Brush of Shade ((YA Paranormal Romance/Fantasy) The Whisperer's Chronicles)

by Jan Harman

  “What, not too ostentatious for these parts?”

  “You got to grow up in a castle. How cool is that?”

  “It can be a bit cold.”

  Something odd about his tone caught my attention. I wasn’t sure if I should pry, so I kept my response light. “What I wouldn’t have given to live here during my princess stage.”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Knights and dragons are way cooler.”

  “No drawbridge?” I asked when I climbed out of the car in front of a pair of arched wooden doors at least twelve feet high.

  “No dungeon either, sorry to disappoint. But I used to pretend the pool was the moat,” he said, holding open one of the massive doors. As I stepped past, he kissed my cheek. “Now that I’m all grown up, the idea of a damsel in the tower holds quite the appeal.”

  I noticed the warmth of my cheeks at the same time a willowy, raven-haired woman glided down the staircase. Two and two came together and I made the connection. Trent’s mother had been at the wake helping Aunt Claire organize my new life while I’d stood there shell shocked. Compared to her elegant sophistication in her cream, cowl-neck sweater and calf-length, pleated-black skirt with a discreet side slit, I looked like the village castoff in my hoodie and ragged-bottomed, skinny jeans. I ran my fingers through my hair, thankful that I’d at least put on eye shadow and lip gloss. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Cassidy.”

  “Olivia, dear, do accept my apology for not stopping by. It’s been one thing or another. Let’s dispense with the formalities and take our refreshments in the family quarters. Trent’s father just got home. Perhaps he can spare us a few minutes,” Trent’s mother said, pressing her cool hand to mine.

  Family quarters? I turned in a slow circle, taking in the foyer the size of the manor’s dining room. Overhead, clerestory windows flooded balconies off the second and third floors with light from the early evening sun. Suspended by cables from exposed wooden beams, a wagon-wheel chandelier illuminated matching suits of armor standing alongside each massive entryway door. I took and involuntary half step backwards. The Cassidy Coat of Arms and a pair of crossed swords were prominently displayed on the wall above the entrance.

  The glint of the sun off metallic embroidery thread and multi-faceted beads drew my attention to a tapestry hanging above a narrow foyer table near the foot of the stairs. The rapping of my crutch against the marble floor seemed overly loud as I treaded closer to the wall with Mrs. Cassidy following only a step behind. I braced a hand on the table. Someone had painstakingly recreated the relief work displayed in the clan room. Here, beneath the sun’s illumination, the tale came alive. Too alive. I sucked in air, breathing through the irrational urge to drag the tapestry off its hooks before I was exposed as the frayed thread. When I finished my open-mouth survey of the foyer, I realized Mrs. Cassidy was staring at me with an amused expression. I was at a loss for words. You have a lovely home so didn’t apply in this situation.

  “Mark’s ancestor had no sense of the practical requirements of living. The fool man just had to have his castle.” Mrs. Cassidy shook her head at her son. “Now that Olivia’s had the grand show, next time take her around to the family entrance. The smooth marble floor down here is too slick for her crutch.”

  She led the way deeper into the structure, past rooms adorned with lavish period pieces that I’d seen in museums in England. Surely they weren’t originals? I shot Trent a curious look. “This ancestor of yours wouldn’t happen to have been rich and titled, would he?”

  “In the old world, my ancestor was a minor lord who chose to risk his fortunes and the Cassidy future in the crossing of the clans. While not quite as elevated as your ancestors, we’re still quite proud.”

  “These people who work here . . .” I paused and glanced to the side unnerved by the pointed stares of the staff hanging evergreen swags over the doorways. Lowering my voice, I continued, “Are they part of the Ireland Clan?”

  “Most are from the Cassidy Clan. It’s no big deal. We don’t discriminate.”

  “I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging. It’s just me trying to sort this all out,” I said under my breath so no one but Trent would hear.

  “Ask away.”

  Off to our left, a stone archway opened into a solarium. Through the long bank of windows, I glimpsed terraced gardens that dwarfed our back yard. “By the looks of things, the crossing turned out to be profitable for your family. What about the clan folks’ wealth?”

