vampires mage 02 - witch hunter (15 page)

Rosalind closed her eyes. Caine’s sheets smelled of him, like thunderstorms and a hint of jasmine. A soft rain began to patter the domed roof, and her eyes drifted shut, her breathing slowing. As she drifted off into a deep sleep, images rose in her mind—a field of juniper trees, and eating cherries under a starry sky, the juices staining her lips and fingers red.

Her fingers dripped with bright red—not berries anymore—thick blood, pouring from her chest.
Is that me on the stake?
Her body shook as she watched the scene unfold. She was in the field again, beneath the colored sky, watching as Caine slammed her against a stake—it
was
her, only older. Caine’s face was contorted with rage—pure beast, more demon than human—and he drove a nail through her heart, pinning her to the stake like an entomologist’s specimen. Her crimson blood flowed down his arm, and he growled like a wild animal.

She gasped, and a pale silver light, like starlight, burned away the gruesome image. She was in the jasmine-scented bed, dimly aware of a body next to hers—strong, smooth arms that folded her against masculine contours, and enveloped her in a warm embrace.

Chapter 15

When she awoke, the sky was a dusky blue.
Dawn?
She stretched her arms over her head, turning to find that the bed next to her was empty. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but she felt amazing for the first time in weeks.

She pulled off the blankets and rose, crossing to the dining table. Someone had left out more food for her—cheese, fruit, and bread—and hunger gnawed at her stomach. She picked up a knife and spread some of the creamy cheese on a piece of bread, taking a bite. Within only a few minutes, she had worked her way through most of the bread and fruit.

Lilu perched on the edge of the bathtub, watching her.

“Lilu,” said Rosalind. “Any idea where Caine is?” She wanted to get started on the scrying spell as soon as possible.

The bird cocked her head, and Rosalind frowned.
Stupid, talking to a bird, really.

Just as she was considering searching the tower for Caine, the door opened. Caine stood in the doorway, a newspaper tucked under his arm. “I’ve got some bad news.”

“What?”

He handed her the paper. “While you slept—for a day and a half, I might add—the Brotherhood has been spinning a very interesting story.”

Frowning, she picked up the paper. Caine’s beautiful face stared coldly out from the front page, and the headline read
The Ravener Attacks Cambridge.

“They’re blaming the keres’ attack on you,” she said.

“Not just me. Turn the page.”

A chill spread over her skin, and she flipped the page. There—just as large as Caine’s photo—was Tammi, standing in Harvard Square, looking up at the night sky.

Rosalind’s blood chilled. “What the hell is going on?”

“According to the Brotherhood, I called up a swarm of keres to attack humankind. And Tammi was there to help me.”

Rosalind examined the picture, her blood pumping hard. Tammi was holding a small bag from
Painted Lady,
the makeup store. Rosalind pointed at the photo. “This was the night she snuck out, before the wards went up. She was just buying us makeup.” Rosalind pointed at her own toes. “
Rouge Dior,
some raspberry lip gloss. This wasn’t the night of the ker attack. But someone was
watching
her all the same.”

She shook her head. This was bad news. The Brotherhood could be torturing Tammi to within an inch of her life. “The Brotherhood were watching her, apparently. How could they have put up the wards if they don’t use magic?”

“You know how they operate. What do you think they’re doing?”

She took a deep breath, scanning the article. Randolph Loring, the Brotherhood’s leader, was already calling for more extreme measures. They needed to suspend the normal laws so the government could protect its citizens. Otherwise, the demons and witches would win. She’d heard all this before, but now they had the entire country listening. They were proposing an Act of Congress called the Liberty Act, which would expand their ability to imprison and punish humans without trials.

Rosalind bit her lip, anger surging.
This is working out so well for them, isn’t it?

She took a deep breath. “Josiah lectured us about leadership. He said that wars are fought with PR, and that if a populace doesn’t believe in the work we were doing, it could limit the Brotherhood’s effectiveness. They believe public perception and civil liberties can tie their hands with red tape and legal requirements.” She slammed the paper shut. “This is why they like scapegoats. If people are scared enough of you, the Brotherhood can do whatever they want. There will be no limits to their power. They need the country to be horrified by magic. And whoever invoked the keres…” Her voice rose.
“They handed the Brotherhood a major victory. People
are
terrified. The Brotherhood can take us back to the dark ages now. They can light people on fire in the town common if they want.”

