“No,” Aurora said, frowning. “Caine won’t allow it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a sacrilege to steal souls from the gods.”
“I have no loyalty to the gods,” Rosalind said. “Do you? Because they don’t give a fuck about us.”
“I’m not particularly religious, but Caine’s a bit close to Nyxobas. And I’m loyal to Caine.”
“You didn’t want to see any more vampires burn. This is your way out. Bring Miranda back. We’ll get the soul back in her.”
“And how do you expect that to work, when we’re relying on Caine to complete the spell?”
“He’s forbidden people from conjuring the dead—but once it’s done, it will be too late. I mean, he’s not going to kill her. And surely Ambrose will back us up. He wants his daywalkers more than anyone, and Miranda is the best person to handle the task.”
Aurora just stared at her.
Rosalind continued. “We’d have the three mages we needed, too. We could perform the daywalker spell, just like we planned. We’d have to wait for a courtesan to be trained, or wait to see if she lost her mind. Miranda knows how to control the magic already. With the three of us reunited, we could stop the Brotherhood from immolating you all again and again.”
“It’s tempting. Extremely tempting.” Aurora took a deep breath. “But Caine will cast me out of the city if he finds out.”
“I’ll take full responsibility. I’ll never let them know you were involved. I promise.”
Aurora stared at Rosalind for so long that Rosalind couldn’t quite hold her gaze.
At last, Aurora spoke. “Fine. I’m not promising anything.” She took a long swig from her flask. “We can look for the spell. And then I’ll decide. Don’t tell a single person.”
* * *
Rosalind stood by Aurora’s side on the third story of Ninlil’s library, a balcony overlooking the pale stone floor.
Silver moonlight streamed through the tall, arched windows, sparking off glittering silver titles on the books’ spines. A portrait of a beautiful dark-haired woman, her skin illuminated by pearly light, hung between the shelves. She held a scroll unraveled in her hand, inscribed with Angelic. Behind her, walls of scrolls burned. Alexandria.
Aurora turned, walking to another shelf; her heels clacked over the floor. She ran her fingers over the spines, scanning the titles. “These are the plague and pestilence grimoires.”
A flicker of movement caught Rosalind’s eye, and she glanced at the stone vaults that arched high above. Bats circled overhead. Eerie place.
“Here!” Aurora plucked a black grimoire from a shelf. A silver skull marked its spine. “Necromancy. Death spells. This is the one.”
Rosalind’s pulse raced. We have what we need.
Aurora cracked the book open, flipping through the yellowed pages. “It’s here. The song of the Manzazuu.” She narrowed her eyes. “We will need to make preparations. We’ll need a fire pit under the stars, human blood, and a life to sacrifice to Nyxobas.”
“Please don’t tell me that has to be human, too.”
“Animal is fine. We need to drink some wine and eat some black bread, whatever that is.” She glanced at Rosalind. “You’ll have to do the eating. I don’t eat food.”
“What’s the purpose of that?”
“Nyxobas wants us to acknowledge death’s power. Decay, decomposition, rotting flesh. All that good stuff. When you eat fermenting foods, you acknowledge that you’re mortal, that the gods rule your death. You’re stuck in a body that’s slowly rotting until it gives out and you cease to exist. The gods are quite keen on that idea.”
“Well, I feel better already.”
“And you’re acknowledging that when you bring Miranda back, it won’t be forever. She’ll be brought back to life, but in a mortal body, slowly dying, as all mortal bodies do.”
“Right. Lovely.”
“The gods are fucked up. Now you know why Caine has some personality issues.” Aurora glanced down at the page. “We need a magic circle. Nyxobas’s sigil. We put Miranda’s corpse in the center, add in a few of her belongings, and we incant the spell. Usella Mituti Ikkalu Baltuti. And that’s it. The spirit will be called back from the House of Shades, and will inhabit Miranda’s body once more. From what I can tell, anyone can do it.” She closed the book, meeting Rosalind’s gaze. “But are you sure you want to?”
