Monster (A Cassidy Edwards Novel - Book 1)

by Carmen Caine

  With a yawn, I located my assigned room. It was nice. Pretty much the same as Lord Rowle’s, only the décor was lavender instead of black, and there weren’t any books.

  I fell into the goose-down pillows and immediately winced as I landed on something hard.

  It was Ricky’s spice bottle.

  Rolling to one side, I dug it out of my pocket for a quick inspection only to discover that it was empty. I guess I should’ve known that imps couldn’t be confined in such ordinary containers.

  For a moment, I really did consider going out to look for him—but only for a moment.

  I mean, really, where would I start? He could’ve slipped out in so many places. I hadn’t checked on him for hours. He could be at the dig, the piazzas of Venice, or—holy crud—in Lucian’s bed.

  That thought made me snicker out loud.

  Chuckling to myself, I hoped that he was, and kicking my boots off, I settled down for a nice, long snooze.

  It took me a bit to fall asleep. I was quite entertained with imagining the various looks of horror on Lucian’s handsome face when he discovered Ricky snoozing on the pillow next to him. Would Ricky call him “doll”, too?

  Eventually, I drifted off.

  I don’t know how long I slept before I was rudely interrupted by someone screaming my name.

  Reflexes took over. I bolted out of bed and had knives in both hands before I recognized Lucian’s furious tones and realized that the screaming came from upstairs. He sounded angry, hysterically peeved.

  Grinning, I took my sweet time putting on my boots then, and after a nice, long stretch, casually strolled out into the hallway.

  Heath was there—in werewolf-form—crouched on all four paws with his golden eyes glued on Lucian standing on the landing above.

  The warlock was sexy. There was no denying that fact. His sweatpants hung low on his lean hips, and he was still shirtless, but I only appreciated that small fact for a millisecond.

  I was beyond thrilled to see that my fantasy had, indeed, come true.

  Lucian hovered on the landing above me with his hand extended and his fingers pinched tightly together as he dangled Ricky over the railings by the scruff of the neck.

  “Where have you been?” Lucian shouted at me, livid. His piercing eyes flashed. “I’ve been calling you!”

  I faked a yawn and graced him with a mocking smile. “I’m not allowed upstairs, remember? I expected you to come down, Lord Rowle.”

  Lucian’s nostrils flared. Flinging Ricky at me, his voice shifted into a threatening tone. “Clever, leaving him behind. But you should let your Terzi masters know that this little ploy will fail, just like all of the others.”

  Ricky splatted by my feet as I frowned in confusion.

  Terzi masters? Did the man really think I was some kind of spy for the enemy? A double agent?

  Determined not to give him the upper hand, I smiled sweetly in reply. “You’re not making much sense, Lord Rowle,” I said in honeyed tones.

  Lucian merely glared, and then tossing his mane of dark hair, he spun on his heel back towards his room. A moment later, I heard his door slam.

  Chuckling, I picked Ricky up from the floor and patted him on the head—well, I tried, anyway. I succeeded only in swishing his head away from his body a couple of times. I still hadn’t gotten the hang of handling smoke-creatures yet.

  “Good imp,” I said, grinning as his head reassembled. “Maybe I’ll keep you, after all.”

  Ricky opened an eye and winced, obviously terribly hungover. “What’s that, doll?”

  I didn’t even mind his nasal voice or the doll. “I don’t know what you did to irk him, but do more of it, hmm?” I encouraged.

  After bidding Heath goodnight, I carried Ricky back to my room. He muttered something as I kicked the door shut, but I wasn’t really listening. I was too busy replaying Lucian’s horrified face and snickering even as part of me rankled over the Terzi accusation.

  “The dolls,” Ricky raised his voice. He waved his spindly hands to attract my attention.

  “Dolls?” I repeated absentmindedly. Now, where had I put Ricky’s bottle? I had to find it. I couldn’t let the little miscreant remain loose to stir up more trouble, not yet, anyway.

  “The marionettes.” Ricky burped and giggled.

