Malphas seemed entranced by her fingertips. “You’ve stolen a glimpse into my brother’s life.”
Ocean spray dampened her skin, and she licked the salt off her lips. “But then I think I saw him in Maremount, surrounded by valkyries. They were closing in on him.”
The air seemed to thin around Malphas. Had he blinked once this entire time she’d been speaking to him? She was sure he was searching her for signs of lying again. “And then what?”
“In the final vision, he was walking in a dark stone hall, surrounded by whispers and shadows.”
Malphas’s body glowed with a deep silver light. “It sounds like the House of Shades, where spirits go after death. Perhaps that’s where Caine is now. Looking for Miranda’s second soul.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Only if he stays too long, and gets lost among the dead.”
She shivered.
Caine had once said to her, You have no idea how dark hell is.
Chapter 20
Rosalind frowned. “How did I end up with those visions?”
“I think you borrowed power from Caine, not Nyxobas. Caine must have allowed it. You wouldn’t have been able to use his magic unless he’d granted you permission. It’s good news. It means he’s still alive.”
“Would he know what sort of spell I’d conducted?”
Malphas arched an eyebrow. “What exactly did you do, Rosalind?”
“Would he know?” she repeated.
“No, only that you used it. And I do hope it was important. You might have weakened him, and he may need strength to free himself from the House of Shades.”
A chill washed over her skin. Please be okay, Caine. “He’ll come back soon. And if not, I’ll find him with the gods-magic you’re going to teach me.” She rubbed her arms. “Where do we start?”
He opened the book, thumbing through the pages. “You’re lucky I found this book in the library.” He met her gaze. “Or perhaps unlucky. From what I read earlier, in order to use the gods-magic, you’ll need to go into many hells. They will be painful, and agonizing, and you’ll want to die. I’ve been to one only—the shadow void. But you’ll go into all of them.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Was there not a better way you could have phrased that?”
“There’s no point sugar-coating it. You’ll learn soon enough.” He narrowed his eyes. “You know, I remember quite vividly the feeling of iron nails driven into my chest, and the water you poured into my lungs. Perhaps that will help me put some of my sympathy aside so we can get on with things.” He ran his fingers over the jagged scars on his chest. “But the real question, Rosalind, is do you have the stomach for it?”
“I’ll do what I need to. We have to stop Drew somehow.”
“Good. I know you can take orders—I saw you follow Josiah’s. And now you have to be prepared to follow mine. You’ll have to trust me.”
She nodded. “I’m ready.”
“You’ll have to keep your second soul in check. It’s easy to let someone else take over when your mind is ripped apart by terror and agony.”
Rosalind’s pulse raced, and Cleo’s aura curled around her lungs. Let me come out to play. I can take it, the mage whispered. Rosalind schooled her face into calm. “Where do we begin?”
“Tonight, we begin where life began, on the sludgy rocks and in the sea. I’m glad you asked about Borgerith first. It’s a good place to start.”
“Why is that?”
“She will grant physical strength and help stabilize your magic. Ambrose tells me that when you fought in the armory, he was able to overpower you easily. The only reason he didn’t rip your throat out was that some part of him exercised extreme restraint. So you’ve learned to fight, but you still need strength on your side.”
“And when I have this power,” she ventured, “I won’t need to use a spell to conduct magic. Physical power will just flow through my body. Like yours.”
“Exactly. Once you’re finished visiting all the hells, you’ll be able to defend yourself against anyone. Vampires. Demons. Even me, should we ever find ourselves on the opposite side of a war again.”
“I hope we don’t.”
“But most importantly, you’ll be able to fight Drew.” He nodded at the ground. “Take off your shoes. I want to see what you can do before you experience Borgerith’s hell.”
She slipped off her thin flats, stepping onto the damp, jagged rocks. The marine wind kissed her skin through her dress.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “Tell me what you feel.”
