Wild Shadow : A Sweet Paranormal Romance

by Martha Dunlop

  The door opened. ‘Dylan!’ Bob, the landlord, frowned and rubbed his forehead. ‘What’s so important you couldn’t wait until opening?’

  ‘Sorry, Bob. I wondered if you had any spots for a gig, soon?’

  ‘You’re in tonight, aren’t you? I have you boys down for eight o’clock.’

  Dylan took a deep breath. ‘I’m looking for a solo gig.’

  ‘Solo?’ Bob frowned and tilted his head to one side. ‘On the drums?’

  Dylan flushed. ‘No, I also play the guitar and sing my own songs.’

  ‘Do you now?’ Bob’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Well … you’d better come on in. I was just making a cuppa. Would you like anything?’

  The pub stank of stale beer. The wooden floor was sticky and Dylan wrinkled his nose as he followed Bob into his living quarters.

  ‘So you’ve finally left the band? I wondered when that would happen.’

  ‘You did?’

  Bob tilted his head. ‘It seems that everyone but you knows how good you are. Take a seat.’ He got an extra teacup from a glass-fronted cabinet. The cups were bone china with wavy edges. They had gold rims and pink roses painted around the outside. He poured from a matching teapot and added milk from the jug.

  The scene was so at odds with the musty, out-of-hours pub that Dylan had to suppress a laugh.

  Bob grinned. ‘Same rules as normal. You start at 8 p.m. Drinks are included as long as you’re playing, but afterwards you’re a paying customer just like everyone else.’

  Dylan let out a sigh of relief. ‘Great. When?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  Adrenaline shot through him. ‘Tomorrow? That’s too soon. Do you have anything in a week or two?’

  ‘It’s tomorrow or wait seven months. We’re booked.’

  Dylan took a deep breath and then nodded.

  Bob held out his hand.

  Dylan took it. Bob’s handshake was weaker than normal. His bones felt frail under the skin. He looked at the man, eyes narrowed. He had known Bob his whole life. He had always been a fixture behind this bar and it had never occurred to Dylan that he might be getting old. But looking with detached eyes he realised Bob’s grey hair was thinning. His skin was more wrinkled and slightly translucent. Bob had become old while Dylan had rushed around pretending to be a small-time star. Time was passing and he had only just realised it was possible to miss his chance.

  Dylan downed the cup of tea. ‘Thanks, Bob. I’ll see you tonight.’

  The older man nodded. ‘I’ll see you later. Now, I have to start getting the bar ready. It takes me longer than it used to. Not really an old man’s job, lugging kegs of beer around.’

  ‘Is there anything you’d like me to carry for you?’ Dylan asked, and saw the relief on Bob’s face.

  ‘You’re a good boy, you know that?’ he said, getting up and opening the door to the cellar. ‘It’s down here.’

  An hour later Dylan was back at his old flat. He held up his fist in front of the door, paused, and then knocked.

  The door swung open. GJ grinned, ‘Dylan, you’re here!’ He stepped back to allow Dylan through and then slouched into an old, faded armchair. ‘Why did you knock?’

  Dylan smiled sheepishly as he sat on the edge of the sofa. ‘I have some news. I’ve found a flat. It’s on the ground floor and Mum will be able to visit me there. I’m sorry it’s so sudden.’

  GJ’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re moving out? Wow, well I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.’

  Relief flooded Dylan. ‘I guess so. You’re not annoyed?’

  GJ sighed. ‘You know how I feel, Dylan. You should chase your dreams, but don’t forget us. We love you, man, we want you in our lives. You’re part of the gang, and as much as we have to grow up, we don’t want to lose this.’

  ‘Fair play.’ Dylan nodded. ‘So, there’s a gig tonight?’

  ‘You say that as though you’re not coming.’ GJ frowned.

  ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d still want me to.’

  ‘You have to come.’ GJ’s eyes were pleading. ‘Linden thinks he’s all that, but he’s all pretty face and voice. Neither of us have the musical knowhow to make this work without you.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Dylan said. ‘You just need to have faith in yourselves. You can’t just give up because I’m leaving.’

  GJ shrugged and opened another bottle of beer. ‘Whatever happens further down the road, you’re here now and we have tonight. Let’s make this our last blow-out gig.’

