Divine Hunter (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 4) Read online

  Divine Hunter

  Book Four of the Vampire’s Mage Series

  C.N. Crawford

  Divine Hunter

  Book 4 of the The Vampire’s Mage Series.

  Copyright © 2017 by C. N. Crawford.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Also by C.N. Crawford

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Rosalind sat between Tammi and Aurora on a soft, silver blanket, listening to the bells tinkling over Miranda’s grave. Shimmering ribbons intertwined with the yew branches, and with the baubles and trinkets left to remember the dead. On a long, opalescent ribbon, Caine had written the name Miranda.

  With the picnic spread out before them, she couldn’t help but think of their last picnic together—just like their last party, except one of them was dead.

  It had been three weeks since they’d buried Miranda. For some reason, Rosalind felt the need to show up here every now and then for lunch or dinner to keep Miranda company, even though Miranda’s soul had already moved on.

  She took a sip of strong coffee from a silver thermos, the bitter brew sparking her mind with energy.

  Tammi toyed with the ends of her silver-white hair. “If the bells are the spirits speaking to us, how are we supposed to know what they’re saying?”

  “I have no idea,” Rosalind said. “I think they just like attention.”

  Aurora frowned. “Not sure I really believe the legend. Bells also chime when wind goes through them, and being as it is that we’re outside, the air is moving a bit.”

  “You’re the one who told me about the bells in the first place,” Rosalind said.

  “I talk a lot of shit.”

  “Someone’s a bit cranky this morning,” Tammi mumbled.

  “I suppose,” Aurora said. “I spent too long at Cerberus’s last night. I didn’t know it was still possible to get hangovers when you’re dead, but apparently it is.”

  “Who is Cerberus?” Tammi asked.

  Aurora took a sip of coffee. “He runs one of Lilinor’s bars, not far from Ninlil Fortress. The one with the gargoyles. Blood, vodka, a bit of brawling, all the good stuff.”

  “And why haven’t you taken us there?” Tammi asked.

  Aurora scowled. “We are in the middle of a crisis here in Lilinor. Rosalind’s cousin broke our defenses again.”

  “Please,” Rosalind said. “Don’t remind me that I’m related to him.” After all, Drew was the reason Miranda was no longer here. And then, two weeks ago, he’d stolen Erish from Lilinor’s prisons. The former queen of Lilinor was Drew’s key to creating demons—his secret weapon.

  Aurora straightened. “In light of these disturbing events—and our possible impending demise—it seemed more appropriate to go to the bar on my own. Less cheerful, you know? I could hunch over the bar, brood about things, have my bloody Marys that way. More respectful.”

  “Fair enough,” Tammi said. “Any ideas about how we’re getting out of this crisis so we can hit the bars together?”

  Rosalind heaved a sigh. “Sure, I have an idea. We just have to break into the Brotherhood’s magically-protected headquarters and retrieve an ancient succubus from an insane god-man. Then kill his entire empire of fanatics. Simple.”

  Tammi narrowed her eyes. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Perceptive as usual, but Rosalind was saying no more. “It’s as simple as that.”

  Tammi pointed at her. “And you don’t have a particular plan that you’re hiding from me?”

  “I’m still working on something, but if you have any ideas, let me know.”

  Tammi couldn’t know the truth, or she’d never let Rosalind leave.

  Aurora refilled her cup with steaming coffee. “Any idea what Drew is up to with the succubus?”

  “Creating his legion of demons, I imagine, so he can invade Lilinor, kill everyone, and impregnate me with his hell-spawn.” She bit her lip. “I think I might need to hit up Cerberus’s for a brooding drink after this discussion.”

  Tammi winced. “What are Ambrose and Caine planning to do to stop that from happening?”

  “Just that we get Erish back from Drew before we find ourselves completely outnumbered. I’m sure Caine will come up with a plan.”

  A flicker of movement under the stars caught Rosalind’s attention. A raven circled overhead, her wings silvered in the moonlight.

  Lilu—Caine’s raven.

  “I guess lunch is over,” Rosalind said. “I think that’s my signal that I’m due for training again.”

  Standing, she surveyed the Gelal Fields. Even from here, she could see Caine’s powerful, sterling aura curling into the air, gleaming against the night sky. His magic called to her like a siren song.

  “More fighting?” Tammi asked.

  “He’s more keen on teaching me to land punches than for me to use the gods-magic that would actually destroy the Brotherhood.”

  Aurora narrowed her eyes. “Unlike Caine, I have full confidence in your destructive abilities. Now if you could manage to fuck up the enemy instead of causing chaos on our own side, we’ll be getting somewhere.”

  “Thanks, Aurora,” Rosalind said dryly. “Honestly. You kill one demon queen, and no one ever forgets it.”

