Free Firstborn (The Legacy Series) by Ryan Attard Page B

gazed at my office – with its bullet-holed door and shattered glass , and the destroyed furniture and the lone chair standing in the middle of it all where Jack had been tied. The Elemental had disappeared. I was sorely aware of how bad it looked. All we needed was a machinegun and we could have rented the space to terrorists and kidnappers for their videos.
    “We’re not kidnapping you either,” I reassured her.
    She was not buying it.
    “I don’t have any money. I’m not even related to anyone significant,” she said. Then she smiled gently and seemed to come closer.
    “Please,” she whispered. “Let me go.”
    I felt her power hit me like a wave. She clearly had no idea how to control herself but she did have some serious juice. I felt pressure in the deepest parts of my brain – the part that pushed me towards very impulsive sexual acts, unless controlled. That little voice inside my head was now given a megapho ne and I wanted nothing more than to obey her and hope for a reward between those creamy thighs of hers.
    At the same time, I felt another wave of power − this one more familiar. It was him, Dark Erik. At least, that’s what I referred to him as. He was the part of my subconscious which housed my power, and my curse. If I meditated deeply enough, I could see him – it. Dark Erik was antisocial since no matter how many times I tried, I could never get him to talk or interact with me. He simply stood there, at the edge of my brain like a shadow on a wall.
    Now, Dark Erik reached inside my head and I felt the same power that healed me take over. Her influence was washed away and I felt as light as a breeze.
    She was still there, aiming those doe eyes at me. After a while she frowned and backed away.
    “Nice trick.” I cleared my throat. Now , my voice didn’t sound so husky. “Not gonna work on me.”
    “And I suggest you can that shit unless you really have to,” said Amaymon. He leaned against the back of the seat until his face was uncomfortably close to hers. She recoiled – Amaymon’s feline eyes, especially in his human form, weren’t easy to look at. That, and the fact that the guy sorely needed a mint. “Whoever is chasin’ you has already got your scent. My brother, the butler slash dog, has quite the nose on ‘im. So, try not to signal where you are unless you wanna be eaten.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “And not in the fun way.”
    Did I mention Amaymon is a class A pervert? He is. And somehow, he manages to get away with it.
    Abigale’s eyes darted towards me, pleading for my help.
    “Back off, Amaymon,” I said as I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back. “You’re not helping at all.”
    “Course I am,” he replied. “Hey,” he directed at Abigale. “You gonna use your powers again?” She shook her head fervently. “See,” he told me. “Helpin’.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Please , ignore him,” I told the girl gently. “He’s creepy but harmless. How about we go inside? I’m sure the kettle still works – how about some coffee? Tea?”
    She remained silent.
    It’s official – I am the worst negotiator in the world. Ironic since that’s exactly what it says on my pay slips from the cops.
    “I was hired by Gracie,” I said , hoping to engage her on some familiar ground. She narrowed her eyes. “She came to see me right after you were admitted into the hospital. I know everything.”
    “What the hell is going on?”
    There it was – the question that confirmed the person’s sanity. There’s a very simple way of knowing if a person if normal or not. Put them through a series of inexplicable events, most of which have a supernatural nature, and watch their response. If they smile and accept it, they’re cracked. Swearing, screaming, and abject panic – those are the good signs.
    We made it out of the car and I helped her up. I figured the least I could do after what she’ d been through was offer her a hand and a cup of java.