vampires mage 02 - witch hunter (29 page)

Tammi nodded. “I’m going to speak to them.” She flapped her wings, rising into the air. Droplets of water fell from her wings.

Panicking, the people in the cages shifted away from the bars, whispering to each other. If any of these prisoners had seen a ker before, it would have been when they were eating people’s necks in Harvard Square.

Tammi held out her hands, like she was taming a wild beast. “Everyone stay calm. We’ve come to get you out of here. I know I look like a demon, but I’m not. I mean, maybe I am now, but… I was in there with you. Some of you might remember me. Linda, I see you in there. And Steve. And Ben! You knew me as Tammi.”

“Tammi?” a voice called out. “What did they do to you?”

“They’re turning people into demons. And that’s why we’re going to get you out of here. You need to take the river—”

Panicked shouts echoed around the chambers, drowning out Tammi’s instructions. Someone screamed that her friend was too sick to move, her legs infected.

“Tell them I’ll heal them!” Rosalind shouted. “I’ll strengthen them. We need to move quickly.”

She bit her lip.
Shit.
How was she supposed to quickly conduct spells on hundreds of prisoners?
I need to move this along—fast
.
If I can see magic, I can control it.

“Tammi!” Rosalind shouted. “Carry me up there. I can help heal them. Then they need to get the hell out of here before someone discovers us.”

Tammi flew lower, and Rosalind wrapped her arms around her friend’s neck. Tammi beat her wings, lifting Rosalind out of the water. Craning her neck, Rosalind glanced around at the people stuck in the rocky prison cells. The sphere of light dimly illuminated ragged clothes, gaunt faces, haunted eyes. They stared at her, gripping the bars.

Rosalind swallowed hard. All these people in here were now counting on her and Tammi to get them out of this. “I’m going to open your cells,” she said. “I’m going to use magic.”

“Witch!” someone shouted.

Oh, right.
To everyone in here, magic was the ultimate enemy. Magic was what had led to their capture and imprisonment, to horrific massacres of innocent people. What she needed was some sort of rousing speech to help them understand the complexities of the situation—that it wasn’t simply good versus evil, that sometimes things were nuanced.

“I’m a witch,” she said, raising her voice. “But I’m a good witch. Like Glinda.”
Or I could just reference Wizard of Oz.
“Listen,” she continued. “We’re going to get you out of here, and that’s better than starving to death or rotting from gangrene under a mountain. So, witches or not, we’re your best bet.”

The prisoners fell quiet, and Rosalind closed her eyes, trying to focus on Cleo’s green aura. For the magic she was about to conduct, she’d need a staggering amount of power.

Cleo’s magic burned in her chest, a tiny green sphere of light blazing from her sternum.
Cleo, help me open the iron bars. Like we opened the iron for that woman before.

Cleo whispered,
Ambrose.

The spell shimmered into her mind, in words emblazoned with light. Rosalind spoke the words out loud, her body vibrating with Cleo’s spell. This time, the aura surged like electricity, and she felt a thrilling rush at its power. She concentrated on moving the aura with her mind, branching it out so it curled around all the cell bars. The power flowing from her body felt immense. She was a conduit, letting it out.

She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back, and the aura bubbled up her chest, tingling and brushing over her skin.

As the raw, vernal power ignited, she caught a glimpse of something… A rowan grove, the leaves illuminated by pure, golden sunlight, berries bright as fresh drops of blood. After the shadows grew long like grasping fingers, and the sun dipped below the flowery knoll, he would come for her in darkness. She burned for him…

“Rosalind!” Tammi called out.

“What?” Rosalind’s eyes snapped open. Her body ached to the bone. She glanced around at the prison cells. The bars gleamed with a green aura, and they’d been bent wide open in the center—leaving enough room for people to escape.

“You got lost there for a moment,” Tammi said. “What the hell was that?”

Rosalind gasped for breath. “I think I was sucked into Cleo’s life.” Must have been the power of the spell that let Cleo take over.

“You need to keep going,” Tammi said, clinging to her. “I think the spell might have alerted someone’s attention. Can you heal them?”

The walls around them rumbled, and dust fell from the cavern’s ceiling.
Damn right we need to get going.
She didn’t want to get caught in another collapsing tunnel. But gods, that spell had sucked the life out of her, and she wanted to curl up in a ball. Nausea welled in her gut, and aches bit at her bones.

