Divine Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 4)

by C. N. Crawford

  Chapter 16

  Rosalind had quickly dressed in jeans and a warm sweater, pulling on a pair of boots, and then she rushed through the stone halls, moving from one to another. In each hall, she’d found injured vampires, their skin blistered and burned, body parts shattered by falling stones as the building had burned. As she moved through the north wing, Caine and Malphas spread out through other parts of the building, using their shadow magic to heal the injured vampires.

  She’d already reconnected with Aurora and Tammi, sighing with relief when she’d found them safe.

  Both had been deep in the bowels of the fortress, near the armory, when the ifrit had come through.

  And outside, as the snow continued to fall over the Gelal Fields and the cemetery yews, Ambrose and his soldiers had already begun burying the dead.

  On one of the top floors of the fortress, an icy wind whipped through the ceiling, chilling her blood. Fire had eaten through the stone arches, and piles of snowy ash and soot lay all over the hall. Now, a thick layer of snow blanketed the flagstones. As she moved deeper into the open-air hall, icy wind had snuffed out the candles. Rosalind could hardly see where she was going.

  She flicked her wrist, and with a burst of light magic, she created a ball of light. As soon as it sparked into existence, a scream tore through the silent air.

  The sphere cast a warm, glowing light on a vampire who lay curled on the floor, her skin red and raw under the snow and soot. Her hair had been singed, partially burned off. One of her pink bunny slippers had turned black, and the air smelled of burnt fabric. The girl’s entire body shook.

  Of course, Rosalind had probably just terrorized the traumatized vampire with that burst of flame. “I’m sorry!” said Rosalind, hurrying over the vampire. “I’m here to help. It’s okay. It’s just light. The ifrit are gone.”

  The girl continued screaming, staring at the ball of light, pointing in terror.

  Rosalind flicked her wrist, snuffing out the light. “It’s okay.” She knelt by the vampire’s side. “We don’t need the light.”

  The girl fell silent again, but Rosalind could still hear her frantic breaths. Slowly, Rosalind’s eyes began to adjust to the dark, and she summoned the power of Nyxobas to see through the shadows.

  “It’s okay,” said Rosalind. “The city is safe. I’m going to heal you.” The leafy power of her tree god surged through her blood, and tendrils of leafy magic curled from her fingertips. She raked her fingertips through the air above the vampire’s body, watching as the vampire’s skin began to heal. Combined with the natural accelerated healing of a vampire, the girl’s body would be healed in no time.

  As her hair lengthened again, returning to its original brown and purple, Rosalind recognized her. It was the Count Duckula chick from the bar—Becca. As the healing magic curled around her body, Becca stopped shaking, sighing with relief. She shut her eyes, gently touching her own skin.

  “Are you okay, Becca?” asked Rosalind.

  Becca nodded. “I am now. At least, my skin seems to be healed. I think I’ll be having nightmares for years.”

  Another scream echoed off the stone hall, just around the corner, and Rosalind’s heart raced. “Go get some rest, Becca. I’ve got to go.”

  She rose, hurrying through the hall to the next victim. An enormous male vampire, his brown beard singed, crawled on shaking limbs through the hall. The fires had badly burned his body, and he groaned. His hands and knees left bloody streaks through the snow, the skin burned off. Rosalind couldn’t imagine where he was going, but he seemed to be driven by some primal instinct to move.

  She ran to him. “Wait! I can help you!”

  Grunting, he paused and turned to her, his face contorted with pain. Already, the healing magic of Druloch was spiraling from her body in whirls of green, curling around the vampire’s enormous muscles. As her magic took his pain away and healed his burnt skin, he closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. His singed beard began to grow again, his body relaxing.

  His eyelids fluttered, and a sigh slid from him. “Thank you, human.” Slowly his eyelids opened again, and he stared at Rosalind with something like awe. “Not human anymore.”

  “Maybe not. Are you okay now?”

  He stared at the ravaged ceiling, the crumbling walls. “I’m fine. Not sure about the fortress.”