“I have to,” Rosalind said. “Miranda went through hell to find me, to reunite us again. I feel certain that if the roles were reversed—if I’d died—she’d do whatever it took to bring me back.” She took a deep breath. “But I want to make sure you don’t get in trouble for this. Are you sure you want to do the spell with me?”
“You’ll only screw it up if I leave you to your own devices. But you can’t tell anyone.” Aurora slammed the book shut. “I don’t suppose you want to do this now?”
Tempting, but… Rosalind shook her head. “I won’t be able to. Right after the Feast for the Dead, I’m supposed to meet Caine by the portal. He’s going to open the shield for me before he leaves for Maremount. And then I get the gods-blood.”
Aurora took a deep breath. “Once you’ve got gods-magic, you’ll owe me one. I’m going to be asking for some favors.”
“You trust me with gods-magic?”
Aurora arched an eyebrow. “Not even a little, but I don’t get to call the shots here.”
Chapter 13
Rosalind climbed the pale marble stairs to the White Tower, where Caine and the portal waited for her. Thin rays of moonlight lit her path. She ran her fingers along the cold stone walls as she climbed the steps.
She had a pretty good idea what she’d be getting into when she got to the portal room.: A plunge into freezing water before climbing into a cemetery crypt, just a mile from the Brotherhood’s headquarters, the Chambers. Unless things had changed drastically in the past month, the Chambers’ halls would be equipped to sense magic. Guards would patrol the halls, and the whole place would be rigged with electronic devices to attack intruders.
Still, she had a good idea how to get to the ambrosia she needed. She just needed to disable all their alarms. And if anyone got in her way, she’d have to do a bit of ass-kicking. Before heading up to the Tower stairs, she’d stopped by her room to change into her fighting gear: leather clothes, boots, and a weapon belt.
There had been a time when she would have found all this intimidating.
At the top of the stairs, she pushed through a set of doors into a marble hall. Her footsteps echoed off the high ceiling as she walked down the hall, her eye on the two guards standing before the door.
The guards pulled open the doors; Rosalind climbed the stairs and crossed the threshold.
Caine stood waiting for her by the placid pool. Moonlight bathed his broad form in frosty light. As she crossed the marble floor, his icy gaze pierced her through the darkness. “Rosalind. Are you ready for this?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Why?”
“You told me that Drew is insane. You have enough mental demons to contend with.”
She heaved a sigh. “I know. I haven’t decided for certain yet, but I’m going to get the blood all the same. Then I’ll make up my mind. There are bigger factors at play than just my own mental state—like that whole thing about how Drew and the Brotherhood want to enslave the human race.”
“And you’re the sacrificial lamb.”
“You’re taking a risk, too,” she pointed out. “You’re going into Maremount on your own.” She ran her fingertips over the hilt of one of the knives in her belt.
“Fine.” He nodded at the pool. “And you know what to do when you get there?”
“I know exactly where the ambrosia is kept. I know how the building operates. I’m going to cut the power before going in. The magic sensors will be disabled, and I’ll use an invisibility spell to get around the building.”
Pl
us, she probably had more weapons on her than the entire vampire army.
He studied her closely, the moonlight sparking in his eyes.
Cleo’s vernal aura flared at the sight of his beauty. It all started with him, Cleo whispered. He slaughtered your parents, and now you’ve paid the price with Miranda’s death.
He’s a god. Rosalind’s fingers tightened.
Cleo’s voice rang in her skull. Don’t you know that gods are meant to be killed?
“What’s she saying to you?” Caine asked. “Your second soul? She’s speaking to you, isn’t she?”
Rosalind took a deep breath. Pain gnawed at her chest. “She thinks Miranda’s death is your fault, since you killed my parents in the first place. She suggests that I should kill you.”
Caine stood perfectly still, but for the wisps of his dark hair caught in the wind, and the silver aura snapping the air around him. “And what do you think?”
