Autumn Thorns

by Yasmine Galenorn

  We headed out into the night. The fog had socked in and there was a cold wind blowing off the lake from the north. I squinted into the darkness, wondering just how many spirits were out there right now running around, causing havoc. As I fastened my seat belt and slid the key into the ignition, I realized that I was shivering. Whether it was from the energy expended chasing Diago out, or Bryan’s kiss, or voicing the reality that I thought my grandfather might have killed my mother, I didn’t know, but one way or another, I felt tapped out. My stomach rumbled.

  “I need waffles.” I turned to the others. “Does Mary Jane’s Diner still serve the late crowd?” Peggin and I had hung around the diner on Saturday nights when we didn’t have a date.

  Peggin nodded. “Yeah, it does. And the food’s still as good as the day you left. But Mary Jane retired and her daughter took over. Now it’s called Lindsey’s Diner.”

  “Point me in the right direction. I don’t fully remember where everything was in this town.” I eased the car out of the parking lot and turned right on Main Street, then left on Oak. One block later, we were there.

  The diner was exactly as I remembered it, only updated. It was still a retro fifties joint, but the checkerboard floor looked clean and new, and the booths and counter and stools—while reminiscent of the time period—were obvious upgrades. But the old nickel-soda signs were there, as were the pictures of the drive-in addition the diner had once sported in what was now a new drugstore next door. The smells coming from the kitchen made my mouth water.

  The restaurant was nearly empty, with a few stragglers here and there, and we had our choice of booths. I selected one out of earshot of the others, and we settled in, Peggin next to Ellia, and Bryan sitting next to me. I was all too aware of his proximity and had to force myself to stop edging toward him.

  The waitress took our orders. I asked for a waffle with plenty of syrup, some chicken strips, and coffee. Bryan and Peggin ordered burgers and fries, and Ellia asked for fish and chips. She had put her gloves on again and sat quietly in the corner next to the window, playing with her coffee mug.

  After the waitress left to put in our orders, I let out a long sigh. “Okay, then. I have some questions, and, Ellia—if you know any of the answers, I want it straight. Got it?”

  She nodded. “I’ll tell you whatever I know.”

  “Who did my grandfather hang out with? We need to know who his cronies were.”

  Ellia frowned. “It’s been so long . . . let me think. Lila hated his friends, I know that much. Also, while I’m thinking about it, something else I don’t think you know is that your grandfather had some sort of information on your grandmother. That’s why she never went against him. He blackmailed her with it—if you can call threatening your own wife blackmail. I’m not sure of the legal terminology.”

  The reality of my grandfather’s duplicity was starting to set in. I’d detested him as a child and now it seems like the cruelty I had seen only touched the tip of the iceberg. “He was really a freaking bastard, wasn’t he?”

  She nodded. “He was also a powerful man in town. Kerris, how much do you know about his beliefs? About the organizations he belonged to?”

  I frowned. “Only that he really disliked seeing people happy. Or it seemed that way. He certainly ruled the house with an iron fist, though my grandmother did a lot of subtle undermining . . . she was good at getting her way for the most part.”

  “Well, your grandmother didn’t want to marry him in the first place. She and Ivy and I were in the same class at school. We hung out together when we were teens, after my mother ran off into the woods. I took over the house and managed to keep afloat as best as I could. When I was eighteen, Lila got engaged to Aidan Corcoran, but two months later, she broke up with him and was dating Duvall. She was terribly unhappy. I asked her what had happened, but she wouldn’t tell me. She wouldn’t say anything to Ivy or me except that she didn’t want to see Aidan get hurt, so she made him leave town.”

  “I knew it. I knew she didn’t love Duvall.”

  “Well, she was so cruel that poor Aidan took off and never came back. And that alone tells you something was wrong. Lila didn’t have a mean bone in her body—not against those who didn’t deserve it. The night he left, she came over to stay at my place. She was in tears, brokenhearted. But she would never tell me why. Two weeks later, she accepted Duvall’s ring and even though their engagement lasted for years before she gave in and set a date, she never mentioned Aidan again, and she never explained why she was marrying a man she didn’t love.”

