Brush of Shade (33 page)

Her eyes widened
and scanned the room, alighting upon Shade. They exchanged a brief nod. Voices
quieted as she stepped forward to stand beside my aunt. “It seems Warden Ethan
read us pretty well. He had the foresight to protect Olivia from us, his
friends and his people. See how easily we can be frightened into turning away
from our principles.
Shame on all of us.
What must
Olivia be thinking of her people and her new home? How truly terrifying this
must be for you, dear.”

“Our apologies, Olivia.
We do enjoy a vigorous debate.
Tonight’s frightening events have left us riled up and shall we say less than
tactful. My wife was right to remind us of our manners as well as our
obligations to our young heir,” Mr. Cassidy announced as he strode purposefully
to my side.

I had to work
hard to keep from leaning away. The Cassidy’s were old family friends. I should
be grateful for his show of support, but he was just so domineering. He’d
almost reached the loveseat when Shade glided forwarded, so he was the one
standing at my side. Mr. Cassidy’s nostrils flared and his eyes flicked over to
the hearth. Shade crossed his arms and met Mr. Cassidy’s narrowed eyed stare,
forcing the elder to talk around him.

“While these are
dark days, Olivia, they aren’t
your
doing or
responsibility. Rest assured your elders will see these viscous criminals
brought to justice. As for your time away at college, naturally the clans will
honor a father’s last request.” He paused dramatically with his hands
outstretched, including the entire room while others murmured their support.
When the voices quieted, he reached past Shade to squeeze my shoulder. “On the
day you return home to the valley, you’ll have the full backing of the
Cassidy’s and our clan. We are your extended family. You are dear to us. Turn
to us for support and comfort.”

“Our sentiments
exactly,” Shade said, pulsing his voice gently across my cheek.

Mr. Cassidy
sputtered and turned in a huff, heading in the direction of my aunt.

Even though he’d
sounded quite sincere, when he’d looked me directly in the eye, I couldn’t
shake the feeling that Mr. Cassidy’s speech wasn’t entirely for my benefit. It
almost sounded like he was campaigning. That led me to wonder how positions on
the Elder’s Council were obtained. Great, apparently fearing for my life was
making me jaded.

The rapid
tapping of a jacket zipper against the wood trim on the loveseat drew my
attention to the rigid-backed man at my side. Poor Shade, he’d been forced to
kill a man, and yet, no one seemed concerned with how he was doing. I couldn’t
imagine what was going on inside his head. If only he wasn’t so determined to
see me as a kid with baggage, I was a great listener. I tried to catch his eye.
Instead, I caught both brothers leveling speculative gazes upon the back of Mr.
Cassidy’s head. Their eyes veiled over as though they were one person. Then,
they turned towards each other in silent communication.

Aunt Claire gave
Sadie a quick hug then announced, “I call for a full council meeting tomorrow
at one, so we can hear from all the elders before deciding how to handle the
situation. Until then, Commander
Bradeck
will
investigate the dead man’s background. I want a file in my hand before the
meeting,” she said to the man who stood in the doorway with Mason. “I will
forgive comments that were voiced in anger here tonight. Understand that I
won’t have the situation escalate into a mob action or some personal vendetta.
Now I suggest we each go home, take care of our children, and get some rest.
Hopefully in the light of day, calm reason will keep us from setting a match to
this valley.”

***

When I reached
the front foyer, I found Trent leaning against the wall next to a suit of
armor. Strands of damp hair clung to his square jaw. A sweatshirt in the
school’s colors of gold and maroon darkened the yellow sunburst in his eyes,
making him appear on edge. He uncrossed his ankles and rocked onto the balls of
feet, looking much like he did out on the field, filled with contained energy,
prepared to react.

“Are you
alright? They said you were, but things were pretty crazy for a while,” I asked
in a rush of words that irritated my dry throat.

“Me? I should be
asking you that question.” He swept my hair off my forehead. “That goose egg on
your temple needs more ice. I wish Shade had prolonged the guy’s agony. It
would’ve sent a clear message to the rest of them.”

“Trent!”

“Don’t sound so
shocked. You didn’t grow up with them lording their abilities over you like their
so superior. After all these years of keeping them safe from prying eyes,
suddenly we’re the bad guys here? If they hate the valley so much, let them
experience the fun of a government lab.”

Taken back by
the hatred in his voice, I shoved his hand aside. “I refuse to believe the
answer is to become merciless.”

People were
coming down the hall. He pulled me into the front parlor and out of sight.
“They’re not going to ruin the entire night.”