“Why, exactly, do they want this?”

She shivered. “I only ever wanted to fight demons. I saw what the demons had done in Boston, and I thought it was us against them—that we needed to protect ourselves from people like Bileth or Erish. But the people who run the Brotherhood are true believers. They worship Blodrial, and they want heretics to be punished. They want to claim souls for Blodrial, to purify the country in his blood. They want to bring back the golden age of witch hunting, and completely rid the earth of the Angelic language. They believe in racial purity—humans shouldn’t mix with demons. And whoever created the keres massacre played right into their hands.”

Caine arched an eyebrow. “They’ve simply scapegoated the only mages they knew of, and Tammi, who has nothing to do with anything. They’re biding their time—hoping that you’ll try to save her. If I had to guess, you’re their real target.” He reached out to touch her hand, gently tugging her closer. “You slept for a very long time. Night is falling again, and we have work to do. We’re going out in the fields.”

“What’s out there?”

“Phobetor Pond. It works as a scrying glass. Plus, I don’t like to perform powerful magic in here.”

“Why not?”

He traced a finger down her arm. “Things can light on fire. Especially with that burning thing you do.”

“That’s very reassuring.”

They stood at the bank of the serene pond by the tower. Crickets chirped nearby, and the water’s surface reflected the pregnant moon that hung in the darkening sky. All around the water’s edge, yellow primrose bloomed in silvery light, dappled with moonflowers and bluebells.

Caine pulled away from her, and the breeze caressed her skin. “This is a powerful spell—one that will allow us to peer between worlds. Your magic will double my power.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m ready. Whatever we need to do, I’ll do it.”

“Your second soul—Cleo—will remember the spell. Let her tell you the words.” He held out his hand. “Let me hold the iron ring. If you lose your mind and start incinerating everything or trying to tear my clothes off, I’ll get it back on you.”

Rosalind took a deep breath, and slipped off her magic-dampening ring.

The green, vernal magic welled in her body, snaking around the inside of her skull. Her skin began to heat, her eyes drifting left.

A beautiful man stood before her, his pale skin stunning against his dark hair. Soft, supple lips, stark cheekbones, and eyes the color of winter. Heat rushed through her core, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
This
man was pure power, and she wanted some of it.

“Rosalind,” he said.

Her lip curled in a snarl. She didn’t like that name—she was Cleo. But she knew how to get men to stop talking. Smiling, she slid her fingers up his shirt, feeling the hard muscle underneath. She traced her fingers lower, reveling in his intake of breath. If she could just run her tongue—

“Rosalind!” he barked through clenched teeth. “Miranda needs you. So does Tammi.”

Those words sparked something in her—recognition. There was something she was supposed to be doing. Her thoughts whirled with confusion.
Miranda. A girl who looks like me.
She pressed closer to the beautiful man, running her foot up the back of his leg. She knew what his kiss felt like, and she wanted more. But another voice screamed in her skull.
Tammi… she’s in trouble. You need to help.

With a slight tightening of his jaw, the man pulled her arms from his neck. “Rosalind. Tammi and Miranda will die if you don’t get control.”

The words hit her like a slap to the face, and an image flashed in her mind—someone chaining Tammi to a stake.

She shook her head, trying to wrench control from Cleo, focusing on the tendrils of unfurling green magic. If she concentrated hard enough, she could tighten them into a sphere, just as she had before. She straightened, pulling her arms from Caine’s neck, but grabbing hold of his hand. His touch helped to anchor her, helped her keep control of Cleo’s magic.

He gazed into her eyes. “Are you with me, Rosalind?”

She nodded. “I’m here.”

“I’m going to chant the spell to locate Miranda. After you hear me say it once, you’ll be able to join in. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Caine began chanting in Angelic. This time—for the first time—she noticed she could understand the words. Caine was speaking of a scrying glass, asking men named Morpheus and Phantasos to bless him with a vision of Miranda. His delicious aura tingled over her body, and she gazed into the pond, chanting with him.

