The Karma Set - Summer Spirit Novellas 4 - 6 Read online

  Summer Spirit Novellas

  Box 2 – the Karma Set

  Samantha Jacobey

  Lavish Publishing, LLC ~ Midland, Texas

  Copyright © 2016 Samantha Jacobey

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Wycked Ink

  Cover Photos from Adobe Stock

  Karma’s Minion

  A Summer Spirit Novella

  Volume 4

  Samantha Jacobey

  Lavish Publishing, LLC ~ Midland, Texas

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  KARMA’S MINION. Copyright 2016 ©

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Lavish Publishing, LLC.

  First Edition

  Book 4 of a Summer Spirit Novella

  All Rights Reserved

  Published in the United States by Lavish Publishing, LLC, Midland, Texas

  www.LavishPublishing.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  All Rise

  Saved by the Belle

  Not Really Goodbye

  Highway to Nowhere

  Bad Penny

  What Karma Can Do

  The Real Deal

  Karma Knows Best

  Lying with Dogs

  Prologue

  “Yes, I know… It’s ok, you don’t need to come… No, we’re fine, Bel; I’ll let you know.”

  Charlie stood at his bedroom door, listening to his mother’s conversation, or her half of it at least. Aunt Belinda’s worried; about him or Beth, he couldn’t be sure. Moving across the hall, he started the shower and dropped his boxers. Climbing beneath the cool spray, he sighed loudly as the water pummeled the top of his head. Today’s the day.

  The young man, barely twenty, tried not to think about what lay ahead, but his mother’s twin sister wasn’t the only one concerned about the future. Unable to keep the memory at bay, his mind drifted back to the morning seven months ago, when a pair of men had attempted to rob the patrons at a coffee shop where he sat eating breakfast. He had jumped one of them to stop the attack, and in a fit of rage had beaten the man to death in the process. Or he died a few days later; either way.

  Shutting his eyes tightly, as if to block out the bloody scene, he could hear the muted screams and chaos that had surrounded him. He recalled the feel of the metal napkin holder in his hand, being crushed by the force as he applied it, and the sound of the bones being splintered in what once had been a human skull.

  A few of the onlookers had stopped during the event and filmed the incident instead of running away, and his attorney had been given a copy of the video. He had watched it several times, and it had become ingrained in his mind forever.

  “That’s not self-defense,” he heard his lawyer, Ken Carter, say again.

  “That’s not self-defense,” he repeated to himself as he leaned against the wall. Forcing his mind away from the painful realization that he was in fact a murderer, he thought of Clarisse instead. The tall blonde had been his guardian angel ever since he was a small boy, and they had finally met two summers ago; the summer that he had been hit by a car and died.

  She had taken him in when he crossed into the other plane, and had been training him to be a Summer Angel, who would help humans avoid certain nasty events in their lives. His memory of that time should have been removed completely when Destiny returned him to the plane of the living, but he had regained a fair number of recollections and events from that time, particularly where the Dark Angel Gous was concerned.

  Focusing on the girl, he pictured her standing on the beach in Miami, her long blond strands floating around her. She looked very similar to the Donna, the girl he had bought a ring for and had hoped to marry, but there were subtle differences that intrigued him; the deeper, crisper blue of her eyes… the paleness of her skin. Clarisse had been more like meeting a ghost, even though her flesh had been warm in his grasp. He sighed, recalling her slender fingers entwined with his as she magically transported them from one place to another.

  “Baby, are you ‘bout done in there?” his mother’s bang on the door and sharp tone jerked him back to the shower.

  “Yeah,” he cut off the water, “I’ll be right out.”

  “’K,” she called more softly, “We don’ wanna be late,” she informed him.

  “I know,” he agreed, holding out his hand as the towel on the rack next to him floated up to meet his fingers. He had been practicing using his powers, even though his instincts had told him he shouldn’t. I can’t help it, he rationalized; besides, I might need them someday, and that means I need to know how to use them well.

  All Rise

  “We’re in here,” Ken Carter indicated the small room for Charlie and his mother. Stepping inside the eight by eight cubical, the pair took seats side by side and stared at the man across the table from them.

  At twenty-eight, Ken might have been older than Charlie, but he had only been out of law school for a year. Beth had her doubts about his being able to defend her son adequately. She would have spent every dime she had to fund the cause, but in the end he wouldn’t allow it; so the young hot shot with a brand new practice had been chosen for the task.

  “Wha’s wrong?” she demanded curtly, her heart racing as her hand squeezed Charlie’s firmly.

  “Relax, mom,” the younger man implored. “Ken’s got this,” he shot his lawyer a quick grin.

  Not looking at the couple, Ken shuffled a few papers and folders in his briefcase before opening one of the files onto the table. “We go before the judge today,” he reminded them, “and we need to be sure we’re on the same page. You have waived your right to a trial by your peers; a smart move, I can assure you.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie agreed, having decided to plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter. “You’re right, they wouldn’t care why it happened after they saw that video,” he cringed.

