by Carmen Caine
The elevator doors whooshed closed, but at the last second, a hand blocked them from sealing shut. As the doors sprang back, the keeper stepped inside, blue eyes flashing.
Crud. “What do you want?” I asked him sourly.
He didn’t answer. He just jabbed a button. The elevator lurched upwards, but only a few feet before he lifted his hand and jolted the car to a stop.
Lucian straightened and arched an angry brow.
Great. I was stuck in tiny quarters with an enraged warlock and a hostile keeper—not to mention the defective imp lurking in my cold, wet sleeve.
Could it end in anything but disaster?
But no sooner had I thought of Ricky than I realized I couldn’t feel him anymore—or, for that matter, smell him. Hex it. Had the imp deserted? Again? A quick pat down of my sleeves confirmed it. Who knew where he’d turn up next time?
Swearing inwardly, I glanced back at Lucian and the keeper. I’d missed the opening salvos of their exchange but tuned back just in time to hear the keeper say, “Your concerns are petty compared to mine, warlock. I owe you no explanation. You may not hinder me.”
The expression gracing Lucian’s handsome face was one of calculating, aloof disdain. “Mayn’t I?” he asked with a spooky calmness, eyeing the newcomer from down the lengths of his aristocratic nose. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Lucian Rowle.” He paused, waiting for the words to sink in before asking, “And you are?”
The name of Rowle produced the desired effect. The keeper’s cockiness vanished. Almost contrite, he dipped his chin in what could have been respect. His voice certainly adopted a markedly politer tone. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Lord Rowle. I am Strix, the Eighth Son, and a Keeper of the Nether Reaches.”
Lucian grunted. “Then tell me what crime Cassidy has committed ere I release her into your custody.”
“Crime?” I seized the word, aghast. I whirled on the keeper. “Custody? Are you insane?” Lucian’s arm dropped lightly around my shoulders in a placating gesture, but I was hardly in the mood to be pacified. Angrily, I brushed him off and continued my confrontation. “Strix, is it? What game are you playing here? I’ve committed no crime!”
“No crime?” Strix challenged, his blond brows gathered in a knot. “The law begs to differ. You opened the gates between the reaches, Cassidy Edwards. You released one of your kind on Earth and not just any of the specter kindred. You released one of the worst, a creature born of shadows, the very stuff of nightmares. You freed one of the Fallen, and I’ve come to take you back, to stand judgment for your illegal entry into the Nether Reaches, your unlawful opening of the gates, and your brazen act of freeing one of the worst. It was clearly a premeditated act. I’ve come for both you and the fallen one who dared heed your call.”
My mouth dropped open at the preposterous accusations. “You’re crazy,” I charged, incredulous.
All at once, Lucian turned rigid, uneasy. Genuine concern sparked in his piercing gaze. But then his dark lashes lowered. “You’re mistaken, Strix,” he judged in a voice laced with ridicule. “She’s not strong enough to free something like that.”
“She is and she did, my lord,” Strix disagreed.
Lucian frowned. Was he uncertain?
Things weren’t going in the right direction.
Spinning back to Strix, I demanded, “Don’t you need a little thing called evidence? Proof?”
Strix smiled at me. It wasn’t a nice smile. Far from it. I’d never liked the guy from the start. I liked him even less now.
“My word is enough,” he replied curtly.
I snorted. “Well, it’s not enough for me.”
To my relief, Lucian agreed. “This stretches the bounds of belief,” he commented calmly. “And opening the gates? She’s not even of your kind, keeper. I’ve pressing matters to attend—”
“Then you clearly don’t know who she is, my lord,” Strix had the gall to interrupt.
He lifted his finger to weave a strange, intricate symbol in the air. The moment he was done, the entire thing burst into flames for about three seconds, enough to get a good look at it, anyway. It was an intricate Celtic circle with an eight-pointed star embedded in the center.
Lucian’s nostrils flared in contempt. “Nonsense. Pure tripe,” he replied through clenched teeth, locking gazes with Strix. “The Mindbreaker is a Nether Reach legend and nothing more. He walked the Reaches several thousand years ago. I’ve no time for harebrained fantasies.”
There we were again. The Mindbreaker.
