Read Lost Girl: Hidden Book One for Free Online

to you.”
    I took a deep breath. Despite my wisecracking, this woman made me feel physically ill. “I work alone. Not a team player. And I’m not all that power-hungry right now, thanks.”
    “I won’t make this offer again. Perhaps I need to be more persuasive,” she said softly, appraisingly, in a voice that chilled me through and through. I was about to tell her where to shove it, when I felt an oiliness invade my mind.
    “Oh, delicious,” the woman purred. And I was flooded with visions I’d spent most of my life trying to forget.
    Basement. Pain. Darkness. Flames. Blood.
    Despite the vileness I was reliving, I could hear the Puppeteer sighing in what could only be described as ecstasy. “Oh, how very interesting,” the woman moaned.
    And all I could feel was a filth, a greasiness, writhing through my mind. Dread filled me. Fear. Overwhelming terror. Hatred. Everything was so intense, it made me dizzy and nauseous.
    I gagged. The visions stopped, almost as if they’d never been there at all.
    “Join me,” the woman purred, and the sound of her voice, like she’d just finished eating the world’s most satisfying meal, was sickening.
    I took deep breaths. My legs wanted to collapse under me. Here’s the thing: I fucking
hate
feeling weak. I Hulk-smashed my way through life, mostly to avoid having that feeling ever again.
    And I had just gone from merely annoyed to flat-out enraged.
    The hatred I had for the woman sitting in my kitchen was stronger than my fear, at least for now.
    “Time to bleed,” I muttered, lunging across the table and throwing a hard right cross at the Puppeteer’s (seriously, how ridiculous is that name?) face. It dropped the woman to the floor, and when she got up, I was on her, hit her with a left, knocking her back into the table. A cup and a vase fell off the table, crashed to the floor. I kicked out, caught her in the stomach. The Puppeteer bent double, then recovered just enough to throw a coffee cup from the kitchen sink at me, and I ducked, snarled. It was just enough time for the bitch to make a mad dash for the open side door, and she was out, running into the night. I followed, sprinting as fast as I could. My bare feet hit stones, broken glass, but I kept running, the Puppeteer just a few houses ahead of me, glancing back with a look of “oh, shit” on her face every few seconds. It would have been funny if I didn’t still feel her slime all over my psyche.
    I put on a final burst of speed. Running had never been my strong point. I usually just smashed.
    I almost had her. Almost. And then a car pulled up and the Puppeteer jumped into the passenger seat.
    She glared out at me, nose bleeding profusely onto her perfect white shirt, I noted with more than a little satisfaction. “I don’t give second chances. Go, you idiot!” she shrieked at the driver. Then the car squealed away and I was left on the corner, trying to catch my breath. I bent over, resting my hands on my knees. Shook my head.
    After a few seconds of sucking wind, I limped back to my house. I really did need to take up running. Somewhere in all my free time, I guess.
    My feet stung. They’d heal, but it hurt like hell. I tried not to think about what the Puppeteer had forced me to see, but images swam before my eyes, the types of things I lived over and over again in nightmares.
    I got back, walked in the side door, and locked up. I’d have to get the window fixed. More damn money I didn’t have.
    I plopped down at the kitchen table, took a look at my feet. One large shard of jagged glass protruded from my heel. I grasped it and pulled it out, gritting my teeth against the pain. The bleeding stopped as the gash closed up.  I put my elbows on the table and rested my head in my hands. Looked at the broken coffee cup on the floor.
    “Bitch broke my Jadeite,” I muttered to the now-empty kitchen. ”She’s gonna pay for that.” I sat there until the sun came up, staring at the floor, afraid to focus