Shadow's Messenger: An Aileen Travers Novel

by T. A. White

  I rubbed my neck. “I guess what it boils down to is I just don’t want to. I like my life. I like my family. I won’t be told what to do, how to live, to give up the people I love. I just won’t do it. I don’t care if you think that’s ridiculous or childish. It’s my life. I’ll live it the way I want as long as I’m not a direct danger to those around me.”

  Said out loud it did seem like something a kid would say. I don’t want to so I’m not gonna. I didn’t care. If there was one thing I’d learned, it’s that life is short, even for vampires. I wasn’t going to waste time doing what others expected of me. I’d already wasted my human life as it was.

  It might be messy. It might be difficult, but I was going to live this life the way I wanted to.

  “You do sound like a child.”

  Figured. I hadn’t really expected him to feel any other way.

  “You’re a weapon. One that can explode and kill everyone around you. I’ve told you before that there’s a reason we do things this way.”

  Yes, he had. Just like before, I called shenanigans.

  I gave a humorless smile. “Tell me. When are vampires the most dangerous to those around them?”

  His nostrils flared, and his eyes took on a slight sheen.

  Thought so.

  “Could it be when they’re first turned? The first year maybe?”

  A vein throbbed in his jaw.

  Gotcha.

  “I’ve been a vampire for over two years. In that time, I’ve never had an accident, never killed anyone. Hell, I haven’t even bitten anyone.”

  “You should be biting people. Not drinking from the source is slowly starving you of nutrients you need. If you weren’t so stubborn and convinced you know right, you would know this.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to master the spark of anger that flared to life. He had a point, even if he was being an ass while making it. Hadn’t I lamented my lack of knowledge about my situation several times over the last few days?

  “Stop being a fool,” he said.

  I huffed, biting back the words that I wanted to say. No, I needed to be calm.

  “You need to-”

  “You want me to learn all this, to give vampires a chance?” I asked loudly. “Then you give me a reason. Don’t try to force it or threaten my family. Teach me what I need to know, or get the hell out of my life. Try to establish a relationship, because I can guarantee you won’t win any other way. I will make life hell for anyone you stick me with and from what I know about your culture that would almost ensure a painful or perhaps deadly time for me. Not really a lot of incentive there for me, is there?”

  I stalked off before he could answer.

  The sorcerer’s deal would hold. For now, the vampires couldn’t hurt me or force me into their fold. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was the best choice I could make.

  My anger carried me out of the cemetery and down several streets and several miles before I calmed enough to find my way home.

  I climbed the stairs, my legs weary from all the walking. I let myself in, unlocking the door and shutting it behind me without bothering with the light.

  I was halfway into the living room when I froze. There was someone sitting in my armchair. The light clicked on. I shielded my eyes, squinting from the sudden brightness after hours of walking in the dark.

  “Jerry?”

  “Oh, so you remember who I am?” he asked, his voice tight and calm. “I was beginning to wonder since you haven’t bothered to return any of my calls.”

  I cringed and patted my pockets. My phone was missing. I didn’t even remember when I’d lost it.

  “Uh, yeah. About that. There were some issues with the delivery.”

  He arched one furry eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Perhaps we could discuss this tomorrow at work.”

  “No.”

  My shoulders slumped. I had hoped to have a little time to prepare my defense.

  “The person I was supposed to make the delivery to was already dead when I arrived,” I said.

  Jerry’s face darkened. I stepped back, my apartment suddenly seeming small and confining. It would be difficult to dodge his bulk, and I’d locked the door behind me.

  “Explain.”

  And I did. I explained about the werewolves delaying the delivery even after I announced I was with Hermes couriers, about finding the dead guy, my incarceration, the subsequent deal with the sorcerer and everything that had followed in the last few days.

  I held my breath when I’d finished, holding myself prepared to flee. I’d never seen Jerry violent, just heard the gossip around the water cooler.

  He sighed. “You should have informed me of this situation several days ago. While you failed to meet your deadline, there were mitigating circumstances, and the werewolves share responsibility. You might have avoided a lot of trouble had you simply reported back like you were supposed to.”

  I blinked. He had taken that incredibly well.

  “I’ll make sure to do that next time,” I said, not quite believing my luck. I had fully expected to be fired at best and dead or maimed at worst after this conversation.

  “Now, on to more important things.”

  I let myself relax.

  “Where’s Cherry?”

  Shit. His car. I’d totally forgotten, what with the kidnapping and all.

  His eyes were penetrating as they stared me down. I felt like a teenager facing my dad after putting a scratch down the side of his brand new vehicle.

  “About that.”

  “I didn’t hear it before you came in,” he said.

  “Yes, well, funny story.”

  “Where is my car, Aileen?” he thundered.

  “It’s fine. I made sure nothing touched it.”

  “Then where is it?”

  I made a face. “I’m not really sure.”

  He stood in an explosion of movement. I flinched back. He adjusted his clothes and grabbed his coat, yanking it on in angry movements. I watched with wary eyes.

