Autumn Thorns (11 page)

When we were done with our meal, Bryan dished up the cake, fruit, and whipped cream, then dusted a little cinnamon over the top. He handed it to us and we polished off every speck.

“The fruit tastes remarkably good for it being October.”

Bryan nodded. “I know. A local farmer has an orchard. He keeps some in cold storage for a few select clients.” With a grin, he added, “Like me.”

The front doorbell rang.

“Excuse me.” Feeling a bit braver now that I had company in the house, I headed to the door. Outside, a rush of wind and rain rattled at the windows. Wondering who was out in this mess, I opened the door to see Ellia standing there, violin in hand. She was soaking wet—she must have walked all the way from her house.

“Kerris, I need you. Time to saddle up and take on your first job with me. Diago's on the move, stirring up trouble. He was spotted in the Katega Campground, near the lake.” Her expression told me there was more to it than that.

“Hell, let me grab my grandmother's tools.”

She blinked away the water streaming on her eyelids. “Gareth was on his rounds when he spotted him. He called me fifteen minutes ago. We've got to get a move on because we know Diago's on the way back to the hospital.”

And with that, the peace of the evening disintegrated.

H
ell . . . okay, let me grab whatever I can. Diago's worse than one of the Unliving.” I motioned her in. Peggin and Bryan were standing by the kitchen arch, watching.

Ellia glanced at them. “We have to go before he makes it to the hospital. Do you think you're up for this?”

“Yeah, though I'm not sure what to do.” I shivered, giving her a pleading glance. “You're
sure
Diago isn't one of the Unliving?” It was a futile question; I already knew the answer.

In a soft voice, she said, “You know as well as I do what Diago is, and what he can do.”

“As I expected you would say. I was just hoping I was wrong.” I licked my lips.

“I was hoping we wouldn't have to take on one of Whisper Hollow's resident spirits until you were more acclimated, but Diago will eat when he's hungry. He hasn't walked in a few months, so he must be starving.” Ellia passed by on her way to Bryan. She gazed at him for a moment, then whispered something to him that I couldn't catch. “Am I right?” Her voice was low, but insistent.

He regarded her for another moment, then turned away without answering. “Do you need help?” He posited the question to me.

“It's going to be dangerous. Diago—”

“I know what Diago can do. I've dealt with worse, Kerris.” He was back to cool and aloof, but beneath the surface, I could hear the catch in his voice. He gave a quick sideways glance at Ellia, then refocused on me.

“If you want to come, yes.” Surprised to see Ellia looking relieved at my decision, I wondered what she had asked him, but there wasn't time to play twenty questions.

Peggin jumped up. “I'm going, too. I can't fight the dead, but I can play sidekick. Plus, I know the hospital, and the people there know me and can smooth possible obstacles. Don't even try to talk me out of it.” She shoved her glasses up—they were always sliding down—a dare to challenge her.

“You aren't dressed for it, love.”

“Bullshit. I can run a block in these shoes and I can run even faster if I take them off. Dresses don't slow me down.” She folded her arms across her chest, glaring at me.

Ellia let out a soft laugh. “Let them come. Allies are allies, whether they hold a flashlight or a sword. But we have to move. Gather your things—whatever you think you might need. You'll have to run on instinct, Kerris. I know you haven't had time to study your grandmother's Shadow Journal.”

I asked them to wait while I ran upstairs to fetch the bag. I withdrew the journal and set it aside, not wanting to chance losing it or destroying it while out in the field. I honestly had no clue what I was going to do, but I'd figure out a way to wing it. I'd faced some nasty ghosts during my stint in Seattle.

I paused, “Grandma Lila, if you're around, I really hope you can have my back tonight. I don't expect you to help—I doubt you can—but even if you were just there for moral support, it would give me a really big boost.”

Still nothing. I'd have to do this on my own, apparently.