She closed her eyes, asking Cleo for help again—this time for a healing spell.

Ambrose,
Cleo whispered, offering up a spell.

Rosalind began to chant. Once again, her body blazed with vibrant, leafy power. A stream of green aura poured from her body, and she concentrated on branching it out into each cell, letting it curl around the sick and injured prisoners like shimmering ferns.

No longer tired, she felt a giddy rush light up her body from within. Cleo was here, filling up her chest, sneaking up into her mind, urging her to close her eyes and see…

The night sky blazed over the rowan grove, graven with chinks of light. Cloaked in darkness, he was coming for her over the tall grasses, grasses thick with yarrow and cowslips.

“Rosalind!” Tammi pinched her. “Stay with us. I know this is hard. We just need one more spell.”

The image vanished, and Rosalind blinked. Her chest ached with a strange longing at the loss of the vision. Now her muscles were on fire, and she wanted to go back to that cool, beautiful field under the night sky, to see the man who was coming for her.

She glanced around at the cavern—at the prisoners standing in their cells, some of them smiling, a few sniffling. Above, the cavern ceiling continued trembling, and small pieces of rock fell into the rushing water below them.

Just one more spell.

Rosalind closed her eyes, resting her head on Tammi’s shoulder while her friend shouted out instructions: jump into the water, follow the river, and leap into the fountain.

As soon as Tammi had finished her instructions, Rosalind asked Cleo for another spell to turn the prisoners invisible. Power flooded her body once more, and she watched the glimmering green aura unfurl before her. She concentrated on forcing it to curl out, like hundreds of vines unfurling, wrapping around the prisoners.

With the rush of energy, her eyes closed.

She stood with her back to a rowan tree, its leaves rustling in the breeze. Gracefully, he walked in shadows, coming for her. He would run his fingers over her skin, lighting her body on fire with his touch.
Ambrose.
His name filled her with—

A sharp pinch pulled her from the dream. Exhausted, she rested her head on Tammi’s shoulder once again, watching as the cavern’s water splashed with each invisible prisoner making their escape.
What the hell, Cleo? Leave me out of your weird sex life.
What the hell was this weird obsession with Ambrose?

“Rosalind,” Tammi said. “I’m taking us out of here. Something’s coming for us.”

Tammi turned to fly from the cavern, when up ahead the sound of terrified screams echoed. Curls of multicolored magic streamed into the air.
Oh, shit.

“I hope you’re ready for a fight,” Rosalind muttered to Tammi. Her body felt-half dead, and she wouldn’t be much good in a fight now. She needed to use one last spell, but at some point, she’d run out of energy completely.

Closing her eyes, she chanted the spell for battle fury, letting her body charge with hot, angry fire. She let go of Tammi’s neck, dropping into the water, then pulled the sword from her back and rushed toward the screams.

As she ran into the narrow cavern, her mouth dropped open.

The statues they’d passed were not statues at all. They were
alive
now
;
their skin and clothing were still the color of sand, but they moved—and two of them were armed.

“Prisoners!” Rosalind screamed. “Run!”

One of the knights ran for Rosalind, his sword drawn. She parried, and their blades clashed, echoing off the rock.

“We will protect the Atherton Dynasty,” the knight growled, his voice like gravel. “Loyalty binds us.”

“I am an Atherton,” she shouted back, her sword clanging against his.

“Traitor,” he snarled.

What did he know? She wanted to crush him into gravel, into dust. She wanted to melt him with her fury. But her bones ached already, and the knight began to close in. His blade pierced her arm; blood spurted. Her heart pattered like a hunted animal.

She lunged, driving her sword into the knight’s chest before ripping it out again. His stony eyes bulged, and he staggered back, though it didn’t look like the blow had killed him. She had no idea how to kill a statue.

Around the statues, the colored auras burned brighter. Her gaze darted to the female, who now chanted a spell, trying to target the fleeing prisoners. Rosalind wanted to grind them to dust...

If you can see the aura, you can control it.

