Chilled by the winter winds, she hugged herself. “So this is the lair?”

Bael growled. He hadn’t said much in the car, beyond giving basic instructions to the driver—“right,” “left,” and “next exit” being the entirety of his dialog. Not that Ursula had been in the mood for talking. While the streets had flickered by, cold and desolate in the early morning darkness, she’d rested her head against the window and shut her eyes. She desperately needed sleep at this point.

Now she stamped her feet to stay warm in the cold. Out of habit, she took a mental inventory of the weapons she carried. One, Honjo strapped to her back. Two, Kester’s reaping pen stuffed in her pocket. Three, a kaiken dagger hidden in her boot.

Lastly, zipped into her jacket were a flask of scotch and a plastic lighter.

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.