by D. S. Elstad
“What’s going on here?” I wondered out loud.
Dad sighed heavily, “Looks like some kind of KGD gathering, why today of all days?”
“What’s that?” I wondered.
“KGD…Killarney Garda Department. They must be having a benefit or something…who knows.”
He shook his head in annoyance. He grabbed the case and envelope and motioned for me to follow. We made our way through the meandering groups of revelers just in time to walk inside with Detective Powers. He was the officer who had been helping out and advising Dad on what needed to be done. Dad introduced us quickly and insisted on a minute alone with the detective. He obliged and led us to his office where, once again, I found myself shut out and waiting. The glass wall allowed me to take in their silent interaction. I watched intently, trying to interpret through their body language where their conversation was going. Since I met Bram I’d become much more aware of body language and trying to read it.
It was hard. I wasn’t even sure what had been in the envelope that now found itself in the detective’s hands. Dad was doing most of the talking, with the detective immersed in whatever was written on the pages he held. He stood up, waiting for Dad to unlock the attaché, then spun it around to examine its contents. From what I could tell it was more papers.
A group of the partying citizens made its way towards me, led by a jovial, round-faced tour guide. She giggled and bit her lip as she engaged in a flirtatious exchange with one of the revelers. They stopped a few feet away, directly in front of me, blocking my view. It was an awkward change of pace to see people having such a good time. By the time the group moved along, Dad and the detective were right outside his office door. The two of them shook hands and Dad headed towards me.
“Let’s go, Willow,” he said in a low voice.
I waited until we were back outside before asking him anything and even then decided it was best to wait until we were in the car. “So? What’s going on, Dad, what are all the papers for?”
He slowly backed out of the lot, waiting for the groups to clear the area. “Papers to allow the exhumation. The police wanted them signed.”
“Grandpa agreed to it then?”
“No, he never got that far, agreeing or not agreeing. He became confused. The doctor believes the stress of the whole thing threw him into a kind of detached state. He’s unable to deal with it all, so… he isn’t.”
I flipped on the car’s heater to dry myself off and get rid of the chill that started me trembling. “If Grandpa didn’t agree to it, then how is it you have papers to allow it?”
“The papers I gave Powers are showing that I’m Dad’s legal representative and able to make decisions for him in case he can no longer do so. I’m taking you back to the hotel. Don’t argue with me, Wils, I need you to be there and just let me handle this.”
“Need me to be there? Where will you be?” I asked.
“I have to get back to Conor’s house. I want to see what the doc has to say.” His eyes shot a resigned stare. “Give your mom a call and let her know what’s going on.”
“Of course, Dad.” My voice broke. I felt an overwhelming surge of emotion, like I needed to cry. We pulled up to the hotel entrance and Dad parked.
“I shouldn’t be too long, but if this thing stretches out I’ll give you a call.” Unfamiliar bags framed his bloodshot eyes. He had a look of exhaustion about him that I’d never seen before. I wished I could help out somehow.
“Ok,” I answered as we shared an awkward hug. I once more reached into my pocket, taking hold of the Kleenex and its contents, and watched as he drove away. Uncontrollable trembling took over as I stood in the parking lot, damp and chilled, growing more anxious with each second. Anxious for my dad, anxious for my grandpa, and anxious for myself and what might lie ahead for all of us.
Chapter Fourteen
A gradual dullness of vision accompanied by a semi-circle shape made its way directly over my left eye. Its jagged edges, flashing with electricity, blinded me while I fumbled with the hotel room key. I searched the door with my fingers and found the slot to run the card through.
Once inside I stumbled along, hugging the wall, making my way to the bathroom. The flashing light show completely blocked my field of vision as the throbbing began. I felt my way along the bathroom counter and grabbed hold of the toiletry bag sitting there, already opened and in disarray. It didn’t take me long to find the familiar bottle that had helped ease this nightmare headache in the past. I quickly opened it, popped out my Advil, and swallowed them down with a glass of water. Once I found the bed I curled up into a fetal position, covering my head with a pillow, blocking out any light, except for the flashes discharging in my brain.
“Thank God I didn’t go with Dad,” I moaned to myself.
I’d only had a migraine this bad maybe three other times in my life, and those times I stayed in bed for over fifteen hours. The excruciating discomfort was beginning to rear its ugly head just as my cell phone went off. I knew there was no way I’d be able to answer, let alone talk. I was worried that it might be Dad so I pulled it out of my pocket and drew it close to my face, squinting to find a clear spot within the splashes of electricity now moving to the right side of my head. I was able to make out a few of the numbers and recognized Kelleigh’s phone number. I can’t talk to her now.
I pulled the pillow back over my head and sought refuge in the darkness. My wonder pills began to work fairly quickly, extinguishing the worst part of the pain within an hour. The electrical circuits had stopped and were now replaced with a blurry darkness, thanks to the pillow still shielding my tired eyes. The relief began slowly creeping through my cells, allowing me to drift off to sleep relatively pain-free.
The rest was peaceful at first but short-lived. Indiscriminate images floated in and out of my dreams, wordless and without reason. Just images. No dialogue. Dad, angry with someone, Grandpa crying, Kelleigh laughing, Mom smiling and talking, and…Grandma.
