vampires mage 02 - witch hunter (17 page)

Dread crawled up Rosalind’s throat. For all she knew, Miranda was playing right into their hands. A lunatic witch, working for the witch-hunters.

Good thing I’m a trained witch-hunter, too.

“Sometimes the ends justify the means,” Rosalind said.

“What are you on about?” Aurora said.

Rosalind gazed at the TV, which soundlessly replayed the image of her holding the human skull. “It’s what Josiah used to say. The Brotherhood’s sole purpose is to destroy magic, because that’s what Blodrial wants. But perhaps they’d be willing to use magic to achieve their goals.” She met Caine’s gaze. “While you’re looking for a way to track Miranda, Aurora and I are going to find out if Drew’s house is still standing.”

Chapter 17

T  he heavy summer air on Brattle Street felt charged, as if a storm was coming, and a warm breeze rushed over Rosalind’s skin. Aurora walked beside her, examining her long, silver nails.

Rosalind’s whole body was tense.
Drew.
The bastard had been so eager to convince her that Caine was behind the keres slaughter—and for a second there, she’d nearly believed him. Who wouldn’t be suspicious of a monster described in the history books as a
ravener?
A demon who’d murdered kings and queens?

And yet, she still had no clue why Drew would want to set her up, or why on earth Drew would hate Caine. What was his problem? She didn’t even know Drew. Granted, there were one or two shadow demons who might want her dead, but a mage she’d never met? He had absolutely no reason to want her burned to death.

The huge yellow mansion came into view. Aurora pointed at it. “Is that Drew’s place?”

“That’s it,” Rosalind said. “And there I was, certain that Drew had saved my life with his stupid potion. He was just setting me up all along.”

Her stomach fluttered as they approached the white picket fence. Aurora unlatched the gate, and Rosalind stalked up to the house. This time, no ward blocked their entrance, and Rosalind strode right up the steps to Drew’s black door. She knocked twice and waited, biting her lip.
What am I gonna say to this guy?
If he was working with the Brotherhood, he would try to turn her in. She’d have to be on her guard, and rip the magic-dampening ring right off her finger if he tried anything.

“He’s not home,” Aurora said. “I don’t smell anything human except you.”

“Are you sure?” Rosalind asked.

“I smell something—not human. It stinks of caves and carrion.”

Rosalind crinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I want to know what that is. But I want to get something from inside his house, so we can do a tracking spell.” She tried the doorknob, and the door swung open into the darkened hall.

Rosalind stepped inside, her skin growing cold. She could still see traces of Drew’s coppery magic, but there were other types of magic now, too: greens, blues, silvers, shimmering faintly.

She shivered. When she’d come here just a couple of days ago, it had seemed like such a warm sanctuary from the whirlwind of demonic forces. Now it seemed cold and empty.

She led Aurora down the hall into the living room, where Drew had tried to kill Caine. The room was dimly lit, with only pale moonlight glinting off the copper plates on the walls.

Rosalind glanced at Aurora. “Do you still smell the carrion thing?”

Aurora inhaled deeply and shook her head. “It’s gone.”

“That’s… odd.”

While Aurora began rifling through a liquor cabinet, Rosalind crossed to a desk in the corner. She cast a sharp look back at the vampire. “Do
not
drink anything here. The guy makes potions, and he’s not trustworthy.”

“Oh.” Aurora returned a decanter to the table.

Rosalind turned to the desk, pulling it open to reveal an empty drawer. She pulled open another drawer, finding it similarly bare. “He doesn’t have any stuff.”

“Maybe he just moved in,” Aurora said. “You said he was from Maremount.”

Rosalind’s eyed the copper plates on the wall.
Loyalty Binds Me.
With the eagle carvings, it looked like some sort of heraldic image—a family crest. She crossed to mantle, reaching up on her tiptoes to pull it off, and ran her fingers over the carved bird. “I’m going to try one of those tracking spells. If he’s involved in all of this, like I think he is, we can use this to find him.”

Aurora’s brow crinkled. “You know a tracking spell?”

Rosalind shook her head. “No. but Cleo—my second soul—does.” She touched her iron ring. “Any chance you know Angelic? From what I gather, the powerful spells need more than one person.”

“I’m not great with Angelic, to be honest. I’ve mostly just listen to Caine.”

