Magic Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  “He actually deserved it,” added Aurora. “Not for being a mage. He was just an arsehole. Apart from that, Caine has a point.”

  “That wasn’t the Brotherhood.” Rosalind wanted to clamp her hands over her ears. It couldn’t be true. The Brotherhood had to be certain of guilt, or it meant they’d been interrogating innocent people—even killing captives, according to Caine. The blood rose to her cheeks. “The Brotherhood know what they’re doing. I’ve committed my life to them. I belong with them.”

  Caine arched an eyebrow. “The Brotherhood won’t dig too deeply into extenuating circumstances. Any hint of magic is enough for them to stoke the flames of your funeral pyre.”

  “You’re wrong,” Rosalind said. She needed to remember what Josiah said. Mages would do whatever they could to mess with your head.

  “They’re barbaric,” Aurora countered.

  Rosalind’s temper flared. The demons would love people to think that good and evil were merely subjective concepts with a whole lot of gray area. “We’re barbaric? And what about you? I found a severed hand in your room last night. You drink human blood.”

  “So? Hunters drink inhuman blood,” Aurora shot back.

  “What are you talking about?” Rosalind asked.

  “The ambrosia you drink,” Caine said. “It’s made with the blood of furies, kept as slaves against their will. You do worship a god of blood, you know. Honestly Rosalind. It’s almost like you don’t know anything useful.”

  “Why do you think vampires are so keen on Hunter blood?” Aurora asked. “Lucky for you, it fades fast, or I’d be taking a little nip from your wrist.”

  “And speaking of barbaric,” Caine said. “Let’s not forget that the Brotherhood have reinstated burning as a punishment for witchcraft.”

  No. They’re lying. The Brotherhood didn’t touch humans, and she’d never heard anyone talk about burnings or blood drinking.

  Her mind was racing now. The mage had already muddled her thoughts, trying to lure her to the dark side.

  She had to remember the pictures Josiah had showed her, the ravaged and burned bodies of the mages’ victims. “Forget about the blood. Your people—vampires, mages, demons—they slaughter humans like prey, just for sport. You both know it. Look at what happened in Boston. Mages rampaged through a high school. They shot students with arrows. Burned them to death. For what?”

  Caine nodded. “There are some sadistic mages out there. I won’t deny that.”

  Somehow, this admission felt like a victory to Rosalind.

  “Too bad the Brotherhood never manages to actually catch them,” he added, “since they’re always too busy murdering doddery old widows.”

  Rosalind had to stop herself from throwing the canister of dust at his head. Of course he was just screwing with her mind, but everything he said seemed to strike a chord. It was getting harder to believe the Brotherhood only went after the bad guys, when they were so busy chasing her down.

  It was as though her whole future as a Guardian had just gone up in flames, even if she knew Josiah was looking out for her. “Whether or not the Brotherhood will take me back, I can’t live with this mage inside my head. It’s like having an invader in my own body.”

  “Some people would be thrilled to have that power, you know,” Aurora said.

  Rosalind didn’t even want to think about the crushing, raging agony that had pierced her mind when Ambrose ripped off the ring. “What if the ring doesn’t stay on me forever? What if someone pulls it off again, like Ambrose did? I was in hell.” She shot a glance at Caine. “You understand, right?”

  “Oh, I understand.” He traced his finger over his lower lip. “But you need to get over it.”

  Arrogant prick. “And what exactly happened to you? What went so terribly wrong that my parents cast you off into the streets? You obviously lost your mind. Did you kill someone?”

  Caine’s body went still, and his eyes darkened to deep, black pools, as deep and vast as the cosmos. Shadows swirled around him.

  At the sight of his pitch-black eyes, panic hit her like a fist. Caine wasn’t just a mage. He was a demon, and she’d just pushed him into attack mode. Dread clenched her heart, and for a moment, she thought she saw the ghost of dark wings unfolding behind him. His predatory, midnight glare whispered into the darkest parts of her mind, run.

  A moment later, his eyes cleared, and he rolled his neck.

  She clasped her hands together to hide the shaking. She couldn’t let him see her fear, even if she’d just come within whispering distance of death.

