The Phantom Queen
A Whisper Hollow Novel, Book 3
Yasmine Galenorn
A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication
Published by Yasmine Galenorn
PO Box 2037, Kirkland WA 98083-2037
THE PHANTOM QUEEN
A Whisper Hollow Novel
Copyright © 2020 by Yasmine Galenorn
First Electronic Printing: 2020 Nightqueen Enterprises LLC
First Print Edition: 2020 Nightqueen Enterprises
Cover Art & Design: Ravven
Editor: Elizabeth Flynn
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format, be it print or electronic or audio, without permission. Please prevent piracy by purchasing only authorized versions of this book. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or places is entirely coincidental and not to be construed as representative or an endorsement of any living/ existing group, person, place, or business.
A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication
Published in the United States of America
Contents
Acknowledgments
Welcome to The Phantom Queen
Advice For Visitors To Whisper Hollow
Prologue: The Morrígan
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Cast of Characters
Playlist
Biography
Acknowledgments
It’s been a long journey from the initial release of Autumn Thorns. Now the series is back in my hands, where it belongs, and I can offer you new books in the series, like The Phantom Queen. Whisper Hollow is a magical place for me, and its denizens lurk deep in my subconscious. They’ve missed being out and about on the page. I hope you enjoy the new adventure, and future ones to come.
I have a usual list of suspects whom I owe a great deal to when I’m writing a book. To my husband, Samwise, who is one of the most supportive men I’ve ever met, and who has been an excellent assistant. To Andria and Jenn, my assistants, who help make it possible for me to write seven to eight books a year and stay sane. To my Urban Fantasy Authors group—I’ve never met writers so supportive as they are, and to a few friends in specific: Shawntelle Madison, Mandy Roth, Michelle Pillow, Jo Yantz, Carol Padovan, Scotty Talley, Tiffany Merkel, and my beloved niece Jade.
Also, thank you to all of my readers who stuck with me as I made the transition from trad to indie publishing. When you buy my books and support my fan base, I can write more of the worlds you love. Thank you for remaining patient as I worked on getting the rights back to this series.
To my furbles—Calypso, Brighid (the cat, not the goddess), Morgana, and Missur Apple. And lastly, to Ukko, Rauni, Mielikki, Tapio, and Brighid (the goddess, not the cat)—my spiritual foundation.
You can find me on the web at Galenorn.com. Subscribe to my mailing list to get all updates, and if you like the books, please consider leaving a review!
Brightest Blessings,
~The Painted Panther~
~Yasmine Galenorn~
Welcome to The Phantom Queen
Whisper Hollow, where spirits walk among the living, and the lake never gives up her dead...
Fifteen years ago, I ran away from Whisper Hollow, Washington, a small town on Crescent Lake in the Olympic Peninsula. But truth is, if you were born here, you can never really leave. I’m Kerris Fellwater, and I’m a spirit shaman. It’s my responsibility to drive the dead back to their graves, because around Whisper Hollow, people—and secrets—don’t always stay buried.
Veronica, Queen of the Unliving, requests my presence. Something has happened in Whisper Hollow—there’s a new menace around, and it’s not only attacking the living, but also the denizens of her Court. Now, Bryan and I must enlist the help of the dead in order to keep the spirit world—and the citizens of Whisper Hollow—safe.
Reading Order of the Series:
Book 1: Autumn Thorns
Book 2: Shadow Silence
Book 3: Phantom Queen
Advice For Visitors To Whisper Hollow
THE RULES:
1. if you hear someone call your name from the forest, don’t answer.
2. never interrupt ellia when she’s playing to the dead.
3. if you see the girl in the window, set your affairs in order.
4. try not to end up in the hospital.
5. if the Crow Man summons you, follow him.
6. remember: sometimes the foul are actually fair.
7. and most important: don’t drive down by the lake at night.
* * *
Whisper Hollow: where spirits walk among the living, and the lake never gives up her dead.
Prologue: The Morrígan
The Morrígan, Night Mare Queen and Goddess of Sovereignty, Queen of Shapeshifters and Mother of the Fae, culls the dead from the battlefield and gathers them to her under the embrace of her feathered cloak. She is mother to the Bean Nighe and the Bean Sidhe, the sirens of the spirit world, who warn of death to come by vision and by song. She is mother to the Crow Man, who haunts the woodlands of the world, carrying her messages to other realms. The Crow Man walks before the goddess, announcing her appearance. He speaks through the raven and the crow, and to ignore his summons is to ignore the gods. Do so at your own risk.
But not all dead wish to stay in their shadowed realm, and not all dead understand the reality of their situation. In some lands, the energy of the Veil is so strong that spirits can walk freely between the worlds. And so the Goddess of Crows engendered nine great families—the bloodline passing through the maternal side—of women born to drive the wandering ghosts back into their graves, to stand between the dead and the living as protectors. The Morrígan’s daughters, known as the spirit shamans, are charged with these duties.
