Mindbreaker (A Cassidy Edwards Novel Book 3)

by Carmen Caine

  Ok, hadn’t seen that one coming either. It took a second for the full implication to sink in.

  My Elizabeth? Elizabeth Rowle … and Dorian?

  “No way,” I said, my jaw dropping open. This time, it was me who skipped around and blocked his path. “I thought you hated the Rowles. Enemies. That sort of thing. Elizabeth? You and Elizabeth were a thing?”

  The Scottish highlander of a vampire shot me a surprised look, followed by an unrepentant, dazzling grin. “If by ‘thing’, you mean were we lovers?” he queried mildly. “Aye, ‘tis true.”

  Wow. Just wow. What a day for revelations.

  “Elizabeth was no Rowle.” He kept on talking. “Ach, they forced her to wed that Mindbreaker’s pawn, that wretched coward of a warlock and take on his name, but make no mistake, lass. Elizabeth never was a Rowle. Her heart was always mine and from the beginning.”

  So, it was nothing more than an ancient, sordid love triangle? And wait a second, Mindbreaker’s pawn? I shuddered. So, Emilio had been playing with the Rowles for centuries. It made sense, actually. Control the only warlocks capable of destroying you.

  Still. It was a bit much to believe. I was a born skeptic.

  “Yeah, well, your version of events differs from what I’ve heard,” I replied, recalling the stories I’d been told. “It was true love, blah, blah, blah. Ending with Lord Rowle dying from a broken heart when you brought about his downfall by having a Terzi warlock curse her into a painting—”

  “Rubbish,” Dorian snorted, looking strangely delighted. “I spun that wee tale out of thin air. We had to throw them off the scent, lass. And it worked surprisingly well. The true events … were quite different. Elizabeth never hied herself off to a painting. Nay. ‘Twas not a painting …” A look of overt pain crossed his face and he turned away yet again, clearly overwrought with the memory.

  Ok, that was interesting. If true. I’d talked to her in Venice from the confines of a frame and in the same room I’d let Dorian practically ravish me and I’d willingly told him everything I knew.

  Thankfully, he couldn’t follow my thoughts as well as Lucian.

  “Well, wow, is all I can say,” I muttered when he’d fallen silent. But I knew it was time to get out of there before he pulled any tricks to bend me to his will or whatever he was capable of doing. I really couldn’t afford to get caught up in this mess. I had my own platter of problems at home, starting with that sketchbook. “It’s been real nice chatting with you, but can’t help. You’re on your own now. Good night.”

  Again, I’d taken only a step before he flashed in front of me, forcing me to stop. Geez. At this rate, I’d be inching along the rooftop all night.

  “The past is gone and Elizabeth with it, lass,” he said, his voice taking on a deep urgency. “But I will not fail her. I will carry on the task as she begged me. I canna fight the Mindbreaker alone.”

  Fight the Mindbreaker.

  I wanted to cover my ears and not hear anymore, because the more I listened, the more I knew I was going to be dragged down even more into this mess. Gloria, the Rowles and the Mindbreaker had been entwined for centuries.

  “I need my clan at my side, my fellow Defenders,” Dorian was insisting. “I need you to free them.”

  “No.”

  I froze.

  It wasn’t me who’d said that, even though it had been on the tip of my tongue.

  Whirling, I turned to see Lucian standing there, scarcely a few yards away.

  The Opposite of Black

  At Lucian’s arrival, Dorian hissed and extended his fangs, his gaze immediately seeking out the warlock’s injured hand. It was dark. I couldn’t see a thing, but I guess vampires didn’t have the same limitation. Apparently, he saw enough. Every inch of his muscled frame tensed. With his nostrils flaring, he hissed, “’Tis a lie. Trickery, treachery, and deceit. I dinna believe what I see. Nay, I … dare not.”

  Stepping into a dim shaft of light, Lucian extended his hand and slowly stretched his fingers. From the illumination department perspective, the visuals weren’t that much of an improvement, but this time, I could barely make out a few of the more prominent lines etched on his flesh.

