Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
I walked up the sandy embankment. Off in the horizon, I spotted what I was looking for.
I began running, anxious to see all the people who’d left the land of the living but never left my thoughts. Especially Mia and Arch. My wife. My baby boy.
Jeni
“Are you sure, Dad? Because I know how busy you are,” I said over video chat while feeding Draco. He was five months old now and starting to eat solids—bananas, strained carrots, and oatmeal. All the good stuff. In fact, he loved them so much, he’d gained two pounds this past month alone.
“Of course I can watch him. Besides, I miss my…” Dad started speaking in baby talk, “big stwong gwandson!”
I smiled. It was cute watching Dad be the doting grandpa. “Great. Then just let me know what time you expect to get here, and I’ll be ready.”
Dad thought I was going on a job interview out of town, but that was a lie. The truth was that I’d been having these horrible headaches for months now. Initially, I’d chalked them up to stress and hormones. I’d been getting very little sleep and raising a newborn on my own, but now I was beginning to wonder if it had something to do with my Seer abilities.
I’d been avoiding using my gifts because, well, I wasn’t ready to take the next step and find out how strong my abilities were. Could I do more than read people’s minds? Could I heal people? Or injure them? Could I time travel or see the future? These were all gifts Seers claimed to possess. But if I began embracing this other part of myself, would I change and become an evil bitch like them?
In any case, I hadn’t been ready to confront my fears, but now I had to. I needed to learn what weapons were in my toolbox. Both King and Ansin had once told me that I was the most powerful Seer they’d ever known. Was it true? Because I didn’t feel powerful.
But then, a few weeks ago, I tried to just “see” with my mind like I’d done a handful of times before. Nothing. Then the headache hit me ten times worse than before. Maybe something was wrong with me physically.
So I booked an appointment to see my family doctor, Dr. Milo, back home in Tallahassee—a six-hour drive. My dad would come here, to the fortress mansion in Miami, where Draco would be safest. I hated lying to Dad about where I was really going, but I didn’t want to scare him for no reason.
“I’ll give you a call from the road,” he said. “Now let me see my sweetie grandson.”
I moved the laptop in front of Draco, who was playing with a spilled glob of carrot puree on his highchair tray, making little swirls with his fat little fingers.
“Bye-bye, Draco. Grandpa loves you and will see you soon!”
Draco looked up, his keen blue eyes focused on the image of my father’s face. “Bye-bye.”
My mouth fell open, and Draco went back to swirling with his finger.
“Did he just talk?” Dad asked. “Isn’t he a little young?”
The intercom system buzzed. “I have to go, Dad. Someone’s at the front gate.”
“But he spoke! He spoke words!”
It was probably just a fluke.
“Love you!” I hung up the video chat and scrambled to the intercom box in the doorway of the kitchen. Ansin had this entire place wired. No one got in or out without sounding an alarm. Ansin had warded the property, too. Human repellent, he called it. People who’d been “invited,” so to speak—such as the UPS guy or grocery delivery person—wouldn’t notice a thing, but anyone else who came without a specific and “legitimately beneficial” purpose wasn’t welcome.
I hit the button to activate the camera. Standing outside the gate was an older man in a suit. His black Lexus was idling behind him.
Who is that? I pushed the intercom. “Yes?”
“Miss Arnold?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Mr. Minos’s lawyer. I have papers for you to sign.”
Minos was King’s last name. “Papers for what?”
“His estate, ma’am. He left his estate to you. I am here to carry out his will.”
My heart dropped. That motherfu—“I’m sorry, but there’s been a mistake. I don’t want his things.” King owned some of the most dangerous objects known to man. Yes, according to him, he’d disposed of the worst offenders, things that could wipe out entire countries, but I’d been to his warehouse in San Francisco. I’d seen King’s treasure trove. There was nothing of his I wanted to own. It was all tainted by blood, greed, and violence.
“But, ma’am, I was instructed to stay here. As long as it took.” The man’s voice came out all scratchy and nervous.
I gasped, knowing what that meant. King had mindfucked the poor guy. He literally wouldn’t be able to leave until I took possession of whatever crap King had willed to me.