Mindbreaker (A Cassidy Edwards Novel Book 3) Read online

  I could feel his heart beating under my breasts. It was solid. Comforting. Part of me just wanted to stay there, but the bigger part of me wanted answers. “I’d think protecting me from nanos would’ve fallen into that category,” I retorted tartly.

  Lucian had the audacity to grin. “A couple of nanos is nothing to you long-term, you’re almost as good as new already. And you did betray me, did you not? Think of it as karma.”

  “No,” I objected, but his light-hearted humor regarding my betrayal really stuck out like a sore thumb. “You’ve changed. From the moment you touched that ring in Anya’s basement, you’ve changed.”

  The way his irises widened, I knew I was right. He drew me away from the desk, to the Picasso I usually pretended to expect and slipped his arms around my waist.

  “What really happened there?” I prodded, searching his face for answers.

  He gave me a different answer instead. Pointing to the vials resting between the watchers, he said, “I had Strix replace the mana from the cemetery with what he extracted from Samuel in the fringe. The whole point of the sampling exercise.” Leaning close, he gave me a conspiratorial wink. “There’s nothing to fear. The signatures will match that foul fool of a warlock. He’s as bad as the come. I feel no pity for him.”

  “Are you drunk?” I asked hoarsely. When he only smiled, I followed it up with, “Strix? So, he’s in on this sleight-of-hand switch, too?” I couldn’t believe that one. I didn’t even wait for an answer. I just kept going. “Nope, it just doesn’t make sense. Why are you so forgiving? It’s quite unlike you.”

  A complicated mix of emotions crossed his face. I recognized a few. Sadness. Shame. Maybe embarrassment. All very non-Lucian like emotions.

  Moving his gaze to the Picasso, he murmured, “Remorse, Cassidy. I’ve years to atone for. And for many things.”

  Somehow, I just couldn’t buy it. I snorted. “More likely, Samuel’s on your hit list a little closer to the top than me right now,” I judged. “He must’ve done some horrendously bad things.”

  He laughed a little. “To be sure, Samuel’s no innocent. A black-hearted man, to be sure. A stint in prison or worse would serve him well—”

  I don’t know what else he might have said.

  The door flew open then and Emilio flashed inside at full vampire speed, dragging Samuel after him.

  “Please,” Samuel whispered, broken.

  “No mercy,” Emilio hissed. “Nessuna pietà. None. No mercy to those who betray me.”

  “I shall take the vials to Strix for the necessary signature testing—” Lucian began, springing into action.

  Emilio interrupted him with a harsh, “No. Non è necessario. The proof? Irrefutable already.”

  “Oh?” Lucian arched a cool brow. “Pray tell?”

  But the vampire was no longer listening. Grabbing a handful of Samuel’s hair, he wrenched the man’s face back. “Tell me. What have you done with my book? Tell me! At once! Velocemente!”

  The sketchbook? I blinked, surprised at the twist.

  “I never took it!” Samuel swore, cowering at Emilio’s feet. “I swear—”

  Emilio lost his temper then. “Non ho pazienza per questo!” he shouted, his face turning a dark purple. Baring his fangs, he went for Samuel then. Yanking the warlock to his feet like a ragdoll, he carried him to the wall next to me, and pinning him there, sank his teeth deep into the man’s throat, shredding the flesh.

  I gagged and ran.

  I didn’t stop.

  Not until I’d closed the door of my apartment and slid down it onto the floor. I sat there, unable to shake the images of Emilio’s fangs dripping in blood.

  My stomach roiled.

  He was a madman. The Mindbreaker … my father.

  And the Fallen Ones? I couldn’t even start that one right now.

  What the hell kind of a mess had I gotten myself into? Here, I’d thought I’d scored one on revenge with letting Dorian free. It had set me on this strange path of events that … now? Now? Now, it was more about survival than anything else, even revenge.

  I swallowed and took several long, calming breaths.

  Survival.

  Well, I’d been doing that my entire life. In order to make it, I knew I couldn’t focus solely on the end goal. I’d just feel overwhelmed, helpless, and give up.

  Instead, I concentrated only on the next step or two in front of me.

  Right. The sketchbook was of immediate importance.

