The Shadow Guide (Challenging the Fates)

by Victoria Smith

  Sitting in the desk chair, he waited for the file to buffer as he put on headphones. His stomach twisted, but he didn’t want to think too hard about why. And then the recording replayed in a language he could understand.

  “On lustiest. Shoestrings. Puny, heedless hero.”

  What the hell? He listened again, the twisting in his stomach more like a tornado. What were they talking about? Opening the second file, he hoped for something that made sense.

  “Weedy ole outrages. Keen heroines warm meatiness. Low, ideal younger.”

  Fuck. Definitely not what he’d hoped for. He set the program to translate again. Maybe there’d been some kind of glitch in the transfer.

  Alaina stood in the doorway. “Are you okay?”

  Patrick didn’t expect her to be so caring after how terribly he’d treated her. She sat on the couch, placing her hands between her knees.

  “A little confused.” He handed her the headphones, starting the playback as soon as she adjusted them over her ears.

  “What’s that mean?” She shook her head. “Shoestring? Why would they care about your shoestrings?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the translation program didn’t work right.”

  She listened to the second recording before taking off the headphones. He tugged on her hand, urging her into his lap. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

  “It’s okay. I know you’re stressed. Everything happened so fast.” She spoke into his hair, her breath tickling his neck.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close.

  “Maybe they’re trying to wear you down. The second one sounded like a threat to me.” He picked up the headphones as Alaina moved from his lap. “Maybe.” Or he was missing something. He turned and noticed the book in her hands. “You found the book? Where?”

  “In the chair. I managed to get through a few chapters, but it’s hard to read.” She handed it to him.

  “Because it was written thousands of years ago.”

  “How the hell is some ancient book supposed to help me then?” She got up to pace the small space in front of the couch.

  “Apparently, as you grow in your skill, you’ll be able to read it.” He closed the book, running his fingers over the embossed red leather in amazement that it pretty much appeared brand new.

  “And how am I supposed to grow in my skill if I can’t read the book the right way?”

  “Guides are always first daughters. The skill is passed down through the females in the family. Mother to daughter, grandmother to granddaughter.”

  “Okay.” She shook her head. “How does that help me?”

  “It doesn’t, but at least you’ll be informed. Alona would have taught you all of this, or maybe your mother.” He met her eyes.

  “My mother was a first daughter, but she died before she was my age.”

  Patrick nodded. “That explains a lot. The rules for when the next in line begins training are absolute, but I’m surprised you don’t know more by simply living with Alona.”

  “Sometimes I wondered what was going on with her. I’d hear things, sometimes see things, but . . . finish your history lesson.”

  “They say when the first humans walked the earth, the world was full of magic and wonder. People were satisfied with their lives. When they died, their souls knew which way to go because there weren’t any negative influences in their world.”

  “Oh, goodie, a fairy tale.” She rolled her eyes, though the sarcasm wasn’t as heavy as usual.

  “Hush.” He flicked her arm lightly as she strode by. “Anyway. As the population increased, darker forces grew and saw the opportunity to ruin things. They influenced the people to cause havoc and dissention.”

  “Where did these darker forces come from?”

  “Seriously? We’re not going to have a theological discussion, are we? Underworld? Satan?”

  “Okay. Fine. I get it. Go on.” She sat back on the couch.

  At least she hadn’t shut him down.

  “When the disgruntled people died, heaven rejected their souls, but without guidance they couldn’t gain access to the place where they belonged. They needed to be shown. That’s when the guides were appointed.”

  “Appointed by who?”

  “Don’t know. With all the detailed history you’ll eventually read in the book, it never says. My mom thought God appointed them, or they were angels sent to live on earth. My grandmother believed several of the most magical residents appointed themselves.”

  “Oh come on.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not three. I’m having a hard time swallowing that.

  “I grew up in this world and sometimes it’s still difficult for me to believe.”

  “Oh.” She studied him but didn’t ask the questions about his family he thought she would. “Okay, so why do the good ones need guidance?”

  “Things changed. Negativity muddied the paths, making the crossover confusing. The lighter spirits got caught up in some kind of web or something. They needed help, so it was only natural for the guides to reach out to them.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “I still don’t want to do this.”

  “I know. Normally your mentor would be whoever passed you the ring, but I can help you. There’s a curse or something when a new guide is told before her twenty-seventh birthday. That’s why Gram couldn’t do more than what she did. Typically, you would have her beside you to teach you.” He left out the part about how his mother insisted the sons of guides were usually attracted to guides as mates, and how, in his case, it had turned out to be true. Maybe twice. Damn it.

  “I guess I’m the lucky one then. I appreciate your help.” Alaina stood, but instead of coming to hug him like he wanted, she went to the door.

  “I can’t put this off anymore. There’s a weight sitting on my chest. It’s time,” she said, holding the book up and putting on a brave façade.

  “I’m coming.”

