vampires mage 02 - witch hunter (25 page)

She scanned the crowd of keres, desperately searching for Tammi. Fire flooded her veins, and her pulse raced out of control.
Keep your composure, Rosalind.
“I don’t have the first fucking clue what you’re talking about. But where is Tammi?”

He drummed his fingertips on the stone ledge. “I imagined you’d have a hard time recognizing her. She isn’t really Tammi anymore. It’s why I can’t give her to the Brotherhood. They wouldn’t recognize her either.”

Dread bloomed in Rosalind’s chest, and she watched Erish stalk off, storming through a wooden door into one of the towers. “What do you mean she isn’t Tammi anymore?” She knew where this was going, but she didn’t want to believe it. She kept the thoughts locked behind bars, trapped below the surface with all the dreams she didn’t want to remember.

He took a deep breath. “This probably makes me seem worse than I am. But let me explain. After the revolution in Maremount, I was in utter and complete exile for years—”

Her blood boiled.
Slam.
Something was hammering at the cage in her mind. “I said where is Tammi?”

“After years of living like a savage,” he continued, his voice soft and controlled. “I made it into Boston, but there, the Brotherhood rule the city. Gods below, I was eating discarded food out of trash cans, sleeping in—”

Slam. Slam. Slam.
She gritted her teeth. “Answer my question.”

“So I made a deal. The Brotherhood allowed me to use my magic freely. All I had to do was turn in a few traitors—you and Caine among them—and they would help me re-establish my dynasty.” His eyes took on a dreamy look. “It was a blessing in disguise—fate, really. They wanted me to drink the god’s blood. They’re a bit fanatical. But when I did, the most wondrous thing happened.” He turned to her, eyes glistening. “The One Who Is All awoke in my blood, blessing me with all kinds of magic. And now, I can see it and feel it, like you can. And I can control it.” He closed his eyes, tilting back his head to let the rain run down his face. “And that’s when Erish found me. She helped me rebuild part of the Atherton legacy. This fortress was here centuries ago, and we’ve created it again.”

Slam.
Rosalind’s face grew hot, and even without the spell she could feel the battle fury rising. “Get to the part about Tammi.”

“I’m getting to it.” He opened his eyes. “The Brotherhood won’t supply us with the god’s blood unless we do certain things for them. They wanted a demon massacre, so we gave them a demon massacre.” He looked out at the crowd of keres. “First, Erish and I had to make the demons. She’d ruined her own ker army, and these ones are much more docile.”

Slam.
Fear slithered over her skin. “Where is Tammi?” her voice came out in a whisper.

“I’d only intended to create a few,” he continued. “That’s all we needed for a solid massacre, and I didn’t know how to control the magic. I’m still learning. But Erish did. Really, she conducted the entire massacre. I think perhaps she’s starting to lose her mind. She’s been drinking me dry, sure. But she was never meant to drink from the iron god, and now she gorges herself on his blood. She’s too strong for me to fight, even with my growing powers.” He waved a hand. “And that’s how we ended up with this mess. Tammi, unfortunately, was one of the casualties.”

In horror, Rosalind turned to look at the crowd of keres.
Tammi is down there, dead-eyed and squatting in the courtyard. Tammi, who knew all the lyrics to every Beyoncé song. Tammi, who cut Rosalind’s hair when she couldn’t afford the salon, who came up with the most hilarious nicknames for all their professors, who dressed as a flapper every Halloween.

Tammi—
that
Tammi—was crouching in the rain, demon-like and lobotomized.

Uncaged, white-hot fury surged. She wanted to kick the shit out of Drew, to unleash her battle frenzy like she had with the keres. But, bound in iron, she couldn’t get to the magic she needed. Her heart hammered. “What did you do to Tammi? I want to hear you say it.”

Erish slammed open the wooden door again, dragging a human woman by the throat.

Drew nodded at the courtyard. “You’ll want to see this.”

Erish threw the woman down on the stone slab, her red hair spread out behind her. She screamed, and kept screaming. The succubus snarled, fixing the woman’s neck in an iron cuff that bound her to the stone.

Rosalind’s stomach clenched.
This is what happened to Tammi.

