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

by C. N. Crawford

  She brushed her thumb over his cheek. “Caine,” she whispered. “Richard. Anyone.”

  He grimaced, but in the next moment exhaled with relief, his fingers finding their way to her waist. For just a moment, he bowed his head.

  Then, without opening his mouth, his command boomed through his army, Retreat.

  Rosalind glanced at the skies—some of the winged cohort were obeying the command, but too many had already been claimed by the edimmu. Drew had perfected the art of using an army against itself. Rosalind’s heart leapt into her throat. In the dry, blazing sun, she searched for her friends—Aurora, Ambrose, and Malphas remained unscathed, leading the retreat. But Tammi still zigzagged wildly through the skies, her body dry as sand, eyes wild.

  As the others obeyed Caine’s command, flying for the earth, Rosalind raced for Tammi again. As she approached, she commanded her magic to unfurl from her fingertips in a line of vines that coiled around Tammi’s body. Snapping her wrist back, Rosalind pulled Tammi closer. As her friend thrashed and bucked in the restraints, Rosalind wrapped her arms around Tammi, holding her close to fly with her to the earth.

  Caine’s command bellowed again. Retreat.

  After him, Ambrose shouted the same command, his deep voice booming through the air.

  He was ordering the army back over the rubble—the long portion of shattered wall, and the edimmu were flying in close pursuit. He wanted to fight them on the ground.

  As Rosalind raced through the air with Tammi in her arms, Drew’s aura curled around her, heating the sky, blazing like a hot star. Blinding sunlight glinted off the soldiers’ silver armor as they retreated.

  At last, Rosalind reached the ground, landing hard with Tammi in her arms—outside the empire’s gate. They rolled over the hard earth on the pavement, the army of Lilinor retreating toward them. Rosalind unfurled the vines from Tammi—left bound, she’d be too vulnerable. She left her on the empty city streets, then took flight into the air again, soaring over Lilinor’s retreating army to rejoin Caine. She touched down between Caine and Malphas, just at the edge of the destroyed wall. As she landed, her body brushed against Caine’s, and for just a moment, his darkened eyes flicked to her, his body rigid. He’d recovered his sword, and now clutched it tight.

  As Lilinor’s forces retreated, Rosalind stared at the oncoming horde of edimmu, who swarmed over the courtyard, spreading out over the grass and pavement.

  A perfect trap. The edimmu had nowhere to run. Rosalind closed her eyes, summoning the wild fury of the storm god. These dry, desiccated creatures hated the dark. Hated rain and water. And Rosalind was going to hammer them. How powerful would they be when their arid bodies felt the force of Dagon?

  From her right, Caine’s command boomed into the minds of the soldiers. Encircle, flank all sides.

  Moving from the shadows, the cohort of shadow demons crept from their hiding places, encircling the edimmu, swords drawn. Soon, the rest of Lilinor’s army would close in again, moving back over the rubble to trap their prey. Caine had outmaneuvered the demon horde.

  But Rosalind had already seen what the edimmu could do, had felt their arid presence in her body. The sun was powering them.

  “I’m going to call up a storm,” she said.

  Caine nodded, his powerful aura snaking over her skin. Battle seemed to imbue him with greater strength, and his magic felt intoxicating, a vortex of power.

  As they began their march back over the rubble, Rosalind unleashed a wave of Mishett-Ash’s magic, summoning the storm clouds. As the army marched forward, dark, roiling clouds raced in, drawing shadows over the skies.

  Drew’s magic seemed to pulse in the air. He could sense what she was doing, and knew she was trying to create a storm. Caine shouted the order to attack, and all at once, Lilinor’s army closed in on the edimmu, swords drawn.

  As Rosalind charged, her sword ready, she channeled the magic of the sea—her sister’s magic. They reached the line of edimmu, and Rosalind whirled like a storm wind, cutting into the edimmu before they got the chance to possess her.

  As she fought, Dagon’s power flooded her body. All at once, she smelled Miranda, that rich, briny scent, and a pang of longing pierced her. She felt as though Miranda’s magic were rushing over her skin, cool and wet. And in that moment, she felt her sister’s presence surrounding her.

