The Forest of Aisling: Dream of the Shapeshifter (The Willow Series Book 1)

by D. S. Elstad

  Dad was hesitant at first when I extended the invitation for dinner. For the most part my father wasn’t a social person. He worked hard all day and when he came home at night all he wanted to do was to read his paper and watch football or whatever sport was on TV. Mom would get him out on occasion but, as a rule, he was a homebody. After I threatened to call Mom he finally agreed, so we headed off.

  When we arrived he was quickly ushered off by his cousin John and I was taken aside by Quinn and Kelleigh. He looked over his shoulder as he was being led down the hallway, frowning with the same look he had when he stood at the hotel window. I shrugged, wondering just what he expected me to do. I followed Quinn and Kelleigh down the opposite end of the hallway until we came to a door with ‘Stay Out!!!’ stretched out across the door in pink police tape.

  “Go ahead.” Kelleigh motioned for me to enter. Her room looked a lot like my own. Posters hung on the walls along with clothes lying all over the furniture. Books, magazines, and CDs covered her dresser, and on her bed lay a huge orange tabby cat. It reminded me of my own cat Max and made me miss my little fur ball. I went over and tried to pick him up. The instant I reached down to him he let out a low gurgling sound and pricked his ears back. He hissed and scratched my hand, then flew out of the room like some kind of trapeze artist.

  “Willow, I’m sorry!” Kelleigh rushed over inspecting the scratches. “Berra has never reacted like that before...I’m so sorry.” She left the room and came back with two Band-Aids.

  While she tended my scratches Quinn was busying himself on his phone. “She’s a stupid cat, Kell, get rid of her.”

  “I will not!” she shrilled. “But I do apologize for that Willow, don’t know what got into her.”

  “Maybe she senses something,” Quinn added without lifting his head.

  Kelleigh and I both looked at Quinn and back at each other. I know we were sharing the same thought: Maybe Quinn was right.

  We sat on the floor going through the stack of books Kelleigh had picked up. Quinn grabbed a large blue one with the back cover missing. It obviously was very old. “Now this looks promising,” he said flipping through the pages. ‘Shapeshifters of Celtic Ireland’, sounds like its written just for you, Willow,” he joked.

  Kelleigh and I pulled closer together and began reading with intensity the first few pages. Some of the book was in the Irish language, which, until I met Kelleigh, I hadn’t even realized existed. She informed me that there were many languages in Ireland, Gaelic, Celtic and Old Irish. I thought English was their only language. I was glad I didn’t share that lame assumption with Quinn and Kelleigh. I was also glad I didn’t comment when Kelleigh started talking about the gods, that I had automatically assumed she was speaking of the Greek or Roman gods…didn’t know there were Irish gods. Live and learn.

  While we all read to ourselves, Kelleigh kept “Ah ha’ing” and “Oh my’ing” through the most interesting parts. Quinn punched her a few times, but that didn’t stop her. She was devouring every word like my dog Chance would devour a hamburger.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of some of the text. It was confusing, and a part of me was still in disbelief that anything had happened at all. It almost felt like we were just playing some sort of elaborate game.

  “Willow, I think we need to go back to the park tonight.” Kelleigh’s eyes fired at me.

  “Are you quite mad?” Quinn grimaced as he dropped the book to the floor.

  “No, not at all. Don’t you see? Willow must go back to the park to get some answers; she must do it before she goes home.”

  Home, wow… it seemed so far away right at this moment, not just distance-wise, but in every other way. “What do you think will happen?” I asked Kelleigh, fearful and at the same time knowing what her answer would be.

  “I think you’ll change into a wolf again, and maybe this time you can find out what the other wolf wants from you. That is, if the other wolf appears again.”

  Kelleigh’s words began echoing in my head, then distorting into some sort of electronic-type sound. I felt myself spinning as though I was on a merry-go-round. My vision went dark for a few seconds and then I completely blacked out. When I opened my eyes again, Quinn and Kelleigh were crouched above me with worried expressions.

