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

by C. N. Crawford

  Caine’s blackened eyes burned into General Loring with an ancient, primal hatred.

  Loring leaned down, examining Rosalind’s eyes. His cold fingers slid over her cheeks, and she shuddered.

  In desperation, she wanted to tell him how much she hated being tied up, but the cloth still gagged her. Raw panic gripped her lungs like a vise.

  “Mmm. I can see you’d like to speak,” he said tonelessly. He pulled a knife from his belt, cutting through the cloth.

  She gasped, looking up at him. “Please untie me.”

  “I don’t think so, Rosalind. You look so much like your sister.” He shook his head. “Do you know, Rosalind, that I’d wanted to promote you? We were alike, or so I thought. Not everyone understands that we must take extraordinary measures to fight evil, or that there are strict lines separating the pure from the corrupted. Not everyone has a visceral revulsion to magic like I do. Not everyone understands that the demons won’t respect us if we’re weak and refuse to fight back. I thought you and I were the same.”

  “Magic still repulses me,” she said. Apart from Caine’s magic, but she wasn’t going to bring that up now.

  “It is a poison. A toxin that corrupts a human body. You seemed to understand that. I’d been watching you from afar. I’d hoped you’d work on our security team. I’d heard about you, and your clever skills. I thought perhaps you’d make a nice wife for one of my officers, or even me. I didn’t know we had a traitor in our midst. We’ll have to be more careful in the future.”

  They were in one of the cells deep below the ground in the Chambers. A thick metal door blocked their exit. There was no way in or out of this room without a retinal scan. Even if she could get out of this chair, her own retinas wouldn’t make the “approved” list. She was thoroughly screwed. In a frenzy, she tugged at her wrists, the chair rattling on the floorboards. “General Loring. I didn’t realize you knew so much about me. It is nice to finally meet you.”

  Randolph folded his hands behind his back, pacing. “I think Josiah was in love with you. It must have broken his heart to learn you’re corrupted with filth. I’ve promised he could interrogate you. I think it will make him feel better. He asked if Caine could watch, and I granted him his wish.”

  Her mouth was dry, and she tried to focus on his words as she tugged at the ropes. “Watch what?”

  Randolph tilted his head. “Watch what he does to you. It’s an acceptable strategy. The demon may choose to confess everything to save you. But of course, demons have no compassion at all, nor do you, I suppose. You’re not human anymore. It’s fascinating, really. You do look human. Beautiful, even. Though when Josiah is finished with his interrogation that may not be the case.”

  Cold dread snaked up her spine. “I want a trial.”

  Randolph crinkled his brow. “What for? We know you’re guilty. We’re no longer required to waste time with paperwork and legal nonsense. We’re at war. Moreover, the sixth amendment only applies to humans. Same for the eighth amendment.”

  “The prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment.”

  “Exactly. They don’t apply to your species.” He stared at the floor as he paced, his eyes never meeting hers.

  “I’m human.”

  “We’ve changed our thinking about that. Once a person uses magic and creates an aura, they are no longer considered human. A person who provides protection for a witch is no longer human, either.”

  She struggled frantically against the ropes, sweat beading on her forehead. This was insane. “You can’t just make up your own definitions.”

  “Of course we can. It is people like me who create reality. It is people like me who define our terms. This is the way it’s always been. The Brotherhood is an empire, and Blodrial has called on me to lead it.” His cheeks reddened, his pace increasing. “Weak-minded scholars might huddle in libraries, arguing over semantics and ethics. Fine. With their noses stuck in books, they’re out of my way while I create reality. Meanwhile, I’m going to act, molding the world into the way it should be according to divine principles.”

  She gasped for breath, her lungs burning. “If you torture people, what makes you any better than the demons?”

  “We don’t call it torture, so it isn’t.” His heels clacked faster over the floorboards. “Anyway, that you would even question me in that way shows how far you’ve fallen.”

  She wanted to distract him—if only because she knew what was coming next. “Your lack of introspection is breathtaking.”

