vampires mage 02 - witch hunter (12 page)

In the next moment, Caine was whispering a spell, his aura lashing at the giant’s face The creature roared, tilting back his head, and the sound rumbled through Rosalind’s gut, sparking the voice in the back of her mind that always told her when to run.
Buried alive,
her mind screamed.
Instinctively, she reached for the knife strapped to her thigh—her only weapon.
Fat lot of good it will do against a giant.

Clumps of dirt rained from the ceiling, and she grabbed Caine’s arm. “We need to run.”

But just as they turned to flee, an avalanche of dirt rained down, forming a wall where the tunnel should be. And with it, Rosalind caught a glimpse of gaunt limbs and faces, tumbling down.

Her knees went weak. The vampire prisoners had been freed. Nothing separated her from them now but a pile of dirt.

In the next moment, a giant fist punched through the earthen wall, then clamped around her waist. The behemoth clutched her hard in his meaty fingers, and panic clamped around her heart.

Her heart thrumming, Rosalind jammed her knife into the giant’s finger. At the same time Caine ran for his fist, sword raised. He sliced into the giant’s flesh, cutting straight to the bone. The giant only clutched tighter, crushing her ribs and pulling her toward his stubby, bloodstained teeth.
His eyes… go for his eyes.

Panic lit up her nerves, and she ripped the knife from the giant’s finger, then hurled it at his eye. It sank into his pupil, piercing her reflection. The giant shrieked, dropping her into the tunnel again. His wail was deafening.

Rosalind ran back to Caine, but they were trapped. Great chunks of dirt rained down on her shoulders and hair. A starved vampire with hair the color of sand broke free from one of the piles of dirt, running right for Rosalind.

Caine slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close and chanting a spell. His silver magic curled around them, forming a shield. Rosalind pressed in close to Caine, and the hungry vamp slammed into his shield, her eyes burning blood red. She slammed herself against the invisible shield, her forehead splitting.

All around the silvery bubble, earth and mud rained down around them.

She closed her eyes, slowing her breathing. Caine leaned in, whispering, “I won’t be able to hold this shield forever. There’s too much iron around here.”

What will kill us first—the vamps, or the crumbling ceiling?
They were about two minutes away from suffocating under the earth. She could already feel herself running out of breath. She tightened her fingers around Caine’s arm, her breath coming in short bursts. “We have to get out of here.”

“Stay calm.” He brushed her hair off her face. “We’ve got limited air in here.”

“That’s supposed to help me calm down?” She closed her eyes, concentrating on slowly exhaling before she had a panic attack and sucked all the air right out of Caine’s lungs. Her heart was beating fast as a hummingbird’s. “Can we teleport?”

“I don’t think it will work with all the iron, but we can try. I’ll definitely need you to chant with me. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Caine held her hand and slid the iron ring off her finger. Cleo’s aura roiled in her mind, leaching away some of her fear.

Before she knew what was happening, she was chanting along with Caine, her lips effortlessly forming the words for the teleportation spell. Their silver and green auras mingled together in a thrilling rush. She felt the power lighting up her body.

In the next moment, she was breathing clear air, standing in the center of Caine’s room. He slid the ring back on her finger.

She still gripped his arm around her waist. “It worked,” she breathed.

“You’ve got better control now.” Slowly, he released her, taking his warmth with him as he stepped away.

Her body burned from the exertion of the spell, and she flopped back on Caine’s bed, only half-aware that she was coating his sheets with mud and dirt.
I’m alive. Thank the gods
.
I’m not buried under vamp-infested earth.
She pushed herself up on her elbows, staring at Caine. “I thought giants were extinct.”

“So did I. And right about now, I need to figure out what the hell is going on. We seem to be under a ker attack, and I have no idea where the fucking giant came from.” The fortress walls shook from a violent pounding noise, and a muscle clenched in Caine’s jaw. “I need to get the army together, at least what’s left of it after Erish recruited half of them.”

