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Coldest Fire
by Juliette Cross

Copyright © 2019 by Juliette Cross. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

Nadya

Two chamomile soaps, one camphor candle, and three salves infused with mint and juniper. I smiled down at my last box of twelve. That should do it.

“Now where’d the ribbon go?”

Kneeling on the wood floor of my kitchen, I looked under the table. A thin tail of blue satin snaked around the sofa. I headed around to the other side. A black puffball barreled into my ankles, the ribbon in his mouth. I scooped up Deimos, tucking him into my elbow on his back like a baby.

“No, you don’t.”

He continued to ignore me, swatting the ribbon this way and that, shaking it in his tiny teeth. He gave a little growl when I tried tugging it away.

“Oh. Tough one, are you? Well, I’m going to need to take your toy so I can finish up. It’s past both our bedtimes.”

Holding him with one arm, I poured some milk into a saucer, dipped the tip of my finger in and touched it to his nose. He licked with a tiny pink tongue, his yellow eyes blinking up at me with renewed interest, the ribbon falling away to the floor.

“That’s what I thought. Just like a man, always following your stomach. But you know you’re too fat already—”

Knock, knock, knock.

I froze. It was past eleven o’clock. Only someone I knew could walk past my wards. My cottage tucked into the woods in the Erzgebirge mountains was invisible to the naked eye—including the eyes of demons and angels. That is, unless you knew where to look and where to say the words to dispel the illusion.

Still, I’d rather err on the side of caution. I crept forward and placed a hand on the door, recognizing the familiar vibration seeping through the wood. Definitely otherworlders standing on my doorstep.

“Who is it?”

I glanced down at myself, wrapped modestly in a white robe, while Deimos batted at my hair falling forward.

“It’s Anya.”

Smiling, I set Deimos down and unbolted the door. Anya—a black-haired, blue-winged angel with porcelain skin—stood next to Dommiel. The fingers of his black steel hand were linked with her flesh ones. They were more expressive about their feelings than the last time I’d seen them. Interesting that a demon had fallen so hard for this angel.

“Hi, Nadya,” said Anya in her kind but businesslike voice.

“I’m glad to see the rumors are true.” I swallowed against visions of where they’d been—a place I vowed never to return. Of what I’d heard had happened there. “So, you completed your mission and made it out alive, I see.”

“We did, sweetheart.” Dommiel winked his one dark eye not covered in an eye patch. “Thanks to you.” He moved to the side, making room for someone stepping out of the shadows. Catching sight of…

Oh, God.

My heart plummeted into my stomach, ice bleeding into my veins. It couldn’t be him. I blinked hard, willing the frightening vision to go away. But it didn’t. Quite the opposite, he drew farther into the semicircle of light spilling from my doorway. Dressed in full black, the striking contrast against his skin and hair and wings punched me in the gut. The firelight gilded his white wings gold, shining on the blond hair falling past his shoulders, dipping over the sharp, beautiful angles of his face, and hardening the lines to terrifying perfection. But his eyes. Christ, his eyes. Two pools of cold blue that had always reminded me of Arctic waters. Deep, dark, and absolutely deadly. The last time I’d looked into them, they were hazed with pain, fury, and for the briefest of seconds, gratitude. I’d tried to rid myself of that memory, but it haunted my dreams anyway. He haunted them.

I saw none of that in his eyes now. No. The archangel standing in front of me was a lethal warrior, wearing revenge like a cloak. And I knew better than any what he sought revenge for. I could all but feel restrained fury eking out of his pores, seeping into the air, creating a shield of stand-the-hell-back around him. Even when I last saw him as a captive, helpless in chains, the power of this archangel rippled off of him, lapping off of me in electrifying waves. It had stunned me stupid then, just as it did now. He was power personified.

“May we come in?” asked Anya softly.

Standing there in a stupor for a few more seconds, I finally blinked several times and opened the door wider.

“Of course.”

Anya entered, keeping her wings tight against her back. Dommiel followed, his boots echoing on the floor. I glanced away—unable to look directly at him—and sucked in a breath as a pulse of potent force pushed against me, against the whole world, as Uriel walked past.

Mother of God, why was he here in my home?

“Uh, have a seat.” I gestured toward my small den where the fire burned bright, my main source of heat.

Larger cities still had power since the high demons in residence liked their little luxuries and made sure of it. I’d sought out this desolate place near a village with no electricity, a place the apocalyptic world had forgotten, for the very reason no otherworlders came here. Except when friends came looking for me. And they’d been coming too frequently lately. Two of those now sitting in my cottage were friends. The other most certainly was not. He was a nightmare I wanted to forget. A regret that still burdened my soul.

I took a seat on my overstuffed ottoman, since there was limited seating with one sofa and a chair, especially for two angels. One being an archangel with an enormous wingspan, even at rest against his back. I settled my gaze on the safest place, Anya.

