When Llad meets an eccentric parapsychologist, Dr. Jemma Rask, she explains that she has waited decades just to teach him how to expand his mind and utilize the unique traits she thinks he inherited. Even though Dr. Rask and her stories come across as way too weird for Llad, he begins studying her techniques. He quickly realizes that just because the link might be there, it doesn’t mean he actually has the talent or the patience to develop his abilities.
After multiple killings shatter Llad’s life, he still doesn’t know who is behind the brutal murders or why he’s involved. He knows now that he’s fighting for his life against a fanatical enemy and that he needs to discover more about his family-tree to learn the secrets on how to control his psychic gifts―if he has any. Alone with his grief, Llad takes off searching for clues about his cryptic lineage while being haunted by reoccurring dreams of a mysterious girl trying to help him master the bizarre talents he needs to survive.
Seventy-five thirsty revelers spread out into a semi-circle around the pool table in middle of the old bar to watch their unanimous MVP suffer through his award. The players waited for Lad to get this last party started, but as he continued ignoring their razing, they began a slow cadence of loud insistent claps.
Locked in a rigid stance of attention and holding his chin high, Lad stared beyond the crowd at the seven nicotine-stained beer signs hanging above the tattered dartboard awash in their yellowed glow. Grimacing that he held the sweaty old shoe too close under his nose, he pushed the shoe farther away while tipped his head back and thinking... I’ll never get through this without spewing!
He glanced across the throng and spotted his mentor laughing at him. Lad yelled out over the din, “Ian! You’re a freaking doctor; you are supposed to have some sense. Who the hell does crazy crap like this?”
Ian pushed his hands up over his head continuing to clap in time with the group as he shouted back. “Only the best, Lad, only the best. And winners! You are both. Cheers!”
Lad smirked shaking his head and looked back into the crowd again, locking onto his friend who would be most affected by all of this. “Yo, Bubbles?” He shouted. “This is going to ruin your shoe that I borrowed. Tell me not to do this and save these good cleats! ”
“Those spikes never enjoyed a game like you had today. And they were never voted to be the boot to shoot. They can die proud. Fill’em up, Lad. Drink it down, then throw’em away. And do it now—everybody’s thirsty as hell!”
Randall now lives in the hills of the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia and is focused on completing the Powers Meant for Gods trilogy to publish by December 2014.