The Bend-Bite-Shift Box Set

by Hardin, Olivia

  “I don’t have any cash to spare. Barely enough to live right now.”

  With slow, deliberate moves, Pete poured Nicky another drink. “I wasn’t thinking money. Well, you know me, money’s always involved, but I was thinking more along the lines of a job. I think I got something I could use you for. And you can make a little money, too. Never can have too much spare change.”

  Nicky swallowed down the bourbon in one gulp despite the nausea in his stomach. He needed to get back to Gerry. Impatience was eating away at him. “One job. Only one. You wanna talk now or later?”

  Pete shrugged then pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled an address. “Nah, go enjoy the night life tonight. I’ll have something for you tomorrow morning. Come by and we’ll work it all out.”

  Nicky smiled cockily as he took the scrap of paper and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. He said goodbye and worked his way through the crowd to get out of the bar and back to his wife.

  The address Pete had given him was for a duplex. The door was locked, but a locked door never stopped Nicky before. He had it open in just a few minutes and carried Gerry inside. The bed looked clean, if old and lumpy. He placed her gently down on one side then pulled back the quilts and slid her over so he could pull them up atop her body.

  It was warm and humid in New Orleans, but Gerry was cold–deathly cold. Fear clutched his insides. He touched her cheek, cupped her face in his hand, and leaned down to kiss her. The only movements she made were the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and her eyes moving back and forth under the lids.

  “Baby,” he spoke close to her ear. “Gerry, please wake up. Wake up and tell me how to help you. Please.”

  She made no movement to suggest she even heard him, just that same shallow breath and shifting eyes. Nicky dropped his forehead to hers and sighed deep in worry. After a moment he sat up and removed his jacket, tossing it across the room. A heavy thud sounded when it hit the floor, and he remembered the box.

  Looking at his wife and remembering her insistent words about that box, he got up and collected the jacket from the floor. He removed the silver box and placed it on the bed beside her. Then he draped the jacket across his arm and padded out of the bedroom.

  It was a bare little apartment. There was a living area with a ragged love seat and a small television resting on a stool. The kitchen was all part of the same room, and there was a table with mismatched legs. He dropped the jacket onto the couch and moved toward the refrigerator, hoping for something to drink. It was empty, but he managed to find a cup in one of the cabinets and pour himself a glass of water.

  Nicky drank it in a long thirsty gulp then tossed the plastic cup into the sink. He didn’t know what to do now. His eyes burned, and it occurred to him that sleep was probably the best idea. Maybe with a rested mind he could come up with some sort of plan.

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets to pull out his keys and wallet. A scrap of paper fluttered to the floor, and he picked it up with a sigh. It was the note on which Pete had scrawled the address. The front side of it was a flyer for a Memphis Music Festival that must have taken place a few weeks ago. He left the paper on the little table and moved to the bedroom.

  Gerry was there, still and pale as a corpse. He shook his head and refused to give in to such morbid thoughts. He sat on the edge of the bed and used his left foot to force his right boot off his foot. Then he did the same in reverse. The heavy leather boots dropped like lead weights onto the floor one after the other. He removed his shirt and jeans, leaving on his boxers. He tossed his clothes aside then got back up to turn off the lights.

  After flicking the switch, he made his way back to the bed and inched in beside Gerry. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, molding her body against his so that he could touch as much of her as possible. Her body was like ice against him, her skin cold and clammy. Gooseflesh rose up on his arms, but he squeezed her tight to him and hoped his own body heat would help keep her warm.

  “I love you, baby,” he told her, just before exhaustion overcame him and he drifted off to sleep.

  ~oOo~

  Nicky didn’t get more than a few hours of sleep when his foot ran up against the silver box. He inched his toes out to feel for the thing and grumbled to himself because he knew he would have to do something about it. His promise to Gerry was nagging his mind.

