by Carmen Caine
“Hey, need some help?” A few concerned tourists headed our way.
With an easy laugh, Lucian brushed them aside. “She’s had just a bit too much,” he called back with a reassuring smile.
Their concern turned into disgust. One of them muttered it wasn’t even lunchtime yet, but they obligingly moved away.
Lucian took the opportunity to seize me by the waist and toss me over his shoulder, quickly navigating through the crowds and into a relatively deserted alley. Finding a covered porch, he set me down and knelt by my side.
“A moment,” he promised in a soft murmur. “You’ll feel better in a moment.”
Feel? I wanted to shout at him that the fact I couldn’t feel was the problem, but I couldn’t move my lips.
A faint blue light glowed between his cupped hands. It grew into the size of a golf ball before he reached over and dropped it on my forehead.
At once, the numbness disappeared only to be replaced by cramping pain, ringing ears, and blurred vision. I gasped. What had he done? Numbness was far superior to the horrendous pain I felt now.
It took a few moments, but the symptoms passed, leaving me feeling weak and drained. Shaking, I glanced down at myself. My palms were blistered and my knees bloodied. I looked exactly like I felt.
Rattled, I turned on Lucian but pulled up short. He had collapsed against the iron porch railing, agony written upon his handsome face.
“Are you ok?” I asked, grabbing his arm. “What is it? What happened?”
He opened his eyes. After several steadying breaths, he appeared to regain control. “It’s a Terzi hex net,” he informed me in a hiss, pressing a finger against his carved lips for silence. “It’s broken, for now.”
I frowned. A hex net? He looked as drained as I felt. Who knew curses were such painful business. No wonder he had rock-hard abs. I opened my mouth to ask more about the hex net when he rose to his feet.
“We have to get out of here,” he warned in a low voice. “It’s coming again.”
I struggled to my feet, still overwhelmed by fatigue. There was no doubt what he meant by it. And I, for one, wasn’t too keen to experience the Terzi hex net again.
He grabbed my hand and, pulling me after him, set off down the cobbled street at a rapid pace.
Several times, he suddenly reeled back or turned at a sharp angle. I suppose anyone watching us would have thought us both intoxicated, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be caught.
Suddenly, he whirled into an arched door and scooped me against his chest. Weaving his hand rapidly in the air in some kind of spell, he ordered, “Hold still. Don’t move. Not one sound. Your life depends upon it.”
I didn’t even ask. I saw it this time.
I smelled it.
Fingers of light—almost invisible—washing over the ground we’d just covered. It was mana, but it was mixed, infused with a thousand scents. I hadn’t been able to distinguish it from the mix of the crowd around me the first time, but I knew that I’d never be able to forget that particular combination of scents ever again.
The fingers formed a web as they moved, sliding up the walls, slinking our way. I scarcely dared to breathe. It was all I could do to keep from screaming bloody murder as the fingers of light slipped up my leg and inched slowly up my back to entwine in my hair before migrating over to do the same to Lucian.
I stood as still as a statue. I could feel a bead of sweat roll down my forehead.
Seeking and wriggling in all directions, the fingers poked and prodded, but whatever spell Lucian had cast held. Apparently, he’d rendered them blind.
It took a disturbingly long time before they melted away to continue their journey down the narrow alley before ultimately disappearing into the stew of tourists a few blocks away.
Lucian didn’t move.
I didn’t either.
We stood there, silent. Fatigued. I could feel him pressed against me, legs, hips and chest. In any other circumstances, I would have enjoyed it. Now, I was just grateful I’d escaped what seemed like an excruciating fate.
It seemed eons before he finally moved.
I stepped back. Reluctantly. “What was that?” I asked and then gasped.
Painful spasms surged through me once more. I would have collapsed if he hadn’t caught me again.
“It’ll take a bit,” he said. “It comes and goes in waves, but each wave will be shorter. It’s the numbness that’s deadly.”
Figures. In the Charmed world, apparently things were opposite. In the human world such pain usually meant death.
