She leaned back, sitting on her heels, catching her breath.
Caine brushed the hair from her face. “That was dramatic, but effective.”
She stared up at him. “And how many more times does this have to happen before Ambrose decides to do something dramatic? I need you and Ambrose to listen to me. We can’t just stay here in Lilinor, cowering in terror as one demon after another invades the city. You realize we can’t keep this up, right? Just being defensive, never attacking?”
“I know,” said Caine. “I want to murder the Hunters as much as you do.”
She rose on shaky legs, still hearing the echoes of the gods’ screams, the raw terror of Azazeyl when he plummeted to earth. “Good. Because we’re going to get Erish on our side, convert the vampires into something else, and invade Cambridge. We’re going to murder the Hunters.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Who is leading this army, you or me?”
She stood, brushing the dust off herself. “I am now. But I’ll take your advice into consideration.”
Chapter 21
Covered in dust and blood, Rosalind stormed through the halls, heading straight for Erish’s bedroom. As she walked through the hall, her boots echoing off the stone arches, the visions replayed in her mind: Azazeyl, falling to earth, splintering into seven pieces, his agony excruciating.
She pushed the image deep into her mental vault, and strolled up to Erish’s oak door, carved with a silver snake on the front. Rosalind pounded on the wood.
She waited for a moment, hearing nothing inside.
She banged on the door again. What she really wanted to do was to kick the damn thing down, but she wouldn’t do a very good job of persuading Erish to help her if she began the conversation that way.
“What?” Eventually, Erish’s languid voice pierced the wood.
“It’s Rosalind. I need to speak to you.” She swallowed hard. “I need your help, Queen Erish.” Still need to get used to those formalities.
“Come in.”
Rosalind opened the door to find Erish sitting in a golden armchair. Candlelight danced over her warm skin, and her black hair tumbled over a pearly gown.
Iron chain, studded with diamonds, encircled her wrists and ankles, binding her to her chair.
“To what do I owe this visit?” asked Erish.
“I missed our conversations.”
“So you showed up, covered in blood and dirt, smelling like a corpse.”
Rosalind cocked her head. “Perhaps I should have showered.”
“I thought I heard a battle. Pity I couldn’t see any of it.” She lifted her wrists, and light sparked off the gems in her shackles.
“Maybe you don’t need to stay in here,” said Rosalind. “If you could prove your loyalty to us again, maybe I could free you.”
Erish arched an eyebrow. “You could free me? Did Ambrose die and crown you?”
“No, but I’m taking matters into my own hands. I want to end this war as soon as we can.”
“And how do you want me to prove my loyalty?”
“I stole you back from Drew because you were his secret weapon. You were creating armies of demons for him, converting humans into demons.”
“And?”
“I just fought one of your demons. An Asag. You’ve been creating creatures that haven’t walked the earth for millennia.” Rosalind took a deep breath. “So I’m fairly confident you could convert vampires into something that walks in the daylight. Am I right?”
“I suppose.” Erish tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming. “And then what? I was once queen here. I was feared and respected before Ambrose cast me aside, his eye straying from one human whore to another.”
“You were a queen. And now you’re the most powerful weapon we have. That commands respect, too. You can be more than a wife, Erish. You can be our salvation. We will take down Bileth’s portrait in the entrance hall, and replace it with yours.”
A small smile curled Erish’s lips. “That would gratify me.”
“Are you on board?”
Erish sniffed. “Fine. But I’ll need a larger room, with more servants, and I will need them to worship me like a goddess twice per day. And of course, I’ll need ambrosia.”
“The gods-blood. I have a small vial in my room.”
Erish narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you need it for yourself?”
“As Drew so helpfully informed me, I don’t need to keep drinking it. As a descendant of Azazeyl, I only need to drink it once. Using gods-magic has transformed me already. And now, Blodrial lives inside me.”
“So you’ve become a demon, like the monsters you once hunted,” said Erish. “How does that feel, Hunter?”
Rosalind’s lips curled in a smile. “Powerful.” And terrifying.
