The Forest of Aisling: Dream of the Shapeshifter (The Willow Series Book 1) (20 page)

“No, that’s the one good thing; there’s nothing
abnormal in the tissue work showing anything questionable.  But that’s
also the strange thing; short of them doing a complete autopsy, they’re unable
to pinpoint an exact cause of death.  Before all this came up, they just
concluded that it was most probably heart-related or something along that
line.  But they’ve looked at her heart and major organs. 
Everything’s checked out.

“They want to do an autopsy.  Conor’s never
going to allow it.”  Dad leaned back into his chair and rested his hand on
a large manila envelope.  He lifted it up and held it towards me. “Here’s
the order from the police.  It says in situations of questionable death an
autopsy is always required. Don’t know how I’m going to tell him; just when
he’s starting to recover. ” Dad threw the envelope back on the table.

“When do they want to do this?” Fear shot through
me at the prospect of what the authorities may find in Shannah’s body.  I
know Bram said that once a guardian dies, they become like all other humans,
but something obviously had kept that from happening to Grandma.

“Right away.  Eagan is going to try to reason
with them and see if he can buy some time.  He has a friend in London, a
retired forensic pathologist.  Conor knows the man as well, and Eagan
thinks he may be more open to the whole idea if it comes from someone he
knows.”

“So now you’re waiting to hear from Eagan?”

“Yes,” answered Dad as the phone rang.  It
was Eagan, letting him know that his friend would be able to help out and
should be in Ireland the next evening.  The police were in agreement with
letting him officiate at the autopsy and had everything arranged for the
morning after his arrival.

“Now, the hard part – telling Conor,” Dad mumbled
as he set down the phone.

“I’d like to go with you.”

“I don’t know, Wil, this could get pretty ugly.”

“It already is ugly, Dad.  I just think maybe
my being there can help.  Grandpa responded to me at the hospital,
remember?”

Dad grabbed his jacket and slowly put it on
keeping his eyes on me the whole time.  He shook his head and with a frown
agreed.

“Sure, you can come.  Sometimes I forget that
you’re not a kid anymore.  Your mom would be proud of how you’re handling
all this.  I know I am.”

He reached his hand out to me and pulled me in for
a hug.  The faded smell of his aftershave filled my nose, and memories of
those hugs and how many times they’d comforted me took over.  We held on
for a minute, then made our way to the hospital.

CORONARY.  The sign was a stark reminder of
the seriousness of Grandpa’s condition. Dad and I held hands as we headed down
the polished tile floors of the hospital’s third floor.  Gurneys,
wheelchairs, and IV holders littered the hallway.  Nurses’ voices could be
heard all up and down the corridor, some laughing, some serious and muffled. I
recognized the nurse from when I was there with Uncle Eagan, as she shot Dad
and me a warm hello from across the room.

Dad smiled and stood at the doorway to room
312.  The nurse stepped over and whispered to us that Grandpa was doing
well and had even been able to eat a
wee bit
of his dinner. She thought
he was improving quickly and should be able to go home soon.  We thanked
her as we stepped into the little, dark room.

Tentatively, Dad made his way to the side of
Grandpa’s bed.  He stared down at the frail little man. Grandpa had his
eyes closed and I watched as Dad stared at his father.  I could only
imagine what was running through his mind.

After a few minutes Grandpa began stirring, moving
his feet and stretching out his fingers.  He slowly opened his eyes,
fluttering them in disbelief as he focused on Dad.  A trace of a smile
crept across his weather-worn face while he reached out his hand.

“Jacky,” he said in a low, raspy voice. 

Dad grabbed his hand. “Hello, Da.” He spoke
softly, not even a hint of the anger that had been there for so many years.
“How’re you feeling?”

“Eh, you know, I’ve seen better days,” he
answered, taking hold of Dad’s hand.  “I’m so very happy to see you,
Jacky.  It means the world to me to have you here.” His voice cracked and
he began coughing.

Dad stepped over to the side table, grabbed a
glass, and poured water into it, handing it to Grandpa. He struggled to grip
the glass, so Dad held it up to his lips.

