Autumn Thorns Page 4

  I frowned. “My grandfather told me that my father just up and left during the middle of the night. He never said anything about Avery disappearing in the woods.” My disgust for my grandfather was rapidly escalating, even more than I thought it could. Still . . . what secret had he wanted to tell these women? And if he was truly trying to change, had impending mortality been the only reason for the shift?

  “Duvall hated my son. He was furious when he found out that Tamil had gotten pregnant and that she wanted to marry Avery and have the baby. When Tamil announced they were engaged and why, well . . . the blowup was epic.” Ivy snorted, shaking her head. “The shot heard round the world, so to speak.”

  Ellia nodded. “Tamil showed up at my doorstep, begging me to let her stay here. I had been helping her learn how to use her gifts. Lila had asked me to take part in Tamil’s training—lessons that I could show her. I took her in, but Duvall insisted she come home the next week, and neither Tamil nor I dared go against his wishes. Lila did her best to intervene, but he insisted.”

  My ears perked up. Training? “You helped my mother with her training? I thought only another spirit shaman could do that.”

  “We did what we could, child.” Oriel laughed. She always looked like the cat who’d swallowed the canary, but she managed to make it appealing instead of a threat. “Your mother’s gifts were incredibly strong. She would have taken over from your grandmother if all had gone as planned. But the minute we found out she was pregnant, we had to stop. Working with the spirits while pregnant is not the best idea. To be honest, we don’t know if what she was doing affected you or not, since she was four months gone by the time she let anybody know.”

  Four months. I frowned. “Why did she wait so long to say anything?”

  Ivy glanced over at Ellia, who nodded. “We think she and Avery kept it a secret so your grandfather couldn’t force her to have an abortion, and when they did reveal that you were on the way, they told a lot of people all at once so the word got around. Duvall would have made her get rid of you, you know.”

  Stunned, I sat back and mulled over everything that I had learned in the past ten minutes. The three women waited quietly, and I was grateful to them for that.

  One: I had a grandmother I never knew about. A grandmother who looked close to my age and was a shapeshifter.

  Two: My father may not have run out on my mother—he seemed to have disappeared as silently and abruptly as Tamil. Which brought to mind the question: If they had left town, had she caught up with him? Had they intended to come back for me, but been unable to?

  Three: My grandfather had a secret he felt he could no longer keep hidden, and had died hours before he was to reveal it.

  Four: My mother was incredibly talented with her gifts. And on top of that, her training may have affected me, since she had been pregnant with me while she was learning. I let the information settle in, then glanced over at Ivy.

  Suddenly hungry for answers, I decided to put to rest some of the questions that I’d been carrying around my entire life. I slowly let out a long breath. “What else can you tell me about my father? My grandmother didn’t want to talk about him, and I didn’t dare mention him in front of my grandfather. What was he like?”

  “My son loved your mother, Kerris. Please know that. His last name was Forrester. When I left his father, I went back to my maiden name of Primrose, but I left Avery with his father’s name. Avery liked to cook. He loved rockabilly music, he drove an old pickup truck. His favorite color was green, and he loved hot dogs and pizza and lasagna. He was a smart man and had planned on going to college until Tamil got pregnant, but he adjusted quickly. In fact, the day they broke the news, he went over to the newspaper and secured himself a job with Earl—the publisher of the Whisper Hollow Gazette. He also asked me if he could have his grandmother’s wedding ring to give to Tamil. He had already proposed, I gather, but hadn’t been able to give her a ring.” Her smile faded away. “I don’t know if he ever got the chance. I never saw the ring again after that evening.”

  I paused, then asked one more question. “You said he was a shapeshifter. So he was her guardian? And how does that affect me? I’ve never even had a whiff of that ability.”

  “Yes, he was. And as for you, when shapeshifters mate with spirit shamans, the daughters come out with the spirit shaman ability—not the shapeshifting one. You would only be able to shift your shape if your mother hadn’t been a spirit shaman. If she had just been . . . well . . . a typical human, you would have had the ability. The shapeshifting gene is dominant. We can talk more about that later,” Ivy said.

