“The four stakes. I was there. It wasn’t me or Miranda. It was my mom that you killed. And my dad.”
Something flickered in his eyes for a moment, then his face hardened. He stood, crossing to Miranda. He pulled the gag from her mouth.
When he ripped the necklace from her throat and chucked it over the cliff, she gasped.
“It was nothing they didn’t deserve.” Gritting his teeth, he pulled apart Miranda’s iron chains.
Miranda blinked, staring at her sister. “Rosalind’s mind is splitting in two.”
“Why did they deserve to die?” Rosalind screamed.
Don’t trust a shadow demon, Cleo urged. They cloak the truth in darkness. You know this.
Caine glanced into the stormy skies, and Rosalind followed his gaze. A cloud of keres was approaching, flaring with colored magic. The sight knocked a glimmer of clarity back into Rosalind’s mind. “We need to go,” she said. She couldn’t stop the trembling in her hands.
Caine lifted Tammi from the ground again, nodding at Rosalind. “I’ll come back for Erish. I’m going to bring her to Ambrose in chains, like he asked.”
Ambrose… Rosalind tried to stand, forcing herself onto her feet.
Miranda crossed to her, crouching down. She slipped an arm around Rosalind’s back, helping her up.
Rosalind leaned in, resting her head on Miranda’s shoulder. Caine and Miranda chanted the teleportation spell. Miranda’s briny scent filled Rosalind’s nose, and Rosalind let her eyes close.
Her mind whirled with images of a rowan grove outside a sandstone manor house. Ambrose knew I worshipped Druloch, the forest god, and he brought me a wreath of blackthorn and forget-me-nots.
She was dimly aware of Miranda’s arms around her, holding her as they plunged into icy water. It bit into the wounds on her stomach.
Ambrose told me he’d come for me, but it wasn’t he who came for me over the fields…
Her head breached the water’s surface, and she gasped, breathing in the floral air near Phobetor pond. A storm raged here, too, and dark clouds churned in the sky. Rain hammered down on them, pounding the lake. Rosalind kicked her legs, using what was left of her strength to swim to the shore. Her stomach felt like an open wound.
Caine carried Tammi in his arms, and laid her down in the tall grasses.
Rosalind crawled on her hands and knees, clutching her stomach. Whatever Drew had done to her, the pain was eating into her like acid. Kneeling on the rocky shore, she yanked up her dress, not caring who was watching.
She pulled the dress over her head, tossing it on the ground, and stared down at her stomach, at the sigil seared into her flesh by Drew’s magic. It was the same sigil Drew had given to Orcus, the one that had bound her in the cemetery.
Her fingers trembled as she touched the edges of the burned skin. What has he done to me?
Caine rushed over to her, kneeling by her side. “The mark of Azazeyl,” he said. His fingers gently traced over her waist.
Don’t let the murderer touch you, Cleo whispered in her mind.
Rosalind recoiled from him, pulling away. He clenched his jaw, rising. “Let your sister heal you, then.”
Miranda was at her side in the next moment. She chanted the healing spell, and her blue aura washed over Rosalind’s skin like water. Slowly, the spell leached the pain from Rosalind’s body, rejuvenating her muscles—but a deep, pounding fatigue still sapped her energy.
Her gaze landed on Caine, and a sharp crack of lightning lit up his face and his chiseled body. He stared down at her, eyes cold as winter. He was beautiful, the angel of death. He’d murdered her parents while she watched. He’d known all along what had happened to them, and he’d never said a thing.
Rosalind stood. I have to get out of here. I have to get away from Caine—he’s not Caine. He is Death.
She walked over to Tammi, pulling her toward the water.
“Where are you going?” Miranda shouted.
Go to Ambrose, said Cleo’s voice. Find my lover.
Rosalind grabbed Tammi under the shoulders, pulling her back to the water’s edge.
“What are you doing?” Caine bellowed.
She ignored him, her gaze flicking to her sister instead. “I’m going to Lilinor. You can come with me if you like.”
Miranda stood by the death spirit’s side, shaking her head no.
Rosalind didn’t need him to use the portal now. Cleo would take her there. Take me to Ambrose, Cleo. Just like you wanted.
Rosalind began chanting the spell to open the portal, and Cleo’s aura whirled around her body, filling the air with the scents of the forest.
The pond swirled with black shadows, and Rosalind dragged Tammi into them, plunging into the darkness.
Chapter 30
A strong pair of arms lifted her from the fountain, setting her down on the floor.
Rosalind turned onto her front, coughing up water onto the black marble. When her lungs were clear, she turned to look at Tammi, at her friend’s chest, which slowly rose and fell.
She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, and craned her neck to look up at Ambrose.
That image flickered in her mind: Ambrose standing in the silvery light of the Rowan grove.
He’s here, Cleo whispered to her.
“You were supposed to come for me,” she said, “but you sent the Hunters instead.” Her legs shaking, she forced herself to stand. She wouldn’t be on her knees before him. “You gave me a wreath of blackthorn.”
