Madman’s Cure: Madman Duet Book Two

by Mason, V. F.

  He won’t hurt him!

  I throw myself at his leg, digging my teeth into his calf, and he cries out, shaking his leg as if trying to wiggle free of me, but I keep my hold.

  As long as his attention is on me, he won’t touch Eachann. “Fuck!” he shouts and finally kicks me away. I land on my side to the left. Laughter bounces off the walls, and I glance at my uncle.

  He gets up, clapping loudly while something flashes in his gaze, and he nods at Kirk. “We have a fighter. Isn’t that sweet? At least one among them all.” He glares at the girl who shrinks under his gaze, and then he comes closer, kicking me as well. I huff, as acid fills my mouth, and for a second, I feel like I might vomit. “The tougher they are, the more pleasure in breaking them,” he muses and then squats next to me, trapping my chin between his fingers, squeezing it so hard I cry out.

  It’s like he tries to break my bones. “Eudard.” I still at the dangerous way he pronounces my name. “You will learn to never go against my orders. The consequences will be severe,” he says and then stands up, pushes me onto my back, and places his foot on my chest, pressing on it painfully. I gasp, because the pressure is almost unbearable. “Phill, the boy,” he orders, and fear rushes through me when I see the man go to Eachann, and our uncle snaps, “Whip him with a belt.”

  “No!”

  But he presses his shoe into me more, almost cutting off all my oxygen, and I wrap my hands around his leg, choking, and he lifts it up a little, the tip of his shoes still digging into my neck. “Phill.”

  I hear the whoosh sound while Eachann scoots toward me. “Eudard.”

  But the man is already hitting him with the belt from behind, the leather bouncing from his skin.

  My twin cries out, arching his back, and then another hit comes followed by another.

  “No!” I slap our uncle’s leg, but he presses down again, cutting off the air while wiggling his foot on my collarbone.

  He clacks his tongue. “If you hadn’t been so difficult, none of it would have happened. Only one little slap. This”—he points in the direction of Eachann—“is your doing.” The hits continue to come, and my heart cries out for my brother who now only whimpers while the belt continues to strike his body.

  Finally, Uncle steps back while I cough repeatedly, sitting up despite the pain and jumping up to cover Eachann, doing my best to cover him with my body so the man will touch me and not him.

  I almost weep when I see his white pajamas coated in blood; how much skin has the bad man destroyed?

  “Enough.” The hits stop. “Never forget this lesson, Eudard,” he says to me. “You might be a Campbell and your father’s son, but here, you are nothing but a useless toy, boy.”

  I block away his words and instead focus on Eachann, who trembles in my arms, crying into his fist. I hover my hands over his back, not knowing how to help him or what to do.

  “It hurts so much, Eudard,” he says, pushing his head into my stomach, and I run my fingers over his hair, while our uncle continues to talk.

  “If you ever show resistance, your brother will be the one who will pay for it.” He warns me and then orders, “Take them to the basement now. Along with her.”

  The men immediately listen, grabbing us and not caring how they drag us across the floor. Our knees bump and bang all the way while hurt spreads through us, and Eachann whimpers even more.

  Their fingers are digging right into his back!

  Only the girl stays quiet, silently obeying, even if she showed resistance earlier.

  For a second, we catch each other’s gaze, and the smile on her face makes my heart stop.

  For who can smile at such a moment?

  Only the person who has lived with such a monster from the very beginning, it seems.

  They take us farther and farther into the hallway until they stop in front of a huge wall and one of them places his hand on it, rubbing it, and then my eyes widen when the wall pushes back, showing an opening.

  “Fuck,” he mutters and then flicks a lighter in his hand, glancing back at the other men. “Follow me and careful on the stairs. Boss won’t be happy if we ruin the product.”

  The product? What does he mean by that?

  The men nod and follow him, going down the stairs, while I start to shiver even more from the coldness sinking into me, along with more fear when we get deeper and deeper down. Their shoes echo in the space until he reaches the bottom. I blink at the emptiness. I see several weird rooms that don’t have a door but bars, reminding me of those cages Mommy has for her birds.

