vampires mage 02 - witch hunter

by crawford, c n

  The night sky blazed over the rowan grove, graven with chinks of light. Cloaked in darkness, he was coming for her over the tall grasses, grasses thick with yarrow and cowslips.

  “Rosalind!” Tammi pinched her. “Stay with us. I know this is hard. We just need one more spell.”

  The image vanished, and Rosalind blinked. Her chest ached with a strange longing at the loss of the vision. Now her muscles were on fire, and she wanted to go back to that cool, beautiful field under the night sky, to see the man who was coming for her.

  She glanced around at the cavern—at the prisoners standing in their cells, some of them smiling, a few sniffling. Above, the cavern ceiling continued trembling, and small pieces of rock fell into the rushing water below them.

  Just one more spell.

  Rosalind closed her eyes, resting her head on Tammi’s shoulder while her friend shouted out instructions: jump into the water, follow the river, and leap into the fountain.

  As soon as Tammi had finished her instructions, Rosalind asked Cleo for another spell to turn the prisoners invisible. Power flooded her body once more, and she watched the glimmering green aura unfurl before her. She concentrated on forcing it to curl out, like hundreds of vines unfurling, wrapping around the prisoners.

  With the rush of energy, her eyes closed.

  She stood with her back to a rowan tree, its leaves rustling in the breeze. Gracefully, he walked in shadows, coming for her. He would run his fingers over her skin, lighting her body on fire with his touch. Ambrose. His name filled her with—

  A sharp pinch pulled her from the dream. Exhausted, she rested her head on Tammi’s shoulder once again, watching as the cavern’s water splashed with each invisible prisoner making their escape. What the hell, Cleo? Leave me out of your weird sex life. What the hell was this weird obsession with Ambrose?

  “Rosalind,” Tammi said. “I’m taking us out of here. Something’s coming for us.”

  Tammi turned to fly from the cavern, when up ahead the sound of terrified screams echoed. Curls of multicolored magic streamed into the air. Oh, shit.

  “I hope you’re ready for a fight,” Rosalind muttered to Tammi. Her body felt-half dead, and she wouldn’t be much good in a fight now. She needed to use one last spell, but at some point, she’d run out of energy completely.

  Closing her eyes, she chanted the spell for battle fury, letting her body charge with hot, angry fire. She let go of Tammi’s neck, dropping into the water, then pulled the sword from her back and rushed toward the screams.

  As she ran into the narrow cavern, her mouth dropped open.

  The statues they’d passed were not statues at all. They were alive now; their skin and clothing were still the color of sand, but they moved—and two of them were armed.

  “Prisoners!” Rosalind screamed. “Run!”

  One of the knights ran for Rosalind, his sword drawn. She parried, and their blades clashed, echoing off the rock.

  “We will protect the Atherton Dynasty,” the knight growled, his voice like gravel. “Loyalty binds us.”

  “I am an Atherton,” she shouted back, her sword clanging against his.

  “Traitor,” he snarled.

  What did he know? She wanted to crush him into gravel, into dust. She wanted to melt him with her fury. But her bones ached already, and the knight began to close in. His blade pierced her arm; blood spurted. Her heart pattered like a hunted animal.

  She lunged, driving her sword into the knight’s chest before ripping it out again. His stony eyes bulged, and he staggered back, though it didn’t look like the blow had killed him. She had no idea how to kill a statue.

  Around the statues, the colored auras burned brighter. Her gaze darted to the female, who now chanted a spell, trying to target the fleeing prisoners. Rosalind wanted to grind them to dust...

  If you can see the aura, you can control it.

  Gritting her teeth, she focused on the woman’s aura, freezing it in its path. The magic hung in the air around the woman. While Rosalind was concentrating, the second knight ran for her, slamming a fist into her head. Dazed, she stumbled and fell to her knees, and the knight forced her head under the freezing water. A stream of water ran down into her mouth, and for a second her throat convulsed.

  Panicking, she struggled against him, gripping her sword below the rushing water. With all her effort, she forced herself up again until her mouth breached the surface. She gasped. Just before the knight could force her head under again, she swung her sword in a wide arc, cutting through his legs.

