“I’m Ursula. Henry is indisposed.” Probably best not to mention he’s been eviscerated just yet.

He narrowed his icy eyes, studying her. “Do you know with whom you speak?”

“Bael. Sword of Nyxobas.” Shit. Maybe he hates that name.

“Good. Now release me,” he growled.

“Sure. I can release you.”

When she didn’t move toward him he added, “Now.”

“I’ll release you after you tell me where I can find Nyxobas’s lair.”

The tendrils of dark magic swirled around him. “No.”

She raised the kaiken. “Abrax stole my friend’s soul, and I want it back. And he has another soul that belongs to me.”

His smile was a thing of terror. “Do you mean to threaten him with your little dagger, hound?”

“I have a sword.”

“Abrax is the Lord of Alnath, the eldest son of the Nyxobas. A little hound like you cannot stand against him.”

Holy hell. She’d felt pretty good with the sword tonight, but she was clearly way out of her depth. Still—she had no choice. Finding Abrax was the answer to every one of her problems.

“Henry was able to bind you pretty well.” She looked pointedly at the iron chains that wrapped round the demon. “For a mere mortal, he put you in quite the predicament.”

Bael yanked on his chains. “Fetch him for me.”

“That won’t be possible.” Her heart still thudded hard, but Bael at least seemed well contained by the chains. “He’s dead.”

“How?” Bael didn’t so much say the word as growl it.

“He was murdered.”

He closed his eyes, and took a long breath. For a moment, she almost thought he’d fallen back asleep—until he unleashed a roar that shook the entire building. It was a terrifying, bestial sound that threatened to tear her apart. She fought every instinct screaming at her to flee into the hall and down the elevator. When he glanced at her again, his eyes were black as night. “He was mine to kill. Who killed him?”

“I don’t know.”

“I will find the one who did it and rip his heart from his chest.”

Nerves of steel, Ursula. Nerves of steel. “I don’t doubt that, but from your current position that may take some time.”

Bael studied her, his eyes seeming to peer into her very soul. For a moment she thought he might roar again, but then he gathered himself. “Tell me how he was killed.”

“He was found in Central Park. Apparently, his intestines were strung from the trees like Christmas tree ornaments.”

Bael strained against the iron shackles, his muscles taut. “Let me out of here,” he roared.

“Will you help me find Abrax?”