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

by Jan Harman

  “I had the time. It needed the attention. Besides, there was something I wanted to find. I was going to let you discover it on your own, but I think it would help you now. Come look over here,” he said, angling towards the window that looked out upon the craggy peaks. Smiling broadly like a kid with a secret he was bursting to share, he pointed. “You have to look up at the beam where it meets the wall. It’s in shadow so it’s hard to make out.”

  I had to strain up on my tip toes to get a good look at my dad’s name carved in the wood. Gently, Shade placed his warm hands on either side of my face and shifted my head to get my attention. Three more names were carved into the side of the beam: Marie, Daniel, and Olivia.

  “Dad added these later,” I said, my voice suddenly thick.

  “According to your aunt, your mother’s name was added before they left for their honeymoon. On the first trip to the valley after Daniel’s birth and then later after yours, Ethan came out here to carve his children’s names into the wood. See, you are connected. Don’t ever think you’re not,” Shade said with a touch of ferociousness.

  While I didn’t know the man who’d led these people, I’d known the dad who’d built me a doll house and had carved my name in his gazebo. For now, that was enough. If I spoke, my misty eyes would generate a waterfall. My hand found his and squeezed. I should’ve known he’d see through the gesture. My head was tucked against cozy flannel that so often covered his solid chest.

  “I’m going to have to keep a spare shirt in the truck,” he whispered into my hair. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or serious.

  “Sorry.” I tried to pull away, but his arms tightened. To him, the gesture was nothing more than an offer of comfort to a friend overcome with grief. For me, though, it was everything. How pathetic was that? I breathed deep, taking in his spicy, woodsy scent, mingled with the crisp clean smell of his shirt, forging a memory of this moment.

  Thankfully, there was a good excuse for my thick voice when I said, pushing back against his arms, “Your guest and my aunt are waiting. I still have to get out of my wet clothes.”

  He beat me to the door, but didn’t open it as I expected. Instead, he studied my face like he did often at Hattie’s just before he offered his assistance. “Are you up to this?”

  “First, tell me what I’d be postponing. Even extraordinary has its limits.”

  “Relax. This is just a get-to-know-you visit and the chance for questions to be answered.”

  “Alright, I’ll go play the charming diplomat’s daughter.”

  “What about the warden’s heir? Are you up for that?” he asked, zipping up his coat.

  “I’m working on it.”

  He held the door open. “For what it’s worth, I believe in you.”

  Now that he’d recalled the reason he’d come down here, I expected him to hustle me up the slope. So it came as a surprise when I realized that he’d stopped next to my snowman. “You don’t have to do that,” I said when he bent down to grasp the head.

  “It’ll only take a minute. If you’re too cold, go on up to the house.”

  “I should probably stay to make sure you maintain the integrity of my vision.”

  A broad smile lit up Shade’s face. The head plopped into place, cracking the twig nose so it looked like a wart was growing on the tip.

  “Very funny. Now it’s crooked. Shift it over to the left. A little more. Careful it’s slipping. Quick, more snow. In the back pack some around its neck,” I ordered, grinning when gloves streaked through the air. Despite his irritated expression, a minute later I said sweetly, “Maybe if you shaped it a little more on the right, it won’t look like it’s got a hump.”

  “I have made one or two snowmen in my time. But if you think you can do better, then by all means,” he said, stepping back and waving a hand towards my hunchbacked snowman.

  “I’m good.”

  “Bossy you mean.” He cocked his head and squinted. “Now I see your vision, a snow witch. You should’ve told me this was a self-portrait.”

  I waited until his back was turned. My brother always said I had a good arm. Besides, it would be criminal to waste perfectly good packing snow. The snowball made a satisfactory thunk against Shade’s coat. Not that I’d waited around to see my handiwork.

  “Not fair,” I shrieked. Strong arms caught me around my waist lifting my feet up into the air. I hadn’t taken into account his quick, stealthy speed.

  He chuckled “Don’t you know not to play with fire? The same holds true for wind.”

