***
Jonathan Bellingwood leaned back in the padded leather desk chair and gazed out through the picture windows of his study with satisfaction. The view of his little empire never failed to give him a warm glow. No one would have ever expected little Johnny Bell, abandoned by his alcoholic mother at the age of six and tossed around the foster system for years, to end up here, the master of all he surveyed.
Not that it was all that much—just a ranch house with some acreage—but it was a start. And a long way from the days of being the outcast foster kid with no friends and no money. Now he was surrounded by people who adored him; he’d created the family he’d never had, and never had to be lonely again. Or poor.
Of course, it helped that no one could say no to him anymore. He’d learned to be charming early on, mostly in self-defense, but these days, his natural persuasiveness had an added boost. One hand crept up to touch the medallion he always wore, tucked under his shirt where it could touch his skin. Its unnatural heat pulsed like a drowsing dragon against his chest, quiescent for the moment. The bronze-colored metal got even hotter when he actually called on its powers, but it was worth the temporary discomfort to be able to get whatever—and whoever—he wanted.
When he’d first stumbled across it, he’d had no idea what it was. The earthquake hit while he was in his car, parked in a lot by a rarely used stretch of sandy shore. He’d been in the middle of screwing someone else’s wife in the back seat of his Cadillac when the tremors started, and at first he’d mistaken the movement for part of their rather aerobic activities. It wasn’t until his companion’s screams had reached an even higher pitch than usual that Jonathan realized the earth was literally moving.
Afterwards, while his lady friend took a few minutes to straighten her clothes and reapply her makeup, Jonathan went down to the beach. He always liked looking for the little treasures that washed up on the shore after a storm, and he had a small collection of sea glass, coins, and other oddities he’d been adding to since he was a kid.
The waves were larger than usual, probably because of the quake, and the wet sand crunched under his feet. As he bent down to turn over a bit of broken shell, the foam deposited an unexpected gift next to his polished Italian loafers—a small chest the size of his palm, made of something that looked like stone, but weighed next to nothing. When he pried it open, there was only one thing inside: a bronze-colored medallion with foreign symbols or writing around the edges, dangling from a tarnished silver chain.
It didn’t look like much, but for some reason, when the woman he was with came stumbling down the path from the parking lot, he hid it behind his back, clenched tight in one closed hand.
“Oh, for the love of god, will you stop messing around down here and drive me back into town?” she’d demanded fretfully. “I need to get to someplace with a cell signal so I can check in with my family and make sure they’re all right.”
“You weren’t worried about your family five minutes ago,” Jonathan said. “Stop whining at me, will you?”
Surprisingly, she had. The beach was silent for a moment, and Jonathan felt heat coming from the necklace he clutched in his hand, surprising him so much he almost dropped it.
“Hey, did you find something?” the woman asked. “Can I see?”
The medallion grew even hotter, and Jonathan stared at her. “No,” he said. “Go wait in the car.”
As he watched her plump rear retreating up the path, John Bell realized that providence had sent him a gift.