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

by C. N. Crawford

  Caine was in trouble—deep trouble. How had everything become so royally fucked up?

  Drew. It all came down to Drew, and the power-hungry maniacs like Randolph Loring. Had she really looked up to him once? When she found the bastards leading the Brotherhood, she wanted to burn them. A flame for Caine, a flame for Miranda. One for Cleo. She’d sow a garden of pyres across the city.

  She could feel Cleo’s purr of approval at the thought of burning Hunters. At least Cleo’s voice had gone quieter—ever since Ambrose had made his confession. Maybe she wouldn’t have to fuck him and burn him anymore.

  Malphas touched her arm. “Rosalind. That’s enough for now.”

  She glanced at him, her breath coming hard and fast. “We still don’t know anything. We know Caine’s in danger, but not what we’re heading into. According to that scrying spell, the danger that awaits us is Caine.”

  Malphas’s face had gone pale. “I can believe that Caine is the most dangerous thing on the other side of the portal.”

  “What do you mean?” Rosalind asked. “Why would he be dangerous to us?”

  Malphas stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly. “I’ve seen him look that way before. Once, after your parents gave him the second soul.”

  “When he lost his mind.” Her stomach sank. “You think it’s happened again?”

  “Maybe Drew is controlling him,” Aurora said. “He can control his mind with that charmed iron.”

  Rosalind wanted to be sick. “He wasn’t wearing a necklace. Maybe they’ve given him a scar, like mine.”

  Malphas shook his head, “Whatever the case, we’ve got to go after him before they decide to execute him.”

  “I’m ready,” Rosalind said. Already, she was climbing to the fountain’s edge. She dipped her feet into the icy water, and Malphas climbed up beside her.

  Aurora touched Rosalind’s arm. “Please bring him back in one piece.”

  Rosalind nodded. “I will. I promise.”

  Before she plunged into the icy water, a dark thought flickered through her mind. Maybe I should stop making promises I don’t know I can keep.

  She let go of the fountain’s edge, letting herself sink beneath the water’s frigid surface.

  Chapter 40

  She plunged deeper through the portal, until her lungs burned.

  But water couldn’t hurt her anymore, not with Dagon’s power flooding her veins. As she sunk lower, Dagon’s phantom limbs snaked around her, caressing her skin. And when she let her chest unclench, it stopped hurting. Under the water, she no longer needed air. She could stay under the surface as long as she wanted.

  Except she had a psychotic incubus to rescue. Her gaze flicked to Malphas, who swam beside her, his eyes beginning to bulge. He couldn’t breathe down here.

  A thin stream of light pierced the surface, and she grabbed Malphas’s hand. Kicking her legs, she dragged him up to the light.

  When her head breached the surface, she wrapped an arm around Malphas’s chest, pulling him up with her. He clung to the ledge on either side of her, his body pressed against hers. Coughs racked his body.

  “Thanks,” he gasped.

  “No problem.” She scanned the crypt. Sunlight streamed through latticework over the crypt door. Lucky for them, no one seemed to be lying in wait here. “We should hide ourselves before we go out. We can use the invisibility spell. And as soon as we get out of here, let’s move quickly, using shadow magic. I think this cemetery is dangerous. The Brotherhood might be watching it.”

  Water dripped down his face from his drenched hair. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a hill in Huron Village, away from the Brotherhood’s headquarters. Hold my hand, and I’ll take you in the right direction. And then I’m gonna do a sweep of the city from the air so I can figure out where Caine is.”

  Malphas body still floated dangerously close to hers. Incubi just couldn’t help getting close. “Sounds like you have a plan.”

  He blinked, as if waking from a dream, then began chanting the spell for invisibility. She felt his magic kiss her skin, and watched as his face shimmered away.

  In the icy water, her teeth began to chatter. “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “Let’s go.”

  She hoisted herself out of the water, then reached down, feeling for Malphas’s arm. She pulled him out, and water splashed to the floor. Grasping his hand, she said, “As soon as we’re through his door, I’m taking us to the old Gallows Hill.”