  Tammi gave her a thumbs-up. “Go save the world and stuff.”

  The air felt warm and heavy, full of Lilinor’s intoxicating scent of lavender and jasmine. As Rosalind crossed the field, she ran her fingertips over her weapons. She’d dressed in her fighting leather, laden with knives and stakes, and a black corset, her hair pulled into a ponytail.

  As she walked toward Caine’s aura, she searched the sky for cracks in the shield. The silver barrier—wrought with shadow magic—shimmered faintly, but it had thinned in some places. Drew was eating away at their defenses again, with his magic. No wonder he’d been able to break into the city and capture Erish.

  Cleo, her second soul, coiled angrily around her heart. We’ll kill the Hunter King, someday. We’ll watch him burn.

  “We certainly will,” Rosalind whispered.

  As she crossed the grasses, she reached down, plucking a bluebell from the grass. She wrapped the stem between her fingers. Miranda had loved these little blossoms, and they seemed to calm Rosalind’s thoughts a little.

  Unfortunately for her, the bluebells weren’t going to cure the raw ache in
her thighs. Caine had been running her ragged with his training, until her muscles burned.

  He didn’t seem to want her practicing too much magic, so she’d been using swords and axes, and learning to hunt him through the woods. But on her own, when Caine was occupied elsewhere, she spent her free time on the cliffs over the Astarte Sea, trying to master the gods’ powers on her own.

  The magic itself felt glorious, but she still couldn’t control it. Every time she used too much power, the gods would begin to claim her mind, taking over until she’d find herself running wild through the woods, looking for something to kill.

  And yet, with every spell, and every throw of a punch, she was one step closer to ridding the earth of the Brotherhood—assuming she hadn’t already lost the war.

  As she approached Caine, her heart thrummed. Even after everything they’d been through—even after he’d kicked her out of his bedroom for a twat named Esmerelda—she’d never get sick of the sight of him. Slowly, she took in his muscular form, and the starlit gaze that had an irritating tendency to rob her of the power of language.

  With the silver magic winding through the air around him, Caine exuded pure power. If she hadn’t been jacked up on the magic of seven gods, she never would have dared to fight him—even in training.

  “Rosalind.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and his eyes slid down her body.

  He didn’t even have to touch her. Just his gaze made her stomach flutter, and yet—she still didn’t know what that woman had been doing in his room.

  Esmerelda.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked.

  “Battle magic?”

  He took a step closer, now so close she could feel the heat coming off his body. “I want to see what you can do in hand-to-hand combat. I don’t want you to rely on gods-magic alone.”

  “How did I know you were going to say that?”

  “You’ve been using it too much. You shouldn’t overuse it. You saw what happened to Drew.”

  “I’m not going to win this war by punching people. I’m gonna need to blow things up.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You’re not going to win this on your own.”

  She folded her arms. “Right, but I won’t be any use at all without magic. You know that. So we practice both. We fight with our fists, and with the gods-magic that we both possess. Fair?”

  Amusement danced in his pale eyes. “Aren’t you imperious?”

  “I learned from the best.” She raised her hand, letting fire spark from her fingertips. Caine might be a demigod, but he wasn’t immune to fire the way she was. She smiled at him. “Are you ready for this?”

  Before she could work up a real flame, Caine flicked his wrist, freezing the air around them and snuffing out her fire. “You’ll have to do better than that, Rosalind.”

  She closed her eyes, letting the power of the storm god flood her body. Thunder rumbled over the horizon, and electricity charged the air. Ancient rage sang in her blood, and she opened her eyes again, ready to inflict some damage—

  Caine was already gone. Storm clouds seethed above. The air was thick with moisture, and she scanned the darkened landscape, searching for the whorls of Caine’s silver magic. Pale light shimmered by a blackthorn grove, and she shadow-ran to the spot, letting Nyxobas’s magic flood her body.

  She arrived, breathless, but Caine’s magic was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter 2

  The storm clouds she’d created began to unleash their rain, hammering her skin with fat droplets. Beneath the churning storm, an unkindness of ravens circled. Was Caine among them?

  With her gaze fixed on the birds, she almost missed the silver aura curling around her. Caine’s strong hands slipped around her, pinning her arms to her sides. He leaned in, whispering, “You’re going to have to move faster.”

  Her body thrilled at his touch, her desires warring with the battle fury. She moved her hips against him, just enough to throw him off guard. Then a quick shift to the side, and she pumped her elbows back into his chest, breaking his grip. Pivoting, she threw a punch, but he caught her fist in his.

  His grip was crushing, and he forced her hand down. It took a fraction of a second for him to pin her other wrist. His pale eyes bored into her.

