Magic Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 1) (13 page)

Sambethe’s milky eyes swerved to Rosalind. “You can stop pretending to be a courtesan. I know what you are.”

Rosalind’s chest tightened.
Is that a warning?
“But you won’t tell anyone?”

Golden light shimmered over the sybil’s skin. “What do I care? I’m seven thousand years old. Ask your question.”

Rosalind took a long breath. “I have another soul in my body. A mage’s soul. If I take off this ring—” She lifted her hand. “—I plummet into a world of hell. It’s like my mind is fracturing, and my body is on fire. I want to know how to fix it. How do I get the mage out of me?”

Sambethe held Rosalind’s gaze for an uncomfortably long time. “Hold on to your cocktails. This could get messy.” She slid her own empty glass out of the way and climbed onto the table.

After throwing back her head, the Sybil began to sway and jerk. Her arms twitched to the rhythmic pulsing of the club’s music. Then, with a frantic snarl, she hunched down to a crouching position, her head weaving around in the air like a snake’s, her muscles taut. Her eyes locked on Rosalind’s before she reached out to grip Rosalind’s head. A powerful aura coursed through Rosalind like a mountain wind, clean and ancient.

“Blodrial’s child, split in two.” Her deep voice howled like a gale. “The mage, tormented by fire. Nyxobas’s servant made her burn.” Her head lolled, eyelids fluttering. “On a full moon, find the hawthorn grove. The spell belongs to Blodrial. Coat yourself in iron, and the incubus will chant. He will take on the extra soul.”

Relief flooded Rosalind. They had an answer—a solution at last.

Sambethe threw her head back, sighing. She wasn’t done. “The incubus will take on the extra soul. Three souls in one body. Two that don’t belong together, shattered by broken love. Someone must be sacrificed. The incubus’s body will sicken and die.”

Horror slid through Rosalind’s bones.
The incubus’s body will sicken and die.
If Caine took on the soul, he would die? That was supposed to be the solution?

Sambethe’s muscles relaxed, and she slid back into her seat just as the black curtain disappeared.

Rosalind dropped her head into her hands as panic clenched around her lungs. This had been her one hope.

Caine took a gulp of his drink. “Just to clarify, I will die if I take on the other soul?”

The sybil lifted her empty margarita glass, shaking it. “Seems that way.”

Devastated, Rosalind trembled. This was it—her life was over. She lifted her eyes to the sybil, fingers tightening around her drink. “Is there another possible solution? Couldn’t the soul go into the afterworld, where it belongs?”

The waitress sashayed over to the table, lowering the tray of margaritas, and Sambethe grabbed another. “No. It’s stuck in a body until someone dies with it. That’s your parents’ fault.”

“What about another person?” Rosalind asked, desperation eating at her.

“Who would want to take that on? You could force someone, I guess.” The sybil rose, licking the salt off her drink as she shuffled out of the booth. “You kids have a lot to talk about. I’m going to dance.”

The news knocked the wind out of Rosalind, and she could hardly breathe. She was ruined. And, with a wave of dread, she realized Tammi’s life was destroyed too. Unless Rosalind turned herself in, the Brotherhood would hunt them both to the ends of the earth.

Her fingers tightened around Caine’s arm.
Corrupted. For good.

He eyed her warily. “I can feel your panic. You need to calm down. The other demons will be able to smell your fear.”

She shot him a dirty look, then gripped her Manhattan and chugged it down in one go. “Of course I’m freaking out. I’m cursed. And Tammi’s life is ruined too.”

He leaned in close, his breath warming her neck. “You can’t make a scene here. You’re supposed to be a courtesan.”

Anger burned through her body. “What difference does it make? My life is over. I might as well let one of these monsters drain my blood now. Then maybe the Brotherhood will stop coming after Tammi.”

Caine narrowed his eyes. “Your life is not over, but it will be if you don’t get a hold of yourself.”

The weight of the sybil’s revelation crushed the air from her lungs. “Tammi and I have nowhere to go. We can’t escape the Brotherhood.” She scanned the room, her eyes landing on the flame-haired courtesan, eagerly massaging the feet of a horned demon. “We’ll have to become courtesans for real. I’ll have to rub demon feet.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Caine said. “You’d make a terrible courtesan. You’re going to become a mage.”

“You don’t understand.” Her pulse raced, and she couldn’t keep her voice from rising. She needed to get a grip, but her world had just completely crashed down on her, and she could no longer control herself. She waved a hand at the crowd. “All of this disgusts me. Demons use humans for their own pleasure, and I don’t want any part of the magical world.”

