Marilyn’s face drained of color. Her hand fluttered to her chest.
“Yes. Astrana told me to back off. But so did someone else. Astrana sent a couple of her goons out. They told me that she strongly suggested that I move on with my life and quit prying. That maybe the vampire was still hanging around, even though they didn’t have a hope in hell of finding him, and he might decide to try to shut me up.”
Marilyn paused, her eyes darkening. “I also got a phone call suggesting that I keep things quiet. They claimed to be from an insurance company and I was told I would receive a payout if I signed off on the case. I told them to go fuck themselves—I had already cashed Jona’s insurance policy. It felt like whoever this was, they were trying to buy me off.”
“What else did they say?”
“Not much, though they left me with the impression that if I pushed too hard, they’d cause trouble. They mentioned that I had my son to worry about and might want to focus on him. I don’t know who it was, and I’m too afraid to dig any deeper. I do have Ryan to think of, and even if I were to find out who killed Jona, it wouldn’t bring him back. I warned Rhiannon that I wasn’t sure about this—but she assured me that you’ll be discreet. Obviously, though, the cops have eyes all over this town.”
“We can stop right now if you’re uncomfortable,” Herne said. “If we leave now, life will probably go on as usual.”
“Not necessary.” Marilyn shook her head. “I’ve already made a decision. And your showing up to investigate has nothing to do with it. I’ve been thinking about this for a few months, actually.”
“Thinking about what?” Rhiannon asked.
“I’m taking Ryan and returning to the sea. Back to the home pod. Life on land isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. In fact, I think we’d be happier with our own kind. It will give Ryan a chance to learn about his heritage in a way that no amount of living on land can do.”
“Are you sure?” Rhiannon asked, looking stricken. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t stay here.”
“Jona was taken from me. Somebody wanted him dead—whether it was personal or not, it doesn’t matter. There’s a murderer out there. Whoever it is has already claimed my husband. I won’t want to take any chances on losing my son. I’ve already lost the life that we hoped for here. Even if I move on and marry somebody else, it will never change the past. I think my son and I need a new start. I’ve been in contact with Jona’s parents, and they’ve encouraged me to come back to the ocean. I have an appointment tomorrow to meet with a real estate agent. I’m putting the house up for sale.”
She sounded so resigned that it tugged at my heart. She looked tired, and there was a longing for comfort in her voice. I understood the pull to the water—although I’d never understand it in the way someone who was born to it would. But I understood her longing to go home, to find safety for her and her son.
“If you think that’s best,” Rhiannon said. “I won’t try to stop you. But you have to do whatever you think is best for you and Ryan.” Her voice was strained and I could tell she was doing her best to be upbeat and supportive, even though it was obvious that Marilyn’s news had hurt her. Angel poked me in the arm, and I glanced at her.
“What?” I mouthed.
Angel pressed her lips together and gave me a quick shake of the head, then motioned for me to follow her out on the porch. We said our good-byes, and headed outside to wait for the others to join us.
“What? What’s going on?”
Angel started down the steps, dragging me with her. “Rhiannon was in love with Jona. I can tell you that right now. The stress between her and Marilyn tells me that. And trust me, there was stress there, and it was because Marilyn knew that Jona loved Rhiannon as well. There’s no way I can prove it, but I know in my gut that I’m right.”
Looping her arm through mine, Angel walked me away from the house. “You don’t think that Rhiannon had anything to do with this? Could she have gotten furious at Jona for something?”
“What? I don’t think so.” The idea seemed too far out of possibility. Women killed out of jealousy, but Jona’s death hadn’t been spur of the moment.
Angel thought about it for a moment, then agreed. “You’re right. Rhiannon wouldn’t have killed Jona like that. Maybe in a fit of anger, if she lost her temper, but not torture. I don’t think Rhiannon could ever torture anybody. But she loved him. That I can tell you.”
“You’re probably right about that. I don’t know how it can help us, but you should tell Herne what you’re thinking. Every single piece of information is helpful, that’s one thing I’ve learned on the job.”