  I soaked up the information, mulling it over. It made me sad to think of Lila stuck in a loveless marriage. I knew that she’d been leery of my grandfather’s temper, but I didn’t know she had gone into the marriage with such doubts, or that she’d driven away someone she truly loved.

  A thought crossed my mind. “Duvall wasn’t her guardian. She didn’t have a shapeshifter. Do you think Aidan might have been the one?”

  Ellia shrugged. “It’s possible. She was good at hiding her secrets. As to Duvall’s friends . . . he ran with a group of young men who eventually became the power players in Whisper Hollow’s business crowd. There were five of them. Jack Whitman became a lawyer and founded the Whitman-Dyson Agency. He’s retired now. Another was old Doctor Benson—long dead. The Lady took him. The third was Elmore Johnson, he was the mayor of Whisper Hollow for a long time. He and his wife retired and moved over to the Quinault area. The fourth was Heathrow Edgewater, and he owns the Peninsula Hotel, though he was always on the outskirts of the group. And then there was Duvall, and he, of course, was an architect. The group were buddies before college, and they were even tighter when they returned home and set up their practices.”

  I considered what she had said as the waitress brought our orders. She set a basket containing ketchup, mustard, vinegar, and other assorted condiments on the table, made sure I had enough syrup, and then excused herself. We picked at our food for a moment—or rather, Peggin and Ellia picked at theirs. Bryan and I set to with what seemed like equal gusto.

  “So . . . Duvall and his buddies ruled the roost, so to speak.” After I’d eaten my way through half the waffle and two of the chicken strips, I sat back. “I don’t know why I’m so hungry. I ate a big dinner.”

  “The energy you ran in the hospital drained your reserves. It will get you every time, so be certain you always take food with you and don’t skimp on the meals.” Ellia winked at me, then—after a sip of her coffee—dabbed her lips and frowned at her plate. “As to your comment, yes, the five of them were welded together at the hip after college. They ruled the political and financial interests of Whisper Hollow and still do, at least those who are still alive. There’s more to this conversation, though, but I don’t want to go into it here. As to which one of them might have helped Duvall kill Tamil? Any one of them would be capable of it.”

  I hadn’t realized just how much power my grandfather had wielded in the town. “Ellia, the Crescent Moon Society—how long has it been in existence?”

  She frowned, twirling a French fry between her fingers. “Since before I was born—I think it was probably founded shortly after the town of Whisper Hollow was built.”

  “Did my grandfather belong to it? You said my grandmother did.”

  She let out a short laugh. “No, rest assured your grandfather was the last person they would have asked to join them, and that ties into what I didn’t want to bring up here in public.” She paused, as if she were deciding whether to continue.

  “If you know something—anything—tell me. I should know if it in any way is going to affect my work as a spirit shaman. Did he piss them off? And how could my grandmother belong to it when they wouldn’t invite Duvall in?”

  Ellia finally shrugged. “He was a direct threat—he and his friends. Your grandmother had to belong; she was the spirit shaman. But we warned her that she must never tell
Duvall what went on, and that she had to hide her Shadow Journal and her tools from him. She gave her blood oath on that, pledged on the wings of the Morrígan.”

  I knew what that meant—if she had betrayed them, the Morrígan would have exacted punishment. You couldn’t be a daughter of the Morrígan and break your vows. But there was more . . . something she wasn’t telling me. I decided to let it rest for now. We had way too much to think about as it was.

  Peggin had been silently listening, but now she spoke up. “What about his other cronies? Were any of them members?”

  Ellia shook her head. “No. I really can’t say much more about this subject. Not till you’re a member, Kerris. Then we’ll fill you in on everything that we know about Duvall and his group. And, Bryan and Peggin, even though you’re Kerris’s friends, I shouldn’t be talking in front of you. The only reason I’m doing so is that Whisper Hollow is facing a threat from the outside and we’re going to need to change the ways we’ve been doing things. We need people willing to help keep the town from being swallowed up.”