Unaffected by Lucian’s scorn, Strix valiantly disagreed. “Far from a tale, my lord. There’s no doubt. He lives still and Cassidy is his offspring.”
Lucian delivered a long, condescending laugh. “The Charmed live long, but not that long,” he finally said. “Only a Chosen One could survive that span, and the dead cannot bestow life, fool.”
“Then explain this, my lord,” Strix dared, yanking something from his pocket.
It was mana. I could smell it. Mana from the Nether Reach pools, but shaped into a thin film, a flat piece of paper.
At my side, Lucian expelled an exasperated breath. “If it’s the quickest way to be rid of you, then be my guest,” he murmured, flicking his fingers in a gesture of displeasure.
I didn’t see it coming. Strix moved with lightning speed. In less than a millisecond, he’d pressed the film against my forehead. Pain lanced through my head, an intense, skull-splitting pain that jarred the teeth. And then it was gone, and the obnoxious keeper from the Nether Reaches stood there, hand extended—a look of ultimate satisfaction suffusing his arrogant face.
There, suspended above his palm like a living thing, burned the symbol we’d just seen moments before, the Celtic circle with the eight-pointed star.
“Whatever. Party tricks,” I snapped acidly. “I don’t know what you think you’ve proved with that.” I glanced up at Lucian, and then my heart stopped cold.
The color had drained from his face. He stared at the symbol in abject horror as it slowly disappeared in a poof of smoke.
“You see now, don’t you,” Strix’ voice droned in the background. “This is the Mindbreaker’s signature. She carries her father’s blood. There is no doubt, Lord Rowle. None at all. And this, you have just witnessed with your own eyes.”
Lucian didn’t speak. Of all possible responses, I found that the worst.
Strix turned on me then, earnestly. “You can right your wrong, Cassidy,” he said. “Jaggers are the finest of predators. Help me track the Fallen One you freed. If you assist me, it will lessen your crime.”
In spite of the current twist of events and their elusive meanings, I sure didn’t have to think that one over. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I responded at once, anger rising on every level. “I’m innocent, no matter what you—“
Patience wasn’t Strix’ strong suit. “Then I’ll take you into custody now,” he interrupted, temper flaring.
“No,” Lucian thundered with such final, absolute authority that both Strix and I clamped our mouths shut out of pure reflex. The dark-haired warlock continued in the most imperious of tones. “Cassidy is mine. I’ll not release her to you. There’s a mystery here, granted. But one you’ll have to solve before I’ll permit her return to the Nether Reaches. As a Rowle, it’s my right to render judgment in the matters of those under my care. A judgment you will abide by.”
From the look on Strix’ face, Lucian’s word was apparently law in the Charmed World. I found it immensely gratifying. I nodded once and with overt satisfaction.
Lord Lucian Rowle could be downright useful in a pinch.
But the blond keeper still had an ace up his sleeve. “Then I’ll exercise my right as a Keeper of the Nether Reaches,” he replied, his jaw clenched so tightly I could scarcely understand his words.
There was a flash of silver. The next moment, what looked like handcuffs encircled my wrists. But they were apparently some Charmed version. With a bright flash, t
hey sizzled into my flesh, leaving a silvery tattoo in their place as a small series of marks like a barcode appeared on the webbing between my thumb and index finger.
“You’re branded now.” Strix nodded, apparently mollified. “A criminal.”
“A criminal?” Instinctively, I reached for my blades.
Lucian blocked me with a quick hand, mouthing the word, “Easy.”
Right. I eased off on drawing my knives. Lucian didn’t like to be crossed. No doubt, the mighty Lord Rowle would chastise the keeper who dared to challenge his authority. I was going to enjoy watching Mr. High-and-Mighty eat crow. With a smug smile, I extended my wrists expectantly as Lucian faced Strix once more.
Strix’ eyes narrowed. “My lord,” he protested. “It’s my right!”
“And I disagree,” Lucian’s deep voice differed. He nodded his sexy chin at the tattoos on my wrist. “Criminal Level Four? Releasing a Fallen One is a transgression of the worst kind. She’s easily Level Five.”
An Engagement
Pure. Rage.