She cleared her throat. “Wind. Seawater. Slimy rocks and sand. Jagged stones and pebbles.”
Malphas stepped behind her, his aura tingling over her skin. Heat radiated from his body. “I want you to feel Borgerith’s power through the rock. Bend her will to your own.”
Rosalind arched her back, opening herself up to the power of the mountain goddess. A rough aura brushed over the skin of her ankles, and the smell of a craggy breeze surrounded her. When she opened her eyes, she caught a glimpse of a coppery magic, curling around her ankles and up into her dress. The magic snaked around her waist, and buzzed over her ribs.
“I feel it,” she said.
Malphas ran his fingers down her arm, sending shivers over her skin. He let his fingertips rest at the end of hers. “Do you feel the power flowing through your arms, into your hands? Call the pebbles into your fists. Use a magnetic charge. Borgerith has the power of magnetism.”
Rosalind looked down at her fingertips, which brushed lightly against Malphas’s. A coppery aura played about their hands. Right. I just need to lure the rocks to my hands, with the power of my mind.
Borgerith’s power flowed around her, along with Malphas’s magic, a stunning vortex of silver and copper.
What would Caine do if he discovered she’d raised her sister? He wouldn’t kill Miranda—would he?
Malphas leaned down, whispering in her ear, “You’re not focusing.”
She closed her eyes, imagining the pebbles on the ground. She tried to picture them flying through the air into her palms.
Malphas’s fingertips continued to brush hers, but her palms remained empty. He exhaled. “I was hoping to avoid the hells, but it’s not working.” He stepped in front of her, scrubbing a hand over his chin.
“So, now it’s time for Borgerith’s hell?”
“Yes. You’ll need to lie back on the rocks.”
Her pulse raced. “Of course.”
Seawater misted the air as she lowered herself to the rocky ground. She lay back, her head resting on the cold, damp stone. Sharp rocks bit into her skin through her dress.
Malphas stood above her, the moon forming a silvery halo around his head. “Spread out your arms and legs. Press your fingers to the rocks.” He spoke in a low, soothing voice. “Root yourself to the earth.”
She flattened her palms against the damp, sandy rock, and spread out her legs. The wind flowed over her skin.
Malphas knelt down. “Let her power flow into your body through your skin. Feel her immense strength, rooting you to the ground.”
She closed her eyes. A wave crashed on the shore, splashing over her feet. Rough magic brushed over her legs, faintly scented of pine.
His fingertips traced over her arms. There was no way around it. Incubi were extremely tactile.
“Let her magic flow into your body,” he said. “You must let the ancient part of your brain take over.”
Power thrummed over Rosalind’s skin, and she breathed in the scent of mountain air. Another wave rushed over her, misting her dress with cool water.
“Feel the weight of Borgerith’s strength,” Malphas said.
As he spoke the words, Rosalind felt an immense pressure on her chest, crushing her ribs. She gasped, her eyes snapping open.
“Don’t resist it,” Malphas said. “Let her strength become part of you.”
Gods, the weight was grinding her ribs into dust. She struggled for breath. “Ma
lphas.” She choked out the word. Agony crushed her like a boulder on her chest, stealing her breath. Any minute, her ribs would crack and pierce her lungs, her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the pain.
“Take the power into your body,” he said.
Another ton of rocks pressed her into the hard earth, ready to break her body. She opened her eyes, nearly ready to cry uncle, but a coffin of rock surrounded her.
She hated being trapped more than anything. Panic blazed through her mind.
I’m going to die here, ground into dust.
The weight of a mountain crushed the breath out of her, and pain tore through her body. Deep within her rocky coffin, an image began to play before her eyes: Smooth stone walls. Another buried room. Malphas, chained to a chair, his porcelain chest bleeding.
And there was Rosalind, standing before him, gripping a jagged iron shard in her fist.
Raw fear shone in his pale eyes.
