vampires mage 02 - witch hunter

by crawford, c n

  Stretching her arms above her head, she rose, and the soapy water slid off her skin.

  Stepping from the tub, she snatched the towel from the floor. She dried herself off, folded the towel over the tub’s edge, then picked up the pair of bright red underwear and slipped into them. Just as she bent over for the bra, Caine pushed open the door and Lilu swooped into the room.

  Instantly, Caine glanced away—an unexpected move from an incubus. She hooked the bra behind her back.

  Caine’s shoulders looked rigid, and he was already dressed for battle, a sword slung over his back. Under one arm, he held a small arsenal of weapons: a belt, a sword, and several sheathed blades. “Will you be half-naked around me all the time from now on?”

  “Since when did you get shy?” She frowned, picking up her pants. “I’m just getting dressed.”

  “It’s hot as Emerazel’s inferno out there. Dress accordingly.”

  “Fine.” Rosalind crossed to the red bag Kaila had brought days ago, which still lay on the floor.

  “We’re leaving soon. Malphus will be up here in five minutes.”

  “I’ll be ready.” She rifled through the bag and pulled out a thin black dress. Lifting it above her head, she slid into the silky fabric, pulling it down to her mid-thighs.

  Once she’d covered herself, Caine looked at her again, his body relaxing. “Any idea how to use a sword?”

  She pulled on her boots. “I’ve trained with wooden sticks. And I watched you fight.”

  “Hmm. There’s a battle fury spell you can use if you need it.” He slid a sword and scabbard across the table.

  Her body began to buzz with nervous energy. Who, exactly, would she be fighting today? Her sister? Her own brother?

  Her hands began to shake a little, and she strapped the scabbard over her back. Within the next few minutes, she’d slipped a weapon belt around her waist, then crammed it with blades.

  Caine began pacing. “What’s taking Malphus so long?”

  Rosalind peered at herself in the mirror again. Perhaps it’s time for some war paint. She crossed to Caine’s alchemical table, surveying the small pots of colored powder—the gold dust and colored pastes. “Is any of this dangerous?”

  “Not really, no. Metals and berries mostly.” He frowned. “What are you planning to do with it?”

  She rubbed her finger into a pot of berry-colored paste, then dabbed it onto her lips. “Getting ready for battle.” She smudged a bit of pink on her cheeks, then dusted a gold powder for highlights. She stared at her reflection. Perfect.

  When she turned, Caine was staring at her.

  “How do I look?” she asked.

  “Beautiful. As you did before you rubbed ox-blood paste on your lips.”

  She frowned. “I don’t suppose you can fix my hair situation?”

  “Are you joking?” he asked. “I rip people’s hearts out of their chests for fun. I singlehandedly killed an entire legion of hellhounds in Prussia. I don’t fix hair.”

  “Fine.” She glanced down at the iron ring he’d made for her. “Let me get a little magical practice in with one simple spell.” She pulled off the ring, letting Cleo’s aura wash over her in a rush of mossy green magic. Gritting her teeth, she seized control of it, forcing the magic into a ball. When she’d pressed it down into a marble-sized sphere, she touched the ends of her hair.

  “Cleo,” she said out loud. “Give me a spell for my hair, please.”

  Why on earth would I do that? Cleo snarled in her skull.

  “I’ll give you something you want in return.”

  Take me back to Lilinor, Cleo whispered. Keep that damned ring off your finger, and let me live again.

  Rosalind nodded. She could promise Lilinor. Why not? I just need to get through this day first.

  She almost heard a faint peal of laughter, and in the next moment she was whispering the words to a spell about a goddess named Sif.

  Silky locks slid over her shoulders. With a tug of rebellion from Cleo, she slid the ring back on her finger and opened her eyes. “See? I can do things on my own.”

  “Good,” Caine said. “I don’t give a fuck about the hair, but you’re getting better control over Cleo.”

  “I had to promise something to her in return. She wants me to take her to Lilinor.”

  He frowned. “Lilinor? Why?”

