Shadow: Alien Castaways 4 (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

  Shadow: Alien Castaways 4 (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

  Copyright © April 2021 by Cara Bristol

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  eISBN: 978-1-947203-25-9

  Editor: Kate Richards

  Copy Editor: Nanette Sipe

  Cover Artist: Croco Designs

  Formatting by Wizards in Publishing

  Published in the United States of America

  Cara Bristol Website: http://carabristol.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chameleon

  Other Titles by Cara Bristol

  About Cara Bristol

  Acknowledgements

  Their perfect love has one fatal flaw…

  Tragedy sends clairvoyant Mandy Ellison to seek refuge in the small town of Argent, Idaho. Her ESP failed her, and now she’s closing her eyes to the second sight forever—until Shadow, an alien from planet ’Topia, comes into her healing and wellness center with a request. Will she help him find a mate?

  Time is running out for Shadow. His genetics have been programmed with a self-destruct sequence. If he doesn’t bond with a genmate, a female carrying the same mating gene, he eventually will fade from existence. The new clairvoyant in town is his last desperate hope, if she agrees to help him.

  But what is an alien to do when attraction leads to love, especially when every indication shows Mandy is not his genmate? Will Mandy find him a mate, hand him over to another woman, and save his life—or will Shadow decide love is worth dying for?

  * * * *

  Shadow is a standalone read in the Alien Castaways (Intergalactic Dating Agency) series.

  Shadow

  By

  Cara Bristol

  Chapter One

  Halfway down the stairs, Mandy set the box on the railing and paused to rest her aching legs. I’m going to pay for this tomorrow.

  How many times had she been up and down—forty? Fifty? She’d lost count of the number of cartons she’d transferred from her second-floor apartment to the shop. Why the movers had deposited all the boxes upstairs when the ones for her healing and wellness center had been clearly labeled INNER JOURNEY—LOWER LEVEL was anybody’s guess.

  She shook out her knees and then proceeded to the shop and plunked the box of aromatherapy candles on the counter. “Last one!” she announced to the dust motes beaming in on a ray of sunshine.

  The movers had been left to their own devices for twenty minutes tops while she’d run up the street to Millie’s Diner to grab a burger to go. By the time she got back, Movers ’n Shakers had finished unloading the van. After paying them, she’d gone inside to discover they’d lugged all the boxes upstairs. Sheesh! Really? It would have been easier to put the stuff where it belonged. But the guys were young—about her son’s age—so probably the added exercise didn’t faze them.

  Her forty-five-year-old knees and back didn’t like her much right now. She wished she could take a long soak, but her otherwise perfect little one-bedroom apartment didn’t come with a tub, only a shower.

  At the time she’d rented the place, she’d viewed the lack of a bathtub as a positive omen. If there had been a tub, the apartment would have been too good to be true. Perfection was an illusion. If you thought you’d found something perfect, you set yourself up for an unpleasant reality check. Life was flawed. One found contentment and well-being through acceptance of circumstances as they were. One could and should strive to improve a bad situation, but if one counted on a specific outcome, happiness would elude you.

  She had learned the lesson the hard way.

  Goddess, she’d tried so hard. She’d meditated, consulted with her spirit guides, saged, and burned enough incense to start a five-alarm fire, but the answer never wavered. Trying to change people never worked. If they wouldn’t accept her, believed the worst, then that was on them.

  Or as her son had said—fuck ’em.

  Shane had been the one to recommend she relocate to Argent, Idaho. “Folks are more open-minded there. The town is small, maybe 500 people, located in the panhandle north of Coeur d’Alene, south of Sandpoint.”

  If people in the big city had disapproved of her and her business, what hope could a mere dot on a map offer? “Argent doesn’t sound like the kind of place that would be open-minded,” she’d said.

  Shane had folded his arms and given her a censuring look. “Now who’s being judgy?”

  “You’re right,” she said, and sent up a silent request for forgiveness to the universe.

  “As it happens, Argent is home to a group of aliens.”

  “Immigrants, you mean.”

  “No, I mean extraterrestrials.”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  “I’m serious. Remember when the guys and I went snowboarding in Schweitzer? We stopped in Argent for lunch. I met a couple of the aliens. They’ve assimilated into the community and married local girls. It seems logical a town inhabited by extraterrestrials would be inclined to welcome you and your business.”

  His argument had made sense, and Argent seemed to offer good possibilities. Mandy believed in saying yes to new opportunities. The universe provided, but you had to be open-minded to recognize and accept the offering.

  A small town with aliens sounded like the almost perfect place to forgive, forget, and recover.

  “And here I am.” She leaned on the counter and settled into the moment, surveying her domain. Written backward from inside the shop, INNER JOURNEY had been painted in large letters on the wide picture window overlooking Main Street. Two side windows flanked it, one of them in the cozy alcove off to the side.