  He rubbed his hand up and down her cold arms and nuzzled her neck a moment before rolling out of the bed and pulling on his jeans. He slipped his shirt over his head as he made his way into the other room to retrieve the knife from his jacket. Digging around in the kitchen cabinets he found a small saucepan which he placed on the counter. He turned the knob on the stove and was relieved when after a few clicks a blue flame circled the burner

  A fast, long slash of the knife cut a wound in his forearm and he let the blood collect in the pan until the wound closed on its own. He placed the tip of the knife into the pan and used his fingers to smear the blade top to bottom with the blood. He held the blade over the fire until the blood turned black and then disappeared altogether.

  This was New Orleans, a place steeped in mysticism and vampire-lore, and the chances were Nicky would cross paths with some while he was out and about. It was easy for bloodsuckers to stay under the radar here because strange happenings could usually be blamed on excessive partying or a runaway imagination.

  There was still a good amount of his blood in the bottom of the saucepan, so he went into the bedroom and found the knife Gerry had hidden under her skirt. He paused to look at her dressed in that too-tight blue sheath and lace jacket. Why the hell hadn’t he thought to get her out of those clothes earlier?

  With gentle hands he slipped her arms out of the sleeves of the jacket before rolling her over so he could unzip the dress. He considered removing it altogether, but she still felt so cold that he decided she could use the extra clothing. As soon as the shops opened, he would see about getting her something more comfortable to wear. With a nervous sigh he grabbed the silver box and left the bedroom

  After cooking the second knife, he stashed that one on his calf with the same strap and holster Gerry had used on her thigh. Then he slipped the other into his jacket pocket along with the silver box. He fled the apartment before he could change his mind.

  It was a long way to the garden district from the Quarter, but Nicky was fast when he needed to be. The activity on the streets was dying down as the hour approached three in the morning. Anyone still out and about was doing so on unsteady legs with blurry eyes. He darted around and past people.

  He knew the cemetery would be locked. The city had chosen to take that action after some teenagers got into trouble there years ago. Still, it was easy to scale the wall in the dark and before long he was sneaking along the aisles of ancient stone crypts, looking for one with an opening in which he could stash the box.

  After a few moments, he found the one he knew one of the local tour guides liked to use on her ghost tour. She would remove a few bricks and let tourists peek inside and take pictures. He couldn’t take the chance that some nosy vacationer would see the box and draw interest to it so he moved on.

  After a few more aisles he found a vault beside which a stone angel was resting on the ground. Closer inspection revealed that the little statue had probably fallen off the top, and in the process it looked as if it had banged into the brick enclosure. The date on the tomb was several decades before so he could rest assured there wasn’t a fresh body inside. Weeds and grass were growing up around the fallen angel so it was evident no one had taken care of this resting place for some time.

  Nicky used his knife to chip away at the mortar alongside a loose brick and finally wedged it out of the hole and onto the ground. Just as he was about to reach inside to stash the box, a high-pitched moan pierced the air.

  Nicky’s hair stood on end, and he looked around. He knew ghosts existed. He’d seen them. As a rule they didn’t pay much attention
to people—or dhampirs for that matter. An exception to that rule would be when someone disturbed their resting place.

  “Shit,” he muttered, frozen in place with one hand on his knife and the other on the box.

  Another moan and then a giggle reverberated through the night air in the cemetery. Nicky cocked his head to the side and listened.

  “Am I gonna have to tape your mouth shut? You’re gonna get us caught,” a male voice spoke.

  A female voice followed. “I can’t help it. You know what touching me there does to me. Besides, it’s the excitement of doing it in this place…”

  Nicky rolled his eyes. Damned kids.

  He carefully placed the box inside the crypt. A missing brick wouldn’t cause much notice, but one that had obviously come loose and been replaced might, so he chose to leave the little hole in the tomb. There were plenty of vaults with open crypts.

  It was about five in the morning when Nicky made it back to the Quarter. He rubbed the inside of his ring finger and hoped that when he got back to the apartment Gerry would be sitting up in bed. Hearing her chastise him for leaving her would be like music to his ears.

