“Fine.” Dizzy, she leaned against the wall, trying to focus. “But I don’t understand. I didn’t hear you chant a spell for the night. You just raised your hands up and magic burst out of your body.”
“It’s a demigod privilege. Gods-magic. You won’t be able to do the same. Ask Cleo for a spell.”
Cleo’s aura whipped around Rosalind’s head, throwing her off balance. Rosalind rested her head in her hands. He brought me a wreath of blackthorn...
Caine gently grabbed her elbow. “You look like you’re about to collapse. After we get Drew and his demons out of here, we need to heal your mind. With powerful magic like we’re using, Cleo will take over.”
Rosalind looked at his face, so close to hers, and Cleo whispered, A beautiful man draws you into his spell like a moth to a flame.
Rosalind stared into his eyes. “I know.”
Chapter 7
With Cleo’s whispers ringing in her skull, Rosalind sprinted through the halls, her bare feet pounding the cold flagstones. She thundered down the stairs, pushing through the door into her own hall.
Miranda stood outside the bedroom door, still in her nightgown. “Rosalind!” Her face had gone pale. “I tried to stop it! I tried to help you call a storm!”
“I know!” Rosalind hurried to her sister. “We need to work together. I need you to chant with me.” She pushed open the door into their room and, as soon as Miranda was inside, bolted the door behind them.
It’s not enough, Cleo whispered. If Drew wants to kill you, he’ll find a way.
Rosalind’s hands shook, and she gripped her hair to steady them.
No way to be safe, Cleo snarled.
“Rosalind!” Miranda shouted. “Focus! What spell do we need to do?”
Seal the door, Rosalind, Cleo whispered. He’ll come after you. He’ll find you.
Shaking, Rosalind turned to the door and raised her hands, and she let Cleo whisper a spell through her lips. “Ezebu, utuk xul daltu.”
The green aura surged around the room, sealing the door, and Rosalind let out a slow breath.
Miranda touched her arm. “What spell do you need my help for?”
“We need to make sure the sun doesn’t rise again,” Rosalind said, crossing to the window. Total darkness still covered the city. “Our second souls will know the spell, according to Caine. And we have to appeal to Nyxobas.”
Shouts pierced the air. Rosalind flattened her palms against the window, listening to the rain hammer the cobblestones below. Then silver, gold, and blue magic unfurled into the air, lighting up the courtyard.
Drew. He was still here, still weaving his sadistic spells.
Below, more vampires stumbled into the courtyard, necklaces glinting in the light of the magic.
Rosalind’s heart thudded, and her gaze flicked to the sky. Through a break in the storm clouds, the sky had brightened to a deep indigo.
He’s raising the sun once more.
Rosalind’s breath caught in her throat. “The sun’s coming back. Chant with me. Help me appeal to Nyxobas.”
Miranda slid her hand into her twin’s, and together they launched into a spell for night.
Margidda Nyxobas, ed Nanna…
Their green and blue auras curled through the window, spiraling up to the brightening sky. As they chanted, Miranda’s watery aura washed over Rosalind’s skin, soothing her muscles. Using magic with her own twin felt powerful, and strength coursed through her body.
Sisters. Together. Like we were meant to be.
Rosalind closed her eyes, entreating Nyxobas to hide the sun once more. As she chanted, an image rose in her mind: a man with a ivory skin, black hair and eyes like starlight.
Nyxobas.
His powerful aura surrounded her. She could almost lose herself in the darkness, if she let herself. She could almost fall into the abyss…
Her body trembled at the power of the magic’s spell, and she forced her eyes open again. The sun had set once more, the sky darkening to a deep, midnight blue. She glanced at the courtyard again—at the vampires still stumbling through the doors, dazed—and felt as dazed as they looked. The powerful magic had completely drained her body, and her knees nearly gave way. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to conduct another spell if she wanted to.
“Look.” Miranda pointed out the window at a human man, clad in tight black clothes. “A Hunter.”
Behind the man, more humans poured from the doors, weapons drawn. The vampires stood there—dazed, completely defenseless.
