by Powell, C. G. ; Lavender, Cait; Rayns, Lisa; Hardin, Olivia; Nelson, Stephanie; Schulte, Liz
Devan reached a hand out and touched Kris on the shoulder, then flinched.
Brow furrowed in confusion, Kris spoke to the other woman, “What? You look like touching me burned you.”
“It felt like it did. Like I could feel your – your pain, your upheaval.”
Kris’ black eyes widened and her nostrils flared as she turned her head to Langston. “Did you feel that too? When we touched did you feel pain?”
Langston’s cheeks flamed, but he lifted his head high and faced her directly. “I did not. When we were together your soul was mine and mine alone. And mine was yours.”
Devan’s chuckle brought both of their attentions back to her. She clasped her hair and brought the braid around in front of her, then removed the rubberband so that she could loosen the tresses. “Okay, so let’s see if we can figure this out so that you two can belong to each other again. How do we do this?”
The giant motioned to the floor. “I would like the two of you to sit together. I might have suggested you should sit tightly together, but with the extreme reaction Devan seems to have to your touch, Kristana –”
“Langston, it isn’t like you to doubt yourself. No reservations. We do this the way your instincts say we do this. We’ll need my hair free. She’ll sit in front of me and lean against me. Okay?”
He hesitated, again thinking of Kent. He couldn’t let anything happen to Devan. Finally he nodded. “Release her. Release her completely if anything goes awry. She’s going to pull you into the hypnosis with her. Do not allow yourself to become trapped. Do you understand?”
Devan’s gold-brown eyes were steely and she gave him a confident bob of her head, then proceeded to sit in the center of the room. Kristana followed suit, though they didn’t touch just yet. Langston situated a series of candles all around them in a perfect circle, then kneeled just outside the circle in front of Kris and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“Little one, wait until I have hypnotized her to touch her. I will give you a signal. Kris, I want you to breathe slowly, in and out, in and out. Keep contact with my eyes. Do not break contact. In and out, in and out, in and out…”
Kristana looked into his beautiful brown eyes and sank, her body melting away. Her nerves tingled until she could feel nothing and she lost all sensation. It was like swimming on air and it was a lovely feeling.
Langston was speaking to her. Somehow in the fogginess of her mind she could hear him, though she could no longer see him. He was instructing her. What was he saying?
“You are a souler. When did you receive your gift? Go to that day.”
She felt oblivion surround her; there was nothing, only black. She knew she had her gift. Wherever she was, she possessed the power to touch souls, but she could see nothing, do nothing in this place. There was a successive rushing sound. Whoosh, whoosh… like the sound of blood pulsing. A few small voices spoke, tender voices. A man’s and a woman’s. They were speaking to her.
“My parents,” she whispered. “I’m in the womb.”
Then she heard Devan’s voice and she felt the woman’s soul attach to hers. “Go to when you lost the gift. Find that day and go there.”
Black wind swirled around her, catching her in a cyclone until she landed in a place that somehow seemed at once familiar and foreign. She saw a cabin, a log home with a dogtrot through the middle. There was Brock, but not Brock. His name was Brockton. She knew his name. He wore antiquated clothing and he was talking to a woman with black hair pulled tightly into a chignon. She too wore old clothes; a long cotton skirt with a white blouse. The woman turned in his arms and pressed her back against his chest.
“It’s me!”
“Yes it is,” Devan spoke, though she couldn’t see the other woman. She tried to look down and she couldn’t see herself either.
“This is weird.”
“Very. Can you get us closer? I want to hear what he’s saying. He has a strange look on his face.”
Kris looked back at him and could immediately detect what Devan meant. Brock looked angry, intent, malevolent. She focused on him and thereby drew closer.
“He’s a witch, Kris. I think. I’m still not very practiced at detecting magic, but it almost seems like he’s repeating something. I still can’t hear him.”
Kris increased her focus, straining to get to them.
“…in this life and the next I bind you. Your powers will lie dormant, your gift will be hidden, you will be mine forever; in this life and the next I bind you.”
“Shit! He’s spelling you. He’s binding your powers.”
Kris felt a sucking at her heart. Something was happening to her. A hostile, aggressive thing, and it wasn’t coming from her or from Devan or even from Brock or her other self. There was someone else.
“Kris… Kris, what are you doing? What’s happening?”
“I’m not doing it. It’s someone else.”
“We have to let go now. This isn’t right. Langston said we must be careful.”
“No! I have to know what it is. Who it is. Wait just a little longer. Noooooo!” And just before she felt Devan release her, she saw the ghostly image of a tall man wearing a fine suit and a derby hat standing just behind Brock. And in that man’s eyes was all of the rage she could ever had imagined.
She roused from a stupor a few minutes later in Langston’s arms. He was cradling her close to his massive chest and she inhaled deeply of the scent of him.
“She wanted to stay, but it just felt wrong,” Devan was saying. “It felt like my heart was being ripped away from my body, even though in that place I didn’t really have a body.”
“And so each life ended with her husband, so she was never freed from the spell. Until this life. He died and she gained her powers.”
