Boucher's World: Emergent Read online

Boucher’s World:

  Emergent

  By

  Bea Cannon

  Published By:

  Bea Cannon

  Boucher’s World: Emergent Copyright 2012 by Bea Cannon

  License Notes:

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed herein are imaginary, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contains some mild profanity and violence. Some mature situations.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Excerpt from Book 2

  Other Works by Author

  About the Author

  Back to top

  Chapter One

  “No matter how roomy and comfortable, a cage is still a cage.” - Daniel Lowry

  THE BIG MAN TRAMPED HEAVILY THROUGH the old cottage looking in every room one last time. It was empty. He’d gotten everything of probable value out.

  The only things left were some cardboard boxes in a corner of one of the back rooms, and he’d pulled them open earlier to discover they were filled with packing material. He’d left them. No profit in that.

  Satisfied, he stood in a back room and pulled a communicator out of an inside pocket. Gods. He hated using those things, but he didn’t have a choice.

  “Get me Montford,” he said softly to the woman who answered.

  While he waited, he walked over to the large, ceiling-to-floor window on the rear wall and peered out through the grime. Just grass and trees and a glint of light off a small, nearby meandering stream.

  He wondered, briefly, why the window had been built that way, then turned and forgot it when Montford answered.

  “What did you find, Charles? Was it worth the trouble?”

  “Not much here, Caine,” answered Charles. “But I think I’ve got you some items that may prove to be quite profitable.”

  The link was silent for a moment. “Okay, bring them in. I’m sure I can find a place for them, though I’m almost certain she meant something more would be there.”

  His voice turned cold. “Come on back. Stop and get the Healer and bring him with you. She’s going to pay for getting my hopes up.”

  He clicked off.

  Charles winced. He hurt for the precog, but he knew there was nothing he could do to prevent what, he had no doubt, Caine was going to do to her. He knew it would be done before he could even get back this time, but he also knew that even if he were there, he would do nothing to help her.

  He felt a burst of shame at his own cowardice. He shook his head.

  Caine was sharp about some things, such as his “business” dealings. It had made him a very wealthy and powerful man. But when it came to dealing with women, he was an absolute thickhead.

  He was convinced the precog was his ticket to success in his ambition to run the world the way he wanted. He had refused to listen when she’d tried to tell him the ability didn’t work that way.

  He had the uncommon extra-sensory ability - esa - of psyscanning, allowing him to scan anyone for the truth. This ability was not as powerful as he supposed, as Charles had discovered, but he also had the esa that gave him the ability to inflict pain - or pleasure - and he could be mean and vicious when he didn’t get his way.

  Charles had been trying for years to learn to shield against it, and he’d found after a while that he could mitigate the pain.

  Unfortunately, he was addicted to the pleasure.

  He shook his head ruefully. He couldn’t count the times he’d wished he’d never gotten mixed up with Caine Montford. But he’d been young and stupid; too anxious to make some fast credits, too eager to believe in the handsome, charismatic man who’d convinced him he would change the world. Who had lied to him for his own selfish reasons.

  And that man was getting more unstable, day by day.

  He sighed as he got into the large featureless hover-truck to head back to the mountains.

  It was his own fault, and he would probably end up in hell with Montford.

  He drove off without looking back, never noticing the hazy Dim Spot moving to engulf the cottage, or the subdued, almost negligible, flash of gray accompanying it.