Monster (A Cassidy Edwards Novel - Book 1) Read online

  Monster

  A Cassidy Edwards Novel

  by

  Carmen Caine

  Published by

  Bento Box Books

  Edited by

  Louisa Stephens

  Cover Art by

  Lind

  Copyright © 2014 Carmen Caine

  Ebook Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and didn’t purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to MyBentoBoxBooks.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  To Kian

  Keep flying no matter how much I whine about missing you.

  Soar to the moon and beyond.

  I have loved, currently love, and will love you for all of eternity and beyond.

  Head-to-head and nose-to-nose forever.

  Now – send me more story ideas if you don’t want to be disowned.

  Monster

  A Cassidy Edwards Novel: Book One

  Table of Contents

  Revenge

  Who Am I?

  Game … Begin

  The Meeting

  One of the Damned

  A Contract with a Handsome Devil

  A New Job?

  Leaving Philly

  The Rehab Imp

  A Personal Vendetta

  A Highly Untrained Spell-finder

  The Dangers of Turmeric

  Too Late to the Party

  The Truth About Night Terrors

  The Devil’s Lips

  I Just Might Keep Ricky, After All

  The Terzi Hex Net

  What Am I?

  The Client

  The Silver Swing and the Dog-Eared Book

  Imps 101

  A Kilted Vampire

  Spilling the Beans … and Then Some

  An Act of War

  An Unexpected Visitor

  A Soap Opera of the Worst Kind

  The Nether Reaches

  Helped by a … Portrait

  It Matters

  The Marionette

  Lucian or Lucifer?

  Home

  Revenge

  Revenge.

  It’s all I’d lived for.

  Revenge against those who’d turned my mother into a vampire, causing her to give birth to me—the first of my kind. All I wanted was justice. I wanted to change the rules. I wanted to change their destiny. I wanted to make them suffer the same pain, hunger, and isolation they had forced upon me.

  I didn’t know, then, that I was the one who would change.

  And certainly, no one knew the threat I would become.

  Who Am I?

  My name is Cassidy. Cassidy Edwards.

  I’m angry, and I want revenge. It’s all I live for now.

  The cards were stacked against me from the start, but I’m going to change the deck.

  I’m going to get even.

  * * *

  My birth was a bloody event. Vampires are made, not born … except in my case. I wasn’t supposed to live. When a pregnant woman is converted into one of the Chosen—as they call themselves—the fetus dies.

  Becoming a Vampire isn’t pretty business. The human body remains empty for a few days when—if the conversion is successful—the new Vampire is born. It’s a painful and dangerous process. Most Vampires fail at the retaking of the body. Only a few succeed. But when they do, they become one of the Chosen. And for most, the enhanced abilities make it worth the risk.

  My mother—Abbey as she was called in the human world—was already pregnant with me when she began a torrid affair with an Italian businessman by the name of Emilio. It turns out he wasn’t really a businessman, though his name really was Emilio. Emilio was a Chosen One—a Vampire—and an ancient and dark-minded one at that. When my mother attempted to end the fling, he became angry. He was a Marchesi, a founding member of one of the most powerful Vampire clans to roam the Earth—apparently, there were a handful of those, and as such, he wasn’t used to rejection.

  Emilio wasn’t the kind to forget, lick his wounds, and move on. He had my mother converted, exactly how and by whom I’ve yet to discover—hence my thirst for revenge. Because not only did Emilio succeed in having my mother converted … I was converted as well.

  My mother—now named Blair—almost didn’t make it. It took her four days to re-inhabit her human body, and when she did, I was miraculously born.

  I became the first known Vampire infant … but with a twist.

  Game … Begin

  I know what the majority of men saw. They saw an attractive young woman with auburn hair, green eyes, and a small, full-lipped mouth—pouting lips, I’ve been told. They were focused more on my curve-hugging catsuit than what I was doing.

  Which is exactly what I counted on.

  The causal trip of the feet, the fleeting touch of my palm over their heart … these were not the seductive gestures they took them for.

  Most men are absurdly simple. I would say all at this point, but I have to statistically allow for the fact that there could be a few outliers out there who think with their brains first.

  But I haven’t stumbled across them yet.

  When dressed in tight black leather, I can count on the gawking, the overfriendly smiles, and the I’m-pretending-you-don’t-exist-because-my-wife’s-here-but-man-you’re-really-hot-and-I’d-love-to-oogle-you types. They’re all the same. At that moment, thoughts of me occupy an extraordinary amount of their brain cells. And they don’t pay attention to what I’m really after.

  Which is—of course—their life-energy, their mana.

  I wasn’t given a choice of how to survive. There are no niche markets that cater to human-vampire hybrids. In fact, I’m the only one that I know of who relies solely upon distilled mana to sustain my existence.

