Deviant Attraction: A Dark and Dirty Boxset

by Bene, Jennifer

  “Don’t even think about lying to me Heather Lynn Pritchett. Michael and I have been patiently waiting for months for you to tell us the truth, and you haven’t, so I’m clearing the air now.” Her mother leaned back in the chair and daintily took a sip of her lemonade. She was getting the mom look at twenty-five, and it was still working. Heather felt herself sink in her chair, and she didn’t know what to say. What could she say?

  “When you slept here things used to happen when you were dreaming. Lights would flicker, the walls would rumble, your mom’s garden would sprout new and impossible plants overnight, and one morning we found that all the eggs in the carton had been cooked inside their shells. Soft boiled, it seemed.” Michael shrugged. “We figured you had magic, but were afraid to talk to us about it, so we didn’t want to pressure you.”

  “There was a reason I was always worried about you performing the rite, Heather. I didn’t know when I first went home with him, but your father was a warlock. After he fell asleep I saw the herbs in his closet, the potion bottles, the books — and I knew. I knew, and I hoped that a child wouldn’t come from it, but… then I had you.” Her mom had the faraway look on her face that used to be a permanent fixture, and Heather felt a chill rush over her skin at hearing the story her mother had always refused to tell. “I loved you from the moment you were born, the moment I saw your sweet face and your blonde hair, and your brown eyes, I loved you. I did, and I hoped with everything in me that the Pritchett family’s curse would pass over you, that your father’s magic had somehow cancelled it all out. But—”

  Patrice Pritchett was crying, tears on her cheeks, and Michael stood up to stand behind her and wrap his arms around her shoulders. Rick’s eyes were wide as he looked across the table at Heather, but she shook her head a little to urge him to stay still. “But what, mom?”

  “Oh, Heather…” her mom sniffled, squeezing Michael’s hand on her shoulder. “I was afraid. I was afraid of who you could become if you claimed your power. With our family around you, with the way your sisters took their powers and ran with them, I was terrified of — of you. And I have carried such guilt over that, over being afraid of you, even when you were always gentle, and always kind. Even when you refused to perform the rite with that boy in college, even after Marguerite tried to force you. I was still afraid.”

  “Because I was always meant to have magic, and the rite could have given me even more. Is that why?” Heather spoke quietly and her mom nodded and sniffled again, wiping tears from her cheeks. Everything was clicking into place, pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t known she’d needed to put together. “You know, that night — the night — Herja told me about my father.”

  “What?” Her mom looked stunned, and even Michael seemed surprised. Heather just smiled quietly.

  “I figured it didn’t matter, not when you were free from the magic, and not when the threat of the family was gone. I just thought I’d figure out how to control the magic, and I’d hide it and everything would be okay.”

  “Are you having trouble controlling it, Heather?” Patrice Pritchett instantly flipped into mother hen mode, leaning forward with concern etched between her brows.

  “You might say that.” Rick’s voice rumbled from across the table, and he just grinned mischievously and lifted his hands in the air when Heather glared at him. “Hey, we’re going for honesty right now, aren’t we?”

  “Have things escalated from the things I described here, Rick?” Michael was looking across the table at him with the kind of respect that could only exist between two men who were committed to women who had both held such terrible power.

  “Not really—”

  “Yes.” Rick interrupted her, and gave her a look that promised more than the paddle if she kept lying to her mom and Michael. “Things seem to be getting worse. She can do a lot, levitate a whole room full of objects, set things on fire with just her mind, summon objects if she knows where they are. Even if she doesn’t mean to.”

  “Heather, is this true?” Patrice was looking at her again, and she just sighed.

  “Yes, mom, it is. I’m working on it though, I promise, and I haven’t hurt anyone.”

  “Darling, I wish you had come to me sooner. I’ve been waiting to give you something very important. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Her mom stood up and walked off into the house, leaving the three of them to stare awkwardly at each other as Michael returned to his pie like the confessions of the century hadn’t just occurred around her mother’s kitchen table. That man would probably only blink and dust himself off if a bomb exploded in the living room.

