TREE OF SKULLS MEMORIAL PARK
CHAPTER 14
In the center of the meadow, which was ringed with benches, stood an elderberry tree. Ancient and twisted, whether it had been planted or just sprung up on its own, I doubted anybody would ever know. It was old, very old, and the thick trunk was rife with limbs reaching out every which way, black against the stormy sky. A faint glow hummed from the core of the tree and I realized that I was seeing its spirit.
“Elderberry . . . sacred to the Dagda.” Bryan let out a hushed breath.
“Dagda . . . Ivy said he’s the consort to the Morrígan.”
“So he is. This is a faerie tree, too. Never, ever cut wood from this tree.”
I nodded. Even from here I could sense the power it held within its core. And . . . there was something more. I glanced around the clearing. Memorial markers were spaced evenly around the base of the trunk. As I glanced around the meadow, misty shapes wandered through the field. They wouldn’t hurt us, not these spirits. For they were the Mournful dead who had been left here, to rot and hide in the soil beneath the tree.
“The tree is guarding the spirits.”
“I believe it. No wonder Nels ended up strung up here.” Bryan shook his head. “Never mess with the elder spirits of the world, be they tree or rock or water.”
Thirteen women had died at the hands of Jericho Nels, a serial killer. He had kidnapped the women, tortured and raped them, and then decapitated them. After dumping their bodies elsewhere, he brought their heads to the base of the tree and buried them. Police discovered the grisly burial site when a hiker stumbled over one of the skulls—his dog sniffed it out and found it. Though police set up a stakeout, they weren’t able to catch Jericho. But one night, shortly after the heads had been discovered, somehow the murderer ended up hanging from the tree. Jericho was found with thin branches wrapped around his neck—coiling tight as if the tree had come to life and strangled him. The police discovered evidence in his house to prove he had been the serial killer. Common belief was that the spirits of his victims had wreaked their revenge on him, but—staring at the tree—I thought maybe the tree itself had played a part in his execution.
A few months later, the city had discussed cutting down the tree, but town opinion overruled the idea, and so the entire area was turned into a memorial park to commemorate the murdered victims. The trunk, though, seemed to have faces embedded in the gnarls and burls—thirteen of them, if you counted. A few people came here to picnic or to walk in silence and remember the women who had lost their lives, but like a lot of areas around Whisper Hollow, the Tree of Skulls wasn’t exactly the most lighthearted of places for gatherings.
A sudden shimmer caught my eye. I turned to see a wolf spirit standing there, near the back side of the meadow. He whimpered, faintly, and turned to stare through the foliage.
“What is that?” Peggin took a step closer to me.
“I think . . .” I closed my eyes and reached out. There was nothing dangerous about the spirit. In fact, it felt familiar. “I think we’ve got ourselves a guide.”
Bryan slowly nodded. “Yes, he is . . . was . . . a shapeshifter. I recognize his nature.”
“Do we follow him, then?” Peggin shivered. “I’ve never been out here at night and I’m not thrilled about the experience. Honestly, when I think about it, we live in the most dismal town.”
“Not dismal, just haunted. And yes, we follow him. It will be all right.” I reached up to clasp my grandmother’s pentacle, which was hanging around my neck, and knew I was right. I started off, following the wolf spirit, Bryan behind me.
“Right. Haunted, then.” Peggin hurried forward, trying to keep up with us. “Do you know who sent the wolf spirit?”
“I haven’t stopped to think about it, actually. I guess Penelope. That stands to reason, doesn’t it?”
Bryan shook his head. “I don’t know, to be honest.” He paused, staring at the edge of the meadow. “The ravine—the one she showed us.”
I hushed. Slowly, making sure we weren’t dangerously close to tripping over any sudden drop-offs near the mouth of the ravine, I inched forward until I was standing right next to the wolf spirit. He looked up at me, his eyes soft and glowing, and nudged my hand. I felt only a soft wind against the back of my fingers, but it was enough to sense a deep, caring energy behind the touch. The wolf was a friend—whoever he was. He began to pick his way down the side of the bluff, glancing over his shoulder, inviting us to follow.
