by Jan Harman
I was alone on the hill. Near the gazebo blurred shapes streaked for cover in the woods as snow, ice, and wood became weapons.
I ran for the house passed a misshapen post. The discoloration along the base struck me as odd, but I was too concerned with raising the alarm to give it another thought. Arms latched onto my waist, tackling me from behind, slamming me onto ground covered in pine boughs that cushioned my body from the patio bricks. Fingers and arms materialized next to mine and the man grunted in my ear. He tried to vibe, but failed. I grabbed a branch with a jagged end and jabbed it down hard between his thumb and index finger. He yelped and rolled off me.
Violent winds swept across the back yard, bombarding the house with branches and bushes ripped from our landscaping. Shingles flew off the roof and another section of gutter broke free, clattering against the side of the house as it tumbled to the patio. Corner bricks crumbled and fell off the planter supporting the tree’s weight. I ran for the door, dodging flowerpots, birdfeeders, and wind chimes that had become airborne missiles. For every step I took, gusts pushed me backwards twice that much. I dropped onto my hands and knees and crawled with my head tucked low. Pine boughs tangled about my feet and legs. I kicked hard, trying to break free.
“Warden,” a man called.
I scrambled for the door. Stinging hands clamped hold of my left leg and dragged me back. I clawed at the ground for a weapon, ending up with a fist full of pine needles. I was flipped onto my back and pinned to the patio with a knee pressed against my stomach and a hand around my neck. I kicked my legs, trying to unbalance my personal zombie that looked even more hideous with its fake ears ripped off its mask and real blood coating one side of his face.
“You may have stopped the fire, but it looks like you and I are going to have some fun after all,” he said maliciously.
He held a blurred hand above my heart. I pushed it away. The fingers around my neck tightened, and the hand returned to my chest. I shoved it away. Fingers squeezed. I scratched and pulled at the hand around my neck, gasping for air. His knee jabbed into my stomach. I bucked in pain, driving his knee deeper. Everything faded except the pain.
“Have you learned your lesson?” Zombie guy asked when I recovered enough to blink helplessly up at his gruesome face. He’d loosened his grip around my neck and was now squatting at my side. While I choked on saliva and bile, the hand returned to my chest. The first pulse stung like a hard slap. The second tore a scream out of my lungs as my chest burned. The hand clamped around my neck, cutting off my scream. I struggled for air, my chest heaving and my ears roaring.
“Time to go. Goodbye, Warden.” Zombie guy grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me into a pile of wet, slick branches. Blurred hands aimed for the brick planter and punched the air. Bricks exploded. The air filled with the sound of tree limbs grinding across the brick façade of the house.
Zombie guy vanished. Unlike the Whisperer, I couldn’t move like lighting or use my hands for anything but trying to shove my way through the heavy curtain of boughs crashing to the ground. The patio shuddered beneath me. I was engulfed and flattened within seconds. It came to me in a flash of insight. After all those months of wishing the crash had taken my life, I was now prepared to do anything to keep the promise of this valley from being snatched away. I’d spent too long thinking I was broken. I was a survivor. Screw dying, I wanted answers. Too bad the seconds on my clock had wound down.
Chapter 24
Fury raked my mind. Desperation gouged.
My ears still rang from the first explosive boom that had accelerated into an unbroken chain of explosions. So far, I’d avoided being crushed by the tree trunk or having my body speared by the pointy end of branches wider than my arms. For all I knew, zombie guy was out there watching for movement. I decided why tempt fate by trying to get out when my quota for luck had to be due to run out soon.
Boots moved in my narrow field of vision, a two-foot, square patch of brickwork almost within arm’s reach. My pulse beat harder. Had the man come back to finish me off? The hem on a pair of washed-out blue jeans materialized. Branches rustled. Pine boughs were lifted off my legs and back.
“Livi, are you hurt?” Shade demanded. “Don’t move. You may have broken something.”
