Mindbreaker (A Cassidy Edwards Novel Book 3) Read online

  Well, he had help in seeing it, but I didn’t feel the need to mention just how, and anyway, “heard it” caught my attention. Just what had Lucian heard?

  “A careless watch invites the thief, Ramsey,” Lucian responded in a lethal, low rumble. As a fine mist of sweat graced his forehead, he tensed the arm of the hand buried in his pocket, his carved lips working as if in pain.

  “Treachery!” a new voice accused from the top of the stairs.

  Gloria, Dorian’s red-haired sister, streaked down the steps, arriving in a blur to stand beside him. With that frail, bony body and save-the-earth fashion sense—complete with hemp t-shirt and sandals—she always looked more like a skinny, freckled-faced hippy than an ancient, masterful vampire.

  She scowled at me.

  Make that a freckled-faced hippy with a sour disposition.

  “No, this is a trick. Lucian’s untrustworthy,” she hissed, her eyes burning with hatred. “He’s worse than a viper. Despicable!” Obviously, she wasn’t one to waste time on pleasantries.

  “True. I can’t deny it,” Lucian agreed, bowing with a flourish followed by a bleak laugh. “Nice chat, but I’ll be leaving now and taking this ring with me.”

  “No!” Dorian roared, cold menace swirling in his eyes.

  “Never!” Gloria gasped and then called, “Jacques, you must listen to me. Come! The time is now!”

  The referenced Jacques immediately appeared behind her, arriving in a puff of smoke followed by a pfft sound. Apparently, some vampires could break the sound barrier. To my surprise, I recognized him as the strikingly beautiful, scar-faced vampire I’d seen in the warehouse, the one who had challenged Lucian to fight. He stood there and crossed his arms while eyeing us from under exceptionally long lashes.

  The odds had already evened, even without more reinforcements from above. No doubt we’d end this encounter with an epic fight. There was no way they’d simply let us waltz out of there untouched. I gripped my blades harder.

  “Stand down, Jacques,” Dorian ordered the newcomer in a low voice. “’Tis … a matter of the most peculiar kind here.”

  “Je suis d’accord,” Jacques agreed, arching an elegant brow.

  “No!” Gloria objected in a tight voice. “We’ve waited too long to let this happen now! He’s a black rat. Evil.” Her eyes slid to me. “Just as evil as the abomination by his side.”

  I snorted, lifting my chin. “So I’m the abomination?” I couldn’t resist inserting. “If I recall correctly, you created me and then tried to murder me as an infant. Pretty abominable thing to do, I’d say.” Technically, she hadn’t created me all by herself. Lucian’s puppet-curse had done the rest. But she wasn’t innocent. She’d played her part.

  Gloria bared her fangs unapologetically.

  “You canna fight your own clan, ye wee fools,” Dorian’s voice rang in my head.

  “Try me,” I replied aloud, brandishing my blade.

  He didn’t take me seriously. In spite of the current crises, he merely cocked a humorous brow my direction. Was he that sure of winning?

  “She’ll never be kin,” Gloria’s mental reply followed Dorian’s in my mind. “She’s dangerous.”

  Great. Now I had both vampires chatting in my head.

  “I forbid it,” Dorian ordered. “Peace. I command peace between the both of you!”

  Gloria lunged for me instead.

  So much for diplomacy.

  Having had enough of her spitefulness, I was more than ready. I leapt to meet her, but she was quick, of course, being an ancient, trained vampire and all. She knocked the blades out of my hand, but something jolted into life inside me then—my specter strength? Harnessing the raw, rising power, I jammed my thumbs into the hollow of her throat and pressed with everything I had. As she reeled, I drew my knee up sharply into her gut, knocking her against the wall. She slid, her hands flailing, trying to grasp the cold slippery cement for support.

  “Halt!” Dorian’s command resounded through my mind.

  I didn’t have to listen to him. I wasn’t really part of his clan, or his to command. And I had the advantage. I pressed forward, grabbing a handful of her hair.

  Behind me, I heard Heath’s vicious snarl and caught a glimpse of white teeth flashing past me as he and his companions tore for the stairs.

