The Forest of Aisling: Dream of the Shapeshifter (The Willow Series Book 1) (14 page)

 “The papers I gave Powers are showing that I’m
Dad’s legal representative and able to make decisions for him in case he can no
longer do so. I’m taking you back to the hotel.  Don’t argue with me,
Wils, I need you to be there and just let me handle this.”

“Need me to be there? Where will you be?” I asked.

“I have to get back to Conor’s house.  I want
to see what the doc has to say.” His eyes shot a resigned stare. “Give your mom
a call and let her know what’s going on.”

“Of course, Dad.” My voice broke.  I felt an
overwhelming surge of emotion, like I needed to cry.  We pulled up to the
hotel entrance and Dad parked.

“I shouldn’t be too long, but if this thing
stretches out I’ll give you a call.” Unfamiliar bags framed his bloodshot eyes.
He had a look of exhaustion about him that I’d never seen before.  I
wished I could help out somehow.

“Ok,” I answered as we shared an awkward
hug.  I once more reached into my pocket, taking hold of the Kleenex and
its contents, and watched as he drove away. Uncontrollable trembling took over
as I stood in the parking lot, damp and chilled, growing more anxious with each
second.  Anxious for my dad, anxious for my grandpa, and anxious for
myself and what might lie ahead for all of us. 

A gradual dullness of vision accompanied by a
semi-circle shape made its way directly over my left eye. Its jagged edges,
flashing with electricity, blinded me while I fumbled with the hotel room
key.  I searched the door with my fingers and found the slot to run the
card through. 

Once inside I stumbled along, hugging the wall,
making my way to the bathroom.  The flashing light show completely blocked
my field of vision as the throbbing began.  I felt my way along the
bathroom counter and grabbed hold of the toiletry bag sitting there, already
opened and in disarray.  It didn’t take me long to find the familiar
bottle that had helped ease this nightmare headache in the past.  I
quickly opened it, popped out my Advil, and swallowed them down with a glass of
water.   Once I found the bed I curled up into a fetal position,
covering my head with a pillow, blocking out any light, except for the flashes
discharging in my brain.

“Thank God I didn’t go with Dad,”  I moaned to
myself.

 I’d only had a migraine this bad maybe three
other times in my life, and those times I stayed in bed for over fifteen
hours.  The excruciating discomfort was beginning to rear its ugly head
just as my cell phone went off.  I knew there was no way I’d be able to
answer, let alone talk.  I was worried that it might be Dad so I pulled it
out of my pocket and drew it close to my face, squinting to find a clear spot
within the splashes of electricity now moving to the right side of my
head.  I was able to make out a few of the numbers and recognized
Kelleigh’s phone number.
I can’t talk to her now.

I pulled the pillow back over my head and sought
refuge in the darkness.  My wonder pills began to work fairly quickly,
extinguishing the worst part of the pain within an hour.  The electrical
circuits had stopped and were now replaced with a blurry darkness, thanks to
the pillow still shielding my tired eyes.  The relief began slowly
creeping through my cells, allowing me to drift off to sleep relatively pain-free. 

The rest was peaceful at first but
short-lived.  Indiscriminate images floated in and out of my dreams,
wordless and without reason.  Just images.  No dialogue. Dad, angry
with someone, Grandpa crying, Kelleigh laughing, Mom smiling and talking,
and…Grandma. 

Grandma Shannah from the pictures Grandpa had
shown me. They were like a slideshow of her life.  All the other pictures
stopped except hers, over and over and over again, the same images. 
Until, finally, the last one, blurred at first, from a distance at first,
gradually obtained clarity and closeness until I could make it out.  The
picture was of Grandma in a coffin. Not the elderly Grandma, but the young
one.  The picture stayed frozen in my dream, until a subtle change
occurred.  Her eyes opened and she looked straight at me, staring into my
unconscious self. Then she began to age and grow older and older and older
until her image decomposed, leaving nothing but her eyes still staring. 
The familiarity in those eyes jolted me to consciousness.

I woke up with a start and sat up in bed,
temporarily forgetting about the last remnants of throbbing in my head.

“Oww,” I mumbled, realizing that I had gotten up
way too fast.  I grabbed my head and made my way to get a cold washcloth.
I placed it on my forehead and immediately felt a sense of relief.  The pain
passed quickly once my blood pressure stabilized.  I was able to visualize
the haunting image of my dream – my grandmother’s eyes and the realization of
where I’d seen them before. In the other dreams, the foretelling dreams, the
wolf dreams.  My grandmother’s eyes were the same as the large gray
wolf’s…golden…piercing, and calling to me.

