Mindbreaker (A Cassidy Edwards Novel Book 3)

by Carmen Caine

  Nothing ended up working, so I only found relief with the arrival of dawn. The first pink rays of the sun finally forced the Scottish highlander of a nag underground. Nearly screaming with joy, I stretched out on the couch like a cat, reveling in the sound of silence.

  I got a whole fifteen minutes of sleep before someone pounded on my front door. I tried ignoring it, but it didn’t do any good. Locks meant nothing to Lucian. He just walked right in, wearing a snazzy black trench coat over a suave gray suit.

  “Get up, Cass,” he said. “We’ve got work to do.”

  “You’re early,” I groaned. Didn’t he ever sleep in?

  “Crime doesn’t wait,” he responded. “And we’ve got nanos to buy. I’ve a lead.”

  That got me up.

  I dashed upstairs and did a double take in front of the mirror. Yeah, on the one morning I needed to be on top of my game I looked—and felt—like a zombie, a real nightmare. Dark, puffy circles under the eyes. Pale skin. Rat’s nest hair. Pounding headache. Cripes, what was up with the head? I’d never been prone to so many headaches before.

  And Dorian? Did he really have to chitchat all night? I was beginning to regret letting him loose. At the moment, he was far more trouble than he was worth.

  As Lucian made noises of impatience in the kitchen downstairs, I showered and changed. The hot water managed to revive me somewhat, but I knew I needed a few good jolts of mana—Charmed preferably—to finish the revival job.

  I stalked down the stairs in a bad mood—and ran straight into Tabitha, wearing a slim, flower-print sheath dress and red heels.

  Great. The morning just got better—not.

  “Morning, Tabitha,” I grunted, stepping around her to nick my jacket off the countertop and slip it on. Yep, the bottle of Samuel-mana was there, safely tucked away in my pocket. Just needed the imp. Thankfully, he still snoozed where I’d left him in the blender. “Gotta get Ricky and I’m good to go.”

  “Leave him here,” Lucian said from the door.

  I looked up, surprised, just as Tabitha reached for me.

  There was a flash of silver, and something circled my wrists.

  Handcuffs?

  Bad Night, Worse Morning

  That’s the problem with having enemies. They’re biased.

  I looked at the handcuffs on my wrists, my mouth dropping open in astonishment, comprehending Tabitha’s smug face first and then Lucian’s unreadable one.

  “You’ve got real nerve,” I accused. “Arresting me?” Crud. What case did they have against me? I’d been behind this one the entire freaking time.

  “The law states all criminal levels three and up should be restrained and taken in for questioning if found at an active crime scene,” Tabitha informed impassively. Heck, did she ever display emotion? Or was she just like that around me? “You’re a level four. It’s time for your statement.”

  “So, I’m not being arrested?” I asked, torn between irritation and relief, along with a healthy dose of disbelief. “So what’s with the cuffs?”

  “Did you free Dorian?” Tabitha asked me. Again.

  Man, she sure couldn’t let it go.

  “You asked me that before,” I snapped the reminder, letting the relief go and deciding to focus solely on the irritation. “Answer hasn’t changed. And really, are you kidding me with these cuffs? I’m part of the investigating team!” Turning to Lucian, I prodded for support, “Lucian?”

  Was he really going to let her get away with this?

  Short answer: yes.

  I followed them down to the waiting SUV, grumbling and trying to hide my cuffed hands from any curious onlookers—of which there actually were none. Once in the backseat, I growled, “Where are you taking me?”

  “The law states your arresting officer must preside over your statement,” Tabitha answered, sliding rigidly into the leather seat next to me. “He’ll meet us at the station.”

  Arresting officer? “Strix?” I clenched my teeth in a tight line. Great. What a way to start the morning. I opened my mouth to object again, but promptly closed it upon seeing the contents of Tabitha’s silver-sequined clutch.

  A soft pink-purple glow.

  The mana vials.

