“You’ve disrupted my plans,” he said.

She closed her eyes, trying to manage the pain. She heard Abrax open a door, and then he ripped his talon from her shoulder. When her body hit the floor, her vision went dark for a few moments. When it cleared again, she found herself staring at bare stone walls.

Gasping, she tried to take a deep breath, but her chest ached. Blood bubbled from under her shirt. Abrax must have punctured a lung. At least she knew Starkey’s Conjuration spell now.

As she whispered the spell, a soothing magic washed over her, healing her injured shoulder. She gasped with relief, all the pain ebbing from her body. I will never again take the absence of pain for granted.

Standing shakily, she surveyed the gloomy cell. Iron bars blocked the windows, and iron plates lined the walls. The door behind her was solid metal. There was even an iron cot in the corner. She looked closer, her blood chilling. A body lay on it.

“Hello?”

No response. Ursula dug out the dagger from her boot. It’s probably a corpse, but better safe than sorry.

A dirty blanket covered the figure—a man by the shape of him, his head turned to the wall.

“Hello?” She said it louder this time.

Holding the dagger ready, she rolled him onto his back and stifled a scream.

Kester.

Chapter 43

The hellhound gaped at her vacantly—the same glazed look she’d seen on Zee’s face. Abrax had drunk his soul.

A lump rose in her throat, and her hands trembled. “I thought you were dead.” Even if he couldn’t feel it, she slipped her arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. She’d grieved for him. And, now there was a chance—a very small chance, but one all the same—that she could save them both.

Apart from the fact that I don’t stand a chance against the incubus.

She pinched Kester’s arm, but his eyes remained shut. He wasn’t waking up. The silence of the room was oppressive, broken only by an uneven drip of water.

Sitting on the end of the cot, she ran through her options. She still had the dagger, the reaping pen in her pocket, and a half-consumed flask of scotch. A lesser woman would finish off the rest of the scotch right now. She could get them out of here with Emerazel’s sigil, but that would leave Bael behind, and she still wouldn’t have anyone’s soul. Her friend would die, and Emerazel would send her to the inferno. Not a great outcome.

Could she kill Abrax? Maybe stab him with the pen when he returned? Unlikely.

Bollocks. What other options did she have? Abrax wouldn’t leave her in the cell forever. He’d be back to suck her soul or slowly torture her to death.