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

by Jan Harman

  ***

  My arm, heavy and useless, drapes awkwardly across my body as hot fingers drift across my forehead, spiraling through my blood. My head blazes and my body convulses. “No! Please, don’t,” I beg as the world turns gray and slips away with that relentless voice at my side.

  Sounds intrude, opening a sliver of my world to pain and my father’s watch tapping against metal as his body twitches uncontrollably. The wind picks up, chilling my face. A beam of light traces the spider web fractures that hold together what is left of our windshield. In the lower left corner, a triangular wedge of glass cracks into thirds. Fissures race across the surface of the one next to it. I hold my breath as piece after piece rattles loose. A few fall, tinkling together onto the dash. The breeze dies down. Silence lingers.

  Flashlights click on and off their locations constantly changing, toying with my terror. I listen for footsteps, branches snapping, anything to mark their movements. The only sound I can hear is Dad’s labored breathing. I want to help him, but I don’t understand this cruel game.

  “Olivia?” Dad murmurs.

  Twin beams of light click on at the front of the car as though whoever was out there had been waiting for my father to revive. A stream of air rushes through the front window, snapping off glass slivers and pelting them at my dad. Warm blood splatters my face and right side. I squirm and twist, shredding delicate tissue on the jagged metal of my prison. Tears stream down my face. I can’t move. I can’t stop this.

  “Stop! Please, stop! Someone, help us,” I beg.

  My pleas elicit a cruel laugh from outside the car. “Olivia!” Dad cries, breaking his stoic silence. His bloody hand grabs the dashboard. Slowly, he lifts his body towards our assailants. “Olivia, you will hang on until help arrives,” he slurs. “I love you, baby girl.”

  The hand is back. Briefly, the flashlight illuminates fingers coated with our blood. Fingers splay and then clench into a tight fist. “What the hell? No, I reject . . . get out,” a man yells, dropping his flashlight.

  Bang. Thud. Hurried footsteps stumble past my side of the car. Out in the dark, interspersed amongst moaning and cursing, garbled voices argue.

  “Dad, what are you doing? You’re bleeding. Stop, you’re pushing me into . . . it hurts. Stop!” I scream. He ignores me and drags himself closer to the shattered windshield. I can hear his chest rattling with each rasping breath. Shrill cries pierce the night. Rocks clatter. Footsteps fade. Tremors take possession of my body. Blood runs down the side of my nose and drips off my chin. My heart hammers in my chest. Blackness taunts as I wait for the next round of burning pain. “Where is the man with the cutting voice? Dad?” I sob.

  “You’re safe—”

  He gurgles and starts coughing so hard that his chest bangs against the dash. Then suddenly, mid cough, his body crumples. His leaden weight drops onto my side, shoving me against mangled metal. Panic slices through me. I thrash helplessly, numb to the damage I’m doing to my body. I fight my way out of the gray tunnel that threatens to suck me under and surface to a chilling plinking sound, the heavy smell of gas, pungent body odors, sticky hair matted to my face, and what I think is dirt and blood coating my tongue, souring my stomach with its sharp, metallic taste.

  The flashlight rolls off the dashboard, tumbling upright into a drink holder in the console between our seats. Its light strikes Dad’s face. A low wail spills out of my lips. I can hardly recognize his warm, loving face behind the hideous mangle of flesh and blood. Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror stuck between the steering wheel and the gear shift. I shudder and blink the tears away to clear my vision, wishing he would do the same.

  “Dad?” I cry as his head slumps against my shoulder. “No, Dad, please don’t leave me. Daddy!” Rasping breaths, dripping blood, terrible silence, and finally, thankfully a long dark tunnel that silences the sobs.

  Chapter 14

  Sadness. Grief. Tenderness. Three separate mental caresses cushioned. Calm. Love. Safety. Physical awareness of the plush cushion against my cheek, the sound of someone crying, and a dull throbbing behind my eyes brought me forward that last reluctant step.

  Trembling fingers pressed against my brow. “Olivia, open your eyes. You’re safe,” Aunt Claire pleaded, her voice thick with tears.

