He clutched her waist, his fingers tightening possessively. “I’ve changed my mind. This isn’t a good idea. I’ll face Drew. You look after the vampires.”
“Caine. I can survive sunlight. I can survive fire and drowning. I can call up fire and storms. The vampires are helpless against him; I’m not. You need to trust me.”
He leaned in, his hard body pressing against hers, and kissed her hard. It was a desperate kiss, as if he thought this might be his last moment on earth. His fingers gripped her, and a wave of molten heat surged through her blood. Visions danced in her mind of Caine, cradling a blue-eyed baby.
Slowly, he pulled away, his eyes closed.
She touched his face. “I’ll be fine. Cleo will take care of me.”
“She’d better.” Caine kissed her one last time, then disappeared in a flash of silver, a few whirls of his magic lingering like smoke.
Cleo’s aura curled around her ribs, hungry for blood. We’re going to slaughter the Hunter King. I want to bathe in his blood. I want to light the corrupted Brotherhood’s city on fire.
“We will,” Rosalind promised.
As Rosalind moved through the halls, Cleo’s memories sparked in her mind. The night—centuries ago—when Ambrose had betrayed her. The Hunters had arrived for her, iron tools in hand. The field of bluebells and aster, stained in blood. The Hunters had locked her in a cell, cut her skin, broken her thumbs. Raped her. They’d burned her alive in the town square while her lover looked on.
And now, Rosalind was about to face the Hunter’s king She had to defeat him—not just for herself, but for her twin sister. For Lilinor, and for Cleo.
Amber rays from the rising sun slanted through the window, filling her with dread. Never before had she been so terrified of daylight. Long shadows crept over the ground, and between them the rising sun stained the floor red. Within the rooms, the vampires began to scream, desperate to hide themselves from the sun. At least they were awake this time, not completely defenseless.
It’s time to face Drew.
She moved faster through the hall, shadow-running down the stairs. She needed to stop him now, before he slaughtered the entire city. Duke Ricard had been right—the vampires were vulnerable here, just waiting for the next slaughter—but she was not.
Like a phantom wind, she moved swiftly down the long hall toward the portcullis. Goosebumps rose on her skin, from a mixture of fear and anticipation. This was what she’d trained for.
As she approached the portcullis, she let the storm god’s magic sing through her blood. Electricity sparked from her fingertips. With each step toward the entrance, her body charged.
She strode over the crimson carpet, an angel of death with storms in her blood, and Cleo’s aura writhed around her body.
Let’s kill the Hunter King.
Chapter 5
Even from inside, she could feel the storm clouds gathering overhead, ready to unleash their fury. At the end of the corridor, she pulled a lever, and the enormous latticed doors creaked open.
There, in the center of the stone esplanade, stood Drew, dressed in white. At the sight of him, rage stole her breath—tinged with a little bit of fear. The expression on his face didn’t quite look human, and whorls of magic snaked from his body in colored tendrils. Somehow, his body had grown in size, and his eyes blazed with pure flame.
For what he’d done—for what he still wanted to do to her—she wanted to rip his heart right out of his chest. He was here for her, and she was here to kill him.
She stepped into the cobbled esplanade, just as the roiling clouds began to unleash their rain.
“Cousin,” she said. “I knew you’d come for me.”
He flexed his fingers. “We’re going to create our dynasty, Rosalind.” His voice sounded distant, as if it were coming from a void. “It’s your destiny.”
The wrath of the storm god rippled over her skin, cold and vengeful. This was where Drew had murdered her sister, just twenty feet away, at the wooden stake. This was where Rosalind had felt the world end.
She lifted her hand, letting the magic surge to the end of her fingertips. I want to watch you burn.
When she flicked her wrist, a bolt of lightning shot from her fingertips to her cousin’s chest.
The scent of burning flesh curled into the air. Drew arched his back, paralyzed, then fell to the earth. She took a deep breath. Maybe her plan wouldn’t have to come to fruition at all. Maybe she should just kill him now…
Had she killed him? No—his chest still rose and fell slowly. She’d merely slowed him down.