But as Rosalind rammed the nail into his chest, a very different emotion glinted in her eyes: pleasure. A dark thrill. As the vision disappeared, the word monster roared in the back of her mind.
Monster. Monster. Monster.
And what happened to monsters? They needed to be locked up, to be buried deep within the earth’s core.
Grinding pain cut her to the marrow. This was her punishment. The rocks would rip her body apart, would bury her under the earth.
I have to get out of here, before the weight of this destroys me.
Chapter 21
She looked down at the copper magic whirling over her chest. Let it in. Right. That was what Malphas had said, right? It was so hard to think straight when the pain was ripping her mind apart.
Even as her chest felt like it would cave below the weight, she concentrated on forcing the magic further into her own ribs. A scream tore from her throat as the aura plunged into her body, cracking her bones. Yet, as it flowed into her, power surged through her muscles. The weight on her chest lifted, and her back arched with a blazing power, healing her body.
A cool mountain wind rushed over her skin, and her coffin of stone thinned, giving way to a canopy of stars. She sucked in a deep breath. I can breathe.
Slowly, some of the agonizing pain left her body. A cool wave washed over her legs. She grabbed her ribs, her eyes flicking to Malphas, who knelt over her.
Malphas touched her cheek. “You made it.” He let out a long breath. “I wasn’t sure what would happen.”
Magic ignited her nerve endings, but so did pain. Flinching, she rose, her limbs shaking. She couldn’t stand straight. She was lucky her ribs hadn’t punctured anything. “I think something’s broken.”
“Come here.”
She stepped closer to him, suppressing a groan of pain.
Frowning, he brushed his fingertips over her ribs. “Broken in three places. After tonight, you won’t break so easily.” He closed his eyes, whispering a spell. His aura caressed her skin, soothing her body.
As the pain left her ribs, she sighed. She had to admit, incubus magic felt amazing.
He dropped his hand, eyeing her carefully. “What did you see?”
A wave lapped at her feet. “Me. And you. In the Brotherhood’s prisons.” She hugged herself. “I was hurting you.”
“I see. And how did you feel when you were doing it?”
She let out a slow breath, her gaze trailing over the brutal scars on his chest. She couldn’t exactly tell him she’d looked like she was having a great time. “What difference does it make?”
“Did you enjoy hurting me?”
“Of course not.”
In a blur of silver movement, Malphas lunged closer to her, pinning her arms with one hand, and grabbing her throat with the other.
She struggled against him. “What are you doing?”
“You’re lying to me.”
Her heart raced, hammering against her ribs. “Malphas! Stop!”
“Do you know the natural instincts of a demon?” he snarled. “To take what’s ours. To fuck and kill. To rip out the throats of our enemies and leave twitching carcasses in our wake. And when you stabbed me and left me for dead, you marked yourself as my natural enemy.”
She stared up at his pale eyes—no longer sad, but full of icy rage. Still, he was Caine’s brother. He wouldn’t kill her. Would he? “Can we talk about this inside?”
His large fingers tightened around her neck.
Anger simmered in her chest, and she glared at him. “I thought we were moving beyond the past,” she choked out.
“I was. I’m not sure that you did. And maybe the vampires are right. Maybe you need to be put in your place.”
The raw power of Borgerith burned through her muscles, and fury ignited her veins. She’d have to fight back if she wanted to get out of this intact. Malphas’s demonic instincts had been inflamed, which meant she was in some serious danger if she didn’t break free.
She slammed her forehead into Malphas’s nose. He dropped his grip, and she followed with a hard punch to his jaw. Malphas staggered, his head swiveling with the blow. When he turned back to her, blood dripped from his lip. His eyes had turned completely black. In a whirl of silver magic, he rushed to her, spinning her around and pinning her arms to her side.
He’s lost his fucking mind. She struggled him, but he’d been too fast, and his steely body pressed against hers, trapping her.
“What the hell, Malphas?” she shouted.
