Wild Shadow : A Sweet Paranormal Romance

by Martha Dunlop

  ‘But the zoo hasn’t even opened.’

  She nodded. ‘Max invited me to come early, to see the tigers as I’d never seen them before. Well he was right about that. And I don’t ever want to see them that way again. I don’t suppose you got any pictures or video with that, did you?’ She gestured to his phone.

  With a sinking feeling, Dylan raised up the device. It was open on the camera, but he hadn’t taken a single picture. ‘I meant to. It all moved so fast.’

  ‘Take a moment.’ Tabitha put a hand on his arm. ‘You look shocked.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Dylan nodded. ‘I’ll do that before the Playbarn mayhem starts.’

  28

  Max

  Fury drove Max hard as he pounded the empty road around the zoo. His life had been perfect. He had the best job, the respect of management, access to the tigers, and Tabitha always there to be grateful when he offered himself. Now everything had gone to shit. Why did Dylan have to get a job here? Dylan, of all people? And why did he pop up at the worst possible moments? Max had spent a lifetime trying to leave his school days behind, and now all that old humiliation was following him around in the most maddening way.

  After a couple of circuits of the zoo, he pulled in next to the tiger enclosure, hoping Dylan had gone. He got out of the van, wincing at the pain in his back, and then went round to the van doors for his large metal prod.

  ‘Max?’

  He knew that voice. Ursula. Throwing the prod back into the van before she could see it, he slammed the doors and brushed the mud off his clothes. Thank goodness he had found time to change out of this morning’s ripped and bloody uniform.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he said, standing just close enough to make her uncomfortable.

  ‘I hope so. We’ve had another complaint about you. I had hoped you might tone things down after last time.’

  Max frowned. ‘A complaint? What was it this time?’

  ‘It was from a member of staff.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that.’

  He stepped closer. He was well into her personal space now. ‘Oh, I think you can.’

  She looked at him, standing tall, shoulders back, her hands on her hips. Her face was bare of make-up and dark circles ringed her eyes. Her cheeks were chalk white in the early morning light.

  ‘Is that right?’ Ursula tipped her head back so she was looking down her nose at him despite being six inches shorter. ‘Is that beer I can smell on your breath? You shouldn’t be around the cats if you’ve been drinking.’

  ‘It was from last night,’ he said from between gritted teeth. ‘I am completely sober.’

  ‘You’d better be, because I’m watching you.’ Ursula folded her arms. ‘I will be checking up on you and checking again. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I don’t trust you and I know you’re not treating those animals right. I know you haven’t started that conservation report. I know you think you have Sophie in your pocket, but even she can’t get you out of this. Things are about to change, Max. You can either get on board, or walk.’

  Max swallowed. How had she seen so completely through him when he knew so little about her? ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Yes you do. And soon, so will I.’ She stepped around him. He shifted, meaning to barge her with his shoulder but somehow, she moved fluidly out of the way and then walked off towards the management offices.

  ‘Damn,’ he whispered under his breath, loosening the collar of his shirt. The constriction was almost physical. The zoo had never enforced the conservation clause before. He growled low in his throat, sending the sound out into the enclosure.

  An answering growl came from the bushes. The huge, yellow male stalked out, ears flat and lips pulled back from his enormous canines in a snarl. He grunted. The smaller, female walked up beside him. She went right up to the bars, tipped her head back and roared. The sound sent shivers down his spine, spiking his adrenaline and making him feel alive. This was why he did it. This was what made him real. This was what he was fighting for.

  29

  Dylan

  Dylan went straight to the recording studio after work. It wasn’t what he had imagined. He had always pictured a huge, glossy building with famous people wandering around and brainstorming creative ideas on ultra-modern sofas. This place was scruffy and downtrodden. It wasn’t anywhere near as clean as he wanted it to be, but the equipment was top of the range and the studio was entirely soundproofed. Dylan supposed nobody would know what conditions he had put up with as long as the track came out well.

