Autumn Thorns (21 page)

“You promise to tell me later?” Once again, my breath slipped away and I felt a keen ache. Hunger . . . it was actually a hunger to feel his hands on me, to hear his breath—slow and easy—near my ear. My nipples stiffened, brushing against the lace of my bra, and I felt ripe for the picking. “Please, promise me.”

A pause, then—“Oh, it's a promise. I want you, and when I get over there, I'm going to take you in my arms and kiss you. And later on, I'm going to explore every inch of you, from head to toe, if you'll invite me in.” And with that, he hung up.

I stared at the phone in my hand, my throat dry. My body felt like it was on fire, and all of a sudden I wanted water to put out the heat that slaked through me. I pulled a bottle
from the fridge and drank deep, the cool liquid calming my nerves as it raced down my throat.

Peggin stared at me, a grin on her face. “I don't have to ask how it's going between you and Mr. Shapeshifter. That's obvious on your face.”

Wiping my mouth, I drank again until I had finished the bottle, then let out a long sigh. I slid the fish fillets into the oven and began fixing a salad to go with them. “Peggin, he's my match. He's my guardian. We figured that out last night, after the Shadow Man attacked me.”

She sucked in a slow breath. “I wondered, after that scene in the hospital. So you've found the third part to your triad.” A loud thump hit the roof and then skidded across it. “What the hell?”

“Wind's picking up.” I glanced outside only to see, over the fence dividing our properties, a large gust whale on one of the trees in Bryan's yard. It bent the maple—a sapling—almost in two before letting the branches go singing back into place. “Another gust or two like that and the limbs will be flying off the trees. We're set up for a blow.”

“Yeah. Well, look on the bright side.” Peggin shivered. “It's the perfect night to go visit Penelope.”

“Yeah, I'd say so.” I continued to stare out the window. Something out there was calling to me, and I had no idea what. I slowly moved to the door and opened it. As I edged out onto the cement patio, I realized that I had yet to come out and explore the backyard.

As I glanced around, I saw a tangle of vegetation. Highly unlike Lila to leave it in disarray. Even though she had been gone only a week, it looked like months of growth had overcrowded the yard. The rose arbor, behind a white wooden lattice fence and an overreaching trellis that arched over the entry, was covered with drooping vines—not ivy, but some other plant that had taken over and now lay heavy and sodden across both fence and arch.

A gust of wind hit me full force, nearly blowing me off my feet. Steadying myself on the edge of the patio table, I eased forward, listening with every sense I could muster.
The howl of the wind overshadowed whatever noises might be hiding in the dark, but as my eyes adjusted, I realized that a fine mist was rolling along the backyard.

“This isn't healthy.” Peggin had followed me out. She was standing by the screen door, making certain it was closed so the cats wouldn't be able to get out. “The mist—it's tainted.”

She was right. The mist boiled along the ground low and thick and had taken on a faint greenish hue—not a healthy growing green, but the green of sickness and disease. I started to close my eyes but stopped. It wasn't safe. I knew it in my gut. I needed to keep all my senses, including sight, on high alert. Instead, I reached out with my mind, tried to intuit what lay beneath the mist and rolling fog.

Loss . . . and anger. A flash of irritation—it was so much harder now. Why couldn't things work out the way they were supposed to? Why did that goddamn shapeshifter have to move next door? It was an upset in the plan . . . a plan that had already gone awry so many times it curved more than the Elwha River.

The voices in the mist paused and I realized that I had been listening in on a conversation. They certainly weren't
my
thoughts. The thought crossed my mind that the last thing I wanted was to develop late-blooming telepathy. But my attention was brought back to focus by a darting movement from my right.

“Stay back,” I warned Peggin. “Get ready to run inside if something happens.”

“You're not making me feel any safer. What the hell are you going to do?”

“I'm going to walk into the tangle over there, where the rose arbor used to be. I think . . . whatever this is, it's emanating from that area and I want to find out what the hell is going on.”

