The Shadow Guide (Challenging the Fates)

by Victoria Smith

  Since Mick was his best friend and knew some of the crappy things about his marriage to Jana and how he was sure she’d summoned the demon, there was no way he could be mad at him for speaking the truth. He wanted to, but it wasn’t there.

  “Maybe. If she wants to keep me around.” He hoped his true uncertainty didn’t show but figured it did with the way Mick’s expression changed to sympathy and worry.

  “Give it time. She’s dealing with a lot right now. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling. Except it’s obvious she cares about you—and not only because you’re awesome in the sack.” Mick grinned to take the edge off his words. Patrick punched him in the arm.

  “Time, I have. I don’t want this to be one of those caretaker romances—you know where the patient falls in love with the doctor, or the victim falls in love with the person who saves them from the bad guy. She needs my help for a little while longer, and then we’ll really see what’s going on.”

  “That’s all you can do. It’s going to work out. You’ll see. I know these things. Can I ask you a question?” Mick unplugged the cords from recording the data onto the laptop and clicked the icon to shut the machine down.

  “Of course,” Patrick said, concerned.

  “I’ve wanted to ask since you told me about Alaina. You know so much about what Alaina’s going through . . . Have you dealt with this guide business before?”

  “Jana was a guide. So was my mother. And Alona. I’ve been involved with guides my whole life. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. You’re directly involved now so you need to know. What Alaina does can’t be talked about outside of this house or with anyone but the three of us.” He glanced at Mick.

  Mick nodded. “Understood. I figured there were things you would tell me when and if you could. No worries, man. Things make more sense now and that’s cool. I’ll call you in the morning, or when I wake up. I’ll probably go over this stuff when I get home, and then sleep on it. Tomorrow night, the kids are going to their grandparents for the weekend, so I won’t be available until Sunday night unless there’s a problem.”

  “There won’t be. Enjoy your weekend, and don’t worry about getting back to me if you don’t have time. The last thing I need is for your wife to be pissed at me for taking you away from her. You’ve been away from home a lot lately.”

  Mick winked. “I’m the one who’ll suffer, in more ways than one. Get some sleep and I’ll check in with you before the kids leave. And stop worrying so much.”

  Patrick helped him pack the equipment and locked the door behind him. The house continued to feel calm, furthering his need for sleep. He went up the stairs, shaking off the memory of the previous experiences. Standing in the doorway to Alaina’s room, he watched her sleep. He was totally in love with her.

  And he had no idea what to do about it.

  Chapter 13

  Alaina rolled over against Patrick’s warmth. His arm wrapped around her. She snuggled against him, relieved he’d stayed with her though there was no longer any real need, at least for tonight. Though his need was definitely there. It rubbed against her leg, waking her enough to do something about it. She felt Patrick’s chuckle through the rumble in his chest as she braced herself on top of him. His hands came up to hold her waist.

  “Sorry to wake you,” she somehow managed to whisper.

  “I don’t mind. This is good.”

  There was no more talking as she made love to him. When they finished, she lay in his arms and wondered what she was going to do when he left her. That time was coming. She knew it. He’d separated from her. She felt it when they made love—in the shower earlier and then just now. She could feel him disconnecting when they weren’t making love. He might have released some of his guilt and anger, but she didn’t believe he’d hang out and remain a part of her life when she represented everything he didn’t want. She’d caught some of his emotions last night, but they were fragmented and jumbled, while clearly sad and negative.

  Free or not, he was still jaded by the legacy forced upon her. There were so many things she wanted—things she doubted he did. Like children. She couldn’t see her life without them, and with the pain of losing his son so close to birth, she highly doubted Patrick would want to risk it. Of course, a simple conversation could clear those things up. Except it wasn’t time for that kind of talk. Not when they still had work to do. They needed to figure out this damned riddle or die trying. Besides, Patrick hadn’t said or done anything that made her think he wanted to stay with her. The last thing she wanted to do was start talking about the future.

  He’d spent so long hunting the demon, she wondered what he’d do once they ended their reign of terror. Part of her doubted it would ever end, considering how they’d killed Gram, even with all her skills. Still. She—they—had to try. She’d crossed a small handful of negative energies last night, though not nearly as many as she should have. The lack of balance would start impacting the living world soon. And she’d be responsible for the ensuing chaos. This temporary peace wasn’t going to last very long.

  She couldn’t believe the difference in the house in the daylight. The former charm of Gram’s house was back with the lifting of the darkness. Sun streamed through the stained-glass window in the hall, blending brightly colored squares with the rustic wallpaper. She might have to reconsider her remodeling plans. Then again, she didn’t think she could deal with red velvet swirls for the rest of her life.

  Patrick was gone when she opened her eyes again. The rejuvenating scent of coffee filled her senses, forcing her out of bed and into the shower despite sore muscles.

  She found Patrick in the den. Leaning against the doorway, she watched him tap a command into the computer as she fought the swell of emotion in her chest. He glanced up and smiled.

  “I was hoping the smell of the coffee would get you up. How’re you feeling?”