“And a whole army of spirits,” Kris said, pressing her palms against his chest to sit up. “Including a very tall man who appears to be very unhappy about something.”
“You can see them?” Langston asked her, his brow drawn tightly in consternation.
“Funny, but yes, I can see them now – but I’m willing to bet they’ve been there all along. They’re all here standing in a big mob behind you. He’s the tallest though. They’re getting more demanding, urgent. He looks furious.”
“You need to understand your role here, Kristana,” spoke Langston, his voice turning to that calm, monotone “teacher’s” voice. “These souls need to move on. Some of them have probably been delayed here in our world for entirely too long. When a person dies they very often have a certain thought or desire or mission in their heart. Death creates a tunnel vision. They can think of nothing else except for that one thing. They instinctively latch onto a souler. If it is within your power to help them, you should do so, but the most important thing is to convince them to let go of this world and move on to the next. Do you understand?”
“How do I help them?” Her eyes were still on the group of spirits until she felt Langston’s large yet gentle fingers on her cheeks. He brought her gaze to his and smiled that beautiful, magnificent smile. Her heart palpitated with emotion.
“Kristana, you will know. Trust yourself. You are the one in charge here. You are no longer beholden to your husband. You are no longer beholden to the spell. Your life is yours now and you have a wonderful gift.”
She leaned forward and kissed him hard, then nodded confidently as she scooted off of his lap. He allowed her to walk away towards the far corner of the room; then he took Devan by the shoulder and walked her to the opposite corner.
“What now?” she whispered so as not to disturb whatever Kris was doing.
“Now we wait. We will be here if she needs us.”
Chapter 6
Devan was curled up on the floor asleep when Kristana came back to them. She looked worn, well past exhaustion. But her aura wasn’t spiking and throbbing wildly. There was calm in her expression.
“Have they gone?”
She smiled sadly. “All but one. The tall ma
n is still here. He’s the reason all of this happened. Brock knew he would come after him and that I would be the key to it. Devan was right; Brock was a witch. Whatever he did to Mr. Pimberton was so horrible that he won’t leave without vengeance.”
“Your husband is dead. What more vengeance can he expect?”
“I think I have a way that might slake his desire for revenge. But I need you to hypnotize me again.”
Langston peered at her carefully and felt worry claw at his insides. “I would like to know your plan.” It took effort to speak calmly. A spirit bent on a perceived sense of justice could be dangerous.
“I’m going to take him with me when you hypnotize me. I want you to ask me about Brock’s death. That’s where I want you to take me, to the moment I knew he was dead. Pemberton will feel it. He’ll know the details of it and he’ll know Brock is gone… forever. Just as I did when I found out.”
“You understand –” he paused, inhaling and exhaling deeply – “you understand this may prove dangerous?”
Kris eased close to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I understand, and that’s why you need to know I love you. We’ve known each other barely a few days and I am completely confident that I love you.”
He tipped her chin to bring her eyes to his. “We have known each other for decades and decades, Kristana. Be very careful. I love you as well.” And he kissed her hard before guiding her back into the circle. There was no reason to involve Devan now. Kris had claimed her powers and could access them on her own now. She no longer needed Devan to magnify the energies.
She went into the trance easily. Sitting legs crossed in the center of the circle, her eyes closed. A moment of calm melted into her expression.
“Find the day Brock died. Remember the day your husband was killed. Go there.”
Her face froze like ice and then shattered into one of pain. She flinched, tossing her head from side-to-side. Her saw her experience every moment of her husband’s death.
She visited each episode, transmitting the memories like a slide-show for Pemberton to see. From the immediate knowledge that Brock was gone to the formal call about the accident. Then the gruesome autopsy results of how his head had been bashed in and crushed, his body too mangled for an open casket funeral. She relived the humiliation of discovering what Brock’s life had really been; the sham, the failures, the lies and subterfuge. When it was over, she collapsed forward.
Langston caught her in his arms, but he smiled because for the first time since he’d known her, the aura surrounding her was smooth and only mildly rippled. She was finally free.
*
Kris found Langston in the kitchen, teaching Chelsea and the new boy, Kip, how to make peanut butter cookies. The children were aptly attuned to every little instruction and although there was flour and sugar strewn all over the table, the gentle giant maintained the utmost composure and patience. Her heart swelled with love for him.
“Now, it will be at least twenty minutes until they are ready,” he told the youngsters. “You two should run along and wake up Mr. Charlie from his nap. He will be very happy to sample your delicious cookies.”
Giggling with merriment, the children ran past her, rubbing against her legs affectionately before skittering out of the room. Kris let her eyes linger on where they had disappeared through the doorway; then she turned and approached Langston. She caressed the thick book in her hands a moment, then placed it onto the table and sat down.
“I finished it. I can see why it’s your favorite book. It’s an amazing tale about a culture I wish I knew more about,” she told him, rubbing her hand across the title Aztec. “Now will you tell me?”
