Reynaud's Redemption, стр. 20
“Tomas,” Baptiste supplied.
“Yeah, Tomas. Whatever he had—I think I may have caught it.”
The boy hadn’t caught anything, of course, but what else would he assume? The problem was that he was human. Louis stopped moving. Hot and sweaty, he raked wet hair from his face then stumbled backward from the strange sensations reeling inside him. Baptiste almost smiled. He employed almost as many humans as he did magic users to do menial jobs for him. He treated them all the same, except his human flunkies were on a need-to-know basis when it came to assignments involving enchantments of any kind.
He watched the young man. The power he had inadvertently inherited had sent him into a frenzy. Humans had no powers. They could learn to wield it, if they were so inclined, but it was not a part of them like it was Creolytes. Tomas’ earth magic had nothing to anchor itself to, thus it moved around frantically within Louis’s body, shocking his system.
Louis continued pacing and tearing at his clothes, mumbling about going to the doctor before he tore his skin apart. He turned wide eyes filled with distress to his employer.
“Please, sir, is there anything you can do to help me?”
“Of course, Louis,” Baptiste answered with a smile. “What kind of boss would I be to let you suffer?”
Baptiste stood, crossed the room, then extracted the wayward magic from the young man in the same manner as he had Andrew. After he’d recovered, Baptiste left the room, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.
“Maxwell, there is more to dispose of in the conference room. See to it.”
“Yes, Mr St John,” came the reply.
Baptiste exited the building. Reggie swung the door open to his limousine.
“Where to, Mr St John?”
“Take me to see François.”
Baptiste sat back during the ride. He closed his eyes and stroked his pulsing cock through his pants, enjoying the exhilarating surge of new energy coursing through his system. The enchantment in his soul danced joyfully, welcoming the immense power of Tomas’ earth magic. It merged beautifully, enhancing and stimulating his own. The feel was orgasmic, addictive. He had to have the rest of it… Had to have more.
Just over an hour later, the cobblestone streets and brick buildings of downtown New Orleans were behind him. Emerald green grass and blossoming trees of the lands just off the Mississippi River loomed ahead, unaffected by the overheated days they had suffered in the last month. Huge white columns decorated the long porch that wrapped around the front and sides of the great house that came into view. Large windows stretched from floor to ceiling on the first and second floors.
The plantation had gone into business more than two hundred years ago and was a landmark to the area. Baptiste had only claimed ownership five decades prior. He had kept it operative and modernized over time, making its sugar cane production one of his most lucrative enterprises.
The car jerked to a stop in front of the residence. Baptiste had just enough time to straighten his tie and put his clothes back in order before Reggie opened his door. With a confident stride, he took the few steps leading to the porch but before he could reach the large French doors, they swung open.
“Good afternoon, Mr St John,” an older gentleman in a black suit and white gloves said with a slight bow.
“Good afternoon, Luke.”
Baptiste glided past him, covering the floor of the immaculate foyer in a few quick movements. Luke picked up the pace behind him, but stopped when he reached the elegant staircase.
“Are you here to collect the monthly reports? Although a few days early, I can have them ready for you shortly.”
“No, I am not. I am here to visit François.”
Baptiste trotted up the winding stairs, gliding hand over the smooth, polished brass banister as he walked along the corridor toward the bedrooms. Two men sat at a small card table at the end of the hall. He saw no magic in their auras and dismissed them as expendable.
“Mr St John, we weren’t expecting you,” the first man said, knocking over his chair as he leaped from his seat.
“It would seem so. Where are Moreau, Laurent and Martin? They are supposed to be guarding François.”
“They… They, uh… They went, umm…” the first man stammered.
“Martin is inside but the other guys went to chat up the women working outside,” the other rushed out, shaking the table as he rose.
“Bring them to me at once.”
Baptiste walked into the room as the two men fell over one another to do his bidding. The room was less like a bedroom, resembling more of a small living room. The space easily held a table with four chairs against one wall with a sofa, coffee table and television set arranged by another. Martin lay on the couch with his head back, eyes closed. Rude noises came from him as he snorted and licked his lips. Baptiste groaned and went over to him.
“Get up, Martin,” he growled, kicking his leg.
Martin sprang from the couch with a loud snort. Now that the man stood before him, Baptiste sensed Tomas’ power inside him.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Martin, but you have not developed X-ray vision since you’ve come to this plantation to work, have you?”
Martin’s confusion showed on his face. He scratched his head and thought before answering. “Uh, no,” he said, sounding somewhat unsure.
“Then how do you expect to see the signs of François’ departure from this world from out here?”
“Oh! Well, sir, I was just—”
“When the others return, I want you to go to my house and wait for me. There is much we need to discuss,” he told him then turned his back and entered the doorway