vampires mage 02 - witch hunter

by crawford, c n

  From the ground, Drew began chanting another spell—clearer this time—and she sprinted behind him. He killed Caine, her mind screamed. She hooked her cuffs around his throat, and pulled. Hard.

  Bloodlust whispered around her heart, urging her to end his life. He destroyed my friends.

  Drew’s face reddened, his eyes bulging. As soon as his body went limp, she pulled the cuffs from his throat. He fell back, his head cracking against the marble floor. She stared at the angry red indentations on his neck. He was unconscious, not dead. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breath raspy.

  At the sight of his helplessness, some of the rage in her chest subsided. She didn’t need to kill an unconscious man, but she’d make damn sure he couldn’t use his powers.

  She just needed to get out of these cuffs.

  She snatched her knife from the ground where the ker had dropped it—the thin stiletto blade was just narrow enough for what she needed. She slid the point in beside the teeth, sliding it deeper into the locking mechanism. Pushing on the cuff, she inched the knife in deeper, inching it slowly, until at last, she heard the lock click, unlatching.

  She exhaled and glanced at Drew, who lay flat on his back, then she switched her focus to the other wrist.

  When she’d pried her way out of that one, she grabbed the cuffs, crossing to Drew. She hauled him up, dragged him over to the throne’s base, and cuffed his hands behind his back with the cuff’s chain around one leg of the throne.

  Free from the iron, she closed her eyes, letting Cleo’s aura swirl in her chest. Hugging her exhausted body, she chanted the spell to teleport back to the four stakes.

  Her body burst with green magic, and a vernal wind rushed over her skin. She landed in the mud on her hands and knees, next to the branchy dome. Rain still hammered down, and her dress stuck to her skin. After using the powerful spell, her body felt ripped apart with fatigue. She had to fight the urge to lie in the mud and sleep.

  When she looked up at the stakes, the world seemed to fall out from under her.

  Chapter 25

  T here, nailed to a stake, was Caine. His head drooped, and blood poured from his heart. An iron nail had been rammed right through his chest.

  It was just like her dream, only it was all backward. Caine had been killed, not her. She rushed to him.

  A thin stream of blood dripped from his perfect lips. His entire body had been slashed by iron swords, and his head lolled. She slid her hand over his neck. Faintly, so faintly that she could hardly feel it, a pulse beat beneath the surface of his skin.

  Relief washed over her. Nearly dead—but not quite. I guess a demigod doesn’t die so easily. But there’s only one way for an incubus to heal. Whatever he’d done, whatever had happened at these stakes—she had to heal him now if she didn’t want him to die.

  She stared down at his chest again, at the nail’s thick iron head. Digging her nails around it, she slowly eased it out. When she’d pulled it out a few inches, she swallowed hard. If he’s conscious for this, it will hurt. A lot.

  She gripped it hard in her fist, then yanked it out. Caine moaned, his pale eyes fluttering open. He stared at her, seemingly without recognition. His eyes had darkened to fathomless, inhuman voids.

  He glared down at her, and fear ran up her spine. Near death, he’d reverted to a primal state, a low growl rumbling from his chest. His fingers clamped onto her waist, claiming her. She wasn’t looking at Caine. She was looking at a shadow god, one full of primordial wrath, and every instinct in her body told her to run.

  He only had one way to heal, and he wanted it. Now.

  His fingers tightened around her waist in a vise-like grip. Possessive. Hungry. He pulled her closer, his heat seeping into her, his aura curling around her, brushing against her rain-soaked skin. She was his salvation, and he wasn’t letting her get away from him.

  Slowly, his dark gaze magnetized her, and she no longer wanted to run from him. He grabbed her by the hair, turning her head to expose the vulnerable skin of her throat.

  She shivered. Caine was in complete control here. If she tried to pull away from him, she didn’t think he’d let her get very far.

  He leaned in, his teeth brushing her throat, sending a jolt of fire through her.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she arched into him, tangling her fingers into his hair. His grasp on her hips tightened, and he nipped at her skin. His lips replaced his teeth, and he kissed her neck softly, disarmingly. Heat blazed through her core, and her breath caught in her throat. She leaned back, exposing more of her neck to him, wanting his hands all over her.

