Shadow's Messenger: An Aileen Travers Novel

by T. A. White

  The door swung open.

  “Aileen.” My mom’s calm brown eyes observed me. “You came.”

  “I said I would.”

  “You’ve said a lot of things lately,” Jenna’s voice came from behind her.

  From the glare she was giving me over Mom’s shoulder, I could tell she’d rallied since the other night. I sighed. Yup. This was going to be a long night.

  “Perhaps you should start listening,” I said.

  “Girls.” Mom’s voice had a sharp whip to it. We both backed down, settling for mutual glaring instead. “Aileen, come out of the cold. There’s no reason to be standing on the porch.”

  I stepped inside, welcoming the burst of heat. Mom took my coat, hanging it in the hall closet as I followed Jenna into the living room.

  Things had changed again since I’d last visited. There was new artwork on the walls, and if I wasn’t mistaken, the couch and rug were new too.

  That was mom’s thing. Decorating. The furniture and color of the rooms rotated almost yearly. Her house was in a constant state of flux. It used to drive me nuts as a kid. I’d always been the sort of person to get things the way I liked, and then not change them unless forced. I was a creature of habit and my mom just was not.

  I paused as Jenna joined the group gathered in the living room. More people had shown up then I’d expected. My high school basketball coach, my aunts and uncles, a few cousins. At least they’d left the children out of this.

  “Mom, why didn’t you tell me the rest of the family was coming to dinner?” I asked pleasantly. “You even got Donna to show up. How is the team this year? Doing well?”

  Donna looked uncomfortable at the questions. “Not as well as when you were on the team.”

  Uh huh. That’s why she continually benched me the moment we started losing. Because I was so good.

  “Dinner’s almost ready. How about we sit down, and I’ll get the dishes on the table?” Mom met Dad’s eyes meaningfully, engaging in a wordless conversation that had been a hallmark of my teen years.

  “Yes, that sounds like a good idea. I’m starving. Aileen, how about you help me set the table?” he asked.

  I could do that.

  From the way my mouth was watering, I could tell she had made beef burgundy, a dish she knew I loved. It would probably taste as amazing as always. There might even be conversation, laughter, but the meal hadn’t even started, and I was already tired of the game. I didn’t want to eat dinner like nothing was wrong, waiting until they decided it was time to do whatever it was they had planned.

  “Sure,” I said, flatly.

  My dad stood, walking with me to the silverware drawer with a slight hitch in his stride. He’d had that limp for as long as I remembered. It was the result of an old injury from when I was a kid. He moved smoothly and easily as if he’d taken the injury and assimilated it into his being. As if it was just another part of him.

  We worked silently together, mirroring each other’s movements on opposite sides of the table.

  “How’s work?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Any interesting clients?”

  “You know I can’t talk about my clients.”

  His smile was stiff. “You don’t have to mention them by name. Who’s going to know if you share the unimportant things?”

  “I will.”

  His smile fell away entirely and he bent to lay another setting. I grimaced. Way to make them think you’re normal.

  “How’s your work going?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going. This used to be so easy. When had I gotten so bad at small talk? We used to have hours of conversation on the smallest of things.

  “Great. I got a new project.”

  “What’s that about?” Perhaps I could do this after all.

  “We’re getting ready to switch our servers over…”

  I lost track after that. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. More that it was a lot of jargon that I didn’t understand and had no frame of reference for. Thankfully I was saved when Jenna set down the drinks and Mom followed with the food. The rest of the party, all six of them joined us at the table.

  The meal was subdued as if everyone was walking on egg shells, trying not to offend me. I took small portions of the beef burgundy and a roll when they passed. For the most part, I pushed the food around on my plate, bringing my fork to my mouth every now and then but not taking a bite. My stomach wouldn’t be able to handle this much food at once. Throwing up didn’t really have a lot of appeal with the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

  “How did Linda’s dance recital go?” Jason asked Jenna.

  Jason was our age and a cousin on my dad’s side. Well, technically a step cousin as Dad had married Mom when I was three. He was skinny and tall and had a mop of curly brown hair. He should look like a giant geek but instead managed to pull off sexy professor. I couldn’t remember what career he had chosen, but it was no doubt something brainy.

  “She was so cute,” Mom said. “Our little bumble bee.”

  “She had a lot of fun. We have photos if you want to see them later,” Jenna said.

  “I didn’t know Linda had joined dance,” I said.

  The smile fell from Jenna’s face and her eyes cooled when she glanced at me. “You never asked.”

  Ouch. The glacial tone left no doubt as to her feelings at my distance over the last couple of years.

  “I’m glad she’s enjoying it. We had a lot of fun dancing when we were kids.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  The conversation faltered after that and only the sound of the clink of silverware against plates filled the awkwardness that ensued.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything. I hadn’t intended to bring the conversation to a screeching halt.

  “Your father and I were thinking you could borrow the old minivan,” Mom said. “It’s just sitting in the garage gathering dust. It would be good for it to get some use. Otherwise it’s going to develop problems just sitting there.”

