The Bend-Bite-Shift Box Set Page 36

  His own mirth touched her deep inside before she even saw his lips lift into a smile. He didn’t open his eyes and she was glad for it. She was all too aware of the fact that both of them were very naked, so she quickly slipped her baggy nightshirt over her head.

  Goodness, he was exquisite. Kristana checked to be sure his eyes were still closed. Satisfied that he couldn’t see her, she took her time gazing at him from top to bottom. At first sight she’d been taken with his massive size; now she was even more astounded to realize that every inch of him was solid and firm. A giant man, with an absolute Herculean form. All mine.

  He grinned wider as he opened his eyes. She watched the beautifully contoured muscles of his abdomen tighten as he used them to pull himself upright. Their pallet was near to the wall opposite the mural and so he leaned back against it even as he reached an arm to pull her to him. He embraced her so securely that she sighed in contentment.

  “What were you reading?” she asked, stretching an arm out to finger the book.

  Langston grunted, “It would be more appropriate for us to discuss who you are.”

  She leaned back, flinging her dark hair across her shoulder. “I asked you a question first.” She waited but he only stared at her patiently. “I guess you don’t answer questions much. What do you want to know about me?”

  “How long have you heard others’ thoughts?”

  She felt her blood run cold and she dropped her head down against his bare chest to hide from his query. She swallowed, then trembled a bit as she tried to squirm out of his embrace. Langston’s arms tightened around her.

  “Kristana, you need not fear this. I know what has been happening to you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. For months she’d feared discovery. The day someone realized about the voices would mean the insanity was taking over. She was terrified of being locked away, and she had always hoped she would be so crazed by that time so not to even care or notice.

  “What do you mean ‘hear voices’? I don’t–” She stopped short. Even as the terror filled her, she found blessed relief to finally have someone to talk to, someone to confide in. “Oh, hell. All right, I’ll tell you. It started not long after my husband died. I knew this day would come. Eventually someone would recognize I’m going crazy.”

  His hands slipped to her shoulders and he pressed her back so that he could look into her eyes. “Kristana, you are not crazy. You have a gift.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. It isn’t a gift!”

  “You touch souls, Kris. They speak to you and you will be able to speak back. There is nothing wrong with you. You have a power that is quite unique.”

  The voices assaulted her aggressively at that moment and she clinched her eyes closed, surprised by the sudden return of the multitude of voices. Her hand instinctively clutched at her forehead, but Langston brought both of his hands to her temples, pressing hard but somehow pulling away the voices. Her mind instantly quieted.

  “How did you do that, Langston? Oh!” she cried, backing away, crawling on her knees to get away from him. “You’re the final phase of it. You’re not real, are you? I’ve gone completely insane now.”

  He could feel her terror as if it were his own. How powerless it was to know her pain, her fears so directly. She was linked to him, their souls connected. He continued to press a calm towards her mind to soothe her. He could sense the muscles of her body ease and she exhaled slowly.

  “Tell me what just happened, when you placed your hands to your forehead.”

  Silence separated them for several moments, then Kris curled over onto her backside and faced him Indian-style. “It’s the voices. They follow me all the time. Sometimes they get louder or softer but they’re almost always there. I’m not able to sleep more than a few hours, and sometimes I can’t even think they’re so loud.”

  “And what do the voices tell you?” His question was stated simply, with the utmost calm.

  “I don’t know! I can’t understand them. There are too many and they just chatter and talk. You might as well tell me, Langston. I know I’m losing my mind. I know all the signs.”

  He snorted, “Where would you get such a thought? How do you believe you know the signs?”

  “The internet. All I had to do was search ‘hearing voices’ and I found plenty of research on the subject. I think I have schizophrenia.”

  “My dear Kristana, when one searches for something they often find it. You asked the internet to tell you that you were crazy and it did. I would imagine if I asked that same computer to tell you that you’re a medium it would resolve that query as well.”

  “A medium?” Her black eyes were wide in confusion, but a flicker of hope seemed to come to life in her expression.

  “Well, a medium is a simple description. I would call you a souler. A person who can touch souls. Although I do not understand why you are being attacked by so many spirits and souls at once. It is a mystery we must resolve. You are quickly wearing thin, I believe.”

  “I can talk to the dead?”

  He smiled gently. “The dead and sometimes the living. It is about souls, Kristana. You have touched my soul.” He saw her smile suggestively. “And our recent intimacy is not what I was referring to. At least not in its entirety. You spoke to Chelsea’s soul just yesterday.”

  “I spoke to her soul? What the hell does that even mean?”