“It’s Drew’s fault.” But she still had so many unanswered questions. “I just need to understand. Why did you kill my parents? Was it revenge?” She crossed her arms. “Why did you have to do it in front of us?”
He stared at her for so long that she thought he’d never answer the question. She considered just turning and jumping through the portal, but he finally spoke. “I wasn’t fully in my right mind.”
She turned to face him head on. “What happened when you lost your mind?”
He nodded at the pool of water. “It’s time for you to go, Rosalind.”
She took another step closer to him, so close she could feel his warmth. There were so many things he wasn’t telling her. “Miranda said you were tortured in the town square—that it was a punishment. But that was before you killed my parents. So what were you punished for?” Even as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she was touching a raw nerve.
Shadows whorled around him, cloaking his body, and his eyes flashed with an eerie silver light. “It’s buried history.” The coldness in his voice slid through her bones. “And it’s time for you to go.”
“Right. I know. You’ve got to get back to Maremount.”
“Yes.” He nodded at the pool. “You can come back through this portal. Only you, Ambrose, and I will be able to get through the shield for now.”
“Be careful in Maremount. I want to see you back here soon.”
“You will.” He leaned in closer. “And like I said, don’t let anyone get inside your head. Understood?”
“You mean, apart from the dead witch who controls my thoughts?”
“Apart from her, yes.”
“I’ll do my best.” She turned to the pool, momentarily entranced by the moonlight glinting off its surface. Here I go.
She jumped into the icy water, plunging deep under the surface. Frigid water enveloped her body, dragging her under. The silver weapons weighed her down.
As she sank deeper, her lungs burned. When she saw a faint sheen of greenish light streaming through the water, she kicked her legs, pushing her way toward the air. Gasping, she breached the surface, pulling her way to the side of the pool.
She’d emerged in one of the crypts in Mount Auburn cemetery. The air hung heavy with the smell of moss and mildew, and silvery light streamed in through latticework in the stone doors.
* * *
She grunted, pulling herself out. Murky crypt water soaked her clothes and hair, and her teeth chattered. Her body still ached from the battle with Drew. She stood, wringing out her hair, then peered through the door into the old Victorian cemetery. No one lingered on the hawthorn- and maple-lined paths at this hour.
I’ll need Cleo for this. She was getting a little tired of having to negotiate with her second soul for everything, but until she memorized an entire library’s worth of spells, this was the best she could do. Shivering, she hugged herself. “Cleo,” she whispered. “I need you to show me the spell for invisibility.”
Cleo’s leafy aura curled in Rosalind’s mind, and she tried to envision forcing it lower, into her chest. Cleo was easier to control there.
And what will you do for me, pet?
Rosalind sighed. “I know what you want. We’ll see Ambrose when I return to Lilinor.”
And will you run your hands over his perfect porcelain skin? Will you kiss his neck, listen to his breath catch in his throat? He likes it when a woman strips completely—
“Seven hells, woman,” Rosalind snapped. “No. I’ll hold his hand or something.”
The vernal aura churned in her chest. I want you to kiss his neck.
“Fine. I’ll kiss his neck.” She would do no such thing, but she’d have to deal with the fallout another time.
As soon as the words were out of Rosalind’s mouth, Cleo offered up the spell, graven in white light. Rosalind read the words out loud and felt the magic whisper over her skin, hiding her body from the rest of the world.
The spell completed, she pushed through the cemetery door. Stone scraped against stone. Outside, the air was clear, heavy with magnolias. She broke into a fast sprint along the path, her feet pounding on the pavement of the winding cemetery paths. At the entrance, she scaled the wrought-iron cemetery gate and leapt over the top to the sidewalk below. She pumped her arms, running hard toward the Chambers by Harvard Yard.
As she ran, her eyes flicked to Drew’s house, the yellow mansion on Brattle. She halted her sprint for a moment, sniffing the air for the scent of his aura, and held out her arms, waiting for the powerful tingle of his unmistakable magic. Nothing.
Of course. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to come back here. It hadn’t been long ago that she’d stood in his entryway, letting him heal her flesh with a potion of his own making. How stupid she’d been then, drinking from the devil.