Just about then, Herne and the others came out of the house. They joined us, Rhiannon with them. I decided that Herne should hear about what Angel had to say before we went much further.
“Herne, I want to ride with you. I have something I need to talk to you about—something I forgot before we left the office. Angel can drive my car and bring Rhiannon with her.” I didn’t want Rhiannon to think we were talking about her. I wasn’t sure how empathic she was, but at least I could stave off any immediate questions.
He gave me a bewildered look, but nodded. “Sure, if you like.”
I tossed Angel the keys to my car. “Go ahead and start out. We’ll follow. Go slow. We don’t want to miss anything.”
As we scattered to our respective cars, I glanced across the road. Behind us, about two houses back, I could see one of the sheriff’s cars. Apparently, we were under scrutiny.
As we buckled ourselves in, Herne glanced at me. “What’s going on?”
“Angel had a flash. I suggest we trust her on this, because she’s so damned good.”
“Fine. What is it?”
“Rhiannon was in love with Jona. Angel is positive. She picked it up when we were inside. At first she thought maybe Rhiannon had something to do with Jona’s murder, but both of us feel that, unless it was a fit of uncharacteristic temper, Rhiannon wouldn’t ever hurt him. And it’s obvious that his death wasn’t spur of the moment.”
“I wonder if that affects the case. What do you think?” Herne started the ignition, following Angel and Rhiannon. “Keep an eye out the window, would you? I have to watch the road, but see if there’s anything that you can pick up. Anything that you notice along the way.”
I glued my attention to the window, watching as the road ascended in a gentle grade. The asphalt was cracked and broken here and there, but the road was still in relatively decent shape. To either side were homes on large lots. The smallest looked to be set on half an acre, while others I estimated at three to five acres.
But shortly, the homes thinned out as heavy foliage and trees set in on both sides. Unlike the main suburb, the area felt dark and shaded, and an alarm bell began to ring in my head. In fact, it was so insistent that I asked Herne to stop as I texted ahead to Angel and Rhiannon, who stopped a few yards in front of us.
I jumped out of the car, walking over to stare intently at a dark patch of trees and brambles. There was something in there, or something had been there. Whatever it was, it was dark and squat and frightening. Goose bumps rose along my arms, and the hair prickled on the back of my neck. I found myself holding my breath, waiting for something to leap out at me.
“What’s wrong?” Herne asked, crossing to my side.
I shook my head, unable to tell him. All I knew was that there was something here that put me on full alert, the danger danger Will Robinson kind of alert.
“Something…is here. Or was here. I can’t tell if anything bad happened here, or if it’s just the general malaise of the area. Whatever it is, it feels stunted and tainted. It makes me want to get away from it.” I motioned to Angel. “Can you feel what I’m feeling?”
She walked over to me, stopping by my side and holding out her hands. She closed her eyes, and then shivered and let out a gasp.
“What the hell?”
“I don’t know. All I
know is it makes me want to get away from it. It’s squirmy and slimy, and feels like it hides under rocks.” I looked over at Herne. “I don’t know if something’s living in there, or if something just passed through, but whatever it is, it makes me queasy.”
Herne stared at the thicket with narrowed eyes. “I’m going in.”
“Do you think that’s wise? Will that tip off whoever it is that we’re here?” Of course, for all I knew, whoever was hiding in those bushes already knew we were here. In fact, whatever—or whoever—it was might have nothing at all to do with Jona’s murder.
“We aren’t going to find anything by standing on the side of the road. Do you want to come along?” Herne looked at me.
I didn’t want to go, but that wasn’t going to stop me. While the others went back to their cars to wait, Herne and I started into the woods. Viktor offered to come along, but we asked him to stay with the others as protection. Yutani could take care of himself, but Talia and Angel and Rhiannon might not be quite so adept.