  Here we go.

  “Thanks, but I’m happy with my bike.”

  Mom’s offers of help always came with hefty strings attached and since I had no intention of dancing to her tune it was best to refuse outright.

  “It’s not safe for a woman to be riding around the city at night,” Mom tried.

  A lot of things I’d done in my life hadn’t been safe. I had yet to let that stop me. If my parents had their way, I’d be cowering in my bedroom, scared of all the dangers the big bad world presented.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You won’t be fine,” she snapped, slamming her fork down. “You’re an accident waiting to happen.”

  “Elise,” Dad said quietly.

  Mom took a deep breath, reigning in her frustration as her guests studiously avoided looking at either of us.

  “It doesn’t hurt anybody to take the van, and it’d make your mom worry about you less,” Dad said.

  I set my fork down. “That’s not the point.”

  “What is the point?” Jenna interrupted. “That it wasn’t your idea? That you have to refuse just to be difficult?”

  No, the point was that I was an adult and could choose how I lived my life. Not having a car was a choice, one made under financial duress but my choice nonetheless. My parents were not going to dictate how I got around the city like I was sixteen again.

  “I’ve already made my position clear on the matter,” I said calmly.

  Jenna let out a long sound of frustration. “And just like that, case closed. You’re done talking, and you don’t care if anyone else has anything to say. Always have to have it your way, don’t you Aileen?”

  My jaw clenched on the words I wanted to spit back at her. It wouldn’t help anything to let the frustration I had out. It would just make things worse.

  Instead I changed the subject, “Instead of discussing a car I don’t want, why don’t you tell me why you invited all these people here for
a dinner that takes the award for most awkward?” I met my parent’s eyes with determination.

  “Enough games, just tell her, Mom.”

  My parents had another one of those wordless conversations.

  My mom’s lips firmed and she nodded in decision. “Aileen, you know we love you, but ever since you came home you’ve been distant. Difficult even. You haven’t been yourself. We know being over there can be tough and a lot of people need help when they come back.”

  She paused and looked at my dad.

  “We just want what’s best for you. There’s a place we think can help.”

  My hands clenched around the table, the wood groaning in protest. There it was. What I was afraid of.

  “Help with what, Dad?” I asked, feeling brittle for the first time in a while. “What exactly do you think I need help with?”

  “Anger management for starters,” Jenna inserted.

  “Jenna,” mom warned.

  “It’s true.”

  “Is it now? So Jenna, how should someone feel if they wake up to someone in their house without permission or prior notice, cooking their food and throwing their stuff away? I think I was entitled to a little anger in that instance.”

  “It’s how you expressed the anger that’s the problem,” Mom said.

  “Yelling? Saying mean words? How is that any different than the ways you and Dad fought the entire time we were growing up?”

  “Aileen, we’re not the focus right now. You are,” she said. “You can’t deny that you’re different. Hell, you threw away all the hard work you did in school to become a simple messenger. That can’t be a stable career with UPS, FedEx and email around.”

  “Ah, right, it always comes back to that. My job. I like what I do. It’s interesting and challenging. I get to see parts of the city that I never even knew existed. Not that I should have to justify any of this to you as I’m an adult who’s perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

  My mom and I glared at each other, neither of us willing to budge on this issue. The funny thing was that even without my special needs, I wouldn’t have gone into the finance field. Being tied to a desk all day, every day, was my worst nightmare. I didn’t care if I would have made boatloads in that career. The working conditions would have driven me crazy. Worse, it would have bored me. I got creative in not so good ways when I was bored.

  “We just think this place can help you, that’s all,” my dad interjected. He was ever the peace maker, smoothing over the disagreements my mom and I’d had ever since I was a child.

  “So let me see if I’ve got this straight. Because I’m not the same person I was before I joined the Army, you think I’m broken and need fixing.” That was what hurt the most. My family loved me, but they had never understood me. Now it seemed like they couldn’t even accept who I’d become. “Of course I’m not going to be that person. I went to war. I had experiences. That changes a person and not always in bad ways. It doesn’t mean I’m damaged or that I have PTSD or an addiction of some kind. I’m just a little bruised and scrapped up, not broken.”

  Not every soldier who went over there came back with PTSD. Something the civilian population seemed intent on attributing to every soldier coming home. PTSD was a real problem. I knew soldiers who suffered from it. They were some of the bravest people I’d ever met. I wasn’t trying to down play PTSD or pretend it didn’t exist. It simply didn’t factor into my situation. I’d come back changed, but didn’t that happen to anybody who went through an intense experience?

  I pushed back from the table, tired of this conversation. It was times like these that I wondered why I came back at all. Why I decided not to take the easy way out and turn myself over to the vampires.

  “Aileen.”

  I ignored my dad and headed to the coat closet.

  “At least let me give you a ride home so you don’t have to take the bike,” he said as he and my mother followed me into the other room.

  I yanked my jacket from the closet, putting it on with angry motions. “I don’t need a ride. I have a car.”

