Magic Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 1) (20 page)

A
fter Caine left
, Rosalind stepped out of the bath, drying herself off with a towel.

She slipped into the clothes that Orcus had laid out—a pair of black leggings, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket. He’d even included a pair of bright red underwear, exactly her size. Either one of Caine’s conquests had left these items behind, or Orcus had created them through magic, perfectly gauging her size. She wasn’t sure which possibility was weirder.

Either way, she had more pressing matters on her mind. She pulled on her boots, zipping them over her pants. She was desperate for a computer
.

She racked her brain for everything she could remember about assembly languages from her class last semester. Right now, lives depended on her ability to recall Professor Carroll’s murderously dull lectures about compiling.

She pushed through the door into the celestial room, sitting on the edge of the bed, her nails digging into the blanket. An image burned in her mind—Miranda tied to a chair, her limbs beaten bloody by Josiah. Rosalind shook her head, trying to force the picture from her mind. This wasn’t the time to lose it.
Think of something calming: the water running over my toes at the beach, a hawthorn grove.

It was strange. Lingering around the edges of her most cherished childhood memories were Miranda and Caine, ephemeral figures in the hollows of her mind. Caine’s eyes were her only solid memory. Gray irises and sun kissed skin— such a beautiful combination of warm and cool, like when sunlight pierced the storm clouds. It was so much like Malphus…

She shuddered. She couldn’t think of Malphus now.

She couldn’t let herself picture the pained look in his eyes as Josiah had twisted the stake in his heart. Did the other incubus live still in those dungeons, or had she unknowingly participated in his brutal murder?

She stood, pacing the room. She’d have to tell Caine—maybe she should have told him already. An ache welled in her chest. She tried to force out the images flitting through her mind: Josiah beating Miranda, Tammi trembling in the corner of an empty cell room, Rosalind’s own face as she poured the water over Malphus…

She forced back tears, gripping her hair by the roots. She had to keep it together. Tammi and the others
needed
her to stay sane, and if Malphus was still in the Chambers, this was her chance to make up for what she’d done, by saving him.

The door creaked open, and she glanced up to see Caine holding a laptop bag. He slid the bag onto the desk. “I got the thing you wanted. I hope this works.” He eyed her. “Are you okay? You look a little… upset.” He approached her, gently touching her shoulder.

“That’s what happens when you get tied to a chair and tortured.”

He folded her in an embrace, his strong arms encircling her, and she melted into him, listening to his heart beat. He ran a hand down her hair. “You’re okay now.”

“Maybe I deserved it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Her heart thudded in her chest. “You said that you knew someone else in the Chambers.”

He pulled away, studying her. “Yes.”

“Was he an incubus like you?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes. Did you see him?”

She nodded, hugging herself. “I saw him. Malphus. But he couldn’t get out of the chains. He’d been staked in the heart.”

Caine backed away, his eyes darkening. “Is he dead?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I never saw him after that day. Josiah told me he was a murderer and a rapist. He even showed me the pictures.”

“Josiah lies.” His eyes flashed like storm clouds.

She tried to force back the tears. “Josiah said if we didn’t interrogate Malphus, it would lead to hundreds or thousands of human deaths. We hurt one to save many. A demon for many humans. It was simple math.”

“Math,” he repeated, his voice glacial. “That’s an interesting way of putting it.”

“You know him.” A hollow opened up in the pit of her stomach. “Who is he?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

Caine glared at her, his eyes cold, black pools.

The judgment on his face stoked her ire. “What are you on your high horse about? You seemed perfectly fine with torture a half hour ago when it was
me
in the chair.”

“When Josiah was interrogating you, you didn’t have a hawthorn stake jutting from your ribs.”

“Humans don’t need a hawthorn stake to feel the blows,” she shot back.

“And I would have stopped it before he did any serious damage. I would have got you out of there. Can you tell me the same for Malphus?” His voice sent a chill through her. “Is he even alive?”

“I have no idea, but I guess you could say when I interrogated Malphus, I was acting tactically. It is a war, after all. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Well, then.” Venom laced his voice. “If you plan to be strategic, you’d best get to work on your brilliant plan. And I really do hope it’s brilliant.”

O
ver an hour later
, and after three cups of coffee, she’d managed to piece together what she could remember of assembly languages. She was fairly certain her plan
was
brilliant.

