Kent reached out a hand to her and cupped her cheek, intending to calm her, but his eye caught sight of something shiny in her raven locks. He reached out to pick a piece of ice from within the strands. They both stared at it as it melted between his fingers until it disappeared.
Suddenly her expression turned into the look of a caged animal. She curled her legs up to herself and scrambled to the end of the bed, far away from him. “What the hell is happening here? What happened to it?”
“I don’t know,” Kent admitted. “I’ve never seen a power like what you described. I just don’t know.”
Her gold-brown eyes widened and she shook her head. “A power. What do you mean a power?” Then her expression changed and she began to laugh. It was a hysterical, unnatural sound. “Oh, I get it. This is a joke. You guys are playing a trick on me because I took Nicky’s room key. I get it.”
Kent shook his head, but instead of responding, he grabbed his cell phone from his pocket. Without even looking, he speed-dialed. “I need you here now, Langston. Something’s happened.”
* * *
Langston wasted no time in getting back, but Devan was asleep by the time he opened the hotel room door and lumbered quickly into the room. He took a moment to examine Devan, who was curled into a ball on the bed. Then he turned his attention to Kent. He watched his friend’s expression twitching with edginess. “What has happened?”
“I almost couldn’t even charm her to sleep. It was like something was blocking me. Like my magic was being deflected. I gave her a bourbon just to put her defenses down. Take a look in the bathroom.”
Langston didn’t move immediately. Instead he turned his eyes back to the woman in the bed. He knew there was something different, that something had changed, but he couldn’t ascertain what it was. Her aura was still present, and still that same golden color, although it was softer, more subdued in her sleep-induced state. Finally the larger man took a deep breath and stepped towards the bathroom, pushing the door open slowly.
There were little puddles of purple liquid all across the floor with miscellaneous metal objects mixed throughout. An electrical cord was dangling across the bathroom counter, the end connected to nothing, the wire looking as if the covering had melted away. Langston concentrated on the objects and could see the energy still sizzling like a current from one pool of liquid to the next.
Kent came up behind him. “I need you to get to the Grimoire. Based on what she described, the hair dryer froze solid, and when she dropped it, it exploded into little pieces. Each of those little plastic parts then melted, one of them right in the palm of my hand. What kind of power could have done that? I’ve never known anything like it.”
“Why did you charm her to sleep? Doesn’t she know how she did it?”
Kent’s face bunched into a frown. “Did she do it? You assume it was her, but I forgot to set the protections, so perhaps someone infiltrated the room. She was in a panic, almost hysterical. She had no idea what was going on.”
Kent paused a moment and turned his back on his comrade, running both hands through his hair. “And there’s something else–I haven’t told you, but I don’t read anything from her. Nothing, not even her aura. You mentioned her aura but I can’t see it. You said she magicked me to lower my hand yesterday, but I felt nothing except the intense need to remove that pistol from her head. You sense magic from her but I get nothing.”
“I see,” Langston said. “How long can you keep her asleep? It appears your magic and hers do not mix well. Do you wish to have her remain unconscious until I retrieve the Grimoire?”
“I don’t have any answers for her, and until I do, I’m not sure I can keep her calm. Frankly, if you’re right and she has a power, then her emotions could cause her to unknowingly use that power.”
Langston nodded and went to his bag to retrieve several pouches of herbs and concoctions, items Kent knew he was rarely without, items that had been handed down to him and his people over centuries and centuries. Most of Langston’s powers resided in the natural elements and his ability and knowledge of manipulating them to enhance his magic. His understanding of the use of Earth in concert with his own inner energies was a practice shared and built upon by a long lineage of shaman. Kent had learned not to question his friend’s abilities, but to accept them at face value. Langston tore the plastic wrapping from one of the hotel’s hermetically sealed cups and began to drop in pinches of this and that.
When Langston handed him the cup with his special mixture, he took it carefully and waited for instruction.
“Water will do, though more bourbon will not hurt. No soda. It should be something more natural. If she awakes, have her drink the entire contents. I will return as quickly as possible.”
Kent nodded, setting the glass aside. He began to walk away but he turned back and reapplied the plastic wrapper over the top, ensuring the mixture wouldn’t accidentally spill.
Hey there, sexy. Long time no talk.
Devan opened her eyes wide but didn’t move. She knew that voice. That was the voice that had joined with hers in childhood song. The voice that had teased her with jokes and then chatted her to sleep as a young girl. The voice that had been her confidant, her very best friend during the transition from girlhood into womanhood. The voice that had been silenced so long ago.
I’m here, Devvie. Don’t run away again. Stay with me.
She didn’t respond. She just lay there, holding her breath. She knew she must be going crazy. Months and months of therapy had helped her to see that the voice in her head was only a manifestation in her own mind. It wasn’t real. And to think or allow herself to believe that it was would mean she was crazy–again.
You’re not insane, Devvie. They made you push me away. But I’ve always been here. I never left you.