  He found her still in the bed, as cold and lifeless as when he had left her a few hours before. His gut wrenched in worry, and he reached into the pocket of his jacket for his cigarettes. He used the burner to light up before plopping down onto the love seat while he waited for the nicotine to bring his nerves some relief.

  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” Gerry murmured, crossing herself then pushing back from her knees and into the seat of the pew. The mass was almost over, and she glanced to her left at her sister, Dysis. The scent of oranges and something she didn’t recognize wafted to her nostrils. Dy was smirking and looking up toward the altar.

  When Gerry followed her gaze, she was mortified to realize the priest was staring boldly at her sister, a dumbstruck expression on his face. Elbowing her wanton sister, Gerry shook her head with a severe frown. Dysis elbowed her in return hard enough to bruise Gerry’s ribs.

  She recalled finding Dysis talking to an ugly impish man inside the cemetery near their house a few nights before. She had gotten close enough to hear their words, but the man was speaking in a language she couldn’t understand. He placed his palm on Dy’s head. Then, with a final loud word, he shoved her backwards. When Gerry got to her sister lying prostrate in the grass, she found her with a look of complete ecstasy and bliss on her face. The man was gone by the time she could help Dy stand up.

  That night her sibling refused to tell her who the man was or what he’d done to her. Now Gerry looked to her left and wished Mum and Daddy were there. They had been gone for almost a year now, but the pain of their deaths was still fresh to her. What good were her powers if she couldn’t use them to stop the accident that took them from her? The bitterness of it was enough to make her nauseous.

  The services ended, and everyone began to file out of the church. A few friends of her parents gathered around Gerry, still expressing their love, sympathy, and concern even after all this time. She greeted them all graciously, in a way that she knew would make her Mum proud.

  By the time Gerry got away from the well-wishers, she couldn’t find Dy. She checked the restrooms, all around the church, and even their car thinking maybe she’d been waiting for her. Dysis was nowhere.

  A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, and she reentered the church. As she approached the altar her skin prickled and her tongue went dry. She could hear fumbling, heavy breathing, and panting.

  Behind the altar and inside the sacristy she found Father Ben making love to a plump, dark-haired woman. They were on the floor, the priest’s back to her and the woman’s legs wrapped around his waist. When she looked closer, Gerry recognized Harriet Venture, the former church secretary and a dear friend of her Mum’s.

  Except this was a much younger Harriet, a Harriet she remembered from her childhood. She smelled citrus again and that other strange scent. Her mind tried to deny the truth of what she was seeing.

  Father Ben groaned and Harriet placed her hand on his forehead. The woman spoke in an unknown language, and Gerry watched in horror as the man passed out. Harriet’s round face morphed into Dysis’ sharp-angled cheekbones and chin.

  “How could you?” Gerry cried, shaking her head in denial.

  Dy slithered from under the priest and with a snap of her fingers conjured a dress to cover her naked body. She took only a moment to examine herself before she flew toward her sister in a flash of movement. She forced Gerry back, knocking her spine into the edge of the little sink in the corner of the room. A hand at her breast shoved hard, bending her so that her head was dangling into the bowl of the sink.

  The water turned on without warning, flooding Gerry’s face, mouth, and nose. She choked but couldn’t seem to get herself up. She tried to turn her face away from the stream, but nothing worked.

  Gerry struggled to get away from the water, flailing with wild arms and legs. She coughed and sputtered, struggling for air and getting dizzy from lack of breath. She blinked, looking through the streaming water to see Dysis in the doorway, a wicked smile on her face.

  “Hmmm… such interesting memories, sis. I had no idea you saw me fucking Father Ben that day.” She laughed, an ugly cackle. “I’ll find what I want eventually, you know. You can’t hide it from me forever…”

  ~oOo~

  “So that’s all I need ya’ to do. Pick up the stuff in Baton Rouge and deliver it back here. We’ll divide it up and resell it.”