Gritting her teeth, she focused on the woman’s aura, freezing it in its path. The magic hung in the air around the woman. While Rosalind was concentrating, the second knight ran for her, slamming a fist into her head. Dazed, she stumbled and fell to her knees, and the knight forced her head under the freezing water. A stream of water ran down into her mouth, and for a second her throat convulsed.

Panicking, she struggled against him, gripping her sword below the rushing water. With all her effort, she forced herself up again until her mouth breached the surface. She gasped. Just before the knight could force her head under again, she swung her sword in a wide arc, cutting through his legs.

He fell into the water.

Rosalind rose, coughing up water, listening to the shouts of the escaping prisoners. She could feel some of them brushing against her as they ran.

And now it was time for her and Tammi to make their exit.

Tammi flew over, reaching out, and Rosalind wrapped her arms around Tammi’s neck. Tammi beat her wings, carrying Rosalind above the fleeing prisoners who splashed through the water.

Rosalind’s body felt torn between complete exhaustion and the remains of a power rush. Her limbs shook violently, and nausea welled in her gut. Had she really seen Ambrose in her vision? Where had
that
come from?

Rosalind chanted the spell for invisibility, as they approached the cave’s mouth.

Tammi soared into the open mountain air, circling over the river. “That was amazing, Rosalind. You’re one hell of a good witch.”

“Thanks.”

“I have no idea where to look for Caine, by the way.”

Rosalind closed her eyes. She still had no way of knowing if she’d made the right decision or not. If Caine and Miranda had been killed while they were freeing the prisoners, it would gut her.

They swooped around the mountain, and Rosalind’s hair whipped into her eyes, obscuring her vision.

“Rosalind.” Tammi’s voice held a hint of panic. “I can see Caine. And it doesn’t look good.”

Chapter 28

Rosalind pulled her hair out of her eyes and craned her head, trying to get a glimpse, but all she saw was a steep rock wall, overgrown with some vegetation.

“What’s happening?”

“I’m taking us to the summit, near one of the towers. Caine is there. With Drew. And Miranda.”

Rosalind’s chest tightened.
Fuck.

Tammi dove lower, and the wind rushed over Rosalind’s skin.

She arched her neck, catching a glimpse of a wide ledge, about thirty feet across. She could see Drew and Miranda; Miranda’s arms were bound behind her back. “Where’s Caine?”

“Chained to the cliffside, wrapped in iron.”

Rosalind’s stomach turned. “What the fuck?”

“I’m going to drop you off on the cliffside, by Drew. Maybe you can take his legs out with the sword, or whatever you need to do. I’ll swoop down and try to free Caine.”

“I can do this,” Rosalind said. She just needed to take out one person, and she’d already beaten him once.

“Get ready for a hard landing,” Tammi said. “I’m still not that good at this.”

As they drew closer, Rosalind craned her neck again. For just a brief moment, as they approached the cliff, she caught a glimpse of Caine. He hung, bound to the cliffside, shirtless.
What the hell is going on?

There wasn’t time to mull it over. She braced herself, and in the next minute she felt herself tumbling onto a rocky ledge, tangled up in Tammi’s limbs.

When she rolled onto her back, pulling herself out of Tammi’s grasp, Drew was staring right at her. He chanted a spell, his colorful aura bursting from his hand. Instantly, Rosalind and Tammi were visible again. Just as she’d said she would, Tammi leapt off the cliff’s edge.
Good. She’s going to help Caine.

Rosalind stared at Drew. He took a step over the rocky ledge, picking her up by the shoulders and slamming her up against the wall. Pain wracked her spine. The battle fury spell was wearing off faster this time, and Cleo’s aura needed time to recharge.

Drew leaned into her, whispering into her ear. “I guess I underestimated your treachery. I’ve got your lover now. He will have a slow death. Just like Azazeyl, who didn’t deserve it. I wanted Miranda to watch, too. I think she has a certain fondness for him, just like you.”

Rosalind glanced to her right, hoping to see Tammi carrying Caine in her arms. Instead, she caught a glimpse of the harpies heading right for Caine.

Her legs felt weak. “I don’t understand. Who is Azazeyl?”

Drew tightened his grip on her arms, his thumbs pressing into her wrists. This wasn’t much of a fight so far, but the aura felt dull and weak in her body; her tendons ached. “You’ll understand his power soon. I’ll drive it into you.”