“It’s Latin… I think?” Harmon looked at the words. At least the letters made sense. He looked up at his friend Ollie one more time before beginning the chant in terrible Italian. “Primo il sangue si fa nebbia, quando la nebbia si fa intera, un nuovo sguardo.” Harmon was gone in a blink. Just Ollie left in the attic with the old family treasures.
Harmon found himself lying on a stomach that wasn’t his, dainty long-nailed fingers holding a phone in a bright case. He looked down to see two buds on his chest pressing into a bed he didn’t recognize. A canyon of cleavage greeted his sight along with locks of hair sliding into his view. A feminine gasp escaped Harmon. His hands immediately reached to feel lips where a familiar voice had just come out of. They felt completely foreign, nothing like his old features. Harmon felt the rest of his face, almost massaging the strange flesh and bone that now belonged to him. A voice from the hallway outside startled him, and he pushed himself up slightly.
“Harmon?” Ollie’s voice echoed outside the door in the hall, almost a whisper. Ollie probably didn’t want his parents to hear they were messing with the spellbook. Harmon got up; his proportions felt completely off, stumbling to the door and cracking it open a bit. He grabbed Ollie and tried to drag him in. It took a lot more effort than Harmon expected.
“Let go of me, Emily! This is serious, I gotta go.” Ollie yanked his arm away violently and tried to go back to his search. Harmon grabbed Ollie’s arm again, this time yanking with all his might to tug him into the room, locking the door behind him.
“What, Emily!?” Ollie looked like he was on the verge of tears. Harmon wanted to laugh at his friend being so distraught over him.
“Ok, ok, ok… soooooo… I’m not Emily. It’s me, Harmon.” Ollie paused for a second. “Oh fuck no.” He looked Harmon up and down. “We are getting you out of my sister. NOW! Where’s that damn spellbook!”