  I stirred, opening my eyes slowly. My aunt’s teary face leaned in closer. She folded me into a crushing hug, crying into my hair. I was alone again with my terrible memories. The accident . . . what was it Dad had said? Everything was so jumbled. The tremors started first in my hands, and then quickly spread throughout my body.

  “Sip some hot chocolate,” Shade suggested, holding a mug to my lips.

  I obeyed like I was five years old again, swirling the warm liquid around my mouth, relishing the sweet and salty combo of the caramel and sea salt flavor that had been my mother’s favorite. Hot vibing fingers slipped behind my neck. Warmth radiated throughout my chilled body, dissolving cloying residuals of memories that would undo months of counseling. At least I am not and I never was crazy. He nodded as though he has followed my thoughts.

  “I would never have allowed this if I had any idea. . . .” Aunt Claire’s voice broke.

  Shade thrust a blanket into my aunt’s hands. “Tuck this around her.”

  “Forgive me, Olivia,” Sister Willow said, her voice a gentle flutter against my cheeks. “I offered the healing aid of the Whisperers, and then failed in my duty by allowing my need and the need of the clans to come before the wounded. I felt the turmoil building, and I saw the depths to which your mind buried the details in self-preservation. By my hands you were made to suffer again. It was inexcusable.”

  “Grandmother, you see deeper than most. Did you catch a face or a name?” Shade demanded. “Who amongst us tried to force Ethan by torturing his injured daughter?”

  Aunt Claire jerked, her arms tightening about my shoulders.

  Sister Willow’s moist eyes were kind when she patted my hand. “The beam of the flashlight blinded Olivia, keeping her assailants’ identities hidden. Perhaps a name or what they demanded of Ethan is still buried. Unless necessary, I advise against treatments to unlock what has been hidden. As is too often the case, the treatment is worse than the illness. And in Olivia’s case, it may be more than her mind can presently withstand. It’s certainly more than I want to stomach.”

  “But I need to do this for my parents. I want this solved, so I never have to face that night again,” I said, pulling out of the hug. Aunt Claire resisted, then dropped her arm and intertwined her fingers with mine.

  “Now that the festering wounds have been opened, more details may surface as you heal,” Sister Willow explained.

  I thought of my hysterical episodes when the days refused to order themselves into the proper sequence and of a voice that hounded no matter the medications prescribed. No cure could be worse than living this way. “But it was murder, not a disease,” I argued, flashing on the image of glass shards spraying the inside of the car like Shade’s well-placed ice pellets.

  “We’ve not forgotten,” both Aunt Claire and Sister Willow said together.

  Shade touched his grandmother’s hand. “What if we’re looking at this wrong? Murder may not have been their primary objective.”

  Self-loathing clamped down hard, choking my words. “I should’ve been able to stop the car. I tried, really I did. But we were being shoved off the road. It was slick and raining. I—”

  “If I have to tell you a thousand times for you to believe, then I will. You’re not at fault,” Shade said with conviction. “There was no way you could’ve outmaneuvered their car. Only someone with faster reflexes stood a chance.”

  “They expected a Whisperer?” Sister Willow said, sitting forward now, her eyes narrowing in speculation. “Protocols require a guard to accompany the warden during all trips outside of the valley. It would be logical to assume a guard would’ve been present that night.”

  “Except Ethan caught an earlier flight home, alone,”
Aunt Claire said, shaking her head.

  “Dad had hardly been home in months. And when he was, he worked late into the evening. He’d made a point of clearing his schedule for us. He promised us just family, the great outdoors, hours to catch up, and chats about my college plans. After a while, rules with endless hours of seemingly pointless negotiations got to him. I can see him skipping out without a guard for us,” I said, struggling not to break down.

  “Ethan had skills. Higher than normal human dexterity, flashes of speed, and a strong centered mind,” Aunt Claire revealed in a hushed voice even though there was no one besides us in the house.

  “Who knew?” Sister Willow asked.

  “I don’t know. Growing up here as a human mix is difficult. Like most teenage boys, he liked to show off. It was a constant source of contention in our house. It’s possible their assailant was aware that it was only the family in the car and knew that with his unique abilities, Ethan would be able to stop safely. What they got was a terrible accident.”