  Crossing her arms, Rosalind walked further down the hall, inspecting the damage to the building. Nearly the entire roof had burned. If she hadn’t frozen the fires with the cold snap, the rest of the fortress would have gone down with it. She listened for more sounds of distress, but the hall had fallen silent. The only sound was her boots crunching through the snow.

  Now, her muscles ached from the power she’d used today, her thighs trembling with fatigue. She had the strongest urge to curl up in the snow and drift away to sleep.

  Still, she wouldn’t be getting much sleep in a fire-ravaged building, and neither would anyone else. As she walked further through the snowy hall, she felt a familiar magic thrum over her body, scented of peat and thunderstorms. She turned to see Caine, walking through the hall, his wings now gone. If he weren’t so staggeringly beautiful, he’d almost look human.

  “I liked what you were wearing before better,” he said.

  “It was a little chilly.”

  “Did you find any more dead?”

  She shook her head. “No. Everyone I’d found was still alive. Just barely, but they made it.”

  “That means that thanks to the storm you created, only three vampires died, a fifteen-hundred year old man named Ælfwine, a young vampire named Lucia, and a woman we called Kitty.”

  “Gods damn it.”

  “They were all trained soldiers in Ambrose’s army, and they died fighting for their city, blessed by Nyxobas. Their souls are free now. We hold their death feast tomorrow.”

  “Are there any more injured?”

  “No.” He touched her shoulder, rubbing it gently with his thumb. His touch sent a surge of warmth through her. “Which means you need to get some rest now. You expended an enormous amount of energy—both from the failed daylight spell, and from the storm you created. You need to sleep. I don’t want to have to see my grandfather’s eyes staring out at me from your face again.”

  She glanced at the ceiling. “There’s a bit of a hole in the roof. And over half the fortress, to be honest.”

  “We can fix that.” Caine closed his eyes, and he began chanting in Angelic, his aura bursting from his body.

  Rosalind stared at the ceiling as stone began to form and arch over them. Closing her eyes, she joined in with him, and their auras curled together, licking at the walls and ceiling of the ancient fortress. And as their magic mingled with the building, blending into its very fabric, she could feel the fortress’s history—over a thousand years of it: the city’s founding, by a vampire warrior with long blond hair and tattoos on his face. He ruled the city until Ambrose arrived and slaughtered him in single combat. An ancient, primal battle of kings, with Ambrose the victor. The things these walls had seen…

  At last, she could feel the fortress walls healed, the stone walls and ceiling restored. She opened her eyes. Once again, stonework arched above them, and she ran her fingers over the walls.

  Exhausted, she faltered, leaning against the wall for support.

  Caine slipped his hand around her back. “Come. You’ve done enough for one day. We’re not far from your room.”

  By his side, she walked down the hall, her boots sinking into the snow. She leaned into Caine, resting her head against him as she walked, just trying to keep her eyes open.

  But she still wouldn’t be able to sleep today—not until she had more answers. “I need to know from you what happened—when you sent me to live with the Brotherhood.”

  “Oh. We’re going to talk about that, are we?”

  “Yes.” Irritation simmered, and she straightened. “We’re going to talk about that now.”

  Silvery magic
licked the air around him. “I was chained in your parents’ cellar. They thought to use me, to curry favor with the king.”

  “Malphas told me this part. They were social climbers and it didn’t work. They used Malphas to lure you there and control you.”

  “It was the first time I learned I had another younger brother. They threatened to cut off his fingers, one by one, until I chained myself to their cellar wall.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean another younger brother?”

  His pale eyes slid to her, shadows thickening around him. “Slip of the tongue. The point is, that was the first I learned I had a younger brother. When I arrived at your family’s estate, I wanted to kill them.”

  “Naturally.”

