Monster (A Cassidy Edwards Novel - Book 1) (8 page)

“You’re unusual,” he continued with his maddening giggle. “And highly untrained. They’re clueless, aren’t they?” He tossed his head in Lucian’s direction.

I could see where this was going. Was I even going to have a choice?

“I’ll help you out, that kind of thing,” he said, sidling forward. “You’ll do the same for me, then, eh?”

“Can I even get rid of you?” I muttered.

He laughed and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Shall I sweeten the deal?” he asked, hopping onto my shoulder.

I was about to swat him away when he surprised me.

Pushing my hair back from my ear with his little hands, he whispered so only I could hear. “You’re a natural, there’s no need to have the collywobbles, love. As a spell-finder, they’re just expecting you to keep them from falling into traps. All you have to do is point out the enchanted objects for them to avoid. Should be easy-peasy for one with your mana abilities, eh?”

I hesitated. How much did this little puff of obnoxiousness know about me?

And how?

“And I’d keep my mana-guzzling habits to myself, if I were you,” he advised. “That’s dangerous business. If Lucian only knew … well, just so you know, he’s activated his wards against you so you can’t smell him and his anymore.”

A shiver went down my back.

Apparently, he knew too much.

And then it registered just 
what
 he’d said. “Wait, what?” I asked, startled.

Lucian had activated his 
wards
 against me? Him and his?

I looked at Ricky in wonder. Could it be that I had my own talking Charmed Wikipedia? Maybe I could just ask him anything I wanted to know.

“Splendid, at your service,” Ricky replied, giving me his trademark grin.

He knew that he’d won.

“What do 
you
 want in exchange?” I asked in a leery tone.

With his eyes shining, he queried, “Know any good Indian takeaways where we’re headed?”

The Dangers of Turmeric

I woke to Lucian leaning close over me, his strong hands gripping both of my armrests. As I blinked the sleep from my eyes, he slowly dropped his head until our lips were scarcely inches apart.

“We’ve landed,” he said with a sensual lift of his brow.

I studied him intently.

His lean body was overpowering. Seductive. He was almost fatally attractive, if you will.

It wasn’t a bad way to wake up.

But I knew what game he was playing. I’d played it so many times myself: The art of sensual distraction, the use of romantic magnetism to throw your opponent off-guard.

I never realized how much fun it was to be the other player.

For several moments, he stayed still, keeping his lips close to mine, and then he challenged dryly, “Where’s your imp?”

I jerked, startled.

Touché. There was no hiding my guilt.

Part of me was annoyed he hadn’t played longer.

Straightening, Lucian expelled a breath and slanted a look at me from under half-closed lids. “A proper spell-finder controls their imp,” he criticized acidly.

I sent him a dark frown. “What makes you think he’s not under control?” I challenged. “I know how to handle him.”

It was a bald-faced lie. I didn’t even know where to begin. How did someone tame possessed smoke?

“Then bring him at once,” Lucian retorted, calling my bluff. “That is, if you expect to be paid.”

Without a further word, he spun on his heel and stalked out of the cabin.

Muttering a curse, I rose to my feet.

I didn’t have a clue where the little beast had run off to. He was nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t smell him anywhere either, though he hardly emitted enough mana to really track.

The plane was empty; the others had already left. I was a heavy sleeper, so it was no surprise that I’d snored through it all, even the landing.

“Ricky, get your butt over here,” I groused, stretching a kink in my neck. Already, I wholeheartedly regretted popping that cork.

There was no response.

I shook his bottle, but it was empty.

I shrugged. I’d tried. It wasn’t my fault that Lucian had gotten me the bargain-bin reject of imps. Yanking my suitcase out of the overhead bin, I rolled it down the aisle and exited the plane.

It was hot and muggy outside. Early afternoon. Bright. I had to squint. Shading my eyes, I spied a private limo waiting a stone’s throw away.

Whoever Lucian’s client was, he was obviously extremely wealthy.

Dragging my suitcase down the gangway, I arrived at the limo just as the chauffeur opened a passenger door and bowed for me to enter.

Lucian, Heath, and Tabitha were already sitting inside and sipping on champagne.

