Miranda lowered the sugar cake from her mouth. “And you’re training with Malphas to use this gods-magic?”
“I’ve drunk the ambrosia, like Drew has. Last night I was learning to use Dagon’s magic, and Borgerith’s.”
Miranda frowned. “Why didn’t you ask me for help with Dagon?”
“It’s different from the magic you use. It doesn’t require Angelic. I had to travel into Dagon’s hell, and anyway, you can’t leave the room.”
“Shouldn’t I have the ambrosia as well? If you can do gods-magic, I can too. We’re both descended from Azezeyl.”
Miranda had a point—and yet, death was just another unpredictable variable in this equation. Rosalind wasn’t quite sure what would happen with this gods’ blood in her system. “I need one of us to stay sane for now, plus you’re still recovering from the accident. The power will drain your resources as you recover. And anyway, Malphas doesn’t know you’re here.”
“I feel fine.” Her forehead crinkled. “Explain to me again why no one is allowed to know I’m here?”
Rosalind swallowed hard. Okay. It’s time. “The accident—”
“The one that knocked the soul out of my body.”
“It wasn’t really an accident.”
“What do you mean?”
Rosalind bit her lip. “I thought you needed a night to recover; that’s why I didn’t tell you right away.”
“Will you just spit it out?”
“Drew killed you. You were dead.”
Miranda’s jaw dropped. “I was what?”
“Drew murdered you. And then I used shadow magic to bring you back to life. It’s just that no one knows I did that, except Tammi and Aurora, because it’s against the law.”
Miranda was staring at her own fingers in shock, as if searching for decay. “How?”
Rosalind touched Miranda’s arm. She had a feeling that recounting the details would mean opening a mental wound she wasn’t capable of closing. “The important part is, you seem fully recovered. The magic worked. I just had to commit a bit of sacrilege.”
Miranda stared at her, her eyes brimming with tears. “Are you sure this was a good idea?”
“What else was I supposed to do? I wanted to get you back. It wasn’t fair.”
“I don’t know.” Her lip curled. “I just feel tainted. How long was I dead for?”
Rosalind shook her head. “A couple of days. It’s hard to keep track of time here. But you’re healed now. You’re not tainted.”
“Then why is it against the law?”
“Caine has prohibited necromancy. Aurora said it’s considered a heresy to steal from Nyxobas. But I don’t really give a crap about Nyxobas.”
Miranda dropped the remains of her cake in the basket again. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
“It’ll just take some getting used to. And when Caine returns… I’m hoping we can convince him to give you the second soul back.”
“So, I’m a serious abomination now.”
Rosalind forced a smile. “I thought we established that we were already abominations. You, me, and Tammi. The land of Abominatonia. Might as well embrace it.”
“You were never a corpse with putrefying organs.”
Rosalind cocked her head. “No, but I’ve been drinking ambrosia, like Drew. I’ve been told by several demons that a human using a gods-power is an affront against nature with potentially monstrous consequences, and if I start to go power-mad, I need you to put me down.”
“I’ll do no such thing.” Miranda raised a sugar-cake again, as if making a toast. “To the abominations, I guess.”
Rosalind raised her water glass. “To us.”
“And what do you plan to do with this gods-power?”
“First, I need to make sure the shield is functioning. Then, I’m gonna work on my ability to take down Drew in a fight.”
She glanced at the old silver clock on the wall. 7:00. Time to go. She stood. As she crossed to the wardrobe, she stretched her arms over her head.
“Right,” Miranda said. “So I’ll just wait in here eating cake while you save the world. On balance, I guess I’m kind of okay with that.”
“I don’t think you’ll be getting out of the fight that easily. You still need to help us make the daywalkers.” Rosalind pulled off her nightgown, then bent down to pull a knife and holster from the wardrobe. “You know how to handle a second soul already. You’re the best choice for the role. No point dragging Malphas into it.”