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Caine quickly crossed to pull it open. In the doorframe stood a curly-haired female vamp, dressed for battle in tight-fitting black clothes, a sword slung over her back. She stared at Caine, squaring her shoulders. “Sir. There’s a horde of keres swarming out from the traitor’s gate. Someone or something blasted a giant hole in one of the dungeon walls.”

The pounding continued, the fortress’s walls rattling.

The temperature in the room chilled, and a whisper of black wings drew up behind Caine. “Get everyone to the esplanade. We fight them there.” He turned to Rosalind. “Stay here. The room is spelled to keep you safe.”

“I can help you.”

“I don’t have time to save you if anything happens to you,” he said. “And you’re as likely to get killed by a vamp as you are by a ker. You’re staying here.”

He has a point.
“Fine.”

Caine left, slamming the door behind him, and Rosalind crossed to the window. The breeze smelled different now—no longer just floral, but tinged with the scent of blood and charcoal. Rosalind peered out at the esplanade; it swarmed with snarling keres, their muddy skin glistening in the moonlight. At least thirty vampire soldiers stood among them, armed with pikes—the vamps loyal to Queen Erish.

Even from ten stories up, she could still see Antu’s broken body on the stone. A few keres swarmed around her, lifting her broken body over their shoulders and ferrying it away.

A great thundering boom rocked the castle, and Rosalind gripped the windowsill to steady herself. The room tilted, and glasses slid off the shelves, shattering on the floor.

The earth rumbled with loud
booms
, and the giant appeared, crushing part of a stone wall as he climbed on to the walkway leading up to the esplanade. One of his eyes was clamped shut, and thick streams of blood dripped from his mangled fingers. He clenched his fists, screaming into the night.

The portcullis creaked open, and vampire soldiers began streaming into the open esplanade, their silver armor catching the moonlight.

Caine stood at the front of the charge, nearly a head taller than most of the vamps. Shadowy magic curled around him. He wore no armor, but two swords were strapped across his back and an entire arsenal of blades glinted from his boots and pants.

The giant took a step closer to the castle. He was going to crush the vamps and rip right through the fortress walls. But as soon as his gnarled, bare foot hit the ground, some of the vampires rushed forward, scuttling up his body like bugs, biting at his flesh, gnawing through his tendons and gristle. Moaning, the giant tottered, staggering back.

Caine pulled his sword from his back then launched into a sprint, fast as the night wind, and within moments he’d launched himself into the air. His sword found its mark right in the giant’s heart.

Rosalind’s breath caught in her throat.
Holy shit. He can fly?

Groaning, the behemoth tilted backward, arms windmilling in large arcs. When he landed on the ground, the earth shook. Caine fell with him, still gripping his sword.

The brightly colored aura around the giant drifted away and disappeared into the night sky.

Screaming, the throng of keres swarmed around the giant’s body, trying to flee from Caine and his army. They moved fast—but the vamps were faster. Caine’s soldiers leapt onto the stone walls surrounding the street, swarming around the keres to flank them.

The demonesses were completely surrounded, wingless, trapped between the giant and the vamps. Their white hair gleamed in the moonlight.

Caine leapt down from the giant, gripping his sword. The vampires around him pulled their weapons from their sheaths.

A high pitched shrieking rent the air—the keres’ piercing battle cries.

The mob of keres charged for Caine, and he swung, moonlight gleaming off his sword. He towered over the keres, slicing into the first one that ran at him. The demonesses were gunning for him, and he fought in a stunning whirl of silver and black, hacking into ker bodies. The keres moved with inhuman speed, but they were armed only with knives—probably iron ones that could injure vamps, but not very effective against the sword. It seemed like they were up for a suicide mission, if it meant they had a chance of getting their wings back.

Caine could probably have ended it all quickly, using his magic alone. But as she watched his elegant swings, saw his body glowing with a pale silver light, Rosalind had the distinct impression that he enjoyed every second of this.

Then, with one graceful movement, he sheathed his sword. He was going to fight bare-handed. With his magic whipping around his body, he gripped a ker by the head, then twisted it to the side until she fell, her neck broken.

Horrifying—but Rosalind felt a strange thrill at watching his savage grace.

