Deep under the ice of Drew’s magic, Rosalind’s mind screamed. Don’t do it, Miranda. Something terrible will happen.
Miranda stood rigid, glaring at Drew. Her blue aura undulated around her body, like anemones deep underwater. Rosalind could feel it rushing over her skin, cool and wet, yet she couldn’t use her magic. Not without getting through an entire Angelic spell first.
Don’t do it, Miranda.
Drew flicked his wrist, and glaciers closed over Rosalind’s heart. Rosalind slid the blade across her throat, cutting just into the skin, but deep enough to draw blood. Crimson streaked her white nightgown.
“Stop!” Miranda shouted, hurrying to the bed. Visibly shaking, she snatched the necklace from the sheets and fastened it around her neck. As soon as she’d secured it, her dark eyes glazed over and her jaw slackened.
Deep under the fog of Drew’s aura, dread knelled in Rosalind’s skull. Buried under the layers of his magic lurked the gnawing certainty of impending doom.
Something terrible is going to happen.
Drew stepped away from Rosalind. “Drop the knife, Rosalind. Then I want both of you to walk into the courtyard.” His toneless voice echoed off the inside of her skull.
Drop the knife, Rosalind. Her fingers unclenched, and the knife clanged on the stone.
Walk to the courtyard. She felt her legs move, her feet pivoting over the cold floor. Beneath the frozen mists of Drew’s magic, panic tore her mind apart. He’s taking us on a death march.
But despite the protests in the darkest recesses of her mind, she pulled open the door and stepped into the hall.
In the corridor, Miranda walked by her side. Drew’s heels clacked behind them, slow and rhythmic like a war drum. The name Caine whispered through her mind. Was he supposed to be here? She couldn’t keep her thoughts straight.
Caine. He’s someone important…
With Miranda by her side, she stalked through the corridor. Frozen to the bone, she stared at the shadows dancing over the floor. This is the type of cold that seeps into your blood and never leaves. The type of cold that drags you down into the frozen earth, and never lets you out again.
From behind her, Drew’s footsteps echoed off the stones in the stairwell.
At the bottom of the stairs, Rosalind marched into the long hallway, Miranda by her side. A cold that covers your body like a funeral shroud. The world is cold when it ends.
In Ninlil’s entrance hall, her bare feet padded over the crimson carpet.
This is where the world ends.
She couldn’t remember what she was doing, only that she needed to keep walking. She had a vague sense that someone was driving her forward—someone who had completely lost his mind, who wanted to hurt her. But she couldn’t grasp the ephemeral wisps of thought long enough to make sense of them.
Her body shook, and she pushed through the front doors into the still-dark esplanade.
“There’s a wooden post in the northwest corner of the esplanade. March to it. Both of you.”
Icy fear wound through her chest, but her leaden legs carried her forward across the rain-slicked stones.
It shouldn’t be so empty here.
Her thoughts moved like glaciers. The heavy silence wasn’t quite right. If someone was going to die, the air should be full of screaming, clashing swords, the beating of drums. The army was somewhere else, fighting another battle. But this was where the world would end.
Her fingers tightened. And this is how the world ends—cold and quiet, thoughts trapped under ice and rock. No one to shout or cry, just a damp death rattle, then silence.
“Miranda,” Drew barked. “Stand with your back to the post. It’s time you learned some respect for the One True King.”
Rain poured over Rosalind’s skin, soaking her thin nightgown. This is how the world ends, in damp shadows.
Rosalind stared as her sister, dull-eyed, backed up to the wooden post.
Drew lifted Rosalind’s hand and pressed something into it—a thick iron nail. Horror stole her breath. And even beneath the icy fog of his magic, rage ripped her mind apart.
I’ve been here before. I watched this happen. I saw the monster. And now the monster is me.
Drew traced his fingertips over her wrist. “Do you remember what Caine did to the true king and queen, your parents?”
