Malice and Madness (The Hunter Vampire Chronicles Book 2)

by Juliet Boyd

  “Damn it!” Her palm clamped across his mouth. He had the urge to bite, hard.

  Her voice was the tiniest whisper. “I don’t need to act like a vampire, not for long. This way, I can catch her by surprise. I’ll let you out after I’m done. It’s the best deal you’re going to get.” She released her grip.

  He hissed back. “Or I could just drain you.”

  “We already discussed that. You can’t best me. Don’t waste your energy. I have no desire to kill you.” She looked up to the ceiling as if she could see right through it. “Now, go out there and sulk around. I’m sure you can manage it. Or you could pretend we just snogged each other’s faces off, if that’s your fancy.”

  He had no problem sulking. She started to act his part.

  “I’m not colluding with you. You’re pathetic. If she’s as powerful as you say she is, there’s no way you can beat her, and I have something she wants. Knowledge.”

  She stormed out into the corridor right up to the bottom of the stairs and shouted out. “Mrs Queen, are you listening? I have information that’ll help you. Valuable information. I know how to stop anyone coming down here ever again.”

  Damn. She was good.

  The words came out of Rag’s mouth almost unbidden. “She won’t do it. She’s not stupid. But you are.”

  And so was he, apparently.

  The moments dragged out before a sliver of light lit the staircase. Malice walked up the stairs in his clothes. How could this possibly work? Her mother would realise, surely? Her mother was powerful, she’d said so herself. Unless ….

  He ran as fast as he could to the door, but was the merest fraction of a second too late.

  ###

  Ellie wished she’d made a trail to find her way back. Her sense of unease was growing. She was certain the castle wasn’t a nice place to be. The air felt the same way it did when Flynn was about to create a spell. A slight tingle of electricity that couldn’t really be defined. A suspension of reality as you held your breath. She felt as if she were holding her breath with every step. The further they went, the closer they got. The anticipation of something bad had her prepared for anything. She did not intend to die here.

  They padded quietly on, until they came out onto what seemed to be the main hall, an entrance way with a spiral staircase. The cat began to descend. She halted. This was too exposed. If she went down and was seen, how could she defend herself? Perhaps, there was no need to worry. She had still seen no one. But the sense—

  “I told you. I have information. I want to do a deal.”

  It was Rag. There was no doubt. Simultaneously, relief washed through her body and it tensed. Against her better judgement, she began to descend with measured steps. More curious than anything else. She didn’t know what she was dealing with, who he was talking to.

  The cat ran toward the voice.

  “There is no information you have that would benefit me. I know everything there is to know about the Overland.”

  A woman’s voice. Strong, but a hint of age about it. No scent of Rag yet.

  “Have you been there?”

  “No.”

  “Then you can’t possibly know everything there is to know. You have to experience something for that.”

  Ellie stopped far enough down that she could see what was going on, but far enough away that she hoped she wouldn’t draw attention. Rag was being … odd.

  “Well, I’m quite sure you know very little.” The woman was definitely older. She began to draw energy from around her into a ball. A witch.

  Rag didn’t stand a chance on his own.

  Ellie’s body sprang into action. Yes, she was ready to fight. Friends over enemies, always. She sped down the remainder of the stairs in full vampire mode, vaulting over the cat at the bottom and landing behind the woman, just as stealthily. She spun around. Ellie hissed and lashed out. The element of surprise was hers and she didn’t waste it. A streak of blood dribbled from a cut across the woman’s cheek, another from a gash in her arm, where the lace sleeve had ripped. The woman’s face changed. A flash of red in her eyes foretold bad things to come.

  “Yes,” Rag shouted, his voice cracking.

  Ellie’s attention was distracted. Not good. Especially as Rag was no longer anywhere to be seen. There was another woman, much younger, where he had been, the cat standing at her heels, hackles raised. There were more flashing red eyes, but not directed at her.

  Ellie circled frantically. “Rag.”

  “He’s not up here.”

  “I wondered how long you could keep it up, my dear. Copycat spells are almost impossible to maintain unless you know the person intimately. Is that what you were doing behind the curtain, getting intimate? Really, vampires aren’t the way to go. They’re so short lived. And they don’t really have hearts, you know. Although, I do so love removing their heads.”

  Ellie stepped back. “Where is he? Where’s Rag?”

  The younger woman growled, still not at her. She pointed her hand to a door, which flew open. “We need all the help we can get.”

  Rag appeared, ready to fight, saw Ellie, did a double take, looked aghast, shook it off, and ran toward them.

  Chapter 17

  Flynn could feel the anger building inside her. She had tried everything she could think of to get them out of their prison, and nothing worked. Blasts of energy were like fireworks that didn’t pop. Transportation was blocked by some kind of barrier that she couldn’t breach. Magical tools didn’t even make a dent in the brickwork. Whoever had created this microcosm of hell was very powerful indeed. But why had they done it? It didn’t make sense that you would imprison people just because they were different, without even taking the time to interact with them first. It had to be something else. What had she ever done to deserve …? “No, please don’t let Adrielle still be alive.” Her words were barely audible, even to her.

