vampires mage 02 - witch hunter (30 page)

She glanced to her right again, horror twisting in her gut as she watched a harpy dive right for Tammi. The harpy ripped Tammi from the cliffside, grasping onto her arms with her talons.

Okay. Time to get those spells going again.
She mentally asked Cleo for the battle fury spell, and the words blazed in her mind. But as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, Drew clamped a hand over her mouth, pressing her hard against the rocky wall. “I think you need a reminder of Azazeyl.” Drew whispered into her ear. “I think you need a reminder of a lot of things, Rosalind.”

He began chanting, his spell tingling over her body, crawling over her skin; the skin on her stomach began to burn, and hot pain ripped her gut open. She screamed into his hand, then bit his fingers, hard.

He snatched his hand back, roaring. With all her remaining energy, she slammed him in the stomach with her foot. He staggered back, and she launched into the battle spell. As she finished, her strength surged like molten lava through her veins, burning away the pain where Drew had seared her skin. The battle fury raged, hotter than before, like a dying star.

I want blood.

The image of Ambrose in the rowan grove flickered into her mind, and she blinked it away.
Not now, Cleo.

She pulled the sword from her sheath, but Drew held out a hand, enveloping the sword with his magic. It shook in Rosalind’s hand, no longer in her control. Trembling, she concentrated on the magic, trying to force Drew’s auras away from her sword.

But Drew could see magic, too, and he’d had more practice.

The sword flew from her hand, soaring over the cliff’s edge, and her rage ignited. She needed to kill someone. Cleo’s wild green aura ran wild, curling inside her skull.

Ambrose walks in darkness. He is coming for me…

“Not now, Cleo!” she shrieked.

Drew rolled his shoulders, ready to fight with his hands. “Careful, Rosalind. You’re losing your mind. Just like Miranda and Caine.”

The rowan trees were on fire…
He made me burn one night.

Rosalind gritted her teeth, clearing her mind. “I don’t need a weapon to fight you, Drew.” Battle fury rattled her body, and she clenched her fists. She kicked him in the head, listening to the crunch of bone. He staggered back.

I was waiting for him one night, but it wasn’t Ambrose who came for me.

“Shut up, Cleo!” she shouted, trying to push the dark grove from her mind.

When her vision was clear again, she was staring at Drew, who chanted a battle spell of his own. Rushing for her, he slammed her into the rock once again, with what seemed like enough force to shake the mountain. Her bones sang with pain. He punched her in the face, and it felt as if her skull splintered.

The stars burned like graven diamonds… What did I do to deserve this, Ambrose?

Drew gripped her by the shoulders, throwing her to the ground.

Already, she could feel the battle fury fading from her body, leaving behind the gnawing pain and an overwhelming sense of grief. Powerlessness. Before she had the chance to push herself up again, Drew was on top of her, crushing the breath out of her. He gripped her wrists, forcing them against the rocky ground.

“You don’t know how to control that magic. It’s driving you mad, you little fool. I can see it in your eyes.”

Lightning cracked the cloudy skies above. Overhead, an eagle screeched, diving for the cliffside.

Grunting, she tried to get him off her, but Drew gripped her tight. His eyes blazed. “Perhaps it’s time that you learn what your lover did before my eagle eats his guts from his body.”

Panic slammed into her. “I don’t care what he did,” she choked out, staring at the eagle, diving for Caine.

“I tried sending you the images, but you refused to pay attention. You were there, Rosalind. You should have remembered.”

Her heart beat hard in her chest, but all the fight was ebbing out of her. There was something about his words, the key to unlocking that caged memory.

Rosalind stood by the shore, staring at the four stakes. Caine grabbed her, forcing her up against the rotten wood. He plunged the iron nail through her heart. But he wasn’t finished—there was a man there, too, screaming.

Her eyelids flickered, and the realization punched a hole through her heart. It wasn’t her future. It was her past.

Drew’s face reddened. “Caine killed the one true king and queen. Not the ones in the history books. Not the king and queen hundreds of years ago—though he slaughtered them, too. A demon like him can’t stand for any human to be worshipped above him.”

Drew’s words pierced her to the bone, and she simply stared at him.