  Without warning, Caine spun her around. In the next second, he was pinning her hard against the stake. The rough bark chafed her skin through her thin dress, but she didn’t care. Caine, black-eyed, overwhelmed her. With a low snarl, he wrapped his strong arms around the backs of her thighs and lifted her from the ground. He pushed in closer, pressing her against the wood. Pulse racing, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in tight. Her dress hitched up to her waist, exposing her thighs. She reached up to touch his perfect face, and desire flooded her.

  Hungrily, he pressed his mouth against hers, devouring her. She parted her lips for him, letting her tongue brush his. His kiss was hungry, desperate, electrifying. She arched her back, and his kiss lit her up.

  Then his kiss softened, deepening, his tongue velvety smooth against hers. Gently, he brushed the rain-slicked hair from her face. He loosened his grip, his fingers tracing her inner thighs, electrifying her body with his touch. His fingertips moved higher, and her pulse raced. I want him.

  He pulled away, meeting her gaze. His eyes had returned to a clear, icy blue. Caine—but he wore an expression she’d never seen before. Almost perplexed. “I didn’t think I’d be able to find you.”

  She cupped his neck. “That’s fine, because I found you.”

  He stroked her thighs, staring into her eyes. Rain poured down his pale gold skin in rivulets, his dark hair soaked against his skin. “I saw them carry you away. I couldn’t get to you.”

  “That’s because you were nailed to a stake.”

  Caine’s breath quickened, his gaze moving past her, focusing on the rotting wood. As his eyes cleared, it almost seemed like he was waking from a dream. Suddenly, his body went rigid, a deep breath rushing into his lungs. He released his grip on her, letting her slide down his body. He pulled his arms from her neck and stepped away.

  She pulled down her dress, feeling rejected. Well, I guess that’s over. It was for the best though, really. They still had to get Tammi. She crossed her arms, trying to clear her mind. “We need to go back to the fortress. I’ve been there now, so we can teleport. Are you healed?”

  “Beautifully.” His gaze darted to the stake, as if it were still tormenting him. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  Dread filled her chest, and a memory slammed at the cage of her mind again. She had a sinking feeling that whatever he was going to tell her would change everything. But now wasn’t the time for that. She’d come here for Tammi, and she was leaving with Tammi. “Not now, Caine. Tell me after we get Tammi and Miranda back.”

  His features relaxed almost imperceptibly. “Did you see them?”

  Rosalind shook her head, hugging herself. “No, but I saw what they were doing—what Erish is doing. She’s lost her mind. She’s turning humans into keres, and I think Tammi was one of them. I don’t think Miranda is.”

  Caine’s jaw flexed. “How?”

  “Something about The One Who Is All. Drew says we’re descended from him. Erish drank Drew’s blood; she drinks Blodrial’s blood. It’s all fucked up over there, but the bottom line is, I’m getting Tammi back. And Miranda, too.”

  His eyes narrowed. “The One Who Is All is just a legend. He’s not real.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Some say that the seven gods come from one: Azazeyl, the one who gave humans the Angelic language, the one who taught the Watchers to lay with th
e daughters of man. They say that for his transgressions, he was split into seven parts, then trapped in the earth. They say the seven gods don’t remember. They only know they don’t feel whole anymore, and they’re desperate to return to one.”

  Rosalind hugged herself. “They can use magic from all the gods. I’ve seen Drew do it. And Erish, too.”

  Caine frowned. “What’s the layout of the place, and what are their defenses?”

  “The human keres are in the courtyard. There are harpies patrolling the skies, at least two giants—”

  “More giants?”

  “Apparently, Erish knows how to make them.”

  “Seven hells.” Caine ran a finger over his jaw. “If they’re somehow drawing on the power of seven gods, I’ve been using the wrong spells entirely. In fact, I don’t know any spells for that kind of magic.”

  “So maybe we just go in covertly. We turn invisible, you find Miranda, and I look for Tammi. I don’t know how I’ll find her if she looks like a ker, but I’ll figure something out.”