  He paused his pacing, cocking his head but refusing to meet her eyes. “I do often request that our interrogators refrain from leaving marks, because they can make for unfortunate pictures in the wrong hands, but I can’t promise Josiah will heed that request.” He turned with a tight smile. “Well, it was interesting to meet you in person. I’ll let Josiah know you’re ready for him. You already know how this works, Rosalind. You’ve been in here before.”

  Terror vibrated in her skull, and she tried to rip her arms from their ties as Loring strode from the room.

  Tammi. Where was Tammi right now? Rosalind’s pulse raced. She needed to get out of here and search the other interrogation rooms—but even if she could get out of here, there was no way to unlock the secure rooms without the retina scan.

  As she tugged the ropes, her chair legs banged against the floor. Caine remained still, his black eyes cold as glaciers, devoid of humanity. He must have flipped some kind of switch.

  “Caine,” she said. “I need to find a way—”

  The door opened, and Josiah stepped into the light, his brown eyes boring into Rosalind.

  “Hello, my darling,” he said, voice seething with anger.

  “Josiah. You don’t want to do this.”

  He crossed the room, reaching out to stroke her hair, eyes glistening. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been so looking forward to this.”

  “Why? You know what happened to me. I was turned into a witch against my will.”

  His nostrils flared. “Fine, but then you opened your legs for the incubus and declared war on humanity.”

  “I haven’t declared war on anyone.”

  “You’re either with us or against us. You know that.” He straightened, staring down at her. “When I was five, I hid in a closet and watched as demons ripped into my parents’ necks, drank them dry. They did things to my mother that no child should have known about. Your lover here not only lives among them, but he acts as their leader.” Josiah’s eyes burned with fervid intensity. “To see you lusting after this beast set a fire blazing inside me that can never be extinguished. I want you to feel my pain. I want this monster to feel my pain when he watches me hurt you.”

  Caine’s growl reverberated through the room, his demonic eyes dark as voids.

  “Tammi didn’t do anything wrong,” Rosalind said, in desperation.

  Instead of responding, Josiah shoved her shoulders so hard that the chair tipped back. As it slammed against the floor, she gasped in pain. The full weight of her body landed on her hands, bound behind her back. She struggled to catch her breath.

  “Did that hurt? I see you’re injured.” He knelt down, pulling a knife from his pants, before cutting through the front of her shirt.

  Revulsion spread through her. She couldn’t believe she’d ever cared for this maniac. She should have let Caine kill him when they had the chance. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking at the damage to your corrupted body.” He studied her gunshot wound before pressing down on it with one of his thumbs.

  Agony lanced her ribs. Caine had sealed up some of the wound, but fragments of her broken ribs still pierced her lungs.

  “That must hurt a lot,” Josiah said. “Your demon lover didn’t get to finish healing it. He won’t be able to heal your broken corpse when I’m done with it, either.”

  “You’re a monster,” she choked out. Her thoughts raced, and she tried to slow them, to think tactically.

  What did the Brot
herhood teach her? Use the tools from your surroundings. But what the hell was she supposed to use here? She was tied to a chair, and…

  The stiletto knife. She still had the small blade in the back of her pants, she could feel the hilt jabbing into her spine. She pinched it between her fingers.

  “You’re going to torture me because you’re mad about our breakup. Do you realize what kind of psychotic, bunny-boiling asshole that makes you?” Slowly, she inched the knife from her belt, but she couldn’t get much leverage with her hands crushed beneath her.

  “I’m not saying it won’t hurt, but we don’t call it torture, Rosalind. We’ve talked about this. It’s an interrogation.” He glanced at a small camera in the corner of the room. He crossed to it, covering the lens with a small cloth. “It may get a bit unconventional, so I don’t want any of this recorded. But it will be an interrogation, nonetheless. I do hope you’ll be as willing to share with me as you once were. Did you know that your information led to Miranda’s capture?” He raised the legs of the chair on to a cinderblock, so they were now higher than her head. As much as she dreaded what was coming next, this position made it easier for her to move the knife, since her hands were no longer pinioned.

