Shadow Silence (7 page)

That reminded me, I needed new bras. Big boobs meant a lot of wear and tear on the support system, and I went through bras every six months, even though I treated them with loving care. I was passing Elsa's Lingerie & Lux Shop, so I dropped in for my first stop of the day.

Elsa was in her eighties, but she was also still as pulled together as she had probably been every day of her life. She never went anywhere without her coral lipstick, her gloves, and her Dior handbag.

“Kerris, how are you?”

I smiled and leaned on the counter. “I need new bras, Miss Elsa. Did you get in the brand that I like?”

“Right here—Elomi, 38F. Are these the styles you wanted?” She showed me two different choices, and I bought two of each.

Purchase in hand, I gave her a little wave and headed for my next stop. Peggin's gift was easy. I knew she had been eyeing a new dress, but had bemoaned the cost. She wouldn't be able to buy it now, not if she was going to buy the house, and I also knew what shoes she wanted to go with it. The vintage shop where she had found it also carried new retro designs. The dress had a flared skirt, fitted bodice, and was printed with a gothic floral design in plum and black. The shoes were chunky heels, also a plum color to match. I asked
the clerk to box up both and, shopping bags in tow, headed for the coffee shop. Bryan should be there by now.

The Broom & Thistle was one block over from the vintage clothing shop, on Third and Cedar. I pushed through the doors just as another bone-chilling gust of wind swept past. Shivering, I glanced around the shop, hoping to see Bryan. He was there and he jumped up when he saw me, hurrying to take my bags.

“What do you want? Sit down and get warm while I order your drink.” He pressed his lips against mine while maneuvering me back to the table.

“Triple-shot hot mocha, heavy on the chocolate and whipped cream. And a slice of cherry cake, too.” I hustled into the chair, taking the bags back from him to set by the wall. We were next to a window, but the shop was well insulated. Even so, I could still feel a slight chill radiating through the glass. This winter was going to be a cold one.

As I waited for Bryan to return, I saw Nelly bussing tables. The Broom & Thistle was owned by the Brannons—Nelly was also a lounge singer and took part in the local theatrical group, and Michael was an excellent swordsman, as well as a member of the Crescent Moon Society. Michael was Irish through and through, and Nelly also had Irish roots.

Whisper Hollow was steeped in three ethnicities—Irish, Russian, and Native American. And the three backgrounds jostled with each other to attempt to create a comfortable mix of heritages.

Bryan returned, drink and cake in hand. “For you.”

I cupped the mocha with my hands, grateful to feel the heat radiating off of it. “I'm so cold. It's icy as hell out there and blowing a good one.”

“So, did you go with Peggin this morning?”

I let out a long sigh. “Yes, I did. And I don't like the place at all. She's going to buy it, though, and I guess . . . I understand why. I quit fighting her about it, because once she's gotten an idea into her head, she's not going to let go. The
best we can do now is make it as safe as possible, but there are spirits walking that house, Bryan. And I don't think all of them want to be there. And the lake . . . it's too close. The Lady's out there and hungry. She's riled up this winter, and I'm not certain if it's because of . . .” I paused.

“Magda?” Bryan's tone dipped. He held my gaze.

I hung my head, not wanting to talk about her, but then nodded. “Yeah, Magda.”

Magda Volkov was Ellia and Penelope's mother. The woman was well over 115 years old, but she was going strong. Back in Russia, Magda had been a foe of the
дух мастер
, the spirit masters who worshiped the goddess Morena. Basically, it was the same idea as the spirit shamans and Morrígan. Magda had been a dedicated witch in the service of Baba Volkov—Mother Wolf Witch, a forest crone–goddess powerful in the ways of shadow magic and necromancy.

Even though they had immigrated to the United States, Magda had wanted her daughters to follow in her ways, but both had repudiated the sinister magic and so Magda had killed Penelope and had cursed Ellia, effectively writing off both daughters. Penelope had become the Gatekeeper, and Ellia—a prodigy from birth—had been called into service by the Morrígan as my grandmother's lament singer.