  “Wh… what happened?” I asked.

  “You tell us,” Quinn mumbled as he reached under my shoulder, easing me up from the floor into a sitting position. “We were just about ready to get your Pop, thought you may have passed out or something.”

  “I guess I did,” I said, biting my lip. “Never have done that before.” I rubbed the back of my head. A tingling sensation filled my entire scalp and my ears were ringing.

  “Don’t think this is a good idea, Kell,” Quinn frowned, looking towards his sister. “There are too many things we don’t understand about this. For all we know she could change, run off, and we may never catch her!”

  Kelleigh returned to her spot beside me on the floor. She leaned forward and put her head in her hands, turning the pages of the book. For the first time since I met these two siblings, minutes went by without either one of them making a sound. Quinn fixed his stare on his sister and she had hers fixed on the pages of the book. I closed my eyes, tried to relax and breathe. It was all catching up and I was becoming completely and utterly overwhelmed by the whole situation.

  “You’re right, Quinn, there’s too much risk involved.” She seemed disappointed but resigned to the idea of just letting everything go for now.

  While the two continued talking, I stood up and joined Dad in the other room. He sat on a sofa facing two wing back chairs. Quinn’s parents sat in the chairs and smiled when I entered the room. A small fire crackled in the fireplace and a delicious aroma wafted in from the kitchen. Dad and his cousin were engaged in a political conversation. I leaned my head against his shoulder. The sound of their voices was comforting in a way. Low voices, boring subject matter, I soon found myself drifting off into a light relaxing sleep. I felt Dad grab hold of my hand and that set me off into deeper relaxation.

  Soon their voices were replaced by the sounds of nature…birds singing, crickets chirping, breezes blowing. There were no pictures in this subconscious state, only sounds and darkness which was occasionally interrupted by a gleam of light, almost like it was rotating; it just kept passing through the darkness. The light became stationary and produced a thin spotlight stretching from the top to the bottom of my field of vision. In time the sounds faded and only the light stood glowing in the darkness. Its shape began transforming, from a square to a circle to a triangle to a teardrop.

  The teardrop shape stretched out and the edges of it softened and curved. The glowing inside of the shape began to hollow itself out, leaving only an outline of its former self. It then began throbbing, its glow taking on a twinkling effect. From it rose an exact duplicate of itself, and then another. The three touched end to end. Chimes began to sound and each shape spun randomly at first, then in some kind of elaborate pattern. The sounds grew louder, the brightness of the shapes grew brighter, and then came one super-charged flash of light.

  When my eyes were finally able to focus through the brilliance I could see the shapes had joined together and become one. It glowed uniformly now and with it returned the sounds of nature. Its light soon lost its brilliance and changed to a tranquil, earthly shade of green.

  A whispering voice sounded in with the chorus of nature…Triquetra, Triquetra, Triquetra, it said, low and soft. My eyes opened and for an ephemeral moment, I was back in the forest.

  Chapter Eight

  “I miss you, Mom.”

  “I miss you too, Wagmu, can’t wait until you and Blue get home.”

  Blue…Mom’s special name for Dad. She called him that because of his eyes; funny because Dad’s eyes always looked gray to me.

  I faded in and out of our conversation. Sometimes hearing what she was saying and sometimes just taking comfort in the sound of her voice. Ever since I was little
, her voice would calm and relax me. It felt like it had been ages since I’d seen her. I wondered how I was going to open up to her about all that had happened. If anyone would be able to figure it out, she would. Mom just had a way of dealing with any kind of crisis in a positive and unruffled way, making it seem like less of a problem. I couldn’t possibly explain any of it now over the phone so I just laid back on the bed and let her voice chase away my fears.

  After about an hour of talking to her, Dad chimed in and reminded me that we needed to go to Uncle Eagan’s. It was easy saying good-bye to her because I knew the next time I heard her voice she’d be right there with me.

