Shadow Silence (11 page)

It started with a whisper—just a faint one. I couldn't quite catch what was being said, but there was something riding the wind, a nuance or secret or some hidden thing. I tried to catch what it was saying, but every time I got close, it slipped away again. The feel, though . . . the feel reminded me of the Shadow Man, and I knew the Ankou were here.

“I can feel them. The Ankou.” I turned to Ellia. “It's like the Shadow Man, only there are more of them.”

When I first returned home, I'd been attacked by one of the Shadow People—creatures that were from the land of the dead. They belonged in the Underworld, and when they
ventured into our world, they were dark shades in human form, black silhouettes with neither faces nor features. The Ankou attacked and drained the energy from the living, bringing fear and pain to their victims. Often, they went after children, who were helpless.

My first encounter with the Shadow Man was in my childhood, when one had attacked me in my bed. But they could—and would—attack anyone. When in their proper place, the Ankou served as soldiers in the service of Arawn, Celtic Lord of the Underworld. But if they escaped their servitude and entered our realm, they roamed at will. Technically members of the Unliving, the Shadow People had stronger powers than most Unliving, because they sourced their power directly from Arawn.

“The question is, are they serving the dark lord, or were they summoned here to serve . . . another?” Ellia lowered her head, frowning. I knew she was thinking of Magda, her mother.

“That's what we're here to find out,” Oriel said. “Let's hie ourselves to the Screaming Tree before anything comes out of the woods at us.”

And so we set off, onto a trail leading into the forest from the back of the campground. All through the ten-minute walk through rain-sodden undergrowth, the silence of the forest seemed to grow. As water dripped with a steady cadence from the boughs above, I fell into the rhythm of the forest, reaching out with every step, trying to fathom the depths of those creatures who made Timber Peak their home.

O
riel slowed. She was surprisingly quick and nimble in the forest, and blended in as though she thoroughly belonged here. She led the way, following a path that disappeared after the first couple of minutes, but always seemed to know exactly which direction to turn. We followed, first Ivy, then me, then Ellia behind us. I noticed she had taken off her gloves and was hanging back a few feet away from me. If she fell, she wouldn't be in danger of touching me. Ellia had been cursed by her mother. Her hands held madness in them—her touch would drive a person into a world of perpetual pain and confusion.

True to what she had told me, after a ten-minute walk out of Lupine Valley Campground, we broke through the thick tangle into a clearing. In the center sat a tree. Or rather, what remained of the tree. The trunk was still upright, at least forty feet of it, though it was obviously dead, but it wasn't a widow-maker. It looked like it had been petrified—the bark was almost shiny.

I wasn't sure what kind of tree it had been, but it was old and tall—the top of the tree looked like it had at one time been toppled by a lightning strike. About six feet off the ground were three openings, in the guise of a screaming face—two eyes and the mouth. The opening to the “mouth” was jagged and dark, and I had no desire to stick my hand in and find out how far back it went or what might be in there.

Oriel paused. “The Screaming Tree is dampened. Can you feel the energy?” She glanced around, a suspicious look on her face.

Ellia and Ivy closed their eyes.

After a moment, Ivy sighed. “It's coming from deep within the woods. Dark and almost formless. Whatever it is, it's disrupting the energy field of the tree. We have to put a stop to it so we can figure out what's going on.”

Oriel glanced at me. “You can be the anchor.”

“Anchor?” Now I
was
confused.

“When we do work like this, if we're out in the woods where there might be danger, we always have an anchor. Someone grounded, not part of the ritual, to keep their eyes open. Like Bryan acts for you—though we won't rely on you to protect us, just warn us. So don't be worried about that.” The way she said it almost made me think that they were giving me make-work, to keep me out of trouble, but given that we were in territory known for dangerous spirits, I decided not to be so hasty in my assessment.

“All right. I'll sit over here on this log to keep out of the way.” A nurse log near the Screaming Tree was covered with moss. The rain had saturated the moss, but I found a spot where I could peel it away, exposing the wood, and settled down on the damp log. It suddenly occurred to me that our safety would depend on my alertness, and any concerns about being a fourth wheel vanished as I took my post.

Ivy, Oriel, and Ellia spread out to form a triangle around the tree. Their arms, outstretched, still couldn't reach around the tall timber but I had a feeling that wasn't going to matter.
They began to back away in unison, one step at a time, until they were about ten steps from the tree on all three sides. A hush settled over the area, the silence broken only by the echo of birds, warning that rain was coming.