  I was released. Before I could take a step towards the upper patio, a miniature blizzard descended on my position. Wind-swirled flakes stuck to my lashes and hair if I leaned to far one way or the other. “Cheat!”

  “Just using what I’ve got.” His amused voice came at me from all sides. “Any more comments about my snowman building skills?”

  Icy pellets struck my body. I yelled, “I surrender. You’re the master builder.”

  The snow settled into a boot top deep pile at my feet. “As if there was any doubt,” he said, starting to laugh. “I’m sorry. You should see yourself. You look like the poor bloke’s mate.”

  I looked down. My coat and jeans were coated as though I was a scarecrow left outside for the winter. Snow crunched as I bent my elbows to brush off my hat. Shade burst into another fit of laughter. Very deliberately I took off my snow-crusted hat, so snow didn’t go down my neck. I stretched my arm out and shook it in his face. It was childish, but his wide eyed gasp was worth it.

  The thought of retaliation came a half second later. I braced myself for the war. Instead, he started to laugh even harder until he had to bend over and grab his thighs while he caught his breath. Some opportunities were just too good to be wasted. I wiped my gloves through the ends of my hair, squeezed, and then stuffed the ice ball down the back of his neck.

  With a shriek of laughter, I started up the hill, forgetting for once in all the excitement to be careful. Rolling heavy snowballs back and forth across the yard had stretched tight muscles that were far from ready for a run up a slope through snow that almost covered my boots. I hissed sharply as I felt my knee give. Automatically, my hand clenched to grip my crutch. Only I wasn’t holding one.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, easily scooping me up. “Where’s your crutch?” He spun about twice, his eyes searching the yard.

  “I left it inside.”

  “What? Did Dr. Long give you permission to go without it?” All trace of playfulness had vanished from his voice. “Where’s your common sense? You don’t want to undergo more surgeries do you?”

  His reprimand stung. “I’m not a child. I was being careful.”

  “Obviously not enough. Maybe I should take you to the clinic?”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ve felt worse, a lot worse.”

  A muscle in his jaw throbbed. “This is my fault. I got carried away.”

  I pushed against his shoulder and snapped, “Leave it to you to ruin one of the few pure moments of fun that I’ve had in months. I stepped wrong. It was an accident. You’re absolved from blame.”

  Icy droplets glided down my chest and soaked into my bra. I tried to keep a straight face.

  “What’s the matter,” he demanded, his perceptive eyes narrowing.

  My face scrunched up. “Your blizzard is melting into uncomfortable areas. Don’t ask.” Not that he needed to, since a telltale blush was enhancing my healthy red glow.

  A slow grin broke out across his face. Not the reaction I expected. A wave of heat triggered ice-cold trickles that ran from my jean waistband down to my very low-rise panties. I squirmed and shrieked.

  “I so won this battle.” He chuckled.

  Before I could respond, air and flakes briefly chilled my hot face. Together, we huddled in the mud room where my boots were whisked off, followed by my coat being shrugged off my body. My aunt’s voice called out from the kitchen. We both froze, but it faded as she returned to our guest in the living
room.

  “I could dry your clothes,” Shade offered. He cocked his head towards the living room. “I’d better be respectable and join the ladies while you get a hot shower. It’ll be good for your leg.”

  I took a hobbling step towards the back stairs. A shower would be nice, but I was certain his warm hands on my bare leg would sooth my muscles so much better.

  I missed the first step when he said as he stepped closer, “I thought you’d left your crutch by the back door. I better carry you upstairs.”

  Feather light footsteps streaked up the stairs so stealthily that the warped step didn’t even squeak. He set me onto my desk chair, squashing my racing imagination. I tried to keep the disappointment off my face.

  “I’ll be quick, so you’re not stuck downstairs listening to valley gossip,” I said already working out the knots in my thigh.

  Shade brushed my hand aside. “I could ease the tension?”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. The experience would’ve been way better on bare skin. Just my luck, he had scruples. Alright, so did I, but a girl could have her fantasies.

