Autumn Thorns: A Whisper Hollow Novel Book 1 Read online

  Autumn Thorns

  A Whisper Hollow Novel, Book 1

  Yasmine Galenorn

  A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication

  Published by Yasmine Galenorn

  PO Box 2037, Kirkland WA 98083-2037

  AUTUMN THORNS

  A Whisper Hollow Novel

  Copyright © 2020 by Yasmine Galenorn

  Second Electronic Printing: 2020 Nightqueen Enterprises LLC

  Second Print Edition: 2020 Nightqueen Enterprises

  Cover Art & Design: Ravven

  Art Copyright: Yasmine Galenorn

  Editor: Elizabeth Flynn

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format, be it print or electronic or audio, without permission. Please prevent piracy by purchasing only authorized versions of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or places is entirely coincidental and not to be construed as representative or an endorsement of any living/ existing group, person, place, or business.

  A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication

  Published in the United States of America

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Welcome to Autumn Thorns

  Advice for Visitors to Whisper Hollow

  Prologue: The Morrígan

  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

  Cast of Characters

  Playlist

  Biography

  Acknowledgments

  I have waited for this day for three years, since the first moment I knew I was going indie: The day when I finally regained my rights over the Whisper Hollow Series. I love this world with a passion. I’m so thrilled to have it back so I can once again dive into Kerris’s world and write it the way I want to. If you’ve read this book before, you’ll note there are differences. I tightened it up a lot, cutting out a lot of what I now consider superfluous material. This is the book I originally wanted to write.

  To my usual allies: To my husband, Samwise, who is one of the most supportive men I’ve ever met. To Andria and Jenn, my assistants who help make it possible for me to write seven-plus books a year and stay sane. To my readers, who buy the books and support my fan base—thank you! Without enough readers buying the books, authors can’t pay the bills, so your support means the world to me.

  To my furbabies: Calypso, Brighid (the cat, not the goddess), Morgana, and little boy Apple. And as always, a reverent thank you to Ukko, Rauni, Mielikki, Tapio, and Brighid—my spiritual foundation and guardians.

  You can find me on the web at Galenorn.com. Be sure to sign up for my newsletter to get all info on releases, sales, and extra perks! If you like my books, please consider leaving a review.

  Brightest Blessings,

  ~The Painted Panther~

  ~Yasmine Galenorn~

  Welcome to Autumn Thorns

  Whisper Hollow, where spirits walk among the living, and the lake never gives up her dead…

  Fifteen years ago, I ran away from Whisper Hollow, Washington, a small town on the Olympic Peninsula. But truth is, if you were born here, you can never really leave. I’m Kerris Fellwater and when I returned, I not only inherited my grandmother's house, but her gift. Like her, I must take on the job of spirit shaman. It’s my gift—and my curse—to drive the dead back to their graves, because around Whisper Hollow, people—and secrets—don't always stay buried.

  A trunk hidden in the attic throws my life into chaos. My mother vanished when I was little and I was told she ran away. But now it looks like she was murdered. With the help of Bryan—my mysterious and brooding neighbor—we begin to unravel the mystery of her disappearance, and in doing so, we unearth a dark force seeking to bury Whisper Hollow. Now, I must work with the dead, rather than against them, because our enemy will do whatever she can to destroy the town, and she means to start with me.

  Reading Order of the Series:

  Book 1: Autumn Thorns

  Book 2: Shadow Silence

  Book 3: Phantom Queen

  Advice for Visitors to Whisper Hollow

  THE RULES:

  1. if you hear someone call your name from the forest, don’t answer.

  2. never interrupt ellia when she’s playing to the dead.

  3. if you see the girl in the window, set your affairs in order.

  4. try not to end up in the hospital.

  5. if the crow man summons you, follow him.

  6. remember: sometimes the foul are actually fair.

  7. and most important: don’t drive down by the lake at night.

  * * *

  Whisper Hollow: Where spirits walk among the living, and the lake never gives up her dead.

  Prologue: The Morrígan

  The Morrígan, Night Mare Queen, and Goddess of Sovereignty, Queen of Shapeshifters and Mother of the Fae, culls the dead from the battlefield and gathers them to her under the embrace of her feathered cloak. She is mother to the Bean Nighe and the Bean Sidhe, the sirens of the spirit world, who warn of death to come by vision and by song. She is mother to the Crow Man, who haunts the woodlands, carrying her messages to the other realms. The Crow Man walks before the goddess, announcing her appearance. He speaks through the raven and the crow, and to ignore his summons is to ignore the gods. Do so at your own risk.

  But not all dead are willing to stay in their shadowed realm, and not all dead understand the reality of their situation. In some lands, the energy of the Veil is so strong that spirits can walk freely between the worlds. And so the Goddess of Crows engendered nine great families—the bloodline passing through the maternal side—of women born to drive the wandering ghosts back into their graves, to stand between the dead and the living as protectors. The Morrígan’s daughters, known as the spirit shamans, are charged with these duties.

