Magic Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  He wrapped his arms around her, anchoring her with his aura. This time, she pulled off her own ring.

  Chapter 31

  As the mist cleared, Caine slid her ring back on her finger—only to yank her forcefully behind a tree. They stood a hundred feet from the Chambers, shielded by an oak. On the other side of grassy courtyard, a line of armed guards stood before the old brick Chambers.

  Red lights flashed from the roof, glinting off the shattered glass that littered the ground from their earlier escape. In the quiet night, the guards’ feet crunched over the shards.

  From inside the building, gunshots rang out, and her stomach turned. She hadn’t even thought about the guns. She’d been so focused on fighting with magic, that she hadn’t thought about ordinary firepower—which, incidentally, could kill ordinary humans.

  From the streets of Harvard Square, sirens blared. Reinforcements were already on their way.

  Caine whispered in her ear, “I’m going to build a shield around the building. We’ll be able to get out, but no one can enter. And I’ll get rid of the guards. Stay a few paces behind me, and you’ll be protected.”

  He stepped out from the oak, holding out his arms to either side. Rosalind followed behind, walking through the shadows over the soft grass. Caine chanted in Angelic, and as he spoke, his silvery aura whirled around his body, curling through the air across the courtyard. The guards stood frozen. After a few moments, they dropped their guns, stumbling away.

  Something didn’t seem right, and dread whispered over her skin. Why weren’t the prisoners fleeing the building? She clutched the gun tightly. She wasn’t trained to use it, but she’d managed to shoot through the glass earlier.

  Her breath came faster as they approached the shattered doors, footsteps crunching over the glass. The flashing red lights cast a garish hue over the abandoned security desk. Behind Caine, Rosalind tentatively stepped through the lobby, her gun raised.

  A rhythmic sound, metal against wood, grew louder in the stairwell, and the door swung open, releasing noxious black smoke.

  A bearded man stood in the doorway, his chest bare. Copper boots encased his feet, and he wore a red hat, dripping with gore. Blood ran down his chin. Fear coursed through her mind. A redcap.

  The man’s pale eyes landed on Rosalind. “I’m still hungry, and you look delicious,” he growled.

  When Caine stepped closer to the demon, his body crackled with magic. “Get out of here while you still can, redcap.”

  Behind the demon, two large, black dogs bounded through the doors, their eyes glowing yellow. Hellhounds. At least some prisoners were making it out.

  The redcap glowered, baring his long, yellowed teeth. “I’ll eat elsewhere.” A moment later, he sprinted from the building, metal boots clanking over the ground.

  From the prisons below, screams pierced the walls, and the sound curdled Rosalind’s stomach. Gods, what is happening down there?

  The building smelled of burning wood and fumes, and Rosalind covered her mouth with her shirt. Tammi must be terrified right now.

  Caine pulled open the door to the stairwell, glancing at her as smoke billowed past. “Please be careful down there.”

  She stepped into the stairwell, her heart squeezing in her chest as she glimpsed two guards’ bodies lying crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, their throats ripped out. Blood pooled around them—no doubt the red cap’s most recent meal.

  As he descended the stairs, Caine chanted a spell, and tendrils of magic curled around him. Through the security doors, the prison corridor glowed orange, but as Caine chanted, the air grew damp. Thunder rumbled through the walls.

  At the bottom of the stairs, he pushed open the doors, just as heavy rain began falling from the ceiling. Red lights flashed over the halls, and the acrid smoke burned Rosalind’s eyes. Something felt wrong. Where was Josiah?

  Rosalind followed after Caine, and the deluge he’d created soaked through her clothes. The air hissed with dampened fires, and she rushed to the first open cell.

  A thin, ginger woman stood shivering in the center of the room, her green eyes large. Her feet were bare, and she wore a ragged white dress, the fabric now singed. Around her, the rain doused a circle of fire, and tiny licks of flames still lingered over the scorched floorboards.

  A sharp ache pierced Rosalind’s chest. Apparently, this was the Brotherhood’s primitive back up system in case technology failed. This explained the gasoline stench that always pervaded these rooms. It only required a simple mechanism—something to drop a lit flame from the ceiling when the electricity cut out, trapping the prisoners with fire.