I wasn’t sure to
what he was referring until he stepped closer, his hand sliding around my back,
fitting me snug. I inhaled a light woodsy scent from his body wash before he
kissed my lips. His ragged emotions spilled over, turning the kiss rough as
though he was using it and my body pressed against his to erase the evening. I
twisted my face away; his fingers clenched my hair, stretching it away from my
scalp.

 “
Ow
! I’m a flesh and bone girl not some nameless enemy.
We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down. I’m going home,” I said my voice shaking.

“Not yet.” He
pressed me into the corner, trapping me between an antique writing desk and a
credenza. His wide shoulders caged me in the cramped space. “I can’t believe
you’d be selfish with your kisses?” he said, spitting out the words. Thick
fingers gripped my chin, easily turning my face towards his.

Hard and
demanding his lips crushed mine, forcing them open. I shoved at his broad
chest, stinging my scratched palms. Splayed fingers slid down my side, to rest
possessively on my hip, pulling me in tighter. I stomped on his foot, wrenching
my head to the side, gasping for air. Anger flared in his eyes. Fingers dug
into my hip bone.

This desperate,
hard side of Trent shocked me. I tried to be understanding, but I couldn’t help
but wonder if this aggression was intended—unconsciously I hoped—as a means to
bully me to his side. The thought was ugly. I was ashamed of myself for
thinking ill of Trent after what he’d gone through.

“Just because
you’re bigger that doesn’t give you the right to expect me to do what you want.
I’m your girlfriend by my choice. Try to remember that.” I tried to push past,
but I lacked the strength to even knock his fist off the credenza.

He caught my
wrist and rubbed his thumb over my rapidly beating pulse. “I think you protest
too much. If you need to cover your feelings with a charade of shocked
innocence, I can live with that for a while,” he said intimately.

 “Olivia,
I’m ready to leave,” Aunt Claire called from the foyer.

I searched
Trent’s heated expression for any indication that he was calming down.
“Move.
You’re scaring me. I’ve had enough of that tonight.”
The angry set to his mouth relaxed when I touched his clenched fist. His
knuckles caressed my lips then he leaned down and kissed me twice very gently.

“That’s the
abbreviated version of what I had in mind,” he said in a husky voice. “It’s
just you know, everything. Come over after lunch. Let me have a do over. My
folks will be out. We’ll watch a movie among other activities,” he whispered in
my ear with his usual confidence. A hand slid to the small of my back, pulling
me in tight.

 “Slow
down, I need some time.”

His nostrils
flared and the hand on my back was no longer gentle.
“For
what?”

Where was the
Trent I’d fallen for with his easy laugh? I know I’d been guilty of too many
nasty scenes myself lately, but his anger was seriously misplaced. I pulled
back and said in a rough voice, “For starters, you’re not the only one who had
a brush with death. I bet that didn’t even occur to you. I need some time. Call
me when you can treat me like I’m not a possession.”

To my relief, my
aunt was busy reassuring Mrs. Cassidy when I made my escape out the door. I
kept my head down when Shade pulled up in Aunt’s Claire’s car. By the time he
got out and came around to open our doors, I was confident that any remaining
pink coloring in my cheeks could be chalked up to the windburn I’d gotten
earlier.

Headlights fell
in behind our car as we exited the long drive. “Who’s following us?” I asked,
despite Dr. Long’s order to avoid unnecessary conversations. Shade would keep
us safe of that I was certain, but I still needed to know to get through this
car ride without breaking down.

“Shad and
Mason,” he answered, increasing the speed of the car way past the speed limit.

“I’d like to get
home in one piece.”

“Excellent
reflexes,” he countered. “Until this situation is resolved, neither of you
ladies should be without around the clock protection. I’ll sleep on the sofa
tonight. First thing tomorrow, the Protection Bureau will assign shifts to
their personnel.”

“Guards all the time?”
I protested.

“Shad and Mason
will take shifts patrolling the grounds tonight.”

The clouds had
thinned, revealing a thick forest that could easily hide an army. Headlights
and shadows sculpted body parts out of tree limbs. I sat straighter. Nervous
tension made the shakes return. Worse, I’d fallen back on expecting to see
something out of the corner of my eyes. Silence taunted, so I asked, “You’re
expecting retaliation.”

“I’m not taking
any chances. I’m afraid it’s just a matter of who moves first.”

“Something has
been planned?”

 “Claire,
it would be better if you told her before I have to.”

“Olivia, let me
handle this,” my aunt pleaded.

Like I’d been
doing, she was staring into the night, her body twitching at every curve. I
leaned forward so she’d have to include me in the conversation. “Being kept in
the dark isn’t comforting. Don’t make me order Shade. Show me that you believe
I’m not the same fragile girl that you brought home.”