“Whatever he’s showing us is at the bottom. The mound by the creek—there’s something there that he wants us to see.” I contemplated the descent. In the dark it was almost impossible to see how stable the footing would be. “Just how easy is it going to be to get down there?”
Bryan knelt, testing the edge. “With all the rain, it could be dangerous. Let me go first. Peggin—you stay up here and keep an eye out. You have your phone?”
She nodded. “Yeah, though I’m not keen on staying alone in the dark. I’ve got protection against human miscreants, but not all that much against the ghostly kind.” She opened her purse and pulled out something I never expected her to be holding—a handgun.
“What the hell? When did you start packing?” The Peggin I had known was an anti-gun crusader.
“When I got mugged a few years back. I never told you because I didn’t want you to worry about me. A girl has to learn how to take care of herself, so I took shooting classes and bought myself a gun. I’m a damned good aim, if I say so myself.” She sounded absolutely proud of herself.
I stared at the weapon in her hands. It looked so out of place, but then Peggin was never one to take anything lying down and if somebody had actually managed to mug her, they’d better not try again. She’d find one way or another to put a stop to it. “What kind is that?”
“Nine-millimeter Sig Sauer. I like the heft it has in my hands.” She made sure the safety was on, then turned her back to the ravine. “I’ll keep watch. But be as quick as you can. I’m not afraid of human freak shows, but this meadow . . . it reeks of death and decay. Nels saw to that years ago.”
Bryan was staring at her with an amused expression playing over his face. “We’ll be quick. Kerris, let me start down. Is there a stick around here you can use to balance yourself with?”
I nodded—finding a loose walking stick in these parts was as easy as finding a patch of mold. It simply was part and parcel of the general area. I nosed around in the nearby bushes and a moment later had found a sturdy enough branch that would help me tap my way down the side of the ravine.
Bryan started out, one foot at a time, and I followed him cautiously, trying to stay in the trail of his footsteps. He used the close-growing trees to balance himself, testing each step as he went. The wolf spirit slowly inched down in front of him, occasionally looking back to make sure we were following. He seemed to be sniffing out the best route for us to take. I used one hand to brace against the tree trunks, and with the other I carried the stick, using it to tap in front of me and make certain I didn’t land in any spot that might twist my ankle.
We worked our way down, slowly, Bryan flashing the light as he went, first in front of him, then behind to light my way while he paused for me to catch up. And so we went, slowly, pushing through the undergrowth. I wasn’t used to tromping around the woods—I was used to city streets, and while I’d had my fill of the concrete maze that Seattle had been, I also wasn’t exactly in the greatest shape to tackle a hike like this in the dark. I made up my mind to find a gym and start training tomorrow. Some time on the treadmill wouldn’t kill me, and it could only help me run faster when a ghost or toxic mist decided to head my way.
“This isn’t my idea of a good time,” I said, leaning against a rather large fir to catch my breath.
Bryan laughed. “Mine either—don’t worry, I won’t drag you out hiking on a date.”
“And I won’t make you come shopping with me unless you want to . . .” I huffed my way through a particularly treacherous patch of slick undergrowth, almost going down. Slamming into the tree next to me was the only thing that kept me from faceplanting on the ground. “How much longer till we hit the bottom? The ravine didn’t look this steep at the top.”
“I like to shop as long as it’s in a bookstore, and we’re almost there, I think. Are you okay?” He flashed the light on me. “You’re bleeding.”
I touched my forehead where I’d scraped along the bark of the trunk. “I’m okay—it’s just a surface wound.” At that moment, he stepped to the side and held out his hand. I reached for it and two steps later, I was on the flat surface of the ground, next to a small creek running through the narrow ravine. I looked up as he flashed the light toward the top. It didn’t look all that high, but it had proven steeper than I had first thought.