  He fell into the water.

  Rosalind rose, coughing up water, listening to the shouts of the escaping prisoners. She could feel some of them brushing against her as they ran.

  And now it was time for her and Tammi to make their exit.

  Tammi flew over, reaching out, and Rosalind wrapped her arms around Tammi’s neck. Tammi beat her wings, carrying Rosalind above the fleeing prisoners who splashed through the water.

  Rosalind’s body felt torn between complete exhaustion and the remains of a power rush. Her limbs shook violently, and nausea welled in her gut. Had she really seen Ambrose in her vision? Where had that come from?

  Rosalind chanted the spell for invisibility, as they approached the cave’s mouth.

  Tammi soared into the open mountain air, circling over the river. “That was amazing, Rosalind. You’re one hell of a good witch.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I have no idea where to look for Caine, by the way.”

  Rosalind closed her eyes. She still had no way of knowing if she’d made the right decision or not. If Caine and Miranda had been killed while they were freeing the prisoners, it would gut her.

  They swooped around the mountain, and Rosalind’s hair whipped into her eyes, obscuring her vision.

  “Rosalind.” Tammi’s voice held a hint of panic. “I can see Caine. And it doesn’t look good.”

  Chapter 28

  Rosalind pulled her hair out of her eyes and craned her head, trying to get a glimpse, but all she saw was a steep rock wall, overgrown with some vegetation.

  “What’s happening?”

  “I’m taking us to the summit, near one of the towers. Caine is there. With Drew. And Miranda.”

  Rosalind’s chest tightened. Fuck.

  Tammi dove lower, and the wind rushed over Rosalind’s skin.

  She arched her neck, catching a glimpse of a wide ledge, about thirty feet across. She could see Drew and Miranda; Miranda’s arms were bound behind her back. “Where’s Caine?”

  “Chained to the cliffside, wrapped in iron.”

  Rosalind’s stomach turned. “What the fuck?”

  “I’m going to drop you off on the cliffside, by Drew. Maybe you can take his legs out with the sword, or whatever you need to do. I’ll swoop down and try to free Caine.”

  “I can do this,” Rosalind said. She just needed to take out one person, and she’d already beaten him once.

  “Get ready for a hard landing,” Tammi said. “I’m still not that good at this.”

  As they drew closer, Rosalind craned her neck again. For just a brief moment, as they approached the cliff, she caught a glimpse of Caine. He hung, bound to the cliffside, shirtless. What the hell is going on?

  There wasn’t time to mull it over. She braced herself, and in the next minute she felt herself tumbling onto a rocky ledge, tangled up in Tammi’s limbs.

  When she rolled onto her back, pulling herself out of Tammi’s grasp, Drew was staring right at her. He chanted a spell, his colorful aura bursting from his hand. Instantly, Rosalind and Tammi were visible again. Just as she’d said she would, Tammi leapt off the cliff’s edge. Good. She’s going to help Caine.

  Rosalind stared at Drew. He took a step over the rocky ledge, picking her up by the shoulders and slamming her up against the wall. Pain wracked her spine. The battle fury spell was wearing off faster this time, and Cleo’s aura needed time to recharge.

  Drew leaned into her,
whispering into her ear. “I guess I underestimated your treachery. I’ve got your lover now. He will have a slow death. Just like Azazeyl, who didn’t deserve it. I wanted Miranda to watch, too. I think she has a certain fondness for him, just like you.”

  Rosalind glanced to her right, hoping to see Tammi carrying Caine in her arms. Instead, she caught a glimpse of the harpies heading right for Caine.

  Her legs felt weak. “I don’t understand. Who is Azazeyl?”

  Drew tightened his grip on her arms, his thumbs pressing into her wrists. This wasn’t much of a fight so far, but the aura felt dull and weak in her body; her tendons ached. “You’ll understand his power soon. I’ll drive it into you.”

  She glanced to her right again, horror twisting in her gut as she watched a harpy dive right for Tammi. The harpy ripped Tammi from the cliffside, grasping onto her arms with her talons.

