Magic Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 1) (8 page)

Apart from the fangs, the guy
really
didn't seem like a vampire. Vampires weren’t supposed to wink.

Caine grabbed Rosalind’s hand and led her to the bar. She shot him a quick glance. His features were relaxed. Impressive lying—a crucial skill in any mage’s repertoire.
Is there a chance he’d been lying about incubi?

Apparently, she was supposed to pretend to be his girlfriend. She could live with that if it meant she could get her life back.
All part of the mission.

Caine led her to the silver bar stools, where Aurora was already knocking back a glass of blood.

Blood-drinkers and demons. This was her new crowd. She took a seat next to Caine, who leaned on the bar.

Drying a Martini glass, Jorge nodded at him. “What can I get for you? The usual?”

“The usual. And the same for my girlfriend.”

Jorge nodded. “Two bourbons, and two dinners of food.”

She turned to Caine, her stomach rumbling. She didn’t have high hopes for the menu. “Two
dinners of food
?”

He leaned in to her. “He hasn’t eaten food in several centuries. Don’t expect anything amazing.”

“What are you implying?” Aurora asked. “Vampires can’t cook?”

He stared at her. “You tried to make me ramen noodles in a tea kettle.”

Aurora shook her head. “What’s the problem? That’s what I ate when I was a human.”

“I guess that’s what happens when you die in college,” Caine said.

Jorge filled two tumblers with bourbon, sliding them over the bar.

Rosalind cocked her head, glancing at Caine. “You don’t drink blood?”

His eyebrows shot up. “Why would I drink
blood
?”

“I thought mages drank human blood. From skulls. But if you’re an incubus…” She let the thought die out on her tongue. There was no way she wanted to vocalize that he gained power through sex.

“Right. Mages drink blood. Just like we all have to glamour ourselves to hide our deformities.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “No. I’m pretty sure we’ve established that’s bollocks. I’m gorgeous, and you’re the blood-drinking human.”

Shit.
She’d forgotten about the ambrosia. Maybe it
was
possible. After all, Blodrial was known as the sacred god of blood. The Guardians were a little obsessive about the drink. It wasn’t human blood, but—on the other hand—maybe trying to rationalize blood drinking was not a good sign.

Jorge dropped off two white plates, piled with food. At least, technically it was food: a pile of Swedish fish, two uncooked tortillas, a stack of American cheese slices, and a frozen pancake, artfully presented on a doily.

It was the most screwed-up meal she’d ever seen, but her mouth watered anyway. Hunger gnawed in her stomach.

With her fork, she lifted a tortilla, grimacing. Within the tortillas, candy hearts were stuck in a smear of jam. Red slogans emblazoned their surfaces:
Love Me, Hot Lips,
and
XOXO.
This had to be the weirdest quesadilla in the history of “dinners of food.”

Caine handed her a blue heart:
Adore me.
“This one’s for you. A reasonable suggestion.”

“It doesn’t seem fair to take that from you. I don’t think I could ever adore you as much as you do.”

“Give me your pancake.”

“What?”

“There are only two edible things on that plate. The candy fish and the pancake. At least let me warm it for you.” He reached over, spearing the pancake on his fork. After he chanted a quick spell, it thawed and toasted to a golden brown. He dropped it on her plate again. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

She nearly cracked a smile for the first time since the Brotherhood had come for her. The truth was, Caine
had
been helping her.

She just had no idea why.

She took a bite of the pancake. Sweet and fluffy. Within about twenty seconds, she’d chomped through the entire thing, before stuffing a handful of Swedish fish into her mouth. She moved on to the American cheese slices, and when she was unwrapping the final piece she looked up to find Caine eyeing her with concern.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat that fast,” he said. “I’m a little alarmed.”

Aurora stared over her drink. “Unsettling, really. It reminds me a little of that time I saw Horace eat a truck driver outside a McDonald’s.”

“I haven’t eaten in a full day.” She was still grumpy, in fact. She whispered, “What do you think the chances are that a high demon will come in?”

He shrugged. “Fifty-fifty. Might be fun, really. But if it happens, you should get out of here. Let me handle it.”

The arrogance on this guy.
“What are you going to do, toast some waffles for him? Burn his bagel until he’s cross?”