  All eyes were on Flynn, expecting her to be their saviour. Bones had built her up in their estimation, with tales of what she’d done in the past. There were oohs and ahs. Now, there was a different kind of sound. Deathly silence. She was failing. Her skin bristled.

  “Are you all right?” Bones said.

  And that was the trigger. She turned on him with all the anger inside her. It wasn’t his fault, but she needed to lash out. Her nails swiped at his face, but he ducked back. He caught her with a kick to the back of her knee and she crumpled to the ground. She screamed, high-pitched, went on forever, and clawed at the floor, drawing scratch marks on its surface. Blood dripped from her fingers. A swirl of modern art in a barren room. The insanity of it caught in her throat and she let out a sobbing laugh. She collapsed down again and stayed like that for long moments of barely controlled contemplation, until, at last, she stood.

  Bones nodded. Her chest heaving, she nodded back, but before he could speak, Marchmont stepped forward, Dorey holding his hand like a little child. He cleared his throat. “What about using telegraphing? That would seem the sensible path to me. But given that I’m completely mad, I can’t be sure. I’m an excellent telegrapher myself. I telegraphed a spell all the way to juxtaposition once. It was most invigorating.”

  Flynn’s words came slow and deliberate. “Can you say that in English?” Flynn wasn’t in the mood, as she thought she’d made clear.

  Bones stepped forward. “What Flynn means is, could you please explain that a little more fully? We’ve never heard of telegraphing before.”

  She threw Bones a scowl, even though he was right.

  “Never heard of telegraphing? I thought you said you were a witch. Half a witch. A mishmash. Everyone in the firmament has heard of telegraphing.”

  “Clearly, they haven’t,” Hattie said, “Or they’d know what’s to be known. Knowing isn’t a universal thing, you know. Knowing only comes with knowledge, and not everyone has it.”

  “That is the clearest mud there’s ever been.” Marchmont leaned down toward Flynn. His breath stank of stale. “My dear, telegrap
hing is using a magnifier, that’s me, to increase the efficacy of your doings. With spelling, that will make your spell all the greater. Do you understand now?”

  Flynn gritted her teeth, felt her fangs tickling again, desperate to get out. “And you only thought to say this after I’ve been trying for hours?”

  “Well, you were concentrating so hard, and I didn’t like to intervene. Intervening whilst spelling is going on can be a dangerous thing. One flick of the wrist and you can have your smithereens for breakfast.”

  Flynn turned around, directing her anger toward the blank wall.

  Bones took Marchmont off to one side. He was right to do so. It was the only way to guarantee the idiot’s safety. A couple of minutes later, Bones was back at her side.

  “He says that all you need to do is hold hands.”

  “Right.”

  “You do the spell and it will be multiplied by up to ten fold.”

  “Right.”

  “Do you want to try?”

  She turned toward him, her eyes as black as coal. “I need a few more minutes. Can you give me that? Alone. Completely alone.”

  ###

  The experience was akin to being dragged through a raging fire. No, that was much too tame a description. It was like having your body ripped apart, but you were still alive and feeling the pain. It was—

  Relatively quick.

  Everything went quiet. Bones sobbed out a breath. He was lying on a stone floor, so cold that it pained his burning skin. The room was dark. So dark. He heard a moan from just behind him, and then Flynn’s voice.

  “Is everyone okay?”

  “I’m alive,” he said.

  Other less coherent voices replied.

  He pushed himself up and scanned the room. He could just about see walls, and a door. They were underground, but not in the same place. He walked over to the door and tried the handle. It opened onto a corridor. There was a staircase. There was noise. There was—

  “Rag! Ellie!”

  He didn’t wait for anyone else, he sped up those stairs so fast his feet almost didn’t touch the steps.

  Chapter 18

  Chaos. Utter chaos. Flynn had no idea who was who and which person, or persons, they should be focussing their attentions, anger, help upon.

  Bones looked equally perplexed.

  There was a fight in progress, the magical kind, between two women, witches. One she thought she recognised to be Malice, although her appearance wasn’t quite as she’d imagined from the description. The other woman, much older, had such a powerful magical aura about her that it was difficult to even look at her. Her magic burned the air.

  The cat stood to one side, hissing and spitting at the older woman.

  Rag and Ellie were together. She wasn’t sure what they were doing, although their attention was clearly focussed on the older woman. They didn’t seem to be making headway, just bashing themselves against impenetrable barriers. Acting as a distraction, perhaps. But why would they be helping Malice?

  Someone needed to tell them what was going on.

  “Oh, my word.”

  And not him. Flynn spun round to see Marchmont, Hattie and Dorey standing at the top of the stairs behind them. She assumed Marchmont was referring to the battle, rather than the location, which seemed to be some kind of palace. The fairytale, unrealistic kind, that didn’t really exist.

  “Stay back. Don’t get involved.”

  Marchmont raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? Is your memory so short that you have forgotten already? My, my. I thought that was the preserve of the elderly.”

  She was about to physically push him back, when she realised what he was saying.

  She lowered her voice. “You mean, we could telegraph again?”

