The Shadow Guide (Challenging the Fates)

by Victoria Smith

  “Is there anyone here who would like to talk to us tonight?” Dave held the recorder up. “What’s your purpose for being here?”

  The oxygen seemed to leave the room as dozens of dark shapes filled the spaces, but the faces on the wall were what scared her most.

  Chapter 4

  The faces were tipped back in silent laughter. Alaina squeezed her eyes shut, hoping they would be gone when she opened her eyes. They weren’t. She heard Patrick speak, but his words didn’t register. The shadows crowded together, the room pulsing with malice and evil. Cold hands reached for her. They wanted to hurt her far more than she’d already been injured. She could feel it. She finally found enough sense to move toward the center of the bed, touching Patrick.

  Whispers of her grandmother’s name grew louder as several dark shapes approached the bed from Patrick’s side. The blinds blew into the room through closed windows as the closet door banged open.

  And the faces were still there. She tugged Patrick’s sleeve, not trusting she’d be able to get out more than a scream. The heads were closer now, pausing on the wall not far from her. They murmured something she couldn’t understand. The shadows in the room seemed to respond to them, pushing closer to the bed and becoming bolder in their attempts to touch.

  “Shit.” Patrick aimed his camera, snapping pictures as a wall of blackness swallowed Dave.

  The room darkened even more. Alaina couldn’t see well before, but now it was as if a dark curtain covered her face. She reached for Patrick, his skin cold against her hand. Or maybe she was the one freezing. Dave struggled with something from the end of the bed. The room lightened in time for her to witness Dave fall to the floor with his head in his hands.

  “Turn the lights on. Now,” Patrick yelled, his voice booming over the whispered chanting.

  Finding strength she didn’t know she had, she bolted off the bed and flicked the switch on the wall. The room flooded with light, the sense of doom remaining. She searched for signs of the faces, but they were gone. Patrick leaped off the bed and landed on the floor next to Dave. Alaina didn’t relax until Dave finally answered.

  “Lights on,” Patrick yelled into his communicator. “Everyone back to the office. Now.”

  The hum of electricity filled her ears as lights switched on, causing Alaina to realize how loud the sounds of convenience really were. Dave limped out of the room, his face pale and sweaty.

  “Come on.” Patrick reached for her as a dark shape skimmed the small area between them. Alaina’s arm stung as if she’d been slapped, and an icky coldness filled her limb.

  She scooted around the bed to grab Patrick’s hand, shaking her head. “Later.”

  She allowed him to put his arm around her, and he practically dragged her down the stairs and into the office.

  The entire crew were spooked. Dave sat on the couch, his head in his hands and an ice pack on his neck. Even Mick was bewildered as he held his arm close to his body. Another crewmember had an ice pack on his eye. Patrick sat down with a sigh, and she knew he felt responsible for their injuries.

  Only she was responsible.

  “I’m so sorry. I should have never called you all here.” She remained standing. All of this happened because of her. She waited for their stares of hatred and anger, but the responses were decidedly more positive.

  “Are you kidding? This is freaking awesome. We’ve never experienced this much activity, and in the span of fifteen minutes? Incredible.” Mick grinned and then winced as he tried to move his arm.

  “What happened?” She sat beside him, slapping his other hand away when he tried to hide his arm from her.

  “Son of a bitch hit me with a board. If I hadn’t turned, my head would be bashed in. Bastard.” He finally let her see. A large bruise already darkened the skin of his forearm.

  He winced when she made him squeeze her hand. “You need an x-ray. I think it’s broken.”

  “I don’t . . .” He shook his head. “My wife’s going to kill me. We’re in between insurance companies right now and I don’t have coverage.”

  “You’re going.” She opened the desk drawer and withdrew a credit card, handing it to him with a stern face. “It happened here, which makes me responsible. Go.” Turning at Patrick’s disapproving grunt, she pointed at him. “Don’t.”

  “If you’ll remember, we had you sign a disclaimer stating you weren’t responsible for any injuries or accidents while we investigate?” He gave her a hard look.

  She glared back at him. “So my insurance company won’t pay. I will.” Turning her back on him, she pointed at Mick. “Seriously. Go. Anyone else who got hurt goes with him.”

  Mick stood as one of the uninjured crew offered to drive him. As they left, Dave decided he needed to be seen as well. The house fell silent as the front door closed, and the remaining crew watched Patrick.

  “Let’s call it a night. We’ll let the cameras and the audio roll since they’re hooked into the computers. Thanks everyone. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  The moans of disappointment weren’t what she expected. Patrick waited until the front door closed, and then he turned to her. Patrick was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. He turned off the computer monitor and faced her.

  “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m in charge of this operation regardless of whose house it is. While I appreciate you wanting to pay the medical bills, it’s technically Mick’s responsibility. I require the crew to maintain health insurance. If they don’t have coverage, they don’t investigate, or they do so at their own risk. They all signed the waiver when coming on board. You’re not liable for this.” He snapped the laptop’s lid closed with a little more force than necessary.

