Pellini grabbed his beer and took a long swig. “Who the hell are y’all? And what kind of fucked up business ends up with a ritual rape and murder?”
“Idris and I are both summoners,” I said. “What that means is that we have the ability to open a portal between this world and the one where the demons and Mr. Sparkly and others like him reside.” My gaze went to Idris, and I lowered my voice. “His last name is Palatino.”
Comprehension dawned on Pellini’s face. “I’m not usually so slow on the uptake,” he muttered. “There aren’t that many guys named Idris hanging around. The murder victim was his sister, and you were looking for him because he’d gone missing.” He eyed me. “What was the deal with that?”
“He’s talented and powerful, and the faction we’re trying to stop kidnapped him because of that.” I took a deep breath. “The ritual murder of his sister was to enforce his cooperation and set an arcane trap for me.”
“Fuck,” Pellini breathed. “And he thinks I might be an enemy. No wonder he looks like he wants to skin me.”
“Even if you’re not an enemy,” I said, choosing my words with care, “you’re a potential threat. You have unusual skills, and you don’t know what the hell’s going on.”
Pellini threw his hands up in frustration. “I can’t do shit. Sure, you can’t move the energy the same way, but so what? Fat lot of good it does me. And maybe it’s best I don’t know who’s who in whatever this war is. I didn’t ask for any of it.”
“I stand corrected,” I snapped. “You’re a potential threat and a danger to yourself and others because you’re untrained, and you have no fucking clue. This war is heating up and isn’t going away.”
Anger flashed across his face, but before he could retort he jerked back in his chair as if grabbed by an unseen hand. His eyes went wide, and his face blanched paper-white.
He’s having a coronary! I barely had time to form the thought before the same force grabbed me and pressed me down in my seat like a lump of iron above a giant magnet. An attack? On the other side of the table Bryce gripped the arms of his chair, breath hissing through his teeth. Idris stood on the nexus, unaffected.
Fury burned away my shock. Idris was doing this to us. It had to be an unplanned assessment of Pellini. I seethed as I forced myself to breathe through the pressure. He could’ve at least given Bryce and me some goddamn warning. Or, better yet, found a means that didn’t suck quite so hard. As arduous as it was for me, it was exponentially worse for Pellini since the ritual targeted him. Guilt swam through me as panic and agony contorted his face. No matter the intent for inviting him to my house, he was a guest. This was so not how we did shit in the south. And what if this gave him a heart attack for real? Oh, so sorry we KILLED you.
The pressure eased, only to be replaced by the unnerving sensation of being naked while fully clothed. Comprehension clicked into place. The naked sensation was the complete lack of the arcane. Idris had pulled it all away from Pellini in order to make a true evaluation of him. Bryce and I had the crappy luck to be caught in the area of effect. Didn’t change my level of pissed-off, but at least I knew what was happening.
It stopped as quickly as it had begun. Like a stretched rubber band returning to normal, the arcane snapped back into place. From the roof Eilahn let out a shriek of rage, dropped to land in a crouch by the porch then bounded to me, concern twisting her features.
“I’m okay,” I told her as soon as I caught my breath, then turned to where Pellini gasped like a stranded fish. “I’m sorry,” I said with deep chagrin. “I swear I didn’t know that was going to happen. Are you all right?”
He lifted a trembling hand to wipe sweat from his face, mouth pressed tight as if about to vomit. I subtly scooched my chair back a few inches. Just in case.
From the nexus, Idris cursed as he closed down his ritual, obviously not at all happy with whatever he’d learned. I forced down my residual anger at his methods. One way or another, we needed to know what Pellini’s deal was. The stakes were way too high to have an unknown player on the field, even if he insisted he wasn’t playing the game.
Bryce staggered to his feet and peered at Pellini with concern. “Breeeeathe,” he told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Pellini inhaled noisily then blew out hard, but his next breath was more controlled. The grey cast left his face, and a hint of normal color crept in.
After a moment he lifted his head with obvious effort. “God damn,” he croaked.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I didn’t know he was going to do that.”
Pellini managed to straighten. “Why . . . ?”