The image flashed in her mind—rain, just like this. Feet half-sunk in the mud. Miranda’s scream. Caine pinning her mother against the stake, driving the nail right under her ribs into her heart. Blood dripping from her mother’s pale lips, her brown eyes wide.
Rosalind nodded slowly. I remember.
“Good,” Drew said. “I want you to drive the nail into Miranda’s heart. Just like that.”
Rosalind’s hand tightened on the nail, and her hand shook violently. Miranda looked so skinny against the post, shivering in her thin nightgown, nearly sheer in the rain. She was going to freeze like that. Someone should get her inside, in the warmth.
But Rosalind had a job to do. First, she had to stick this nail into her sister’s heart.
Under the ice of her mind, she had a vague sense that this was all wrong—that she needed to run from here and take Miranda with her—but she couldn’t figure out how to do it. The scar on her stomach felt as if it was cutting into her flesh, controlling her thoughts.
Drew pushed her wet hair off her face, a strangely gentle gesture. “You’ve been disloyal, Rosalind. And you must pay the price. Say it.”
Her mouth formed the words. “We’ve been disloyal. And now we must pay the price.”
This is how the world ends.
“Do it, Rosalind,” he said. “Pay the price. Kill your sister, just like Caine killed your parents.”
Rosalind lifted the nail, taking a step closer to her sister. For just a moment, a flicker of life sparked in Miranda’s eyes—a pleading look, her dark pupils glistening.
Deep in Rosalind’s chest, a hot rage simmered, burning away some of the ice.
Drew thinks he owns us. We’re his playthings.
Fury blazed in her mind, clearing just enough space that she could hear her own thoughts.
It was just like this. Driving rain, clothing drenched. Miranda’s scream…
“Do it, Rosalind,” Drew shouted.
Rosalind’s scar froze her skin, and she gripped the nail tighter.
Blood dripping from Mother’s pale lips, brown eyes wide.
She paused, forcing her hand down. I won’t let it happen again.
Trapped under all the ice and rock, Cleo’s voice whispered along with her own. Turn, Rosalind. Turn and fight.
She was stronger than this. With a grunt, she pivoted, forcing herself to face Drew. At the sight of him, nausea turned her gut.
Rain poured down his skin in tiny rivulets. Surprise flickered across his features—just enough of a shock to distract him from the twisted spell he wove. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
Gritting her teeth, she stepped closer to him. Her body still moved glacially slow, but it was her own now. She clutched the nail.
This belongs in your heart, Drew.
Before she could strike, Drew punched her in the jaw. Pain splintered her skull. Staggering back, she lifted the nail into the air. She was going to drive it right into his neck.
But before she could bring down the weapon, Drew caught her hand mid-air. He crushed her wrist in his fingers until she dropped the nail. It bounced off the stones.
Hot wrath flooded her body, and she slammed her forehead into his nose, cracking the bone. Blood poured from his nostrils, and she rammed her knee into his groin. A wedding gift from your beloved wife.
Grunting, he doubled over, and Rosalind smashed him hard in the kidneys with her elbow.
She reached down, snatching the nail from the ground. She’d kill him right here.
As she rose, Drew slammed a fist into the side of her skull, knocking her back. When she looked up at him again, his powerful aura filled the air around hi
m.
She lunged.
His colored aura slammed into Rosalind’s body. He snatched her wrist in his fingers, squeezing so hard she was sure her bones were turning to dust. She moaned, and he punched her in the throat, stealing her breath.
Fluidly, like a trained dancer, Drew whirled—and drove the nail into Miranda’s heart, just below her ribs.
Miranda’s eyes opened wide with the shock. Horror ripped Rosalind’s mind apart.
It’s too late.
Miranda didn’t shout or cry; she just let out a damp sigh. A thick drop of blood dripped from her pale lips.
This is how the world ends.
Chapter 8
Rosalind couldn’t lift her eyes to Miranda’s face, didn’t want to see the slackened jaw or the blood dripping from her sister’s lips. She didn’t want to see the half-closed eyelids, or the crimson streaking her twin’s gown. She didn’t want to think about the plans Miranda had made, or their house quiet, smelling of fresh-baked bread.