  “Yes, an unfortunate piece of evidence. But now we get to present our case to the judge, and hope for leniency in your sentencing. However, the prosecution will undoubtedly show the clip, and you need to be prepared. Remember, no outbursts; I want you to appear calm,” he cut his eyes over at Beth. “If your emotions get the better of you, keep it as simple and as contained as possible. That man had a mother, too. No matter what he did, she wants to see Charlie punished for taking his life.”

  “I understand,” she sniffed, her bottom lip quivering.

  Shaking his head, Ken addressed his client, “You, on the other hand, can feel free to dispense with a few quiet tears; remorse is a good thing, and it shows your heart is in the right place. When you are on the stand, remember to relax and take your time. The prosecution is going to hammer you, and you can’t let them get to you; he’ll want to display your temper, and you can’t allow that to happen.” Ken closed the folder and ran his hand through his sandy curls. “I’m sorry this case turned out like it did; I know I promised I could get you off, but when we got the video in discovery, I realized it wouldn’t be easy t
o win; damn near impossible in fact.”

  “It’s ok,” Charlie forced a smile. “We picked you because o’ your experience as a public defender. You’ve seen a lot o’ cases; you know how juries are gonna see things, an’ I appreciate your help. Maybe th’ judge’ll understand, and I won’ serve much time.”

  Beth sobbed, and Charlie dropped her hand, laying the arm across her shoulders. “It’s ok, mom. You know where this’s going… we have to be strong; it’ll be ok,” he soothed.

  “I know,” she sat up straighter, adjusting her new blouse over her rounded form. “I’m gonna do a good job for you, son; I promise.” Wiping at her damp cheeks with pudgy palms, she nodded at his attorney, “Anything else?”

  “No, that’s it; we go in and listen to the prosecutor, and then we present our side. The judge will call for a recess so he can consider the evidence, and either pass sentence later today or tomorrow,” he stood. “Either way, we have to appear calm and ready for whatever he decides.”

  Getting to their feet, the trio made their way out into the sparsely furnished corridor. Standing next to one of the leather covered benches outside their courtroom, Charlie could see prosecutor Ted Taylor down the hall; a tall older man, with slicked back gray hair, and a black suit.

  The deceased young man’s mother stood by his side, her clothes pristine, and her shiny purse hanging from her arm. Yup, she wants to see me locked away for a long time. He knew the odds were good he would do a year in prison, but that was far better than the sentence he could have received if she had gotten her way, and Ken seemed to think that she would have.

  The boy he had killed had no record, and the friend who had been with him had insisted they had done it as a stupid prank; poor judgement on their part. They had been smoking weed all night before going into the shop with the intention of scaring everyone, and he denied that they were actually going to rob them. Everyone believed Charlie was the one in the wrong. Funny; it’s hard to argue with a dead body and blood on my hands.

  The wide doors opened and the bailiff ushered them inside. Taking his seat behind the large wooden table, Charlie glanced up at Ken, who stood on his right while he pulled the files out of his black case and laid them on the table, along with a thin yellow notepad. Over his shoulder, his mother sat stiffly behind him, but he avoided looking at her for fear she would begin to cry in earnest. Beyond her, a few other people had filed in as well, and he felt mildly curious who else would be interested in the proceedings, but not enough to actually turn around to see.

  Not looking at the prosecutor or his victim’s mother, Charlie folded his hands onto the flat surface before him and toyed with his fingers.

  A few minutes later, the bailiff called loudly, “All rise,” and he quickly got to his feet, remembering to keep a straight face as he smoothed the front of his new suit. His heart pounded in his ears, so loud he could hardly hear the words as the judge read off the case information to the court reporter.

  The prosecutor wasted no time, and almost immediately had a large screen lowered from the ceiling, where he displayed the video of Charlie bludgeoning the crazed young male, causing a stir in the vast seating area to his back. Watching himself sit on the man’s chest, he recalled that Gous had more than likely sent the pair to attack him, but he had kept that piece of information to himself.

  Only half listening to the proceedings, his mind wandered away as he considered the strange turn of events. As it were, he would go to prison, with a finite amount of time to be served. If he proclaimed that a Dark Angel had arranged the whole incident, he would likely end up in a mental hospital for who knows how long.

  “Here, we see that he had to be pulled off the victim,” the attorney pointed out the sequence of events. “Several of the onlookers helped to subdue him until the police arrived.” His voice deep, heavy with condemnation, the dark suit fit him perfectly as Ted paced in the open area between the tables and the bench. “This is a demonstration of his character; one in a clear pattern of deviant behavior.”

  Opening a file, he presented a small stack of pages to the judge, “I have here sworn affidavits from ten students who attended high school with Mr. Phillips, each of them attesting to his dark temper and violent mood swings. There are also three teachers who agree with those assessments.”