  And that was enough for the night. There were a million other things I wanted to know, but they would keep. I slid over to her side and hesitantly wrapped my arms around her. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for . . . being here.”

  She looked startled, but hugged me back, kissing me on the forehead. “Kerris, you don’t know how many times over the years I almost sent you a note, or stopped you on the way home from school. But Duvall . . .” With a shudder, she shook her head. “He was a dangerous man.”

  I shook my hair out of my eyes and gave Ivy a soft smile. “What did the ring look like? Your mother’s ring? If I happen to find it somewhere when I go through the trunks and things in the house, I can at least give it back to you.” I wanted to comfort her—to do something to make up for the way my grandfather had treated her and her son.

  Ivy let out a slow sigh as she sat back. “If you find it, I want you to keep it, because it will have meant that he actually got a chance to give it to Tamil. Duvall never let me talk to her again after the news came out. The ring was a rose gold filigree setting, with a half-carat diamond in the center. My father had it made for my mother when they got engaged.”

  I nodded. Not sure what else to say—I felt as wrung out as a limp, wet towel—I leaned back against the sofa and glanced over at Oriel and Ellia. Both had somber looks on their faces.

  “So, where should I start?”

  Ellia stood. “I suppose we can start by going out to the cemetery . . . let you get a feel for what’s going on and what is to come. That seems the best plan. You’ve been gone so long, I don’t know how much you remember from your time here.” She motioned to the others. “Do you all want to come? It’s not necessary, not tonight, but you’re welcome if you do. I’ll take my violin and play for the dead for a while.”

  “Don’t take her to the Pest House graveyard, though. Even your music can’t calm the spirits who walk there, Ellia. And we’re heading into a new moon—the dead love this time of the month.” Oriel opened her bag and pulled out a pendant on a chain. She handed it to me. “Here, this was your grandmother’s. I took it from her body for safekeeping till you came home. You’ll need it. Wear it at all times, even in the shower. It has been charmed to help protect you.”

  The pendant weighed heavy in my hands. A silver five-pointed star in a circle, it hung on a chain that also looked to be silver. A pentacle. But atop the pentacle rested a skull. Not a screaming, Halloween skull, but a somber skull, carved from crystal, affixed firmly to the metal.

  “Magical, isn’t it?” A vague memory stirred—I remembered seeing Grandma Lila wear it, though she usually kept it beneath her shirt or dress.

  Oriel laughed and the room lightened with her cheer. “Dear Kerris, it’s all magic, isn’t it? The world is a magical place, if people only were to open their eyes. Except the clouded can’t always feel it surrounding them, so they think it doesn’t exist. Magic runs through these ancient woods. The rain forest is primeval, so deep and thick that you’d have to be blind to not know it was here. Now put on your pendant, then Ellia will show you the graveyard, and you will begin to understand why we need you so very much.”

  With that, she and Ivy headed for the door. I asked Ivy if I could come over later in the week—get to know her better—and she said yes before she a
nd Oriel left. Alone in the hallway with Ellia, I shrugged into my jacket and slung my purse over my shoulder. Ellia opened the hall closet and withdrew her violin case. She settled a long cloak around her shoulders, fastening it with a Celtic knotwork brooch. With her long skirts and flowing gray-streaked hair, she looked like she’d stepped right out of the pages of some historical romance.

  “Do you remember the rules?” she asked me.

  I nodded. Once you had lived in Whisper Hollow, you never forgot the rules. In fact, they were printed on a sign at the entrance to the town.

  “Recite them, then.”

  I let out a slow breath. “Okay . . .” I felt like I was in grade school again. We had recited them every day, a lot like the Pledge of Allegiance.

  “One. If you hear someone call your name from the forest, don’t answer.

  “Two. Never interrupt Ellia when she’s playing to the dead.