“For a smart girl, you have awfully simple analyses of complex situations.”

He wanted to distract her with his moral equivalence again. “Using humans comes easily to you, doesn’t it? I saw how you treated Josiah. It’s just in your nature. You were born to feed from humans for sustenance.”

“And you were apparently born to make my life hell by recklessly invoking the wrath of every demon you encounter. Including me.” He took a slow, steadying breath, clearly trying to control himself. “You need to stop talking. I’m going to help you calm down, not because I want to control you, but because it’s the only way you’ll get out of here without one of these demons murdering you.” He whispered, and his aura wound around her skin before pulsing through her chest, relaxing her muscles.

Some of the panic ebbed, leaving behind a gnawing emptiness. The world as she’d thought she understood it was gone—the divisions between good and evil, the order of things, her place in it all. None of it had meaning anymore, so what was the point of her life?

Trying to ignore the hollowness in her chest, she rose.

Caine stood, taking her by the hand to lead her from the club. The lights flashed garish shades of red and orange, pulsing over gyrating dancers. The thumping bass rattled her bones, and she tried to push out all thoughts of the evil lurking in her body.

She caught a glimpse of Tammi and Aurora dancing, losing themselves in the music. How was she going to break this news to her friend?

The question didn’t linger in her thoughts long because, in the next moment, the valkyrie stepped into Rosalind’s path, her cold eyes scanning Rosalind’s body. “You’re not a real courtesan. You don’t behave like one.”

Dread rushed up Rosalind’s spine, mixed with an odd sense of relief. Maybe this encounter would end it all.

“I’m a novice courtesan,” she said, her voice hollow.

In a blur of white and copper, the valkyrie lunged, long fingers clamping tighter on Rosalind’s throat. Mists’s aura, cold and furious as storm clouds, flooded Rosalind’s body.

As the aura filled Rosalind, she surged with icy rage, and a deep desire to hurt anyone around her.
Kill.
She slammed her arms through the valkyrie’s grasp. She ducked to avoid a punch, then brought her fist up hard into the demon’s ribs, hoping to snap something. Caine pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her.

With Caine’s arms around her, her body began to calm again, her pulse slowing. What the fuck had Mist just done to her? The demon wasn’t lunging again, but her gray eyes locked firmly on Rosalind, glowing with a stormy fury. From the growing crowd, Aurora and Tammi looked on, eyes wide.

“Get Tammi out of here,” Caine shouted to them.

The valkyrie’s steely stare had Rosalind rooted to the spot. “I knew you were a fighter.” Her eyes flicked to Caine. “You brought a human warrior in here?”

Caine began whispering a spell. His aura swirled through Rosalind’s chest, stroking her skin. Heat shot through her core, and she could think of nothing but his warm, strong body pressed up against hers. She had a sudden desire to spin around and kiss him hard.
What the hell?

The valkyrie seemed to be thinking the same thing. As she approached Caine, cheeks flushed, her finger trailed down her chest. She licked her lips.

That was when Rosalind understood: Caine was using his incubus magic, and she’d been caught in the crossfire. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to run her hands all over his bare skin.

Mist stepped closer, a low moan escaping her lips—until her gaze landed on Rosalind again. A look of confusion crossed the valkyrie’s beautiful face, and she clamped her eyes shut, shaking her head. “Don’t use your magic on me, incubus.” Her voice was a low growl, and when she opened her eyes again, savage rage contorted her features.

She ripped Rosalind from Caine’s embrace before raising her clawed hands, transfixing the pair in place.

A pale blue light flowed from her hands, freezing Rosalind’s body.

“Let’s see which of your lovers is stronger,” the demoness said.

As the light hit Rosalind’s body, the valkyrie’s aura slammed into her like a hurricane wind. A cold, deadly battle fury coursed through Rosalind, so powerful that her limbs trembled. Anger blinded her like a white light, and she clenched her fists, fingernails piercing her palms. She wanted to break through bone and gristle, to slice through necks with a sword.

I need to kill.

Her vision cleared, and before her stood the one person that she’d been waiting for. Pale gray eyes, tousled brown hair—his whole existence was a lie, a grotesque monster wrapped in a veneer of beauty. A devil sent to test her faith.

His gaze bored a hole in her. “I should have known how you’d turn out. You’ve always believed you were born better than others.”

“I am better than beasts like you.” Underneath it all, he was just like the other demons—a beast of prey, waiting for the right moment to rip her to shreds.