  “The sea-witch I told you about,” she said through labored breaths. Slowly, she inched the knife up and down against the knots.

  Josiah picked up the watering can. “She looks so much like you. I enjoyed breaking her. Though, I’m not sure she was sane to begin with.”

  Rage flowed through Rosalind like molten lava. She wanted to crush him.

  She cut a glance to Caine, who remained still as a statue, watching. In a room rigged with iron dust, his magic was useless here.

  As she rubbed the knife’s blade against the rope, Josiah pulled a dark hood over her face, and her heart rate sped up. She knew how this worked. It made it easier to torture people when you couldn’t see their faces. Right now, the spotlight still penetrated the cloth, but that wouldn’t last long. Next, Josiah would wrap her head with a towel, shrouding her vision in darkness.

  She’d watched him do it to the incubus. She didn’t want to think of the demon’s name, but as Josiah blotted out the light with the second cloth, it came to her anyway: Malphas. Fair-haired, but with gray eyes just like Caine’s. Josiah had staked him earlier that night. The hawthorn wood had still protruded from his shoulder when Josiah brought Rosalind into the cell. His pale eyes had looked so tormented, and she’d wanted to yank it out, but Josiah had stayed her hand.

  I can’t think about that now. She needed to focus on getting the hell out of there. Josiah was drawing this out, enjoying her panic. When she’d said humans didn’t enjoy torture, that they only acted tactically, she’d been lying to herself completely.

  Still, the longer Josiah drew this out, the better chance she had to get herself out of here.

  Her heart galloped in her chest, and she slid the knife against the knots.

  Maybe she deserved this, after what she’d done to Malphas. Josiah had told her that the incubus had brutally raped and murdered three women just days before. He’d said that the demon had left their naked, broken bodies in a Walden Woods. There were the pictures of three brutalized corpses, shown to Rosalind in the cell as she stood just inches from the incubus.

  As she’d stared at them in horror, Malphas had eyed her evenly, his breath rasping. He hadn’t said a word.

  Josiah had done all the talking: “That’s what an incubus will do if you ever get near one. This monster would tear you to pieces if we let him free.”

  The pictures of the broken corpses had twisted her gut with disgust.

  After Josiah had wrapped the demon’s head with the towel, he’d told Rosalind to pour the water over his face. All part of her training. She was too soft, apparently, since she made the fatal mistake of viewing demons as humans instead of as cold, sadistic predators. In a fight for survival, there was no room for gray areas.

  She scraped the knife against the rope.

  It was too late by the time she realized Josiah had a bad habit of passing on shitty information. There was every chance that Malphas had never been anywhere near those girls.

  The watering can scraped across the floor as Josiah shifted it, and fear rushed through her body. She’d gotten nowhere with the ropes. You couldn’t seriously cut through a thick rope by slowly rubbing a blade against it—

  Her mind froze as the cloth dampened. It started with the slow flow of water trickling into her nostrils. She held her breath, still rubbing at the robe with the knife, trying to rip through the fibers. She held her breath for what seemed like an eternity, one agonizing second after another, and pain exploded through her lungs. When she couldn’t hold it anymore, her body forced a breath out.

  She knew not to breathe in, but her lungs burst with agony, and she couldn’t control it anymore. Involuntarily, she breathed in, sucking the wet cloth against her face. No air. Panic burst through her mind. There is no air. I’m going to die. Her body shook, rebelling against the suffocation. Her vision burst with images of Malphas, his body convulsing as she poured the water on to the towel, the stake still protruding from his chest.

  I’m going to die. All rational thought flew from her mind. She’d beg Josiah for mercy, do whatever he wanted to get out of this.

  I poured the water. I’m the monster. Sheer terror and agony warped her mind.

  After ten lifetimes, she felt the chair tilt up again. Please.