  “I have no idea. But I think she likes me better than she used to. At least, that’s what I gather from the fact that she’s no longer setting my skin on fire.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You are quite good at interpreting subtle nuances, I see.”

  She ran her fingertips over her weapon belt. “Well, I’m ready to go. But maybe you should give me an idea of what to expect when we get to Maremount.”

  “We’ll arrive at the Lilitu fountain in Lullaby Square. The sun is only just rising. Most people will still be wrapped up in their bedsheets, or steeping their breakfast tea. We’ll go unnoticed.”

  “Do you know the area well, then?”

  His face darkened, and he glanced at the door. Something about the question seemed to agitate him. “Where the hell is Malphus?”

  “Stick with me for a second, Caine. So once we get to this fountain, then what? We teleport to the fortress?”

  “No.” Caine shook his head. “One, we can’t use magic in the city. And two, you can’t teleport somewhere unless you’ve been there before. We’ll need to get out of the city, and then fly as fast as we can to the fortress. Not literally fly, unfortunately, since you can’t.”

  Shit. That was way more time than she wanted to take getting there. “It’s got to be at least ten miles.”

  “Can you run ten miles?”

  The door slammed open and Malphus strode in, scowling. He held a newspaper, which he threw down on Caine’s dining room table.

  Rosalind stepped closer to the table, glancing at it. On the front page, four stakes stood on Cambridge Common. The headline read: Justice for Cambridge.

  “What is this?” Four stakes. Her mouth went dry. “Did you read it?”

  “They’re not going to wait to find us,” Malphus said. “They deeply regret they must take these measures, but it’s time to start protecting ordinary, human citizens from the demonic threat. They must bring back the old ways as a deterrent against witchcraft. That’s the gist of it.”

  Caine snatched it from the table. “What, specifically do they have planned?”

  “They’re going to burn someone named Tammi,” Malphus said. “I take it she’s a friend of yours. They plan to kill her today, in about four hours. And this time they’re assuring everyone that the area will be completely secure from mages and demons. Apparently, I’m next. They just have to find me first.”

  Caine’s eyes flashed. “It’s a bluff. They’re trying to get Rosalind to panic. They’re preying on her sense of loyalty to draw her in. They’re setting a trap for us there.”

  “What if it’s not a bluff?” Rosalind said.

  Caine stared at her. “Why would they care about burning Tammi? She’s an ordinary human. A pedestrian, the people they say they’re protecting.”

  Rosalind began pacing. “You could be right. She’s not their real target. I am. In the Brotherhood, there’s no greater sin than betrayal.” Her mind whirled with gruesome images. In the Sanguine Hell, the traitors of Blodrial supposedly faced the worst punishments. After traitors crossed the Bridge of Dread, Blodrial froze them in blood and pierced their flesh with thorns. I have no idea if any of that is true, but I sure as shit hope not. “But it could be that they just want to light her on fire for show. I realize now they don’t really care who’s guilty and who isn’t. They want more power, and you get power from that intoxicating combination of terror and scapegoating. We’re the scapegoats, of course. And the people want our blood.”

  “Seven hells,” murmured Malphus.

  Rosalind’s heart hammered hard against her ribs. “How do we know Tammi is still in Maremount?”

  �
��I’ve already performed a scrying spell,” Malphus replied. “She doesn’t seem to be in this world. But they could shift her back here at any moment. I don’t know what sort of magic Drew possesses.”

  Caine’s gaze met Rosalind’s. “If Drew and Erish wanted to hand her over to the Brotherhood, where would the Hunters keep her?”

  “In the Chambers, probably. Most of the building was damaged when we freed the prisoners, but not all of it. And it’s near where they set up the stakes.” She pivoted, pacing again. “But I don’t know for sure.”

  “I’ll stay near Cambridge,” Malphus said. “I’ll use a scrying tool to keep an eye on the stakes and the Chambers. If I see this little blond girl, I’ll find a way to summon you both.”