  Dylan looked at him for a moment. GJ was pale. There were new creases on his forehead and at the corners of his mouth. This was the guy who had told Dylan to go for his dreams, who had said he would always have his back. He wasn’t asking for much.

  ‘In that case, of course I’ll be there. But, listen. There’s something you need to know.’ Dylan gripped his bottle, peeling off the label, not meeting GJ’s eyes. ‘I’m doing another gig, tomorrow night. A solo gig.’

  ‘Yeah? That’s great news!’ GJ’s face lit up. ‘Where do I get a ticket?’

  ‘It’s at the pub. Eight o’clock. Just turn up. It’s free, but it would be great to know there’s a friendly face in the audience.’

  GJ held out a hand. ‘Just don’t forget us when you’re famous, okay?’

  Dylan grasped it and let out a sigh of relief. ‘Never. We’ll always be friends.’

  42

  Dylan

  ‘Would you like one more?’ Linden yelled to the sea of people who filled the room in front of the stage.

  The crowd whooped and screamed.

  Dylan swallowed. This had been his life. He couldn’t believe he was walking away.

  ‘Right you are,’ Linden said with a grin. ‘But before we sing this final time, I have news. This is Instantaneous Rock’s last gig.’

  The room went silent.

  ‘We have loved singing and playing for you, but it’s time for new adventures.’

  ‘Boo,’ someone called from the audience.

  ‘Ah, now there’s no need for that, because we have something special for you. Our fabulous drummer, Dylan McKenzie, has a solo gig here tomorrow night. Dylan is the power behind our band, making us all look good. And he’s ready to show you just how talented he is. I will be here cheering him on, and I hope you’ll join me.’

  There was silence, and then a single cheer. Finally, the room erupted.

  Dylan let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. He stood up and held his drumsticks high. The volume increased.

  ‘Let’s do it,’ Dylan said, grinning widely. ‘If this is our last song, let’s make it count.’ He sat down and started a drum roll.

  There was a whoop from somewhere near the front, and then the crowd quietened down.

  Dylan fell into a steady heartbeat that reverberated through his body and down through his feet into the floor. He closed his eyes, feeling his way through the song on the vibrations of Linden’s voice, the bass and GJ’s guitar riffs. He chest tightened as sadness welled through him. This was a lot to leave behind.

  His eyes were wet as he opened them and he blinked to clear his vision. Linden was lost in the song, but GJ was watching him, a sad smile on his face. Dylan held his gaze as he played the final chorus of the song.

  As the sound faded, Dylan could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and then stood up and stepped round the drum kit to the front of the stage. The crowd watched in silence as he reached for Linden and GJ’s hands, and then raised his arms into the air.

  The crowd erupted in screams and cheers.

  They stood there, still and silent, feeling the waves of emotion that poured over them from the audience. This hadn’t just been theirs. They were a part of this village, a part of everybody’s lives and they would never lose the magic they had created.

  Linden looked over at Dylan and nodded, and then he dropped Dylan’s hand and pulled him into a rough hug. ‘This isn’t the end for you. It’s only the
beginning and we will be there with you every step of the way.’

  GJ joined them and hugged them both.

  The crowd cheered even louder.

  Dylan didn’t have to buy a single drink. People were queueing up to speak to the band and push pints into their hands. He was overwhelmed by the number of people who had told him what the band had meant to them and wished him luck with his new venture. The pub was beginning to clear now. Rain was pounding down on the skylight above his head, pushing the regulars towards home.

  ‘You won’t really stop, will you?’ Dylan said to Linden, downing the dregs of his pint.

  Linden shrugged. ‘We don’t have a band without you. I meant what I said. You were always the powerhouse. We’ve gone farther than I ever thought we could, but I think this is the end for us.

  ‘Linden, I’m not sabotaging your chances. These people have followed us for ages. I’m sure they can handle enjoying more than one band.’

  ‘Huh,’ He knocked back a shot of amber coloured liquid. ‘I appreciate your faith in us, but I know when to stop.’

  ‘I’m still your friend, Linden. If I’m here, I’m happy to help.’

  Linden took a deep breath and sighed. ‘Thanks, man. Look, I’m sorry if I’ve upset Tabitha. You can tell her I’ll back off.’

