A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Let me guess. You lied to Malphas. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?” Abruptly, he rose from the bath, water dripping down his perfect body.
“Using the gods-magic warped my mind.” She folded her arms over the tub’s edge, watching as Caine toweled himself off. “I thought Malphas was Drew. I attacked him. And then I was in Cleo’s world, getting visions of Ambrose getting frisky in a stairwell.”
“According to Malphas, an incubus might put himself in harms way if his well runs dry,” Caine said. “Did Malphas’s well run dry when he was training you, perhaps? And then, of course, he needed healing.”
“I feel like you already know how this story goes.”
Caine was already pulling on his clothes. Apparently, their post-coital moment was over.
“You let Cleo take over your mind,” he said. “And Cleo has a thing for shadow demons. Whether it’s Malphas or me, she’s not too picky. Is that about right?”
“Wait a minute—”
“What exactly did you do with him?”
“I didn’t do anything. Cleo kissed him.”
“It must be nice to be able to divest responsibility so easily. You’re not responsible; Cleo is. How convenient.” Caine’s gaze pierced right thorough her. “If I were able to divorce myself from the things I’ve done, what a different person I’d be. Except I don’t think the way you do.”
With Caine’s fury chilling the room, she no longer felt comfortable sitting there naked. Shivering, she rose. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” Or on me. Maybe if she soothed his bruised ego… “Look, Cleo might have been the reason I kissed Malphas, but she wasn’t the reason I came here.”
He cocked his head, eyes narrowed, as he buttoned up his shirt. “Oh, really? So you weren’t hearing her voice when you knocked on my door?”
She grabbed a towel from the side of the bath. “Well, yes, I was hearing her voice. But she wanted me to see Ambrose. I came here instead, because I wanted to see you.”
“Are you quite sure? Do you even know which of your thoughts are yours and which are hers? Did she prompt you to put on that black lace underwear, or was that your idea?”
I thought demigods didn’t get jealous. “Obviously you’re pissed off.”
“I’m not angry. I’m just unclear who I had sex with today—you or Cleo—and I’m not sure who I’ll find you with tomorrow.” He crossed to a table, pouring himself a whiskey. He didn’t offer her any. “Not that it matters. I have plenty of courtesans to keep me busy.”
Her cheeks burned as she dried herself off. “I’m sorry I kissed your brother.”
“Was it you, now? I thought you said it was Cleo. Anyway, like I said, it doesn’t matter.” He leveled his steely gaze on her. “But you need to get control of that voice in your head. And in the future, try not to mislead people when they ask if you’re losing control.” He sipped his whiskey, leaning against his bedpost. “But then, misleading people comes easily to you, doesn’t it? I do wonder what secrets I’ll learn, when I find out about that spell you seem so keen to keep a secret from me.”
As she dried off her body, irritation simmered. “You have more secrets than I have. You and Malphas keep referencing something that happened when you lost your mind. But neither of you will tell me what it is, or how you came into contact with my parents in the first place. And let’s not forget that you neglected to mention that little detail about slaughtering my parents until I found it out on my own. I guess misleading people comes easily to you.”
“Perhaps I have a good reason to keep things from you. Clearly, you can’t be trusted.”
“That’s bullshit. Has it occurred to you that maybe you’re projecting a little? You lost your mind, you did something terrible that I’m not allowed to know about, and now here I am to remind you of it all? Who are you really angry at, Caine? Me, or yourself?”
Shadows grew denser and heavier around the room, and the air chilled by ten degrees. Suddenly, the room was freezing, and goose bumps rose on her skin.
“Okay, Rosalind. Let me put this in a way you can’t argue with. We can both agree that Cleo can’t be trusted, and you share at least half of your mind with her.”
Rosalind snatched her dress off the bed. The mood between them had been well and truly killed. “Right. I guess it’s time for me to leave now.”
He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Not just yet. We have things we need to talk about.”
“Like what?”
“Like how we’re going to defeat Drew. His power is immense. I’ve seen the new city he’s built in Cambridge, using gods-magic. Obviously, the Brotherhood are letting him build his empire, working with him. If we’re not careful, he’ll break through the shields again. Do you have any idea what they might be planning?”
And just like that, he was ready to switch tacks and talk about military tactics. The shift of topic was disorienting.
“Okay.” Her dress stuck to her damp body. She shivered, trying to gather her thoughts. “I suppose this is his new empire, for his brainwashed bride. I’m just not clear what the Brotherhood is planning.”
“I suspect the Brotherhood may be the true architects of this new empire, with Drew acting as their artisan.”
With a shudder, she said, “Tell me what it looks like.”
“They’re building temples to Blodrial, with great fire pits in the center. For publicly roasting demons, I presume. But I think it’s beginning to backfire on them. As much as humans are terrified of monsters like us, they’re growing even more scared of the new empire. After all, the Brotherhood are using magic now, and they want to kill heretics in horrific ways. The tide of public opinion is turning against them.”
“The change of public opinion might sound like a good thing, but it’s dangerous. The Brotherhood will do whatever it takes to turn that around. They’re masters of propaganda. As soon as I get through the fire hell, I need to find Drew.” She glanced at Caine. “And you’ll need to allow Malphas to take on that soul. We can’t kill them without an army.”
