vampires mage 02 - witch hunter (22 page)

“I have no idea. But I think she likes me better than she used to. At least, that’s what I gather from the fact that she’s no longer setting my skin on fire.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You are quite good at interpreting subtle nuances, I see.”

She ran her fingertips over her weapon belt. “Well, I’m ready to go. But maybe you should give me an idea of what to expect when we get to Maremount.”

“We’ll arrive at the Lilitu fountain in Lullaby Square. The sun is only just rising. Most people will still be wrapped up in their bedsheets, or steeping their breakfast tea. We’ll go unnoticed.”

“Do you know the area well, then?”

His face darkened, and he glanced at the door. Something about the question seemed to agitate him. “Where the hell is Malphus?”

“Stick with me for a second, Caine. So once we get to this fountain, then what? We teleport to the fortress?”

“No.” Caine shook his head. “One, we can’t use magic in the city. And two, you can’t teleport somewhere unless you’ve been there before. We’ll need to get out of the city, and then fly as fast as we can to the fortress. Not literally fly, unfortunately, since you can’t.”

Shit.
That was way more time than she wanted to take getting there. “It’s got to be at least ten miles.”

“Can you run ten miles?”

The door slammed open and Malphus strode in, scowling. He held a newspaper, which he threw down on Caine’s dining room table.

Rosalind stepped closer to the table, glancing at it. On the front page, four stakes stood on Cambridge Common. The headline read:
Justice for Cambridge.

“What is this?”
Four stakes.
Her mouth went dry. “Did you read it?”

“They’re not going to wait to find us,” Malphus said. “They deeply regret they must take these measures, but it’s time to start protecting ordinary, human citizens from the demonic threat. They must bring back the old ways as a deterrent against witchcraft. That’s the gist of it.”

Caine snatched it from the table. “What, specifically do they have planned?”

“They’re going to burn someone named Tammi,” Malphus said. “I take it she’s a friend of yours. They plan to kill her today, in about four hours. And this time they’re assuring everyone that the area will be completely secure from mages and demons. Apparently, I’m next. They just have to find me first.”

Caine’s eyes flashed. “It’s a bluff. They’re trying to get Rosalind to panic. They’re preying on her sense of loyalty to draw her in. They’re setting a trap for us there.”

“What if it’s not a bluff?” Rosalind said.

Caine stared at her. “Why would they care about burning Tammi?
She’s
an ordinary human. A pedestrian, the people they say they’re protecting.”

Rosalind began pacing. “You could be right. She’s not their real target. I am. In the Brotherhood, there’s no greater sin than betrayal.” Her mind whirled with gruesome images. In the Sanguine Hell, the traitors of Blodrial supposedly faced the worst punishments. After traitors crossed the Bridge of Dread, Blodrial froze them in blood and pierced their flesh with thorns.
I have no idea if any of that is true, but I sure as shit hope not
. “But it could be that they just want to light her on fire for show. I realize now they don’t really care who’s guilty and who isn’t. They want more power, and you get power from that intoxicating combination of terror and scapegoating. We’re the scapegoats, of course. And the people want our blood.”

“Seven hells,” murmured Malphus.

Rosalind’s heart hammered hard against her ribs. “How do we know Tammi is still in Maremount?”

“I’ve already performed a scrying spell,” Malphus replied. “She doesn’t seem to be in this world. But they could shift her back here at any moment. I don’t know what sort of magic Drew possesses.”

Caine’s gaze met Rosalind’s. “If Drew and Erish wanted to hand her over to the Brotherhood, where would the Hunters keep her?”

“In the Chambers, probably. Most of the building was damaged when we freed the prisoners, but not all of it. And it’s near where they set up the stakes.” She pivoted, pacing again. “But I don’t know for sure.”

“I’ll stay near Cambridge,” Malphus said. “I’ll use a scrying tool to keep an eye on the stakes and the Chambers. If I see this little blond girl, I’ll find a way to summon you both.”

Rosalind studied Malphus. “Why are you helping me? I know you want Miranda back to make your daywalkers. But why would you help Tammi? She serves no tactical purpose to you.”

Malphus crossed his arms. “Anything I can do to disrupt the Hunters’ plans is well worth my time.”

