The Shadow Guide (Challenging the Fates)

by Victoria Smith

  He turned to Alaina. Her determined, watery, smile caught him off guard. She wasn’t paying attention to him; instead her attention was on a photograph of a little girl and Alona standing in front of the ocean.

  “Is that you?” he asked, touching the silver frame.

  “When I was seven. My parents had died a few months before. Gram insisted we have the portrait taken to confirm we were making a new start on life. She said it proved we were our own little family and could and would face the troubles of the world together.” Her voice wavered as a tear dropped onto the smooth glass covering the photograph.

  She sniffed and wiped the moisture away with an angry swipe. “Now she’s gone and I didn’t even get a chance to say good-bye. Why? She was never sick. I don’t remember her ever having a cold. She took care of herself, exercised. Why would she die in the middle of the night with no warning? The autopsy was inconclusive. What does that even mean?”

  Confusion, hurt, and guilt warred in her eyes. Patrick tipped her chin up, swiping a fat tear off her cheek. “I don’t know. I wish I did. But she loved you. You were all she talked about.”

  “Then why did she leave me?” she whispered.

  Her grief was still so new. Hell, so was his, and Alona hadn’t raised him. Before he could think of something appropriate to say or do something stupid like kiss her, a loud crash shook the floor above them, accompanied by a shout.

  “Mick. Come on. I can’t leave you alone.” He grabbed her hand, expecting her to resist.

  She didn’t, and she didn’t turn away either. Her hand was cold and small in his. He didn’t want to think too hard about what holding it did to him, especially when a loud groan came from the top of the stairs.

  Chapter 3

  Alaina let Patrick take her with him, numb detachment blocking out her fear. Gram had been acting so strangely in the days leading up to her death. In addition to giving her instructions on house-related details, after all of the years Alaina had been forbidden inside Gram’s bedroom, she was suddenly allowed entrance.

  She didn’t know what she’d thought Gram hid there—her imagination had conjured up various reasons for the constantly locked doors throughout the years. She had to admit she’d been a little disappointed to find a tastefully decorated bedroom instead of some of the crazy things she’d imagined, especially after the odd noises that occasionally leaked through the walls in the middle of the night. Did Gram have some sort of premonition the night she died, or had whatever was now trying so hard to hurt Alaina already shown up?

  Mick swore as she moved from behind Patrick’s back, reality finally seeping in. He was tangled in boxes, with packing peanuts stuck in his hair, on his shirt, and on the floor around him.

  “What in the hell happened?” Patrick laughed.

  “I don’t know. Felt like something tripped me. Next thing I knew I was ass-over-box. These things suck.” Mick grabbed handfuls of the foam material and tossed them over his head.

  Alaina laughed as she set the box upright and tried not to think too hard about Mick’s claim of being tripped. At least he wasn’t hurt. If only whatever was in this house was really so innocent.

  When they finally finished cleaning up the landing, she dropped the newspaper-filled box. Patrick snapped on the lights in the front parlor, bathing the room in comforting brightness. The need to do something constructive had her wrapping up figurines before she could think too hard about what she was doing. Alaina couldn’t think, or she’d cry.

  When she picked up the white porcelain kitten she’d given Gram the Mother’s Day after her parents died, she could no longer hold back the flood of tears and remorse. It was wrong for her to be so angry with Gram for dying. Especially when Gram had given up so much of her life to make sure Alaina had everything she needed.

  Gram had never acted like Alaina was a burden. She’d showered her only grandchild with love and attention, staying involved with her life and school, and making sure she was educated on the things not taught in school. Alaina needed to remember those things, or else she’d go crazy while wallowing in questions and sorrow. By the time she’d gotten her emotions together, the box of kittens was nearly full of layer after layer of newspaper-wrapped adorableness. She had no idea what she was going to do with the knickknacks, but the sense of accomplishment helped fill in the weak places of her current state.