  Where his long fingers massaged, heat pulsed deliciously along my muscles. I could swear my eyes rolled back as my body went limp. Had it not been for my tight grip on the sides of the chair, I would’ve slid to the floor. “Where have you been all these months,” I murmured drowsily. “You could make a fortune as a masseuse.”

  “I’m rather picky about my clientele,” he said, his voice unusually thick. “You better hurry and get your shower before your aunt comes up here. Marshmallows?”

  “Huh?” I said sleepily, not quite keeping up. Last night was catching up to me.

  “Hot chocolate with or without marshmallows?”

  “Definitely with. Spilling over the top.”

  “I’m yours to command. Do me a favor, make it a quick shower. Your guest cancelled her plans as a huge favor to me.”

  Chivalry is alive and well in Spring Valley and it comes in quite the gorgeous package. I sighed a few minutes later beneath my steaming shower. And he knows his way around the kitchen. Not that it mattered, I thought, scrubbing my scalp too hard. To him I was just a silly, high school girl that needed looking after.

  I froze. Soap dripped down the side of my nose. Those times in D.C., when I’d been positive that someone was watching me, had Shade been following me around? But that would mean he’d been there for weeks, maybe even earlier, when I’d first been discharged from the hospital. Did that mean the skin-crawling, hair-raising feeling that made my blood run cold even now under a steaming shower had been my Pepperdine genetics kicking in, picking up on the nearby presence of a Whisperer? It couldn’t be. The sensation was so un-Shade like.

  Unless it wasn’t him.

  Whisperers had left me to die.

  I thrust my head back under the hot water and scrubbed. The ugliness lingered refusing to be cleansed away. My skin turned pruny. I didn’t care. I didn’t want to go downstairs. An image of Shade with his eyes frothy with concern materialized behind my scrunched eyelids. I’d never met anyone so perceptive and devoted in a way that made me want to step into the world. With him at my side, I amended. Jeez I was needy.

  Devoted to his inexperienced, young warden or to the valley or a faction?

  Whisperers had murdered my parents.

  And what was up with his sudden weirdness in the gazebo? He couldn’t seem to control his body. Or his emotions. Just thinking about it made my skin tingle. I’d wanted him. Badly. The desire had been reciprocated. I’d gotten that from his head. Or had I? How like him to spare my feelings. Poor guy connecting with my scarred, emotionally wary mind was messing him up. Obviously I had a long ways to go before I had the skills or the sound mind necessary to connect on a deeper level with these unique people. I was a disgrace to my line. Roland was probably rolling over in his grave. I turned the knob then leaned my hands against the tile letting the cool water stream down my shoulders and back.

  A Whisperer’s voice haunted my head.

  Is that what had spooked Shade last night? It required the presence of an esteemed member of the Whisper community?

  My heart skipped several beats. I pressed my forehead against the tile, breathing through the lightheadedness. Shade didn’t have to tell me he’d been in D.C. He’d wanted me to know before I faced the revered lady in my living room. A show of support. An expression of trust. I shook my head, completely at a loss. I had no idea what he saw in me to take such a risk.

  Chapter 13

  Shade met me at the bottom of the stairs. My first thought was that he’d stationed himself there in case I decided to make a run for it. When he held out his arm to escort me the handful of feet into the living room, my eyes flicked to the front door.

  “You go, I go,” he bent down and said in my ear.

  Were we forming a pact, the two of us against the community? Or was he warning me that he’d have to stop me? I took his serious expression as an answer, but then he winked.

  “Sister Willow, may I introduce, Warden’s Heir Olivia Pepperdine,” Shade said formally when we stopped alongside the older lady’s chair.

  If Shade’s obvious deference wasn’t an indication of the elderly woman’s esteem in the community, the use of the good china tea set that had been stored in the attic for years reinforced the gravity of the situation. My quick, nervous scan of the room latched onto Aunt Claire sitting in a chair at the opposite end of the coffee table. I’d heard her argue—quite spectacularly—with specialists and seen her deal with Mrs. Cassidy with cool politeness, so I was taken aback by her pale face and the twittering of her hands in her lap.