  “Why, most certainly. It isn’t a one-off, never to be repeated offer. You can redeem it on more than one occasion. Although, I’d put the limit at ten, because any more than that would seem greedy.”

  “Where are we?” Hattie said. “This doesn’t look like home.”

  “It isn’t,” Dorey said. “That’s the queen.” Dorey’s body shrivelled back.

  “The queen?” Hattie grabbed Dorey and huddled close. “But, she’ll be angry with us. She’s angry with everyone who goes to the Overland.”

  “Shush,” Dorey said. “Shush.”

  “It is of no consequence who it is if you win, it is the spell that is of the utmost in such situations. Miss Flynn, what do you propose? Are we going to stop this tyrant of my people, who would keep us from our loved ones forever, once and for all?”

  “But, you never even tried to get out,” Bones said.

  “You, young man, are wrong. When there is no way out, there is little point in spending energy on the possibility that one might appear. One must make the best of what one is given, if sanity is to be kept at bay. But when one is given the opportunity to reclaim one’s life, it is to be taken with the most vigorous of concentration. Now, are we doing this?”

  “The queen?” Flynn said, lifting her eyes to the adornments around the room. “Of hearts?”

  “Why yes. Of course. You wouldn’t expect the queen of spades to live here, would you?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  Whoever she was, she was clearly their enemy. Flynn lifted her arms.

  ###

  Rag ducked. The flash of spell-light still grazed the top of his head. He instinctively put a hand to his scalp and came away with a clump of hair. He saw red, through jet black eyes. He ran straight toward the queen, ready to bowl her over with the weight of his body. She flicked her wrist. His body hit the clear barrier much sooner than he’d expected and jerked his neck back so violently he heard a crack. He fell to the ground, a puppet without his strings, still conscious, but unable to move. In a human, it would’ve been paralysis at best. For him? The pain of repair for this one was going to be excruciating and not quick. All he could do was watch the battle, and then, only what was directly in front of him. He was vulnerable. He had no defences. He was probably going to die. Ultimate death.

  A gust of conflicting magical energy blew across the room, the difference palpable. It felt as if the whole place would splinter apart under the opposing forces. It was directed at the queen, and not from Malice’s direction.

  More witches? Was this a land of them? A sliver of the magic touched him and his senses sparked. Was this salvation? Flynn. It had to be Flynn. He wanted to scream for help, but had no wish to draw attention from the wrong people, and it would be embarrassing if his voice didn’t work.

  The queen turned, as indicated by the fact that her skirts swished around. That seemed rash, because she was opening her back up to Malice’s attack, but he wasn’t an expert on magic.

  The queen roared and her body lit up with a violent purple light. He desperately wanted to be able to shuffle away.

  Damn it.

  Chapter 19

  Bones grabbed one leg, and Ellie the other. They dragged Rag far enough away that he, and they, weren’t in immediate danger. It was possible they were making his injuries worse. Ellie had a scar of blood across her forehead that was healing rapidly, but she was also limping. They needed to be quick. He could feel himself beginning to change.

  “The old lady’s the bad guy?” he said, his voice becoming rough with the last couple of words. Ellie nodded and grabbed his arm, but it was too late.

  Every joint and bone in his body began to ache. His skin went from a pinkish blush to black and rough with fur. His body contorted. He could no longer stand up straight. His clothes, already shredded, began to fall in pieces to the floor. Sharp claws sprang out from his paws. His jaw lengthened, as did his teeth.

  He stared up at the older witch. High up.

  He turned his head to try to work out his body proportions, and saw the Lycra shorts were hanging loose around his middle. Ellie’s mouth hung open. His did for a different reason. How was changing into a Chihuahua going to help them?

  He kicked off
the shorts and instinct took over. He did know why he’d turned this way, because the pall of purple magic around the queen didn’t reach down to her ankles. Who attacked you in the ankles?

  He smiled, as best he could, opened his mouth, and went for it.

  ###

  Ellie felt like a spare wheel. She couldn’t get anywhere near the queen, and she certainly didn’t want to end up like Rag, laid out and vulnerable with injuries that needed to heal. Her own leg still felt weak.

  Flynn seemed to be keeping the woman under control. Bones was doing his canine best to render her unable to stand. Ellie turned full circle and saw Malice urgently pulling things down off the walls, and making a pretty poor job of it. It seemed important, but why were they helping someone they were supposed to be capturing? She still hadn’t worked that out.

  The now was more important than the future. In the now, they had a bigger problem.

  Ellie sped across and tapped her on the shoulder. Malice jumped.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking down the runes. What does it look like?”

  Ellie knew what a rune was, of course, but in this context?

  “They’re wards. They enhance her magic and keep others out. They stifle my magic until it’s barely a fraction of its true worth. They need to be ripped to pieces, with physical strength, not magic. I don’t have that strength.” Malice looked her up and down. “You’re supposed to. Can you do it?”

  “Let’s see.”

  Ellie picked one up and turned it over in her hands. It was heart-shaped, with a symbol in the middle.

  “They’re made of a compound not found in the Overland. It’s tougher than steel, but not as … structurally sound. It’ll break into splinters if you get it the right way. But you really have to get it the right way.”