  She swore she heard a meow coming from inside the box. The faint, pitiful mewling tugged at her heart. It took all Alaina had to not dig through the outdated newspapers to rescue whatever cried out. Those kittens were not real. Her ears were playing tricks on her. Or something else was.

  Patrick looked up from the tangle of wires he was fighting with. “What’s that sound?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t care.” She closed the box, running a line of clear tape over the flaps.

  “Are you sure there’s not a kitten trapped in there?” Patrick appeared genuinely concerned.

  Alaina uncapped the marker and wrote on the box before answering. “Positive. I don’t even have a cat, unless you count the ghost cat and I’m sure he could get himself out of anywhere. The only kittens in there are fake ones. I’m not opening this box. If you want to see for yourself, then be my guest.”

  “No. I’m good.” His mouth quirked up on one side.

  By the time she’d finished with another shelf of cats, Mick called from the kitchen that the food was ready. Guilt threatened because Mick had finished what she started, but Patrick’s expression stopped the soul-destroying thoughts.

  “He’s a mother hen. He probably wouldn’t have let you back in there anyway. Trust me. Mick loves being in the kitchen. He and his wife are always arguing over how to cook and what kitchen items need to go where. Most likely, he’s been in there rearranging your cupboards.” Patrick’s hand dropped to the small of her back.

  She tried not to let the jolt that rushed through her show, except she tripped over a lime-green kitten rug and ended up in his arms. His hard body pressed against her, his hands going around her back.

  Mick cleared his throat from the doorway with an obnoxious smile Alaina wanted to wipe off his face. “Come on, it’s getting cold.”

  “That rug goes in the box next,” she said.

  He had three place settings arranged on the kitchen bar. Alaina wouldn’t have done so much. She’d have tossed some paper plates on the counter and let them fend for themselves. The place mats, napkins, and real dishes were almost too much, but they did help distract from the crashing sounds coming from the second floor.

  “Happens all the time lately,” she said when Mick and Patrick looked at her for an explanation. “What time are the guys coming back?” Alaina asked as she piled her plate with food. Sleep wasn’t the only thing she’d missed out on since Gram passed.

  “Probably after five. Most of the crew from last night will be back, plus a few others.” Patrick stuffed a piece of garlic bread in his mouth.

  “Dude, you need to sleep.” Mick pointed at Patrick with his fork.

  “I’m fine. I got a few minutes before Alaina called, and I dozed while you stood guard.”

  Great. More guilt.

  Patrick knocked against her elbow with his. “Don’t. I’m fine.”

  “How do you keep doing that?” It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed he seemed to pick up on what she was feeling since she’d called him and accepted his help.

  He raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer.

  “Oh. Right. The psychic stuff.” Alaina snorted. She didn’t not believe him, but she also couldn’t resist baiting him.

  Patrick’s face turned red. Mick laughed behind his napkin. She didn’t know why she purposefully irritated him, except maybe she liked arguing with him. At least that felt normal. His concern and compassion were too weird.

  “Whatever you want to believe
is fine with me.” Patrick finally managed after swallowing—or choking, she wasn’t sure which.

  Damn. Why wouldn’t he argue with her? Either her situation was grimmer than she thought, or he’d decided she wasn’t worth the effort. That was probably it. After all, he’d already rejected her. The threatening sadness took her by surprise. She shook it off, concentrating on the cheesecake Mick had drizzled with strawberry sauce. Damn, if she’d known someone dropped cheesecake off, it would have been gone days ago.

  As she took her first bite, Patrick shot her a sideways glance and raised his eyebrows. She didn’t think she’d made a noise, but maybe she had. The only thing she could think of when their eyes met was sex—hot, steamy, sweaty sex. She was never going to be able to eat cheesecake again without thinking about the need in Patrick’s eyes. Hell, she might not be able to eat anything again without thinking about him, and that sucked.

  “Did you figure out what herbs Alona used in the salt mixture you spread under the bathroom door?” Patrick had to go and break the spell with a logical question. Damn.