Her stomach clenched at the thought of him.
She pushed her disgust to the back of her skull and broke into a run, heading once more toward the Chambers. Hardly anyone walked the streets, which meant it must be well after midnight. Without regular daylight in Lilinor, it had become impossible to keep track of the time.
As she sped through Harvard Square, her eyes trailed over the empty streets. This is where the keres attacked, where they ripped into human flesh. At the time, they’d seemed like pure monsters. She’d had no clue that they were actually humans under the alabaster flesh and black eyes—or something in between, at least. Just like Tammi.
Rosalind crossed into Harvard Yard, the night air rushing over her skin. As she sprinted closer to the Chambers, she pulled a long, silver blade from her pocket. Before she went in the building, she was going to make sure she’d disabled all the electronic weapons. The hawthorn stakes rigged to shoot from the ceiling. The aura-burning dust.
And now that she had the power of Cleo’s magic at her fingertips, she didn’t need to hack into their system.
Just outside the Chambers, she stopped, catching her breath below the yellow glow of a streetlamp. Through the Chambers’ glass windows, she could see pale light illuminating the marble floors, and tiny red lights glowing from the network of alarms and weapons in the stone walls.
Most of that was familiar, yet the Chambers had changed. It hadn’t been long since she and Caine had rampaged through the building, shooting through windows, lighting the walls on fire and freeing prisoners—yet the building now stood in a pristine state. What was more, an entire new wing had appeared near Oxford Street. the architecture there—a classical stone façade adorned with Greek columns—stood out in stark contrast to the Victorian brick.
Where the hell did that come from?
There was no way all this could have been built in a month. Not without the use of magic.
The Brotherhood—the ancient organization of soldiers who existed solely to rid the world of magic—had thrown themselves wholeheartedly into Drew’s thrall. All it took to turn them, apparently, was for their favorite witch to drink blood from their god. But who was really in control—Drew, or the Brotherhood?
There’s time to figure that out l
ater. Now, she had to get some blood of her own. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the fatigue burning through her body. “Cleo,” she whispered. “I need a spell for…” She swallowed hard. It had only just occurred to her that a sixteenth century spirit would have no clue what she was talking about. “I don’t suppose you know what an electromagnetic pulse is?”
Cleo’s aura roiled. Speak in English, girl.
She folded her arms. Electricity wasn’t discovered until the seventeenth century, but she could work with this. “You know lightning?”
Cleo’s aura sparked green in her chest. I’m not a complete fool.
“I need to mix that power with magnetism. The technology that powers compasses, or that draws metal to rocks. I need to send out a shockwave of that power.”
A vernal aura licked at her ribs. For magic such as this, I’ll need you to seduce Ambrose. Walk into his bedchamber, and take off your clothes so he can see your body. Then let me take over.
Rosalind hoped Cleo didn’t pick up on her eye roll. “Sure. I’ll get naked.” She was making all sorts of sordid Faustian bargains tonight. “Can you help me with the spell now?”
Magic simmered over her skin, and from the depths of her mind, a spell rose, blazing in white light. She spoke the words, and a powerful flare of hot, electric magic burst from her body, rippling over the horizon. A low rumble filled the air, and she opened her eyes. As the magic spread from her body, the street lamps flickered and snuffed out. In front of her, in the Chambers entry hall, the red lights dimmed to black. Pure, thick darkness enveloped the campus.
Nice work, Cleo.
Rosalind prowled to the front doors. At the glass doors, she peered inside. Nothing moved. She narrowed her eyes. All was quiet inside—but it didn’t seem quite right. A faint hum of magic vibrated over her skin.
Magic. In the Chambers. Was Drew here?
She pulled open the front door, stepping into the hall. Part of her wanted to hunt through the Chambers for Drew, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight him yet. When they came face to face, she’d be the one in control. She’d see the fear in his eyes as he trembled before his angel of death.
Blood Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 3) Page 9
