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

by D. S. Elstad

  He stood facing me, smiling, droplets of water trickling down his soaked face. “Now that was fun,” he said running his hand through his hair. He shook his head, sending water flying everywhere. “Woo Hoo!” he hollered out as he spread his arms. “I think I beat you!”

  I laughed and ran to him, wrapping my arms around his neck while he lifted and spun me in circles. We stumbled our way back to the only car still sitting in the abandoned parking lot. Once inside, Bram blasted the heat; it felt so good.

  “That was a kick.” I turned my head, making sure he could read my face.

  “Sure was,” he agreed, and then headed off down the road.

  The storm was subsiding again, leaving us feeling relieved that something more ominous wasn’t on its way. At least not at the moment.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I shook off my drenched jacket then changed my clothes before joining Dad on the balcony. He sat with his back to me staring out at the gray landscape. I slid open the glass door and grabbed the seat next to him.

  “Hi, Dad, how is everything? Why are you sitting out here in the cold?” I was nervous because I’d been gone for so long – plus, I was worried about what news he might have to tell me. An unspoken tone of sorrow materialized even though his words did not. I could feel his anguish as he sat quietly. I wondered if this also was part of my newfound ability.

  “Well, any news?” I asked, squeezing the rain from my hair.

  “Yes,” he answered, staring straight ahead. “First of all, Conor is actually doing pretty well today. He knew me. He remembered everything about Shannah, as well, and asked about the police investigation. He also asked about you.” He looked over at me before taking hold of his coffee cup.

  “Aw, he did?”

  “Yep, he wondered if he had dreamed about you visiting him in the hospital or if it really happened. He’d like you to come again.”

  “I’d like that too, Dad. When do you think?” I let my arms slip onto the armrest of the chair and relax. I was feeling really tired, but was more than willing to do anything that might help Grandpa.

  Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “Not sure, hon. I have a few other things to take care of.”

  “So, what did the police say about the …” I had such a hard time saying the word in relation to Grandma. It felt so wrong.

  “The exhumation?” Dad’s face pulled up into an expression of sadness as he shook his head from side to side. “They’re at their wit’s end with this, Wils.”

  I scooted my chair closer and put my hands on his. “Why, what did they find out?”

  He exhaled a long slow breath, pursing his lips out before he spoke. “Nothing conclusive. But what they did find has them scratching their heads.”

  “Oh no. What?”

  “Well, your grandma Shannah, hasn’t, um… she hasn’t begun to show any signs…of decomposition. Her body is in the exact same condition it was the day she was buried. The forensics team can’t find any explanation for it,” he paused, then looked over exhaling another deep breath.

  He then described the state Grandma’s body should be in at this point in time after her death. Apparently, she was nowhere near that. In fact, he explained, her body was like that of someone who had just passed away. Grandpa had opted not to have her embalmed, so the fact that she was so well preserved was astonishing.

  Dad even told me about going into the morgue and seeing for himself. He said it was as though she was just sleeping. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for him. When we first arrived in Ireland for the funeral, Dad chose not to go to the mortuary and “view” Grandma, as they call it. He said he wanted to remember her the way she was the last time he saw her.

  After filling me in, he left the balcony and grabbed the phone. He shut himself up in the bathroom where he could speak to Mom in private.

  I felt powerless to help Dad or Conor. Part of me wanted to go see Grandma myself. I now felt such a connection to her. I knew there’d be no way Dad would allow it; plus, I was ambivalent, unsure if I could handle seeing her that way.

  I sat on the balcony with the door open, first listening to the low mumble coming from the bathroom and then trying to figure out how everything fit together…if it even did. Did the Triquetra have something to do with Grandma’s condition? It had to be why she wasn’t … ugh, I hated even thinking it, but it was true… it had to be why she wasn’t decomposing. I wondered if Bram or his father knew anything about that, then quickly decided they had to. Bram’s Dad knew the entire lineage of the guardians so, he must have been aware of the fact that the guardian’s bodies remained unchanged after death. Or was he?