Erish returned her smile. “Now you understand. But I’m not doing anything unless Ambrose knows about it. You may have gods-magic, and I may be a traitor, but Ambrose is still my king.”
* * *
By Erish’s side, Rosalind walked the meandering path that led to the abandoned temple of Nyxobas. A full moon hung in the dark sky like a jewel, and she breathed in Lilinor’s intoxicating scent of jasmine. In her right hand, she clutched the tiny vial of ambrosia. Although she didn’t need gods-blood for her magic anymore, she still had to fight the overwhelming urge to drain the vial herself, to feel the gods-blood surge through her veins. Something in the back of her mind urged her to drink it, to heal the splintering in her mind, to quiet the faint screaming of the gods.
A strange energy electrified her body as the gods clamored for a release from their torments.
She pushed the thought from her mind, glancing at Erish. “Are you ready to see your husband again?”
Erish looked at her sideways. “You haven’t told Ambrose I’m coming, I suppose.”
“No. I thought it might be better to catch him off guard. Especially with you dressed like that.”
Erish wore a sheer gold gown that hugged her curves, and her dark hair gleamed in the moonlight. Apart from the iron shackles binding her wrists, she looked every inch the goddess.
“And the vampires I’m supposed to experiment on,” said Erish. “Will they be here?”
“Assuming Aurora has found them.”
At the bottom of the hill stood the forgotten temple of Nyxobas, its crumbling walls bathed in pearly light.
“I can teach you,” said Erish. “If we’re supposed to convert the entire army, I wouldn’t mind a little help.”
“I’d be delighted.”
At the bottom of the hill, she crossed through the threshold into the old stone ruin.
There, Aurora leaned against a wall, sipping from a silver flask. Tammi paced the grass, a sword hanging from her hip.
And in the shadows stood two skeletal male vampires, bound in thick chains, stringy hair draped over bony shoulders.
“Hello, my friends,” said Rosalind. “Where’s Ambrose?”
“On his way with the incubi brothers,” said Tammi. “They don’t know why they’re coming, but I just said you were ordering it.”
“I’m sure that went over well,” said Rosalind.
Tammi shrugged. “At least it united Ambrose and Caine in their irritation with you.”
Rosalind nodded at the prisoners. “I see you brought us two victims. What were they imprisoned for?”
“Raping girls in the harem,” said Aurora. “Caine has a thing about that.”
“Glad to know someone has a moral code here,” said Tammi.
“Rapists?” Rosalind eyed the vampires. “Good. Now I don’t have to feel bad about doing this without your permission.”
The vamps stood glumly, hardly looking up from the ground. One of them, a man with thinning blond hair, said, “Aurora promised us fresh blood.”
Aurora frowned at Rosalind. “Those bastards haven’t had blood in months. Why aren’t they trying to drain you right now?”
Erish smirked at Rosalind. “Little girl, you’re not human
anymore.”
“It would appear not,” said Rosalind.
Tammi bared her pointed teeth in a smile. “She’s an abomination. Just like the rest of us.”
Rosalind looked at her friend. “If Erish and I can do this successfully, would you want to be human again?”
Tammi stroked her long, silvery hair. “To tell you the truth, Rosalind, I’ve never felt more like myself.”
Aurora sipped her drink. “We better hope Rosalind is immortal. On a scale of punching to evisceration, how violent do you think Ambrose will get when he learns she’s been plotting with his wife to mess with his army?”
Erish shrugged. “If I know my husband, he’s awfully fond of decapitation.”
“Everyone relax,” said Rosalind. “No one is decapitating anyone tonight.” She glared at the two prisoners. “Unless I get the spell a bit wrong with the rapists.”
Erish quirked a smile. “And what makes you think you can control an ancient vampire lord?”
“He wants to destroy the Brotherhood. So do I. And maybe you and I can give him what he wants. Victory. What’s there to get angry about?”
Tammi twirled her hair around her finger. “Maybe he’ll let you off with a light spanking. If it helps, I’d be willing to make the sacrifice of taking the punishment for you.”