  Dylan ordered two bottles of beer and pushed one towards Linden. His friend nodded and took a gulp.

  ‘I’d love you guys to come and visit the new flat. Would you do that? Have we patched things up that much?’

  Linden grinned. ‘Of course we have. Is now a good time? GJ are you coming to visit Dylan’s new pad?’

  ‘You go,’ GJ said. ‘I’ve got a headache. I’ll drop by tomorrow.’

  Dylan pulled on his coat then put a hand on GJ’s arm. ‘Are you okay?’ he said, too quietly for Linden to hear. ‘It’s not like you to duck out like this. Is your headache really that bad?’

  GJ smiled. ‘You guys have stuff to sort out and Linden will only open up one on one. Take the moment. Remember what good friends you are. I’ll be at your flat tomorrow and we can have a proper knees-up then. In the meantime, I’m going to walk your mum home.’

  GJ and Rachel went with them as far as the old flat. Dylan leaned against the outside wall of the building while Linden dropped his bass inside.

  He came out clutching a pack of beer. ‘Lead the way.’

  Dylan couldn’t help glancing over to Tabitha’s house as they came up to the flats. Her curtains were drawn, but light shone through the cracks. An owl shrieked.

  Dylan’s flat was dark.

  ‘Do you always keep it this warm?’ Linden said, flicking on a light switch. ‘I had no idea you felt the cold so much. The old place must have felt freezing.’

  ‘Nah, I’ve left the heating on by mistake. Would you like a glass for that?’ Dylan nodded at the cans of beer in Linden’s hand.

  ‘Thanks.’ Linden snapped off two of the cans and handed them to Dylan.

  Dylan took them and went through to the kitchen, leaving Linden to poke around.

  ‘This is nice,’ he said peering into Dylan’s bedroom.

  ‘Thanks.’ Dylan grinned. He hadn’t expected Linden’s opinion to matter. He had convinced himself he was immune to worrying about what the guys thought. Tabitha’s words flitted through his mind. They are a part of you. She had been right. She had known he needed his friends even when he hadn’t. ‘You know, Tabitha was never the issue. We were.’

  ‘Is this going to get heavy?’ Linden raised one eyebrow.

  ‘You know, it is.’ Dylan waved him through to the living room and sat down on the sofa, propping his feet up on the footstool. ‘I’m fed up of all this drinking buddy crap. Either we’re proper friends, or we’re just people who say hello when we pass. We’ve known each other too long for this rubbish.’

  Linden sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll bite. How were we the problem?’

  ‘We’ve spent so many years trying not to grow up, like Peter bloody Pan. But it doesn’t work. That shit gets boring. We can’t make time stand still and, quite frankly, I don’t want to. I want a career and a relationship. I can’t be everyone else’s magic ingredient for youth.’

  ‘Here’s to you having a future.’ Linden nodded and reached out to clink his beer bottle against Dylan’s. He got up and walked over to the window. ‘That’s her house isn’t it?’

  Dylan sighed. ‘Yeah, that’s the one, but she’s cut me off. I have to look at her house every day knowing I’m not welcome. I guess you got what you wanted.’

  Linden frowned, but said nothing.

  43

  Tabitha

  Tabitha scowled at the window in the shop. From where she worked, she had a constant view of Dylan’s flat. Right now she could see him wandering around his living room, shirtless, a guitar strung over his chest.

  The commission sat on her easel virtually untouched. She was desperate to paint. The lack of an outlet was leaving her edgy and unfulfilled, but the distance from Dylan only made her more obsessed. At night her dreams were on a loop. Dylan and Max fighting. A storm. A tiger climbing up a fallen tree trunk. A tiger creeping up, silently, behind Dylan. She shuddered. She had no idea whether these dreams were prophetic, or the product of an under-used imagination, but she wished they would stop. Dylan turned, walked to the window and stared at her. She felt his gaze as though the road, the walls and the people between them weren’t there. Her hand started moving automatically over the paper in front of her. The barriers she had put up disintegrated just a little.

  The door banged open, the bells clattering against the glass in the strong wind. Linden stood in the doorway, his gaze darting around the room. He licked his lips, shoved his shoulders back and ran a hand through his hair.