  “Much better. Guess he kept his end of the deal, huh?” She stepped over the still-intact line of black powder and entered the room, resisting the urge to head for Patrick’s lap. The coffee pot was no longer in the den. “I’m going to get some caffeine. Do you need some?”

  “I poured you a cup. Mine’s beside it. Thanks.” Whatever had popped up on the screen captured his attention.

  Alaina went to the kitchen, grabbed her coffee cup, and decided to make breakfast. Patrick had taken care of her countless times. The least she could do was make him food for a change.

  By the time she put the last piece of French toast in the pan, Patrick appeared in the doorway holding the coffee cup she’d taken to him after starting the bacon. “Nice. I’m starving. Thank you.”

  His smile heated her from the inside out. She tried not to pay too much attention to the way he watched her work. They’d never get around to eating if she did. He sat down at the table after asking if she needed help. She could definitely do this give-and-take thing she and Patrick had going on.

  She had to stop thinking about scenes of domestic bliss. Patrick wasn’t going to stick around once they’d defeated those demons. He would leave, crawl back into his self-imposed prison, and continue to lick the open wounds that should have healed a long time ago. Alaina had to face facts. He had been badly hurt by a relationship with a guide. He didn’t want that again. Every time they made love she was reminded of where his heart truly belonged. It was getting harder not to rip the chain from his neck and demand he only see her face when he used her body. Regardless of what had been said last night when her visitor had spoken to Patrick, he was only here out of a twisted sense of obligation to Gram, guilt, and probably because she couldn’t seem to stop herself from having sex with him.

  He jerked his head around as if reading her mind. She’d purposefully rearranged her thoughts so he couldn’t go deeper than her thoughts on breakfast. Did her defenses no longer keep him out of her head? She wasn’t so sure she liked him being able
to pick up on every errant notion she had. Emotions didn’t always mean anything beyond the here and now.

  She kept her attention focused on the pan and opened her senses to reach out to him. Not necessarily skilled at delving into other people’s private thoughts, and not sure she really wanted the ability, she couldn’t help practicing a little on Patrick. If she had to deal with the skill, she needed to know how to control it and how to not invade privacy.

  Either he was purposefully blocking her attempt, or he really was only thinking about her butt, the faded jeans she wore, and what would happen if he came up behind her and unbuttoned them to make love to her in the kitchen. She glanced over at him and he winked. Maybe that could be the only depth of his thinking at the moment. And she really didn’t need to let the thought into her head, because again, she thought about turning off the stove and forgetting about food. Her stomach had different ideas though. She set their plates down as he chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” She couldn’t help the terseness of the question.

  “Nothing. You’re getting really good at sensing thoughts and emotions.” He wiggled his eyebrows and snagged a piece of bacon from her plate.

  Her face heated. She didn’t know if it was because he knew she’d been trying to get inside his head or from the erotic stuff she’d picked up while visiting his thoughts.

  “I’m not sure I like it,” she said, finally.

  “I know. I don’t like going inside people’s personal thoughts either, which is why I usually don’t. I sometimes will when I get the sense I’m being lied to or maybe important information has been withheld. I stay away from anything not related to the case at hand. Interpreting emotions is different though—at least I think. It’s like reading body language on steroids.” He shrugged and grabbed the syrup.

  “I can deal with that part. And I can do what I have to do to get past whatever illusions the shadows bring to the crossing to try to influence my decisions. I understand I have to or all kinds of chaos could happen. I’m only afraid I’ll end up liking it so much I can’t stop myself from doing it to everyone.” She lifted her head at the sound of a car in the driveway.

  “That you feel like that tells me you won’t ever dig around uninvited.” He stood, going to the window to peer out at the driveway. “Shit.”

  “What?” Who could be here? Unless Mick had found something they had to see.

  “Your friend Maribelle from the historical society is heading to the front door.”

  “Oh, no, she isn’t. Call the cops.” Alaina got up and rushed to the front door, whipping it open before the woman had a chance to ring the bell.

  She must have surprised her. Maribelle almost stumbled backward but quickly regained her haughty composure. “I honestly wondered what kind of reception I’d get this morning after our discussion last night.”

  “Really? Let me assure you the police are on their way. You’re trespassing.” Alaina smiled, blocking the door when she tried to move through.

  “The other members will be here shortly. I really must inspect our usual meeting room. We have standards that must be adhered to. Have you dusted? Is the coffee ready? We’ll expect to be served shortly. I do hope you’ve planned your time well.” She again tried to move past Alaina.

  Alaina heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes as she stepped onto the front porch and slammed the door behind her. “Please leave now.”

  “Oh, dear. You really don’t mean to say those things. I already told you how horrible it would be if you neglect us. Alona would be so disappointed in your behavior. I was really very sure she’d raised you better than that despite how wild and rebellious your mother was.” She raised a hand to her throat as if demonstrating the load of diamonds on her fingers. “I’ll require the keys as well. This house belongs to the historical society.”