  Rosalind studied Malphus. “Why are you helping me? I know you want Miranda back to make your daywalkers. But why would you help Tammi? She serves no tactical purpose to you.”

  Malphus crossed his arms. “Anything I can do to disrupt the Hunters’ plans is well worth my time.”

  Caine put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “If anyone can free another person from chains, it’s you.”

  It seemed an odd comment. There was obviously some deeper meaning there, but this wasn’t the time to ask.

  Rosalind took a step closer to Caine. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of territory to cover.”

  Caine pulled her in close, and she slid her arms around his neck.

  “Remember to hold your breath,” he said. “And get ready to fight. We don’t know what awaits us when we arrive in the Lilitu Fountain.”

  “As soon as the first demon comes for us, my hand will be on the sword’s hilt.” She pulled off her ring, letting Cleo’s vernal aura fill her mind, feeling the dew-slicked leaves brush over her skin. Caine began chanting the portal spell, and their auras curled together, strengthening. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a long breath.

  In the next moment, freezing water enveloped her skin. She freed herself from Caine’s grasp, kicking her way up to the source of amber light streaming into the water. As her head breached the surface, she gasped for air. She kicked her way to the fountain’s edge, draping her arms over the side, then slid the ring back on her finger.

  Catching her breath, she stared up at the fountain. A giant cube of stone stood in its center. From the top of the cube, a verdant yew spread out above them. Sunlight streamed between its boughs, dappling the ground around them in dancing flecks of nectarine.

  From the fountain’s side, a beautiful stone head spewed clear water. Something about that carving unnerved her—the features were a little too real, the stone eyes full of silent dread.

  Teeth chattering, she pulling herself out. She hauled herself over the side, jumping a few feet to the ground.

  Caine followed, his black clothes drenched.

  Rosalind surveyed the square, her mind tingling with a strange sense of familiarity. She inhaled, breathing in the salty, slightly fetid scent of nearby water. A spark of recognition lit in the back of her mind. Maremount. My home.

  She surveyed the square. Steep-peaked, timber frame houses lined one side, the aged wood painted in shades of chestnut and marigold. Boards covered one set of windows—a shop with a sign reading theurgeon and a snake insignia. Apart from that, everything else looked in good shape.

  Opposite the shops, a stone fortress towered over the square. It looked as if statues had once decorated the facade, though nothing was left except their bases. Caine stared at the fortress, seemingly transfixed. For a moment, his eyes darkened to a midnight black.

  Something had happened here that he wanted to remember, but clearly it wasn’t a happy memory. She’d seen the painting of the fortress hanging on his bedroom wall in Salem. Maybe it was something to do with that king and queen he’d killed.

  Shivering, she hugged herself, casting one last glance back at the fountain again—at that disturbingly lifelike stone head.

  Caine stood by her shoulder, and water dripped off him to the flagstones. He nodded at the fountain’s head. “Does she look familiar?”

  Rosalind frowned. She did look familiar—that straight nose, those beautifully full lips. “It looks like Erish.”

  “That’s her sister, the last succubus killed in Maremount.”

  “And then they turned her into a fountain?” Rosalind shuddered. “I’m starting to get an idea of why Erish hates humans so much. I get a bad feeling just standing here.”

  “There’s a reason you don’t like it here. The tree is new. This is where they executed people—hanged them, cut their guts out, chopped off their heads.” His gaze met hers. “And, unless we want to meet our own deaths, I suggest we move along.” He turned, crossing the square.

  She followed, hurrying to catch up with him. “Do they still execute people? You said they have new leaders now.”

  “I have no idea. But if we get separated or…” He frowned. “If something happens to me, find your way back here. I’m leaving the portal open.”

  “Should I say the spell again?”

  “No. It’s a portal, and anyone can fall into it. Let’s hope no one from Maremount decides to bathe in the fountain anytime soon.”

  “Where does it go?”

  “To the pond in Phobetor Field.”

  They crossed the square to a narrow alley; the name carved into the wall marked it as Loblolly Row.