  I paused and blinked. Suddenly interested, I gave him my full attention. “Marionettes?” I repeated, recalling the Barbie-sized ones I’d seen Lucian inspecting in his room. “Those creepy things in the suitcase? What about them?”

  The imp scowled at me and placed a warning finger over his mouth. “Shh! Not those.” He pointed a finger straight up at the ceiling. “The ones in the room across the hall. Shelves. Hundreds. Hundreds of them.”

  Hundreds?

  I couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Maybe he’s a collector,” I said, but even as I said it, I knew how silly it sounded.

  I tossed Ricky onto the bed. He somersaulted a few times before sitting upright to tuck his long pointy ears behind his head. “He’s a curse-master, eh?” he whispered suggestively. “Right, love?”

  “Voodoo dolls?” I asked, recalling the female marionette dressed in the red dress and white fur stole that I’d seen outside his office just a few short days ago. Had he made a voodoo doll of her?

  Ricky’s ears flattened even more. “All curse-masters use surrogate objects,” he hiccupped helpfully. “Some use paintings. Others use vases. I once met a bloke that uses carpets!”

  They were voodoo dolls. “So, the Chosen Ones he unearthed today,” I murmured mostly to myself. “He made voodoo dolls of them. I wonder what he did with the actual remains.”

  “I wouldn’t know, love,” Ricky replied with his trademark giggle.

  All at once, I found him irritating. “Go to sleep now,” I ordered.

  I guess he was tired because he obliged me at once. Inspecting one of my boots and apparently finding it adequately homey, he slipped inside. Minutes later, the boot began to vibrate with the sound of his snoring. I wasn’t too thrilled about it, but at least he was out of my sight.

  Slowly, I settled back on the bed.

  So, if Ricky had been lucid enough to tell me the truth, then I’d just discovered that Lucian was some kind of voodoo-doll-making curse-master. How creepy was that? He’d apparently cursed the Chosen Ones, but in what way? And where had he hidden their bones?

  I knew very little about Dorian Ramsey, but I knew enough to be certain that the vampire wanted his clan back. He was probably going to want that suitcase, too.

  A clear, deep laugh echoed through my mind.

  I sat bolt upright.

  In a flash, I stood at the window. Pulling the curtain aside, I peered out into the darkness.

  My eyes found him at once. He stood on the other side of the canal, cloaked in shadows: Dorian. The kilt-wearing vampire. Waiting. Patiently.

  His laughter echoed louder in my head, accompanied by an image of Lucian’s maroon suitcase.

  “No,” I said, scowling and stepping back.

  I wasn’t that vampire’s lackey.

  A sudden howl outside made me glance out the window again just in time to see Heath’s dark, blurry form launch itself at Dorian. But Heath was too late. The vampire had vanished, leaving the werewolf’s massive paws to only swat air. Heath paused there a moment and then bounded away in the darkness.

  I returned to my bed, unsettled.

  How did Dorian have access to my mind? This situation was getting hairy. Every instinct told me to run away from it.

  But I couldn’t. Could I?

  I had my own game. Revenge. Revenge on Emilio.

  My thoughts swirled in my head for a bit, but soon I had made up my mind. It was time for me to leave. I’d helped Lucian out at the dig; my contract was finished, really. It was time that I got my pay and hopefully, some useful information about Emilio.

  I didn’t really have a choice. If I stayed, I had no doubt that Dorian would try to make me his puppet—and I al
ready knew that I didn’t want to be involved in whatever he was masterminding.

  The Terzi Hex Net

  I woke up late. It was well after lunch by the time I dragged myself out of bed, quickly showered, dumped Ricky out of my boot, and headed toward the kitchen.

  “It’s on the news,” I heard Heath say as I paused at the door. “Gnarly.”

  “What is?” Tabitha asked.

  I opened the kitchen door enough to peek through the crack.

  “Two bodies,” Heath provided in a near whisper. “The police found two bodies, drained of blood.”

  Tabitha slapped her hands on the counter. “And you still lost his trail!” she snapped. “What kind of werewolf are you? Why does Lucian only hire misfits? You’re all brawn and no brain!”

