The Bend-Bite-Shift Box Set

by Hardin, Olivia

  Devan stood carefully, feeling as if she were being drawn to the volume on the hotel desk. Langston held himself back, watching her, intently trying to read her. When she came up beside Kent, one of her hands reached out, and she ran it along the edge of the papers in the book. Langston saw a faint, yellow light linger behind her fingers, leaving a fading trail along the pages.

  “Devan, step away,” Langston said, and his words seemed to have lost their usual flatness. His tone was strong, direct, and she knew he meant those words to be an order and that she should follow it. Dropping her hand to her side, she took three steps away from the desk.

  “What is it?” Kent asked, looking from his friend to Devan and back again.

  Langston was concentrating on Devan with an intensity that Kent had rarely seen in all of their years together. He knew the larger man was trying to reach into Devan’s mind and her soul in order to touch a piece of her, to grasp whatever he believed was going on. He watched as Langston’s expression turned pained and his lips scrunched into a tightly formed “O” just before he spoke. “We must teach you to meditate, little one. You keep your emotions so tightly bottled up that one day they may run away with your power.”

  Devan breathed a deep sigh and her shoulders seemed to lower a bit. “What power?” she asked, her words soft, lethargic even.

  “She is seething with emotion. Frustration, confusion, passion?” Langston said again, though this time he had turned to his friend.

  Kent chose to ignore the subtle suggestion, instead turning back to the Grimoire and unfastening its brass buckle. “I still don’t understand why you can sense things from her and I can’t. What exactly did you see just now?”

  “Let us consult the book.” Instead of facing the question put to him, Langston took a place beside his friend and they began thumbing through the worn pages.

  Devan watched with lazy interest. She wasn’t sleepy really—just terribly relaxed. She was rational enough to realize that Langston had charmed her. Still, instead of becoming upset and defensive, she languished in the first true waking moment of calm she could remember in a very long time. She thought about getting closer to inspect the book but then remembered the giant’s previous admonition. Langston seemed to know where to look as he headed to a particularly ancient section of the book. He read and reflected on the words for many minutes. Then he sighed heavily and turned to her.

  “What do you know of your mother, Devan?”

  “Lenora Graham Stowe. She died when I was almost six years old. I have a few memories of her, but I went to her see her family when I was eighteen, to learn something about her, and my grandfather practically turned me away. Told me I should return to my father.”

  Langston glanced at Kent, his brow wrinkled. Then the two of them turned back to her and the giant spoke again. “I would have believed you’re a blood-witch, probably of a gypsy clan. The power of a blood-witch passes to her daughter without any loss of strength, although at times, circumstances may increase the power. The power manifests in different ways, but it exists even without training or teaching, and it’s strongly attached to the witch’s soul. Look in the mirror, Devan, and tell me what you see that is different.”

  She brought her hand to her throat as if to protect herself from something. Then she pulled her lip into her mouth and approached the mirror on the opposite side of the room. She studied herself closely, looking at her face, then her hands, and then allowing her eyes to drift up and down her body. Realization suddenly spread into her expression as she reached up to take hold of her hair on either side of her face and pulled the curls long across both cheeks.

  “Her hair is longer,” Kent murmured, approaching her.

  “Roon–” she began in a whisper before turning to them, “My hair has grown at least an inch. At least an inch just since yesterday. How can that be?” Confusion and awe were both evident in her words.

  “Do you understand what Langston is telling you? Do you understand what he believes you are?”

  “A witch? You expect me to believe I’m a witch? And what are you two? Warlocks?”

  Kent chuckled and dropped his chin. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of? I don’t want to hear ‘sort of.’ What are you?”

  “Well, we don’t really call ourselves warlocks generally. Langston could be called a Shaman or even a hedge witch. His powers are an amalgamation of tradition, connection to earth, spells learned from descendants of other shaman–most of the passages in our Grimoire are his.”

  “Grimoire? Are you kidding me? A book of spells?” Devan’s expression spoke to her incredulity.

  Langston approached the book and began to refasten the binding. “They aren’t all spells. There is information contained in this book to guide us in The Way. It is important for us to collect and continually add to the Grimoire so that those who come after us may benefit from our collective knowledge gained over centuries.” Langston stopped suddenly, realizing he’d said something he perhaps should not have said.

  “What about you?” She turned to Kent, her eyes suspicious.

  “I have powers too, though I’m younger than Langston and I don’t have the connection or the ancestry he does. I’m more a solitary creature–”

  “And Nicky? Is he one of you too?” The way she said it was as if “one of you” were something bad, dirty.

  Kent and Langston looked back and forth at each other. “Nicky is not a witch,” Kent advised, and the tone in his voice warned her that there was something more to his answer.

  Here it comes. Wait for it. Here it comes. The suspense. I can hardly wait! Roon’s words in her head infuriated her, and she knew if she could see him at that moment she would strangle him.

  “What is he, Kent? If he’s not one of you then he’s just a normal person, right? Does he know what you are?”

  “Nicky’s not a witch, but he does have powers. He’s with us because–because he can recognize and locate…vampires.”

  Hahaha. Damn, Devvie, when you’re flushed you look absolutely stunning. Let’s get nekkid.