  “I’ll find Miranda, and slaughter the succubus. What’s the layout of the castle?”

  She scanned her mind, trying to picture the aerial view. “There are at least three towers, maybe five, with some kind of halls between them. Then there are more towers in the interior, all different heights, like it was designed by a crazy person. There’s a courtyard, and a lot of… rocks.” Her description petered out.

  He arched an eyebrow.

  “Look, I’m not an expert in castle architecture. And I have no idea where Miranda is in all that. But I can tell you the keres and Erish are in the courtyard, and Erish was standing over an altar.”

  “Go to the courtyard. Find Tammi, and bring her as close to the altar as you can. When you see the signal, rush over to me, and the four of us will teleport out.”

  She frowned. “What’s the signal?”

  “Erish, impaled on an iron sword.”

  She swallowed hard. “Perfect.”

  His eyes raked over her body, taking in the puncture marks on her neck, the bruises. He lifted her arm, inspecting the claw marks. “Gods below,” he muttered. “Did they break anything?”

  She shook her head. “Not this time.”

  “You still need healing.” For a brief instant, she had a brief pang of regret that humans didn’t heal in the same way as incubi, but she pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

  Running his fingertips over her ravaged skin, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I changed my mind about the signal.”

  “What will it be?”

  “Erish exploding into a spray of flesh, blood, and bone.”

  “Lovely.”

  He chanted the spell for healing, and his touch sent shivers over her skin. He brushed his fingers over her neck, soothing her body and thrilling it at the same time. He traced down the back of her spine, his perfect lips just inches from hers, the air between them electrified.

  “That should do it,” he said softly. “I’m getting your sword for you. You might need it.” He disappeared in a blur of silver and black, speeding into the dome, and in a few moments he’d returned with her weapon.

  She took it from him, slipping it back into the sheath, and ran her eyes over his healed skin. All the gashes had disappeared. She swallowed hard, wanting so badly to close the distance between them. “Are you sure you’re healed enough for all this? You were nearly dead.”

  Instead of making another flippant remark about how she wanted to get her hands all over him, he just pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and cupping the back of her head. His heart beat hard under his drenched clothes, not far from her ear. “I’m fine.”

  He whispered the spell for invisibility, and she watched as his strong chest shimmered away. He leaned down, his breath warming her neck. “Take us to the fortress.”

  Chapter 26

  Rosalind breathed in his earthy scent for a moment, then whispered the teleportation spell. Caine joined in, and their auras mingled together, whirling around their bodies. In the next moment, they stood before the portcullis. Rain still poured from the skies.

  She leaned into his warmth. “The giants are within those doors. We’ll need to find another way in.”

  Caine leaned in close. “Ask Cleo for Arachne’s Blessing. Scale the walls.”

  Rosalind closed her eyes, focusing on the green sphere of magic in her chest. Cleo. I need you to help me use Arachne’s Blessing.

  Cleo whispered, I need Ambrose.

  Whatever you want, Cleo.

  Instantly, the spell’s words flashed in her mind, and she repeated them out loud, the aura tingling over her skin.

  An uncanny sureness filled her limbs, and in the next second, she was at the base of the castle. Her fingers touched the smooth marble wall, adhering to it, and she scuttled up the rain-slick surface. A peal of thunder cracked the air, and the stormy winds whipped her air as she climbed higher. Don’t look down, Rosalind.

  Fatigue pounded her body to the bone. She climbed higher, the wind howling.

  At the top of the castle wall, she hoisted herself onto a wide marble walkway that stretched between two towers. She gazed out at the landscape—from this rocky outcrop at the mountain’s summit, the fortress seemed a thousand feet high. Overhead, harpies whirled, oblivious to her presence.

  She turned, surveying the fortress’s center, trying to plan her route to the courtyard. Another square of towers stood in the center, connected by long buildings. Two circles of towers stood nearly twenty feet apart, but she had an almost certain feeling she could leap that distance with Arachne’s Blessing.

