The Forest of Aisling: Dream of the Shapeshifter (The Willow Series Book 1) (6 page)

“Did you see the other wolves?” I asked in a
whisper.

He rubbed his head vigorously, like it would help
him make sense of it all.

“Other wolves? Uhm, well, yes, what I saw was one
other wolf standing over you.”

“That was all, myself and one other wolf?” This
conversation had just gone beyond surreal.

“What do you mean
all
?” he asked becoming
even more nervous.

“Quinn, after I got separated from you, I found
myself a spot to wait hoping you’d find me.  While I sat there it became
clear to me that I’d been in that forest before.”

“How’s that? This is your first time to Killarney,
isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.  But I’ve been in that forest
before, quite a few times.  Please don’t think I’m totally freaked out,
but I’d been there before in my, well, uhm…in my dreams.” I just blurted it
out; there was no other way to say it.

The expression on Quinn’s face showed me just how
impossible this whole story was becoming.  “In your dreams, ah, c’mon now
Willow, you’re not making any sense!”

“Quinn, think about what you just saw, does
anything make sense right now?”

Quinn ran his hands through his crimson hair. “I
guess not.  So, in these dreams, you were in the forest.  Doing
what?”

“I was running to the wolf pack.  But in the
dream, I was myself, at least I thought I was myself, I never saw
me
as
a wolf.” I shuddered as I heard myself say those words…
me as a wolf.
“But
now, thinking about it, in my dreams I never really saw who, or what, I
was.  Everything was from my own perspective, not someone looking at me,
you know what I mean? But being alone there tonight and hearing the howls, I
felt myself changing, not just physically changing, changing in my mind,
feeling familiar and comfortable with being there in the forest.”  My
voice began cracking as I choked on my words.

“Next thing I knew, I began running, just as I
would in my dream.  Everything was the same.  It was crazy, but I
knew my way around because I had seen it so many times before.  The
sounds, the smells, the moon, everything was just like in my dreams.  When
I was running I wasn’t even aware that I had changed; I picked up speed and
felt incredibly in tune with the forest.  When I looked down and saw my
feet were no longer my feet, but paws, I was terrified and excited at the same
time.”

 A small bead of sweat trickled down the
front of my forehead.  I reached up and wiped it away. “Quinn, what does
it all mean?”  I focused my eyes on the window at the end of the hall
bathed in darkness.  I felt lost in our distorted reflections in the wavy
glass. 

Quinn grabbed my arm, “It’s ok, Willow, we’ll
figure this out, there has to be some sort of explanation.  Do you mind if
I talk to Kelleigh about it? As annoying as she is at times, she’s quite
brilliant and into Celtic practices and magic. She may know something about,
about…uhm, whatever you would call this, transforming?”

“I guess it’s ok, but please Quinn, don’t say a
word to the others.” I took comfort in the concerned look in his eyes.

“‘Course not, it’ll be kept private.  Now I
best be going before Kelleigh comes in to see what’s the bother.  We’ll
talk more tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Quinn.” I stood up feeling a little dizzy
and more than ready to put this day to bed.  I hugged him tightly and said
goodnight.  He walked to the elevator then turned to look at me, gave me a
smile and thumbs-up and stepped inside.  I headed to our hotel room.

“Willow,” Quinn called, his head leaning out the
door.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ya dare tell Kelleigh I said she was
brilliant,” he said with raised eyebrows.

I laughed and nodded then turned and walked the
couple of feet to our hotel room. Dad was watching TV when I entered the
room.  He spun around quickly. “I was just about to call you, it’s getting
late.”

“Right, Dad, sorry.”  I explained the whole
story about Uncle Eagan and Cryer, making sure to leave out the part that was
sure to make him rush me to the hospital for a complete mental
evaluation. 

After a long shower I crawled into bed, exhausted,
confused, and, I must admit, a little exhilarated about what had happened and
what it all could mean.

My dreams that night didn’t repeat as usual. 
These dreams were random, bits and pieces of what had happened; flashes of
moonlight on the forest floor, howls in the distance, large golden eyes. 
Those scenes just kept on repeating in my sleep.   Then there were
flashes of Bram.  His smile and brown eyes and the way he looked when he
came out of the forest, kind of wild and disheveled. Had he really been lost?
And the way he looked at me…like he knew what had just happened.

When I woke the next morning Dad was already up
and dressed, ready for the funeral.  “You were sure restless last night,
Wils, are you feeling ok?”

