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

by D. S. Elstad

“Good morning Willow,” read the message from Bram.

  My heart began pounding and for a moment I lost my concentration and dropped the phone, leaving Mom hanging. Staring at the screen I quickly typed my response. He asked if I was busy, to which I said no.

  “Willow, are you there?” came the muffled sound of Mom’s voice, tucked between my leg and the red-and-green comforter.

  “Sorry, Mom. I dropped the phone.” Tell her about Bram at least, pressed that annoying little voice in my head. I quickly shot Bram a text asking him to give me a few minutes…I was on the phone with my mom.

  “Mom, there is something I would like to talk to you about.”

  “Go ahead, Wagmu,” her soft voice encouraged.

  “Well, I met this guy. His name is Bram. He’s a friend of Kelleigh and Quinn’s, Uncle Eagan’s grandkids, you know?”

  “Right, I remember you mentioning them.”

  “Mom, you know how I am, I mean, I have guy friends, but they’re just that, friends, nothing more. Remember last summer when Sam’s brother started getting all serious and wanted to date exclusively and I told him I just liked him as a friend?” The urge to chew my nails was growing.

  “Of course I remember; that almost ended your friendship with Sam. I’m so glad you two were able to work through it, but what’s that got to do with this boy, Bram?”

  “Mom, is it possible to fall for someone after only a few days?” I just spit it out.

  “Fall for someone? You mean, like fall in love with someone?” she asked.

  I stopped there and let the words bounce around in my head like a ping pong ball. Is that what I mean? I wondered. Love was such a strong word and to even be suggesting it felt a little premature.

  “Um, no, not love, but feeling really crazy about someone, you know. Almost like you’ve known them for a lot longer than you have…does that make sense?”

  Mom took a deep breath before answering, “I know exactly what you mean. Why don’t you tell me about this boy, Willow?”

  I sat there for the next hour switching between talking and texting. Telling my Mom all about Bram and the way he made me feel, and texting Bram, making plans to see him in a few hours. Mom was amazing. She listened and shared with me that she felt like she fell in love with Dad on their third date. That sometimes love hits when you least expect it.

  “Just be clear, Wagmu, this is the first boy you’ve felt so strongly about…first time can be very powerful. Try to keep your wits about you; after all, you’ll be leaving Ireland soon and that means saying good-bye to Bram. Don’t deny yourself these feelings; just don’t let them run away with you. I know that’s hard to do but it will make leaving much easier.”

  I laid back on the bed and let her words wash over me like a warm summer breeze. Of course I was going to have to say good-bye, I realized that. But that made me want to be with him even more…just knowing that it was all coming to an end soon.

  “You ok, love?” Mom’s voice questioned after I grew silent.

  “Yeah, I’m ok. I can’t believe how long we’ve been on the phone.”

  “I know, and I can’t believe your Dad isn’t back yet. Make sure he calls me right away, no matter the time.”

  “Will do, Mom, I love you, thanks.”

  “I love you, Wagmu. We’ll talk again soon. Techi’ ila.”

  I took the receiver from my burning, ringing ear and placed it down on the hook.

  “Shoot,” I muttered as I remembered the family picture I’d snapped at Grandpa’s. I wanted to ask Mom about it. I quickly scrolled through the pics on my phone and found it, then forwarded it to Mom in a text. Hopefully, she’d have an idea of whose little hand was resting on Grandpa’s. Just as I did that, I heard Dad at the door.

  He walked in, visibly shaken, and threw the keys on the dresser. He poured himself a tall glass of water then slumped down in the oak chair by the table. I watched him, not sure if I should begin my interrogation or wait until he made eye contact. Everything about his body language screamed at me to wait, so I did. I sat back down on the bed, the spot still warm from my marathon phone call to Mom. After a few minutes Dad finally turned to me.

  “Willow,” he mumbled, his face growing pale as he spoke.

  I joined him at the table hoping my nearness would make what he had to tell me easier.

