vampires mage 02 - witch hunter (13 page)

Ignoring Aurora, Caine traced his fingers over Rosalind’s broken ribs and whispered his healing spell. His magic caressed her skin, soothing her pain. He brushed his fingertips over her back, and his aura thrummed through her body, filling her with euphoria. He let his fingers linger over the sheer fabric, his eyes scanning all the tears and rips on her tattered dress. “Better?”

With his hands brushing against her, she felt amazing. “Better.”

“Caine,” Aurora said. “Your soldiers are watching.”

Abruptly, Caine yanked his hand away as if he was being burned. He turned to the esplanade, squaring his shoulders and stepping away from her. The armed vampires had begun gathering around.

“My soldiers!” Caine shouted, his voice booming off the fortress’s stone walls. “We’ve easily defeated the keres, but they are not our true enemy. Your king and I ask you to continue this fight for him. Hunt down the traitor Erish, and bring her back to Lilinor in chains. You will have the freedom to move in and out of the city. Fill your bellies with the blood of any Hunters you can find. But whatever you do—find the queen. Find out how and where she got the giant. And know this—” He turned to Rosalind. “Rosalind and I will find her sister. And we will turn you into a legion of daywalkers, the most powerful vampire army since the days of King Cranaus. Erish is not your savior.”

The vampires erupted into loud cheers, and Caine turned to her. “I’m taking you out of here. Aurora will join us later, but we can’t stay. Erish is bound to have some loyal to her who will try to abduct you.”

“Quite confident in your speech, there.”

“Demigods don’t lack for confidence.”

She frowned. “What happened to the giant?”

“Suffocated.” He grabbed her hand pulling her closer. As he slid his arm around her waist, his warm, strong body pressed against hers. She slipped her arms around his neck, relishing the warmth. She’d nearly forgotten all about the terrible dream she’d had about him.

He tucked his head down, whispering his transportation spell. She joined in, their auras tingling over her skin, vibrating through her healed ribs. Silver and green light flashed, and she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, they stood in a forest, dwarfed by oak trees. Pearly streams of light danced between the leaves. She pulled her arms away from Caine.

Caine turned, walking over the deadfall. “It’s not far from here. While we’re walking, I want you to tell me about that nightmare you had.”

Thorns caught on the hem of her dress, and she tugged on the fabric, ripping it some more. “That hardly seems important now.”

The forest path wound through overgrown juniper and chokeberry shrubs. “Some nightmares don’t mean anything. But if someone is after you, you’d be wise to pay attention to your dreams. Demons and mages can manipulate them. And they can tell you of things to come.”

A shiver rippled over her skin.
Gods below. Does that mean he’s going to crucify me some day?
“There were some stakes, set up for some sort of executions.”

She felt a change in the air—a chilling of the wind, a subtle shift in the shadows—and the hair on her arms stood on end.

“Have you seen them before?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nope. Only in my dream.”

“What else did you see?”

The breeze blew her shortened hair into her face, and she brushed it away. This nightmare was the last thing she wanted to talk about with Caine—it would only confirm what he’d said about her tendency to divide the world up into good and evil, with him on the wrong side of the divide. “I’ve had lots of bad dreams. I’ve been having nightmares all week.”

“What type of dreams?”

She shook her head. “They were mostly memories—things that have already happened. Tammi in the Chambers’ prison. Me, torturing Malphus. You lying on the floor, bleeding. Do you think it means something?”

“It could be chronomancy. Stealing from the timeline of your life—visions of your past or future. The chronomancer feeds these snippets into your dreams.” He inhaled deeply. “Did you see any auras in the dream?”

She thought back, envisioning the color of the sky over the four stakes. “Yes. But it wasn’t just one color. It was a whole array. Copper, like Drew’s. Silver, like yours.”

“Like mine?”

“Or Erish’s. You have the same aura.”

Caine stopped walking, his silver aura snaking from his body. “We
what?
”

“Must be an incubus thing. Anyway, what does it mean if there were auras in my dream?”

“It means a coven of mages are interfering with your dreams. And apparently, shadow mages and light mages are working together, for some absurd reason.” Caine turned and began walking again. “And perhaps they’re the same people who created the pseudo-keres.”