She strapped the holster to her naked thigh. She wouldn’t need weapons for training with Malphas, but she didn’t like to walk the halls unprotected. She pulled a black cotton gown from the closet and slipped it over her head. Under a shawl, the long sleeves would keep her warm out in the fields of Enlil.
Rosalind pulled a silver shawl from the closet, wrapping it around herself. As she crossed to the door, she cast one last glance back at her sister. “Will you be okay?”
Miranda frowned. “I’m feeling quite violent toward him right now. Do you think that’s a side effect of death?”
“No. I feel the same way. Completely normal.” She flashed a faint smile. “I’ll see you in a few hours—or however long it takes to master the power of Nyxobas.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Miranda said, her mouth full of croissant.
Rosalind pulled open the door, stepping into the hall. Her muscles ached and shook from the rush of magic the night before.
She walked through the stone corridor, half-entranced by the candlelight dancing over the stone floor. When she tried using shadow magic, would she get a glimpse of Caine’s life again? It was hard not to think of him, getting lost in the House of Shades. It seemed such a dark and lonely place.
As she walked down the hall, she thought of that amazing kiss that had knocked the world out from under her feet. She could almost feel the soft brush of his lips against hers, or the electric touch of his fingertips down her arm…
She didn’t really know what he’d thought of it. Maybe it hadn’t meant anything to him, yet she was desperate to kiss him again.
She pushed through the door into the stairwell, lifting her skirt to hurry down the stairs. At the end of the hall, she pushed through an oak door that led out of the fortress. The breeze caressed her skin. The waning moon loomed over the gently rolling fields. It bathed the fields of blue flax and calendula in silver light— the color of Caine’s eyes.
She strained her eyes in the dim light, picking out a bare sycamore tree that stood in the field of Enlil. As she walked, a damp, floral breeze toyed with her hair. She pulled her hair high above her head, securing it with an elastic.
Last night, after visiting Dagon’s hell, she’d nearly lost her mind—yet today she felt no more insane than usual. It seemed that some good sleep and good food went a long way.
At last, she stopped by the sycamore, pulling her shawl tighter. It felt painfully lonely out here on her own. When she glanced up at the sky, she could see the shield’s silvery shimmer, thinning just by the moon. This time, she was certain: the shield was falling apart.
Footsteps made her turn her head, and she saw a dark form moving closer—tall, broad shoulders, just like Caine. If it weren’t for his pale skin gleaming in the moonlight, she’d hardly be able to tell them apart.
“Rosalind,” Malphas said.
“Thanks for meeting me here.” She pointed at the sky. “We have a little problem.”
As he drew, closer, he gazed up at the stars. “What?”
“The shield is thinning. I wasn’t sure last night, but now I can see that it’s disappeared in some places.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You can see that?”
“Of course. One of my abomination powers. What will happen if the shield doesn’t hold?”
“If it doesn’t hold, Drew could create new portals into the city using his shadow magic.” He stood by her side, the wind ruffling his hair. “Looks like it’s a perfect time for you to test out your sha
dow magic.”
“What if I used Caine’s magic again?”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because then we’d get another glimpse of him. We’d know if he’s made it out of the House of Shades.”
Malphas cocked his head contemplatively. “You’re quite concerned about him, aren’t you?”
“I just want to know he’s okay.” She glanced at the sky, eyeing the shimmer that thinned just to the west.
His silver eyes blazed from the darkness like stars. “You’re hoping to see glimpses of his life again.”
She frowned. “Not to spy on him. It’s just the only way we have to check on him.”
“Why do I have the feeling that you’re hiding something? Are you going to tell me what spell you did the last time?”
“Am I not allowed to keep secrets? Ambrose won’t tell me what happened with him and Cleo. Caine has a million buried secrets: his tattoo, the blond woman and the baby, what happened when he lost his mind, why he killed the king and queen of Maremount centuries ago… And I don’t know any of your secrets, but I know you help bury Caine’s.”