Now, she needed to shove all the panic into her mental vault so she could focus—just like she was attempting to block out the open hostility radiating from Caine, who’d been pacing back and forth across the room like a caged animal for the entire hour.

She sat at the edge of the bed, laptop open. Before emailing Josiah, she glanced at the clock: 3:14 a.m. She’d set up the email to come from a burner account,
[email protected]
. In the subject heading, she typed “Info about Rosalind.”
She clicked the paperclip, attaching a document called “Rosalind_location.docx.”

Only a lunatic would open a random file from a suspicious account, but Josiah probably fit that description. Her entire plan hinged on his fanatical need for control outstripping his judgment. The man was so desperate for revenge that he might not be able to restrain himself.

Once he opened the attachment, the worm she’d created would infect the system, allowing her to explore the network.

Her body buzzed with excitement—or possibly caffeine overload. If she’d gauged this right, she had the potential to gain control over the entire security system. Finally, all the time she’d spent listening to Professor Carroll’s monologues would actually pay off with a stunning takeover of the Chambers.

Caine paced over the floor, clearly riled by the inaction. “You realize that we can only rescue Aurora before the sun comes up, right? I think we should revisit Tammi’s suggestion to use explosives.”

“Explosions would risk killing the people we’re trying to save.”

“I want to kill people. And you want me to wait while you tap away with your fingers.”

“There’s a point to this. I’ve created a computer worm.” She took another sip of Orcus’s weird, herbal coffee. Ignoring Caine’s fierce glare, she opened Terminal and typed
tail -F access.log
.

“You’ve created a
worm
,” he repeated in a tone that said she’d lost her mind.

“The US government used something like this to hack into Iran’s nuclear centrifuges. The worm will install itself, giving me access beyond the firewall. Through the server, I’ll be able to command the system. I can survey the network to see what’s there. I’ll be able to figure out how to control the building.”

Caine rested his palms on the table, staring down at her. “You’re not talking about a literal wall of fire, are you? That was the only thing I could picture from what you just said.”

She let out a sigh. “Let me put it this way: If this works, we can shut down the Chamber’s retina and ID scanners. Anyone will be able to get in the building. All the prisoners will be free to escape their rooms. And I can disable the sprinklers that spray iron dust, so anyone with magic can fight back.”

He straightened, suddenly interested. “If we went in, I could use my magic in the Chambers?”

“Assuming you can do it without destroying the place.”

“Destroying the place would be the whole point.”

She kept her eyes locked on the dark screen, waiting for an update. Everything—her chance to redeem herself, her friends lives—it all depended on one line of code.
Come on, Josiah, you psychotic asshole. Open the email.

Her heart skipped a beat as a line of code updated in terminal—the Brotherhood’s server had made a request. She loosed a long breath. “It’s working. Josiah opened the attachment. Dumb fuck.”

“What’s happening?” Caine asked, leaning over her.

Her pulse raced, and she typed a command telling the Chamber’s server to download mapping software. It would allow her to scan the network. “I’m looking for vulnerabilities.”

“Exploit vulnerabilities,” he said, a hint of admiration seeping into his tone. “Like you so cleverly did with Josiah.”

“Same idea.”

“Good. I look forward to finding out if your colleagues murdered Malphus.”

She flinched, trying to scan through computer names in Nmap. “You’re not helping me focus, Caine.”

retinascan.brotherhood.agency.gov.
And those would be the retina scanners. They weren’t exactly very well hidden. The computers controlling the badge scanners had a similarly obvious name.

Probing further, she picked out the name
dust.brotherhood.agency.gov
—
the iron dust.

If they’d promoted her to Guardian and put her in charge of their security systems, she would have renamed their computers, but they’d screwed that right up.

She inhaled deeply, picking up the gun she’d stolen earlier. “Are you ready to transport us? Once I make these changes, all hell will break loose in the Chambers. I want to make sure Tammi doesn’t get lost. Or eaten by a starving demon.”

“I’ve been ready for over an hour.”

One by one, she picked through the computers—the ones that simulated sunlight to burn the vamps, those that blasted hawthorn stakes at incubi. She rewrote the code until
none
of them were functioning, and in a final masterstroke, she shut out the lights.

Chaos would rule the Chambers tonight.

