Shadow Silence (10 page)

“One of the few discrepancies noted is the size and shape of the mist. At times it appears small and compact, moving like a dark circle against the sky. At other times, it's reported as a larger, hazier fog slowly rolling over the area. But it's important to note that regardless of the shape or size, the mist is always blacker than the sky, even at night, and blots out visuals of the stars and moon should it cross their path.”

I set the book on the table. “Well, that sounds about like what I sensed. I can't tell you if I actually saw it; sometimes it's hard to discern between inner and outer sight. But I know what I experienced is the same thing described in this book.”

Ellia glanced at Ivy, who in turn glanced over at Oriel.

“Well, we should make a trip up to Timber Peak for several reasons. And we do so while it's daylight. One, we need to check on the Screaming Tree and look for signs of the Ankou. Two, we look for any discernible signs that the Gray Man is returning.”

“Are they related?” I asked her.

“I doubt it. The Ankou don't seem to have much truck
with the alien spirits around here.” Oriel frowned then. “But we can't be sure. But given the Ankou are members of the Unliving, and that these seem to have escaped from Arawn, the god of the dead, I rather doubt it. I think, though, the energy of the Gray Man and the black mist can
exacerbate
the emergence of the Ankou. Like charging a general area with a massive battery. Anything in there, even if it's not related to the battery, becomes activated.”

She stood. “Well, then, if we're headed up to Timber Peak, I'll go put on my walking skirt. Kerris, you're dressed for the woods already. Ellia, Ivy . . . bring your gear. I'll return in twenty minutes and we'll drive up.”

I straightened my shoulders. “You mean you're going up there
today
?”

“Of course,” Ivy said. “And you're going with us. There's no time like the present and it's vital we don't leave any chance of the Ankou invading the town for later.”

I blinked. I hadn't expected them to immediately jump into action. In fact, I had thought that we'd sit around, talk about it, and then present the issue to the Crescent Moon Society. My consternation must have appeared on my face, because Ellia laughed.

“You really don't think we're going to fob this off on Gareth and his men, do you? Not until we know what's actually going on.”

“I . . . I didn't know.”

“The buck stops
here
, my dear.” Oriel placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We're the ones who keep Whisper Hollow safe—well, as safe as we can. It's up to us to investigate threats. The last outbreak of the Gray Man sightings was . . . oh . . . what . . . thirty-two years ago? When you were just a baby. Something had to have happened for the mist to return. While I'm gone, Ivy, can you check the solar storm readings? Look for mega storms, especially those that caused any activity as far as the aurora borealis in our area. Look back as far as . . . oh, I'd say six months.”

“Will do.” Ivy headed over to her desk and fired up her laptop as Oriel excused herself.

As the door closed behind her, I turned to Ellia.

“I think . . . I'm a little bit afraid,” I said.

She smiled. “You should be—the Gray Man is nothing to mess around with. But you'll be with us, and we have our ways of keeping out of his clutches. As time goes on, you'll meet more and more of the spirits who make this area their home. Oh, I know you've heard of a lot of them, at least you did when you were a child, but the fact is that the spirit shaman is responsible for a whole lot more than pushing the dead back into their graves. You're a
shaman
, a daughter of the Morrígan. You are called to her service to protect the people she watches over. And she is Whisper Hollow's patron goddess, regardless of what the Hounds may think.”

“Oh look—there have been a number of solar storms within the past few months, any number of which have spawned off the aurora. I think we may be onto something.” Ivy sounded far too excited for what we were talking about.

“Great. Lovely.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and picked up one of the éclairs. If we were going to knock on the door of some alien interdimensional critter out there, I was determined to do so on a belly full of chocolate.

*   *   *

T
imber Peak was named for all of the tall timber that had been logged from there over the years. Now it was protected land, and all of the trees and undergrowth had grown back. It was obvious where the clear-cutting had taken place—the trees were shorter there and all the same height—but the endemic flora was returning, and hopefully would be allowed to flourish and restore the area to its natural beauty.