  Josiah pulled the towels off her face before yanking off the hood. She gasped for breath, sucking in air. Her wet hair plastered to her face. Icy water soaked her shoulders.

  Josiah looked into her eyes. “This is the part where I ask you questions.”

  What had her plan been? The knife—gods help me. She’d dropped the knife.

  Chapter 27

  She glanced at Caine, but he wasn’t moving. He just stared at her, his eyes empty.

  “He can’t save you, Rosalind.”

  Josiah touched her cheek, and she flinched. He’s going to drown me again. He’s going to kill me. I’m going to die at the hands of a sadist.

  She clamped her eyes shut, trying to get a grip. She needed to master her fear, to keep her wits intact so she could figure out how to get the hell out of here.

  “Tell me about the Vampire Lord,” Josiah said.

  Shit. She’d already divulged too much. “The Vampire Lord?” she repeated, stalling. Frigid water dripped down her chest. Her teeth chattered; her body shook.

  Josiah gripped her sodden hair, yanking her head backward. “Start with his name.”

  “I don’t know,” she stammered. She wasn’t telling this asshole anything until her mind broke completely. “I just heard everyone call him the Vampire Lord.”

  “Where does he live?”

  She gasped for breath, and her throat burned. “No one told me.”

  Josiah slammed his fist into her face. Pain burst through her cheek, searing her skull.

  She glanced at Caine, who watched her impassively. In fact, he seemed completely unperturbed by this whole thing. What the fuck, Caine?

  The incubus obviously had no plan to help, and couldn’t get out of the chains, anyway.

  Use what’s around you, Rosalind, her mind screamed. But she couldn’t get her hands on a single weapon. The only thing she could manipulate in the room, was—

  Josiah.

  Whatever it was he wanted, she could use it against him.

  He yanked her hair tighter, nearly ripping it out by the roots. “Does the Vampire Lord have an army?”

  “He didn’t tell me,” she said, staring in to his blazing eyes. She wasn’t about to tell him that the General of Ambrose’s army sat just a few feet away, staring at the two of them.

  Josiah’s breath was hot on her cheeks. “I know he has an army. And I want to know everything about it. How many are there? What are their plans? You will tell me every single thing you know,” he said through gritted teeth.

  �
�It’s hard to think when you’re hurting me,” she said—stalling, again.

  He tightened his other hand around her waist. “I want you to know that I will never let you out of my sight again. You’re mine, Rosalind.”

  Fuck this guy. What he wanted was glaringly obvious: he wanted complete control over her, and he wanted to hurt her in the most brutal ways possible.

  But what else did she know about him? He had an intense curiosity for all things demonic. He tended to underestimate her strength and her ability to look after herself. On top of that, he had a serious rage problem. These were all things she could use against him.

  “I don’t know. Josiah, please,” she let out a sob. “None of this is my fault. I don’t want this spirit in me. When the ring comes off, I burn with excruciating pain. It’s like my whole body is on fire.”

  “You’ve told me this already.” He slipped a large hand up her body, tightening it around her throat. “Tell me about the Vampire Lord, or I’ll put the hood on you again for more water.”

  “It’s a curse, Josiah,” she said. “I don’t want that magic. I never want to feel that pain again. You can’t imagine the agony.”

  He looked into her eyes, licking his lips. “Oh really?”

  She’d laid the bait. It was working.

  “I never wanted this curse, Josiah. It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt.”

  He yanked a knife from his weapons belt, and slipped behind her back, cutting through the knot that bound her hands. He gripped her wrists hard, pulling her hand in front of her face so she could stare at the iron ring. “You still wear Blodrial’s ring. He is your saving grace, and you betray him.”

  If she acted as fragile as possible, he’d let down his guard even further. “Josiah. You’re hurting me,” she whimpered.

  “Good.” He tightened his grip on her wrists. “Tell me what you know about the Vampire Lord, or I’ll take the ring off and let you burn until you beg for mercy.”