“I am Bael. I wish to speak to Abrax.” His voice boomed through the forest, rustling the leaves and sending shivers over her skin. Ursula scanned the building, but saw nothing move.
A voice hissed from the darkness of the ruin, “We were wondering when you would finally deign to visit us.” A dark form materialized in the shell of a window on the second floor, face hidden in shadow.
“I seek Abrax,” Bael roared.
“Abrax sends his regards, and offers his apologies that he couldn’t be here to see you die in person.” The silhouette disappeared into the depths of the decaying structure.
Bael spoke softly. “Get ready to fight, Ursula.”
Her pulse raced, adrenaline igniting her nerve endings. This did not seem like a good situation, even with the Sword of Nyxobas on her side.
He leaned closer, whispering, “The only way to kill a—”
There was a movement in front of Bael, a blur of shadow so fast she couldn’t make it out. Bael’s sword flashed in the moonlight, and something thumped on the ground. A severed head rolled before her feet, its mouth lolling open. Ursula suppressed the urge to vomit as the head shriveled and blackened before crumbling into ash. The crunching of bone cut the silence, and she turned to see Bael holding a dripping heart in his hand. “The only way to kill a vampire is to cut off its head and rip out its heart.”
She swallowed. “Right.”
Footfalls sounded to Ursula’s right, and she swung Honjo reflexively, the blade slicing into something soft—a young woman’s stomach. Bile rose in her throat as the girl shrieked.
Ursula froze. This was different than the fae—she didn’t even know who this woman was yet, or if the woman had meant to kill her. And moreover, her opponent looked like an innocent teenager, her blond hair cascading over a pink, floral dress. Sobbing, the girl at the end of Ursula’s sword tried to pull the blade from her gut, and Ursula’s stomach turned.
“I’m so sorry—” she stammered.
“Don’t apologize,” barked Bael. “Cut off her head,”
Ursula yanked out her sword, and the girl lunged at her, fangs bared. She ducked, slicing upward, and Honjo’s razor-sharp edge ripped through the girl’s jaw. Through her remaining teeth, the girl growled, ready to attack again. The little blonde no longer seemed quite so human.
“The whole head, Ursula,” Bael shouted from somewhere in front of her.
“I’m working on it.” Don’t you have someone to fight?
Slowly, the girl circled her, the wound in her gut apparently forgotten.
More footfalls crunched over the snow, moving in a blur of motion to her left. A dark-haired man appeared by her side, fangs bared. They were trying to flank her. Shifting her weight, she slashed toward the man. In one fluid motion, Honjo ripped through his spinal column like a freshly sharpened butcher knife. She arced her sword right, slicing through the neck of the jawless girl. Two heads thumped to the ground.
“Good,” said Bael now at her side. He leaned down, punching through the man’s chest cavity to rip out his heart. Almost instantly, the body turned to ash, and he moved on the girl. Then he disappeared in a swirl of shadows.
Gripping Honjo, Ursula scanned her surroundings for movement, attuning her ears for footfalls. A clash of steel turned her head, and her gaze landed on Bael, locked into combat with a trio of men before the hospital’s gates.
His movements were swift as a storm wind, his sword gleaming like quicksilver. The fighting sped up, so fast she couldn’t track their movements. Blades flashed. A head thumped to the ground. Then, with a spinning slash, Bael separated two more heads from their necks.
As the bodies of the men crumbled, Ursula stared at Bael in disbelief. Even without his wings, he moved like a god. What would he be like with them?
After ripping out three more hearts, Bael turned to the derelict hospital, and Ursula gaped at the empty windows, trying not to think about what other demonic nightmares might make their homes within the decaying hospital.
“Don’t provoke my wrath, Fiore. Your little vamps are outmatched. Besides, I have no quarrel with you. I’m here for Abrax.”
“Who’s Fiore?” Ursula whispered.
“The leader of this pack of vampires.”
The dark form appeared at the window again.
“Abrax has promised me a place in Nyxobas’s inner council if I bring him your head.” Fiore’s voice was faintly accented and cold as tundra.
“You and I both know that’s not going to happen,” said Bael.
“He showed me your wings. Without them, you’re just as mortal as that mongrel you brought with you.”
He’s mortal? No wonder he was so desperate for his wings back.
Bael growled. “I will get them back. Why don’t you come down here and fight me, Fiore? If you win, your reward is the soul of a hellhound.”
“What?” Ursula raised her sword.
“He won’t win,” said Bael simply.