I hoisted the bag and headed downstairs, pausing next to my suitcases to haul out a pair of boots. I loved my boots. Since we were headed into a campground in the dark, I
decided on my Dingoes, a pair of black microsuedes that came to midcalf. They had a chain around the ankle that hooked onto a silver circle, then looped snugly under the arch. With the two-inch heel, the chain was nowhere near the ground and snug enough not to get caught on anything. And their polished steel toes were handy in case I had to kick anybody. The campground was relatively flat, but it was wet out and I didn't want to be stepping into any puddles. I shrugged into my green denim jacket and grabbed my keys and wallet out of my purse, sliding them, along with my phone, into my pockets.

“I'm ready. Let's go. Get your asses into my car.” I beeped the car locks even as I made sure the front door was firmly secured.

Ellia rode shotgun. Bryan and Peggin piled in the back. As I eased out of the driveway, I wondered just what the hell I was going to do. Diago was a dangerous spirit—unclassified among the six categories. Some spirits were so strong we had no way to categorize them. They were highly individual, almost gods among the spirit world. And Whisper Hollow had its share of them. I had no hope of sending him through to the Veil, but I
could
thwart whatever he was up to. However, it wasn't going to be easy, given how long Diago had been around the town and that I was new to the business.

“I assume we head to the campground first, since that's where Gareth spotted him. And who
is
this Gareth, by the way? You mentioned him several times.”

Peggin spoke up. “He's . . . he's a biker. He hangs out at the Fogwhistle Pub a lot.” The way she said it made me think there was more to his story than just a barfly.

The biker . . . the biker . . .
I shook my head. “I don't remember him. Was he in our class?”

“No, he's in his late forties, I think.”

“What she's trying to say is that Gareth is trouble. He's always been on the wrong side of the law . . . at least on the surface.”

“And yet he tells you when spirits are walking?” I cocked my head, waiting.

Ellia cleared her throat. “What I tell you must not leave this car. Do you all agree?”

I nodded. Peggin mumbled an “okay” and Bryan, after a moment, shrugged a noncommittal yes. Apparently that was good enough for Ellia.

“Gareth Zimmer is part of the Crescent Moon Society, and he also works—on a strictly
unofficial
level—for Sophia Castillo. He . . . fixes things the police can't officially touch.” She let out a little cackle. “Gareth is one of the most feared men in this town, but more people owe their safety to him than will ever know.”

I blinked. “The Crescent Moon Society?” The name sounded familiar but I couldn't place it. “What's that? And are you talking supernatural fixes . . . or . . . outside-the-book fixes when it comes to his dealings with the police?”

Ellia gave a little shrug. “With regard to Gareth, I would say it's six of one, half dozen of the other. As for the Society . . . we are a group of individuals dedicated to protecting Whisper Hollow from the malign creatures who run through these parts. While the Society can't chase back the dead—that's our job, yours and mine—they investigate whether deaths and disappearances are due to natural causes or to something that the police can't touch. Sophia isn't part of the Society—as chief of police, she can't be. But one of her officers is, and she works hand in hand with the CMS. Gareth is an integral part of the group.”

I strained to think back. “I think . . . my grandmother must have mentioned it. The name is familiar. Was she part of it?”

“Yes, and so you will also be. I'm to bring you to the next meeting. Since you're the spirit shaman, part of your job will be to work with these people. As I do.” She glanced in the backseat at Peggin and Bryan. “Anything you hear about the CMS
must
be kept quiet. Too much hangs in the balance. Breathe a word and I will have no trouble setting my hands on you. Peggin, you know what that means.”

Peggin let out a strangled sound. “I know. Trust me, I like you, Ellia, but I don't ever want your hands on me. I remember Toby Voit.”

“Toby was . . . an unfortunate incident. He is one of the few things in my life that I regret, but there was nothing else I could do.” Ellia let out a soft sigh. “Is he still institutionalized?”

“Yeah. Corbin checks on him now and then. He won't ever recover.”

“No, it's not likely. I sent him too deep, too far.” Ellia shook her head and turned to Bryan. “My adjuration to silence goes for you, too. These old hands can set even
you
to spinning, my friend. I don't like ultimatums, but so much depends on secrecy and I will not fly on the wings of hope—too often they're clipped and fail.”

Bryan snorted. “I am sure I could handle it,
lament singer
 . . . but your secrets are safe with me. I have no use for the politics of the town. Nor any interest.”