  “But as soon as I entered, I saw that they were holding a knife to Malphas’s throat. He only came up to my knee. He was terrified, his eyes wide. His face dirty. He was too skinny, and they really hadn’t been looking after him. With the knife to his throat, he started crying. They nicked his skin, and he let out a loud wail, panicking. It broke my heart. They’d told him he was my brother, so he was just yelling ‘brother, brother!’—desperate for me to help him. And that’s how your parents were very smart. It wasn’t the iron that controlled me—iron probably couldn’t have kept me in the cellar. It was Malphas.”

  Rosalind’s fingers tightened into fists. She truly was descended from monsters. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. You’re nothing like your parents.” He took a deep breath. “As you can imagine, I did what they wanted. Which was to march willingly to their cellar, where I let them chain me with iron. They kept Malphas as a servant. I supposed they thought he was harmless enough.”

  She stopped as she got to her door, and she turned the knob. Here, too, a thin blanket of snow covered the ground, but the roof had since been restored by their magic. Outside, in the snowy landscape, lights flickered in the tree branches, and she caught a glimpse of Lilu circling over the myrtle branches, his wings dusted in snow. A cold wind filled the room, and she closed the balcony doors.

  Caine sat at the edge of her bed and flicked his wrist, lighting candles in the sconces on the wall. “When they started drinking from the blood of the Brotherhood, that’s when they really started to lose their minds.” He scrubbed his hand over his mouth. “After they imbued me with a second soul, and I was nailed to a post in the square, Malphas saved me.”

  Exhausted, Rosalind dropped onto her bed next to Caine. He’d skipped right over whatever he’d done to get himself locked in the town square, but she wasn’t going to press him on that.

  “I was half out of my mind,” he continued. “I knew your parents had two more spirits. I didn’t want them to damage anyone else the way they’d tormented me. Not to mention the fact that this sort of power was dangerous for someone unprepared for magic. I hunted them down. I found them, heading west with both of you. Your father had been ranting about founding his own city.”

  Rosalind nodded. “Drew’s castle in Maremount is the continuation of their work.”

  “I believe so.” Shadows slid through his eyes. “I left you both there, in the mud and the rain. I left you there screaming. I’d killed your parents in front of you, and I left you there, undefended, spattered in their blood.”

  A lump rose in Rosalind’s throat. “And how did we end up with the Brotherhood?”

  “For the next few nights, I’d wake up every night, hearing your screams. Miranda and you. The sweet sister, and the other one. After the rage I felt at how they’d treated Malphas, and I’d left you in the wilderness. I was sure you were dead. I had my spies in Maremount check on you, and they told me something almost as bad. You were alive, orphaned. But you had been given the extra souls, with no one to train you or help you. So, I did what I needed. I took from your parents’ treasure. I used the money to pay for your care.”

  “Why did you care?”

  He sucked in a deep breath. “Your parents were no longer in good standing with the king. You had no money. Do you know what would happen to two little orphan girls in Maremount, with no money?”

  “I can guess.”

  “And moreover, you had powers beyond your controls. You would have killed. Slaughtered each other, possibly destroyed the world. Who knows. Or maybe you’d have grown into insane tyrants like your parents.”

  “So you sent us to live with the only people who would suppress our magic.”

  “Yes.” His sleeve had ridden up on his right arm, and she caught a glimpse of his tattoo—the sharp blade of black ink. Just like the hairpin she’d seen on a table, when she’d glimpsed a vision of his life.

  “My parents threatened to kill Malphas. Like the queen threatened to kill someone you loved years ago. That’s how people control you. Love is a liability, right?” She pointed at the hairpin on his arm. “Why do you have that tattoo?”

  The candles guttered, and he pulled down his sleeve. “I’ve told you your secrets. There is no reason you need to know mine.”

  Fatigue mingled with the flickering sparks of gods-magic that lingered in her chest. “Why?” she demanded. “Why are you so terrified of telling me about yourself?”

  His silver aura whipped the air around him. “I’m terrified of nothing, Rosalind. Count yourself as fortunate I’ve told you as much as I have.”

  “Only because Malphas began the conversation with me. I tortured him in a prison, and he trusts me more than you do.”