A guttural growl rose from Erish’s throat as she chanted an Angelic spell, and colored swirls of magic exploded around them. Rosalind watched in horror as the woman’s skin slowly blanched. She convulsed and shook on the stone. As she screeched to the stormy heavens, her eyes began to blaze like starlight, teeth lengthening into sharp spears. Her vibrant red hair paled to a gleaming white, and long, black claws lengthened from her fingertips.

Bile rose in Rosalind’s throat.
All the missing people…
Her legs threatened to give way. Her mind whirled. She needed to find Caine again, and they could drag Tammi out of here and undo the spell. Maybe the magic lay in the necklace itself. “How are you doing this?” she whispered.

“The One Who is All—the original fallen—gives us powers you’ve never dreamed of. I always thought it was a fairytale until I saw it for myself. Soon, you’ll be a believer, too.”

Her heart thrummed against her ribs. She wanted to call down the wrath of the gods on this place—but she needed to get out of the cuffs first. She scanned the skies, desperate for a sign of Caine flying in as a raven.

“Are you looking for the incubus?” Drew shook his head. “He won’t be coming for you.”

All the air left her lungs, like she’d been punched in the chest. “How do you know?”

“I watched him die through a scrying mirror. It was exactly as I’d always wanted to see him die—impaled on a stake and left there to rot. The light just went right out of his eyes.”

His words slammed into Rosalind. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her once again, and whispered a spell, his overwhelming auras rushing over her skin. She tried to swallow her revulsion as he whispered the teleportation spell.

In the next instant, they stood in the hall again, not far from Drew’s throne. The keres who had held her were now gone, and they were completely alone.

“You saw Caine die?” she said, her legs trembling. She pulled away from him.

“I’d been looking forward to that moment for years. I wanted so badly to kill him when he came into my house in Cambridge, but my magic wasn’t as powerful then.”

She didn’t care anymore
why
Drew hated Caine; she just knew that cold, icy wrath flooded her body.

Maybe she couldn’t access the battle frenzy spell, but she had fury of her own. The Brotherhood had taught her to fight without magic. Rage surged in her blood, and her teeth began to chatter, just as they’d done when she’d used the Morrigan’s spell. Only this fury was her own, blazing through her nerve endings, igniting her body.

Fight.
Rosalind pivoted, then kicked, slamming Drew in the face with her boot. His head snapped back, and she hammered him two more times in the nose. She heard a crack—the bone snapping—and the sound thrilled her. Blood poured from his face, and she slammed him again, wanting to break his skull in two.

He killed Caine. He destroyed Tammi.

Dazed, he staggered backward, trying to chant a spell, but his words slurred together and he fell on his ass.

Rosalind let herself drop to the ground too, contorting her body so she could pull her legs through her arms. Blazing with adrenalin, she rose, her cuffs now in front.

From the ground, Drew began chanting another spell—clearer this time—and she sprinted behind him.
He killed Caine,
her mind screamed. She hooked her cuffs around his throat, and pulled. Hard.

Bloodlust whispered around her heart, urging her to end his life.
He destroyed my friends.

Drew’s face reddened, his eyes bulging. As soon as his body went limp, she pulled the cuffs from his throat. He fell back, his head cracking against the marble floor. She stared at the angry red indentations on his neck. He was unconscious, not dead. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breath raspy.

At the sight of his helplessness, some of the rage in her chest subsided. She didn’t need to kill an unconscious man, but she’d make damn sure he couldn’t use his powers.

She just needed to get out of these cuffs.

She snatched her knife from the ground where the ker had dropped it—the thin stiletto blade was just narrow enough for what she needed. She slid the point in beside the teeth, sliding it deeper into the locking mechanism. Pushing on the cuff, she inched the knife in deeper, inching it slowly, until at last, she heard the lock click, unlatching.

She exhaled and glanced at Drew, who lay flat on his back, then she switched her focus to the other wrist.

When she’d pried her way out of that one, she grabbed the cuffs, crossing to Drew. She hauled him up, dragged him over to the throne’s base, and cuffed his hands behind his back with the cuff’s chain around one leg of the throne.

Free from the iron, she closed her eyes, letting Cleo’s aura swirl in her chest. Hugging her exhausted body, she chanted the spell to teleport back to the four stakes.