Luckily, the migraine sensations were fading,
allowing me to reorient myself.  First things first, I knew I had to call
Mom and fill her in on the latest.  She’d be shocked.  I left her a
brief message on her cell and on the phone at home. Next I decided to check my
messages: one from Bram, two from Kelleigh. 

I read Bram’s first:

                                            
All ok Willow? Let me know what I can do. 

 I stared at the screen, unsure what he could
do, if anything.  I read Kelleigh’s text and decided I’d better get in
touch with her first.  It felt like it’d been a while since I’d seen her
and Quinn.  She answered on the first ring, anxious to hear how things
were going. I explained as much as I could to her, focusing on the new
development with Grandma.  She knew a little about it from her dad who’d
spoken to Uncle Eagan. 

While we chatted, I reached into my pocket looking
for a tissue and grabbed hold of the Kleenex with the odd-shaped claw.  I
laid it out on the bed and slowly unfolded it.  I ran my finger over the
base of the claw, where I noticed a piece of skin or something still clinging
to it.  I debated telling Kelleigh and decided to wait until I saw her in
person.  We made plans to get together once I heard from Dad.  I hung
up and gently picked up the claw, still in the Kleenex, and placed it on the
dresser.  While I stood there a knock came at the door.  I looked
through the peep hole and felt that tinge of excitement.

“Sorry to just stop by, but I was getting a bit
concerned,” Bram said, making his way into the room.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” I voiced, looking into his
dark eyes.  I grabbed my phone and started texting away.  I had way
too much to say to try and voice slowly.

We moved our conversation to the table and chairs
by the large picture window. I told him all about Grandma and the whole police
situation.  He looked stunned.  I decided that I needed to share the
latest bizarre happening in the car at Grandpa’s house, but a trip to the
bathroom to freshen up was in order. 

When I returned, Bram was standing in front of the
dresser with the claw in his outstretched hand.  He wasn’t aware that I
was standing right behind him, which gave me a chance to watch him examine the
claw.  He stretched out his long fingers like he was measuring the length
and did the same for the width.  He didn’t seem at all surprised about it,
more scientific than anything. I stepped to his side, and when he realized I
was there, he swung his hand with the claw towards me, raising his eyebrows in
a questioning manner.

 “Where did you get this?” he asked.

“You ready for another story?” I said the words
slowly and directly, to which he emphatically nodded yes.

We sat undisturbed while I explained the shadowy
visitation and the souvenir it had left behind.  The whole time he held
onto the claw.  He would read my text, respond with his voice, and
manipulate the claw with his fingers, turning it over and over, then ask more
questions. 

I could tell there was something familiar about it
to Bram.  He seemed more interested in the fact that the claw had been
lost rather than that a huge something or other had tried to become a hood
ornament for our rental car.

“I’m debating whether or not I should show it to
Dad," I texted.

Bram read my text then wrapped the claw up in the
Kleenex and sat it back on the table. He frowned and narrowed his eyes. “I
don’t think you want to share this with your dad just yet.”

“Why not?” I asked.

He stood up and walked to the door, peeking his
head out into the hallway. He looked right and left before shutting the door
and locking it.  He returned to his seat, leaned forward and took hold of
my hands. “Willow, don’t you think it’s time we talked about what happened that
night in the park?”

My heart began pounding.  I had a feeling that
Bram knew more about what happened to me than he had let on.  I didn’t
know if Quinn told him what he’d seen or if Bram himself had seen
anything.  After all, he wasn’t there with the others when they found me;
he was “lost” – or so he’d said.  But the way he looked that night,
disheveled, breathless, more like something major had happened to him as well.

I looked up and tried to analyze the expression in
his eyes.  They didn’t give anything away.  Slowly, I let myself sink
into the chair, all the while holding tight onto his stare.

 “What do you mean, Bram?”

 “I mean, what happened while you were lost?”
His eyes bore down on me like an investigators spotlight.

“You know what happened,” I texted, glad to be
looking at a keypad and not into his eyes.

He moved further down to the edge of his chair. “I
want you to tell me, Willow. It’s important that you remember and you know you
can trust me.”

A cold shudder ran through me, my mind racing,
trying to decide what to make of his interrogation.  I sat still for
several minutes, in which time he never looked away.  Frustration took
over and before I could even stop myself I’d already texted the words, “I
turned into a wolf!!!!”

He read the text then looked at me and nodded, “I
know. I saw.”

“
You
saw?” I said aloud.

“Yes.”

“You weren’t lost?”

“No, I was following you.”