The wolf spirit nosed around and then, just a few feet away, stopped and whined, pawing at the ground at the base of a small bush. There was the mound we had seen. A funny sensation formed in my stomach and I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here—even back with Penelope. Even fighting the Shadow Man. There was something here I didn’t want to see, and a sharp pang of fear stabbed me in the gut.
Bryan glanced at the wolf spirit, then at me as he knelt down beside the mound of dirt. “I should have brought something to dig with,” he said. But the wolf spirit made digging motions and Bryan snapped his fingers. “Of course. Kerris, hold the light.”
He handed me the flashlight and transformed into his wolf shape. I couldn’t take my eyes off the riveting white coat that fluttered in the wind. He was as beautiful in animal form as he was in human, and I wanted to kneel down and wrap my arms around him, to burrow my head in that soft, plush fur.
But he set to digging then, furious and fast, his front feet kicking dirt out behind him. Another few moments and he stopped, backing away. With a whimper, he looked up at me and I could see the anxiety in those brilliant eyes of his. I flashed the light to the hole and my heart skipped a beat. Bones . . . there were bones in the hole beneath the mound. An arm was protruding—the left hand jogged loose by Bryan’s digging. I walked past him as he shifted back into two-legged form and knelt down by the skeleton. As I slowly reached for the hand, the light caught hold of something glittering.
On the ring finger was a ring—what looked to be an intricately filigreed rose gold band, wrapped around a center diamond that had to be a half carat in size. I softly reached out and touched the metal. Avery’s ring. This was the ring my father had given my mother. That he had asked her to marry him with. And that meant . . .
“Tamil.” My voice caught in my throat. “This is my mother, isn’t it?” I turned to the wolf spirit. He whined, and then he transformed, too, like Bryan had, into a man standing tall and proud. I recognized him from the photograph my grandmother had given me. Avery—the wolf spirit was Avery.
“You’re my father, aren’t you? And you were Tamil’s shapeshifter—you were her mate.”
He nodded and then sadly looked at the skeleton, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished, and Bryan and I were alone with the remains of my mother.
* * *
It was a blur from there. Somehow, Bryan got me back up the ravine and bundled into the car with Peggin. He called the police and we sat there, waiting, till the squad car rolled in. A woman, Hispanic and pretty, with a no-nonsense manner, had arrived, along with a tall all-American jock-boy type. I recognized both of them from high school, though I wouldn’t have been able to pin names on them if they hadn’t introduced themselves. Sophia Castillo—no wonder I hadn’t recognized the name. Her maiden name had been Lopez. And Frank O’Conner, her sergeant. He had been a couple of years behind me in school.
We told them what happened. Here, in Whisper Hollow, there was no hemming and hawing over ghosts or telling them that I was the spirit shaman or that we had been to meet Penelope. They knew. A number of people tried to ignore the things that went on, but the cops knew on an all-too-intimate basis that Whisper Hollow held dark secrets.
Sophia radioed in for a crew. “You say you think this is your mother?”
“I’m sure of it. The ring on her finger—my grandmother, Ivy Primrose described it to me. She gave it to her son Avery, to give to my mother.” I stopped, turning to Bryan, suddenly realizing just what this meant. “That means Avery must be dead, too. If his spirit guided us to her, then he has to be dead.”
Sophia jotted that down, too. “Didn’t your father go missing a few years before your mother? But I thought I remember you telling me he was on a secret mission for the government.”
“Children’s tales . . . what my grandmother told me to keep me from feeling abandoned. Ivy told me the truth. Avery vanished. My grandfather had told me that my father abandoned my mother when he found out she was pregnant. I guess he didn’t go far.” I stared at the trailhead. “The Tree of Skulls . . . the serial killer who murdered all those women . . .”
“He died long before your mother was born. He was found hanging on the tree in . . .” Sophia glanced back at Frank. “What was it, Frank?”
“I think it was 1956.”
