Autumn Thorns (32 page)

“There were a couple of times that might have been close calls. But back then, they were still afraid of Mae. I think they decided to take care of the issue through subterfuge. They engineered the marriage between Lila and Duvall, though I'm not sure what they intended to come from that.” Oriel shrugged.

I gave her a long look. “I know why. Duvall was sterile. I found proof positive that he couldn't father children. They thought that Lila would never get pregnant and that would end the prophecy right there. But they didn't count on one thing—Lila stepping out on Duvall.”

Gareth cleared his throat. “Then who fathered Tamil?”

It was now or never. As much as I wasn't sure what to think about the group, I decided that I'd stand a better chance with them at my back. “My grandfather is Aidan, Lila's guardian whom she drove out of town. He's sitting in my house right now.”

And with that, the room erupted in a rush of surprised voices.

O
f course, that opened me up to tell them everything that I had done and found out since I'd been home. When I finished, Starlight wasn't the only one with her mouth hanging open.

Since nobody else was jumping into the conversation, I decided I would. “So, if it was going to take my grandmother, my mother, and me to stop them, does that mean there's no chance now?”

Oriel shook her head slowly. “Not at all. I'm sorry—processing all of this is going to take some time. But, Kerris, here's the thing. As I said, Magda's vision was wrong. We've done plenty of scrying on the subject, and we discovered that she missed her mark. She got her wires crossed. It's not the three of you needed to take them down . . . it's the fiftieth generation in your line. And that . . .”

“Is me. I'm the fiftieth generation.” My voice was soft as I remembered the inscription in Lila's journal.

I leave this journal to my granddaughter, Kerris, since my daughter, Tamil, the forty-ninth generation, has
vanished. Take up your post and keep it sacred and honor your word and work.

“How did she make that mistake, and are you sure?”

“The man who came over to us? He brought the original text that she wrote down while in trance. Ellia translated it for us. Magda's translation had mixed up a few words. The original specifically refers to you. You and your guardian.”

“Mother's English was never very good and she was resistant to learning,” Ellia interjected.

“The question is, then . . . do the Hounds know this? Do they think they're safe?”

“I think . . . they must have an inkling that they were wrong. The fact that Magda sent an Ankou to your house tells me she's wary of you. So we can't go on faith that they are sitting pretty, feeling safe.” Ivy pushed herself up from her chair and paced around the room. “I'm uneasy for another reason. Word's out that Tamil's remains have been found. According to Kerris, Heathrow was in on her murder. He's going to wonder . . . and he's going to worry just how much Kerris knows. They know she's the spirit shaman, so why wouldn't they think she talked to her mother's spirit and found out he was in on it? The statute of limitations doesn't run out on murder. He's going to worry that he left some clue behind that will tie him to the act.”

“Meaning that he'll be after me.” The look he had given me when I left the hotel had stuck. “He knows about the ledger. I made a mistake, I admit it, by telling him. And though I told him that I didn't find anything else, why should he believe me? I'm a danger both to him personally and to the Hounds now.”

“And he might just take it into his own hands to dispatch you. Hell, that would make him a hero among them. We may not have to worry about the Hounds getting to you if he does first.” Bryan leaned forward, a stark look on his face. “What can we do to ensure her safety? We have to take Heathrow out of the equation.”

“We can't do that,” Starlight countered. “He's too well
known. We'll just have to hope for the best for now, and keep our eyes open.”

I stared at her. “I fully intend to prove that he was responsible—along with Duvall—for my mother's death. I'm not about to let him slide on this.”

She crossed her arms. “I'm afraid you don't have any choice. That's my decision. Nobody who belongs to this Society is going to help you there.”

The room fell silent. I slowly rose to my feet, holding her gaze, wanting nothing more than to smack her a good one across the face. Shaking my head, I picked up the journals. “Then the Crescent Moon Society will have to do without my participation. And without these journals. Because I intend to avenge my mother and father, and if I have to do so without your blessing or help, I will. I'm here to take up my grandmother's post, and I'm not going to knuckle under to politics. Lila may have played the diplomacy game because she was married to Duvall, but you're going to find me far less tractable.”