  There was one technician in the control room. He looked up when Dylan came in, and then pointed at the door to the soundproofed room. ‘You go in there. Nod when you’re ready and start to sing. We’ll take it from there.’

  ‘I have a number of lines to record: voice, drums and guitar. I was told we could do them all?’

  ‘There’s a drum kit in there. Do you have everything else?’

  Dylan held up his guitar and gave an uncertain smile. He pushed the door open and walked through, shutting it behind him. He leaned against the wall. Taking a deep breath, he let the silence envelop him. He closed his eyes, ignoring the man on the other side of the glass. This was his moment, his time to create.

  Dylan started singing, but his voice was cold, and cracked in a number of places. He coughed and tried again, over-conscious of the man on the other side of the glass.

  He turned away from the microphone, putting his back to the technician. ‘Damn,’ he muttered to himself. There didn’t need to be any pressure. That guy was the only person who could hear and Dylan performed to more people every weekend at the pub. But somehow this was different. These songs were so personal and raw and his voice was so much more emotionally revealing than the drums.

  The drums. Of course. He would start there. Dylan moved to the kit. The tension drained out of his shoulders as his sticks flew over the drumheads, creating a heartbeat for the melody. This was where he was supposed to be.

  When the last beat faded, he took out his guitar and tuned it. Picking out the chords, he closed his eyes and allowed the sound to lull him. It was so familiar, so comforting and normal, and his confidence grew. He felt the pulse of the chords behind the drums, the melody and the harmonics vibrating from the melting pot of sounds that swarmed around him.

  A growl from the corner of the room made him turn. He smiled as the white tiger shimmered into sight, snaking through the room. She settled on his feet and he felt warmth flood him. A grin spread over his face. He nodded to the man on the other side of the screen and started again. This time the vocals flowed from him like water. He felt his awareness expand out of his body, watched himself sing with the tiger sitting at his feet. He saw her energy, a bright, golden shimmer that surrounded her and undulated as she shifted. He heard her yowl and the energetic vibrations toned alongside his music. From this vantage point, his song had changed. He heard the overtones and harmonics, felt them trigger something deep in his bones.

  The man on the other side of the glass was watching him with a rapt expression. When the final note rang out into silence, the man took off his headphones and nodded. He came to the door and held out a memory stick. ‘Hats off to you, mate. That was rockin’.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Dylan smiled and pulled his coat on. He crouched down to put his guitar into the solid case, and slid his drumsticks into a pocket in the lid. Now the euphoria had left, he felt drained. He raised his hand in a wave, and then went out into the cold air and shut the door behind him.

  The chill gave him just enough energy to get home. The flat was blissfully empty when he arrived, and he curled into bed, blacking out the moment his head hit the pillow.

  30

  Dylan

  A ringing forced its way into Dylan’s consciousness. He pushed it back, eluded it, did his best to ignore and escape from it. The more he tried, the louder it became, dragging him back into irritatingly clear consciousness.
>
  He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and hit answer. ‘Hello?’ he croaked, his voice still thick with sleep.

  ‘Hello darling, did I wake you up?’

  ‘Yes. What do you want, Mum? I’m in the middle of a really important nap.’

  She laughed. ‘I’ve just been talking to a friend. Her tenants have moved out and the flat has just been refurbished. Do you still want your own place?’

  Dylan sat bolt upright. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘It’s here in Wildley Forest Village, at the zoo end near Tabitha’s cottage.’

  Dylan swallowed. ‘Do you know what the rent is?’

  ‘I’ve got the details here. Would you like me to email them over? it’s fully accessible, so if you’d like to look, we could go together. My friend is here with me now and she could take us straight away.’

  ‘Yes, please send them over. Give me ten minutes to look, and then I’ll call you back when I’m a bit more awake.’

  Dylan leapt out of bed and ran through to the bathroom. In the shower he let the water pour over him, washing away the last shreds of sleep. A new place. His own place, where he could compose, rest and invite Tabitha over.