  Heath’s shoulders drooped. “Hey, man, I did track him,” he defended himself. “He just disappeared. Vanished. Like he could fly or something.”

  There was a hint of a hound-dog whine in his voice. It made me smile. I pushed the kitchen door back with a bang.

  They both looked up at me, startled.

  “Lucian’s meeting the client,” Tabitha informed me coolly. She was dressed in another evening gown—a silver spangled concoction. Her heels were at least eight inches tall. “He’ll be gone for a few days.”

  It was my turn to be surprised. “Days?” I repeated, a tad annoyed. So much for ending my contract and getting my information today.

  Tabitha didn’t respond.

  Heath just stood there by the counter, hovering over a big platter of scrambled eggs. He wore another Hawaiian shirt, a green one with white palm trees this time. Clearly, he didn’t possess any other kind.

  An awkward silence fell.

  Tabitha merely watched me as Heath bolted down his eggs. Once, he shoved the platter my way in silent invitation, but I politely declined.

  When it was apparent that nothing else was going to happen, I dusted my hands and announced, “Well then, guess I’ll go see the sights.” Also, watching Heath eat had made me hungry.

  “Have fun,” the werewolf offered with a cheerful smile.

  Tabitha didn’t say a word. But then, I hadn’t expected her to.

  I detoured to my room to collect Ricky. He was still snoring on the carpet where I’d dumped him. I scooped him back into the spice bottle without him so much as opening an eye.

  The day was bright. The few clouds dotting the sky were big, white, and puffy. I leaned against a bridge railing for a bit and just watched them as they piled into different shapes. But then I started to feel my need to feed, so I headed for the crowded piazzas for lunch.

  My mood perked up. The sun was up, and that meant that vampires weren’t going to be running around. I could relax and enjoy Venice some.

  It didn’t take long to settle into my role of tourist—well, a mana-sucking tourist, anyway. I passed the hours partaking of a variety of mana and appreciating the sights of historical Venice with Ricky snoring in my pocket.

  By the time late afternoon arrived, I was full and ready to return to the villa before the sun set and I risked finding myself face-to-face with Dorian. My thoughts wandered as I trudged back through the narrow alleys. The room filled with marionettes suddenly came to mind. Did Lucian really have that many voodoo dolls? Perhaps, I could just sneak up there and see what the imp was talking about. After all, it was Ricky and he was drunk at the time—not the most reliable source of information in either case.

  Flirting with the idea of snooping, I hurried back and found—much to my delight—that the villa was deserted. But I’d just placed a foot on the first step of the staircase when I heard voices outside of the front door and both Tabitha and Heath entered.

  Neither looked inclined to chitchat—so, I gave them a friendly wave and closeted myself in my room.

  I could wait. I’d check out the marionettes later.

  With a yawn, I sprawled out on my bed. My stomach was pleasantly full. And deciding that a little extra sleep was just the thing I needed, I closed my eyes.

  But this time, the night was a restless one.

  Several times, I woke with the distinct feeling I was being watched. Twice, I could have sworn something hovered on the ceiling, but it darted away before I could be sure.

  Sometime past midnight, I heard my name.

  Cassidy.

  The soft burr of a Scottish accent couldn’t be missed.

  Dorian.

  I buried my head in my pillows, but of course, it made little difference.

  Again, I saw the suitcase of voodoo dolls with my mind’s eye. It was pretty obvious what he wanted. But even though I didn’t feel inclined to betray Dorian to the others, I didn’t feel particularly motivated to help him, either.

  His whispering lasted for a few hours. Persistent. Continuous. After a bit, I got up and swore out the window at him, but he only chuckled in response.

  Finally, dawn broke and he was gone.

  Dark circles ringed my eyes the next morning. After such a night, I wanted mana, and I wanted it badly. I didn’t even bother telling Heath and Tabitha goodbye. I just stalked out the front door.

  The day passed in much the same manner as the day before.

  At first, anyway.

  Lunchtime found me wandering around Piazza San Marco—illegally feeding bread to the pigeons behind the backs of the poliziotti—when I noticed the flash of a red cloak. It tuned me into the fact that Tabitha was following me. I mean, really? Tailing in a red cloak? She obviously didn’t care if I discovered her

  Now aware that I was being shadowed, it didn’t take long for me to catch Heath at it, too. He was more discreet than Tabitha, but he was still pretty bad at it.