  The man with the lighter turns to us and rubs his chin. “How should I put them?”

  Eachann chooses this moment to whimper, coughing a little, and I swing to him, my feet tapping on the floor as I wiggle in the man’s hold.

  The man leans closer and then slaps me on the cheek, my head snapping to the side when he barks, “Little fucker, the scene earlier didn’t teach you anything.” He fists my hair and then pulls my head back so I face him—even though pain travels through me and a single tear slides down my cheek.

  He sighs and then his thumb wipes it away. His gaze softens, but it only breaks goose bumps on my skin. I duck away but regret it when he pulls at my hair harder, a groan of pain slipping past my lips. “This is just the beginning. Be compliant and no one will hurt you.” Then he barks at the others, “Put them all in separate cages. No food or water until further notice.” He smiles, but it reminds me more of a grimace. “One of them will be the entertainment of the night. Boss doesn’t show new products without trying them first.”

  And with that, we are taken in different directions as I shout, “Eachann!” And he calls back, “Eudard,” but he is thrown into a cage closer to the stairs where I hear more of his cries. Then comes the girl, who is put into the next one—although she stills smiles and then giggles a little, finding this situation funny apparently.

  Finally, at the third one that’s located opposite the second one, he stops, opens it up, and drops me on the floor, bumping my knees and hands when I land, which sends prickles of pain through me. “Enjoy” is all he says and walks off, but not before turning on weird things with fire that bring a little light to this kingdom of darkness.

  The whole thing reminds me of those pirate movies I used to watch with Eachann on Sundays; they usually kept prisoners in such places.

  We are prisoners here now?

  I put my hand on my stomach that still hurts and lift my shirt to see a blue bruise forming that is so huge I know I’ve never gotten something like it before.

  Getting onto my knees, I look around only to see a small empty space with a dripping sink and toilet that has a lot of dirt on it with some red paint splashed on the walls, although it’s weirdly placed all over the ground too.

  Did they spill it?

  But besides that… there is nothing.

  What does my uncle plan to do to us?

  Product… Daddy has products in his companies. He says we have to make the best product so we can sell it accordingly and triple our empire. One day, it will belong to us, so Daddy always takes us everywhere he goes on our land to show us how much we have.

  Does our uncle want us to create a product for him?

  Eachann’s voice penetrates through my thoughts as he calls, “Eudard.”

  Shifting to the bars, I squeeze them hard and shake a little, but they don’t move under me. “I’m here,” I say and wipe away my tears, pushing back the pain and focusing only on Eachann.

  We are twins.

  In this world, we have no one but each other, at least in this situation. “Don’t worry, Eachann. Daddy will find us.”

  I reassure him while he whimpers again, “Hurts. My back hurts.”

  Tugging at the bar once again, I sag next to it while worry for him shakes me, because what if those wounds do something bad to him? “He will find us,” I repeat again, because Daddy always finds a solution. That’s what they want, right?

  “Oh,” I mutter, f
inally understanding their words about products. They want to blackmail Daddy to get us? That’s why we are a product.

  His earlier words about not tarnishing a product brings me hope. I grab the bars once again, squeezing closer to the edge, and continue to talk to Eachann, soothing him with my tone. “They will call Daddy to take us back.” Maybe he’ll need to make a deal with them? But they are so mean, no wonder Mommy didn’t want to send us here. She must know them well! “You heard them. We just have to wait, Eachann. I promise you. Don’t cry, okay? I’m here. I’m always here,” I say, wishing I could hug him right now, not only to calm him down, but to find comfort in his arms too.

  United, we are stronger than apart.

  “Okay,” he says, and I hear a little rustling. I press my cheek to the bar, trying to get a look at him but fail, because he is on the same side as I am.

  So instead, I slip my hand through the bars and wave at him. “See? I’m here.” He does the same, and I exhale a little, resting my head against the cold metal and praying Daddy will come soon, because Eachann’s wounds need to be treated.