She sighed
tiredly. “When the second culprit is apprehended, Sister Willow and I will
interrogate him.”

I sucked in a
shaky breath. “You mean access his mind?”

“The matter is
distasteful I know, dear. As the Warden, it falls upon me to invoke certain
procedures laid out by the Pact. We must learn the identity of those who lead
the purist. There is no other way if the man doesn’t willing volunteer the
information.”

“I was at the
meeting. When was all this decided?”

“Some things are
best not spoken out loud.”

“You didn’t want
me to know,” I accused, wondering what else had been decided in the pauses
between sentences.

“Out of concern
for you, the elders and I set things in motion,” Aunt Claire replied, her tone
brusque and all business.

“Yours isn’t the
only home in the valley that plans on posting guards. It would be best for all
if the individual is caught before neighbor begins accusing neighbor,” Shade
said, giving the car more gas.

Now I could see
what my aunt had meant by lighting a match to the valley. I settled into the
back seat with my arms folded across my chest staring into the night. I had the
distinct feeling Shade was hoping they would try something.

“More fun in
Spring Valley,” I muttered crossly, knowing perfectly well that his excellent
hearing caught every disgruntled word.

Etched against
the night sky, smooth parallel lines and abrupt right angles took on substance
as I stepped out of the underbrush onto the tidy lawn. The knowledge that
victory waited behind weathered wood and delicate flesh brought on the frenzied
unifying purpose that I’d so longed to take up. Eagerness quickened my
footsteps. I tossed my head back, drinking it in. Suddenly, amongst the
nondescript features, light washed away a tiny portion of the darkness.

***

Flee! I
surfaced, panting hard as though physically my body had out run the danger. I
blinked aside beads of tears clinging to my lashes and turned to check the time
on my smiley face clock. Stones surrounded me.
Still a dream.
Wake up! Voices beat me down, binding off my thoughts, throttling my will.
Malevolence invaded, twisting and contradicting absolutes with its poison. My
boulder capsized. Tossed into the surge, I grappled to hold onto the basics:
name, birth date,
sanity
, love . . . hate my aunt. I
had not . . . had murdered my parents. 

Voices crowded
me off to the side, leaving me to wither away in despair. I sketched out a
rudimentary mental picture. Mocking voices belittled my effort, overriding my
confidence with derisive commentary. I clung to the threads of my vision. Edges
faded. Lines blurred. Heartsick, I realized something about the eyes was wrong.
The whites had spilled out of blue pools. Mental erasers left shimmering
streaks that dropped diamond tears. The yearning to hold one in my hand
consumed me, forcing the voices back.

“
Livi
, wake up. You’re safe.”

“No!” I
screamed, fighting against tangled sheets that had wrapped about my body during
my thrashing. Cotton fabric slid between my fingers. I swung my fist, smacking
a muscular chest. Lavender from my aunt’s relaxation candles filled my lungs.
Relief swamped me, ripping a sob out of my chest. I was awake. Shade was real.

 “Sit up.
Everything’s alright. It was just a bad dream,” Shade said gently.

Unable to stop
trembling, I burrowed my cheek into flannel stretched across his broad chest.
My head rose and fell with his deep, soothing breaths. Long, warm arms wrapped
around my body, nestling me tighter as my quivering continued. “Talk to me,” I
pleaded.

 “What do
you want to hear?” he asked, speaking into my hair.

“Anything that will chase the ugliness away.”
And the
voices, I feared to say.

“What did you
dream? Was it the accident or the attack at the Cassidy’s ranch?”

“No, you’re
supposed to make it go away,” I said, twisting my hands into the front of his
shirt, no longer certain I was awake. “Everything is so dark. I can’t see you.
Shade!”

My bedside lamp
flipped on. Gentle fingers cradled my cheeks. His brow furrowed. “Maybe we
should make an exception tonight. Sit tight; I’ll get one of your sleeping
pills.”

“It wasn’t a
dream. I’m not crazy either,” I said, my tone challenging him to agree. I
stared past him at my bedroom window. It was ridiculous; Shade would detect
another Whisperer in my room. An icy shiver trailed down my spine. The feeling
of being observed persisted; its pull drawing me to my backyard, forming
another image in my mind.

“Someone’s at
the gazebo,” I said my voice dreamlike. Based on my hysterics, he had no reason
to believe me. I stumbled for words to prove my sanity and ended up hanging
onto his serious gaze with wide, desperate eyes.