  “Your Grandma, well…the police… they found some things they can’t explain. It appears that she had a strange substance in her bloodstream. The police found it in an earlier sample taken by her doctor before she passed. They sent the sample to London, but even the police there weren’t able to identify it. So between that and the conflicting reports of her being ill, the police have…,” he paused, lowering his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “They decided… that they’d better… exhume the body for further investigation.”

  My brain grabbed hold of the word and quickly defined it. I thought they only “exhumed” bodies on crime shows or in who-dunnit novels, not in real life, not here, not my grandmother. “Exhume the body, oh my Lord, Dad no!” The word felt strange and foreign in my mouth.

  His pale face worked itself into an expression of self-control; his composure grew second by second.

  “I know it sounds bad, and it is, but if that’s what they have to do to get some answers, then that’s what has to be done. My only concern right now is Conor…not sure how he’s going to take this.”

  I sat back in my chair and flashed quickly on Grandpa’s blue eyes and the sorrow that had been there. “I’m afraid what this is gonna do to him. Dad, he’s so frail, what will he do now if you tell him that Grandma may have died suspiciously and that the police need to exhume her?” My throat tightened around the words and a sick feeling came over me.

  “First person I need to call is Eagan. He’ll probably want to go with me when I speak to Conor,” Dad said and grabbed the phone. He paced as he relayed the terrible news to Uncle Eagan and suggested they go see Grandpa right away. The police wanted to do the exhumation first thing in the morning, but Conor needed to be informed first. The decision was made, and all that was left to do was for Dad to pick up Eagan and head to Grandpa’s.

  “I’d like to come, Dad,” I asserted, hoping he’d agree without much coaxing.

  He winced at first but then looked back, studying me for a full minute.

  He pursed his lips in a long exhale, trying to decide. “How about this: You can go, but let us go into the house and tell him first; you wait in the car. I need to see how he’s going to take this. I don’t want you to have to deal with it if it becomes uncomfortable…which I suspect it will,” he added under his breath.

  The rainy day provided the perfect backdrop to the horrendous turn of events. The morning had begun sunny and clear, but as quickly as the word exhumed forced its way into our vocabulary, the weather changed, along with our moods.

  In no time we were at Eagan’s house. He stood on his porch, waiting for us. He quickly put out his pipe, turned up his jacket lapels, and rushed to join us in the car. He greeted me with his usual charm but it was short lived. Missing was his usual joviality, replaced with a stern demeanor and tone. While he and Dad discussed the best course of action for dealing with Grandpa, I seized the opportunity to text Bram and make my apologies for missing our date. His understanding and concern made me miss him all the more. I promised to get in touch as soon as I was able.

  By the time we arrived at Grandpa’s the weather had gone from bad to torrential. The rain had transformed to sleet and made visibility difficult at best.

  “What’s with the weather here anymore, Eagan?” Dad asked.

  Eagan shook his head staring out the window. “Don’t know, lad, it surely ‘tis odd.”

  Dad pulled the car as close to the house as possible and let Eagan make a run for it. He then parked next to the garage and turned to face me in the back seat. “Maybe you ought to come in, the storm is getting pretty bad.”

  “I’m ok, Dad. It may be better for Grandpa if
it’s just you and Uncle Eagan right now. It’s going to be a lot for him to take. Does he know you’re coming?”

  “Eagan called him after we spoke. He told him that we need to talk to him about something very important. He doesn’t know any of the details yet, just that there’s an urgent matter to discuss.”

  “Dad, be supportive, please, he’s lost a lot.” After I said it I felt kind of bad, like I didn’t really need to instruct him. But the way he looked at me made me think otherwise – that maybe he had needed to hear that. To be reminded.

  “I will. This will be a tough one,” he said glancing out the window. “If this storm picks up more steam, get yourself in the house, ok?”

  “Ok, Dad, good luck.” He reached to the back and grasped my arm, gently squeezing it. His somber expression was impossible to hide and I felt relieved to wait it out in the car. He opened the door, letting in a rush of wind and sprinkles of rain. The air chilled me, so I put on my coat and zipped it up.

