vampires mage 02 - witch hunter (16 page)

“Right. After the Great Regicide Debacle of 1693.” Sweat beaded her brow, and she wiped the back of her hand against her forehead. “Anyway, you’re right. We don’t want to go on a wild goose chase into the wrong dimension.” She glanced at the lake, now placid as a mirror. “At least we know the Brotherhood doesn’t have Tammi yet. They might be evil assholes, but they’re evil assholes who hate magic, and have no idea how to travel between worlds.”

A flicker of movement in the corner of Rosalind’s eye caught her attention, and she stared up at the night sky, now tinged with golden light.

Three shining, bronze-skinned women fluttered beneath the stars, fiery hair trailing behind them. In their wake, they left streaks of light—crimson, pumpkin, and lilac—and they flew in shimmering coral gowns with wings the color of honey.

“What are those?” Rosalind asked.

“Sometimes, the aura created by powerful magic attracts other magical creatures. These are Hesperides—spirits of dusk. Beautiful, and completely harmless.”

The warm light of the Hesperides danced over Caine’s golden skin. Hard to imagine this gorgeous, soothing man driving a nail into anyone’s heart—though she’d seen him fight before, and he was ruthless.

Coral light glinted off his gray eyes. “I take it Drew is no longer your golden boy?”

She shook her head. “He never was. I’m not trusting anyone. His whole argument was that you wanted revenge for what the Hunters had done to your brother. I’m the one who tortured him, and yet you’ve done nothing but keep me alive. Drew seemed very eager to lay the blame on you. That automatically makes him suspicious.”

“Good. I hope you remember that, whatever happens next.”

She ran a hand through her chopped hair. “What
does
happen next? How do we find this place?”

“If I can find something that belongs to Miranda, it will help me complete a tracking spell. A piece of her clothing, a strand of her hair. You said that you sensed her around Abduxiel Mansion. Maybe I can find something small she left behind.”

The three Hesperides drifted in front of the moon, staining the sky amber.

“And while we do that,” she said, “we need to stay out of the Brotherhood’s line of vision.” Doubt welled in her chest. He
had
kept her alive all this time—but she couldn’t rule out the possibility that he only wanted her alive as long as she served a purpose. He needed her to create the daywalkers, and he’d never disguised the importance he placed on a person’s
tactical value
. “Caine, what will you do if we find Miranda and she has no interest whatsoever in helping Ambrose create his army of daywalkers? Because I don’t think she has the same goals as you. She’s either insane, or she’s actively working against us.”

“I don’t know. I’m hoping to heal her mind.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

He traced his finger down Rosalind’s bare arm, and his seductive magic caressed her skin with a trail of tingles. “What are you worried about, specifically?”

She started to speak, but stopped herself. What she wanted to ask was
Will you still want me alive when I no longer serve a purpose?
But she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his answer.

Chapter 16

Rosalind’s footsteps echoed off the high ceiling in Abduxiel Mansion’s drafty stone parlor. Small stone gargoyles leered from the walls, and the light from the TV flickered over the room—an odd mix of gothic and modern.

As Rosalind and Aurora waited for Caine to scour the grounds outside for a stray strand of hair, Rosalind was practically wearing a groove into the floor with her pacing. She was back in her fighting gear—the leather clothes Caine had got for her, and had enough blades to open a knife shop—but there was no one to fight.
Yet.

She glanced at Aurora. The vampire had kicked off her heels, and sat curled up in a velvet armchair. As Aurora watched Orcus’s old TV, she sipped some kind of combination of whiskey and gin, two olives bobbing in her toxic cocktail. She wore a vibrant blue dress, striking against her dark skin. Silver hoop earrings dangled from her ears, glinting in the warm light.

She frowned at Rosalind. “Stop walking in front of the telly.”

“Sorry.”

“This show’s getting good. Someone’s about to get eaten.”

Rosalind gazed at the TV. In tall grass, a lion hunted a gazelle. The creature reared back on its haunches before leaping, pulling the gazelle down with her claws and sinking her teeth into her prey’s neck.

At the sight of blood spraying from the gazelle’s neck, Aurora raised her hands above her head, spilling her drink. “Yes! Now
that
was an amazing kill.” Exhaling, she leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “Nature’s bloody amazing.”