I glanced sideways. Ellia had turned around in her seat and she was staring at Bryan, a cunning smile on her face. Something unspoken passed between them. As much as I wanted to know what the hell was going on, I decided to leave it for later.

“You will soon
develop
an interest. Trust me, the politics of the Crescent Moon Society will reach even
your
doorstep, and you know why I predict that. There are powers out there that are working against Whisper Hollow and you have the ability to help turn the tide. I expect you won't turn your back when the time comes, and I suspect that time is coming soon.” Then, before I could ask, she added, “As to the other members, Kerris, you will meet them soon.”

Not sure what to think about the interaction, and wondering who Toby was, I drove on in silence. We were headed to the Katega Campground, past the Storm King Lodge on the edge of Lake Crescent. The Katega Campground had a guardian spirit, and it suddenly occurred to me that Diago shouldn't have been able to enter the boundaries.

“How is it that Diago made it through the borders of the campground? The Lightning Spirit should have repelled him.”

Almost 150 years back, when the town of Whisper Hollow was first founded, the Katega Campground had been an area where people set up camp while the houses were
being built. A young man had wandered outside during a thunderstorm and was hit by a bolt of lightning. His body vaporized, but his spirit had been sucked into the land and air around the area. Ever since then the Lightning Spirit had guarded the campground. Usually, people were safe within the boundaries. It was said the Unliving and Haunts couldn't invade it, nor could Sasquatch, or the Grey Man, or any of the other entities who made these woods their home. It was a safe haven. At least until
now
.

Ellia stared out the window. “That's a good question. Gareth knows what he saw, though. He's smart, and he's observant. If he says he saw Diago wandering into the campground, he did.” Her phone jangled and she pulled it out of an inner pocket of her long cape. Brushing the hair back from her ear, she answered. “Yes? All right. We're on the way. We should be there in a few minutes.” Sliding the phone back in its case, she glanced over at me. “Change of direction.”

“Do I really want to know?”

“Gareth says that Diago's moving quickly. He slipped away before Gareth could trail him and is already at the hospital. Gareth received a call from Corbin. Diago's after one of the patients and he's already attached himself. We have to get over there as soon as we can or he'll drain the man.”

I slowed. We were almost at the turnoff to take us to the campground. Instead, I continued on Sherwood Place as it turned into Lakeshore Drive S. and headed north to the center of town. Another couple of minutes and a few more turns, and we pulled into the curved driveway and parking lot of the Underlake Hospital. I slid smoothly into a spot near the door and we tumbled out of the car.

As we bustled into the foyer, I saw Corbin Wallace, and memories came flooding back. He'd been the quarterback on the football team, and he hadn't lost any of that muscle or tone. Tall, with ebony skin and eyes that still reminded me of a snake's—the pupils looked oddly like slits—he had traded his dreads for a shaved head, and his beard and moustache had vanished along with the rest of his hair. But the Vin Diesel look worked for him, and he lit up when he saw Peggin.

“I didn't expect you till tomorrow, girl.”

“I told you Kerris was coming back in town. You know she's my best friend and always has been.” Peggin laughed softly.

“So you did.” He turned to Ellia. “Thank you for coming . . . and . . . Kerris—I'm glad you're here because I doubt if Ellia can handle this herself.”

Ellia lifted her violin. “No, but I can help. Who is he after?”

“Mike Sanders. He suffered a serious heart attack three days ago and we thought we had him on the mend, but he took a turn for the worse earlier today. I can get him through the rough spot, but not with Diago after him—and a child from the cancer wing saw Diago slip past a few minutes ago. I knew exactly where he'd be going, and sure enough, he's attached himself to Mike. Follow me.” He began to stride down the hall, his long legs propelling him along. I scrambled to keep up with him.

Diago had been around as long as I could remember. He was the Scuffler under the Bed, a spirit creature who leeched off those who were seriously ill. He never went after anyone with just a cold or who was in for a simple operation. No, he fed on the energy of those who were straddled on the crossroads, who were poised to turn toward recovery or turn toward death. Many a parent in Whisper Hollow had used him in place of the bogeyman when trying to get their kids to behave, and it usually worked because everybody knew he was real and not just some nebulous threat.