The Shadow Guide (Challenging the Fates) Read online

  THE SHADOW GUIDE

  VICTORIA SMITH

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  THE SHADOW GUIDE

  Copyright©2021

  VICTORIA SMITH

  Cover Design by Fiona Jayde

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-64716-206-1

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  To That Man . . . Always and Forever

  Acknowledgments

  As always, thanks to my family for supporting, encouraging, and throwing wild ideas around with me. Also, thanks to Bootsquad for alternately holding my hand and kicking my butt.

  Chapter 1

  It had been a week since Gram’s death, and Alaina had never felt so alone, or so tired. The apparitions hadn’t stopped their assault since Gram passed and were torturing her even now as she lay in her bed, alone in the big Victorian. She hadn’t slept more than a few minutes at a time since Gram died.

  The paranormal wasn’t new to her, and had never been scary before. She and Gram had lived with the ghosts of this house for decades. But since Gram crossed over, the spirits had literally come out of the woodwork, and they weren’t all that friendly anymore.

  Weight settled against her legs, the pins-and-needles sensation more frightening than painful. Alaina didn’t dare move. She didn’t know which one touched her this time. It didn’t matter. Her instincts screamed at her to keep her eyes shut, but she forced them open to see what she was dealing with.

  Red eyes glowed, inches from her face. Oh God.

  She tried to roll to the side, but a wave-like pressure settled on her chest. She struggled to take a breath, her heart pounding as the red-eyed shape hovered above her. Alaina clenched her jaw, swearing under her breath. She was so tired of the constant fear.

  “Get the hell away from me,” she screamed, swiping at it with her fists.

  The figure backed away, turning malevolent eyes on her before disappearing through a closed closet door. She sat up and scrutinized the room, blinking as her eyes adjusted. Deep shadows, darker and more solid than regular shadows, clung to the corners and recessed places. Something crouched on her dresser. It studied her, but not with the malice of the red-eyed one, as it slowly swayed. Alaina picked up one of the crocheted pillows from the end of the bed and threw it toward the dresser. The gargoyle-like shadow dissipated.

  Turning on the light, she scanned the room again, satisfied there didn’t appear to be anything still lurking in the corners. She pulled the covers over her head and closed her eyes, seeking precious oblivion. Noises from the closet filtered through her sleepy haze. Scratching, tapping, sniffing—stuff she’d heard constantly lately. She tried to ignore it, but the sounds moved through the walls, increasing in volume and filling her with dread. Clenching the blankets in her fists, she let out a frustrated scream.

  She threw the comforter back with more force than necessary. The blaring light hadn’t deterred them. Neither had her scream. There were more now than before, though maybe it only seemed that way because the deceptiveness of darkness was gone. She walked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, and avoided the mirror. The bloody face she’d seen earlier was still too fresh in her mind—the gaping head wound, the mouth contorted into a soundless scream. She kept her eyes on the floor, not missing the growing pool of dark liquid on the tile near the tub. It dripped from the ceiling, but she dared not look to see what, or who, it came from. It was an illusion. Nothing more.

  Alaina had no idea why the house had suddenly turned so scary. She’d lived here almost her whole life and had never encountered anything except for a few residual hauntings and the occasional unexplained event. She’d seen shadow people for a time after her parents died, but they’d never made her feel the way she did right now.

  She didn’t know what to do. Okay, so she did, but she didn’t want to turn to him. Patrick Harrison was a jerk, the awesomeness of his physical beauty aside. She didn’t care about his fantastic reputation as a paranormal investigator. He’d humiliated her, and she didn’t think she could face him again.

  Despite her mortification over what had happened between them, she trusted Patrick more than the other paranormal investigating operations. His skills were genuine and logical. His knowledge of the paranormal world was vast, though she highly doubted he was actually psychic. Regardless of what had, or hadn’t, happened between them, he’d been a good friend to her grandmother, and that had to count for something. Gram had started helping Patrick on cases a few years ago, acting as a consultant and covering phones on occasion.

  As much as Alaina hated to admit it, she needed help. She was exhausted, terrified, and more than a little ticked off. Whatever was going on in this house was beyond her knowledge and comfort level. She cautiously made her way back to bed and tucked her feet into the blankets, shivering from the cold air swirling around her as she counted the hours until she had to swallow her pride and call Patrick.

  Alaina opened the nightstand drawer and grabbed the journal where she’d been recording every event since Gram’s passing. The ring Gram had given her rolled in the drawer. Alaina’s hand closed around it as tears dripped onto the blankets. Gram’s excitement at placing the ring on her finger had helped Alaina get over being awakened at one minute past midnight on her twenty-seventh birthday.