  “Baby, I’m here no matter what you find out, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” Rick leaned across the table and held his hand out for hers. The gesture meant more to her than she could express, so she just swallowed against the tears that formed and slipped her hand in his as Michael glanced at the two of them and smiled into his glass of lemonade.

  Patrice Pritchett took her seat again, holding a small notebook in her delicate hands. “I always knew a day might come when our family wouldn’t be the right place for you, but you never displayed any inclinations towards magic. Never on your own, or any urge to complete the rite, and so I kept this to myself.” She looked down at the book in her hands, running her fingers across the plain cover. “The moment I realized I was pregnant, I tracked your father down and found out as much as I could about him without revealing myself. You know it was always hard for me to go out in public, and so I had to stop, but then the internet caught up and I was able to find out more. About him, about his family, and I compiled it for the day when you may need more help than the Pritchetts could give you.”

  Her mom held the book out and Heather cracked it open. There were pictures, names, addresses, phone numbers. Some had been crossed out and new ones written. There were notes about new names, marriages, the lineage connected to her father. Heather was absorbed in it, and then she came across a bright red bookmark on a dog-eared page.

  “Ah, that is who you need to call, darling. Angela Brandt. As far as I can tell, she is the matriarch of the Brandt family, and if anyone can welcome you… it’s her.” Her mom smiled and covered her mouth for a moment. “I am sorry I kept it from you, Heather, and I’m so sorry I ever doubted you. I have a feeling you have more power than any of us ever had, and you have been better than all of us with it.”

  “Let’s not go that far, she did use it to steal the last waffle yesterday.” Rick grinned and there was a beat of silence before everyone was laughing. It broke the tension, and even Michael was laughing. A big, hearty laugh and he leaned over to slap Rick on the shoulder.

  “She used to sneak pancakes when I was cooking them and beg me not to tell her mom.” Michael turned towards her, his eyes sparkling, and it hit her that even though she knew her real father’s name now, she’d always thought of Michael when people asked about her parents. He was her dad, even though she’d never actually called him that. Though she’d given him a card on every Father’s Day.

  “And you never told her. You also seemed to always have pre-buttered pancakes on a plate precariously close to the edge of the counter where my hands could reach.” Heather smiled and Michael shrugged.

  “That’s how I’ve always made pancakes.” His voice was warm, and her mom made a little noise and leaned over and kissed him.

  “I’m just glad to know I’m not the only one she steals breakfast from.” Rick smiled and squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back as she used her other hand to flip to the first page of the book. There was a picture of a light haired man in a button-down, a small smile on a handsome face. Her father. Underneath the photo in her mother’s neat script was a name:

  William ‘Billy’ Brandt

  * * *

  A full week had passed with Rick pestering her to call Angela, and threatening to make the call himself. It wasn’t until she’d woken up in the middle of the night to find their bedroom filled with a fine, freezing mist that she caved. Rick had a t
errible cold from the event, but Heather was unaffected — as with most of the chaos her magic caused. It still made a clear point though. She needed help, and help likely lay with the Brandt family.

  However, it wasn’t easy to voluntarily invite a new family of witches, and warlocks, into her life.

  The day she’d made the phone call had been appropriately dreary, and she had left a voicemail on the woman’s phone and then sat by her cell phone like a nervous schoolgirl. Heather had carried it with her for hours until it finally rang, and she almost dropped it trying to answer it quickly. A kind voice had come over the line, and when Heather had explained who she was the woman had immediately grown excited and insisted on coming to meet her.

  That was how, three days after the phone call, Heather was wringing her hands in the entryway of Rick’s house waiting for Angela Brandt to arrive. A coughing fit from Rick in the living room distracted her and she wandered back to find him watching television and curled up in misery with a box of tissues. Heather smiled and rolled her eyes at how men seemed to always fall apart when they were sick. She’d been making him soup and waiting on him hand and foot for days, but since she had literally been the reason he was sick she didn’t feel too irritated by his complaining.

