Blood Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

Her mouth went dry. “I was here earlier?”

  “You really don’t remember?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted or concerned. I didn’t know Cleo had taken over your mind that badly, or I never would have allowed you to seduce me.”

  Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Rosalind’s breath caught in her throat. Cleo had compelled her to seduce Ambrose while she was in some sort of a haze. Maybe while she thought she was sleeping? She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything about it. What happened? What did Caine do when he found me here?”

  Dark magic whorled around Ambrose. “He knocked on the door, and you answered it. Naked. It seemed to upset him. He turned into the Ravener once more. It really doesn’t ring a bell?”

  She swallowed hard. “And what did he say?”

  “That he should have known not to trust an Atherton.”

  Her stomach twisted in knots. She’d confirmed everything that Caine thought about her.

  With adrenalin burning through her veins, she turned to flee from the room.

  Chapter 39

  Her feet pounded over the stone floor as she raced to Caine’s room, heart thudding hard against her ribs. Her sodden clothes still clung to her legs, slowing her pace, and she lifted the hem. She didn’t know what she was going to say when she found Caine, but she had a desperate need to talk to him. Now.

  When she got to the painting of Lord Byron, her heart sped up. His door was open. Why would he leave his door open?

  She rushed inside, but the place was empty. The storm winds rattled the window, and only a guttering candle lit the room.

  What the hell was she going to tell him, anyway?

  Panic gripped her chest, and she began pacing the room.

  And as she paced, her mind stopped racing, and started actually working.

  Maybe she’d gone to Ambrose’s room and shagged him stupid while she was in a fugue state.

  Or maybe she wasn’t the only person walking around this place with her face on.

  What if it hadn’t been her? What if it had been Miranda? Ambrose had still been naked when she’d burst into the room, which meant it hadn’t happened that long ago…

  Miranda. Her stomach twisted in knots. It was worse than she thought. Something is going very wrong with my sister.

  Maybe the spell had gone wrong, or living after death took some serious adjustment. Who the hell knew? This was completely uncharted territory, and the one person who could guide her hadn’t told her a damn thing.

  She needed to find her sister. Now.

  Her pulse racing, she tore out of Caine’s room and down the hall. With ragged breaths, she stormed down the stairwell. She pushed through the door into the darkened hall, where candlelight wavered over the flagstones. As she sprinted toward her room, a figure rounded the corner at the other end of the hall, silver magic curling from his body.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Caine?

  No. As her eyes focused in the dim light, she made out Malphas’s features.

  Shit. She wouldn’t be able to go into her room with Malphas lingering around here. Miranda could be just on the other side of the door. She slowed her pace, trying to act calm. Nothing to see here. No undead sisters, no postcoital drama with Caine and Ambrose.

  Malphas didn’t slow his pace when he saw her. In fact, he sped up, moving toward her in a blur of shadows.

  Her blood turned to ice. What the hell was happening now?

  In the next moment, he was standing over her, silver eyes piercing in the dim light. “There you are,” he said, his magic whipping around his body.

  “What’s happening?” I mean, apart from the fact that your brother caught my undead sister screwing his boss?

  “Caine told me he was leaving Lilinor on his own, just to gather information. Maybe to find a human for us to use as a host for the mage’s soul. He said he wasn’t going after Drew.” He narrowed his eyes. “But something seemed off with him. Like he wasn’t telling me the whole truth. I tried to slow him down, but he went through the portal.”

  A growing sense of dread welled in her gut. “What do you mean, something seemed off with him?”

  “He wouldn’t look me in the eye. He seemed… angry.”

  Rosalind’s gaze flicked to her door. She had a terrible feeling that, at any moment, her sister might burst from the door and try to bang another demon. Why stop at just one?

  Malphas cocked his head. “What’s distracting you?”

  She swallowed hard. If Malphas spoke to Ambrose, he’d quickly learn what had happened. Might as well come clean with the truth now. Or at least, the fake truth.

  She folded her arms, cheeks burning with humiliation. “He was upset when he found me in Ambrose’s room.”