“I seem to be in one piece for a change,” I replied. My voice had gotten rough again and my throat hurt. I pushed up onto my knees and shook out my hair. Sawdust and pine needles rained onto my face. He took hold of my arm to help me onto my feet. I felt the barbed sting from his amped up vibrations all the way through my winter jacket.
“Shade, be visible,” I ordered air that was empty from his knees up. He was slow—by valley measurements—to comply and even then from his neck up he’d stayed just this side of obeying. I meant to say something, but I was distracted by the state of the patio. Kindling, sawdust, and pine needles coated everything. Most of the gutter, that had lined the upper story along the back of the house, now resembled an abstract sculpture of a gigantic octopus.
“You decimated almost thirty feet of tree in seconds?” I exclaimed. “Wish I’d seen that.”
“You saw too much. You were supposed to be downstairs. Safe.”
“Extenuating circumstances, you see, Shadow had collapsed by the gate.”
“Is that true? You just had to jump back into the fight. If you’d come straight back here, none of this would’ve happened,” Shade yelled over his shoulder at Shadow who was standing in the middle of the yard, staring at the forest.
“Quit scowling. This,” Shadow replied, his gaze sweeping the yard, “could’ve been worse if Olivia hadn’t knocked out the monster vibing the top of my skull. She improvised and kept her head. I’m going to have to down grade her designation from drama queen to something a bit more kick ass. What now? Do we hunt?”
“Now? You get medical treatment. How many punches got through?”
“Please, I haven’t been dethroned in years. They were love taps.”
“You only keep the throne because I’ve got better things to do than play games.”
“Train, brother. Not games,” Shadow corrected. “Things would’ve been different if you’d gotten here sooner after I called.”
“Mason took a hit, might’ve cracked a rib. They had him cornered like wild animals with fresh meat, crazed and blood thirsty. They’re licking their wounds. But just in case, I should head back to make sure Mason gets to the clinic in one piece.”
“I’m good,” Shadow coughed, “to vibe.”
“You’re operating on pure adrenaline,” Shade argued. “This was never meant to be your fight. You’re a school teacher. I’m the bureau man, as you put it.”
“I held my own.”
The storm door opened and Aunt Claire stepped out onto the ruined patio. “I see I’m going to have to soothe the collective again. Reports are already coming in from enforcers reporting the extent of the damage. Vibe residuals crisscross the forest making a hunt impossible. Just in case you’re tactics weren’t persuasive, enforcers are sweeping the surrounding area. Shadow, in a couple of minutes, an ambulance will be arriving in front of the house. I expect you to get in it. Your father will meet you at the clinic. Shade, update the enforcers and contact your bureau. I want more officers assigned to shifts, starting with what’s left of this morning.”
Now that I was standing still, I noticed the bite to the early morning temperature. Even though I was shivering and couldn’t wait to get inside to strip off pajama pants that were soaked through above the knees, there were things I needed cleared up. “You knew what was going on the whole time?” I asked Aunt Claire. It came out like an accusation. Anger—that I couldn’t be certain was only mine—made my voice hard and unforgiving. “I thought you were asleep. I didn’t know what to do. They were laughing and treating Shadow like a punching bag. I thought they were going to kill him. I couldn’t stop them.”
“Sweetie, I’m sorry you were frightened. I’ve not had Ethan’s years of practice. Differentiating b
etween and conversing with so many voices at once is taxing. I wanted to respond to you, but I couldn’t. And no, I didn’t know every detail,” she answered, her watchful gaze taking in Shadow being supported by Shade. “Now please, all of you get inside where it’s safe,” she said, holding open the storm door.
***
About an hour after Shadow had been taken to the clinic, several cars and trucks pulled into the driveway. Commander Bradeck and Mr. Cassidy followed my aunt down to the clan room, but the third gentlemen in their group accompanied Shade into the living room to speak privately. From the tense expression on Shade’s face, I reasoned the gentleman must be the commander of the Protector’s Bureau. Since I’d just disobeyed several rules regarding my safety, I decided to go hide out in my room.