  ‘Do you ever enter a room quietly?’ Tabitha snapped. ‘There’s glass in that door, and it’s original. If you keep slamming it like that it’s going to shatter.’

  ‘I’m— Aghhh!’ Linden yelled as a barn owl flew over his head and into the room with a screech. Moments later it was followed by another one.

  Tabitha stood, transfixed, staring at the two birds that had settled onto her windowsill. ‘Shhh, don’t frighten them.’

  ‘Frighten them? What the hell are they doing in here?’

  ‘Shh, I have no idea. They’ve never come in before. Maybe they’re getting out of the storm. Whatever, just be quiet. Don’t scare them away.’ Reaching for her sketchbook and a pencil, she started drawing them, taking down the lines she had never seen so closely before.

  ‘It is getting filthy out there,’ Linden said, shutting the door carefully behind him. ‘Have you seen the storm warnings? They’re saying something big is on the way.’

  ‘I have.’ Tabitha looked up from her sketch pad and frowned at the window.

  ‘Watch out for falling branches and that kind of thing. You should be careful here on your own. Remember you have Dylan over the road now if you ever have any trouble.’

  Tabitha waved a hand dismissively, not looking up from her sketch. ‘I don’t want to bother Dylan. He moved there to get some space, not to be harassed by a needy neighbour.’

  ‘Is that how you see yourself? A needy neighbour?’ Linden tilted his head, smiling, a furrow between his eyebrows. ‘I can’t say I’m seeing that woman anywhere nearby. I think Dylan would be delighted if you harassed him a bit, actually.’

  ‘Last time we spoke you warned me off.’

  ‘Yeah, well, sometimes I’m really wise, other times I talk a load of rubbish. Your job is to work out which is which.’

  Tabitha laughed in spite of herself. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Dylan has already told me he wants space.’

  Linden frowned. ‘I thought he serenaded you with a specially written song? That doesn’t sound like a request for space to me.’

  ‘Oh, that didn’t mean anything.’

  ‘Seriously? You always struck me as a pretty intelligent woman. Now, I’ve gotta be honest, I’m starting to wonder. But I can
tell you for sure that Dylan does not want space, at least not from you. He’d seriously like some space from me, but he’s not going to get that. You, he wants to have around.’

  Tabitha stared at Linden. He seemed serious, but how could this be the same guy she had met before? How could he be warning her off one moment, and all but begging her to date his friend the next? Was this the next stage in his attempt to humiliate her and drive her away?

  Linden was looking around now, staring intently at her paintings. She was pretty sure he was trying to give her time to think, but she wasn’t sure why. If he left, she’d have all the time in the world.

  ‘I’ll take one of these,’ he said, pulling a greetings card of a barn owl out of the display. He nodded towards the bird. ‘This will be a nice reminder to watch my tongue.’ Linden put two pounds on the counter and tucked the barn owl card into his inside pocket. ‘Right you are.’ He nodded again and then turned his back and walked to the door. Just as he stepped through, the owls swooped silently through the shop and out over his head. He yelled and the door banged shut behind him. He turned to look at Tabitha through the window, his face burning.

  She walked over to the window and pulled back the net curtains. The owls were settling into their usual nesting spot, fluffing up their feathers and screeching. It was getting dark now and the wind was showing no sign of abating. The image of the men fighting flickered involuntarily through her mind. She shivered.

  A leaflet fluttered off the table. Tabitha frowned. She couldn’t feel a draft. She picked up the piece of paper and turned it over. It was dark blue and there was a picture of Dylan playing the guitar in the middle. She felt breathless as she gripped the small piece of paper too tightly. It had not been there before, so Linden must have left it. Dylan was playing at the pub tonight, on his own, and Linden had just invited her.

  44

  Dylan

  Dylan had never been so nervous. He wasn’t sure whether he was more worried about Tabitha turning up or not turning up, about people hating his music, booing him for leaving Instantaneous Rock, or not coming at all. All he knew was that his stomach was a mass of squirming worms and he felt sick. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of the guitar as he plucked the strings, turning the pegs until the notes sang. He missed his drumsticks. He loved the guitar, but he loved his drums even more, and right now he felt naked without them hiding him from view.