  “Three. If you see the Girl in the Window, set your affairs in order.

  “Four. Try not to end up in the hospital.

  “Five. If the Crow Man summons you, follow him.

  “Six. Remember: Sometimes the foul are actually fair.

  “Seven. And most important: Don’t drive down by the lake at night.”

  Ellia nodded. “You remember. Good. All right then, put on your necklace and let’s head to the cemetery. It’s time you met the dead.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The cemetery wasn’t far from Ellia’s house, or my own. It suddenly occurred to me that the fact that we both lived near it was most likely more than by accident. Ellia rode with me. She lived close enough to walk home if she wanted to, though I told her I would happily give her a ride if need be. The thought of her prowling through the streets after dark didn’t set well with me. Not in Whisper Hollow.

  The cemetery was on the appropriately named Cemetery Avenue, at the end of an L-shaped intersection that connected with Bramblewood Way, the road running past my house. In turn, Bramblewood Way bordered Bramblewood Thicket, a dense patch of forest on the western side of Whisper Hollow that was rumored to be home to a spirit called the Grey Man. It was also the home to the Tree of Skulls, a very gruesome little patch of woods.

  The fog was rising as we pulled into the circular parking lot. Here, you could either park and walk into the gated graveyard or take a narrow access road to reach the areas farthest away. Ellia directed me to drive down the access road until we were overlooking the shore of Lake Crescent, where we turned right and followed the narrow street to the end of the marked graves. I parked in a small turnoff and killed the ignition.

  “Who’s the undertaker now?” The undertaker was also the caretaker of the cemetery. When I had been young, a very old man had been in charge of the dead, but I couldn’t remember his name and he had no doubt died during the intervening years.

  “Jonah Westwood, the nephew of old Elijah. You probably remember Elijah as the undertaker. He held the job for sixty years. About seven years back, he died and his nephew moved to Whisper Hollow and took over.” She paused, then added, “I played for Elijah, and Penelope had an easy time escorting him through to the Veil. He deserved to rest after giving so many years of service to the dead. His nephew is an odd duck, though. We have to work together, but I steer clear of him during the rest of the time.”

  That didn’t sound promising. “What’s the matter with him?”

  She shook her head. “Just a feeling. I’m not sure, to be honest. Maybe nothing, but I’ll tell you this: I hope, by the time it’s my turn to leave this world, that he’s not the one presiding over my interment.”

  “Well, that makes me feel ever so much better.” Laughing softly, I locked the car and followed her down one of the narrow walkways. The air was damp, and even my jacket couldn’t keep the moisture from seeping into my lungs. Unlike in graveyards in other towns, families didn’t come to the cemetery to picnic, and most of the teenagers stayed away, saving their dares for other, safer areas.

  One glance at the headstones and a barrage of whispering hit me. Shadows—misty forms—were moving through the graveyard. I caught them out of the corner of my eye, watching as they moved and swirled in the damp night air.

  “What’s stirring them up? I don’t remember things being this uneasy when I left.”

  Ellia started to say something, then shook her head. “I can’t tell you . . . not yet. I think I know, but I’d rather be certain before saying anything. Maybe they sense that Lila died and the town’s been without a spirit shaman for a week or so. A few of the rites and rituals haven’t been performed like they’re supposed to be. But to be honest? Something else is going on.” She paused, then let out a long breath. “What I will say is this: There’s a force moving against the town. The signs are all there, and the Crow Man has been calling those of us with power. The Walker in the Woods has been spotted five times in the past two months. The Girl in the Window appeared to Douglas McPhearson and he died the next week. And the Lady’s appetite is growing.”

  I grimaced. Those were signs, all right, and not good omens. “Do you think it’s out of the forest, or pulled in by the town itself?”

  The Hoh rain forest held its own spirits—Sasquatch, for one, and a number of other creatures out of Native American lore. They were real, never let anybody tell you otherwise, but they bordered the edge of my work with the dead, and while I knew about them and had seen evidence of their existence, I tried to steer clear because spirit shamans weren’t geared toward dealing with elementals out of their world.