  Shut up, Roon! If you don’t shut up I will scream!

  “Vampires,” Devan whispered, nodding her head in feigned acknowledgment and understanding. “Vampires. I see. Well that makes perfect sense. After all, if you’re warlocks and I’m a witch, then of course Nicky would be a vampire hunter. So where exactly are the vampires?”

  Kent opened his mouth to speak, but Devan quickly raised her hand at him. “Oh! I’m sorry. Of course, I should be asking Nicky that. He’s the one who can…what was it you said? Recognize vampires? Let’s go get him.” And she started for the door.

  It was Langston’s voice that stopped her. “Devan, Nicky is a mercenary, a tracker-for-hire. Dhampirs are not to be toyed with. They are generally sensitive to mockery.”

  She turned, her curls bobbing across her shoulder. “Dhampirs?”

  “Why don’t you sit down, Dev, and we’ll try to answer your questions.” Despite his effort to remain calm, a certain edge was obvious in Kent’s voice.

  Devan stood for several moments, her lower lip clinched between her teeth. She stared at the floor first, almost wishing it would open up and suck her into an abyss. Then she raised her brown eyes and darted glances back and forth between the two men.

  “You’re not going to say that you believe my father is a vampire? Are you crazy? You told me you wanted to stop my father and the Org, so why would you need a vampire hunter? My father’s not a vampire.” Then she cocked her head to the side and whispered to herself. “But then how the hell could I be a witch?”

  Don’t clam up, Devvie. Listen to them. They’ll protect you –

  “I thought you were supposed to protect me!” She flinched when she realized she’d said the words aloud.

  Believing she was talking to him, Kent responded immediately and with a veracity that should have surprised her. “I will protect you, Dev.”

  His tone and his words certainly seemed to surprise Lan
gston because his friend shot him a furrowed glance and then placed a hand on his shoulder. The larger man stepped forward towards her and motioned for her to sit, “No, Devan, we do not believe your father is a vampire. Kent and I belong to a sort of watch group. There is a delicate balance required in this world, and those of magic are expected to follow an unspoken creed not to allow their powers to shift or disturb that balance. But there are some who choose not to follow. What we do is search those creatures out and we work to prevent them from destroying the equilibrium.”

  “And vampires don’t follow the creed. They’re…evil?”

  Langston motioned his hand again, and this time Devan obeyed his request and sat on the edge of the bed nearest to her. “Evil is a relative term. Some vampires don’t follow the creed, but there are some that do. It depends on the manner of person they were prior to becoming a vampire and also the manner in which they were changed. But that is a complication we probably need not discuss at this time.”

  She sighed, expressing her intense frustration. “So is a dhampir a good vampire?”

  Kent smiled. “No, a dhampir isn’t a vampire. The term can be used for anyone who can detect, locate, and kill a vampire. Nicky is a dhampir in the truest sense of the word because he’s the offspring of a vampire.”

  A shiver passed through Devan’s body and she cringed. “Offspring. Okay, so tell me about the Org. What does this have to do with them? Why are you all after them?”

  “What do you really know about their business?” Kent asked.

  “They sell children. They sell children to pedophiles. I heard him say it. I was nearly out of college and I was eavesdropping. They were arranging a sale and the buyer had already had several other boys and I heard my father say–” She swallowed, bile rising in her throat.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said the man had ‘taken’ one of the boys too often and–and the child had died. I was naive, but I understood what that meant. That was when I realized how cold my father really was. He never once showed sympathy or…or even regret that the little boy had died. But he was completely incensed that the doctor hadn’t been able to save him, shocked even. Kept saying something about how the doc had never once let any of the children die. ‘Any of the children,’ as if there were so many. I searched the house and I found records, most of them financial.”

  She wasn’t supposed to have been home that summer break, but she’d needed some time away so she had run home. Recent events with her boyfriend Robbie and her best friend had made her angry and jaded, so when she heard her father’s discussions, ugly ideas snapped in her mind. Given she wasn’t expected at home, it had been easy enough for her to snoop through quite a bit of information before being discovered.

  “These were wealthy businessmen, some of them foreigners, even women. And all of them were paying huge amounts for these children. By the time I had finished delving into it I knew that my father’s entire fortune had been made off these ventures. And I knew the life I thought I had was all a facade. That was when I decided to leave–it took a very long time to break away.”

  Kent wanted to know more about what that last statement meant, but he recognized that they didn’t have the time now. He needed to get things squared away with Devan before tomorrow morning and they all needed to get some sleep before then. Already he could see her patience wearing thin, the overload of information having an impact on her. He wondered if her magic was being affected by the emotional strain and he turned quickly to glance at Langston.

  His friend closed his eyes and shook his head. The two of them knew each other well and there was no reason to verbally express his request. The question was understood, as was the answer.

  “Vampires can live for centuries, Devan, and in that time, they acquire wealth, stature, and power. They’ve also learned that they can live longer and strengthen their powers by preying on a very select group. By feeding on those who possess magic. Dev, the buyers aren’t pedophiles. Hell, I suppose some of them may be, but they’re vampires. Each and every one of those children was selected because they were witches or any number of derivatives of magic. And in the process, this vampire coven has grown stronger, more powerful, and the Org has become wealthy. We mean to stop them.”