The old logging roads were still in existence, used mostly by hikers, mountain bikers, and snowshoers to reach the backcountry. They could be precarious, though, washing out during rainstorms, and icing over during winter when
snow reached the higher altitudes. There was also a main road leading to the lodge at the top of Timber Peak, although it, too, often fell victim to washouts and rock slides.

I had left my car at Ivy's. We were all in Oriel's SUV, a huge old tank of a vehicle. I had a feeling the SUV could ford a river and come out kicking. As I got in the backseat with Ivy, I glanced behind us into the cargo area and saw several blankets, what looked like a survival kit, a pair of snowshoes, a pickax, and a shovel. Nobody could say that Oriel wasn't prepared for the unexpected.

We passed the Unitarian Universalist church on Forest Drive, then Juniper Mall. Shortly after we passed Elkwood Lane, we turned left onto Timber Peak Drive. We were headed northeast, out of Whisper Hollow. The grade on the road steepened abruptly and within a few minutes we were surrounded by the forest on both sides.

The rain was holding off, although the ever-present clouds cast a pall over the town. I wasn't sure whether it was because I was in a car filled with women who carried strong magic, or perhaps my own abilities were heightened, but I could sense creatures from the forest watching as we passed by. It was an uncomfortable feeling, as though we were headed into territory that—while we weren't exactly unwelcome—wasn't ours in which to play. We were guests here, and the forest spirits weren't going to let us forget it.

“Can you feel them?” Ivy asked. She was watching me carefully.

I nodded. “Do you know who they are? Or what they are?”

“Forest creatures, sprites, Fae, the spirits of the loggers and miners that still live in these woods. Maybe Bigfoot himself. There are beings out here for which we have no name, beings that have never been human, and who never interact with humanity. The forest is alive; that's one of the first things I learned when I moved here.”

“Every forest is alive,” Oriel said from the driver's seat. “Some are older than others and they sleep. Some of the
ancient forests are still awake, and they brood in their silent long thoughts. New forests are often young and playful, and may not understand how precarious their existences are. Some, filled with creatures like the pixies, are dangerous for the unwary. Timber Peak . . . this whole area . . . it's a chaotic area inhabited by volatile energies. The woods don't necessarily hate us, but they don't welcome us either. We're fair game, if we overstep our boundaries.”

I listened, keeping my mouth shut. There was a lot I had to learn, and these women would help teach me if I let them. My grandmother might not be able to guide me in the intricacies of my post—that I had to learn from her journals and trial and error—but the three women in this vehicle could make my path so much easier.

“Aidan comes up to the woods a lot. He loves Timber Peak, he told me,” Ivy said.

I stared at her, surprised. “You and Aidan talk?”

That my maternal grandfather was hanging out with my paternal grandmother was news to me. Since he had returned to Whisper Hollow, settling in quietly in Oriel's boardinghouse, I had slowly begun to forge a relationship with him. The Hounds still had it out for him, that much I knew, but we would do what we could to keep him safe from them.

Ivy blushed. “Well, he comes over for dinner now and then. We have a lot in common, you know. He lost his daughter and I lost my son. You
are
our granddaughter.” There was a hint of defensiveness in her words, and I realized right then that there was more going on than just a harmless dinner here and there.

I eyed her, wondering if I should say anything—wanting to tease her—but decided to let them have their privacy for now. “I see.” I didn't mean to imply anything by my tone of voice, but Oriel and Ellia burst out laughing.

“You can't keep much from this one, Ivy. Your granddaughter's special. Smart as a whip and far more talented
than either her grandmother or her great-grandmother.” Oriel chuckled. “And before you say a word, Kerris, yes, you are. You just don't know the full extent of your abilities yet. I think some aspects will be a long time coming, but you are growing every day. You may not realize it, but you're far stronger than you were even two months ago.”

I paused, then hesitantly said, “I wish I felt more secure. Every time I turn around, I realize how much I missed out by Grandma Lila not being able to train me. I had my reasons for leaving, but I stayed away too long.”