  Once out of the shower, he pulled on a smart pair of jeans and a shirt in an attempt to look like a responsible tenant, and then powered up his laptop. There was an email from his mum with an attachment. His heart pounded as he waited for it to download. Would he be able to afford it? Was it in a fit state? The rent was high, but just about manageable on his new salary. If he could get solo gigs and sell some albums, so much the better. The pictures showed a modern, neutral flat that he could make his own really quickly. The block was boxy and unattractive from the outside, but he could live with that in exchange for space and privacy.

  He dialled his mum. ‘Is she still there? I can’t imagine this will stay vacant for long.’

  ‘She is.’ Rachel sounded excited. ‘The last tenant was a wheelchair user, so it’s already been adapted. There won’t be many opportunities like this. Can you meet us in the main street?’

  Five minutes later, Dylan was standing outside the tea shop.

  ‘Over here,’ his mum called, waving her arm in the air, a familiar woman by her side.

  ‘This is Valerie,’ Rachel said, her face flushing slightly. ‘She’s a big fan of your music.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Dylan shook Valerie’s outstretched hand and smiled. ‘It’s lovely to meet a new friend of my mum’s. How do you guys know each other?’

  ‘Oh, through this and that,’ his mum said, not meeting his eye.

  ‘We’ve known each other for a while, and I have been keeping an eye out for a flat for you.’ Valerie’s smile was sincere. ‘How ready are you to move?’ she asked, reaching out and lacing her fingers through Rachel’s as they set off down the street.

  ‘If it’s a match I can move straight away.’

  Valerie smiled and gestured over the road. Dylan couldn’t help noticing that she crossed where the curb dropped without being asked or reminded.

  ‘So where’s this flat?’ he asked, following them over.

  ‘It’s not far, thank goodness.’ Rachel shivered. ‘I don’t think I can take much more of this cold.’

  ‘Make sure you’re not on your own over the next few days. There are big storms coming.’ Valerie frowned.

  ‘Nothing would keep me from Mum if she needed me,’ Dylan said, his voice sharp. ‘It would take more than a storm to keep me away.’

  Valerie nodded and let out her breath. ‘Good. I hope you know how lucky you are to have a mum like Rachel.’

  Dylan looked at Valerie, his eyes narrowed. ‘I do. I tell her so most days. That’s why she’s so conceited.’ He winked at Rachel. ‘I’m also very protective. Did she tell you that?’

  ‘Behave, Dylan.’ Rachel wagged her finger. ‘You may be a grown up, but I can still tell you off.’

  Dylan kissed the top of her head. ‘And I’m sure you always will, particularly if I rent a flat where you can get in the front door any time you like. Are you going to show us around, Valerie?’

  ‘This way.’ She smiled, meeting his gaze head-on. ‘See, there’s a ramp up to the entrance and a good, wide front door. It’s this ground floor flat.’ She held open the main door and Rachel went first. Dylan followed, looking around.

  There was a beautiful, open hall area. It was easily big enough for his mum to get inside, turn around and go into any of the rooms, including the spacious bathroom which was already fitted with rails. The floor was wooden and it gleamed in the sparkling glow of the spotlights. The whole flat smelled of lemons. The off-white walls were newly painted, and the living room had double doors that opened onto a large terrace area with a ramp. All the rooms were far bigger than Dylan had expected, and the fireplace looked real.

  ‘What’s the catch?’ He looked at Valerie, trying to read her. ‘Why can I afford this? I’ve looked at others and, believe me, unless there’s a hidden catch somewhere, this should not be within my reach.’

  Valerie held his gaze. ‘Rachel is my friend. You are her son.’

  Dylan gaped. ‘And you’d lose out on rent for our sake?’

  ‘Valerie has been there for me,’ Rachel spoke up. ‘She understands.’

  Valerie sat on one of the sofas and propped one ankle up on her other thigh. ‘Listen, My dad was in a wheelchair for years. I get it. Plus, I can afford to lose a little loose change if it makes Rachel happy. It’s worth it.’