From my window, I checked out the destruction caused by the attack. Across huge swatches of the yard, snow that had been almost knee deep had been cleared down to the grass. Many trees both on my property and in the surrounding forest had lost limbs or had been knocked down. I opened my window and leaned outside to check out the damage to the house. Several of the shutters had broken off and the entire section of bricks between the corner of the house and my bathroom needed to be replaced. Next, I checked on my dad’s gazebo. I wished I could go down there to look it over in person. Several workmen with saws were already working in that corner of the yard, cutting up limbs and stacking them into neat piles. The whine of the motors made me wince. I pulled the window down and just stood there, thinking about how the yard had looked before the attack, so pristine and beautiful.
Between my late night at the Cassidy’s and now this, I was exhausted. My head felt like it was being squeezed through a press, turning my thoughts into pulp. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass for relief from the sudden dizziness. The effort to remain standing became too much. I slid down to my knees in a dazed, open-eyed stupor. My chin rested on the windowsill while disjointed film clips with the grainy texture from the era of silent movies, played inside my skull. A row of men stood at attention with their faces averted. Stone bleachers were stacked so high that I lost them in the shadows. A blood tipped knife clattered against a massive marble slab. Flared nostrils and thinned lips twisted into an expression of rage. As the reel gathered momentum, I flashed on the desperate desire to please and the bitterness of failure.
I rubbed my palm back and forth across the sill. The scrub brush feel of the worn, raised grain across my smooth palm scraped away the lingering impression of the knife hilt clamped in my tight fist. Little did it help to expunge the terrible desire to plunge the blade into a warm, beating heart.
“What are you doing? Targets don’t sit in front of windows,” a man yelled. A half second later he followed his outburst with a shaken exclamation. “Livi, what did you do to your hand?”
I whimpered and blinked up at glaciers. The name intertwined with the anxious face eluded me, but the face comforted. For the moment, that was enough. I was conscious of being carried to a bed and laying there while he applied bandages to my palm. When he was done, blankets were molded tight around my shivering body.
“The cold must have frozen your brain while you were foolishly disobeying my orders, again.” Worry took the sting out of the man’s scolding.
Hands slid beneath the blankets, along my cold arms, and then finally onto the cotton fabric at my stomach. Delicious warmth stole through me. A hot breath tickled my cheeks.
“You scared years off me. What did I tell you about taking on a Whisperer by yourself?”
The fierceness etched into the man’s face frightened me. Muscles in his jaw throbbed as he leaned down close to my ear and unleashed a blast of unchecked frustration. “Well, aren’t you going to answer? I know you’re awake. Is it so difficult to follow my orders? Do you have no respect for me and my oaths?”
His fears touched me, calling out to my heart. Shade, how could I have forgotten his name?
I wanted to touch his cheek and smooth away the tiny, tense lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. It was a silly notion, and one I wasn’t brave enough to carry out.
Ignoring his scowl, I wiggled until I was sitting up. I wanted to make sure I stayed awake and in my own head. “This is what you and Sister Willow meant, isn’t it? I caught somebody’s intentions. But it can’t be. I wasn’t part of a joining, or close enough to a Whisper to accidently pick up anything.” I gasped. “Someone just connected without me even knowing. Is that what happened? Does this mean I’m a book to be browsed without my consent?” I turned towards the window, expecting to discover my yard filled with people waiting for their opportunity.
“You are Pepperdine and our warden. No one browses without permission,” Shade replied as though that really did answer all aspects of my questions.
My stomach clenched uncomfortably, churning in anger at my enemies for the fear that accompanied my life and at Shade for seeing me as a weak, frightened girl that couldn’t handle the truth. “You must be wrong. It just happened. Everything was fine then out of nowhere I felt too heavy, like I was being crushed,” I argued, twisting my hands into my bed sheets, aggravating the scratches I’d gotten during the battle outside.
“Hold on. You’re not talking about knowing Shadow was in danger. Something happened up here?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I was looking out the window, then bam, I was being crushed.”
“Crushed by what?” he demanded. Hooded eyes narrowed to cat like slivers of shining white. Firm hands held my cheeks, drawing me closer until our foreheads touched. “Why did you injure your palm?” he asked in a silky tone that wormed its way past my startled denial.