“Kerris Fellwater, don't you dare—” But Peggin's warning was cut off by a sudden, sharp cawing from the tree above.

Stop . . . stop . . .
the crow shrieked.
Go back before it catches you.

With a sudden burst, the rolling mist churned toward me. It was searching for something, probing my energy. I stumbled back a step. “Who's there? What do you want?”

You, Kerris Fellwater. We want you, and we're coming for you. Whisper Hollow will be ours. Leave now or we'll make certain you truly follow in your mother's footsteps.
As the mist touched my skin, it began to burn like a cold fire, and I let out a long scream.

A
loud growl emerged from the shadows and the next thing I knew, a giant wolf leaped over the fence and knocked me back, sending me out of the mist. The creature was beautiful—a brilliant white wolf with gleaming blue eyes.

Bryan.
I was able to get a better look at his wolf form than I had at the hospital. He was huge—almost the size of a small pony. And his fur was silky, glowing with a faint blue sheen. His eyes were ice blue, ringed with black—haunting and filled with years of living. He turned back to the mist and snarled.

“Peggin—get my bag, hurry! It's in the kitchen.” I took a step back, cautious to stay clear of the toxic fog. Bryan growled again as the mist crept forward, but it had slowed, as if it had suddenly become cautious.

“Here!” Peggin had hold of my bag, panting from her mad dash into the house. She looked petrified but stood her ground as she held it out, opening the clasp for me.

I had no clue what I needed, but as I thrust my hand inside, my fingers lit on the dagger and I instinctively grabbed for it. “Stand back, but near enough in case I need something else.”
I unsheathed the dagger and tossed her the leather sheath. She caught it and edged back.

Turning to the mist, I thrust the dagger into the air. I struggled to remember the runes I had drawn that afternoon. What were they? Oh yes . . . first . . . a lightning bolt through a hockey stick. I swept the dagger through the air, drawing the sigil. Then I drew the next—the arrow through the crescent. Lastly, I envisioned the cauldron and drew an outline of it in the air, then an outline of the skull in its center. I realized that I had closed my eyes when I heard Peggin gasp.

“Look!”

I opened them quickly, just in time to see the runes floating in the air in front of me. They were a brilliant blue, and glowing. Focusing on them, I quickly ran over what I remembered. They were the runes of the Void, the runes of the abyss. So maybe they could eat up whatever this was. As I mentally pushed them forward, they began to move toward the mist's direction.

The vapor came to a stop. The runes shot forward, hitting the mist square center, sizzling as they exploded in a bright shower of sparks. With a last
pop
, they vanished, taking the fog along with them.

The patio flooded with light. Blinking, I realized that Peggin had gone inside and hit the light switch. As I turned back to Bryan, he was standing there, tall as life, all signs of his inner wolf gone. The reality of what had just happened hit then, and without a word, I walked over and he wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head as I leaned against him, shaking.

“Watch the dagger, love,” he whispered.

I struggled to smile, making certain the point was away from him. “Don't want to stick you with this,” I whispered.

He held me tight. “I'll protect you. Trust me, Kerris. I'll watch over you.”

My heart beat a staccato tattoo as Bryan nuzzled my ear. “What the hell was that?”

“Dark magic, my love. Someone was trying to hurt you.” He lifted my chin to look into my eyes. “I'm here, Kerris.”

“I know.” I glanced into the gloom. “It's really gone?”

“You appear to have dispelled it. But we have to figure out what's going on. Let's get you inside, you're freezing.” As he bundled me into the kitchen, I glanced once more over my shoulder. The wind was still raging and the rain had started up, but the unhealthy mist had vanished from the yard.

I locked the door. Peggin was already heating water for tea—for once she didn't seem to want more coffee and neither did I—and my bag was on the table. I sheathed the dagger, replaced it in the bag, and set it aside. Bryan shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the chairs. Peggin brought three cups, the teapot, and honey and lemon to the table, and then she pulled the fish out of the oven. I silently set three plates on the table, along with silverware, and the salad and then sat down.

We sat there, staring at one another, still speechless.

