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

by Jan Harman

  Aunt Claire looked unmoved. “Mark had no business interfering in my niece’s care. She’s been through a terrible ordeal. The pace of her introduction into our community is up to me to decide not the elders or the clans. You may pass that along to your husband.”

  “I see that you’re still angry. Truly it was only Mark’s concern for the anxiety of his people that he broached the subject. Olivia seemed so bewildered and uncomfortable that he thought a gentle touch would alleviate some of her fears. Again, it was not our place, but you must see that our hearts were in the right place.”

  “Yes, I see.”

  “Well, then I won’t overstay. But if you could indulge me for another moment, I must speak to you about my son.”

  Finally her face and voice presented a united front. Beneath the sophisticated perfection, an anxious mother surfaced. While I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d hastened off to the kitchen to order Helena to comply with Mr. Cassidy’s agenda, I harbored a slim hope that Trent hadn’t been involved in his parent’s ambitions.

  Aunt Claire moved further into the foyer. “Has something happened?”

  “Trent is quite upset about yesterday. I can’t get him to come out of his room. He’s afraid you’ll ban him from seeing Olivia or that she’ll refuse to see him.” She sniffed and dabbed delicately at the corner of her eyes with a scrunched up tissue. “He’s afraid Olivia will want to leave the valley. He’s blaming himself for pushing her to go out in the first place.”

  Her cool hand lightly touched my arm. “Please don’t hold it against my son for following his father’s lead. Trent thought he was helping you cope. Could I tell him that you’re not mad at him, and that perhaps in a few days it would be alright for him to give you a call, maybe go out?”

  “I guess I’m not really mad at him,” I said, turning to my aunt for help.

  “I won’t interfere with things between you and Trent. That’s your decision.”

  Sadie slipped the tissue into her purse. “Just between the three of us, Olivia is all Trent can talk about.” She hugged my aunt. “Please, forgive Mark.”

  “I’m not one to hold grudges. But understand this, I won’t tolerate intrusions into the Pepperdine Clan’s rights nor mine as Olivia’s guiding relation. Don’t force me to act as warden towards two of my oldest friends.”

  “Warden? You?” Sadie gasped, her delicately curved brows arching. “What about your art shows? You don’t like being tied to the valley with its . . . upsetting memories?”

  “The Pepperdine obligation requires seasoned attention.”

  “If you think that is for the best. Your decision will come as a surprise to many. Not that you aren’t capable.”

  “Some would say it was past time I made that decision.”

  “Naturally, you can count on the Cassidy’s for support. I should be off. I’ve got gifts for the staff to buy. We’ll probably see you later this afternoon at the bonfire. Take care.”

  I let out a long breath when Aunt Claire shut the door behind her. “Do you believe her?”

  “Mark has always been overbearing and headstrong. He was never one to miss taking advantage of a situation. I’d like to believe things got out of hand. For now, I suggest we forgive but remain cautious. As for Trent, see him or not, that is up to you. He’s quite the hunk or whatever it is you girls say. You could do a lot worse. Trent’s very much a part of this place. One day he’ll be an elder.”

  “Why, Aunt Claire, are you trying to play matchmaker?”

  “I think I’ll go make a pot of tea and read for a while.”

  I trailed behind her into the dining room. “We’re not going to talk about last night?”

  “Maybe later. I’d like to give you some space to sort things out.”

  This wasn’t the turn of events that I’d been expecting. At the very least, we could discuss the bombshell she’d dropped on me last night. So many thoughts had rattled around inside my head all night, and now I was going to have more time to weave my thoughts into connections that made me uneasy. The house, with its passage to a fate I didn’t understand, hemmed me in. I hastened up to my room, donned my winter coat and related gear, and headed down the back stairs. I performed a few leg stretches in the mudroom before putting on my boots. For the past month while in the privacy of my own home, I’d been going longer stretches without my crutch. Endurance and muscles were slowly returning. It was time to push to the next level.