  “Honey, wake up for a minute.” Gram sat next to her on the bed and turned on the light on the nightstand. She had a huge smile on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, instantly coming awake.

  “Happy Birthday.”

  “Thanks, but why now?” Alaina tried to see the clock.

  “I can’t wait until morning to give you your present.” Gram reached for her right hand and slipped something on her finger. “This year is a very special year for you.”

  “Twenty-seven is not special.” She briefly studied the silver band on her finger. “That’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “Promise me you’ll wear it always. Never take it off, Alaina.” Gram held her hands tight. “This is your legacy. You must protect it. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” Alaina said, a little unsettled by the fervency of Gram’s tone.

  “Go back to sleep now. I’ll tell you all about this ring, why your birthday is special, and our family legacy at your dinn
er tonight. Don’t be late. I know how involved you can get at the shop.” Gram kissed her forehead, her usual light mood back in place.

  “Lavender’s isn’t going to make any money if I’m not involved.” Alaina squeezed Gram’s hand. “I promise I’ll be home by five.”

  Instead, Gram had peacefully passed in her sleep during the night.

  The smooth metal brought a measure of comfort, though the unnatural warmth of the band against her skin disturbed her. She slipped the ring on her finger, guilt filling her at not wearing it as Gram had made her promise. A flash of light illuminated the room, followed by a guttural growl, and then a hiss. Alaina closed her eyes for a second before looking to where the brightness had come from. The corner was empty.

  The ring warmed again, raising her heart rate as the shapes morphed into substance and advanced toward her. The silver band sucked away all her energy, filling her with an unnatural tingle. Wrenching it from her finger, she tossed it back into the drawer as the shadows faded with a harsh moan. Tears filled her eyes. She’d dealt with so much the last three days. Gram had been taken from her so suddenly. It wasn’t fair. Her death made no sense. She needed help.

  Damn it.

  ~ ~ ~

  Patrick had only been home fifteen minutes when Alaina’s call came in. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she’d call him, of all people. He was a fool. But as much as he wanted to apologize and explain himself, he made no move to answer her call. Last night’s case had drained him emotionally, physically, and psychically.

  He faltered. If she was calling, it had to be important.

  She’d been stuck in his head since that night six months ago, and he hated it. She was beautiful, and something about her spoke to his soul. It scared the crap out of him. It had then, and it still did.

  He finally answered on the last ring before the call went to his twenty-four-hour answering service.

  “Patrick, I need to talk to you.” She sounded tired and scared—which dug at his guilt.

  “What’s wrong?” With anyone else, he’d know by now, but Alaina was always hard to read. She’d always been blocked to him—which probably explained some of his fear and a lot of his intrigue.

  “I think . . .” She sighed heavily. “I think there’s something going on here that might interest you. It’s scaring the hell out of me.”

  The resignation and grief in her voice tore at him. Her grandmother had been dead less than a week. Hell, he missed Alona too. Her death had been a huge shock.

  “Tell me what’s been going on.”

  Alaina didn’t speak for what seemed like a full minute. When she finally did, her tale of shadow people lurking in her bedroom definitely captured his interest—even if the memories surfaced to turn his stomach with dread. He’d expected her to tell him about the residual hauntings in the old house. Not shadows, misty beings, and red-eyed things.

  “I need to get the crew and equipment together. We should be there by six tonight.” He half-expected to find she’d called him for the known residual hauntings in the house, but he’d still do the job as he would for anyone in need of his services.

  “We haven’t talked about how much this will cost me yet.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m doing this as a favor to Alona. See you at six.” He hung up before she had a chance to argue.

  ~ ~ ~

  He and his crew parked in the driveway of the old Victorian with fifteen minutes to spare after an unsuccessful attempt at sleep. He’d managed maybe three hours—broken up into what seemed like fifteen-minute increments. He’d be okay for the investigation, providing her reason for calling wasn’t the pipe-smoking man that often appeared in the front room. Alaina waited on the front porch, her arms crossed over her spectacular chest. She didn’t smile when he got out, but the visible relief was almost as good. Patrick ignored the stab of guilt in his gut and turned away to concentrate on the equipment and not her long dark hair, or the way snug jeans fit her slim hips, or the bridge he’d burned.

  “Hey,” he said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “This is Mick. He’s in charge of equipment and setup. The guy with his head in the back of the truck is Dave. I’ll need you to show us the places you’ve had experiences.” He kept his tone formal and polite to try to hide his nervousness.

  Her emotions were hidden, as usual. Maybe that was what had, and kept, him intrigued. She was the only person he’d ever met he couldn’t absorb emotions from. He should be running for the hills again, not wondering how her brain worked and thinking about getting naked and sweaty with her when he’d already screwed his chance with her.

