The Devil Incarnate (The Devil of Ponong series #2) Read Online Free Page B

slaves would begin again.
    Earlier in the evening, she’d slipped into the Dragon
Pearl’s second-story vapor den. The Dragon Pearl’s owner, Lizzriat, wouldn’t allow
a Ponongese past her front door, but QuiTai hadn’t needed a front door, or
stairs, to get inside. She’d climbed onto the veranda but stayed outside in the
deeper shadows around the back of the building. It was unlikely that anyone
would come outside, even though the veranda was covered. There was an apartment
building across the way, but the carved wood shutters were closed tight against
the rain, and from the darkness behind them she guessed the interior shutters
were closed too.
    The rain had been falling all day, but the drops now were
like lead fishing weights that pummeled the roof. The faint green light from
the jellylanterns inside the den was no match for the fading twilight.
    On the street below, people waded through the rising muddy
water coursing downslope, their expressions shifting between resignation and
impatience, while the addicts headed for the Dragon Pearl were seemingly
oblivious to the deluge. They made no attempt to stay dry. They probably hadn’t
eaten dinner, because the need for vapor was always stronger than any other
hunger. They would pass by the gambling tables on the first floor and walk up
the stairs. Some would sprint.
    QuiTai peered between the slats of the typhoon shutters to
watch the shadowy outlines of customers enter the den. They took delicate pipes
from velvet-lined cases and jostled for their turn to cook the black lotus over
the small spirit lamps. As the tar melted, they climbed on the raised platform
along the wall and sucked the vapor into their lungs. One by one, they slipped
into dream. Some would be lost to the vapor for hours; the heavily addicted
would rise for another pipe sooner.
    QuiTai opened the shutters and crept into the den. The reek
of black lotus hung in the stuffy air. Pipes cluttered the tables around the
still burning oil lamps. Overhead, ceiling fans churned sluggishly in the heat
as if they knew their efforts were wasted.
    If they hadn’t been so addicted, the dreamers probably would
have grumbled about the lack of a mattress on the crowded communal bed against
the wall. They didn’t even have pillows. Thampurian sensibilities had no place
here. They sprawled together in a tangle of limbs. Some mumbled. A few stared
into the darkness, but if they saw her, they only knew her as part of their
dreams.
      QuiTai’s eyelids drooped. She rubbed her
face. The deep pink sea wasp scar on her hand was hotter than the rest of her
palm. At least it didn’t hurt anymore, but the rest of her body simply ached.
She wanted to sleep more than she’d ever wanted anything.
    QuiTai kicked empty
vials out of her way. They rolled across the scuffed floor.
    She coaxed the
nearest man into swallowing a few precious drops of her venom. The vision the
Oracle brought her through him was useless. She didn’t care that the man was
embezzling money from the bank where he clerked. She needed the name of the person
who had paid Petrof to kill her and her family.
    The connection to the conduit would break when the small
dose of her venom worked through his system, but with time so precious, she decided
not to wait. She dosed a second dreamer while still connected to the first.
    QuiTai had never tried to use two conduits in such a short
span of time, and now she understood why it was a bad idea. The thoughts of
both stumbled through her mind as she tried to focus on the Oracle. The
dissonance of the dreamers’ thoughts made her dizzy. She gripped the edge of
the pallet and pulled deep breaths through her nose. Mind reeling, she waited
for the Oracle to speak.
    The second vision came, but it was as useless as the first.
    Please, Goddess, if I offended you, forgive
me. But I need this vision. I need an answer .
    Maybe she was a masochist, but she had to try one more time
before she gave up. With Petrof dead, she no