“You’re still cranky.” Caine handed her his pancake. “Have mine.”

He glanced down the bar, catching Jorge’s eye.

Smiling, the bartender sidled up to them. “How were the dinners?”

“Amazing, as always,” Caine said. “We’ll just need two more bourbons. Neat.”

“No problem.” Jorge pulled a glass bottle from the shelves, unscrewing the cap to fill two more glass tumblers. “I’m just happy to see you with a girl who isn’t trying to murder you for once.”

“Give it time,” Aurora said.

Rosalind frowned. “Wait. Why is Caine always with girls who want to murder him?”

Jorge scratched his chin. “The vampire girls get obsessed with him after he screws—”

“We don’t need to get into that,” Caine snapped. “Has no one ever told you that bartenders are supposed to be discreet?”

Jorge furrowed his brow. “I’ve never heard that.”

Caine scowled. “I don’t know why I continue to be surprised whenever vampires fail to be empathic.”

Jorge leered at Rosalind, waggling an eyebrow. “I’m perfectly empathic.”

Given the way he was looking at her, she was pretty sure he thought “empathic” meant
horny.

Caine knocked back his drink. “Speaking of my new girl—as you mentioned, she’s not trying to kill me. Obviously, I’m quite fond of her for that reason. And there’s that little curse. It’s not a big deal, of course. But it would be nice to take that ring off her so she could use her magic again.”

Jorge flashed a wolfish smile. “You want to get some of those kinky spells going?”

She nearly spat out the pancake.
What does that even mean?

Caine nodded. “Exactly. So if we could figure out how to lift the spell…”

Grinning, Jorge leaned on the bar. “You need Sambethe. The sybil.”

Caine swirled his drink. “And where would I find the sybil?”

Jorge let his eyes roam over Rosalind’s body. Whatever “kinky magic” meant, he seemed to like the idea a little too much. “The sybil is allied with Borgerith.”

“Ah,” Caine said. “The goddess of the mountains. So she won’t speak to us.”

Jorge leaned in further, looking around the bar. “You can find her in Elysium. It’s an underground club where demons get together, no matter what the alliances. Fire demons mix with night, rock mixes with sea. It’s chaos. But you can’t tell people. The gods wouldn’t exactly approve.”

Rosalind took a sip of the bourbon. “And where would we find—”

Something halted her sentence. A wave of shadowy magic rippled through the bar, crawling over her skin like spider legs. She glanced around. The magic was a deep red, the color of dried blood, and it smelled of moldering hemlock—a smell of death.

“Caine,” she whispered. “We should go.”

“Why? I haven’t even finished my drink.”

“Because something powerful is headed right here. Something deadly.”

Caine studied her, but before she could get an answer out of him, the bartender’s eyes flicked to the door, and his face went even paler. “Bileth,” he whispered.

Rosalind turned to the entrance. In the doorframe stood a hulk of a night demon, his skin pale as moonlight and cheekbones sharp as razors. He must have been three hundred pounds of pure muscle, and horns grew from his skull. His eyes were empty, ivory pools.

A shiver ran up her spine. She’d seen him before—his portrait hung in Lilinor Castle. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run. She’d read about high demons before, but she’d never seen one. And hadn’t Caine said something about smelling her blood…

Caine slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. He whispered, “I’ll handle this. Get out of here.”

She was terrified, but she wasn’t going to run from a demon. She was a Hunter.

The high demon cocked his head, sniffing, then licked his lips. His gaze slid over Rosalind’s body, and Caine whispered, “Run. You too, Aurora.”

Aurora was out the door in a split second. But Rosalind stood rooted to the spot. She was a Hunter, damn it, and this was her chance to prove herself. She wasn't going to leave Caine to fight alone.

On top of that, it wasn’t like she could run that fast. Bileth would stop her in a second.

In the next moment, the high demon was before them. Caine squared off with him, muscles tensed.

The demon opened his mouth, revealing jagged teeth. “Is this Hunter with you?”

Oh, shit.
Hadn’t take long for him to suss her out. His fetid magic coated her body, roiling through her blood like a poison. But Caine's magic was there, too, cool and silvery. With their auras blazing, the two demons seemed to be gearing up for a serious battle.