  “I have a question for you,” I texted Bram.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do you or your father know anything about what happens to people like us after they die?”

  No answer.

  “Bram?” I shot another text.

  No answer.

  I was just about ready to give up when his text came through. “Can I come by?”

  “Yes.”

  I tapped on the bathroom door and let Dad know I was meeting Bram outside and hurried down. I jumped into his car, where we sat for the next hour.

  “Why did you ask that, Willow?” he asked.

  He watched intently as I told him the story Dad had just shared with me. Questions came up about the guardians: “What happens after they die? Does the body remain the same?”

  “When you texted me, I spoke to Da and asked him that very thing.” He ran his hands over the steering wheel as he spoke. “When a guardian dies, it should be the same as when anyone else dies. After they’ve passed their ability on, they’re free of their duty to the Triquetra. Their human form returns to the earth, like all life does. The fact that Shannah’s body isn’t…well, that’s a concern.”

  “You mean to tell me, then, that this isn‘t normal for shifters?” I wondered aloud, meeting Bram’s unrelenting stare.

  He raised his eyebrows. “No, after death we’re like everyone else; like I said, we return to the earth. Da is wondering if the whole Lucy thing and the missing pendant has something to do with Shannah. The Triquetra is no longer whole.”

  “But Lucy is still alive, still around; you said that the guardians don’t need to be here to protect.”

  “Aye, but Lucy’s share of the Triquetra is still missing, remember? So, now, the intertwining domains of earth, ocean, and sky are no longer connected and won’t be again until her pendant is found and a guardian for the ocean is appointed.” Bram’s eyes grew large with his words.

  “So what does that mean? That when we find the pendant then we have to get Lucy to return?” My lips quivered as I spoke, overwhelmed with all we needed to do.

  “We just need to find the pendant, getting Lucy to come back isn’t necessary, as long as we have the pendant Da can appoint a new guardian. Without it, though, we’re not in a good place.” Bram looked over his shoulder to watch a passing couple, then returned his stare to me.

  “But Bram, what will happen if we don’t find it? And what is it we’re protecting anyway?” I found myself almost yelling the question as I typed.

  Bram bit his lower lip as he read my text. “I told you about Lugh.”

  “Right, the god who forged the jewelry of the Triquetra,” I texted.

  “Aye. Lugh made those pieces, and with the help of other gods, created special abilities. Our shifting comes without any help from the pendant. It’s just part of being a guardian. The pendants are another story, though. They carry specific abilities to help each guardian.

  “Lugh did this to forever protect and keep the Eye of Balor from falling into the wrong hands.” Bram leaned in close and spoke almost in a whisper, all the while looking over his left shoulder, then his right.

  “Eye of Balor?” I found myself looking over my shoulder, mimicking Bram.

  “Ok, another quick lesson in Irish mythology: Balor was a Fomorian, which, remember… is a race of evil deities that liv
ed in ancient Ireland. They were made up of giants, elves, and even pirates along with other creatures. Legend says the Fomorians lived on Tory Island, which is off the northwest coast. Balor was one of the Fomorian’s greatest warriors. He was a giant, one-eyed monster who was given the power to cause death by a druid who cast a spell on him. His enormous eye would kill anyone looking at it. He could wipe out whole armies with a single glance. He became known as Balor of the Evil Eye.

  “Now back to Lugh…he was the grandson of Balor. Lugh was also a powerful warrior and one of the Tuatha De Danann and the god of light. He was one of three infants born to Balor’s daughter but the only one to survive. Balor thought the three babies had died after he ordered them to be thrown into a whirlpool.”

  “Why did he want to kill them?” I wondered.