  Malphas took a deep breath. “And why was he upset?”

  She cleared her throat, staring at the floor. “See… Caine and I had a moment—”

  “A moment?”

  “We slept together.”

  Malphas’s eyes darkened, his icy aura whipping the air around him. “Ah. And then you had a moment with Ambrose?”

  “I felt terrible when I realized what was happening, and when Caine found us. But Cleo is obsessed with Ambrose. I think she’s settled down now, after she got what she wanted.”

  “Sex with Ambrose.”

  “A confession.”

  “Well that is unexpected.” Malphas scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “You know that I can tell when you’re lying. I’m just not entirely sure which part you were lying about. Probably the part about how you felt awful.”

  Well, now I definitely feel awful. Her gaze darted to the door again. What was Miranda up to?

  Malphas crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “Is this conversation keeping you from something important? It’s just that I think my brother may have just run to his death. You know his theory about how emotional attachments are a liability? This is what he means.”

  “I don’t know why he cares so much. He was with Esmerelda in his bedroom the last time I saw him. He pretty much kicked me out so they could have dinner.”

  “She works for him—she’s a spy. I doubt it was romantic.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay, well, we have to go after him. He’s the perfect scapegoat for the Brotherhood. And if they’re waiting for him outside Lilinor…” She let her sentence trail off. She couldn’t even imagine what horrors Drew and the Brotherhood would have in store for Caine.

  “We don’t have daywalkers. We don’t have an army. It’s daylight in Boston. Our rescue force consists of two people: you and me.”

  She bit her lip. “And if anyone is waiting on the other side of the portal, they’ll still be there.”

  Malphas nodded. “We’ll lower the shields, just for a few minutes. Long enough to do some scrying. We’ll ask about danger that awaits us on the other side. If it’s clear, we can slip into the city quietly, using shadow magic. We’ll drag his arse back here until we can make our army. Okay?”

  She glanced at her door again. “I need a few minutes to change and get my weapons ready. I’ll meet you by the portal.”

  “The one in Ambrose’s room?”

  She grimaced. She didn’t want to face Ambrose again. “Gods, no. The one outside.”

  He glanced at her door, as if he knew she kept her darkest secrets locked behind it.

  Her stomach clenched. “I’ll meet you outside,” she repeated.

  He gave her a wary look before turning. Shadows thickened around him, and he disappeared like smoke on the wind.

  She took a deep breath before opening the door to her room. Miranda sat on the floor, wrapped in a silky white bathrobe. Half-eaten cakes littered the ground around her, and custard and jam smeared her mouth. Her eyes looked wild, empty.

  Rosalind’s blood ran cold. Something is definitely not right.

  “You’ve finally come back for me,” Miranda said. “I thought you might have abandoned me.”

  “I told you I was coming ba
ck. I had to practice the magic I’m learning.”

  Miranda wiped a hand across the back of her mouth. “And how come I’m not allowed to have this power?”

  Irritation simmered. “I told you why. No one is supposed to know you’re alive. And you nearly ruined everything by running into Ambrose’s room to shag him. Caine said he’d murder you if he found you. The only reason he didn’t kill you was that he thought you were me. And now he’s run off to Boston to get himself killed.”

  Tears glistened in Miranda’s eyes, and she rose. Her body looked tense, her arms stiff. “And why is it that Caine has forbidden people from bone conjuring? Do you know?”

  Dread crept around Rosalind’s heart like wisteria, crushing the life out of her. “Aurora said he considered it a blasphemy.”

  Miranda inched closer, grabbing her robe just over her heart. “Or maybe it’s because he understood what it would do to a person. There’s a void in my chest that can never be filled, and if I don’t get enough of the world it will consume me alive until there’s nothing left but the darkness. You can’t keep me in here, Rosalind—in this prison.”

  Rosalind’s legs had begun to shake. “I won’t keep you in here. But when Caine caught you with Ambrose, he rushed into Cambridge on his own. I’m worried Drew could have been waiting for him. I need to get him back.”