I shivered as the chill settled through my coat. Everything seemed muted and distant. My head suddenly felt full of fog as though I had a cold or was exceptionally tired. Instinctively, I knew that whatever force was causing it was the same thing that was dampening the powers of the Screaming Tree. I shook my head, trying to keep from falling into a trance. I needed to remain alert and aware, rather than giving in to the pull the magic in the forest was exerting.

Oriel raised one hand, holding it toward the tree, palm facing forward. Ellia took up her violin and put it to her chin. Ivy spread both arms out as though she were waiting for someone to drape coats over them. She lowered her head as Ellia began to play. The notes that reverberated out of her violin were low, almost grating, but I could feel them resonate through the forest, as though they were being absorbed by the trees and plants. I tried to keep my focus from being swept into the magic that the three women were weaving by analyzing what was going on.

Oriel was generating the energy—I could sense it radiating off her outstretched hand. Ellia was picking it up with her music and moving it around to Ivy, who was taking it in through her own hands and . . . I squinted, trying to figure out what was happening. Then, in a blink, I could see it. Ivy was transmuting the energy; she was feeding it through the trees, through the ferns and ivy and huckleberry. Together, the three of them were saturating the area.

The fog in my head started to dissipate, rolling back, and I realized then that they were clearing the forest, fighting back whatever magic held the Screaming Tree silent. As Ellia's playing ramped up, Oriel was sourcing more energy, feeding it to Ellia at a rate so quick that I could almost see the waves ricocheting through the air toward the lament
singer. In turn, Ellia caught them up with her bow and violin, turning them toward Ivy, who sent them reeling through the forest. Mesmerized, I watched the interplay, wondering if I'd ever be able to control the magic like they could.

A sudden noise caught my attention. I jumped as someone brushed past me. I was on my feet in an instant, but then I realized that it was my grandmother standing there. Grandma Lila was watching them work. She glanced over her shoulder at me and smiled, and I once again longed to be able to throw my arms around her and give her a big hug, but it didn't work that way with spirits. Then, she pointed behind me, a worried look on her face, and I turned.

There, behind a nearby tree, was something tall and hairy watching us. The moment it saw me looking, it turned and vanished, as if it had never been there. I blinked. Whatever it was had been quick and big. A bear? Maybe. Another thought flirted around the outside of my brain, but I wasn't ready to entertain it. I started in that direction but Grandma Lila appeared in front of me, shaking her head and pointing back to the fallen log.

I was about to ask her why she didn't want me to go look, but then decided I didn't want to take a chance on disrupting the magic Oriel and the others were weaving. I let out a slow breath, returning to the nurse log. But this time, I quit trying to focus on the energy and, instead, kept my eyes peeled.

Another five minutes and the silence shattered as the Screaming Tree let out a long, piercing shriek, startling me so much that I lurched backward, almost falling off the log. I caught my balance, steadying myself so that I was sitting upright again.

Oriel, Ivy, and Ellia lowered their hands. Ellia carried her violin back to the case where it sat on a dry patch of ground beneath one of the cedars. The tree was awake again—I could sense it.

“It screamed.” I struggled, trying to remember the history of the Screaming Tree.

“It always does when there's danger coming to the town, and I hear it,” Oriel said. “That's why the forest sprite who talked to you was so worried. He knew that I didn't realize there was magic up here dampening the tree.”

I hesitantly approached the tree, keeping my hands to myself until I knew whether it was safe to touch it. “How did it get its name? And who . . . how does it know to scream?”

Ivy joined me. She nodded at the tree. “You can touch it. If you try to hurt it, the tree will scream, but if you approach it with no ill intent, it will allow you to touch its trunk.”

As I reached out, gently placing my hands on the trunk, Oriel continued.

“When Whisper Hollow was first founded, the first Heart of the town came out here and left offerings to the forest folk—peace offerings, so to speak. A horrible storm came in off the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It rolled over the slopes, toward the town. It was a horrible night, with wind gusts raging past eighty miles per hour. The forest took the brunt of it. The Screaming Tree was fully a hundred and fifty feet high then, and it became the focal point for the lightning to vent its wrath. A jagged fork split the tree, toppling the top two-thirds of it. The offerings had been placed beneath its trunk. Something happened—some magic in the lightning strike or the energy behind the offerings, I'm not sure what, but the tree trunk woke that night. After that, every time the town's been in danger, the Screaming Tree screams, and I—or whoever the Heart of the town has been—has heard it.”