  “I suppose on the surface, it looks bad. I’m not denying that we’ve done very well; nor am I ashamed of it. You’ve got to understand, the Whisperers have different priorities. It’s cool though. We’ve learned to co-exist for everyone’s mutual benefit.”

  Still, the ostentatious mansion was clearly on a level way beyond anything else I’d seen in the valley and quite possibly the state. Perhaps I was just being overly sensitive. After all, the Whisperers weren’t just servants and ranch hands. Shade had graduated from college. Although he’d come back to the valley to what opportunities? Is this all they had? If so, were they really as happy as Trent implied? Those weighty topics were for wiser heads than mine. I was just a high school senior after all. Then I recalled the hard, hate-filled eyes that had dissected me while I waited for hot chocolate. I shivered.

  A traditional western motif emerged as we moved away from the formal rooms. Trent pointed out each generation’s attempt to modernize, ending with his grandfather directing the construction of a contemporary wing that overlooked the rear of the property.

  “Dear, look who stopped by for a visit,” Trent’s mother said upon entering a vaulted room with exposed wooden beams running the length of the room.

  The gentleman, seated in the leather recliner beside the stone fireplace, neatly folded his paper before setting it on the end table. “I haven’t time for your ladies group. I’ve phone calls I should return,” he replied, speaking over his wife’s soft-spoken introduction. He pushed out of the chair, spied me, and exclaimed, “Never mind. The phone calls can wait on Olivia Pepperdine.”

  The family resemblance was unmistakable. Both Trent and his father had the same hazel-brown eyes and russet hair. Both had the heavy set physique of a football player, although in Trent’s dad’s case, he’d gained a slight paunch about his middle that wasn’t quite hidden by his expensive Aran sweater. His expression turned speculative as I hobbled across the oak floor. When I reached his side, he thrust out his thick-fingered hand.

  “Trent’s been talking about bringing you by for a visit. I had no idea when my wife left a message at the office to let me know that company was stopping by, that she meant you,” Mr. Cassidy said, shaking my hand with a great deal of vigor.

  So that’s what had taken Trent so long to get our hot chocolate. He’d been on the phone to his mother. I stole a glance at Trent. He chose that moment to bend over to tie his shoe.

  “Mark, not so hard. Olivia isn’t one of Trent’s football buddies,” Mrs. Cassidy scolded.

  “Sorry, my dear. You’re a slight little thing aren’t you? Hopefully our fresh-mountain air will stir up an appetite.”

  “Mark, honestly,” Mrs. Cassidy said, giving him an exasperated look as she touched the intercom on the wall. “Helena, you may serve the refreshments.”

  “So, Olivia, I heard you had an upsetting time of it this morning,” Mr. Cassidy said, shaking his head. “Ethan always did go his own way. I warned him not to wait too long. Things are easier to accept when you’re still young and naïve. Now, don’t be shy; we’re old family friends. I’m sure you’ve got questions.”

  Is this why Trent had brought me here? Like this day hadn’t been hard enough. It was bad enough that his father was aware of this morning’s events and my frightened response. Now I was expected to sit here and discuss it with strangers.

  “That is very gracious of you, but I should speak with my aunt first,” I answered.

  “Spoken like a diplomat’s daughter. Ethan would�
��ve been proud. We’re going to get along just fine.”

  Oh sure, keep throwing my father’s name around so I felt obligated to stay. I bit my lower lip as I sank onto the edge of a chintz chair with my back to the French doors that overlooked a small, sunny terrace. With luck my face would be in shadow and hard to read.

  “Good, Helena, you’re here. Put the tray down,” Mr. Cassidy said to a youthful looking woman who I judged to be in her early thirties. “Shadow’s reprehensible display this morning frightened Olivia. For Ethan’s sake, we must help her understand. Vibrate one of your hands.”

  I scooted back in my seat my mouth too dry to protest.

  “The poor thing looks terrified. Maybe you should wait.” Mrs. Cassidy suggested.

  “She can’t be coddled. Trent, stand next to Olivia’s chair,” Mr. Cassidy ordered.

  I leaned into Trent, my wide eyes fixed on Helena’s hand. It shook slowly at first as if she had a slight tick. Then abruptly, the speed of her hand grew at an exponential rate. Fixed shape became a blur that became a streak of color against the crème area rug.