  The sun had only just risen, and the heat was already bringing out beads of sweat on her upper lip. Her hair stuck to the back of her neck, and her dress molded to her skin. As they passed between the stone walls, she turned to Caine. “Where was my family’s home?”

  “This city is laid out just like Boston was three hundred years ago. The Atherton mansion is in the Northwest, near Maremount Common—opposite the north end, and safely secure from the filthy Tatter villages.”

  “And you’ve never heard of this mountain fortress?”

  “Never. But I spent as little time as possible in Maremount.”

  The alley opened up to a canal. Stone walkways lined the murky water, and on either side stood rickety homes that towered up to the skies at crooked angles.

  As Rosalind and Caine strode down the walkway, people began shuffling out of their homes—women hanging laundry, a man packing up a wooden cart to bring into town. All of the women wore long dresses that reached their ankles, and a few cast a critical eye at Rosalind’s bare legs.

  Her mind whirred. If we manage to rescue Tammi, what are we going to do with Drew? She couldn’t understand any of it—why was Drew coming after Rosalind, but protecting Miranda? It was almost like they’d started a civil war within the family, and no one had bothered to fill her in on the details. Maybe they could just lock Drew in this creepy city and forget about him.

  She twisted the iron ring around her finger. Whatever happens today, I’m going to use all the power I have at my fingertips. Assuming I can keep control of Cleo.

  Up ahead, the canal flowed under a tall stone gate that arched high over the water and the walkways—one of the entrances to the city. As they approached, she could see more clearly that the gate’s surface was covered in carvings of fish and sea creatures. A broken stump of stone jutted from the top—no doubt another relic of Maremount’s former glory.

  They crossed under the arch, and the canal opened up into a bay. Outside the gate, the city’s buildings ended abruptly. To the right, river birch and maple trees lined a rocky shore, and to the left, the bay narrowed again into a tree-lined river.

  Morning light bathed Caine’s skin in amber. “According to your vision, which way do we need to go?” he asked.

  “Hang on.” She closed her eyes, bringing up the memory of what she’d seen during the tracking spell—the vision rushing over the river and forest to the mountain fortress. If this city was oriented just like Boston, they now faced the southwest. “We need to cross to the other side of the canal. We follow along the river, heading south. About ten miles, maybe.”

  “We can get there in
a couple of hours, as long as you don’t walk like a normal, slothful human.”

  “I can run most of that.” She frowned. “There’s got to be a spell for flight.”

  “There is, especially for Druloch’s followers. You can tear a sapling from the ground to fly with. But unless you’ve practiced, you’re likely to break your pretty little neck.” He turned and dove into the canal water.

  She followed, plunging below the water’s murky surface and kicking her way across. On the other side, Caine extended a hand and helped her out.

  She stood, her soaked dress hugging her body, and wrung out her hair. Good thing it’s 80 degrees out.

  “Talk to Cleo,” Caine said. “There’s a spell for speed you can use. If I have to travel at your pace, I’ll die from boredom on the way.” He folded his arms. “As long as you think you can keep her under control when things get stressful. When we were in Cambridge, Cleo nearly went on a rampage.”

  “I’ll do my best, but I haven’t had training yet.”

  “I’ll help you now. I’ll be your anchor until you get her under control.” He stepped closer, looking down at her. “Take off the ring.”

  “Okay.” She pulled off the ring, shoving it in her bra. She gave in to the now-familiar feeling of Cleo’s leafy magic flooding her mind.

  Caine’s fingertips brushed over her temples. “Compress her aura.”

  Closing her eyes, she tightened the whorls of green into smaller coils, just as she’d done before.

  “Where do you see her aura?” Caine asked.

  “It’s in my head… in the center of my skull.”

  He began tracing his fingertips down the sides of her face. “I want you to bring the magic lower. Let it follow my fingers.”

  The sphere moved down into the base of her skull, following the path of his fingertips. It shifted down the front of her throat, her skin tingling all the way. He traced a single finger down her sternum, stopping just between her breasts. “Where is the magic now?”