Ambrose’s eyes widened, his body going very still. He didn’t say a word.
She stepped closer to him, grabbing him by his shirt. Her wet hands left dark imprints on his pale blue shirt. “I came back for you.”
“Rosalind.” His gaze lowered to her bra. “You need to put on your ring.” He gripped her wrists. “You are Rosalind. You’ve dragged an unconscious ker into my room, and I’d like to know what the fuck is going on.” Anger tinged his voice.
Right. An unconscious ker. Tammi. She closed her eyes, trying to force the wild aura tighter and tighter. She was no longer quite sure what she was doing here in Ambrose’s room.
She reached into her bra, pulling out the iron ring Caine had made for her. For the first time, she noticed something engraved in the interior. An Angelic word, and with Cleo’s help, she could translate it: warrior. She slid it onto her finger, and the wild green tendrils faded. “Sorry, Ambrose,” she stared at the Vampire Lord, her legs shaking.. I needed a lot of magic to get out of Maremount. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“You’re lucky you’ve been given permission to enter the White Tower, or you would have drowned in that portal.”
She let out a long slow breath, her thoughts slowly clearing, and realized suddenly that she was still wearing only her bra and underwear. “Sorry for the interruption.”
His cold gaze raked over her. “I don’t like interruptions, but at least you’re naked and unarmed.”
Her body was trembling, and she felt like a complete lunatic. Still, even with the ring on, she could feel Cleo’s presence roiling in her mind. It should be gone by now, but Cleo wanted Rosalind to reach out and touch Ambrose’s black shirt.
“Now is the time for you tell me what’s going on,” Ambrose said.
“I used too much magic.” She hugged herself, shivering. “We collected Miranda from Maremount. She was being held prisoner by Drew. She’s with Caine now, but I think she’ll join us here.”
Ambrose’s eyes roved down her body again. “Why is Azazeyl’s symbol burned into your skin?”
“Drew did that to me. Something about The One Who Is All. We’re allegedly descended from him.”
Ambrose drew his finger across his lower lip. “He believes in that legend?”
“Apparently if I drink from Blodrial’s veins, I could have his powers, too.” Rosalind closed her eyes, rubbing her throbbing forehead. “There’s more you need to know. I decapitated your wife, but didn’t rip out her heart. Caine was goi
ng back for her. He’ll bring her in chains.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “And why isn’t Caine with you?”
“I left him by his tower.” Right now, she wanted nothing more than dry clothes and a bed. “I found out that he—” She stopped herself. Ambrose didn’t need to hear about what happened to her parents. “Never mind. The important thing is that Drew is still out there. I tried to kill him, but a harpy saved him.”
“And you came to find me because Cleo brought you here.”
She shook her head. “Not just that. I want to fight the Brotherhood. I want to fight Drew. If we allow them to join forces—Drew and the Hunters, military strength and this new type of magic—they’ll enslave us all. We won’t have a chance. I want to help make your army of daywalkers. I don’t have a great history with vampires, but I prefer most of you to the Brotherhood these days.”
Ambrose brushed a strand of hair from her face. “All I ask for is your loyalty.”
* * *
She awoke in silky sheets the color of pewter, fighting her way out of dreams of Ambrose and wreaths of blackthorn. She rolled over, gazing at her Tammi. Her friend slept by her side, snoring lightly, black wings folded peacefully behind her. Faint bruises shone on her neck, but apart from that—and her new, demonic appearance—she seemed to be fine. Healthy, even.
Something shifted in the room—silk rustling against velvet—and Rosalind sat up. Miranda lay curled in an ivory armchair, stirring in her sleep. Rosalind hadn’t heard her come in. Ambrose must have brought her here. Like Rosalind, she wore a new, clean gown of ivory silk.
Rosalind blinked, trying to clear her mind. She’d been half-asleep when she arrived in this room, and had barely taken in her surroundings. The walls were a deep midnight blue, glimmering with flecks of white. A jasmine-scented breeze filtered in through arched windows, and stars burned bright in the midnight sky.
When she looked at Miranda again, her twin was watching her, her brown eyes burning with curiosity. Miranda rose, stretching her arms above her head, and crossed the room. “You’re awake.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “How are the voices in your head?”
Rosalind studied her sister. They were nearly identical, apart from the tiny mole on Miranda’s right cheek. “Her name is Cleo. She hates shadow demons, but she wants to screw Ambrose. They have some kind of history.”
Miranda frowned. “I don’t know as much about mine. He’s a man. And he hates Hunters.”
“I guess you’ve been through all this before.”
Miranda nodded. “The people I lived with tried to make me wear iron, but I didn’t like how it made me feel, and my other soul didn’t like it at all.” Her brow crinkled. “My adoptive parents only spoke to me about Blodrial. They said he would purify my soul. But I wouldn’t drink the blood.”
“You were sent to live with the Brotherhood, too?”
Miranda nodded. “I ran away when I was fifteen. And I took off the iron ring.”
“Where did you go?”