  She nodded, walking away as he fell in step behind her. He tried to keep his eyes off her ass and his attention on what she was about to do. Guiding would take a lot out of her until she adjusted. He’d do whatever he could to help her. Closing the door behind him, he waited until she’d settled into the comfy chair they’d brought in to grab a fleece blanket from the rack next to the closet door.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Thanks,” she said, raising an eyebrow as he tucked the blanket around her.

  Patrick moved one of the hardback chairs from the small table they’d left in the room, turning it and straddling the back so he could see her. She wished she had thought of a comfortable chair for him.

  Alaina leaned her head back and exhaled. “What do I do now?”

  “Wait. You’ll know. I promise.”

  She shot Patrick a dirty look as the shadows filled the room, the numbers staggering. How was she supposed to know what to do? How could there be so many? She didn’t have enough time to again try to read the book that would most likely give her some answers. The growing crowd was impatient. They’d never give her the time she needed to become adjusted and knowledgeable.

  Shock and disbelief filled her for a brief moment before she schooled her features into what she hoped was a serene and calm expression. The politeness of the shadows now that they had her attention astounded her. The shapes lined up in front of her without causing chaos, surprising her. Some fidgeted, others waited patiently. She could feel their desperation and worry.

  Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and a dark mass approached. His face came into focus, and she squeezed the arms of the chair to keep from bolting. He’d been badly burned—bright red and black covered his body. His neck was ripped open and blood soaked the clothing that hadn’t been burned off him. Her stomach turned, but as he spread his arms in front of him, who he real
ly was reached her.

  “You died in a car crash. Your car hit a gas tanker at a high rate of speed. You were killed instantly.” She swallowed, feeling stronger and more focused. “You were angry with someone—your wife.”

  He nodded, trying to speak but unable to due to the massive damage to his throat. A thread of insecurity wound through her. She should be able to still speak with him. She wasn’t skilled enough. Maybe Gram and Patrick had been wrong about this.

  Closing her eyes, she forced the negative thoughts away and concentrated on the wedding band on what was left of his hand. She could see his wedding day, and his wife sobbing by his grave. Her distress and sadness filled Alaina. She looked at the man.

  “She forgives you. She misses you, but she needs you to move on. She’s going to be okay.” Tears streamed down her face as the man’s relief and gratitude filled her.

  Alaina motioned for him to go toward the light that had appeared as soon as she’d decided where he should go. He moved on, his space filled with a smiling woman.

  “I am so happy to meet you. Please let me go into the light. My family is waiting for me.” The twisted features of the woman’s face were more horrific than the burned man.

  There was no disfiguration or accident. While she was living she had to have been very attractive, but the ugliness of her soul had taken over upon her death. Her blonde hair was streaked with gray and black, and her skin was covered with pockmarks. She had been jealous and petty while living, but Alaina wasn’t sure that meant she had to go into the blackness. She only knew she couldn’t go into the light.

  “You will wait in the gray,” Alaina said.

  “For how long?” The woman raised a bony hand to her neck, obviously horrified by Alaina’s decision but seemingly not all that surprised.

  “It’s not my place to make that decision. You will come before me again when the time is right.” Alaina watched the woman disappear into the gray fog.

  The girl who had been in the room earlier now stood in front of her.

  “Your death wasn’t an accident,” Alaina said, seeing through the heavy darkness surrounding her to a young, innocent face. “You were pushed into the water even though the person who did it knew you couldn’t swim. He didn’t help you. He watched you drown.”

  The girl nodded. “My father.”

  All of the pain and abuse the girl had suffered through her short life filled Alaina, choking her. Her father was a monster, but the child was not. Alaina reached out, taking the girl’s small, cold hand in hers.

  “He’s been arrested. Evidence of how he abused you was found during your autopsy. The authorities took your sister to a safe place. It’s over. You can go into the light.” Alaina released her hand, but the girl wouldn’t let go.

  “I don’t deserve the light.”

  “You do. You’ve never done anything wrong. You’re not to be punished for what your father did. Be at peace.”

  The girl finally let go and went toward the shimmering light waiting for her. She turned back to Alaina with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face. “Thank you. Be careful. There are ones who want to hurt you.”

  Drained, Alaina nodded, watching the girl disappear. She was drained, but there were so many more waiting.

  ~ ~ ~

  Patrick wondered what Alaina saw, because some of the dark shapes now in front of her kind of spooked him—and he’d seen a lot of freaky shit during his time investigating the paranormal—but she gave the shadow permission to go into the light. Most of them went there, including the energies he’d described to her as the active portions of incapacitated and mentally ill people. He liked that she’d included them with the peaceful spirits. There were a few more she directed to the gray area to wait until it was their time to be sorted.

  By the time she’d gotten through the mass of energy that had filed into the room as soon as she’d beckoned them, her weariness showed. And still more came, though the numbers were much fewer. What worried him was, besides a few scuttling black masses, no others had gone into the darkness.

