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    The Family: Superhuman, #4
    The Family: Superhuman, #4
    The Family: Superhuman, #4
    Ebook125 pages1 hour

    The Family: Superhuman, #4

    By Suzanne D. Williams

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    He pressed in again, this time, nipping her bottom lip, and the entire room seemed to swallow her, the walls spinning, the floor falling away. Hanging onto him, she descended into a multicolored vision, shades of light she'd never seen filling her head. When her vision cleared, he shone, the purest, transparent white. She laid one hand at the base of his neck, and it flushed red.

     

    "You did this to me," he said, "and I really like it."

     

    Running "The Earth Shop", Lauren Fournier had seen many unusual things. The supernatural was, after all, the purpose of the store. But never, since she'd taken it over, had anyone in the Christian community entered without an ulterior motive. They want to "save her soul" without a heart for understanding who she was.

     

    But from the moment Reverend Dagger Dawkins first speaks to her, it's clear something about him is different. Not simply that he asks her out on a date. No man of his caliber has ever dared to do that. But also, she feels a pull toward him she can't explain.

     

    When he disappears in front of her eyes, she's desperate for him to return. But nothing about their date is normal – not his description of his superhuman family, not his skin turning colors at her touch, nor the instantaneous transfer of them both from her apartment in Virginia to the California coast.

     

    Who is he? And why, of all the girls he could choose, did he pick her?

     

    Book 4 of 5 in the SUPERHUMAN series of sci-fi teen romance by best-selling author, SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSuzanne D. Williams
    Release dateJul 24, 2016
    ISBN9781536546002
    The Family: Superhuman, #4
    Author

    Suzanne D. Williams

    Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

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      Book preview

      The Family - Suzanne D. Williams

      For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart (Heb 4:12).

      CHAPTER 1

      She lost her footing on the slippery surface, and for an instant slid backwards, panic shoving upwards in her throat. Desperate, she clawed forward, digging her nails into the rain-softened soil, grasping at tree roots and half-buried stones in a bid to reach the top of the slope. Her bare feet sunk deep in the boggy ground, further slowing her progress, and she heard their calls again. Thousands of voices. A legion. Baying at her in torment, snapping at her heels, slavering tongues waiting to devour if she stopped.

      Casting a glance behind, a whimper escaped, and she ran, her skirt tearing on the brush, limbs whipping her cheeks. Over the hill, through trees grown thick on the mountainside, around rocks, and across the rise and fall of the land, she fled, the distance ever closing between her and her pursuers.

      Figments in her mind, and yet not figments at all, but demonic, a torment of soul that cast her to the edge of the rise and, there, brought her to a halt. Wavering, her toes clinging to the crumbling rim, she threw her arms wide, the land falling away hundreds of feet to jagged ground below. And the voices in her head screamed for her death.

      One arm wrapped tight around her skull, she wept, willing them to silence, but they grew and her mind slipped toward what looked like peace. Making the leap, she flung herself from the ledge and the earth below welcomed her in one final embrace.

      One year later

      The door to her shop opened, a tiny bell hung on the handle ringing, and she looked into eyes like she’d never seen before. Turquoise like the Caribbean Sea, but more than that, glittering almost. Spellbound, she forgot her usual greeting, some deep part of her surging toward him. He was tall, six foot two or three, with black hair left moderately long, and a gentle smile on attractive lips.

      He proceeded forward, coming to a halt a couple feet off, and she stared, the strangest need to taste those lips taking hold of her. She shook herself. Welcome to The Earth Shop. How can I help you?

      He folded his hands at chest height. I think, instead, I can help you.

      Her brow furrowed, her mouth puckering. A salesman then, and that was a shame because if he’d been likeminded she would have encouraged his interest. "The sign on the door says no soliciting," she replied.

      His smile never wavered. Ah, but what I offer is for you alone.

      Look ... Put out by his words, her tone turned gruff. Either make a purchase or be on your way.  This is a place of business.

      Very well ... He plucked two incense sticks from a jar on the counter and deposited several coins in her hand, but in placing them there, he closed her fingers around them, his hand over top.

      Her vision swirled, some force drawing them together, and she leaned in until their lips almost touched. Yet, he made no move to follow through.

      A second ring of the bell snapped her out of her haze. Blinking, she met eyes with the local sheriff, conscious her suitor had vanished.

      Miss Fournier ...