  Caine leaned back on his palms. “Of course he’s trusting. He’s the good brother. I’m not. Go to sleep, Rosalind. You’ve been awake for far too long.”

  “Nice evasion.” Even as she mumbled the words, she was crawling under the covers, her body drawn to the soft bed. Caine blew softly into the air, snuffing out the candles with a stream of silvery breath.

  Rosalind curled up in the bed, her muscles burning with raw fatigue, and she stared at the balcony. Outside, flurries of snow were drifting on the breeze, sticking to the window.

  In the warmth of the blankets, her body began to relax, her eyelids drifting closed. “Tomorrow, I need to find Ambrose.”

  “Shhhh…” Caine’s body warmed hers as he crawled into bed by her side. “Sleep.”

  And at his word, calm washed over her like a blanket of snow.

  Chapter 17

  Rosalind couldn’t say how long she’d slept, but when she’d awoken to a fresh pot of coffee and buttered toast, her body no longer ached, and her mind had cleared. Caine hadn’t been by her side when she’d woken, but the sheets still smelled of peat and lightning-seared air.

  After eating her breakfast and dressing, Rosalind had rushed off to find Ambrose. As soon as she’d awoken, a plan had begun percolating in her mind—a solution to their daywalking problem. Ambrose had reluctantly agreed to join Rosalind outside.

  Now, as they walked through the Gelal Fields, her breath still frosted the air. The cold snap she’d created hadn’t yet abated. And just below the silvery sheen of magic that protected the city, northern lights tinged the air with wild swirls of green.

  Rosalind found a wool coat to wear out into the night air, and she pulled it tightly around her. “Thank you for meeting me out here, Ambrose.”

  “How could I refuse someone with your powers?” He gestured at the snow. “It seems you have changed the seasons in my city.”

  “You did a wonderful job clearing up the ifrit bodies,” she said.

  “Pity the shield you three created wasn’t any stronger.”

  She frowned. “Caine and Malphas seemed to think someone inside the city must have weakened it.”

  His green eyes pierced her. “And what do you think?”

  “If it was anyone inside the city, I would assume it’s Bileth.”

  Ambrose arched an eyebrow. “So would I. But what brings you to that conclusion?”

  “He once referred to you as his enemy. What’s the deal? You’re both shadow demons. You should be on the same side.”

  Am
brose narrowed eyes. “When I agreed to meet you out here, you’d promised me a plan. Are you here to dwell on history, or do you have something to propose?”

  “A little of both. But if I’m going to help fight in this war, I’m gonna start needing answers to questions.”

  Shadows pooled around him. “What is your proposal?”

  “I’m going to need you to seduce your wife.”

  He glared at her. “For what purpose?”

  “Maybe we’ve been approaching this daywalker task all wrong. We’ve been trying to use Angelic to convert them, depending on the power of three mages. Maybe that’s not the only way. Erish has been turning humans into demons.”

  “Maybe so. But I no longer consider her my wife. She tried to have me killed.”

  “Okay, but maybe she can turn demons into… other demons. Maybe she can change your species. Vampires are the only type of demon vulnerable to sunlight.”

  Ambrose shook his head. “The vampire city would no longer be full of vampires. What would we become?”

  “Whatever you wanted—keres, valkyrie, oneiroi… We could mount a surprise attack on the Brotherhood, one they’d never expect, just as the sun was rising. Drew could no longer attack simply by raising the sun here. If your soldiers chose different species, you’d have different vulnerabilities. It would make you harder to defeat.”

  “I’m not sure my soldiers would agree to this.”

  Her fists tightened, and she tried to marshal her patience. “Maybe not. But what are you going to do about Bileth? You can’t allow him to stay here if he’s attacking you from the inside.”

  “You don’t understand. It’s a long and complicated story.”

  “Tell me, then.”

  “Bileth and I go back a long way. To when I was first turned. Unlike other demons, vampires were humans once. Apart from hellhounds and Erish’s abominations, we’re nearly unique in this way. Our human lives continue to shape who we are today.”

  “And what is your story?”