Ursula pressed Honjo against his throat. Just as she’d seen Bael do, she kicked Fiore’s swords out of reach. She scanned the building, looking for Fiore’s second, but the smaller vamp had disappeared. She called into the darkness, “If you shoot me, I swear my last act will be to slice Fiore’s head from his shoulders.”

No one responded, but neither did an arrow come winging at her heart.

She glanced at Fiore, whose face had gone white. “Help me move Bael.”

He grunted.

“Do it, or I will cut off your head.” Ursula pushed Honjo against his throat. A thin line of blood wetted the edge of the blade.

“Okay.” Fiore held up his hands, and she eased up on the blade, giving him room to bend over.

Fiore gripped Bael’s jacket, and she heard the high demon groan.

Thank God he’s not dead. “Drag him into the trees,” Ursula commanded, imbuing her voice with as much authority as possible.

Fiore dragged Bael by his shirt, pulling him into the trees, and Ursula followed, her blade never more than an inch from his neck. When he’d pulled Bael out of the clearing, he rose, and Ursula pushed her blade against his throat again. “Where is Abrax?”

Fiore’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pressing into a thin line again.

“No one is going to save you this time,” said Ursula. “Blondie ran away.”

Fiore closed his eyes. “I will die and deliver my soul to Nyxobas.”

“Who said your soul was going to Nyxobas?” Still holding Honjo to his throat, Ursula pulled the reaping pen from her pocket. It glinted in the moonlight. “I’m sure my goddess will happily provide you a warm place to live.”

His eyes snapped open. “No.”

“Then tell me where to find Abrax.”

“I don’t know where he is.” For the first time, his eyes betrayed real fear. “He didn’t tell me.”

“What do you know?”

“He spends all his time at Oberon’s. They’re working together on something. I don’t know what.”

“Good. Now you get what Bael promised you.”

“What?”

“Your clean death.” Ursula swung Honjo, severing his skull from his spine.

Chapter 39

The vampire’s body crumpled to the ground. Bloody hell, do I really need to cut out his heart? Maybe F.U. had been a trained killer, but New Ursula didn’t feel like a full-blown psychopath. Just a few days ago, she’d been painting wildflowers on a wall and clothes shopping like a normal person, and now she stood over a vampire’s headless body, trying to decide if she should mutilate it further.