  “You always have something important to do. Don’t you, Rosalind? While I wait here, in darkness. Ripped apart by loneliness.”

  Rosalind held out her hands, as if calming a wild beast. “I’m going to Cambridge, and when I get back we’ll figure this out.” Surely there must be another spell that could help heal Miranda’s mind.

  After all, what the hell was the point of magic if it couldn’t solve your real problems? What use were grimoires and auras if they couldn’t heal broken minds and dead bodies, if they couldn’t overturn humanity’s fundamental curse?

  “We’ll fix this,” Rosalind said, more to reassure herself than anything. She pulled off her soaked dress, crossing to the wardrobe. “We’ll get our house. Abominatonia. We’ll have our fireplace, our paintings. You’ll have as much life as you want.”

  Miranda’s lip curled. Her look was ferocious. “I want oak trees, and the smell of the ocean. I want to hear the call of a golden-crowned sparrow. I want sunlight, and the feel of water on my skin. I need these things.”

  “You’ll have them.” Rosalind pulled out her fighting gear: black leather pants and a tight top. “And you can sleep with as many vampires as you want.”

  “Oh really?” Miranda said tonelessly. “And when will this happen? After you save the world?”

  Rosalind stepped into her clothes. “I’m trying the best I can, Miranda. We’re in the middle of a goddamn war. You died. Drew killed you. I’m trying to fix that, but he’s going to kill a lot of other people if I don’t help to stop him.”

  Miranda sat on the edge of the bed, hugging herself. “I spent years wandering the streets, looking for you. I slept in train stations. I ate discarded food. I kept to myself,” she muttered, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. “I just want a chance at the life I deserved.”

  Rosalind zippered up the front of her jacket. “I know. And you will. That’s why I brought you back. Please just stay in here for a little while longer. We’ll get out of Lilinor soon.”

  Staring at the floor, Miranda nodded wordlessly.

  Why do I have the terrible feeling this isn’t going to work out well? Grabbing her weapon belt, Rosalind pushed those worries to the back of her mind. Instead, she ran Miranda’s mantra through her mind: Sunlight, the smell of the ocean. Oak trees. Water on skin. The call of a golden-crowned sparrow.

  Mentally, she repeated these words as she strapped her weapons to her thigh.

  They would have life again, once they left Lilinor.

  She cast one last look back at Miranda as she reached for the door. “Please stay here. I’ll be back for you. Get some sleep.”

  Miranda’s gaze met hers for just a moment, and the pain in those dark eyes pierced Rosalind to the bone.

  * * *

  Dressed for battle, Rosalind walked toward the fountain in an abandoned square at the edge of Lilinor. Her heels clacked over the cobblestones, and the shadows around her seemed to creep and writhe like half-living creatures. The rain had stopped, but rivulets of cold water ran through the stones and dripped off the steep-peaked roofs.

  As she approached the gently trickling fountain, she caught sight of two figures. Aurora stood by Malphas’s side, dressed in an emerald-green gown, and dripping with silver jewels.

  Rosalind took a shaky breath, her nerves burning. This was where it had all begun—where Rosalind had first entered Lilinor all those weeks ago, when she’d recklessly chased Caine through the portal. Now Caine was the reckless one. Apparently, emotions were a liability, though she had no real clue how he felt about her. His actions certainly didn’t match his words.

  As she approached, Malphas stared at her, his eyes blazing with cold light. “Are you ready for this, Ros?”

  Aurora traced her finger in the pool’s dark water. “When you’re ready to lower the shield, I can help you both with the scrying. You two control the shield with shadow magic, and I’ll chant the scrying spell. Got it?”

  Rosalind nodded. “Thanks.” She swallowed hard. “Before we start, Aurora, I want to talk to you for a minute.” She glanced at Malphas. “In private.”

  Malphas scowled. “You really need to talk about your lovers’ quarrel now?”

  She glared at him, and Aurora raised a hand, dismissing him. “Give us a few minutes.”

  Malphas made sure they saw his eye roll before he turned, slipping into the shadows of a nearby alley.