Grandma Shannah from the pictures Grandpa had shown me. They were like a slideshow of her life. All the other pictures stopped except hers, over and over and over again, the same images. Until, finally, the last one, blurred at first, from a distance at first, gradually obtained clarity and closeness until I could make it out. The picture was of Grandma in a coffin. Not the elderly Grandma, but the young one. The picture stayed frozen in my dream, until a subtle change occurred. Her eyes opened and she looked straight at me, staring into my unconscious self. Then she began to age and grow older and older and older until her image decomposed, leaving nothing but her eyes still staring. The familiarity in those eyes jolted me to consciousness.
I woke up with a start and sat up in bed, temporarily forgetting about the last remnants of throbbing in my head.
“Oww,” I mumbled, realizing that I had gotten up way too fast. I grabbed my head and made my way to get a cold washcloth. I placed it on my forehead and immediately felt a sense of relief. The pain passed quickly once my blood pressure stabilized. I was able to visualize the haunting image of my dream – my grandmother’s eyes and the realization of where I’d seen them before. In the other dreams, the foretelling dreams, the wolf dreams. My grandmother’s eyes were the same as the large gray wolf’s…golden…piercing, and calling to me.
Luckily, the migraine sensations were fading, allowing me to reorient myself. First things first, I knew I had to call Mom and fill her in on the latest. She’d be shocked. I left her a brief message on her cell and on the phone at home. Next I decided to check my messages: one from Bram, two from Kelleigh.
I read Bram’s first:
All ok Willow? Let me know what I can do.
I stared at the screen, unsure what he could do, if anything. I read Kelleigh’s text and decided I’d better get in touch with her first. It felt like it’d been a while since I’d seen her and Quinn. She answered on the first ring, anxious to hear how things were going. I explained as much as I could to her, focusing on the new developmen
t with Grandma. She knew a little about it from her dad who’d spoken to Uncle Eagan.
While we chatted, I reached into my pocket looking for a tissue and grabbed hold of the Kleenex with the odd-shaped claw. I laid it out on the bed and slowly unfolded it. I ran my finger over the base of the claw, where I noticed a piece of skin or something still clinging to it. I debated telling Kelleigh and decided to wait until I saw her in person. We made plans to get together once I heard from Dad. I hung up and gently picked up the claw, still in the Kleenex, and placed it on the dresser. While I stood there a knock came at the door. I looked through the peep hole and felt that tinge of excitement.
“Sorry to just stop by, but I was getting a bit concerned,” Bram said, making his way into the room.
“Sorry I didn’t call,” I voiced, looking into his dark eyes. I grabbed my phone and started texting away. I had way too much to say to try and voice slowly.
We moved our conversation to the table and chairs by the large picture window. I told him all about Grandma and the whole police situation. He looked stunned. I decided that I needed to share the latest bizarre happening in the car at Grandpa’s house, but a trip to the bathroom to freshen up was in order.
When I returned, Bram was standing in front of the dresser with the claw in his outstretched hand. He wasn’t aware that I was standing right behind him, which gave me a chance to watch him examine the claw. He stretched out his long fingers like he was measuring the length and did the same for the width. He didn’t seem at all surprised about it, more scientific than anything. I stepped to his side, and when he realized I was there, he swung his hand with the claw towards me, raising his eyebrows in a questioning manner.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
“You ready for another story?” I said the words slowly and directly, to which he emphatically nodded yes.
We sat undisturbed while I explained the shadowy visitation and the souvenir it had left behind. The whole time he held onto the claw. He would read my text, respond with his voice, and manipulate the claw with his fingers, turning it over and over, then ask more questions.
I could tell there was something familiar about it to Bram. He seemed more interested in the fact that the claw had been lost rather than that a huge something or other had tried to become a hood ornament for our rental car.
“I’m debating whether or not I should show it to Dad," I texted.
Bram read my text then wrapped the claw up in the Kleenex and sat it back on the table. He frowned and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think you want to share this with your dad just yet.”
“Why not?” I asked.
He stood up and walked to the door, peeking his head out into the hallway. He looked right and left before shutting the door and locking it. He returned to his seat, leaned forward and took hold of my hands. “Willow, don’t you think it’s time we talked about what happened that night in the park?”
My heart began pounding. I had a feeling that Bram knew more about what happened to me than he had let on. I didn’t know if Quinn told him what he’d seen or if Bram himself had seen anything. After all, he wasn’t there with the others when they found me; he was “lost” – or so he’d said. But the way he looked that night, disheveled, breathless, more like something major had happened to him as well.
I looked up and tried to analyze the expression in his eyes. They didn’t give anything away. Slowly, I let myself sink into the chair, all the while holding tight onto his stare.
“What do you mean, Bram?”
“I mean, what happened while you were lost?” His eyes bore down on me like an investigators spotlight.
“You know what happened,” I texted, glad to be looking at a keypad and not into his eyes.
He moved further down to the edge of his chair. “I want you to tell me, Willow. It’s important that you remember and you know you can trust me.”