Herne and I slowly made our way into the thicket, stepping over bramble patches that snagged at our jeans. I shook off a spider that raced across my arm, tossing it to the ground. It scuttled away, although for a second it seemed to stop and look back at me.
I must be getting paranoid, I thought, if I think a spider is spying on me.
We broke through the front line of brambles, finding ourselves in the thick of the woods. Here, the fir trees towered overhead, thick with moss and lichen. A nurse log lay across our path, a good four feet high. The tree must have been massive in its day, and I imagined that when it hit the ground, it thundered like a quake. I placed my hands on the top, swinging my legs over the side. Herne followed suit.
The undergrowth was growing thicker, and it was hard to see the ground below for all the ferns and skunk cabbage in the way. Trailing vines looped and twined their way through the woods. It smelled green here, that green that comes after a long rain, mingled with the scent of decay and pungent soil and mushrooms and the clarity of the chill air that hovered in the forest, even on a warm day.
“Do you still feel it?” Herne asked, lowering his voice.
I stopped, closing my eyes as I reached out.
And there it was, to the left, hiding in a thick layer of mulch. The forest detritus was a mire of matted fir needles, and soggy leaves from the vine maple, and mold, and mushrooms, all compacted together to create a spongy blanket that covered the ground.
I pointed to an area where the energy was most pronounced.
“I think there.”
Herne slowly moved toward the area, his hand on his dagger. I flipped the snap on my sheath, unbinding my own dagger, ready to bring it to bear at first notice.
As we pushed through the trees, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that we would break through into a clearing.
The semi-circle was surrounded by trees—shrubs, really—that I didn’t recognize. In fact, the type didn’t look familiar at all. They stood about twelve to fourteen feet tall, and were covered with small green leaves. On one hand, they reminded me of huckleberries. In fact, they were covered with dark blue berries, but they were like no huckleberry bushes I had ever seen. They felt dark and foreboding, and I found myself incredibly uneasy. The trees were covered in branches from the ground to the top, to the point where I could barely see their trunks. The branches twisted out in every direction. As we drew near, I could see long, sharp thorns covering the limbs, wickedly dangerous.
“I wouldn’t want to fall into one of those,” I whispered, keeping my voice low.
“What the hell are these doing here?” Herne asked, his eyes widening. He glanced around, his shoulders stiffening.
“What are they?”
“Blackthorn trees. We had them back in England, but I didn’t think they grew over here. At least, not in the Pacific Northwest. Watch out for those spines, they can cause septicemia.”
I started to move forward, trying to get a closer look, but he cautioned me to wait.
“There’s something here,” he said. “I can’t quite place it, but something knows we’re here, and it’s watching us very carefully.”
I huddled closer to him. As a hawk shrieked, flying overhead, I jumped, not expecting the sudden cry. I took a step to the left, trying to steady myself, but my foot came down on a rock, unbalancing me. I tripped, landing near one of the blackthorn bushes. As I started to get up, a branch suddenly whipped out, curling around my left wrist, digging in with its thorns.
“Motherfucking hell!” The shooting pain hit me and, instinctively, I tried to pull my arm away but the branch tightened around my wrist, a ring of the thorns digging deep into my skin.
Herne darted to my side, bringing his dagger down against the branch. The branch snapped under the force of his blow, but another one reached out, trying to grab hold of my ankle. I rolled away, even as I realized that the tendril around my arm was still digging in. I tried to loosen it, but it still seemed to be almost alive, and it was only by force that I managed to yank it free from my wrist, the thorns ripping out of the skin, spurting blood everywhere. I threw it to the side, hard. It writhed on the ground, trying to inch toward me, but then stopped. As we watched, it dug itself into the ground, forcing itself deep into the soil.
“Watch out!” Herne yelled, grabbing me by the other arm and dragging me to my feet just as yet another branch snaked out, again heading toward my leg.
We turned, racing away from the thicket. The sound of scuttling followed us, and as we turned, we saw tendrils emerging from all sides of the clearing, stopping a few yards from the trees. They could only go so far, it seemed, but I didn’t want to give them a chance to prove me wrong.
