The Shadow Guide (Challenging the Fates)

by Victoria Smith

There was nothing unusual in this house beyond the spirits he’d seen in the past. The older pipe-smoking man. The young woman who travelled between the landing and the front door as if waiting for a visitor. The young boy who hid behind furniture or sat in the tree in the backyard. And a fluffy, white cat. None of those entities had appeared tonight, which was odd considering Patrick had seen the old man and the cat on more than one occasion without his equipment.

  He probably should have asked Alaina for a little more detail before shooing her off to the hotel, but in truth, he’d wanted to catch some footage of the elusive, lingering echoes, even if that was all the old house had to offer.

  “Let’s call it a night.” He replaced his walkie-talkie onto his belt and flipped on the light switch in the hall. Using cell phones would be easier, but Patrick found that there was too much interference when messages came in and emails were received. Plus, it was hard to get his volunteers to remember to stay off them.

  Dawn flickered on the horizon as he and his crew wound cables and disconnected cameras. He loaded the van, disappointment settling over him, along with the sense that something wasn’t right. Or maybe it was simply worry about how well Alaina was going to take the news nothing had appeared in the house tonight. Alaina arrived, bathing the back of the van in light as she pulled her vehicle to the grassy area beside the driveway. Patrick didn’t know what he expected, but the tired, washed-out woman who got out of the car wasn’t it.

  “You didn’t sleep.”

  “Nightmares.” She glanced behind her.

  He didn’t believe her, but why would she lie?

  “How’d it go?” she asked, leaning against the side of one of the SUVs.

  “We have to review the evidence.” He opened the door and hung the extension cord on the rack.

  “I think I’m entitled to a little more than that.” She covered a yawn with her hand, the sarcasm lessened by her fatigue.

  He sighed and glanced at her. “We’ll have to see what the video and audio give up.”

  “Which means nothing happened that you noticed.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. I don’t know what to tell you. I know you wouldn’t have called me for the fun of it, but not a damn thing happened to any of us.”

  Patrick didn’t know what he expected her to say. She opened her mouth, but apparently changed her mind and nodded. “Well, thanks for trying. I guess I’ll try to figure this mess out myself.” No anger, sarcasm, or attitude. Only a tired acquiescence that stabbed at his heart.

  Damn.

  “Let us go over what we recorded before you get discouraged. I never said I didn’t believe you. I only said we didn’t have any personal experiences. Who knows what will show up in the evidence?”

  She nodded, but said nothing.

  “I’ll be in touch within the next few days. Don’t be afraid to call me if something does start happening. Seriously. I’m only a few minutes away.” He used the same speech after each case, but saying the comforting words to Alaina was different.

  She wouldn’t call him. No matter what. He knew how much pride it had cost her to contact him this time.

  ~ ~ ~

  Alaina watched Patrick and his crew leave with a sigh. Closing the front door, she turned, ready to go to bed and at least try to get some of the sleep she hadn’t been able to last night. Her chest clenched as a dark figure darted from the closet and through the wall to Gram’s formal living room.

  Crap. She didn’t know why she’d dared to hope they’d really be gone. Of course, she already knew why nothing had happened here last night. All of them had followed her to the hotel. Rubbing her wrist, she went to the kitchen to get some ice, trying not to think too hard about what had grabbed her. She wanted to believe she’d dreamed it and the crowd of shadows standing at the end of the bed. The whole scene had lasted less than a second, but the bruising, sore spot on her wrist made the memory linger. She’d spent the rest of the night in the hotel coffee shop surfing the Net for information about what could be going on and trying to convince herself she was imagining things. Why hadn’t she told Patrick?

  This was her problem. Apparently. And she’d deal with it. Somehow. A cold blast of air stopped her at the top of the stairs, raising the hair on the back of her neck. She glanced around, checking the walls for the hideous face she’d seen yesterday. The face there now was evil, threatening, and made her blood turn cold. Loud moaning filled the hall as she walked by, but nothing appeared. She kept walking, hoping the sound would go away if she ignored it.