  With no particular destination in mind, I wandered around the backyard. My attempt at a snow angel looked more like a misshapen butterfly. I managed to stack two huge snowballs together for the base of my snowman, but I’d made them too large, and I couldn’t get the head lifted up high enough. Finally, I called it quits and put the face on his head anyways and left it propped up against the poor snowman’s feet.

  The wind picked up, swirling fresh flakes in my face as I stood up and looked skyward towards the western slope. Beneath the postcard scene of craggy, snow covered peaks and spruce laden with snow, it was as inhospitable to the unprepared as it had been since man or Whisperer had first arrived. In that regards, it mirrored the undercurrents of this valley hidden beneath Mrs. Cassidy’s polished exterior, her cultured tone, and her careful choice of words. Just how much of Aunt Claire’s free-spirited personality would survive the demands of appeasing the conflicting forces battling for survival? The relief that had come over me when she’d signed the papers didn’t entirely extinguish my fears. Whether it was now or in four years, in too many individual’s opinions I would still be that young, shattered girl and fair game.

  The need to have something solid between me and the deceptively tranquil scene propelled my feet towards the gazebo. Wind-sculpted drifts curled around the structure, mounding higher until I was foolishly sinking up to the tops of my boots. I swept my right foot side to side to shove the snow off the steps. Then, I scurried up the stairs, ignoring the twinges in my left knee and the tightness of my lower back.

  I deliberately chose a view that looked out across our yard towards the gardens and my pitiful excuse for a snowman. I tried to do as my aunt asked. The whole not being entirely part of the human race thing hung me up. Just as it had last night while I stared at my ceiling as the hours had crept by. Sure, the reflection in the mirror this morning had looked the same if you ignored the circles under my eyes, but I was different. I was part of something unique that could very well be vanishing from our world. If I could accept that I was still me and not a monster, then I had to accept the Whisperers as well. I couldn’t see it any other way, for if I didn’t succeed, then I’d be turning away from all the love I had for my family. I sighed heavily. Normal needed redefining.

  “Such a deep sigh for so pretty of a day. Can I be of help?” Shade asked in a cautious voice from just inside the entrance to the gazebo.

  And there was him to consider, picking up on my internal battle to right my strange corner of the world. How could I lump the Whisperers into an unflattering other category when Shade was so utterly amazing.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Something is off about your snowman. I can’t quite wrap my head around it.”

  Oh yeah, that deep drawl that could be both rugged and sweetly creamy took my breath away every time. “I ran into a snag. I’m out of shape.”

  “Like at Hattie’s, you just need someone not height challenged.”

  “You offering?” Foaming seas crashed against a flotilla of ice. I had the feeling we weren’t only talking about fixing my snowman. In case I was wrong, I hid the telltale warm glow of my cheeks by slapping the snow off my jeans.

  “Could be, if you agree to come up to the house.”

  Get your head out of the clouds. He’s here because of what happened last night. “You’ve been talking to Aunt Claire.” Please let her have kept quiet about my nonhuman melt down.

  “Your Aunt?” His brows knitted together, and he seemed to take a moment to order his thoughts. “Right, Mrs. Cassidy stopped by to offer an oliv
e branch. I can’t say I’m surprised. They had to have been sweating it out last night, as was I.” He shifted his weight as though he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go.

  In my current state, I couldn’t be certain what he’d see. Thankfully, my anxiety level had dipped markedly since his arrival. Best not think about what that meant. I exhaled slowly when the deeper furrows on his brow smoothed out. Ice flows melted into crystal-blue seas, leaving behind a cracked, narrow band of white along the outermost edges of his irises. He stepped closer with a crooked smile on his face that made my heart skip a beat.

  “Guess you were right. The hero couldn’t take it after all. That doesn’t explain why you look exhausted. You didn’t go to bed thinking you’d messed up or were wrong in the head or something did you?” he asked, coming quickly forward to rest his hands on my shoulders. His gaze lengthened, revealing slivers of white breaking off and forming clusters of ice islands. “Olivia,” he sighed, “you’re not to think that way, not for one minute.”