“Oh, I was?” I knew I was; I mean, the sheets were
all twisted around my legs and the pillows were on the floor.

“Yeah, you were tossing and turning and mumbling
something.  I couldn’t make it out though.” Dad sat beside me on the bed,
brushing my hair out of my eyes.

“I’m ok…” I answered; looking into his eyes made
me want to tell him the whole story right then, but I knew I couldn’t.  We
had the funeral to go to; plus, I wasn’t even sure what, or how, I would tell
him.

“It’s probably the time change that has you out of
sorts,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s probably it.” 

“We’ll need to be leaving soon; I ordered room
service, your breakfast is there on the table.”

I glanced over to the table, feeling anything but
hungry.  I looked out the window at the brightness of the day and began to
feel relaxed.  Things always look better in the light of day, even when
you’re looking at the possibility of your life being changed forever. 

We pulled up to an ancient looking stone church
half an hour before the funeral was to start.  Calling it a church was an
understatement.  Dad called it the cathedral. I’d never seen anything
quite like it.  As I stepped out of the car I stared up at the old
building and paused awhile losing myself in the brilliance of the tower and
spire.  I thought of the Hunchback of Notre Dame and Quasimodo.  I
could almost picture him there, hanging off one of the turrets.  The
massiveness of the cathedral against the stormy sky, created an ominous feel.
The day had started out sunny and clear but was quickly being overtaken by gray
clouds and a drop in temperature that added to the somber mood of the day.

Dad took hold of my arm and led me to the entrance
of the church.  He was in a hurry to get inside. Uncle Eagan had relayed a
message to him that his father wanted him to be a pallbearer. Our arrival left
Dad looking as pale as the skies overhead.  As we walked up the
cobblestone stairs to the entrance, he stopped in his tracks.  I looked up
to see what was in his way and before us stood an elderly man in a black suit
shaking hands with another man.  The first man looked back at Dad and just
stared.  He was small in stature and somewhat hunched over, holding onto a
cane.  His eyes were pale blue and looked almost white against the snowy
color of his eyebrows, which were knit together in an expression of
sadness.  The two of them stood there and stared at each other for what
seemed like forever.  I knew this had to be Grandpa Conor. 

“Jack,” said the elderly man, slowly turning
himself to face Dad, extending his hand.

Dad stood motionless, then finally reached out as
people passed by on their way into the church, many of them staring at Dad and
Grandfather.  Obviously the rift between the two of them wasn’t much of a
secret.

“Hello, Dad,” he responded with a chill to his
voice, keeping his head low. Grandpa Conor grabbed hold with both hands,
hanging his cane on his wrist.  I studied his face, trying to see if it
showed any trace of the same kind of anger Dad was holding on to.  All I
saw was sadness.  The lines in his face were deep, as though they had been
there for ages.  As the two released their handshake, Grandpa looked down
and grabbed his cane.  It was then he saw me.  He just stared as he
had done with Dad, and then finally asked, “Is this…?”

“This is Willow,” Dad replied, pulling me around
in front of himself.

Grandpa Conor kept staring at me, then took a
handkerchief to his eyes.  “A pleasure to finally meet you, Willow,” he
said, his voice cracking.  He reached his hands out to me.

I grabbed hold of his chilly fingers and felt them
tremble within my grasp. “A pleasure to meet you,” I answered, just stopping
myself from saying Grandpa, not sure whether or not he’d like me to call him
that.  I stared into his blue eyes and felt overwhelmed by the sadness
that flowed from them.

Organ music began playing inside the church, which
prompted Grandpa Conor to turn his head in that direction.  Looking back
at me he clutched my hand tightly for a brief second, smiled, and then let go.
He turned and slowly shuffled inside with the help of a tall man who put his
arm around Grandpa’s shoulders and escorted him away. 

Dad and I followed behind him and were met by Uncle
Eagan, Kelleigh, and Quinn, along with their parents.  Dad went off with
Uncle Eagan, leaving me to find a seat with Quinn and Kelleigh.  We sat in
the second row behind their mother. 

I lost myself once more to the majesty of the
cathedral, which was even more spectacular inside.  Gigantic columns and
arches lined the sides, dwarfing the wooden pews on either side of the
aisle.  Straight ahead, the altar was highlighted by the splendor of three
soaring stained glass windows.  Scenes from the Bible adorned the windows
with glorious color.  Stained glass filled the walls of the church and the
pictures on them were stunning and awe inspiring.

