Autumn Thorns (4 page)

And
this
was why the Crow Man had summoned me. But there was one little problem. “Over the years, I have developed some rites and rituals but I don't know how they'll work here in Whisper Hollow. And Lila was the only one who could teach me.”

Oriel spoke up. “We can guide you. We can't
teach
you—the spirit shamans keep their secrets—but we'll do our best.” She reached across the coffee table to give me a gentle pat on the hand. She cocked her head to one side. “Penelope might be able to help us out.” She paused, then continued. “Kerris, you know I guard this town. That's part of my job—to keep Whisper Hollow and its secrets safe. I worked with your grandmother on occasion, when the need arose. Her gifts ranged beyond merely turning the dead back to their graves—she was a very strong spirit shaman. So are you, but you just don't realize it yet.”

So Oriel was more of an interested bystander. I glanced over at Ellia. I knew how
she
fit into the equation. But Ivy . . . There was something about her. I finally quit evading the subject. “How do you play into all of this?”

She paused, staring into her cocoa mug. After a moment, she sat back, crossing her legs smoothly. Regarding me quietly, she finally said, “I'm your grandmother. Your father was my son.”

Cue a dozen bombs going off one after another.

Ellia caught my cup as I let go of it. As hot chocolate splashed across the knees of my jeans, as well as all over the floor, she set the cup on the table, then handed me a napkin before returning to her seat. As I dabbed at the liquid, the room plunged into a deep silence, freezing us all.

Your father . . .
The words echoed inside me, ricocheting like bullets.
Your father was my son . . .
words I never thought I'd hear. Especially from a woman who looked like she could be my older sister, rather than my grandmother.

“I'm a shapeshifter. Your father was one, too—he was matched to your mother.”

Of course . . .
shapeshifters were very long lived, aging normally till they reached their twenties, and then the process drastically slowed. That was why she looked so young.

My world shifting with every breath, I searched for something to say. I didn't know how to respond. I'd long ago given up hoping to ever find out about my father, and now the
opportunity was sitting right here in front of me. I thought about just getting up and leaving—this was all far more than I had expected to face and I had no clue how to react. Finally, I cleared my throat and looked over at her, into those clear brown eyes. No wonder she had seemed familiar to me—she was my blood kin.

“I suppose . . . you'd better tell me everything.” Though I spoke calmly, inside I was screaming, pounding on the walls in a tantrum born out of both frustration and joy. I'd given up hope long ago of ever knowing about my father and why he had left before I was born, and all along, the answer had been living right down the street.

*   *   *

W
hen I was three, my mother disappeared. Tamil just vanished one day, never to be heard from again. For a long time, I thought I saw her—she'd be there, around the corner. Or I'd turn to find her standing behind me, watching me with worried eyes. But I'd blink and she'd be gone and eventually, I stopped seeing her. I told myself she ran off to find my father, and that someday, they'd come back to get me.
Someday
never came.

My father was gone before I was born. When I was old enough to realize that other kids had fathers and I didn't, I asked Grandma Lila why. She just shushed me, telling me he had gone away for a long time and that he was very important and was on a secret mission for the government. Being a highly imaginative child, I bought her story. And later, when I asked her if my mother was with my father—hiding like spies in some foreign country—she just murmured a soft answer that could have been yes or no. What I
didn't
realize was that her stories were a source of wicked arguments between her and Grandpa Duvall. I learned the hard way when I was eleven. On that day, I asked him when Daddy would be allowed to come home.

Grandpa Duvall, who was well over six feet, long and lanky with eyebrows the color of ink, and thin, and scary as
hell, glared down at me. “Never. Your grandmother's been feeding you a pack of lies about him, and you're old enough to know the truth. Your father skipped town when he found out your mother was pregnant with you. He disappeared, leaving her in the lurch. That's why she ran off, you know—she couldn't handle raising you alone. So let that be a lesson to you, young lady. Don't go getting yourself knocked up without a ring on that finger.”