  “I can’t take any more of this,” Caine said. “If I have to listen to her talk every night, I’d just as soon face the wrath of Ambrose. I want her out of here. Now.”

  Rosalind clenched her trembling fingers. Maybe she’d gone too far.

  Aurora’s eyes bulged. “You can’t be serious. You’re going to defy Ambrose?”

  Caine’s eyes flashed like storm clouds. “If I have to listen to her carrying on every night and asking me stupid questions, I’m going to murder her myself.”

  “So you’re handing her over to the Brotherhood?” Aurora asked.

  Caine shot Rosalind a cold look. “I will get you the information you need for your exorcism, and then you need to leave. I don’t want to see your face again. Do we have a deal?”

  Still rattled, she lowered her voice to steady it. “I swear on my honor as Hunter.”

  Aurora snorted. “Hunter honor. That’s obviously bollocks.”

  “I’ll take what I can get,” Caine said. “And then we’ll send her back to the people who want to kill her if that’s what she really wants.”

  “You’re acting crazy,” Aurora said. “What if she tells the Brotherhood all about us?”

  He stared out the window at the cemetery. “I’ll erase us from her memory.”

  Rosalind didn’t like the sound of a supernatural lobotomy. “I don’t want you to erase my brain.”

  He leveled his icy gaze on her. “That’s the deal. If you want the exorcism, take it or leave it. I can’t risk you running back to the Brotherhood to tell them where we are. Even you must be able to understand that.”

  He had a point. “Fine.” She didn’t trust him, and didn’t know what he might find in there. Maybe she could slip away just after the exorcism.

  “You’re both insane,” Aurora said. “I’m going to make sure Ambrose understands this was done against my advisement.”

  Rosalind let out a long breath, still trying to hide the raw fear she’d felt at the sight of Caine’s black eyes. “Is there some spell you need to find, to get this mage out of me?”

  “This is beyond even me,” Caine said. “We’ll need to find the sybil.”

  Rosalind stood. “Great. Where do we find this sybil?”

  “I don’t know,” Caine said. “But Jorge will. He’s a vampire who runs Salem’s blood bar.”

  “The blood bar is the only part of the plan that I can get behind,” Aurora said. “Because I’m a little cranky before I have my evening drink.”

  Caine eyed Rosalind’s outfit. “But you can’t go in there wearing that virginal white dress. They’ll eat you alive.”

  “Literally,” Aurora said.

  “What am I supposed to wear?”

  Aurora looked her over. “I’ll take care of the outfit.”

  Great. Not only were they muddling her mind, but she was going to start dressing like them, too. “Is that really necessary?”

  Caine narrowed his eyes. “Unless you have a death wish, which I’m starting to think you do.”

  Chapter 13

  Rosalind, sitting on the back of Caine’s bike, wrapped her arms tight around him. They roared down a narrow Salem street, past crooked colonial houses, on their way to meet Aurora at the bar. Lilu trailed behind them.

  A marine wind rushed over Rosalind’s bare arms, and moonlight dazzled off puddles as they rushed past.

  It was beautiful by the water, but she didn’t belong i
n Salem with her arms wrapped around a mage’s body. Her plan had been simple: become a Guardian and fight evil. Until now, her worst-case scenario involved leaving the Brotherhood to become some kind of software engineer. Maybe a computational biologist, to keep things a little interesting.

  No part of her plans had involved donning a black leather dress, covering herself in fake alchemical tattoos, and straddling a sorcerer’s motorcycle. But things didn’t always go to plan.

  Caine had cast a spell to cover her in magical markings that snaked around her arms and back, disguising her as a mage. It so happened there was a lot of exposed skin to cover, thanks to Aurora’s outfit choices. Apparently, demons didn’t like leaving anything to the imagination. As she sat on the back of Caine’s bike, the short dress was hitched all the way up her thighs. At her insistence, she’d kept her own boots on.

  As they pulled up to a rickety old pier, Rosalind spotted Aurora standing in the amber light of a streetlamp not far from the harbor. The low-cut back of her dress exposed a brutal network of scars.