  She’d noticed the abundance of light during the walk-through of the rental a month ago. She’d heard North Idaho, as locals referred to the panhandle, could be sunless and gloomy, so the wide windows were a big plus. The little nook would provide a great place for customers to sit and relax. Add the living quarters upstairs, the reasonable rent, and, well, she couldn’t have asked for better.

  Except maybe if the boxes had been stowed downstairs. A small flaw in an otherwise perfect situation.

  But thank the goddess Movers ’n Shakers had set the two love seats in the alcove where they belonged. If they’d deposited them upstairs, she never would have gotten them down by herself.

  Movement across the street caught her eye, and she watched an attractive brunette with a couple of baskets stroll down the street. A sharp, vivid picture of a blue…blue?...
man flashed through her mind, and she reeled, surprised by what she saw—and the fact that she saw it. Mandy raced to the door and flung it open. The woman disappeared into Millie’s Diner.

  It’s back. Mandy pressed a shaky hand to her throat. She hadn’t had a vision in months—not since renouncing her second sight. She closed the door and sank onto one of the love seats. She hadn’t realized how much she would miss being clairvoyant until she’d lost her second sight. It had felt like being cut off from an essential part of herself, the ability to help people.

  However, clairvoyance could be a double-edged sword, revealing truths she’d rather not know and leading to outcomes that were not always positive. And once, tragic.

  The press and social media had crucified her. Anguished, angry, wracked by guilt at her failure, she’d railed at the universe, cursing the spirits and spurning the second sight she’d previously considered a gift.

  The universe granted her wish. Intuition and insight had vanished.

  Until now. A blue man? Why was he in blue? Was he a performance artist? A rocker?

  Through the window, she could see the woman heading her way, making a beeline for the Inner Journey.

  “Can I help you?” She jumped to her feet as the woman entered.

  “You must be Mandy Ellison.” The woman’s smile was warm, but a dull gray aura surrounded her, which signaled pain or grief. Had she lost someone? Was she ill? “I’m Kevanne Girardi,” she said. “We spoke on the phone. I’m the owner of Lavender Bliss Farm.”

  “Oh my gosh, yes! Kevanne! It’s so nice to meet you in person.”

  When Mandy had rented the shop, the real estate agent had mentioned Lavender Bliss Farm. Since Inner Journey’s inventory included herbs and aromatherapies, she thought lavender would fit well with her brand—not to mention make a good first impression by supporting another local business. She’d contacted Kevanne and arranged to stock some of her soaps, potpourri, and candles.

  “Here—these are for you. Welcome to Argent.” Kevanne held out the wicker basket. A light-purple floral cloth covered the contents. “I baked some lavender muffins.”

  “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.” She peeked under the cloth. The aroma of baked goods with a hint of flowers wafted up. “They smell wonderful! These will be great for breakfast—if I don’t eat them for a nighttime snack first!” She set the basket on the counter. “How did you know I’d be here today?”

  Kevanne shrugged a shoulder and gave a little laugh. “Small town. Word travels fast. Say something to somebody at one end of the street and by the time you can walk to the other end, the folks there have heard about it already. But don’t worry—everybody is nice,” she added as Mandy widened her eyes in consternation.

  “Nice is good. I can always use a little nice.” She’d experienced firsthand how fast false information could spread and how damaging it could be. It had been unnice.

  “Accepting, too,” Kevanne said.

  Another image of the bluish man flashed, and this time, the start of a name—Charm, Cameron maybe—popped into her head.

  Tell her. Tell her.

  Tell her she saw a blue man? Kevanne would think she was crazy.

  She’d always been open and honest about what she saw—until the tragedy boomeranged on her. Badly burned, she was reluctant to get involved again. Plus, she was still adjusting to regaining her second sight, and she hadn’t yet processed what the images might mean. Was the guy really blue, or did the color hold symbolic meaning?

  Another image flashed, and this time Kevanne stood with a blue man—who sported a tail. Pieces clicked into place. Oh—he’s one of the aliens Shane told me about, and she must be connected to him in some way.

  Tell her. Tell her.

  “I guess a town that welcomed aliens would be accepting,” she said hesitantly to feel her out.

  Kevanne nodded. “You’ve heard about them?”

  “Word travels fast,” she quipped. “My son has been to Argent and met a couple. That’s how I learned about the town—from Shane.” Her abilities and business introduced her to all sorts of people, but she’d never run into an extraterrestrial. “How many aliens are here?”

  “Six.”

  No quibble there.

  “And you’re… married to one of them?” she guessed. She had to admit she was curious as heck..