With that, I turned to Bryan. “We're leaving.”

He jumped up and followed me as I headed for the door. Ellia and Ivy were trying to call me back, Starlight was sputtering, and either everybody else had gone suddenly mute or they were afraid of speaking out.

When I reached the door, I turned around. “Ellia, we have to work together. I expect you to do your job. The rest of you can go to hell.”

Ivy jumped up. “Kerris—this is giving in to the Hounds. They'd love to see us rip the Society apart. Heathrow's just one cog in the wheel—”

“How can you stand there and say that when you know Duvall—and probably Heathrow—killed your son?” Fed up and furious, I slammed out the door and marched over to the staircase, Bryan on my heels. “I suppose you agree with them?”

He shook his head. “No, actually. The Crescent Moon Society could be a powerful force, but I have the feeling that their hands are tied.”

“By Starlight.” As I began the long haul upstairs, Bryan
followed me. A couple of moments later we were in the main shop and sweeping past the guard at the front. I didn't say a word to him, just slammed out the door and toward my car.

On the way home, I was still so angry I couldn't speak, so Bryan insisted on driving. But as we neared my house, my fury began to smooth out. I ignored the repeated calls from both Ellia and Ivy, letting them go directly to voice mail. As I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes, a sudden prickle ran up my arms, making the hair stand on end. I could almost hear someone calling my name. Without a second thought, I told Bryan, “Drive to the cemetery, please.”

He said nothing but obeyed. As we pulled in, I motioned for him to take one of the side roads, and as we swung around to a back parking stall, I realized we were near the Pest House Cemetery. Bryan turned off the ignition and we sat there, listening to the silence.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes, I can feel it—something's out of order. But if I sit here for a while, I'll figure out what.” I stared at the gates leading into the remains of the Pest House. “My grandmother hated this part of the cemetery.”

“What's a Pest House? I've never heard of them.”

I regarded the overgrown wall that separated the older section. It was stone that was breaking down, covered with ivy and vines of all sorts. The gate across the walkway was iron, but it, too, was swathed in overgrowth. Behind the gate and wall stretched a wide swath of cemetery, and beyond that, the remains of a broken-down building. Large and dark, it loomed in the night with an unhealthy light surrounding it. I knew that few people could see that light—it was the energy of the dead that inhabited the area—but it told me all I needed to know. Magda might have dark magic, but there were darker forces than she, and some of them could be found beyond these gates.

“Back before the turn of the nineteenth century, some areas kept buildings where they . . . well, bluntly put, where the doctors would lock up seriously ill people. TB, cholera,
typhus, whatever the disease . . . if it could kill and was contagious, the patient was sent to the pest house until they recovered—which seldom happened—or died. Thousands of people died in these houses. Mostly, they were left there without any care, often without enough food, water, or blankets. The pest houses were also known as fever sheds. The ghosts around these areas are angry and often violent, just like they are around the old asylums.”

Bryan stared into the darkness, the only illumination coming from the dim lamplights that lined the walkways. “People—and I include my own in this—have a way of being cruel to those in need. So, then, this is a dangerous area.”

“Yes. And the way to Veronica's lair is through the Pest House Cemetery. She's got it tucked away in back, against the bluff that rises up to overlook the lake.” I frowned, trying to figure out what had drawn me to the graveyard. “Somebody's up and walking. I can feel it.”

“Shouldn't you call Ellia?”

I didn't want to, not after the meeting. But she was my lament singer, and I knew better than to let myself have a temper tantrum. With an exaggerated sigh, I pulled out my phone and gave her a call. She answered on the first ring.

“Ellia, I'm at the cemetery. Somebody's walking tonight. I'm not sure who, but I can feel them as sure as I can feel my own heart beating.” I didn't ask if she could come over. It was her job and I expected her not to let the mess with the CMS get in the way.

