So F.U. had been some sort of master swordsman, but organ carving took her into serial-killer territory. How exactly would a vampire’s head return to his body, anyway? Surely it would take some effort. Maybe a vampire doctor. Perhaps she didn’t really need to kill him; maybe it was enough just to keep him out of her way. She ran to grab one of his katanas from the clearing, before running back to stab it hard through his shoulder blade, pinning him to the ground like she’d done with the fae.

She turned to Bael, kneeling by his side. The demon’s enormous chest rose and fell slowly, his head resting against the root of a fir. His dark eyelashes lay closed, just as when she’d first seen him in the Plaza Hotel. Around the base of the bolt, his blood bloomed in a crimson circle.

She knelt next to him. “Bael,” she whispered. He didn’t move. Dammit, you need to wake up. If she was going to return to Oberon’s, she’d need his help. And more than that, she didn’t want to be responsible for sending his soul to Emerazel. Shit. Why had she forced him to give up his soul?

“Bael.” She said it louder this time, pushing his shoulder. His pale eyes opened, locking on her.

“Get it out of me,” he whispered, eyes closing again.

She looked at the bolt. The wood’s grain was twisted and coiled. Was it enchanted? Hesitantly, she touched it, but no flash of pain shot up her arm.

Setting down Honjo, she drew the dagger from her boot. Carefully, she cut away Bael’s shirt, revealing his muscled chest. Every inch was inscribed with tattoos, astrological and alchemical symbols intermixed with Angelic script. Her eyes flicked to the wound. Blood bubbled from where the bolt had impaled him, just under his collar bone. A few inches to the left, and it would have punctured his heart.

What was her plan? It wasn’t like she could call an ambulance. She’d need to heal him with Starkey’s Conjuration spell. She just needed to rip this thing out first.

Ursula gripped the blood-soaked bolt. This wasn’t going to come out easily. She slid her leg over him, straddling his chest, and closed her eyes. I’m only pulling a piece of wood from a man’s chest. It’s not as bad as cutting out someone’s heart. With a jerk, she yanked it free, then tossed it into the woods.

Bael howled, thrashing. Smoke rose from his wound. He arched his back, and she pressed her palms against his shoulders, trying to calm him. “Bael, you need to lie still, so I can heal you.”

The demon’s eyes had gone black, glinting with primal violence, but his body went still.