Like clothes tumbling in a dryer, his scorching emotions twisted, curled, and intertwined intrusively into mine. Seething rage hunted and chased, wearing me down to make way for predatory cunning’s interrogation. Finally, when I could bear no more of this brutal revelation of my friend, I shrieked, “Get out of my head.”
Shade snapped to attention. Semi-transparent hands cushioned his head. Towering glaciers tumbled into crystal seas. “Livi, don’t give in. Fight,” he ordered. “Let me help.”
“Stay out of my life,” I commanded. My jaw clamped shut, refusing to open so I could cancel the order. Corrosive voices applauded their puppet. Then, like vultures ripping into fresh kill, they slashed open unbearable memories straight from my worst moments of the accident, slicing and parrying hope into bloody strips. The barren state of my existence suffocated my will. What was the point of going on, I despaired? My hand tightened within the constraints of the bandage. All too clearly I remembered the smooth, balanced weight of the knife in my palm. I craved the feel of hot blood coating my hand. A picture formed in my mind of the knife sinking to its hilt in my stomach.
Perfect. Do it now. End this wretchedness.
“Olivia Rose Pepperdine, obey the words of your defender,” Shade commanded. “Deny the fetid touch. Focus on the spiraling bands in my eyes. Breathe slow and steady. Feel the cadence of my voice tapping against your temple. Notice the gentle stroke of my emotions across your mind. Soak them up. Hear my words that bring truth and peace. Know you are safe in my care. Olivia, never forget, my warden, that you are the heart of this valley. Your being strums our soul music.”
My bed squeaked from the violence of the tremors sweeping my body. Ice-crusted seas pulled me in, forming an ice pack between me and something terrifyingly vile. Coated by the sheer ferociousness of Shade’s conviction, he became my sturdy shore. I sagged and was cradled by his strength.
“Give yourself a few minutes for your mind to sort itself out,” he said calmly. One look at the clusters of icy seas and towering icebergs that were his eyes showed just how far he was from achieving that particular state. “I promise everything is fine.”
“Fine?” I cried tremulously. “If you hadn’t been here . . . If I’d had a knife, I would’ve plunged it into my heart.”
“I’m here, Livi,” he said gently, catching u
p my hands to keep me from rubbing at the bandage. “Sorry I was so callously brutal before. You’ll be alright now. I shoved out the voices and the imprint has been contained.”
“Voices? The what? It’s in my mind, still?” I shrieked, trembling harder.
“But not part of you, hon. We’ll get it removed, I swear,” he said, pressing my cheek against his while his long fingers entwined in my hair.
“What manner of person would place such a command in another’s mind? Am I hated that much?”
“Turn away before you grant it entrance.”
“I’m not strong enough for this,” I whimpered, clinging to his shirt. Beneath my hands the rumble of protest and outrage churned within his broad chest.
“I am, use me,” he said, tucking my head under his chin.
“You’ve got this incredible ability. I’m nothing.” A low growl swept around the room. “But it’s true. I’ve nothing to offer. I’m just a messed up teenager who needs to be seeing a therapist. We’ve been kidding ourselves here. The valley deserves better.”
He pulled back and gripped my arm not letting me turn away. I opened my mouth to again deny my value, but a warm finger on my lips silenced my ugly words. “Listen to me,” he said in a stern tone. “You’re worth the life I’ve committed to your side, my warden. Harbor no doubts upon which others can feed and abuse.”
He pressed the copper aspen leaf against the hollow of my throat, warming it until it was almost uncomfortable. As though I was being branded, I thought, swallowing hard.
Gentle hands cradled my face. “The Blessing of the Valley belongs in the care of your compassionate and giving heart. You’re a gift to this community.” Glints of ice shimmered in his widening eyes, and his voice turned thick and honey smooth. “Olivia, you’re filled with more life than you realize. Just being in the same room with you is intoxicating. Share your doubts. Join with me and feel what I know.”