Tabitha had changed, swathing herself from head-to-toe in a voluminous red-hooded cloak. The moment I sat down on the limo’s soft seats, she covered her face entirely with the hood and bowed her head.

I wondered what she was up to, but at least she wasn’t watching me—that I could tell, anyway.

No one spoke as the driver tossed my luggage in the trunk and we set off.

The ride was quite short, taking us only to a nearby dock, where a private speedboat replete with beige leather seating awaited us. I found a place to sit near the stern as the limo driver assisted the taxi driver in transferring our luggage.

I smelled him then. Ricky. Squinting at the suitcases, I saw his head pop out of a dark blue one. For a moment, we made eye contact and I shook my head no. He just grinned and dove back in. Scowling, I wondered what he could be looking for and tried to ignore the sinking feeling that he was most likely in the process of causing me more trouble.

Minutes later, we were speeding across the Venetian Lagoon to Fondamenta Nuove, meeting all sorts of water buses, taxis, and gondola ferries along the way. After a bit, we turned into a narrow side canal, passing several fish markets to cruise for a while until we reached the famous Rialto Bridge. The speed boat slowed, weaving its way through tourists in gondolas until we finally pulled into yet another narrow canal and up to a large, marble-faced Venetian villa, its entire bottom floor half submerged in water.

It was a beautiful place. Luscious vines crept over the walls and hung above the windows, draping the windows with bunches of lavender flowers. Trudging tiredly up the marble steps leading from the canal, I followed the others to the front door.

Lucian entered first, and the rest of us fell into step behind him.

An old woman with spidery-veined hands and a permanent scowl etched into her massively wrinkled face greeted us. She didn’t speak; she merely waved us down a corridor behind a sweeping staircase.

Lucian apparently knew where he was going.

With long strides, he led us down the hallway, skipping several rooms before coming upon the one he wanted. Opulently decorated, the old room we entered was loaded with antiques. A table with intricately carved legs and laden with food stood in the corner. Large ancient paintings with gilt frames hung on the walls. Plush Persian carpets covered the cool, tiled floor. And French doors opened out into an inner courtyard filled with big clay-potted trees.

“Hungry?” Heath asked with a cheerful smile.

His voice sounded unnaturally loud, making me realize that no one had spoken since getting off the plane. Not waiting for a response from me, the werewolf made a beeline for the table of food.

I was ravenous. But not for human food. Food tasted like sawdust to me, but over the years, I’d learned to eat for social situations. As I expect any werewolf would, Heath began wolfing down all the parmesan cheese and prosciutto. Joining him at the table, I picked up a slice of bread, doused it with olive oil, and went through the motions of eating. Yep, termite food.

Tabitha waited until we were properly seated before hovering over the selection of snacks herself. I wondered what firedrakes liked to eat.

Lucian, on the other hand, displayed no interest in food. Stalking to the open French doors, he lounged against the doorjamb and accepted only a goblet that the old woman delivered to him. As she hobbled away, he raised his glass, and locking his gaze with mine, drank deeply.

There was no denying that he was wickedly hot.

I enjoyed him for a moment before turning away. I didn’t have enough solid information to play his game back—yet.

A blur caught the corner of my eye then. It was Ricky, sneaking out from under the table to dash down the corridor on his tiptoes—like that made any difference. Who would hear him anyway? He was made of smoke.

I suppressed a snort. Excusing myself from the table, I half stood up with the intention of catching the little beast when the old woman returned and handed Lucian an envelope.

Heath and Tabitha straightened, and judging by the light in Lucian’s eyes, I figured that the envelope had been what we’d all been waiting for.

He confirmed it with a curt, “Our mission.”

Thanking the old woman with a gracious dip of his chin, he accepted the missive and tore it open. He read it where he stood, his shrewd eyes scanning the contents quickly, and then he went still. Very still. When he was done, he averted his gaze out the window, and his eyes took on a faraway look as he apparently digested the information.

Silence descended on the room. It became so quiet that I was certain that this time we’d hear even
Ricky’s
footsteps.

With a sudden violent expletive, Lucian crushed the paper in his fist. He faced us, his jaw set and his eyes glittering with cold calculation.

“It’s a Chosen One,” he announced tightly. “With great haste, we must contain him before he’s unbricked. It’s imperative that 
this
 Chosen One does 
not
 awaken.”

