Free The Shadow's Son by Nicole R. Taylor Page B

face flooded with concern.
    "Sam, please do this for me. I'll be okay." His little brother stood and embraced him without a word, finally understanding. "When this is all over, when I've found whatever it is I'm looking for... I'll come find you. I promise ."

 
 
 

 
    Gabby walked down the busy street that was clogged to the brim with tourists, bumping shoulders as she went. People milled about shops devoted to dark magic and voodoo, oohing and ahhing at the strange items for sale. None of it worked. It was all junk designed to line shopkeepers pockets. She could tell without even looking.
    Bourbon street , New Orleans, had always been the home of many types of power. These days, one had to know exactly where to go to find it or they would only come away with rubbish. Luckily, she knew what she wanted and was determined to get it.
    She walked into a small and unassuming cafe named Devils Kitchen, known for its selection of specialty cakes to the outside world. To those who knew things, it was so much more. All kinds of supernaturals congregated here to trade, inform, threaten and simply 'hang out'. Scanning the busy cafe, she laid eyes on a imposing figure. From the reverberations in the air, she knew this was the person who had summoned her here.
    When a witch had contacted her during her meditation the previous evening, she knew it wasn't good news. There were only a few people alive who knew the truth of who and what she was and not all of them were good. Despite this, Gabby knew it was in her best interests, along with everyone else's, if she came here today. There was no fear or worry in her heart, only a morbid sense of curiosity. What could he possibly want from her?
    Sighing, she crossed the room and sat across from the dark figure. Raising an eyebrow she said, "This better be worth my time."
    Regulus smirked at the young witch. "Ismena was always quite talented. Good to see she passed it on."
    "If anyone finds out I came to meet you," she began, an unmistakable note of warning in her voice.
    "But, dear Gabrielle, they won't. Not anyone that matters , anyway," he disregarded her warning with a flick of his hand.
    A waitress stopped by the table then, but she waved her away. She didn't want to stay here a moment longer than she had to. "What do you want, Regulus? I have better things to do, you know."
    The Roman leant back and surveyed her with a glint in his eye that should have unsettled her, but she only glared at him. His lip curled up into a sneer and he said, "Don't think for a second that I don't know what you've been poking around for."
    "And what might that be?" she laughed.
    "Want to make your own army, Gabrielle?"
    Clearly, his fingers were in a lot more pies that she had thought. Since she had gotten wind of his arrival, she'd been trying to track down the spell that had created the founders in hope that she could undo it. So far, she'd come up with nothing but hearsay. "Who needs an army when all I have to do is to will my enemies to their knees?"
    "Now I see why Arturius liked you. You have some mouth, Gabrielle." He said it suggestively, wiping his bottom lip with a thumb.
    "In your dreams," she rolled her eyes. "I know you've been poking about Ashburton and I suggest you leave him alone."
    "Now, why would I do that?"
    "That town and everyone and everything in it is under my protection," her eyes narrowed in warning. "Leave him alone. He's been through enough without you trying to destroy him as well."
    Regulus slammed a fist down on the table top, making her jump. "Zachary is mine," he spat. "He's already agreed to come along, so save your threats for someone who wants to be saved."
    "No…" Why would he do such a thing when she was there to help him?
    "Yes," Regulus said. "Now, if you don't mind, witch, I have some business to discuss with you."
    He pushed a vial of blood across the table and she scooped it into her bag, glancing about the cafe to see if anyone had noticed. "What the hell