I retraced the memories of that evening in super
fast motion in my head, trying to recall who or what I’d seen while I was
changed.  Only the wolves were there, then Quinn, followed by the rest of
the group.

 “Don’t tell me you were one of the wolves?”
I asked aloud impatiently then texted when he frowned.

“No,” he answered shaking his head, “but I was
there.”

“How… where?”

“What do you remember?” His eyes narrowed to a
squint.

I stood up and paced, reciting the whole series of
events during my transformation. He watched me intently, focusing on my
lips.  “Were you visible to me?” I finally asked after exhausting my
memory.

“Not necessarily visible.”  He stood,
grabbing hold of my shoulders and stopped me in my tracks.

“‘Not necessarily visible’, what the heck does
that mean?”  I didn’t want to play any more guessing games. “Just tell
me!”

“Willow, I want you to remember; please, just
think,” he said.

I closed my eyes yet again and went back to that
night, the forest, the clearing, and the wolves.  The big gray on top of
me, its eyes…the moon…the screeching from above…wait, the screeching, the
bird.  I opened my eyes to his unfaltering stare.

“The bird?” I wondered aloud, my face pulling up
in an expression of confusion.

He frowned and squeezed my shoulders. “The
eagle
,
not the bird
,
” he answered, his voice edgy in protest at my choice of
words.

I dropped to my seat and looked up at him. His
raised-eyebrow expression was poised for whatever might come out of my
mouth.  And yet, nothing did come out.  I just sat there, trying to
process another bizarre bit of information.  It was hard enough to accept
what I’d become that night but now to think that Bram had also changed brought
me to my knees. We stared at each other for several minutes, eyes
locked.   “What does it all mean?”

“Sorry?”

I stood again and texted my message, hoping for an
answer, an explanation, anything.

“Good question and one I’ve asked myself more
times than I can even remember.  I don’t know what it all means, but I do
have an idea why it’s happening.”

“Do tell.” I spoke slowly.

He once again grabbed my shoulders and eased me
back into the chair then sat down himself.  We faced each other with our
knees touching as he began to speak.

“Ok, just listen to me now; ask your questions
after I explain.   I know Kelleigh has been doing some research on
shapeshifting, trying to help you figure out what’s going on.  She told
you that you’re a shapeshifter, right?”

I nodded my head.  “Wait a minute, you
weren’t supposed to know!” I texted angrily.

A small grin passed over his lips.

I squinted my eyes in irritation. “Quinn,” I said,
certain he was the tattler.

“He was worried about you.  He didn’t tell
anyone else.  Anyway, you realize that you’re a shapeshifter?”

Bram nodded his head along with me which felt
really weird. “Well, I’m one as well.  My animal is the eagle.  I
found out about this just before my grandfather passed away.”

I began to open my mouth to ask a question when he
pressed his finger to my lips. “Please, listen first, ask questions second.”

My shoulders slumped as though I had just been
reprimanded by a teacher. “Ok.”

He smiled and kissed the back of my hand.

“Ok.  You and I, we’re two of three people
who have ancestors who date back to the earliest days of Ireland, days when the
Celts themselves were new to this land.  Our relatives were part of a
group that had been called upon by the Tuatha de Danann to protect the earth
from a tribulation that had been placed upon it.”  

 “Tuatha de…Danann?” I asked, twisting up the
words.

 “Aye, the Tuatha de Danann are mythological
gods who appeared here long before the arrival of the Celts. They were masters
of powerful magic and ruled over Ireland for many years.  Legend tells of
numerous battles for rulership of Ireland, and the Tuatha were one of several
races that controlled this land. 

“One group the Tuatha did battle with was the
Fomorians, a wicked race made up of horrible creatures.  After the Tuatha
defeated the Fomorians and killed their king, a tribulation was placed upon the
earth by the king’s father. The Tuatha held back the curse and were able to
protect the land and managed to live peacefully for many years. But then they
were defeated and forced into exile by the final wave of invaders into Ireland,
the Milesians.”  Bram took in a long deep breath, staring into my eyes.

“The Milesians?”   I pursed my lips and
frowned.  This was really becoming too much.

Bram nodded, “Spanish Celts, or rumored to be,
anyway; they battled the Tuatha and forced them into the otherworld.  When
the Tuatha descended they were no longer able to hold off the Fomorian curse,
so they chose humans and gifted them with certain abilities in order to keep
the tribulation at bay. If the tribulation is allowed to realize itself, well,
that would lead to devastation. That’s where we come in. I mean, where our
ancestors came in all those years ago...and us now.”