  Aurora cocked a hip. “What happened now?”

  An ache spread through Rosalind’s chest. She wasn’t sure how to put her thoughts into words. “Caine told me that if I raised Miranda from the dead, he’d kill her.”

  Aurora crossed her arms. “Bloody hell. That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

  “Thing is, Miranda hasn’t been acting right. She’s talking about a void, and being lonely. She’s desperate to get out of our room. And then, when I wasn’t watching her…”

  “What did she do?”

  “She had sex with Ambrose. And Ambrose, Caine, and Malphas think it was me. Malphas thinks that’s part of why Caine left the city.”

  Aurora’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding me? Let me guess. You shagged Caine before all this went down.”

  “Sort of. Yes. And he was already mad because…” Her fingers tightened. Maybe I should leave out the bit about Malphas. “Anyway, he was already mad.”

  Aurora shook her head. “Woman, trouble’s all over like moss on a grave.”

  “But I’m just wondering if there’s more to Caine’s prohibition than sacrilege. What if it’s because… people don’t come back quite right?”

  “We knew that was a risk when we started. I told you—she was dead to start. If she came back wrong, she’d end up dead again. No worse than when she started.”

  Rosalind’s chest tightened. “I’m not saying we should kill her. She deserves a chance.”

  Aurora nodded at the fountain. “We have time to figure it out after we find out what happened to Caine. Okay? I can’t go with you into Boston—not with the daylight. But I’ll be here when you get back.” She turned to the alley. “Malphas! We’re ready to go.”

  Malphas slipped from the shadows, crossing the rain-slicked cobbles to Aurora and Rosalind.

  He shot a wary look to Rosalind. “We can only let the shield down for a few moments, just long enough to ask what danger awaits us on the other side. Any longer, and we risk letting Hunters in—or Drew and his army of godsforsaken demons.”

  “I’ve got it,” Rosalind said. “Let’s do it.”

  She leaned against the fountain, feeling its cool water over her fingertips. She closed her eyes, and Malphas’s aura began to crackle the air around her. The
smell of burnt air enveloped her, and electric shadow magic began creeping over her body. She arched her back as her own magical stores began to well within her. A hollow opened in her chest as a cold and ancient power ignited in her veins. She opened her eyes, staring at the shield’s silvery sheen in the sky, just below the lingering storm clouds.

  A deep, silver aura curled from her body, snaking up to the sky. Her magic curled around Malphas’s, intertwining like lovers’ bodies. Power flooded her muscles, and she watched as their magic ate gaps in the shield. As she stared up at the dark sky, a painful image flashed in her mind: sitting in an empty room, her own dead face pressed against the other side of the glass. She shuddered as the image cleared.

  As the shield above her began to thin, she heard Aurora chanting in Angelic. A new magic rippled over her skin, smooth as silk. “Nyxobas, show us the danger that awaits these two as they travel into Cambridge,” Aurora said.

  Rosalind glanced down at the fountain’s rippling surface, watching it swirl with silver and black magic.

  Slowly, an image began to form—a face so beautiful it pained her. Golden skin, perfect lips—and eyes black as pitch. Caine’s lips were curled back in a vicious snarl. The face of an angel, twisted with wrath. The bestial look in his eyes sent ice through her veins.

  As the image clarified, her panic worsened. Bathed in milky white sunlight, black wings arched behind his back. He moved with a terrifying grace.

  Rosalind’s heart sped up. “What’s going on?”

  “We need to close the shield,” Malphas said. “We can’t leave it open.”

  Caine seemed to be stalking toward someone, like a beast of prey. The image clouded again.

  “Rosalind,” shouted Malphas. “We need to close the shield!”

  Her pulse raced, and she looked up to the skies again, letting Nyxobas’ power flow through her like a river of shadow. Magic surged to the skies, curling over the gaps in the shield.

  What happened to Caine? He’d hardly even looked human. She had the unsettling feeling that she’d just seen his true face—and it was terrifying. She closed her eyes as the magic whirled from her body, and her head throbbed.