  Nicky tossed back his glass of bourbon and winced as it burned on the way down. A deep sigh forced its way from his mouth as he allowed the tendrils of alcohol to reach out to sooth his troubled mind. Steely dark eyes turned up toward Pete as he dropped the glass back onto the table. “Drugs? I can’t believe you’re dealing in drugs now.”

  “Hey,” Pete shrugged, unconcerned. “It ain’t like I’m running crack or meth or something. They’re prescriptions, and the way I see it, if those old-timers want to sell their meds instead of taking them, that’s their business, eh?”

  “Yeah,” Nick nodded, though he couldn’t seem to figure the distinction. He leaned back into his seat and crossed his ankle over his knee. “But why do you need me? You want a runner. Seems anyone can handle this.”

  “Ah, but it ain’t just a runner I need. You got instincts, Nick. You can sniff out trouble better than anyone I ever knew. I think this gal’s skimming from me. She’s expecting one of my locals to come pick up the stuff. You’ll make her nervous. Figure out whether she’s got anything to hide… And whether I got anything to be concerned about.”

  The room smelled musty, and Nicky itched to get out of it. Pete’s storage room/office was piled floor to ceiling with boxes of liquor. If it weren’t for the fact that Pete would come looking for him if he didn’t “pay up” with his services, Nicky wouldn’t even have come here tonight. Gerry was no better back at the apartment, and he still hadn’t been able to figure out how to get in touch with Kent and the others. He knew he could make a distress call to the Company but something in his instincts screamed not to involve them. He hoped those instincts were still as good as Pete seemed to think they were.

  Leaning forward to pour himself another drink from the bottle of Weller’s on the table, he asked Pete, “When?”

  “The meeting time is Monday morning. You’ll need to head out early. Here’s all the details.” He slid a stack of papers across the table to Nicky.

  There was a map, some typed instructions, and a black and white printed picture of the girl he was to meet. Nicky carefully folded them up and slid them into his jacket before standing to leave.

  “Stay a while, man. I got some people coming later. Play a few hands with us. You always were lucky as hell with that stoic damned poker face. And there’ll be some gals, too…”

  Nicky scratched his ring finger and shook his head. “Nah, I’m gonna knock around the square. You know m
e with the ladies. The chase is half the fun.” He winked and shook the man’s hand before slipping out of Pete’s “office.”

  Gerry pressed her foot to the gas pedal and sped ahead of one, two, three other vehicles. She wasn’t being chased or racing after anyone but was on her way to meet Kent’s gang for their next job. They had a newbie on their team, a dhampir. She didn’t know much about him even though she was the one who had recruited him in New Orleans.

  Skirting from the left lane to the right around a few slower vehicles, Gerry managed to get by without turning off the cruise control. For normal everyday driving, she liked to maintain a speed of exactly seven miles above the posted speed limit. Just fast enough to tease any quota-hungry highway patrolman and yet generally not so fast she couldn’t talk herself out of those tickets.

  Nickleback’s “Figured You Out” blared through the stereo speakers, and she tapped her thumbs against the steering wheel in the 10 and 2 o’clock positions. Her eyes skimmed from the rearview to the driver’s side mirrors and she smirked as she watched the thumping of the bass jostle the view.

  A Dodge truck pressed up behind her, riding her rear. There was a car to her right and she couldn’t get around it just yet. That driver either didn’t have cruise control or wasn’t using it because its speed fluctuated slower and faster off and on. Gerry would get past it eventually, but the truck behind impatiently crowded her. She glanced at her speed and cocked her eyebrow. It was true she could have sped up just a bit to get over to the right so the truck could pass her, but it pissed her off that he couldn’t just wait.

  She gritted her teeth and maintained her speed. She couldn’t make out the driver as the sun was behind him, glaring into her eyes, but she saw him roll down his window and wave his hand at her, motioning for her to get out of his way.

  “Screw you!” she muttered. Then she wailed at the top of her lungs with the Nickelback lyrics.