Rosalind clutched her heart. “That’s my girl. Always so generous.”
The sound of footfalls over gravel turned Rosalind’s head. Flanked by Malphas and Caine, the vampire king strode over the path. His shadowy aura curled from his body, darkening the air around him, his emerald eyes locked on his wife.
Slowly, his cold gaze slid to Rosalind. “Why have you released this traitor from her prison cell?”
Rosalind straightened. “This traitor is going to help us make daywalkers. She was the Brotherhood’s greatest weapon. That’s why I risked my life to get her out of there. And now she can be our greatest weapon.”
Erish examined her nails. “I am awfully good at creating demons.”
Caine’s aura curled the air around him. “We’ve noticed that, since you have so successfully created the armies that attack us every few days. Thank you for the Asag, by the way. If Rosalind hadn’t stopped him, we’d have lost half our army.”
“But you had Rosalind, so I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” countered Erish. “I don’t think she’s as fragile as when I first met her. I’d advise you not to underestimate her.”
“I’d never do anything so stupid.” Caine leveled his icy gaze on Rosalind. “Especially not when she seems to be conspiring to take over Lilinor’s army.”
“Divide and conquer.” Shadows pooled around Ambrose. “Pit Caine and me against each other. Is that your strategy?”
“The Hunter scents weakness, and goes in for the kill.” Caine closed in on her, studying her intently. He stopped just inches from her, staring down into her eyes. Gently he lifted her chin, peering into her eyes. “I can see the magic of the seven gods flickering in your eyes.”
She could feel them, too, still screaming in the hollows of her mind.
Chapter 22
She stepped away from Caine, ignoring him, and looking at Ambrose. “I’m not taking over your city, Ambrose. But we need to act now. We don’t have time for the two of you to decide who will take on the third soul. I have another solution, and we need Erish’s help.”
“I was the Brotherhood’s most dangerous weapon,” said Erish. “And I can be yours, too. I’ll help you destroy them. And when I’m done, you can let me out of my chains.”
Ambrose glared at the two chained vampires. “And why have you dragged two rapists into the Temple of Nyxobas?”
“We’re going to try a little experiment,” said Rosalind. “We’ll turn them into…” she frowned. She didn’t want to convert them into anything more dangerous than they already were, so they could go around terrorizing more women. “We’ll turn them into wood sprites. Just to see if demons can be converted into other demons.”
Caine nodded. “Perfect. I’ve always wanted to lead an army of three-inch-tall wood sprites.”
“It’s just an experiment. We’ll turn the rest of your army into valkyrie, or dragon shifters, or incubi, or—”
“No succubi,” said Erish. “But anything else is fine by me, as long as they’re capable of killing. The succubi are meant to be worshipped as goddesses, and I’ll not have any little vampire strumpets filling that role.”
Caine stared at Rosalind. He seemed to have gone silent, but she could see the disapproval in his eyes, and she knew what he was thinking. She was turning into her parents, and she’d go mad with the power of seven gods. Humans were never meant to wield gods-power, and so on. She’d just have to ignore his disapproval for now.
Malphas shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”
She took a deep breath. “It’s just two prisoners, and no one even cares if they live or die.”
“I do!” one of them called out.
“Once we see if it works,” said Rosalind, “then we can decide what to do with the rest of the army. All I’m doing is giving you more information.”
“And you expect my soldiers to agree to this?” said Ambrose.
Rosalind shrugged. “I have complete faith that Caine will be able to convince them.”
Ambrose gestured at the prisoners. “Show me.”
Rosalind turned to Erish. “Shall we?”
Erish nodded, and they crossed through the long grasses to the two prisoners.
The one with blond, stringy hair stared at her. “Did you say wood-sprite?”
“It was the first thing that came to mind.”
“Will you turn us back into vampires again?” asked the other.
“No,” said Erish. “But we’ll let you free in the woods. Seems a fair trade. You won’t need to starve, and we don’t have to worry that you’ll attack anyone else.”