After she disabled the last computer, she stood, facing Caine. Her body trembled with anticipation. “Let’s go.”

He wrapped his arms around her, anchoring her with his aura. This time, she pulled off her own ring.

A
s the mist cleared
, Caine slid her ring back on her finger—only to yank her forcefully behind a tree. They stood a hundred feet from the Chambers, shielded by an oak. On the other side of grassy courtyard, a line of armed guards stood before the old brick Chambers.

Red lights flashed from the roof, glinting off the shattered glass that littered the ground from their earlier escape. In the quiet night, the guards’ feet crunched over the shards.

From inside the building, gunshots rang out, and her stomach turned. She hadn’t even
thought
about the guns. She’d been so focused on fighting with magic, that she hadn’t thought about ordinary firepower—which, incidentally, could kill ordinary humans.

From the streets of Harvard Square, sirens blared. Reinforcements were already on their way.

Caine whispered in her ear, “I’m going to build a shield around the building. We’ll be able to get out, but no one can enter. And I’ll get rid of the guards. Stay a few paces behind me, and you’ll be protected.”

He stepped out from the oak, holding out his arms to either side. Rosalind followed behind, walking through the shadows over the soft grass. Caine chanted in Angelic, and as he spoke, his silvery aura whirled around his body, curling through the air across the courtyard. The guards stood frozen. After a few moments, they dropped their guns, stumbling away.

Something didn’t seem right, and dread whispered over her skin. Why weren’t the prisoners fleeing the building? She clutched the gun tightly. She wasn’t trained to use it, but she’d managed to shoot through the glass earlier.

Her breath came faster as they approached the shattered doors, footsteps crunching over the glass. The flashing red lights cast a garish hue over the abandoned security desk. Behind Caine, Rosalind tentatively stepped through the lobby, her gun raised.

A rhythmic sound, metal against wood, grew louder in the stairwell, and the door swung open, releasing noxious black smoke.

A bearded man stood in the doorway, his chest bare. Copper boots encased his feet, and he wore a red hat, dripping with gore. Blood ran down his chin. Fear coursed through her mind.
A redcap.

The man’s pale eyes landed on Rosalind. “I’m still hungry, and you look delicious,” he growled.

When Caine stepped closer to the demon, his body crackled with magic. “Get out of here while you still can, redcap.”

Behind the demon, two large, black dogs bounded through the doors, their eyes glowing yellow.
Hellhounds.
At least some prisoners were making it out.

The redcap glowered, baring his long, yellowed teeth. “I’ll eat elsewhere.” A moment later, he sprinted from the building, metal boots clanking over the ground.

From the prisons below, screams pierced the walls, and the sound curdled Rosalind’s stomach.
Gods, what is happening down there?

The building smelled of burning wood and fumes, and Rosalind covered her mouth with her shirt.
Tammi must be terrified right now.

Caine pulled open the door to the stairwell, glancing at her as smoke billowed past. “Please be careful down there.”

She stepped into the stairwell, her heart squeezing in her chest as she glimpsed two guards’ bodies lying crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, their throats ripped out. Blood pooled around them—no doubt the red cap’s most recent meal.

As he descended the stairs, Caine chanted a spell, and tendrils of magic curled around him. Through the security doors, the prison corridor glowed orange, but as Caine chanted, the air grew damp. Thunder rumbled through the walls.

At the bottom of the stairs, he pushed open the doors, just as heavy rain began falling from the ceiling. Red lights flashed over the halls, and the acrid smoke burned Rosalind’s eyes. Something felt
wrong.
Where was Josiah?

Rosalind followed after Caine, and the deluge he’d created soaked through her clothes. The air hissed with dampened fires, and she rushed to the first open cell.

A thin, ginger woman stood shivering in the center of the room, her green eyes large. Her feet were bare, and she wore a ragged white dress, the fabric now singed. Around her, the rain doused a circle of fire, and tiny licks of flames still lingered over the scorched floorboards.

A sharp ache pierced Rosalind’s chest. Apparently, this was the Brotherhood’s primitive back up system in case technology failed. This explained the gasoline stench that always pervaded these rooms. It only required a simple mechanism—something to drop a lit flame from the ceiling when the electricity cut out, trapping the prisoners with fire.

“Go!” Rosalind yelled to the woman. “Get out of here.”

The woman flinched.