Burn him, Cleo whispered.
Molten rage imbued her body, and the fire goddess’s magic ignited her veins. But he’d been through Emerazel’s inferno, and fire wouldn’t burn him. Could he be killed?
Now, in his presence, something in the back of her mind whispered that he couldn’t, that he was as enduring as the gods themselves…
She felt Mishett-Ash’s electricity surge through her blood again, the ancient chaos of the storm god; she struck Drew again, in the center of his chest, with a stunning spear of lightning.
His body shook, convulsing, and smoke curled into the air. Yet he still breathed, his chest rising and falling.
Her mind whirled. How do I kill him?
He sat up, his eyes blazing with a fiery light, and Rosalind kicked him hard in the side of his head. His neck snapped backward, and she kicked him again. In the next moment, his body flashed with colored light, and he sprang up from the ground, his mouth bleeding.
Before she could strike him gain, he lunged for her with the full force of a hurricane wind. He grasped her around the ribs, hurtling with her through the air.
Her breath left her lungs, and then he was slamming her against the wooden stake with one hand, his other tightening around her throat.
Her stomach churned. This is where it happened. This is where he killed Miranda.
As Drew squeezed her neck, she stared into his eyes, but she could see no humanity there. In his burning eyes, she saw the gods looking back at her.
At that point, she was certain of one thing: the gods weren’t evil. They weren’t loving.
They were simply insane.
Revulsion turned her stomach as she felt Drew’s fingers crawling over her flesh, his magic claiming her body like an infection.
Panic stole her breath. How could she fight him, if the gods’ fire and floods couldn’t hurt him?
He squeezed her throat harder, pressing on her trachea until the pain ripped her mind apart. Her mind spinning, she closed her eyes.
This is how the world ends, in the darkness and the damp. Quietly, and utterly alone.
Her eyes snapped open again, and a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Tammi stood in the entrance of the Ninlil fortress, rain soaking her thin white dress.
“Rosalind!” she shouted.
No! Rosalind’s mind screamed. Get out of here! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Tammi shouldn’t be here.
“Rosalind,” Drew whispered, his fingers inching up her flesh. “You belong to me now.”
Rosalind wanted to scream to Tammi to rush inside, but Drew was crushing her trachea.
The song of the valkyrie rushed through her body, filling her with power. A burst of electricity surged through her, knocking Drew back on to the soaked cobblestones.
Drew’s face contorted with rage as he sprang to his feet. Flames blazed from the tips of his fingers. “You need to understand. You won’t be able to kill me. I’m a god now, and gods don’t die; we create.”
What the hell was he talking about? Was this true, or the product of an insane mind? “I think all that magic warped your mind, Drew. You sound like a lunatic.”
“Using gods-magic changes you. It’s changed me, and it will change you, too.” Slowly, his movements reptilian, Drew shook his head. “I know your weaknesses, Rosalind. You’re not scared you’ll be hurt.” He pointed to Tammi. “You’re scared th
ey’ll be hurt. Your little friends.” Rage flashed in his eyes, and his aura whipped the air around him. “Your lover!” He bellowed this last word, and the sound rumbled through Rosalind’s gut.
A wave of horror washed over Rosalind, and she turned to Tammi. “Run!” She screamed.
Tammi’s eyes widened, and she turned to flee. As she did, Drew turned to face the fortress, and hurled a ball of fire at the gate.
Icy wrath blazed through Rosalind, and she rallied her shadow magic, then hurled a stream of frigid shadows at the flames. The rush of silver magic froze his flames in the air.
Rosalind rushed for Drew, yanking an iron knife from her belt.
Kill him… Cleo whispered.
Rosalind brought the iron down toward Drew’s chest. At the last moment, he dodged, and she pivoted. When she’d been a Hunter, she’d learned to anticipate her opponent’s next move, and Drew tended to dodge to his left. The next time she lunged for him, she shifted lightly to the right. She plunged the knife between his ribs, pulling it out again for another strike.