Magda had retreated to the woods of Whisper Hollow, and had integrated herself into Cú Chulainn's Hounds, the mortal enemies of the Morrígan and her servants. Now, the Hounds and Magda were railing against the town, for control and dominance, and it was up to the Crescent Moon Society and me to stop them from succeeding.

“I don't know if Magda's behind the Lady being so hungry, but I wouldn't put it past her to stir up things. As it is, I need to talk to Veronica. I've put it off as long as I could, but I need to curry her favor. There are too many spirits walking, too many of the Unliving going rogue.”

“When do you plan on doing this?” He frowned. “You
aren't going anywhere near her without Ellia and me in tow. We're a team, remember?”

I smiled softly. It felt good to have protection, and even though Bryan couldn't guard against everything that came at me, it helped bolster me up knowing that he was ready and able to follow me into the darkest shadows if need be. Even if we hadn't been pulled together as lovers, he would have made an incredible friend.

“I remember, and I promise. I'll talk to Penelope. In fact, maybe I'll stop by her tomb this afternoon. Even if she doesn't show herself during the day, she'll know I'm there and she'll hear me.” I leaned back, basking in the warmth that blasted through the heating ducts. “You know, it feels like a lifetime ago that I returned to Whisper Hollow, yet it's only been a couple of months. How does that happen? My life in Seattle seems like a long dream that I just woke up from.”

“You knew you had to return. Somewhere in your heart, you knew that it was your destiny, and so you were just marking time there.” Bryan leaned across the table to take my hands in his. His skin was warm and protective, and he brought my fingers up to his lips and kissed them gently. “I'm so glad you came home. I didn't realize how lonely I've gotten over the years.” He paused, then added, “My daughter's coming to town after the first of the year. Do you mind that she'll be here?”

That was enough to wake me out of my lazy haze. “Juliana's going to be in town?”

Bryan had been married once, back in 1950, by order of his pack. Arranged marriages were common among shifters, especially in wolf clans. Though Bryan and Katrina weren't a good match, they had a daughter together. Katrina had died in childbirth. Juliana lived in Boston. In her sixties, she looked mid-twenties. Shapeshifters aged far more slowly than humans. I had spoken with Juliana on the phone a couple of times, but never for any length, and I wondered if she would resent me.

I must have looked askance, because Bryan laughed and kissed my fingers again. “It will be fine. Don't worry yourself over it. Juliana's glad that I found you, and she accepts my role under the Morrígan as any good Tierney daughter should. She knows what our family's duty is, and she honors that duty. She'll never be called to serve, given she's a female shapeshifter, but one day she may bear a son promised to be a protector. And I would be proud if she is chosen to be one of the Sacred Mothers.”

I had never heard that term before. “Sacred Mothers?”

“Any woman who bears a child destined to be a shapeshifter guardian, a spirit shaman, or one of the lament singers is considered one of the Sacred Mothers. All spirit shamans, if they have children, are Sacred Mothers.”

“Then my mother and grandmother and great-grandmother . . .”

“Yes, they were part of the honored ones.” He smiled gently, and then said something that I had not been expecting to hear. “When we have a child, if it is a daughter, you will join them.”

I blinked. I had barely gotten used to being in a relationship, let alone thought of having children. But before I could say a word, he shook his head.

“No, don't even say it. We'll talk more about it later. We have plenty of time. So what do you want to do the rest of the day?”

“I have more shopping to do, and then I'm going to stop at Penelope's tomb on the way home. By then . . .” My phone rang and I glanced at the caller ID. Peggin. “Speak of the devil. Hold on one second.”

As I answered, Bryan cleared our table and shrugged into his jacket.

“Peggin? How did it go?”

“I'm a homeowner!” She sounded so excited that I couldn't help but smile, even though I was cringing inside.

“We've worked out an arrangement. Contingent on another
inspection, I'm getting the place for fifty-five thousand. They're anxious to unload it and with needing a new septic system and the other repairs, the owner caved at our first offer. I'll be paying them five hundred a month, with three thousand for the option fee—that will go toward the purchase price after a year. Three hundred of the rent each month will be put toward house payments. After a year, they'll raise that to four hundred. Of course, if I change my mind, none of that's considered equity, not until I've paid ten thousand total. In a year, I might qualify for a loan to pay it off, given I'll have put some money into the house and been there awhile.”