  One, I couldn’t let Emilio discover that I’d taken it, not Samuel.

  Two … well, evidently, that sketchbook held a key. An important key. A key that really might just save my life.

  Right. Time to see just what that sketchbook might hold and then see it safely hidden, far from Emilio’s prying eyes.

  Rising to my feet, I took the stairs two at a time.

  At the top, I smelled him the exact same moment he tossed me over the railing, sending me crashing headlong onto my living room floor, the impact knocking the air from my lungs.

  Jacques. The beautiful, scar-faced vampire.

  All is Not What It Seems

  What the—?

  Gasping and choking a little, I rolled to my side as he dropped from above and then, springing to my feet, I lunged at him.

  From the corner of my eye, I caught a brief glimpse of Ricky fist-pumping the air, cheering me on from the kitchen countertop. It distracted me enough that I didn’t see the kick coming, followed by a maneuver that swept my legs out from under me.

  Again, I crashed hard to the floor, this time striking my head and jarring my teeth. Crud. Pain split my skull. I fell into survival mode, and whirling in a lightning move, got a good kick of my own in, along with a solid left-handed punch, driving the vampire’s jaw up and back.

  I caught a brief glimpse of Jacques’ face then. He was smiling. Chuckling, he raised a fist and punching me back, knocked me against the wall, zipping over to pin me there with his lean, strong body. “Do you want some advice before I break your neck, ma chérie?” he hissed, his fingers clamped against my throat.

  Fine. Time for a new tactic. I clenched my teeth, willing my flight response to calm down. It was hard. It’s against nature to relax when you’re under attack, but I ceased struggling and forced my muscles to relax in his iron grip. “Honestly, dude, why would I listen to you?” I asked in my snarkiest of tones, the salty taste of blood on my lips.

  I got a really good look at him then. He was only about five inches away. Jet-black hair falling over his face, a cleft in his chin. He really was beautiful, although it wasn’t usually a word I used to describe the male figure. But with Jacques, it simply fit. Up close, I could see the scar on his face followed the contour of his jaw. It was deep and must have hurt. I wondered why it hadn’t healed.

  Jacques smiled, revealing a dimple in his lean cheeks.

  The moment I felt his muscles relax, I drove my elbow into his gut and twisting, knocked him off balance with a jab to the shin and a well-timed throw. As he fell back, I pressed my advantage, unsheathing a knife and shoving him down the rest of the way. The instant he fell to the floor, I had one booted foot pressed against his chest and a silver blade against his throat. I didn’t hesitate in driving the silver tip into his flesh.

  “Bravo,” Jacques voice rang in my head. “But you can be much better. Much better.”

  Huh? So Jacques could just chat willy-nilly into my head anytime he felt like it, too? Cripes. Just how many vampires had access to my brain?

  “Who are you?” I hissed, driving the dagger tip a little deeper into his neck.

  He didn’t seem to care. The corner of his lip quirked as his amused tone queried in my mind. “And what is this? You can’t recognize me? Say it isn’t so!”

  I took a whiff of his mana. Yeah, the Terzi clan affiliation, I knew that already, but I couldn’t tell anything else much, other than he was strong. Vibrant. Nothing I couldn’t already see with my eyes.

  I jabbed the kn
ife even deeper, allowing it to burn his flesh with a little crackling, spitting type of sizzle. “I don’t care who you—”

  I never finished the sentence.

  The next moment, the tables turned. I was flipped onto my back, spine pressed flat against the floor and every blade hidden in my boots unsheathed and embedded in the wall in a nice, tidy line.

  So, he’d been playing with me.

  “There are many reasons you should listen to me, Cassidy,” Jacques said aloud, exposing his fangs. “But shall we start with the first? I am the head of the Terzi clan. A clan that created you, and as the head of your clan, there are things you cannot deny me.”

  I blinked, startled, and simply stared at him in surprise. And confusion, of course. Obviously, that statement held some kind of significance, but I didn’t know how it translated into the real world. “Nifty,” I finally said, not wanting to reveal the deep level of my ignorance.

  Slowly, he let me go and rose gracefully to his feet. “You’re quick on your feet,” he said. “Very much so, for a … whatever it is you are, chérie.”