  To each spirit shaman, a match is born—a shapeshifter by birth from one of the chosen clans. He will be her protector and guardian and they will be forever bound. And to each spirit shaman, a lament singer will be assigned—a daughter of the Bean Sidhe. She will bring her magical songs to complete the triad. Together, these triads will protect the portals of the world that lead into the realm of Spirit, and keep the dead from flooding the land of the living.

  From: Legends of the Spirit Shamans

  Chapter One

  The road twisted, curving through a series of S turns as my Honda CR-V wound along Highway 101. To my left, the forest breathed, looming thick and black even though it was still early afternoon. Brilliant maple and birch leaves—in shades of autumn bronze—dappled the unending stands of fir and cedar. With each gust of wind, the leaves went whirling off the branches to litter the ground. October in western Washington was a windy, volatile month. The fact that I was making this trip on a Sunday evening worked for me, though. There weren’t many cars on the road, especially not where I was going.

  To my right, waves frothed across Lake Crescent as the wind whipped against the darkened surface. The rain shower turned into a downpour and I eased off the accelerator, lowering my speed to thirty-five miles per hour, and then to thirty. The drops pelted so hard against the asphalt that
all I could see was a blur of silver on black. These winding back roads were dangerous. All it took was one skid toward the guardrail, one wrong turn of the wheel, and the Lady would claim another victim, dragging them down into her depths.

  It had been fifteen years since I had made this drive. Fifteen years, a ferry ride, and about 120 miles. I grabbed the ferry in Seattle over to Kingston and then wound through Highway 104 up the interior of the peninsula, till I hit Highway 101, which took me through Port Townsend and past Port Angeles. Now, three hours after I had left Seattle, I was nearing the western end of Lake Crescent. The junction that would take me onto Cairn Street was coming up. From there, a twenty-minute drive around the other side of the lake would lead me through the forest, back to Whisper Hollow.

  As I neared the exit, I eased off the road, onto the shoulder, and turned off the ignition. This was it. My last chance to drive past the town and loop around the Olympic Peninsula. My last chance to turn my back on all of the signs. But my life in Seattle had never really been my own, and this past month, the Crow Man had sent me three signs, calling me home. When my grandmother died last week, her death sealed the deal. It was my duty to take over her post.

  I opened the door, making sure I was far enough off the road to avoid being hit, and stepped into the rain. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stared at the lake through the trees. The wind whipped up currents on the water, the surface dark and dangerous. The rising fog sent me into a coughing fit as a flock of crows spiraled out of a tall fir. They circled over me, cawing, then headed toward Whisper Hollow.

  Crows.

  Crows were messengers, and so was the Crow Man. He had reached out to me over the past few weeks, sending me three omens. The first sign had been the arrival of his flock. Crows began to follow me everywhere, and I could feel him walking behind them.

  The second sign had been a recurring nightmare, for three nights running. Each night, I found myself walking along a shrouded path through the Whisper Hollow cemetery, as the Blood Moon rose overhead. As I came to the center of the graveyard, I saw Grandma Lila, standing next to a headstone. Dripping wet and smelling of lake water, she embraced me, kissing me on both cheeks. Then she lit into me.

  “You’ve turned your back on your gift—on your heritage. Face it, girl, it’s time to accept what you are. Whisper Hollow is waiting. It’s time you come home. You’re needed. You were born a spirit shaman, and you’ll die one—there’s no walking away from this. Something big is coming, and the town needs your help. Don’t let me down. Don’t let Whisper Hollow down.”

  Each of those three nights, I woke up crying, afraid to call her in case there was no answer.

  The third sign came last week. Signs always go in threes. Always have. Third time’s the charm, true. But bad things happen in threes as well.

  I was walking home from work, deep in thought, when I glanced at the store next to me. There, staring from the storefront window, was the Girl in the Window. A cold sweat broke over me, but when I looked again, she was gone.

  It couldn’t have been her, could it? The Girl in the Window belonged to Whisper Hollow and she was never seen outside the borders of the town. Squinting, I craned my neck, moving close to the pane. Blink…it was only a mannequin. But mannequin or not, my gut told me that I had been visited by the sloe-eyed Bean Nidhe.

  One of the rules of Whisper Hollow echoed in my head. If you see the Girl in the Window, set your affairs in order.

  That was all the proof I needed. I went home and began to sort through my things. The next day, a letter from Ellia arrived, informing me that my grandparents had plunged off the road, into the lake. The Lady had claimed them.

  She was a hungry bitch, the lady of the lake was, and neither age nor status mattered to her. She marked whom she chose.

  The car hadn’t surfaced, and neither had my grandfather’s body. But Grandma Lila had been found on the shore, her hands placed gently over her chest. Even the Lady knew better than to get the Morrígan’s nose out of joint by disrespecting her emissaries. And now, a week later, I was on my way home to take Lila’s place before the dead began to rise.

