Chasing Shadows (A Shadow Chronicles Novel) (5 page)

“Nice place,” he commented as we entered through the back door. “This the original homestead?”

“The ground floor is, though there’ve been some renovations over the years,” I replied,
then
offered him a drink. I had tea and soda in the fridge, and upon hearing that I was also a fan of Mt. Dew, he asked for a can of that. I handed him a cold can and said I would return shortly. I then went into my office and made a call to Farrah Johnson, my accountant, and asked her to fax over the employment forms we’d discussed when I first placed the want ad. They arrived within minutes and I was back in the kitchen in about ten.

“Sorry that took so long,” I said as I laid the forms and a pen in front of Mark and joined him at my kitchen table.

“No problem,” he replied politely, dragging the forms closer.

As he began to fill them out, I got up again and retrieved my own drink from the refrigerator—a Mt. Dew, of course, as I obviously could not drink blood in front of him. Not yet. As I sat back down, I realized I was feeling very nervous all of a sudden. Here in my house, sitting at my table just a couple of feet away from
me,
was my dream lover. My soulmate, who was supposed to complete me by bonding with me physically, mentally, even spiritually (though most vampires ignored the spiritual aspect of
pair-bonding)
. I’d been waiting over two centuries for him, and now that I had him I honestly didn’t know what to do next. I’d expected to bond with a human at some point, as vampires rarely bonded with other vampires—but certainly not with an
immortal
human. I suspected he hadn’t the faintest clue that vampires were real, and I couldn’t help but wonder how he would take the news when I told him. I also wondered if he had any idea that he was more than just human, but I didn’t think so. I
mean, the man had grown up with a family and had gone into the Marines—if he’d had any idea what he really was, I could understand the Marine thing, as he’d be less afraid of dying than his fellow soldiers. But then he would also have grown up in the supernatural world as I had, and I’d have probably heard about him by now.

He made quick work of filling out the forms and then slid them back toward me. I went over them to make sure he’d filled out all the necessary parts and nodded.

“Well, Mr. Singleton—”

He chuckled. “You can call me Mark if you like, Ms. Caldwell.”

I had to smile.
“Of course.
And you’re welcome to call me Saphrona instead of ‘Ms. Caldwell.’ Especially as opposed to ‘ma’am,’
which makes me sound like a school teacher or an old maid.
”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he said with a grin.

“Now that I’ve the paperwork all ready to send to my accountant, I had better get back to work,” I said, standing reluctantly. “You’re also welcome to begin moving in tonight if you want, or tomorrow if it’s more convenient for you.”

Mark stood as well. “Actually, tonight would be great. I appreciate that. By the way, I have a dog of my own—hope that won’t be a problem.”

I raised an eyebrow. “No, shouldn’t be as long as he or she gets along with Moe and Cissy and doesn’t harass the other animals. Of course, if the dog does become a nuisance I’ll have to ask you to find other accommodations for it.”

He nodded. “I understand. But Angel’s a really good
dog,
she shouldn’t have a problem leaving the livestock alone once I make sure she understands not to bother them. I could even try to train her to help round up the cows and horses if you like.”

I grinned. “Why don’t we wait and see how your Angel behaves around the other animals first.”

We moved together toward the door and I led him back outside. We stopped next to his truck and I turned to face him. “I have to say, it’s going to take some getting used to, having help around here—having someone else living on the property other than myself. Hopefully you and I will get along famously and there won’t be any problems.”

Mark grinned as he opened the driver’s side door.
“Hopefully, indeed.
And I have to admit that I’m looking forward to a nice, quiet life.”

I laughed and moved away from the vehicle so he could get into it. “You won’t think it so quiet when you’ve got horses neighing, cows mooing, pigs squealing and chickens clucking at odd hours.”

He flashed me a wry grin as he climbed into the truck and shut the door. “Better than exploding bombs and machine-gun fire,” he said. “Be seeing you, Ms. Caldwell, and thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Mark,” I replied. “See you later.”

Mark nodded and started his truck,
then
with a last nod and a wave, he backed down the driveway. I watched until he had pulled out into the road and drove away, feeling suddenly forlorn without him there. I shook myself after a moment for being silly and turned back for the barn. There was nothing to be morose about, because Mark would be back soon.

*****

When he did return about ninety minutes later, I had just finished clearing out the last of the stalls and was preparing to clear out the pigs’ indoor habitat. I stood sharply when I sensed not just one, but two supernatural presences when the red Dodge Ram pulled back into the driveway, its bed loaded with boxes. Mark nodded at me as I walked out of the barn to greet him, my eyes roaming around casually to locate where the other life-force was coming from. When I looked back at my new hired hand he was climbing out of his truck, and was followed by a beautiful black, gray, and white Siberian
Husky
with ice blue eyes that belied intelligence far beyond the canine norm. When Angel held my gaze, I realized that
she
was the other supe—Mark’s dog was a shapeshifter.

I shook my head, wondering just what I had done to deserve all these complications in my life all in one day. I hushed Moe and Cissy as I approached the new arrivals, as they had begun barking madly at Angel. With a quick flick of her eyes at me, she trotted over to the kennel and stuck her nose through the fence so my Chihuahuas could smell her.

“Beautiful dog,” I said to Mark. “How long have you had her?”

He glanced at the dogs’ getting-to-know-you session. “I’ve had Angel since I came home. My mother got her for me, thought I could use the companionship.”

I again wondered briefly about his mother, but dismissed the thought quickly as I had more pressing matters on my mind. “She
get
her from a shelter or a breeder?”

“Actually, Mom said she started wandering the neighborhood right before I got back from Afghanistan. Nobody was claiming her, so she took her in. Not unusual, though, ‘cause we’ve always had a dog, and Mom’s a sucker for a pretty face.”

