Free Hell's Phoenix by Gracen Miller

don’t know how to utilize them. I was trying to protect you.” Maybe not a good decision to keep his wings clipped so tight. And definitely not wise to exploit those they needed, but not the others. When would she stop failing him as a mother?
    He snatched a stone off the bed she hadn’t realized she missed. A bloodstone, dark green mottled with red, known as the martyr’s stone in the paranormal community because Christians once believed Christ’s blood created it as the liquid dripped to the earth from the cross. Its other known mystical uses were to assist the movement of energy and to remove spiritual blocks.
    The side facing her was engraved with the emblem for Om , Sanskrit letters that represented the eminence of all incantations. A powerful totem, if he knew how to use it, one that often regulated dream-walking. Astral projection should be taken seriously and never harnessed by the untrained. Madison wouldn’t pretend to understand the craft, but her son had no business playing with it.
    He flipped the bloodstone over so she could see the other side.
    My sigil engraved on the back !
    Her attention flew to his face. Amos answered her unspoken question, “I use it to keep me grounded when I”—he shrugged—“dabble.”
    Dear God, he plays with his magic without anyone to help if something goes wrong. Astral projecting without someone to guide him back if he got lost !
    Madison didn’t push because she wanted answers, not to alienate him. She motioned with her hand. “Give it here.”
    “Momma! Please….”
    “I’ll give it back.” Disbelief scrunched the corners of his eyes and his bottom lip vibrated with anger. “Angel, that stone can ground you only so much. Allow me to feed my power into it and it’ll stabilize you better.”
    His eyes widened. “You would do that?”
    “Yes.” Anything to protect you, angel . And she recognized the determination in his features, the hard set to his jaw, and the frown forking his brow. Mother’s intuition screamed he needed to practice his magic. “I wish you would talk to me, explain why you’re testing your magic without telling me.”
    Amos dropped the bloodstone into her palm and she curled her fingers around the cool surface. As she stripped away the enchantment in a swift, easy mental smack, he shifted from one foot to the other. She hoped he contemplated telling her what he’d been doing.
    Taking a deep mental breath, she rolled the stone between both of her hands as she might a set of dice. A shimmer in her mind surfaced, near to blinding, but haloed with a red haze. She recognized it as the center of her devilry and infused strands of it into the pebble.
    “I promise not to freak out,” she said, reminding him she’d asked a question. She promised not to freak out openly, but she didn’t vow to remain levelheaded out of his presence. The stone grew warm in her palm as she energized it; Amos gawked as he concentrated on her hands. “Can you see my magic?”
    He nodded, which proved his demon mojo was stronger than she’d known. A small grin surfaced as he peeked at her. “Yours is kinda pretty, Momma.”
    Her power materialized as a rosy glow, interlaced with gold and bright streamers of pink. She wouldn’t exactly call those ‘boy’ colors. One side of her mouth quirked. “Kinda pretty, huh?”
    He nodded and teased, “For a girl.”
    She laughed and extended her arm. Palm up, the stone rested in her hand. “Take it and tell me what it feels like?”
    Joy crinkled the corners of his eyes and stretched his mouth into a full-blown grin. Amos ran his fingertip across the pebble before plucking it from her palm. He clenched the stone in a fist so tight his knuckles turned white.
    “Momma!” He threw his arms around her neck. “Thank you.”
    She squeezed him tight but couldn’t speak for the sudden knot clogging her throat. One small personal gift of herself pleased him more than any gift she’d ever bought him.
    He withdrew from her