Page 1 of A Shared Mind

Prologue

Ezgart/EZ

I stood in front of the management team as they reviewed the reel of my first case. Hellfire and Damnation, my trusty companions, sat patiently behind me, which was good because I was being judged for everything I’d done since I’d taken my first solo job as a Guardian of Hell. I’d apprenticed with one of the most famous, one of the best guardians known above or below, and he was sitting in front of me acting as my representative.

“Ezgart, we have conferred, and we are pleased to tell you that we are accepting you as a full Guardian of Hell.”

Astral, the demon guardian who trained me, stood and bowed with respect before he took my arm and escorted me out of the dark chamber. I snapped my fingers for my hell hounds to follow, and we walked out the doors leading to Hades.

“What’s next, boss?” I asked. He was assigned as my handler and would be the one to dispense my orders when I was dispensed to hunt runaway spirits.

Astral chuckled. “This is a good one, Kid. One of our more mischievous old timers escaped. I mean I guess I can’t blame him for wanting out. He was summoned during a séance, which can happen from time to time, but he didn’t come back as he should have.

“Ramon Blanco is the self-proclaimed greatest lover of all time. I think that’s up for debate among others who have tried to claim the title, but the possessed finance guy whose friend came up with the idea of the séance after hearing about Ramon from a cousin isn’t the type of guy used to hosting a vengeful spirit like Ramon.

“They summoned Blanco specifically, and now he thinks he has some sort of hold over the guy. You need to tempt him out of the young man and bring him back before he’s imbedded so deeply we can’t get him out and the host loses the battle over free will and his own soul.” Astral said it so casually, but in my gut, I didn’t believe it was casual. Having an entity invade your mind against your will wasn’t something I’d take lightly if I were a human.

“What’s the host’s name?” That would be the best way to begin.

“Justin Watkins.” Astral handed me a USB fob, which was my key to finding Ramon Blanco.

“Damnation, dude, you’re up.”

Chapter One

Justin Watkins

“I came here for the food, local ambiance, and to hang out with you. I absolutely did not come here for that crap. I refuse to go inside. Have you lost your mind?” I asked my best friend and co-worker, Eve Murray.

“You are a stick in the mud, Justin Lee Watkins. It’s your twenty-fourth birthday, and we came on this trip to have fun, which seems to be something you’re allergic to. Now, come on. I made the appointment and paid for the time. You’re going inside.” Eve stomped her size-six foot, not that it made much impact.

We were in New Orleans, Louisiana. It was only my second trip to the city, and I was ready to let the good times roll, as had been touted during the tourism commercial Eve and I saw while watching an award show in June.

That’s when Eve came up with the idea of celebrating my twenty-fourth birthday in The Big Easy. Going to see a fortune teller—or medium as the sign read—wasn’t on my Bingo card for the year. Eve had alleged it was my birthday present, but it wasn’t my idea of having a good time. The reason behind said gift? That was even more disturbing.

I, Justin Lee Watkins, was in competition to become the world’s oldest virgin. At least, that’s what Eve always said. Trust me, it wasn’t a title I actively sought. I was an introverted nerd, and when I met a guy—and thanks to Eve’s vivacious personality, I met a lot of them—I clammed up, stuttered, and usually hid in the stall of the men’s room of whatever bar, club, or grocery store we happened to be in.

“What the hell is this supposed to prove? Huh? No. I’m not going inside.” I pointed to the hokey looking sign over the door, “Madame Stella is a grifter who takes advantage of anyone dumb enough to darken her door.”

“Oh, poo-poo. God, your parents did you no favors by homeschooling you, rest their souls. Didn’t they have public schools in your part of Missouri?” Eve leaned against the window, a stubborn glint in her eye.

She was one to talk! Eve grew up on a five-hundred-acre sod farm nestled at the base of the Ozark Mountains in Southwestern Missouri. Her hometown was called Pine. Not Pine Hill or Pine Bluff. Just Pine. At least Sweet Springs, where I grew up outside Kansas City, had a stoplight.

Eve released a frustrated, overly dramatic sigh. “Come on. Please? It’ll be fun. Herbst and his friends are meeting us here. Pleeease?”

I rolled my eyes. Tommy Herbst was Eve’s latest boyfriend. He had played football at our alma mater, University of Missouri-Columbia, and Eve had lusted over the dude all through college. When he graduated, he was picked up by the USFL and currently playing for the NOLA Jazz. During the short season, Eve worked from Herbst’s house on the outskirts of New Orleans, and in the off season, Herbst lived with her in Kansas City, which was next door to me and not my favorite thing in the world.

Raucous male laughter exploded nearby, and I turned to see Herbst with a few of his friends headed in our direction, one of which was Kirk Dunston, Herbst’s stunningly handsome agent. What Kirk did for a third-rate quarterback playing in a league that had a ten-week season was beyond me. To each his own.

“Hey, baby.” Herbst greeted Eve before turning to me. “Bookie.” Herbst thought he was a comedian, the poor dumb jock.

The term, bookie, had a more salacious meaning that Herbst had yet to comprehend. He thought it meant someone who kept a company’s books, which wasn’t remotely close to what I did.

I specialized in financial planning, both personal and business. I was new in the game, having only worked for two years at Korr Financial Services in Kansas City, Missouri, but after I sat for my upcoming certified financial planner—CFP—exam, I would be able to attract more business clients of my own, or so I hoped.

“Hello, Justin. Good to see you again.” Kirk extended his hand to shake mine like a civilized human. “These jokers are...” Kirk continued the introductions.

I stopped listening, simply enjoying the sight of his lips moving. I hoped I didn’t have that stupid dream again about Kirk sucking me off on the field of a football stadium full of people. I didn’t think I was an exhibitionist, but then again, I didn’t really know what or who I was sexually.