BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset) (30 page)

“This isn’t a Voodoo problem.” 

“Then what is it?”  Carla demanded. 

“The stone that touched Gabriel was once a witch’s property.”

“Property?”

“Yes.”  Angela said patiently.  “A witch owned it and has instilled power into it.” 

“What exactly is it supposed to do?”  Sinclair asked. 

“A change talisman.”  Niall said to himself, his eyes on the floor, deep in thought.

“A…what?”  Sinclair looked at him.  “How would you know that?”

“Because he’s…”

Niall gripped Angela on the shoulder in warning.  His head exploded with words as his hand began to tingle. 

Release me, devil
.

Niall responded aloud.  The curious and frightened eyes of the other two women on them both.

“Tell them only what they need to know.”  Niall removed his hand and massaged his still tingling skin.  The sensation went all the way to the bone. 

Angela smirked.  “Of course.”  She looked at the two women.  “It is a changing stone.  It is meant to change a human into something paranormal.  Obviously Joseph didn’t do his homework before stealing it.”  She crossed her legs and folded her hands over one knee.  “A human must have pure blood of a paranormal running through their veins already, or at the very least have potential, but if they don’t the person will go mad, or turn into something…abnormal.”

“Like Gabriel?”  Carla choked.

“Yes.  I dare say both has happened to him.” 

“You can’t fix him?”  Sinclair asked.  She couldn’t help looking back at the boy with pity. 

“I can try, but it will most likely be a band aid on a gushing wound.  He will complete his transformation regardless.” 

Carla looked frantic.  “His transformation into what?”

Angela’s face became stone, and her light eyes darkened.  “A little monster.” 

Carla wrung her hands as Niall followed Angela’s sleek black car through the streets of New Orleans.  She had given Gabriel an “herb” and he was sleeping peacefully with his mouth open in the backseat.  His dirty curly head was leaning against Carla’s arm. 

“I don’t know why we are doing this.”  Niall said quietly.  “If there’s no hope, then…”

“There’s always hope.”  Sinclair responded.  “We have to do what we can.”  She felt uneasy leaving the city limits to head into the Spanish moss laden countryside.  They drove deep into Bayou country, even farther out than Carla lived.  Sinclair had to admit that it was pretty.  It was the Deep South which lent its own special beauty, but she had tired of this place and just wanted to go home.  Even if the consequences would turn out bad. 

Angela turned onto a dirt road and they rolled past open field on either side until trees returned.  It was over a mile before a house rose before them.  It was an old plantation house with peeling white paint and a wraparound porch.  The white columns reminded Sinclair of the Tara plantation in
Gone with the Wind
.  The run down state of the place only gave it more charm.  She imagined a thousand stories had been told there.

Angela parked and stepped from her car.  She looked around the silent yard, all that could be heard were a few chickens clucking in a pen at the back of the house.  She turned and motioned for them to follow.  Niall hefted Gabriel in his arms. 

“Whose place is this?”  Sinclair asked. 

“An old acquaintance.”  Angela gave her a sidelong look.  “He owns a restaurant bar on Bourbon Street.  You’ve already been there.”

“How would you know that?” 

“In my circle of acquaintances, little remains hidden.”

Sinclair swallowed.  She wished she had a better understanding of what was happening.  She knew one thing for certain; Angela meant her and Carla no harm.  She couldn’t say the same for Gabriel and Niall. 

Angela walked to a large shed which sat slightly behind the house, but was still in view of the cars and driveway.  The wood was gray and Sinclair was sure the entire structure was leaning.  The double barn style doors were open and she could smell dirt, metal, and decay from inside.  She looked up as they entered and realized at one time it had been a small barn.  A hay loft, now full of junk and odds and ends was covered with ill-fitting wood which allowed the dying sunlight to filter through.  A storm was brewing and would be on them shortly.

Angela stopped in the middle of the structure and placed her hands in front of her.  “I know you’re in here, Claude.  You might as well come out, or…I’ll
root
you out.”

At first nothing moved, then out of the shadows of the back a tall older black man emerged.  He had a mustache and a barely noticeable slouch to his frame.  He looked like someone’s Grandpa.  He looked absolutely harmless.  That, Sinclair was learning, meant absolutely nothing. 

“What do you want?”

Angela chuckled.  “So rude.  I’m shocked you aren’t at the restaurant.”

“I’m not feeling well today.”

“Sure.”  Angela stepped forward, causing Claude to instinctively step backwards.  “I want Joseph Overman.” 

“I don’t know where he is.”

Angela stepped forward again.  “Perhaps not, but I know you can get him here, correct?”

Claude clenched his jaw.  “Maybe.”

“Yes, you can.  I suggest you do it.” 

Claude moved his body to look at people the lined up behind Angela.  “Who are they?”

“You’ve already seen them, but I guess I can give you a formal invitation.  This is Sinclair Mackenzie, Niall Amrit, Gabriel Overman, and his Great Grandmother Carla.”  Angela turned back to Claude with a wiry grin.  “Satisfied?”

“No, not really.  Especially with…”  He motioned towards Niall. 

Niall rolled his eyes and adjusted Gabriel’s weight in his arms. 

Sinclair looked at Niall curiously. 
Why does everyone feel uncomfortable around him
?

“That will do, Claude.”  Angela’s voice became cold.  “Make the call.”

Angela sat on an old fashioned swing made of the same gray wood as the barn.  The thick worn rope made a creaking noise as she swung lightly, her feet crossed at the ankles. 

“Come talk with me, Sinclair.”

Niall’s head shot up from where he sat with Gabriel over his lap on the back steps.  He wished Sinclair would tell her to go screw herself, but instead Sinclair walked to her and cautiously sat in the grass at her feet. 

