Secret of the Red Stone

By Sydney Addae

What if you were held hostage by your own mind and saw the most horrific crimes perpetrated against man by his worst enemy, man. As a witness, with a front row seat of such infamy, what would you do with the sights or visions that invariably was happening somewhere in the world at that very moment. Taking it to another level, what if your mind rebelled and wouldn't allow you to keep the putrid sights captive, demanding the vile deeds be made public. How does one survive the telling? Welcome to Austin Gray's world. He hates seeing the violence, the helplessness of the victims and the pain he faces when he doesn't release the words, describing what he'd seen. Since he uses a box to talk, he types the sightings online for anyone to see. It's the only way he can have peace. At least until the next one. Special Agent Persia Cullens attempts to convince Austin to work with the FBI. He's reluctant, but the FBI has a plan: special equipment that will record his visions as they occur, allowing the bureau to quickly activate teams to catch criminals. As bodies stack up, Austin agrees to work with Persia to prevent a disaster. With its fascinating characters and gripping action, Secret of the Red Stone is a thrilling exploration of fate, justice, and the buoyancy of the human spirit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sydney Addae
• Release date: Jan 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9780983228790

Sydney Addae

Thank you so much for reading 'Dragon Master Crimson Thunder". For the past two years, I've been sharing two episodes a week of this story and fell in love with the characters and their world. In this series you'll see Silas, Jasmine and their family as well and new characters from the newly formed Shifter Council. There's a lot to come as Crimson evolves into a Master Dragon. Drop me a line at or my  page or join my Facebook group, , where discussions regarding Silas and the Wolf nation abound.  Also here, at my website, SydneyAddae.com. Of course I am on  as well. See there is no reason we can't be friends, lots of places to find me. If you want intimate details of La Patron and the Wolf Nation, make sure to sign up for a Free copy of Knight Chronicles Silas and Jasmine provide lots of insights on parenting, ruling a nation and how they make their relationship work. Also, there will be lots of give-aways and free reads specifically for K subscribers. If you haven't signed up, do it now, you'll be glad you did. Also, I have articles on my you might find interesting. Dragon Master Crimson Thunder – The Master's Heir is the first book in this series and I'd like to ask a favor. When you finish reading, please leave a review, whatever your opinion, I assure you I appreciate it. Thanks Sydney

Book preview

Prologue

IT WASN’T THE HEAT of the infamous Southern Pines summer nights that woke me. Nor the insistent clang of pots or pans. I’d grown accustomed to Ma’s insomnia. She cooked at all hours to soothe her nerves. No, this drive to get up was something new. More like a shove from the inside.

Weird.

The urge to move my sore body from its toasty resting spot pummeled me. As I scratched the scarred skin between my neck and shoulder, I placed my right foot on the hardwood floor. The left followed more slowly. The bones were still knitting from the car accident and I had no interest in having them reset because I fell.

Slow was good.

My eyes adjusted to this new position and, keeping that mantra in mind, I sat still on the edge of my bed to get my bearings. It took a moment to bring everything in focus. The desire to go online surprised me. As I waited for the laptop to boot up, I hoped this wasn’t the beginning of another series of nightmares. Violence in video games was cool, expected even. That should be the end of it. My sleep should be safe, free from the horrors of life.

The login screen appeared. Scooting over, I sat in the ergonomic chair Ma bought six months ago as a bribe to get me active again. It felt good against my back as I settled, wondering what to do next. My fingers flew over the keyboard. Good to see they still worked.

Looking at the screen, I recognized a familiar chat room. I hadn’t visited it since the accident. Closing my eyes, I breathed through the pain of loss that filled me every time I remembered the day our car ran off the road and hit a tree.

A beep pulled my attention back to the screen. The clock at the bottom read a little after midnight and the room was full of lively chatters. Scrolling down, I suppressed a yawn, read the inventive names of the active participants, answered a few shout outs, and decided to leave. I’d just turned eighteen and some suggestions in this room had my face on fire. A new person sent a shout out.

Rosiered: hello, room.

I froze. I’m not sure why, but immediately I asked for a private chat. Thankfully, she agreed.

Austingray: hi, where are u?

Rosiered: a little restaurant in France. Why?

A sliver of fear unfurled in my stomach, rising, taking my breath with it. She was lying. Pain slashed at my lacerated throat. I couldn’t speak much over a whisper, but words bubbled from my gut. I tried to infuse the urgency I sensed to her.

Austingray: no, you’re not; you’re in a room in San Francisco. You need to leave. Now!

Angry that she still sat, I started typing another message. The movement brought a pounding pain inside my skull. It grew stronger every second, blurring my vision. Looking up, I watched her twist around in the paisley-covered chair before she refocused on the laptop.

Damn, I can see her. How? My cam sat in an unopened box on the floor. The knowledge hit me. I stared at the words on the screen. The accident had done more than ruin my body; it had screwed with my brain. I knew where she was, that she was a short blonde with brown eyes and a petite build.

I saw her look around, biting her lips, and then start to type again.

No, no, no, don’t type, I yelled. The noise that ripped painfully from my few remaining vocal chords sounded like a screeching tire. Get out. Of course, she couldn’t see or hear me. I was weirding out.

Rosiered: where r u?"

Austingray: Run! They’re coming!

Rosiered: who?