If she gave in to those thoughts right now, they’d bury her alive and she’d never claw her way out again.
Give in to the rage instead. The rage will save you.
Fury blazed through Rosalind’s blood, igniting her veins. She grabbed Drew by the hair, pulling him back. She hooked her arm around his neck, squeezing hard. If he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t use Angelic, couldn't mold reality to his will with his lips.
Her chest tightened. But I saw him use magic without speaking in Angelic. He could tap into nature's power directly, just like Caine. Like a god, as if—
Before she could finish her thought, a staggering blast of magic knocked her off Drew. She slammed back against the rock, and pain splintered her skull.
He killed Miranda, her mind whispered. It's too late.
Drew whirled and pressed his foot over her throat. For just a moment, she thought about giving in, letting him press the air out of her. Letting him take her as his mute mountain queen.
But a sharp sound hammered in her head. It was the memory of Miranda's ribs cracking when Drew broke them with the nail. Replaying in her mind, over and over…
Rosalind grabbed his leg and twisted, knocking him down. I'll hear the crack of his ribs...
Her body burned with wrath, and she leapt onto Drew, straddling him. He gaped at her—afraid for just a moment—and she gripped his hair, slamming his head into the ground once, twice…
In the next instant, his body disappeared—transported away through his strange magic, smoke on the wind.
It's just me now.
A hollow chill crept under her ribs, eating her from the inside out. She kept her eyes locked on the ground, on the stones and tiny rivers of rain. If she looked up, the sight of her sister’s body would devour her whole.
Her knees shook, so hard it seemed the earth itself was moving.
Dead.
Footsteps moved past her on the stones, but she couldn’t lift her face.
The hero is supposed to come in before the world ends.
"Rosalind!" It was Caine's voice, but she wasn't looking up. Look up, Rosalind. Face it.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze, staring at the deep crimson staining Miranda’s gown. Caine stood before her. Gently, he pulled the nail from her heart. Miranda’s body collapsed into his arms, lifeless. He laid her on the cold stone ground, tracing his fingertips over her heart.
She’s dead. Rosalind was certain of this down to her marrow. One more corpse to feed the soil of her nightmares. I can’t look at her face.
Caine lifted his gaze to Rosalind.
He didn’t get here in time.
Her thoughts and Cleo’s scuttled around her mind like beetles, and she couldn't grasp any of them.
In the next moment, Caine was standing before her, his hands warming her arms. Was he just going to leave her sister there?
He lowered his face, staring into her eyes. His pale eyes glistened. “I need you to focus, Rosalind. What happened to Drew?”
She looked into his eyes. What difference did it make now? It was all over.
His fingers tightened on her arms. “What happened to Drew, Rosalind?”
Her teeth chattered; her body shook. “He disappeared. He can do magic like you can. Without Angelic. Not just shadow magic. All kinds, I think.” She closed her eyes, feeling the auras washing over her skin—faint tendrils of leafy green and a burning gold.
He was still here.
“I can still feel him in Lilinor. He’s not far. He still plans to take me as his wife. He wanted to teach me a lesson first.”
“I need you to conduct a spell with me. I’ve driven most of the alu demons out, but I need you to help me track Drew. We can seal up this city after we rip his spine out of his body and bury him under the earth.”
A deep pain gnawed at Rosalind’s chest. “What about Miranda?”
“She’s gone.”
Her sister’s voice played around the edges of her mind. There was something she’d said. The things that are buried rise up again.
Rosalind grabbed Caine’s arms. “You can bring her back.”
Caine’s face hardened. “No. Listen to me, Rosalind. We need to find Drew.”
Right. Aurora had said Caine didn’t approve of necromancy.
Fine, then. She’d just have to do it without him. Her fingers curled into fists. After, all, what’s the point of being a powerful mage if I can’t raise my sister from the dead?
A tear slid down her cheek. “Why weren’t you here? We needed you.”
