She opened her mouth to speak and warn Doc but when she did she saw Lucas look at her and smile. In the very next moment he reached for Doc, swung him around backwards and took hold of his head.
Jill pivoted quickly so that her back was to them. She didn’t want to see what she knew was happening. Her mind crossed off the ways to kill a vampire: sunlight, a stake through the heart, silver bullets, decapitation.
Decapitation. Doc was dead.
The dream changed just the tiniest bit. She was now outside Devan’s cabin and Langston stood before her. He had a pistol in his hand and he held it out to her. She shook her head and stood, turning to face Lucas again. He had that confident gaze in his eyes–that look of absolute power and supremacy.
She’d been taking a pounding but she could feel Langston’s magical blood coursing through her and it emboldened her. She could hear her own heartbeat rushing in her ears and with each whoosh she felt a surge of electricity course through her body. Each and every muscle tensed in anticipation and her nerves sparked to life.
Lucas attacked again, kicking her in the gut and tossing her backwards. She bounded back to her feet and circled him, crouching low. He punched her with his right hand twice but she held her ground, waiting–waiting for the tick. His left arm raised, his head moved to the right. She dropped her body low at just the right moment and Lucas swung at thin air, toppling behind her from the momentum of his swing. She seized her opportunity and pounced onto his back, shoving him down and using the ground to pin his hands underneath his own body. Jill took hold of his head.
With all her strength she turned his head around with a forceful tug. She was able to see his eyes bug in absolute shock just before his body burst into a puff of ash.
Jill looked down at her hands, but there was only ash. She thought her hands should have been covered with blood just as Lady Macbeth’s. She wrung them and swallowed hard. When she cast her eyes back up she saw Devan and Kent working their way close to the vampire known as Adriel. The look on her friend’s face made it clear to Jill that she had a plan.
Jill’s mind wandered away from the ongoing battle. Charlie would be pleased when she returned to the hospital. But where did this leave her? Doc was still dead. The years she’d lived without him were still behind her and many more were ahead. Freedom didn’t feel nearly as liberating as she’d expected. Vengeance also wasn’t nearly as sweet as people said it would be.
She opened her mouth, touched two fingers to her lips and felt them quivering, “Doc–I miss you.”
* * *
When Jill roused from her faint she was back on the Hill but everything was eerie and quiet. She raised a hand and rubbed at her eyes, then glanced at her wet fingertips and realized she’d been crying. She reached both hands down, expecting to touch hard ground, but then she realized she was on top of another person. She lurched up and then nearly choked when her lavender eyes met crystal clear blue ones.
“Allen!” She sobbed, “Oh, Doc, you’re here. How are you here? Am I still dreaming?”
“She says not. She says you made your wish.”
Báisteach nodded, “Your choice was clearly in your heart. You knew your Allen’s soul and you knew that in this world his trueness would be revealed. You also needed to remember the things that happened. He died so that you could find yourself and you had to be willing to live because of his sacrifice.”
And so it was. She looked closer, felt his face and realized he seemed younger, less haggard. His eyes were clearer and there was a peace in his expression. Here, it is, what is.
“I love you. I love you, I love you. I've always loved you, Doc. I’m sorry I never said it–” Her words were cut off when Doc smothered her lips with his, and she kissed him back with all of the passion she’d been holding onto since the day he was taken from her.
Opening a single eye, Gerry watched as Devan stepped through the golden door and into Eden Stowe’s parlor. She was laying on her back on a couch along the far wall and luckily the other witch materialized into the room facing away from her. She twitched her nose to activate her magic and blended her appearance into the cream and black patterned cushions. It wasn’t a perfect camouflage, but Devan only gave the room a cursory look over before she called out to Kent and left the room.
Gerry took a deep breath and tightened her hands against her breast in a protective gesture. A set of glass rosary beads were clutched in both hands, though she wasn’t really praying in the true sense. She was pleading within her own mind for clarity even as she absorbed comfort from rolling those faceted beads along her fingertips. She needed to figure out the riddle of what was going on before the others did and she was sure the keys to that riddle were locked somewhere in her memories.
She heard a noise like heavy steps running down the stairs and she presumed Devan had located Kent. The silence that followed likely meant the couple were engaged in an embrace.
Sitting up and slipping her beads into the pocket of her jacket, she approached the door but didn’t exit the room. Instead, she touched fingers to the door frame and listened as Devan spoke in a breathless rush. “My father wants to meet you and the Women say you can come through the golden door with me and still keep your powers. Apparently the rumors are right and I am some sort of keeper of the gate. You won’t believe what happened… Where is everyone?”
“We’ve made a rescue. I know we agreed to wait for you to get back, but when we started looking through the papers we found out a little girl was living not far from here. We thought it best to take advantage of that and I sent Nicky and Gerry there.”
Gerry cocked a lopsided grin. She’d planted that idea in his mind without his knowing it. Briefly she’d wondered if Langston might catch onto her mind manipulation, but it was a risk she was willing to take. Too much time had already passed and she couldn’t afford to wait any longer. It had taken her days to come out of that coma, then nearly as long to recover. She had to find her sister now before it was too late.