Please, gods—that nightmare of the stakes can’t be my future.
“What if the visions aren’t real? What if the coven is sending me images they’ve manipulated?”

“It doesn’t work that way. The reason it’s called chronomancy is that the practitioner manipulates time in your dreams. They’re mining your soul for glimpses of images on the timeline of your life. And these are stakes you’re sure you’ve never seen before, so that can mean only one thing: they lie in your future.”

A salty breeze rustled the leaves, chilling her skin.
So why the fuck did I see a vision of you driving a nail through my heart?
She swallowed hard, her mind churning.
And is this coven trying to threaten me—or to warn me to stay the hell away from Caine?
Her chest clenched. She had to believe it wasn’t true, or she’d lose her mind. Perhaps Caine didn’t know everything about magic.

“I want you to remember one thing,” Caine said. “Erish, the Brotherhood, this new master of yours—all these people want to hurt you. And they’ll use your weaknesses against you. When we learn where Tammi and Miranda are, you can’t go rushing off half-cocked, trying to save them. Your enemies will use your emotional attachments against you. That’s the most important warning you need.”

“I see. This is part of your whole ‘loyalty is a weakness’ theory.” Her footsteps crunched over the deadfall. She frowned, her mind reeling over the image of her crucifixion. “You can’t be certain this vision will come to pass.”

He cut her a sharp look. “Why are you so worried? All you saw was a bunch of stakes.”

Whoops.
“Well, wooden stakes are rarely good news.”

“I told you. It’s your fate. Anything a chronomancer shows you will certainly happen, unless it already has. But you didn’t see anyone die, so don’t throw yourself off a cliff just yet.”

Dread wrapped its fingers around her heart.
No one died in my dreams except me—at your hands.
Either Caine was just using her, and would murder her when he was done with her—or perhaps she’d become insane like Miranda, and have to be put down like a rabid dog?

A spark lit in the back of her brain. Perhaps it
wasn’t
her who was murdered by Caine. It could just as easily be Miranda. And who knew if Miranda would deserve it? Her twin had already tried to murder her once, and she probably worked for the Brotherhood now.

Her fists tightened. Whatever the case, there was no point in trying to change the outcome. She’d read enough of those Greek tragedies to know that you couldn’t escape destiny. And this wasn’t the most pressing problem right now. She still had to find out what had happened to Tammi, before her best friend ended up dead.

Caine held up a hand, stopping her march. “We’re here.” He chanted a low, melodious spell. His aura reverberated through the oak leaves. As he finished, the trees thinned out, revealing a large field that bloomed with yellow primrose and white moonflowers. A stone tower stood in the center of the clearing, reaching up to the starry sky. To the right of the tower, a serene pond reflected the moon, a milky crone’s eye staring back at itself.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Caine marched through the flowered grasses, and she followed. “You won’t need to worry about the keres here,” he said. “This field is glamoured. No one can see it but us and the servants inside.” He arched an eyebrow. “Though if keres did manage to find us, I wouldn’t mind witnessing another naked fight between you and them.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she pushed the image out of her mind.
So easy to be distracted by Caine.
“When can we try out this scrying spell to find Tammi?”

“I said you need to sleep first.” His gaze raked over her body. “And you haven’t been eating. You’re no good to me when you’re falling apart.”

She opened her mouth, ready to protest, but it was completely true. “I haven’t been feeling myself lately.”

“I can see that. Is this some strange sort of Hunter penance? I’d love to know what it is that you’re atoning for.”

She tutted. “Oh, whatever.”

“Maybe you feel bad that you watched your ex-boyfriend die, or maybe that you tortured Malphus. It could be that you lost track of Miranda.” A faint smile crossed his lips. “But my money is on your uncontrollable lust for a demigod-like incubus known as the Ravener. It fills you with all sorts of internal conflict, lust warring with self-hatred.”

“Wow. I forgot how much you love yourself.”

“I quite like to watch you fight with yourself. There is something terribly seductive about self-hatred.”

The tower loomed above them as they drew closer, and she could see its arched black door come into view.