  Following his example, I cautiously rose and began brushing the dust bunnies from my clothes. “Thanks,” I muttered.

  “It’s time you trained,” Jacques continued, this time reactivating the clan mind-meld link to chime in my head. "You're going to need real skill now for what lies ahead.”

  I paused mid dust bunny slaying. Why did everyone want to train me now? And what, exactly, lay ahead?

  Jacques’ cheek creased into a smile. “I’m tempted to train you myself,” he murmured.

  An official Terzi clan invitation? I jerked my head back. “Not interested,” I said with a certain kind of finality.

  He didn’t press further. “Come, Dorian awaits you,” he said, pointing to the ceiling before sending a scathing glance to where Ricky snored on the kitchen countertop. “And leave that turmeric-addled imp here.”

  He didn’t give me a choice, really.

  Clamping his fingers over mine in a viselike grip, Jacques had me out of my apartment, up the fire-exit stairs and into the night air at the very top of the building before I could even summon an ounce of resistance. What was it with these vampires and high places? After being tossed off a building by Emilio, I wasn’t too keen on having more conversations with vampires so far off the ground.

  Dorian Ramsey waited for us on the building north corner. He stood with his foot planted against the building’s edge like he’d just claimed the apartment as his expedition prize. Maybe he had. After all, his being here was a gutsy move. I wondered if Emilio or Lucian knew their elusive prize pranced about just a few floors above their heads.

  The city spread out before our feet, a collection of glittering lights twinkling in the dark. Magic. That’s what it looked like, a mirage of excitement and wonder. Of course, at street-level it was always different. And in this case, the rooftop as well.

  “Yes, the lights,” Jacques laughed, following my thoughts with such ease I figured he’d accessed my mind somehow. “Beautiful, are they not?”

  Dorian chuckled, still keeping his back to us. “Aye, Jacques, the universe has a message for you there,” he said in some private joke.

  The beautiful vampire grinned in reply. “Then I shall go find it,” he replied with a low, courtly bow.

  He vanished the next moment with a spitting poof, leaving me alone with Dorian.

  “Cassidy, my bonny wee glaistig,” Dorian’s Scottish burr rumbled in my head then.

  There it was again. Glaistig. “What the heck is a glaistig?” I asked.

  “A spirit, lass. A specter,” he replied, removing his foot and turning to face me.

  It was dark, but the stars and moon combined with the city lights provided enough illumination to reveal Dorian’s updated look. He’d cropped his long, brown hair into a trendy undercut shaved on the sides. And he’d ditched the kilt in favor of a pair of stonewashed jeans, a white shirt, and a black, cowl-necked, Sherpa-lined hoodie that couldn’t hide his biceps of steel. All in all, very modern and stylish.

  “Nice threads,” I said.

  He knit his brows in a faint, puzzled frown.

  Yeah, it was easier to update clothing more than a sixteenth century vocabulary. “Your clothing,” I enlightened, nodding at his outfit.

  “Ah!” His deep, green eyes lit with understanding. “I find the attire quite fascinating at this point in history. ‘Tis quick to slip on.”

  I supposed the modern zipper was easier to fasten than twisting and pinning a kilt, but his phrasing caught my attention more. “Point in history? We’re not in the past yet.”

  “Time,” he said with a shrug. “As Jacques says, it means naught. Soon enough, this will be the distant past.”

  “Maybe to you,” I replied with a hefty dose of sarcasm. And then driving to the point, added, “So, what do you want? Pretty sure you didn’t have me dragged up here to discuss fashion and philosophy. It’s been a helluva night and I’m kinda busy, so if you don’t mind, can you make this one quick?”

  He circled me instead, eyeing me with wonder. “Is it true then? You canna speak to the clan as a Chosen One?”

  Interesting topic to pick first. I just went with it. “I don’t have a send button,” I said, shrugging.

  Again, confusion flashed across his face. “Send button?” he began. Apparently, someone who did have a send button explained in his head. A moment later, he murmured, “I see” as he subjected me to a long, curious look. “Aye, you’re a bonny mix of complications, lass.”

  I’d been called worse, I suppose. “Well, I’m not the only one who doesn’t chat on the party line,” I responded. I’d never heard my mother’s voice in my head—or for that matter, the majority of the Terzi clan.

