Queen of Nothing (Marla Mason Book 9) Read Online Free PDF Page A

major and a doorman) and wearing a battered top hat, stood on the sidewalk, looking down at Bradley. He had a doleful and distracted air. Bradley rose shakily to his feet, beads of sweat popping up on his brow. Calling up oracles was purely mental work, but it took a physical toll.
    “I am always happy to hear the entreaties of my subjects.” The Emperor’s voice seemed to come from a long way off, filled with echoes and sonic tribulations.
    “Your majesty, I seek news of the underworld.”
    The Emperor shook his head slowly. “That is a realm where my rule does not reach, young man.”
    “I need only knowledge, not action, sir. Can you tell me the whereabouts of the Bride of Death?” Marla always seemed more amused than irritated by the name her cultists had chosen to give her. It was accurate, after all: she was a god by marriage.
    “The Dread Queen,” the Emperor murmured. “I –” He turned his head, frowning. “The walls of my palace tremble, young man. This is not information to be lightly given.”
    “Then name your price.” Bradley had learned long ago to never give an oracle carte blanche, but to always define the terms of the bargain up front. Usually the oracles didn’t want anything too difficult: things that took time and effort, actions to honor or soothe, or to make small changes in the physical world that the oracles couldn’t manage themselves.
    “I—there is a power greater than myself here, you understand. I am an emperor, but I serve at the pleasure of the sovereign of Hell.”
    “You deny me?” Bradley felt the hook in his mind wriggle, and almost pull free, but he held it tight. Sometimes oracles couldn’t do as he asked—their levels of knowledge and power varied—but he’d never encountered one that wouldn’t : usually they just set a terribly high price if they were reluctant, and then it was a question of how much Bradley was willing to pay.
    “It is not I who deny –”
    A hand appeared, skin the color of bronze, resting on the emperor’s shoulder. There was a wrist attached, but that was all—the limb was cut off beyond that, like it belonged to someone else, reaching into the frame of a shot in a film. The emperor turned his head, looking at the unseen figure, and the stricken expression of terror on his face was so total and bleak that Bradley shrank back in sympathetic fear. The emperor nodded, as if agreeing with some unheard comment or command, then turned his face back to Bradley. “You must accept my apol –”
    Bradley screamed and fell to his knees as the hook was ripped from his mind, and Norton vanished. Bradley thought, Shit, am I lobotomized, would I even know if I was lobotomized, does wondering about it mean I’m not –
    Rondeau helped him up, and Pelham pressed a handkerchief against his forehead. There was some healing magic soaked in the cloth—Pelly was full of little tokens like that—and a soothing wave of relief washed through Bradley’s head, taking the pain away. He leaned against the wall of the cathedral. A couple of concerned passers-by were asking if Bradley was all right, and Rondeau said, “Just a migraine, he’ll be okay, we’ll take him home.”
    Though the pain of having the oracle ripped away was gone, Bradley was still terribly unsteady on his feet. Rondeau and Pelham supported him, one on either side, like he was a drunken guest of honor at the end of a bachelor party. A woman stopped in the middle of the sidewalk: a tall redhead in oversized sunglasses, a form-fitting dark blue dress, and heels so high the sight of them gave Bradley vertigo. “You look like a mess!” she exclaimed. “You poor dear. Isn’t it a little early to be quite that drunk?”
    “It’s only early if you didn’t start last night,” Rondeau said. “Didn’t I see you in a bookstore yesterday?”
    “Who reads books anymore?” She patted Rondeau’s cheek. “It’s too early to try and pick up women on the street, too, sweetie.” She glanced