“The doors are open!” Caine’s voice boomed through the corridor. “You’re free to go!”

The woman scuttled past Rosalind.

When Rosalind turned back to the corridor, she gasped at the slew of prisoners pouring from their cells. Some sobbed, others growled. By their auras, she could see that some were witches and demons, but many were simply pedestrians.

Rosalind lowered her gun, tucking it into the back of her belt.
We’ve won.
She just needed to find Tammi. And why couldn’t she shake the feeling that something was
wrong?

Ignoring the pit in her stomach, she followed Caine against the stream of fleeing prisoners.

Through the crowd, Aurora hurried toward them, her dress torn and bloodied. “Caine!” She threw her arms around him. “I knew you’d come for me.”

In the next moment, Tammi’s voice cut through the crowd. “Rosalind! Those fuckers tried to light me on fire!”

Rosalind’s throat tightened as she caught a glimpse of Tammi, her lips swollen and cheeks bruised. One of her eyes had swelled shut.

Rosalind gently ran her fingers over her friend’s face. “Oh my gods, Tammi. What did they do to you?”

“Your fuckstick of an ex-boyfriend paid me a visit.”

Hot rage burned through Rosalind’s blood, and she had an overwhelming desire to hunt Josiah down and stake him again. “Do you know where he is now?”

Tammi shook her head. “I’d like to think one of the demons ate him, but I have no idea.”

In the corridor, the crowd was thinning out, and Caine turned to them. “I have to find Miranda and Malphus. I can handle this on my own. The three of you should get out of the building. Wait for Miranda out there if I need to send her to you.”

Rosalind shook her head, marshaling her resolve. She was the whole reason Miranda was in here, and she planned to get her sister out. “I’m staying with you.”

“Who the hell is Miranda?” Tammi asked.

“My twin—” Rosalind stopped herself. There wasn’t any time to get into this now. “Just go outside, and if you see someone who looks like me, that’s Miranda.”

“I’m taking Tammi to safety,” Aurora said, grabbing Tammi by the arm. “With a bit of my blood, she’ll be right as rain.”

Apart from a few other stragglers, who limped on injured legs, the corridor was nearly empty. At least Tammi and Aurora were safe, but Miranda’s absence was a bad sign.

Rosalind raised her gun as they walked quickly through the hall, checking one empty cell after another. If Miranda was a high security risk, maybe she wasn’t even in here anymore.

As she looked into a dimly lit cell, she heard Caine’s footsteps pause.

“Rosalind.”

His tone made her stomach drop, and she turned, tentatively approaching across the corridor. Inside a cell, a man lay chained to a post. A hawthorn stake protruded from his shoulder, and his blond hair hung in his face. Deep bruises and gashes covered his body.
Malphas
.

At the sight of him, Rosalind’s body began to shake. Josiah had completely brutalized him.

Caine ripped an iron chain from Malphus.

“Is he alive?” her voice cracked.

“Barely.”

“Can you use your magic to heal him?”

“No. It only works on humans.”

“What can I do?” she asked in desperation. “Can I heal him?”

“Not as long as he’s unconscious. I think you should get out of here and leave me to sort this out on my own. Go find Miranda if you can, bring her to safety, and get out of the building.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she turned to walk out of the room, crossing her arms. She’d been a part of that, and the guilt ate at her.

She walked further down the corridor, peering in each room for signs of Miranda. An eerie silence had descended—the only sound filling the hall was the distant rattle of Malphus’s chains as Caine pulled them off, and the steady dripping of water. All of a sudden, her own breath sounded deafening.

She was about to meet Miranda, her own twin. The fact that Miranda hadn’t run from her cell like everyone else was already making her stomach lurch. In the best case scenario, Miranda was unhurt, but in all likelihood she hated Rosalind. Why wouldn’t she? Rosalind had sent her here.

Rosalind peered into a cell, expecting another empty room, but what she saw stopped her heart. Miranda—her mirror image—sat bound to a chair with an iron chain. She wore a ragged green dress, and faint bruises covered her skin. She looked exactly like Rosalind, except a network of ridged scars ran over her arms. This wasn’t how a reunion of long-lost sisters was supposed to be. Still, at least she was alive.

Miranda blinked, staring at Rosalind. “You came for me.” Her voice sounded small.