To each spirit shaman, a match is born—a shapeshifter by birth from one of the chosen clans. He will be her protector and guardian and they will be forever bound. And to each spirit shaman, a lament singer will be assigned—a daughter of the Bean Sidhe. She will bring her magical songs to complete the triad. Together, these triads will protect the portals of the world that lead into the realm of Spirit, and keep the dead from flooding the land of the living.
From: Legends of the spirit shamans
Chapter One
I had no sooner dropped my bag o’ tricks on the kitchen table when my phone rang again. Crap. Sophia. I stared at the caller ID, not wanting to pick up. All week long it had been one report after another. First over on Spruce Street, a poltergeist had chased Mrs. Burman out of her house. Then a Haunt near the grade school was trying to lure children away from the schoolyard. And Old Man Jenkins showed up in his daughter’s backyard, fresh out of the grave, even though Ellia and I had escorted him to Penelope and the Veil not two weeks ago.
Then today, August Hamilton had returned from the beyond.
The past week had been crazy-making trying to deal with the spirits. With a sigh, I dropped into a chair by the table and punched the talk button, dreading what was coming my way next.
“Hey, what is it now?”
Sophia Castillo was the chief of police, and she knew I was the first stop for all things spooky.
“I hate to
bother you so soon after my last call, but I think we have an even bigger issue. Someone just moved into the old Johnson place a few days ago. A woman named Mandy Theos called me an hour ago, frantic because she thinks someone’s inside the house with her. I sent Frank out there, and he looked around but didn’t find anybody. I don’t know if she knows about the history of the place, but she just called again and said that now she’s hearing strange noises coming from the attic.”
“Well, of course she is. Ezra Johnson’s still hanging out there and he and his family have become so entrenched in the land that the best course of action is to raze the house and plant a few trees and call it as good as it gets.” I groaned. Ten to one, Jack Walters, one of the greediest real estate agents in town, had sold the property to the Theos family. Nobody else in town would even touch the Johnson house, not with its history. “You want me to go over there and talk to her?”
“I was thinking it might be best. The last thing we want is for the ghosts there to possess her and send her on a murder spree.” Sophia sounded as tired as I felt. “I thought the news might be best, coming from you.”
“Maybe I can convince Oriel, Ivy, and Ellia to go with me. We can do a welcome-wagon thing and find out what we can about Mandy and her family and whether she knew what she was getting into.” I stifled a yawn. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. Ellia and I just drove August Hamilton back to his grave, by the way. So he shouldn’t be bothering the playground again.”
August Hamilton had been fourteen when the Lady took him into her watery depths. Ellia and my grandmother had escorted him to the Veil, but apparently he had managed to cross back over. Penelope had been as irritated as I was when I dragged his ass back to her. For some reason, the dead were rising faster than we could keep up with them, and spirits who should have been on their merry way to a new life had come wandering back to town.
“Thank gods for small favors,” Sophia said. “Call me after you talk to Mandy. I’d like to know who sold her that house. There’s no law against it, but…”
“But whoever did it needs a good talking to,” I finished for her.
“Just what I was thinking.”
I glanced at the clock. It was eight thirty, on a Monday night. Too late to pay a visit to Mandy Theos. I said good-bye to Sophia and put in quick calls to Ivy—my grandmother; Oriel—the Heart of Whisper Hollow; and Ellia, who groaned when I came on the line. She was tired too. Garnering their promises to meet me at Mandy’s at ten the next morning with welcome-wagon gifts in hand, I finally turned off my phone and trudged into the living room.
Bryan was out of town for a meeting, so I had the house to myself. Dropping onto the sofa, I turned on the TV and curled up to watch The Great British Bake-Off with all three of my Maine Coons curled up on my legs. Before I realized what was happening, I fell asleep, dead to the world.
My name is Kerris Fellwater, and I’m the spirit shaman of Whisper Hollow. I was born into a great family lineage. I’m the fiftieth generation of spirit shamans from my family. We’ve passed down the title for centuries, from within the mists of time. I know very little about my family line, but I’m looking for answers, and I’m trying to learn.
My grandma Lila was the spirit shaman of Whisper Hollow before me. The post skipped a generation because my mother was murdered. If she had lived, she would have taken the post over from my grandmother. So I came to it early, and I’m learning the hard way. I ran away when I was eighteen, trying to escape my destiny, trying to escape Whisper Hollow and its ever-present ghosts. But destiny won out, and I returned home when Grandma Lila died, giving in to the path that had been set before me.
Together with Ellia, my lament singer, who sings the dead to sleep, and Bryan, my wolf-shifter guardian and fiancé, we keep the spirits in check, escorting them to Penelope the Gatekeeper.
