Dead to Rites by Ari Marmell Read Free Book Online

the idea, “if I offered you a way to wake the little changeling girl.”
    I lost it.
    The lights dimmed, in the office, in the hall, the filaments fading to an evil, sickly orange. I even heard one of the bulbs in the bathroom shatter. The fan, which wasn’t on and I’m not even certain was plugged in, slowly began to rotate backwards. Out in the hallway, the phone rang once, a sharp, shrill sound that faded and staggered to silence as if choked. I gripped the L&G in a fist clenched tight enough to make the hardwood beg for mercy, and I didn’t remember drawing it. Through unblinking eyes I stared at her, pummeled her, laying siege to her thoughts.
    “
What do you know about Adalina? Tell me how to help her! Tell me! TELL ME!
”
    I couldn’t begin to say if I’d actually shouted it aloud or if it was all in my head. Didn’t matter either way.
    She fought me. Walls of willpower like stone and iron, way stronger than anything mortal, rose to blunt the edges of my attack. Whatever she was, McCall was strong, powerful, but if that’d been her only defense she never could’ve kept me out.
    It wasn’t, though.
    Again emotions buffeted me from across the office, a storm front of fury and hatred and unadulterated pain. It held just a part of me at bay, forced me to devote some of my magics to protecting my own mind instead of hammering at hers.
    For long minutes we stood, probably looking like a pair of angry mimes to anyone who couldn’t sense what was happening. My anger built, heated to boiling, and I knew—suddenly, without ever quite recognizing
how
I knew—that I hadn’t reached my limits. That I had unplumbed depths of power I could delve into, enough to overwhelm anything McCall might throw into my path. Power I’d deliberately put aside long ago, power I’d somehow forgotten.
    And I knew, too, that if I dipped so much as a toe into that black maelstrom, I wasn’t coming back out unscathed. That I’d
made
myself forget, because I couldn’t be me—the “me” I was now, that I’d chosen to be, the “me” I’d named Mick Oberon—with it roiling inside me.
    My anger cooled; not a lot, but enough. I stepped back from the abyss. The lights flickered one last time, then brightened back to normal, and the fan slowed to a halt. Grudgingly, I lowered my wand, letting my arm hang at my side, and studied her.
    She was studying me back, staring. I figure she’d expected some kinda mental duel, but nothin’ close to what she got. Her peepers were wide, her chin hanging. Still, she was in better shape than most woulda been after a clash like we just had. Broad was hardboiled, hadda give her that.
    Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, not if she really was related to Ramona.
    Gave some serious consideration to makin’ a dive for the Murphy bed. My rapier lived in the niche, next to where the frame folded up into the wall; if I couldn’t whammy the story outta her, maybe a bit of physical intimidation’d do the trick.
    Honestly, though, probably not. As I said, she was a tough one. Plus, I still had no notion of how dangerous she mighta been in turn—to say nothin’ of the fact that she could easily reach the door and make tracks well before I could retrieve the blade and get back to her.
    No way to know if she’d sussed out what I was thinking, but either way she smiled again and shook her head.
    “Wow. You’re even stronger than I’d heard, Oberon. I believe I could come to like you.”
    She was layin’ on the false charm again; just a trickle this time, not the earlier flood. I completely ignored it.
    “That so? Don’t figure you’d wanna make me an enemy, then.”
    “Oh, but I don’t. I’m still trying to hire you, you foolish
sidhe
. And I’m offering you a higher fee than you could possibly have asked for.”
    She was, too, damn her.
    “How do you know about it?”
    “Really, Mick. You don’t mind if I call you Mick, right?”
    “I—”
    “You weren’t exactly shy about