Caine’s face changed, his brow furrowing in an expression she’d never seen on him before: vulnerability. “I was with Ambrose. I thought I was supposed to be with him. I thought he was the target.”
Rosalind shook her head. “Drew is obsessed with punishing me.”
“For what?”
“He thinks I chose you over him.”
Caine brushed his knuckles over her cheek for just a moment, then his features hardened again. “We need to act now. I’m going to use gods-magic. I’ll shield us. We’ll travel on the wind. I need you to direct me, to help find Drew’s aura. Are you ready for this?”
She shot a glance at her sister, whose blood mingled with the rainwater. She looked like she’d be frozen if she woke now…
How long would Rosalind have before Miranda’s body was too far gone?
Still, it wasn’t like she could ask Caine these questions. “I’m ready to go.”
Caine wrapped a hand around her waist, pulling her in close, steadying her shaking body. He arched his neck, and black wings sprouted from his back. “Hold on to me tight,” he said.
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
She felt a strange liquid darkness flow from his chest into her own, quelling some of her rage. His magic seemed to make her body weightless. A taste of the void, gifted from Nyxobas.
“Hold tighter,” he said.
In the next moment, they were in the air below Lilinor’s magic-darkened sky. Her dress slid up, and she wrapped her legs around Caine’s waist, turning her head to look at the city. They rose high above Ninlil’s sharp spires. Caine’s powerful arms held her tight, his heart beating against hers.
Craning her neck, Rosalind scanned the city for the tendrils of Drew’s magic. And there, she saw what she was looking for—curling from Ambrose’s White Tower, whorls of copper, gold and blue.
Drew had a perfect view of the city he planned to conquer.
“There, in the White Tower,” she whispered. “I see his magic.”
They moved lower, closing in on the tower. Cold air rushed over Rosalind’s skin, but at least the spell had been broken. At least the cold no longer iced over her soul.
They landed on Ambrose’s marble floor. Rosalind unclasped her arms from Caine’s neck, and whirled to face Drew.
He’d hidden himself with magic, but she could see him all the same. He stood by one of the windows, magic curling around him—a broad silhouette in a maelstrom of colored auras.
> As she stepped closer, she felt the heat coming off his body. Her fury ignited, and she lunged for him, grabbing him by the throat.
He killed Miranda.
She squeezed her fingers, tightening them around his neck, feeling his body twitch—but before she could finish ripping the life from his body, the air cracked with white heat. Drew’s body burned with white light, and he disappeared.
Slippery fucker. How was she supposed to kill him if he wouldn’t stay in one place?
Rosalind stepped away from the window, her eyes flicking to the sky. Red tinged the darkness again, and sunlight pierced the storm clouds. But she could no longer feel Drew’s magic.
She shivered, glancing at Caine. “I failed.”
“Do you think he’s still in Lilinor?”
She stared out the window again. With that strange magic gone, she felt a shift in the air. It was like a white noise that you didn’t notice until it turned off. “Pretty sure he’s gone.”
“I need to raise a shield so he doesn’t come back for you. We’re going to find him, Rosalind. And when we do, the next time… it will be on our terms.”
“How did he get here in the first place?”
Caine scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “You said he used magic the way I do? Gods-magic?”
She nodded.
“Then he used Nyxobas’s power to create a portal. Only Malphas and I are able to create them, between Lilinor and the rest of the world.”
“What if I’m wrong and he’s still in Lilinor?”
“I’ll make sure he can get out. But he won’t be able to get back in.”
She felt tears rising to the surface, but she couldn’t give in to her sorrow. Not now. She still had to find a way to save Miranda.
Rays of amber sunlight broke through the clouds, bathing Caine’s face in gold. “I need to darken the skies. Then I’ll work on the shield.”
“I’ll help with the spell.”
He shook his head. “You need to stop using magic for now. It’s affecting your mind.”
Her nails pierced her palms, and Cleo whispered, Don’t listen to him, Rosalind. He fears your power. All men fear women’s power. It’s why they call us witches.
Blood Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 3) Page 6