My attention then shifted to the parade of people
coming in to pay their last respects.  They were mostly older folks,
friends of my grandparents, I assumed.  I sat and wondered about Grandma
and Grandpa when they were young, what they must have been like.  While I
looked around the church I noticed pictures had been arranged on a large board
placed to the side of the altar.  They were of Grandma Shannah at all
ages, from a little baby all the way up to her old age.  I wanted to go up
and study each and every picture.  She was becoming real to me
now.  

The music changed tempo and in walked Grandpa
along with Uncle Eagan.  Following them were Dad and John, Quinn and
Kelleigh’s father, and several others carrying the sapphire-colored casket up
to the altar. They then sat in the row in front of us and the priest began the
service.  It felt odd to be sitting there, saying good-bye to someone who
was a stranger and at the same time, so much more.

After a long eulogy and a countless number of
hymns, the service ended with an announcement by the priest inviting everyone
over to Grandpa Conor’s for a reception.  Dad and I joined Grandpa at the
entrance of the church and accepted condolences from the crowd as they
retreated.  I had no idea who any of them were; Dad wasn’t even familiar
with many of them.  After shaking hands with the last two people to leave
we finally made our way to the car.

 Dad announced that he would take me over to
Grandpa Conor’s for the reception but that he wouldn’t be staying.  When I
asked him about it, he just told me he had his reasons and to call him when I
was ready for him to come and pick me up.  I felt so angry that he was
putting me in this position.

When we arrived at Grandpa’s, Dad pulled the car
over to a small driveway on the side of the house and just stared at the front
porch.“Aren’t you going to at least come in for a minute and see Grandpa?” I
asked.

“No, Willow, I’m not. I said hello to him, I did
what he asked of me today,” he answered, his eyes still focused on the house.

“But Dad, he was happy to see you, I’m sure he
wants to talk with you.  Plus, I’m not really comfortable with you just
leaving me.  I mean, I
am
a stranger here. I need you,” I pleaded.

“Uncle Eagan is here; so are Quinn and
Kelleigh.  You’ll be fine. You need to respect my decision on this,
Willow.”  He wouldn’t even look at me, just stared at the house.

“Whatever, Dad,” I answered angrily and got out of
the car. I slammed the door shut and walked up to the house.  I’d hoped he
would feel bad and follow me inside but, as I turned to look back, I saw the
car turn off onto the road.  He hadn’t even paused long enough to watch me
go into the house.  That made me even angrier.  I decided to go in
there and be the adult of the family since he wasn’t acting like one.

When I walked into the little house, it felt as
though everyone stopped what they were doing just to turn and stare at
me. 
I don’t want to be the adult of the family
, I thought to
myself.  It felt so uncomfortable, at least until I saw Kelleigh and
Quinn.  They both waved from across the room and motioned for me to come
over.  I made my way past the looky-loo’s and immediately felt at home
when I reached them.

“Where’s your pop?” Quinn asked, looking around
the room.

“He left,” I answered, trying to control the
obvious edge to my voice.

“Wow, the anger is still there, isn’t it?”
Kelleigh commented, shaking her head.

“Kelleigh, do you have any idea why my dad is so
angry with my grandfather?”  I asked, quietly hoping the answer might be
nearer than I thought.

Kelleigh bit her lower lip and shook her head
no.  “Sorry, Willow, I don’t.  All we’ve ever heard about your dad is
that he and Conor didn’t get along.  Grandpa Eagan is very hush-hush on
the subject and our parents just told us that it’s between Conor and Jack and
none of our business.”  She looked over to Quinn, who nodded in agreement.

“Well, let’s go outside and get away from all of
this, shall we?” she suggested, grabbing hold of my arm.

While we headed towards the front door I couldn’t
help but notice in the next room, sitting there alone was Grandpa Conor. 
He was holding a picture of Grandma Shannah in his hands.  I wanted to go
in there and sit with him, but Kelleigh pulled me along towards the door. 
We stepped off the porch and made our way to an area right off the front yard.

“Here’s a nice place to chat, out of earshot,” she
said leading the way to a bench under a large oak tree. “Willow, Quinn told me
about last night,” she looked anxiously all around her, lowering her voice.
“But I’d like to hear it in your words.”

Her intense stare was boring its way into my
brain.  I told her the whole story, from where I got lost in the forest to
when I saw Quinn.  She pulled herself closer when I got to the part about
the large gray wolf.  When I finished she looked off into the distance,
wrinkling her brow and narrowing her eyes to a thin slit, deep in
thought.  Quinn and I looked at each other almost waiting for permission
to speak.