  A sharp rap at the door made her jump, and her pulse instantly shot into heart attack territory. Forcing a breath she opened the door and was momentarily stunned by the collection of women on her front porch. They were all talking at once and went silent for a beat when they saw her.

  “Oh my God! She looks just like Marie! Doesn’t she?”

  “She totally does. Well, I think she’s got Aunt Laura’s nose, don’t you?”

  “The eyes though, the eyes are spot on with Uncle Billy.”

  They were all chattering, and Heather stared wide-eyed as a woman in her seventies clapped her hands and the sound was a boom that instantly silenced all of them and made the glass in the mirror next to her rattle. “Children, can we not overwhelm her before we’ve even had the chance to talk with her?”

  “Seriously, you guys. Shut up for once!” A male voice came from the back of the group as he approached on the sidewalk, and Heather finally snapped out of her shock.

  “Um, please come in?” She stood to the side as the group of three younger women, the man, and the one she assumed was Angela Brandt walked inside. Rick appeared in the doorway to the living room, holding his tissues and staring with surprise at the large group.

  “Hi, I’m Rick.” His voice was off from the cold, but he gave a little wave to the gathered group. “I’m going to give you all some space to talk to Heather.”

  Just as he went to walk past them one of the girls stepped in front of him. “Let me help you with that.” Before Rick could react she placed her hand on his forehead and the smell of magic filled the air, growing stronger for a brief moment, and then it was gone. Rick jerked back from her, covering the place the woman’s hand had been with his own, his eyes wide.

  “Sarah! You don’t just go around working magic on people without permission! Go and sit down right now.” Angela Brandt snapped at the girl who seemed to be in her late teens, and the girl instantly quailed.

  “But, Grandmama, it was just a cold! It was noth—”

  “Living room, right now, before I tell your father how you’ve been applying your recent lessons.” Angela sighed as the girl sulked into the living room, then she turned to the others and waved them away so they followed Sarah. Rick was busy breathing deeply through his nose, filling his chest, and then breathing out.

  “Well, I’d like to say thanks? I’ve felt like hell the last few days.”

  Angela narrowed her eyes on Rick and then her quick hands grabbed Rick’s wrist and pulled his hand towards her. The older woman laid her palm against his and closed her eyes. Rick looked over at Heather with confusion and she just shrugged, because she had no idea what the woman was doing. “Interesting. You don’t have a drop of magic in you, boy, but you’re perfectly aware of what Heather is and you’re still with her.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.” Rick looked her in the eye, which would have been more impressive if he wasn’t still cradling a box of tissues in one arm. They stared at each other for a moment and then Angela nodded and patted his hand.

  “Good. Well, make sure you drink a glass of water and lay down for a minute. Sometimes mortals have an odd reaction to magic like that, we’ll just be in here chatting with Heather.” Angela turned and smiled at her and gestured towards the living room. Rick winked at her as he walked towards the kitchen, and Heather took a deep breath and stepped into the room to find the three young women chatting away on the couch, and the young man sitting on their fireplace. Heather gestured to the chair to give Angela a place to sit and stood awkwardly in front of them all as the elderly woman settled in.

  “So, is it true your magic just showed up?” The young man arched an eyebrow at her as he leaned back on his hands.

  The girls just looked at her expectantly, and even Angela seemed curious to hear more of the story than Heather had been willing to share over the phone. “Well, yes. My family has an interesting history and we had our own rituals to bring our magic out, and I’d avoided it. I had an… encounter with the Valkyrie who gave my family the power that unlocked my magic.”

  “Holy shit, so you don’t know anything about it, do you?”

  “Language, Karen.” Angela’s voice was a whip crack across the room, and Karen instantly sobered. “Heather is Billy’s daughter, which means she is my granddaughter and has similar powers to all of you.”

  “You believe me?” Heather was surprised, she’d expected more of an argument.