Caine’s face darkened. “We don’t need to decide anything just yet. You’re not going into Boston unprepared.”
“You did. You were hunting Drew on your own before we called you back here.”
“And I might do so again. But I’ve been fighting for five centuries. Gods-magic isn’t everything. I have the advantage of centuries of warfare.”
“Right.”
“Malphas and I can keep the shield up, and you’ll need to spend some time actually learning how to use the magic. It’s not enough to just go through the hells. You have to practice. When it’s time, we’ll go into Boston together. I’ll help protect you.” His expression hardened. “Since you’re a military asset, I mean. Ambrose wants you alive.”
Dick. “And what happens to everyone in Massachusetts in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, The Brotherhood are terrifying everyone. Ordinary people are no longer on their side, and that’s a good thing for us.”
She shook her head. “They’re dangerous when they get desperate.”
“How? What are they likely to do next?
Her head throbbed, and she rubbed her temples. “If people are becoming fearful of them, they’ll find a way to deflect the terror elsewhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re going to create monsters worse than they are. Just like they did with the oneiroi. And then they’ll execute them publicly, in a spectacle of violence. It serves two functions: keeps the rebels in line, and satiates the mob’s fear-driven bloodlust at the same time.” She thought of the pale white scars on his chest. “I think you know what it’s like to be at the receiving end of that sort of justice.”
His jaw tightened. “Right. Well, you’d best get back to your room. You’ll need to sleep before you visit the fire hell, otherwise Cleo might have you seducing half the city while we should be fighting Drew.”
“
You’re really irked at me and Malphas, aren’t you?”
“Don’t be absurd. I don’t care what you do. Do you have any idea how many women I’ve been with? You came here, and removed your dress. I’m an incubus. How did you expect me to react?”
She flinched.
“And I only kissed you in the hall because you asked me to. Don’t think it means anything more.”
His words felt like a punch to the chest. “I get the point.”
“I just want to make sure you stay focused long enough for us to kill Drew, and create the daywalkers. You need to remain sane for that. That is my one concern. Apart from that, I don’t care whose room you strip off in.”
Well, this went well.
Tears stung her eyes, and she wanted to get the hell away from him before he saw them. “Right. Time for sleep, then.” She cast a quick glance around the room for her underwear, but decided to head for the door instead. She didn’t want to spend another second in Caine’s presence.
She pulled open the door into the drafty hall, and Ambrose’s words whispered in her mind: I would assume he has no interest in you. He has been with many beautiful women before.
This was absolutely mortifying. A sharp pain pierced her chest, and she blinked away her tears.
Chapter 34
Rosalind managed to forget about Caine long enough to catch a few hours of sleep. As Caine had so nicely pointed out, if she didn’t sleep before visiting the fire hell, she risked seducing half the city.
When she’d woken, Miranda had stirred. Within seconds, she’d literally begun tearing at her hair and ranting about sunlight. Rosalind had to run around, collecting an army of candles to recreate some semblance of daylight before meeting Malphas.
Then she’d snuck out through the fortress halls, and through one of the exits.
Now, by Malphas’s side, she trod carefully through Edin Woods. He seemed to be leading her back to the rocky ledge overlooking the sea—the place where she’d jumped on top of him and kissed him.
She stared at the thick undergrowth as she walked. Moonlight filtered through the trees, dappling the moss and deadfall with flecks of silver.
If she let her mind go blank, maybe she could forget everything Caine had said to her earlier. That whole don’t think it meant anything sentiment. Not only was she trying to clear her mind of Caine’s words, but she also wanted to avoid thinking about what lay ahead of her in just a few minutes.
If she thought about the fire hell for too long, she’d flee back to the fortress in complete terror.
As they closed in on the cliff’s edge, her mouth went dry, and all attempts to clear her mind failed completely. She dreaded this hell more than the others. She’d already felt the excruciating pain of the flames when Cleo had tormented her. As she walked, her legs began to shake, and her pulse raced at the memory of blistering, blackening skin.
When they reached the edge of the wood, she faltered, swaying. Swift as lightning, Malphas slipped an arm around her back to steady her.
He peered down at her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m not looking forward to burning.”
“I know. Just try to remember that it’s not real. It’s your mind playing tricks on your body.”
“But I came back from the shadow void with a giant gash in my stomach.”
“True,” he said. “The mind is a powerful thing. But if your body starts to burn, I’ll stop it. You just need to trust me, okay?”
She swallowed hard. “Right.”
“Look, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want. You’ve already been through five of the hells. Maybe you don’t need fire magic if you’ve got five types of gods-magic already.”
She shook her head. “Drew will have fire magic. And I think we need all the power we can get on our side. Don’t you?”
“Probably, yes.” He cocked his head. “On the plus side, flames won’t hurt you after this. The Brotherhood can put you in one of their fires, but you won’t burn.”
“Really?” Now that was a serious plus.
“The fire goddess can’t burn.”
She took a deep breath. “Well, let’s get this over with, then.”