  Kevanne blinked in surprise before chuckling. “See? I told you news travels fast. Yes, I’m married to Cam—Chameleon.”

  Tell her. Tell her.

  “I saw him.”

  “You met Cam already?”

  Mandy pressed her palms together. Here goes. “No. I got a mental picture of him—from you.” She paused and then plunged ahead. “I get insights, visions. I get impressions, feelings about people.”

  Kevanne widened her eyes in awe. “You mean like a psychic? That’s so cool!”

  The enthusiastic acceptance mitigated the discomfort at the choice of words, but Mandy still winced. Psychic came loaded with negative connotations—especially when plastered across a banner headline or scrolling across the screen during a network TV newscast.

  “Psychic” implicated in…

  So-called psychic a person of interest…

  Kevanne shifted her gaze to the love seats nestled in the alcove. “Do you do professional readings?”

  “Not anymore. I’m focusing on retail sales now. Inner Journey sells healing crystals, incense and aromatherapy products, tea, herbal dietary supplements, self-hypnosis and meditation CDs, self-help and spiritual books, and related products.”

  “So, how does your ability work? Do you see the past or the future? Can you see into your own life?”

  “If only I could! The answer to the last question is no.” If she’d been able to foresee her future, she could possibly have headed off the firestorm of negative publicity, but the universe and its spirit guides only revealed snippets of other people’s lives, not her own, despite her many requests.

  “Sometimes the past, usually the present or the future,” Mandy added, skipping the impossible-to-answer middle question. She couldn’t explain how she “worked” because she had no direct control over the gift. Visions came or they didn’t. Meditation and tarot cards could open lines of communication, but results were hit or miss.

  Kevanne folded her arms. “What did you see about me and Cam that told you we were a couple?”

  “You were crossing the street, and I got a mental picture of a big man with blue skin. And then I saw you with him.”

  And saw the sadness in her aura. Fortunately, she didn’t think the grief had anything to do with Cam. When Kevanne spoke about him, she lit up with a rosy glow.

  “What else did you see?”

  She hesitated. Just because people asked didn’t mean they wanted the truth. Hence, some mediums delivered only positive news.

  Kevanne mistook the hesitation and waved her hand. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot. I don’t mean to be nosy, I’m just fascinated.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s people like me who ask their attorney friends for free legal advice or their doctor neighbor for a medical diagnosis.”

  “No, it’s not that. I prefer telling people what I see or feel because feedback improves the accuracy of interpretation and strengthens my insight.” Filtered through the cosmos, the insights often didn’t translate, so she had to rely on her experience to interpret the information to get an accurate reading. Delivering the information to the person supposed to receive it also allowed her to let go and move on. Usually.

  Some visions couldn’t be erased. Mandy massaged her temple. She’d come to Argent to escape her past, not get embroiled in another crisis. With reluctance she said, “When you entered the shop, I sensed…sadness.”

  The grayness around Kevanne darkened, and she nodded. “A good friend is in a serious bind.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “We haven’t given up hope though.”

  “Hope is a powerful force.” The smal
lest hope could imbue people with the will to fight insurmountable odds and prevail. Unfortunately, sometimes hope wasn’t enough. That happened, too. Oh, how she’d hoped she’d been wrong…

  Kevanne shifted her purse on her shoulder and eyed the stacks of boxes. “Well, I’d better let you get back to work. When should I drop off the lavender?”

  “How about the end of this week? That will give me time to unpack and organize the store. Inner Journey opens for business next Monday.”

  “Perfect! I’ll have the stuff to you on Friday, then.”

  “Excellent.” Mandy glanced at the basket. “And thank you again for the muffins.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Same here.”

  On her way out the door, Kevanne halted and twisted around. “Have you ever done any missing persons work, helped to locate people?”

  Mandy braced against the onslaught of painful memories, the indelible images. “You need to find somebody?”

  “I have a friend who is looking for someone.”

  “The friend with the problem?”

  “Yes.” Kevanne stood still, and Mandy could almost see her holding her breath.

  This was the kind of situation she’d intended to avoid, but she had no one to blame but herself. She’d opened the door by sharing the vision and by revealing her abilities. Kevanne’s hopeful expression, her obvious concern tugged at Mandy’s compassionate heart. How could she deny someone in need?

  Chances were a reading would turn out fine. Out of hundreds of visions, only one had been marked by tragedy. It had been horrific enough to send her packing and vowing never to get involved again, but it only happened the one time. The odds were nothing like that would happen again.

  Don’t make decisions by what can go wrong but by what can go right. Hadn’t that been her motto? She spread her hands. “I can’t promise I’d see anything helpful or that he or she would like the outcome.” Especially not the latter. “But if you send your friend by, I’ll do what I can.”