That didn’t even cover what I felt as I glared at Lucian. “This isn’t a game,” I spat vehemently.
He towered over me, a perverse gleam of satisfaction in his eye. “Agreed, spellfinder,” he granted with a slight, mocking smirk.
I lunged, shoving him back out of pure frustration. But he maneuvered with vampire-like quickness. And before I could vent my anger further, he’d caught me from behind, twisted me into his arms, and clamped a firm hand over my mouth.
“Well then, Strix,” he addressed the keeper with a charming smile. “Until your mission is accomplished, you’ll just have to tag along. Welcome to the team.”
His fingers muted my enraged bellow of an objection.
To my surprise, Strix responded with a pleasant smile of his own. It appeared genuine. “Then I’m honored to accept, my lord, though I pray it won’t be for long.”
How had we got to bromance so fast? Had I missed something?
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” I shouted into Lucian’s hand, but the words were too muffled to be understood.
They weren’t listening, anyway. As the elevator ascended, Lucian laughed, a relaxed, lazy sound as if he were enjoying himself enormously. Maybe he was. “You haven’t mingled with humans much, have you?” he drawled. “Things here get messy. Expect to stay far longer than you wish.”
He kept spouting, but I was too peeved to listen. As the male-bonding session progressed, I writhed angrily in Lucian’s clutches. Hex it. How could the black-hearted warlock be so strong? I’d never seen him do anything other than lounge around and deliver a wealth of sarcasm while casting the occasional odd spell.
Finally, a well-placed elbow separated the muscles of his hard abs.
He grunted, surprised. “I can’t hold her back much longer, Strix,” he warned, his breath hitching a little. “You’d best leave us for now, unless you care to join me in speaking with Emilio.”
Strix drew back as if in distaste. “I’ll wait, my lord. I’m not an admirer of the Chosen Ones.”
“Then we’ll continue our chat later,” Lucian suggested before chuckling at me to add, “When she’s occupied elsewhere.”
The keeper had the gall to nod.
As if on cue, the elevator doors sprang back, and with a final bow, Strix was gone. Lucian waited until the doors had sealed shut once again before releasing me.
“Team?” I practically roared, rounding on him.
“He’ll be an excellent partner,” Lucian replied smoothly, brushing his sleeves. “A keeper’s not a bad thing to have on your side. He can be useful. And he’ll keep you safe.” He leaned down, placing his nose inches from mine and added with wicked humor, “If only so he can take you back to a Nether Reach prison.”
“Forgive me for not laughing,” I spat, glancing down at the silver barcode between my fingers. It looked like some funky, artsy tattoo.
Lucan followed the direction of my gaze. “Being branded a dangerous criminal could be useful,” he said. And then all traces of levity vanished. “You’ve no idea just what you and your imp have cost me this evening, spellfinder. You blew the trap. I’m not likely to get another chance with Samuel, and that’s not something I’m likely to forget. Strix may be just what I need to keep the two of you under control. Now let’s get moving. We’ve wasted enough time.”
The elevators zinged open again, and he exited without waiting for me, heading back the way we’d come, past the bronze Prometheus to the curb where a jolly, rotund man with unusually dark purple lips waited in a black Lexus.
As Lucian commandeered the passenger seat, I slid into the back.
There was no sign of Strix. Whatever. So I had a barcode on my hand now. Big deal. I could wear gloves if I needed to. Part of me wondered if it really was that simple.
The Lexus purred to life.
In the seat in front of me, Lucian let out a long breath and stretched his neck, as if easing a knot between his shoulder blades. He just oozed sexy charisma.
I glanced away.
My fingers slid over the black puppet-string bracelet. Revenge. It was the only thing that mattered. And right now, I was headed back to Emilio—where I wanted to be. Time to take advantage of his father delusions, if possible. Or maybe pick up a bit more info on Dorian’s impending arrival.
We rode in silence, and it wasn’t until we got out at Lucian’s apartment building that we spoke again. “What are we doing here?” I asked as the black Lexus pulled away.
“Emilio beckons, we run,” Lucian responded curtly.
I followed him inside but waited until we were safely ensconced in the elevator before probing, “So, what are we? Emilio’s henchmen?”