Malphas grabbed her by the hand, leading her to the cliff’s edge. He pulled a flask from his back pocket, unscrewing the top. “An important tool for fire spells.” He took a sip before handing it to her.
She took a long swig of whiskey, letting it burn her throat, before handing it back to him.
“Good,” he said. He was studying her closely, almost as if he was unsure if he wanted to go through with this. The sea wind picked up his dark hair, toying with it.
“What next?” she asked.
“I need to create a sigil around you. Just stay where you are.” He began pouring the whiskey on the rock around her, encircling her with alcohol. When the circle had been created, he poured a triangular shape in the center, trailing over her skin. Cold rivulets of whiskey dripped down her legs and toes.
Concern flickered in his eyes, and he handed her the flask again. “You should take another sip. Or two.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe finish the rest.”
“I thought you had no compunctions about exposing me to pain, after I tortured you?”
“I may have changed my mind.”
As she took the flask from him, her hand shook so hard she could hardly get the thing to her lips. Her throat burning, she drained the flask, then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She was about to learn exactly how it felt to burn to death, to let her body burn like a lonely bonfire on a dark cliff’s edge.
I don’t think I gave you enough of the flames before, Cleo whispered. This will be good for you. Now you’ll know how it truly feels.
Rosalind swallowed hard. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“It won’t last long.” Malphas pulled a lighter from his pocket; his hand shook nearly as bad as hers.
“Just do it,” she said, her heart skipping a beat.
He flicked the lighter. She braced herself as he dropped the lighter to the ground.
Instantly, blazing hot sunlight burned the darkness from the sky, and a wall of flames erupted around her, searing her skin. She threw back her head and screamed.
Then she wasn’t with Malphas anymore, but standing in a city square. Her arms had been tied behind her, fixed to a stake. Bundles of wood surrounded her, and smoke curled around her body. White-hot pain ripped her mind apart, and she unleashed another agonized scream. When her vision focused again, she stared through the dancing flames.
A braying mob surrounded her, their faces contorted with fury. A man with a black beard screamed Witch! Witch! Witch! Spittle flew from his mouth.
She looked down at her body. Black pitch covered her skin and clothes, and flames climbed up her legs. The smell of burning flesh filled her nose. Agony seared her nerves.
Her long hair caught in the flames—blonde hair. Cleo’s hair.
This was where she’d die, surrounded by dark wrath.
Sobbing from the pain, she scanned the crowd, searching for another face, until her gaze landed on him. His hair a vibrant red, his eyes green. He was screaming for her, his arms pinned by three men.
Richard.
He would be next.
The flames reached her waist, scorching her skin, and another scream tore from her throat. She wanted to call for Richard, but her lips would form only one name: Ambrose. Ambrose the Betrayer.
In the next moment, her vision went dark. The flames disappeared. Instead, icy water enveloped her skin. Her eyes snapped open. Under the water, pale streams of moonlight illuminated Malphas’s face, close to hers.
He gripped her around the waist, swimming with her in his arms.
When her head breached the surface, she gasped for air. Her legs had burned; the skin was raw. But it was all over.
It was night again here in Lilinor, where the stars gleamed in the sky like jewels. She’d never been so happy to see the night sky.
Dizzy
, she wrapped her arms around Malphas’s neck as she caught her breath. “What happened?”
“Your body was burning. It seemed like an intense vision. I couldn’t stop it with my shadow magic.”
They bobbed in the gentle waves. “So you jumped into the ocean, with me in your arms.”
“Well, you’re not burning anymore, are you?”
She unclasped her hands from his neck and began swimming for the rocks.
As they closed in on the shore, her feet touched the rocky ground. “Do you think the spell worked?”
“It looked like it worked to me. What was it like in the hell?”
She pulled herself up onto sludgy rocks, grimacing with pain. Her shoes had been burned, and her pants hung in threadbare tatters around her legs. Blisters covered her skin, and she winced as the salt stung her raw wounds.
Malphas hoisted himself up next to her.
“I saw Cleo,” she said at last. “I was Cleo. I was in her body as she was burned in front of a mob. They were screaming about witchcraft. She was screaming for Ambrose. And Richard was there to watch it all.”
Malphas grimaced at the sight of her legs. “Hold on, let me heal you.”
He leaned closer, and she caught the scent of lilies. He traced his hand just above her legs, letting his silver magic soothe her skin. His aura enveloped her legs, caressing her skin. Instantly, the pain began to ebb away as her skin healed, and she heaved a sigh of relief.
When he finished, he met her gaze. “And who, exactly, is Richard?”
“Caine’s second soul. Cleo has spoken of him before. I think the three souls might have been in a coven of sorts. I think Cleo and Richard were lovers, until she left him for Ambrose.”
“I see.” He nodded at her legs. “Does your skin feel better now?”
“Completely cured.”
Her stomach still churned at the thought of what had happened to Cleo. No wonder the old witch had some emotional problems. That had been pure, unadulterated agony, and a terrible injustice.
Rosalind swallowed hard. “If we don’t stop the Brotherhood, they’re going to bring back the old ways. The screaming mobs, the women burning like torches in town squares.”
Blood Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 3) Page 21