I scowled. “So, what’s this Terzi hex net?” I demanded, wanting to understand the root of my ills.
“You’re really not one of them,” he repeated, shaking his head in wonder. “They’re hunting for you. I can feel them pushing against the wards. Looking for the tiniest hole.”
“You really are something,” I said then, allowing sarcasm to fill my voice. “Did you really hire me, thinking I worked for your enemy?”
Lucian merely shrugged. “Enemies are best kept close,” he said, but he sounded distracted. Extremely distracted.
“Yeah, keep your friends close but your enemies closer,” I muttered.
“Why did you do it, then?” Lucian asked me suddenly. “Why? If you don’t work for the Terzi?”
I blinked, a little startled. “Do what?” I asked, drawing a complete blank.
He obviously thought I was playing dumb. I could see the contempt in his gorgeous eyes, but apparently he wanted to know the answer bad enough to explain, “The assassination attempt at the mall.”
Assassination attempt? He thought my mana-tapping had been an attempt to kill him? I suppose my astonishment was so genuine that even he was forced to believe me.
“Then, it’s all some strange coincidence,” he muttered under his breath as if unaware he’d spoken aloud. He looked completely dumbfounded as he asked, “And you chose to work for me … why?”
“Why else? I have rent to pay,” I answered a bit acidly.
I was confused. What game had this warlock been playing? Apparently, it wasn’t at all what I’d thought.
But the talk of money suddenly reminded me of my contract, and after that Terzi hex net, I was doubly glad that I’d already made up my mind to leave.
“Yeah, and speaking of payment,” I continued. “I’m done. I’ve completed my part. It’s my turn. Give me my information and I’m out of here.”
His dark brows elevated appreciatively before colliding into each other in annoyance. Glaring down at me, he said a single word, “No.”
And with that, he spun on his heel and walked away.
What Am I?
I didn’t follow Lucian. I was angry and far too weak. I had to feed before I chased after him and demanded my pay. Spasms of pain came and went, each wave draining me of the mana that I’d accumulated in the past few days.
Whatever else the Terzi hex net was designed to do, it clearly rendered its victims powerless to fight back. But now that I knew what it smelled like, I was confident I could avoid it, even in the crowded streets of Venice.
I knew why they were searching for me. It had to be Dorian’s handiwork. He wanted that suitcase, and he’d decided that I was the perfect minion to deliver it.
Well, he didn’t know Cassidy Edwards. I was hardly one to be threatened into cooperation.
With a defiant snort, I headed down the alley in the opposite direction Lucian had taken. My muscles protested at times, cramping enough to make me wince, but for the most part, I managed to ignore the pain.
I fed on the first knot of people I encountered. They weren’t the best quality—one had high blood pressure and the other a sore throat—but in the state I was in, I couldn’t be choosey. I’d just have to suffer the inevitable nausea that followed when eating such junk food.
To my dismay, the mana didn’t last very long. Almost at once, a new wave of pain rolled over me and as it left, it took the mana I’d just consumed with i
t. Cripes. Apparently, the Terzi hex net drained mana. It looked like I was destined for a few hours of frenzied dining.
Fortunately, it was the height of tourist season. No one batted an eyelash as I jostled through the crowd. And now that I’d seen firsthand what ripe hunting grounds major tourist traps really were, I wondered if I should indulge in a world tour.
Several times, I smelled the Terzi hex net headed my way, but I avoided it easily enough. I escaped through the crowd, but I crossed my fingers, hoping that the Terzi didn’t have any other tricks up their sleeves.
I’d just enjoyed a nip of a jolly busking violinist when hard fingers gripped both of my shoulders.
I didn’t even have time to wonder who it was.
“You’re dangerous,” Lucian’s low voice accused. “No one—not even the Night Terrors—can extract mana from the heart chakra. No one.”
I froze.
“I’ve been watching you,” he continued, twirling me around. His eyes pinned mine with an almost maniacal gleam. “This changes everything. Everything.”
