The Shadow Guide (Challenging the Fates)

by Victoria Smith

  A sense of dread settled in her stomach. Patrick knew more than he was letting on. What was Gram’s big family legacy she wanted to pass on, and did it have anything to do with the creepy crap going on around her? She thought about the weird ring in her nightstand drawer as she closed her eyes, her body tingling with the need for sleep.

  When she opened her eyes, her surroundings startled her for a few seconds. She was on the couch in Gram’s study, the hum of electrical equipment comforting. Alaina stretched and sat up, feeling better than she had in days.

  Patrick faced her from the desk. Two of his crew worked at a table set up against the bookshelves on the other side of the room. They wore headphones and didn’t seem to notice she was awake. When she spotted Patrick, he smiled with that stupid compassion she’d witnessed earlier.

  “Feeling better?” he asked quietly, glancing over at the guys at the table.

  “Yeah. What happened?” The last thing she remembered was leaning against the door as she tried to figure out what had happened to her neat and orderly life.

  “You passed out . . . umm . . . standing up. Well. I . . . uh. Managed to catch you before you hit the floor. I hope you don’t mind sleeping here, but I wanted you to get some decent rest . . .” The stumbling over words was new. Why was he nervous?

  “If sleeping on this ancient, lumpy couch means I can feel this good, then I don’t care if you move your whole operation here.”

  His smile flipped her stomach and she hated it. She shouldn’t want anything to do with him, but damned if she didn’t still think about him in the middle of the night. And want to be with him.

  She shook her head to destroy the thought. “Has anything been lurking around?”

  Patrick laughed sarcastically, and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer. “We’ve had more activity since you’ve been sleeping than the entire night last night. We took turns keeping watch over you until they finally stopped coming in about an hour ago. Some . . .” He turned to the computer screen.

  “What? Some what? What were you going to say?” She folded the quilt he’d placed over her, ignoring the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

  Patrick glanced at the screen before turning back to her with intense concentration. “Some definitely want to hurt you. There’s something serious going on. We need to figure it out before they do more than put a red mark on your wrist or force you to stay in the bathroom.”

  She shivered. “This might sound crazy, but do you think Gram was murdered by those things?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe. Without knowing more, I don’t even want to guess.” He turned away.

  “Wait. Besides my wrist, what happened to make you believe some of them want to hurt me?” Alaina almost didn’t want to know the answer.

  Patrick sighed, wiping his face with his hand and leaning back in the office chair. “There’s a strong sense of malevolence.”

  It took all she had not to roll her eyes. She may have, but Patrick hadn’t seemed to notice. “I’m afraid I’m going to need a little more. I don’t pretend to be psychic, and even I can tell they’re evil. A baby could figure that out. I don’t need you to patronize me. Remember who I grew up with.”

  He lifted his head at her tone. The grin was a little out of place. So was his calm response. “Understood.”

  His smile made her want to smack him. It also convinced her, regardless of her crushed pride, that Patrick was a jerk. Too bad he was a jerk she obviously needed around. For now.

  “I’m simply asking you to stop treating me like an idiot. I know there’s something going on in this house. I don’t need your psychic abilities to tell me that. It’s also obvious some of those things want to hurt me. I wouldn’t have called you if I thought there was any other way to handle this. I didn’t call you for the old man smoking his pipe by the fireplace, or the ghost cats. Gram trusted you. I trust your reputation.” A wave of grief swelled, but she stomped it down. She could finish grieving for Gram when this was over—if it ever was.

  Patrick had the nerve to laugh. “I appreciate your honesty. All I was trying to say is that I don’t have enough information to hazard a guess right now. Hopefully after tonight we’ll know more. I’ll need you here since they’re connected to you. And yes, I definitely think these things are related to your grandmother.” He was still keeping something from her.

  She noticed he didn’t say a word about her cut against his psychic abilities or how she hadn’t wanted to call him. More proof he thought this was more serious than he was letting on. Alaina checked her watch.

  “Have you and your guys eaten?” For the first time in days, she was famished. There were enough casseroles in the freezer and fridge to feed a small country.

  One of the guys at the table in front of the bookcase took off his headphones and turned. “I’m starving.”

  Alaina smiled at him. “Then you’re drafted as long as your boss says you can take a break.”

  “Whatever.” Patrick kept his focus on the computer.

  “Come on then.” She couldn’t tell Patrick the idea of going into the kitchen alone was what really prompted her into recruiting help.

  Of course, Patrick’s expression gave her the impression that he already knew.

  Her cell phone rang. Alaina glanced at the caller ID, rejecting the call when she saw it was from the woman who ran the historical society. She’d called four times since Gram died, wanting to know if Alaina was still going to allow the group to meet at the house and asking if she could come over to inspect things. Eventually Alaina would have to talk to her and tell her she wouldn’t be able to keep the house open for them, but now wasn’t the time.

  “I’m Mick.” He held out his hand and she shook it with a smile as she entered the kitchen.