  He explained to her what he had witnessed, how she had carried on a conversation with the child but that Chelsea had not verbally spoken. She took his words in carefully, digested them with awe and wonder. Then a realization washed over her and she rolled over to her knees again and crawled to him so that their faces were close. “You knew me. When you saw me that first day in the kitchen, you called me Kristin as if you knew me.”

  Langston pursed his lips tightly and considered his words. She was so very lovely to him and his heart swelled as he gazed upon her, at the desperate askance in her eyes. He could not lie. He could not avoid the question when he could see how important it was to her.

  “Yes, I know you. I have known you for over 130 years. Three of your lifetimes.”

  She settled back onto her rear end with a thud, dropping her hands into her lap, her expression aghast. “What?”

  “Each of those lives of yours ended very young. You died each time with your husband. This is the only life of yours in which you survived him, and I believe there must be some significance to that. What significance, I do not know. But I have an idea of how we can find out.”

  * * *

  Devan stepped through the doorway and smiled at him, though there was concern clearly evident in those piercing gold-brown eyes of hers. She was alone, and once through it, the golden doorway shrank into a speck of light until it was gone. She rushed to his side and placed her hand on his shoulder. “What’s happened?”

  He knew he must look foreign to her. He was the rock, the steady one. As Charlie had said, the “cool cucumber.” He was not cool now. He forced himself to stop wringing his hands and smiled.

  “Hello, little one. It is good to see you.”

  “Langston, for goodness sakes, what’s going on?”

  “I will explain. Please, there is someone I would like you to meet.”

  His best friend and associate Kent wasn’t with her. That bothered him as much as anything. He’d asked her to call him, to get him here as well, but when she found out he needed her assistance, she’d insisted on coming alone.

  Kent was off checking on a lead to some of the children and Devan told Langston she didn’t want to distract him. His friend wouldn’t like this at all. His plan was not without some danger and if anything happened to her because of it – he refused to allow himself to think about that.

  Devan gasped when she walked into the Sorcerer’s Apprentice room. She tilted her head back to take in the sight of the mural more fully, and her long braid of lovely brown hair nearly rubbed the floor. “Wow.”

  The sound
of someone clearing her throat turned both their heads and Kris stepped out of a dark corner meekly and held her hand out to the other woman. “I’m Kristana. You must be Devan. Langston’s told me about you.”

  A wry smile cut across Devan’s face and she eyed Langston sideways. “Good to meet you, Kristana. Actually, it’s a pleasure.” She paused a moment, staring more than might have seemed polite. “She isn’t well, is she?”

  Langston stepped forward. “Very good, little one. You are honing your abilities quickly. Her aura has been sporadic like that since the day I met her –”

  “Since you met me this time,” Kris interrupted, piercing him with dark eyes.

  Receiving the unspoken message, Langston nodded and proceeded to explain the story in its entirety. He told Devan his experience with Kristana’s past lives and deaths. After that he allowed Kris to tell them about the strange occurrence when Brock died and how she was now being plagued with voices.

  “I can’t imagine how troubling that would be,” Devan said, nodding thoughtfully. “Do they ever get quiet?”

  Kris shrugged. “Almost never. The only time I’ve had any peace has been a few times when Langston’s been with me, but knowing what I know now, I think he’s using his ‘powers’ to keep them at bay.”

  Langston acknowledged the accuracy of her words with a tilt of his head. “This is not the natural circumstance for a souler. A souler can choose to touch souls at whim. They can reach out to people and usually reach them. Sometimes they can reach a person empathically – in other words, can sense their emotions. If the person is stronger, they might communicate with them telepathically. Some people can’t be reached at all. A souler is a medium of sorts and can also converse with the souls of the deceased. Those souls come to them for a purpose; a request or guidance or to right a wrong. The spirits come and go like the change of the seasons. Somehow Kris has accumulated a great many spirits at once. This is not normal, and is taking such a toll on her emotionally and mentally.”

  “I assume you have a plan then?” Devan turned to the giant.

  He marveled at how much stronger she was now. Certainly finding out she was a powerful witch had done much to develop her confidence. He cut a brief glance to Kristana and silently hoped her gift would also have a positive impact on her life. And mine, he thought to himself.

  “I have a plan. I would like to put Kristana into a hypnotic state. I have known her in three lives and this is the first I have detected any semblance of a power from her. I want to know when she actually acquired that power and the only way to do that is to have her tell us.”

  “But how will I tell you when I don’t know?” Kris wailed. Her nerves were fraying thin and her patience was nearly non-existent at this point. Ever since Langston had tried to calm the voices, the voices had worked equally hard to make themselves known again. She felt like some battle was being waged deep inside her and that it might soon tear her apart.

  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.