  I had to get a better poker face. On the other hand, I might not be the problem. I turned in his arms to avoid his uncanny eyes. Privacy apparently wasn’t a barrier when checking up on my emotional state fell under the purview of for your own good. I took my time responding, waiting until I could speak without sounding annoyed. After all, I had no proof, and embarrassingly I did tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve.

  “Do you blame me? When a valley resident freaks out, what am I supposed to think?”

  “I did not freak out. Things needed to be considered, that’s all.”

  “Well it scared me. Don’t do it again.”

  At the flash of tension in his body, I clenched the drawstring for my hood in my fist and pulled. In case he was angry, I gave it till the count of three before turning slowly around to face his reaction. “Sorry, it slipped out. I didn’t mean—”

  “I know.” After he rolled his shoulders, he gently slid the cord out of my hand. “So are you going to explain the circles under your eyes?”

  “I’m fine.” His frown made my heart beat even faster. To cover, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Not to worry. Aunt Claire explained about my family lineage. Trust me, your freak out paled beside the one I had. Guess it was my turn.”

  “Do you want me to leave?” he asked, giving no indication that he’d taken offense.

  Great, here I was all but admitting that I was having trouble accepting his—and apparently my—genetic makeup, and he had to go and be understanding. “It’s not what you think. I mean . . . I’m an awful person.”

  “I’m not offended. Like you said, you need time to orient yourself. I’m the one who should be apologizing.” He shifted over to the window next to mine. Fingers that were a streak of tan against the white sill tapped out the beat of a super-caffeinated woodpecker. “I should’ve listened to your aunt. Why do I always have to push? I’m as bad as Mark Cassidy. I’ll just go.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not your fault or my aunt’s that I was thrust out of my nest clueless.”

  “Your father—”

  “Had his reasons. Good for him. Did he ever consider this from my side? Do you have any idea what it was like to be in my head last night? I’d be surprised if there wasn’t an alien movie I didn’t consider. Skin-crawling, creeped out, ready to run screaming into the night is my dad’s legacy. Don’t look at me like I’m a terrible daughter for being angry with my dead father. He had plenty of time to explain or to bring me here like he did Daniel.”

  “I really did mess things up by bolting like that,” he replied, his voice filled with recriminations. He turned me by my shoulders and gave me a stern look. “If you can believe in only one thing for now, I want you to accept that you’re not crazy.”

  “It would be easier if I was. At least crazy is familiar.” Long fingers squeezed my shoulders. “Look, I’m dealing in bits and pieces because I can’t keep feeling off balance.”

  His eyebrows dipped severely, drawing attention to ice flecks breaking off thinning white bands. His gaze shifted towards the patio, holding the scene for nearly half a minute while the toe of his right boot tapped a staccato against the baseboard. “Maybe I should’ve waited.”

  “I asked for the connection.”

  “That’s not what I was referring to. In regards to last night, as the Whisperer and as your . . . friend, the decision was mine and it was wrong. What’s done is done,” he said in a sharp tone as though this was an argument. “I need to know if you can get through a visit with a revered clan elder. If this is too soon for you, I’ll take her home. She can blame me for pushing you after your fright at the Cassidy’s.”

  “This guest, her opinion is important. So much so that you’d put yourself in a bad light for me? I don’t know what to say. I’ve not done anything to deserve your kindness, and yet, you keep turning up. You’re a good man,” I said, making no distinction between human and Whisperer. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be staring at white walls.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit; neither does the valley. If you didn’t freak out a little, I’d be concerned. While we’re on that topic, I’ve a confession to make. I might’ve inadvertently caused you to question your sanity. Don’t be mad. I was getting in some practice time with crowds. I’d been timing the elevator, but then I misjudged how long you needed to get inside.”

  Elevator? I was broadsided by a memory of nightmarish minutes spent suffering through the loosening of the glue that held me together. My boulder wobbled, upsetting the pieces of truth I’d been striving so hard to curl into.

  Fingers that were fading in and out raked through his hair. “I felt just awful about the doors. You were ashen and shaking.”