Caine put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “If anyone can free another person from chains, it’s you.”

It seemed an odd comment. There was obviously some deeper meaning there, but this wasn’t the time to ask.

Rosalind took a step closer to Caine. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of territory to cover.”

Caine pulled her in close, and she slid her arms around his neck.

“Remember to hold your breath,” he said. “And get ready to fight. We don’t know what awaits us when we arrive in the Lilitu Fountain.”

“As soon as the first demon comes for us, my hand will be on the sword’s hilt.” She pulled off her ring, letting Cleo’s vernal aura fill her mind, feeling the dew-slicked leaves brush over her skin. Caine began chanting the portal spell, and their auras curled together, strengthening. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a long breath.

In the next moment, freezing water enveloped her skin. She freed herself from Caine’s grasp, kicking her way up to the source of amber light streaming into the water. As her head breached the surface, she gasped for air. She kicked her way to the fountain’s edge, draping her arms over the side, then slid the ring back on her finger.

Catching her breath, she stared up at the fountain. A giant cube of stone stood in its center. From the top of the cube, a verdant yew spread out above them. Sunlight streamed between its boughs, dappling the ground around them in dancing flecks of nectarine.

From the fountain’s side, a beautiful stone head spewed clear water. Something about that carving unnerved her—the features were a little too real, the stone eyes full of silent dread.

Teeth chattering, she pulling herself out. She hauled herself over the side, jumping a few feet to the ground.

Caine followed, his black clothes drenched.

Rosalind surveyed the square, her mind tingling with a strange sense of familiarity. She inhaled, breathing in the salty, slightly fetid scent of nearby water. A spark of recognition lit in the back of her mind.
Maremount. My home.

She surveyed the square. Steep-peaked, timber frame houses lined one side, the aged wood painted in shades of chestnut and marigold. Boards covered one set of windows—a shop with a sign reading
theurgeon
and a snake insignia. Apart from that, everything else looked in good shape.

Opposite the shops, a stone fortress towered over the square. It looked as if statues had once decorated the facade, though nothing was left except their bases. Caine stared at the fortress, seemingly transfixed. For a moment, his eyes darkened to a midnight black.

Something had happened here that he wanted to remember, but clearly it wasn’t a happy memory. She’d seen the painting of the fortress hanging on his bedroom wall in Salem. Maybe it was something to do with that king and queen he’d killed.

Shivering, she hugged herself, casting one last glance back at the fountain again—at that disturbingly lifelike stone head.

Caine stood by her shoulder, and water dripped off him to the flagstones. He nodded at the fountain’s head. “Does she look familiar?”

Rosalind frowned. She
did
look familiar—that straight nose, those beautifully full lips. “It looks like Erish.”

“That’s her sister, the last succubus killed in Maremount.”

“And then they turned her into a fountain?” Rosalind shuddered. “I’m starting to get an idea of why Erish hates humans so much. I get a bad feeling just standing here.”

“There’s a reason you don’t like it here. The tree is new. This is where they executed people—hanged them, cut their guts out, chopped off their heads.” His gaze met hers. “And, unless we want to meet our own deaths, I suggest we move along.” He turned, crossing the square.

She followed, hurrying to catch up with him. “Do they still execute people? You said they have new leaders now.”

“I have no idea. But if we get separated or…” He frowned. “If something happens to me, find your way back here. I’m leaving the portal open.”

“Should I say the spell again?”

“No. It’s a portal, and anyone can fall into it. Let’s hope no one from Maremount decides to bathe in the fountain anytime soon.”

“Where does it go?”

“To the pond in Phobetor Field.”

They crossed the square to a narrow alley; the name carved into the wall marked it as Loblolly Row.

The sun had only just risen, and the heat was already bringing out beads of sweat on her upper lip. Her hair stuck to the back of her neck, and her dress molded to her skin. As they passed between the stone walls, she turned to Caine. “Where was my family’s home?”

“This city is laid out just like Boston was three hundred years ago. The Atherton mansion is in the Northwest, near Maremount Common—opposite the north end, and safely secure from the filthy Tatter villages.”

“And you’ve never heard of this mountain fortress?”

“Never. But I spent as little time as possible in Maremount.”