“If I begin, can you repeat what I’m saying?”

“Probably.”

“I’m going to take my ring off and hand it to you, so I can access her knowledge. If I seem like I’m getting out of control, I need you to tackle me to the ground and shove the ring back on my finger. Okay?”

“Am I allowed to bite you?”

“No.”

“Outrageous.”

“And if I seem like I’m losing focus, remind me about Tammi.”

“Got it.”

Rosalind tucked the copper plate under her arm, sucking in a deep breath. She pulled the ring from her finger, gasping at the sharp burst of vernal magic. Her nostrils filled with the smell of hawthorns and moss, and the magic brushed over her skin with a feeling of floral petals and dew-slicked leaves. She was dimly aware of someone pulling the ring from her hands.
Good riddance to that horrible thing.

She scanned the room for that beautiful blue-eyed man, but he wasn’t here—only a vampire with a sour expression.

“Rosalind,” the vamp said.

Her lip curled.
Not that name again.
Her hands flew to the vamp’s throat.
I will choke the life from this demon.

But the creature grabbed her wrists, fangs lengthening. “Rosalind. You’re making it very hard for me not to bite you. Remember Tammi. You’re supposed to find Tammi.”

Tammi…
The girl with the nail polish and the outrageous cat obsession. The girl who’d brought Rosalind water when she drank too much at one of the frat parties, the girl whose hair smelled like vanilla shampoo. A dream of opening a cheese shop. Talking in her sleep about her grandmother’s banana pudding. Homemade dresses. Parents who’d disowned her for not being a son.

Rosalind used these memories to claim space in her own brain, competing against the whorls of green magic. Gritting her teeth, she envisioned the aura growing smaller, tightening into a smaller and smaller ball, until it was only the size of a marble—a shining, green sphere in the center of her mind. She opened her eyes again, glancing at Aurora, who still gripped her wrists.

Aurora narrowed her eyes. “You better not try anything funny again.”

“I’m okay, Aurora. It’s me, Rosalind. I’ve got it under control.”

Slowly, Aurora released her wrists, and Rosalind glanced at the ground—she’d dropped the copper plate. She stooped to pick it up, then traced her fingers over Drew’s family’s motto. “Now I just have to get Cleo to give me the spell.”

She closed her eyes, unsure how this part was supposed to work. All the other times she’d accessed Cleo’s knowledge, Caine had already begun the spell. She’d just joined in.

Maybe I should just ask her for help.
She let herself envision the glowing green sphere.
Cleo, I need the tracking spell.

A tendril of green lashed out.
Let me out,
Cleo’s voice roared in her skull.

Rosalind’s fingers tightened on the copper plate.
I need to stay in control. I’m fighting a battle, Cleo. And I need your help.

The green glowed brighter.
Battle, little Hunter?
Cleo roared.

“I’m not a Hunter anymore,” Rosalind said out loud. “I think I might be fighting them. They want to kill me.”

The Witch Hunters are after you now?
Curiosity tinged the voice in her mind. For the first time, Cleo didn’t sound angry.

“Seems that way. They announced that I was behind the keres attack in Harvard Square. Which I wasn’t,” she added hastily.

The Brotherhood only pretends to care about guilt,
Cleo whispered.

In the next moment, the spell’s Angelic words appeared, emblazoned in Rosalind’s mind like a shining beacon. Still gripping the plate, she began to chant them, one after another. She repeated them again and again, until Aurora joined in with her. Aurora’s rosemary-scented aura mingled with Cleo’s, whirling together outside of their bodies.

When Rosalind finished the spell, she opened her eyes. Projected on the wall was the shimmering image of a peninsula, roughly the shape of Boston. The perspective swooped lower, showing a glimpse of a stone city gate, part of its surface defaced. Something had been hanging from it once, but was gone now. Still, one word was still clear—
Maremount.

The vision soared over the city gates, rushing over a wild wilderness of ash, pine, and fir trees that seemed to stretch on forever, crossing over along the side of a river, flying above the paths of hawks and crows, until at last it reached a verdant mountain. The picture tightened, closing in on a rocky mountain fortress, its towers guarded by a legion of harpies.

The image disappeared. “Drew is with Tammi and Miranda, just like I thought. They’re in the wilderness outside the city of Maremount.”