  What is mana, you ask? Vampire’s suck blood for it. But, they have the fangs to puncture their victims and take what they need—the blood mixed with the life force that keeps the human heart beating. They can’t consume pure mana. It’s toxic to them. It would be kind of like a human trying to live off pure oxygen—only much worse.

  My retractable fangs are only for show. They don’t actually work. They’re kind of like the human appendix, just leftovers of a past evolution. But no one knows that about me—except my mother.

  Blair isn’t exactly what you call the motherly type. She’s tall and striking, seduction itself, with a head of dark lustrous curls and the full lips that I inherited. She cares more about her complicated love-life than anything else. But she has enough motherly loyalty to keep my secret. She raised me alone. In fact, I didn’t even know until I met him that there were other supernatural beings roaming Earth—the Charmed, they’re called—besides my mother and myself … and of course, Emilio.

  Blair didn’t know how to feed me at first. I didn’t thrive on formula. I vomited the blood. I cried inconsolably. It was only when I accidentally brushed my tiny palm over her heart that she felt it: The draining of the mana, the life’s energy that sustains all creatures, magical and human alike.

  Mana is life.

  I didn’t understand at first why she feared me. I know now it’s because I can drain the life from even those without beating hearts—the vampires themselves, and all with just the touch of a hand. But I didn’t know this until much later—when he told me—that I had this talent, this power.

  As I grew, I shared the victims that my mother hypnotized and br
ought home. I learned to feed a little at a time, enough to not actually kill them. But I made mistakes. I never meant to be a killer. Those I touched for too long didn’t convert to anything. I didn’t understand that my mother had actually expected them to rise as vampires, or at least attempt it. She shared very little information with me, perhaps because she knew so little herself during those years. She was nothing like the vampire she’s become now. I just dimly recall her watching the dead bodies for days, pacing and muttering that there wasn’t even an attempted waking.

  She monitored me closer after the first few, pulling me away until I learned to forget eating my fill and to just nibble instead. But nibbling left me with the constant nagging sense of always wanting more. I never had enough.

  My existence became a curse.

  I grew and our differences became more glaring.

  I could walk in the broad light of day, but my mother couldn’t. She was a creature of the night.

  She could move faster than sight. She was stronger than any human. And she didn’t bleed.

  I did.

  And while I moved faster, possessed strength greater than an ordinary human, I hadn’t attained her skill.

  Our relationship was always a strained one. Whenever I asked about my father or if I had siblings, she would grow angry, slap me across the face, and disappear into the night.

  Except that last night when I’d just turned eighteen. That night, my mother inadvertently told me the truth, or some of it, anyway. I learned about Emilio and the circumstances of my birth. I learned that I did have a father, one who thought I—along with my mother—were dead. And I understood why she’d never told me before. I was old enough to know now that I had to stay dead.

  It was only then that I understood my curse.

  I was alone. Truly alone.

  I wasn’t a Chosen One. And I wasn’t a human.

  I was one of the Damned.

  When I left my mother’s house the next day, there was only one thing on my mind.

  Revenge. Revenge on Emilio for cursing me to always be hungry and to walk alone.

  And even though I’d never seen him—this vampire who’d turned my mother out of petty spite, or for whatever reason—I now had his name. That was enough for me. I was going to spend the rest of my existence tracking him down, or die in the trying of it.

  The Meeting

  I’d just turned twenty-four, and I’d been on my own for almost six years when I met him at Mills Mall.

  I was in Philadelphia at the time, and I frequented such crowded places for food. Men were easier victims than women. It’s more socially acceptable to accidentally brush against a man’s chest than a woman’s. And men usually weren’t even aware of what I’d done. They were too busy smiling down at me in that ludicrous manner that I’d grown to detest. It was only after I’d gone that they felt a little drained or dizzy.

  But that day, I smelled him first.

  Cripes, he was delicious.

  I’d just turned away from the ATM with a scowl on my face, annoyed that I’d have to get another job—and soon—when I caught his scent. For humans, I guess it was not unlike walking into a bakery to be greeted by the smell of fresh bread and cookies after you’ve been crash-dieting on cabbage soup for a year straight.

  With my mouth watering, I scanned the sea of faces swimming around me in all directions.

  And then I saw him.

  Towering above the others, he was walking my way, apparently headed for the nearby jewelry store with his arm draped around a woman’s shoulders. I don’t even remember what she looked like. I caught only the fleeting impression of a bright red dress, silver pumps, and a white fur stole, because my eyes were riveted upon him.

  Stunning. Clear, spectacularly sharp, and very pale blue eyes. Dark, almost black hair that fell past his shoulders. Lean and muscular. Fashionably dressed. In a word: yummy. And in more ways than one. I could almost taste his life-energy upon my lips.

  I didn’t have a choice, really.

  He was too overpowering to resist.

  The mall was overly crowded. It was some holiday sale. Labor Day, I think. The humans enjoyed the sales for the bargains. I enjoyed the sales for the easy access to prey. My favorite holiday was Black Friday; the pickings were plenty then. I would gorge myself, enjoying the rare sensation of a sated appetite. But those special days were few and far between.