  Gods, what happened to her? It looked as though she’d accidentally exposed her skin to the sunlight and never healed.

  As Rosalind stepped off the bike, she shuddered. Whatever had caused those scars must have been agonizing.

  Aurora turned, eyeing Rosalind’s outfit. “I told you that dress would suit you.”

  Maybe it did suit her. Rosalind hadn’t failed to notice Caine’s jaw drop when she’d stepped out of the room in the tiny black dress. Still, she felt exposed, and tugged the neckline up.

  “But you’ve got to stop fidgeting,” Aurora added. “You’re acting like a pedestrian.”

  Rosalind frowned. “A pedestrian?”

  “Ordinary people,” Aurora said. “Those without magic. Boring. Stuck on the ground. Like you with that stupid iron ring. I told you. Stop fidgeting.”

  “This isn’t how I normally dress. And there’s no room in this dress for my weapon belt.” Not to mention a bra.

  “Only pedestrians need weapons,” Caine said.

  She liked her weapons. But even without them, a Hunter had other tools. Josiah had taught her to scan her environment for anything that was usable as a weapon. Ingenuity was the one area where Hunters had the upper hand. Iron dust could defeat magic, and Hunters knew how to fight the old-fashioned way: fists, broken bottles, big blocks of wood—whatever they could find.

  In the cool sea air, goose bumps raised on her skin. Nothing stood on the wharf apart from a ramshackle, two-story house labelled Sail Loft. Weather-beaten and boarded with old wood, it must have been deserted for centuries.

  She hugged herself. “That’s where we’re going?”

  “Glamoured,” Caine said. “Unlike me.”

  Rosalind paused, touching his arm. “I’m supposed to act like a mage, and they’ll believe it?”

  Caine nodded. “As much as you can. They’ll know you’re human by your scent, but they won’t touch a mage. If they think you’re pedestrian, things will become unpleasant fast. And if they discover you’re a Hunter, you can expect an excruciating death.”

  “Fantastic,” she said.

  “That’s why you should take the ring off,” Aurora said. “What if a high demon comes in? Some of them could smell your Hunter blood even if you haven’t drunk ambrosia in a day. A bit of real magic would protect you.”

  Instinctively, Rosalind tightened her hand into a fist. The whole point of this was that she’d never again have to suffer the wild, burning rage of the witch’s soul, that uncontrolled animal mind that threatened to swallow her whole. “That is not a good idea.”

  “It’s true. She’s not ready for that yet,” Caine said. “We’ll just hope no high demons are there tonight.”

  Aurora arched an eyebrow. “You just want to hope? That’s your plan? We should’ve left her at home.”

  “We can’t leave her anywhere until I erase some of her memories,” Caine shot back. “She could still run to the Brotherhood with everything she knows, in the hopes of making a deal.”

  Rosalind scowled. She really hated that whole memory-erasing idea. “I’m not taking off the ring again until I can get this spirit out.”

  Caine looked her over, his gaze lingering on her skin. “It’s fine. With the tattoos, she can pass as a mage. As long as she can manage to refrain from lecturing everyone about morality for the next twenty minutes.”

  “We’ll just go in and ask about the sybil, right?” Rosalind asked.

  “No,” Caine said. “You don’t want to launch right into the sybil thing. It’s never good to let vampires know you’re desperate. It gives them power over you. We’ll blend in, get some food, act like normal shadow mages, and then casually ask Jorge about the sybil.”

  “Little problem,” Aurora said. “She doesn’t smell like a mage.”

  Caine arched an eyebrow. “Mages don’t have a smell.”

  “Yours is like fresh earth,” Aurora said. “A bit of peat and some sage. I think that part belongs to you. But the magic has its own scent. Anyone who’s conducted Angelic spells in the past several days smells like a lightning storm and singed air.”

  Rosalind furrowed her brow. “Are you telling me I need to smell like ozone?”

  Aurora shrugged. “If you don’t want the vampires to kill you, you need to smell like Caine. Or you need to take off the ring and do one little magical spell. Or we can leave you outside and chain you to the pier.”