They repeated the spell over and over, until the full moon in the water began to ripple and swirl, transforming into Miranda’s body.

At the sight of her twin sister, Rosalind’s stomach swooped. Miranda wore a shimmering white gown, and her brown eyes stared vacantly. She stood in a gray room, its walls covered with alchemical symbols that moved and twisted. Thick, dusty bookshelves stood on one side of the room. The vision in the scrying pond sharpened, and Rosalind could read the books’ spines: Angelic texts to control the weather, cure ailments, and summon demons.

The image swirled again, changing this time to a rocky fortress with gleaming marble walls rising from a bluish mountainside. A creature perched on one of the palace turrets—a woman with bare breasts and caramel-colored wings, long bronze hair tumbling down her back. Instead of feet, she had long, sharp talons.

The water swirled once more, and in the next moment Rosalind was staring at the moon reflected on the glassy surface again.

“Where the hell was that?” Rosalind asked, still forcing Cleo’s magic into a tight sphere in her mind.

“I don’t know yet.” Caine’s voice was low, strained.

She tightened her grasp on his hand. “What about Tammi?”

He blinked, as if trying to clear his thoughts. “Are you ready to try again?”

“Yes.”

Caine began speaking again in Angelic, and she joined in, asking Morpheus and Phantasos to show him Tammi.

The water rippled, and as the moon disappeared in the light-dappled water, Tammi’s image emerged. She was dressed in rags that hung from her thin frame, and sat with her wrists shackled in iron, chained above her head to a dank stone wall. She looked like she’d lost twenty pounds. Someone crawled in front of her—another half-starved human, then another. Rosalind’s stomach clenched. Whoever had captured Tammi had crammed her into a mass cell. Bile rose in Rosalind’s throat. Was this in one of the Brotherhood prisons?

Once again, the water shimmered, and the image sparkled away until another picture replaced it. Ice washed over Rosalind. It was the
same
building—the mountain palace—where Miranda was swanning about in a white gown.

Rosalind’s heart thundered in her ribs.
What the actual fuck?
Miranda wasn’t in chains. Had she imprisoned Tammi? It was entirely possible, given what Miranda had done in the Chambers. She was a lunatic, and she had a huge amount of magical power at her fingertips.

Miranda—her own twin—was involved in Tammi’s disappearance. Miranda’s mind was completely shattered, so what did that mean for Rosalind’s ability to cope with this power?

She pulled away from Caine, her emotions whirling.
Let me back in,
said a voice in her mind.
Cleo will take away your pain.

The tendrils of green magic curled around her mind, pushing the worries out of her head.

She turned to the beautiful man again. Grabbing him by his black shirt, she pulled him closer, feeling his body’s heat against hers. She wanted out of this little blue dress, and began tugging down the shoulder. Caine stiffened, then whirled her around, pinning her arms to her side. She struggled against him, but in the next moment he’d slid the iron ring onto her finger. Still, he held her to him, breathing hard.

Rosalind’s mind cleared of the magic, replaced instead by cold, gnawing dread.
Tammi is being starved and tortured, possibly by my sister.
Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, and fatigue burned her muscles. Her legs trembled; the blood drained from her head.
Caine wasn’t kidding when he said the spell would take up my reserves of energy.
She could sleep for another two days right now.

Caine loosened his hold on her, and she stepped away, then turned to look at him. “You don’t know where the mountain palace is?”

He shook his head. “No. It was hard to break through to where they were, and I didn’t recognize it. Somewhere with harpies.”

“What god are harpies allied with?”

“The mountain goddess.”

Rosalind took a deep breath. “All of the gods have associated metals, right?”

“Yes. Nyxobas is silver, as you might have guessed.”

“Which metal belongs to the mountain goddess?”

“Copper.”

She bit her lip. “Drew has a copper aura.” She twisted the ring on her finger. “He’s from Maremount. Could it be there?”

“There are no mountain fortresses in Maremount.” He frowned, moonlight glinting in his pale eyes. “Possibly outside of the city. But like I said, I’m not going to Maremount unless I’m absolutely certain.”