  “Why didn’t you say you bought a car? You should have had your father go with you to make sure it was a good one.”

  Unbelievable. I couldn’t win with them.

  “It’s not mine. I’m using a friend’s.”

  “Why can you borrow from a friend but not your family?” Mom’s voice rose, taking on an angry tone.

  “Because they don’t shove things down my throat and berate me when I don’t do exactly what they want,” I hissed back.

  They both flinched, and I took a deep breath. That had come out a lot angrier than I’d intended. Yet it was true.

  The doorbell interrupted my apology.

  “Finally,” Mom breathed. She threw open the door and gestured inside. “Come in. We’ve already started but perhaps you can talk some sense into her.”

  “Of course,” a familiar man’s voice said.

  Liam stepped inside, flashing a charming smile at both of my parents.

  Chapter Ten

  I took a shuddering breath.

  No, it couldn’t be. How had he found me? What was he doing here? Was he planning on harming my family?

  I couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in on me. I had to protect them.

  How? My backpack. The gun in my backpack. It was still in the closet. Too far.

  The conversation had continued without me as I flipped out.

  I tuned back in as my mom said, “Aileen, I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Locks. He specializes in your sort of problem.”

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t blink for fear that any move I made would start a massacre.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice steady despite the shock I felt.

  “Do you two know each other?” Mom asked.

  Liam turned his smile on her and my dad, his eyes taking on that otherworldly glow I remembered from the bar. “Elise, why don’t you and Patrick head back to dinner? I’ll take everything from here. Aileen is going to be just fine in my care.”

  The fear and worry smoothed from their faces, leaving them looking blank but happy.

  “Of course, Doctor. You’ll take good care of our daughter.”

  Together, they turned and headed back to the rest of the group in the dining room.

  “You will stop that right now,” I ordered in a low hiss. If he didn’t, I didn’t care how dead I was going to end up. I’d figure out a way to take him with me.

  “Outside,” he ground out, turning and stepping onto the porch without waiting for my agreement.

  I grabbed my bag from the closet, following him as he’d known I would. There was really no choice. Not with him putting the whammy on my parents. I didn’t know how far that hypnosis thing went, whether he could force them to hurt themselves or others. And I didn’t want to find out right now.

  “You won’t ever do that to them again,” I said once the door was shut behind me.

  I held the backpack loosely in my hand. His back was to me. I could go for the gun now, blow his head off and be done with this. Killing him would also have the benefit of answering the question of whether vampires turned to dust when they were dead. I’d been wondering that since watching reruns of Buffy the first month after joining the ranks of the fangally challenged.

  “You’re so young,” Liam said, sounding tired. He turned and watched me with shadowed eyes. “Do you think there isn’t a reason for the way that we do things? That you’re special and can break all the rules that have been in place for hundreds of years?”

  I kept quiet. He wouldn’t like my response. The truth was, I didn’t care about his rules or the reasons. As long as I wasn’t a clear danger to my family, which if tonight was any indication, I’d proven I wasn’t, I didn’t care about his reasons.

  He gave me a razor sharp smile as if he could hear the thoughts going through my head. I added to the forest illusion I’d thrown up two seconds after he came in the door.

&nbs
p; “I see you’re going to insist on doing this the hard way. Very well. Just remember you left us with no choice.”

  There was always a choice. It didn’t always have to be a good one.

  I squeezed the gun’s hand grip.

  “Since you’ve gotten yourself tangled up with the sorcerer, there is no other option but to have you help me find the creature doing all this murdering. Once that’s done, you’ll submit yourself to our will. You will join a clan. You will obey our laws. Refuse, and I will kill every last member of your family.”

  The gun was up and pointing at him. It barked three times, the gunshots reverberating through the air as an afterthought.

  He moved as soon as the gun came up, jerking as one of the bullets entered his shoulder. He was beside me in the next moment, slapping the gun down and wrenching my wrist hard. I refused to let go, baring my teeth at him and hissing like a pissed off cat.

  The sound surprised me. I hadn’t known I was capable of making a sound like that.

  “I wish you hadn’t done that,” he gritted out.

  Blood oozed from the bullet holes. I was gratified to see all three had hit, though not in as tight a grouping as I’d like. No doubt because of how quickly he’d dodged. There wasn’t as much blood as there should have been with wounds like that. Already the flow slowed and stopped.

  He touched his shoulder, his fingers coming away tacky. “I see we’re going to have to work on your impulsiveness first.”

  I jerked against his hold, stomping on his instep and elbowing sharply in his stomach.

  “Stop that,” he snapped.

  I head butted him.

  “Aileen,” Mom screamed as she burst out of the house, my dad and sister right behind her. She paused when she saw us. “We heard gun shots. Are you all right?”

  “You need to make your choice right now,” he said in my ear. “Obey or they die.”

  I jerked away from him one last time. His hold didn’t even budge.

  “Fine,” I snapped.

  “Good girl,” he whispered. In a louder voice, he said, “Its fine, Elise. Just a car backfiring. Nothing to worry about.”