I stared up at him, assessing his answer. Grandpa didn't sugarcoat anything, and he was always a little too eager to squash any joy or enthusiasm. The gleam in his eye told me he had enjoyed destroying my dreams. And right then, I realized just how much I hated him. He was a hard man, and I'd learned to stay away from him when he was in one of his moods. He never hurt me, not physically, but I knew the hard way that he enjoyed tormenting people.

As I stood there, staring right back at him, he never wavered. Without a word, I turned and walked out of the room. Ten minutes later, I was sobbing into Grandma Lila's skirts. Half an hour later, I knew little more than I had before, except that he—like my mother—had simply vanished. There was no secret government job, no mission, no romantic liaison half a world away. Just two people who had loved each other, gone missing three years apart.

Lila had given me a picture of them, though she warned me not to tell Grandpa Duvall about it. Tamil and Avery were standing together, he behind her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders. They looked happy—my mother's eyes were smiling. But Avery looked distant, almost frightened. I tucked the picture away behind a book on my shelf to hide it should Duvall come searching my room one day. I still had it, in my jewelry box.

The one thing I
did
realize on that day was that I would never love my grandfather. Our relationship was tenuous to begin with, and after that—no matter how polite he was, no matter what he said—I kept my feelings protected from him. He was a stranger to me from that day on.

*   *   *

Y
ou're sure that
you're
Avery's mother?” The questions barraged my brain, but I managed to keep my mouth shut. It wouldn't do any good to swamp her.

“Yes, your
other
grandmother.” She paused, glancing at Oriel and then Ellia. “This is so not the way I wanted you to find out. I tried to get Duvall to let me tell you when you were young, but the old bas—” She paused.

I held her gaze, shrugging. “Call him whatever you like. I fell out with him when I was young, and my only regret is that our feud separated Grandma Lila and me.”

Ivy nodded. “Yes, he was a bitter man. Duvall wouldn't let me near you, not even when your grandmother tried to intervene. He threatened me, and . . . when your grandfather made threats, he followed through. Lila kept me updated on your progress. She gave me pictures of you.” This was said almost shyly, and as I gazed into the softened face, I realized that none of this had been Ivy's fault.

“Grandma Lila could handle Duvall to a point, but he had a nasty temper. He never struck her, not that I knew, but he was cold and bitter and a poor excuse for a human being. I never understood why she married him. Spirit shamans are supposed to have guardians—a shapeshifter born to each of us. But she didn't. At least, not that I know of.” I ducked my head, wishing that Lila could be sitting here with us, free from him. “Tell me about my father, please. Did he really run out on my mother like Duvall told me?”

Ivy let out a soft sigh. “Avery loved your mother. One morning, shortly after Tamil announced she was pregnant, Avery went out to go buy supplies, and then he was supposed to head up to Timber Peak to go hunting. He never returned. My ex-husband—Roger—came back to Whisper Hollow as soon as I called him. He led a group of searchers, but they found no evidence Avery had ever walked into those woods. The store he normally bought his gear from hadn't seen him that day. Roger stayed for two months before finally giving
up and returning to the city. It almost pulled us back together, but Whisper Hollow is a dangerous place for him, so I told him to leave. He wasn't born here, and . . . the town doesn't like him. His clan is . . . different. If he stayed, Whisper Hollow would offer him up to the Lady, I fear.”

I frowned. “My grandfather told me that my father just up and left during the middle of the night. He never said anything about Avery disappearing in the woods.” My disgust for my grandfather was rapidly escalating, even more than I thought it could. Still . . . what secret had he wanted to tell these women? And if he was truly trying to change, had impending mortality been the only reason for the shift?

“Duvall hated my son. He was furious when he found out that Tamil had gotten pregnant and that she wanted to marry Avery and have the baby. When Tamil announced they were engaged and why, well . . . the blowup was epic.” Ivy snorted, shaking her head. “The shot heard round the world, so to speak.”

