Magic Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Vampire's Mage Series Book 1) (12 page)

R
osalind wasn’t
sure which was worse: the fact that she was willingly going into the demons’ night club—pretending to be a courtesan—or the ridiculous outfit Caine had created for her, using magic.

After studying her body to take her measurements, he’d transformed her ragged outfit into a tiny white dress. Now, she tottered along the road in six-inch heels, practically tripping over her own feet.

For a demon associated with pleasure, he’d created bizarrely sadistic shoes. Still, as he’d pointed out defensively, the heels contained actual stiletto blades in case things got messy, and the hair sticks pulling her locks into an untidy bun were fashioned from large hawthorn spikes, inset with iron. Perfect for staking vamps if anyone got bloodthirsty. As an extra precaution, she’d collected a vial of iron dust, now tucked in her cleavage. This time, she wasn’t going into a demon lair totally defenseless.

Elegant in her slinky leather dress, Tammi had already mastered the art of walking in heels. In fact, her new ensemble had almost brightened her morose mood. As they walked, she smoothed her hair over her shoulders.

Draped with stunning silver jewelry, Aurora took a swig of something from a flask—blood, probably. “You sure it’s a good idea to bring the pedestrians into these places? Demons get hungry. Shit. I’m hungry.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Caine said. “Rosalind will have to meet the sybil directly to get the oracle.”

“What about Tammi?” Aurora asked. “She could’ve stayed at your house.”

“No way I’m missing a demon sex club,” Tammi said. “This is the only good thing to come out of this shit show.”

Caine wore dark jeans and a form-fitting T-shirt that showed off his athletic physique and his tattoos. Rosalind couldn’t stop her gaze from lingering over his body.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to them,” he said.

Rosalind stumbled over a stray brick, then righted herself. “I can fight, too. I’ve come prepared with several weapons. It’s almost like no one is impressed that I speared a high demon.”

“You can’t even walk normally,” Aurora pointed out. “The spearing was obviously pure luck.”

“It’s these shoes,” she shot back through gritted teeth. At this point, she was almost hoping things got rowdy so she could demonstrate her real skills—not that she had any desire to run into Bileth again. In fact, a shiver inched up her spine at the thought of him. “Speaking of my amazing skill at spearing demon princes, Bileth won’t be there, will he?”

“No chance,” Caine said. “These types of places, where light and shadow demons mix, are completely forbidden by the gods. A high demon like him can’t know this place even exists, or everyone inside would be cast into the seven hells.”

“If they’re risking that, the cocktails at this place must be amazing,” Tammi said.

“While they go off to find their sybil, I’m going to get you a thyme-tini,” Aurora said. “They are to die for. Not literally.”

“If this place is for all kinds of demons, what sort of demon runs it?” Rosalind asked.

“A valkyrie named Mist,” Caine said. “Try to avoid her. She can be—difficult.”

That was probably an understatement, considering valkyries were ancient demons of war and death. The aristocratic demonesses not only collected souls for the storm god, but they could instill other people with battle-crazed wrath.

Tammi flipped her hair over her shoulder. “How, exactly, does one act like a courtesan?”

Caine walked with his hands in his pockets. “All courtesans have been trained by Arielle, a succubus. She has taught legions of humans over the years, and she’s an expert in seduction.”

“So, we’re supposed to be seductive?” Tammi asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “And, if you can, try to give the impression of underlying desperation and maybe some emotional issues.”

Tammi touched her lips. “Oh, I’ve got all that covered.”

Goose bumps covered Rosalind’s arms, and she hugged herself. “Acting seductive wasn’t exactly part of my training.”

Caine’s eyes trailed over her body. “You’ll be fine. Just—try not to speak.”

“Thanks.”

Aurora took another swig before wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. “And if anyone asks, you two human courtesans belong to us. I’m claiming Tammi, since she’s less stupid than Rosalind.”

Ouch.
“There’s that classic vampire charm again,” Rosalind said.

They turned into a small, tree-lined square dominated by a stone church built to look like a castle. Their footsteps clacked over the pavement, and the only other sound was the wind rushing through maple leaves. Rosalind hugged herself tightly, trying to control the nervousness buzzing through her body. She was about to step into a nightclub full of monsters, dressed as bait, with only a few tiny weapons.