  “Trapped, wounded, possibly dying, Ethan wouldn’t cooperate,” Shade announced his voice the rumble of distant thunder. “Look at the facts. Given the decimation our kind can inflict upon a body, their attackers chose a mental assault. Why? If the intent was to force Ethan’s cooperation, watching his child’s body being vibed apart would’ve been horrific. He would’ve agreed to anything to stop her suffering. They wanted information and they couldn’t risk Olivia dying from her wounds before Ethan gave them what they wanted to know.”

  “Or maybe, they believed Ethan had given the information to Olivia,” Aunt Claire said, searching my face as though I knew the answer.

  Starburst ice ridges sliced across green seas. In a voice that trembled with rage Sister Willow said, “Olivia was tortured by a relentless hunter, well versed in illegal mental arts. I know of less than a handful of individuals capable of these actions. I can’t imagine anyone so sensitive stomaching the brutality.”

  Aunt Claire froze with her hand curled about the handle of the teapot. “Surely her attacker couldn’t have expected to gain anything useful out of a mental assault? Marie had just died. Olivia’s mind suffered great trauma, both mental and physical. With her seriously wounded and in shock, it would’ve taxed even you to collect coherent, mental imagery.” Aunt Claire paled and slowly set the teapot onto the trivet with a soft ting. “That’s why they didn’t bother to kill her. If she survived, they planned on her trauma hiding their tracks. The nightmares, the irrational moods, the panic attacks were a result of the torture. Oh, Olivia . . . I should’ve brought you here straight off.”

  “It’s not your fault, Claire, You had no reason to suspect such cruelty.” Shade reassured.

  A dull pain migrated across the top of my skull. I was wrung out. I didn’t think I could handle any more surprises, but I had more questions for my aunt while she was in a talkative mood. “Dad had abilities like the Whisperers. Is that why Shade got so worked up when I caught his memory? My mom was half Whisperer, so genetically it stands to reason that I might have abilities, too?”

  Her lips pursed and her expression became guarded. “It’s not a given. I never manifested any latent abilities.” Like my aunt had done so often during those scary days in the hospital, she fiddled with the hummingbird charm on her bracelet and looked away. Avoidance mode to hold back the truth was about to intervene.

  I touched the bracelet. Aunt Claire’s fingers stilled. “Please don’t worry so much. I’ll do better. You’ll see.”

  “Claire, you won’t lose her, too,” Sister Willow said understandingly.

  My aunt sniffed, nodded, and said, “Yes, please do.”

  I pivoted to face the elder lady; annoyed that I’d been excluded from a conversation. Her watchful gaze looked straight past me, to my aunt. I don’t know why, but I felt a trace of the panic I used to get at the hospital when Aunt Claire would leave my room for too long. During my self-absorbed, depressed state, had she coped with too much? A pulse of warm air drifted past my cheek and ruffled my aunt’s hair. These people were perceptive and generous with their hearts. It was comforting to know that my aunt had such friends. A feathery touch skimmed my cheek. I too had a perceptive friend. My pulse quickened. Don’t be silly. He only took the oaths to safeguard his valley. He’d have done it for any heir.

  Sister Willow poured both herself and my aunt more tea, and then waited until my aunt had taken a sip before speaking. “Due to the close-knit nature of our community, limited abilities have passed into the human population. The odds that Olivia will have any within a testable degree are naturally higher because of her genetics and her Pepperdine ancestry.”

  While she’d been speaking, I considered an image that had terrified me in my dreams. “Dad’s eyes clouded over like yours and Shade’s.”

  “What?” Aunt Claire choked on her tea. Once she was finished coughing, she demanded, “When did you see this?”

  “That night in the car, reflected in the rearview mirror. In my nightmares, Dad’s bloody face stares at me with stark-white eyes. I’ve been telling myself I was in shock at the time.” Actually, I’d thought I was crazy. Wisely, I kept that to myself. This conversation was too important to interrupt with discussions of my ongoing mental state since the accident. “The men outside the car made a strange sound. They didn’t return after that, not even to see if Dad was still alive. Do you think my father did something to them?” I asked. I couldn’t think of anything my dad had done or could’ve done, considering he was moments from dying.