Rosalind swayed, her body shaking. Even through her fog of exhaustion, one thing rang clear in her mind. “They’re going to slaughter them,” she whispered.
As Rosalind stared, unsteady on her feet, a dark-haired Hunter stalked over to a female vamp wearing only a thin red nightgown, and grabbed hold of her long auburn hair.
“We need to do something,” Miranda said.
Before Rosalind could launch into another spell, one of the courtyard doors exploded with silver magic. In a blur of silvered light, Caine sped over to the Hunter’s side. His black eyes burned with an animal ferocity. The ghost of dark wings rose from his shoulders.
Rosalind’s heart thudded at the sight of him. This was Caine, without the mask of humanity. And he was terrifying.
It took him less than a heartbeat to grip the Hunter’s throat. Another beat for him to rip the human’s head from his body, blood spraying in a crimson arc. Caine whirled, his hands finding their way to another Hunter’s neck.
“Or maybe we don’t,” she murmured. Where Caine was, Ambrose was sure to follow. Caine wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t already saved the vampire lord.
“Caine against a few dozen Hunters,” Miranda said. “My money is on the incubus.”
Sure enough, Ambrose was next through the shattered door, black magic curling from his body.
Out in the courtyard, the vampire lord tilted back his head, and roared. The sound rumbled through Rosalind’s bones, imbuing her with primordial terror and a desperate need to flee.
Still, she stayed rooted to the spot, watching the action unfold.
A female Hunter threw a stake at Ambrose, and he caught it deftly, hurling it back at her. It struck its mark right in the woman’s chest, and she fell to the ground.
“And now we just watch the slaughter,” Miranda said.
Rosalind watched, her jaw open, as Caine and Ambrose ripped through the Hunters, tearing out hearts, cutting off heads. Blurs of silver and black, breathtaking in their graceful savagery, leaving crumpled corpses in their wakes.
Ruthless predators, with the speed of gods, they seemed to have the courtyard entirely under control. Caine tore out the heart of the last remaining Hunter, tossing it on the ground.
Then—from nowhere—multi-colored magic burst around Ambrose. In the next moment, his body was gone.
Caine paused, still gripping the heart. Blood dripped down his arm, and he stared at the place where his king had stood.
Rosalind’s heart skipped a beat. Drew found a way to get to Ambrose after all.
The shadows behind Caine’s shoulders thickened into powerful, black-feathered wings. Caine tossed the heart to the ground, then beat the air with his wings, lifting into the sky.
Rosalind’s heart jumped into her throat. “What the hell just happened?”
“Drew just stole our king,” Miranda said through clenched teeth. “And Caine is going to find him.”
As Caine took flight, Rosalind’s gaze flicked back to the vamps. They were moving among the Hunters now, circling each other like feral creatures. Tendrils of blue, silver, and green magic curled from their necklaces.
Darren prowled around another vampire—a petite brunette, her fangs bared. With a loud roar, Darren pounced, leaping onto the woman and ripping into her neck.
Rosalind’s stomach churned. “Drew is using the vampire army against itself.”
Where is Aurora? Frantically, Rosalind scanned the courtyard, and caught a glimpse of her f
riend stumbling over the grass in a singed nectarine-colored dress.
Exhausted or not, if Rosalind didn’t act now, Aurora could be killed by another vamp any moment. Her heart hammered. She’d have to use her last reserves of magic on another rendition of the iron spell. “We can use the iron-bending spell again,” she told Miranda. “Will you help me?”
“Of course. Are you sure you’re up for it? You look completely exhausted.”
Rosalind gripped the window sill harder, steadying herself. “We don’t have a choice.”
“How are we supposed to help all of them?”
“I can direct the magic to the right places.” She glanced at her sister. “Can you start the spell?”
Miranda launched into Angelic, her briny aura trickling over Rosalind’s skin. Rosalind joined in, watching as their magic curled into the courtyard. The auras curled together in perfect whorls of blue and green, and she was struck once again by how right it felt to work together with her twin. Like being home.