  “What is it about that name that unsettles me?”

  Ignoring the comment, he pushed through the door into the sun. For a moment, the sun blinded her and she blinked hard, trying to adjust. She hadn’t seen proper light in weeks.

  Then, clutching Malphas’s hand, she let Nyxobas’s power flow through her body. Shadows whispered through her bones. She focused on a point about twenty yards away, and let the magic carry her on the wind.

  She knew that too much shadow running would burn the energy right out of her body, but it was a major rush. With Malphas’s hand in her own, she shifted from one spot to another through the winding cemetery paths. As she moved, a warm, floral breeze rushed over her skin, toying with her hair.

  Gods, it feels good to be in the light again. Even as she got power from the god of night, the sunlight felt glorious on her skin. With Malphas by her side, she rushed through the cemetery gates, down Mount Auburn street to Brattle, and further up Avon Hill, whirring past the towering wood-frame houses.

  At the top of the hill, her muscles burned, and fatigue pulsed through her body. They stopped by a dark wooden mansion, and Rosalind caught her breath.

  By her side, Malphas’s broad form began shimmering into view. “You’re already becoming visible,” he said.

  “So are you.”

  “The invisibility spell won’t hold long when you’re burning through power like that.”

  Her pulse raced. “Well that’s a real fucking liability. I can’t be flashing into the Hunters’ view while I’m expecting to be invisible.”

  “You have the power of seven gods now. Just like Drew. Maybe you don’t need to be invisible.”

  True, but a thought nagged at the back of her mind. “I’ve seen how Caine operates. He stays focused on his objective, and he doesn’t let the enemy know more about him than they need to. When we were imprisoned together in the Chambers, he took pains to make sure they had no idea what his powers were. He didn’t want them to know his strength. We’re here for one reason, and one reason only, right?”

  “To drag Caine back to Lilinor.”

  “We’re not here to defeat the Brotherhood and Drew. We’ll do that when we have an army together. So I don’t want to let Drew know I have this power.”

  “What exactly do you have planned?”

  She felt a flicker of vernal magic stir in her chest. “I’m going to let Cleo fight this battle—or at least it will look that way.” She let Cleo’s magic snake over her body, curling over her skin and hair.

  “Come out to play, Cleo.” As the magic wound over her dark hair, she watched as it lengthened and turned blond. She felt her legs elongate, her hips narrow.

  When she looked at Malphas, his eyes had gone wide.

  “How do I look?” she asked.

  “Like someone completely different. I had no idea you could do that.”

  “Cleo’s been desperate to come out.” She gazed down the hill, looking for any signs of chaos or destruction, but everything seemed normal on Mass Ave. Maybe she’d taken them too far from the Brotherhood’s headquarters. She’d need a proper aerial view. “I’m going to find Caine. I’ll signal to you with lightning, okay? When I find him, shadow run in the direction of the striking lightning.”

  “Do you really have that much control over your powers?”

  “I created a damn fine storm not that long ago.”

  She glanced up at the cloudless sky, then closed her eyes. A cool wind rippled over her skin, and she held out her
arms. Mentally, she called to the storm-god, and his ancient magic pooled in her body. Raw power ignited her veins, and she opened her eyes to find the sky churning with dark clouds.

  A cold wind whipped at her pale hair. Or rather, Cleo’s hair.

  As she arched her back, the heavens opened, and a hard rain began to fall, soaking her clothes. She cast one last look back at Malphas, then let the wind rush through her body, lifting her with it. She swooped into the air, soaring over Cambridge’s wooden houses and brick buildings, racing over Mass Ave. As she soared further along, a wave of horror washed over her. The city had changed completely closer to the square. Gone were the old wooden houses and squat buildings that lined the street; now it was all towering stone edifices, built to look like roman temples and colosseums.

  And the closer she got to the Brotherhood’s Chambers, the more a sense of unease began to crawl over her skin.

  The good news was that no one was looking at her. The bad news was that they weren’t looking at her because they seemed to be fleeing from Harvard square—not unlike the time that the keres had attacked.