“Looked like south,” Aurora said, holding out the ring. “Just follow the river there.”

Cleo’s aura roiled in her mind again, and Rosalind’s body shook from the effort of trying to keep it in check. Grunting with effort, she slipped the ring back on to her finger, dropping onto the sofa. “Well, Caine’s got that proof he wanted now. Maremount it is.” Fatigue ate at her muscles, and she wanted to curl up on the cushions and sleep for days. It was a damn shame these spells took so much energy. “Just give me a second.”

“That aura we created,” Aurora said, dropping into a chair. “It was powerful. Let’s hope it didn’t attract anything.”

“Right. Maybe we should get going.” Still dizzy, Rosalind stood, but a scratching noise stopped her from walking out the door.

Aurora held up a hand, whispering. “Stop.”

Something scraped against the floor in the hall, and Rosalind’s chest clenched. A thick stench of carrion wafted through the air. Something tapped over the floor in the hall, coming closer, until the creature came into view.

She was nearly seven feet tall, with long, bronze hair that flowed over her naked back and bare breasts. Her eyes were the color of granite. Long, copper wings cascaded from her shoulders instead of arms, and she marched into the room on feathered legs that ended in sharp talons. Rosalind’s mouth went dry.
A harpy.

“Oh, fuck,” Aurora said.

Rosalind took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

The creature’s eyes twinkled. “Right now, I’m going to kill you.”

“I don’t think so,” Aurora said, then whirled at a noise behind her. A second harpy perched in the tall, open window. Aurora hissed, fangs bared.

Shit.

Rosalind’s heart squeezed in her chest. The first creature edged closer, a dusty bronze aura whirling from her body. Rosalind reached for one of the knives in her pants, but in the next second the harpy in the widow lunged, slamming into her with the full force of a hurricane wind—right through a closed glass door.

Shards of glass lacerated Rosalind’s skin, and before she had the chance to pull herself up off the ground she felt a sharp pair of talons rip into her flesh. Pain splintered her side, robbing her of rational thought as the harpy’s claws bit into her shoulders. The harpy’s copper wings beat the night air, and in the next moment, Rosalind was lifted off the ground. Rushing higher into the air, they soared over Cambridge’s city streets, the streetlights waning to distant sparks of light.

The harpy began to speak, in her grating, otherworldly voice.
“
Rosalind. It’s your fault that Tammi has been captured. Do you know that? She never would have been dragged into a demonic war if it weren’t for you and your stupid legacy as a Hunter.”

A sharp agony pierced Rosalind’s chest—something different to the pain of the talons. “How do you know that?” She managed between clenched teeth.

“You drove your sister mad. You drove your best friend into hell. And now, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

The harpy’s words evoked something in her—a sharp pang of empty hunger, so intense she thought she’d never be able to fill the void in her gut. She just wanted it to end.

“You tortured Malphus,” screeched the harpy. “He’d never showed you anything but kindness, and you drowned him. You let the Brotherhood brainwash you, because deep in your heart you’re rotten to the core.”

Emptiness gnawed at Rosalind, a painful, rapacious starvation. Pain and hunger mingled, until she couldn’t remember her own name anymore. She was a ravening beast, desperate to fill the void.

“You destroyed Tammi’s life,” the harpy screeched.

Tammi.
A flicker of familiarity sparked in her mind. She had a purpose. She was here to fight for Tammi, the girl who loved cats.
Fight, Rosalind.
The pain and hunger were dizzying, ripping her mind in two, but she needed to get control. Grimacing, she reached down and pulled off the iron ring. It fell from her fingers, moonlight sparking off it as it dropped the earth.

Cleo’s mossy aura burst into her mind, drowning out the pain. She couldn’t remember now who she was, only that her body was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

“You’ve led Tammi to her death!” the harpy shrieked.

There was that name again. She squeezed her eyes shut.
I’m Rosalind.
She tried to claw out a corner of space in her own mind, forcing Cleo’s magic into a smaller ball with all of her will.

Clenching her teeth, she crushed Cleo’s magic into a tiny ball in her mind.
Cleo. I need strength.

As the harpy’s talons dug in deeper, Rosalind saw a spell burning in her mind; she called out the words, one by one. As she finished the final syllable, an immense power surged, numbing all her pain.