vampires mage 02 - witch hunter (24 page)

A ker boot slammed her hard in the gut. As she coughed and spluttered, trying to catch her breath, rough hands grabbed her body, hoisting her up. With claws digging into her flesh, the keres began to beat their wings. The pain from her bite mark ripped her shoulder apart, and she gasped, frantically searching for Caine. But the keres were everywhere, lifting her off the ground, gripping tight to her shoulders and waist.

As they took flight for the opening, a phalanx of flying demons surrounded her, their black wings pulsing in the air. Fear sank its talons into her mind, and she glanced down at Caine. A whirlpool of keres surrounded him. For just a moment, his arctic eyes locked on hers, and his lips moved in a spell. But as his magic burst around him, the keres closed in, dragging him to the ground, trampling him into the mud.

“Caine!” she screamed. One of the keres yanked her head back by the hair, hissing. One final burst of Caine’s aura flashed as they lifted into the sky. His silvery magic curled around the keres. One of the demons at Rosalind’s shoulders moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head. Her grasp on Rosalind weakened, her head lolling. Her fingers slipped away. She dropped from the sky, her black dress whipping in the wind. Still, the other two keres tightened their sharp grasps.

Rosalind turned her head to glance down over her shoulder, hoping to see a raven taking flight—Caine coming to save her. Instead, she saw only a writhing mass of white-haired demons on the ground, smothering Caine. The sight cut her to the bone.
I need to get back to him.

Maybe his demigod status could get him through a legion of iron-wielding demons—but it was a long shot. She’d seen what happened when she drove a single iron stake into his heart in Salem. Was that what it had been—her nightmares, her visions? Simply guilt, for what she’d done to him?

Her chest ached, and she stifled a sob. High in the stormy sky, rain battered her body. She had a gnawing certainty that she was being dragged to her own death. Around her, cauldron-dark clouds seethed, and lightning cracked.

The keres’ black wings rhythmically beat the air, their pale eyes glowing with an empty light. Something about them seemed
different
from the keres she’d encountered in Lilinor—their expressions were blank, their features a little more human. Beautiful, but vacant. If she didn’t have handcuffs on, she could do some damage with that battle fury spell—maybe crawl on one of their backs like she had with the harpy.
Please, Nyxobas, don’t let Caine die.

She flexed her wrists. Bound by the damn iron shackles, she wasn’t going to get her frenzy going. Her gaze flicked to the keres. Not only did they wield iron weapons—they wore iron necklaces.
What the fuck?
How was their magic still working? Iron was supposed to destroy magic. It certainly did in her case.

Strong storm winds whipped over her body, freezing her skin, and her teeth chattered. She glanced down at herself, at the ker blood soaking her clothing.
This is a complete disaster.
They were supposed to sneak up on the mountain fortress, undetected—that was the whole advantage to keeping their group small.

How did the keres manage to find them in all this wilderness—to home right in on them like a beacon? The demons had known exactly where they were. A tracking spell, perhaps? But somehow Drew had known exactly when he’d needed to search for them, had known that they were coming into his city. How?

And why were they dragging her off to the fortress, and leaving Caine behind? Surely a demigod was a greater prize than her. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t leave him there to die. Maybe there was some way out of her cuffs. If she could get her hands on a thin enough blade in her weapon belt, she might be able to slide it into a lock. The misericorde, maybe.

She glanced at the keres to see if they were paying attention. Their expressions were blank and stony as they carried her along the river’s southward bend.

She strained her arms, trying to reach for one of the blades, but the keres were gripping her too tightly for her to maneuver.

In the driving rain, she could see the mountain fortress coming into view, just like the one from her vision. Nestled into a blue-hued hill stood a dark granite castle, with copper statues of goddesses gleaming from its turrets. Harpies circled the air above it like birds of prey.

A shiver wracked her body.
Is this horrible place my ancestral home?

The keres were heading for a rocky outcrop in front of the fortress’s portcullis. Swooping lower, they dove straight for the ground at an alarming speed. The fortress loomed larger as they hurtled for the ground.

Rosalind braced herself for a rough landing. Just outside the portcullis, they let her drop a few feet from the ground. She rolled on the rocky ledge, grimacing with pain.