  Rain battered her skin, and she soared over Harvard, flying in the opposite direction of those fleeing. She was moving south, toward the Charles—the river that the Hunters had named after their witch-killing king. At least the river had a tactical advantage. If Nyxobas allowed it, she’d be able to use the water as a portal back to Lilinor.

  But as she soared toward the river, her blood turned to ice. Wooden stakes jutted from one of the stone bridges that arced over the Charles, just waiting to burn the bodies of heretics. No wonder the people of Cambridge were terrified. And no wonder the Brotherhood needed a scapegoat to keep everyone in line.

  As she swooped along the river, horror punched her in the gut again. There, on the road that gently curved round the river’s side, she saw the pale silver glow of Caine’s magic, curling from his body. He stalked down the center of Memorial Drive, black wings swooping from his back.

  Around him, cars had smashed into each other. Black smoke curled from the wrecks, and shattered glass littered the pavement. And worse—broken and bloodied human bodies lay strewn on the ground in pools of blood. Had Caine done this?

  She flicked her wrist at the clouds, letting Mishett-Ash’s magic race through her fingertips into the sky. A sharp spear of lightning touched down on the river, illuminated the sky. Instantly, thunder cracked over the horizon.

  She flicked her wrist once more, calling forth another sharp crack of lightning.

  As the rain battered her body, she circled overhead, searching Caine’s face for clues. His eyes were black as the void, his lip curled disdainfully. The way he prowled the street, muscles coiled, he looked like an angel of death.

  And he wasn’t wearing a necklace.

  Had Drew managed to carve the mark of Azezeyl into his skin? Or had he lost his mind again—like he had in Maremount, all those years ago?

  She circled again, watching with a growing sense of horror as he ripped off a car door. He pulled an injured man from the passenger’s seat. The crash had crushed the man’s legs, and he screamed in terror at the sight of Caine.

  Okay. Time to stop this.

  Rosalind swooped lower. Slowly, Caine’s gaze slid to her, and he cocked his head. As he did, he snapped the man’s neck, letting him fall to the ground.

  She landed in front of him, her body buzzing with the icy fury of a valkyrie. Caine’s aura blazed from his body, slicing the air around her. He took a step closer. A part of her felt terrified at his cold gaze. A part of her wanted to run—or fly—as fast as she could from his bone-chilling demonic rage.

  But the valkyrie’s strength coursed through her blood, cold and ancient as Caine’s own power. She didn’t want to fight him—but she could if she needed to.

  “Caine,” she said. “It’s me. Rosalind.”

  A low growl escaped his throat. In a blur of shadow magic, he reached for her throat—but she was faster. She leapt out of his way, jumping back again and again—until she slammed into the back of car.

  Shit.

  In the next second, Caine’s hands were around her throat, ready to snap her neck. She raised her arms, slamming them into his forearms with the full force of Borgerith’s strength. He dropped his grip on her, surprise alighting in his eyes, then moved toward her again.

  Letting Nyxobas’s magic whisper through her blood, she lunged for him, landing a punch at the speed of a hurricane gale. Her fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him off balance. He staggered back. She wanted a chance to see what she was up against—if he’d lost his mind, or if Drew had marked him.

  Swift as the wind, she rushed at him again, ripping through the front of his shirt. She scanned his skin—just long enough to see his smooth abs, free from Azezeyl’s mark—and in the next moment, his hands were around her throat again.

  Okay, so he’s lost his mind. Her heart thrummed.

  And then she realized: Maybe he didn’t know who she was.

  Cleo, drop the glamour.

  Instantly, she felt Cleo’s aura flush from her blood. She felt her body shift, watching as her blond hair darkened in the corner of her eye. As it did, Caine’s eyes widened, his fingers loosening on her throat.

  “Caine,” she said. If he had lost his mind, she actually had no idea how to cure it. She had neither the time nor the expertise to act as his psychotherapist right now. “It’s me. It’s Rosalind.”