  “Against Whisperers? I don’t see how that would’ve been possible,” Aunt Claire answered.

  I faced Shade and demanded. “Had my father’s protection detail reported threats?”

  “Trust me, if they had, your family would’ve been brought to the valley.”

  “Unless, Ethan’s detail didn’t know. They didn’t go overseas with him. Ethan had gotten very insistent on that point over the last few years,” Sister Willow said, thrumming blurred fingers against the knob of her cane. “He refused to risk the discovery of the valley.”

  “Just as he refused to resign from the State Department,” Shade said bitterly.

  “His job was important to him,” Aunt Claire replied, coming to her brother’s defense.

  “More important than us? Than bringing his daughter home?”

  Sister Willow shook her head. “Shade, now is not the time.”

  “He’s only saying what the valley feels,” Aunt Claire responded. “Ethan sacrificed his time with us, but not because we were less important. We were too important for him to give his safety enough consideration. His e-mails were filled with side trips to out of the way museums and town halls to view historical records.”

  Sister Willow sat up straighter. “Ethan was still searching for the missing clans? That’s what you think the attack was about?”

  “Someone might have wanted him stopped,” Shade suggested.

  “Someone from the valley?” I asked, my voice quivering. Oaths, fear, instinct, something pulled my gaze up to meet that of the man who’d sworn oaths to keep me safe. Glaciers devoured raging seas. I swallowed hard, unable to look away. Oddly enough, I found Shade’s reaction comforting.

  Aunt Claire pushed her teacup to the side and said, “Now I wish I’d paid more attention to Ethan’s ramblings. I’ll go back through his correspondence. I know what protocol requires, but until we know more, knowledge regarding the breaching of Olivia’s mind does not leave this room. I want a task force charged with investigating as discreetly as possible those who had a motive and the means to kill my brother. Shade, speak with Commander Bradeck. It’s the Enforcers’ skills that we need now. Tell him to give Mayor McCowan a heads up.”

  “The Protectors won’t be happy when they find out.”

  “Make it a joint task force, but Bradeck is on point.”

  “I want in.”

  “I thought you were guarding my niece?”

  “I can do my job more effe
ctively if I don’t have to wait for an abbreviated report.”

  “Tell Bradeck he’s to report to you as my liaison. If he’s got a problem with the chain of command, remind him that he answers first to his warden not the elders,” my aunt said firmly.

  The angry lines about Sister Willow’s mouth smoothed out as she turned to face me. “Given the terrible ordeal you’ve just relived, the extreme level of mental anguish that you’re broadcasting is perfectly understandable. Outside of this house, it will be wondered upon by those of our people gifted with sensitivity. If we are to learn the facts of this heinous deed, your emotions need to be muffled.”

  “I don’t know if I can calm my thoughts enough to hide what I’m feeling.”

  “What are you feeling?”

  “Well for starters, I don’t feel safe in the valley. I don’t think I can look at or be near anyone without wondering if they were involved. I’ve got . . .” I ducked my head afraid to voice the ugliness of my thoughts.

  “Anger? Hatred?” Sister Willow said.

  “A dark pit of it churning so violently that it makes me sick.”

  “Olivia,” Aunt Claire cried out, wiping the tears from my face. “For what was done to you and your family, there will be justice. We’d never be able to get a flight out now. But after Christmas, maybe we could go away for a few days.”

  “Not a good idea,” Shade interrupted. “Out there, we can’t guarantee your safety. At least in the valley, Claire can call for help. Although I expect someone will be assigned to our new warden straight away. As for Olivia, I’ll keep her safe.”

  “Let us hope, grandson, that you never have to prove yourself worthy of your oaths. Now then, Olivia, if you feel you could endure another joining with me?” Sister Willow asked, holding out her hands. “Calming breaths, visualizing a tranquil scene, remembering a happy memory are excellent techniques to try on your own. After what I put you through, they’re insufficient. Allow me to supplement with a mental soothing.”