Ellia nodded. “Tamil showed up at my doorstep, begging me to let her stay here. I had been helping her learn how to use her gifts. Lila had asked me to take part in Tamil's training—lessons that I could show her. I took her in, but Duvall insisted she come home the next week, and neither Tamil nor I dared go against his wishes. Lila did her best to intervene, but he insisted.”

My ears perked up.
Training?
“You helped my mother with her training? I thought only another spirit shaman could do that.”

“We did what we could, child.” Oriel laughed. She always looked like the cat who'd swallowed the canary, but she managed to make it appealing instead of a threat. “Your mother's gifts were incredibly strong. She would have taken over from your grandmother if all had gone as planned. But the minute we found out she was pregnant, we had to stop. Working with the spirits while pregnant is not the best idea. To be honest, we don't know if what she was doing affected you or not, since she was four months gone by the time she let anybody know.”

Four months.
I frowned. “Why did she wait so long to say anything?”

Ivy glanced over at Ellia, who nodded. “We think she and Avery kept it a secret so your grandfather couldn't force her to have an abortion, and when they did reveal that you were on the way, they told a lot of people all at once so the word got around. Duvall would have made her get rid of you, you know.”

Stunned, I sat back and mulled over everything that I had learned in the past ten minutes. The three women waited quietly, and I was grateful to them for that.

One: I had a grandmother I never knew about. A grandmother who looked close to my age and was a shapeshifter.

Two: My father may not have run out on my mother—he seemed to have disappeared as silently and abruptly as Tamil. Which brought to mind the question: If they
had
left town, had she caught up with him? Had they intended to come back for me, but been unable to?

Three: My grandfather had a secret he felt he could no longer keep hidden, and had died hours before he was to reveal it.

Four: My mother was incredibly talented with her gifts. And on top of that, her training may have affected me, since she had been pregnant with me while she was learning. I let the information settle in, then glanced over at Ivy.

Suddenly hungry for answers, I decided to put to rest some of the questions that I'd been carrying around my entire life. I slowly let out a long breath. “What else can you tell me about my father? My grandmother didn't want to talk about him, and I didn't dare mention him in front of my grandfather. What was he like?”

“My son loved your mother, Kerris. Please know that. His last name was Forrester. When I left his father, I went back to my maiden name of Primrose, but I left Avery with his father's name. Avery liked to cook. He loved rockabilly music, he drove an old pickup truck. His favorite color was green, and he loved hot dogs and pizza and lasagna. He was a smart man and had planned on going to college until Tamil got pregnant, but he adjusted quickly. In fact, the day they broke the news, he went over to the newspaper and secured himself
a job with Earl—the publisher of the
Whisper Hollow Gazette
. He also asked me if he could have his grandmother's wedding ring to give to Tamil. He had already proposed, I gather, but hadn't been able to give her a ring.” Her smile faded away. “I don't know if he ever got the chance. I never saw the ring again after that evening.”

I paused, then asked one more question. “You said he was a shapeshifter. So he was her guardian? And how does that affect me? I've never even had a whiff of that ability.”

“Yes, he was. And as for you, when shapeshifters mate with spirit shamans, the daughters come out with the spirit shaman ability—not the shapeshifting one. You would only be able to shift your shape if your mother hadn't been a spirit shaman. If she had just been . . . well . . . a
typical
human, you would have had the ability. The shapeshifting gene is dominant. We can talk more about that later,” Ivy said.

And that was enough for the night. There were a million other things I wanted to know, but they would keep. I slid over to her side and hesitantly wrapped my arms around her. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me. Thank you for . . . being here.”

She looked startled, but hugged me back, kissing me on the forehead. “Kerris, you don't know how many times over the years I almost sent you a note, or stopped you on the way home from school. But Duvall . . .” With a shudder, she shook her head. “He was a dangerous man.”

I shook my hair out of my eyes and gave Ivy a soft smile. “What did the ring look like? Your mother's ring? If I happen to find it somewhere when I go through the trunks and things in the house, I can at least give it back to you.” I wanted to comfort her—to do something to make up for the way my grandfather had treated her and her son.