“Why have you come here?”

“All business, eh, Nadya?” asked Dommiel.

I licked my lips, mouth gone dry the second I laid eyes on Uriel. I clenched my fingers in the skirt of my robe—the thin flannel and the long gown beneath not enough protection from his weighty gaze. Prickles of gooseflesh crawled up my arms under the sleeves, because I could feel his cold gaze on me.

Anya ignored Dommiel at her side on the sofa, then leaned forward. “We’ve come for another favor.” She gave me a lopsided smile before gesturing to Uriel. “We need your help getting him into Vladek’s champion fight.”

Bile burned up my throat. Fear sliced me with a dull blade at the mention of his name. I’m sure my eyes had gone wide as I shook my head on a mirthless laugh.

“I’ve told you before. I’ll never go back there.”

Never. There was a reason I was living in this remote mountain village. Because it was the last place Vladek would ever look for me.

My fingers clenched into fists when I glanced away from Anya to Dommiel, and then—unable to keep myself from going there—to Uriel. His frigid gaze was fixed on my lap. Forcing a ragged breath from my lungs, I loosened my fists and cupped my hands in as calm a manner I could manage. But it didn’t fool anyone. Not one of them.

Anya’s voice dropped even softer. “We know that. But we hoped you could help us get Uriel in the fighting circuit. We figured if anyone knew, you’d know how.”

A sound somewhere between a cough and bark of laughter escaped me.

“It’s just not that simple.”

Dommiel leaned forward now, clasping his hands together, the firelight glinting silver off his dark eye. “It was simple enough to help me and Anya.”

“Yes, but that was to get into Lisabette’s lair.”

At the mention of her name, I wanted to vomit, my gaze slashing to Uriel again. He remained cool as ever, but something sparked and burned behind those blue eyes. I didn’t want him to remember me from there. But he did. God, he so did. I could see it in his measure of me.

“How is it different?” asked Dommiel, dragging my attention back to him.

Smoothing out my sweaty palms on the white flannel of my robe, I explained, looking at Anya, “You only had to get through one fight.” Refusing to look at Uriel again and lose my train of thought, I barreled on. “For Vladek.” Saying his name aloud gave me physical pain, and I was afraid it showed in the fragile tenor of my voice. “For him, there is a series of fighting circuits that must be fought. In three different pits of rather infamous high demons. Each circuit pits the fighter against many opponents over a series of days.”

“I don’t see the problem.” Uriel’s smooth baritone drew me, a voice that had soothed souls…and damned others. His unflinching demeanor remained steady.

He doesn’t see the problem? He’d have to fight the best and most brutal of demons day after day just to climb his way to the next pit, and then the next before finally making it to Vladek’s arena. And Vladek’s arena would host only the most chilling foe, the greatest of warriors.

I scoffed with bitterness. “I’m not friends with even one of these high demons. I couldn’t get you in.”

“Could Skaal get him in?” asked Anya.

Anya was a sensible angel of sound mind, so if she was aiding these two fools to gain entry into this deathtrap, there had to be a good reason. She and Dommiel knew that Skaal was a valuable resource. As my friend, he’d helped me many times since this hellish apocalypse had begun. The truth was, he probably could help get Uriel into Vladek’s fighting pit circuit. But…

“Why?” I asked Anya, before swiveling to Uriel, my voice lower. “Why would you want to go back there?”

He said nothing for a moment, examining me again with frightening precision, as if he could see straight through to the heart of me. I feared that he could, and that he found me lacking. But that was ridiculous. Of course he would. Because those cold eyes told me he remembered when we’d met once before. When he’d last seen me.

Finally, he tilted his head a little to the left and said, “We’ve received some intel that Vladek is the one responsible for making drakuls.”

I sucked in a breath. I’d feared and suspected as much, but never had any proof. Drakuls were the currency in the apocalypse for otherworlders. The coins held power and magic. They dissolved in water and empowered any creature of Light or Dark who ingested them. Though I wasn’t specifically one of their kind, I had my own magic. And while I’d experienced the effects of swallowing a drakul once before, I’d never do it again. I shivered at the memory. I knew their making was evil somehow. Mainly because I knew that Vladek was the one responsible for their creation. And nothing that came from him was anything but foul and dark.

I didn’t want to know the answer to my question, but I had to ask. “How? I mean, what have you discovered?”

Uriel captured me in his icy hold. “He’s draining imprisoned angels and demons dry, pouring their magic into the supernatural metal until they’re dead.”

Gulping, and still finding no spit there to swallow, I winced at the soft brush on my ankle. Deimos pounced around my slippered feet, his little tail brushing what skin was exposed. Thankful to have a small distraction, I lifted him into my lap and petted his head. He must’ve realized he was finally sleepy and settled into a tight ball near my belly.

“Even so,” I started, staring down at Deimos as his orange eyes drifted closed. “I don’t know if Skaal would help me again. He risked a great deal last time.”