  Alaina let out a grim laugh and spread her arms wide. “The better question is where haven’t I? Everywhere—either out of the corner of my eye or full on. They follow me no matter where I go, even to the bathroom. They wake me every single time I fall asleep.” She took a deep breath. Able to read her or not, it was obvious she was at the end of her rope.

  “Listen, go check into a hotel. You seem like you’re ready to drop. I know the house well enough. I promise my crew can be trusted. They’re all bonded and have signed non-disclosure contracts.” He didn’t know if she’d go for it. “I have the documentation in the truck if you’ll wait.”

  She studied him for a few seconds, and then nodded. “I’ve never said you aren’t trustworthy. I’ll grab a bag and get out of your hair.”

  Twenty minutes later, Patrick watched her back out of the drive, unease gnawing the muscles of his neck, despite how excited he was to finally investigate the grand Victorian. He hadn’t expected Alaina to appear so drawn and tired. Maybe she hadn’t exaggerated. He glanced around the large foyer, groaning at the amount of figurines and reflective surfaces. It would be hard to run the infrared cameras and not get false readings.

  An hour later, he surveyed the electrical cords running through the hall to the computer that would record any events in the rooms when they weren’t actively investigating. Setting up the equipment had gone better than expected, even with the antiques and knickknacks. Nothing had been broken. Yet. A sense of wrongness filled every pore as he called for lights out.

  ~ ~ ~

  Alaina dropped her bag on the floor and locked the hotel room door. The bed called, inviting her. She crossed the room, hoping she’d somehow evaded the shadows she was sure followed her. Twice, she’d checked her rearview mirror and thought she’d seen something in the backseat. The malevolent sense she’d had since returning to the house after Gram’s funeral wasn’t there, so she figured she didn’t have much to worry about. A few benign entities weren’t a problem. She probably wouldn’t even notice them.

  She stretched out on the bed without bothering to take off her shoes, Patrick’s concern and focused, professional smile filling her thoughts. She’d been so grateful to see him she almost forgot her humiliation. Forgetting what had happened six months ago was easy, especially if she were in the same room with him. He was a beautiful man, from his silky brown hair and seductive brown eyes to the way his well-muscled chest tapered into a trim waist.

  Thinking about him wasn’t going to help her sleep. Focusing on what had happened the night in her greenhouse wouldn’t either.

  Gram had decided to play matchmaker. She’d invited Patrick to dinner, telling Alaina she really wanted her to meet the man behind the paranormal investigating firm she’d been consulting with. Alaina hadn’t thought much of it, though she was glad to finally put a face with the name Gram constantly talked about. From the second she’d seen him, she was completely attracted to him. He was nice, funny, and interesting. They’d gotten along well during dinner. So well, Gram had suggested Alaina take him on a tour of her greenhouse. What a mistake that turned out to be.

  She and Patrick had laughed and talked and had stayed in the greenhouse for a very long time. Alaina was sure he was feeling the same thing she was
which was why she’d gone out of her comfort zone and made a move on him. He’d totally rejected her, leaving without a word. She hadn’t spoken to him since, and she’d refused to tell Gram what had happened. Her humiliation hadn’t lessened a bit since he’d walked away. She still felt like a fool.

  She flung her arm over her head, angry at the direction her thoughts had taken.

  Cold fingers gripped her wrist and yanked.

  ~ ~ ~

  Patrick propped himself on Alaina’s bed, a video recorder in one hand and a small tape recorder in the other, her scent surrounding him in a subtle cloud. Remembering she had every reason to hate him didn’t help to squelch his sudden, rising need. Right now, all he could think about was burying his head in her pillows and letting the rest of the world pass him by. His reasons for walking out on her hadn’t changed. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Fatigue had to be catching up with him.

  “You okay, boss?” Mick asked.

  Patrick hadn’t meant for the sigh to be audible. Usually noises they made were marked so when they reviewed the evidence they didn’t think they’d caught an electronic voice phenomenon or disembodied voice, when they hadn’t.

  “Fine. Sorry. Too tired.” He shook off the essence of Alaina—or at least tried.

  The temperature in the room remained constant and no sense of the paranormal came to him. Patrick knew she would have never called him for noises created by the old house, or the residual hauntings. Alaina would have been absolutely sure there was something going on, and it would have taken everything she had to pick up the phone. He was missing something.

  He got up and walked the second floor. Mick said nothing as Patrick checked every closet and even under the bed as he ran through the usual spiel of questions in the hopes they’d get an otherworldly response. After covering all the floors of the rambling old Victorian, he returned to their base of operations in Alona’s study.