But this time, Drew grabbed her wrist—twisting it, crushing her bones. Pain ripped through her arm.
She called on the power of Borgerith, Lady of Stone, and filled her body with the strength of the mountains. Already, her bones were healing where Drew tried to crush them.
I am the dark places under the earth, the cave and rock.
Rosalind ripped her wrist from Drew’s grasp, following up with a hard punch to his jaw. Her body blazed with power.
When her fist connected, his bone crunched; he stumbled off course.
I am the things you want to forget. I am your guilt, the weight of the lives you’ve taken.
She rained blow after blow onto his head, each punch delivering the force of a ton of rocks. Drew stumbled back, and she pressed on, trying to break him.
I am Miranda’s broken body. I am Cleo’s tormented soul.
Drew fell back, and Rosalind leapt on top of him, pounding his face with her fists.
I am your judge, and your executioner.
Blood poured from his mouth and nose, and his eyes dulled. Miranda. Slam. She died, she lived. Slam. She died again.
Blood streamed from his face, mingling with the rain in rivulets through the cobblestones. Rosalind had broken every bone in his face, smashing it beyond recognition. Now, she needed to finish the job—if she could. Was he telling the truth? Was he really a god now? Was she?
She pulled another iron knife from her belt, gripping it high above her head. But as she brought her hands down to deliver the death blow, Drew caught her wrists, his grip vice like. Where had he found this reserve of strength.
“Rosalind,” he rasped, his words slurred through his broken jaw. “You can’t kill a god this way. Didn’t your lover tell you?”
He snarled, his body glowing with golden light until the rays nearly blinded her. Tammi was long gone by now, but what sort of a blast was he working up?
I have to stop him.
Rosalind let the frigid rage cool her blood as she geared up for another strike of shadow magic.
Just as she wrenched her wrist away, an explosion of flame burst from Drew’s body. The blast knocked her back into a stone wall, her back cracking. The earth shook, rock and debris raining around her. Screams ripped through the air. When she pushed herself to her feet again, pain splintered her body, and she stared in horror at the decimated fortress walls.
Drew stood before her, immense as a god, his back arched, body vibrating with white light, like the birth of a star.
From the skies, balls of fire rained, igniting rooftops all over the city. Everyone she cared about in the world was in this city.
Caine, Tammi, Aurora…
Her world tilted. Drew was going to murder everyone, and she wasn’t strong enough to stop him.
This had gone on long enough.
“Stop!” she screamed.
Drew turned to look at her, his eyes blazing like hellfire. “My bride. Are you ready to give in, or do you want me to keep going?”
Her legs trembled. “Yes. I’m ready!” she screamed. “Stop the fire!”
In a flash, he was standing before her, grabbing her by the throat, thumb pressing into her trachea. In his eyes, she saw only the fractured madness of the gods.
“Tell me you’ll agree to be my mate,” he growled, his face mangled beyond recognition. “Or I will burn the entire city while you watch. You and I will live through the flames while you listen to their screams.”
Through her half-crushed throat, she choked, “I agree.” Revulsion turned her stomach. She didn’t want to go anywhere near him, but this was the only way.
As he tightened his grip on her, the skies turned to a midnight black.
This is how the world ends.
Drew’s smile was a thing of terror, his eyes dancing with light. He pulled out a set of iron cuffs, pinning her arms behind her back. Magic whirled from his body. The ground gave way beneath Rosalind’s feet, and a flood of dark water rushed up. Drew dragged her into its murky depths.
Chapter 6
She plunged deeper into the portal, with Drew gripping her waist, her hands chained behind her back. She was sinking deeper underground, plummeting with him. Something sharp pierced her flesh below her ribs, and she looked down to see a syringe. Drew, his face mangled, was injecting her body.
And when he’d finished, she stared as he sealed her skin with his magic. This time, he was going to make sure Rosalind was unable to flush the iron from her system.
Panic ripped her mind apart—but only for a few moments—until the iron began to dull her thoughts again.