“The thing about secrets,” Malphas said. “Is that they have a way of finding their way into the light.”
“I guess we can both look forward to learning about each other when that happens.” She tightened her fingers on the shawl. “So, what do you think of my plan?”
“It could weaken him, potentially.”
Rosalind glanced at the sky, and the silver aura now seemed dangerously thin. “I think we need to act—”
Before she could finish her thought, a sharp crack sounded across the horizon.
“The shield,” she whispered.
The ground began to rumble, and a geyser of water spurted from the ground of Enlil field.
“What’s happening?” Rosalind asked.
“Drew is creating a portal,” Malphas said. “I think his Hunters are about to enter Lilinor.”
Chapter 25
Malphas grabbed her arm. “Do the spell. Now. Use Caine’s magic. And while you’re sealing it, I’ll fight whatever comes through.”
Her heart galloped in her chest, and she closed her eyes, listening to sound of distant water gushing from the ground. With the adrenalin blazing through her nerves, it was hard to think straight, hard to think of Caine.
“Hurry up!” Malphas snapped.
“Fine.” She closed her eyes, imagining the feel of Caine’s lips on her neck. Instantly, she could picture him vividly, as if he stood before her in the hallway. She could imagine that sharp, hot pain of standing so close to him without touching him. His stunning contrasts of sun-kissed skin and icy eyes, the gentle curve of his full lips. She could imagine him moving closer to her, so close that the heat from his body warmed her skin.
He leaned down, his breath hot on her neck. Are you looking for something from me? He stroked his fingertips over her hips, sending heat racing through her body.
“Magic,” she said.
His fingers slid around the small of her back. “What sort of magic?”
“The shield,” she breathed. “I need to strengthen it. They’re coming.”
His powerful aura rushed over her body, thrumming up her legs and curling around her body. The vision changed, darkening and rippling before her eyes. Whorls of dark silver and black magic gave way to stone walls—powerful, masculine hands, grabbing a woman’s throat. She wore a diamond tiara, crooked on her mussed blond hair—blue eyes wild with terror.
Fury exploded. So easy to snap her little neck. But perhaps that’s too easy.
In a blur of silver magic, those powerful hands threw the queen through a closed window. Her white gown fluttered in the black night like a surrender flag. Goodbye, queen. She landed with a crack on the hard ground below Throcknell Fortress. Maremount.
The vision rippled—and Rosalind was no longer in the castle. She was outside, looking up at it. Rain poured, and lightning speared the dark sky. She’d seen this view before—in fact, she’d seen it in a portrait on Caine’s wall.
As she stared up at the fortress, she became aware of a new sensation—pain, searing deep in her gut. She looked down at her body.
No, Caine’s body.
A wave of horror slammed into her. Iron nails impaled him—pinning him to a wooden post. Now she felt his pain, and it ripped her mind apart. This was his punishment.
She felt Caine’s lips move, and he uttered one word: Stolas…
In the next moment, the vision had shifted. Now he walked through Cambridge, but the city had changed. Where squat buildings had once stood around Harvard Square, now stood a labyrinth of towering stone temples and palaces.
A burst of Caine’s silver magic flashed around her, and the vision cleared, but the agony still pierced her gut. She clutched her stomach, staring up at the sky over Lilinor. As the magic poured from her body, she lost track of time, lost in a vortex of magic. Some of the thrill of Caine’s magic faded, and a cold void bloomed in her ribs.
Nyxobas’s power.
The word Stolas haunted her mind like a curse.
Powerful shadow magic flowed from her body, spiraling up to the starry sky. It spread over the thinned gaps in a stunning web of silver magic. As the magic moved through her, some of the pain began to slowly ebb, healed by Caine’s soothing magic.
At last, a sterling sheen covered the sky once more.
She whirled, searching for Malphas. There, in the distance, he fought a team of muddy Hunters. She lifted her dress, pulling a knife from her holster, then took off across the field. Malphas seemed to be holding his own—in fact, he’d snapped through two necks already. But there were still four of them and one of him.