  After I had passed out at Kelleigh and Quinn’s place, Dad suggested I try and get some rest. I guess he was right, because when I crawled into bed that night I slept for twelve hours straight – no dreams, no nightmares, no visions, just peaceful slumber. We stayed in our hotel room for most of the day, packing our bags and getting ready for the trip home. We went out once for some quick sight-seeing. That only left me wanting to see more, but I realized that wasn’t going to happen. We’d be leaving Killarney in less than twenty-four hours, with more questions than we came with and not a single answer to be found. I had a bit of an ache in my heart at the thought of going home so soon.

  Dad decided before we went to Uncle Eagan’s house that we should stop by a gift shop and pick up a present to thank him for everything. I smiled, knowing full well Mom had planted that idea in his head. We drove up the streets of town, trying to decide just where to go, when Dad spotted a shop he remembered from his childhood.

  When we opened the door to the bright, cheerful shop a small bell attached to the door jingled, announcing our entrance. I suggested to Dad that we get something for Mom as well. His expression showed me how relieved he was I’d thought of that. He nodded and made his way to a nearby jewelry counter and chatted with the clerk there.

  I looked around at all the trinkets lining the shelves of ‘The Hungry Toad.’ Funny name for a gift shop, I thought. In an especially crowded corner of the shop was a trio of hand-carved gnomes standing about two feet tall, each one holding a book with a symbol on the cover. The first one had a cross, the second a star, and the third…well, the third had a symbol on it just like the symbol in my vision of last night. I tried to remember what the voice had called it. Closing my eyes, I could almost hear the voice again…Triquetra. This was the shape and that was the word the voice had spoken. I knelt down tracing the shape with my finger when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  I looked up and saw his smiling face…Bram, the deaf friend of Quinn and Kelleigh. He stood positioned in front of a light from the ceiling so it created a halo effect around his head. All that was missing was the choir and a sparkle from his teeth when he smiled.

  His tall frame was thin but athletic, like a bicyclist. His wavy brown hair was short on the sides and a little longer on top, flowing down over his forehead. But it was his eyes that were the most mesmerizing. They were a shade of brown I’d never seen before. To even call them brown did them an injustice. I caught myself staring, trying to give a name to the color, when Bram finally spoke.

  “Hello Willow, fancy meeting you here.” He smiled, reaching his hand out to help me stand.

  “Hi Bram. What are you doing here?” I asked before realizing that he wouldn’t hear my question.

  He pursed his lips and frowned, trying to read what I had just said.

  “Again please,” he said, crouching down to get a better look at my face.

  “What are you doing here?” I repeated, this time slower and hopefully with more definition.

  “Ah,” he smiled, “Picking up a birthday card, and yourself?”

  How am I going to do this, I thought, without looking like a complete idiot? Before I could embarrass myself completely by trying to sign to him, he whipped out a notepad from his jacket pocket. He held it up and then pulled out a pencil from the other pocket and handed them both to me. I nodded, impressed with his preparedness.

  I took the notepad and pencil and wrote….gift for my mom back home.

  He read it and then looked down at the gnome. His face crunched up into a frown. “That?”

  I laughed and shook my head no and wrote on the notepad, just curious about this symbol, it caught my eye.

  “That’s the Triquetra, a Celtic symbol usually representing the trinity, you know, like in Christianity. It can also symbolize the elements of the earth. It has lots of different meanings, depending on who has it. A very powerful symbol, when used properly, not on some silly garden gnome.” He scowled once more as he looked down at the little figure.

  While he spoke I found myself once again staring into his eyes. They were so dark and mysterious and I swear the color would change. He seemed to be older than seventeen just in the way he carried himself. I wondered if it had something to do with his deafness.

  “How much longer will you be here?” he asked shyly, shifting his attention to the floor.

  I wrote on the notepad that we’d be leaving the next day.

  He winced. “So soon?”