  “Go!” Rosalind yelled to the woman. “Get out of here.”

  The woman flinched.

  “The doors are open!” Caine’s voice boomed through the corridor. “You’re free to go!”

  The woman scuttled past Rosalind.

  When Rosalind turned back to the corridor, she gasped at the slew of prisoners pouring from their cells. Some sobbed, others growled. By their auras, she could see that some were witches and demons, but many were simply pedestrians.

  Rosalind lowered her gun, tucking it into the back of her belt. We’ve won. She just needed to find Tammi. And why couldn’t she shake the feeling that something was wrong?

  Ignoring the pit in her stomach, she followed Caine against the stream of fleeing prisoners.

  Through the crowd, Aurora hurried toward them, her dress torn and bloodied. “Caine!” She threw her arms around him. “I knew you’d come for me.”

  In the next moment, Tammi’s voice cut through the crowd. “Rosalind! Those fuckers tried to light me on fire!”

  Rosalind’s throat tightened as she caught a glimpse of Tammi, her lips swollen and cheeks bruised. One of her eyes had swelled shut.

  Rosalind gently ran her fingers over her friend’s face. “Oh my gods, Tammi. What did they do to you?”

  “Your fuckstick of an ex-boyfriend paid me a visit.”

  Hot rage burned through Rosalind’s blood, and she had an overwhelming desire to hunt Josiah down and stake him again. “Do you know where he is now?”

  Tammi shook her head. “I’d like to think one of the demons ate him, but I have no idea.”

  In the corridor, the crowd was thinning out, and Caine turned to them. “I have to find Miranda and Malphus. I can handle this on my own. The three of you should get out of the building. Wait for Miranda out there if I need to send her to you.”

  Rosalind shook her head, marshaling her resolve. She was the whole reason Miranda was in here, and she planned to get her sister out. “I’m staying with you.”

  “Who the hell is Miranda?” Tammi asked.

  “My twin—” Rosalind stopped herself. There wasn’t any time to get into this now. “Just go outside, and if you see someone who looks like me, that’s Miranda.”

  “I’m taking Tammi to safety,” Aurora said, grabbing Tammi by the arm. “With a bit of my blood, she’ll be right as rain.”

  Apart from a few other stragglers, who limped on injured legs, the corridor was nearly empty. At least Tammi and Aurora were safe, but Miranda’s absence was a bad sign.

  Rosalind raised her gun as they walked quickly through the hall, checking one empty cell after another. If Miranda was a high security risk, maybe she wasn’t even in here anymore.

  As she looked into a dimly lit cell, she heard Caine’s footsteps pause.

  “Rosalind.”

  His tone made her stomach drop, and she turned, tentatively approaching across the corridor. Inside a cell, a man lay chained to a post. A hawthorn stake protruded from his shoulder, and his blond hair hung in his face. Deep bruises and gashes covered his body. Malphas.

  At the sight of him, Rosalind’s body began to shake. Josiah had completely brutalized him.

  Caine ripped an iron chain from Malphus.

  “Is he alive?” her voice cracked.

  “Barely.”

  “Can you use your magic to heal him?”
/>   “No. It only works on humans.”

  “What can I do?” she asked in desperation. “Can I heal him?”

  “Not as long as he’s unconscious. I think you should get out of here and leave me to sort this out on my own. Go find Miranda if you can, bring her to safety, and get out of the building.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and she turned to walk out of the room, crossing her arms. She’d been a part of that, and the guilt ate at her.

  She walked further down the corridor, peering in each room for signs of Miranda. An eerie silence had descended—the only sound filling the hall was the distant rattle of Malphus’s chains as Caine pulled them off, and the steady dripping of water. All of a sudden, her own breath sounded deafening.

  She was about to meet Miranda, her own twin. The fact that Miranda hadn’t run from her cell like everyone else was already making her stomach lurch. In the best case scenario, Miranda was unhurt, but in all likelihood she hated Rosalind. Why wouldn’t she? Rosalind had sent her here.