  Her phone rang at that moment and she answered, mouthing Gareth again. As she moved away from the booth to speak to him, the three of us sat there, mulling over what we knew.

  “So, we need to find what we can about your grandfather’s buddies.”

  “Yeah . . . where they were near the time Tamil died. Maybe if anything suspicious happened to them at that time—if my mother tried to fight them off, maybe she hurt somebody? If she managed to fight back, wouldn’t that be in the medical records if she hurt one of them bad enough, Peggin? If there’s any way we could get a look at them.”

  Peggin squinted. “To be honest, that would take some doing, but I might be able to swing it. Your grandfather’s records are in our office—Lila managed to persuade him to start going to Corbin when Corbin bought out Doc Benson’s practice ten years ago.” She paused. “Doc Benson—Doctor Benson . . . Duvall’s buddy. So the records might be in the archives. I can hunt around, though I’ll have to be discreet.”

  Bryan shook his head. “I didn’t move here till about five or six years ago. Your grandmother talked to me a lot. Your grandfather didn’t. I never told them what I was, but I think Duvall had a sense that I could be a dangerous enemy and he chose to avoid any confrontation. Lila skirted any questions that dealt with my nature, though she was always pleasant. In turn, I never asked her about the work she did as a spirit shaman except when she volunteered information.”

  “Here’s the thing.” I glanced over at Ellia, who was still on the phone, out of earshot. “I don’t know how much I can rely on Ellia and her friends, beyond helping me take care of the spirits. I have a strong sense there are politics flowing like a wild river under the surface, and I’m not sure at all what to expect when it comes to the Crescent Moon Society.”

  Peggin finished her burger. “I think you’re wise. Remember what I told you. Things are changing in Whisper Hollow, and I’m not sure how much you can trust anybody here.”

  “Will you two help me? I want to find out who killed my mother. I’m going to turn her jacket over to the police, but you know as well as I do how many cold cases actually end up resolved.”

  “Not many.” Peggin sighed. She glanced over at Ellia, then held a warning finger to her lips. Another moment and Ellia was back, sliding into the booth again.

  “What did Gareth say?” I asked.

  “Diago seems to have quieted down and there’s been no further trouble at the hospital. So I think we can safely go home.” She reached out, stopping short of patting my hand. With her skin gloved, I’d be safe, but years of constant reinforcement seemed to have imprinted themselves on her behavior. I had never seen Ellia touch anyone.

  “I have to admit, I’m tired.” I thought about the house. I hadn’t even made up my grandmother’s bed yet—it would be another night of sleeping on the sofa till I could move my things into the bedroom the next day.

  “I think we all are. And I have work bright and early at eight A.M. tomorrow. Corbin is a good boss, but he doesn’t put up with me being late.” Peggin picked up her purse and slid into her coat. “Although, given he was there tonight, he might make an exception for me this once.”

  Bryan tossed a fifty on the table. “My treat, all around.” He stopped us before we could protest with “No, no arguments”—and that was that.

  We dropped Ellia off at home first before pulling back into my driveway. Peggin declined to come in. She gave me a quick hug, whispering, “I’ll see what I can dig up tomorrow. Text me if anything happens or you find out anything.”

  “Night, and love you.” I watched as she got into her car and eased out onto the road. It felt so good to have her back in my life on more than an occasional basis. That left Bryan. I turned to him, thinking about our kiss. He must have been thinking the same, because he swept me into his arms, on the front porch, and leaned his forehead against mine.

  “Don’t even ask. All I know is that when we were at the hospital, I felt the danger you were in. I had to help. I’m not sure how this will all play out, but I’d like a chance to explore it further,” he murmured.

  “I would, too . . . but tonight . . . it’s too soon, I think.” I had slept with several men on the first date—well, with the ones that had passed the ghost-over-the-shoulder routine—but this was different. What I had experienced in that one kiss with Bryan was beyond anything I’d ever felt before. It had taken me out of myself into a whole different realm. As hungry for him as I was, I didn’t want to rush this.