  * * *

  Turns out, the ‘station’ was a Charmed police station in the same Rockefeller Tower parking lot as the Fringe. Just one level higher and behind a different "Maintenance Only" door. The interior looked like your standard TV drama police station, desks of harried detectives, sullen criminals handcuffed to their chairs, and pots of stale coffee in the breakroom. The lawbreakers all shared barcodes like my own, though with far fewer bars. By the fourth look of downright awe on my fellow offenders’ faces after seeing mine, I gathered the longer the barcode, the more dangerous the criminal. It seemed that I outranked the entire lot.

  A Charmed officer led us back to an interrogation room. A woman. Petite. Sprite-like. Her mana smelled delicious, fragrant. Woodsy. It reminded me of Heath. Was she a miniature werewolf? My stomach growled, but I couldn’t lift any of her mana. Not with the cuffs.

  The instant the interrogation room’s door opened, my barcode burned.

  I knew what that meant. Strix. He slouched in a chair on one side of a long table stacked with paper. Wearing a gray cloak and with his longbow balanced on his knees, he looked more like a Robin Hood character than some kind of Charmed police officer—especially with his long, blond hair braided up over his ears. He straightened as I entered, his steely gaze taking in the handcuffs still clamped around my wrists. With a nod of satisfaction, he pointed across the table to the empty chair and looped his bow over the back of his own.

  “Sit, Cassidy,” he ordered before waving Lucian and Tabitha away. “I’ll take it from here. Can’t imagine this will take long.”

  Great. What did that mean? I sat as directed, not really wanting to be alone with Mr. High-and-Mighty in interrogation mode, but it wasn’t my call and I knew it.

  “We’ll wait outside then,” Lucian told me, nodding slightly.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. At least Tabitha and the mana vials wouldn’t be far away. As the door clicked shut behind them, I held up my cuffed hands and raised a sour brow. “Do you mind?”

  Strix shrugged, and reaching over, tapped the cuffs with an index finger. They opened at once, falling onto the table with a metallic clang.

  “Thanks,” I muttered again, but hardly meaning it this time.

  He really didn’t care. As he counted five sheets of paper and laid them down one on top of the other, I rubbed my temples to relieve the dull pain riding my skull. What was it with these incessant headaches?

  “Head hurt?”

  I glanced up to see him skewering me with a speculative glint in his eye.

  “Yeah, it sure does,” I griped. “Thanks to that wonderful training session of yours.”

  His brows scrunched into a line. “Training doesn’t cause headaches,” he replied. And then with a thoughtful tilt of his chin accompanied by a frown, he asked, “See anything unusual of late?”

  “No,” I retorted out of pure reflex. Yeah, I knew very well the doppelganger qualified as ‘unusual’, but did Strix really think I’d tell him anything? Still, I couldn’t resist a little belated poking on the subject. “Why?”

  His frown deepened, creasing his forehead between his brow, and then he returned his attention back to the papers, muttering, “It certainly wouldn’t be a good sign.”

  I wanted to know why, but I couldn’t afford to open another can-of-worms detour right now. I needed to get back to those vials. Pronto. And that meant ending this interview ASAP. So, typical Cassidy-style, I went on the offense.

  “So, what’s with the cuffs and dragging me in here?” I asked, tapping the handcuffs on the table. “What about innocent until proven guilty?”

  That elicited a snort of pure derision. “It works much faster the other way around,” he replied. “Especially with bloodlines like yours.”

  Bloodlines like mine?
“You’re prejudiced, Strix.”

  Scowling, he pulled a sheet of paper off the stack in front of him and rolled it into a scroll. Setting it aside, he smoothed the remaining sheets with the palms of his hands.

  It was my turn to scowl. “Don’t I have rights?” I asked. “You know, a lawyer or—”

  “The Charmed system is different than the human one,” he interrupted curtly. Yanking the second sheet off the stack, he rolled it into a scroll like the first while adding, “I’m your arresting officer, defender, prosecutor, judge, jury, warden, rehabilitation and parole officer—all wrapped up in one.”

  “Hardly sounds fair,” I grated. Yeah, I wasn’t liking the Charmed justice system very much. “Who keeps you in line, huh?”

  He just humphed and rolled another scroll.

  Patience wasn’t my strong suit. I waited about ten seconds before drawing my lips into a thin line. “Listen, I’ve got things to do,” I said. “Let’s get this statement over with.”

