Scanning the buildings, Bael gripped the great Chinese Zhanmadao sword. She suspected he had a bunch of other weapons hidden beneath his coat, pilfered from the armory during his rampage.
“Down here,” he said at last, nodding to a stairwell that led to the river.
She followed him down a flight of rickety steps to a rusty old pier. The air bit her skin, and she wished she’d brought a warmer coat.
Bael muttered the spell for light, and a small orb bloomed into existence above his head. He peered around, looking for something, then bent and pulled on a rope that dangled into the water. From the shadows under the pier, the hull of a small rowboat glided into view.
“We’re going onto the river in that?”
Bael nodded, then turned the boat over to dump out the water.
Ursula shivered as her toes slowly lost feeling.
“Get in,” Bael said at last.
She sat in the front, while the demon took the middle seat, his weight creaking the boat’s old wood. He pulled a pair of oars from under the seats. Dipping them into the water, he pushed off, maneuvering them onto the river. As she sat in the bow, her back to the river, she could see the whole of New York City lit up before her. With each stroke of the oars, the gleaming lights seemed to get a little smaller. Had it been only a few days since Kester first brought her here? Her whole world had changed in the blink of an eye.
Bael rowed silently, his oars gliding effortlessly in the water, the river rippling behind them.
Ursula twisted around to see where they were headed. In the gloom, a dark shape loomed. She strained her eyes, just making out the form of a small island.
“Are we going to that island?”
“Yes.”
“That’s were Nyxobas’s New York lair is?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Man of few words. She peered at the island again as they rapidly drew closer. Trees covered the land, but no lights glinted from the forested depths.
They pulled up on a gravelly beach and Bael hopped out into knee-deep water, dragging the boat onto the rocky shore.
Ursula stepped onto the rocks. Ice slicked the stones, but the tread on her boots gripped them tightly. She glanced at Bael, who already stood at the tree line, his pale eyes watching her impatiently as she hurried up the beach.
“You could have waited,” she grumbled when she reached him.
“We were exposed on the beach.”
Before she could ask where they were headed, he started into the dark forest.
It was slow going as her boots crunched between frozen kudzu vines. She had to shield her eyes from branches that clawed at her face. After a few minutes they broke clear of the underbrush onto a narrow animal track. Bael paused, sniffing the air. A thin dusting of virgin snow covered the ground. No one had been here.
“It looks like we’re alone,” she said, more to break the tension than anything else.
“That may not be true. Most of Nyxobas’s brethren are nocturnal, and most can fly.”
In her mind’s eye, an image flashed: Abrax standing over her, his great leathery wings beating the air. She reflexively reached to touch Honjo’s hilt from where it protruded from the sheath on her back.
With Bael in the lead they moved along the path, deeper into the island, until the dense underbrush cleared. This would have allowed Ursula to see more of the interior, had the canopy not simultaneously thickened.
On her left, a dark form towered above them, but Bael hardly paused as they neared it. Up close, she could see more clearly in the pale moonlight—an abandoned building, completely overgrown with kudzu, as if the vines were trying to suffocate it. The path wound on between more abandoned buildings, totally desolate in the cold light. Ursula had a distinct feeling of déjà vu, like she was again walking between the towering blue stones on her way to her trial with the moor fiend.
At last, the path opened into a clearing. Bael held up a hand, and Ursula stopped behind him.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“We’ve reached the lair.”
Chapter 38
An enormous Victorian building towered over the other side of the clearing, its dark windows staring vacantly like empty eyes. A dark wrought-iron gate covered its door, giving the appearance of a row of black teeth. Her mouth went dry. She knew it was stupid, but right about now, she really wanted her lucky stone—her anchor. She had to wonder if all of this would have been an ordinary day in the life of F.U.
She shivered, staring at the building. “What is this place?”
“It was once a hospital. The brethren of Nyxobas live here now.”
“This is his headquarters?”
“Were you expecting something more grand? You’ll find that Nyxobas is less concerned with aesthetics than your monstrous goddess.” He sniffed, his back stiffening. Drawing his sword, he stepped into the center of the clearing. Ursula unsheathed Honjo, gripping it like her life depended on it. Which, come to think of it, it probably does.