  “Nor do I believe what I see myself, Ramsey,” the dark-haired warlock admitted before dropping his hand and locking his silver-blue gaze upon the vampire highlander. “I still hold you responsible for the Rowle family misfortune. For me, it’s karma. Justice. Forever. And I don’t give a damn about the long march of time, unless you agree it’s high time you paid for the pain you’ve inflicted upon the House of Rowle, beginning with Elizabeth those many years ago.”

  Dorian’s head snapped back, his eyes lighting with a mixture of merriment and anger. It was a strange combination. Interestingly, the amusement won out and he laughed, a bold, jarring sound echoing off the rooftop.

  How could Emilio miss it? I glanced around, half expecting him to burst onto the scene.

  Dorian didn’t seem concerned, though. In fact, he appeared perfectly at ease. Shifting his weight onto one lean hip, he crossed his arms and bowed his head to peer at Lucian from under a bushy line of brow.

  “Aye, and you’re a wee misguided fool, lad,” he said before succumbing to another barrel-chested laugh. “Gloria told me that you’ve been wasting your life. Mayhap I owe it to my wee Elizabeth to unveil the truth, no?”

  When he paused, Lucian prompted him with a sardonic and scathing, “Please do.”

  “Ach, but there’s no easy way to say it, but to say it and have done,” Dorian snorted, shaking his head. Lifting his chin, he continued firmly, “There is no House power, lad. There’s naught to retrieve or to set free. No painting to find. No curse to break. There’s no cure in salvaging your family name from long centuries of decline. As surely you must know by now or at least suspect, ‘twas shattered those many years ago by a grand white witch. ‘Twas the only way. Aye, ‘twas Elizabeth herself who destroyed the Rowle family and the hereditary power of your bloodline. And she did it to save us all, to obliterate every shred of what you carry in your veins so it wouldna be used again.”

  You know how it is. Sometimes, when you hear people speak, no matter what preposterous thing it is they’re saying, you can hear the ring of truth in their words. Well, that’s exactly what happened with Dorian’s little speech, but it just wasn’t a ‘ring’ or ‘echo’ of truth—it was more like an atomic bomb.

  Even in the weak light, it was clear to see that Lucian’s face had just gone white. He didn’t even try to accuse the vampire of lying.

  I don’t know how long we all stood there. It could have been seconds or minutes. At some point, I heard sirens wailing in the distance. At another, the soft chopping whir of a helicopter somewhere nearby in the inky dark night. A cold gust of wind ruffled through my hair, bringing with it various scents of mana, but after the night I’d had, I’d lost my appetite.

  Finally, Lucian stirred. “Then I’ve no reason to keep you alive any longer.”

  “I welcome those who attack me,” Dorian replied grimly. “At least I know where they stand, lad.”

  I winced, half expecting a wizardry shower of sparks and the battle-of-all-battles to erupt on the apartment’s rooftop. But nothing happened. They just stood there, staring at each other and breathing heavily, kind of like the snorting of mad bulls pawing the ground.

  Finally, Dorian’s brogue sliced the silence. “The last Rowle I encountered was a lass named Bridgette,” he recollected in a low growl, cocking his head to one side. “Ach, as a Rowle, she possessed no power, but the fools who followed her dinna know that. They tracked me down, found me, bricked my mouth and staked my heart and knees. They left me to rot in Venice for centuries.”

  “And why do I care?” came Lucian’s scornful reply.

  Dorian lifted a brow and locked his jaw. “I find it strange, lad, that you even exist, but I canna deny the Rowle power running in your veins. Only a Rowle can curse my kind into a marionette. But your bloodlines are dark. ‘Twas the
foul fool of a Rowle wed to my Elizabeth who enabled the Mindbreaker to rise again. And from what is plain to see, ‘tis history playing the same melody with you in Emilio’s thrall, aye?” He jutted his chin towards Lucian’s hand. “Yet, you stand before me with that mark on your hand, a mark that would never deny me my clan.”

  Lucian slipped his hand into his pocket. “I owe you nothing, Ramsey,” he hissed in reply. “Nor those who followed you.”

  Assuming the battle would kick off in earnest this time, I took a step back.

  But the vampire and the warlock facing off surprised me again.