He approached the table slowly, wiping his hands on his hips and then pulling a chair and sitting across from her. “This is a very accurate accounting of life in those days. The people had a fabulous, if flawed, empire.”
“C’mon, love, what are you trying to tell me? Who are you?”
His heart fluttered when she called him love. “You realize I have never told even my friend Kent who I am. He knows I am centuries old. He’s never pressed and I’ve never volunteered.”
Her thin, delicate fingers reached across the table to clasp his hand. “Langston, I understand that you are sharing something special with me. You said you wanted me to know. I’m a curious woman and you’ve teased me with this secret. Please, who are you?”
“To the people, the Aztecs, I was a god. Or at the least a demi-god. I was the last of the Toltecs, the lost giants of the great city of Tula. I was called Itztli, which in Nahuatl means obsidian knife. I can attest to the accuracy of Jennings’ book. That volume is an accurate accounting of those times although my magic allowed me to escape the Spanish conquest. I moved on, lived amongst other peoples, Native American tribes. Soon the English arrived and I assimilated into that society too. That was when I received the name Langston, which means long knife. I have traveled the centuries, followed the passage of time, known thousands of people and cultures. And through all that time, through every century, I have loved only you, Kris. Only you.”
About the Author
Olivia Hardin realized early on how strange she was to have complete movie-like character dreams as a child. Eventually she began putting those vivid dreams to paper and was rarely without her spiral notebooks full of those mental ramblings. Her forgotten vision of becoming an author was realized when she connected with a group of amazingly talented and fabulous writers who gave her lots of direction and encouragement. With a little extra push from family and friends, she hunkered down to get lost in the words. She’s also an insatiable crafter who only completes about 1 out of 5 projects, a jogger who hates to run, and is sometimes accused of being artistic, though she’s generally too much of a perfectionist to appreciate her own work. A native Texas girl, Olivia lives in the beautiful Lone Star state with her husband and their puppy Bonnie.
Other books by Olivia Hardin
If you enjoyed “Tell A Soul”, be sure to check out Witch Way Bends, Book 1 in the Bend-Bite-Shift Trilogy. Witch Way Bends is available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Bitten Shame, book 2 will be available this Spring.
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The Siren Sarina
By C.G. Powell
I guess I should introduce myself. I am the Siren Sarina. My kind is known by many names: goddess, whore, angel, slut, succubus, bitch... but siren is what we prefer to be called. We siren are a peculiar bunch. You would think that our appetite for the opposite sex would make us an amorous bunch, like Aphrodite herself. On the contrary, it is only sex that drives us to those of the male persuasion and once sated we are likely to lose complete interest. Unless they are that good, that is.
We are also very catty with one another... Are you surprised? With a libido that only a sex addict could appreciate and an ego to match, is it any wonder that we tend to avoid each other like the plague? I know what you are thinking... Wouldn’t it be nice to have a friend who knows where you are coming from, someone to share your exploits with in the most graphic of senses? The thought has cross my mind on various occasions, but I’ve always come to the same conclusion. How fast will that bitch try to steal my prey? From experience, there is nothing worse than being friends with another whore. You would think our exaggerated desire for sex would include some of the more risqué forms of it, like threesomes and orgies. Ironically we are extremely jealous and don’t particularly like to share.
We also don’t suffer from that human affliction that tends to make them stupid anytime they believe they have found ‘The One’. Yep, that’s right... Love is not part of our being. Want to lose the interest of a siren quickly? Just tell them you love them. It will most likely be the last you will see of that hot, kinky girlfriend you used to have.
Oh, and one more thing I forgot to mention. We don’t waste much time with humans. They are a boring bunc
h compared to our usual prey of vampires, werewolves, ghosts, witches, and gods.
With that said, I would like to share with you one of my many exploits. This is one of the tamer ones, but I’m sure it will leave you begging for more—just like my victim.
Olympus 1169 B.C.
Once again I found myself standing in front of Zeus. I had been down this road many times before, but this time was different. I really did cross the line and now I would pay the consequence for my actions.
“Sarina, what do you have to say for yourself?” Zeus boomed from his throne.
I thought cautiously about my words before answering, “Whatever do you mean your highness?” That’s right deny everything, if he wants answers he will have to find them on his own. I have no intention on helping him convict me.
“Don’t play coy with me. Hera is in an absolute tizzy. And, as much as I pretend to ignore her, I still have to live under the same roof as her.”
“Look, if you want answers maybe you should talk to your son. I’m sure Ares would be more than happy to give you and his mommy the details,” I smirked, the corner of my mouth grimacing upward in a brief moment of defiance. Besides, this was his problem as much as it was mine. Why should I take full blame? I only took what was given to me.
I don’t think he was as amused with my remark as I was. His knuckles were beginning to turn white from squeezing the lion’s heads that were carved at the end of the arms of his chair. Even though he knew the game, having been there before himself, a detail I planned to use to its fullest. I gave him a snide, sideward grin, a reminder of the corner he had painted himself into. I decided if he really wants to know what happened I would tell him, making sure not to leave out any of the somewhat graphic details.