  I jumped up into the front seat. At first I just sat and tried to keep the windshield clear by turning on the wipers. It was a waste of time. The wiper no sooner reversed its position than the view was obstructed again. I finally gave up and settled back into the cushion, imagining what was going on inside Dad’s childhood home. I pictured Eagan doing most of the talking, and Dad refraining from making eye contact with his father. Then Grandpa going to pieces at the news and collapsing on the sofa in the sitting room.

  With my eyes closed I could see his ancient face, tortured by the idea that there may have been anything questionable in the death of the woman he’d spent more than fifty years with. I worried what it might do to him. He had seemed so weak and broken when I spoke to him at the funeral. This felt like it had the potential to destroy him.

  As my mind raced around all the possible responses he might have, a quick clap of thunder shot me out of my trance and forced my eyes wide open. I quickly turned on the wipers again. The rain had subsided somewhat and I was able to gain at least a few seconds of visibility. I turned on the car radio and tried to distract myself with some Irish tunes. I pulled my sleeve up over my hand and wiped the fog off the inside of the door window.

  To my right was the garden area and a bit farther, the driveway and road. I watched a small rabbit huddle in the garden, finding shelter under a bench. It sat up, licked it paws and drew down its long ears, trying to remove the droplets of water clinging to them. Suddenly little Bugs sat upright, ears twitching and nose flicking, obviously picking up on something nearby.

  I wiped down the fog again, trying to catch sight of whatever had startled the small hare. He let out a sharp cry and jumped, landed in a puddle, but quickly recovered and was soon invisible as he made his way into the misty garden. I had to laugh at the poor little guy’s acrobatics – but my laughter didn’t last long.

  Out of the corner of my eye, near the house, in the same area the rabbit had been staring at, I saw the movement. The motion was quickly hidden in another rush of heavy rain. My heart began pumping in anticipation of something…something unknown. Another wipe-down of the window revealed the frightening flash directly beside the car. It quickly shot past the car–but to where, I had no idea. My inability to focus on whatever it was triggered the fight or flight response. I grabbed the door handle and thought about making a run for it.

  I looked to the front door of the house and figured it would only take a few seconds to get there. Without any second-guessing I turned the handle and pushed the door open. The rain rushed in, spattering on my face as though I were standing in a shower. I began to slide my leg out the door when I heard a thud on the hood of the car. A heavy thud, like something or someone had jumped up on top of it. I quickly pulled the door shut and turned the wipers on.

  My heart was in my throat and my mind was spinning, unsure of what to do. Part way through the wipers I could see a dark shape pin itself up against the window, its form and texture pulsating. It was indistinguishable, phantom-like in appearance. It stopped the movement of the wipers. Panicking, I quickly locked all the doors. I fumbled for the keys, already in the ignition, and had just started to turn them when a low sound came from directly in front of me. It was almost like a growl, followed by scratches. The only thing separating me from whatever was producing the noises was this piece of glass, which now was completely obstructed and black, as though I was driving in a tunnel at night.

  I turned the key and put my foot on the gas, revving the engine. I could see movement on the windshield…not really movement, more like a change in the shadows. Light was coming through in spots so I began backing the car towards the house. I craned my neck, staring out a small unobstructed spot in the back window, and floored the gas pedal. I only had a few feet of room before I needed to stop the car or end up crashing into Grandpa’s porch. Get that thing off the hood, was all I could think.

  I got within inches of the front porch and slammed on the brakes. The quick sporadic motion was enough to force whatever it was off the hood. The dark mass seemed to be sucked away, enabling me to see out the front window. I searched the entire front area slowly with only my eyes, afraid to make any movement. There was nothing but the falling drops of rain. I checked both sides, clearing the windows again with my sleeve, but saw only blowing leaves and more rain.