“Caine murdered the
true
king and queen. The Atherton line. He slaughtered your father and your mother before they had the chance to establish their rightful kingdom, blessed by Azazeyl. Caine drove iron nails right into their hearts while you watched, left them to bleed to death on the stakes. And I will build my kingdom on their bones.”

Horror knocked the wind out of Rosalind, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“You were there, Rosalind!” he shouted. “I tried to remind you in your dreams, but you don’t have a fucking clue, do you? Now he wants to make you his whore, to destroy the last of the Athertons—and you’ve played right into his plans. Your faulty memory is the only reason I haven’t already slaughtered you for your disloyalty. You’re an Atherton, Rosalind. Loyalty is supposed to bind you.”

Sorrow choked her, and she closed her eyes.
My mother and father.
She couldn’t remember them even now—apart from their deaths.

Her gut churned, and she glanced out at the stormy sky. Tammi was still out there—trapped on the losing side of an aerial wrestling match with a harpy. In fact, it looked like the harpy was choking the life out of her. Rosalind didn’t know where the eagle had gone, but Drew had just ripped her heart out and thrown it into the chasm.

She could remember it all so clearly now—Caine stabbing her mother. She remembered every drop of blood spilling from her parent’s chests. She just didn’t know why.

Her gaze slid back to Drew. The fact was, she
knew
what he was up to. He’d been helping the Brotherhood slaughter humans. He’d allowed Erish to imprison hundreds of people, starving them and turning them into keres. He’d nearly destroyed Tammi completely.

As Rosalind looked out into the roiling skies over the chasm, she stared in horror as the harpy let Tammi drop, unconscious.

One last blast of frozen rage gave Rosalind strength, and she brought her knee up, hard, into Drew’s groin. His eyes bulged, and she grabbed him by the back of the hair, thrusting up her hips and pulling him off—letting go right over the cliff’s edge.

She rolled onto her hands and knees, her body wracked with pain. Swallowing hard, she peered over the cliff’s edge, the blood rushing from her head. She caught a glimpse of a sheer cliff face—no Caine in sight.

Just before her vision blurred, she was in the rowan grove once more, waiting for Ambrose.

Chapter 29

Rosalind’s eyelids flickered open, and she rolled onto her back, trying to get her bearings.
I’m not in a gods damned rowan grove. I’m in Maremount.

Her gaze landed on Miranda, who stood with her arms behind her back, still gagged. She wore one of those iron necklaces, and her eyes looked glassy.

Rosalind groaned. She felt as if she’d died and only come halfway back to life. A sharp pain pierced her head, and she swallowed her nausea. Cleo’s starry night sky flickered in her mind, and she forced the image away, trying to remember what had just happened.

A jolt of fear tensed her muscles.
Tammi.
What had happened to her? She sat up, glancing out into the chasm. Her gaze landed on Drew—carried into the sky by one of his harpies.

But when she looked down, she saw him.
Caine.

He’d grown enormous, black feathered wings—like a raven’s—and he was flying up from the river. Tammi lay in his arms. Her head drooped, but her chest rose and fell. She was still alive.

Caine—the angel of death, the demon who’d murdered her parents. Dread coiled around her at the sight of him. She could remember him now, that day when the earth had shaken below her feet. She could remember the ferocity in his darkened eyes when he drove the nail through her mother’s heart.

Miranda screamed and screamed.

That stake, the one where she’d been kissing him… bile rose in her throat, and she retched.

Never trust Nyxobas’s demons,
Cleo’s voice whispered in her mind.

As Caine approached, she pushed herself away from the cliff’s edge on her backside, too tired to stand. She wanted to put distance between herself and him.

He will betray you,
Cleo whispered.
He’s just like Ambrose. Run from him as fast as you can.

Caine landed on the cliff’s edge. Rain ran down his tattooed chest. “Your little boyfriend Drew laid a trap for me. I’m just glad you came back to stall him before that eagle made a dinner of me.” He frowned, watching her carefully. “What’s happened to you?”

She shook her head, unable to get any words out.

He gently laid Tammi down on the cliff’s edge. “How much magic have you been using?”

“I remember now,” she said at last.

His face seemed to pale, and his wings folded into his back, disappearing. He reached out, as if to stroke her face, then lowered his hand. “You remember.”

