Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5) Read Free

nice autumn night. I do it to him often enough.”
    Emmett lifted his hands. “I give you my word, I will not attempt to hurt, disable, or kill you in any way. I really do only want to talk.”
    I didn’t move. “About what?”
    “Many things.” He gestured to the seat opposite him. “Please. I can drop you off at your hotel. I see your friends have stranded you here.”
    “It’s not far. I can walk, or call someone.”
    “With what? If you are running true to form, you have lost, left behind, or destroyed your latest cell phone. Let me save your feet. And please hurry and make up your mind, before I have to insist.”
    I sighed. Truth to tell, I was curious to know what Emmett wanted to talk about, though I could guess. His thugs had dark automatic pistols surreptitiously pointed at me. While I could destroy those with a well-placed slash of magic, I’d probably kill the men as well, plus blow up the car and maybe a good bit of road before I could stop myself.
    Tourists on vacation, who’d come to stay in the historic Harvey Girls hotel designed by a woman architect more than a hundred years ago, were wandering the street. I’d kill them too.
    Emmett knew that. His mouth twitched into his version of a smile as he glanced at the innocents around us.
    “For every second you delay,” he said, “I can have one of them drop dead. How about that?”
    Someday I’d get my hands around Emmett’s throat and strangle him. I looked forward to it.
    I heaved another sigh and climbed inside the limo.
    A thug shut the door. He and his fellow got into the compartment directly behind the driver, leaving me and Emmett in the very back space that held two leather bench seats facing each other.
    “Something to drink?” Emmett asked as the limousine pulled smoothly from the curb. There was no traffic save one pickup heading the opposite direction. “I can open a lovely chardonnay, or if you’d prefer red, a Syrah blend. I don’t always like blends, but this one is an exception.”
    “No, thank you.” Alcohol and I didn’t mix very well, so I avoid it. I’m a lightweight drunk, and who knew what I might do tonight if I grew tipsy? Besides, I didn’t trust Emmett not to put something in the wine.
    Emmett shrugged. “Your loss. My collection is the envy of the world.” He pulled from a compartment at his side an open bottle of red, filled a wide-bowled glass, and took a sip. “Ah, this is nice. Full and fruity, very warm. Are you certain you won’t partake?”
    I shook my head. Him demonstrating he’d happily drink the wine didn’t mean he wouldn’t spike it with something that wouldn’t affect him, or that the poison wouldn’t already be in whatever glass he handed me.
    “You are wonderfully suspicious, Janet. Wise of you. It keeps you alive. Now.” Emmett rested his goblet on the arm of his seat. “I am certain you have guessed the main thing I want to discuss. You have a magic mirror, and I want it.”
    A magic mirror is an immensely powerful talisman. It can enhance a mage’s power, assist in spells, watch over enemies, give advice, and discover information. My hotel, which I’d purchased and restored over the last couple years, had contained a magic mirror, set aside and forgotten. Mick and I had woken the thing from dormancy, and it had formed an attachment to us. The mirror belonged to us now, would fight for us and refuse to work for another mage until we both were dead.
    The fact that my mirror talked like a sex-crazed drag queen with the tendency to sing loudly and off-key in the middle of the night was beside the point. It had deep powers I hadn’t even tapped yet. Emmett having it would be a bad idea.
    “Sorry,” I said. “You know mirrors pass from one mage to the next only when the previous mage dies. Not a price I’m willing to pay. I like being alive.”
    “There are ways,” Emmett said. “I have done much research on this topic since discovering the delicious fact that you own such a