  Bryan softly pressed his lips against mine and once again, the rush between us buoyed me up, making me rethink my stance. My body felt natural against his, as if it belonged. I fit against him, in a niche that seemed made just for me.

  “I think you might be right, though parts of my body are screaming otherwise.” He laughed, and I could feel his erection as he pressed against me. It only made me want him more.

  “I guess you’d better go home, or the issue is going to be moot.” I shifted, burrowing into his arms, wondering again just who this mysterious shapeshifter was. Where had he come from? And the question burning in my heart . . . was he the chosen one to be my guardian? That wasn’t something I could just blurt out and ask.

  Finally, even though I didn’t want to, I pushed him away. “If you don’t go home now, I’ll drag you inside. And tonight . . .”

  “I know, too soon. But it won’t be long, Kerris.” He softly stroked my cheek. “Do you want me to come in and make certain everything’s okay before I go home?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’ll be fine. But we need to talk—I need . . . I need to know more about you. I need to know what . . .”

  “We have time for that, I promise you.” But Bryan refused to allow me to go inside before he’d helped me search the house, including every closet and every room. We found no sign of anyone except the cats, who were thrilled to see us. Daphne raced up to Bryan and rubbed against his leg.

  “She likes you, too.” I grinned as he scooped her up and snuggled his nose into her side.

  “She smells soft. I’m glad she likes me, because I have a feeling she’ll be seeing a lot of me in the months to come.” He set her on the sofa, then paused, hand on the doorknob. “You’re sure everything’s okay? You good for the night?”

  “Yeah, I’m good for the night.” Though I’d be better if he would stay and fuck my brains out. But I kept that thought to myself, even though I knew he was riding the same wavelength.

  “Dream of me,” he joked as he exited the door. I locked it behind him, then leaned back against the door frame, staring at the kitchen. Too many shifts for one day. I was exhausted. Without another thought, I padded to the shower and then—warm and clean—slid beneath the covers on the sofa. There, I fell into a deep sleep . . . until four A.M., when I woke up to see a dark shadow looming over me.

  CHAPTER 9

>   Daphne let out a yowl loud enough to wake the dead. It certainly woke me up. I opened my eyes, wondering what the hell was going on, and that was when I saw the dark shape at the foot of the sofa. It was a man, tall and broad, and so thoroughly black that all of the ambient light from the dim room seemed to be sucked right into his form. He was a silhouette—like a black hole in man-shape, made of inky fog. When he leaned toward me, the anger that exuded from his presence hit me like a sledgehammer driving through my brain. He leaned down, grabbing my covers. As I scrambled back, he yanked the blankets off me, sending me tumbling. I went sprawling off the sofa, across the coffee table, smashing the glass top.

  Several shards pierced my skin. “Son of a bitch!” The needles of glass sliced sharply into my right arm. I landed on the floor by the table’s side and scrambled back like a crab, using my hands and feet to scoot away from the approaching shadow. It was hard to look away, and the energy surrounding him was so violent that I could barely think over the sound of my heartbeat. I screamed, shattering the silence, then screamed again.

  The shadow continued to inch closer—he was almost within distance to reach out and grab my ankle. Breaking out of my fear-induced haze, I forced myself to roll away, which shoved the glass shards in a little deeper. That made me scream again, but it also gave me the wiggle room to come to my feet. Once I was on my feet, I could run.

  At that moment, Agent H came racing into the room and interjected himself between me and the Shadow Man. An entirely new fear set me to panicking—that he would hurt my cats. Heedless of my pain or safety, I raced forward, anger raging as I hit the light switch on the wall. The lights flared to life, flooding the room, and the Shadow Man let out a garbled hiss and vanished, shading himself with his hands as if the light were burning him. The next minute he was gone, vanished from sight, and I couldn’t feel him around anywhere.