“So, the lightning storm sort of . . . made the tree the town's sentinel. I wonder if that would have happened without the offerings?” But I knew the answer already. Because the Heart of the town had offered an olive branch to the forest spirits, they—in turn—returned the favor. Another thing struck me. I always knew that Oriel was the Heart of Whisper Hollow but I hadn't realized it was an official post.

“So . . . the Heart of the town. How did you end up getting assigned the job?”

She flashed me a cagey smile. “My dear, we're born to it. Like you're born to be a spirit shaman. We travel till we find the town that needs us and then we settle in. I happened to be lucky enough to be born in the town that I was meant to serve.”

“So there was another Heart before you?”

“Of course. Ever since the founding of Whisper Hollow, there's been a Heart. Manae died when I was young, but she knew the day I was born that I would replace her. She taught me about Whisper Hollow from the time I could barely walk. I grew up learning the town's moods and whims. My father was a member of the Crescent Moon Society, so it was easy. The CMS knew I was destined for this post. They brought me in at a young age, and helped me find my way. Old Manae was quite the woman. She, herself, had been born in Wales.”

I nodded. There was still so much history I needed to learn, so many of the town customs with which I wasn't familiar. “There are things watching us.” I told them about the creature I had seen. “I'm not sure if it was a bear or Bigfoot or what.”

“It could be Sasquatch, though he tends to make his presence known. Bear? Also possible. The Ankou can't come out in the daylight. I suggest we erect the wards around the area to keep the Screaming Tree from being enchanted again, and then head back to town. We can't meet with the Crescent Moon Society till Saturday night. There's just too much chaos in everybody's life right now due to the holidays, and this isn't an emergency. Not yet.” Ivy shook her head. “I wish this hadn't happened right now. It's not a good omen.”

“It's
never
a good omen when somebody tries to silence the Screaming Tree,” Oriel said.

They worked silently, affixing their wards around the area, and as I watched I began to appreciate how strong these women were. They were part of a legacy that had been passed down from the Morrígan, as was I. It made me want to be strong in my own right, and I realized—I didn't want to disappoint them, even more than not wanting to disappoint myself.

*   *   *

T
hursday went by uneventfully. I had slept deep after our trek through the woods, and it was a relief the next day to have an entire day spent with nothing but errands and shopping. I bought groceries, did laundry, cleared out part of the garage—though I had no desire to dig into Lila and Duvall's store of cobweb-encrusted boxes just yet—and spent an hour on the phone, convincing Peggin she was not allowed to move into her new house or even go over there by herself till we were there to help her. I still didn't like the thought of her living there, but there wasn't much I could do about it. So I just gritted my teeth and made the best of what I still thought was a bad situation. Bryan was out of town for the day, so I spent the evening curled up with a good book and the cats.

But come Friday, I was jittery. I knew it was because I was due to head out to Veronica's at dusk. Facing the Queen of the Unliving wasn't anything to laugh off. People went into her lair and never came out again, and very few knew the workings of her mind. I wasn't sure what it entailed to become a member of the royalty of the dead, and I had no clue how the kings and queens of her shadowy realm were chosen, but I was smart enough to recognize the power inherent within them. I didn't delude myself that I could do anything to stop her, once she set her mind to something. The spirit shamans could control the general members of the Unliving, but I had never heard of one controlling a king or queen of the realm.

As I dressed for the evening, I took extra care. I was meeting royalty. Perhaps she wasn't alive, or a recognized monarch by most people, but she would notice if I showed up looking like I had just rolled out of bed. I chose my best black jeans, and paired them with a beautiful blue embroidered V-neck sweater. I almost fastened a silver belt around my waist but then remembered that she might have an
aversion to the metal and chose, instead, a black leather belt. I slid on black velvet ankle boots, and brushed my hair back into a neat ponytail.

Bryan had taken as much care—he was dressed all in black, wearing black jeans, a black button-down shirt, black leather duster, and platform boots. With his scruff of a beard, and the tousled hair that coiled around his ears, he looked like he had stepped out of some European vampire movie. In other words:
hot
.