“I think I might need some of what you’re drinking.”

“I call it the Embalmer,” Aurora said. “Not sure it’s suitable for living types to be honest.”

Rosalind crossed the bar, uncorking an old bottle of scotch. She poured two fingers into a tall glass before turning back to Aurora.

Aurora crinkled her nose. “What happened to you, anyway? You don’t look the same.”

“It’s the hair.”

Aurora twirled her drink between her fingers, nodding. “Yeah. It’s all choppy. Not a good look for you, really.”

“It wasn’t done on purpose,” Rosalind said.

“Looks like you sawed it off with a breadknife during a psychotic episode.”

“That’s basically what happened, only the psychotic episode belonged to someone else.”

“The ker queen?” Aurora cocked her head. “I don’t know what Queen Erish wants with all of them keres anyway. Filthy creatures. What’s she after?”

“No idea. She disappeared from Lilinor. In Caine’s view, everything she does is motivated by her obsessive lust for him.” She bit her lip. “Although, according to Caine, everyone has the hots for him. In reality, that probably has nothing to do with anything.”

Aurora arched an eyebrow, pointing a long, manicured nail. “Don’t act like you don’t have the hots for him.”

Rosalind’s forehead wrinkled. “Whatever.”
My future with the Ravener apparently involves crucifixion, so I won’t get my hopes up for a happily ever after.
She glanced at the door. “Don’t you think Caine needs our help, searching for stray hairs or whatever he’s trying to find? It can’t be easy looking for tiny specks of evidence in a dark graveyard.”

“He can see in the dark better than I can, what with him being part Night God. And his eyes are certainly better than
your
useless human orbs.” Aurora popped an olive in her mouth. “Frankly, I’m surprised he waited so long to tell you about the demigod thing. Nyxobas’s offspring are quite keen on being worshipped, even if they won’t admit it.”

“Maybe he and Erish would be well-suited, then.” Rosalind pivoted, pacing the room again. “Any theories on where Erish went?”

Aurora took a deep breath. “Let me see if I can keep this all straight. Tammi’s been kidnapped, maybe by your twin sister, who’s a total nutter. And those two are in a mountain palace in another dimension.”

“That’s right.”

“Possibly unrelated,” Aurora continued. “An army of keres ate a load of humans in Harvard Square.”

Rosalind took a sip of her scotch, letting it burn her throat. “Pretty much.”

“Meanwhile, Queen Erish can’t fucking stand you because she thinks you might shag her fella, even though she looks like a goddess, and you’ve got shit hair—”

“She caused the shit hair,” Rosalind interrupted.

“Right. And she keeps a bunch of mutilated keres below the dungeon.” Aurora touched her finger to her lips. “Well, I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I’m pretty sure Erish was involved in the ker massacre. It’s too much of a coincidence. How many people have armies of keres? That was rhetorical. The actual answer is
not many
.”

“But the keres at the massacre weren’t real keres. The auras were all wrong. They were glamoured.”

“I still think it’s Erish. She’s obviously got a weird thing about keres.” Aurora sipped her drink. “In fact, I think they used to serve succubi.”

“That’s what Ambrose said. It
does
make sense. Maybe Erish created the new keres with magic. Maybe she’s the new master I’m supposed to serve. And if she wanted me, she probably has Miranda. I have no idea why. Must be our extra souls. I don’t suppose you have an idea of what Erish’s game plan might be?”

“I think old demons like her just get bored after several millennia on earth. And maybe she’s hoping to get you out of the way so she and Caine can worship each other’s bodies or whatever succubi do with incubi.”

Rosalind folded her arms. “She can have Caine to herself. I’m not going to stand in her way.”

The temperature in the room chilled, and a shadow loomed across the flagstones. Rosalind whirled to see Caine standing in the doorframe. His deep silvery aura curled around his body like the milky way.

A shiver crawled up her spine. “Do you know that you have a deeply unnerving way of entering rooms?”

Ignoring her, he stepped into the light, raising his hand. He held a long strand of hair pinched between his fingers.

“You found a hair,” Rosalind said.

He looked almost affronted. “Of course I did. I don’t fail at things. I just need you to tell me if this belongs to your sister. Can you sense any of her magic on it?”