I stayed back at the threshold of the room
watching intently the interaction between father and son.  It bothered me
that I was still in the dark as to what transpired between the two of them so
many years ago.  While I stood there, lost in my own thoughts, Dad focused
his attention my way and tilted his head, motioning for me to join him in the
room.  I hesitated, not wanting to interrupt the moment between him and
his father. 

Grandpa turned his head my way and smiled broadly.
“Willow, dear, join us,” his voice barely audible.

I stepped into the room and joined Dad at Grandpa’s
bedside. His smile couldn’t hide his vulnerable condition.  He appeared
weak and even older than when I last saw him.  He grabbed my hand and looked
deeply into my eyes. His eyes looked even more brilliant against the blue
blanket nestled up to his chin.

“I’m very happy to see you as well, Willow. 
I’m sorry it has to be in a hospital; not a comfortable place for us all to
catch up, now is it?” 

“It’s ok Grandpa, I’m just glad you’re doing so
much better.” The word Grandpa slipped out without any thought at all, and
judging by the lack of reaction from Dad, I finally felt free to refer to Conor
as “Grandpa” in front of him.

We engaged in some small talk for the next few
minutes while the nurse checked his vitals and made her rounds.  After she
left, Dad pulled up a couple of chairs and we sat on either side of Grandpa’s
bed.  I held onto his hand, feeling as though I should rub it between my
own or blow on it, it was so cold.  He gripped tightly and I placed my
other hand over his, hoping to bring him warmth.

“Da, I know Eagan has been keeping you up to date
with all the goings-on with the police and the investigation into Ma’s passing...”

Grandpa stiffened without letting go of my
hand.  “It’s a bunch of nonsense, Jacky. What is wrong with the garda, have
they gone quite mad?  Saying that they can’t find the cause for my
Shannah’s death.  She died; it had to have been her heart just
stopped.  I can’t allow them to do an autopsy.  That was something
she would have never agreed to.  In fact, years ago, when we made up our
wills, she made me promise that no such thing would ever happen.”

Grandpa’s voice began cracking again, so I held
the glass of water to his lips.

He nodded appreciatively, drank, and then
continued, “You know your mother, she was an old soul, didn’t like science and
such poking around into things like death.”  His eyes began to fill with
tears and he held them shut for a few minutes.  I looked over at
Dad.  He just shook his head.

“Da, I know this is a lot to deal with, but the
fact of the matter is the police will do an autopsy with or without your
consent just because questions have been raised.” Dad leaned in closer, hoping
to avoid earshot of anyone passing.

“And who raised these questions, may I ask?”
Grandpa said, becoming agitated, trying to pull himself into an upright
position.

Dad stood and leaned over the bed, hands on
Grandpa’s shoulders in an effort to keep him lying down. “Easy now, Da, you
need to stay calm.  I don’t know who raised these questions.  All the
police care about is that they’ve been raised.  Eagan has arranged for a
friend of yours, Jim Fitzgerald, to look into everything and find out what may
be going on.  Trust us to take care of this, will you please, Da?”  A
sense of urgency filled Dad’s words as he held onto his father’s
shoulders.  He lowered himself so they were practically eye to eye.

Grandpa slumped back down into his bed and exhaled
a deep long breath.  He looked up at Dad and grabbed his arm.  “I
trust you, Jacky; take care of this for your Ma…and me.” A single tear fell
down his cheek and made its way to the blue blanket lying across his
chest.  A wet mark stained the blanket and spread out like cracking
glass. 

Dad lowered himself and embraced his father,
gently whispering into his ear.  A slight gasp came from Conor as he held
tightly onto his son. Dad assured Grandpa everything would be ok and that we’d
return soon.  “Just keep getting better now, ok?” 

Grandpa simply nodded and smiled.  He looked
my way, gave a wink and a slight grasp of his hand then let go and closed his
eyes.  I wanted to kiss his cheek but decided against it and quietly
stepped out of the room.  Dad was already a few steps ahead of me and
didn’t slow his pace.  I quickly caught up with him and saw the flushed
look on his face.  I grabbed his hand as we made our way out of the
hospital.