  “Balor had been foretold of his own death at the hands of a grandson, so he locked his daughter in a tower to prevent anyone from getting to her. Cian, another member of the Tuatha De Danann, snuck into the tower and Balor’s daughter fell in love with him. Cian wanted revenge against Balor because he had stolen Cian’s magical cow.” Bram stopped and took a deep breath and shook his head. “But that’s a whole other story,” he added. “You still with me?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Ok, so, he threw the babies into a whirlpool thinking that the grandson that would kill him would die, then he himself wouldn’t be killed.” I took in a deep breath then noticed the windows were fogging up –just like my brain.

  “Right, but Lugh was rescued and raised in secret. He was a powerful craftsman and able to create magical weapons that were said to always hit their mark. He made a spear which he used to kill Balor by throwing it at him. It went through the front of his eye and made its way out the back of his head.”

  I groaned, imagining the whole gory scene.

  “After Lugh blinded his grandfather by throwing the spear into his eye, Balor was then killed and beheaded. Lugh removed and took possession of the Eye.”

  “So then, if Balor was killed, how is it the Eye is still powerful – or is it?” I asked.

  Bram rubbed his forehead nodding, “Oh yes, it’s powerful. After Balor was killed, his grandfather Neit, the Fomorian war god, called on the battle goddesses Nemain and Badb to cast the most powerful spell available to them. Along with Neit, they filled the Eye of Balor with hexes and spells capable of creating catastrophic disasters.

  “Lugh, unable to block the actions of the battle gods, did the next best thing. He fashioned the Triquetra and shaped it into three pendants which place a hold on the Eye of Balor and prevent it from ever being used. He then chose three human guardians and gave them his creations. The humans were blessed with powers by the Tuatha in order to carry out Lugh’s plan. Lugh was unable to fully destroy the Eye, but he did create a shield of protection from it. Us.” Bram sat back in his seat.

  “So, you’re saying our ancestors have been standing watch over this ‘Eye of Balor’ for hundreds of years?” I typed quickly on my keypad.

  The corner of Bram’s mouth worked its way into a half-grin as he shrugged. “More like thousands of years. Incredible…I know.”

  I eased back into the car seat, half-forgetting where I even was. The story was fantastic and difficult to wrap my head around. I sat there quietly for several minutes, motionless and numb. When I finally turned my head, Bram was also reclined, resting against the cushion, eyes closed. I touched his hand and pulled it to my cheek.

  He smiled and gently stroked my face. The thought that Bram and I were now joined in this larger-than-life mission was both frightening and exhilarating. We had our own special secret from the world. It felt as if this secret, which brought us together, would keep us together, no matter what. At least I hoped so.

  Making my way back to our hotel room, I felt as though I was wading through molasses. I walked slowly, completely lost in thought, and even found myself standing still a couple of times, only to be aroused by a passing guest. When I finally reached the room, I paused a minute and listened to Dad’s phone conversation. He was on the balcony explaining everything to Uncle Eagan. I entered the room and plopped down on the bed, completely exhausted and feeling somehow transformed…like I was a different person.

  I closed my eyes and focused on his words, trying to think of a plausible explanation for why my grandmother was still in the same physical condition as the day she died. The fact that Bram and his father were stumped concerned me even more. After all, this was part of their lives – nothing new, not really anyway. Triquetra, Lugh, Balor, were all things they’d lived with and had time to digest. My brain was still in denial mode, telling me none of this could be real. I mean, come on, mythology was just that… myth, legend, not real.

  A flashback of my transformation in the bathroom left me realizing I needed to stop trying to analyze it all and accept my fate. I sat up, took in a deep breath and relaxed my muscles. Immediately I felt better, stronger.

  I went over to the table to look for the claw I’d left lying there. It sat under some papers Dad had scattered all over, which led me to believe he hadn’t even seen it. That was good. I grabbed the claw and held it in the palm of my hand. A boom of thunder sounded outside which made me jump. I looked out the window to see the clear sky, no sign of clouds or an approaching storm. I looked back at the claw and watched as it rose off of my hand, into the air, and grew transparent. Then in a flash, it disappeared. I stood there with my palm still outstretched, staring at the empty space. Small iridescent specks of dust fell to the ground from my hand. I blinked my eyes in disbelief.

