Storm of Visions by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page A

patience that would have done credit to a politician’s wife.
    “That’s Isabelle Mason,” Charisma told him.
    “Of the Boston Masons.” He knew the family, had attended parties at their home, but he had never met Isabelle. Probably she’d been at finishing school, or touring Europe, or doing something high-class and preppy.
    Charisma continued to smile brightly, but her voice was subdued and a little depressed as she said, “I can’t quite get a fix on her gift. She doesn’t like it, doesn’t acknowledge it, keeps it restrained.”
    Isabelle caught Aaron watching her and smiled politely. Caught the lawyer watching her and her expression became Botox smooth.
    “Whoa. She doesn’t like him,” Charisma observed.
    “No . . .” Aaron wasn’t so sure. There was something between those two. He nodded at the young guy in frayed jeans, dirty running shoes, and a denim jacket. “Who’s the kid?”
    Charisma goggled at Aaron. “Don’t you know ? That’s Aleksandr Wilder.”
    Aaron shrugged. He’d already figured out if he kept his mouth shut, she’d spill everything she knew.
    She did. “Nineteen years ago, the Wilders broke their family’s covenant with the devil. It was a big deal in the world of the Chosen Ones, and I imagine in the world of the Others, too.”
    “That would do it.” The board of directors, a group of sharp-eyed, middle-aged men in suits, had given Aaron the barest outlines of the organization. They called themselves the Gypsy Travel Agency, located in a historic cast-iron building in SoHo. They were widely famous for leading treks into the wildest parts of the world, had been doing it since the late nineteenth century and apparently collecting a wad of money from satisfied customers. According to them, the agency had started because of their gypsy background and their dedication to combating evil.
    None of the directors looked Romany to Aaron; more like a bunch of middle-aged white guys in suits with one politically correct clean-cut black guy. And none of them looked like they’d ever been in combat with more than a New York investment broker.
    But then, he didn’t really care who they were or what they did, because while they made it clear they would use him as a tour guide if needed, his real job for them related to his special talent—and they owned him and his talent for the next seven years.
    “So, did the Wilders work for the Gypsy Travel Agency?”
    “The Wilders raise grapes in Washington and sell wines in California.”
    Aaron blinked at Charisma. “Is that a cover like the Gypsy Travel Agency?”
    “No. They really raise grapes and sell wines. They’re completely out of the paranormal business now. None of them can shape-shift anymore.”
    Seeking a way out of his confusion, Aaron said, “Let me see if I’ve got this right—the Wilders broke a covenant with the devil that let them shape-shift.”
    “That’s it.”
    “So what’s the Wilder kid doing here? What’s his special gift?”
    The Wilder kid stepped close. “For starters, I’ve got really good hearing.”
    Aaron had to admire him for his poise, had to admire both the kids, because Charisma grinned and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Charisma Fangorn. I’m so glad to meet you, Aleksandr.”
    Aleksandr shook her hand, then Aaron’s.
    “So what’s your gift?” Charisma asked.
    Aleksandr stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have one.”
    Charisma looked affronted. “Of course you do. You walked through the fire with your mother.”
    “Yeah.” Aleksandr paused to scuff his feet on the tile floor. “There’s speculation, probably justified, that my mother’s gift protected me.”
    Aaron’s head swiveled between them. He had no idea what they were talking about, but he had to admit it was fascinating.
    “Why justified?” Charisma asked.
    “When I was thirteen, I decided maybe it was me, so I tried grabbing a burning stick. Man, did I get in trouble. My father and grandfather aren’t