  “Oh, Sasquatch is around and active lately, but I don’t think he has anything to do with whatever’s going on. Though a hunter was attacked three months ago up on Timber Peak. A handful of mutilated deer have been found, so yes, he’s awake.” She stopped along the path, pointing toward a pair of graves. They looked well established. “Watch.”

  “What are we looking at—” I started to ask but quieted down when two figures shimmered fully into sight next to the graves. A man and woman—teenagers, actually—appeared, facing each other. The girl was wearing an A-line skirt and a blouse, a sweater tied around her shoulders. Her hair was pulled back in a tight, bouncy ponytail and she had on loafers. The boy wore a leather jacket and skinny blue jeans. His hair was slicked back. Both looked soaking wet, and their faces were bruised so badly it was hard to tell what they had looked like when they were alive. I thought I could hear a song playing in the background. I strained to hear what it was, and the whispers of Fats Domino’s “I Want To Walk You Home” echoed from around them.

  The boy reached out his hand and the girl took it, bringing it to her lips where she kissed it. Then, her eyes burning fiery red, she glanced over at us and laughed. The boy let out a snort, they stood, and then—in a blur of speed—they were standing directly in front of us, defiant grins on their faces. They gave Ellia the once-over, then turned to me.

  I stared coolly at them, though inside my stomach was churning. Were they simply Haunts, out to cause havoc? Or were they Unliving, in which case we were in serious trouble? The girl met my gaze.

  Without thinking, I reached up to clasp the pendant Oriel had given me with my left hand, then focused my energy and plunged my right fist into the girl’s misty form. “Don’t even think about it!” It felt like I had rammed my hand into an ice bath. I grinned, pleased to see I still had what it took. I’d used the maneuver on a few frisky spirits in Seattle, and it worked ten times better than the rituals I’d read about in books.

  The girl shrieked and stumbled back. The boy hissed at me, his eyes narrowing, but he, too, cautiously stepped back. They stared at me for another moment, then, huffing like spoiled brats, joined hands and—in a blur—they were gone, racing out of the cemetery so fast I could barely follow their movements.

  I let out a long sigh. “Well, that was special. I gather they’re out to wreak some havoc.”

  Ellia snorted.
“You think so? Well, you certainly ticked them off. What did you do? I never saw Lila do that.”

  “Yeah, they didn’t look overjoyed, did they? That’s a technique I developed to deal with spirits who like to get too touchy-feely. It’s kind of like . . . think of using your energy like an electronic bug zapper. I assume that pair are Haunts? It works on Haunts the best. And Joanie and Chachi don’t seem to have enough strength to classify them as members of the Unliving.”

  She shook her head. “Thankfully, no, they aren’t Unliving. That pair has been stirring up trouble for a while now. Lila and I were having trouble with them before she passed. Kerris, your grandmother was the most powerful spirit shaman I’ve ever met, but . . . she couldn’t drive them back across the Veil. The ley lines are active, and the dead are restless.”

  I nodded slowly. If Grandma Lila had been having trouble corralling them, then I was in for one hell of a ride. But what I had done to the girl wasn’t exactly textbook, nor was it easy, and it shocked me just about as much as it shocked the ghost. I had some other tricks up my sleeve, so maybe they wouldn’t be prepared for me next time, either. “I’m glad I decided to try that out. At least we know it works. I wasn’t sure what part of my repertoire would actually be viable here, but I suppose ghosts are ghosts, the world ’round.”

  “Blood wins out. Spirit shamans are born to interact with the dead—and to destroy them, when necessary. You come from a long line of women who walk between the worlds. It’s your birthright. Spirit shamans affect the ghosts—all varieties—in ways that no one else can. Not lament singers, not witches, not necromancers. And I don’t think it’s so much the precise rituals that matter, but the energy you put behind it. But as to what it was you did to them, besides tick them off, I’m not certain.”