Autumn Thorns

by Yasmine Galenorn

  With a snort, Heathrow shook his head. “You can say good-bye when you’re both dead.”

  At that moment, the front door splintered open and Bryan—still in wolf form—burst through. In one leap, he was on Heathrow, taking him down. Behind him, Ellia rushed in, followed by Ivy. Bryan was snapping, biting at Heathrow, but the older man managed to bring the gun up and fire off a shot. Bryan whimpered and rolled to the side, blood spreading across the brilliant white fur.

  I screamed and lurched forward as Heathrow shot again—this time at me. The bullet grazed my shoulder but didn’t hit square on. The burn echoed through my body but I ignored it, falling to my knees by Bryan’s side. At that point, I heard a loud scream—this time Heathrow’s.

  Turning, I saw Ellia pressed against him, her bare hands clasping his face. He struggled to free himself, but Ivy managed to hold him still as she pried the gun out of his hand. Ellia continued her hold, her hands trembling as the faint odor of burning flesh rose from Heathrow’s face. He screamed again as his eyes rolled back in his head, and then he fell to the ground.

  The lament singer followed, her hands still pressed against his face as he went into convulsions. A dark look filled her eyes as she pressed her fingers tight to his temples. Heathrow shuddered, arching his back as foam poured out of his mouth, and then—his body going totally stiff—he relaxed and collapsed.

  CHAPTER 20

  Bryan! Bryan, are you all right? Bryan . . . please, please be okay.” I brushed through his fur to look for the wound. It was in his thigh, and I pressed my hands against the blood, trying to stanch it. “What can we do? I don’t know how bad it is! He’s not in his human form.”

  “We have to call Corbin,” Ivy said. She pushed me aside. “Charm, charm, mute the harm, still the blood, slow the flood . . .” As she brushed her hands over the wound, the bleeding slowed to a trickle. “He should make it till we can get him to help, but I don’t want to move him. Call Peggin, tell her to send Corbin out here. Then call Sophia and have her get a couple of ambulances out here, along with the coroner. Tell her we’re going to need Gareth and Frank.”

  Frantic, not wanting to leave his side, it took everything I had to obey her. I pulled out my cell phone and called Peggin. “Don’t ask why. Just get Corbin out here now. You still have the address?”

  She said nothing but, “Yes, hang up and I’ll call him.”

  I put in a second call to Sophia. After I got off the phone, I turned back to find Bryan breathing softly. “He’s still in his wolf form . . . is that good or bad?”

  “Good, actually.” Ivy smiled at me. “Dear, we shapeshifters heal better when we’re in our natural forms—and our natural forms are not human. He’s safer like this.” She looked over at Ellia, who had put on her gloves and freed Aidan from his bonds. Ellia was sitting on the bed, where Aidan had been, staring at Heathrow’s prone figure.

  “Is . . . is Heathrow dead?” I didn’t know whether I hoped for a yes or a no.

  “No,” Ellia said. “But he’s trapped in his mind. He’ll exist in agony forever.” She looked faint and I realized how hard it must be for her to face her own powers. She caught my look and shrugged. “I couldn’t let him shoot you. I had to do something. This . . . these”—she held out her hands—“are my only weapons. My mother cursed me. This time, that curse was a blessing.” But her voice was trembling.

  “You saved me. You saved Bryan from getting shot again. You saved Aidan.” I paused, then whispered, “I had no idea he could see spirits. He knew all along my mother was there, telling me about him.”

  Ivy lifted me to my feet and pushed me into a chair. Aidan was there, rubbing his wrists. He looked bruised up and groggy. Red weals marked where the too-tight handcuffs had bound him. “He took me by surprise. I opened the door to find the gun pointed in my face and the next thing I knew, he stabbed me with a needle. Some sort of sedative. Bryan—are you sure he’s all right?”

  As if responding to his name, a quiet whimper came from the wolf on the floor. Ivy knelt down again by his side to calm him. “I think he’ll be okay. My spell countered the bleeding. If the doctor gets here in time . . .”