  Okay. Time to get those spells going again. She mentally asked Cleo for the battle fury spell, and the words blazed in her mind. But as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, Drew clamped a hand over her mouth, pressing her hard against the rocky wall. “I think you need a reminder of Azazeyl.” Drew whispered into her ear. “I think you need a reminder of a lot of things, Rosalind.”

  He began chanting, his spell tingling over her body, crawling over her skin; the skin on her stomach began to burn, and hot pain ripped her gut open. She screamed into his hand, then bit his fingers, hard.

  He snatched his hand back, roaring. With all her remaining energy, she slammed him in the stomach with her foot. He staggered back, and she launched into the battle spell. As she finished, her strength surged like molten lava through her veins, burning away the pain where Drew had seared her skin. The battle fury raged, hotter than before, like a dying star.

  I want blood.

  The image of Ambrose in the rowan grove flickered into her mind, and she blinked it away. Not now, Cleo.

  She pulled the sword from her sheath, but Drew held out a hand, enveloping the sword with his magic. It shook in Rosalind’s hand, no longer in her control. Trembling, she concentrated on the magic, trying to force Drew’s auras away from her sword.

  But Drew could see magic, too, and he’d had more practice.

  The sword flew from her hand, soaring over the cliff’s edge, and her rage ignited. She needed to kill someone. Cleo’s wild green aura ran wild, curling inside her skull.

  Ambrose walks in darkness. He is coming for me…

  “Not now, Cleo!” she shrieked.

  Drew rolled his shoulders, ready to fight with his hands. “Careful, Rosalind. You’re losing your mind. Just like Miranda and Caine.”

  The rowan trees were on fire… He made me burn one night.

  Rosalind gritted her teeth, clearing her mind. “I don’t need a weapon to fight you, Drew.” Battle fury rattled her body, and she clenched her fists. She kicked him in the head, listening to the crunch of bone. He staggered back.

  I was waiting for him one night, but it wasn’t Ambrose who came for me.

  “Shut up, Cleo!” she shouted, trying to push the dark grove from her mind.

  When her vision was clear again, she was staring at Drew, who chanted a battle spell of his own. Rushing for her, he slammed her into the rock once again, with what seemed like enough force to shake the mountain. Her bones sang with pain. He punched her in the face, and it felt as if her skull splintered.

  The stars burned like graven diamonds… What did I do to deserve this, Ambrose?

  Drew gripped her by the shoulders, throwing her to the ground.

  Already, she could feel the battle fury fading from her body, leaving behind the gnawing pain and an overwhelming sense of grief. Powerlessness. Before she had the chance to push herself up again, Drew was on top of her, crushing the breath out of her. He gripped her wrists, forcing them against the rocky ground.

  “You don’t know how to control that magic. It’s driving you mad, you little fool. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Lightning cracked the cloudy skies above. Overhead, an eagle screeched, diving for the cliffside.

  Grunting, she tried to get him off her, but Drew gripped her tight. His eyes blazed. “Perhaps it’s time that you learn what your lover did before my eagle eats his guts from his body.”

  Panic slammed into her. “I don’t care what he did,” she choked out, staring at the eagle, diving for Caine.

  “I tried sending you the images, but you refused to pay attention. You were there, Rosalind. You should have remembered.”

  Her heart beat hard in her chest, but all the fight was ebbing out of her. There was something about his words, the key to unlocking that caged memory.

  Rosalind stood by the shore, staring at the four stakes. Caine grabbed her, forcing her up against the rotten wood. He plunged the iron nail through her heart. But he wasn’t finished—there was a man there, too, screaming.

  Her eyelids flickered, and the realization punched a hole through her heart. It wasn’t her future. It was her past.

  Drew’s face reddened. “Caine killed the one true king and queen. Not the ones in the history books. Not the king and queen hundreds of years ago—though he slaughtered them, too. A demon like him can’t stand for any human to be worshipped above him.”

  Drew’s words pierced her to the bone, and she simply stared at him.

  “Caine murdered the true king and queen. The Atherton line. He slaughtered your father and your mother before they had the chance to establish their rightful kingdom, blessed by Azazeyl. Caine drove iron nails right into their hearts while you watched, left them to bleed to death on the stakes. And I will build my kingdom on their bones.”