  With one swift motion, I unsheathed the silver-tipped backup blade from my boot and held it over Gloria, now collapsed before me. I don’t know if I would have sunk my blade hilt-deep into her cold heart or not. Part of me thinks I would have. After all, she’d tried to murder me countless times.

  I didn’t have to make the choice, though.

  “Stop,” Lucian’s soft, cool voice slithered through the air, penetrating the surrounding bedlam.

  This time, I didn’t have the option of ignoring it.

  The Never-Ending Contract

  So, the wily warlock had another trick up his sleeve. He could spell me whenever he pleased. He didn’t have to dangle his long, elegant fingers over my third eye or use a mana amulet to perform the task. He hadn’t budged an inch from his position before the swing, which was a good ten feet away, and yet, at his mere word of ‘stop’, I watched my hand drop.

  Mechanically replacing the blade in my boot, I marched over to join him like a wooden marionette. Oh, the irony wasn’t lost on me. I eyed the black, puppet string tied around my wrist bitterly. I’d thought it a symbol. Obviously, I was more of his puppet than I realized.

  “There will be no more fighting,” Lucian announced, his voice still deceptively soft.

  My eyes took in the scene before me. Strange. Stop? Why? We’d clearly won.

  Strix, with his scarf-covered face, stood in front of Jacques, a symbol burning in the air between them that seemingly rendered the vampire incapacitated. Dorian had fallen back to the third step on the stairs, fending off a concerted attack by Heath and his companions. And we’d done it all without Lucian’s help. He’d just stood there, behind Tabitha’s shield, the both of them watching. Why hadn’t he attacked? It was close to the true witching hour, the time when his powers dramatically increased. His mortal enemy was on the run. Why hadn’t he simply recaptured him?

  But I was spelled. I couldn’t move my lips to give any of my questions a voice.

  Nodding at the werewolves and Strix, Lucian ordered, “Withdraw.”

  Reluctantly, the werewolves snapped their massive jaws shut and fell back as Strix’s symbol died in a fizzle of sparks.

  “Why not attack?” Heath asked, clearly as puzzled as myself. He padded over to join Lucian, the fur on his spine still standing straight. Flicking his ears back, he locked his deep-set eyes on the warlock. “They’re on the run, dude. Time to press the advantage?”

  Lucian’s eyes seemed haunted, caught in the turbulence of dark emotions, but his voice remained strong. “No, we leave,” he repeated, undeterred. Leaning over and rapping his knuckles against the swing’s silver surface, he added, “And I’m taking …what is rightfully mine, as Lord Lucian Rowle, Warlock and Cursemaster of the Highest Order.”

  That was enough to make Dorian bare his fangs. “If you’re giving it to Emilio, then ‘tis not rightfully yours, lad,” he retorted in a low growl, moving down the stairs to stand on the bottom step.

  The two eyed each other with long, inscrutable stares before Lucian’s lip twisted in a smirk. “I’m not one to earn an honest living, Ramsey,” he divulged. “I specialize in black magic, as dark and irreversible as my soul. I’ve nothing to offer you except a bruising encounter with reality.”

  Dorian’s eyes narrowed. Lifting a slow brow, he answered, almost speculatively, “The ring belongs to the worthiest of thanes.” Yep. At times, the fact the vampire hailed from medieval times became glaringly obvious. “Honor. Loyalty. Justice—”

  Was it my imagination or had Lucian’s face turned a shade whiter at those words?

  “Save your breath,” the dark-haired warlock cut him short. “This has proven the most … tryin
g of nights. Frankly, I’m not in the mood. I’m done.”

  Dorian folded his arms, remaining there on the bottom step, still blocking our exit and gauging Lucian with a wary eye. The mighty Scottish highlander stood there for what seemed an eternity before slowly stepping back as the words “lay down your arms” rang through my mind.

  A chorus of shocked responses rose to greet this order, but Dorian didn’t have to say it twice.

  The scent of the Terzi mana upstairs disappeared with a rush as Gloria, still leaning against the wall, let out a long, defeated sigh like a punctured tire.

  “Take the ring to my apartment,” Lucian ordered the Nether Reach keeper.