  “This is my home. You will never get the keys. My lawyer can give you a copy of Gram’s will that specifically leaves it to me and me alone. As I said, the police are on the way. You either leave, or I take pictures as they arrest you and post them all over the Internet. Your choice.”

  Patrick opened the door, his frame completely blocking the doorway as he crossed his arms over his impressive chest.

  Maribelle stared him up and down. “I see. You don’t want word to get out that you’re sinning in your grandmother’s house. Well. We’ll see how you like what happens next.” She took a step backward, nearly falling off the porch.

  “This is my house now. What I do is none of your damned business. Yes, we will see. I hope you don’t value your reputation too much because I’m about to smear it all over town.” Alaina didn’t know if she’d follow through. Maribelle was throwing off the most desperate vibes.

  “Your grandmother had a very special ring. She promised it to me before she died. I wonder if I can have it?” Maribelle almost sounded nice.

  “What did it look like? Gram had a lot of rings.” Alaina studied the jewels on the woman’s hands again, knowing her grandmother had nothing this woman would ever wear.

  “A silver band, almost like a wedding ring, with beautiful scrollwork all around. Alona wore it on her right hand always, but I didn’t see it there at the funeral. Can I have it, please?” She took a step forward, reaching out her hand.

  The woman wanted Gram’s guide ring?

  “I’m sorry. That ring is a family heirloom. I am positive Gram would have never promised it to anyone.”

  Alaina studied her, testing her skill at reading people without breaching their private thoughts. Maribelle’s extreme anxiety was a palpable energy with a hefty dose of sorrow lining the edges. The woman was off-kilter—her view of reality shattered. Alaina swallowed, pushing against the pain to keep it from overwhelming her.

  “It’s my only chance. Please? I know what Alona did. I want so much to do the same honorable work. I’m a second daughter, but I should have been the first. It was my legacy, not my bastard sister’s.” Hysteria tinged her voice.

  “Maribelle, it doesn’t work that way,” Patrick said. “You don’t get the gift by taking possession of another’s ring. No good power can be gained that way, and harmful things could happen to you and the people around you,” He stepped onto the porch as a police car parked at the curb. “The ring can never belong to you.”

  “I know you’re right. I had to try though. I thought you were joking about the police. Oh, dear.” She moved to the sidewalk, and Alaina could practically see something snap inside her.

  “I told you last night I wasn’t,” Alaina said as kindly as possible before turning to address the officer as he approached. “I’ve repeatedly told her she’s not welcome here and how I didn’t want her, or her historical society, on my property, but she doesn’t seem to believe me.”

  The officer nodded, turning to the woman. “Ma’am, you’re trespassing. Please leave or she has every right to press charges against you and the organization you represent.” He tapped on his notepad, moving closer.

  “Fine. I’m leaving. You can be sure things won’t be made easy for you in this town. You have my word on that.” She turned to leave, holding her head high.

  “Excuse me. You didn’t make a threat to the homeowner while on her property, did you?” The officer winked at Alaina before Maribelle turned back with a horrified expression.

  “No. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t.”

  “Let me tell you if one person harasses the homeowner, and I find out you had something to do with it—and I will find out—you will face criminal charges. No judge would dispute my witnessing the event.” He wrote something on his notepad, though Alaina got the impression it was more for show than anything else.

  “Nothing will happen. You have my word. I’m so very distressed since Alona’s death. I don’t think I’m dealing well.” Tears spilled down her perfectly made-up cheeks, leaving tracks in the
heavy blush she wore.

  Alaina stepped off the porch and touched Maribelle’s shoulder. “We all miss her.”

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what I was thinking. Alona won’t be here ever again. No matter how much I want her back.” She sniffed into the tissue Patrick handed out the door. “Please forgive me.”

  Alaina nodded, hugging Maribelle briefly before the other woman closed herself back up and adjusted her rings.

  “Here’s the number of a qualified grief counselor. I highly suggest you give him a call.” The officer handed over a business card, his expression firm but kind.

  Alaina was glad he’d softened his approach after Maribelle’s mini-meltdown, but she was sure she needed more than a grief counselor. Maybe one of the other guides she’d eventually meet could tell Alaina how to get the woman the help she desperately needed. Or maybe Patrick knew.

  Maribelle finally got into her vintage Jaguar and drove away. Alaina half-expected the rest of the meeting members to show up next, but after filling the officer in on what had happened and thanking him for his quick pick up on the situation and his time, no one else had shown. Maybe the other members had heeded her email request to find a different meeting venue. Lucky for her she’d sent it to the entire roster.

  Patrick hugged her as she closed the front door after giving the officer more information and thanking him again. “You handled yourself really well. Alona would be proud of your guts.”

  She smiled, warmed by his words. “Do you really thing Gram did all those things for them?”

  “No. I know she didn’t. She was a member, and let the club use the house, but their refreshments were catered. I think Maribelle lost her grip on reality a while ago from what I can remember Alona saying. Losing her friend seems to have thrown her over the edge. I can’t believe she thought she could take Alona’s ring. I know some people who might be able to help her.” Patrick’s attention moved to the corner of the foyer. “What the hell?”