  I half shrugged and nodded. I could feel the blush coming over me again so I quickly looked away, trying to regain composure. He made me nervous, I had to admit it. I usually felt pretty comfortable around guys, more comfortable than with girls at times. But Bram…there was something different about him. He had that intensity to his eyes and whether or not it was part of deafness, I couldn’t be sure. He relied on his eyes so much for everything and seemed very intuitive, like he could read your emotions easily just by glancing at your face.

  We both stood there for what seemed like an hour, staring at each other. I decided to ask him if he was busy later. I told him Kelleigh and Quinn and I were going to get together and it would be great if he could join us. He smiled broadly and accepted, saying he’d get in touch with Quinn about time and place. I felt happy and excited. I really wanted a chance to see him again and talk to him more about the Celtic symbol of my dream. I watched as he walked away, curious and eager to spend more time with him. As though he read my mind, he spun around, signed a few things, and saluted a good-bye.

  Dad came up behind me and grabbed my shoulders, scaring the beejeebies out of me.

  “Who was that?” he asked, peering over my shoulder.

  “Bram, a friend of Kelleigh and Quinn’s; he was with us the other night when we searched for Uncle Eagan’s dog.”

  “Huh, what’s with the salute?” Dad wondered watching him exit the store.

  “He’s deaf, that’s how he says good-bye.”

  “Hm, really? That must make communicating with him a challenge.”

  “He speaks perfectly and uses sign language. Quinn interprets for him, although he does pretty well on his own. Just now, he pulled out a notepad and pencil so we could talk. He’s a nice guy.”

  Dad studied my face, and then the edges of his mouth turned up slightly. I knew what he was thinking. I didn’t have to be too intuitive to read my father’s expression.

  “What?” I asked following him to the cashier. He just looked back at me over his shoulder, grinning.

  “Oh my Lord,” I mumbled shaking my head, “really, Dad, I’m not eight years old.”

  While the clerk packed up our purchases, he leaned over and whispered in that annoying sing-song voice, “Willy’s got a boyfriend.”

  All I could do was shake my head. His mood was a far cry from earlier, when I saw him at the window of the hotel. He was so somber and sullen then, understandably so; after all he had just buried his mother. Today he was light-hearted and easy, funny even. I thought it had something to do with the fact that we’d be heading home the next day. I knew he was missing Mom a lot. I’d heard him say her name in his sleep a couple of times.

  Once we got into the car we threw our packages in the back seat. Dad was fumbling through one of the bags when he pulled out a small blue velvet box. “Open it,” he encouraged.

  I ran my fingers across th
e top of the box…always loved the feel of velvet. It reminded me of Christmas dresses and black patent leather shoes. I hated getting dressed up when I was little, but something about wearing velvet always made it more tolerable. Sitting there, holding the little box, made me flash on those carefree days with melancholy.

  I slowly opened the lid and held my breath. It was a Triquetra symbol on a silver chain. I looked over at Dad who caught my glance and smiled with raised eyebrows.

  “Like it?” he asked tentatively.

  I stared speechless at the piece of jewelry, first, because this symbol suddenly was becoming a part of my life, and second, because this was the first time that I could remember my dad giving me a piece of jewelry that he picked out all on his own.

  “We can take it back and you can pick out something else,” Dad said softly, misinterpreting my quiet expression.

  “Dad…absolutely no way! I love it, I’m just so surprised. What’s this for?” I stared at the piece of jewelry, then closed my eyes seeing the Triquetra from my dream.

  “It’s for everything you’ve done this past week, Willy. You’ve been a big help to me, more than you’ll ever know, and I realize how hard it’s all been. I just want you to know how much I love you and appreciate you being here.”

  His voice cracked when he said he loved me. My dad, my complicated, funny Dad, who at times could barely say “I love you” to my mom, actually went into a store and picked something out for me. And not just something but the very symbol I’d dreamed about. I looked over at his face, the face that had comforted me when I was scared, encouraged me when I was down, and had always been there when I needed it, was now thanking me for something. I leaned over in the seat, reached my arms around his neck, and kissed him on his cheek. His graying whiskers felt soft.