“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.

“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?