  No one moved as Strix stalked up to the ring. Swooping his finger in a trail of burning, complex characters, he murmured a word and with a flash, disappeared from the basement, taking the silver ring with him. I winced a little, recalling my last trip through the keeper gates. It had nearly sucked the flesh off my bones.

  “Then, if you’ll excuse me?” Lucian murmured, striding towards Dorian.

  As he drew abreast the vampire, he paused.

  Again, the two locked gazes.

  “No, you can’t, Dorian!” Gloria gasped in objection again. “You can’t just let him walk out of here!”

  Surprisingly, he did.

  They all did. They just watched as we filed up the stairs.

  Heath morphed back into his blond-haired, surfer-dude shape in the living room, wearing his typical Hawaiian shirt and shell necklace. “I’ll stay here to make sure they don’t follow,” he offered helpfully.

  “No,” Lucian disagreed curtly. “They won’t.”

  A bit of color had returned to his skin, but he still looked ill, standing there with his hand jammed into his pocket.

  Heath didn’t miss a detail. “You just recovered, man,” he began. “Maybe we should head to the Night—”

  “I’m fine. Meet me at Emilio’s and at once,” Lucian interrupted cryptically, pushing past him out of the townhouse.

  He headed for the waiting SUV idling at the curb. Tabitha walked behind him. I watched my own feet fall into step, fuming internally all the while. He was in for a world of hurt the moment my spell broke.

  As he slid into the passenger seat, I took my place in the back, next to Tabitha, and the purple-lipped driver took off, taking the neighborhood street curves at a ridiculous speed. I wondered if the Terzi were after us.

  “We should take you to the Night Terrors,” Tabitha said suddenly.

  I glanced over to see her staring at Lucian’s hand. He’d removed it from his pocket, revealing a horrific burn still smoking on his flesh. The welts cut across his tendons in a strange series of marks that appeared to be growing, moving up his arm.

  “No,” he whispered in pain. “This is … not something they can help with. It will be over. Soon.”

  “What is it?” she asked. “Is it—”

  “No,” he repeated louder. Flexing his fingers, he cursed under his breath and tucked his hand back into his pocket. Moving sideways to face me, he said almost tiredly, “Speak what’s on your mind, Cassidy.”

  I took a deep breath as the curse lifted. “You can’t just control me whenever you feel like it, Lucian,” I spat with my share of venom. “I’m not a real puppet, you know. I’m done with you.”

  He dragged his uninjured hand through his dark hair. “Then you’re in for a rude awakening, sweetheart. You should have read the fine print in your contract.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So, there’s more to that self-writing contract?” It didn’t matter. I was through with it.

  “Much more,” he whispered, his long lashes sweeping down over his eyes. “Much, much more. But most importantly, I promised to protect you.”

  I snorted. “I don’t care how much you twist things. Protecting doesn’t include spelling me and controlling my body.”

  He gave a humph of a laugh. “Do you know the odd thing about white magic?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “It only amplifies. That means it only works if the person wants to listen.”

  It seemed kind of a deranged response. I exchanged a glance with Tabitha, and for the first time, I saw a real gleam of concern in her usually expressionless eyes.

  Turning back to Lucian, I prodded, “And what has that to do with you? You’re as black as they come.”

  “Precisely,” he replied, taking his hand out to stare at it again. “As black as they come.”

  Tabitha leaned forward on the leather seat. “We should take you to the Night Terrors,” she said again, her lips drawn into a firm line.

  “No, this is my own … battle,” he murmured, studying the marks on his hand before suddenly turning his piercing gaze upon me. “We speak with Emilio, and then we must find who betrayed me by setting Dorian Ramsey free. I will extract every shred of information from them using the most painful of methods if I have to, and believe me, Cassidy, I will find out exactly why they did what they did.”

  “Well, you should know, huh?” I couldn’t resist pointing out. “I mean, you just let him go yourself.”

  His chin jerked as if I’d struck him across the face.

  I dropped the subject. Immediately. No value in making my life even harder. It wasn’t like I could run away from it all. They would see that for what it was: an admission of guilt. And anyway, Lucian wasn’t the kind you could run from.