“What if—” the blond began, but Rosalind silenced him with a flick of her wrist. A burst of shadow magic sealed his mouth with a thick layer of skin. He’d get his mouth back when he was a wood sprite.
The other vampire began shaking, his chains rattling.
Erish thrust her hand before Rosalind. “I’ll need the ambrosia.”
Reluctantly, Rosalind handed it over, even though the gods’ voices in her mind desperately wanted her to drink it, to feel whole again. All seven, together in one…
Nevertheless, she forced herself to drop the vial into Erish’s hand, and Erish’s dark eyes sparked with excitement. She pulled the cork from the top of the glass vial, then emptied the blood down her throat, moaning as she drank. Her dark aura flared, rushing over Rosalind’s skin in waves of silky pleasure.
“Ahhh…” Erish licked her lips. “Delicious.” Magic pooled around her, in wild tendrils of copper, blue, and green. Her dark hair began to snake around her head, writhing in the air, and her eyes darkened to deep, black pools. “The One who is All fills me with his power, he of the seven gods.” Her finger trailed down her chest. “I will teach you the spell, Rosalind. But you must listen. Hear the call of Azazeyl, deep in your bones. Let him fill you. Azazeyl, the One who is All, gave the gift of language to the beasts. And from language, the beasts created meaning. Through words, the beasts became gods.” Her words were coming out in a frantic rush. “Gods or devils, fated to heaven or hell— which, I cannot tell you, only that it is Azazeyl who gives you the gift of creation.”
The hair rose on the back of Rosalind’s neck. Somehow, these words rang true in the dark chambers of her mind.
Erish stepped closer to the mouthless vampire, whose pale eyes snapped open wide with terror. He seemed to be trying to scream under that layer of skin. The succubus gripped his skull, her magical aura curling around his body like colored vines. The vampire’s eyes widened further, his body shaking.
Erish turned to Rosalind again, her eyes two fathomless pits. “Listen, child, to the words of Azazeyl. The One who is All. Listen and r
emember them.”
Erish threw back her hand, and launched into a spell, the words as old as time itself. And somehow, Rosalind understood them: Erish was weaving a spell of renaming. Light turns into dark, dark into light. Earth turns to sky, and up to down, pain to pleasure. Erish revoked the title of vampire, and bequeathed a new one: the angels’ name for wood sprite.
And at the final word, the vampire’s body seemed to vibrate with light, and the sound of cracking bones pierced the air. His skin hardened, becoming wood-like, his fingers like spindly twigs, legs like gnarled, slim branches. Widened with horror, his eyes turned yellow, and a spray of leaves sprouted from his skull. A mouth appeared—one like a hollow in a tree. Finally, his entire body constricted, snapping down to the size of a mouse. Yelping, the tiny creature scampered through the long grasses.
Erish’s lip curled in a wicked smile. “It seems that demons can be converted. Just like humans.”
The other vampire’s mouth hung open, and he stared at Rosalind. “No. I don’t want to be a wood sprite. I’m a vampire. I—”
The voices of the gods rang in the back of Rosalind’s mind. She swished her hand, slamming the vampire with a spell that covered his mouth with skin. His screams died in his throat.
Caine stepped closer, watching her closely.
Rosalind turned to him, taking a deep breath. “What was the name of the girl he raped?”
“Vanessa,” he said.
“Thanks.” She stared into the vampire’s terrified eyes. “This is for Vanessa.”
She stepped closer, placing her hands on the vampire’s head, trying to ignore the greasy feel of his hair.
From behind her, Erish said, “Think of the One Who is All. Think of his true name. His blood runs through your veins.”
Rosalind closed her eyes, mentally repeating the name Azazeyl. As she felt his power percolate in her ribs, her body tensed. It felt too powerful, like he could overwhelm her. She wanted to clamp down on it, the way she had with Cleo’s magic, to keep it under wraps. But Caine had said that she needed to give in to the gods, to allow them to take over just a little if she wanted to use their power.
Divine Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 4) Page 14