  “Not yet. I’ll have to research her invoices and see what she regularly bought from me. Doesn’t mean I’ll know with that information though. She grew and dried her own herbs long before I started my greenhouse.” She tried to think about what Gram bought frequently, but the cheesecake and Patrick’s concentrated expression distracted her. She’d grab the file as soon as she got a chance.

  “Do you need to go into your office?” Patrick asked, staring at her mouth.

  “No. I keep all of the info with me on my laptop in my office upstairs.” A series of loud bangs shook the floor as her words hung in the air.

  “I’ll get it for you.” Mick closed the refrigerator door and rushed out of the room.

  “Put a camera up there. Let’s see if we can catch any of that happening,” Patrick called, leaning back on the stool.

  “You got it, Ice Man.” Mick’s voice faded as he rounded the corner.

  “He’s crazy,” Alaina said. “He didn’t even ask what else I needed.”

  “Stupid is more like it. Until we know what’s going on around here, I don’t want anyone going anywhere alone. Only he seems to think those rules don’t apply to him.” Patrick’s worry, or maybe irritation, was short-lived as Mick reappeared in the door with her laptop bag, mouse, and portable file box.

  “I’m going to stick these in the office so you can work while we check equipment.” He disappeared again.

  Patrick shook his head. “I told you he’s a mother hen.”

  “Yes, you did. Is he always like that?”

  “Always. He takes care of everyone on the team. He always handles the food and arrangements. I swear, he’s like my butler or something.”

  Alaina laughed even though Patrick sounded annoyed. “More like a work wife.”

  “Very funny.” He shook his head. “That’s what his wife says because he takes care of me so much. I mean, seriously. You wouldn’t believe what the guy can remember.”

  “I think you’re lucky to have him.” So was Mick’s wife, but Alaina didn’t say it out loud.

  “I am. The thing is, he knows it.” The last part came out as a laugh, easing some of the tension in the room.

  Thankfully, Mick returned before the tension could.

  “Camera set up. I threw a digital recorder up there, too. Dude, there’s some seriously weird shit going on upstairs.” He grabbed the dirty dishes and turned on the water.

  “Like what weird shit?”

  Anxiety that wasn’t hers filled her, taking her by surprise. Alaina glanced at Patrick, unsure. If the force of emotions were his, she was confused as to why she could feel them so strongly. Patrick didn’t look her way as he waited for Mick to answer. Mick shot her a quick glance as if he was worried she’d fall apart at whatever he was going to say. She shrugged, not letting him see her fear.

  “The noises are bad enough. They sound like they’re coming from inside your head. That hall seems to be some kind of portal or something. There were all these shadows. Some of them were in lines like waiting for something. Others paced, but none of them seemed to notice me until I opened the door where Alaina’s stuff was. Then, they went nuts.” He shook his head.

  “Nuts? How?” Patrick leaned forward.

  “Reaching for me, blocking my path—the only thing is, they didn’t connect. I felt like they really wanted to hurt me, but it seemed like they couldn’t. They kept saying something, but I couldn’t hear well enough to figure it out.”

  “Apparently, it’s not only me they want to hurt.” Alaina pushed the plate away without removing the rest of the strawberry sauce, her appetite suddenly gone.

  “No. I don’t think it’s the same thing,” Mick said. “There’s a difference between what’s upstairs and what you saw in your room.”

  “He’s right. I can sense it,” Patrick said without turning his head, and she wondered if it was because he was afraid she’d pick on his psychic abilities again.

  She wanted to say something but didn’t. She’d never really doubted his psychic claims. She’d never wanted to believe them either though. No matter how he’d hurt her, Gram’s belief in his skills had always been enough for Alaina.

  “Hopefully we’ll get some answers tonight. Thanks for thinking of the digital audio. I have a feeling the sun’s going to mess with the video right now. I doubt we’ll pick up anything we can trust,” Patrick said as they went back to Alona’s study. “I want to test the equipment again.”

  “No. We have hours. You get some rest.” Mick pointed to the couch. Alaina hid her smile. “Alaina has work to do. I’ll take care of setting up some audio equipment. Alaina’s room, the hall, and Alona’s room. Think we need to set up anywhere else?”