  My voice was rough and a just a hair cranky when I replied, “Your mistiming practically scared me straight into a padded room. I suppose in the scope of things—” He spun away, giving me his profile. Too late, I’d already seen waves slapping against towering ice wedges, knocking slivers into shrinking seas. Apparently he was determined to be blamed. Fine, that meant he might talk, and I wanted a few facts clarified. “The bike messenger?”

  “Guilty.”

  “Thank God.”

  “What?”

  I rubbed my arms. The prickly sensation had been Shade following me. “Thank you.”

  “I’m confused.”

  Best not tell him that it wasn’t only the noise of the doors closing that had shaken me to my core. His coloring looked off; he definitely wasn’t ready for that shocking reveal. Neither was I. Folks wanted to check the viability of my Pepperdine ancestry. I already knew the results. It scared me shitless.

  “Shock,” he said, shaking his head as he eyed me carefully. “Are you sure you don’t need to sit down?”

  “What happened to, ‘If you didn’t freak out a little, I’d be concerned’?”

  His lips curled up slightly. Shoulders relaxed. “Olivia Rose Pepperdine, you’re extraordinary.” He held out his hands and said, “Share your worries and be strengthened.”

  I stripped off my gloves and did as he asked. Warmth vibrated down the length of my taut body. Shade ghosted. When my fear held me back, for my own good he waded in to tie a lifeline around my boulder. A basecoat of reassurance spread over the festering wounds. Next, a topcoat of belonging soothed to bolster me against the hard edges of loss. Lastly, bristles of loyalty imbedded beads of hope to ease my fears. I imagined the life rope pulling me onto solid land. His amusement washed across my thoughts. Calm saturated my being. While I basked in his mental embrace, my boulder steadied. For a wonderful moment, I felt at peace.

  Winter’s bite, clingy, wet jeans; creaking, snow-laden branches, everything not Shade ceased to be. The breeze tousled his hair and I felt it skim my . . . his forehead. In his sudden, noisily inhaled breath, I recognized the sweet pea scent of my hand lotion. Longing. His body faded and reappeared, flushed with heat. Shock. Hopelessness. Unbidden, my heart responded to his anguish. We leaned int
o each other, needing to be held. To be claimed. Electricity sparked in my veins. I gasped. Turbulent seas churned ice flows into shavings resembling toasted coconut sprinkles on icing. Shade spun away, staggering, his body fading in and out.

  Thrust out of the connection, my mind filled with an indefinable ache. “Shade?”

  “Trying . . .” he mumbled, his voice fading like his body. A semi-transparent hand gripped the nearest windowsill, shaking the framework hard, triggering a rumbling sound overhead. Sheets of snow slid off the roof.

  “Let me help you.” I reached out a steadying hand. A pulse of air slapped it aside.

  “Long, hard night,” he responded, slowly regaining control over his body. Rapidly moving fingers shredded the wrapper on a power bar. He stuffed the bar in his mouth and started working on a second while his troubled gaze stared over the top of my head, towards the distant peaks. Finally, after the silence had grown uncomfortable, he cleared his throat and said in a voice that still quivered, “It would seem that I’m again responsible for sanity questioning activities. Allow me to reassure you, Warden, these incidents don’t reflect my competency.”

  “I’m not five years old. You don’t have to spare my feelings. Baggage, remember?”

  “This wasn’t your fault.”

  “For the record, you’re not the reason I’ve been questioning my sanity. It was the accident and the nightmares caused by whatever the other Whisperer did to me. Stop feeling guilty.”

  “You can’t order emotions.”

  I smiled. “It was worth a try, especially with a stubborn, hero type personality.” The corner of his lip started to curl as though he was going to grin, but then it slipped into a serious expression. The tapping of a branch grated in the prolonged silence. I leaned against a window frame, crossing and uncrossing my ankles, wishing he would stop pacing and look at me. “Aunt Claire said you were responsible for putting up the storm windows and tidying up the place. It looks nice. I should’ve thanked you sooner.”