  My heart pounded, adrenaline still surging through my body. I sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to calm down, but my head kept spinning back and forth with each random sound. After twisting and turning my neck in every direction I felt fairly certain that whatever had been on the hood was gone, so I once again reached for the door handle. I turned it and slowly opened the door, centimeters at a time, listening, watching, and checking everything that I could see. Once again, I slid my foot out the door, but not before bending down and looking under the car. It all seemed clear. I stepped out and stood by the car, door still open, acting as a shield, and scoured the entire yard. The rain was subsiding now, so I was able to make out shapes and forms native to the yard.

  I closed the door and stood, letting the remaining raindrops trickle down from the top of my head. I scoped out the area, eyes darting in and out of focus, unable to believe what I had just experienced. I walked to the front of the car, examining the hood and windshield. It all looked fine. I rubbed my hand along the damp shiny surface, searching for anything, then spotted a small dent and scratch barely visible, directly in the center of the hood. I brushed away the excess moisture and traced my fingers over the dent; certain it was made by whatever had been perched there.

  I quickly rotated around, narrowing my eyes, taking in the drenched environment. Near the garage, where a few minutes earlier my heart had literally missed a beat, I saw something glistening in the grass. I edged my way over to the spot and crouched down to get a closer look. At first all I could see were blades of grass and rain droplets clinging to them. I moved my hand gingerly over the top of the blades, releasing the moisture to make its way to the soaked earth beneath. Just as I was about to give up, my eye caught sight of a dark angled object barely extending its tip above the grass. I reached down and smoothed the blades away to get a closer look. It was some kind of claw, slightly glistening, its light reflecting off the damp grass. I tried to lift it up but had to pull hard to get it to release its grip on the soil. Holding it up, I saw it was green, except for the part that had been imbedded in the earth. I pulled a Kleenex from my pocket and wiped off the damp dirt, revealing an abalone-colored end with a brown inside, somewhat like the marrow of a bone.

  I wrapped up the claw and tucked it into the pocket of my coat, then jumped back into the car and returned it to the parking place by the garage. By this time the rain had stopped and so had the incessant pounding of my heart. I took in a long deep breath and opened the car door, letting the cool fresh air wash over me. The shadowy figure obviously was after me. Why? I distinctly felt threatened by it this time. The force of it when it jumped on the hood told me it was heavy and powerful. But why would it ap
pear and then disappear after a relatively short time? And was the claw I found from it, and why couldn’t I see it? It had no distinguishable shape. If Bram hadn’t been a witness to it as well, I might have thought I was going crazy.

  Dad and Eagan finally stepped out onto the porch and stood there talking for a few minutes. When he made his way back to the car, Dad was carrying a small black attaché case and a manila envelope. He jumped in and started the ignition before he even spoke.

  “We need to deliver this to the police,” he stammered, backing out of the driveway.

  “What about Uncle Eagan?” I asked, looking back towards the house.

  “He’s staying with Conor….he didn’t take the news well at all. We called his doctor; he’s on his way over right now.” Dad’s expression was grave.

  “What did he do, Dad…when you told him about Grandma?”

  “Nothing at first; he sat down on his chair, staring straight ahead.” He gritted his teeth anxiously.

  “He mumbled Shannah’s name a few times. When Eagan laid out the whole story, you could see it taking its toll. He’s having a hard time understanding. It got to a point where he tuned us out, wouldn’t listen anymore. He started telling stories about when he and Mom were first married; started acting like Mom was just out of town. He didn’t even know who I was after a while...asked if I ever met his boy Jack.” Dad’s voice trailed off, leaving him turning his head nervously as he checked his rear-view mirror.

  I sat back, unable to say anything. The trepidation in my father’s voice shot through me like a bolt of electricity. He had just said good-bye to his mother and now his father was at a breaking point. We drove the last few miles in silence except for an occasional squeak of the wiper as it cleared off the last straggling bits of rain.

  We pulled into the police parking lot and waited for a group of officers to flag us into a space. There seemed to be a lot of activity at the station…uniformed officers loitering about, along with sporadic groups of evening-attired partygoers making their way inside.