I didn’t think so. I wasn’t about to just roll over and give up. Attempting to salvage the situation, I tossed my chin and said, “You’re making little sense again, Lord Rowle. Perhaps, you’re suffering an ill side-effect—”
“You need more training,” he cut in, ignoring me. “We need to see just how far you can exercise this control over what you consume.”
Without waiting for a response, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me after him.
I was getting tired of being yanked around like one of his voodoo dolls. I tried to wrench my hand free, but he really was stronger than me. It made me wonder just how strong he was. Could he even be stronger than a Chosen One?
Half-tripping at times, I found myself coerced into following him across a nearby piazza and into a shop.
A marionette shop.
The place smelled like cedar. Marionettes and puppets of all sizes and kinds filled every nook and cranny. A kaleidoscope of colors. But there were no customers.
The place was empty except for an old man at a worktable near the cash register carving what looked like a future leg. He glanced up as we entered but upon seeing Lucian, just nodded and returned to his task.
I stared at all the stringed dolls—hundreds of them—hanging from the ceiling, as Lucian pulled me into a small room in the back.
“What’s with the dolls?” I asked once we’d entered.
Lucian rounded on me. He looked utterly insane. He was clearly a man driven by demons. It was his eyes. They were bright and beautiful, yet gleaming with the mien of an unhinged man. He hovered over me, tall, lean, and powerful, rubbing his fingers together like some dastardly cartoon antagonist.
Completely ignoring my question, he asked in excitement, “Just how much control do you have over it?”
I gave a nervous laugh. “You’re crazy,” I said, backing away.
Anger descended over him at once. Lowering his voice, he threatened, “Tell me or suffer the consequences. Need I remind you that you’re still under contract? I know what I saw. I followed you for several hours. I couldn’t believe it. You withdraw mana from the heart chakra, just as you attempted with me at our first meeting.”
Yeah. I’d already regretted that. I had the feeling that I was only going to regret it more as time passed.
Lucian was still talking, but his voice had dropped into a whisper. “You withdraw mana and consume it—in unholy amounts. And through the heart chakra. The mythical mana. Mana too pure, too powerful to be used,”he said the words in tones of the utmost reverence. “Even the Night Terrors can’t get near it. Yet somehow, and most incredibly, you feed off of it, and your victims scarcely notice. By what mystery do you harvest this fabled energy?”
I held still. Crud, cripes, and hex it all, he really had found out my secret. There was no denying it. But suddenly, I didn’t care. Not because it was hopeless. Far from it. Surprisingly, it was the opposite. As crazy as he appeared, he apparently knew an awful lot more about me than I knew about myself.
How?
I asked him precisely that. “How do you know this?”
He cocked a brow, but I couldn’t tell why. “How do you control it?” he challenged in turn.
Guessing I wouldn’t be getting any answers unless I answered first, I took the bait, “Control it? You just don’t get it, do you? I eat mana just like you eat food. Do you control the pancakes and coffee you have for breakfast, or do you just eat them?”
A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. “Oh, it’s so much more than that, Cass,” he said. “You’ve learned how to not kill your victims. Do you know how you do that?”
My patience was wearing thin. And the ‘Cass’ didn’t help. “Yeah.” I shrugged. “I just take a little.”
Lucian gave a deep laugh, ripe with astonishment. “You truly don’t know what you are, do you? It’s impossible to take just a little from the heart chakra. It’s worse than cutting the jugular vein.” He stared at me, incredulously.
“And just how would you know all this if it’s so fabled?” I asked suspiciously.
There was a moment of silence.
I broke it by prompting, “Are you going to explain, or what?”
He gave me a charmingly condescending smile before he suddenly leaned close and murmured, “Why should I?”
This wasn’t panning out like I’d wanted. I’d wanted information from him. I hadn’t planned on gifting him knowledge of my unusual dieting habits.
With a scowl, I retorted, “Because you’re my boss! You’re obligated to help me by contract!” I didn’t remember every word of that ill-fated, self-writing agreement, but I did recall him stating his obligation to protect me—or something along those lines, anyway.