Seas churned up
angry waves that quartered and subdivided spiraling white bands until the seas
were overrun by the sky-scraping, glacier eyes of a diamond level Whisperer.
Warm hands gripped mine tight. “What else do you see, my warden?” he demanded
in a crisp, forceful voice that reeled the words past the chorus of smothering
voices.

“The backyard,
the house, my light,” I answered, rocking back and forth.

“The objective?”
he pressed when I hesitated.

“Terror.
Submission.
I can’t. Too
many . . . hurts.” I groaned and clasped my head.

He slid off the
bed. “Shad’s checking it out,” he said distantly as though he was out there in
the night with his twin. “Get up.” He yanked my blanket off my bed and tucked
it around my shoulders. “I’m going to take you to your aunt in the clan room.
Tell her what’s going on.”

 I was
ushered into the dark hall and pressed against the opposite wall with his body
acting like a shield. When we reached my aunt’s open bedroom door, Shade angled
his body in front of mine like something out of a movie with him starring as
the Secret Service agent cut off from the rest of his detail. I imagined men
carrying scary weapons, crashing through windows and kicking down doors. An arm
curled about my waist and lifted me off my feet. Shade sprinted for the stairs.
I may not have been able to see him in the dark hall, but if the sensation of
barbs stabbing my skin through the blanket was any indication, he’d amped up
his vibe to upper garnet level. At the bottom step, Shade whisked me to the
other side of his body and then dashed across the mudroom past the door that
opened into the kitchen.

Scorching hands
pressed on my shoulders, indicating that he wanted me to sit on the narrow
bench. “Is Shadow alright? Did he find someone in the yard?” I asked, keeping
my voice down.

“They hunt each
other,” he replied in that bone-chilling, distant voice that was part growl.

 “He’s a
teacher not one of your bureau officer. Get him back in here. Call for backup.
Where’s Mason?”

“Shad always
excelled at the game.”

Shade pulled on
his jacket, my orders not even fazing him in his highly focused state. Next, he
rummaged in the dark guided by the glow of the porch light coming in around the
edges of the mud room’s curtains. “Slide on your boots. I want you to stay
downstairs until I come for you,” he ordered, thrusting them into my arms.

When he started
towards the back door, I grabbed his arm. “This isn’t a game. What happened at
the Cassidy’s wasn’t either. Don’t do this on your own.”

“No orders. I
will safeguard your life. That is my job.”

My right hand
slid towards my hip. Reaching for what? Was Shad checking my empty yard while I
was having an anxiety attack or worse a break with reality? A blink betrayed
me, stealing me away from my Shade.

***

Did my enemy
cower beneath blankets tucked under a trembling chin? One dim light would
fizzle beneath the strength of unity. The time of the cleansing was upon the
valley. The supremacy of the Whisperers would be acknowledged and feared. A
focused breath and I became the weapon cool, sleek, and deadly intent upon the
perfect target. 

***

“Olivia, why is your arm outstretched?”
Shade demanded,
pulsing
his compelling voice in a tight spiral next to my
ear, vibrating the tiny bones in my ear canal.
“Answer!”

His words cut
like a Public Address system over the noises in my mind. “I’ve . . . we’ve . .
. he’s got a knife,” I stammered disjointedly. My clenched fingers were
uncurled and covered by a very hot hand. The blast of heat flashed through me,
boiling away the dreamlike state. Fueled by my personal terror and launched by
the hatred that had invaded my being, I shouted, “Save Shad!” 

 “Lock the
door,” empty air ordered.

More than
anything I had wanted to do as Shade said, but I couldn’t until I had evidence
that something real was happening. Even though daybreak lightened the sky, much
to my frustration down in the valley where the manor sat nestled in the heart
of the forest, darkness grudgingly yielded its secrets. Other than branches,
battering the house and raining down all over my back yard, I hadn’t spotted a
single Whisperer during the five minutes I’d been peering out the storm door.

And that was
more frightening than the quiet. I slammed the back door closed and turned the
lock. My hand hesitated for a moment. The guys wouldn’t be able to get back in
if something went wrong. Shade was counting on me. I would get them help.

“Aunt Claire!” I
kept shouting all way down the stairs, through the reception room, and into the
empty meeting room. The solemnness of the room stilled my voice and slowed my
hurried steps. The air was much cooler than it had been that day when my aunt
and Shade had brought me down here. I wondered if it hadn’t seen much use since
my father’s death. A shiver went through me. I tightened the blanket about my
shoulders and headed towards the faint glow of light spilling onto the dais
from a doorway on the far right-hand side of the room.

