“Not yet.” He shook her off, sensing Telford nearby. “Since John Dodd attacked you first, you have the right to observe. Otherwise you may return to your room.”
He strode ahead again. She picked up her skirts and ran after him. “But the Russians—”
“I will deal with them soon enough.”
“You mean kill them?”
He didn’t answer. He had resolved to finish matters with Cassidy today, as soon as he was fully recovered, and she’d outmaneuvered him once again.
She actually claimed to love him. Let her witness what was to come, she and her too-tender heart, and then repeat those claims to his face.
A second scream echoed through the house as they approached the high carved doors to the Great Hall. Any outsider might suspect that the footman was undergoing the most hideous torture.
But he was quite unharmed. Braden had ordered him, somewhat bruised but whole, bound in the Great Hall before the massive mantelpiece. His screams were those of terror, and the madness of a mind twisted by evil.
Only Quentin waited for Braden in the Hall. Not one of the delegates had asked to observe; this was Lord Greyburn’s concern, alone. One of his own servants had betrayed him. There would be no interference—neither from werewolf nor ignorant human law.
“Untie him,” Braden said as he approached the prisoner.
Quentin moved to obey. Braden heard and smelled Dodd’s fear, his mindless frenzy, but he felt no pity. When Dodd was free and scrambled to escape, Braden blocked the man effortlessly and stopped him with a thought.
Resistance was strong. Stefan had already made the footman his unquestioning tool. But the human would not leave this house until his mind was purged of every idea or direction it had received from the Russian renegades—whatever the cost to his sanity.
The intoxication of battle returned to Braden in all its primitive force. He gave his rage full mastery, remembering Cassidy’s danger, the Russian’s deadly perfidy, his own unforgivable errors in judgment. He advanced on Dodd with head low and teeth bared.
“Please… please don’t kill me,” the footman whimpered. They were the first rational words out of his mouth since his capture. They left Braden unmoved. Dodd was no longer facing a lone, naked girl, or armed with a gun and the Russian’s false courage. He was in the presence of inevitable retribution.
Braden focused his will on Dodd’s mind like a shaft of scalding white light.
“Come to me, John Dodd,” he said.
The footman gave a high, thin cry.
“Come,” he said, and at last the footman began to move, scraping the stone floor with every step. Braden felt the savage satisfaction of complete mastery, of knowing he could bend this man to his will as he could nearly every other human. He waited until the footman collapsed at his feet like a puppet with snapped strings.
Braden stood over him, snared in a web of fully human passions. He wanted to punish. He wanted revenge. There were older, more barbaric ways of dealing with disloyal human servants. Ways that entailed no risk of further treachery.
Grandfather had longed for those ancient days, when more than a human’s thoughts were erased. It would be easy to break this man’s mind—or his neck.
So easy.
“Braden!” Cassidy cried, suddenly beside him.
“Quentin,” he said. “Hold her back.” He bent to grab Dodd’s collar. “Let her watch… and learn.”
“What are you going to do?” Cassidy said. “Quentin—”
“Explain, Quentin,” Braden said. “You have the more facile tongue. Tell her.”
Quentin hesitated. “You witnessed the ceremony, Cassidy. The earls of Greyburn use it to… ensure the loyalty of their servants.”
“You did something to John Dodd and the maid,” Cassidy said.
“It’s a skill among our kind,” Quentin said. “Many of us, like Braden, can focus our will to command the obedience of humans. It’s a sort of mesmerism, a mental control. We use the ceremony to… suggest to our servants that they remain faithful and not disclose the unusual attributes of their masters.”
Braden felt Cassidy’s gaze like an accusation. “Then that’s what you meant when you said they would never betray you,” she said. “You make them loyal.”