Her body burst with green magic, and a vernal wind rushed over her skin. She landed in the mud on her hands and knees, next to the branchy dome. Rain still hammered down, and her dress stuck to her skin. After using the powerful spell, her body felt ripped apart with fatigue. She had to fight the urge to lie in the mud and sleep.

When she looked up at the stakes, the world seemed to fall out from under her.

Chapter 25

T  here, nailed to a stake, was Caine. His head drooped, and blood poured from his heart. An iron nail had been rammed right through his chest.

It was just like her dream, only it was all backward. Caine had been killed, not her. She rushed to him.

A thin stream of blood dripped from his perfect lips. His entire body had been slashed by iron swords, and his head lolled. She slid her hand over his neck. Faintly, so faintly that she could hardly feel it, a pulse beat beneath the surface of his skin.

Relief washed over her. Nearly dead—but not quite.
I guess a demigod doesn’t die so easily. But there’s only one way for an incubus to heal.
Whatever he’d done, whatever had happened at these stakes—she had to heal him now if she didn’t want him to die.

She stared down at his chest again, at the nail’s thick iron head. Digging her nails around it, she slowly eased it out. When she’d pulled it out a few inches, she swallowed hard.
If he’s conscious for this, it will hurt. A lot.

She gripped it hard in her fist, then yanked it out. Caine moaned, his pale eyes fluttering open. He stared at her, seemingly without recognition. His eyes had darkened to fathomless, inhuman voids.

He glared down at her, and fear ran up her spine. Near death, he’d reverted to a primal state, a low growl rumbling from his chest. His fingers clamped onto her waist, claiming her. She wasn’t looking at Caine. She was looking at a shadow god, one full of primordial wrath, and every instinct in her body told her to run.

He only had one way to heal, and he wanted it. Now.

His fingers tightened around her waist in a vise-like grip. Possessive. Hungry. He pulled her closer, his heat seeping into her, his aura curling around her, brushing against her rain-soaked skin. She was his salvation, and he wasn’t letting her get away from him.

Slowly, his dark gaze magnetized her, and she no longer wanted to run from him. He grabbed her by the hair, turning her head to expose the vulnerable skin of her throat.

She shivered. Caine was in complete control here. If she tried to pull away from him, she didn’t think he’d let her get very far.

He leaned in, his teeth brushing her throat, sending a jolt of fire through her.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she arched into him, tangling her fingers into his hair. His grasp on her hips tightened, and he nipped at her skin. His lips replaced his teeth, and he kissed her neck softly, disarmingly. Heat blazed through her core, and her breath caught in her throat. She leaned back, exposing more of her neck to him, wanting his hands all over her.

Without warning, Caine spun her around. In the next second, he was pinning her hard against the stake. The rough bark chafed her skin through her thin dress, but she didn’t care. Caine, black-eyed, overwhelmed her. With a low snarl, he wrapped his strong arms around the backs of her thighs and lifted her from the ground. He pushed in closer, pressing her against the wood. Pulse racing, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in tight. Her dress hitched up to her waist, exposing her thighs. She reached up to touch his perfect face, and desire flooded her.

Hungrily, he pressed his mouth against hers, devouring her. She parted her lips for him, letting her tongue brush his. His kiss was hungry, desperate, electrifying. She arched her back, and his kiss lit her up.

Then his kiss softened, deepening, his tongue velvety smooth against hers. Gently, he brushed the rain-slicked hair from her face. He loosened his grip, his fingers tracing her inner thighs, electrifying her body with his touch. His fingertips moved higher, and her pulse raced.
I want him.

He pulled away, meeting her gaze. His eyes had returned to a clear, icy blue. Caine—but he wore an expression she’d never seen before. Almost perplexed. “I didn’t think I’d be able to find you.”

She cupped his neck. “That’s fine, because I found you.”

He stroked her thighs, staring into her eyes. Rain poured down his pale gold skin in rivulets, his dark hair soaked against his skin. “I saw them carry you away. I couldn’t get to you.”

“That’s because you were nailed to a stake.”

Caine’s breath quickened, his gaze moving past her, focusing on the rotting wood. As his eyes cleared, it almost seemed like he was waking from a dream. Suddenly, his body went rigid, a deep breath rushing into his lungs. He released his grip on her, letting her slide down his body. He pulled his arms from her neck and stepped away.