  Alaina plugged in her computer, ignoring the rest of their conversation, and wondered if the house’s electrical system could keep up with all the hi-tech stuff plugged in all over the place, until she remembered Gram had updated the electric in the house a few years ago. When Mick grabbed a bag and left, Patrick grumbled but finally settled in on the couch with the same quilt he’d placed over her. She was positive he’d fallen asleep before her system finished booting up.

  Mick returned and glanced at the couch. He chuckled and shook his head when Patrick’s breathing deepened. “I knew he’d crash.”

  “What about you?” Alaina wasn’t sure she’d be okay if Mick conked out on her too, but if he needed to rest, she’d manage.

  “I’m fine. I probably got more sleep this morning than I have in a week. Our little boy is teething, so a full eight is rare in our house. He actually slept last night, so I was able to grab some when I got home, otherwise I would have let my wife sleep first since she’s with them all day. He’s totally draining her. Well, he and our toddler. She’s a high-energy kid—keeps my wife hopping from early morning until she finally gives it up around seven.” Mick’s face glowed when he talked about his family. Despite his current lack of sleep and active children, she could tell he loved his life.

  Alaina ignored the little thump in her chest at the realization. She didn’t want to think about having a family right now. Most likely, she’d finish life completely alone. At least that was how she felt. Patrick had already rejected her, so that avenue was out. The one time before she thought she had the man of her dreams, her prince charming, he’d turned out to be after Gram’s money—money he thought was Alaina’s. She laughed a little inside. Now the money was hers, and she was so glad the jerk wasn’t a part of her life. He’d been charming, attractive, and such a snake—married with a truckload of gambling debts. No wonder she’d never brought him to meet Gram. She must have known Gram wouldn’t approve of him on some level. But Gram had approved of Patrick. Too bad Patrick hadn’t approved of Alaina.

  Didn’t matter. She shouldn’t be thinking of love a
nd the future right now anyway. Not when it was possible she’d never escape the madness going on around her. Whatever those shadow things were, Alaina would never be free. Not unless Patrick had some serious skills.

  And she didn’t believe anyone else had what she needed.

  ~ ~ ~

  Patrick lingered at the edge of sleep. He could hear Mick talking about his kids, and Alaina’s interested questions, but the room soon grew silent. Now, as he hovered at the brink of the rest he so desperately needed, he didn’t want to fall the whole way. Not when Alaina’s hurt and desperation called to him. He didn’t know why he could now detect her emotions when for so long he couldn’t. Maybe Alona had given her the ring and Alaina’s abilities were starting to open up. He still couldn’t break through what seemed like a natural barrier to view her deeper feelings. She tensed when he tried, and he wondered if she subconsciously recognized the attempted invasion.

  He didn’t like learning things that way. The compulsion to delve into Alaina’s psyche was strong enough he figured he was lucky he couldn’t. Sometimes he had no choice. When he had a case where the details were unclear or the initial vibes were deceptive, he used the skill. Sometimes poltergeist activity pointed to one of the young people in the house. Then, he’d try to figure out what was really going on. Using those parts of his ability always made him feel like he’d violated some kind of unspoken trust.

  Still. He’d use his abilities with Alaina if he thought it would help solve what was going on in this house. He didn’t believe she was faking things. The spirits were connected to her. Delving into her deep psyche wouldn’t help him find the answers, though.

  She was like Alona. And Jana, his dead wife. Maybe. The spirits needed her to find their way. Not all spirits, just the fragments. People who weren’t ready to die regardless of their body’s condition, people who wasted their lives, their souls, allowed hate and envy to fill their beings, or just didn’t feel they were ready to go yet. When they died, they had so much excess energy, crossing with their regular soul was nearly impossible. Sometimes the essence of what was left behind was either pathetic or this side of nasty. There was a fair amount of goodness to be crossed as well, probably in equal amounts to the darker souls.