And this is how my family summons me.

Grunting, she pushed onto her knees, and the keres yanked her the rest of the way up. Her gut clenched with dread as she stared up at the pale stone fortress.
I have no idea what awaits me here, but I don’t have a good feeling about it.

The copper portcullis creaked open with the sound of turning gears. When it gaped fully open, the keres pushed her in. Her heart skipped a beat. Two literal giants guarded a set of doors at the other end of the hall. They must have been twenty feet tall, their half-naked bodies formed from pure corded muscle. Their eyes gleamed a pale granite, strong jaws set tight. Each one gripped a spear in enormous, meaty hands.

She swallowed hard.
Where the hell is everyone getting these giants?

The keres shoved her forward, and she started walking slowly. As they crossed the marble floor, her boots echoed off the high ceiling. She eyed the alcoves filled with copper statues, and a sigil marking the pale marble floor. A shiver ran up her spine. It was the same one she’d seen at Abduxiel Mansion: Azazeyl’s sigil. The god who might not be real.

Altogether, the palace held a faint hint of familiarity. She’d been here before—she was fairly certain of that. She closed her eyes, trying not to think of Caine—that poisonous dream of the stakes, the dream that wanted to eat her alive. And she couldn’t let herself think of what was happening to him now—being overwhelmed by writhing ker bodies, his flesh pierced over and over by iron…

Stop it, Rosalind.
She needed to keep her head together if she wanted to get out of this alive. And then she’d go back for him—or what was left of him. And together, they’d get Tammi.

Rosalind’s knees shook as they approached the second set of doors. The two giants stared straight ahead. Like the keres, their auras formed from a wide bouquet of colors and smells—gold and silver tingling over her skin, soft mossy green and a wet, briny blue. She didn’t even want to think about what kind of damage those bastards could do. Whatever her escape plan entailed, she’d need to stay the hell away from the giants.

As they walked up the stairs to the next set of doors, the doors swung open, revealing a second hall. A deep bronze rug led right up to a dark granite throne.

And on the throne sat Drew, lazily tracing a finger over the rim of a chalice. A copper crown, inset with emeralds, gleamed on his head.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Rosalind.”

“Drew. My loving… what are you? Brother? Cousin?”

A raised eyebrow registered a hint of surprise. “Ah. You’ve worked it out, at last.”

“Is it true?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes locked on hers. “Not your brother. Cousin, yes—
and
your future husband. Did you finally remember your family?”

Chapter 24

Her mind churned. “Caine told me about our family crest. And I saw the same motto hanging on your wall.
Loyalty binds me.
”

“It doesn’t bind you, though, does it?”

“Who are you?” Her voice echoed off the high ceiling.

“I loved your parents like they were my own. Worshipped them, practically.” He frowned. “But sadly, they were not my own.”

“What do you mean, future husband?”

“We’ve been engaged since you were born. As we should be. We needed to ensure we could keep the Atherton bloodline pure. We’re not like other people, Rosalind.”

She swallowed hard. She needed to buy just enough time to slide a blade out of her belt and wrench the cuffs open. “In what way are we not like other people? I mean, besides having a fortress with giants and harpies?” Pain seared the puncture wounds in her neck, and she grimaced as he spoke.

He narrowed his eyes, studying her neck. “You’re injured. I’ll send someone for a potion.”

“I don’t want any more potions.” Her fingers curled. “What was in the last one you gave me?”

“It healed you didn’t it? And it helped me keep track of you.” He shrugged. “Otherwise, I might not have known you’d come for me.”

Slowly, she reached for one of the blades in her belt
.
Her fingertips tightened on the knife’s hilt, and she began inching it up. It was the misericorde—a long, needle-like knife intended to deliver a merciful death stroke. Perfect for picking the cuffs’ lock.

She just needed enough time to make it work. She cleared her throat.
“You were saying something about a pure bloodline? We’re not like other people?”

Drew steepled his fingers, staring down at her. “I’m trying to re-establish the Atherton dynasty. We are descendants of the One Who Is All. We deserve to rule. We will create a new Atherton kingdom from here, just like the kingdom of old. Your parents had the same mission.”