  Rosalind peered into a cell, expecting another empty room, but what she saw stopped her heart. Miranda—her mirror image—sat bound to a chair with an iron chain. She wore a ragged green dress, and faint bruises covered her skin. She looked exactly like Rosalind, except a network of ridged scars ran over her arms. This wasn’t how a reunion of long-lost sisters was supposed to be. Still, at least she was alive.

  Miranda blinked, staring at Rosalind. “You came for me.” Her voice sounded small.

  Rosalind rushed over to her, bending over to give her sister a hug. “I’m so sorry, Miranda. I didn’t know it was you.”

  “Didn’t know what was me?”

  “I told the Brotherhood about the sea witch. I didn’t know it was you. I was an idiot. I didn’t know anything. I get it now. I’m not with the Brotherhood anymore.” Her words tumbled out in a panicked rush, like she was some kind of maniac.

  “Oh. I was looking for you.” Miranda shifted in her chains. “Can you get the key, please? They left it on the floor where I could see it. But I can’t reach it.”

  “Of course.” Like an asshole, Rosalind had been blubbering to her sister instead of freeing her. She snatched a metal key from the ground, rushing around to slide it into the lock. She turned it, and it clicked open, releasing the chains. They fell to the floor in a heap.

  Miranda sighed with relief, rubbing her arms.

  “Do you need help walking?” Rosalind offered her arm.

  Miranda took it, groaning slightly as she stood, and Rosalind led her into the corridor.

  Rosalind eyed her sister’s scars, and the collarbone that protruded from her chest. It looked like it had broken and healed over not long before. “Did Josiah do this to you?”

  “Do what?” Miranda asked distractedly, wincing at the flashing lights.

  “The scars and the beatings. Someone hurt you. I’m guessing it was Josiah.”

  Miranda glanced at her arms, as if seeing the damage for the first time. “Oh. That. Mostly Josiah, and Randolph. They were in my room a lot.”

  Rosalind felt sick. Where the fuck was Josiah anyway? She wanted to punch his face through the back of his head. “I didn’t know what Josiah was like.” She had a sudden desire to confess everything to Miranda, to try to explain herself. “I didn’t know that he was a psycho.”

  Miranda squeezed her arm. “People aren’t always what they seem.”

  They drew closer to Malphus’s cell, and Rosalind peered into the room. Cain kneeled over the other incubus, and at her approach he glanced up.

  His face brightened when he caught sight of Miranda. “Thank the gods. You’re okay.”

  “Rosalind came for me.” She pointed to Malphus. “Is he dead?” she asked sweetly.

  Rosalind was starting to get the impression that Josiah had beaten some of the “normal human behavior” out of her sister, but Miranda would get better with time. She just needed to get out of this hellhole to recuperate.

  “He’s alive,” Caine said. “I’m setting some of his broken bones before I move him. Go outside and wait for me. I’ll bring him upstairs in a few minutes.”

  Rosalind gently pulled Miranda’s arm, and they continued down the corridor, passing one empty cell after another.

  “One thing confuses me,” Rosalind said. “I still don’t understand how the Brotherhood got to me so fast. I told them where you were, but they were already waiting for me by the time I got back to my room. How did they know about us?”

  Miranda shrugged, her large eyes gleaming. “Malphus told them, of course. After Randolph Loring hurt him.”

  Rosalind’s blood roared in her ears. “You know him? Who is he?”

  They reached the stairwell, and began climbing the stairs.

  “It’s funny you don’t remember him from Maremount. He was Caine’s brother. I remember everything. I remember you. I braided your hair. And Malphus was the one who gave us bluebells and dandelions when our parents forgot our birthday. Malphus was the one who patched up your skinned knee with tree moss and barbery root. He was always good to us. I never knew he was a demon.”

  Rosalind’s mouth went dry. The yellow and blue flowers, the person tending to her knee—it had been Malphus. She could hardly find her voice. “You remember much more than I do.”

  At the top of the stairs, Miranda pushed open the door. “I remember too much. Sometimes I can’t quiet the voices in my mind.”