“People don’t really say the same for self-adoration,” she said. “Something for you to think about, if you ever want to evaluate your personality.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” He folded his arms behind his head, and his black shirt sleeves slid up, giving her the best possible view of his muscled arms, covered in lethal-looking alchemical symbols. Somehow, as they walked in the woods, he’d completely cleared himself of all the blood and dirt covering his body. He smelled amazing.

“Speaking of demigods…” She swallowed hard. “What’s the deal with the shadow prince—your father? Erish said
the
shadow prince. As in—there’s only one. And if Nyxobas is the king of the shadow realm…”

“So you’ve worked it out,” Caine said. “My father is prince of the shadow realm. Nyxobas’s son. And now you know why I look like a demigod.” Caine gestured for her to enter the tower’s door, and she stepped into a stairwell lit by tiny, glowing white orbs. “I am one.”

Seven hells.
Caine was close kin to the god of night. No wonder his power was so overwhelming. Malphus must be his half-brother, fathered by the immortal shadow prince, but with a different mother.

“My father is a prince of night,” he said. And if you sleep near me, I’ll keep the nightmares out of your head.”

Rosalind began climbing the stairs, her stomach clenching.
But what if you’re the scariest thing in them?

Chapter 14

A s she pushed her way up the stairs, her thighs burned with fatigue. But despite her exhaustion, her mind whirred as she tried to pick apart all the clues to Tammi’s disappearance. The facts seemed ephemeral. She felt like she was stumbling in a darkened theater, trying to make sense of grainy old film images flickering on the screen. The keres, the giant, the strange auras, her nightmare about Caine… none of it pieced together in a sensible way. And meanwhile, Tammi could be in serious trouble.

Tammi had no past among the demons or Brotherhood, apart from her connection to Rosalind. Rosalind, meanwhile, had made a million powerful enemies. Erish, Bileth, her own twin sister, the Brotherhood…

If the Brotherhood weren’t so dead set against using magic, she’d have been certain of their involvement. They’d love to stage some sort of PR coup, parading her and Tammi on TV as captured terrorists. A wonderful resolution to the whole ker massacre situation.

At least when they performed the scrying spell, they’d get something more tangible.

Rosalind’s legs felt as if they were about to give way.
Too bad that teleportation spell uses up so much energy.

At last, an oak door came into view, ending their climb.

Caine brushed against her as he stepped up to the door, pressing his fingers to the oak. The wood glowed with silver, and swung open to reveal a stunning, circular hall.

A glass dome arched above them, twinkling with constellations that seemed to burn brighter inside. On the gray walls, someone had painted a spray of inky black ravens that seemed to climb for the heavens. Pushed up against a wall, a table held a vast array of alchemist’s equipment: flasks, beakers, and metal tools.

A mahogany dining table stood in the center of the room, and a breeze filtered in from a tall window. A round, stone bathtub nestled into the corner just under the window,.

She glanced at Caine’s bed, its purple blankets embroidered with thin silver vines. She was desperate to throw herself down on it, but she was still covered in mud and filth.

“Wow.” She inhaled deeply, catching the scent of wildflowers in the air. “You stay here by yourself?”

“Just me and the servants. I have a very good cook.”

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Caine crossed to pull it open. A stunning vamp stood in the door, twirling her platinum hair around her fingertips. She wore a black dress, cut in a deep V to her belly, and with equally dramatic slits up to her hips. A sparkling silver belt wrapped around her waist, and a crimson bag hung from her shoulder.

Caine leaned against the wall, clearly letting his gaze wander all over her. “Hello, beautiful.”

She ran her finger down the front of Caine’s body. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I was beginning to feel lonely.”

Rosalind did everything in her power to resist rolling her eyes, but she failed.

The dreamy look fell from the girl’s face as her gaze darted to Rosalind. “I saw you come in with a female. You walked up here very slowly.”

“She’s human. She moves slothfully.”

“I’m right here,” snapped Rosalind.

The girl frowned. “The human’s clothes are torn and filthy. I brought some better ones. I don’t like the thought of you with beggar women. Perhaps she should bathe.”