Free Fallen Angels 01 - Covet by J.R. Ward

it.”
    Jim's gut clenched so hard, he leaned to the side and dry-heaved.
    When a hand smoothed over his back, he had a feeling it was Bertie.
    And he was right.
    Eventually, Jim's gag reflex cut the crap and he got his breath back.
    “What if I can't do this?”
    Colin spoke up. “I shall not lie—it is not going to be easy. The other side is capable of everything. But you shall not be without resources.”
    Jim frowned. “Wait, the other side thinks I'm going to be a bad influence? During the crossroads of these people?”
    Nigel nodded. “They have the same faith in you that we have. But we had the advantage of reaching out to you.”
    “How'd you manage that?”
    “Coin toss.”
    Jim blinked. Right, because...that's how they did it at the Super Bowl.
    Focusing on the gates, he tried to see his mom not as how he'd left her on that kitchen floor, but as these princes said she was. Happy.
    Relieved of burden. Whole. “Who are the seven people?”

    “For the identification of this first one, we shall give you a bit of help and make it obvious,” Nigel said, getting to his feet. “Good luck.”
    “Hold on a minute—how will I know what to do?”
    “Use your head,” Colin cut in.
    “No,” Bertie said, cradling his wolfhound's face, “your heart.”
    “Just believe in the future.” Byron pushed his tinted glasses up on his nose. “Hope is the best—” Nigel rolled his eyes. “Just tell people what to do. It cuts down on the conversation, freeing up time for more worthwhile pursuits.”
    “Such as cheating at croquet?” Colin muttered.
    “Will I see you again?” Jim asked. “Can I come to you for help?”
    He didn't get an answer. Instead, he got another jolt that sure as shit felt like two-forty...and abruptly found himself shooting through a long, white hallway, the light blinding him, the wind blasting him in the face.
    He had no idea where he was going to end up this time. Maybe it was back in Caldwell. Maybe it was Disneyland.
    With the way things appeared to be going, who the fuck knew.

CHAPTER 6
    As night fell, Marie-Terese gripped the handle of the nonstick pan and slid a spatula around the edges of a perfectly round pancake. The thing was just ripe for the flipping, a pattern of little bubbles forming on its creamy surface.
    “You ready?” she said.
    Her son smiled from his supervisory stool on the other side of the countertop. “We're going to count, right?”
    “Yup.”
    Their voices joined together in the three, two...one. Then with a flick of the wrist, she sent the pancake flying and caught it dead in the center.
    “You did it!” Robbie said as the sizzle rose up.
    Marie-Terese smiled through a stinging sadness. Seven-year-olds were spectacular with approval, capable of making you feel like you were a miracle worker over the simplest of victories. If only she deserved the praise on the big stuff. “Would you get the syrup, please,” she said.
    Robbie slid off the stool and padded over to the fridge in his slippers.
    He was wearing a Spider-Man T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a Spider-Man hoodie. His bed had Spider-Man sheets and a Spider-Man duvet, and the lamp he read his Spider-Man comics by had a Spider-Man shade on it. His previous obsession had been SpongeBob, but back in October, as he'd prepared to leave six years old in the dust, he'd declared that he was a grown-up and that henceforth gifts should be of the webbed-crusader variety.
    Right. Got it.
    Robbie pulled open the fridge door and grabbed the squeeze bottle.
    “Do we always gots to do as much grammar as we did today?”

    “That would be 'have to' and yes, clearly it's needed.”
    “Can't we do more math?”
    “Nope.”
    “At least I gots pancakes for dinner.” As Marie-Terese glanced over at him, he smiled. “Have pancakes.”
    “Thank you.”
    Robbie hopped back on the stool and changed the channel on the little TV next to the toaster. The mini-Sony was allowed to be on during breaks from schooling, and