  Instant recognition flashed in his mind, and Charlie knew who would make such claims. He’d had few friends in high school; with Brent Nelson there to bully him while leading the group of cool kids, his life had been difficult to endure. It had only been after his near death experience that he had changed, and he hoped that Ken could convince the judge of that when they got their turn.

  Remembering to remain still, Charlie stared at a spot above the prosecutor as he paced, not daring to watch him directly. The nape of his neck burned, and he could feel the eyes of those behind him boring into the back of his head. Growing uneasy, he ran his fingers firmly over the singed spot. He cautiously shifted and glanced over his shoulder to find a young woman watching him intently. Probably a reporter; or another of his family.

  The girl had auburn hair, swept up into a neat bun. Her makeup bright and easy to see on her dark flesh, her sparkling red lips matched the color of her suit. Crossing her legs, she shifted her gaze to the judge as he listened to the evidence, a small smile emerging when she noticed that Charlie had begun to stare in her direction.

  Realizing he’d been caught, he adjusted himself so that the temptation to look at the red-headed beauty had been removed. This was neither the time nor place to flirt, even if the woman had seemed receptive to the idea. Refocused on the hearing, Charlie waited to be called to the stand. Upon hearing his name, he stood, steadying his nerves as he crossed the open floor and mounted the small platform calmly. Before taking the seat, he raised his right hand and swore that what he said would be the truth.

  “Mr. Phillips, you were alone the morning you went into the café, were you not?” Ted Taylor dug in.

  “Yes, sir,” Charlie nodded slightly, his eyes darting to the rows of seats and the clear green eyes that focused on him.

  “And why didn’t your mother accompany you? The two of you were traveling together,” his tone insinuated going alone had been an indicator of trouble.

  “My mom was sleeping in,” Charlie’s voice waivered, then grew stronger, “I didn’t want t’ drag her out o’ bed that early, so I went t’ get some coffee and relax on my own.” Swallowing, he glanced at the judge. He could read the name plate, Judge Henry Arnold, from that vantage point, and felt a chill run up his spine.

  The prosecutor continued the interview, pushing at Charlie and demanding explanations for seemingly simple acts from his past; things that in retrospect did not speak well of his character. Doing his best to provide short, concise answers, he felt drawn to the woman he had never seen before, noticing that she no longer looked at him at all; she thinks I’m lying. They all do, he inwardly moaned.

  Feeling sunk, he did his best to make it through the interrogation, until it finally came his attorney’s turn to repair the damage. Going through the series of questions that they had rehearsed, Charlie relaxed, and even managed a smile from time to time, as he recalled how he had changed over the last year, and his own sheaf of supporters’ statements were presented.

  Allowed to return to his seat at the table when they were done, he stood and made his way across the front part of the courtroom. Squaring his shoulders and running his hands down the front of his suit, Charlie avoided looking at his mother. He had heard her sniffle several times during his testimony, and he could picture her bawling at any moment.

  Instead, he glanced around at the stern faced group of onlookers, who numbered about a dozen now that he could see them all; he wondered again what they were all doing there. His eyes once again meeting those of the red-head as he reached his seat, her cold glare froze him on the spot, and he paused, unable to move.

  “Charlie, sit down,” Ken hissed, following the younger man’s gaze and se
eing what had distracted him. Once his client had complied, he continued, presenting the last of his evidence and praying it would be enough to sway the judge away from the maximum sentence.

  Saved by the Belle

  Charlie could feel his heart beating furiously inside his chest. What did he just say? The judge couldn’t have meant that. He can’t possibly be ready to pass judgement; we just finished presenting the evidence!

  “Your honor, if I may,” the young red-headed woman spoke from the gate that separated the audience from the bench area.

  “Ms. Kapoor,” Judge Arnold raised his hand, wafting her to step forward. Immediately, both attorneys leapt up to join them at the bench.

  Their voices low, the girl spoke to the judge and then listened to the reply, followed by a mild flutter of discussion from each of the others before the man behind the bench waved them to their seats.

  “On second thought, we will have a bit of a recess,” he informed the courtroom. “We will reconvene after lunch, at two pm, and I will pass sentence at that time.” Standing, the bailiff called for everyone to rise as he exited the room, with the fiery red bun following close behind.

  As soon as they were gone, Ken exhaled a loud breath, then turned to inform his client and his mother, “I have to go to that meeting. You guys go have a nice lunch, and don’t worry; I know it doesn’t look like it, but I think things just took a turn in your favor.” Gathering his things, he joined the prosecutor, and they made their way into the judge’s chambers together, leaving Charlie and his mother staring at the other woman who had been watching the proceedings in surprise.

  “Now what?” Bethany demanded angrily.

  “Now we have lunch,” Charlie darted through the short divider and grasped her arm, pushing her towards the exit and past those that still remained. As soon as he had steered her outside, the warm California sun beat down on the top of his head and he paused for an instant, thinking of Clarisse. “It could have been worse,” he informed her as they made their way down the walk. “Let’s not dwell on it and find a spot to get a good meal.”