  I sucked in a deep breath, took one last look at the lake, and returned to the car.

  “What do you think, guys?” A glance into the backseat showed Agent H, Gabby, and Daphne all glaring at me from their carriers. They weren’t at all happy, but the ride would be over soon.

  “Purp.” Gabby was the first to speak. She stared at me with golden eyes, her fur a glorious black, plush and thick. The tufts on her ears gave her an odd, feathered look. She was Maine Coon, through and through. She let out another squeak and shifted in her carrier.

  Not to be outdone, Agent H—a huge brown tabby and also a Maine Coon—let out a loud yowl. He was always vocal, and he was not amused. Daphne, a tortoiseshell, just snorted and gave me a look that said, Really, can we just get this over with? Littermates, they were three years old. I had taken them in from a shelter after they were rescued from an animal hoarder. They had been three tiny balls of fluff when I brought them home. Now they were huge, and—along with Peggin—they were my closest friends.

  Frowning, I squinted at them. “You’re sure about this? You might not like living in Whisper Hollow, you know. It’s a strange town, and the people there are all…like me.”

  I stopped. There was the crux of it. The people in Whisper Hollow were my people. And even though I had run away, both they, and the town, were waiting for me.

  Gabby pawed her face, cleaning her ears, and let out another squeak.

  “Okay. Final answer. Head home, it is.” With a deep breath, I pulled back onto the road, turning right as I eased onto Cairn Street. We were on our way back to Whisper Hollow, where the ghosts of the past were waiting to weave me into their world as seamlessly as the forest claimed the land, and the lake claimed her conquests.

  I’m Kerris Fellwater and I’m a spirit shaman by birth, which means I connect with the dead. I can talk to them, see them, and drive them back to their graves when they get out of hand. The gift is my birthright, from the day I was born until the day I die. My training’s incomplete, but instinct takes me a long way. And I’ve always been a rule breaker, so doing things my way seems the natural order of things.

  Like my grandmother, and her mother before her, I’m a daughter of the Morrígan. Our matriarchal line stretches back into the mists. I can feel and see energy, and I can manipulate it—to a degree. Some people might call me a witch, but the truth is, my actual magic is minor, except when it comes to the world of spirits and the dead. There, my power blossoms out.

  When I turned eighteen, after a major blowout with my grandfather, I ditched everything, took my high school diploma and two hundred dollars I had saved, and headed for Seattle. I found a room for rent in the basement of a house and a job at Zigfree’s Café Latte. As the years passed, I moved into a high-rise, and I worked my way up from barista to managing the store, but it was just a way to pay the rent.

  At night, I tackled my second gig—one that made little money but kept me sane. A few months after I arrived in Seattle, the headaches started. If spirit shamans don’t use their powers, the energy builds up and will implode. At best, ignoring the power can drive you mad. At worst, it can kill you from an energy overload.

  So I found a gig with an online e-zine investigating haunted houses and paranormal activity. The ghost hunting kept the headaches at bay. I spent all my spare time tromping through haunted buildings, looking for the ghosts who were troublemakers.

  When I found them, I’d drop a hint to the owner. About fifty percent asked me to deal with the spirits. Kicking astral butt kept me from falling over the edge of the cliff into la-la land. I did my best to create rites and rituals from what training Lila had given me before I left home. For the most part they worked. I’d had a few missteps, some of them embarrassing and a few downright dangerous, but overall, I managed.

  In my personal life, I kept to myself. I had a few cursory friends, bu
t no one I could trust. I kept in touch with Peggin, but she was the only one from Whisper Hollow who knew where I was, other than my grandmother and Ellia.

  Mostly, I read a lot in my spare time. I’m a speed reader and I have a photographic memory when it comes to what I read in books. Turns out, I had a lot of time to pursue my hobby.

  You see, once people find out that I talk to spirits, it goes one of two ways: Either they’re afraid of me, or they glom onto me hoping for a glimpse of the future, especially lottery numbers. My talents don’t make for easy dates, either. When guys find out that I can chat up their dead sisters or friends and get the lowdown on what they’re really like, the date usually ends. At first, their fears bothered me. After all, the boys in Whisper Hollow had accepted me for who I was, quirks and all. But after a while, I decided to just stop dating.

  But now…now I’m headed home, where everybody in Whisper Hollow is eccentric. Everybody’s just a little mad. And if I’m honest, I’m actually looking forward to it. Especially since my grandfather’s dead and can never bother me again. At least, that’s my hope. Because in Whisper Hollow, the dead don’t always stay where you plant them.

  I yawned. As I struggled to sit up, I wondered where I was, but then I remembered. Home. I was home. For the first time in a long while, I had slept soundly. When I’d pulled into town it had been past seven. After stopping to grab a burger and fries and a few things at the local convenience store, I reached the house around quarter past eight.