  She should have known better.

  A wall of flames erupted in front of her. No heat touched her as a blackened hand shot out from the fire, reaching for her throat. Alaina stepped back, swallowing the scream no one would hear, and caught herself before she tumbled backward down the stairs. Dark laughter replaced the moan, echoing off the walls.

  She almost called Patrick as the noise faded but couldn’t bring herself to actually dial his number even though he seemed to want to believe her. Hell, maybe it was her imagination. She needed sleep—and lots of it. The thickness of the air in her bedroom made her choke. Dark mist swirled around her head and feet. The gargoyle-like figure on the dresser was back. She didn’t get the same feeling of malevolence from it but knew it wouldn’t be too long until the red-eyed one appeared. It seemed to follow her everywhere.

  Slamming the door, she grabbed the throw pillows and tossed them at the unwelcome visitors. “Get out. Get out. Get out,” she screamed as they disappeared.

  She opened her dresser drawer and yanked out a clean pair of underwear. An old tea box tumbled to the floor. The memory hit—Gram had given her this to help protect her, and she’d forgotten—she must be more exhausted than she realized. She gathered the wooden box with her clothes, picked up her cell phone, and went to the bathroom. She dropped to her knees after slamming and locking the door, spreading a thick line of the salt and herb mixture from the box across the bottom of the door.

  Alaina had no idea if it would really do anything, but she felt stupid for not at least trying it before she’d called Patrick the first time. Gram told her it kept out all kinds of bad spirits when she first started teaching her about the paranormal. She’d given her a new supply of the stuff every New Year’s, taking the old in exchange. Alaina always figured it was one of the old lady’s quirks—like the knickknack collecting and the country line dancing.

  Gram spent countless hours teaching Alaina about things not many people believed in but were still afraid of. She said she didn’t ever want Alaina to be caught unawares if spirits ever showed up. That obviously hadn’t worked. Alaina was completely thrown off-balance. Now she wondered if Gram had known they eventually would. Alaina rested her head on the door. A slight sense of safety swept over her for the first time since Gram’s death. She closed her eyes, drifting, until loud bangs vibrated against her head from the other side.

  Apparently, whatever was out there couldn’t get in. Good. Now if she only had a pair of earplugs. She started the water, stripped down, and stepped under the hot spray, needing a shower almost as much as sleep. Her body relaxed—until thoughts of Patrick seeped in to make her tense in a different way. She still didn’t want to think about him, or want to like him. Well, except for the way he looked in jeans and a tight T-shirt. She tried to push the sexual thoughts out of her head and remember that he wasn’t interested in her. There was no way she should be thinking about what it would be like to be naked against him. Except, despite his rejection, she was.

  The thoughts didn’t last long as howling came from her bedroom, accompanied by heavy thuds against the bathroom door. Maybe she was numb or too tired to care anymore. She blocked out the sounds as she washed, staying under the spray until the old hot water heater in the basement coughed out the last vestiges of warmth. The noise continued as she dried and then dressed.

  The
thought of going back through the room twisted her stomach into knots. Her courage had lasted through her shower, but now, it seemed, she was out of any and all bravery. Alaina glanced at her cell phone on the vanity and sighed. She had no choice but to call Patrick. She couldn’t handle this alone. Despite all her bravado and her humiliation over their past, she needed him.

  He answered on the first ring, his voice a mix of confusion and dread. “What’s wrong?”

  Alaina leaned against the sink, panic stealing her breath as the noises outside her safe haven increased. “I don’t . . .”

  “What’s going on?”

  Realizing she’d probably woken him, guilt seeped through her. “I can’t . . . they’re . . . I . . .” She tried to get something coherent to come out, but the sputtering was all she managed.

  “I’ll be right there. Don’t hang up.”

  Finally, she found her voice and her sense. “I’m trapped in my bathroom.”