  “I’m going home. That car had better be there before you come into work tomorrow and there had better not be a single dent or scratch.”

  “Of course, Jerry.”

  He paused at my door, “Oh, and Aileen.” He waited until I looked at him before continuing. “I’ll be charging a fee for the past four days use of my car. Think of it as a rental fee. I think a thousand dollars a day is fair, don’t you?”

  I swallowed my protest. That was nearly half the fee owed me for this job.

  “Sounds fair.” I gave him a sickly smile. There goes the possibility of getting my own car.

  Could be worse. I could have gotten nothing due to how badly I’d bungled this job. I could also be fired. Hell, I could be dead. A few thousand dollars out of my check wasn’t too steep a price to pay.

  He left, closing the door after him. I locked it, not wanting any other unannounced visitors and leaned back against it.

  The doorbell rang.

  I opened it, expecting Jerry. Nobody was there, but a white envelope was on the stoop. I bent and picked it up.

  ‘Aileen’ was printed in cursive on the front.

  I turned it over in my hands. The paper felt expensive with the kind of weight popular with wedding invitations, but no one I knew was getting married.

  I opened it and pulled out a piece of paper.

  A number was printed on it and beneath it a message.

  “Looking forward to furthering our acquaintance – Liam.”

  Discover More by T.A. White

  Pathfinder’s Way

  Dragon-Ridden

  Thank You for Reading!

  I appreciate your support. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review on your favorite retailer’s site.

  About The Author

  Writing is my first love. Even before I could read or put coherent sentences down on paper, I would beg the older kids to team up with me for the purpose of crafting ghost stories to share with our
friends. This first writing partnership came to a tragic end when my coauthor decided to quit a day later, and I threw my cookies at her head. Today, I stick with solo writing, telling the stories that would otherwise keep me up at night.

  Most days (and nights) are spent feeding my tea addiction while defending the computer keyboard from my feline companion, Loki, who would like to try her paw at typing.

  Connect With Me

  Follow me on Twitter: @tawhiteauthor

  Friend me on Facebook

  Visit my website for information on upcoming books.

  Excerpt for Pathfinder’s Way

  The Trateri are about to learn a vital lesson of the Broken Lands. Deep in the remote expanse where anything can happen, it pays to be on a pathfinder’s good side.

  Nobody ventures beyond their village. Nobody sane that is. Monstrous creatures and deadly mysteries wait out here. Lucky for the people she serves, Shea’s not exactly sane. As a pathfinder, it’s her job to face what others fear and find the safest route through the wilderness. It’s not an easy job, but she’s the best at what she does.

  When the people she serves betray her into servitude to the Trateri, a barbarian horde sweeping through the Lowlands intent on conquest, Shea relies on her wits and skill to escape, disguising herself as a boy to hide from the Warlord, a man as dangerous as he is compelling.

  After being mistaken as a Trateri scout during her escape, Shea finds herself forced to choose between the life she led and the possibilities of a new one. Her decision might mean the difference between life and death. For danger looms on the horizon and a partnership with the Warlord may be the only thing preventing the destruction of everything she holds dear.

  Chapter One

  “For God’s sake, woman, the village will still be there if we take an hour’s break.”

  Shea rolled her eyes at the soaring mountains before her. This was the third rest stop the man had called for since setting out this morning.

  “We must be half way there by now,” he continued.

  Maybe if they hadn’t stopped several times already or if they had moved with a purpose, but as it stood the group had probably traveled less than two miles. Half of that nearly vertical. At this pace, it would take an extra half day to get back to Birdon Leaf.

  And who would they blame for the delayed arrival?

  Shea. Even though it wasn’t her needing to stop on every other hill when they felt a muscle cramp or experienced shortness of breath. Since she was the pathfinder, it was obviously her fault.

  She could hear it now.

  The pathfinder sets the pace. The pathfinder chooses when to take breaks. Yada. Yada. Yada.

  She hated running missions with villagers. They thought that since they’d gone on day trips outside their village barriers as children, they knew a thing or two about trail signs and the Highlands in general.

  It was always, ‘We should take this route. I think this route is faster. Why is it taking so long? These mountain passes are sooo steep.’

  Never mind it was her that had walked these damn routes since the time she could toddle after the adults or that the paths they suggested would take them right through a beast’s nest.

  Nope. She was just a pathfinder. A female pathfinder. A female pathfinder who hadn’t grown up in the same village as them. Obviously, she knew nothing of her craft.

  The man yammered on about how they couldn’t take another step. Any reasonable person could see how worn out they were. She wasn’t the one carrying the gear or the trade goods.

  Whine. Whine. Whine.

  That’s all she heard. Over the last several months, she’d perfected the art of tuning them out without missing pertinent information.

  It was all in the pitch. Their voices tended to approach a higher frequency when they regressed to bitching about what couldn’t be changed. As if she could make the switchbacks approaching the Garylow Mountain pass any less steep or treacherous.