Her eyes lingered over his perfect form, stoking her anger further.
All beautiful things must die
. She wanted to crush his stunning body like a rose in her fist. She pulled the dust from her cleavage, ready to burn him.

When his eyes darkened to a deep black, and a ghost of wings rose behind him, dread whispered through her—but her fear only ignited her rage. Dark shadows curled around his muscled body.

Rosalind stared into the face of wrath itself, ancient and venomous—the face of floods and storms, trembling earth and mountains of fire. Something in the primal part of her brain shrieked at her to run, but her body would no longer obey. She needed to kill.

She was no longer Rosalind. She was a great queen of war.

With a lightning-fast gesture, she uncorked the dust, flinging it at the incubus. Primordial ferocity coiled through her, ready to strike its prey. She belonged to Rage now.

Caine growled—a deep animal sound that rumbled through her gut, chilling her blood. But she wasn’t running away until she’d stopped his heart.

She’d snuffed out his magic in the most painful way possible.

He snarled, “Good. Now you know that when I win, it will have been a fair fight.”

“I’ll remind you of that when I’m ripping your ribs from your back,” she said in a deep voice, one not quite her own. “I’ll give you real wings, and maybe you can fly to hell with Lilu.”

She slipped the thin hawthorn stake from her hair, just as the incubus lunged. He gripped her hands, forcing them down to her sides so she couldn’t stab him. Her body pulsed with fury, and she head-butted him, listening to the delicious
crack
as she broke his nose. He dropped her hands.

A smile curled her lips. As she lifted her stake again, his hands flew out a second time, clamping down on both her wrists in a crushing grip. He was going to break her bones, but the anger dulled her pain.

Caine leaned in close, whispering into her ear, “Give up, little girl. You’re outmatched.”

Asshole.
Rage burned through her, and she tried to kick him in the groin, but he pinned her arms to her sides with impossible strength. She strained against him, kicking at his shins, desperate to crack his bones. But instead of doing any damage, she struggled helplessly as he lifted her body in the air, as easily as if she were weightless. Her breath caught in her throat as he hurled her across the room.

She slammed against the dance floor, toppling out of her ridiculous shoes. The fall knocked the wind out of her. She gasped for air, fighting to catch her breath as Caine closed in. As soon as he closed the distance between them, she swung her legs in a wide arc, taking him down.

With a shrill battle cry, she leapt on top of him, raising the stake. His hands flew out, clamping onto her wrists, and he flipped her over, pinning her arms over her head. He pressed himself on top of her, and a low growl escaped his throat.

His eyes trailed down her chest. Something else was overcoming him—not battle fury, but another type of need. His distraction was a vulnerability. He lowered his warm mouth to her neck.

She arched her back, marshaling her strength to fling him off her. He slammed against the ground, and then she hooked her leg around him, straddling him.

His hands still gripped her wrists, but a sense of victory bubbled through her.
I am in control
. She leaned closer, momentarily distracted by his earthy scent, then bit into his neck as hard as she could. Her prey instinctively released his grip on her wrists. She lifted her arms high, and plunged the stake into his heart.

T
he rush
of fury flowed from Rosalind’s body, like the wind over the ocean. She stared down at her blood-soaked hands gripping the hawthorn stake. Caine’s shocked eyes had returned to gray, and he glanced down at his chest.

Panic clenched her heart, and she ripped the stake from his chest. Her mind spun with horror, and she pressed down on his heart, as if she could staunch the flow.
What have I done?
Blood seeped through her fingers. Caine took a shuddering breath.

Lilu fluttered overhead, squawking, before flying for an open window.

If Caine were fully human, he’d be dead by now. But even so—she’d staked him with iron and hawthorn.
Seven hells, what have I done?
Both could be lethal to a night demon. Pressing on his chest, her hands shook uncontrollably. “Caine. I’m so sorry.”

Heels clacked over the floor, and she looked up to find Mist, standing over her arms folded. The valkyrie appraised Rosalind with a clinical stare. “I see you’re the stronger fighter. I guess that answers my question. Now get out of here before I slaughter you, too. Take his body with you.”

Rosalind heaved a sob, and tried to lift Caine from the ground, her body shaking. At the sound of his pained gasps, tears stung her eyes. As she wrapped his arm around her neck, Aurora burst through the door, Lilu trailing behind her.
Thank the gods, the raven went for help.
It only took an instant for Aurora to hurtle through the crowd and snatch up the incubus. Carrying Caine, Aurora rushed for the door in a blur, and slammed it open to the night air. Rosalind ran after, her breath ragged.

