The Bend-Bite-Shift Box Set Page 17

  Kent wasted no time, understanding instantly what she meant. He pressed himself against her, twining her hair around his hands so as to connect them by the most powerful part of her. Then he closed his eyes and willed time to bend. He was tired, almost completely worn, so it wasn’t easy for him to do, but Devan bolstered him. She anchored him, and for the first time in his life, he felt he had the ability to control his power to twist time.

  Then the sun emerged overhead like a time-lapsed video, and Adriel’s skin began to crackle. He screamed, released her wrist, and tried to fling her away from him, but Devan strained to keep him close. Her hair wrapped around him, tying into knots and maintaining him in bondage. The smell of burning flesh assailed her nostrils and she felt physically ill. Then she too began to burn. Her body was held so tight to his and the heat was penetrating her own flesh, searing her arm, her hands, her cheek. Each bare area of skin in contact with him was burning.

  Tears poured down her cheeks, but she held on despite the pain. Let it end, she cried in her mind. Please let it end. And then, when it became too much and she had to let go, she found that her limbs had seized. She was trapped against him with no way to escape the smoldering heat.

  Finally Devan felt a pop, a burst, and she collapsed to the ground amidst a cloud of ash. When she opened her eyes, the sun had reversed its path, returning them to night with particles of what was left of Adriel flurrying all around. Kent was holding her close, crooning to her, and she realized she was sobbing almost hysterically.

  “Don’t cry, baby. Don’t cry. It’s over. Please stop crying! Langston, help her! Help her!”

  The giant dropped down to his knees and held his hands over her, enveloping Devan in yellow light. Her hands and arms were scorched black, and Kent cringed when he realized in a few places he could see bone through what was left of her skin. There were deep, ragged puncture holes on the wrist from which Adriel had fed, but those began to close almost as soon as Langston started his ministrations.

  Several minutes passed and slowly her burned skin smoothed and evened out, healing over completely.

  To Kent’s distress, she still couldn’t seem to stop crying, hiccupping with sobs even while he continued trying to soothe her. She was trembling with such intensity that he almost expected her to shatter into pieces.

  Then Jill took one of her hands and clasped it to her own chest. “Please calm down, Devan. You gotta get a grip on yourself.”

  That was when her eyes snapped open and she peered at her friend with such relief, such absolute release, that her entire body sagged. “Jill! Oh, Jill! I thought–I was afraid I couldn’t hold it just over the three of us. I was afraid maybe I wasn’t strong enough and that you’d be dead too–burned! Burned like him!” She shuddered, remembering the feel, smell, and sound of that smoldering vampire flesh. She couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open, the lids turning heavier and heavier. A weakness like she’d never known encompassed her entire body and crept into her mind, building cobwebs behind her eyes.

  “What’s wrong with me?” she implored, reaching a hand towards Kent but finding even raising her own arm was more than she could manage. “Langston, did you–”

  “No, little one, I didn’t spell you again. You have spent nearly all of your magic and you are weak and need rest. Also, Adriel likely depleted a good deal of your blood before you stopped him. It is imperative that you sleep.”

  She didn’t argue. She couldn’t. Her body was giving up the battle to keep her eyes open, and before she could even realize what was happening, her head was lolling back loosely and the world went black.

  The little shadow-child was curled up on her lap, his head against her breast. There was a thin storybook in her hands and she turned the final page. THE END.

  “More,” the little boy whispered, not moving from his place tucked inside the crook of her arm.

  “There is no more. The end.”

  “More.” He tilted his head up and she saw him more clearly than she had in previous dreams. He had golden eyes that shone like citrine stones.

  “But I can’t. The story’s over.”

  “More.”

  Frowning, she felt the book rustle in her hand, and when she looked again, the pages of the book were multiplying. Flipping the next sheet, she came to a sketch of a beautiful face, one she remembered with such affection it pained her. Below the drawing was the word “mother.”