  I hugged myself. I was cold and all I wanted to do was curl up beside Bryan and hold him, but I didn’t want to take a chance on disturbing what Ivy had done. I turned to Heathrow. He was in a fetal position now, rocking on the floor, murmuring in what sounded like another language. Every few seconds he’d let out a cry, or a shriek, and then go back to rocking.

  Ellia stood and pushed open the front door. “I’ll wait outside for the others.” She vanished into the darkness.

  “It’s going to take her a while to recover from this. The only other times she’s ever deliberately used her curse against anyone . . . it took her a long time to face the damage she can do. Even though she had no choice, it still hit her hard. Ellia’s nature isn’t geared toward deliberately harming people.” Ivy glanced over at Aidan. “Outside, when she realized what was going on, she stripped off her gloves and I knew what she was going to do. She told me to stand back and then . . . well . . .”

  “Will he ever come out of it?” I nodded to Heathrow.

  “She took him so deep, I doubt it. He’s locked in his mind, in a place of fire and madness that will never end, not until he dies, and I don’t know if that will even break the curse. That’s how her hands work. She drags people into a world where nothing else exists but the pain she inflicts on them. Her touch consigns them to hell, Kerris. Literally, Ellia’s hands are . . . hell on earth.” Ivy gave a soft shake of the head. “He deserved it, though. We were close enough to hear what he was saying.”

  At that moment, voices from outside echoed through the night and Corbin came bustling into the room. He took one look at Bryan and then knelt beside the wolf, smoothing the fur back.

  “Um . . . that’s not an average wolf, Corbin—” I started to say, but he waved me off.

  “I know how to treat shapeshifters, girl. Remember, this is Whisper Hollow. Now back off and let me attend to your boyfriend.” He glanced over his shoulder. “He’ll live, so you calm yourself and go outside for now. Sophia is there and she has questions for you.”

  As I stepped outside, I saw a blur of activity going on. Sophia had arrived, along with two ambulances and Jonah Westwood, the undertaker. I stuck my hands in my pockets and reluctantly headed over to her, wondering how to explain everything that had happened. But I noticed that Gareth was standing beside her, along with Frank, and no other cops.

  “Kerris . . .” She gave me the once-over. “Are you all right?”

  The burning graze on my arm flared again. “I caught a bullet on the wing, but it just grazed my arm. I guess I should get it looked at, but . . . yeah, I’m okay.” I had no clue where to start, but she held up one hand.

  “We’ve got time to sort out things. I gather Heathrow’s inside?”

  I nodded. “He confessed to helping Duvall kill my mother. Duvall wasn’t my grandfather. My real grandfather’s inside there. Heathrow kidnapped him and was going to kill both of us. He also killed the farmer.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Yeah, I know.” I glanced at Frank and Gareth. “I have something he wanted, and he saw this as a chance to get rid of me and to gain . . . popularity among his crowd. Apparently Duvall was going to confess everything the day that the Lady took him and Lila. Heathrow knew about it. I think . . . I think he somehow had something to do with the Lady taking them, but can’t prove that.”

  Gareth motioned for me to be quiet. “We need to keep this on the down low, Castillo. We don’t want the Hounds to know any more than we can help.”

  “Fix it, then.” She shoved her gun back in her holster. “I’m not on duty tonight—officially. Figure out the story and get back to me. Frank, you help him. I wasn’t here. You can tell Jonah . . . Corbin will take care of the medics.” She turned away, then—w
ith one last look at me—said, “Get your arm looked at. You can’t take chances with wounds like that. Officially? Your grandfather killed your mother. That’s what will go on the books and that’s what stays on the books. Officially? Duvall was your grandfather. Aidan can be your uncle or whatever you want, but keep his real nature out of the gossip mill. The Hounds will use everything they can against you and this town. As to your father . . . well . . . cold case. I’m sorry but that’s the way it has to be.”

  I sucked in a deep breath of the cold night air. “I understand. I’m beginning to see the way things work around here.” I turned to Gareth. “You want me to run down what happened?”

  He nodded. “Yep . . . then I’ll get back to you with the real story. One word, Kerris. You may not like Starlight, but she helps keep this town together, just like Oriel does . . . just like you will. Deal with her. We can usually get her to come around. For now, there are bigger fish to fry than personal grudge matches within the Crescent Moon Society. You’re part of it whether you like it or not. You don’t have an option. Understand?” But his look was kind under the gruff exterior.