Dommiel chuckled, leaning back and stroking a lazy hand over the arch of Anya’s wing. The gesture was so intimate, I had to glance away.

“Oh. I think he’ll help you.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, wishing I hadn’t the second I did. Because it was evident Dommiel saw and detected far too much back in Moscow six months ago.

“Because he’s sweet on you, baby.” Dommiel grinned, reminding me why he was a dangerous demon. He was lethal, and unfortunately for the rest of the world, quite charming. “I think he’ll do anything you ask him to.”

I cleared my throat. I wouldn’t refute what Dommiel said, mainly because it was true. Skaal was more than smitten with me. He’d risked everything to help me escape. Also, I didn’t lie. I never lied. Not since I’d left that hellhole I’d escaped from. Even there, my lies were rare. And necessary for survival.

That was probably why Vladek had been so enamored with me. I should’ve pretended to be something other than what I was. He liked pretty little birds. He enjoyed breaking them. Clipping their wings and keeping them caged. Shaking off that nightmare, I dragged myself back to the present, finally able to suck in a deep breath.

“And what do you plan to do?” I leveled my question on Uriel. “Even if, and that’s a big if, you’re able to make your way through the fighting pits to his castle?” I couldn’t say his name again. “You think you’ll make your escape while there, find and free those poor souls somewhere in his dungeons?” I tilted my head in that arrogant way he’d done to me a moment before. “It won’t happen like that. I can promise you.”

His expression didn’t shift at all. He gave me no impression that he’d even heard me. Until he spoke.

“You let me worry about that, witch.”

He didn’t say my label with venom. No. It was as if he was trying to remind himself what I was. Just a definitive title in the air to make sure he remembered I was indeed his enemy. One of those he could never trust. And I knew why. I didn’t fault him for it. It stung all the same.

Swallowing my fear, my pride, my own peace of mind, and my will to refuse a course that would lead to danger, I gave my answer to Anya.

“Yes. I’ll go to Skaal. Tomorrow.”

Standing, I hoped they caught the hint. I needed them gone. No. I needed him gone. His potent presence, his aura of power, his weighty gaze, and the noose of regret he lassoed around my neck was too much to bear any longer. I needed space and time and spells of protection before I could handle him again.

Thankfully, they all stood. I cuddled Deimos to my breast as I walked them to the door and opened it, the cold night wafting in.

Anya stopped beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, Nadya. We appreciate you so much.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I said, knowing I couldn’t ensure anything. But I would certainly try.

“I know.” She slipped outside.

Dommiel scratched the head of Deimos with a grin. “Take care, Nadya.”

“You’ll be back tomorrow, won’t you?”

He shook his head and jerked it behind him. “Just Uriel. Anya and I can’t go back to Skaal’s world. Too many know us there now.”

Of course they couldn’t. So, it would be me and Uriel? Alone?

As if he could see the anxiety sparking in my eyes, he grinned wider. “Don’t worry. Uriel will take care of you.”

I doubted that.

Then he slipped outside. Uriel passed in front of me and stopped just beyond me in the entrance. I stared at his chest—his very broad chest—unable to meet his eyes again.

“I’ll be back at dawn.”

I dipped my chin, catching the glint of large serpentine eyes beyond him at the tree line. A big beast darker than the shadows hovered there. Not thinking, I grabbed Uriel’s forearm and yelled, “Quick! Demon spawn. Get back inside,” I hissed.

Anya and Dommiel glanced back over their shoulders at me, but then kept moving on.

Uriel’s large hand—surprisingly warm—wrapped entirely around my wrist. “There’s nothing to fear.” There was no gentleness in his voice, but no malice either. “It’s Circe.”

“But it’s a dragon.” I’d seen several in my days at Vladek’s castle. I could tell from here the only otherworld creature who could make that large of a shadow was one of those demonic beasts created by high demons.

“She is,” he said, tugging softly at my grip on his forearm. “And she’s mine now.”

Realizing I was still clinging to him, I snatched my hand back as if I’d been stung. “Oh,” was all I could reply. Because no archangel had ever spawned a dragon. Had he? If so, how?

He stared a moment longer, lingering on where I tucked Deimos against my breast before flickering back to my eyes.

“Dawn.”

Unable to speak, I simply dipped my chin again. Then he was gone, melding back into the shadows, walking into the frosty night toward his awaiting dragon.

His dragon.

And he’d be coming back for me in the morning. My stomach revolted, flipping over. Before their silhouettes disappeared altogether, I closed and bolted the door, pressing a kiss to Deimos’s sleepy head.

“I’m in a lot of trouble, little man.”

But Deimos didn’t hear me. And it seemed danger was coming back for me, whether I wanted him to or not.

I strolled to my bedroom, trying to ignore that part of me buried far and deep that whispered, you want him to.