  “Meggie?”

  “More, more!”

  She shook her head, confused. At the same time, she was hurt by the memory of the lovely housekeeper who had cared for her as a child and had loved her like a mother.

  “A mother.”

  “You ’member! You ‘member! More, more!” And the little boy clapped his hands excitedly, bouncing up and down on her lap.

  “What do you mean more? Meggie’s gone. There is no more.”

  “More, more, more!” As the child spoke, his tone changed, deepened. “There is more, Devvie. Ina súile m'iníon.”

  “Kent!” Devan cried as she woke, lurching upright.

  “What happened? Are you all right?” He couldn’t help the yawn that interrupted his words as he hurried from the window seat and came to her bedside.

  “She’s my mother–Meggie! It’s her, Kent!” Her gold-brown eyes were bright, glistening, as she peered at him. “I need to see her. You have to get me to her.”

  “The housekeeper? How do you know?”

  “I just know, Kent. She was always like a mother to me and we’ve all known the chances were Lenora wasn’t my mother. We’ve been dancing around that subject since the day Langston first suggested I was a blood-witch. She must be my mother and I have to see her. I have to know for certain. You’ll help me, right?”

  “Course, Dev. I love you.” He kissed her nose as if to seal the words. “I’ll take you to her.”

  Devan stood, fighting a momentary wave of vertigo, then paced the room with nervous excitement evident in her throbbing aura. “But how would I find her? How could I get there? I have to remember something specific so I can guide you. How can I remember a specific date, though?” She gnawed her lip in consternation, trying to clear her still cloudy mind.

  “I don’t understand what you’re rattling on about, Dev. I told you I’d take you to her. But you’ve been sleeping–unconscious—for almost twenty-four hours now. You need to take it easy. Where is she anyway?”

  Devan was startled, pulling her head back to look down at him. “She’s dead, Kent. She died just after I went off to college. I’ve been asleep for how long?”

  Sucking in a deep breath, Kent waited a moment before reacting. Finally he stood and approached her to place his hands on both shoulders. “Devan, confronting Adriel took almost everything you had. I think you must still be off because–”

  “No, I’m not. You don’t understand what I mean. We can–”

  He was shaking his head the entire time she was speaking. “I know what you mean. You want me to take you back, to reverse time, but–my power is unreliable, Devan. I can’t be sure what would happen.”

  “But together we can do it, just like we did with fast forward. Our powers combine, like Langston says they do, and–”

  Kent was rough when he pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her and enveloping her in his embrace. “You were so weak, Devan. There were times we weren’t even sure you were breathing. Jill and I–we worried, but…Langston said you would be fine. For the first time since I’d known him, I wasn’t reassured by his words. All I could think was that you might not make it.” He shoved her to arm’s length so he could look at her., “And now you’re awake and the first thing you want is to traipse through time to find your old housekeeper!”

  The gold in Devan’s eyes seemed to take over as she peered at him, warmth and love clearly visible in that gaze. She smiled, a tiny gesture. Then she reached up a hand and touched his cheek. While she was caressing him with her thumb, she realized that was the same
wrist from which Adriel had fed. Sliding that hand towards Kent’s mouth, she placed her wrist to his lips.

  “I’m well, Kent. The marks are gone. The burns are healed. Adriel is dead and I helped to kill him. I have to know who I am, Kent. I have to know now. I’ve gone thirty-five years without knowing. Please.”

  Surrendering, he dropped his head and nodded. “Okay. How do you think this should work?”

  Weakly she smiled. Then she scrunched her face in thought. “Well, I think I have to focus on a definite time. It seemed to work when we faced Adriel because I concentrated on keeping your magic just on us, so the only time that bent was our time. So maybe if I can concentrate on something that happened with Meggie and me, then your magic can bend us there.”