“This is incredible, do you realize that?” Her
eyes shot back and forth between Quinn and me.

“Really?  We didn’t realize that,” answered
Quinn mockingly as he leaned back on the bench stretching his legs out in front
of him.

“No, I mean, the whole thing is...it’s hard to
explain, just have a look here at this.” She pulled a small book from her
purse.  It was old, the binding was coming off and the cover edges were
bent and torn.  She opened the page to a drawing of a wolf running in the
woods.  It was a relief etching similar to the technique used in the
1700’s. I knew because I had studied seventeenth-century art one summer at art
camp. The text above it was in a language I didn’t recognize.

“What does it say?” I leaned in closer for a
better look.

“It’s in Gaelic.  It speaks about wolves that
once roamed Killarney Park, along with other regions of Ireland.  These
wolves were rumored to have been shapeshifters, sent from the gods to help
protect humans.

“It says that the shapeshifter wolves were humans,
hand-chosen by the gods to help fight off the evil one.  They would travel
all of Ireland trying to keep communities safe, but then humans began to hunt
the wild wolves and eradicated the whole wolf population.” Kelleigh pointed to
a hideous picture of a hunter standing on top of a pile of dead wolves.

Quinn began snickering, “You’re crazy, Kell. 
There’ve never been wolves in Ireland.”

“And you’re an idiot Quinn.  If you’d look at
something other than the screen of your phone you might learn something. 
Ireland had wild wolves at one time. The shapeshifter wolves moved into
Killarney Park because that was the only place where they were safe. Only it
wasn’t called Killarney Park back then, see here?” Kelleigh turned the page and
traced along an ancient looking map.

“I can’t make out what the area was known as; the
info in this book is hundreds of years old and the language is still new to
me.  But this says that those wolves only appear now during times of
extreme danger.”

“What are you saying, Kell?  That Willow is a
chosen shapeshifter wolf sent here to protect us humans?”  Quinn asked in
a sarcastic tone. “Protect us from what?”

Kelleigh shifted forward and cleared her
throat.  She turned the page of the small book and began reading aloud in
the Gaelic language.  “Here, this part,” she said after reciting the text,
“I’m not quite clear on what the meaning is here but I get the feeling it’s
saying something about what that evil might be.”  Kelleigh once again
pointed to another picture of a wolf standing on top of some sort of symbol
with what appeared to be an eyeball in its mouth.

Quinn started laughing uncontrollably, clutching
at his sides.  “Priceless, Kell! So the evil that threatens humans is an
eye
. 
Hear that, Willow? You need to go out and attack the next renegade eyeball that
you see rolling along the countryside.”  Quinn stood up, smoothed his
pants and shook his head, still laughing.  “And I thought you might be
able to help.  I’m surprised you didn’t say that Willow was going to have
to save us from the puca.”

Kelleigh squinted her eyes as she stared at her
brother.  “Ara be whist! You’re a complete idiot when it comes to the
supernatural and you best be quiet lest something
unnatural
comes to you
in the middle of the night.” Her voice took on a frightening tone that froze
Quinn where he stood, and even sent chills down my spine.

“Ara be whist to you, Kell,” Quinn responded in a
meek voice without looking at his sister.  He glanced in my direction,
“It’s her way of telling me to shut up.”

I sat and waited for the smoke to settle from
their spat before continuing. “Puca?” I asked quietly, almost afraid to look at
Kelleigh.

 “A puca is a shapeshifting type of
fairy.  It can take the form of an animal and almost always has dark
fur.  It most often appears as a black horse with a long mane and glowing
eyes but has been rumored to be in wolf form as well.  It’s able to communicate
with humans, and legends tell of pucas helping people and leading them away
from danger.  A puca is something
helpful,
not evil like you dear
brother,” Kelleigh hissed, returning her stare to Quinn.  Quinn shrugged
and plunged his hands into his pockets.

“So you think the wolf I saw…is a puca?”  I
wondered.

“I don’t know about the existence of the puca, but
as of yesterday I wouldn’t have believed in shapeshifting either.  Right
now I’m afraid all I have for you, Willow, are more questions than answers.”

My brain was flooded with the information Kelleigh
had just unloaded and left me more confused than ever.  But even with all
that, there was the one question that kept coming back.  “I just wonder
how I was able to shapeshift…and –”