Shade for love, p.1
Shade for Love, page 1
Shade For Love
The Shades of Beckwell: Book 1
Shelly Chalmers
Copyright © 2021 by Shelly Chalmers
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For Grandpa, Uncle Bob, and everyone else who refuses to let age define them.
Contents
From the Minutes of the S.H.A.D.E.S. (Supernatural Hazard Assessment, Defense & Espionage Section)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
A Note…
Also by Shelly Chalmers
Acknowledgments
From the Minutes of the S.H.A.D.E.S. (Supernatural Hazard Assessment, Defense & Espionage Section)
We are the Shades of Beckwell. Though shadows of ourselves, we remain a force to be reckoned with. We take no crap, sugar in our tea, and cookies if you have them.
Mission Notes: It has become apparent that our services are needed. Our old enemy is back. But we aren’t the men we once were. We’re going to need some help. Notice has been sent, plans have been set in motion. We will find a way to protect our town…and paranormals worldwide from a repeat of the devastating genocide we prevented years ago. We need our leader.
Additional Note: It’s Pancake Tuesday. Get there early before Mrs. BossyBody and her crew take all the best tables.
Chapter One
Surprise Wedding
Marrying a man she’d never technically met was bad enough. The fact that her best friend wasn’t there to either congratulate her or talk her out of this insanity made things worse. She, Cara Jenklow, was not made for love.
Cara stood in the quiet second-kitchen of the Beckwell Senior Center in a wedding dress, staring into the mirror propped between an open drawer and the upper cabinets. The wide-eyed, gray-hued woman reflected said this whole thing was insane.
The lingering scent of roast chicken wafted beneath the door from the main kitchens across the hall, the murmur of voices and clank of bins signaling the kitchen had long since shifted to post-dinner clean-up. To everyone else, this was an ordinary Monday evening. Heck, for most of the day, going through the motions of leading art classes here at the Center, she’d pretended it was an ordinary autumn day, too. You know, except for the part where she was getting married.
She sucked in one unsteady breath after another, none of which did anything to reduce the urge to puke, run, or maybe both.
Her reluctant chauffeur, Maddy Hatt, stood near the door, appearing equally uneasy.
“Um, Cara? Are you, uh, sure this is a good idea? The whole arranged-marriage thing,” Maddy said, her ever-present, elbow-length black gloves in place as she wrung her hands together, her dark eyes wide in a pale elfin face. Possibly, she’d taken up the position nearest the door because she wanted to make a run for it, too. Possibly because she’d noticed the grayish hue to Cara’s skin and wanted to avoid the splash zone.
“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, Maddy. I guess this would be easier if I’d met him first.” Technically, she’d seen her soon-to-be husband many times, she’d just never met him. Unless dreams counted. They probably didn’t. He’d appeared for years in her dreams…increasingly X-rated as she’d gotten older. Gorgeous square-cut jaw, chiseled features, soulful blue-gray eyes, the full package. He’d appeared in her visions, too, which she got when she painted.
Her paranormal abilities, despite being the granddaughter of a full-blood dryad nymph and a Baba Yaga descendant, could be counted on one hand. Occasional visions of the future when she painted, not that they were anything special in a town where everyone learned about interpreting visions in elementary school. Literally, there was a class. Ditto for the prophetic dreams—although that was a middle grade class. Hers always featured William Best.
She also had skill with potions, which anyone could do with a little practice and help. She’d learned from Dom, the most almost-magical thing about her. Dom, her best friend that’d been like a consolation prize after Mom died and who insisted Cara trust the visions about William. Or had, before they’d vanished and stopped answering Cara’s calls two days ago.
Cara smoothed damp hands down the cool satin ivory dress that had been Gran’s so many decades ago. It’d been important to include Gran. Besides, this dress had been part of Gramps and Gran’s happy marriage…other than the part where Gran was disowned by her family for marrying Gramps. Sure, Gran and Gramps had known each other and stuff first. Minor details. Maybe if Gran’d had the same kind of visions while painting, had been dreaming and fantasizing about the same man for years and then her grandfather set her up in some arranged marriage scheme, which might or might not finally secure Cara’s place among an elite group of protectors, maybe Gran would have jumped for the chance, too.
Or, you know, not. Because who did that kind of thing? Other than her and…her.
Cara let her head drop into her hands. Geezus, Josie, and George, this was bonkers. Dom, if only you were here. Dom always knew what to say.
Maddy crept closer, a frown and unusual fierceness in her expression. “You’re not being forced into this, are you? Because if you are—”
“Oh, Goddess, no!” Cara faced her mostly friend, took Maddy’s hands, and tried for an everything-is-fine smile. “I, um, am totally up for this,” she croaked.
A knock scratched at the door. “Hey, sweetie. You ready in there?” Gramps called from the other side. “The boys are getting restless. Henry’s holding them off, but we’re going to have a fight on our hands over who performs the ceremony.”
