Autumn Thorns (29 page)

“Right. Force her out of the water here, then bind her in the graveyard.” The thought made me sad. It felt almost like we were jailers, which was technically the truth.

We got down to business, with Bryan keeping watch. The edge leading down to the water was too steep to descend, and there was no good trail nearby, so we'd have to do all of this from above. Which was just as well. I didn't fancy trying to navigate my way through the brush down to the lakeside in the dark, especially with the Lady so active. I had the feeling we hadn't seen the last of her trolling for victims for this year.

Bryan guarded against oncoming cars, using a flare to warn people around the area where we had parked. It was dark enough that an oncoming car might not see us and pull into the turnoff, shoving my own SUV into the drink. And I really, really didn't want to be explaining that one to the insurance company.

Ellia took off her gloves, pocketing them. I stared at her hands. They were creamy white in the night, and I suddenly wanted to take them in mine, to squeeze them and let her fingers know that something other than the bow and the cloth existed. But I held myself back.

She caught my gaze and I swear, she knew what I was thinking, because she gave me a sad, soft smile before lifting her violin to fit it under her chin. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and began to play—softly at first, coaxing a haunting trill of notes out of the instrument, a melancholy hymn to the lost. The music cascaded up and overflowed the edge of the cliff, fluttering down, tumbling like autumn leaves toward the dark surface of the lake below.

I raised my wand, instinct taking over and putting into place the steps I had so painstakingly memorized. Holding the wand aloft, I stared at the silver shaft, and a brilliant light began to sparkle within the crystal atop the end—it was like a beacon, a calling card.

“Tawny Marple, I call you forth from the arms of the Lady. Come to me, come out of the depths, away from your body. The Lady may claim your remains, but I claim your soul and waken you with the kiss of music and magic, with the
call of the Morrígan! Come and follow me, back to the valley of the dead, where you will rest even if your body should never be found.”

As my voice fell away, the light from the crystal shot down, turning into the shape of a sparkling crow made up of a thousand pinpoints of light. The brilliant bird landed on the wind-churned waves of the lake. The energy of Ellia's music rolled in behind it to circle an area on the water's surface, the notes creating a web to catch the fog that began to rise from the spot. The mist glowed, sparkling and beautiful, a pale violet, and the notes of Ellia's song forced it to follow the crow into the air, where both hovered, glimmering in the night sky. Mesmerized, I watched, catching my breath as I realized Tawny's spirit was in that fog—I could see her, a vague form, confused and searching.

“Follow me, Tawny Marple. Follow me.” I whispered the last, and Ellia let loose with one final sweep of her bow. The crow vanished as the fog rose to the level of the road and began heading west, toward the cemetery. “And now, we get a move on.”

Bryan put out the flare as we stowed our gear and returned to the car. He drove so I could focus. None of us spoke on the way, Ellia and I keeping hold of the ritual, of the energy that surrounded us and reached out to control Tawny's spirit that floated on ahead of us.

Once we reached the cemetery, Ellia and I tumbled out, and without a word, she took up her violin again. The crow reappeared and landed on the roof of Penelope's tomb. Together Ellia and I swept the spirit toward the mausoleum with our magic. Penelope was waiting for us at the edge of the doorstep. She opened her arms and the mist, with Tawny's spirit in it, surrounded her. Penelope closed her eyes, laughing low and soft, and as she brought her hands together in front, the mist vanished and she let out a long, slow sigh.

“She is locked here, within the graveyard. I will watch after her until the service is performed and you sing her into the Veil. You have done well, Kerris.” But then—as she was beginning to turn, to go back into the mausoleum—a noise
startled us all. Penelope froze, her back stiffening. She seemed taller, more regal than she had before as she called out, “What are you doing in my realm? You know that I do not tolerate your kind.”

I whirled, just in time to see a figure on the outskirts of the graveyard. It was dark and shadowed.
One of the Ankou.

Instinctively, I reached for my dagger, but the blade was back in the car.

“I imagine that he's after you.” Penelope's voice was calm, emotionless, but she leaned forward. “There is dark magic afloat through the Veil lately, magic that knows neither balance nor respect.”

Ellia inhaled sharply. “Mother. She's messing with the dead.”

