Page 7 of From the Shadows
“Oh, I sincerely doubt that. Come,” she said, crooking her finger as if the gesture would ensure he followed. Which he did.
Shay trailed behind her to an enormous great room. She gestured to the sofa that looked like a piece of art, not something you plopped your barely washed butt on.
“I’ll stand, if it’s okay,” Shay muttered.
“Nonsense.” She took a seat on the couch and patted the spot beside her. “Sit, please.”
Shay sat primly, not wanting his grubby clothes to touch something that was probably worth more than Shay could make in a hundred lifetimes.
“Shay Nowak, twenty-four. Son of Craig and Melissa Nowak. Formerly of Westbury, New York. You bounced from job to job, and you currently live in a… well, please pardon the expression, a hovel. You’ve been trying to find a job that matches your talents, but as of yet have been unable to do so.”
Shame coursed through Shay. This woman knew way too much about him. “H-How do you know these things?”
“That’s not the point. At least not right now. I’ve done my research, and I find that your former employers had verycomplimentary thoughts about you. They’re aware you weren’t a fit for the job you took, though they were impressed at how hard you worked. They all thought you could excel at something if you truly loved it.”
That made Shay feel a little better. “If I ever find it, you mean.”
She gave him that toothy smile again. “Which is why you’re here. I have an opportunity for you, and I believe it’s more in line with what you’re seeking.”
“Oh? And how do you know what I’m looking for?” he challenged.
“You want to be needed. You’re looking for a job where you can take care of people. Nothing gives you a thrill like serving a meal and having people sit down to enjoy it. You love to clean, and if you’re not moving, you’re nervous and become bored. Does that sound right?”
Shay stood and glared at Ms. Donnelly. “There is no way you could know these things.”
“Of course there is. Like I did with your former employers, I read your mind.”
Shay gaped. She had said the previous employers “thought,” never that they’d spoken, but c’mon. “That’s ridiculous.” He stood. “Thank you for the opportunity, but it’s obvious we are looking for different things.”
He stalked through the room, when he heard that voice again.
Shay, please come back. I assure you I’ll explain everything. You’re going to need to know the people you’ll be working with. They’re… a motley crew, and they need someone who can not only think on his feet, but also adapt to stressful situations. And there’s a child to consider, as well. He’s seven, and my people can’t give him the full attention he needs.
That brought Shay up short. “A child?”
His name is Jeremy. Please, come back to the living area. I promise I’ll tell you everything.
As if he had no will of his own, Shay turned and retraced his steps.
The lady still sat on the sofa, her legs crossed at the ankles, the bell tinkling softly as she moved. She sipped from a delicate white cup with a bright blue flower print on it. She gestured to the table. “The butler brought tea and finger sandwiches. Would you like me to have him come back to serve you?”
“What? No. I… I can do it.”
She gave him a knowing nod. “Very well.”
Shay poured himself a cup, inhaling the scented steam that wafted from the cup. Hints of vanilla and almond tickled Shay’s nose. He tilted his head upward and met Ms. Donnelly’s gaze. “Would you like me to refresh yours?” he asked.
“Please,” Ms. Donnelly said, holding out her cup.
Shay poured for her, then sat where he’d been before. He didn’t know why he wasn’t running out the door, because he had a feeling things were about to get weird. Well, weirder.
“Do you read novels?”
“If what you said is true, I have a feeling you’re already well aware of that answer.”
The corner of her lip curled up just a bit and her sapphire blue eyes sparkled. “Yes, I am. You’re drawn to the supernatural. The favorites from your reading list includeFrankensteinandDracula, as well as books with werewolves and a host of other creatures most believe exist only in fantasy. Your taste in films are a bit more esoteric, although you still love the paranormal movies and have seen all fifteen seasons ofSupernatural—twice—and are still in love with Sam, Dean, and Castiel. You’ve written fan fiction with the three of them as lovers in endless combinations.”
Shecouldread his mind. That was the only explanation. No one knew about the stories he wrote. He did them all—thirty at current count—under a pseudonym: Shaymless. He knew he should be freaked out by what was happening, but this was too amazing to walk away from.