“Sometimes I lived in the woods. Sometimes I slept in the streets. I ate the food people left over, and I found ways to stay warm in the winter. I had a sleeping bag. Sometimes my second soul spoke so loud, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts…” She let out a sigh. “I looked for you for years. I thought we could live together, like we used to. Like, maybe we could’ve built a house in the woods. I didn’t know you were a Hunter.”
“That’s why you came to Thorndike University.”
“I was so sure I was close to finding you.” Miranda’s features darkened. “And then the Brotherhood found me. I always hated Hunters. So did my second soul.”
Guilt pierced Rosalind’s chest. “That was my fault. I didn’t know who you were. I just sensed an aura.”
“The Hunters kept me chained to a chair, and sometimes they drowned me with cloths and water. They cut my skin, and wanted to watch as I healed myself. They wouldn’t let me sleep. Josiah told me that I needed him. The other guard used to stick iron nails into my knees and calves, and Josiah said he’d make it stop. And he did, as long as I did what he wanted. I thought I needed him.”
Pain tightened Rosalind’s heart. “I’m so sorry.”
Miranda’s face cleared. “But after Josiah died, I cleared my mind again. I took the iron off. I was looking for you again when Drew found me. He took me to Maremount.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Miranda shook her head. “No. He treated me well. I had food, and a soft bed. But he wasn’t going to let me leave.”
Rosalind swallowed hard. “Do you remember what happened with our parents, and with Caine?”
Miranda blinked, shrugging slightly. “He killed them.”
“Why?”
Miranda’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you remember, when Caine was like a wild beast? But he was beautiful, and I used to bring him food. Him, and the other beautiful man. I never brought you down there with me. I wasn’t allowed down there, and I thought you’d get scared. You always got scared easily. You had nightmares.”
Rosalind’s chest tightened. Miranda wasn’t making sense. “What other man?”
“The other one. He was injured, with iron in his body. Just like when we saw Malphus in the Chambers. He didn’t speak.” She scratched her cheek. “Malphus wasn’t in chains. He was only a boy. He liked you. I don’t know why. You were never nice to the servants.”
Rosalind frowned. “I’ve heard that before. I was a brat, I understand.” The skin on her stomach still smarted, and she rubbed it gently. “I don’t understand. Why did our parents have Caine and Malphus? And why did Caine kill them?”
Miranda shook her head. “He said he needed to stop them.”
“From what?”
“They wanted to recreate the Atherton Dynasty. The One Who Is All ran through our veins—but then it was all over, after Caine killed our parents. That’s when the king sent us out of the city. He was scared of our magic.”
The only person who could really answer her question was Caine himself. “Where is Caine?”
“Here in Lilinor, in his own room.”
He won’t tell you the truth, whispered Cleo. Shadow demons lie.
Rosalind blinked to clear her mind of Cleo’s voice, and traced her thumb over her iron ring. “Miranda. I’m wearing the iron now, but I can still hear Cleo’s voice.”
“You have two souls, now. You’ll have to get used to it.” Her twin pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “And you should go back to sleep, or her voice will eat you alive.”
Miranda rose, crossing back to curl up in her armchair. Rosalind lay down again in the soft pewter-colored sheets, her gaze on the open window.
She stared out at the night sky, graven with chinks of light—drawn to its vastness, its clean, cold silence.
You belong here, Cleo whispered to her, cloaked in darkness, with me.
Rosalind’s fingers curled around the sheets. It didn’t matter if she was in the dark because now, she was no longer alone.
* * *
We hope you enjoyed Witch Hunter. Book 3 doesn’t come out until late November 2016, but in the meantime we think you might enjoy our novel Infernal Magic. It takes place in the same magical universe.
Yours,
Nick & Christine
Also by C. N. Crawford
The Memento Mori Trilogy
Book 1: The Witching Elm
Book 2: A Witch’s Feast
Book 2.1: The Abysmal Sea
Book 3: Witches of the Deep
The Vampire’s Mage Series
Book 1: Magic Hunter
Book 1.1: Shadow Mage
Book 2: Witch Hunter
The Demons of Fire and Night Series
Book 1: Infernal Magic
Book 2: Nocturnal Magic
(November 2016)
* * *
Acknowledgments
We thank our wonderful editor Tammi Labreque; our cover designer Rebecca Frank; and our proofreader Sara Pinnell. We also than
k our ARC team and Author’s Corner for their inspiration and moral support. And, a special thanks to Mike Omer for helping to shape the book into something beautiful.
About
C. N. Crawford is not one person but two. We write our novels collaboratively, passing our laptops back and forth to edit each other's words.
Christine (C) grew up in New England and has a lifelong interest in local folklore - with a particular fondness for creepy old cemeteries. Nick (N) spent his childhood reading fantasy and science fiction during Vermont's long winters.
In addition to writing fiction, we love to hear from our readers and can be reached at any of the following links. We always reply to our readers.
@cn_crawford
cncrawfordauthor
www.cncrawford.com
[email protected]
For Miranda, the twin, who may or may not be real.
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