The car ride back to the hotel was subdued, marked
only by occasional bouts of rain.  I had lots of questions for Dad but
wanted to let him break the silence when he was ready.  Turned out he
wasn’t ready for several hours.  I sat with him in the hotel room while he
lost himself in the pile of paperwork on the table. 

The stillness was finally interrupted by the
buzzing of my phone.  A message popped up from Kelleigh.  I had
completely forgotten about getting back in touch with her and Quinn.  Dad
suggested I get together with them since we’d be going home soon.  I
hadn’t even thought about leaving with everything that’d been going on the last
few days.  So much was still unresolved; I found it hard to think about
home. 

Kelleigh picked me up at the hotel and told me
she’d arranged for us all to get together at her house.  Waiting there at
the front door were Bram and Quinn.  Bram came up and hugged me, then
asked how everything was.   I told them about the autopsy, Grandpa,
and what I knew, which really didn’t feel like a lot.

We had the house to ourselves since Kelleigh and
Quinn’s folks were out for the evening. Kelleigh motioned for us to make
ourselves comfortable in the living room.  Bram took his place next to me
on the couch, with Quinn sitting on the floor and Kelleigh across from us on a
chair.  I could see the curiosity filling her eyes.  She was the kind
of person who didn’t like to be in the dark.  I’d only known her for a
week but that was one quality that was painfully obvious about her.

“So what about the shifting, Willow, any more
occurrences?” she asked, focusing her full attention on me.

I glanced over at Bram and wondered just how much
we should confide in these two.  We hadn’t really had a chance to talk
about it ourselves so I wasn’t sure where to go in answering her question.

“Kelleigh, Willow and I need to speak to my da
first before we can go into anything,” Bram answered, taking my hand.

“What does that mean?” asked Kelleigh getting
noticeably agitated. “Does Bram speak for you now, Willow?” Sarcasm oozed from
her voice.

I immediately budged and let go of Bram’s hand,
feeling uncomfortable at Kelleigh’s assertion.  Never being one to let
anyone speak for me, I found myself questioning how and why I was so willing to
sit there and let Bram do it.   I scooted a few inches away from him
on the couch and looked Kelleigh squarely in the eyes. “I can speak for myself,
Kelleigh.  It’s that Bram has been so helpful during all this and, thanks
to his dad, we’ve come up with a few answers as to what may be going on.”

 I looked over to Bram whose eyes were
following the fluid movement of Quinn’s hands.  He glanced my way,
narrowed his eyes, then shot back to Quinn.  When Quinn had finished
relaying the conversation, Bram whipped out his phone and began texting. “We
need to speak to Da before we share anything with them.” 

 “Bram, be realistic, they know so much
already.  Maybe they can help.  I’m not comfortable keeping them in
the dark after all they’ve done for me and I sure don’t want to turn Kelleigh
into an enemy.”  The words spilled onto my keypad.

Bram snickered and lowered his head, nodding.
“Right on that,” he said aloud, causing Kelleigh and Quinn to look back and
forth at each other.

“Right on what?” Quinn rose to his feet and sat
down on the couch beside me.

Bram and I stared at each other before I mouthed
the words, “We need to tell them.”

Bram shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the
floor, stretching out his long legs.

Kelleigh jumped up and joined Quinn and me on the
couch.  She rested her chin on my shoulder and whispered, “You can tell us
anything; you know that, Willow.” She sighed, then shot a frown at Bram. 
He just shook his head.

For the next two hours Bram and I disclosed the
secret of my grandmother and both of our family’s connections to the Eye of
Balor and the Tuatha de Danann.  Kelleigh alternated between pacing and
sitting beside me on the couch.  Occasionally she would utter a
“fantastic” or “brilliant” as she listened intently for what I surmised must
have been the longest stretch of time she ever went without monopolizing a
conversation.

Several times, while I was in the middle of
sharing some bits of information, Bram would cut me off and offer the more
concise version of the legend.  I was completely surprised when he told
Quinn and Kelleigh about his own transformation and the ease in which he shared
his story. It was during this part of our conversation that Kelleigh was the
stillest I’d ever seen her. 