She focused on channeling the magic around the vampire’s necks, starting with Aurora. The metal around her friend’s neck began to twist, and—
A thundering boom interrupted her thoughts, and she whirled.
Standing in her doorway, with magic bursting from his body, was Drew.
Her betrothed.
The world seemed to fall out from under her feet. In a rush of power, his aura rushed over her skin, disorienting her with a flood of sensations: soft moss and the smell of leaves, gravel, wind and water trickling over her body. With all this powerful magic at his fingertips, he’d be nearly impossible to fight.
Not to mention that she had nothing left in her system.
But I have to try.
He was here to slaughter her friends, and he wanted to own her like property—to use her for breeding his terrible, incestuous Atherton progeny. She’d do anything she could to keep him away from her.
“My dear betrothed,” he cooed.
Rosalind’s adrenalin surged, and she scanned the room for the nearest weapon. Her gaze landed on the silver pike resting near her bed. She hurtled across the floor to the weapon, snatching it from the ground. Heart pounding, she whirled.
Drew was right behind her. She swung for his head, hoping to bash in his skull.
Without breaking a sweat, he lifted a hand, catching the pike in his grip.
Her stomach flipped. Not good. He has some kind of superhuman strength.
With a placid expression, Drew twisted the pike, knocking her backward onto the bed. In the next heartbeat, he was on top of her, pressing his powerful fingers around her neck.
He squeezed. She kicked him in the groin, and he grunted. Still, his fingers tightened, crushing her throat.
She shot a panicked glance at Miranda, who threw a knife at Drew. The throw should have buried the blade in his skull, but Drew ducked in blur of whirling auras. The knife plunged into the wall.
Rosalind kicked him in the stomach, and he grimaced, locking his gaze on her. His fingers clenched harder around her throat.
He stared at her, eyes flashing with licks of red, green, and silver fire. “You haven’t even seen the real magic yet. Do you want to feel it? Inside you?”
“Get off of her!” Miranda threw a second knife, but Drew’s free hand whipped into the air, snatching it. He pressed the blade to Rosalind’s throat, then looked up. “If you take another step closer, Miranda, I’ll slit your sister’s throat. If you utter one syllable of Angelic, I’ll slice through to her spine before you can draw another breath. It’s a better punishment than you both deserve, after your betrayal.”
Rosalind’s breath left her lungs. “What do you want, Drew?” she choked out.
He stared down at her, arching an eyebrow. “You. Under my control. And now, I’ll show you both the real magic. You’ll be ever so impressed.” Still pushing the blade against her throat, he slid his hand down the front of her chest, pressing it against her stomach. His fingers grew cold as ice, and a chill spread through her. Glacial cold filled her ribs, freezing her skin, icing the inside of her mind.
Dread tightened her heart. Her body was no longer her own.
Drew dragged the knife lower, pointing the tip just over her heart. “Stand,” he said to Rosalind. His voice seemed to come from the inside of her own mind, and her skull filled with icy eddies of his magic.
Slowly, he backed away, still pointing the knife at her chest. Against her will, she felt herself stand. She stared right at him. Somewhere, deep under the icy chill of his magic, her mind churned with horror.
How is he doing this—a type of magic only possessed by demons?
He hadn’t put a collar around her throat—yet he could control her.
“What are you doing?” Miranda shouted.
Drew stroked Rosalind’s hair. “You keep quiet. or I’ll force her to walk right into my knife.” He leaned closer, whispering into Rosalind’s ear. “Turn around.”
His voice reverberated from the base of her brain. A part of her mind screamed in outrage, but her body followed his command, his frigid magic snaking around her skull.
Drew stepped closer, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her in tighter against his body. His fingers traced up and down her side, running over her ribs. With his other hand, he pressed the blade against her throat, nicking her skin.
“You’re probably hoping that monster you’re fucking will come to save you,” he purred. “He won’t. I’ve sent the alu demons after Ambrose. Right now, your incubus is protecting his king. He’s not here, protecting you. Now you know where his priorities lie. I told you before, and I’m telling you now: he’s using you. You’re his trophy. After he executed your parents like common criminals, defiling their daughter is the final nail in the coffin of Atherton’s respectability. Surely even you can see that.”