  “Let Olivia touch your hand,” Mr. Cassidy suggested.

  I drew a quick breath. Smoke pervaded my mouth and lungs from the logs sputtering in the hearth. My eyes burned. Something came at me out of the dark. I wanted to slap it aside, but I couldn’t move.

  “Are you okay?” Trent asked worriedly.

  “What?” I replied, in a quivering voice. Helena’s blurred hand hovered in front of my face. I’d come part way off the chair. “I’m . . . fine.” I would be if random memories would stop trying to meld into something out of a horror film. The blurred shape had just been a memory of a rescue worker trying to free me from the wreckage. Hold it together.

  When I sat back down, Trent slipped an arm around my shoulder and gave me a quick squeeze. Helena reached out her hand to him. He touched it like it was something he’d done many times over the years. “It kind of tickles,” he said. Her hand slowed, and she smiled shyly at me.

  Dad had taught me to be open-minded, but this was so unfair. Everyone expected me to suspend my concept of reality. Still, I owed it to my dad to try. I lifted my arm and slowly uncurled my fist. When Helena stretched out her hand, I cringed and pressed harder against Trent, but I kept my arm out.

  “Wow!” I said of the pleasantly warm, massaging sensation.

  Trent gave me thumbs up even though my knees still knocked. “See no big deal.”

  Mr. Cassidy’s calculating gaze returned mine briefly. A cold chill slipped down my spine, instantly dispersing the warmth from Helena’s hand. I pulled away at the same time that Helena stepped back, so thankfully she didn’t realize that I was upset and assumed it directed at her.

  “Excellent, Olivia!” Mr. Cassidy praised. “Now let’s try a light connection.”

  “A what?” My eyes darted from Mr. Cassidy to Helena. “My aunt’s expecting me.” I could’ve sworn Helena looked relieved.

  “You can’t go,” Mr. Cassidy said, coming to his feet. He cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler. “What I meant is, you’re afraid for no reason. Do you see Trent quivering? Show some of that Pepperdine backbone.”

  Trent leaned over to look at me. “Maybe we should wait until another day.” When his father’s nostrils flared and he leveled an irritated look upon his son, Trent backed down. “My dad is right. It’s nothing to get worked up over.”

  Mr. Cassidy gave Helena a stern look. “Initiate a joining.”

  “The young mistress wishes to leave,” she replied.

  “You would disobey your clan elder?” he said, taking a step closer.

  Her shoulders curled and her chin dropped. Had I just jeopardized Helena’s job because she’d taken pity on me? I shoved past Trent’s hands and stumbled to her side. Narrowed eyes turned upon me. I gulped, unnerved by Mr. Cassidy’s intimidating stature. Somehow I found my voice and said, “It’s late, Aunt Claire will be worried.”

  He blocked my way. “I knew underneath that pale, battered exterior you had some spunk. You’ve an inherited obligation that must be addressed. Your dear aunt never had the constitution to take on the Pepperdine legacy, but I see that you might. I only hesitate in my assessment because you’ve been shattered. I won’t have you leave here thinking we were hard and uncaring, my dear Olivia. These are trying days for the valley. As an elder, I’m merely reacting to my deep concern for the future of the clans. My people . . . I mean your people, are afraid. Please take a seat. Allow me the opportunity to address some of our peoples’ questions.”

  He was good. I reluctantly admitted. If I left now, I risked insulting an elder. While I wasn’t certain of the ramifications, I knew it would fall on my aunt to handle, and she was near the end of her rope, as was I. When I turned to go back to my seat, I saw Helena slip from the room with Mrs. Cassidy on her heels.

  “For the good of our valley, we shall liberate your mind,” Mr. Cassidy said, standing in front of my chair, hemming me in. “Shadow’s impetuousness need not alienate you from your heritage. Now that you know, is it so terrible?”

  Given what Helena had just done with her hand, I was certain we didn’t have the same definition of the word liberate. Saliva clogged my throat, making it difficult to swallow. “It’s a lot to take in. Maybe we could continue my visit another day?” I tried to catch Trent’s eye. But he was staring gloomily at the floor.

