She glanced up. The rising sun was beginning to stain the sky a dusky rose, chinks of pale light dappling the snow. Morning already. She shivered in the brittle air, tugging her jacket tighter around her bare skin. This would be a good time to use Emerazel’s fire to heat herself, but she was far too exhausted for any sort of anger. An icy wind rustled the oak leaves above her. They needed to get out of here before they either froze to death or fell victim to a vampire slaughter.

She dug out the flask of scotch, pushing back the tears. This had been the worst night of her life. Or at least, I think it was. It’s not like I know for sure. She took a swig, the whiskey burning her throat. Then she stood and began to pour it in the shape of Emerazel’s sigil.

* * *

Ursula stood in the shower’s hot water, letting it thaw the tips of her toes and pound against the tired muscles in her shoulders. She squeezed some shampoo into her hand and began to lather her hair. The scent of eucalyptus mixed with the hot steam.

Bael still slept on the floor of the sigil room. She hadn’t been able to move his enormous frame.

She rinsed her hair. Her entire body ached like it had been pummeled with tiny fists. After she got out of the shower, she wanted to sleep, just for a few hours, so she didn’t completely lose her mind.

She turned off the water, stepping into the bathroom. Her black clothes made a sorry-looking pile on the floor. Of course, she was never putting them on again—they were soaked in Bael’s blood. She wrapped herself in a towel and padded back to her room, where she slipped into a cotton t-shirt and knickers.

Too tired to dress further, she crawled under the covers, her entire body burning with fatigue. Pink morning light filtered in through the blinds, warming the room.

When was the last time she’d eaten? She had no idea at this point. She stared at the wildflowers she’d painted on the wall, but they didn’t feel like home anymore. How could anything feel like home when you had no idea who you were in the first place? She let her eyes drift closed, feeling a wave of sleep wash over her, soothing her body. Her mind filled with images of fields of aster, bathed in moonlight—

A pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders, and her eyes snapped open.

Bael kneeled over her, the strap of his belt tight across his chest. His cold gaze bored right through her. “Where’s Fiore?”

Ursula’s heart raced, and she blinked away the sleep. “Fiore?”

His enormous hands tightened on her shoulders. “Why are we here? Why aren’t we at the lair?”