As Caine snapped necks, Rosalind’s gaze darted to the base of the fortress, and her mouth went dry. Three armed keres were scaling the wall, coming right for her. They scuttled up with a startling speed.

With a hammering heart, Rosalind slammed the window shut and locked it. She rushed to the table by Caine’s bed, grabbing for the weapons. With her eyes on the window, she gripped two, long knives. Her blood pumped hard, warming her limbs.

Just outside the window, a shrill battle cry pierced the air.
They’re here.

Their faces only appeared in the glass for a moment before the window shattered, shards of glass spraying around the room. In an explosion of glass, the three ker women leapt into Caine’s bedroom.

A large, muscular ker at the front growled. “Queen-killer.”

Rosalind gripped her knives.
Oh, shit.

The ker’s sharp teeth flashed. “Let’s see how you like being thrown from a window. You don’t have wings. Can you fly, little human?”

Nope.
Rosalind raised her knives.

The largest ker lunged, and the other two scuttled forward.

They’re surrounding me. Well, I just have to take them out one at a time.

The keres would be expecting an attack with the knife, so maybe it was best to start with something else. When the muscular ker lunged, Rosalind pivoted, kicking the demoness hard in the chest. The crack of ribs echoed off the walls, and the ker flew back, slamming against the wall.

In the next moment, another stood in front of her, pressing a blade against her throat. “I want to see you jump. That, or I cut the skin off your body.”

Rosalind’s blood roared.
I need to get out of this.

With a quick movement, she leaned away from the knife, then punched the ker in the face. The ker’s head snapped back, her position faltering. Grabbing the ker’s shoulder, Rosalind slammed her knee into the demon’s stomach. As the ker doubled over, Rosalind kicked her hard in the face. The ker’s knife clanged against the ground.

A violent tug on Rosalind’s hair yanked her back; she slammed against the ground, her skull cracking.

A swift kick to her ribs knocked the wind out of her, and another to her head sent sharp pain through her skull. She tried to roll over, to stand up and fight.
They’re going to throw me out the window, and a crowd of angry keres will gnaw into my guts.

With shaking arms, she struggled onto her hands and knees, but a hard kick to her back knocked the wind out of her. She fell forward again, her face smacking against the stone floor. The rough stone bit into her skin. Two more kicks to her ribs, and agony blazed.

Just throw me out the fucking window.
Her vision dimmed, and she tried rolling over again—but rough hands grasped her, lifting her up, claws digging into her skin. Thrashing, she struggled against them, but they forced her up, her back scratching over the jagged shards of glass on the windowsill.

“You can join our queen,” a ker growled.

Rosalind’s world tilted, and she felt the night wind whip against her skin. “Wait—”

The ker shoved her broken body over the broken shards of window, and Rosalind plummeted down.

Chapter 13

T  he cold wind whipped at her hair, and her life flashed before her eyes—Malphus as a little boy, giving her wildflowers. Miranda’s young face by the seashore. Tammi, painting Rosalind’s nails a lurid shade of red.

I’m not ready to die yet.

She raced toward the earth, finally landing hard. With the force of the fall, pain pierced her core. But she wasn’t on the earth—someone was holding her.

She blinked, looking up into Aurora’s face.

The vampire scowled. “Bloody hell, Rosalind. Who did you manage to piss off now?”

“I threw the ker queen out the window.”

“Of course you did.” Aurora put her down, but Rosalind still leaned against her, surveying the scene. Besides the giant, the esplanade was littered with ker bodies, some still twitching but most still. Some of the vampires picked over the corpses, plundering iron knives.

Caine stood in the center, his body soaked with dark blood. His pale eyes landed on Rosalind, and he stalked over to her, frowning. “I told you not to come out here.”

“Tell that to the keres who threw me out the window,” Rosalind shot back. Her body was on fire, her bones seared with pain.

“This one’s disaster prone,” Aurora said. “I caught her.”

Caine stepped closer to Rosalind, his eyes roaming over her body. “Injured again.”

“It was three against one,” Rosalind said. She pulled away from Aurora, straightening, and agony pierced her chest.

Aurora exhaled. “Do you two need to get naked for this or can you just heal her?”