By the time Rosalind got outside, Aurora had laid Caine out below a maple. The vamp frantically cleared the dust off Caine’s skin while Tammi looked on.

Caine rested against the trunk, blood pouring through his fingers, and grief pierced Rosalind.

Tammi’s hand flew to her mouth as she took in her friend. “Rosalind, are you okay? You’re covered in blood.”

“It’s not her blood.” Aurora flashed her fangs. “It’s Caine’s. What the bloody hell happened in there? Why is he covered in your dust, and why isn’t he healing?”

Rosalind’s hands shook, and she couldn’t seem to make her voice obey.

She glanced at Caine, whose eyes were fixed on hers. He was still conscious, at least, though his skin had paled.

He took a deep breath. “We had a fight. She won.”

Aurora snarled, “You did this, human?”

“The valkyrie,” Caine said. “She imbued us with battle rage. It wasn’t Rosalind’s fault.”

“A hawthorn stake,” Rosalind managed.

Aurora’s eyes widened. “This human girl
won?
You must’ve been holding back.”

“I got distracted,” he said, his voice choked. “She looks pretty when she’s twisted by bloodlust.”

Aurora turned her furious gaze on Rosalind. “Fix it, then. He needs a human female.”

“What do you mean?” Rosalind knelt by Caine’s side, holding her hand over his heart, as if her fingers could heal a shredded artery. Her hands shook wildly.
She’d
done this to him. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to stop—”

“He’s an incubus,” Aurora cut in. “He heals through sexual contact.”

Rosalind’s mind raced. “You want me to have sex with him?”

“It doesn’t have to be the full thing, but at least kiss him. It’s not that complicated. Just hurry up.”

Tammi raised a hand. “I’ll do it.”

Rosalind met Caine’s eyes, her chest flushing as she thought of his warm, protective arms around her in the club, and his aura pulsing through her body. “No, I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Aurora said. “We’ll look out for that valkyrie arsehole, or Bileth, or anyone else whose wrath you managed to incur in the past few hours.” She pulled Tammi away, leaving Rosalind alone with Caine.

Rosalind glanced at the blood pouring from his wound. “Does it hurt?”

“What do you think?”

“Sorry.”

“Do you want to heal me? Tammi seemed willing.”

She glanced at the blood on her own hands, her heart fluttering. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. You do understand how this works, don’t you?”

“Yes. And I understand it’s purely practical. It’s how you heal. It doesn’t mean anything.” She wasn’t sure why she needed to say that, but it was a reminder to herself more than anything.

Moving closer to him, she slid into his lap. As she slipped her arms around his shoulders, he gazed into her eyes, pupils dilating. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
Don’t forget what he is, Rosalind. Deep down, he’s a predator, and he can’t be trusted.

But even if he wasn’t human, his proximity alone heated her body.

His breath quickened, and he slid a hand around the back of her neck, his touch sending a jolt of energy through her. At that moment, she almost forgot he was a demon. She only knew she wanted to run her hands over his smooth skin.

His eyes darkened to a deep abyss of midnight black. As his aura strengthened, it fluttered over her skin in a thrilling rush. He slipped his fingers into her hair, and in the next moment his warm, soft lips were against hers. His magic rolled through her body, making her tremble with need. When his tongue brushed hers, heat shot through her belly.

He kissed her hungrily. One hand gripped her hair, the other tightened around her waist. All panicked thoughts flew from her mind, and there was nothing left but Caine.

As she curved into him, his kiss grew more sensual. He lightly traced down her spine with his fingertips, and she gasped.

He folded his arms around her and lifted her from the ground. As he pushed her against the tree, she wrapped her legs around him. She threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. Instead, he teased her—nipping her lower lip before brushing kisses down her neck. Her body burned, and she wanted more. She wanted all of him.

“Rosalind!” Tammi shouted.

Caine’s face turned away from her. She could have killed Tammi right then, but thank the gods it didn’t go too far.

“We were just finishing the healing,” Rosalind said, her legs still wrapped around Caine. His aura caressed her skin, and she needed to get the hell away from him before this got really embarrassing.

Something about the stricken look on Tammi’s face pulled her attention from Caine, but it was the person standing behind Tammi who sent a jolt of panic through Rosalind.

Josiah stood with his hands at his weapon belt, his eyes blazing with pure loathing.