The “boys” being Gramps and his group of retired paranormal soldiers, the Shades. Something between a group of grandfathers…or maybe fairy godfathers. After Mom’d died and Dad ditched Cara here in Beckwell when she was six, each of them had gifted her with their time, their talents, and their love. These days, the boys were more schemers than soldiers, a male version of the Golden Girls, and there had to be some reason they wanted her to marry William. Nothing came for nothing, Gramps was fond of saying. She’d been trying for years to prove she was ready to become a Shade. Maybe this was their way of finally initiating her into their ranks. After all, William had led their squad once. Their very own immortal soldier.
“I’ll be right out,” Cara called back, smoothing the cool satin again. Deep breath in, slow breath out… Dom said she should trust William.
“Cara? Are you sure about this?” Maddy repeated.
Maddy wouldn’t find herself in this situation. First, because Maddy avoided human contact other than twice-weekly visits to the Senior Center to run her two classes and visit her mom. Second, despite what most people—including Maddy—believed, Maddy was a level-headed woman who didn’t make rash decisions based on paranormal-induced visions. At least, not so far as Cara knew. Third, Maddy had a car, something Cara didn’t possess. Since she lived centrally in Beckwell, when the old one died, she hadn’t bothered replacing it. Perhaps most importantly, though, she’d known Maddy for as long as she’d lived in Beckwell, someone else who’d never left. Maddy was the only one of their rapidly shrinking circle left in town, and she’d answered the phone when Cara had called half an hour ago. If entering an arranged marriage with a stranger wasn’t bad enough, walking across the highway in the blowing October wind and light rain in a wedding dress made the whole thing crazier.
“I wish Ainsley and Jessie were here. They could talk you out of this.”
Cara scowled at herself in the mirror, her tight, dark curls partially pulled up, mostly wild as they preferred. Back in school, she, Maddy, Ainsley Chaimek, and Jessie Eldrit had made up the Four Misfit-teers, like Cara’s own version of the Shades, protecting each other and other outsiders on the schoolyard. In a small town where some families measured how long they’d lived here in centuries, not being born in Beckwell meant you were forever “new.”
Of course, that’d all fallen apart when Jessie ditched Beckwell after high school and dragged Ainsley off with her. These days, Maddy was better at keeping in contact with the others. Cara had Dom…emphasis on the “had.”
“That’s sweet, but Jessie is probably building a house or something, and Ainsley probably found someone to mother.” She squared her shoulders. “We shouldn’t bother them.” Yesterday when Gramps had brought up the idea of marriage, for a moment, a calm cert ainty had descended. A kind of “knowing” that settled over her with the same sense of rightness and truth of a vision when she painted. Not magical influence from outside—the Shades had trained her to recognize that—but more an internal knowing that didn’t require precise understanding. Even without Dom there, with their steady confidence promising that William was the one for her, Cara had just known she should marry him. With a calm she usually only felt during painting and visions, she’d agreed to marry William. Calm which, admittedly, vanished as quickly as it’d come, leaving plenty of time for second-guessing. The knowing said this was right. Dom said there was something between Cara and William. But Dom was missing, unable to give that assurance now.
“Oh. Um, so I didn’t think we’d be bothering them. They’d want to be here. Are here. Now,” Maddy mumbled, holding out her phone. “Ta-da. Video call.”
Cara turned, blinked at Maddy, then at the small screen.
Ainsley’s cute, freckled face and wild hair took up most of the screen, whereas Jessie’s blonde head was down, probably on her phone or computer as usual.
“Cara, I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were getting married!” Ainsley cried. “Maddy, hold the phone farther back so we can get the whole dress and everything. Jessie, look how gorgeous Cara looks.”
Maddy gave a slightly apologetic shrug but backed away, while Ainsley oohed and ahhed before Maddy came closer to Cara again.
“You look so beautiful, doesn’t she, Jessie?” Ainsley said.
There was a grunt—sounding a lot like Ainsley had elbowed Jessie in the ribs—and Jessie’s blue gaze and almost too-perfect face, brow raised, stared out through the screen. “You look great, Cara. Congrats, hope things turn out, all the happiness and stuff to you.” She turned back to her phone.
“Thanks, Jess. I can tell you really put your heart into that,” Cara said dryly. Big surprise. She and Jessie had never been close, mostly because Jessie hated Beckwell and thought the Shades were interfering, manipulative old frauds, and refused to hear reason when Cara explained otherwise.
Not looking up, Jessie just snorted. “Come on, Cara. Happy endings are for suckers. But, hey, hope the sex is good. And I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run. I’ve got a meeting with a new potential supplier, then I’ve got three billion other things on the list for today.” She glanced up. “Seriously, though, good for you and all the best.” Jessie disappeared from the screen.