A Chosen One? I perked up instantly. The more vampires I met, the better.

Tabitha suddenly drew her hood back. “Which one?” she asked sharply.

Lucian crooked his lip in a lordly twist. “Unknown,” he answered her. “But he’s one of the Old Ones. Humans found him yesterday while unearthing the mass graves of plague victims. Still freshly fascinated with their discovery, they haven’t disturbed him yet. But they’ve taken photos and informed the media. As of this morning, the mouth was still bricked.”

Heath drew in a long breath. “Heavy,” he remarked.

Tabitha looked suitably shocked.

I grated my teeth. Where was my imp when I needed him? I needed information, and quickly. Leaning back in my chair, I took a quick peek down the hallway, but there was no sign of my little fiend.

There was a knocking sound on the window and I glanced back to see Lucian rapping his knuckles for my attention, his pale eyes glaring.

“Cass, you’ll work with me,” he said curtly. “Bring your imp. Immediately. We mustn’t waste one moment of daylight.”

Tabitha rescued me. Unintentionally, most likely.

“Perhaps you’re not the best choice for this mission,” she addressed Lucian rigidly.

Lucian’s eyes flashed, and he whirled upon her at once. “Don’t be foolish,” he rebuked, and then stretched his lips into a semblance of a smile. “I am the 
only
 choice, and doubly so if it is 
him
.”

I paused in interest. Him? Him who?

Tabitha stood there, tapping her toe. “Already, you are blind. Beware,” she cautioned. “You can only see that which you seek. You assume, and assumption is the first step taken by a fool.”

Folding his hands behind his back, he advanced on her, step-by-step and speaking in a soft but deadly voice said, “Bricked mouth, staked heart. Both knees pinned with wood. Who else would have required such restraint in the Middle Ages?” Pointing to the crumpled instructions now on the table, he continued. “And if that were not enough … 
that
 says he’s wearing a kilt.”

Obviously, 
I
 drew a blank. A man in a kilt wasn’t exactly the first thing to come to mind when imagining a dangerous vampire.

Tabitha apparently knew whom he spoke of. “Ramsey is strong. Legendary.”

“Stronger than I?” Lucian’s teeth gritted into a dark smile, but anger thrummed beneath his words.

Tabitha’s frown intensified. I had to admit, she was pretty plucky. In her short, accusing way, she continued sharply, “You’re not a Chosen One.”

“No,” Lucian agreed, his expression hard and unyielding. “I’m a warlock.”

Finally, she fell silent. For her, I guess it was the mark of concession.

Lucian nodded just once. “We leave, now, before he is unbricked, and the others are found. The humans mustn’t be allowed to unleash these Chosen Ones—not if it is truly his clan. You both know what to do.”

Rising to his feet, Heath folded his hands and gave a solemn bow of respect—not unlike the customary bow in Japan. He kind of ruined it by adding, “Right on, man. We got your back!”

Making a mental note to get to know Heath better, I looked at Tabitha. Her face was frozen in disapproval, but she lifted her arm anyway and vanished into a whirlwind of red smoke. A moment later, a red lizard slithered where she’d been.

Whistling cheerfully under his breath, Heath crouched on the floor and held out his hand. Securing the red lizard around his finger, he doffed an imaginary hat and strode out the door.

Lucian turned on me then, his pale eyes glittering with fierce determination. “Let’s go.”

Crud. I’d been a bit too fascinated and hadn’t skipped out to find Ricky before I got caught. All right then. It was time to bluff some more.

“My imp’s taking a nap, long flight and all. I’ll just go wake him,” I said with a firm nod.

Without giving Lucian a chance to object, I charged out of the room and down the corridor in the same direction that I’d seen Ricky run.

Reaching the staircase, I stood still for a moment to inhale deeply. Various mana scents drifted into my nostrils. I analyzed them with intense concentration.

The old woman.

Three cats—one of which was Esmeralda.

A couple of juicy tourists on the streets.

My stomach growled and I licked my lips. If I only had a minute ... I sighed, and with difficulty, forced myself to concentrate.

There he was, the little fiend. His delicately distinct scent wafted from somewhere in the back of the villa.