Free Merciless by Robin Parrish Page A

could tell that Devlin was continuing to fuss over Alex, he could make out no details. A strange sensation spread over Payton’s body, a sensation he wasn’t used to feeling. Not for a long time.
    It was fear. He was feeling fear. How odd.
    A moment passed before he realized that it wasn’t his fear, but Alex’s, that he was feeling. It had happened before—times when her emotions became so strong that her power forced them onto everyone around her. But for her feelings of fear to be intense enough to push them through Grant’s control . . .
    What was Devlin doing to her?
    “Yes, yes . . .” the older man whispered, trancelike. “Terribly painful, isn’t it . . .?”
    Payton imagined a scenario where Devlin had gotten caught up in what he was doing, dressing Alex’s injuries, and couldn’t stop himself from . . . playing with her open wounds. To have her so completely at his mercy . . .
    It was not only possible, it was probable. Payton knew this man all too well.
    Devlin started, looking down at Alex with something like shock on his face. “Do forgive me, do forgive me,” he said, in his most polite of tones. “If not for the tears gushing from your eyes, I might not have realized . . . I do apologize, truly. I suppose my curiosity got the best of me with you unable to resist . . . Well, you know what they say about power corrupting . . .”
    Payton wanted to fling himself onto Devlin and gut his chest from top to bottom.
    “You must think me quite the madman,” Devlin went on calmly, now wiping his hands on a nearby towel. “Cold, cruel, heartless, caring little for the pain of others. And you would be exceedingly wrong. It is because of the imminent wrongness of pain, cruelty, and suffering that the Secretum has done all that it has done. I grieve for those who have died, just as I grieve for those still in pain. I grieve for you as well, my dear . . .” Payton couldn’t see him, but Devlin’s voice had become very far away, something akin to lament. “I grieve for us all . . .
    “These burns are quite severe,” Devlin said, snapping back to the moment with fatherly concern. “At least second degree, probably third. I’m afraid there’s only so much I can do with these meager supplies, but this should keep you from infection or blood poisoning, at least for a time. Your friend Hector could patch you up, I’m sure, but Oblivion doesn’t quite seem to grasp human concepts of pain and suffering. But I promise, I will point out to Oblivion that your effectiveness in the field may be compromised if your wounds go untreated indefinitely.”
    Oblivion? What was that?
    Alex must’ve been showing Devlin the same question with her eyes.
    “Well of course, you wouldn’t know, would you?” Devlin said as he wrapped a roll of white gauze around her arm. “That’s what we call him. If he has a name of his own, no one alive knows it. But as I was saying before, I’m afraid your friend Grant is quite dead. Just as was prophesied seven thousand years ago, Grant’s form has become the vessel of a being we call Oblivion, who now has access to all of Grant’s immense powers, in addition to the terrible power Oblivion calls its own. The Secretum performed the Ritual of Atrum Universitas, allowing Oblivion to be born into human flesh.”
    Devlin glanced over at Payton, looking on him fully for the first time. Payton tried to struggle against the invisible bonds that held him immobile, but he couldn’t even get his muscles to clench or stretch. Devlin, in reply, offered the slightest hint of a knowing smirk; he understood better than probably anyone alive the full extent of the murderous thoughts flooding Payton’s mind.
    “I promise you,” Devlin continued, turning back to Alex, “there is no way to undo what has been done. Grant is dead, as is his sister. Yes, I’m afraid Julie Saunders’ life was taken as part of the ritual as well. I’m sorry for your loss, but it was the only way. The Ritual of