Steeling her resolve, she followed Caine to a heavy oak door. As he chanted a spell, she felt the sensual touch of his aura, trailing over her skin like butterfly kisses. The sensation was extremely distracting, and she tried to focus her thoughts on her weapons. They’d be the key to saving her life—and Tammi’s—if any of these demons tried to devour them.

The door swung open into a packed dance hall, lit by glowing balls of light. Rhythmic music blared, the bass vibrating deep in her body.

Waves of magic unfurled from the creatures inside, skimming her skin with red, periwinkle, emerald, nectarine, and gold. She’d never been around so many magical auras at once, and they rushed through her chest. Shivering with their power, she tried to pick them apart. She had a sense that some belonged to powerful hellhounds and vamps. Others belonged to simple nature spirits: wood nymphs and tree sprites. She couldn’t get a read on their intentions, but her overall impression was that the creatures inside this club were here for one thing: pleasure.

The auras were intoxicating, almost overwhelming. She reached out to anchor herself, gripping Caine’s arm. At his touch, her mind cleared again, and she could feel only his clean, tingling aura caressing her skin.
Interesting.
She hadn’t known you could block out other auras with touch.

Caine turned to her, his eyes trailing over her dress. “You look perfect.”

Embarrassingly, her cheeks flushed, and she glanced into the club. Aurora and Tammi were already pushing into the crowd, heading for the bar, but a small group had gathered around Rosalind and Caine. The human women wore a vivid collection of jeweled hot pants, corsets, glittering underwear, and fishnets.

Apparently, her own outfit was rather conservative.

A green-eyed beauty at the front of the group ran a finger down her ruby red bra. She had a perfect hourglass figure, and her eyes were fixed on Caine. “Are you an incubus?”

“How did you know?” he asked with a smile.

The woman flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve never seen anyone so hot in my life.”

A smile played over Caine’s lips. “You obviously have good taste. Seeing as you’re someone who knows things, do you know where I’d find a woman named Sambethe?”

She smiled, obviously thrilled at the chance to help him. “Yeah. She’s the weird gray-haired lady. She’s always in one of the booths back there.” She pointed to a far corner. “She just sits there, hammering margaritas.”

Gold lights pulsed over Caine’s smooth skin. “You’ve been most helpful.”

The woman took a step closer, eyes hopeful. “Are you looking for a human mate? I’ve been dying to meet an incubus. We all have.”

He slipped his arm around Rosalind’s waist, the bass vibrating through his skin. “I’ve chosen my courtesan for tonight.”

Courtesan.
She was a Hunter, damn it. Or at least, she used to be, back when her life had a point. She schooled her face into a wide-eyed expression that she imagined courtesans wore, mouth slightly open. She tried to ignore the flash of self-loathing.

The blonde frowned, casting a critical eye over Rosalind’s body. “Her? Why? What’s so special about her?”

Rosalind opened her mouth to defend herself before realizing that she’d been about to extol her own virtues as a courtesan. So she did the wide-eyed thing again.
Gods, kill me now.

A wicked grin flashed over Caine’s face. “She’s beautiful, obviously. But more importantly, she’s mute.”

Rosalind’s mouth clamped shut.
Jerk.

Disappointed, the woman strutted away.

A mute, adoring woman
—
that would suit him. She gave his arm a squeeze that she hoped hurt just a little, but before they could move beyond the door’s entrance, another woman approached—this one clearly a demon. Seven feet tall, she wore a metallic gown that shimmered over her body like liquid mercury. Translucent black wings rose from her shoulders, a stark contrast to her platinum hair. Gray eyes bored into Rosalind.

Caine inclined his head. “Mist. Thank you for welcoming us.”

“I haven’t seen you here in a while,” she said, eyes still lingering on Rosalind. “I see you brought a human. I trust you know the rules here. The only humans allowed must be courtesans, trained by Arielle in the art of serving demons.”

“Of course,” Caine said. “Arielle gave me this one as a gift. She loves to serve my needs.”

Rosalind cringed. The urge to roll her eyes was almost overpowering.

Mist scanned the length of Rosalind’s body, like she was assessing a prize horse. “She looks surprisingly strong for a courtesan.”