My life surrounds death, and it’s everywhere I look, everywhere I turn. The spirits are more real to me than some people. I live in a world of mist and shadow, of dark nights by the graveside. I walk under the moon, whispering to the Crow Man. I am a Daughter of the Morrígan, and this is my journey. Until the day I die, I will bear her mark on my back.
I’ve accepted my fate, finally, but now comes the job of settling into the work, of finding my way through this labyrinth of the dead, all the while avoiding the enemies of the Morrígan who would like to see every spirit shaman wiped off the face of the earth. The latter task? Not quite so easy.
“Love? Love…wake up.”
The words trickled into my brain and I blinked, squinting against the overhead light that I had forgotten to turn off. I groaned, pushing myself up so I was sitting against the back of the sofa. Bryan had edged himself onto the seat beside me. He looked beat.
“You look like I feel,” I said, yawning as I struggled to sit up. I glanced at the grandfather clock against the wall, next to the entertainment hutch. It was two a.m. I had been asleep for a little over six hours. I had climbed into my nightgown and settled down to watch a movie. That was the last thing I remembered. “Oh, man, I must have crashed hard.”
Bryan wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in. I closed my eyes as he kissed me, floating in the warmth of his lips against mine. “I missed you,” he whispered, running his hand through my hair. “I missed you so much. I hate being away from you.”
“I missed you too,” I said, leaning against his shoulder. “I don’t like it when you’re gone. The house feels too empty.” I floated for a moment in the shelter of his embrace, wanting to stay like this forever.
“If you don’t act now, you’ll miss out on this stupendous buy!” The TV was still on, and some infomercial was trying to sell me the most marvelous face cream in the world.
With a groan, I looked around for the remote. It was on the floor next to the sofa, so I leaned across Bryan’s lap, wincing at the crick in my back as I managed to get hold of it. I turned off the TV, tossing the remote on the side table.
“Perfect position, huh?” I asked, grinning. My face was two inches from his crotch.
“If I weren’t so jet-lagged, I’d call your bluff,” Bryan said, rolling me back up and kissing my nose. “Damn, I missed you.”
I giggled, curling back into the niche of his arm. “That’s a lot of miles to cover in so short of a time.”
“You’re not kidding.” He had been visiting Ireland for a couple of days to take care of business matters with one of his international antique businesses. “Two international flights in four days is too many. Are you all right? Was everything okay while I was gone?” He was anxious and I knew he felt guilty for leaving.
As my guardian, he was supposed to be at my beck and call any time, day or night, should I need him. But there had been some sort of crisis that he couldn’t delegate and so I had told him to go, take care of matters, and not worry.
“Ellia and I have been run ragged the past few days, but luckily, we were able to handle matters. Don’t worry—I’m fine. Just tired. But how did it go? How was your trip?” I leaned in to kiss him again. “Did you take care of whatever was wrong?”
“Not exactly. The meeting was tense. I’ve decided to close the business. Apparently, the manager has been running it into the ground and the effort to save it would be more time and money than I want to invest. I’ll write it off as a loss. I fired his sorry ass, though, with pleasure.” Bryan let out a little growl.
Bryan Tierney was a wolf shifter. His icy-blue eyes were ringed with black, and his shaggy wheat-colored hair hung down to his shoulders. He had a five-o’clock shadow, and was starting the bare beginnings of a mustache. He was wearing a pair of tight jeans, with a button-down green shirt and a pair of punkish motorcycle boots that had five thick straps that buckled across the lacing. They had thick rubber soles for traction. He had draped his leather jacket over the rocking chair, and his suitcase was sitting on the living room floor next to it.
“I’m sorry, that sucks.” I tried to stifle a yawn, bu
t it was no use. “I love you, I’m glad you’re back, and I’m still so tired I want to drop. Come to bed?”
He kissed me again, and I could feel him stirring. “I need a shower.”
“I don’t care.” As tired as I was, I was hungrier for him. I straddled him, stripping off my nightgown. He pressed his lips to my throat and I moaned, dropping my head back. Every time Bryan touched me, it was a reaffirmation of life. Every time he kissed me, it reminded me that I might walk hand-in-hand with death, but I was also alive and the moonlight would turn to sun, and the morning would follow the darkness.
“Let’s go, woman.” He gathered me up in his arms as though I was as light as a feather as I wrapped my legs around him, and he carried me into the bedroom, laying me down on the bed. His eyes grew even more icy as he stripped off his shirt, exposing the rippling muscles that crossed his chest.
I opened my arms to him and pulled him down, riding on the warmth of his body, swimming in the depths of his love. He was my guardian, and he would protect me in the depths of any darkness that came. He was my wolf, and I was his mate. As he loved me, fully and wholly, kissing every inch of my body, I drifted in and out of the magic we wove together—the magic of the Morrígan.
“Go to sleep,” he whispered when we were finished. He drew the covers up over my shoulders. “I’ll stay up the rest of the night and tomorrow, and then hit the sheets early tomorrow night.”
The Phantom Queen Page 1