Ainsley centered herself in the screen and tried to compensate with an especially bright smile, as usual trying to keep the peace and take care of everyone. “We’re so thrilled for you, really. Don’t mind Jessie. She’s super stressed with the new company and stuff. Hopefully work will bring us back to Beckwell soon.” Something dulled her expression, an unusual brittleness edging her smile. “I need to talk to my folks and Grandfather. The kind of talk that needs to be in-person.” She blinked, then, like flicking a switch, snapped the wattage up on her smile. “Lots of love, kiss the groom for us, and hopefully, we’ll see you soon-ish!” She blew a kiss before the video call ended.
Silence filled the room a second as Maddy tucked her phone away. “I… I hope that was okay,” she whispered.
“Oh, Maddy, that was perfect, thank you,” Cara said, eyes burning at the thoughtfulness, especially with Dom missing, and longing to give her friend a hug but instead squeezing her hands together. Touch was hard for Maddy. “You’re always so thoughtful. You didn’t have to pick up the phone this morning after I’ve been such a neglectful friend. Give me a call, and I swear I’ll make it up to you. Help get some of the antiques online to sell, manage the repairs to the roof, whatever you need.”
It wasn’t just Maddy she’d been neglecting. It’d been a couple of months since she’d last emailed Ainsley to check in. There was no sense emailing Jessie, who never answered emails and was prickly as a porcupine, but kind of cute and vulnerable in a way you couldn’t just abandon. Besides, they’d been friends forever…even if Cara had never worked up the guts to introduce them to Dom.
Color stained Maddy’s pale face, and she dropped her gaze, twisting her gloved hands in front of her. “That’s kind of you, Cara. Thank you. But unnecessary. I… I manage.”
Maintaining a rambling old Victorian stuffed to the eaves with antiques for the business her mother had started, never mind her mother and Maddy’s own condition, Maddy’s life wasn’t easy. A pang settled through Cara. She’d do better. She’d be better, for her friend, for Beckwell, to earn her place as a Shade.
She turned toward the door, hands fisted. All right then. She could do this. Three steps would take her out the door, where Gramps waited to take her to meet her groom. Three steps that just needed three reasons why she wanted to marry him.
First, there’d been that weird “knowing.” Maybe it was vague as hell. But in that moment of calm knowing, there’d been a sense that marrying William was necessary and would set everything right. He was the first step on a path that would put everything back to where it’d been, where she and her best friend worked together to make a place for Cara in this town, helped her to matter.
One step toward the door.
Second, there were the visions. She’d studied those chiseled features and blue-gray gaze in countless canvases. He’d always been there for her in her dreams, ensured no other man could compare.
Another step forward. Palms damp.
Which led to the third reason. Thanks to Gramps and the boys, she could write a dossier on William MacIntyre Best. Former soldier, current P.I. He helped the paranormal underdog, fought the bad guys. Nothing like the heartless bogeyman some people claimed. William had led Gramps and the boys’ squadron, the Shades, back in the Second World War…because he was an un-aging immortal soldier and all. He wasn’t even 150 yet, and years didn’t count the same way for immortals. Cursed or blessed by a god, all because one of them had answered his mother’s desperate pleas for a child that survived infancy. A child that wouldn’t die. He’d been alone so long, and she could change that.
Cara closed the distance to the door, her hand firm on the knob.
Her best friend Dom’s only physical form was a necklace. Weirdos couldn’t cast stones. Especially in a town where normal need not apply. And Cara was more normal than not. Other than being more spirit than person, at least Dom understood why Cara wanted to be a Shade and protect Beckwell like Gramps and the boys. Well, in a Dom kind of way. Until two days ago. When Dom stopped answering. Not because they were in a foul mood or didn’t feel like answering. Dom had said something ominous about trouble, town, and to find the nymphs, in that order, message broken and staticky, then silence like a wall settled between them. It wasn’t like Cara could ask for help finding Dom or the nymphs, but the knowing said William was the answer to her problems. Even in Beckwell, where weird came with the territory, telling people your best friend was a necklace was, well, too weird.
One problem at a time.
She marched out of the kitchen. “Time to get married.”
Chapter Two
Five Old Men and a Wedding
You learned in war—and in PI work—that if you didn’t pivot when you’d been outflanked, outmaneuvered, and your best plans shot to hell, you ended up dead. Neither an arranged marriage nor seeing the Shades, his former army squadron, had sounded dangerous. However, the second Albert Jenklow’s granddaughter, Cara, walked into the windowed Beckwell Senior Center dining hall after the dinner rush, William MacIntyre Best knew he’d been had. His palms dampened, his heart sped, and the world flipped. The paranormal world might fear him, but he’d just blundered into the biggest damned trap of his life. He needed a plan B, and fast. He reached for his tin of mints, fingers unsteady as he found one, but the sweet chill on his tongue did nothing to calm him or steady his thoughts like it usually did.