  A wide smile stole across Dorian’s face. “I ask myself, again and again, just why do I not simply behead you. ‘Twould be a simple thing, aye, so simple a thing,” he murmured, his grin growing by the second. “Mayhap ‘tis lady luck who rides at your side, aye?”

  “I’m not one to believe in luck,” Lucian replied with a nonchalant shrug.

  “Then ‘tis something else?” the highlander queried. “Mayhap … just mayhap, there’s a wee bit of Elizabeth in you, no?”

  Lucian just looked at him.

  “And I hazard you well understand what’s at stake now,” the Scottish vampire continued. “There’s no doubt the Mindbreaker has returned. Aye, he’s crafty. We must find him and finish the battle we once started, I and my warriors. This you must know. ‘Tis time to lay your petty concerns to the side, lad. There’s a matter of great concern on the horizon now, and that’s the Mindbreaker. We must find and stop him ere he rises again. Too long has he walked hidden from sight.”

  I suppose I could’ve told them then, just who the Mindbreaker was. But I didn’t.

  I … couldn’t.

  Dorian chuckled. A moment later, he nodded curtly, apparently making a decision. “‘Twas no accident Elizabeth’s spell found you, no? She swore ‘twould mark the one bearing the highest code of honor and the strongest sense of justice, a warlock or witch of the white persuasion, and a highlander worthy of the clan. One who would lead the charge to destroy the Mindbreaker, once and for all,” the vampire said softly. “I just never dreamt—aye, she never dreamt—it would be a Rowle.”

  White persuasion? I opened my mouth to inform Dorian that Lucian was the exact opposite shade but he spoke before I could.

  “Black or white, I’ll not discuss it here, Ramsey,” he said. “But I will give you this. All these skeletons in my closet are starting to make too much noise.”

  With the twitch of a long, elegant finger, he abruptly unmasked a briefcase resting by his feet.

  Dorian caught his breath.

  My mouth fell open. Surely, no! Surely, that briefcase didn’t hold Dorian’s clan? The one he’d been yammering about for days?

  But it did.

  And Lucian was actually just … giving it to him.

  Why? Because of the scar on his hand?

  “Take these,” Lucian was saying, extending a handful of long black puppet strings. “I only ask you tie them on far from here and near dawn. It’ll give me more time to avoid their fury.”

  Gravely, Dorian stepped forward, accepting the strings with one hand and the briefcase with the other. “They willna harm you, lad,” he swore. “You bear Elizabeth’s mark on your hand.”

  Lucian snorted. “I do not share your faith, Ramsey.”

  The highlander smiled, but it was a sad curve of the lips. One filled with pain. “Then you dinna know what Elizabeth meant to us all,” he murmured.

  The next moment, he vanished in a sharp crack and sudden burst of air.

  I shook my head to clear it, but it didn’t help. I was just as confused as before. The world had tipped upside down. Nothing was as it had seemed a mere week ago.

  “Shall we, Cassidy?” Lucian stepped aside and waved a hand for me to precede him.

  I didn’t budge. “Why did you do that?” I asked bluntly instead. “Did I just see you giving Dorian his buddies back? Aren’t the Terzi your enemies? And white? White? You said you were as black as midnight.”

  “So many questions, sweetheart,” he observed with an easy smile. “Suffice it to say, the game has changed.”

  “Game? What game is it now?” I asked. I know what I expected. I expected to hear him spout about the Mindbreaker. I think he read it on my face. When he didn’t answer me, I pushed again. “So, care to loop me in to what’s really going on here?”

  “It’s been a long week,” he replied instead. “Let’s get some sleep, shall we?”

  That actually sounded like heaven. My bones ached from being tossed down from the stairs, my leg still hurt from the nano foray, and my head threatened to throb once more. I was drained and exhausted. But still, I had to know. “Did you really just hand them over? His entire clan? A whole suitcase of angry Terzi vampires?”

  “Vampires that, at any moment, might descend upon us in fury,” he supplemented. “Might I suggest we retire to the safety of my wards?”

  I searched his handsome face, from the hard line of his jaw to his expressive, silver-blue eyes. “What happened to you in that basement? What’s this mark? You said it was a burn. But sounds like your great-to-the-something grandma decided you should turn white and take up her cause?”