  I gave him a firm nod. “Got it. My friend Peggin—she has to know about this . . . And my grandfather—Aidan.”

  “Then they have to join the Society. I’ll get everyone to agree. Leave that to me. Now, excuse me. I have a jigsaw puzzle to put together.” And with that, he turned back to the scene and headed over to talk to the coroner.

  Ellia was sitting on one of the nurselogs so common through the area. The fallen tree trunk was a good twenty feet long and covered with moss, bracken, and brown toadstools. I joined her.

  “I don’t think I expected anything like this when I came home to Whisper Hollow.”

  “I don’t think anybody knows what to expect. This town has a soul, Kerris—it’s alive and vibrant and has a will of its own formed from the forest and the ocean and the mountains. We’re allowed to live here, but Whisper Hollow? The town controls the way things go. Maybe now that you’ve had such a rough introduction, you can settle into doing what you’re here to do.”

  I nodded. “But . . . the Hounds are out there . . .”

  “I know.”

  “And your mother.”

  “And my mother.” She let out a slow sigh. “But . . . Magda’s been part of this town for decades. She won’t be going anywhere soon. With Heathrow vanishing—and trust me, he’ll just vanish as if he never lived here—they’ll be cautious for a while. They won’t know what happened. He obviously wanted to surprise them, so they don’t really have all the facts. Not yet. And by the time they do manage to put it all together, we’ll be waiting for them. Because you’re here now, and you and Bryan are the answer to destroying the Hounds.”

  I stared into the darkness, feeling the weight of destiny settle on my shoulders. This was why I had run away from Whisper Hollow, and this was why I had run back to Whisper Hollow. And now that I was here . . . life was about to get real.

  * * *

  Bryan and I were standing in the backyard, near the fence that divided his estate from mine. His thigh was bandaged beneath his jeans, but he would live and recover. My arm was sore, but it had escaped except for a nasty graze.

  I stared out into the mists. Heathrow had been carted off to a private asylum. Aidan was inside, waiting for me with Peggin. Ivy was also there, and Ellia, too. Her curse had saved my life this time, but it was only a matter of time until the Hounds took aim at me again. We had a lot of work to do, and fast.

  Sliding into Bryan’s arms, I leaned my face against his chest. “I was so frightened when I saw Heathrow shoot you. I thought . . .” I stopped, not wanting to say the words. They were too frightening, even now. The thought of losing him struck fear deep in the pit of my stomach. I gazed up at him as he leaned down to kiss my forehead.

  “Kerris Fellwater, I’m not going anywhere. I’m your guardian. I’ll protect you till the end of time. Till we both pass through to the Veil, and beyond.” He paused, then brushed a strand of hair away from my face. “I love you. You know that, don’t you? You’re my mate. You’re my match.”

  I pressed against him, wanting to crawl inside his skin. I had never said those three words to any man in my life. But now, I pressed my face against his chest and murmured, “I love you, Bryan Tierney. You’re my guardian, my mate, and my match.”

  “Then that settles that. Now come, we have work to do.” And with one more kiss, he led me inside.

  * * *

  One week later, we gathered in the cemetery on a wild windswept night, Ellia, Bryan, and I. Peggin stood nearby, as did Aidan. Somehow, our triad had expanded to include them. Ellia was unusually quiet. The memory of sending Heathrow into an unending agony of madness would weigh heavy on her for a long time, but she made no mention of it. But, having seen the power she held in her hands, I could only wonder about her mother and just how strong Magda was, and how powerful Baba Volkov and her followers must be. Dark magic, indeed, and dark hexes, aimed at me. At all of Whisper Hollow.

  Ellia fitted her violin under her chin as Bryan took up his post, guarding and watching. We were standing beside a freshly dug grave. The marker simply read, Robert Walters, Son of the Sacred Land. No one had come to his funeral. No one knew he had been murdered except the few who had been out on his land. Everybody else thought Bob Walters had a heart attack. He had no next of kin to notify, and Gareth and Frank had done an excellent job of covering all the bases.