And yet, somewhere, deep in the hollows of her mind, Cleo was enjoying this. She relished the fighting, the adrenalin, the feel of Malphas’s powerful body against her own.
Malphas leaned down, whispering into her ear. “It’s okay, Rosalind. I needed to see if it worked.”
“What?”
“I needed to how you’d handle it when you had to fight for your life.”
“You could have warned me.” Raw power coursed through her muscles.
“Then you wouldn’t have really fought.”
She leaned back, turning her head to look at him. “If I’m so strong, why are you the one pinning me?”
“You don’t have speed, and you haven’t been trained. Yet.” He loosened his grip and stepped away from her. “And when you have both speed and training on your side, you’ll be terrifying. I’ve probably seen more of your vicious side than I need for an eternal lifetime.”
Her body burned with a strange mixture of energy and fatigue. “One hell down, five more to go. That’s right, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He pulled the book from under his arm, flipping through. He landed on a page with a drawing of tentacled appendages gripping a galley ship. Muttering to himself, Malphas dragged his finger down the spidery text. “It says you must return to the place where life itself began.”
The black sea churned, and marine air rushed over her skin. Time to meet Miranda’s god. “What can I expect from this hell?”
“According to this text, the sea teams with life, but it’s not always beautiful. It can be ancient, brutal and ravenous.” He met her gaze. “If you want Dagon’s power, you must keep swimming under the water until you find him. Don’t come up for air until you feel the gods’ arms around you, and he embraces you with his magic.”
She shivered. “So I just swim into the sea?”
“Seems that way.”
She stared at the churning black water, and the chilly moonlight glinting off the waves. “You think I’ll make it through this?”
Malphas closed the book, his expression softening. “I know you’ll face whatever challenge you must. I remember when you were a little girl. You led the way through the Tuckomock Forest when we explored. You were first into the dark caves. You were fearless.”
“Sounds vaguely familiar.”
“You were attacked by a wolf. The thing ripped right into your leg. And the next time we went into the woods, you were first in the cave again. Like you had no sense of self preservation. I don’t think you’ll come up for air until you meet Da
gon.” He stepped back into the shadows, leaving her alone on the shore.
A faint memory sparked in the back of her mind. The boy with gray eyes, bandaging her bleeding leg.
On the dark Astarte shore, cold wind rushed off the sea, chilling her body. As she walked over the rocks, icy water rushed across her toes.
The sea’s dark, oily sheen warned her away, but she had to go through with this. It might be the only way to free herself from the One True King. She needed the pure, intense power of gods. She took a deep breath, her body buzzing with adrenalin. A waved rushed over her legs, cold as a grave.
Deep below the waves lurked one of the dark gods.
Chapter 22
Rosalind stepped deeper into the water, her muscles bracing at the cold. Her teeth chattered as the water reached above her belly button.
A strange baptism, Cleo whispered. Are you sure you can handle the gods-power without losing your mind, little blossom?
Rosalind tried to block out Cleo’s voice, focusing only on the feel of the icy water swarming around her ribs and the algae-slicked rocks below her feet. She really didn’t need Cleo’s doubts adding to her own apprehension.
A wave rushed over her skin, shocking her with cold.
Time to make the plunge.
With a deep breath, she dove under the chilly water, kicking her legs to take her deeper under the waves. With the power of Borgerith still pulsing through her limbs, she was moving at a fast clip, plunging deeper into the sea.
After what seemed an eternity, her lungs began to burn, and the waters grew darker.
Where the hell is this god?
She was desperate for air. Pain ripped through her lungs, and seaweed brushed over her legs. She turned her body, glancing up at the water’s surface. Faint shards of moonlight streamed through the dark water.
Air. I need air now.
She kicked her feet, turning for the surface. But before she could get anywhere, a slick limb wrapped around her leg. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs, and a cold dread bloomed in her chest.
Blood Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 3) Page 14