His jaw tightened as he answered in clipped tones. “Emilio is head of the Marchesi Clan. We do whatever it takes to keep him there.”
He folded his arms then, and we lapsed back into silence.
So, I’d joined the Charmed mafia.
The elevator went to the very top this time. The penthouse. We stepped out into an opulent, marble-lined corridor with only one door at the very end, one with a gold handle. Emilio was behind that door. I could smell him. But it wasn’t his scent that made me wince. It was the other one.
My mother’s.
I drew my lips into a thin line. Of course. Where else would Blair be?
Lucian was already at the door, unlocking it with the mere wave of his hand and walking right inside as if he owned the place.
I hurried after him but paused on the threshold.
Emilio’s pad was obscenely lavish. A designer couch artfully placed in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that offered an unmatched view of the city. A bubbling pool of neon-lit water with a glass surface that served as a coffee table. Japanese vases, Roman busts, modern sculptures—priceless antiques, all of them.
Again, Lucian hadn’t waited. As he disappeared into a nearby hallway, I found myself running after him yet again. We entered a private office complete with a magnificently carved desk and a red velvet chair that looked more like a throne.
Extraordinary works of art adorned the walls. There was more than one Picasso. Originals? Funny. I’d always had a thing for Picasso. Who knew I shared Emilio’s taste in art? It was oddly disturbing.
The windows were covered with heavy brocade drapery, no doubt designed to stop even a single ray of sunlight from penetrating the vampire domain shrouded within. Soon, they’d be put to the test. Dawn wasn’t far off.
I drifted closer to a Picasso as Lucian waited in the center of the room.
Suddenly, Emilio stood before me in a black satin robe, holding a tumbler of scotch in one hand and a cigar in the other. “No, no, no, bambina,” the vampire whispered, wagging his cigar as his oddly colored eyes drilled into mine. “No, no, no. Not without my consent.”
What was it with this guy and riddles? At least this one was easy to answer. “I’m not one who needs permission—especially yours,” I countered, opting for the truth
.
“Ah,” was all he said, his expression impenetrable. The next moment, he appeared before Lucian. “You may be Lord Lucian Rowle, but this will not happen. No. Assolutamente no!”
“This?” Lucian repeated, arching a suave brow. “Be quick, Marchesi. My time is precious.”
The vampire lifted his tumbler to his lips and tipped the contents down his throat. After a few puffs on his cigar, he returned to me. “Bambina. La mia bambina. How can I allow such a grave matter to be taken lightly? I find I cannot. In all conscience, I cannot.”
Had he somehow and most mysteriously delved into my mind and discovered my half-baked Dorian plans? I tensed defensively, expecting to be pinned against the wall and choked again.
He moved, but only to draw the curtains back from the window and pace in front of the night sky. “Passion. The thrill of the chase. I understand. I was young once. So very long ago,” he said absently, as if merely thinking aloud. “But this cannot be. The stakes, too high. The loss, incalculable. I simply cannot allow it. Too soon. Much too soon.”
I perked up at the incalculable loss part.
“You have two minutes left of my time,” Lucian announced curtly.
Emilio pulled deeply on his ever-present cigar. After blowing another smoke ring, he turned to stare at Lucian, tapping his bottom lip with his thumb all the while. And then he said the last thing I expected. “You cannot marry her, warlock. I forbid it. This engagement ends here. Now. All’istante.”
Lucian looked as surprised as I felt. “And this is your crisis?” he asked in outright disbelief.
Emilio was in front of me again, dangling a set of keys near my nose. “A decent place for you to stay. Your own apartment, two floors down. And a Picasso of your own.” He waved his hand at the walls. “Take your pick.”
Disconcerted, I searched the vampire’s eyes so close to mine. Cripes, he couldn’t be taking this father nonsense that seriously, could he? Nah. Not likely. He had to be playing some new devilish game. But what the heck was it?
“Suspicion. Mistrust. Diffidenza. So much of it in you, e molta di più.” Emilio clucked, sadly shaking his head back and forth. And then he spread his arms wide. “We’ve started on the wrong foot with each other, eh? A truce, perhaps? A father-figure. What you wished for in childhood? The beginning is always now, bambina, never forget that.”