  I gave Ellia a long look and she smiled at me, nodding as she struck a chord. The lilting notes that filtered out trickled down to surround the grave. I held up my wand, summoning the farmer’s spirit to rise and walk with us. He stood there, between the lament singer and me, looking bewildered.

  Then as I stepped forward, he smiled and held out his hand.

  You promised.

  I did, and I’m here to help you. Follow me . . . follow the music.

  I led him through the cemetery as Ellia played the path ahead. Bryan swung in behind, as did Peggin and Aidan. We were a solemn procession, the slow march leading toward Penelope’s tomb. As we neared the door, it swung open and the Gatekeeper stepped out, her long dress flowing in the wild wind that surrounded us. A gust swept past, chilling me to the bone, carrying Ellia’s notes high and aloft to spin out over the town and remind the people of Whisper Hollow that the dead were walking.

  “Welcome to the Veil, Robert Walters. Take my hand, love, and join my dark kingdom.” Penelope held out her hand. The nails protruding from her flesh glistened under the lights of the walkway; the dried blood pooling around them shimmered like jewels.

  The farmer stared at her, a look of fear and dismay crossing his face, but as she clasped his hand, it fell away to be replaced by a dream-filled smile and he murmured a soft thank-you. Penelope turned to me, the coy smile on her face twinkling under the wild wind.

  “They all fall in love with me, Kerris. Death is a temptress, she’s a dark mistress, and the Morrígan rides high on the mourning winds. And so we begin our journey together, you and I. There will be many more nights like this, and many more spirits. You need to corral Betty and Tommy soon; they’re getting too big for their gravestones, so to speak.”

  I laughed then. “Teenagers are always full of themselves.”

  “Yes, but most teenagers aren’t Haunts and can’t wreak the havoc that pair can.” And with that, she turned back to Robert and led him into the tomb. The door swept shut behind her and Robert Walters vanished into the Veil with the Gatekeeper of the dead.

  I turned back to the others. “And that ends that . . .”

  But it wasn’t true and I knew it. It wasn’t over by any means. I had found the answer to my mother’s disappearance, and to my father’s . . . but Penelope was right: The journey was just beginning. The Hounds were out there, waiting and planning. Magda was aiming her sights on the town. And the Lady lurked hungry in
her murky waters.

  “What are you thinking?” Bryan whispered.

  “Dark thoughts for a dark night.” I gave him a soft smile, grateful to have him by my side. Seattle seemed a world away—a lifetime ago. Whisper Hollow was my home now and forever, and the cemetery my office. As we returned to the grave, I scooped up a jar full of dirt and labeled it Robert Walters, October 23, 2015. The first jar with my handwriting to take its place in the hidden room.

  And then Ellia pushed aside her gloom and began a merry jig, and, remembering my childhood, I let go and danced through the graveyard, grabbing Peggin’s hand as we spun in circles, whirling through the gravestones. Ellia stepped up the music, her notes trilling through the headstones. Bryan and Aidan stood, laughing and clapping as the wind caught up the music and our voices with a swirl of autumn leaves and tossed them all to ride the haunted night.

  THE PLAYLIST

  I write to music quite often, and each book will have a playlist that fits the mood of the book. For Autumn Thorns, this is the list of songs I listened to:

  A.J. Roach: “Devil May Dance”

  Android Lust: “Saint Over,” “Here and Now”

  The Black Angels: “Don’t Play with Guns,” “Holland,” “Indigo Meadow,” “Young Men Dead,” “Bad Vibrations,” “Black Isn’t Black”

  Black Rebel Motorcycle Club: “Feel It Now”

  Bob Seger: “Old Time Rock & Roll”

  Broken Bells: “The Ghost Inside”

  Buffalo Springfield: “For What It’s Worth”

  Celtic Woman: “Scarborough Fair”

  Clannad: “Newgrange”

  Crazy Town: “Butterfly”

  Damh the Bard: “Gently Johnny,” “Obsession,” “Willow’s Song,” “The Wicker Man,” “Morrighan,” “The Cauldron Born,” “Cloak of Feathers”

  David Bowie: “Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed,” “Fame”