  In the darkening skies above, Dagon’s magic merged with the storm god, the sky now dark as a cauldron.

  She whirled, striking through another edimmu. As she fought in a fury of ducking and whirling, the ground rumbled, and she could feel Miranda’s god approaching. She imagined him, Dagon, the god of the depths, and called him to her body. Dagon, you can find wholeness again with me.

  From the nearby Charles River, she could feel Dagon rushing toward them, until a wall of water breached the Empire’s fallen gates.

  A wave slammed over the courtyard, forcing Rosalind to the ground, knocking the breath out of her. In the muddy water, she scrambled to get up, finding the water up to her knees. She gasped.

  With the wave’s arrival, the storm clouds unleashed their full fury, battering the courtyard with a hard rain.

  She scrambled around in the mud for her sword, and snatched it from beneath three feet of water. As soon as she gripped the hilt, she looked around her. All around the battlefield, the edimmu bodies were soaking up the water, and those who’d been possessed by the edimmu seemed to have recovered, their eyes no longer empty. Good. Tammi should be recovered.

  Lilinor’s forces closed in, hacking through the damp, limp flesh of the edimmu, weakened by the water. Already, some of the edimmu bodies floated face down in the shallow, muddy water. Rosalind glanced at Caine and Ambrose, who moved in a blur of silver and black. Fury still electrified Rosalind’s body, and she moved just as fast, her sword swinging through the air, legs shaking with the roar of battle.

  Now it was just a matter of finishing off what they’d started. As the rain hammered down over the battlefield, Lilinor’s army worked their way inward, slaughtering their prey. Rosalind lost herself in the fury of fighting, her limbs trembling.

  As Lilinor’s army hacked through the last of the edimmu, Rosalind sheathed her sword, her hands shaking. She stood, knee-deep in the mud, searching for Tammi. She caught a glimpse of Tammi, crossing over the rubble again, her silver hair plastered to her head. Thank the gods. She’s fine.

  A powerful, silver aura turned her head. Caine was striding toward her through the muddy water, sheathing his sword. When he reached her, he touched her arm. Instantly, his touch soothed her, and his silver magic caressed her skin. The shaking in her limbs began to abate, and she took a deep breath.

  She shoved her hand in her pocket, gripping the iron nail, the one destined for Drew’s heart. Now she just needed to find a way to break through his shield.

  Chapter 30

  Rosalind climbed the steps once more, narrowing her eyes at the shield. She rammed her hand into her pocket, gripping the rusty iron nail like it was her lifeline. Filthy water soaked her clothes, and her footsteps sloshed up the stairs.

  She traced her fingers over the shield, and Drew’s aura thrummed over her body. As she touched the shield, one word rang in her skull: dominance. The real heart of Drew.

  Her mouth went dry, and she let herself fall into the hellscape of his mind…

  Flickering through Drew’s magic were images of Rosalind’s parents, their bodies hanging limply from the stakes where Caine had killed them. A phantom, golden crown glowed on her father’s head. From the shadows, Drew approached, pulling it from her father’s head.

  Rosalind forced the image from her own mind. Could Drew see into her mind, the way she could see into his when she touched his magic? Maybe the way to defeat him was to slam his rotten skull with images of her own.

  What really bothered him? She knew one thing that seemed to drive him crazy…

  She thought of herself, climbing on top of Caine, wrapping her legs around him. She lean
ed down, and whispered into his ear I love you, Caine.

  At once, the image began to ripple and tremble. A vision slammed her back—Rosalind, naked and on her knees, kneeling before Drew. She pulled away from the shield, bile rising in her throat.

  Through his magic, an overwhelming feeling of malice washed over her, turning her stomach. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she lifted her hand, getting ready to touch the shield again. She’d been getting somewhere…

  Just then, a rumbling noise pulled her from her task. She turned, surveying the grassy courtyard and the vast army spread out before her. Something in the distance was making the muddy earth tremble, shaking the leaves. Whatever it was, it was coming from the opposite side of the courtyard, and the low rumble was sending a shiver of fear up Rosalind’s spine. A low growl raised the hair on her neck, and turned her stomach. The gruesome hounds.