“Yes, it's from Magda. The Ankou stinks of her meddling.” Penelope moved forward, between us, and it felt like a rush of wind roared past. She held up her hand and a dark crow suddenly swooped down, low over her shoulder. But it was no ordinary crow, nor did it belong to the Crow Man. No, this bird was skeletal in nature, flying on bone wings. It swooped toward the Ankou, shrieking, and the Shadow Person fell back, moving away as the bird swiftly pursued it.

“Then you agree that Magda has the power to summon them?” I turned to Penelope, a ripple of fear racing down my spine. We had to find her and put a stop to her attacks before they grew worse. But she wasn't dead—I couldn't just drive her into the Veil for Penelope to deal with. And you couldn't put someone in jail for disrupting the spirit world.

“Oh, she's behind this, no doubt. And I can do nothing to her, even though she's the one who stripped away my life.” She turned. “You should talk to Veronica, but let me contact her first. She has been in a mood lately, and I will summon you when it is safe to meet with her. It may take some time, so be patient.” Penelope sighed, the sound of the wind rustling through dried corn husks and old papers flowing out with her breath. And with that, she ducked into her tomb again.

*   *   *

W
hen we arrived back at the house, it was ten minutes till eleven. Peggin was sprawled out on the sofa, watching
A Letter to Three Wives
, an old movie from 1949. She had always been a sucker for the glamour girls like Bette Davis and Marilyn Monroe, and the dapper stars like Cary Grant and Laurence Olivier.

“Has Aidan arrived yet?”

She shook her head. “No, but he called the house and left a message that he'll be here soon. So, how did it go?” She set the bowl of popcorn aside but didn't stand up, as she was playing cushion to Daphne and Agent H, who were snoring on her lap and across her legs. Gabby was sprawled on the floor playing with a catnip mouse.

“We were able to guide Tawny into the cemetery. Once the service is performed, we'll guide her into the Veil and Penelope can take over from there.” I rubbed my head, tired. “Bryan convinced me we should take the ledger and binders with us to the meeting tomorrow night. I guess I should leave them hidden till then.”

Peggin shifted, tumbling the cats onto the sofa. “That's a good idea. A lot can happen in twenty-four hours.” She started to gather her things together.

“So, where's the meeting tomorrow night?” Bryan dropped into a chair, looking just about as tired as I was.

“Niles's garage, of all places.” Niles Vandyke was from my high school class and, apparently, he'd managed to open a garage. He was a genius with motors and engines, and from what Peggin had told me, he washed up pretty good under all that oil and grease.

“Niles . . . yes. I've always wondered about him. It seemed odd to me that he would be content with the small-town life, but I guess he has more going on beneath that muscled exterior than I thought.” Bryan grinned. “He makes all the women swoon, I gather.”

Peggin laughed. “Yes, yes he does. Hunky, inked, and a wicked sense of humor. I dated him for a few months, but
I'm afraid he's looking for a woman who's a little less edgy than me. But we're good friends now.”

Leaning back in the chair, I closed my eyes and let my mind drift. I was tired, so very tired, and all I wanted was to fall into bed for a long night's sleep. But the doorbell roused me from my impending nap.

I jumped up. Bryan motioned for me to wait until he had my back—after the past few days, who knew who was going to be on the other side—and then I flipped on the porch light and peered through the peephole. Aidan—he looked a lot like his picture in the locket. I opened the door.

But it wasn't a ghost or more toxic mist waiting for me. Aidan was burly, wearing weathered jeans and a button-down shirt under a Windbreaker. His hair skimmed his shoulders, and even though he looked around his midforties, the look in his eyes was far older. I ushered him in.

I wasn't sure what to say. In one week, I'd met my paternal grandmother and my maternal grandfather and they were both shapeshifters.

But Aidan solved the awkward problem by breaking into a wide smile and holding out his arms. “My granddaughter.”

The warmth in his voice was so infectious that I couldn't help but move into his embrace and give him a big hug. He felt warm and snuggly and cuddly, like a big teddy bear. When he let go and stood back, holding me by the shoulders to look me up and down, the oddity of him seeming so young fell away. He
felt
like a grandpa.