Rosalind rushed over to her, bending over to give her sister a hug. “I’m so sorry, Miranda. I didn’t know it was you.”

“Didn’t know
what
was me?”

“I told the Brotherhood about the sea witch. I didn’t know it was you. I was an idiot. I didn’t know anything. I get it now. I’m not with the Brotherhood anymore.” Her words tumbled out in a panicked rush, like she was some kind of maniac.

“Oh. I was looking for you.” Miranda shifted in her chains. “Can you get the key, please? They left it on the floor where I could see it. But I can’t reach it.”

“Of course.” Like an asshole, Rosalind had been blubbering to her sister instead of freeing her. She snatched a metal key from the ground, rushing around to slide it into the lock. She turned it, and it clicked open, releasing the chains. They fell to the floor in a heap.

Miranda sighed with relief, rubbing her arms.

“Do you need help walking?” Rosalind offered her arm.

Miranda took it, groaning slightly as she stood, and Rosalind led her into the corridor.

Rosalind eyed her sister’s scars, and the collarbone that protruded from her chest. It looked like it had broken and healed over not long before. “Did Josiah do this to you?”

“Do what?” Miranda asked distractedly, wincing at the flashing lights.

“The scars and the beatings. Someone hurt you. I’m guessing it was Josiah.”

Miranda glanced at her arms, as if seeing the damage for the first time. “Oh. That. Mostly Josiah, and Randolph. They were in my room a lot.”

Rosalind felt sick. Where the fuck was Josiah anyway? She wanted to punch his face through the back of his head. “I didn’t know what Josiah was like.” She had a sudden desire to confess everything to Miranda, to try to explain herself. “I didn’t know that he was a psycho.”

Miranda squeezed her arm. “People aren’t always what they seem.”

They drew closer to Malphus’s cell, and Rosalind peered into the room. Cain kneeled over the other incubus, and at her approach he glanced up.

His face brightened when he caught sight of Miranda. “Thank the gods. You’re okay.”

“Rosalind came for me.” She pointed to Malphus. “Is he dead?” she asked sweetly.

Rosalind was starting to get the impression that Josiah had beaten some of the “normal human behavior” out of her sister, but Miranda would get better with time. She just needed to get out of this hellhole to recuperate.

“He’s alive,” Caine said. “I’m setting some of his broken bones before I move him. Go outside and wait for me. I’ll bring him upstairs in a few minutes.”

Rosalind gently pulled Miranda’s arm, and they continued down the corridor, passing one empty cell after another.

“One thing confuses me,” Rosalind said. “I still don’t understand how the Brotherhood got to me so fast. I told them where you were, but they were already waiting for me by the time I got back to my room. How did they know about us?”

Miranda shrugged, her large eyes gleaming. “Malphus told them, of course. After Randolph Loring hurt him.”

Rosalind’s blood roared in her ears. “You know him? Who is he?”

They reached the stairwell, and began climbing the stairs.

“It’s funny you don’t remember him from Maremount. He was Caine’s brother. I remember everything. I remember you. I braided your hair. And Malphus was the one who gave us bluebells and dandelions when our parents forgot our birthday. Malphus was the one who patched up your skinned knee with tree moss and barbery root. He was always good to us. I never knew he was a demon.”

Rosalind’s mouth went dry. The yellow and blue flowers, the person tending to her knee—it had been
Malphus
. She could hardly find her voice. “You remember much more than I do.”

At the top of the stairs, Miranda pushed open the door. “I remember too much. Sometimes I can’t quiet the voices in my mind.”

None of this would have happened if Rosalind had never followed Josiah into the interrogation room. Revulsion climbed up Rosalind’s throat. She’d been an instrument in her own downfall, and of the very people she should have protected. She’d told the Brotherhood where to find Miranda, and she was the reason they’d arrested Tammi and Aurora. On top of that, she’d tortured Malphus. When his spirit broke, her name must have rolled right off his tongue.

“I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t recognize him,” Rosalind mumbled.

In the lobby, Miranda tugged on her arm. “It’s okay. Come with me. There’s something you need to see.”

Rosalind shook her head, distracted. Flashing lights blared outside the protective shield that Caine had created around the building, and someone with a booming voice barked orders into a loudspeaker.

Rosalind glanced at Miranda. “What are you talking about? What do you need to show me?”