Seventeen. She’d been seventeen when her father had sent her to see a doctor about the voice in her head. He believed the voice was a new occurrence, something she’d made up during her teens. The fact was, from about the age of five, that voice had been with her. Sometimes she’d even imagined she could “see” the image of the person speaking to her, but during her final years of high school, Eden Stowe put an end to the voice.
Until high school, the voice had been her secret companion, something–someone–no one else knew about. At age seven, the voice guided her halfway across town to get to the Gorham Carnival in order to find the very best Halloween candy. Her father had left on business for three months when she was ten, and the voice had provided solace and support to a lonely girl. She’d crept into her father’s office when she was twelve but never did find the desired papers for which the voice had urged her to scavenge.
But then she’d begun dating Robbie, the son of one of her father’s business partners, and the voice didn’t like that very much. No, the voice agreed to remain her steadfast companion, her friend, but he told her what he thought about Robbie on a frequent basis. She got tired of the constant criticism of the man she thought she loved, and as an act of defiance against the voice, one day she’d told her father about it. The therapy and meds kicked in soon after and the voice disappeared.
Devvie, please talk to me, Devvie. You know you’ve missed me.
I’m hallucinating, right? First that dream and the hair dryer and now I’m hallucinating.
Devan worked hard not to move. She could hear Kent pacing the room, and she didn’t want to have to face him just yet. Not with her mind still garbled with all that was happening.
Did you really believe that shit they told you? I’m not just a voice in your mind. I’m real. I’m your best friend, Devvie, and I’m real.
She thought about the voice, about all the times they’d sat up at night talking. All the shenanigans they’d gotten into as a team. All the comfort and support he’d provided when she’d been alone in that huge house when her father had been away.
What’s going on, Roon? What’s happening?
His laughter echoed in her head, the sharp whe
ezing sort of laugh that used to be contagious to her and would send her into guffaws as a child.
You’re gonna understand soon. The shit’s about to hit the fan, as they say!
Roon, someone has got to be straight with me. What the fuck is going on here? She flinched at her own use of such language. Was it so easily to slip back into that rebellious version of herself that had been so prevalent with Roon?
You still have the sexiest ass, Devvie. Mmm, too bad I know you don’t dig me.
Despite her immobile position, Devan rolled her eyes and felt a smile twitch at her lips. Roon, how could I dig you when all you are is a voice in my head?
You could see me if you tried hard enough. Yeah, one day you’ll know how to try so hard you’ll be able to reach out and touch me. Oh yeah, I can’t wait to feel those sexy fingers on my –
Roon! You’re a sicko, you know that? You always were.
I know, but you still love me. And again his laughter bounced around in her head.
What do I do, Rooney? Tell me what to do. Am I going crazy?
You don’t need me to tell you what to do, the voice whispered. You just need to keep an open mind. You’re fixin’ to learn about a whole lot of stuff you didn’t think existed. Listen and you’ll understand it.
Listen and I’ll understand? Are you kidding me? This can’t be seriously happening.
Devan could have sworn she felt a brush of air against her ear and her curls rustling along her cheek.
Devan. The voice seemed closer now. You once trusted me. Trust me now. Listen to Kent and he’ll help you find what you need.
“Kent?” she murmured and too late realized she’d said the name out loud. The person in question appeared at her side immediately, his face etched with concern.
“You okay, Dev? You should just rest a little more. You’re tired. Very, very tired.” His expression was one of extreme concentration, his eyes narrowed and his brows pulled tightly together.
He’s trying to charm you to sleep. Just talk to him. You know he wants your body, right? Damn straight he wants that sexy ass. The voice was getting softer, fading off into the distance, but she could still feel Roon’s laughter in her mind. Oh, and one more thing–you remember that thing about your pixie curls? I changed my mind. I think you’d look fabulous with long hair!
Devan could feel herself getting sleepy again, and she thought of what Rooney had just told her. A charm? Really? She pulled in as much fortitude as she could muster and fought the need to sleep. “I’m not going to go back to sleep, Kent. It’s time for you to tell me what’s going on here.”
Kent wasn’t giving up so easily, and as his face became more intensely focused, she could feel her eyes drifting shut. Sucking in a huge breath of air, she shook her head and jumped up from the bed. “Dammit, Kent, stop doing that! I’m not gonna sleep!”
He eyed her carefully before he said. “Doing what?”
“A charm, a spell, a hex, or whatever the hell it’s called. Stop doing whatever you were doing!”
Kent laughed, a boisterous sound, and Devan became suddenly disarmed. Since the day she’d met him, his emotions had always been stoic or angry, always with just a “plastic” grin. But now, when his lips turned up into that wide smile, she could see a single dimple appear in his left cheek and a softness melted away any residual harshness in his expression. “You don’t believe in witchcraft, Dev. You told me so yourself.”
“I never said any such thing. When did you ever ask me about witchcraft?
Kent shook his head and sighed. “I first came to you over a year ago. I bought you a drink at that restaurant in St. Louis on July 4th. Remember?”
Devan’s face showed her confusion and she pulled her lower lip into her mouth, “But that wasn’t you, was it? I would have remembered you.”