“Aidan . . . come in. Meet Bryan Tierney—”

As Aidan turned to Bryan, he paused, then held out his hand. “Blood recognizes blood. Which clan?”

Bryan inclined his head. “Originally Ó Tighearnaigh of Brega. And you?”

“The Corcoran clan comes from the MacCorcráins clan of Leinster. So, do you stand guard over my granddaughter?” Aidan glanced at me and I blushed.

At that point, both Peggin—who was watching from the sofa—and I were mesmerized as Bryan went down on one knee and lowered his head.

“By my blood and clan, I pledge my life in her service. I will guard against the powers that seek to harm her.” He glanced up at Aidan. “With your grace, Lord Corcoran.”

My grandfather made some sign over him—I couldn't tell what it was, but it was deliberate and had to have some meaning. His voice grave, he said, “You have my grace and my trust, Tierney. You have pledged on your blood to protect my own. Let your blood be spilled if there is need.” And with that, he reached down and offered his hand to Bryan, pulling him back to his feet.

They both turned to me. By now, Peggin had crept up behind me, and we both stared at them. I had no clue of what to say, but Peggin was never at a loss for words.

“What the hell was
that
?”

Bryan and Aidan began to laugh. Aidan shook his head. “Girls, clan recognizes clan. I spotted him for a shapeshifter first thing. But if two guardians meet, it's a little more complicated. Not to mention I wanted to make certain he was here for your benefit and not some other reason.” Arms at his side, he gave a half bow to Peggin. “My granddaughter is remiss in her manners. I am Lord Aidan Corcoran. And who might you be?”

I blushed. “I'm sorry—I was just so taken aback. This is Peggin Sanderson, my best friend.”

Peggin raised one eyebrow, grinning, but held out her hand. “Lord Corcoran, my pleasure.”

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “No, the pleasure is mine. And a beautiful friend you are.” But his eyes were serious and he turned back to me. “We need to talk. And we need to talk now. Is this house secure?”

“Secure in what way?”

“It's not being monitored, is it? Bugged?”

I frowned. Now we were talking spy movies? “I have no clue. That never occurred to me. Who would want to bug my house?”

“Anybody who didn't want you back in Whisper Hollow. There are magical ways of doing it, but the old-fashioned kind is so much simpler and easier to install.” And then he looked around and his shoulders slumped. “I haven't seen
this house since I was eighteen. Since I left town. Lila . . . I can't believe she's dead.”

The catch in his voice stabbed me in the heart. He still loved her. Beneath that gruff exterior, I could still hear the love in his voice. I escorted him to sit down.

“When was the last time you saw my grandmother?”

Aidan held my gaze. “When she came to visit me in Seattle. In late September, it was, 1973.” A pause, then—“Please, you really should be sure nobody is listening in. I have equipment that can pinpoint just about any sort of electronic surveillance devices around.”

“Go ahead, then.” I was curious now. The house had been left empty after my grandparents' deaths; someone could have gotten in and planted a bug, though why they would want to still confounded me. But then, considering the ledgers I had hidden in the secret room, it wasn't all that far outside the realm of possibility. Cú Chulainn's Hounds weren't going to want that information in the hands of the Crescent Moon Society.

Aidan ran out to his car, a huge old pickup truck, and returned with both a suitcase and a messenger bag. He extracted what looked like a miniature walkie-talkie from the bag, except that it had several buttons and a line of lights on it. He flipped it on and the lights remained a steady green. As he swept it around the room, he visibly tensed. The lights began to flicker from green to red.

Aidan held his finger to his lips and began to sweep around the room. I stared at the device, flabbergasted. What the hell? Duvall was aligned with the Hounds. Why would they have bugged his office?

The lights held a steady red near the landline. Aidan picked up the phone and turned it over. Pulling out a pocketknife, he settled himself at the desk. He opened the knife to the screwdriver function and began unscrewing the bottom of the phone. Another minute and he pointed to a small black nodule that was tucked inside the case. It had been taped there and obviously wasn't part of the phone. Aidan cut the tape holding it in place, and then, setting it on the ground, drove his heel down. He was wearing cowboy boots,
and he twisted his foot, smashing the bug into bits and pieces. The lights on the device turned back to green.