  Rain poured from the sky, soaking her clothes.

  She let the vernal power of Druloch rush over her skin. She had to control Druloch’s power. The forest god was a god of true chaos, and who knew what he’d unleash if she gave in to his will entirely. Druloch’s magic whispered of savagery and orgies, mob rage and lust-crazed lovers fucking against tree trunks. She clenched her jaw, determined to stay in control this time.

  While Caine gripped her wrists, she focused on the blackthorn behind him. Willing Druloch to do her will, she forced the boughs to reach for Caine. But as they did, another emotion heated her body.

  Visions burned in her mind: The first time she’d kissed Caine in the Salem woods, straddling him in the dirt, fingertips digging into the mud. The feel of his bare skin on hers, his hands on her thighs, the embers burning hot inside her when she kissed his perfect mouth. That was what she should be doing. Why didn’t she just do what she wanted? Druloch would set her free.

  She focused on the blackthorn boughs, drawing them closer to Caine. She’d root him in place, then make him hers. It was what Druloch wanted—what she wanted. The blackthorn branches snaked around Caine’s waist, thorns cutting into his skin in streaks of crimson.

  He dropped his grip on her, and she moved in closer, pressing against him. She licked her lips, letting her gaze linger over his powerful body. Then she slid her mouth over his rain-slicked neck.

  “Rosalind,” he said. “This will not be an effective strategy against the Hunters.”

  She ran her fingertips over his muscled chest, down to his waistband, listening to his sharp intake of breath. Leafy magic whirled around her. She wasn’t Rosalind anymore—she was one of Druloch’s nymphs.

  Caine flexed his muscles, breaking through the ropes of plant that encircled him. The feel of his aura caressing her skin, stroking her thighs, sent shivers of pleasure through her body.

  He spun her around, pinning her arms to her waist again. “Rosalind,” he whispered. “You’re letting the gods take over. This is why gods-magic is dangerous.”

  Her pulse raced, and his body felt amazing pressed against hers, but she tried to gather her thoughts. She tried to remember what she was supposed to be doing.

  “Fighting,” Caine said, as if hearing her thoughts. “You were letting Druloch take control.”

  Druloch’s earth magic still pulsed through her body, and the rich scent of the Edin Woods enveloped her. She leaned back into Caine, arching her neck. “I can learn to control it. Tell me how you control it?”

  His grip on her softened, and he ran his fingertips over her waist, his touch now slow and lazy. “The gods are like clinging vines. The more you resist them, the tighter they grasp.”

  “So I need to give in to them? That seems… dangerous.”

  “Druloch is the god of trances and liberation. You can’t resist him too strongly, nor the others.” He moved his fingertips to her arm and extended it, before folding her arm to bend at the elbow. She watched, entranced, as he guided her hand into his. “You have to learn to the bend to the gods, too. Let down your defenses a little. Yield to them, because if one unyielding force meets another, one of you will break. And it won’t be the god.”

  His loamy scent distracted her. “Right,” she said. “I guess I need to work on that.”

  He pulled away from her, sitting beneath the low boughs of the blackthorn tree.

  Rosalind joined him, leaning against the trunk. After the glut of gods-magic, her body hummed with a strange mixture of exhaustion and excitement.

  Caine gazed at her. “And that’s why you need to take care. Before you know it, you can lose yourself in the insane minds of the gods.”

  “Like Drew,” she said. “I get it. You’ve sa
id this before.”

  “I don’t want to see you turn into your parents.”

  She frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m nothing like them.” She plucked a spray of grass, and tossed it at him. “You don’t really think I’m evil, do you?”

  He shook his head. “Of course not. It’s not that simple. But it’s like you said before you drank the ambrosia: humans weren’t meant to wield gods-magic.”

  “How do you know? It’s not like there’s a book about this.” A sigh slid from her. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to keep me from becoming powerful because it makes you uncomfortable?”

  “You already are powerful.”

  “Not the way I need to be.”

  “You’re perfect the way you are.”

  She smiled. “A rare compliment from Caine. But the truth is, I have to do this, even if it means burning myself out. I have to kill Drew, for Miranda’s sake. There’s nothing left for me, apart from that. I can’t have a normal life as a normal person. That dream is dead.”

  “What exactly is a normal life?”

  “I suppose if you’ve been living in a vampire realm for centuries the concept of normality would be a bit confusing.” She bit her lip. “I guess my vision of a normal life is the same as Miranda’s dream. She wanted us to live in a protected world—like Lilinor, but full of life and light. One where we could all live in the sun, and feel the rainwater on our faces. Where we could pluck wildflowers, bake bread, read by the fire. All that normal stuff.”