  “Right. I remember now. Thanks for volunteering. I didn’t want to tell your crotchety old boss I’m a little nervous about being alone right now.” She led the way, stopping at the refrigerator and removing container after container of food to hand to him.

  “He’s not my boss.” Mick took the various foil pans and disposable plastics and set them on the counter.

  “What?” She closed the refrigerator and turned to face him.

  “I don’t work for Patrick. I’m a volunteer. We all are. We’re a bunch of guys with an interest in paranormal phenomena. Most of us have had some kind of experience that left us wanting to know more.” He raised an eyebrow as he peeled back the foil on an enormous casserole dish. “He only wants to help. We all do. We all have full-time jobs. Most of us have flexible hours. I work as a programming consultant, so I’m usually available any time, but other guys can only do weekends. Patrick will only accept payment if the family can afford it. He goes off his psychic feelings to decide.”

  “How does he pay the bills then?” She knew Patrick didn’t have a job like the rest of his team.

  “Family inheritance. Apparently, his grandfather was some kind of real estate mogul. Left him enough to live three lifetimes when he died. He invests his own money in equipment and pays all expenses, plus we get bonuses on occasion.”

  “I had no idea.” Sure. Give her another reason to like the guy when he was off-limits.

  “Patrick’s never been one to let people know what a good guy he is.” Mick took the lasagna from her and slid it into the oven. “I won’t tell you about his charity work or how he started college funds for my kids. Or the time he forced my old employer to cough up the six weeks’ worth of pay he owed me.”

  “What happened to his wife?” she’d asked Patrick that night in the greenhouse, but he hadn’t answered.

  “She died five years ago. You’ll have to ask him for details, but he doesn’t like to talk about it. She was pregnant, so he lost his kid, too. He needs to move on, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready. I think he is, but he won’t listen to
me. I’m really sorry about your grandmother, by the way. Alona was a great lady. She consulted with us on so many cases and became a really great friend to all of us. She watched my little girl when my wife went into labor with our son. Her passing was a shock to all of us.”

  Alaina nodded, suddenly too choked up to speak. She’d had no idea Gram was so involved with the guys who volunteered their time to learn more about a different world. She knew Gram helped Patrick and his team, but she had no idea of anything else. They’d all been at the funeral, but she hadn’t thought too hard about anyone’s grief but her own.

  She wondered about Patrick’s wife and what had happened as she stared out the window at Gram’s roses in the backyard. “Oh my gosh.” Alaina whipped the door open and ran to the flowerbeds.

  “What is it?” Mick followed.

  “Look.” She pointed at what used to be a beautiful garden. Each rose had been beheaded, the flowers dried on the ground around the bushes. “They weren’t like this earlier. Who would have done such a thing?”

  Dread rushed through her as she studied her greenhouse. The building seemed untouched from the outside. Thankfully, she was in between growing seasons for the next few days and there was nothing inside. She couldn’t imagine how much it would have cost her herb business, Lavender’s, otherwise. She scanned the other plants in the garden. Alaina had spent hours helping to position the plants the way Gram had wanted them. Now, the garden was rubbish.

  “I don’t know, but we’d better let Patrick know. There’s no way those blooms would be so dried up if they were living this morning.” He picked one up, holding it between two fingers, and inspected the wilted and blackened petals.

  Alaina shivered, cold despite the afternoon sun. Mick grabbed one of the dead flowers and followed as she went back into the kitchen. The sense of being watched overwhelmed her as the door slammed behind her as she entered, leaving Mick outside. She cautiously peeked into the formal dining room, turning back to the kitchen as a pan from the pot rack flew toward her face. She clutched the doorknob, trying to get back outside as she ducked. The door wouldn’t open. Cupboard doors rattled, the faucets turned on, and the silverware drawer opened. Forks and spoons hurtled out of the drawer toward her. Some clattered to the floor, while others pinged off her skin as she raised her arm to keep them away from her face.

  The knives from the butcher block beside the stove rose up, and she finally managed a scream. The silver blades glinted as they slowly turned to point toward her, hovering in mid-air as if waiting for the command to strike. She tried to get out of the way but couldn’t move.

  ~ ~ ~

  Patrick slid across the tile in the kitchen, dragging Alaina to the floor as the knives stuck in the door over their heads. Alaina shivered as he moved her enough to open the door for Mick, who had begun pounding on the other side. She clung to Patrick as he stood and pulled her up and to the side so Mick could enter.

  “What the hell happened?” Mick scanned the room. Patrick did the same, realizing what had gone on in the kitchen before she screamed.

  Alaina took a deep breath but didn’t move. “We went out to investigate Gram’s garden. All the flower heads are cut off. Gram’s herbs are destroyed. I came in to check the food, and things went nuts. I didn’t see any shadows, but the drawers, the pans, the knives . . .”

  She shuddered. The fear surrounding her finally seeped away, and he realized he could now absorb some of her emotions.

  “From now on, I don’t want you going anywhere without one of us.” Patrick released her when she took a deep breath and moved away.