  They trailed me the entire day. And when I returned to the villa, they arrived a few minutes later, just like before.

  So, they’d probably done it the day before as well.

  I wondered why; were they bored? No, most likely they had orders from Lucian to do it because he thought I was a Terzi mole.

  Irritated, I retired to my room without even speaking.

  As I entered the lavender room, it suddenly dawned on me that I probably had been watched last night.

  No doubt, Tabitha had hung there on the ceiling, her little beady lizard eyes glued to me the entire night. Or, perhaps she’d used her invis-ability on me. The thought was disturbing, to say the least.

  The following night was even worse than the previous one. I never saw Tabitha hunched on the ceiling—but I did hear Dorian yammering my name in my head all night, along with more vivid and zoomed-in images of the suitcase. I guess he figured I was dense. He kept at it with repeated urgency, but I only ignored him.

  As the first rays of sun broke the horizon, I donned a pair of ripped jean shorts and a tank top. Dumping Ricky out of my boot, I stomped into the kitchen, ragged with exhaustion and determined to confront my amateur snoops.

  A moment later, Tabitha and Heath entered the kitchen behind me. Cripes, they were really bad at this.

  “Where’s Lord Rowle? Is he back yet?” Smiling at their lack of awareness, I feigned blissful ignorance. “It’s really crucial I speak with him about something.”

  Tabitha shrugged. “We’re merely supposed to wait,” she replied unhelpfully.

  “And do what?” I asked pointedly. “Continue to take in the Venetian sights while you both spy on me all day long? Yes, I’m well aware that I’m your suspicious little pet project.”

  They both looked at me in mild astonishment. I didn’t wait for them to explain themselves. I just rolled my eyes and left the villa.

  I was done. Finito.

  After grabbing breakfast, I’d pack my suitcase and head to the airport. I’d demand my payment from Lucian via email or something, because I was done hanging around in Venice just to be used as a pawn or thought of as a traitor. With every day that passed, it became clearer to me that I had no business getting mixed up in a vendetta centuries old. Obviously, it wasn’t going to be resolved anytime
soon.

  It was still morning, but it was already getting hot. At times, I found the stench from the canals almost eye-wateringly unbearable.

  I was halfway to Rialto Bridge before I remembered I’d left Ricky in my room. Oh well, I was going to leave, anyway. He could take dust baths in turmeric all day long if he wanted.

  The tourists were out in force that day.

  I stood there for a moment, simply recovering from the horrendous night and inhaling the delectable mana scents floating my way.

  A young couple. I headed towards them before I realized they were hungover. My face fell in disappointment. I never partook of subpar mana. It would only make me sick. I chose the next best thing to honeymooners: A backpacker. I consumed a bit and then closed my eyes in momentary bliss as I turned away.

  Right into Lucian.

  A moment of acute anxiety flooded me. Had he just seen me?

  Feigning surprise, I was about to make some snarky comment when he gave a rough laugh and breathed in my ear. “And what are you up to—rendezvousing with your Terzi handlers?”

  I scowled and stepped back.

  But then all hell broke loose.

  Pain coursed through me. I was glued to the spot just like I’d grabbed some high-voltage—and then some—line that cemented my fate to be burnt into a crisp. I couldn’t move. Even my vampire-like strength failed me. Burning pain overwhelmed me. I couldn’t even cry tears of agony.

  I was helpless.

  A strong arm snagged me by the waist, and I was yanked away so hard that for several long moments, I couldn’t breathe.

  Finally, I managed to suck in a huge, wavering gasp of air.

  Dark hair brushed my cheek. Lucian. Lucian had rescued me. I hung there like a limp doll in his arms, incapable of moving and utterly confused.

  His face registered shocked confusion as well, but for an entirely different reason. “You really aren’t working for them,” he said in a tone of outright astonishment.

  I could hardly understand him. My brain felt numb, along with my entire body.