Page 16

I yawned. As I struggled to sit up, I wondered where I was, but then I remembered.

Home. I was home. For the first time in a long while, I had slept soundly.

When I’d pulled into town it had been past seven.

After stopping to grab a burger and fries and a few things at the local convenience store, I reached the house around quarter past eight.

I’d been exhausted. After setting up the litter boxes in the utility room and locking the cats in there for the night, I called Peggin to let her know I was back in town. After that, I dropped on the sofa to think about what to do next. The next thing I knew, it was morning.

Stumbling to the bathroom, I showered, then settled in at the vanity.

I grimaced. I looked as tired as I felt.

Circles underscored my eyes, but they would clear up with enough water and a good night’s sleep.

My eyes were dark today—they varied from almost golden to a deep brown depending on my mood. Right now, they were mostly bloodshot.

I brushed my hair and braided the long, brunette strands to keep them out of my face while they dried. At thirty-three, I had yet to see a gray hair, for which I was grateful. As I shifted, looking for my bra and panties, I caught the reflection of the mark on my back.

A reminder of what I was.

The birthmark looked like a tattoo. In the center of my back, it was right above my butt like a natural-born tramp stamp. It was the shape of a crow standing on a crescent moon, and it was jet black. The mark of a spirit shaman.

I slid on my panties and fastened my bra.

At a solid size eight and a 38F cup, I was happy enough with my body.

I liked my curves—and I had plenty of them.

I jammed my feet into my jeans, pulled on a snug V-neck sweater and patted my stomach.

I needed to find a gym. I loved working out, favoring weight-lifting and the stationary bike.

Unlike so many women, I ate what I liked, preferring meat and vegetables and the occasional pasta dish.

I loved my junk food, too, but tried to limit it to a few times a week.

But I was a caffeine freak, and I made no apologies for my addiction.

Finally, I was ready to face the day.

You mean, face a new way of life, don’t you?

Fine. Face a new life. Happy now?

Yeah, I guess so.

Snorting—I usually won most of the arguments I held with myself—I wandered into the kitchen. Next order of the day: secure caffeine. Life always looked better after a pot of coffee.

Morning light filtered through the kitchen window, silver from the overcast sky.

The kitchen was spacious, with an eat-in nook—a large window by the table overlooked the backyard.

I ran my hands along the smooth countertops.

My grandparents had renovated during the time I’d been gone.

The laminate had been replaced by quartz; the white cabinets had been switched out for dark.

All the appliances were stainless steel, and tile on the floor had replaced the checkerboard linoleum.

But the walls were still the same warm gold color they had always been, and the kitchen still felt cozy.

On the counter stood a shiny espresso machine. I spotted a grinder and a container of beans. Grandma had loved her caffeine and I’d inherited my addiction from her. Grandpa Duvall had preferred tea—strong and bitter, like him.

I peeked in the cupboards. Tidy shelves were filled with packaged foods.

The refrigerator, however, was spotless and empty, with just the bottle of creamer I’d bought when I pulled into town.

When I’d called Peggin to tell her I was coming home, she had promised to clean it out for me. One less task I’d have to deal with.

I pulled a couple of shots of espresso and added creamer. As I carried my mug to the table, the phone on the kitchen wall rang, startling me out of my thoughts.

Who the hell was that? Peggin was out of town till Monday night, and she was the only person who knew I had come home, besides my lawyer. Hesitating, almost hoping it was a telemarketer, I picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Kerris? You’re really back! Peggin called me. You got my letter, I trust? I’m sorry about your grandparents, my dear.”

Ellia. No matter how many years it had been, I could never forget the lilting sound of her voice. When I was little, I’d clutch my grandmother’s hand as we followed Ellia into the graveyard. She would sing, leading the way, her violin in hand. I had been mesmerized by her songs.

I propped the receiver on my shoulder, shrugging to hold it up to my ear as I peeked in the various drawers.

“I was going to call you before I left Seattle, but figured it would be best to talk in person. Grandma Lila came to me in a dream; she told me things are happening in town. What’s going on? ”

“There have been stirrings in the forest for the past few years. The Lady has been overly active, and the spirits are on edge. Penelope’s having a hard time keeping them reined in.”

I frowned. Penelope was in charge of holding the Veil closed. That she was having problems spelled trouble. And when the Lady of the Lake was hungry, nobody was safe.

“What changed? Has Veronica been at it again?”

Veronica played both sides. Both friend and foe, depending on her mood, most of the time she ignored the living. But when she thought up some agenda, she’d turn the town on its ears. I was thirteen when Veronica decided to throw a grand ball for the dead. The results had been hair-raising.

Ellia paused. “No, I don’t think so. I have my suspicions, but I don’t want to discuss them over the phone.

Over the past few months, encounters with Haunts and the Unliving have increased.

Since your grandmother’s death, the dead have been raising hell.

I’ve tried to play the shadows to sleep, but my songs won’t work without a spirit shaman. ”

I licked my lips. I’d have to take charge faster than I thought.

On the night of the new moon, the lament singers and spirit shamans would go to the graveyards to calm the dead who had not yet passed beyond the Veil.

And when the dead went walking, they’d corral them and send them back to the grave.

The Veil existed between the worlds, like a massive transit station for the dead. A nebulous place of mist and fire and ice, the Veil housed spirits who hadn’t detached themselves from the world of the living. They weren’t ready to cross the threshold and move Beyond.

Around the world, the line between realms was usually well-defined, and it was easy for the Gatekeepers to guard the dead and keep them reined in, but in Whisper Hollow, things were different.

The Veil was nebulous here, and ghosts walked easier.

Now, with Grandma Lila dead, the door had been thrown open.

Grandma Lila had been a strong woman, though Grandfather fought her every step of the way. Oddly enough, Grandma Lila hadn’t been paired with a shapeshifter. I wondered if that would be my fate as well, but there was no one I could ask now that she was gone.

I shook off my thoughts. “When can we meet?”

“Tonight, at my house? Six p.m. You remember where I live, don’t you?”

“Fogwhistle Way. I don’t remember the number, but I remember your house.”

“That’s right—337 Fogwhistle Way. It’s good to have you back, Kerris. I’m sorry about your grandmother. We needed her. And now, we need you.” With that, Ellia hung up.

I glanced out the kitchen window as a flock of crows rose into the sky from the maple in the backyard. They circled the house once, then headed south. A storm was coming in off the Strait of Juan de Fuca. My gut said that it would barrel through the forest and hit us by afternoon.

Deciding I needed more caffeine, I pulled another couple of shots, then checked on the cats, setting down fresh food and water for them. They were freaked, of course, but they were safe.

“I’ll let you out when I get back from town. Until then, you just stay in there.” I wanted to go through the house first to make certain there was nothing that could hurt them, or allow them to escape.

Reaching for my jacket and purse, I paused, my hand on the doorknob. A shadow rolled past. It reached out to examine me. Cold and clammy, it tickled over my skin before vanishing. Whirling, I glanced around the kitchen. But the room was empty.

“I’m home, Grandma,” I whispered. “I just hope you’ll be around when I need you.”

A goose walked over my grave. Whatever was going on, I knew I was going to need all the help I could get—from both sides of the grave.