There was silence, then she heard Kent ask, “Isn’t Jill coming back?”
Devan’s laugh bounced through the foyer, “Oh, I don’t imagine Jill and Doc will come back for a little while. They have some catching up to do and the last I saw them they were on their way to McKenna’s cabin.”
“Who the hell are Doc and McKenna?” Frustration was evident in the brusque tone of his voice.
“Oh, Kent,” Gerry heard Devan sigh loudly. “There’s too much story to tell you right now. Where’s the little girl that was rescued?”
“Langston insisted on taking Chelsea to the hospital where Jill lived. He said they’d discussed it and she’d called her friend Charlie to set it up before you two left for the faery realm.”
Slipping unnoticed into the foyer, Gerry padded in softly behind them. She lifted her head high, a practiced expression of detachment on her face. The couple was snuggled close, lost in their own conversation.
“I guess that makes sense,” Devan murmured. “I mean from what I understand it would be a good place for the kids and Langston should be able to put protections around it.”
“That was his point exactly. I agreed and let him go.”
“Where are Nicky and Gerry?”
“Nicky’s sleeping,” Gerry spoke, startling them both. “We’re ready to get started. We can take the files and leave immediately.”
Devan got a strange expression on her face. Gerry remained impassive, waiting for a response. She sighed as if bored and slipped her hands casually into her pockets so she could feel the rosary in her hand again.
“I can see you’re anxious to get started,” Devan said with a forced smile. “But Kent and I should go through the files first.”
Gerry averted her eyes from Devan in a dismissive manner and looked hard at Kent, “We shouldn’t waste time. You know how efficient I am. You know Nicky’s skills. There’s no reason to delay.”
“I’m not exactly sure what’s happened, Gerry, but I can tell you’re itchin
g to get started. Go ahead and wake Nicky while Devan and I talk.” Kent answered with a deliberate tone.
As Gerry took the stairs in slow, fluid steps she heard Devan whisper to Kent, “You do trust her, right? There are things you should know that the Women told me and–”
The words trailed off as the two of them entered the parlor and closed the door. Gerry pursed her lips into a severe line and searched her mind again for more clues. Where the hell was Dysis and what was her involvement in all of this?
The Legend of Kisselpoo
The Legend of Kisselpoo originates on the Texas Gulf Coast in the area of Beaumont-Port Arthur. This area was inhabited by the Attakapa Indians; the name Attakapa was given to them by other surrounding bands of Indians. It was rumored to mean that when they invited you to their camp for supper, you were likely the one on the menu.
The legend is similar to what Langston recounts it in this novel. Kisselpoo falls in love with a young brave from a neighboring village. She’s forbidden to marry him and so she and the brave meet in the center of Lake Sabine and drown together, sinking to the bottom.
Some years later a local DJ in that area wrote a rock-n-roll song based on the legend. J.P. Richardson (you might know him better as the Big Bopper, singer/writer of the song “Chantilly Lace”) took a young fellow to Houston to record the song “Running Bear.” Singer Johnny Coureville was chosen as lead singer, though he was convinced to change his name to Johnny Preston since it was believed no one would buy a record by a guy with a “Cajun” surname.
For more information about these and other fun facts in the Southeast Texas/Southwest Louisiana area, take a look at the Museum of the Gulf Coast in Port Arthur, Texas.
~Olivia Hardin
Tell A Soul
(A Bend-Bite-Shift Story)
Olivia Hardin
Copyright © 2012 by Olivia Hardin
All rights reserve. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
As Kristana counted out the exact change for the cost of the ad in the Rosemary Review, she felt her blood turn cold. She didn’t have much money left. If this ad didn’t produce a paying job she’d be reduced to begging on the street.
As it was, she was already living out of her little beaten down 1997 Ford Escort. She’d traded her 2011 Lexus for this old jalopy and some cash to keep her going. Thank goodness Brock had put that vehicle in her name only. It was the one good thing he’d done for her.
When Brock died suddenly in a freak construction accident, Kris’s entire life had crumpled. She’d learned that in twenty years her husband had accumulated more debt than they could pay off in twenty lifetimes. To make matters worse, she wasn’t compensated for the accident that killed her husband because he’d been trespassing.
Debt collectors hounded her until the final blanket of protection was stripped away from her. She would receive no spousal insulation from Brock’s debts because Brock was not her husband. He’d never officially recorded the certificate and their marriage was just another of his many shams. Every single thing he owned was liquidated to cover his debts.
She’d been a happy, devoted, picture perfect wife – a Stepford wife, some of their friends had called her. Those friends disappeared like scattering cockroaches when the pieces of her plastic life began to be revealed. She was left destitute, without a home, and only a very few small personal items of her own.