“Right—back in fifty-six. Jericho Nels couldn’t have killed your mother because she wasn’t even born yet.” She brushed back a stray hair that had fallen out of the sleek ponytail she wore. She was a short woman, far shorter than I was, but she looked sturdy and serene, good qualities to have for a chief of police. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but do you have any idea of who might have wanted to hurt your mother? I know you were only three, but . . .”
I held her gaze, feeling some spark of kinship. She policed the streets and I was here to police the spiritual byways. “Yeah, I think so. Check into my grandfather Duvall’s goings-on. He knew about this. In fact, I have something at the house you’re going to want to check out. I was going to contact you about it but haven’t had the chance yet.” I told her about the trunk and the key in my grandfather’s dresser. “I suspect Duvall might have killed her and I think he had help.”
Sophia’s eyes flared but she remained silent, simply wrote down what I told her. After a few minutes, the coroner and search-and-rescue crew got there. “I have to go get the guys organized. If you want to stick around, you’re welcome to, but it’s probably going to take the rest of the night. We have to move slowly. I think you should go home and rest. I’ll call you in the morning when we know more.”
I nodded. While I wanted to stay, the concept of sitting in the car in the pouring rain, waiting for them to dig up my mother’s remains, felt all too grisly. I was tired. I was cold. And I felt numb all over again. I thanked her.
“I think I will go home. Please do call me first thing tomorrow. I’d say nice to meet you again, but the circumstances . . .”
She let out a soft, low laugh that made me want to hear it again. “No problem, Kerris. Bryan, get her home and see that she has a drink and some food. Even though you didn’t expect to ever see her again, finding what are likely your mother’s remains is bound to hit you on a gut level. Go home, Kerris. Rest. Eat. And sleep.”
As we drove off, Bryan navigating while I rested in the passenger’s seat, I glanced out the window. There, watching over the activity, was the spirit of my father—in wolf form—standing guard over his love one last time.
* * *
Peggin hugged me as she stood next to her car. “Are you sure you don’t need me to come in? I can stay.”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll call you tomorrow. You have work and I don’t want you to be late. It’s late enough as it is. Text me when you make it home, though. I know you don’t live far, but I want to make certain you’re okay.”
She nodded, then—with a wave to Bryan—slid into her car and took off. Bryan walked me inside, taking my key from me to unlock the door. I was grateful we’d left the light
s on—I didn’t want the Ankou having any chance of returning and harming the cats when I wasn’t around.
Exhausted, feeling grimy and soaked, I stood in the middle of the living room. I had always thought that once I found out what happened to my mother, I’d have closure. That I’d be able to move on, to shut the door on the past, but all it had done was to bring up more questions than I had answers for. But now, I felt numb. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or just to sleep.
Bryan pressed against my back and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, embracing me as he leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “You need a shower. You need a hot shower and some food and something warm to drink.”
“Yeah, but I’m just so . . .”
“I know. I know how you feel. Come, let me help you.”
He took my hand and led me into the bedroom. I was grateful that I had managed to make the bed and tidy up earlier. The new comforter gave a whole new feel to the room, and without my grandparents’ things, it was beginning to feel like my own home. Bryan made sure the bathroom light was on, then returned to where I was standing in the middle of the room. He took my purse and the tool bag from me and set them on the vanity. Then he reached for my coat and peeled it off me. I let him, enjoying the sense of having someone take care of me. He grasped my left arm, raised it out to the side and over my head, then did the same with my right.
I felt my pulse quicken as he moved around in front of me and took hold of my sweater, slowly lifting it over my breasts. My skin prickled as the material—sodden and wet—pulled away from my flesh. My bra was plastered to my body as well, and he quietly moved to the back, unhooking it and then sliding first one strap down my arm, then the other. I shivered as his hand brushed across my breasts when he drew the bra away from my body, setting them to bounce free. My nipples stiffened, hardening as he reached out and lightly stroked them with his fingers.
Autumn Thorns Page 21