“We gave you a spell. Langston prepared it, but I slipped it into your drink–a vodka and coke if I recall correctly. I questioned you to find out what you knew about the Org.”
The Org was short for the Organization for Supplication, a secret society to which her father belonged. It was shortly after her twenty-first birthday when Devan discovered the truth about her father’s business. Eden Stowe was a wealthy corporate attorney, and like anyone of any sort of wealth, he had chosen an avenue of “respected” charity work. For the benefit of the outside world, that charity was focused on adoptions.
Hidden from the public was the fact that her father sold children. She’d stumbled upon a file and then had overheard the meeting wherein the exchange arrangements were made. She’d heard enough to understand that the “prospective father” had already received two previous little boys and that one of them had not survived even a year in his care.
Now she looked hard into Kent’s eyes and nodded. “I know about the Org,” she muttered, her hands clinched into fists.
“No, Dev, you don’t. But first things first, do you believe in magic?”
Devan hesitated. To fill the space while she thought of an answer, she stood and moved towards the minibar. She found a diet soda and took a long drink. “Do you possess magic, Kent?”
“Do you, Devan?”
The question startled her and she shook her head immediately. “No, of course not. Why would you ask me that?”
“Auras. Do you see or sense auras? Have you ever had a premonition of something to come—not déjà vu, but a visible premonition? Dreams—have you traveled in your dreams? Have you ever touched someone and felt energy, a spark of who they are?”
“No, no, no! Of course not. What? Do you think I’m a witch?”
Devan watched the expression in his blue eyes as he approached her slowly. She was again stricken by the absolute refinement of the swing of his arms and the subtle twist of his torso. He stopped in front of her, and his mouth was so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips. Their eyes searched each other for a moment. Then in anticipation, she closed hers just before he kissed her.
Her body dissolved against his as her arms clasped tightly around him. She wanted to be closer, to taste him more fully, so she stood up on her toes to bridge the gap in their heights. As Kent’s arms snaked around her waist, he bent his own legs slightly and brought her tight between them. When one of his hands clasped her backside and ground her hips tightly to his, she moaned into his mouth, their breaths becoming one.
“Kent,” she breathed as she tore her mouth from his, though not pulling herself away completely.
He dropped his head back and looked down at her, holding his face away from hers so he could fight the urge to kiss her again. There were too many things going on for her right now and he didn’t want what was happening to be a manipulation, a way of taking advantage of her. If only he could keep his mouth from touching hers again. His fingers inched up her back, grazing her spine along the way until his hand was at her neck and running through her curls.
“Oh, god–Kent,” she murmured, and he watched the corner of her eye twitch as she reached her lips towards his. “Again–please!”
Kent stared into those golden-brown eyes of hers and watched the pupils melt into liquid black. There was no use in fighting it. He closed his eyes as he crushed her mouth with his and clenched a handful of her hair. Never breaking the connection of their lips or their bodies against each other, he turned them both around and began stepping her back towards the bed. The fingers in her hair let loose and traveled towards her face, where he cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb against the skin beside where her lips and his met.
Even as he was reaching under her blouse, Devan’s hands were rubbing their way along Kent’s arms. At the cuffs of his t-shirt, she slipped her fingers inside, leading both hands towards each other against his chest. The sprinkling of coarse chest hair between her fingers thrilled her, sending a warmth sliding to that spot between her legs. She felt the fabric of her shirt caressing both sides of her waist as he slowly lifted it up. He lingered at her breasts, and she moaned when she felt his
fingers dip under the cups of her bra and skate along the underside of each mound.
Kent’s reaction to the rattling of the doorknob was faster than hers. He pulled away from her so fast that if he hadn’t grabbed her arms she might have fallen. As it was, when she realized someone was about to enter the room, she took a step away from him, and the backs of her knees hit the bed so she tumbled down onto it anyway. By the time Langston opened the door, she had righted her shirt and was struggling to calm her beating heart.
Damn! I hate it when that happens just as things were getting hot. Boomchikawowow.
Shut up, Roon! I don’t want you here when I’m–when I’m– Even inside her head she could hear the frustration in her words.
About to get laid?
Screw you, Roon!
Gladly. Just turn on that power of concentration I told you about and I’ll –
“I see she is awake,” Langston spoke as he shifted a huge bag from his shoulders and passed it to Kent.
“Yes.” Kent’s voice was gruff. “She’s awake.”
Devan sucked her lower lip into her mouth and looked up accusingly at Kent while she slowly rolled that same lip through her teeth. “Yes, I’m awake. And why is it that you two were conspiring to keep me asleep?” When she turned to Langston, she could see that he was about to speak. “And one more thing. Don’t you ever even think about feeding me some concoction or potion again, Langston. I want to know what’s going on–now!”
Langston only laughed while Kent carefully removed a huge leather-bound book from the bag. The binding on the book was beautiful, intricately embossed with gold leafing, with a large brass buckle holding it closed. The pages inside didn’t appear to be attached permanently to the book but instead looked like they’d been added continuously from many different scraps of paper.
The Bend-Bite-Shift Box Set Page 3