Rosalind plucked it from his hand, wrapping it around her finger. She closed her eyes, trying to get a sense of an aura. After a few moments, a vibrant green flickered in her mind’s eye, and her nostrils filled with the scent of cedar and hawthorn groves. “No. It’s mine.”

“Gods damn it,” Caine said.

“Guys.” Aurora stood, her gaze locked on the TV. The screen flashed with a red and blue graphic that said
Breaking News.
In the next second, the graphic was replaced with an image of Malphus, staring into the camera like a mug shot.

A newscaster’s voice spoke over the picture. “We have a breaking news story. Two more of the Cambridge Coven members have been identified. The first is Malphus Mountfort. Authorities believe he and his brothers
are
planning another attack. Residents of Cambridge are asked to vacate the area.”

Rosalind hugged herself.
Here we go.

“We would like to emphasize,” the newsreader continued. “The accused have magical capabilities, and they are very dangerous.”

Rosalind touched Caine’s arm. “He’s safe in Lilinor—” She stopped her sentence as the image on the screen was replaced with a still photograph of Rosalind outside Abduxiel Mansion at dusk.

Dread tightened her chest. In the photo, she was holding a human skull and laughing, and the camera continued to zoom in on her grin. The image and the tightening close-up made her look like some kind of maniac.

Drew, on the other hand, had been cropped out of the picture.

The newscaster continued, “A fourth member has been identified as Rosalind Atherton, the twin sister of Miranda Atherton of Maremount. The government’s demon-hunting task force has explained that these witches use human skulls to invoke demon plagues, and as part of a ritual of human sacrifice.”

Her photo disappeared, replaced by a video feed of a woman standing in Harvard Square.

A news reporter thrust a microphone in her face. “What do you think the government should do to combat this growing evil?” the reporter asked.

The woman’s eyes were red-rimmed, and the wind toyed with her wild blond hair. “We need to take extreme measures. If they’re murdering innocent people, if we’re all at risk… I’m all for human rights and all that, but if demons are going to slaughter everyone right here in the middle of a city, we need to do whatever it takes to stop them.”

Rosalind’s mouth went dry.
This is all working out perfectly for the Brotherhood.

The reporter turned to the camera, speaking into the microphone. “Some citizens are asking for a return to public executions, even talking about using burning as a deterrent—”

Caine flicked his wrist, cutting off the sound.

“I was watching that,” Rosalind said, her legs shaking.

“I think we got the idea,” Caine said. “They want to burn us. It’s not news.” He arched an eyebrow. “They did get a wonderful picture of you cackling over a human skull, though. Is that something you do often?”

“Drew showed up here to buy that skull from me.” She took a deep breath. “And someone just
happened
to be there, snapping a photo that perfectly incriminates me in the Brotherhood’s scapegoating plan.”

“I told you I should have killed him when I first met him,” Caine said.

“Fine. You were right. Probably.” Her chest tightened. “Drew was at the keres attack, and he worships the mountain goddess. And you know who else worships the mountain goddess?”

“I bet you’re going to tell us,” Aurora said.

“Whoever lives in that mountain fortress we saw in the scrying spell. The one with the harpies, where they’ve locked up Tammi.” She tapped her finger against her lip.
Loyalty binds me, my ass
, she thought
.
“I’m going to pay Drew’s Brattle Street home a little visit.”

“You really think he’ll be there?” Caine asked.

“I don’t know, but while you’re looking for stray hairs, it’s worth a shot. And anyway, maybe I can find something of his to use as part of the tracking spell.”

“When we left Drew’s house,” Caine said, “there were helicopters overhead, ready to bomb the whole block out of existence. If your little mage friend was truly working with the Brotherhood, then his house will still be standing.”

Rosalind’s mind whirled.
Working with the Brotherhood.
Would the ancient magic-fighting organization really use a mage to do their dirty work?
Their whole purpose was to hunt demons and “witches”—their derogatory name for mages. Their reason for being was to rid the earth of Angelic, and to collect souls for the god of iron and blood.

On the other hand, they’d stop at nothing to get what they wanted. What if they’d use magic just long enough to achieve supreme power on earth? They’d be unstoppable.