shadow mage by C.N. Crawford
INTRODUCTION
T his is a companion short story written to be read after book one. It’s a prequel, but it contains spoilers!
And if you have read book one, you will find in here the beginning of the story from Caine’s point of view.
Enjoy!
—C.N. Crawford
CHAPTER 1
C aine parked his motorcycle by the edge of the nature reserve. The morning sun hadn’t yet risen, and clouds hid the moon. It didn’t matter to him. As a creature of the night, he felt at home in the dark.
He slipped between the trees, keeping his eye on the darkened valley below. Oaks and elms loomed high above him, and a vernal breeze rustled the leaves, whispering over his skin.
There were many things he’d rather be doing than prowling a park just before dawn. Namely, he wouldn’t mind pulling Valerie into his silky bed again in Ninlil Castle. The nubile blonde vampire had been visiting his room every few nights, smelling of jasmine and dressed in increasingly revealing lingerie.
But as the leader of Ambrose’s army, Caine didn’t always get to do what he wanted. For the past few days, he’d been staking out the demon-hunters’ headquarters. Tonight, just past three a.m., he’d spotted something unusual: a large, white van pulling away from the gates. Caine had followed the windowless vehicle all the way to Belmont in the suburbs. If a pack of Hunters lurked in its rear, as he hoped, he could gain valuable intelligence about their weaponry.
From between a pair of oaks, he watched as the van rolled over the open field of grass. At one point, he would have ignored the Brotherhood’s Hunters, but he couldn’t dismiss them so easily anymore. They’d grown stronger, more precise. Aided by modern technology, they were no longer the bumbling witchfinders of the seventeenth century. In the past few months, they’d managed to capture fifteen vampire soldiers—Caine’s soldiers.
Moreover, they had Malphus.
Whatever Caine learned tonight could help him save his brother’s life. And when he’d gathered all the information he needed, he could relish the dark thrill of slaughtering the Hunters.
The rising sun pushed higher over the eastern horizon, tinging the periwinkle sky with pale ginger; the first blush of morning illuminated the golden dandelions that stippled the grasses.
Sunlight—such a rare sight for one of Nyxobas’s creatures. These days, there weren’t many in Ambrose’s kingdom who could walk in the light as Caine could. Most in Lilinor were vampires, and they had the unfortunate tendency to burst into flame whenever the sun rose.
There was a time when he might have found this morning scene beautiful—long ago, before the darkness had taken hold in the hollows of his mind. But now, it failed to seduce him.
Sometimes he thought the frenzy of battle was the only time he truly felt alive. Even Valerie’s visits to his bedroom couldn’t get his heart racing the way it had in the last assault against Emerazel’s hellhounds.
He leaned against an oak, crossing his arms. When had he last seen Valerie, anyway? It must have been a week ago, at least. Just after he’d returned from the last battle, soaked in hellhound blood, his body electrified by the fight.
Chinks of amber light flecked the ground by his feet, dancing among the rustling oak leaves. The sight stirred sensations from the deepest recess of his memory: sunlight bathing sea grasses, the smell of briny air, the dappled light of the hawthorn groves...
His chest tightened. He knew better than to give in to nostalgia, to delve into human memories. Among those beautiful glimpses lurked all the things he wanted to forget. In any case, he wasn’t truly human. He was a demon of the night—an instrument of death—as the Hunters would soon learn.
He clenched his jaw, staring at the van. Why aren’t they getting out? He had to hold himself back from running into the field, tearing the doors off the van, and slaughtering them all. The thrill of battle called to him, and he grew impatient.
The sun climbed higher, staining the field in honeyed light, and he squinted in its glare. At last, the van’s door groaned open and the driver stepped out. Caine’s fingers twitched, ready to snatch one of the swords slung across his back.
The Hunter sported a neatly-trimmed black beard. As the man stalked to the back of the van, another Hunter—this one blond—stepped into the light.