  From the battlefield, Caine boomed an order that rang in the minds of his soldiers. Hellhounds to the front! Form the wall! Caine and Ambrose shifted behind the front lines.

  Quickly, the legion shifted, and the hellhounds marched to the front, holding their large, silver shields in front of them. From one of the wide avenues that adjoined the courtyard, a horde of beasts charged at the legion. Rosalind gripped her sword, her heart hammering, and rushed for the front lines. She landed next to Becca, who nodded at her, eyes burning with hellfire.

  They looked like dogs, except for their strangely human eyes. Apart from their powerful jaws and sharp teeth that glinted in the sunlight, they had strangely humanlike faces, and the pale, blue eyes of men. As they drew closer, Rosalind could see that these beasts were not the size of dogs. They were closer to the size of horses.

  They pounded the earth on all fours, kicking up mud, drool dripping from their fangs. Caine barked an order, and the front lines shifted, forming a tight wall with their enormous, silver shields.

  Snarling, the hounds charged for the ranks of soldiers.

  When they were in close range, Caine’s order boomed through her mind. Fire!

  Rosalind and the hellhounds unleashed a wild, explosive burst, and anguished howls rent the air. Fire! Caine shouted again. The creatures’ yelps and screams filled the air, and yet they kept coming, moving forward into the flames as if they had no sense of self-preservation.

  Any second, the hounds were going to break through the wall of shields and start tearing into the soldiers.

  Caine’s command boomed again. Winged cohorts, rise!

  An icy wind rushed over Rosalind’s skin, and the storm god’s aura sparked through her veins. But just as she prepared to lift into the air, the beasts broke through the shield wall. A hound lunged for her, knocking her to the ground. Within an instant, the hound’s teeth were in her shoulder, and pain ripped through her body. As its claws tore into her, she scrambled for her sword, but it was too large to get a good swing in—she needed a dagger to kill at this distance. The hound shook his head, tearing at her tendons, and she shrieked.

  The magic of the valkyrie rippled through her body, a hot electrical charge, and she sent a flash of lightning through the hound. He yelped, and the scent of burnt flesh filled the air. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she scrambled to get out from under the hound before its enormous body collapsed on her.

  She rushed to her feet, and snatched her sword from the mud beneath her. Blood poured from her shoulder, but she could ignore the pain for now.

  She glanced at Becca, who was driving her sword through a hound’s chest.

  Propelled by the storm god, Rosalind lifted into the air along with the winged cohorts. Soaring above the battle lines with Aurora and Tammi, Rosalind flinched at the scale of the attack. From here, they could hack into the hounds’ bodies from above, slicing through their heads.

  Already, the incubi were circling over the hounds, swords arcing through the air as they brought death from above. If Rosalind could steer clear of her allies, she could blast the hounds with fire.

  “Move back!” She shouted at Caine.

  His gaze met hers for an instant, and he ordered the winged cohorts further back, out of her way.

  Rosalind gritted her teeth, blocking out the pain that ripped through her shoulder blade, and she summoned Emerazel’s fire. Molten power surged, and she circled over the hounds. As she swooped over the demons, flamed sparked from her fingertips. When she flicked her wrists, fire shot from her hands, exploding into the horde.

  The beasts shrieked, and she hammered them again and again until they scattered from the impact site, and she circled again. She slammed them with another ball of fire, and they scrambled to retreat—running straight for the winged cohorts, who hacked into them from above. But as the battle lines became more enmeshed, she’d need to strike with more precision.

  As the battle raged below her, an electrical charge burned through her nerve endings, and the ancient winds of the valkyrie caressed her body.

  Rosalind sent electrical charges at the hounds, lighting up their bodies. The smell of charred flesh filled the air.

  Rosalind arced again, catching sight of Aurora. Carried by her valkyrie wings, she drove her sword into a hound’s neck, severing its spine.

  Rosalind circled the battle again, charged with battle fury. The storm winds whipped at her hair. Mishett-Ash, god of storms, help me strike at my enemies. A cold gale rushed over her body, and her blood charged with electrical power. She took in the crowd below her, taking note of all the hound locations. When she’d committed them to her memory, she unleashed a surge of lighting, striking for the gruesome hounds.