  Dylan looked at Rachel again. She was defiant, her chin tilted up and her eyes too bright, but he could see the tear that was moments away from dropping from her eyelash to her cheek. Valerie was right. He had always wanted to take his mum into his home, but he’d never stopped to wonder how much it meant to her. He could see in her eyes now how much she had sacrificed, silently, when he took that pokey upstairs flat. ‘Thank you. I would love to take you up on your kind offer. And if you ever need a musician for a party, or whatever, let me know. It’ll be on the house, anytime.’

  Valerie beamed.

  ‘Dylan, would you have a look in the bag on the back of my chair please?’ Rachel inclined her head to the side.

  ‘In here?’ Dylan asked, and she nodded as he reached into the carrier. ‘Ah, I see. I don’t suppose you have any glasses, do you?’ he asked Valerie, holding up a bottle of sparkling wine.

  Valerie went to the cupboard and pulled out three glasses, while Dylan popped the cork and poured.

  ‘Here’s to home,’ he said, holding out his glass so Rachel could clink hers against it.

  ‘Here’s to home,’ she said.

  Dylan nodded and took a sip. He opened the door to the terrace wide. A screech from the tree on the other side of the road called his attention to the little cottage opposite. It was Tabitha’s. Emily was on the windowsill on the inside of the shop looking directly at him. She jumped down. Moments later, Tabitha came to the window.

  Dylan raised his hand. His heart was pounding.

  Tabitha brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, and then waved to him before disappearing back into the room.

  ‘Listen, I think that’s my friend’s house over the road. Do you mind if I just go and say hello?’ he said, turning back to the women.

  Valerie handed him a key. ‘I’ll get the paperwork sorted, but move in whenever you like. There’s no point in holding things up. I hope you’re happy here.’

  ‘Thank you, Valerie.’ Dylan grasped her hand. ‘You’re a kind woman. I am so pleased my mother has a friend like you. It’s good to know there are other people looking out for her.’

  Rachel tutted. ‘You talk about me as though I’m not a badass superhero.’ She knocked back the rest of her wine and wheeled over to the door. ‘I may not be able to walk, but I have other talents you mere mortals can only dream of. Take the rest of that bottle with you, Dylan, I’m sure Tab would love a glass.’

  31

  Dylan

  Dylan paused at Tabitha’s front gate. There wa
s a sign saying Shop Open, but the door itself was firmly closed. The owl shrieked. He looked up, hoping to see it, but it was buried deep in the foliage. He held up a hand, paused, and then wrapped his knuckles against the wooden door.

  He heard footsteps, a meow and then the door swung open.

  Reality shifted as Dylan looked at the woman in front of him. She was possessed by a wild beauty. She shone, from her bright copper hair to her bare feet and glinting, white toenails. Her full lips spread into a slow smile and her eyes shone bright turquoise.

  She held out one fine-boned hand, her crystal bracelets clinking together on her wrist. ‘Dylan, come on in.’ She stood back to let him pass.

  ‘I’m your new neighbour,’ he said, stepping inside and breathing into the warmth of the small room. ‘I just accepted a flat over the road. When I saw you at the window, I thought I’d come and say hello.’

  ‘I thought you’d made up with your friends?’

  Dylan frowned. ‘How did you know that? I haven’t seen you since.’

  She flushed and shook her head. ‘Never mind.’

  ‘Regardless, you were right. We have made up, I recorded a demo today, and Mum’s friend offered me a beautiful flat for absurdly low rent. Not many days come this good.’

  The tension dropped out of her shoulders and she smiled. ‘Well then, it sounds like we should celebrate!’

  ‘The bubbles are on Mum.’ He held out the bottle.

  There were only ceramic mugs this time. Tabitha poured the bubbling liquid and handed him the larger cup. Their fingertips brushed and his heart sped, his breath catching in his throat.

  Tabitha took her cup and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, her legs doubled up in front of her.

  ‘Do you mind if I look?’ Dylan asked, gesturing at the pictures that lined the walls.