  Rosalind’s eyes widened. “I’m not just being stubborn. I’m afraid of losing my freaking mind. This witch’s soul is like an inferno. It’s completely warped, and I don’t even want to know what it would do if I let her out. It wouldn’t be pretty. I think in that case I’d be the one ripping out throats.”

  “Fine. So rub up against Caine.” Aurora flicked a hand at the mage before staring at Rosalind again. “Don’t look at me like that! You don’t know how many pedestrian girls would pay good money for that.”

  “She’s not lying,” Caine said, with a small shrug.

  Aurora sighed. “Bollocks. I fed the ego.”

  Rosalind took a tentative step and a deep breath. The thought of getting close to Caine sent her pulse racing, though she wasn’t sure if that was because he was a demon from the shadow hell, or because he looked like a Greek god. “Rub up against Caine? You have got to be kidding me.”

  Caine flashed a half-smile. “Given your well-established appreciation of my beauty—”

  “The scent is strongest on the neck,” Aurora cut in. “And don’t pretend to be disgusted, Rosalind. I can hear both your pulses racing.”

  Rosalind glanced away, cheeks burning, though she wasn’t even sure why she cared what they thought. She was a Hunter, for crying out loud, and this was all part of a mission for the Brotherhood—albeit, a severely screwed up mission. Caine was just part of the job, a means to an end.

  In the silence, the only sound was water lapping against the pier. “Right. It’s just a body. Just two bodies, coming together…” Had she really just said that out loud? Rosalind, you absolute moron. Please stop talking.

  Aurora rolled her eyes. “Are you going to do this weird babbling all night? If I get any hungrier, your pedestrian smell will no longer be a problem.”

  Chilled by the ocean breeze, Rosalind rubbed her tattoo-covered arms. “Right.”

  “Because I would have eaten you,” added Aurora for emphasis. “Not an expression.”

  “Yeah. I got that." Rosalind stepped closer to Caine, her heart thumping. Just part of her mission. Her shockingly, wildly fucked-up mission, completely unsanctioned by the Brotherhood, who wanted to arrest her. Or possibly kill her. This was the mission of a demon-infected Hunter gone rogue.

  What would Josiah make of all this?

  Aurora threw her arms up in the air. “Ugh. I’ll give you two some privacy. I’m going in for a drink before I murder you both.” She stalked away over the pier.

  Rosalind stepped closer to Caine. Moonlight bathed his s
kin in milky light. With his tousled hair and sharp cheekbones, he really was stunning—obnoxiously so, in fact. As a mage, he was supposed to look like a withered hag… but if he was a demon, maybe that explained his otherworldly beauty.

  He held out his hand, and she took it, edging closer to his body. Wordlessly, he lifted her wrist to his warm neck, pressing it against his smooth skin. In the night air, she could feel the heat coming off his muscled body, the blood pulsing fast in his veins. As she stood close to him, a strange thrill whispered over her skin, and she had to restrain herself from closing the last few inches between them.

  He’s not human, she reminded herself. He’s a predator.

  She cleared her throat. “I saw your eyes change earlier. When you were angry.”

  “Yes.”

  “It happens to demons. You’re not human.” It seemed an oddly personal conversation—yet she was standing here, pressing her wrist against his throat. Might as well get to know him.

  “I’m half demon.”

  “What kind?”

  “Incubus.”

  At that word, horror churned in her gut, and she snatched her arm away from him.

  A look of confusion flickered across his features. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She swallowed hard, trying to shut out the guilty thoughts echoing in her mind. “Josiah told me that all incubi were brutal rapists.”

  He took a long, slow breath. “Josiah is wrong,” he said softly.

  She stared at him, trying to control the thoughts swirling in her mind. But Josiah can’t be wrong—because if he is, then I’ve committed a far worse sin than I thought. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  A mixture of emotions flitted through his gray eyes, hurt and anger among them. “Of course I’m sure. I feed off sexual energy. That’s true. But I’ve never forced anyone against their will.” The cocky smirk returned to his lips. “You’ve seen how I look. Why would I need to?”