  Strix tossed me an incredulous glance. “Almost done here,” he replied, rolling yet another paper tube. “Captured the levels of consciousness from sub through level four. Just have the verbal to go.”

  Umm, what?

  Alarmed, I quickly shifted into specter-vision mode and inspected the scrolls, half expecting to see mana strands writhing towards me in disgusting, wormlike threads. But it was nothing like the perimancer experience this time and nothing I could control. I saw only sparks, glowing all over the paper, like someone had sprinkled glitter everywhere. Crud. What did that mean?

  And just what had I unconsciously confessed to?

  When I glanced back at Strix, he’d leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms. “Getting better at it, aren’t you?” he observed cuttingly.

  I feigned ignorance. But of course, it didn’t work with a Nether Reach keeper.

  “You can’t hide from me, Cassidy. I can tell when you’re using a Nether Reach skill,” he said as if terribly amused that I’d even tried to fool him. “And may I say, you look awful. Guilty conscience?”

  “You wish,” I retorted. Hex it all, I was really getting tired of playing catch-up. I decided to be blunt. “What do those say?”

  Strix wasn’t in a sharing mood. Leaving the last piece of paper flat on the table, he snatched the rolls and stalked over to the wall, popping them down a chute labeled ‘incoming’. Returning, he sat on the edge of the table and cut straight to the point. “I found your mana at both sites. Your subconscious statement places you in both locations as well.”

  Time to wing it. Again. “Yeah, I don’t deny I was there,” I said forcefully. “I walked around the place. Had to get a breath of fresh air.”

  Black writing appeared on the paper between us. A bold script and in a language I didn’t know. Crud. One of those meddle proof, self-writing deals again. Yeah. This couldn’t be good.

  “Did you see anything unusual then?” Strix asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, thinking quickly. “Gloria was there. Mad at me, you know. She let me have it for helping Lucian turn her brother into a marionette.” That was certainly true. If Dorian hadn’t been there, she just might’ve tried to kill me again.

  More words scratched across the paper.

  “Yeah, so there you have it,” I said, slapping the table in a gesture that announced I was done. “Can I go now?”

  Strix humphed. “You’re not done, not by a long shot. There are many gaps here.”

  And they were going to stay gaps, if I had any say in the matter.

  He asked me about the other location then, the one where I’d seen the Fallen One. Right. Like I was going to admit that, regardless what the other sheets claimed. We went around in circles for quite some time, but I answered every shade of question he could dream up with a shortened version of the truth, “Yeah, after talking with Gloria, I walked back to the crypt.”

  He was persistent. But so was I. In the end, I wore him down.

  “The gaps between consciousness levels are huge,” he growled in exasperation. “But since you’re not an official suspect, I can’t force an answer at this point. You can go ... for now.”

  “So kind. A real pleasure,” I said acidly.

  He opened the interrogation room door as I rose from the table, but the movement kicked off a sharp jab of pain through my skull, making me wince.

  “Head again?” Strix asked, not missing a thing. “You should know that the Specter Kindred do not suffer headaches.”

  “Well, I’m not a purebred,” I retorted as Lucian’s tall form appeared in the doorway. “I’m a Charmed mutt: part specter, part human, part vampire, and part puppet.”

  The last part made Lucian flinch. Interesting that he’d harbor guilt over that. But I didn’t feel too sorry for him, not after the handcuff stunt.

  Strix’s eyes turned into slits, and what I could see of them filled with suspicion. “And have you had dreams of late?” he prompted.

  “No,” I lied again. He’d be the very last person I’d trust, especially with the range of control he held over my life at the moment.

  “And?” Lucian prodded from his post by the door.

  The Nether Reach keeper ignored him, at first, in favor of crossing his arms and subjecting me to a long—a very, very long—stare. Finally, he murmured, “You’re right.”

  Whatever that meant, but it made Lucian smile, a type of smile I hadn’t recalled seeing on his face before. Warm. Genuine.

  “Then you’re coming?” the dark-haired warlock asked, his silver-blue gaze locked on the Nether Reach keeper still glaring at me.

  Silence fell, during which Strix still subjected me to that shrewd, evaluating stare.

