Free Number of the Beast (Paladin Cycle, Book One) by Lita Stone Page A

her committed again,
just like she’d tossed her own sister Carol into the asylum. She
poured another mug of coffee and set it at the opposite end of the
breakfast bar.
    A bitter scent singed her nostrils and
her stomach rolled. Bile crept into her throat. She closed her eyes
and swallowed while her head pounded, a rhythmic drum behind her
eyes.
    “ Something ain’t right,”
she said. “I should’ve stayed home today.”
    Amy’s mother took a seat at the
counter where Amy had set the coffee. “Remember me? I birthed you.
What was it? Twenty-five years ago?”
    Amy sighed. “Twenty-three.”
    So she hadn’t called her mother in
over a month, but the woman was more like a stranger, not to
mention a diva and a snob. Amy snatched a menu from under the
counter and dropped it next to her mother’s manicured
hands.
    Amy!
    The monster in the mirror at the Bull
flashed in her mind.
    I abide by your rules yet
you refuse my callings.
    From
behind, a hand gripped her shoulder. “You alright, mami ?” Dressed in black
shorts and a white T-shirt, Carmen gave her a concerned
look.
    “ I’m not a female!” Amy
pushed through the double doors, past the grill and into the
storage closet.
    Standing at the far end, face pressed
against a carton of to-go cups, Amy heard the door open. She looked
at Carmen standing in the threshold. “If I tell you something, can
you promise to keep it a secret?”
    Carmen said, “You even have to
ask?”
    Amy released a deep sigh. She slumped
to the floor with her back against the metal rack stacked with
paper goods. “I keep hearing a voice in my head and that’s not the
worst of it. I think I’m going crazy.”
    Carmen sat on a crate of condiments
across from Amy. “When aren’t you?”
    Amy smiled at the sardonic grin on
Carmen’s face.
    So what if everybody thought she was
crazy. Maybe she was, but what should have felt like a scarlet
letter, felt more like a badge of honor.
    Despite not caring what anybody
thought of her, she didn’t want to be locked up again. Never
again.
    “ What about Aunt Carol?”
Amy asked.
    “ You are not her and I
don’t believe a word of that ‘it runs-in-the-family’
nonsense.”
    “ It’s not just that. I’m
nauseous and dizzy.” Amy hung her head between her knees. “I met a
real life alien. Right here in Buckeye.” She looked at Carmen. “You
think I’m crazy?”
    “ You. Are. Not. Crazy.”
Carmen grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. “Come on,
chickie, let’s go get your mother outta here before she sprouts
horns and starts ordering new born children.”
    As Amy and Carmen returned, her mom
slapped the menu down. “Don’t you serve English muffins or anything
that isn’t saturated in grease or made from dead
animals?”
    Amy gave
Carmen’s hand a reassuring squeeze and mouthed thank you before crossing the dining
room toward her mother. “We serve the same food we did last time
you were here.”
    “ Listen, dear, I went to
the galleria with Debra Vanderhort in Houston yesterday and she
says her son, Thad, just got accepted into veterinary school at
LSU.”
    “ That’s nice.” Amy grabbed
the pot and refilled Sheriff Bowden’s coffee.
    He looked up at her. “She made me miss
American Idol.”
    Grimacing, Amy backed through the
swinging door to the kitchen. She gave Charlie, the cook, a
nod.
    “ You sick?” Charlie asked.
The old black man always wore long sleeve shirts while cooking so
his face was constantly shimmering with sweat. How in tarnation
could he stand the heat?
    “ If by sick, you mean hung
over, then yes, I’m very, very sick.”
    Charlie chuckled, deep and from the
belly. He slipped a cooking apron over his gray-haired head. “I
remember those days. Chug-a-lugging all night and yuking all day
long. Thank the good Lord above he straightened me out real
good.”
    “ Got any Ibuprofen?” Amy
asked.
    Carmen popped through the doors and
tossed Amy a packet of Alka-Seltzer. “Take two now and keep