Just then Angel turned away from Moe and Cissy and walked back over to stand at Mark’s side, nosing his leg until he bent to scratch her behind the ears. I couldn’t help thinking,
Yeah
, that’s right—keep playing the game, sister
, wondering just what in the world her game actually was. I definitely meant to find out.

“You know, I’ve always thought dogs were among the most intelligent of domestic animals,” I said lightly. “They can be taught to do so many things, and their eyes are so expressive. I swear sometimes that Moe and Cissy are trying to talk to me when they look at me. Makes me wish they really could talk to me, so I would know what they were thinking.”

Angel looked up at me then, and I knew that she was aware I was trying to convey the message that I wanted to talk to her—in human form—as soon as it was feasible. As my bondmate, Mark’s safety and well-being were of my utmost concern, and if there was something going on with this shapeshifter, I needed to know what it was and what the hell it had to do with Mark.

I offered to help Mark haul his belongings up to the apartment and he accepted with a smile. We made small talk as we made several trips back and forth; he asked me about my dogs and the other animals on the farm, mentioning that he recognized Herugrim’s name from
The Lord of the Rings
. I told him that all four of my horses had names from Tolkien’s masterpiece because he’d actually modeled the elves loosely
around the ancient Celts, and since Herugrim’s great-grandsire was named Celtic Thunder I was simply keeping up with tradition…sort of. The sire and dam I currently had
were
named after swords and their twin sons were named after horses from the trilogy.

“Actually, this was Hadhafang’s last year for breeding,” I informed him as we were carrying the last of the boxes up. “She’s twenty now and to have any more would be too much stress on her body.”

“You gonna keep her?” Mark asked, setting his box down and taking the one I carried from me.

“I’ve actually been considering donating her to a children’s farm. There’s a special one in Connecticut that caters to children with serious illnesses,” I said. “She can be ridden for another few years and the children would get so much enjoyment out of her. She’s got the perfect temperament to be around children.”

“That’s real nice of you,” Mark commented. “What about the others?”

I shrugged. “Hasufeld I’m selling in the spring, and Herugrim I’m considering selling to another breeder who wants to breed champions of his own, so that Brego can take his place here. Means I’ll have to get me another good mare, but that won’t be too difficult.” With a sigh, I reluctantly fished the apartment key from my pocket and handed it to him, then turned for the door. “I’ll leave you to get settled, since there’s still a little more to get done in the barn.”

“Hey, when do I get started?
Tomorrow?”

I nodded. “Up at seven to feed and water. The cows and horses get turned out at nine, pigs let out into their pen and chickens into theirs at the same time, all get brought in at dusk. Water and food in the troughs once the animals are inside. The horses get a good brushing each night. The pigs’ outdoor pen is cleared of manure every morning before they’re let out, and all the indoor stalls are cleared after the animals are let out. The chicken coop I also clean daily after the birds are outside. Eggs are collected each morning after the chickens are let out for the day—keeps ‘em from pecking at you when you pick up their eggs. Stalls are completely mucked once a week, and so is the birdhouse. Every other day, I ride and check the fences. And one day next week I’m going to be harvesting my last cut of hay. Friday I’ll also be heading to Tractor Supply for feed.”

Mark nodded as I spoke. “Sounds like tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day.”

“Indeed it will, Mark,” I said, opening the door. “Better get plenty of sleep.”

I descended the stairs and went back to work, trying to keep my mind off of the man walking around above my head. I kept reminding myself that there was plenty of time to get to know one another and sort out the truth, but I couldn’t help wondering about his origins, whether or not he knew he was different, and why in the world he had a shapeshifter for a pet. Thinking about Angel made me wonder what her agenda was, why she was pretending to be this docile canine when she was definitely much more than that. What was she up to?

As if responding to my thoughts, Angel walked up to the open gate of the pigpen and sat on her haunches, watching me. I stopped and leaned on the pitchfork as I returned the dog’s steady gaze.

“Why are you here?” I murmured aloud. “Does it have something to do with Mark being a
dhunphyr
?”

Though I had been mostly speaking to myself, Angel had still heard me, and at my last she nodded slowly. I felt my eyes widen a fraction. Not because she had understood me—I knew full well shapeshifters could understand human speech in animal form—but because she had responded at all. I stood straighter as I looked down on her.

“You’ve known the whole time, haven’t you?”
Another nod.
“We’re gonna talk, Angel, or whatever your name is. Because that man up there is important to me, and I won’t have him harmed, is that understood? If whatever you’re about is about hurting him, in any way, make no mistake—you
will
regret it.”

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Angel barked once and stood, turning abruptly and darting out of the pen. She ran for the open tack room door and I could hear her padding up the stairs, where she scratched on the door to the apartment and Mark let her in a moment later. I resisted the urge to follow her, knowing that I had no real excuse for going back up right now.

With a groan, I set about finishing my task, as I still had the chicken coop to clean. As I worked, my mind was abuzz with thoughts about Mark and what Angel was really up to, as well as how I needed to find a way to get out of tracking down my alter ego or falsify my attempts to find her, because I certainly couldn’t tell Diarmid that I was the one writing the books.

Or could I, I wondered? Despite the fact that I had disowned him, and eschewed the fact that I was half vampire by having as little as possible to do with anyone from that world, the fact remained that Diarmid Mackenna
was
my father, and he loved me…as much as a sociopathic, egomaniacal murderer loves anyone. He valued me above his other “children” because I was of his own flesh and blood, and even after I had told him how much I hated him, he still professed to love me. I was still his favorite even though I refused to return his calls or his letters, even though the only time I saw him was when he forced me to by showing up at my door.