Zeke shook his head to clear out that strange voice that wouldn’t let up. It reminded him of one of his grandfather’s tirades against hypocrites.

“Richard Cheatham.”

The man stopped next to him. “Do I know you?”

Zeke looked up and blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You just said my name. Do I know you?”

He frowned at the man. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. You said Richard Cheatham. I heard you.” His dark blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “Did my wife hire you?”

“Dude, I don’t know you and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Richard started to grab him.

Zeke caught his hand and whipped it around, twisting Richard’s body as he rose. He held Richard against him while the man struggled and cursed.

Stunned, he glanced to Mary who was as shocked as he was. When the hell did I get my mad ninja skills? Definitely couldn’t be wizard powers … he’d lost his virginity at nineteen.

What evoked spontaneous shinobi?

How many hours of Mortal Kombat have I played?

He released Richard who then scurried out of the café.

“What the hell was that action?” Mary asked.

Zeke had no idea. He didn’t know how to move like that. How to defend himself. God knows, his ass had been kicked enough in his life to prove it to him.

You have been chosen.…

Chosen for what?

Psychotic episodes?

Just what I fucking need …

“I don’t feel good, Mare.” He pulled out a ten and dropped it on the table. “I think I need to go home and rest. Thanks for coming with me.” He didn’t give her time to say a word before he bolted.

He quickly got into his silver Nissan that was parked beside hers, and headed home. For the entire two-hour trip back, he kept waiting for the voices to return.

They didn’t.

But his car radio was whacked out. Every time he changed the station, some weird-ass song would play. AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.” “Hells Bells.” “Evil Walks.” Godsmack’s “Releasing the Demons.” Papa Roach’s “Roses on My Grave.”

“What the hell is up with my radio?”

Every single station had something to do with death, demons, or hell.

“Well, I know this damn car ain’t Bumblebee.” For one thing, he’d been driving it for over nine years. If it was an Autobot in disguise, surely it would have transformed before now.

No, this was like one of those Twilight Zone episodes they showed on the Syfy Channel.

Maybe his voices had possessed his car.

Yeah, right.

By the time he reached his house, he was really starting to freak himself out with psychotic fears that the devil was after him or that aliens were about to pull him on board for an anal probe. This was some kind of freaky Ring or Poltergeist shit going on.