Disappointment flickered across his face. My response wasn’t what he was looking for. Becoming distant all at once, he just said, “We’ll continue this later, in safer surroundings.”
He turned as if to move, but I grabbed his forearm, stopping him. “What am I?” I asked hoarsely.
I guess he heard the genuine desperation in my voice.
“I really don’t know,” he admitted after a moment. “But theories abound regarding the heart chakra. Some believe that if the mana is drained from the heart chakra, the soul collapses into utter destruction. Annihilation. Even of Chosen Ones.”
Great. Soul-annihilation capability—a skill that every girl dreams of.
All at once, I recalled those who had withered away under my touch as a child. Had I annihilated their souls? Or had my mother’s vampirism at least saved them from that horrific fate?
I felt nauseated and took a deep, fortifying breath
He still stood there. I felt his taut muscles under my fingertips. Dreading his reply, I asked, “Is … there more?”
I got the distinct impression that there was, but he wasn’t about to share it anytime soon. He just asked, “Isn’t that enough?”
The Client
Tabitha met Lucian at the villa door. Pulling his dark head down, she whispered in his ear.
His shoulders went rigid.
So much for me discovering anything else for now. I didn’t even wait for him to make some flimsy excuse before slipping away. I just shoved past him and made for my room.
Ricky wasn’t there. Dimly, I wondered where he’d gone off to.
I cleaned up and slipped into one of my black catsuits as a kind of depression fell over me.
I felt lost.
As if caught in a dream, I wandered to my window and, opening the curtains, stared out unseeing. On some level, I was aware of the sinking sun, but it wasn’t until darkness arrived in full force that I shook myself from my stupor.
Where had the time gone? It seemed as if only minutes had passed.
Suddenly, I wanted to be gone. No doubt, Dorian would show up soon. I didn’t want to be there when he did. At this point, I’d even rather suffer with Tabitha’s company than hear that voice calling my name.
I didn’t stop to analyze why. I knew I wouldn’t acknowledge the answer.
I strode through the villa, looking for company, but the place was deserted. Even the inner courtyards. I waited for a bit, but when nothing moved—save the hands on the ticking clock—I eventually found myself at the bottom of the stairs.
Maybe now was as good a time as any to bop upstairs and check out that room Ricky had mentioned.
In a moment, I made up my mind and in the next, I’d flashed up the stairs to hover in front of the door directly opposite of Lucian’s bedroom.
From the outside, it didn’t look special. Reaching out, I jiggled the handle.
Locked.
“Hex it!” I swore, my temper a bit rawer than usual.
“What’s up, love?” Ricky giggled in my ear.
Startled, I jumped. I hadn’t felt him land on my shoulder. But then, he was smoke. Mildly irritated, I brushed him off like he was some sort of bug.
“Blimey, you’re the touchy sort,” Ricky observed, reconstructing himself on the floor. Bouncing up the wall like some kind of monkey made of smoke, he peered at the doorknob inquisitively.
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “Locked,” I sighed, moving to leave.
“Ah, righto then!” he said, rubbing his gangly black fingers together.
Before I could respond, he dove headfirst into the keyhole, sucking himself through it like a strand of angel hair pasta.
A moment later, the door clicked and creaked open with Ricky swinging from the knob like it was some kind of monkey bar at the park. He grinned and chortled, “Wheeeee!”
I smiled back. I couldn’t help it. “You have your uses …” I began, but then my voice trailed away.
Marionettes. Shelves of them. Every wall lined at least five shelves tall.
Ricky had told the truth.
The room was a large one with a single window opposite the door. A luxurious Persian carpet covered the floor. Every corner was crammed with trunks and hatboxes. Strangely, the place smelled like lemons.
Cautiously, I stepped inside, closing the door behind me with a click. I’d never seen such an extensive collection of dolls—of any kind, actually. I don’t know if anyone ever had. All shapes and sizes. All ages. All professions. Doctors. Circus performers. A significant number of businessmen. Quite a few women in evening gowns. A priest. A mechanic in greasy overalls.
