Her fingers itched to touch her smooth, round rock, but it was lost. She had nothing but the gnawing emptiness, drawing her deeper. Soul-crushing grief pressed on her chest, so cold and harsh she could hardly breathe.

“Release his soul at once.” Nyxobas’s voice rang into the void.

The desolation was so sharp and oppressive she could barely speak, until at last she choked out the word “No,” her body trembling.

“Then I will kill you.”

Nyxobas was terrifying, but she had nothing left to lose. As she looked up at him, her vision refocused. She concentrated on her feet, planted firmly on the floor. “Kill me, then. I’m going to die anyway. Abrax stole a soul I was supposed to collect. When Emerazel finds out she’ll send me straight to her inferno.” Ursula felt the fire begin to burn within her. “So you can kill me now or you can wait for Emerazel to do it for you, but I’m not going to give you Bael’s soul.” Not to mention, she didn’t even know how to return a soul.

Nyxobas’s eyes darkened. Before she could stop him, he grabbed her arm in an iron grip. She could feel his power race through her, cold and lethal.

The god reached into her jacket, yanking her flask from her pocket. Pushing her away, he began to pour it on the floor. It took her a moment to recognize Emerazel’s sigil. He chanted—some sort of spell for fire—and as the flames flickered, he summoned Emerazel.

At his final words, the goddess appeared with a burst of flame. Immediately, the room felt unbearably hot, like Ursula had been shoved in an oven. Across from her, Abrax and Bael writhed in agony.

This time, Ursula knew not to stare her into the goddess’s eyes.

“You summoned me, Nyxobas?” the goddess hissed.

“Your cur tricked one of my demons into signing a pact with her against his will.”

Ursula could feel her body burn; Emerazel’s burning gaze must have turned to her. “Oh really?”

“So I tricked him,” shouted Ursula. “Since when are demons supposed to play fair?”

“Let me see the paper,” said Emerazel, her voice simmering with rage.

Shaking, Ursula dug in her pockets, but they were empty. “I can’t find it. It must be back at the Plaza,” she sputtered, like an idiot student who’d forgotten her homework.

“I saw the contract,” said Bael, eyes burning with fury. “I felt it. The fire whore has my soul.”

Nyxobas’s lips peeled back from his teeth. He looked like he might roar again.

“Well, that settles it, then,” said Emerazel. “There are no rules about how a pact is signed. His soul will hold a place of honor in my inferno. He is a gorgeous specimen of man, and I’m sure I can make use of his body.”