  He cocked an amused brow at me then. “If answering gets you safely below sooner, then yes. I suppose you could say something like that, but as I’ve told you before, white magic is a mere enhancement.” He took his hand out of his pocket then and held it out. “The scars … yes, I fought her spell, at first. Old habits are hard to break. But now?” He peered down at me, his lips drawn into a thin line. “I’ve learned that revenge is a tangled web, Cassidy. A maze. It’s so easy to get lost. And I’ve decided I shall no longer seek revenge, but justice.”

  Justice? Sounded like revenge in a politically correct form to me. “So that makes you white?” I asked.

  “Whiter than I was, at least. But that is incredibly easy to do,” he admitted wryly. “Now, let us return, shall we?”

  He didn’t wait for me then. Spinning on his heel, he headed back towards the roof-access door, still leaving me with many questions. New ones. Or ones I hadn’t bothered to acknowledge before.

  What was Lucian’s game with Emilio? Revenge, obviously … but for what wrong?

  And what was going to happen with these unleashed Terzi vampires? Warriors from another age?

  And the Fallen One?

  Well, that one wasn’t much of a question, really. I already knew it wanted its payment, just as I knew it was looking for me to cough up the reward.

  I shivered. Yeah, I didn’t really want to think about the Fallen Ones at night. I had a sneaking suspicion it was equivalent to selecting that ‘share your location’ button on social media.

  Breaking into a run, I caught up with Lucian at the landing above the utility stairs winding back down into the apartment below. Each step was a painful one, and by the time I’d reached him, I had a new bone to pick.

  Rubbing my bruised lip, I caught his arm. “You said I was safe in my apartment, So?” I waved a hand at my battered face and gingerly patted my split lip—or where the cut had been, anyway. My specter side had already repaired most of it along with the majority of the bruises. But we were talking principle here. It didn’t matter that I could heal like a vampire.

  “And safe you were,” he countered softly. “I can’t keep everyone out of your apartment, Cassidy. I can only slow down those intending you harm. Clearly, Jacques just wanted to talk.”

  Moving off, he began descending the metal-grid stairs.

  I was angry, but too tired to fight and trailed after him in silence, my information-saturated brain beginning to shut down from exhaustion. We walked the rest of the way to my apartment, but this time, when I opened the door, he followed me inside.

  Slipping his leather jacket off his broad shoulders, he folded it over an arm and headed towards the living room. “I’ll stay here for the night,” he offered, extending the olive branch as he dropped down onto the couch. �
��Otherwise, you’re likely to have more visitors.”

  Torn between exhaustion and annoyance, I settled for a scowl. “You do that. And if another vampire shows up, you’re fighting him. Not me.”

  “Agreed,” he responded mildly. He didn’t look at me when he spoke, he just looked straight ahead. It was an annoying habit.

  “So where are we, Lucian?” I asked, still unsure. “The investigation’s over, right? And?”

  He did look at me then, with eyes holding more than a hint of amusement. “You signed a contract, Cassidy. Your mission is not yet complete. It’s over when I say it’s over.”

  That again? “The never-ending mission wasn't part of the bargain,” I said. “And frankly, I’m surprised you’d still want me on your team.”

  “Why’s that?” he queried in obvious surprise. “You’ve demonstrated remarkable ingenuity. You’re incredibly resourceful. Amazing, really, and shockingly effective. I need members like you on my team.”

  The buzz of his cellphone interrupted further conversation. As he sat up to take it, I padded to the bathroom, pausing to stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My face had pretty much already healed from my fight with Jacques but my makeup had smudged, leaving me with raccoon eyes, made worse by the room’s dim light. I needed a haircut and with all of the stress of late, I’d lost a few pounds.

  And sleep? I needed to shut my eyes for at least a week, if not more.

  “Cassidy?” Lucian’s voice called from the adjoining room.

  Leaving, I found him standing at the bottom of my stairs, his jaw clenched. “Grab some sleep while you can,” he said. “We’ve only got about eight hours. Strix called.”

  I tensed. So. I was headed to prison, after all.

  He must have read the alarm on my face. “A Nether Reach prison break. We’re meeting Strix there in the morning. We’ve got to track the escapees down. And fast.”