  “I am responsible, and I’ll pay. I’ll do the same if anyone else gets hurt. Don’t you dare tell me I can’t. This is my fault.” She took a deep breath, willing the tears to stay hidden.

  “It’s not your fault.” He dragged out one of the chairs and sat.

  “It is my fault and you can shut up about it. I will pay doctor bills, feed you, and do whatever else I want and you have nothing to say about any of it. I should never have called you.” She leaned against the bookcase, resisting the urge to sit.

  His head snapped up, his expression hard. “You’d be dead by now if you hadn’t.”

  “What were those faces on the wall in Gram’s room?” She did sit, ignoring the crouched shadow right outside the door.

  Patrick turned his head but didn’t comment. “I don’t know.”

  “Liar. Stop trying to hide things from me. I need to understand what you think is going on and I can’t do that if you continue skirting the truth.” Her tone changed from anger to almost pleading as his expression softened.

  “The woman you saw when I touched you was my wife. Jana. The child she carried was my son. He was due three weeks from the day they both died. I found them, exactly as you described, though I never told a soul where her hands were.” He sighed.

  “I’m sorry.” She wanted to grab his hand but didn’t. “What happened?”

  Patrick touched her arm briefly before getting up and going to the window.

  “A demon killed my wife and child.”

  She stayed silent. His struggles with his private emotions were clear.

  “They’re why you’re a paranormal investigator. You want to avenge your wife and child.” Hell. She’d do no different. Her desire for revenge for Gram grew with the knowledge of the forces at work. No wonder he’d rejected her.

  “It’s always in the back of my mind. I do this to help, but I search for the demon always. I’ve sent many of those sons of bitches back to Hell, but it’ll never be enough until I find the one who took them from me.” He raised his head, his jaw set in determination and hatred.

  “How long, Patrick? How long have you bee
n searching for them?” Her anger grew. The demon had controlled his life and prevented him from fully living.

  “Five years.” He met her gaze, but she wondered if he saw her or if he saw his dead wife.

  She exhaled. All the information jumbled in her brain. “Why did they kill your wife? I mean, I’m not an expert, but Gram did teach me a lot of things. Demons don’t simply appear and kill people. Usually there’s some kind of reason. A connection. An ability regular people don’t have, or a summoning. And what kind of demon? Do you know which one?”

  “Someone summoned something. Or a deal was made. I don’t know. I haven’t been able to figure it out. The pregnancy weakened her so much. She’d been unprepared and unhappy about the legacy she felt was dumped on her. She cried the entire day of her birthday.” His head snapped up. “Are you twenty-seven already? Did Alona give you a ring?” He grabbed her hands, running his thumb over her ringless fingers.

  “I turned twenty-seven the night Gram died. I found her on my birthday. She did give me a ring—at a minute after midnight on my birthday. Then she died.”

  “Damn. I was afraid of this. I didn’t want it to be true.” He swiped his hand down his face, exhaling loudly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Why aren’t you wearing it?” He tugged her to her feet, keeping her hand as he headed for the door.

  She shook her head. “I put it on, but even more of those shadowy figures came toward me. I could see their faces underneath. It was horrifying.”

  “But they didn’t approach you in malice, did they?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.” Had they? She was so freaked out, she didn’t remember. “I don’t know. You need to tell me what in the hell is going on. What does jewelry have to do with any of this?”

  “Where’s the ring?”

  “In my nightstand drawer.”

  He grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

  The lights blazed in every room of the house, but the eerie sense of being watched remained. Alaina wondered if she was ever going to be able to sleep without fear. Patrick dropped her hand as he approached the end of her bed and went to the nightstand.

  “Put it on.” He held the ring out to her.

  She shook her head, fear nearly overwhelming her.

  “You have to. They’ll continue to try to hurt you. And my crew.”

  “That’s a dirty trick.” She took the thick silver band and slipped it on the ring finger of her right hand, pissed at him for throwing her sense of responsibility to his crew at her.

  “Maybe, but it’s on your finger. Now, sit down and let’s see what happens.”

  She glared at him for the tone he used, wanting to shout at him for ordering her around instead of asking her. The warmth of the ring and the sudden lightheadedness forced her to sit anyway. She scooted toward the middle of the bed, propping the pillows behind her. Patrick followed and, despite not wanting to, she made room for him.

  “Clear your mind and concentrate.”

  Patrick touched her hand and before she could say anything, a cool breeze moved her hair. She turned her head. The fear was gone. A woman stood beside her bed, her facial features blurred by the black shadow surrounding her.

  “Where?” The sweet voice and kind appearance covered a hateful inside. Alaina knew that as much as she knew Patrick was beside her. She closed her eyes, not sure what to do.

  “You have to make a decision.” Patrick’s voice was gentle in her ear. “Since she’s made contact, she’ll follow you until she gets an answer.” He started to say more but stopped.

  This couldn’t be real. A voice inside said she was wrong. The same voice pointed out how a chunk of something missing had slipped into place. Alaina didn’t know what it meant. She glanced around the room as the cool breeze shifted. A group of blurry-faced people had gathered at the end of her bed. She sat up, twisting the ring off her finger. She couldn’t do this. She was a gardener, not some freaky spiritual communicator.