I congratulated her. “So, when's moving day?”

“I was hoping you could help me on Saturday? I might as well get myself situated in there and start cleaning up the inside. My landlord has offered to let me out of this month's rent if I find a place soon enough.” She sounded excited, so I decided to just roll with it.

“Of course I can help. Hold on.” I muted the phone and motioned to Bryan. “Can you help Peggin and me this weekend? We're moving her into the house.” I must have looked horribly grumpy because he stifled a groan.

“I'll be there. What do you think she wants as a housewarming present?”

“A new house.”

“Something more practical.”

I thought for a moment. “Well, she needs someone to repair the chimney and sweep it out.”

“You got it.”

I conveyed the information to Peggin. “Bryan says find someone to fix and clean the chimney as his housewarming gift.”

She let out a loud squeak. “Tell him I adore him. I'll call around today. Are you going to the concert in the park tonight?”

“We were planning on it.” I grinned. Everybody in town would end up at the concert. That was just a given.

“Then I'll see you there.” And with that, she hung up.

I stared at my phone. “Well, it's a done deal. She's taking the house.” I wanted to tell Bryan my dream, but once again, my lips wouldn't move and the words were frozen in my throat. So, instead, I said, “I want you to do me a favor. When we move Peggin into the house, pay attention to what you feel. There are things the Morrígan won't let me talk about—literally. I need to make certain that . . .” Once again, the words wouldn't come.

“I think I understand. All right. I have to get back to work. But I'll call you in a while. Dinner tonight at my house before the concert? I'll grill some steaks. You can bring dessert.” He waggled his eyebrows and I let out a snort, the tension easing back.

“Oh, I'll bring dessert all right. And maybe something a little sweet as well as spicy.” With a laugh, I leaned across the table to catch his lips with mine, easing into the kiss. He let out a soft “Mmm” and I wanted to climb over the table right then and there, but restrained myself. A moment later, I softly pulled away. “I'll see you later. All of you.” And, pursing my lips, I blew him another kiss, then gathered my bags and braced myself for the chill of the outdoors.

Ninety minutes later, I had finished half of my shopping and was trudging back to my car, laden down with bags and boxes. As I reached the park and was stowing my purchases in the trunk, I heard a sound that was suspiciously familiar. I glanced over at one of the trees near the edge of Beacon Park. The old cedar soared into the air, so tall and wide that it could shelter the entire circle of benches that ran beneath the overhanging branches.

The trunk of the cedar was ringed by ferns, waist high, behind the benches. Something was scuttling from within the fronds. I could see the faint movement as they wavered, even though they were sheltered from the wind by the massive boughs.

I slammed the trunk shut and then slowly crossed the
sidewalk to the park, heading across the sodden grass toward the tree. “Who's hiding in there? I hear you. Come out.”

No answer, but another shuffle in the undergrowth told me they had heard me.

“Come on, answer me. I'm Kerris Fellwater, the spirit shaman, and I know you're there.” I kept my voice light but firm, and pushed a little magic behind it.

A moment later, the fronds on one of the larger ferns parted, opening to reveal an odd, misshapen face peering out. The creature was the color of sage, and about two feet tall, bipedal with long spindly arms and legs. Its head was flattened, its face lumpy with what looked like odd knots. Warts, maybe, but I wasn't betting on it. The creature's ears, though, were long and pointed, overhanging its head, and the eyes flickered with a pale lemon-colored light.
One of the forest Fae.
It had to be.

Nature spirits were part and parcel to the area—to all wild areas, actually—but I hadn't noticed them much till my return home. Then I began to remember that as a child I saw them, all around. Even into my teens, I had known they were there, though they were harder to see when my hormones hit and puberty kicked in. But now, the ability was coming back.

I was about two yards away from the creature when I stopped, not wanting to spook it. Kneeling down, I balanced myself by holding on to one of the benches. The creature winced and I realized that it recognized I was touching iron—the Fae hated wrought and cast iron, though they could and did touch silver and gold, and sometimes steel.