As she ran, the wind rushed over her skin. A now-familiar ferocity spurred her on, and she felt a battle fury ignite her body. She wouldn’t let these bastards get close to anyone she loved ever again, or find their way to Miranda’s room. Not while she had breath in her body.
Burn them, Cleo whispered. I want to hear their screams. It’s what they deserve.
Borgerith’s power burned through Rosalind’s muscles. Within an instant, she was standing behind a hunter, pulling the man’s head back by his hair. She sliced her knife through his neck, slitting his throat. She heard a gun cock behind her, and she whirled, hurling her knife into the man’s chest. But as she did, the Hunter unleashed a bullet into her gut. She fell back, hitting the ground.
Two Hunters remained.
Despite her wounds, magic coursed through her body, dulling the pain. From the ground, she kicked the legs out from under another. He slammed against the ground and reached for his gun. She kicked it out of his hands, and her next kick connected with his skull.
With the power of Borgerith’s strength, her kick to his head completely shattered his skull, and his head lolled.
She glanced at Malphas, her body shaking.
He nodded. “I guess the magic is working out well for you.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re hurt.”
She rested her hands on her knees, hunching over. As the rush of battle left her body, agony from her wound began to pierce her gut. The magic was flowing from her system again, leaving her shaking with pain. She suppressed the vomit threatening to crawl up her throat.
Malphas rushed to her. “Let me see.”
Trembling, she straightened. As soon as Malphas touched her shoulder, his magic tingled over her skin, drawing the pain from her.
“This will hurt for a second,” he said, examining the wound. “I’m going to get the bullet out.”
She clamped her eyes shut and held her breath. For just a moment, pain pierced her gut. But within the next few moments, as his fingers traced the outside of the wound, his soothing aura washed over her. When she opened her eyes again, she looked to the sky, taking in the deep sterling gleam.
“How does the shield look?” he asked.
“Fixed. For now.” She shot a glance at the portal, but it had been sealed over now with an oily mud. “But we�
�ll need to keep an eye on it.”
Malphas nodded. “Next time, you need to work your own magic. You can’t keep borrowing from Caine.”
For just a moment, the memory of Caine’s torment burned fresh in her mind, and she pressed on her chest. What was it that he’d said? “Stolas,” she whispered.
Malphas touched her arm. His pale eyes darkened. “What did you say?”
“What does Stolas mean?”
The air seemed to cool around them. “It means you should never use his magic again.”
“Why?”
Black swirled in his eyes. “And more than that—never mention to Caine what you saw. Understood?”
Apparently, she’d stumbled upon another one of Caine’s darkest memories.
“The thing about secrets,” she said, running her finger over her new scar. “Is that they have a way of finding their way into the light.”
Chapter 26
Malphas stared at her. Nearby, the crickets started to chirp again, as if coming back to life. Six Hunter bodies littered the ground near their feet. Rosalind tried not to look at them.
“I suppose that’s true about secrets,” Malphas said, “but you’ll need to develop shadow magic on your own anyway. You won’t need Caine’s.”
He had a point. And, moreover, she wanted to try out her own shadow magic now. Yes, they’d just encountered an unexpected battle, and their bodies weren’t yet cold. But she’d come out here to journey into the shadow hell, and already she needed to feel the rush of a new type of magic. She wanted to feel the power coursing through her veins.
“So let’s do it,” she said.
“Now?”
“That’s why we’re here, right?”
It felt delicious to kill, Cleo whispered. Didn’t it?
Malphas frowned. “Are you sure you’re up for it? You’ve just been shot.”
“Yes!” she shouted, maybe a little too loud. “I’m fine. You healed me. And when I get back from the shadow void, you can teach me to move like the god of night—like Caine and you do. I want to feel that speed. I want to move like the night wind.”
Blood Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 3) Page 16