Finally, Peggin broke the silence. “Who do you know can work magic like that?”

“That's the thing. I don't
know
anybody. I've been gone too long.” I stared into my cup, the tea shimmering under the light. I added a little more honey, listening to the sound of the spoon as it clinked delicately against the china. My grandmother had prided herself on her teapots. She had a half dozen: one for every season, one for Christmas, and one matching her good china. Peggin had chosen the autumn one, a delicate shade of tan with whirls of color—orange pumpkins, black cats, and swirling leaves painted along the sides.

“Well, someone knows you're back and isn't happy about it, that much we can assume.” Bryan helped himself to the chips that were still on the table.

“We'd better figure it out soon, then.” I looked up at Bryan. His expression was one of worry, but in his eyes, I could still see the desire—the heat—flaring in those alpine pools. “Peggin and I had planned to go meet Penelope tonight, to ask her about my mother. I still want to do that. Will you go with us?”

Bryan sighed. “Of course, you know I will. Are you taking Ellia—”

“No!” Peggin was quicker than I was. At Bryan's startled look, she shook her head. “There's something going on, Bryan, and you know it. I can feel it. The whole town's on edge. Till we find out who's involved and what it is, Kerris needs to pick and choose who she tells her secrets to.”

“But you trust me?” A smile danced at the corner of his lips.

Peggin blushed. “I know about you. I know who you are. So yes, I trust you. I trust you to watch out for her, especially after . . . well . . . after Diago, and after that mist just now.”

He laughed then, a loud, hearty laugh that broke the tension in the room. “As wise as you are pretty.” But when he said it, there was nothing attached to it and I smiled softly, happy to see my best friend connecting with the man who was so quickly stealing my heart.

“Do we get to eat first?” Bryan asked. “Or should we head out now?”

“Since dinner's on the table, eat first. It's only five thirty. We have time.”

While we ate, I filled Bryan in on the day, including my encounter with the Crow Man, my visit to Ivy's, the hidden room, the journals, the locket, and the Cú Chulainn's Hounds website.

He picked over his salad. “What do you know about Magda? Penelope and Ellia's mother? What kind of powers does she have?”

“I don't know, but it does seem odd that if Ellia is a lament singer and Penelope's a Gatekeeper, Magda is on the side of Cú Chulainn's Hounds. Did she go rogue?” Finishing the last bite of fish, I pushed out of my chair; Agent H ran over and entwined himself through my legs. He let out a squeak. “I'll leave on the lights in every room, so the Shadow Man can't come in,” I told him. But truth was, I was nervous about leaving them alone. “I need to ward this house and ward it good tomorrow.”

“You should go through your grandfather's study before establishing your wards. In fact, you should comb through every nook and cranny you haven't touched. You have no idea
what he—or your grandmother—might have stashed away. Best to know what's here first so you can either strengthen it or get rid of it.” Peggin slid into her coat.

“Where are your heels, Miss Priss?” Bryan pointed to her sneakers.

She rolled her eyes. “I had a feeling this night would end in something beyond dinner and dancing. And, given the weather and the knowledge that we might not end up cozying up by the fire all evening, I opted for
easy to navigate
in the footwear department.”

I slid into my boots—the Dingoes—and shrugged on a heavy denim jacket. Bryan was dressed for the weather, too. Sliding my wallet and keys into my pocket, I grabbed my bag o' tricks—as I was starting to think of the bag of tools—and we headed out to my car.

Peggin rode shotgun—Bryan graciously insisted. She flashed him a smile as he helped her into the car and then started around to open my door. I waved him back, hopping in without help. Truth was, it was pouring and I didn't want to wait for chivalry when I could easily get into the car on my own and avoid getting totally soaked. As I turned the ignition, the chime started that indicated I hadn't fastened my seat belt.