  Kent pondered this a moment. “Is it a good idea for you to see yourself? I mean, presuming this works, then you’re wanting to talk to her, right? What if we change the past? What if you see yourself and…” He stumbled over his words. “I just have this paranoia about some sort of Back to the Future screw up where we mess up your past–” And mess up our future together, he finished silently.

  The thought of changing her past struck her. She might be able to stop what had happened. She might be able to save some of the children. Or keep Jill from being changed. Could she take them back to a certain moment when she might alter her father’s path? Could she go back even further and change Kent’s past? Could she spare him the pain that Adriel had put upon him?

  Devan looked up at him, marveling at how good he looked to her, how spectacular his life-force was now that she could see it and feel it. She could read his worry, feel his need to help and yet protect her. His need to protect them. And she realized that she shouldn’t change anything. What she was, what he was, what they had together at this moment, was the way it should be.

  Everything has a purpose. Pain, joy, hurt, death, life, magic. All of it fits. Roon was right. This fit.

  “You’re right,” she finally said. “So we’ll have to find a way to see her without letting me see myself.”

  “Also, we’ll have to actually go to the location. I’m not strong enough bend space to get us physically there, let alone bend time and space simultaneously, even with your power mixing into mine.”

  A beaming smile spread across her face as understanding dawned on her.

  “You’re not going to tell me she’s been here?” he asked incredulously.

  “Of course she has. She’s the reason I found this place. She told me about it the month I left for college. The way she described it, I actually drove through here on my way to school. I just had to see it.”

  “But when was she here? How would we ever figure out what date if you weren’t here with her?”

  “I can’t believe it didn’t come to me immediately. This place was so special to her that she came here the same date every year before she died. She went so far as to make her vacation time a part of her contract with my parents so it could never be interrupted for any reason: always the week of March 9th.”

  Tilting and shaking his head in mock resignation, Kent held out his arms to her and she leaned back against him. He took her hair in his hands just as he had when they’d trapped Adriel. “Ready?”

  Devan leaned her head back and caressed her scalp against his chest. “I love you, Kent.”

  He closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head. “You’d better. Now let’s do this before I change my mind.”

  Engaging their magic simultaneously seemed to create a magnetism, and though they’d been close against each other before, they seemed to meld and become glued as their powers mixed. Devan dropped her eyes so she could focus her magic on the correct date, year, and time.

  An infusion of sensory changes assailed them both, the strawberry scent of the wickless candle on the bedside slipping away to be replaced by the natural odor of pine. The air of the cool room warmed from top to bottom, and they felt the touch of sunlight strike their skin. Then the floor seemed to fall from under them and they both tumbled onto bare ground, Kent struggling to be sure he didn’t lose contact with her.

  He realized it didn’t seem as difficult now to hold on to the bend, and he actually opened his eyes as they both stood. They were just outside the cabin, a much smaller version of the cabin. Kent realized this was long before Devan had upgraded the building, and therefore the place where they’d been standing inside the room didn’t exist yet. The forest beyond showed touches of green, buds forming on the trees as spring approached. It was March 9th after all.

  “Can we move?” Devan asked, her voice trembling a bit.

  Kent chuckled. “I don’t know, Dev. I’ve never done this before.”

  She took a small step and he followed close behind, clutching her hair at the base of her neck so nothing could disturb their bond. There was a rustle in the trees just beyond them and a flash of white fabric seemed to flutter along with the movement.

  “That way,” Devan told him, though she’d started walking in that direction even before the words were spoken.

  The woods were familiar to both of them as the trees and forest had changed little in the years separating this time and theirs. The trail Kent had frequently jogged led them towards the creek and Devan guided them along it, stepping softly and tenuously.

  “You’re radiant, Devvie. Absolutely radiant,” a melodiously soft voice said from behind them, and they both turned together.

  “Meggie!” Devan cried before lurching towards the woman only to stop short. Kent seemed rooted to the spot where he was standing, still clutching her hair and keeping her from getting any closer.