“Are you sure? Did Penelope contact you?”

I frowned. “No, but . . . just come.”

“I'll be there shortly. I'm on my way home now, so I'll just detour and meet you there. Where are you?”

“Near the entrance to the Pest House. Whatever is running around, it's hanging out near here.” I suddenly realized that my bag of tools was at home. “I don't have my things with me. Can you stop at the house and ask Aidan to let you take them? I'll call him to let him know you're on the way.”

“Almost there.”

Even as she spoke, I saw a blur race past. “Hold on.” I
tossed my phone on the seat as I jumped out of the car. Bryan was on my heels.

“Kerris, wait up! Kerris . . .”

I went racing through the grass, finally skidding to a halt in a clearing fifty yards away. Bryan caught up to me as I stood in the middle of the grass, looking this way and that for whatever it was that I had felt. The next moment, a dark shadow blurred out from the trees, making a beeline directly for me. It slammed into me, knocking me down, and I realized it was one of the Ankou. Maybe not
my
Shadow Man, but one like him.

Bryan immediately shifted to wolf form and lunged forward, growling. The shadow darted away from him as I rolled to my feet and came around, a little bruised but no worse for wear. It hadn't managed to grab hold of me.

I didn't have my tools, but instinctively, I raised my hand, bringing it down with full intent, drawing the Runes of the Void with large sweeps through the air. I focused all my strength to channel the power that was rising within me, and then I sent it out into the runes and pushed them toward the Ankou.

They lunged forward, sparking, and hit the Shadow Man straight in the chest, and he screamed as black smoke began to pour out of his head. A moment later he vanished. I dropped to the ground, sitting in the sodden grass, panting.

Bryan shifted back and knelt beside me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but . . .” Something was wrong. That was too easy.

My head suddenly cleared, and I realized that whatever I had been chasing, it wasn't nearly as strong as the Ankou I'd met in my house. In fact, I wasn't sure if that
was
an Ankou. And come to think of it, how did I know he was here? Penelope said she would come to me if there was a problem, but I would think that she would announce herself instead of just feed me the information.

“Something's wrong, Bryan.” At that moment, I realized that I was hearing something from the truck. It was my ring tone. I hurried back to the car and grabbed my phone. Ellia. “Hello?”

“Kerris, you need to get home now. Don't ask why . . . just get here as fast as you can. Leave whatever's in the cemetery. We'll get to it later.” And with that, she hung up.

*   *   *

P
anic can either freeze you or spur you into action. For me, the worry in her voice translated to worry over my cats. “Home. Now!” I jumped in the car. Bryan had the keys and he was in the driver's seat before I could even think of repeating myself. He gunned the engine and we sped out of the cemetery, back to my house. Even though I lived only a block or so away, the entire trip a numb refrain echoed through my mind.
Please let them be okay . . . please let them be okay . . .

When we arrived at the house, I was already opening the door before Bryan brought the car to a stop. I raced inside. The living room was a mess, and the kitchen no better. Ellia was standing there, waiting for me.

“The cats are okay,” she said before I could ask. “I found them—they were all hiding under the bed, terrified. But they're okay.”

“Thank God . . . but . . .” I glanced around. The house felt empty. Very slowly, I turned back to Ellia. “Where's Aidan? His truck is still outside.”

She shook her head and held out a note. “I found this.”

Gingerly, I took the paper. The handwriting was all too human.
Your one chance to save the shapeshifter: Bring the ledger and the binders to 3364 Timber Peak Drive to make the exchange. Come alone and be there in one hour, or I will kill him.

Bryan shook his head. “You aren't going alone. It's going to take you half an hour to get out there. They don't want you having any time to contact the police.”

“It's Heathrow. He's the only one I know who knew I had the ledger . . . except for the members of the Crescent Moon Society.” I paused. “They knew about Aidan—”