Caine slid his arm around her waist. “I chose her for that reason. I don’t like my girls to break when I play with them a little roughly.”

Rosalind bit down a retort.
This excursion better be worth it.

“Well. Enjoy yourselves.” With a last, lingering glare at Rosalind, Mist slipped into the crowd like her namesake.

Caine held Rosalind’s hand, leading her further into the club. She tried not to stare at the demons and humans grinding against each other, or the nymphs gyrating in cages, wearing sequined pasties.

A few human men stood in archways, offering up their necks to female vamps, or following after them on leashes. All fairly pathetic from the human side of things.

As she and Caine pushed further into the club, Rosalind caught a glimpse of two female water nymphs wrestling in a sparkly liquid, surrounded by a crowd of leering male onlookers. The demons certainly had more exciting parties than the Brotherhood—she’d give them that—but she was completely out of place here.

She focused on forcing her features into an approximation of a “doe-eyed” expression, though she’d never really known what that meant.

Caine turned, frowning. “What are you doing with your face?”

“I was trying to look seductive.” She kept her hand locked in his, anchoring herself to his aura.

“You look terminally alarmed.”

Frustration simmered in her chest. “I told you. Acting seductive wasn’t part of my training.”

He leaned in close, his breath warming her neck as his aura gently licked her skin. “I can, of course, help you with that—one of the incubus talents.”

Warmth radiated off his body, and she glanced at his full lips, slightly open. Her eyes trailed down his arms. His skin looked gloriously soft, but the muscles under them hard as steel. She inched closer, overcome by a sudden urge to pull him in for a kiss.
Get a hold of yourself, Rosalind.
He’s using his incubus magic.
“I didn’t say you could do that.”

“Do what?”

“Use your incubus seduction talents.”

He whispered into her ear. “I’m not using any magic.”

Her pulse raced. He
wasn’t
using his magic, or she would have felt his aura strengthen. She swallowed hard, trying to gain mastery of herself. She wasn’t going to fall for the charms of an incubus. “I knew that.”

“You’ve got that seductive look now.” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Shall we continue on?”

She tried to ignore the heat tingling through her body. She was here for the sybil—not to enjoy herself.

As they approached the booths at the back, a human woman in an emerald-green corset held a tray over her head. A single margarita stood on it.

Caine touched the woman’s arm, and she turned, flashing a stunning smile at him. Flame-red hair cascaded over her shoulders. “Hi, gorgeous.”

“Hello. I need this drink.” He plucked it from the tray.

“Oh.” The girl’s face crinkled in confusion. “It’s for Sambethe.”

“I’ll bring it to her. And while you’re at it, two Manhattans for us. Dry.”

Looking him over, she licked her lips. “I’ll be right there.”

Caine threaded his fingers through Rosalind’s, and wove his way to a darkened corner of the club.

In a booth, lit from above by glowing golden orbs, sat a white-haired woman in a stunning, coppery gown. Her frosty hair contrasted starkly with a smooth, creamy complexion. The woman’s milky eyes landed on the margarita in Caine’s hands, and she jabbed a finger at it. “Is that for me?”

“I brought it specially for you. My name is Caine.” He took a seat across from her in the booth, and Rosalind followed, squeezing in next to him so she could anchor herself to his aura.

Sambethe snatched the drink from the table, extending a long, pointed tongue to lick the salt off the rim.

Caine leaned in close, peering at Sambethe from below his lashes. “Is it true that you are very discreet with your oracles?”

“Don’t try to flirt with me, boy. I’m far too old for that.” She lifted her drink. “You keep these coming, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

Smiling obsequiously, the red-haired waitress rushed over to the table, her tray laden with two Manhattans.

Caine leaned back in his seat, eyeing the redhead. “How did you get those so fast?”

She glanced away, blushing. “I took them off another waitress’s tray. I thought you were more important.”

“Well done,” Caine said, snatching them from her tray. “Now, we’ll need five margaritas.”

Sambethe chuckled. “Now we’re talking.”

The waitress hurried away, and Rosalind turned back to the sybil. Was she still supposed to pretend to be mute? This was getting old.

Sambethe drained her cocktail. “We’ll need a private space.”

Caine closed his eyes, whispering an incantation. As his aura swirled through Rosalind’s body, a black curtain closed around the booth’s opening.