A cold shudder ran through me, my mind racing, trying to decide what to make of his interrogation. I sat still for several minutes, in which time he never looked away. Frustration took over and before I could even stop myself I’d already texted the words, “I turned into a wolf!!!!”
He read the text then looked at me and nodded, “I know. I saw.”
“You saw?” I said aloud.
“Yes.”
“You weren’t lost?”
“No, I was following you.”
I retraced the memories of that evening in super fast motion in my head, trying to recall who or what I’d seen while I was changed. Only the wolves were there, then Quinn, followed by the rest of the group.
“Don’t tell me you were one of the wolves?” I asked aloud impatiently then texted when he frowned.
“No,” he answered shaking his head, “but I was there.”
“How… where?”
“What do you remember?” His eyes narrowed to a squint.
I stood up and paced, reciting the whole series of events during my transformation. He watched me intently, focusing on my lips. “Were you visible to me?” I finally asked after exhausting my memory.
“Not necessarily visible.” He stood, grabbing hold of my shoulders and stopped me in my tracks.
“‘Not necessarily visible’, what the heck does that mean?” I didn’t want to play any more guessing games. “Just tell me!”
“Willow, I want you to remember; please, just think,” he said.
I closed my eyes yet again and went back to that night, the forest, the clearing, and the wolves. The big gray on top of me, its eyes…the moon…the screeching from above…wait, the screeching, the bird. I opened my eyes to his unfaltering stare.
“The bird?” I wondered aloud, my face pulling up in an expression of confusion.
He frowned and squeezed my shoulders. “The eagle, not the bird,” he answered, his voice edgy in protest at my choice of words.
I dropped to my seat and looked up at him. His raised-eyebrow expression was poised for whatever might come out of my mouth. And yet, nothing did come out. I just sat there, trying to process another bizarre bit of information. It was hard enough to accept what I’d become that night but now to think that Bram had also changed brought me to my knees. We stared at each other for several minutes, eyes locked. “What does it all mean?”
“Sorry?”
I stood again and texted my message, hoping for an answer, an explanation, anything.
“Good question and one I’ve asked myself more times than I can even remember. I don’t know what it all means, but I do have an idea why it’s happening.”
“Do tell.” I spoke slowly.
He once again grabbed my shoulders and eased me back into the chair then sat down himself. We faced each other with our knees touching as he began to speak.
“Ok, just listen to me now; ask your questions after I explain. I know Kelleigh has been doing some research on shapeshifting, trying to help you figure out what’s going on. She told you that you’re a shapeshifter, right?”
I nodded my head. “Wait a minute, you weren’t supposed to know!” I texted angrily.
A small grin passed over his lips.
I squinted my eyes in irritation. “Quinn,” I said, certain he was the tattler.
“He was worried about you. He didn’t tell anyone else. Anyway, you realize that you’re a shapeshifter?”
Bram nodded his head along with me which felt really weird. “Well, I’m one as well. My animal is the eagle. I found out about this just before my grandfather passed away.”
I began to open my mouth to ask a question when he pressed his finger to my lips. “Please, listen first, ask questions second.”
My shoulders slumped as though I had just been reprimanded by a teacher. “Ok.”
He smiled and kissed the back of my hand.
“Ok. You and I, we’re two of three people who have ancestors who date back to the earliest days of Ireland, days when the Celts themselves were new to this land. Our relatives were part of a group that had be
en called upon by the Tuatha de Danann to protect the earth from a tribulation that had been placed upon it.”
“Tuatha de…Danann?” I asked, twisting up the words.
“Aye, the Tuatha de Danann are mythological gods who appeared here long before the arrival of the Celts. They were masters of powerful magic and ruled over Ireland for many years. Legend tells of numerous battles for rulership of Ireland, and the Tuatha were one of several races that controlled this land.
“One group the Tuatha did battle with was the Fomorians, a wicked race made up of horrible creatures. After the Tuatha defeated the Fomorians and killed their king, a tribulation was placed upon the earth by the king’s father. The Tuatha held back the curse and were able to protect the land and managed to live peacefully for many years. But then they were defeated and forced into exile by the final wave of invaders into Ireland, the Milesians.” Bram took in a long deep breath, staring into my eyes.
“The Milesians?” I pursed my lips and frowned. This was really becoming too much.
Bram nodded, “Spanish Celts, or rumored to be, anyway; they battled the Tuatha and forced them into the otherworld. When the Tuatha descended they were no longer able to hold off the Fomorian curse, so they chose humans and gifted them with certain abilities in order to keep the tribulation at bay. If the tribulation is allowed to realize itself, well, that would lead to devastation. That’s where we come in. I mean, where our ancestors came in all those years ago...and us now.”
I stood and began pacing around the room. My mind was having a hard time wrapping itself around all the incoming info – gods and myths and curses. Shapeshifting was a crazy enough notion, and one I was still wrestling with, but now to learn that the stories told in mythology somehow had a basis in fact…that had my brain reeling.
“Are you ok?” Bram whispered as he stood in front of me, blocking my pace.
“Um…no! I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about!” I answered loudly, texting at the same time, my fingers slipping on the keypad.