“Her? A Hunter?” Caine asked, obviously stalling. He glanced at Rosalind, his eyes burning into her. “She's a mage, and she was just leaving. Though now that you mention it, she may have accidentally ingested—”

Bileth gripped the mage's throat with both hands, and long, ivory nails pierced Caine's neck. Crimson tendrils spiraled from the demon's fingertips, wrapping Caine in a web that pinned his arms against his body, binding his legs, sealing his mouth shut to stop his magic.

T
he silver glow
around Caine began to weaken, and fear screamed through Rosalind’s mind.

Bileth's power only grew stronger, and his red magic exploded from him like a dying star. He was about to murder Caine.

She grabbed Aurora’s champagne flute, smashing it over Bileth's head. She plunged the fractured stem into his back.

His pale eyes swiveled to her as she grasped for another glass. This time, he grabbed her wrist, crushing it in a death grip. Holy hells, he was breaking her bones.

In another split second, he pinned both her wrists, black talons piercing her skin. He pulled her closer, so close she could smell the blood on his breath.

He smiled, and the sight of his long, white teeth made her shudder.

“I like touching your things, incubus,” he growled.

Revulsion welled in her gut as his inky red magic swirled around her head. It coiled into her mind, whispering through her own thoughts, until her body was no longer quite her own. She gaped at him, her heart beating fast as a hummingbird’s.

The demon released her hands, but she no longer controlled them.
Touch him,
a voice whispered in her mind.

She watched in horror as the demon’s magic forced her to reach out for his chest, hands sliding over his skin. Revulsion rose in her throat as Bileth propelled her closer, forcing her arms around his neck until she was practically grinding against him.

As he growled, his magic forced her to lurch away from him.
Grab the broken glass
. Her hand flew out for a broken shard on the bar, and her blood roared in her ears. She gripped it hard, slicing open her flesh. Blood dripped onto the floor. The vamps gasped, scenting fresh blood.

Bileth forced her hand to her throat. She strained against his magic, her arm shaking. The shard pierced her neck, and pain ripped through her skin. She whimpered, concentrating on the magic that invaded her mind like a noxious ink. She needed to master her fear, to shove this magic out before he forced her to slit her own throat. She shivered, trying to push his poison from her body.

Nearby, Caine’s tingly aura grew stronger, filling the room. It caressed her injured hand and healed the gaping wound. With a tremendous force of will, she cut a glance his way, watching as he ripped himself free from Bileth’s magic. His body blazed with his pearly aura. In a split second, his knife pressed against Bileth's throat. At that moment, Bileth’s magic completely snapped from her mind.

Caine’s eyes—dark as an abyss, glinting with an ancient violence—sent a shiver up her spine.

His voice came out low and steady. “You know I hate to argue with you, Bileth. But she’s a mage.”

Bileth’s body vibrated with barely contained rage. “Then where is her aura?”

“I’m not allowing her to use magic now. She was getting out of control.”

“And yet I smell the god of blood. You’re attacking
me
to save a Hunter?”

Rage bloomed in her chest. The way Bileth had controlled her body filled her with intense loathing, and she wanted to hurt him.

Right now, the demon’s attention was on Caine. She needed to help the incubus anyway. If anything happened to him, she’d be responsible for his death.

With a racing pulse, she leapt onto the oak bar, then jumped for one of the chandeliers. She kicked her legs, swinging in a wide arc. As the air charged with Caine’s nocturnal magic, she propelled herself to the next chandelier, clutching at the silver. Below, the vamps hissed.

“Rosalind,” Caine shouted. “I told you to run.”

Blazing candles tumbled to the ground, and hot wax spilled on her skin as she swung from one chandelier to the next, toward the fireplace.
What the hell was my game plan?

With an enraged snarl, Bileth ripped himself free from Caine’s grasp. “Hunter!”

The scent of rotting hemlock drew closer, Bileth’s blood-red magic curling around her skin. Panic punched a hole in her chest. He wasn’t fighting Caine anymore. He was coming for her.

She jumped to the ground, grabbing the silver poker. Hot anger burned through her, and she whirled. She threw it in a high arc as he lunged for her, and it pierced the center of his chest.

The demon froze, gripping the metal. He opened his mouth, and the chorus of shrieks that emerged from his throat turned her blood to ice. There wasn’t enough time to consider how proud Josiah would be, because her attack had stoked the vampires’ fury.