  I slid the rear window down and let the rush of cool night air kiss my face. It was getting late. Soon, the city would wake up. Sharp pains of hunger gnawed. I’d worked up quite an appetite from all of the nighttime activity, and my lips felt parched. But I knew any mana-tapping had to wait.

  It was time to see Emilio, the leader of the Marchesi clan vampires—and that meant playing another game entirely.

  Riddle Me This

  As a vampire and a proverbial fountain-of-youth recipient, Emilio looked like a young man with a classic Roman nose, dark hair, and an olive complexion. But something about his multicolored eyes betrayed his age. They were odd, those eyes. Were they blue, green, or gray? They changed depending on what he wore, and right now, his dark blue designer suit made them appear downright brown.

  “Eccellente! Molto eccellente!” the vampire commented, hovering behind his magnificently carved desk and puffing on his omnipresent cigar. “My bambina, mia principessa, found this … this ring?”

  Lucian and I stood in Emilio’s private office, a haven of luxury replete with fur rugs, a fire crackling in a Carrera marble fireplace, and original Picassos gracing the walls. It was like the rest of his penthouse at the very top of Lucian’s apartment building: stuffed with antiques, excessive, and lavish in the extreme. Clearly, he’d amassed a fortune in his vampire lifetime. Or maybe he’d just been a medieval packrat with a knack for picking out trends. In either case, entering his dark domain was a walk through extravagance.

  “Cassidy was quite instrumental,” Lucian offered from where he stood in the center of the room, his injured hand buried deep in his pocket. “A key player.”

  For the most part, Emilio had mastered the art of hiding his emotions. He’d had centuries of practice. But I’d learned on one particular topic—that of the Nether Reach keepers—he couldn’t prevent the fiery spark of mania from flickering briefly in his eyes.

  But now? Jackpot.

  I’d just found topic number two. The mention of the ring had the same effect as the Nether Reach keepers. It obviously deserved an entry in the Ways-To-Provoke-Emilio list. I just had to figure out the best way to exploit it.

  “Eccellente!” Emilio nodded, taking a long drag on his havana before narrowing his expectant chameleon-like irises on me.

  Yeah, right. Time to chime in.

  “Find,” I seized the word. With Emilio, I’d learned to mimic his riddle-speaking habit. It reinforced his suspicion that I was his offspring—a belief I wanted to foster. For now, anyway. “Did I find it, or did it find me? Really, who’s to say?” I smiled, l
etting the corner of my lips twist up knowingly, mysteriously, like we shared some private joke.

  “Ahhhhh,” Emilio breathed, tilting his head to one side and blowing a long, slow smoke ring. A perfect O. Finally, he removed the cigar from his lips and extinguished it in the gilded snuffer on his desk, taking his sweet time before riveting a hard gaze on Lucian. With a tone dropping into the subzero temperatures, he asked, “This matter of Dorian’s freedom? A costly mistake. Unforgiveable. Imperdonabile. Who is the guilty one?”

  Yeah, not my favorite subject, not until I’d crafted a sound alibi. Not wanting to inadvertently betray myself, I feigned a yawn of boredom and wandered over to inspect one of the Picassos as Lucian responded with, “They will not escape me. I have many methods, many ways.”

  Methods. Ways. I didn’t like the sound of that, but my ears perked up as I pretended to squint closer at the painting.

  “And Dorian?” Emilio pressed. “A trail?”

  Lucian’s cool response surprised me. “Heath’s out, looking now,” the warlock offered vaguely. “No doubt, he’ll track him down.”

  Whoa. Interesting. Technically not a lie, but a major evasion tactic if I’d ever heard one. So Lucian didn’t care to let Emilio in on the little fact we’d already met said vampire? I just might need that sliver of blackmail power if my alibi didn’t pan out.

  Adopting a sultry smile, I spun on my heel.

  Lucian was ready. He was at my side in three long strides. “It’s time for bed, sweetheart,” he murmured, bending as if to kiss me and reaching out with his uninjured hand.

  Nope. I wasn’t falling for that again. He’d spelled me before like that and in the very same room. And while I now knew he could spell me without touching me, I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. I slipped sideways, eluding his embrace, and joined Emilio to sit on the corner of the desk. Time to lay down some contingency plan groundwork.