  She climbed to the top of the battlement, her muscles tensing as she concentrated. She crouched down, then leapt into the air, soaring over the marble flagstones far below. She came down in an arc and landed just shy of the walkway—but she managed to grip the edge, clinging on with her fingertips.

  Her heart hammered as she hoisted herself up, gasping for breath. She crossed the second walkway to peer down into the courtyard. Ragged keres—once human—crouched in the driving rain, their bodies completely docile. Her stomach tightened. What the fuck did they do to Tammi?

  If she couldn’t get her friend back to her old self, she’d drive a nail right through Drew’s heart.

  The damn human-keres looked completely uniform, even down to the same iron necklace they all wore. Her jaw tightened. Erish had put one of them around the redhead’s neck before turning her, like some kind of collar. Maybe there was some enchantment in them. Was it possible that if Rosalind took the necklace off Tammi, the spell would wear off?

  Whatever the case, she really needed a plan before she headed in there.

  Her pulse began to race. I need to hurry. If Erish exploded, and she was nowhere nearby, things would get messy fast. She just needed to know where she was going first, some help with finding Tammi.

  She closed her eyes. “Give me a spell for vision, Cleo, and I’ll give you what you want.” The air filled with a mossy aura, and in the next moment words blazed in her mind, engraved in sunlight. She chanted a spell for Athena, and Cleo’s leafy aura brushed over her skin.

  When she opened her eyes, the sight before her was almost overwhelming. Each raindrop shone clearly as it fell—the air full of tiny, watery spheres. She could see each strand of gleaming white hair on the keres, each pore in their skin.

  But where the fuck is Tammi?

  They all looked exactly alike: the same straight noses and wide, white eyes framed with black lashes. Same gleaming white hair, same full breasts and narrow hips. Same long, black claws and sharp teeth. All had large black wings drooping from their backs. Rosalind searched for some distinguishing features in them, her stomach churning with a growing nausea.

  Her fingernails pierced her palms when she noticed a distinct flash of color—a distinct flash of chipped Rouge Dior nail polish, in fact.

  Tammi.

  Rosalind stared at her friend’s face, hoping for some flicker
of recognition, something recognizable in her eyes, but saw only emptiness. Tammi—the ker—sat cross-legged on the ground, her shoulders slumped.

  Sadness pierced Rosalind’s chest. Am I too late? Is this all that’s left of her?

  Her pulse raced, and she leapt over the side of the wall, scaling the wet marble to the courtyard below. When she reached the ground, she whirled around, fixing her gaze again on the ker with the chipped red nail polish.

  She stepped between the docile keres, brushing against them as she walked. A few turned to look at her, but their silvery eyes never focused. When she reached Tammi, she grabbed her by the arm, trying to hoist her up, but her friend’s body was limp.

  “Tammi,” she whispered. “Get up.”

  A flicker of confusion whispered across Tammi’s strange, pale features, but she didn’t react to this disembodied voice.

  Gods below. They’ve ice-picked her brain.

  “Tammi,” she whispered again, yanking her friend to her feet.

  Tammi rose for a moment before slumping down again.

  Lightning cracked the sky; thunder rumbled over the rocky terrain. Rosalind wiped the rain out of her eyes. She was about to collapse into the mud.

  Cleo, I need a spell for strength.

  The words of an Angelic spell burned into her mind, and she chanted each word. Her muscles blazed with power. She searched around for any sign of Drew, but saw nothing.

  She leaned down and hoisted Tammi to her feet.

  Tammi’s brow furrowed with confusion, and she let out a low growl.

  Rosalind gripped Tammi’s waist, pulling her friend’s arm around her shoulder.

  At least, I hope this is my friend.

  She glanced up at the altar. Erish had disappeared, no doubt to fetch another human. Rosalind’s stomach flipped. How many humans do they have trapped in this fortress?

  As she dragged Tammi closer to the altar, her gaze roved over the sad collection of human-keres littering the courtyard. What was the point of all this? She understood why the Brotherhood wanted them: more demonic attacks meant more power for them, and mob fear meant that they could take any measures they wanted, that they could purify the country in Blodrial’s ambrosia.