  Dad returned to the room as the last few remaining particles disappeared. He stepped over and hung up the phone. He hadn’t seen the claw vanish. We stared at each other for a few seconds.

  “What’s going on, Dad, what are the police planning to do?” I asked, wiping my hand on my jeans.

  “They’re still running a series of tests. They can’t understand how someone who’s been deceased for that amount of time could be in the condition she’s in.” He sat at the table and began rifling through the papers.

  “Did they find anything that would point to Grandma dying mysteriously, you know, like a poison or something like that?” I sat down next to him.

  “No, that’s the one good thing; there’s nothing abnormal in the tissue work showing anything questionable. But that’s also the strange thing; short of them doing a complete autopsy, they’re unable to pinpoint an exact cause of death. Before all this came up, they just concluded that it was most probably heart-related or something along that line. But they’ve looked at her heart and major organs. Everything’s checked out.

  “They want to do an autopsy. Conor’s never going to allow it.” Dad leaned back into his chair and rested his hand on a large manila envelope. He lifted it up and held it towards me. “Here’s the order from the police. It says in situations of questionable death an autopsy is always required. Don’t know how I’m going to tell him; just when he’s starting to recover. ” Dad threw the envelope back on the table.

  “When do they want to do this?” Fear shot through me at the prospect of what the authorities may find in Shannah’s body. I know Bram said that once a guardian dies, they become like all other humans, but something obviously had kept that from happening to Grandma.

  “Right away. Eagan is going to try to reason with them and see if he can buy some time. He has a friend in London, a retired forensic pathologist. Conor knows the man as well, and Eagan thinks he may be more open to the whole idea if it comes from someone he knows.”

  “So now you’re waiting to hear from Eagan?”

  “Yes,” answered Dad as the phone rang. It was Eagan, letting him know that his friend would be able to help out and should be in Ireland the next evening. The police were in agreement with letting him officiate at the autopsy and had everything arranged for the morning after his arrival.

  “Now, the hard part – telling Conor,” Dad mumbled as he set down the phone.

 
“I’d like to go with you.”

  “I don’t know, Wil, this could get pretty ugly.”

  “It already is ugly, Dad. I just think maybe my being there can help. Grandpa responded to me at the hospital, remember?”

  Dad grabbed his jacket and slowly put it on keeping his eyes on me the whole time. He shook his head and with a frown agreed.

  “Sure, you can come. Sometimes I forget that you’re not a kid anymore. Your mom would be proud of how you’re handling all this. I know I am.”

  He reached his hand out to me and pulled me in for a hug. The faded smell of his aftershave filled my nose, and memories of those hugs and how many times they’d comforted me took over. We held on for a minute, then made our way to the hospital.

  CORONARY. The sign was a stark reminder of the seriousness of Grandpa’s condition. Dad and I held hands as we headed down the polished tile floors of the hospital’s third floor. Gurneys, wheelchairs, and IV holders littered the hallway. Nurses’ voices could be heard all up and down the corridor, some laughing, some serious and muffled. I recognized the nurse from when I was there with Uncle Eagan, as she shot Dad and me a warm hello from across the room.

  Dad smiled and stood at the doorway to room 312. The nurse stepped over and whispered to us that Grandpa was doing well and had even been able to eat a wee bit of his dinner. She thought he was improving quickly and should be able to go home soon. We thanked her as we stepped into the little, dark room.

  Tentatively, Dad made his way to the side of Grandpa’s bed. He stared down at the frail little man. Grandpa had his eyes closed and I watched as Dad stared at his father. I could only imagine what was running through his mind.

  After a few minutes Grandpa began stirring, moving his feet and stretching out his fingers. He slowly opened his eyes, fluttering them in disbelief as he focused on Dad. A trace of a smile crept across his weather-worn face while he reached out his hand.