  He leaned in closer, his body warming hers. It didn’t seem like he wanted to rip her throat out anymore. But he definitely wanted something. He thrust his fingers into her hair, tugging back her head. He growled again, low and animal, and his teeth skimmed her throat. His fingers found her waist, gripping her tight. He had her pinned to the car, but at least he wasn’t trying to kill her anymore.

  “Caine,” she said. “This isn’t the time.”

  The wail of sirens pierced the air, and her heart began to race. They were coming for Caine.

  She reached up, gripping his face, trying to get through to him. “Caine. What the hell is going on with you? I need to take you to a portal. I think we can use the river.”

  His eyes narrowed, but she wasn’t convinced he understood a word she was saying.

  Fuck it. She’d have to use her new brute strength. She cupped her hands around his neck, then slammed the top of her head into his face.

  He staggered back again, dazed just for a moment. As she wound up again for a punch to his jaw, he caught her wrist, twisting it behind her back. He slammed her against the car, pressing against her.

  Shit. Maybe she’d underestimated his brute strength.

  “Caine!” she shouted. “You’re acting like a psycho! Stop it or I will beat the shit out of you!”

  Okay. So maybe that wasn’t the most subtle of psychological techniques, but it was all she had time for. Caine leaned in again, growling, and his breath warmed the side of her face. He seemed to be enjoying this. In fact, from what she could feel pressing against her back, he was definitely enjoying this.

  She raised her foot, smashing it down onto his. He grunted, but kept his grip on her.

  The wailing of sirens drew closer, and she heard the screeching of brakes just behind her.

  “Caine!” she shouted. Where the hell was Malphas?

  In the next second, a hail of bullets ripped through the air, and Caine’s body jerked against hers. Her world tilted, and the pure panic seizing her mind. Iron bullets, probably. They’d do some damage to Caine. She was damn lucky the bullets hadn’t pierced through his flesh to hers, or they’d be stranded here without magic.

  She turned to Caine, ready to shadow run with him to the river. But just as she wrapped her arms around his slumping body, a team of Hunters ripped him away.

  And, in the next moment, Drew stepped from an armored vehicle, dressed in a black suit. He flicked his wrist, and Borgerith’s magic shot from his fingertips. All the air left Rosalind’s lungs, and she felt the weight of a ton of
rocks pressing on her chest, pressing her in place. She stared, wide-eyed, as a team of black-clad Hunters dragged Caine toward the bridge.

  As her ribs threatened to snap and pierce her lungs, one thought blazed in her mind like a torch in the night:

  They’re going to burn him.

  Chapter 41

  Drew clasped his arms tightly around her, still pressing the air from her lungs. She had magic now—the same as he did. But he’d had a lot more practice.

  He dragged her to the bridge, her feet scraping over the pavement. As he did, she closed her eyes, focusing on pushing the tendrils of copper magic from her body—just enough that she could gasp for air. When she opened her eyes again, Drew gripped her chin, forcing her face to look in the direction of Caine.

  The Hunters were chaining his slumped body to a stake. A crowd of onlookers had gathered at the Bridge’s southern entrance.

  I need to get us out of here.

  She had no clue what was going on with Caine, but she wasn’t going to let the Hunters burn him.

  He didn’t have a scar marking his skin, wasn’t wearing any iron that had been specially treated with magic. And yet, he’d just slaughtered all those people. He’d attacked her, too. Sure, the man had secrets, but she just couldn’t believe that this was really him.

  She watched the Hunters pile wood on the pyre, and she strained to muster her magic as Drew crushed her lungs. If she could summon Borgerith’s power like Drew could, maybe she could fight him back. She struggled for another breath, trying to force the copper tendrils from her body.

  But it was kind of hard to summon powerful magic when you couldn’t breathe.

  Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. The rain had slowed to a dull trickle, not enough to douse the flames—especially not now, as the Hunters doused the wood just below Caine’s feet with gasoline. Pure panic ripped through her mind.

  Drew leaned in close, whispering into her ear, “Now you’ll get what you deserve, my wife. You’ll get to watch your lover die. Slowly, painfully, and without dignity. I want to watch the pain in your eyes as his skin blackens. Perhaps I’ll make you light the flames to burn your lover.”