  “How could anyone doubt that she’s your mother?” he asked, mesmerized. “Or sister–you look so much alike.”

  Devan tilted her head, examining the woman she’d known for all of her childhood. Meggie’s hair was long and a deep brown just like hers. The tendrils coiled and curled in disarray even though the older woman wore a scarf around her head to keep them back. Her face nearly mirrored Devan’s, except for some subtle age lines and eyes that were rounder and a dark brown. It occurred to her that she hoped she would age as well as Meggie had aged.

  “He said you would come.” Meggie turned those dark eyes to Kent. “What does her aura look like? Oh, I wish I could see it. I’m sure it’s fantastic. I wish I could see.”

  Before Kent could answer, Devan began to ramble. “Why can’t you? Are you my mother? Who told you I’d come?”

  Meggie smiled as she stepped close, reaching both hands out. Devan took the offering, and the women clasped each other’s fingers tightly. “You shouldn’t stay long. I’m sure this is taxing for both of you. I should say what you came to hear before I lose you–again.”

  “No, we’re strong. We can stay.” Devan tried to argue though she knew her words were false. She was feeling slightly lightheaded now and she imagined this was especially challenging for Kent. Still, when she looked up at him, he had an unfaltering expression, as if he were determined to maintain the bend for as long as possible. “You’re right. Tell us.”

  “This is the place.” She motioned her hand to the woods beyond them. “This is the place where I met your father. No…” She raised a hand when Devan opened her mouth to speak. “Not Eden Stowe. Your father’s name is Daeglan.”

  “Is?” spoke Kent.

  “Patience,” she admonished, and Devan could remember her using that same tone when she was just a young child. “Daeglan is a brionglóid fay, a dream faery. I was napping here by the creek when I was much, much younger and he came to me.” A residue of that youth sparkled in her eyes as she called forth the memory. “You have my magic, Devvie. You’ve probably already been told that a blood-witch’s power passes to her daughter. We have the unique ability to take other’s magic, to borrow it, to focus it–like a conduit of sorts. Yours is much stronger than mine. Still, when your father found me that night and met me in my dreams–a channel was formed between us, a very small bridge. It grew stronger each tim
e he came to me in dreams, until one time it was almost real. As much a reality as anything I’d ever known. After that night, I decided to go to Daeglan. I was young, impetuous. I chose him over the magic. And of course, when I crossed over, I was stripped of my gift.”

  Meggie’s face softened with affection, and she reached a hand to brush Devan’s hair. “What I didn’t know was I was also carrying you at that time. And before I could find Daeglan in the faery world, the Women had already spoken to him.”

  “The Women on the Hill,” Devan whispered.

  Nodding, Meggie continued. “Yes, they always know when someone crosses into the realm. And the Women said I had to come back. They said that you couldn’t be born there, that the part of you that would be of my magic had to be born here, where the magic originated. Daeglan and I spent as much time together as we dared. Those were wonderful days, but the Women urged us constantly until Daeglan finally relented and sent me home.”

  Devan frowned with regret, opening her mouth to speak and then stopping.

  “That’s always been a bad habit of yours, missy,” scolded Meggie, pointing her finger at her daughter. “You can’t carry the weight of other’s choices on your own shoulders. Everyone bears responsibility for their own actions and I accept mine.”

  “Couldn’t he come with you?” Kent asked, his tone clearly indicating how simple he thought the matter should be.

  The mother in Meggie was near to overflowing. Tears were in her eyes as she reached both hands and stroked Devan’s hair, her cheeks, her arms. “I’m sure it’s evident to you that my daughter is special. We knew she would need help, protection, and I was without magic. We couldn’t leave her with two helpless parents. So we’ve resolved ourselves to be satisfied with meeting each year here in my dreams–on the anniversary of the date I left the faery realm. Devvie, your father watches over you, with the help of the Women. And if I’m not mistaken, from time to time I believe he visits your dreams.”