Miranda shouted again. “Let her go!”
“Keep your voice down, little girl,” Drew snarled, “or we’ll find out what a traitor looks like on the inside. Are you wondering how I’ve controlled her mind? After all, I’m not a demon. And she’s not wearing a necklace.”
Rosalind swallowed hard, finding that her mouth couldn’t form words, but even if she wanted to, she couldn’t for the life of her think of what she’d want to say. Her own thoughts were buried under the icy rush of his magic.
“Take the knife from me,” Drew said. “Hold it against your own throat.”
Tendrils of Drew’s colored magic clouded inside her head like frozen mist. She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be doing, only that she wanted to take the knife from him.
I’m supposed to lift the knife. Trembling, her hand rose and grasped the hilt. Drew released the weapon, and she felt herself pressing the blade to her own jugular.
Still gripping her waist, Drew stroked the back of her neck. “It’s that little scar I gave you,” he murmured. “A reminder that you belong to Azezeyl, the One who is All. It lets me control you. And it will never leave your flesh, not as long as you live.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the scar on her stomach began to freeze her skin, arctic cold. Her body shook, and cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
Under the icy fog of Drew’s magic, one thought thundered through her mind: Something terrible is about to happen.
She knew this feeling. She’d been here before.
“Let her go,” Miranda whispered, her voice pleading.
Rosalind closed her eyes, trying to clear a space in her mind, free from Drew’s aura. Her own thoughts were sluggish and frozen, but they still lurked deep in the hollows of her brain. She needed Caine here; he could manipulate magic without using Angelic. She’d seen him do it. There would be no warning before his aura exploded from his body, no need to move his mouth to launch into a spell. If only she… If only…
What was I thinking about?
All she knew was that she just that she wanted to press herself into Drew, to rub her body against the body behind her.
To keep herself warm in this frozen vacuum.
Drew leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “Did you really think you stood a chance, with that broken mind of yours? Half in our world, and half in Cleo’s.” His hand snaked up her neck, and he gripped her by the hair, pulling her head back. “I wanted to see you struggle. Wanted to watch the sheen of sweat on your throat. It wouldn’t be any fun if you didn’t put up a fight. And you know what? I’m ready for some real fun.”
He kissed her neck, and icy dread spread through Rosalind’s chest.
Get away from me.
“Leave her alone!” Miranda shouted.
“I still intend for you to be my wife,” he said. “Our children will be powerful, like us. We’ll rewrite the world. I’ll create a new empire, a new reality.” He stroked her ribs just below her breasts. “But you’ll need to obey me. And that means I need to teach you a lesson—one you’ll never forget. Because you’ve done something awful, Rosalind. Don’t you know that? You’ve been fucking the man who killed your parents.”
“She hasn’t,” Miranda said. “Not that it’s any of your—”
“Silence,” he growled, his fingers pressing into Rosalind’s ribs.
Involuntarily, Rosalind pushed the blade harder against her throat. Her teeth began to chatter.
He has complete control over me. Why can’t I get the auras out?
There was a way—but she couldn’t think clearly enough to remember how to do it.
“I know what I know!” Drew yelled, his fingers digging into her sides. “She thinks about Caine, and thinking is just as bad as doing. She wants to be his whore—him, our sworn enemy! But she belongs to me. That’s the way it was always supposed to be. And with her at my side, I will rule the world. I just need to tame her first. And then I will control the rocks, the sea, the skies, the night…”
As he spoke, images rose in Rosalind’s mind: her own fingertips, raising up mountains, sending storms raging with a flick of her wrist. A cold, raw power thrummed through her body, a glimpse of her future.
Drew pointed to the iron necklace that lay discarded on the bed between two crumpled wildflower wreaths. “Pick up the necklace, Miranda,” he said. “Put it on. Or Rosalind cuts her own throat.”
Blood Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 3) Page 5