  That’s when laughter fills the space, sinking this cold place into more doom, as it has no amusement. It sounds bitter and… sad? I follow the sound only to jump back and land on my behind when I notice the girl staring at me from the opposite cage, her eyes sparkling in joy. And by the crazy look on her face and her hair all over the place, I wonder if maybe she is not all right in the head.

  I don’t know much about what it means, but Mommy’s doctor always whispers this to our maid once he visits Mommy.

  This girl changes her behavior quickly, just like her.

  “What’s your name?” I decide to ask, and she blinks. Then she shifts closer, sliding on her knees to the bars, gluing her nose to them and blinking again.

  Her stare surprises me, because it’s like she has never seen another kid before.

  Does she even know how to talk? I try again, putting my hand on my chest. “My name is Eudard.” I point at her then ask, “What’s your name?”

  She exclaims something and then starts to speak, but I don’t understand any of it. It takes me a moment to realize it’s another language.

  She claps her hands and continues to talk while I just sit numbly, hearing Eachann say, “I don’t think she speaks English.”

  “Yeah.” Daddy always found nannies who spoke several languages so we could be multilingual and learn from an early age, but whatever she says doesn’t sound like any of them.

  “It’s not Spanish or French.” Eachann says. She glances at him and pauses her speech while she cocks her head to the side. “I’ve never heard it before.”

  She huffs in exasperation, growling, then snaps her eyes to me, exclaiming something in this weird language.

  But she stops when I shake my head and say, “I don’t understand.”

  Her brows furrow and she sits back, focusing those eyes of hers on me again and then tentatively repeats, pointing at me, “Eudard.” I nod, so she licks her lips and then puts both of her hands on her chest, whispering, “Liam.”

  Um… what?

  I hear Eachann move too. He must have sat straight just like me, so I ask again, because I must have heard it wrong. “My name is Eudard. What’s your name?”

  She hisses at me, not happy with me, and this time repeats louder, “Liam.”

  The girl with crazy eyes…

  …is a boy?

  Cassandra

  I stand still, too shocked with his admission for any kind of reaction, while chaos erupts inside me from all the events tonight.

  How should one react when so many things happen at once? And still stay sane? No wonder he became a psycho.

  “You know,” I say the most idiotic thing, because isn’t that obvious?

  Barely sparing me a glance, he walks toward the bar in the right corner, fetching a whiskey bottle from the top shelf and grabs a glass. The ice he adds to it rattles loudly before he pours himself a drink.

  All while staying freaking silent after the bomb he dumped on me!

  “I do,” he finally replies. He picks up the glass, takes a large sip, then points with it at me, his voice void of any emotion. “It doesn’t change the fact that you kissed someone else.”

  Unbelievable!

  “I kissed you!” I shout, losing my temper, but then I exhale heavily, praying for patience that seems almost impossible in the current situation. “Let’s forget about the kiss.”

  Anger crosses his face and possessiveness flashes in his green eyes, alerting me to the fact that he will never freaking forget about that kiss.

  For me, it ended when I discovered the truth, but in Eudard’s mind, I’ll be forever his with no way out of this relationship. Trapped in his dungeon like his most favorite possession, as he called me, even if said possession wishes to claw her way out of his hell.

  Men like him don’t let go of the women they deem theirs; they want them to accept their darkness and live with them despite that.

  Oh my God.

  That’s what he wants from me, isn’t it? Why he doesn’t kill me?

  Clasping my hands together to keep them from shaking, I blow into them while shrugging off these thoughts for later.

  Focus, Cassandra. You might never get the chance to ask him your questions again.

  He continues to sip his drink, the clinking of ice echoing through the room. “You are aware about the madness happening around you?” I want to clarify, because how he can stay so calm about it?

  Or maybe he is so used to it he no longer thinks it’s abnormal?

  He frowns, finishing his drink and pouring himself another one. “Madness? I have a condition. It doesn’t make me insane.” Then he chuckles. “He is actually saner than I am, all things considered.”

