. “I can’t believe you succumbed to his charm. I want to flay his skin from his body.”
Holy hell. “Who is he?”
“He’s an incubus. He works for Nyxobas, the god of night.” He crossed to her, his body crackling with fiery magic. “There aren’t many incubi in the world, and this one is pure evil.”
Dread crawled up her spine. “What, exactly, is an incubus? And what makes him so evil?”
“Incubi like him have the power to drain people. They can drain energy, magic, even souls to give to Nyxobas. That’s what he did to Zee. And an incubus can inflame sexual energy and take power from that. I’m guessing that’s how he transfixed you.”
She cleared her throat, listening to the sound of the howling wind batter the side of the boat. God, she was freezing. “There’s no point rehashing what already happened. It’s over. What do we need to do now?”
“It’s amazing to me that you dismiss tonight’s events so quickly.” He stepped closer, boxing her against the wall, his face burning with fury. “You failed to reap Hugo’s soul, and you let a shadow demon claim it. You do realize what this means?”
Fear tightened her chest. He’s going to send me to Emerazel.
Chapter 26
Preternatural power flickered in his eyes.
Adrenaline flooded Ursula’s veins. I need a weapon. He’s going to kill me. She still clutched her wyrm-skin purse, but Abe had run off with her blade lodged in his gut.
She scanned the room for something sharp, her eyes landing on an old cutlass that hung above a porthole. But with Kester blocking her path, she wouldn’t be able to get to it.
He inched closer. “I should never have let you go on your own.”
“Emerazel said you had to send me alone, and I know you can’t disobey her.” Anger tightened her chest.
His eyes flashed. “That’s one of the few sensible things you’ve ever said.”
Frantically, Ursula’s eyes darted around the room. Since the cutlass was out of reach, she needed to identify an escape route if he was going to sacrifice her. “And she said you need to send me to her if I screwed up again.”
He stepped closer, bare feet padding across the deck, until he stood so close she could feel the heat rolling off him, and smell his earthy scent. His eyes trailed over her shivering body, like he was sizing up the value of his sacrificial victim, and her muscles tightened at his gaze.
Her heart thrummed. There was no way she could take on someone with his strength, not when she’d been drained by the incubus. And yet, she had no other choice. An image flashed in her mind—swords shining in the moonlight as someone trained her. Fight, Ursula.
Just as he took another step closer, she dropped her purse, throwing a hard punch to his jaw. He flinched, but didn’t move. With a racing pulse, she threw another, but her aim was off. He caught her fist in his hand, his grip iron-clad.
Spinning her around, he pulled her arm up behind her back, pushing her up against the wall. The splintered wood pierced her silk dress, and she fought to catch her breath.
“I told you,” he purred in her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “You can’t fight me. Let me—”