  Mr. Delicious was almost abreast when I stepped out to accidentally bump right into him.

  “Oh, excuse me,” I said with a practiced laugh. My voice was a bit husky by nature, and I used it to my advantage. It perpetually sounded like I’d just recovered from a sore throat, but I found most human males found it appealing.

  I reached out to trail my fingers across his chest and cup my palm over his heart. I was eager to tap into his mana and indulge in the sweetness overwhelming my nostrils.

  But I didn’t experience the mouthwatering taste that I longed for. Instead, it felt like I’d just placed my hand directly onto a smoldering, white-hot grill.

  With an involuntary gasp, I jerked back, stunned.

  One of his brows lifted in surprise and his exquisite eyes zeroed in on mine.

  Part of me felt time stop as I gaped up at him. An eternity passed even as the other part of me knew it could only have been a second before I attempted to dive back into the crowd surging around us.

  But I didn’t succeed.

  With the corner of his lip curling upwards, his strong hand lashed out to clamp down over my wrist.

  I’m strong—much stronger than a human. It’s a vampire trait that I had inherited, along with the ability to run like the wind.

  I twisted my hand, but I couldn’t break free.

  Alarmed, I glanced back up at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring straight ahead with his lips still curved into a half-smile.

  “Your name?” he asked in a calm, deep voice, with just the hint of a British accent.

  I lifted my own brow. Did he really think I’d just volunteer my name?

  With his eyes still locked in front of him, he bent towards me. Close. I could see the veins on his neck pulsing. The smell was enough to send shivers down my spine, along with sizzling spasms of heat. It was almost as if he were teasing me, tantalizing me with what I couldn’t have. He was so close. I could feel my hot breath bouncing off his neck back into my own face, carrying with it his intoxicating aroma. My fingers twitched, wanting to touch his chest once again, just for a little nip.

  The woman at his side unexpectedly came to my rescue.

  “Luuucian!” she whined. “Are we going to the jewelry store or not?”

  Lucian? It was an odd name. It sounded archaic. Shaking my head to clear his scent out of my fogged-up brain, I asked in amusement, “Lucian is your name, then?”

  His eyes pierced mine.

  I found his scent suddenly overwhelming. Shrugging him off, I broke free of his grasp and disappeared into the swarm of humans.

  Lucian.

  He’d wanted my name. Now, I had his. There was a satisfying sense of justice to that.

  But he and his white-hot mana were particularly hard to forget. He stayed in my mind as I fell into step behind a group of hyper teenagers. They were clearly up to trouble. Dipping into their mana would actually be a community service. Although, after smelling Lucian, it was like giving up Zagat’s top-rated twelve course meal for cheap convenience-store donuts—the kind that come squished in thin plastic wrappers.

  It didn’t take long. I guess I must have been a bit distracted and helped myself to more than my usual, because after I’d finished, they all looked green-faced and complained about a sudden onset of food poisoning.

  My hunger brought under control, I revisited the ATM to eye my pitiful balance once again. I only had twenty dollars left in my account. I was going to have to get another job or move again before my landlord could complete the eviction process. Even though I didn’t buy food, I still had to pay for a plac
e to lay my head and take a shower.

  For the briefest of moments, something on the ground caught the corner of my eye. A lizard? I wasn’t certain. It slipped around the side and disappeared behind the ATM before I could be sure.

  Frowning, I quickly made my way to one of the tables in the food court. Maybe I was suffering some kind of ill effects from the teenagers’ mana. Maybe they’d been a bit more contaminated than I’d thought. I’d learned to avoid drunks and druggies a long time ago—it was the equivalent of eating junk food, or worse.

  Sliding down, I closed my eyes for a quick internal check. Everything seemed normal, so I expelled a breath to relax and think of other things.

  Like Lucian.

  What was he? Had it been my imagination?

  I knew that was impossible.

  But what did that mean?

  He wasn’t like Blair. Her mana was like a chameleon, reflecting the energy of her latest victim, but also holding a unique emptiness that I now know was the essence of death. Without a beating heart, vampires were incapable of generating their own mana.

  No, Lucian’s mana was his own. And even though I’d touched him for only a millisecond, I’d felt his heartbeat.

  And vampires moved about only at night.

  I glanced up at the skylights above me, which revealed the clear blue skies of Philadelphia.

  So, just what was Lucian? What had I experienced there?

  Excitedly, I sat bolt upright.

  Was he like me? One of the Damned? Could it be that I wasn’t alone after all?

  “Cassidy Edwards,” a deep voice purred in my ear, a voice with the hint of a British accent.

  Startled, I glanced up to see Lucian hovering over me. Placing a large shopping bag on the floor between us, he moved to sit down in the chair directly across from mine.