  She opened her eyes, gratified to find she’d hit ten of them at once, their bodies now collapsed into the mud.

  She circled again, striking a second time, taking out a dozen more hounds.

  At the back of the horde of hounds, Caine was driving his sword through a hound’s spine. Lightning glinted off his blades, and his black wings beat the air. All at once, an enormous hound leapt into the air for him, clamping its jaw around Caine’s leg. The creature dragged him to the ground.

  A crowd of hounds surrounded him, and Rosalind’s heart skipped a beat. A wave of protectiveness washed over Rosalind as she rushed for him. The hounds had marked him as the leader, and they wanted to tear him to pieces.

  Chapter 31

  Hounds surrounded Caine, one of them tearing at his wing. Rage lit up Rosalind’s body. With Caine so close to them, she couldn’t strike them with lightning.

  She swooped lower, gripping her sword, and landed just behind the melee. Within moments, she was swinging her sword through one of the hounds’ necks. An arc of blood sprayed into the air, and Caine hacked into another, snarling like a beast. His powerful aura washed over her in waves.

  One of the hounds leapt on him, claws on Caine’s face, and he stumbled back. Four red slashes marked his cheek.

  Hot anger surged, and Rosalind lifted her sword for a strike. But before her sword could find its mark in another hound, an agonizing pain splintered her leg. A beast pulled her to the ground, then leapt on top of her, claws digging into her skin. Panic began to claw at her chest. As her pulse raced, she kicked her leg into the hound’s gut, then his chest. She knocked the creature off her, then leapt to her feet, plunging her sword through its neck.

  The beasts all seemed to be heading right for Caine now. Of course, they understood him as the alpha. Adrenaline lit up her body, and she channeled the power of the valkyrie and the night god, moving like Caine in a silvery blur of power. Her sword whipped through the air, cutting through flesh, and she fended off the oncoming hounds.

  But even with the power of the gods blazing through her body, her wounds were slowing her down. As she thrust at an oncoming hound, agonizing pain ripped through her leg.

  She fell to the ground, sinking into the muddy water, and a beast leapt on top of her, jaws open to bite her neck. Frantically, she fought to clear her head above the water, kicking at the hound above her, but she couldn’t get the right angle. Slam.
At last, her foot hammered the hound’s chest, and for a moment, she forced her head above the mud, gasping. Mud spattered in her mouth, and in the next second, the hound was forcing her head under the muddy water again, teeth at her throat. Fuck fuck fuck.

  Just then, the dog’s bite went limp, its heavy body collapsing on top of her. Summoning the raw power of Borgerith, she forced its body off of her, and scrambled out of the muddy water. Caine stood before her, covered in mud and blood, his sword dripping with crimson, black wings spread out behind him.

  Rosalind surveyed the battlefield, now littered with the bodies of hounds and edimmu. Lilinor’s forces were blazing and cutting through the last of the gruesome hounds. Rosalind’s body shrieked with pain, and she winced.

  Caine was by her side in the next moment, staring at the wound in her neck. “Where else are you hurt?”

  “My legs.” She looked him over. “You’re almost completely unscathed.”

  “I’ve had more time than you to get used to being a god. I’m better at it.”

  Her body felt like it was fracturing, and for just a moment, she thought of Azazeyl’s fall. “Just heal me please, and let’s move on.”

  He pulled her close to his powerful chest, his hands startlingly gentle on her lower back, behind her neck. He curled his enormous wings around her like a protective shell, and let his soothing shadow magic caress her body, kissing her skin, and she melted into him. Slowly, his magic pulled all the pain from her body, and her back arched in response to him. She ran her hands up his chest, folding them around his neck. For just a moment, she leaned her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat.

  She knew she had to break away in a moment, but she needed just this moment with Caine, to savor his life and his body.

  So quickly she nearly missed it, Caine leaned down and brushed his lips over her forehead. “You’re ready to fight again.”

  Reluctantly, she forced herself to pull away from him, and he tucked his wings behind his back.