“Tell me about yourself.” 

Sinclair shrugged and plucked a blade of grass from the ground.  “There isn’t much to tell.  I grew up in Aiken, South Carolina.  I came to Palm Beach, Florida after meeting Joseph online.” 

“Did you enjoy South Carolina?”

“I did, but I always thought there were bigger and better things out there.  It was the proverbial grass is always greener story.” 

“Are your parents still alive?”

Sinclair pulled another blade of grass.  “My mother is.  I don’t know about my father.  I haven’t seen him in over twelve years.”

“That’s too bad.” 

Sinclair looked up at the strange woman.  “Why do you want to know these things?”

Angela smiled down at her.  It was a genuine smile.  “I want to know more about you, Sinclair Mackenzie.  I see things in you that I’m sure you can’t see in yourself.  Not yet anyway.  Tell me, how old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

“Twenty four.  It’s a bit late to begin, but what is time really anyway?”

Sinclair drew her brows together.  “Too late to begin what exactly?”

Angela moved an inch. But Sinclair had the sensation that the woman was directly in front of her face.  Angela’s warm smile changed without her mouth moving.  It was now calculated and touched by ice.

“To begin your next adventure.”

Sinclair fought the urge to recoil.  “I’ve had enough of adventures.”  She flinched as Angela’s hand came down on the side of her face. 

“Ah, but your adventure has just begun, Mon Cherie.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“Empty your mind, child.”

Sinclair stared at her before closing her eyes.  She tried to replicate exactly what she had done the night with Niall.  The easy hum of insects, birds, and hot breeze slowly receded from Sinclair.  Within moments she no longer was aware of the ground beneath herself. 

Wow, I’m getting better at this.

And I can help you get better yet
.

Sinclair’s eyes flew open.  She stared into Angela’s serene face. 

Hold on to it, don’t let it go.  You must learn to control it like any other movement or spoken word. 

How…is this possible?

Angela’s face moved closer. 
I will show you all of the impossible things
.

Niall had seen enough.  He laid Gabriel gently on the ground and marched to the two women with closed fists.  He wasn’t sure
what
Angela was doing to Sinclair, but he was positive it was
something
.  And he didn’t like it one bit. 

“That’s enough!”

“Mr. Amrit, I prefer you not interfere.”  Angela said mildly and straightened her boy.  She resumed the gently sway of the swing. 

Niall jerked Sinclair up by the top of her arm.

“Hey!”  Sinclair protested. 

“She’s dangerous.  Stop what…whatever you’re doing, right now!”

Sinclair yanked her arm free.  “You’re not the boss of me!”  She regretted the childish way the words sounded. 

Niall opened his mouth, but snapped it shut again.  He could feel the unseen presences surrounding him again. 

“Her fate is inevitable.  I’m shocked she never picked up on her potentials before now.”

Sinclair and Niall both looked at her, but neither had time to speak.  The back screen door to the house slammed open and Claude came out, nearly tumbling over Gabriel’s waking body.  He righted himself and took long purposeful strides to them. 

“He’s coming.”

“Lovely.”  Angela replied. 

Claude looked at them all and shook his head.  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I always know what I’m doing.”  Angela stood, brushing the back of her slacks.  “Niall, please park your car around back.  There’s no need to alarm Joseph.”

Niall left without a word. 

“Shall we wait inside?”

Claude’s house was a menagerie of eclectic items and furniture.  It made Sinclair think of modest hoarders who justified the mounds of items by claiming they collected things. 

The back door opened directly into an old fashioned kitchen with white wood framed glass door cabinets.  The glass was etched with a border of flowers and buzzing bees and butterflies.  There was a shelf of shot glasses, some with tiny maps of different states, some with football team logos, others were just oddly shaped and colored.  Another shelf held little bells, and yet another held tiny figurines of cartoon inspired wildlife.  Then there was the many dishes. 

“My wife collects things.”  Claude explained. 

Sinclair nodded blandly.  “I see.”

“She has a corner hutch in the parlor filled with angels.” 

“How ironic.”  Angela murmured. 

Claude shot her a dark look. 

Sinclair wandered the kitchen and into the adjoining breakfast nook.  There were pictures hanging in the nook of Catholic saints, all of which surrounded a larger picture of Christ praying in the garden of Gethsemane.  It was a cluttered space, but Sinclair had to hand it to Claude’s wife, there wasn’t a spot of dust on anything, and the floors were sparkling clean as well. 

“Just stay in here until I come for you.” 

Angela slid into the curved bench of the breakfast nook.  She glanced at Gabriel, glad to see that even though the child was up and awake the effects of the Belladonna were still keeping him calm.  Belladonna was a dangerous sedative.  Too much would bring death, but luckily she was an expert on the administration. 

“How are you feeling, Gabriel?”  She asked quietly.  The only response was a small grunt and the slow blink of sleepy eyes.  

There was a thirty minute tense silence before the small group heard the front door open and the sound of voices filled the house.  A dining room was partially visible from the kitchen and the voices sounded as if they were coming from just beyond that area.

“What’s so important that I had to come all the way out here, Claude?”

Sinclair tensed at the sound of Joseph’s voice. 

“I need to talk to you about a few things.” 

“So talk.” 

“Your boy…whatever you did to him, it’s made him sickly.” 

“Sickly?”  Joseph barked out a mirthless laugh.  “He’s not sick.  He’s
transforming
.”

“You have wielded power you don’t understand.”

“Understand?  Old man, you didn’t even know what the stone
was
.  Why do you think you know so much now?”