  “What about the bathroom?” She raised an eyebrow. Good. Her control had settled back into place much quicker than he’d hoped. She’d need that skill throughout the night. Patrick was sure it was going to be a long one.

  “That salt stuff at the doorway, or I go in with you.” He wiggled his eyebrows and watched her blush, wondering why he was flirting with her in the midst of chaos. Wondering why he was flirting with her at all after how he’d hurt her feelings.

  Mick handed him the flower he’d brought in from the vandalized rose bushes and explained what the rest of the garden was like. The sense of evil jolted him as soon as the withered petals touched his hand. He put the dead flower on the counter in an effort to release the sense of dread he felt.

  “We did catch something on the audio last night. I think you should hear it.” He didn’t really want to add to her stress, but they needed to figure this mess out as soon as possible.

  “I’ll clean up in here,” Mick said, unsticking one of the knives from the back door.

  “Thanks.” Alaina’s voice was small and wounded. It took all Patrick had not to put his arm around her. Instead, he headed toward the office they’d commandeered, Alaina right behind him.

  “Where are the other guys?” she asked as she scanned the empty chairs.

  “Sent them home to sleep. They’ll be back tonight. What we have from when you weren’t here isn’t much.” He motioned to the chair he’d occupied while he’d watched her sleep. “I’d like to get the equipment set up for tonight as soon as you hear this.”

  If his suspicions were correct, things might start clicking into place for her soon. He was pretty sure she should at least feel something already. He hoped her pragmatic attitude was the start. If there were only a few days until Alaina’s birthday, he was certain Alona would have at least started preparing Alaina for what happened next. Her actual training wouldn’t begin until she turned twenty-seven. It’d be a lot easier on him if she realized at least some of what was happening in her life. Unless Alona died before passing on the ring. If she had, then all they could do was wait out the siege until the spirits realized Alaina couldn’t help them.

  He couldn’t form the words to at least prepare her for what she was about to hear on the recording. If Alona hadn’t prepared her or passed on the ring, there was no reason to introduce her to a world she probably knew nothing about. Wearing it would help bring the spirits in line and give her control over them. She’d be able to do her job without the scary stuff going on now, if she was destined to take over for her grandmother—if her grandmother had really been what Patrick thought. The only thing the mentor could do to prepare their successor was to teach them about the spirit world and give them the tools to protect themselves, otherwise it would trigger a curse. If the next in line knew the full scope of the job before receiving the ring, they would be open to influence and communication with the other realms. The stress of that had proven detrimental to anyone who’d known what was in store for them before the passing of the ring. He’d have to try to determine what she knew first.

  He clicked the mouse to bring up the recording and handed her the headphones. Shock crossed her face as she listened to the voice-phenomenon he’d recorded while sitting on her bed last night.

  “What is that?”

  “What does it sound like to you?” He tried to come across as calm and helpful, but the mean eyes she turned on him said he failed.

  “What does it sound like to you?” she mocked and then took a deep breath. “I’m not playing this psychological game with you. We both know what it says. What the hell does it mean?” She moved the mouse from his hand and clicked to replay the recording. “‘Help me, Alaina.’ That’s a little kid’s voice. A little girl. It’s pathetic and sad. Why? How am I supposed to help her? And don’t yank my chain. I want the truth.” She nailed him with a hard stare that dared him to skirt the issue. “What is the sound in the background?”

  “I don’t know about that either. It sounds like chanting and laughter. We’ll see what we get tonight and compare.” Would she see through his attempt to hide his fear?

  If she did, she didn’t let on. Alaina nodded and took the headphones off. “How can I help get things ready?”

  Mick entered the room, a glass of milk in one
hand and a plate of cookies in the other. He laughed. “Get rid of some of those stupid glass animals.”

  Patrick could have decked him. Those cutesy animal figurines, no matter how annoying and in the way, had been Alona’s treasures. He’d listened to hours of description of where she’d gotten each item, who’d given it to her, and how special each was to her. Mick’s request was bound to piss Alaina off more than she already was.

  “That I can do, but you might want to check the milk before you drink it. I think it might be past its expiration date.” Alaina took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and peered out the den doorway before glancing back at Patrick. “I know they’re Gram’s precious bits. She made me promise I’d make the house mine, or burn it to the ground. I don’t know what I’ll do with them yet. But I won’t be dusting them every day like she did.”

  Patrick tried to hide his surprise. Alona had been practical down to the reuse of plastic bags and disposable silverware, but her practicality didn’t apply to the figures. He would’ve never guessed she’d insist Alaina do whatever she wanted with the house, including burning it. That had taken him off guard, but knowing Alona, she had a reason for the statement. Of course, her granddaughter’s obvious love of the old place would mean no huge changes.

  “I think there are some empty boxes in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs.” She fingered one short vase among many lining the bookshelves. “Probably some bubble wrap and packing material, too. Gram saved everything she thought she could reuse. I don’t know what to do with these things, but they can’t stay. They remind me too much of her.” Alaina turned her head.

  “I’ll get them,” Mick said, rushing out the door before Patrick could warn him to be careful.