Now he’d be able to control her mind. The iron from the syringe was seeping into her body, polluting it. And yet, it wasn’t working as quickly this time.
This couldn’t be it—she wasn’t going to end it this way, to make her grave in his palace, to live as a breathing corpse. Whatever it took, she would fight until she took her last breath.
She wasn’t the same girl she’d once been. She’d seen too much death to remain unscathed, felt her own heart stop when Miranda’s had. She’d lost a piece of herself, buried under the yew.
Drew dragged her deeper under the water, his hands rough around her waist, and she detached her mind from the feel of his fingers on her skin. She’d told Caine to have faith in her, and she’d meant it. It wasn’t over yet.
There’d been a time when this plunge into the water would have burned her lungs, would have pierced her muscles with the cold. Maybe Drew was right—maybe gods-magic had changed her. Her descent through the portal felt no colder than the icy dread in her heart. Was she transforming, too? Becoming a god?
According to Drew, this was her destiny. Seemed like a lot of people had ideas about her destiny, and none of them had bothered consulting her on the matter. I’m not done yet, please gods, don’t let me be done yet. She had to write her own destiny.
She looked up at the murky surface. Golden rays of light streamed through the water.
Never before had daylight so unnerved her. Like a Pavlovian response, the amber rays of day now filled her chest with dread.
Drew pulled her up through the water’s surface, dragging her onto a cold mosaic floor.
She lay flat on her back, staring at a ceiling painted to look like a blue sky, with astrological signs etched in copper.
Drew stood above her, staring down at her. Already, his face had begun to heal, his bones regaining a semblance of their former shape. The water seemed to have washed the blood off him.
Rosalind swallowed hard, standing to survey the enormous, octagonal room. Gold and maroon fabric hung draped over bone-colored walls, and chalice insignias had been embroidered all over the rich silks. In the center of the room stood a bed on dais—a gold, winged base, with platinum silk draping from a golden-crowned canopy.
Two demons stood in the corners of the room. Rosalind’s mouth went dry as she looked at them. Their bottom halves looked like
scorpions, with long, pointed legs, and enormous tails that curled high over their heads, twelve feet long at least. Their chests and arms were human-like, their torsos thickly corded with muscle, and each one gripped an iron spear. They stared at Rosalind through empty black eyes, and she shivered. When she turned to look at the other side of the room, she found two more blocking the door.
Slowly, the iron seeped deeper into her blood, weakening her senses, sapping her magic. She blinked, staring at the iron rings studding the room, protruding from the walls and bedposts. All the places Drew could chain her…
From the corner of her eye, she could see Drew’s magic curling all over the walls in colorful strands. He’d created this entire palace, and it bore his signature like magical DNA. It felt corrupted, toxic.
Drew was studying her, and she wanted to get as far away from him as possible.
Her body was moving sluggishly now. Slowly, she stumbled to a set of French windows, staring out upon the transformed city of Cambridge. A vast courtyard stretched out before them—nearly a mile of grass surrounded by marble buildings, each one brimming with Drew’s rotten magic.
As the iron’s magic began to cloud her mind, she tried to clear her thoughts, forcing herself to focus. Besides the magic, there was something really not right about this place. As she studied the wall by the window, she noticed its surface seemed oddly smooth—and under the surface, it appeared as if a network of veins spread through the building. Somehow, the windows seemed to breathe, flexing gently in and out.
She swallowed hard, her mouth tasting of ash, trapped in Drew’s kingdom of blood and bone. He’d made sure there was no way out. She blinked, searching for an exit route. Cold mists clouded her mind, but she knew it would be important later, that she needed to study everything here.
Around the city, marble walls closed them in, nearly a hundred feet high. And if she knew the Brotherhood, every inch of those marble walls was rigged with anti-demon weapons: iron dust, hawthorn stakes, flamethrowers. The place was impenetrable. Dimly, she could imagine herself standing on the other side of the walls, blasting them with magic, decimating them. She’d storm into the empire, blazing with fire, and burn down the city that never should have been. She’d… burn… What was I thinking about?
Divine Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 4) Page 3