  Horror knocked the wind out of Rosalind, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  “You were there, Rosalind!” he shouted. “I tried to remind you in your dreams, but you don’t have a fucking clue, do you? Now he wants to make you his whore, to destroy the last of the Athertons—and you’ve played right into his plans. Your faulty memory is the only reason I haven’t already slaughtered you for your disloyalty. You’re an Atherton, Rosalind. Loyalty is supposed to bind you.”

  Sorrow choked her, and she closed her eyes. My mother and father. She couldn’t remember them even now—apart from their deaths.

  Her gut churned, and she glanced out at the stormy sky. Tammi was still out there—trapped on the losing side of an aerial wrestling match with a harpy. In fact, it looked like the harpy was choking the life out of her. Rosalind didn’t know where the eagle had gone, but Drew had just ripped her heart out and thrown it into the chasm.

  She could remember it all so clearly now—Caine stabbing her mother. She remembered every drop of blood spilling from her parent’s chests. She just didn’t know why.

  Her gaze slid back to Drew. The fact was, she knew what he was up to. He’d been helping the Brotherhood slaughter humans. He’d allowed Erish to imprison hundreds of people, starving them and turning them into keres. He’d nearly destroyed Tammi completely.

  As Rosalind looked out into the roiling skies over the chasm, she stared in horror as the harpy let Tammi drop, unconscious.

  One last blast of frozen rage gave Rosalind strength, and she brought her knee up, hard, into Drew’s groin. His eyes bulged, and she grabbed him by the back of the hair, thrusting up her hips and pulling him off—letting go right over the cliff’s edge.

  She rolled onto her hands and knees, her body wracked with pain. Swallowing hard, she peered over the cliff’s edge, the blood rushing from her head. She caught a glimpse of a sheer cliff face—no Caine in sight.

  Just before her vision blurred, she was in the rowan grove once more, waiting for Ambrose.

  Chapter 29

  Rosalind’s eyelids flickered open, and she rolled onto her back, trying to get her bearings. I’m not in a gods damned rowan grove. I’m in Maremount.

  Her gaze landed on Miranda, who stood with her arms behind her back, still gagged. She wore one of those iron neckla
ces, and her eyes looked glassy.

  Rosalind groaned. She felt as if she’d died and only come halfway back to life. A sharp pain pierced her head, and she swallowed her nausea. Cleo’s starry night sky flickered in her mind, and she forced the image away, trying to remember what had just happened.

  A jolt of fear tensed her muscles. Tammi. What had happened to her? She sat up, glancing out into the chasm. Her gaze landed on Drew—carried into the sky by one of his harpies.

  But when she looked down, she saw him. Caine.

  He’d grown enormous, black feathered wings—like a raven’s—and he was flying up from the river. Tammi lay in his arms. Her head drooped, but her chest rose and fell. She was still alive.

  Caine—the angel of death, the demon who’d murdered her parents. Dread coiled around her at the sight of him. She could remember him now, that day when the earth had shaken below her feet. She could remember the ferocity in his darkened eyes when he drove the nail through her mother’s heart.

  Miranda screamed and screamed.

  That stake, the one where she’d been kissing him… bile rose in her throat, and she retched.

  Never trust Nyxobas’s demons, Cleo’s voice whispered in her mind.

  As Caine approached, she pushed herself away from the cliff’s edge on her backside, too tired to stand. She wanted to put distance between herself and him.

  He will betray you, Cleo whispered. He’s just like Ambrose. Run from him as fast as you can.

  Caine landed on the cliff’s edge. Rain ran down his tattooed chest. “Your little boyfriend Drew laid a trap for me. I’m just glad you came back to stall him before that eagle made a dinner of me.” He frowned, watching her carefully. “What’s happened to you?”

  She shook her head, unable to get any words out.

  He gently laid Tammi down on the cliff’s edge. “How much magic have you been using?”

  “I remember now,” she said at last.

  His face seemed to pale, and his wings folded into his back, disappearing. He reached out, as if to stroke her face, then lowered his hand. “You remember.”