  “I don’t mean your disorder,” I snap, offended he’d even think I would say something like that. “I meant the fact that you live as Eachann. It’s not a multiple personality, is it? Do you have schizophrenia too? Or is it trauma?” I fire all these questions, hoping for some kind of an answer but coming up blank for them in my head.

  Eudard leans on the counter, resting his elbows on it while twisting the glass in his hand, studying it with interest while his voice reeks with boredom. “Wrong, Miss Detective.”

  I huff in exasperation at his tone, and the fucker laughs again, enjoying my misery with not a care in world.

  All this makes no sense to me, because he lives as three men.

  Shouldn’t he be more troubled with it?

  But then I think about it again, wondering if maybe he pretends as Eachann, because that’s the only explanation I have for it. Can he be such a great actor though? How is it possible to live two lives, displaying so much personality as both of them… and being public figures.

  It’s not like one of the personalities lives as a hermit, no. They show themselves on full display in front of everyone, having a crucial part of a society.

  A mayor and a priest, for God’s sake!

  “Why are you acting like him?” I finally ask, exhausted from mulling over all the different scenarios in my head and not coming up with anything believable enough. I rub my temples with my fingertips from the headache forming there. His voice penetrates through the fog.

  “I don’t.” He places the glass on the counter, drumming his knuckles on the stone surface. “Eunan acts like him.”

  That name again.

  “The personality that lives inside you?”

  He nods. The freaking drumming is getting on my nerves at this point, but I grit my teeth from saying that.

  I need answers, damn it, and for them, I’m willing to withstand his attitude, even if it makes me want to punch him in the face. “Why does he do it?”

  His knuckles pause. “To protect me from the pain.”

  “Of losing Eachann?” Even though absolutely nothing changes in his voice or face, I know his heart is bleeding for his twin.

  His jaw twitches, a smirk appearing
in the corner of his mouth like a mechanism.

  As if talking about his brother doesn’t deserve any tender emotions, only this self-mocking hollowness that has the ability to freeze fire. “He always protected me from the pain—well, tried to,” he muses, and I step closer, wanting to hear every word. “As much as he could. When Eachann died…” His voice trails off, and he plasters his palms on the counter. He waits a bit before continuing. “Eunan did the best he could to soften the blow coming my way. He took on Eachann’s personality and became a prisoner of my brother’s dream.” He must read the confusion on my face, because he clarifies. “Eachann wanted to be a priest, bringing much-needed peace to this town.”

  Like I predicted, Eunan is a born protector who rose to help Eudard and, in this, his actions make sense; however, logically how is it possible? “And everyone around you just accepts it?”

  He pushes back from the counter, strolling to the terrace, and the minute he opens the door, a cool breeze slips into the room, bringing relief to my heated skin.

  The patio showcases the view of the ocean as waves crash against the rocks. The deck is made of wood and has two loungers, probably for those who can’t resist the mesmerizing beauty of nature.

  Eudard opens his arms wide, welcoming the wind slamming into him while I shiver from the cold but stand close to him. Needing it, in this moment, when for the first time in our lives we speak freely.

  Even if this freedom cost me him.

  “Only Laura knows.” He speaks again and my brows furrow at this. Their little sister? “I thought she deserved to know. Eunan wrote a handwritten letter to everyone, claiming Eachann flew away to study. I did the same, so it made sense when we switched. Before that, we visited town from time to time together, but no one saw us both at the same time. Maybe that’s why rumors about our falling-out started.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “And then we just both came back at the same time.”

  “So you control the switches?” I sound like such an idiot with all these questions, but it’s not like I have knowledge of this disorder.

  He shakes his head, his focus back on the ocean rocking under the rain. “No, I did get treatment as a child once my dad knew, and then in my adult years. Pills help to control it, but no, it’s not like we have a schedule.” I walk closer to him, my feet slapping against the wood. I swing to the side to see his hard-as-granite profile just as lightning flashes in the night, giving him an even more sinister expression, but oddly no fear erupts inside me.