  None of this would have happened if Rosalind had never followed Josiah into the interrogation room. Revulsion climbed up Rosalind’s throat. She’d been an instrument in her own downfall, and of the very people she should have protected. She’d told the Brotherhood where to find Miranda, and she was the reason they’d arrested Tammi and Aurora. On top of that, she’d tortured Malphus. When his spirit broke, her name must have rolled right off his tongue.

  “I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t recognize him,” Rosalind mumbled.

  In the lobby, Miranda tugged on her arm. “It’s okay. Come with me. There’s something you need to see.”

  Rosalind shook her head, distracted. Flashing lights blared outside the protective shield that Caine had created around the building, and someone with a booming voice barked orders into a loudspeaker.

  Rosalind glanced at Miranda. “What are you talking about? What do you need to show me?”

  “It’s in the Great Hall.”

  “What do you mean? How do you even know about the Great Hall?” Her skin prickled with apprehension.

  Miranda tugged her hand, pulling Rosalind toward the great oak door. “My magic helps me see things. And I want you to see, too. You wear the iron ring. You’re wedded to Blodrial. But I can show you something you’ve never seen before.” She pushed through the door.

  Rosalind didn’t know what was happening, but she wasn’t about to argue with the sister she’d sent to a torture chamber. Hugging her sodden clothes, she stepped into the Great Hall, and the door slammed behind her.

  “Why are we in here, Miranda?”

  Miranda walked to the circular stage. Through the darkness, Rosalind could now see an iron stake that stood in the center of the room, its base surrounded by a pile of wood. High above, moonlight streamed through the oculus, which someone had opened to the air, almost as if someone had prepared the room for… Her stomach hollowed out. “Miranda. Let’s go. We shouldn’t be in here.”

  Miranda backed away. Light sparked off metal on her finger—an iron ring. “I didn’t have a choice. He makes me do things. He says he’ll protect me from the pain.”

  “Who says he’ll protect you?”

  Miranda slipped into the shadows. “Josiah.”

  Chapter 32

  A fist slammed into the side of Rosalind’s head, and her world spun. She tottered. Through her blurred vision, she caught a glimpse of Josiah’s enormous form. What the fuck, Miranda?

  She hadn’t even begun the fight, and was already at a disadvantage. Stumbling, she reached for the gun in the back of her
pants, but Josiah gripped her arm hard. He grabbed the gun and pointed it at Rosalind’s head.

  “You betrayed me.” His voice cracked.

  Rosalind’s head throbbed, and she stared into the barrel. She choked down a thousand angry retorts. This wasn’t the time to argue.

  “I was supposed to protect you. I planned to find a way to marry you. You were mine.” The gun shook in his hands. “And then I saw you wrapping your legs around that monster.”

  Rosalind seethed with rage. She’d just risked her life trying to save people from Josiah’s torture, and he was going on about a kiss that hurt his feelings. “It was tactical,” she ventured, trying on one of Caine’s lines. “I was doing what I thought I had to do to get back to you. You’ve always been the one I wanted.” The words tasted like poison in her mouth.

  “I can’t have a woman who lusts after demons. What about the other incubus? Did you screw him, too?” He favored his left leg—the one she hadn’t stabbed with wood.

  “No. I had no idea who Malphus was.” She still needed answers. “How did you find him in the first place?”

  “It was my job to watch over you. I followed you some nights after we broke up. I waited outside your window, looking inside. And one night, I saw someone else following you. It made me so angry. I started hitting him, but he was stronger than a human. That’s when I knew. I had to stake him. That’s why I had to make you interrogate him. I needed to see what you’d do. You were willing to hurt him. So I let you go. I had faith in you.” His voice broke. “I was wrong.”

  A cold sweat beaded on her forehead. Malphus had been searching for her—just like Miranda had. And Josiah had attacked him not as a noble soldier in the fight against evil, but as a psychotically jealous ex-boyfriend.

  As the truth of the situation dawned on her, the rage in her chest burned hotter, flooding her body like a hot magma. Josiah hadn’t been her Guardian. He’d been her stalker.

  Her foot flew to his gun, and she kicked it hard out of his hand. It spun over the marble floor.