  A quiet laugh came from the woman as she held out her hand, and then seemed to pluck something from her palm. “I snagged a strand of hair when I passed you, dear. I’m old, but I’m not a fool. It just took one touch to know you were blood of my blood, and the girls were right that you have Billy’s eyes.” Heather’s head swam, and she wavered. A thump made her jump, and she turned to see one of the dining chairs directly behind her. “Go ahead, sit down, dear.”

  Heather did, and everyone was looking between her and Angela as if they were waiting for something to happen. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Oh, that’s alright, I’m comfortable filling the silence.” Angela sat up straight, and Heather was again impressed at the strength in this older woman. She was fierce, and the way the young people in the room deferred to her made Heather have no doubt that her mother had been correct about the assumption that Angela Brandt was the matriarch. “I wish we had found you years ago, dear. Your father, my Billy, got cancer five years ago and passed away, but our family always welcomes its own and I can tell you need us.”

  “Cancer?” Heather felt a pang of loss for a man she’d never even met, and one of the girls looked sad. “You’re not able to cure that? Like she did with Rick’s cold?”

  “There are limits, Heather. To our gifts, to the things we can do, and to the things that we should do. Some things are inevitable, and death is one of them. We all go some day.” Angela smiled a little and then waved a hand. “But enough of the dark news, we have so much joy at finding you. Tell us what’s been happening.”

  Heather did her best to describe the way her magic had started out weak, barely able to move objects with intense focus, and how it had grown fast over the last six months to where it felt like an uncontrollable force inside her that spiked without warning. The group just nodded as she spoke, mercifully letting her babble about her concerns, the stories that her mom and Michael had shared, and her own stories. The women had laughed when she talked about setting the curtains on fire, and the man had lifted his eyebrows when she described the spontaneous weather in their bedroom. Angela had just listened calmly, nodding occasionally to encourage her to continue. When she was finally done, Heather shrugged and spread her arms.

  “I really have tried to keep it under control, and Rick has been so patient, but I know he�
��s worried. I know my parents are worried, and to be honest I’m worried too. About losing control in public and becoming some kind of nightmarish YouTube sensation.” Heather winced at the idea, and sighed.

  “Well, dear, that’s why we’re here, and why I gathered some of the younger generation that live nearby. We raise our children to channel their power carefully, to respect it from an early age, and to never use it in public. It can be a challenge, and strange things happen that have to be explained away, but in general it works well.” Angela pursed her lips and leaned forward. “However, you seem to have a great deal of power, my dear, just like your father did, but we can teach you how to channel it just as well.”

  “You can do that?” Hope bloomed in Heather’s chest and Angela smiled at her.

  “Not overnight, but yes. My grandchildren here will start visiting on Sundays, if that works for you, and they’ll help you learn to control it. They can also teach you little focusing phrases that will help you mentally aim the magic so it does what you want.” The women were nodding with big grins, and Heather felt a smile curving her lips. “I live in New Hampshire, but I’ll be happy to visit occasionally and help. I like to know all of my family members, and we have a lot of catching up to do. For today, let’s see what you can do.”

  The next few hours were filled with incredible acts of magic. The most thrilling was when Angela talked about how magic could manipulate light to make objects appear invisible, or to create illusions. She made the bookshelf disappear, and then formed the most realistic looking tree in the center of the living room. When Heather tried to touch it, her hand passed right through it.

  After hours of speaking, Heather could barely get the coffee table to levitate six inches off the floor consistently. It kept wavering, rising and falling, books and coasters sliding off the edge. Everyone was supportive, encouraging, like one would be with a child learning to walk. They clapped whenever she held it steady, and called out suggestions to her. By the end of it, her head was aching and she felt physically exhausted. That was when Angela called their meeting to an end and embraced her. A warm flood of energy washed over Heather that reminded her of the smell of baking cookies, of the feeling of sunlight, and the taste of warm bread. When Angela let her go, the headache was gone and Heather felt wide awake.