  “Alaina.” Patrick’s voice was sharp, bringing her back from the brink of desperation. He held the ring in his hand, his palm open. “Whether or not you believe this is real, you have to say something or they’ll turn ugly and mean. Tell them when and where to come back. You have to. Tell them to wait and suggest they no longer enter your private space so you’ll be able to reclaim your sleep. Do it. Now.”

  She snatched the ring, shoving it on her finger after giving Patrick a nasty look. There were more of them now. Her stomach lurched with dread as the woman hovered over her.

  “You will wait.” She took a deep breath and focused on the woman, noticing the subtle shift in the previously sweet features. “None of you may enter this space again. Go to Alona’s room tomorrow at sunset.”

  She scanned the room, feeling their surprise more than seeing it. Though what she sensed wasn’t anger—more like relief. Maybe because she’d responded?

  “Leave me now. You may only enter Alona’s room. This is my home now and you will respect my wishes.” Alaina raised her hand, watching as the dark shapes faded from her view.

  She sank back against the pillows, drained but buzzing with excess energy. Patrick shifted to sit beside her, turning to her. “You did well.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want to wear this ring.” Alaina yanked at the silver band, stopping when he shot her nasty, exasperated eyes.

  “If it makes you feel any better, you won’t have to wear it forever. The ring is a focus tool—important for beginners, but unnecessary when the skills are honed. Though most guides continue to wear their rings.”

  “This is insane. What in the hell does this mean? What is a guide?” Emotions swirled through her—sadness, desperation, anger, and fear—all hers, and all as real as the strong pull of Patrick.

  “You’ll figure it out. I’ll help you.” He pushed a lock of hair from her face, his expression guarded.

  “Help me do what? What aren’t you telling me?” She got off the bed, anger squashing the rest of her emotions. “None of this makes sense to me.”

  He sighed, going to the door. “There’s something I need you to listen to. We caught it this morning while you were sleeping.”

  She followed, wanting to kick him more than anything else. Alaina paced the office, waiting for Patrick to queue up the audio file. He clicked to open the file on the same computer where she’d listened to the little girl’s voice this morning, and then he handed her those same damned headphones. She put them on, glaring at him as what sounded like the same little girl voice from earlier asking where she should go.

  She turned to Patrick, irritation—or maybe downright anger—in her eyes. “What the hell is that, and what does it mean? The first time she was just asking for help. Now she wants to know where she should go?”

  He unplugged the headphones, knowing it wouldn’t do anything for the volume of her voice. “I’m sorry. Okay. I’m not. Your grandmother isn’t the only one. It’s what she wanted to talk to you about. You have to take over. Help them cross into the right place and protect the innocent from the evil ones. I wasn’t positive until I heard that little girl’s voice asking for someone to tell her where to go.”

  “But you thought you knew. And you knew hours ago. Why didn’t you say something?” She ripped the headphones off her head, her hair tangling around the foam earpieces.

  “And you’d have said what? You wouldn’t have believed me anymore than you do now and you know it. You resist the paranormal, despite your vast knowledge and your gram’s extensive teachings. You always have. Alona worried about you. She said regardless of how well you absorbed what she taught you, your mind was closed up so tight fresh sunlight could barely get through.”

  Alaina stood and paced in front of the bookcases. “That’s a crock. My mind was only closed up about you. I thought we . . . well, never
mind.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I never said I didn’t believe in the paranormal. I’ve seen the shadow people before, at various times growing up, but never like this. Sometimes I’d wake up and see one at the end of my bed, or in the corner, but they were never threatening, and they never stayed when they realized I could see them.” She glared at him.

  “It’s not a trick.” He pushed the desk chair in with a little more force than necessary. “Damn it. I wish she would have at least tried to prepare you before now, despite the rules.”

  “Who? Gram? Wait a minute. You and Gram were friends. And I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her frustration and unease tangled together.

  “We were friends. But she never told me this. I guessed based on . . . well, never mind. Alaina, you’re the next in line. The one to help the shadows cross and go to their proper places.”

  She took a step back as if afraid of him.

  ~ ~ ~

  Was he serious?

  Alaina tried to laugh, but the sound wouldn’t come out. Patrick didn’t lie. The information clicked into a place where much now made sense, even though she had no idea what she was supposed to do. And she hated the whole thing. Regardless of whether or not what Patrick said was the truth, she didn’t want this.

  Patrick pushed the playback button on the computer, and the lost voice filled her head. “Won’t you please help us?” a female child’s voice begged, the same voice she’d listened to this morning. “Alaina? Please. We don’t know what to do or where to go. The mean ones are . . .” She should be furious he’d withheld this from her. Hell, she was furious, but the plea for help deadened the anger.

  Tears filled her eyes as she listened to the recording again. Patrick’s hand on her shoulder surprised her. How the gesture touched her surprised her even more. She should shake his hand off and leave. Except she couldn’t—regardless of her hurt feelings. She had a feeling she was going to need him far more than she liked.