  “You’re safe though, right?”

  “Yeah. I think. Scared.” She hated to admit that, but it was the truth. The fear she’d experienced previously was nothing compared to what was outside her door.

  “I’m going to put you on hold for a few minutes while I get my team together, okay? Don’t hang up.” The phone beeped, and silence filled her ear before she had a chance to answer him.

  Alaina swore the door was going to splinter. What sounded like metal raked against the wood, along with a low, feral growl that reminded her of a really pissed-off—and maybe rabid—dog. She laughed, a hysterical sound that bounced off the ceramic tiles and mocked her. What was taking Patrick so long?

  Before the thought finished, Patrick clicked back over. “Alaina? You hanging in?” The concern in his voice frightened her more than the chaos outside the door.

  “I’m okay,” she lied. She was anything but okay.

  “I’m on my way. The crew is going to meet me there. Luckily, we didn’t have time to unload the trucks from last night.”

  “The front door is locked.” Nausea rose at the thought of having to leave the bathroom to let him in.

  “I know where Alona keeps the key. You didn’t move it, did you?” An engine started. Her relief didn’t last as the sound of shattering glass filled the room.

  “No. I forgot about the spare.” She’d have moved it had she remembered.

  Trying her hardest to ignore the racket, she brushed her teeth and combed her hair. She glanced in the mirror, realizing her appearance was total hell. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, and her skin had a sickly, white hue. Why on earth she cared what Patrick would think was way beyond her—or so she told herself.

  “Alaina. I’m here. Let me in.” Patrick’s voice finally sounded from the other side of the door.

  She unlocked and opened the bathroom door, staring into wild, concerned eyes. He reached for her, and against her better judgment, she went into his arms. Keeping her emotions under control was a fight, especially with the comfort he offered. Knowing she wasn’t alone was what finally undid her. She was so tired of fighting this all by herself.

  “Are you okay?” he asked into her hair when she managed to regain her composure.

  “Yeah. Sick of this whole thing. I have no idea what they want.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have realized they were attached to you. What happened last night?”

  She held out her arm to show him her wrist.

  He grimaced, touching the dark bruise tenderly. “This is not good.”

  Chapter 2

  Definitely not good.

  Patrick didn’t want Alaina to see the long, deep scratches on the outside of the bathroom door. Or the dark red puddle on the floor beside the stuff she’d placed at the entryway.

  “What’s that?” He already knew what it was, except for the green and black flecks throughout the salt.

  “Salt and herbs. I think herbs. I’m not sure exactly. Gram gave it to me.” She peered around him into her room. “She used to tell me it would protect me if I ever got scared. I never believed her until now.”

  “I’d be interested to know. Seems like powerful stuff.” He stepped back, grabbing her hand as she moved to walk past him. “There’s nothing in this room anymore. I don’t know if we scared them off or if they got sick of not being able to get to you.”

  Then again, maybe he was wrong. Patrick caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and watched the shifting shadows on the opposite side of the room. Negative energy and desperation swirled around him, through him, as he tried to decipher the alternating impressions. He’d noted the remnants of the heavy malevolence when he’d entered the room—there had been some pretty pissed-off spirits here—but what he felt now was different. The darkness swelled and revealed an indistinguishable shape along with a sense of confusion and searching. At first he believed the small outline to be an animal, but as it moved across the floor, Patrick realized it was in fact probably as tall as him. The thing scuttled around the room on all fours with quick, jerky movements as if searching for something.

  Patrick had never seen anything like it. The creak of a floorboard startled the creature. The human-like head raised and scanned the room, disappearing as soon as it realized Patrick watched. The tightness eased from his chest and the room brightened. Alaina took a deep breath, stopping to glance at him. His gut twisted and all he could think about was how good it felt to hold her. Guilt at how he’d treated her filled him, though he was still sure he couldn’t become involved with her.