“The four stakes. I was there. It wasn’t me or Miranda. It was my mom that you killed. And my dad.”

Something flickered in his eyes for a moment, then his face hardened. He stood, crossing to Miranda. He pulled the gag from her mouth.

When he ripped the necklace from her throat and chucked it over the cliff, she gasped.

“It was nothing they didn’t deserve.” Gritting his teeth, he pulled apart Miranda’s iron chains.

Miranda blinked, staring at her sister. “Rosalind’s mind is splitting in two.”

“Why did they deserve to die?” Rosalind screamed.

Don’t trust a shadow demon,
Cleo urged.
They cloak the truth in darkness. You know this.

Caine glanced into the stormy skies, and Rosalind followed his gaze. A cloud of keres was approaching, flaring with colored magic. The sight knocked a glimmer of clarity back into Rosalind’s mind. “We need to go,” she said. She couldn’t stop the trembling in her hands.

Caine lifted Tammi from the ground again, nodding at Rosalind. “I’ll come back for Erish. I’m going to bring her to Ambrose in chains, like he asked.”

Ambrose…
Rosalind tried to stand, forcing herself onto her feet.

Miranda crossed to her, crouching down. She slipped an arm around Rosalind’s back, helping her up.

Rosalind leaned in, resting her head on Miranda’s shoulder. Caine and Miranda chanted the teleportation spell. Miranda’s briny scent filled Rosalind’s nose, and Rosalind let her eyes close.

Her mind whirled with images of a rowan grove outside a sandstone manor house.
Ambrose knew I worshipped Druloch, the forest god, and he brought me a wreath of blackthorn and forget-me-nots.

She was dimly aware of Miranda’s arms around her, holding her as they plunged into icy water. It bit into the wounds on her stomach.

Ambrose told me he’d come for me, but it wasn’t he who came for me over the fields…

Her head breached the water’s surface, and she gasped, breathing in the floral air near Phobetor pond. A storm raged here, too, and dark clouds churned in the sky. Rain hammered down on them, pounding the lake. Rosalind kicked her legs, using what was left of her strength to swim to the shore. Her stomach felt like an open wound.

Caine carried Tammi in his arms, and laid her down in the tall grasses.

Rosalind crawled on her hands and knees, clutching her stomach. Whatever Drew had done to her, the pain was eating into her like acid. Kneeling on the rocky shore, she yanked up her dress, not caring who was watching.

She pulled the dress over her head, tossing it on the ground, and stared down at her stomach, at the sigil seared into her flesh by Drew’s magic. It was the same sigil Drew had given to Orcus, the one that had bound her in the cemetery.

Her fingers trembled as she touched the edges of the burned skin.
What has he done to me?

Caine rushed over to her, kneeling by her side. “The mark of Azazeyl,” he said. His fingers gently traced over her waist.

Don’t let the murderer touch you,
Cleo whispered in her mind.

Rosalind recoiled from him, pulling away. He clenched his jaw, rising. “Let your sister heal you, then.”

Miranda was at her side in the next moment. She chanted the healing spell, and her blue aura washed over Rosalind’s skin like water. Slowly, the spell leached the pain from Rosalind’s body, rejuvenating her muscles—but a deep, pounding fatigue still sapped her energy.

Her gaze landed on Caine, and a sharp crack of lightning lit up his face and his chiseled body. He stared down at her, eyes cold as winter. He was beautiful, the angel of death. He’d murdered her parents while she watched. He’d known all along what had happened to them, and he’d never said a thing.

Rosalind stood.
I have to get out of here. I have to get away from Caine—he’s not Caine. He is Death.

She walked over to Tammi, pulling her toward the water.

“Where are you going?” Miranda shouted.

Go to Ambrose,
said Cleo’s voice.
Find my lover.

Rosalind grabbed Tammi under the shoulders, pulling her back to the water’s edge.

“What are you doing?” Caine bellowed.

She ignored him, her gaze flicking to her sister instead. “I’m going to Lilinor. You can come with me if you like.”

Miranda stood by the death spirit’s side, shaking her head
no.

Rosalind didn’t need him to use the portal now. Cleo would take her there.
Take me to Ambrose, Cleo. Just like you wanted.