  “I’ve a better idea. You should stay for dinner. That’ll give us time to get to know one another. I feel there is so much about you that we’ve missed out on. Granted Ethan played the proud father during his visits, but then who doesn’t embellish upon their children’s accomplishments,” Mr. Cassidy said, smiling in the face of my protest as he pulled his chair closer. He made a show of rifling through the drawer of the end table. “I’ve something I want to show you. Now where did I put it? Ah, here we are,” he said, flourishing a photo in front of my face. “This was taken I think about five years ago on our pool deck.”

  I took the picture out of politeness. My thoughts had drifted to Aunt Claire’s reaction to my being here. But then my attention jumped back. I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Daniel was here? Dad had brought him here?”

  I turned the picture over, looking for a date. It was the summer before the accident. Just before Daniel’s junior year. That was the year he’d used styling gel, so he could wear his hair combed towards the front. I’d forgotten that he was practically Dad’s height. Another inch and Daniel would have topped six foot.

  “Surely you knew your father had brought Daniel home for several weeks?”

  “Weeks? No, you’re wrong. They were doing their father son bonding thing backpacking and fishing in Scotland while mom and I got settled at our new posting in London,” I said, sounding troubled. Pictures don’t lie. Mom had known. Everyone had. Except me. But Danny and I had been so tight. That was how we’d survived being uprooted.

  Mr. Cassidy tapped the photo. “That wasn’t Daniel’s first trip home.”

  “Stop calling this home. We never lived here.” The words burst out of me before I could stop myself.

  He patted my right knee. “We want you to think of Spring Valley as your home. My deepest regret is that I was never able to convince Ethan to bring you to us.”

  Something about the way he’d said, “to us” made my stomach clench. I was being overly sensitive. Naturally, folks were curious about me. After all, I was supposed to be the next warden. Then it hit me. Daniel would’ve been the next warden. Dad had been bringing him here to prepare him. Why the big secret? Why was I left in the dark after Daniel died?

  “See how happy your brother looked here. He didn’t fear the clans or his heritage. Let me help prepare you,” Mr. Cassidy said, giving my knee another firm squeeze that he didn’t release all the way.

  The pressure was uncomfortable. I shifted my leg, pushing his out of the way. He sat back in his chair and smiled at me slyly.

  “Daniel had quite the
gift. Folks took to him straight off,” Mr. Cassidy said.

  “Gift?” I asked, staring at my brother’s smiling face, trying to remember what he’d talked about when he’d come home from Scotland. Only it wasn’t Scotland, but Spring Valley. How many more times had I been lied to?

  “Such a nice firm voice for his age. It drew them.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your brother’s call, I was commenting on his control. Quite exceptional for his age. We were all encouraged. I can’t tell you how devastated we all were when the news of his accident finally reached us. Quite the blow. Naturally we expected Ethan to start bringing you around. Each holiday and summer break the folks waited in vain. But now, here you are nearly a grown young woman ignorant of your obligation. You can see why we’re all so anxious to see if you have your brother’s touch.”

  “Touch?” It was a struggle to get more words out. “I’m supposed to talk to folks?”

  Mr. Cassidy laughed as though I’d told a joke. “My dear, I’m not laughing at you. If it wasn’t so charming, I would be quite worried about the valley’s future. As an elder, I’ve been beset by folks who fear that you were kept from us because like your aunt, you possess barely a quantifiable level of gift. While it is unlikely that anyone would do something so grievously insulting or risk your fragile health by attempting a connection on their own, patience, as we both know, my dear Olivia, is a limited quantity. We must alleviate folks’ fears or they’ll think you’ve abandoned them.”

  I sunk further into my seat, replaying my encounter with the hostile woman from the emporium. Impatience hardly covered her reaction. “I . . . I’m not sure I understand what they want from me? I’m still in high school. Why can’t you . . .” My voice fell away. I had no idea what I was asking Mr. Cassidy to do? Save me from them?

  “Dear me, you’re looking pale. This has come upon you unexpectedly. Naturally you’re confused and frightened. As an elder, I will gladly guide your progress.”

  My fingers curled around the crutch, dragging it upright. “Progress towards what exactly?”