As she leapt over a table, Jorge jumped for her. She ducked, bringing her fist up into his groin. With a twist of her body, she kicked him into the fireplace. As she did, another vamp grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back with a sharp snap. But the attack was short lived. Something had stopped the vampires.

She glanced at Caine who murmured, his body luminescent.

Bound by Caine’s magic, the vampires lurched, bodies contorting in pain. The horrifying crunch of vampire bone echoed through the room. She released a breath. As long as he was chanting, he had the vampires under control.

She cut a glance to Bileth, and terror crawled up her spine. His dark, wide eyes were fixed on her, and he ripped the poker from his ribs. She needed to get out of here
now.

Leaping onto the tables, she crashed through champagne flutes of blood in a frantic rush to the door. “Caine! Let’s go.”

His eyes met hers, and he broke his spell over the vamps.

Rosalind flew, bursting through the door, and Caine followed in a black blur.

Once outside, he flicked his wrist, and the door slammed shut. Enraged shouts reverberated through the walls as demons pounded on the door. Her heart leapt into her throat. Bileth was still in there, and it couldn’t be long until he tore through the rickety walls.

Caine glared at her. “Do you realize that you just impaled one of the most powerful demons in the world? There was a reason I didn’t slit his throat.”

The blood drained from her head. This “master your fear” thing wasn’t working out so well. Maybe she still needed to work on distinguishing bravery from flat-out stupidity.

This time, she wasn’t going to wait for Caine’s instruction to run.

She took off in a sprint over the pier, charging for the bike. Somehow, Caine was already there by the time she arrived, waiting for her on his bike.

She jumped on, gripping his waist. He revved his engine, peeling off into Salem’s narrow streets. His magical aura rippled over her skin. Dizzy, she watched her body disappear as the street sped by below them.

She tried to control the shaking in her hands so Caine wouldn’t notice. The way Bileth had controlled her mind made her sick.
That
was a demon’s true nature—the reason that Hunters had been fighting evil for centuries.

She clamped her eyes shut. Here she was, clinging to a demon as though he were any different.

Caine roared through Salem’s winding streets and up a dark hill—away from his apartment. Where exactly was he taking her? For all she knew, he could be dragging her to Nyxobas as punishment for assaulting Bileth. He could be sentencing her to the shadow hell.

Fear tightened her chest as they sped past tiny wooden houses on a tree-lined street. She still didn’t trust Caine, and the recent display of his power told her just what she’d be up against if she stopped being useful to him.

He pulled off the main road into a parking lot, slamming to a stop near the wooded edge of the pavement.

Rosalind shot a nervous look to the darkened pharmacy nearby.
What the hell?

He stepped off his bike, and she followed, taking a tentative step away from him. They were completely alone.

He stepped closer, casting a scrutinizing gaze at her neck. When he touched her skin with his fingertips, she flinched.

“Did Bileth bite you?” he asked.

“No. He didn’t get that far.”

“Good. If he had, you’d die an agonizing death in the next hour.” He frowned. “But you realize you just got me barred from my favorite drinking hole when you lit the bartender on fire.”

“I was revolted by Bileth’s magic in my mind. It disgusts me that demons want to control humans’ minds. We’re just their toys.”

“You think that’s how I see you?”

The question caught her off guard. “I don’t know yet.”

“It should be obvious that I don’t, or our interactions would be very different. Anyway, Bileth isn’t an ordinary demon. He commands eighty-five legions, and he reports directly to Nyxobas. He’s as ancient as the god himself, a fallen angel from the celestial wars several millennia ago.”

She swallowed hard. “But you held a blade to his throat.”

“That would be difficult to fix diplomatically, yes. But I’ve angered him before, and I could usually make amends by supplying him with expensive vodka and a particularly stunning courtesan or two. Plus, I’ve never actually stabbed him. I don’t think he’ll forgive impalement with a fireplace poker so easily. You should have run.”

“I did tell you that something was coming. But you wanted to finish your drink. Plus, I wouldn’t have made it out fast enough.” She couldn’t tell him the truth—that she’d needed to save him to atone for what she’d done.

“You had a second chance to run.”