“That thing drives me crazy.” Finally, it stopped as I fumbled the fastener into the clasp. I put the car into gear and backed out of the driveway onto the street. We could walk to the cemetery, but any chance of putting off getting wet and cold appealed to me. Besides the fact that if we had to get out of there fast, I wasn't about to rely on my running speed. I really didn't know track and now wasn't the time to test my endurance, let alone Peggin's. Bryan, I had a feeling, could take care of himself.

We were at the cemetery in no time flat. I glanced around, wondering if Ellia would be here, playing to the dead, but the night seemed so wind-tossed and rain-swept that I doubted she'd be out in the weather if she didn't have to be. I unfastened my seat belt and slid out of the car. I knew where Penelope's tomb was. And that was where my grandmother had told me
the entrance to the Veil was. At least—
one
of the entrances to the Veil. There were so many throughout the world.

The cemetery was a-rustle with dripping rain and the ever-present wind. The evergreens keeping watch over the graves were blowing hard, their tops waving like wild dancers in the night sky. As the clouds boiled overhead, the dim streetlamps that lit the paths of the dead cast eerie shadows on the ground behind us. Grateful for the light, but knowing that light itself wouldn't keep back the spirits, I led Bryan and Peggin through the labyrinth of headstones, along the well-worn cobblestone paths that wound through the grass. Finally, in the center of the graveyard, I saw what I was looking for—Penelope's final home.

Unlike most of those buried in the cemetery, Penelope had been buried in a tomb, a mausoleum. It was small, with just enough room inside for a few people plus her sarcophagus. I wondered who had placed her here. If her mother was responsible for her death, surely she wouldn't have gone to the trouble to set up a memorial like this.

The mausoleum was built into the base of a knoll along the edge of the graveyard that led into the Pest House Cemetery. It was built of thick cinder block, and the back half of it vanished beneath the dirt and grass that shrouded it. In the soft glow of the lamps that illuminated the cemetery walkways, the cinder blocks took on a dark, shadowed hue, stained and worn from time. A double door in the center guarded the entrance to the chamber. A plaque to one side of the door read:
Here Lieth the Mortal Remains of Penelope Volkov, Guardian of the Veil, Gatekeeper of the Graveyard. Enter and Despair.

“Have you ever been here before?” Peggin asked in a hushed voice.

I shook my head. “I've been to the tomb, but never in it. My grandmother wouldn't allow me to go with her when she went in. I don't really know the proper procedure, so we're going to have to wing this, folks.” I sucked in a deep breath and put my hand on the round door handles. “Here goes nothing.”

As I pulled on the door handle, the hinges let out an unearthly shriek, as if they hadn't moved in a hundred years and now only opened under protest. The blood in my veins turned to ice water. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea? And yet, I didn't have any choice. The spirit shaman had to work with the Gatekeeper of the graveyard. For whatever reason, Penelope had been elected the guardian of the Veil for Whisper Hollow, and sooner or later, we had to meet.

Letting out my breath in a slow steady stream, I stared inside. A single room with a sarcophagus in it, the chamber was illuminated by a diffused light that seemed to emanate from a crystal chalice that sat beneath a glass display box on a plinth near the back.

There's no going back . . . not now. The day I decided to return to Whisper Hollow, I knew there was no turning back from anything that might happen here. This is it, Kerris. This is your life—this is what it's going to be from now on. Filled with spirits and Ankou and a dark goddess watching over your shoulder.
I stepped inside the tomb.

Peggin followed me, and Bryan brought up the rear. When we were all inside, the door blew shut with a huge gust of wind, slamming defiantly behind us. Peggin jumped, but I forced myself to stand steady. I motioned for them to stay near the door as I crept forward as softly as I could. There was no hiding that we were here, but I wanted to show as much respect as I could. The lighted chalice was glowing so bright now that it filled my vision, and I found myself moving over to stare into it.

Formed of clear crystal, the chalice glimmered from the liquid that churned inside it—crimson and thick like boiling blood, it kept up a continual motion, swirling in a perpetual phantasmagoria within the large goblet. As I stared at the sparkling display, I heard Peggin gasp, and I knew we weren't alone. I turned, slowly, to face the sarcophagus.