The alley opened up to a canal. Stone walkways lined the murky water, and on either side stood rickety homes that towered up to the skies at crooked angles.

As Rosalind and Caine strode down the walkway, people began shuffling out of their homes—women hanging laundry, a man packing up a wooden cart to bring into town. All of the women wore long dresses that reached their ankles, and a few cast a critical eye at Rosalind’s bare legs.

Her mind whirred.
If we manage to rescue Tammi, what are we going to do with Drew?
She couldn’t understand any of it—why was Drew coming after Rosalind, but protecting Miranda? It was almost like they’d started a civil war within the family, and no one had bothered to fill her in on the details. Maybe they could just lock Drew in this creepy city and forget about him.

She twisted the iron ring around her finger.
Whatever happens today, I’m going to use all the power I have at my fingertips. Assuming I can keep control of Cleo.

Up ahead, the canal flowed under a tall stone gate that arched high over the water and the walkways—one of the entrances to the city. As they approached, she could see more clearly that the gate’s surface was covered in carvings of fish and sea creatures. A broken stump of stone jutted from the top—no doubt another relic of Maremount’s former glory.

They crossed under the arch, and the canal opened up into a bay. Outside the gate, the city’s buildings ended abruptly. To the right, river birch and maple trees lined a rocky shore, and to the left, the bay narrowed again into a tree-lined river.

Morning light bathed Caine’s skin in amber. “According to your vision, which way do we need to go?” he asked.

“Hang on.” She closed her eyes, bringing up the memory of what she’d seen during the tracking spell—the vision rushing over the river and forest to the mountain fortress. If this city was oriented just like Boston, they now faced the southwest. “We need to cross to the other side of the canal. We follow along the river, heading south. About ten miles, maybe.”

“We can get there in a couple of hours, as long as you don’t walk like a normal, slothful human.”

“I can run most of that.” She frowned. “There’s got to be a spell for flight.”

“There is, especially for Druloch’s followers. You can tear a sapling from the ground to fly with. But unless you’ve practiced, you’re likely to break your pretty little neck.” He turned and dove into the canal water.

She followed, plunging below the water’s murky surface and kicking her way across. On the other side, Caine extended a hand and helped her out.

She stood, her soaked dress hugging her body, and wrung out her hair.
Good thing it’s 80 degrees out.

“Talk to Cleo,” Caine said. “There’s a spell for speed you can use. If I have to travel at your pace, I’ll die from boredom on the way.” He folded his arms. “As long as you think you can keep her under control when things get stressful. When we were in Cambridge, Cleo nearly went on a rampage.”

“I’ll do my best, but I haven’t had training yet.”

“I’ll help you now. I’ll be your anchor until you get her under control.” He stepped closer, looking down at her. “Take off the ring.”

“Okay.” She pulled off the ring, shoving it in her bra. She gave in to the now-familiar feeling of Cleo’s leafy magic flooding her mind.

Caine’s fingertips brushed over her temples. “Compress her aura.”

Closing her eyes, she tightened the whorls of green into smaller coils, just as she’d done before.

“Where do you see her aura?” Caine asked.

“It’s in my head… in the center of my skull.”

He began tracing his fingertips down the sides of her face. “I want you to bring the magic lower. Let it follow my fingers.”

The sphere moved down into the base of her skull, following the path of his fingertips. It shifted down the front of her throat, her skin tingling all the way. He traced a single finger down her sternum, stopping just between her breasts. “Where is the magic now?”

“Where my heart is.” She breathed deeply, trying not to focus on where his finger was.

“Good.” He pulled his hand away. “Cleo will be easier to control when the magic isn’t in your head.”

In Rosalind’s mind, Cleo screamed.
You trap me in your ribs, in a coffin of bone? You want to bury me under the earth, feed me to the worms?

“I need to stay in control right now,” Rosalind said out loud. “I’ll let you out to play some other time.”

When I come out to play, I’m going to find Ambrose, and then watch the world burn.

Rosalind tightened the magical coils down, tighter in her chest.
Ambrose?
What the hell did Cleo want with Ambrose? Whatever it was, she didn’t have time to get into her second soul’s drama now. She needed to get to Tammi—fast.