Slowly, she inched the hilt up higher.
This is not going to be easy.
“My parents wanted to create a new kingdom. And that’s why they needed three ancient mage’s souls—for all that power.”

“It was part of their plan,” Drew said.

Her wet fingers were slippery on the hilt. “Why are you working with the Brotherhood?”

He straightened, his face paling slightly. “You must understand that I had nothing—nothing but a common enemy with the Brotherhood. Mutual hatred tends to unite people.”

She shimmied the knife up a little higher, trying not to let it slip. “What mutual enemy?”

“The Ravener.”

Her pulse raced, and sweat mixed with the rain on her fingertips. It was hard to get a good grip on the hilt. “Why is he your enemy?”

“I wasn’t happy to find you with him, Rosalind. Not very
loyal
. And you’re too stupid to realize what he’s doing. First, he ruined our family, and now he wants to make you into his whore, to further debase the Atherton name.”

“That’s not true.”
Almost out, Rosalind.
“If he wants to make me into his whore, then why hasn’t he used mind control? Or his incubus powers?”

“He likes a challenge. It excites him. Feeds his ego.” Drew looked at his fingernails. “I almost gave you over to the Brotherhood to burn, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I loved your parents very much, and you seemed so helpless when I spoke to you at the mansion.”

Just one more inch.
Rosalind’s chest tightened. “I don’t even remember what Caine did. How did he destroy our family?”

Before Drew could respond, a ker smacked her in the back of the head, hissing. Rosalind dropped the blade, and it clanged against the ground. Her heart sank, her knees nearly giving way.

Drew tutted. “Rosalind. Were you trying to escape? I had a feeling I couldn’t trust you yet.” He released a long sigh. “I’ll have to keep you and Miranda in iron until you can demonstrate your loyalty.”

“Miranda hasn’t shown herself loyal to you?”

“The woman is half-mad. Whatever your Hunter friends did to her has ripped her mind apart. I think she has a strange fondness for Caine, despite what he did. So I’ll keep the chains on both of you for now.” He bit his lip. “The Brotherhood were hoping for four of you, of course. Caine, Malphus, Tammi, and you. But they’ll just have to settle for the two incubi alone. I’d still like you to be my wife.” He shrugged. “The Brotherhood can always choose another scapegoat. I don’t get the impression they’re picky about guilt.”

He’s not going to give Tammi up.
This was the first bit of good news she’d had. “So you won’t give Tammi to the Brotherhood either. I’d heard she was going to burn today.” She straightened. “I want to see her.”

Drew rose, stepping down from the dais. “In time, Rosalind, you’ll understand that the king is the one giving the commands.” He crossed the marble floor, and slid his arms around her. “But there’s plenty of time for you to learn that.”

He whispered a spell, his aura crawling over her body. It was no longer just copper, but tendrils of green and blue, gold and silver, the smells and textures overwhelming—slippery and rough, cold and burning, salty and spicy.

The phrase
the One Who Is All
whispered in the back of her skull, and the auras rushed into her bones.

In the next moment, they stood on a high walkway overlooking an enormous courtyard. A horde of keres swarmed below, bodies slick with the rain water. Their skin had an odd, shiny sheen, and they wore ragged black gowns.
What the hell is going on here?

On a raised stone dais in the courtyard, Erish stood above an altar, her hair wild. Her aura had changed—in fact, it looked just like Drew’s. Wild tendrils of gold, copper, silver, and green whipped from her body. Her dark hair snaked around her head, and her eyes shone a deep black. Something looked definitely
wrong
with her.

“What’s happened to her?” Rosalind asked.

“She drinks my blood, and that means she drinks from The One who is All. She’s been gorging on Blodrial’s blood as well. I’m not sure she’s handling it well. Mentally. But her powers are breathtaking. It’s been a long time since giants have roamed the earth, and she created the ones you’ve seen.”

Rosalind’s heart raced. “What are you talking about?”

His gaze slid to hers. “If you hadn’t been wearing that iron ring when you were in the Brotherhood, you’d know exactly what I was talking about. When you drank the god’s blood, you would have seen it for yourself. You and I descend directly from the One Who is All, he of the seven gods.”