“Perhaps,” Ellia said. “And perhaps not. There's a reason and rhyme to most things, and my thoughts are that if you returned too soon, you may not have discovered that your parents were both murdered. You may not have been able to lay them to rest. And by unwinding the mystery of their disappearances, you're now able to heal from the thought that they abandoned you. That will stand you well, as you move into your power.”

I thought about what she said. It made sense. Being caught up in childhood hurts and old wounds that hadn't healed—it blinded one to the truth. While it hurt to know they were dead, the knowledge freed me to move on.

As we wound through the forest, the trees overcrowded the road, especially the maple and birch, whose bare branches wove a lacework canopy over the edges of the road. Here and there, a bough from one of the tall firs had dropped, and Oriel grew silent, focusing on skirting the danger zones. Driving over a large branch could rupture something beneath the SUV, or puncture a tire. There were also small washouts to both sides, where the constant rain had eaten away at the shoulders.

We passed through Hangman's Ravine, where the drop-off on either side could prove deadly, should the car spin out of control and tumble over the edge. The road was narrow enough that we could see—far below—Miner's Creek tumbling along. While white-water season didn't happen till
spring, all the rain we had received over the past few months had engorged the stream, sending it thundering along with whitecaps and muddy water.

We passed through the ravine and out, and the grade steepened. I had no clue where the Screaming Tree was located, but Oriel, Ellia, and Ivy would know. I made it my business to study the route in case I needed to come back here on my own.

Fifteen minutes out from Whisper Hollow saw us fully into tall timber country. We passed a sign that read
LUPINE VALLEY
, and Oriel eased off onto the side road just beyond. The road was gravel, wide enough for one car with a generous shoulder, and led into the forest proper.

“The Screaming Tree is just beyond Lupine Valley Campground.” Ellia glanced over her shoulder at me. “About a ten-minute walk from the campground's parking spot.”

“I don't remember much about Timber Peak, or even Grandma Lila talking about it.” My grandmother hadn't been remotely interested in camping, and neither had Duvall, one of the few things they had in common. Grandma had married him to keep the love of her life—Grandpa Aidan—safe. When she snuck away to visit Aidan some years later, she returned pregnant with Tamil, my mother.

“Your grandmother didn't like coming out here. She was too tuned in to the energies and it always disturbed her.” Ellia hesitated, then added, “We had a friend in high school . . . his name was Yancy. He was taken by the Gray Man. Lila and I found his body, ripped to shreds, in Lupine Valley. What the creature did to him was . . . it was beyond description. It was savage, worse than any animal would ever inflict. Part of him was gone, bones found in the area had vicious bite marks on them. The Gray Man has an appetite for flesh and blood.”

I let out a long breath. “Cannibal?”

“How can it be cannibalism when it's not your own species? No, but predator, and carnivore. And cruel. The medical examiner verified that Yancy had been eaten while still
alive. I'm not sure how he knew, but he was able to figure that out.” Ellia's voice drifted into silence as she went back to staring out the window.

As we rumbled along the gravel road, mud puddles began to appear, but Oriel drove the horse of a machine over them. Another ten minutes and we turned again, onto a dirt road by a sign that read
LUPINE VALLEY CAMP
GROUND. NO HUNTING.
Camping spots branched off from the main drive, to both right and left. A few more miles and we swung into a large circular parking lot next to a wide expanse of open grass. Picnic shelters and tables dotted the area, along with restrooms and a playground area.

“How many people come camping, given the stories about the Gray Man?” It boggled my mind to think that anybody would bring their kids here if they even remotely believed the tales.

“More than you'd want to think. But they come in groups—there
is
safety in numbers, you know.” Ivy pointed at one of the picnic tables. “That's where they found Yancy. I wasn't with Ellia and your grandma, but I came out here for the memorial.”

Oriel parked, and we climbed out of the car. I winced as I stretched, my knees glad for the break from sitting down. As I walked over toward the table that Ivy had pointed out, I closed my eyes, trying to tune in to the lay of the land.