  “We’re going to figure it out.” He touched her shoulder, not trusting himself to do more than brush her skin as he passed. “I had the crew set up in Alona’s office again. I hope that’s okay?”

  She nodded and followed him, staying close enough he could grab her out of harm’s way if he had to.

  “Tell me exactly what happened last night.” He should have realized the spirits had followed her.

  He watched a dark shape skitter across the landing, not realizing she’d answered his request for details until she punched his shoulder. “You asked.”

  “Sorry.”

  She described again how she’d seen something in the back seat of her car as she drove to the hotel. Then she’d been poked and bothered all night until whatever made the marks on her arm tried to yank her from her bed. She’d gotten up and gone to the coffee shop. Even then, they’d watched her from darkened corners, reaching out to her if they realized she saw them.

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of that this morning?” He blew out an exasperated breath.

  Alaina shrugged. “You know I didn’t want to call you to begin with after . . .” She stopped, her shoulders sagging. “I was stupid and I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes were sad and scared and his irritation vanished. They turned the corner into the den where the crew was nearly finished setting up the equipment. The events of last night weren’t a good sign. Something was escalating and if he didn’t stop it, she was going to get hurt worse than she already was.

  “I’d like to run the equipment again tonight, this time with you here,” Patrick said.

  Alaina didn’t raise an eyebrow. She leaned against the doorjamb and nodded. Exhaustion rolled off her in waves, as did the sense of dismay and desperation. This was the first time he’d gotten so much from her, though he still couldn’t read her deeper emotions. Her fatigue was probably responsible for what he did get.

  “Do they leave you alone during the day?” Patrick watched as she fought to keep her eyes open. She needed sleep.

  “No. Everywhere I look, there’s something. They find a way to wake me as soon as I get into a good sleep. There are more every day. It’s like they want my attention, but why?”

  His stomach dropped. The thought that had always been in the back of his mind when he was with Alona smashed into hi
s consciousness. He almost had to run to the bathroom to vomit. If he was right, this was going to get even worse unless Alaina knew what she was supposed to do. Maybe he was wrong.

  “Did your grandmother ever explain what she did?” He probably should wait until she was rested and he had more information, but he had to know.

  She yawned and shook her head. “What do you mean? She was a church secretary until five years ago.”

  “That’s not quite what I mean. Did she ever mention a family legacy, or a passing of tradition?” Alona couldn’t have prepared her since Alaina’s birthday wasn’t for a few more days—at least he thought. She was almost exactly six years younger than him, if he remembered correctly. Alona had always tried to make Alaina’s birthday special. Two weeks ago, she’d invited him to come for a dual birthday celebration this coming Saturday night, but he’d declined. Alaina wouldn’t have wanted him there. Patrick needed more to go on before he questioned her. He didn’t want to freak her out without reason. She wore no ring on her right hand, which had to be a good sign. He hoped.

  Alaina seemed confused. “We were supposed to have dinner the day she died. She wanted to discuss a family issue with me and how it was soon time for me to take over for her. I kind of figured she meant her genealogy work, but she was acting so strangely. Secretive almost.”

  Patrick didn’t want anything to do with this. If his suspicions were correct, Alaina was the very thing he’d sworn to never become involved with again. He couldn’t do it. He’d already lost everything. Maybe somewhere deep inside he’d always known and that was why he’d walked away that night.

  ~ ~ ~

  Patrick’s weird questions should have had Alaina asking questions of her own, but she was too tired to care right now. She needed sleep before she collapsed. She was afraid. Whatever was here wanted to hurt her. If the red mark on her arm could be done before she was even aware they were in the room, what would stop them from doing much worse?

  Like maybe they’d done to Gram?

  She ignored the kindness in Patrick’s deep brown eyes. It didn’t matter that he seemed to know what he was doing. Alaina still didn’t want him wandering around her house and reminding her of her mistake. She’d been weak in calling him. What was wrong with her? She should have done some research and called someone else for help this time.