“Are they supposed to do that?”
“No.” Herne shook his head, staring at the bushes. “Wait here.”
He stepped forward, back into the clearing, and the bushes scuttled again. In a loud voice, he barked out a string of words that I didn’t understand. I wasn’t even sure if I was hearing them aloud—but the energy rippled through the clearing, loud and clear.
I was trying to stanch the blood pouring out of the wounds in my wrist when an answer came thundering back. This time, I knew it wasn’t aloud, but I could hear it as well as Herne.
“You are not welcome here. This is not your domain, son of Cernunnos. You do not claim power over us.”
A dangerous light flickered in Herne’s eyes, and he seemed to grow taller as he stood there, his shoulders straightening, as he held out his hands. “I am Lord Herne. You will listen.”
Again, a response echoed through the clearing, as clear as if the words were being shouted through a bullhorn.
“Leave this place, son of Cernunnos, before you anger us. Return only at your own peril.”
Herne looked ready to rumble, but then he turned back to me, staring at my arm. The puncture wounds were continuing to bleed, and they burned. He turned back to the clearing.
“I will return, and you will acknowledge who is Lord of the Forest.”
And with that, he joined me. “We need to get you to the doctor. Come on,” he said, keeping an eye over his shoulder as we left the patch of woods.
I had never been so relieved to see the pavement. “What was that?”
“I don’t know. Whatever it was, it was ancient and deadly. Very seldom will you find trees so sentient. Or so mobile. They shouldn’t be able to do that. Blackthorn can be a deadly tree and often houses dark creatures, but it seldom takes a life of its own like that.”
As we returned to the car, a sinister pall filtered over the area, and it felt like it was following us. I nervously glanced over my shoulder, but could see nothing there.
The others were waiting anxiously, and when I held up my wrist, Talia let out a gasp.
“Do you know of a SubCult doctor nearby? Ember needs to have her wrist looked at immediately,” Herne said to Rhiannon.
“Yes,
I’ll call him immediately.”
While she put in the call, we told the rest of them what happened. Viktor, especially, gave a wary shake of the head.
“That’s not natural. Not at all.”
“You’re right, and it brings up a whole lot of questions. Take a good look at the puncture marks on her wrist,” Herne said. “I don’t think they’re as deep, but don’t they look like the puncture marks on Jona’s body?”
“Crap. Do you think the blackthorn patch killed him? A bunch of trees?”
“It could well have, but there has to be more to it than that. Something had to wake up those trees, and I guarantee you it was no vampire. I’m not sure what we’re facing, but whatever it is, I want to get to the bottom of it.” Herne’s look of anger turned to concern as he glanced at me. “How are you feeling?”
In truth, I was shaky, but I wasn’t sure whether it was because of the surprise attack, or the puncture wounds. They hurt like hell, but I had been seriously wounded before without feeling faint. “I’m not sure. I don’t feel normal, I’ll tell you that.”
“The doctor’s waiting for us,” Rhiannon broke in. “He’s back at the encampment, so let’s head back there.” She stared at my wrist, a worried look on her face. I could see she was making the same connections we had.
As we returned to the encampment, I tried not to think about septicemia and sentient plants that were out to kill people. Scenes from Little Shop of Horrors flickered through my head, only this wasn’t a comedy and I was the one in danger.
The doctor was Wulfine, that much was clear the moment he opened the door. There was a certain look to those who were full Wulfine blood—a ridged brow and angular jaw, though anyone not belonging to the SubCult probably couldn’t pick them out of a crowd. He hustled me in, motioning for me to hop up on the examination table.
“Thank you for seeing me.” I held out my arm.
He looked at my wrist, frowning. “What happened?”
“I fell into a patch of blackthorn bushes.”
Without missing a beat, he shook his head. “You must be mistaken. We don’t have any blackthorn bushes around here. It was probably a nasty blackberry bush or something.”
Oak & Thorns Page 11