  Finally, he looked away. “I’ll come,” he said.

  Great. So wherever we were headed, Mr. High-And-Mighty had to tag along?

  As I brushed past Lucian, exiting the interrogation room, he kept talking to Strix. “He’s meeting us in the Fringe. If they’re viable, I’ll need you to open the vials. Fetch Tabitha and join me there, will you?”

  The Fringe and opening the vials?

  Heck, I didn’t care who came along. Finally, something was working in my favor.

  Back to the Fringe

  It was only the afternoon, yet the Fringe was packed. I cast an eye over the bodies writhing on the dance floor. What had Lucian called the Fringe? Oh yeah, the dark, thriving underbelly and home to humanity’s dark arts. To me, it was a Charmed melting pot of intoxicating mana I couldn’t resist. With the sun still high in the sky, the Chosen One death scent was noticeably absent, but there were plenty of other Charmed creatures lounging around, though the majority were human.

  Strobe lights, loud music, and an illuminated wall of liquor dominated the main room. But as before, Lucian pushed through the chaotic dance floor to the under-the-sea themed bar next door. I eyed the bubbling blue and green neon water tubes strung over the ceiling, around the pillars, and along the walls. And while I felt some sense of relief that Ricky was safe at home in his blender this time and not zooming around, causing trouble, I really needed the little imp’s advice. I was running out of time.

  In all probability, I’d damaged myself with those statements Strix had captured—talk about underhanded deals. But most likely, none of it would matter should I get the content of those vials switched.

  As I trailed after Lucian, I encountered a fleshy-nosed man in his fifties, grinding on the dance floor. I don’t know what the heck he was, but his mana? Mouthwatering. I couldn’t resist a detour. A quick one. Ratcheting the huskiness of my voice up a notch, I tripped into him, laughing an “Ooops, I’m sorry” as I brushed his heart chakra. He just laughed and kept grinding.

  His mana was as delicious as I'd imagined it to be. And beyond revitalizing. My headache vanished, and I felt myself relax a little.

  Stepping out amongst the dancers, I caught Culpepper's scent. Following the trail, I spied the craggy-faced Knight Templar sitting at the bar all by himself. His eyes harde
ned as they met mine. Yep. He recognized me.

  I waved.

  His face worked a little. I didn’t care. He couldn’t take me down in the Fringe. He knew as well as I did that there were too many Charmed allies here.

  Lucian had moved to the darkest corner of the bar. At first, I didn’t see who it was, sitting there at the table, not until Lucian lifted his hand and a protective bubble shimmered into existence around us.

  Cripes. It was Samuel. Dark comb-over. Long, hawk nose. Lips curled in a sneer and a mole on his chin. Garishly dressed.

  With the chaos and scents surrounding us muted by Lucian’s protective bubble, I could smell the rank stench of his mana now. I wondered why I hadn’t picked up on it immediately. Crud, was I getting used to it by carrying the gray-snot version around with me in that turmeric bottle?

  “You’re looking sexy, babe,” he murmured, leaning into me as I reluctantly took a seat.

  “The name’s Cassidy,” I replied, clenching my teeth a little.

  “I know, babe,” he said, slanting closer.

  I really didn’t like him. If I could’ve stomached his mana, I’d have drawn out enough to make him weak and nauseated enough to lie in bed for days.

  “If you’ll excuse me a moment,” Lucian interrupted, pointing to his phone. “An important call. Strix and Tabitha should be here any moment.”

  To my annoyance, he stepped outside the protective bubble. It was like a door had opened. For a brief moment, the sounds and smells of the bar outside filtered through before the bubble sealed up again, and all I could hear was the barstool creaking and straining under Samuel’s weight as his obnoxious scent filled the air. Cripes. He was overpowering.

  What the heck was Lucian doing dealing with Samuel? I thought he couldn’t stomach him any more than I could.

  The hawk-nosed warlock’s mouth was flapping up and down. “And a hot night at a La Ritz somewhere?” he was asking, his face uncomfortably close to mine. “What do you say?”

  Yeah, obviously I’d tuned in at the wrong time. “Excuse me?” I raised a brow and drew back.