  “We’ll take a rest once we reach the pass,” she said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

  They had begged for another break since about five minutes after the last one.

  She had a deadline to meet. Sleep to catch. Most importantly, she didn’t think she could last another half day with this lot.

  “We’re nowhere near that pass,” the man raged.

  The rest break obviously meant a lot to him.

  “It’s just over that ridge,” Shea pointed above her.

  Well, over that ridge and then another slight incline or two. It was just a small lie, really. If the man knew the truth, he’d probably sit down and refuse to take another step.

  “That’s nearly a half mile away.” The man’s face flushed red.

  Really if he had enough energy to be angry, he had enough energy to walk.

  “Quarter mile at most.”

  “We’re tired. We’ve been walking for days. First to the trading outpost and then back. What does an hour’s difference make?”

  Shea sighed. Looked up at the blue, blue sky and the soaring pinnacles of rock then down at the loose shale and half trampled path they’d already traveled.

  “You’re right, an hour’s rest won’t make much difference.” His face lit up. “However, you’ve already wasted two hours today on the last two breaks. You also wasted several hours yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. We should have been back already.”

  She held up her hand when he opened his mouth.

  “Now, we are getting up that pass. We need to be over it and down the mountain by nightfall. Otherwise you’re going to have to fend off nightfliers. Do you want to fend off nightfliers when you could be sleeping? Or would you rather suck it up and get over that damn ridge?”

  The man paled at the mention of nightfliers, a beast about three times the size of a bat that had a disturbing tendency of picking up its food and dropping it from a high altitude. It made it easier to get to the good parts on the inside.

  “We’ll wait to take the break.” He turned and headed down to the last switchback where the rest of their party waited.

  “Oh, and Kent.” Shea’s voice rose just loud enough for him to hear. “Please let them know that if anybody refuses to walk, I’ll leave them here to fend for themselves. Nightfliers aren’t the only things that roam this pass come nightfall.”

  He gave her a look full of loathing before heading down to his friends. Shea kept her snicker to herself. Good things never happened when they thought she was laughing at them.

  Idiot. As if pathfinders would abandon their charges. If that was the case, she would have left this lot behind days ago. There were oaths preventing that kind of behavior.

  What she wouldn’t give to enjoy a little quiet time relaxing on the roof of her small home right about now.

  They didn’t make it back to the village until early the next morning. Shea brought up the rear as their group straggled past the wooden wall encircling the small village of Birdon Leaf.

  The village was a place that time had forgotten. It looked the same as it had the day it was founded, and in fifty years or a hundred, it’d probably still be the same. Same families living in the same homes, built of wood and mud by their father’s, father’s, father. Most of the buildings in the village were single story and one room. The really well off might have a second room or a loft. Nothing changed here, and they liked it that way. Propose a new idea or way of doing something and they’d run you out of town.

  They didn’t like strangers, which was fine because most times strangers didn’t like them.

  They tolerated Shea because they needed the skills her guild taught to survive. Shea tolerated them because she had to.

  Well, some days she didn’t.

  A small group of women and children waited to welcome the men.

  A large boned woman with a hefty bosom and ash blond hair just beginning to gray flung her arms around a tall man with thinning hair.

  “Where have you been? We expected you back
yesterday morning.” She smothered his face with kisses.

  “You know we had to keep to the pathfinder’s pace. The men didn’t feel it would be right leaving her behind just because she couldn’t keep up.”

  There it was. Her fault.

  Anytime something went wrong it was due to the fact she was a woman. Even looking less feminine didn’t help her. A taller than average girl with a thin layer of muscles stretching over her lean frame, Shea had hazel eyes framed by round cheeks, a stubborn mouth and a strong jaw-line she’d inherited from her father. Much to her consternation.

  “What the guild was thinking assigning a woman to our village, I’ll never know,” the woman said in exasperation. “And such useless trail bait. They must have sent the laziest one they had.”

  Trail bait. Dirt pounder. Roamer. Hot footed. Shea had heard it all. So many words to describe one thing. Outsider.

  Shea turned towards home. At least she would have a little peace and quiet for the next few days. She planned to hide out and not see or talk to anyone.

  Just her and her maps. Maybe some cloud watching. And definitely some napping. Make that a lot of napping. She needed to recharge.

  “Pathfinder! Pathfinder,” a young voice called after her.

  Shea turned and automatically smiled at the girl with the gamine grin and boundless enthusiasm racing after her. “Aimee, I’ve told you before you can call me Shea.”

  Aimee ducked her head and gave her a gap toothed smile. She was missing one of her front teeth. She must have lost it while Shea was outside the fence.

  “Pathfinder Shea. You’re back.”

  Shea nodded, amused at the obvious statement. Of all the villagers in this backwoods place, Aimee was her favorite. She was young enough that she didn’t fear the wilds lying just beyond the safety of the barrier. All she saw was the adventure waiting out there. She reminded Shea of the novitiates that came every year to the Wayfarer’s Keep in hopes of taking the Pathfinder’s exam and becoming an apprentice.