Free The Lost Prince by Edward Lazellari Page A

covered with fifteen bills, Luanne scooped the money before a gust of wind stole it. He handed her another fifteen bills. She made a neat stack of the bills, folded it, and stuffed it into her ample bosom.
    “That should get you to California or wherever you want to be five years from now that’s not here . Keep him in this trailer park by any means necessary short of hog-tying,” Colby said. “And if nothing else works, then hog-tie him.”
    “But what if—”
    “He’s thirteen,” Colby cut in. “A pretty sixteen-year-old says ‘boo’ to him, he’ll follow her like a puppy trailing snacks until he grew some sense. If Daniel’s still here when I get back, there’ll be another forty of these bills for you.”
    Luanne was trying to calculate how much that would be. Colby waited for the ding in her head when she finished. Her face beamed.
    “If he’s gone, however,” Colby continued, “I’m taking back what’s in your bra. Do you get me?”
    Colby could almost hear the whirring and clicking in her young mind. The tumblers of a plan were falling into place. When she smiled, he knew that she had gotten it.

CHAPTER 5
    CHILD OF A LESSER GOD
    1
    The reverend had spent the wee hours of the morning restless, staring into the space above his bed, reflecting upon the multitude of revelations that accompanied the return of his memories. His origins in Aandor, his temple—how would he coalesce the two belief systems, their cosmology that had dominated the two halves of his life? Would it even be possible to incorporate the past with the present? His two lives were diametrically opposed to one another, and he had never abandoned his first one willingly.
    Wizards … there are sorcerers on this world now. This world! In Aandor, the Wizards’ Council maintained order among the overly ambitious—education was available and threats were neutralized, but this world? It was defenseless and ill prepared against amoral power brokers with the ability to pervert nature at their whim—like the spell that had robbed Allyn of thirteen years of his true identity.
    Quietly, Allyn left his bed before sunup, still unsure whether these new revelations were in truth a well-disguised bane. The truth in this case, contrary to setting him free, had burdened him with doubt and confusion. As so not to disturb Michelle, he dressed downstairs, pattered into the garage to get his wheelbarrow and a flashlight, and went into the woods behind his home. Each time the wheelbarrow was full, he deposited its contents behind the church, which was next door to his house. As the sun rose, he surveyed the patch of grass that had hosted many church barbecues and baptism celebrations now littered with the pickings of his treasure hunt. His next actions would be considered sacrilegious by most of his congregation. It could not be helped. He took solace in that his motivations were entirely Christian.
    At about 8:00 A.M. , the drapes of his kitchen window across the driveway rustled. He held his breath, hoping that Michelle or Rosemarie would not come out and ask him what he was building. His luck seemed to hold, and he continued to work until eight thirty, when Michelle’s brother pulled into the driveway in his black GMC Terrain. When Theo stepped out of the SUV, the vehicle jumped up six inches. He’d been a defensive linesman for Alabama’s Crimson Tide—a sweet-natured kid with massive shoulders and arms. Allyn chuckled, suddenly comprehending Theo’s college nickname—“The Mountain That Rides.” It supposedly came from a popular novel.
    Despite the cool air, Allyn’s undershirt was moist. It stuck to his skin—a clammy adhesion made tolerable by the honest labor that produced it. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief to keep the sweat from his eyes, and resumed working as Michelle, Theo, and Rosemarie approached.
    “Allyn, should you be exerting yourself so soon after your … episode?” Michelle asked.
    “Episode” was what the girls