  “Not true,” Dorian disagreed to my surprise. “’Tis the mind-sharing that makes us a clan, lass. Even those not yet official members, but born into the clan share the bond. ‘Tis only your voice that has been missing.”

  “Well, never heard my mom’s voice,” I said, not really buying it.

  “I have,” he said. “Quite often.”

  That hurt. So, Blair chatted with the other Terzi but never me? It matched, though. She didn’t really say much to me in real life, either. The news only served to darken my mood. “So, what do you want? I’m sure you didn’t drag me up here to discuss Blair,” I said.

  “Come with me, Cassidy,” he replied at once, extending his hand in my direction. “You belong with the Terzi. We’re on the same side.”

  Well, that made sense, after all. My mother was on the Marchesi side. Clearly, I should have known from the start that I belonged with the Terzi. I grimaced. I’d had a horrendous day. I didn’t want to top it off thinking about my supremely dysfunctional family.

  “So, that’s all? Well, I can answer you right now. No. I’m not making any dramatic changes right now. Not interested.” I rubbed the back of my sore neck. Heck, that fall off the steps had left a nasty bruise and my head had started to ring—but that could’ve been Jacques fault more than the Mindbreaker’s this time. “I’ve gotta get some sleep.”

  I spun on my heel, but I’d only taken a step before Dorian was there, blocking my path.

  He grinned down at me and then winked. “I should have known a saucy wee wench like yourself wouldna listen,” he said in mock chagrin.

  “Surprise, surprise,” I commiserated sarcastically.

  “I want my clan members back,” he said without preamble, his jade green eyes earnestly searching mine. “They’re your kindred, too, lass.”

  I wasn’t really surprised. He’d been whining about it for days. But did he really think that after what I’d just been through that I’d rush over to Lucian’s, find those dolls tucked away in that briefcase, and just hand them over willy-nilly?

  “No, not happening,” I said, closing it down. Stealing more marionettes out from under Lucian’s nose and freeing them was the last thing I was going to do.

  Dorian
’s brows bristled in a frown.

  “Hey now, aren’t you a wee bit ungrateful?” I retorted, throwing his Scots word back in his face. “I just barely escaped a modern lynching from freeing you, buddy. And might still haven’t, by the way. In either case, not about to stir that pot again. Be happy you’ve got your freedom.”

  He closed the small gap between us, practically stepping right into me with his barrel chest. Lowering his lips, he murmured in my ear, “I truly am grateful, my lady, and I’d be inclined to be even more grateful …” He paused, a long dramatic moment before adding, “If you hadn’t had a dastardly hand in my ensorcelling from the start.”

  I tensed. Oh? He was going to bring that up now? A sort of belated resentment? Well, I wasn’t going to be intimidated. “That’s what happens when you pin people to walls with spears, Dorian,” I retorted sweetly. “Kind of breaks the trust thing, and anyway, didn’t you toss the case of your buddies away in Venice? What’s the rush now? You had them in your hands before and didn’t seem all that keen on freeing them.” As I recalled, he’d said he didn’t need them anymore.

  He didn’t even seem to hear me this time. “I must free them," he repeated urgently. "I need them now. The time is come. It’s everything we’ve fought for. We must halt the Mindbreaker in his tracks, lass. Already, I fear ‘tis too late."

  I did a double take. Mindbreaker? “So, you’re talking about this … this…” I choked. I just couldn’t say his name. “So, this character, too, now?” But with Gloria as his sister, was it really astonishing? She’d had her hand in the mess for quite a few centuries. “Or is this a Gloria thing?”

  At her name, his massive shoulders went rigid.

  “Oh, so you think I don’t know about her dealings with … your enemy?” I prodded. Yeah, I knew a lot now, but not enough, and I’d learned long ago that bluffing’s a great way to dig out more info.

  “Lucian has been speaking, has he?” Dorian asked in turn, his brows forming a firm, scowling line.

  Lucian? Hadn’t seen that one coming.

  Running his hands over the shaved sides of his head, Dorian let out a long, harsh breath. “Ach, but you’re a wee stubborn lass. There are times you remind me of my Elizabeth,” he muttered, turning away.