Her legs were still trembling, and the memory of Bileth’s complete control still haunted her. “I wanted to hurt him. He deserved it. And anyway, I thought you needed my help.”

“I don’t see how that would be any of your concern. According to you, I’m a monster. And more than that, I told you I’d handle it.” His voice had a razor-sharp edge; his eyes were dark storm clouds. “And I would have. Aurora ran when I told her to.”

Despite the look of primal wrath in his eyes, irritation spurred her on. “I don’t like being bossed around. You need to stop giving me commands. I’m not your soldier. And why couldn’t you just tell people that Ambrose wanted me alive? Surely the Vampire Lord has some clout.”

Caine took a deep breath, and his eyes returned to their normal gray. “It’s not that simple. Ambrose doesn’t want Bileth to know what he’s planning.”

“What’s he planning?”

“You don’t need to know that. Not as long as you still plan on exorcising the spirit.”

Exasperated, she glanced around at the empty lot. “Can you at least tell me what we’re doing in a parking lot?”

“Come with me.” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Please come with me, Rosalind.” Turning abruptly, he marched up the thickly overgrown, rocky hill.

She followed, slipping on the steep, rocky slope as she scrambled to catch up. “Is there some sort of botanical emergency that needs addressing?”

“You should rethink your plan. About purging the mage’s soul.”

“And this rethinking needs to happen in the woods?”

Maples loomed high above them, blocking out most of the moonlight. They crunched over fallen leaves and twigs.

Caine led them up a steep hill into a grove of maple and poplar trees overlooking the parking lot. “In 1692, this is where the Brotherhood hanged nineteen people who had nothing to do with magic.”

Another history lesson. “I’m not saying the Brotherhood are perfect. So they get it wrong sometimes, and they need to modernize. But they’re trying to protect humanity, and no one else is fighting the predatory demons like Bileth.”

“The Brotherhood aren’t perfect, and neither is the magical world. We’ve got that in common. The difference is that the Brotherhood is gaining an unprecedented amount of power. People are terrified of magic, and that means the Hunters no longer have any restraints. No more trials. No more mercy. They’re starting to execute mages, and people they mistakenly think are mages. They want to watch the world burn. They want to watch
you
burn. And you want to run back to them. Do you have a death wish, Rosalind?”

Executions. Burnings.
That stuff wasn’t true, was it? “First of all, I’m human. They won’t hurt me. Second of all, they don’t burn anyone.”

“Running back to the Brotherhood would be suicide.”

Tears pricked her eyes. What good was her life if she had no home, no family? She didn’t even know who she could trust anymore. “I don’t see myself having a lot of options.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

“You have a gift. You’re meant to fight. Just like I am. And call me crazy, but I think you should fight the people who want to burn you to death. Your plan to throw yourself on their mercy is utterly stupid.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “That’s your mage-recruitment pitch? Calling me stupid?”

“I said your plan is stupid. Not you.”

“You haven’t explained why we need to be knee-deep in shrubbery for this conversation.”

He stepped closer, fingers grazing her hand. His touch sparked her with a warm, electrical charge.
Must be an incubus thing.

“Take off the ring.” He winced as though in pain. “It is your choice to take off the ring, but I would strongly suggest that you do it. You need to see the magic that lurks under the surface—what the Brotherhood is so terrified of. Then tell me if it scares you, too. Because I’ve seen you fight. You’re a warrior. Like me.”

At the thought of taking off the ring, raw panic burned through her nerves. “What is it with you people and wanting me to lose my mind?”

“Like you said, you don’t have a ton of options. The people you plan on running to for protection want to kill you. Now the demon world wants to kill you, too, and they will hunt you unless you convert. It’s your one chance at saving yourself.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“I’ve saved your life more than once now. And I’ll be here now, when you take off the ring. If the spirit tries to hurt you, I’ll put the ring back on. Just like I did in Lilinor.”

The wind rustled the elm leaves, whipping her hair around her head. She couldn’t bear the thought of that wild rage and agony. “I’m not doing it.”

“Running away from your true nature won’t keep you alive. You can’t be scared of it.”

“It’s not my true nature. It’s an invasive nature, just like Bileth’s aura in my skull. And I don’t want the magic to corrupt and deform my body.”

Caine furrowed his brow. “I thought we’d established that my godlike beauty dispelled that myth.”