  “Oh, god!” Devan exclaimed, suddenly heaving from her perch on the side of the bed, and quickly stumbled to the bathroom.

  Kent and Langston flinched simultaneously when they heard the sounds of her vomiting. After a few moments, they heard water running and then silence. The two stood perfectly still, waiting for her to return to the room. When her choking sobs echoed out of the bathroom, Kent could wait no longer. He hurried inside.

  He found her kneeling against the counter top in the bathroom, her head resting against the hand holding her curls back from her face. A half-empty mini-bottle of mouthwash was dangling from her other hand, her wrist hanging limply over the edge of the sink. Kent placed his hand over hers, coming down beside her, and she flinched, trying to back away from him. She hurriedly wiped at her face, fighting the unexpected vulnerability, but he was insistent and forced her close. In resignation, she fell towards him and her hands grabbed two fistfuls of his t-shirt while she buried her face against his chest as if to hide from something.

  A shuffle beside him drew Kent’s attention. He raised his eyes and saw Langston standing there, examining them closely.

  Langston wasn’t one to become shocked or astounded easily. He had lived a long life and had seen a great many things, so there wasn’t much that could surprise him. But as he watched his friend comfort Devan, he was amazed to see the way in which their auras were interacting. Her yellows were dancing into his greens, licking at them like flames. And while Kent’s aura became absorbed towards hers, Devan’s yellows wrapped around Kent’s body without touching him. It wasn’t that his body repelled her aura. It was more as if he were protected from it, blocked from it as if he wore a shield. Not so of Devan. No, she clearly soaked up parts of the energy emitted through Kent’s life-force.

  “Devan, you need to pull yourself together,” Kent murmured against her hair, the scent of her nearly intoxicating. If not for their observer, he might have been unable to keep himself from kissing her again, but as it was, he pulled her back from him and wiped the tears from her face. “We will stop them. I promise you that we will stop them.”

  “Too late,” she nodded, taking a deep breath. “Too late, but yes, we will stop them.” Brushing her hair away from her face, she stood up, her expression now solid and resolute.

  After bringing his hand to his knee to force himself upright, Kent followed her out of the bathroom. “No, you misunderstand me.”

  When she whipped her head around to look at him, he saw that liquid black in her eyes again. “Don’t you misunderstand me, Kent. I’m with you on this.”

  Langston stepped between them. He placed a gentle hand at the small of her back then led her towards the bed, “And so you are, little one. So you are.”

  “Langston –” Kent started anxiously.

  “I believe,” the giant said as he worked to tuck the Grimoire back into its bag, “that we should go over the plan for tomorrow and what role Devan will play in the process. After this phase is finished, she will begin her instruction.”

  * * *

  She was dreaming again, and this time her dream-self knew it was a dream. She knew she was searching for something, but she didn’t know what. The trees along the path reached out to her, and she swatted their branches back with one hand and then the other as she made her way forward.

  Who, not what. She was searching for a person, but who was it? Whoever it was, they were close. She could feel it.

  She heard a giggle, the sound of a child, and the little pitter-patter of feet. “Hello? What are you doing out in the dark?”

  The child laughed again. She saw a shadow cross in front of her and she followed it. The shadow-child couldn’t be more than four or five, and he or she was fast, dartin
g in and out of the trees and onto the path and off again. She struggled to keep up.

  And then the hissing began, that same rushing resonance from her previous dream, only this time farther away. It rustled the leaves and the pines high above in waves approaching her, but it was too high to reach her. Still, she knew it was getting closer, sinking lower with each surge.

  The child. She should protect the child.

  “Little one, little one, hurry. Come here –”

  But the child toddled off faster, faster than a child of that age should be able to move. Devan picked up her pace, no longer concerned with dodging branches, but just running. Limbs and thin twigs slapped her in the face, and she flinched to protect her eyes as she ran faster through the forest. The hissing waves were getting closer and leaves were fluttering to the ground all around her in its wake.

  Finally she reached the little shadow-child, clutching its arm before it could escape. She held the little body to her chest just as the raging hiss dropped fully down through the trees and surrounded them. She wrapped herself and the child into a tight ball, her hair falling across her face. The sound poured onto them, deflecting around her body until it seemed to soak into the moist earth. A tremor passed through the soil beneath her feet, before she felt that rush of air as the hissing welled up below her and through her, pulling her up and to her feet. She looked down at her empty arms, and that’s when she realized the child was gone–

  Devan awoke to the sound of someone shuffling around in the room. She opened one eye to see Kent across from her, pulling on a pair of socks and shoving his feet into some athletic shoes. She watched him deftly tie the laces then stretch his arms back behind his head as he leaned forward to stand up. Judging by his movements, he was planning to go for a jog, and she didn’t mind taking this moment to watch him twist and turn, then lift one leg towards his chest, followed by the other. Again she marveled in the exquisite rhythm of the movements of his body. The muscles under his skin rolled and rippled in symmetry with each other. She licked her lips, remembering the taste of his kiss yesterday.