      Where she’d been dazzled by the previous man, with Sheriff Hardy, she was blunt. Broad-shouldered with leathery skin and the typical career lawman’s stern glance, many people thought him intimidating. She, however, felt only distaste. They’d had run-ins before, all of them negative, him convinced that her shop was the cause of the town’s problems.

      Sheriff.

      He held himself, arms extended, as if by touching anything he’d come away diseased, and flashed a photograph of a teenage girl in a school uniform. Navy skirt, white polo shirt with a familiar engraved emblem.  Tell me about Annah Paget, he said.

      Lauren didn’t respond right away, a mixture of emotions surfing through her.

      Impatient, Sheriff Hardy moved the photo closer. Miss Fournier? We can do this back at the station ....

      She ran away.

      She no more wanted to go to the station than he wanted to take her there, but thinking of Annah brought up a lot of negative energy.

      Tell me about that, he continued.

      Lauren eyed him. Why was he concerned with the girl now? That’d happened a year ago, and since then, Mama Jean, her sense of life support, had vanished as well. Shouldn’t he be looking into that first?

      She shrugged. She wasn’t here long and seemed troubled. She was always in my things.

      So you didn’t get along.

      He didn’t sound like he was asking, more like he’d already decided. This ruined her mood further.

      We got along fine when she stayed in her room. All I know is I went to bed like usual and the next morning was told she’d run away.

      Distaste rose in his expression, his mouth curling, his eyes shading dark. You sure about that? Because a hiker found her body ... or what’s left of it ... at the bottom of the east gulley. Looks like she jumped.

      Looks like? Did that mean he had doubts? Lauren’s heartbeat skipped, coldness washing over her, but she endeavored not to show any fear. She pushed the photo back toward him. I’m sorry about that. Like I said, she had problems. I remember her taking some pretty strong medication. Perhaps, it finally caught up with her.

      He swept the photo into his grasp, tapping the edge on the counter. Perhaps, it did. We’ll keep in touch. I’m sure we’ll have more questions. He began to retreat, a slow shuffling of his shoes, his eyes ever-twisting from left to right. At the door, he grabbed the knob, but halted, his gaze fastened on the slender figure of her suitor. That he hadn’t left the store after all made her temporarily speechless, but then, perhaps she’d been too distracted to notice where he’d gone.

      The sheriff’s eyes spun wide. Reverend Dawkins?

      Reverend? He was young to be a minister, but apparently known as one. And in her shop. And in her brain.

      Sheriff Hardy, I heard about the young woman. If I can be of any assistance, please call me.

      The sheriff nodded and glanced from her to him. Then one hand held awkwardly to the side, he opened the door and stepped out. On the sidewalk, he shook himself, blotting his hands on his uniform, and strode away.

      The reverend turned. He approached her again, and that same magnetism came over her. But, she argued, it was some ... spell ... he cast. She’d run up against religious types before, always trying to save her soul because, after all, everyone knew she ran the witch’s shop.

      It was far more confusing than that, however. Previous to living with Mama Jean, she hadn’t believed in anything. Her foster mother had taught her a rudimentary knowledge of the healing arts and steered her toward care for the shop. She was glad for that now. Because when she’d vanished, it’d given her a steady income. It didn’t mean she understood everything she sold though.

      You’re a minister? she asked.

      Preachers came in two types. They either avoided her, occasionally tossing a prayer her way, or they picketed out front, trying to drive her from town. They never came inside the shop and bought something. They never looked like him either.

      He nodded. Dagger Dawkins, duly ordained.

      Dagger? That was unusual, but his smile returned, blinding, and she didn’t comment on it.

      Can I treat you to dinner? he asked.

      She started. You want to take me out?

      He nodded. Is tomorrow night okay?

      I ... Wanted to say yes. For that matter, she wanted to face plant against him. But her lifestyle and his wouldn’t mesh. And if he hung around her, the entire town would talk, his congregation, if he had one, shrink to nothing.

      He seemed to know her thoughts. Lauren, isn’t it? he asked.

      She nodded, still a bit stunned.

      I’d like you to agree, but understand your hesitation. I will go. If you change your mind, simply call out, and I will hear.

      Her forehead wrinkled again, her thoughts twisting. Call out? What do you ... Mean.

      The end of her question never left her lips. He looked at her, his countenance at peace, then his skin shaded both dark and light in a wave, and he faded from view. She started, trembling, but curiosity arose. Rounding the counter, she walked to where he’d been and turned in a slow circle.

      He’d been real. Sheriff Hardy had spoken to him. Yet now he was gone.

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