On the day Brock died, something “popped” inside of her, literally. She’d been home going over a shopping list when her entire mind swung 180 degrees. She knew he was dead even before she received the call. In that moment she also knew that she didn’t love him and that she was in a place she wasn’t supposed to be. Her life wasn’t right; it was terribly wrong. It was only about three days after when the voices began. They whispered at first, a few distinct voices. Then more and more joined them until she couldn’t distinguish any one voice from another. She knew what it meant. She was going insane. Now all she could do was hold on and try to survive until someone finally figured it out and locked her in a padded cell somewhere.
* * *
It was just what he expected it to be. Jill had given him careful directions and called her friend, Charlie, to advise him that Langston would be arriving. The giant smiled to himself. His beautiful blonde friend was sometimes so focused on outside distractions that she missed the most obvious solutions. Langston was a powerful witch and he had no need for directions. He could contrive a doorway to just about any place on earth. He used that ability sparingly because most people wouldn’t understand a doorway that appeared out of thin air and a giant stepping through the portal.
As he approached the hospital he stopped short when the little person, whose hand held tight to his, refused to move. Langston glanced down at the cherubic blonde girl. She placed two fingers in her mouth and turned huge brown eyes up at him.
“Chelsea, you are safe with me. I will let no one hurt you. Do you understand?”
She took a moment to mull his words over, then sniffed and took a few tiny steps to get even with him again. He smiled, nodded to her, and they headed into the hospital. A soft whooshing sound accompanied the opening of the automatic doors. He remembered Jill telling how Doc had forced the doors open the first time she’d come here. Obviously new doors were part of the renovations they’d completed.
Langston and Chelsea walked towards the T-intersection at the front of the short entryway. A shuffle-shuffle-tap sound repeated over and over to their left and Langston immediately led them down that direction. A subtle gold light bled into the hall from an open door and as they approached the room a long shadow appeared.
The little girl stopped again, though when he gazed down at her Langston could see she wasn’t afraid, just curious. She leaned her head to the side and waited for the person standing just inside the door way to step through.
Shuffle-shuffle-tap, shuffle-shuffle-tap. A graying head was held high on an otherwise aging body. The old man wore a scruffy white beard, and when he turned the corner and saw them he gave them a wide smile. “Well, I wasn’t quite expecting you already. The rescue missions must be proceeding fast.” He spoke in an age-roughened voice as he held out his free hand, the other tightly clutching the knobby end of a hand-carved walking cane. “I’m Charlie Rhodes.”
Langston shook his hand firmly and then opened his mouth to speak, but Charlie interrupted, “And you must be Andre.” He promptly placed both hands atop his cane and smiled broader.
It was clear the old man was looking for a reaction, hoping even to get a rise out of him. Langston tilted his head back so he had to look down his nose, and he grinned knowingly. He was a giant of a man, at least seven feet tall with a wide, strong chest. Jill had given him the pet name Andre in homage of Andre the Giant.
Charlie finally guffawed and leaned hard on his cane so that he could slap the giant on the shoulder. “C’mon, Langston. You don’t look anything like that wrestling fellow anyway. I’ve got a few rooms you can choose from. So who’s this little gal you’ve got with you?”
With gentle pressure, Langston tugged on the girl’s arm to lead her closer to Charlie. She was timid as a mouse, but when he gave her a sure nod she popped her fingers out of her mouth and spoke softly, “Chelsea, and I’m this many.” She held her open palm out to him
to show five fingers.
“Well, that’s a good number,” Charlie told her, slowing his shuffle-taps so that he could walk closer to her. “And five is just the right age to be able to choose your perfect room. There are several to pick from.”
And so began what seemed like several hours of contemplation – actually just about ten minutes. Chelsea took her time, placing a tiny finger to her lips in careful consideration as Charlie revealed each room to her one-by-one. Assorted Disney themes were featured in most of the rooms; Jungle Book, The Little Mermaid, Snow White. The little girl finally set her heart on a room that didn’t include any cartoon characters at all, but instead just a huge sky mural in assorted colors.
“Jill’s a talented artist, isn’t she?” Charlie remarked, tapping the giant on Langston’s calf with his stick. The older man had the look of a proud papa.
“Indeed. And this was her room.”
The old man glanced up with a knowing smile. “Yep, but she moved pretty quickly to Doc’s room when they got together. Later she wanted this one to be available for the kids.”
“Mmm. Well, it seems fitting that Chelsea is the first child to arrive and that she would choose Jill’s room.”
“Indeed,” Charlie repeated Langston’s earlier response and nodded in approval.
After Chelsea fell asleep, completely content with her new home, Langston followed Charlie to the study. It was a messy sort of room, with books stacked in piles and several open and strewn onto different tables and chairs.
“I couldn’t keep up with Doc’s research when he was gone. I was always just a country doctor, but it hasn’t stopped me from trying. I keep figurin’ if I continue studying I’ll get it one of these days.”
The giant seated himself in an empty chair, placing his large hands onto his knees to prop himself upright. He shook his head when Charlie offered him a drink, then raised a hand to indicate the old man should go ahead and have one himself.
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