  Thankfully I’d put on my nice jeans, the ones without the decorative rips, and my coral, V-neck sweater with three-quarter sleeves. At least I looked mature and sane. “It’s a pleasure to have you visit us, Sister Willow,” I said respectfully, making a conscious effort not to bite the inside of my mouth.

  Dressed simply in an off-white, western-style shirt, faded jeans, and calf-length, leather boots with her straight, gray hair hanging loose around her shoulders, Sister Willow didn’t fit the mold of revered elder that I’d envisioned. When she tucked her layered bangs behind her ears, I counted three turquoise earrings in each ear. Peridot green eyes with pale yellow rays in the irises met mine over the rim of her tea cup. Briefly, white teeth peeked through a wry smile. “Pleasure isn’t the reaction folks generally have when I unexpectedly drop by.” The old-fashioned, wooden rocking chair rocked forward to a halt. “Do stop hovering, grandson. I’m not about to indiscriminately pulse the bewildered girl.”

  Arms crossed in front of his chest, Shade stood straighter, his chin tipping up a notch. “I stand at her side as is my obligation.”

  A hint of a frown tugged at the corners of Sister Willow’s thin mouth. “Explain why you’re poised to intervene when you asked for my assistance?”

  Had I seen movement in her eyes? There it was again. “Shade, sit down,” I said, my eyes motioning towards the sofa.

  “Olivia,” he growled, “you issued an order.”

  “Yes, I know. It was deliberate this time. Whatever obligation you feel towards me, I won’t have it come at the expense of your relationship with your grandmother. Sit down.” His brows furrowed deeply over eyes narrowed to icy slits. The muscle at his jaw throbbed harder the longer he remained at my side, staring down my order, challenging not just his grandmother, but me. I flipped my hair over my shoulder. But ignoring him was like dismissing an avalanche. You knew standing in its path courted disaster, but its raw power mesmerized.

  Sister Willow leaned forward. “She’s got some fire, Claire. Far more than I dared hope for, given the elders’ griping. That she’s already gained Shade’s loyalty will go far in alleviating the valley’s fears. Take heart, I can see improvement since the wake, despite recent events.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, looking between them. “I don’t recall being introduced at the wake.”

  “Sometimes
talking can get in the way.”

  I gaped at her. When her perplexed gaze returned to her grandson, I elbowed him in the side. “You’re making me nervous. I’m sure I’ve nothing to fear from your grandmother. Tea anyone?” I asked, assuming the role I was comfortable with, that of hostess.

  “Shade,” Sister Willow said in a stern voice. “If you asked me out here to change my assessment, then you’ve wasted everyone’s time. Rescind your oath. Allow another of the clan to take your post amongst the protectors.”

  “You’re a police officer?” I asked Shade. “Why didn’t you tell me? So you work at Hattie’s for the fun of it?” Darn the infuriating man, he refused to look at me.

  “Young lady, release my grandson from your service,” Sister Willow ordered.

  “She cannot,” Shade responded, breaking his silence with a booming voice that charged the air.

  The tingling deep in my bones remained long after the hairs on my arms had laid flat. I considered its meaning and Shade’s open defiance. His grandmother exchanged a stunned look with my aunt before leveling a look that could blister paint upon her grandson. Silently, I tried to signal Shade to settle down. Exacerbating the situation would only lead to repercussions.

  “What words did you use, clansman? Tell me you didn’t go so far?” Sister Willow demanded, coming halfway to her feet. A weathered hand clenched and unclenched the marble knobbed top of her wooden cane carved with renderings similar to the relief work in my basement.

  With his thumbs hooked into his belt loops, he widened his stance. “I am bound.”

  “No!” she gasped, staggering as though struck before collapsing hard onto her chair. “How dare you? It was the council’s right to choose the Warden’s Sworn Protector from the pool of applicants.” Her cane thumped the carpet. “Grandson, I cannot show favoritism. You’ll have to present yourself for disciplinary actions.”