I stepped into
what appeared to be a small library. Hand painted sketches and old photographs
of the valley were hung near the ceiling above the shelves spanning the length
of the room. To my left, portraits spiraled outward from a glaringly open spot
in the center of the wall. Only two of the portraits were done in color, but
only one of them caused a pang in my chest. Struck by the dimples and the
amused smile, I stepped closer to my dad’s portrait, seeing in his youthful
features so much that reminded me of Danny. My fingertips stroked the frame
while my mind supplied an image from our last family Christmas card. Dad’s hair
had grayed at the temples and his public smile had lost its gloss. The urgency
of my news and the reason why the empty spot hadn’t been filled popped my
bubble of pointless wishes. Someone coughed. I jumped and whirled around
expecting a threat of some sort.

In the far
corner of the room past two sets of work desks and chairs, I found my aunt
curled up in a tan recliner. Aroma therapy candles that smelled of lavender and
vanilla lined the shelf above her head. I located the sound of trickling water
coming from a knee-high stone fountain tucked on the floor between the recliner
and the wall.

“Aunt Claire,
we’ve intruders in the back yard,” I said in a loud voice that made me want to
look over my shoulder for the librarian. I didn’t wait for her to respond. I
gave her arm a slight squeeze and tried again, even louder this time. “Aunt
Claire, the guys need backup. We’re under attack.” I felt the sudden tension in
her muscles. She mouthed a word I couldn’t make out, but her eyes remained
closed.

This was a waste
of time. She’d obviously taken a sleeping pill. Besides, we didn’t need her to
call the enforcers. I dashed back upstairs to the kitchen and to the handy list
stuck to the refrigerator. With my nose practically touching the paper and
using a penlight to help me see, I skimmed my aunt’s tiny print. When I got to
the last entry, I couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t listed the numbers for either
the enforcers or the protectors. I suppose that made sense given the percentage
of humans in the dark about the Whisperer’s existence, but at this moment, with
no word from the guys, I couldn’t care less who knew. The only thing stopping
me from calling the regular police or every number on the list was Trent’s
comment about government labs.

From my post at
the storm door, I kept watch over the back yard. In the hazy morning light, the
branches strewn across the snow didn’t seem like all that much to worry about.
The winds had died down and it looked like it was going to be a nice day. I was
beginning to think we’d overreacted when I caught sight of the faded image of a
man staggering towards the aspens by the gazebo. He went down on one knee then
vanished. Pine boughs whipped back and forth in the forest bordering my land. A
loud crack split the air from somewhere out of sight in the direction of the
garage.

My breath fogged
the glass while I scanned the yard, searching for something out of place like a
blurred section of the gazebo or a tree trunk distorted by a man’s body. Midway
up the slope I discovered an outline of a man. Lines thickened and colors bled
through, solidifying into details. I gasped when the sun’s rays highlighted the
yellow-blonde hair of Shadow.

He stood bent
over at the waist with his hands braced on his thighs. His back uncurled one
vertebra at a time as he straightened. Colors faded to gray. He spun suddenly
to his right, punching the air with his left hand, flattening a clump of bushe
s.
A ghostly figure shot out of the forest.

Shadow raced for
the house, cradling his right arm to his chest while punching the air left
handed at the ghostly figure trying to cut him off. It looked like Shadow was
gaining ground, but then, as he reached out for the patio gate, his back arched
and he lost his footing. He went down hard onto his side with his head lolled
forward, burying most of his face in the snow.

Before I could
burst out the door to help him up, a man materialized at his side and crouched
in the snow. Shadow’s body bucked off the ground. When I saw the hand curved
over his head, my legs nearly gave way. “No! Let him go. It’s barbaric. Shadow,
get up! Pulse the monster across the yard,” I cried out, barely getting a sound
out. With each violent arching of Shadow’s limp body, I relived the horror of a
hand holding my mangled body against the car seat and the torture that had
ignited my brain. Unconscious of doing so, I rubbed a toothed side of the aspen
charm across my chest until the stinging released me from my nightmare. My body
shuddered with Shadow’s as he clawed at the hand, trying to pry it off. I
pressed a fist against the glass, willing him to break free. His legs thrashed
about in the snow, fading erratically as though he couldn’t vibe properly.

I yanked my
jacket off the hook and shoved my arms through the sleeves. Let Shade yell, I
refused to stand by while Shadow’s mind burned. I eased open the storm door,
hoping any sounds I made would be covered by the creaking of the gate and the
gust roaring through the trees. The fireplace logs—that were supposed to be
stacked right outside the back door—had been scattered by the wind. The closest
were resting against the base of the brick planter at the corner of the patio
next to the railing. I ducked down and darted across the patio, hoping I wasn’t
seen.