As she leaned forward to read my text, the door burst open. Two burly men strode in, snatched her up while placing a cloth over her mouth, and backed out.

Austingray: too late.

The blond male changed course, walked forward, and read the screen. His eyes widened as he looked around. His lips twisted as he picked up the laptop and smashed it. I felt a curious relief when he disappeared and the visual faded.

Then I fainted.

Chapter 1

FIVE YEARS LATER:

I sat in my new ergonomic leather chair, staring at all the new gadgets Persia, my new FBI contact, laid on the table. Anger bubbled. I tamped it down, not wanting to vent or explode. Reasonably, I knew the source of my rage had nothing to do with her. I felt the noose tightening around my neck and revolted. A normal reaction. The fragile grip of control I exercised over my life slipped further through my fingers, and I hated it. The visions the FBI wanted clearer shots of were uninvited intruders into my psyche. Like parasites, they drained my energy and demanded I see the worst of humanity. For once, I’d like to see something that offered that fleeting emotion: hope.

This is your new voice box, Austin. She spoke in an even alto tone, not too frilly, very professional. I hated that as well. Maybe I was jealous, since the voice box I used sounded like crap.

According to the files, you have no warnings when you’ll get your ... uh, flashes of intuition, so you’ll need to keep this on, or somewhere close to your mouth all the time. She held the device in her hand, watching it instead of me.

Her jaw tightened, nostrils flared, making it clear she was aware of my displeasure. Good. Now, I’d tell her where she could put that new equipment. They’d sent a black female newbie. She’d just gotten off probation or something and must have made someone angry to be assigned to me. Oh well, time to break her in.

Did you read in those files, I asked, peeved, my voice clipped, that I don’t want any more equipment from the government? I don’t work for the FBI. I just want to be left alone.

She nodded before I finished, surprising me. Yes, I did.

I stared, waiting for her to finish. And?

She shrugged, licked her lips, and picked up another piece of equipment. This is an amplifier. She turned it so I could see. It hooks to the other piece and is voice activated as well.

Before I could say anything, a yawn slipped out. I was exhausted. This thing inside ate up all my energy like an out-of-control experiment. I never gained weight and ate enough for two men. Her unsolicited visit interrupted my nap, the first decent rest I’d gotten in a while. No wonder I was grumpy.

Why are you here? I snapped, interrupting her recital about the piece. I explained to the last guy, Jefferson, I’m not on the team. I’d placed my amplifier to my lips on the last end. When I saw her frown, I assumed she wasn’t used to the hissing sounds that came from inferior boxes. But I didn’t owe anybody anything for using it.

I’m just a guy who has random visions. The sounds from the box sounded choppy. It tempted me to use my natural voice. Except that’d sound like a whisper, and I didn’t want her to know the full extent of my handicap. Why can’t you just pull them off my website like everyone else? I’d had this argument before with the last officer. They refused to listen. It’s not as if the government wasn’t invasive enough. I didn’t want to owe them anything.

Her eyes widened. I explained all this, Austin. I’m the new agent in charge of monitoring your website and gathering data for the Bureau. This equipment is a gift, no strings attached. It’ll make things easier for you.

I never volunteered for anything. This is harassment, pure and simple. Thank goodness Ma was out with friends or something, otherwise she’d hang me high for talking to a guest like this.

Persia.

She looked at me.

I want to be left alone. Slowly, I enunciated each word carefully. Her eyes narrowed a fraction. Good, at least she’s listening.

Nodding, she stepped closer. I could smell her floral scent and see the light dusting of freckles around her nose on her caramel complexion. Not beautiful, but decent. The closer she stood, the better she looked, well except now her face was fire engine red.

Leaning forward, her breath grazed my cheek. Now you listen to me, you ingrate, she snarled, surprising me as she moved closer to my ear. My face heated as her words penetrated.

I’ve been through hell and back on probation. Her voice lashed out, whipping across my senses. It took a lot for me to make it this far. Some perv on a higher floor couldn’t get some private playtime from me and decided it’d be fun to sic me on this babysitting job. She pulled back slightly, eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. Although her heart-shaped face and dark eyes sparked with her anger, she had nothing on me.

Resentment built with each word spoken. Word after word, line after line, my temple pulsed, fist balled, and jaw clenched. I stared in disbelief at this slip of woman who insulted me in my house. She moved to touch me.

I threw up a hand to block. No, I growled. Without the box, the sound came out low, guttural.

She glared at me. Like it or not, we’re stuck together for the time being.

No, I repeated. I neither liked it, nor was I stuck with her.

Heaving, she tapped my chest with her finger. I felt it in my back. She was stronger than she looked. The last thing I intend to put up with, is crap from you. This equipment will make my job easier and your communications clearer.

She shushed me as I tried to speak.

I’m not done, she snapped, as if I was some ten-year-old boy.

Unchecked anger pushed me to my feet.

She placed her hand on my shoulder to stop me. That pissed me off.

Take your hand off me now. The guttural sounds couple with the look on my face got through to her. I pushed the offending appendage to the side and stood. My body vibrated under the force of my rage. I grabbed my box, so there’d be no mistaking my words. Get out. My words were clear. Get out of my house. I’ll change the website information and you’ll never find it.

Her mouth dropped at my words. Good, she’d crossed a line.