  That was going to be a problem.

  Alaina didn’t pick up her head, but rolled it so she could see him when the room finally cleared. Her eyelids drooped and her face had paled. She clutched the blanket to her chest, her hand shaking.

  “Come on. You’re done for tonight.” He moved the blanket so it wrapped around her shoulders and helped her to her feet. “Shower first, food, then bed.”

  “Too tired. Already ate.” She sagged against him.

  “You can’t go to bed this way. You need to recharge and eat, or you’ll be vulnerable throughout the night despite telling them not to bother you in your room.” He moved her head so she could see his face. “You did a wonderful job. I would have never guessed this was your first time.”

  Alaina giggled, straightening a little.

  He tugged her into her room, closing the hall door behind them. “You need to shower.”

  The lingering malice of the house had grown. Probably because Alaina’s first sorting had been so successful. The change didn’t bode well. Evil filled this house. Loud thumps came from the attic and living room.

  “I took one after painting.” She headed for the bed.

  “Oh no you don’t. Come on. You have to wash off the remnants of them—kind of like when you sit around a campfire—fragments of their energy attach to you during the process. You’ll have terrible dreams if you don’t scrub it off. Now come on—or do I have to put you in there myself?” His body reacted to the possibility.

  “Too tired. Sleep first.” She tried to push by him to get to the bed.

  “Sleep later. Shower first. You probably won’t feel this tired next time. It’ll get easier each time. Come on.” He grabbed the back of her shirt, stopping her and positioning her toward the bathroom.

  This was going to be harder than he expected. He turned on the water, adjusting the temperature before catching Alaina on her way out the door. “Why are you so damned difficult? Get your ass in here and take your clothes off.”

  She giggled again.

  “You’re acting like a drunk chick. This must have taken more out of you than I thought.” He sighed, grabbing the hem of her shirt. “Come on. Arms up.”

  She complied and he was left with the sight of her electric-blue bra. He’d bet the panties matched and guessed he was about to find out. When she made no move to undo the button on her jeans, he dropped her pants, proving his theory about the panties.

  He took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand before he did something they’d both regret. Or not. Still, she was too drained for it to be an enjoyable experience. Maybe. When she rubbed her hand down the front of his pants and cupped his crotch, he had to remind himself why they shouldn’t.

  “Let’s go before the hot water runs out.” He turned her, unhooked her bra, and then made the mistake of looking down. She wore an electric-blue thong that matched her bra.

  Holy shit.

  He sucked in a deep breath as she giggled. “Do you like them?”

  “They’re incredible. Take them off.” He would not make love to her, regardless of the agony ripping through him.

  She finally took the underwear off, though watching her do so in slow motion nearly killed him. He opened the shower curtain, guiding her in and handing her a bottle of shampoo.

  “Wash.”

  He waited as she stood in the hot spray doing nothing. She was going to fall asleep standing up if he didn’t help. Opening the curtain, he instructed her to move into the spray, standing far enough back to wash her hair without getting too wet. She moaned as he massaged her scalp. He hurried through rinsing the soap out, handing her a washcloth and telling her to scrub. Surprisingly, she listened this time.

  Rinsed and dried—toweling her off had
been absolute torture—he wrapped her in a bathrobe and guided her out of the bathroom.

  “Sleep now,” she said, swaying against him.

  “Eat now. And you have to come with me, because if I leave you here you’ll fall asleep. You have to nourish your body. The sorting took an incredible amount of energy even though you barely had to move. Come on. I know what I’m talking about.” He gently gathered her against him, holding her waist as he maneuvered them down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  At least he’d had the foresight to think about her nutritional needs before she’d started her duties. Practice, he supposed, though convincing Jana to keep her energy up had been torture. He sat Alaina in one of the chairs around the small table before taking the lid off the crock-pot and ladling out the stew he’d put in to warm. Thank goodness for Alona’s friends and their generosity. Otherwise he would have had to cook, and he didn’t think his burnt offerings would help Alaina.

  Alaina rested her head on her hand, her elbow on the table. He purposefully bumped her arm when he set a plate of bread in the center.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead. Eat.” She opened her eyes, surprising him by actually reaching for the bread.

  He went to the wine fridge and selected a bottle of white, uncorked it, and poured two glasses. As tired as she was now, she’d lie in bed resting her body, but her mind wouldn’t sleep without a little help. Eventually she’d adapt, but he’d pamper her until she did.

  The thought almost took him to his knees. He wasn’t going to be around long enough to take care of her until she adjusted. He didn’t belong here, and she didn’t need him following her around like some damned lost puppy. There was no way he was going to be that guy again. She deserved more than a man wallowing in past mistakes.

  Alaina seemed to need all her energy to get the spoon from the bowl into her mouth. That was fine with him; he wasn’t in the mood for small talk anyway. He ate, even though the stew that had smelled so delicious now had no taste for him. As she drained the last of her wine, he got to his feet and helped her up.