Quinn, on the other hand, was delighted and rushed
at Bram a flurry of questions about how it felt to fly, as well as how his
deafness played into the whole transforming thing. 

After we’d exhausted all our explanations and
Quinn and Kelleigh had come to an end of questioning, Bram offered to take me
back to the hotel.  Kelleigh hugged me, still in a quiet, introspective
frame of mind and vowed, “This won’t go any farther than me and Quinn, ok?”

I shook my head.  I wasn’t at all worried
about divulging the whole truth to them.  It had to be told.  They
knew so much already; to keep them in the dark would have been ludicrous.

Before I left Bram to go back to the hotel room, we
made plans to see each other again.  He said that his father was anxious
to meet and give me Shannah’s pendant along with his latest findings.  I
was beyond excited.  I couldn’t wait to finally meet his dad and maybe get
some clearer answers.  The fact that Bram’s dad appeared to be the only
living soul with any kind of history of the Triquetra was scary.  I
couldn’t help but think it was a terrible burden to place on one man’s
shoulders.

I said my good-byes to Bram and walked along the
winding path to the hotel lobby.  Once again the weather was turning
crazy.  I pulled up my hood and rushed to the entrance. 

The corner of my left eye caught movement in the
four-foot-tall rhododendrons growing alongside the path; the very rhododendrons
I had seen movement in earlier.  I stopped walking, but hesitated turning
my head to look at the plants.  Instead I shifted my eyes to the far left,
trying to discern a shape of some sort.  The movement continued.  I
knew it wasn’t caused by the wind because it was too centered, not random
enough. The leaves of a single branch from the plant were swaying and
fluttering. It was then I became aware of the mist; faint at first, barely
noticeable using my peripheral vision, but definitely there. 

I closed my eyes and brought my entire body’s
attention to my auditory sense.  I focused only the plants, trying to
perceive any kind of sound. First thing I picked up on was a muffled noise,
almost imperceptible, but undeniably there.  It began with a low rhythmic
humming.  As it grew in volume, distinctions in tone and verbiage became
apparent.  Words were being said. But these words were unknown to me,
ancient and powerful.  Even though I’d never heard them before, they
touched something deep inside and sounded off an alarm.

I opened my eyes and swiftly turned my head to the
mist.  There in the mass of gray-white smoke appeared a face of hideous
distortion.  The undulating image had a single eye in the center of its
head.  Two holes pulsated below the eye and a jagged slit, which looked
like a mouth, ran from side to side.  A small version of elephant ears
rested on either side of the head. The white of the eye was road-mapped in
cobwebs of red; within the iris were the most putrid shades of green and brown
I’d ever seen, reminiscent of Easter egg dyes when they’re all mixed
together.  The abhorrent image rippled in a way that made its
grotesqueness even more pronounced. 

The single eye bore deeply into my psyche, trying
to take control of my body.  For a time I felt unable to move or even
breathe.  Unexplained feelings of hatred came over me.  A single
desire to annihilate anything and everything was taking over.  I was
losing myself.

I tried to channel thoughts of Grandma and
resistance, but felt locked up in the Eye.  I was unable to resist the way
I had in the hotel room; this force was about a thousand times stronger. Before
I reached the point of no return I became aware of a change in the mist and
felt myself returning to my senses.  Pressure on my arms told me I was
being held, but my vision was still misted over with the pulsating image. 
I could perceive words outside the image, coming from behind me.  Again
the ancient language was spoken, but this time I recognized the speaker. 

With each word he said, Bram pulled me back, away
from the mist. It appeared to grow faint until, finally the only thing left was
the gentle fluttering of a few rhododendron leaves.  I spun around
hurriedly and let myself sink into Bram’s arms.  My entire body trembled
while my vision finally came back completely.  Once my breathing returned
to normal I stepped back and stared at Bram.  For the first time since I’d
met him I saw fear in his eyes. 

The low roar of the engine was the only sound
coming from Bram’s car.  Both of us sat, speechless, dazed, and – speaking
for myself – more frightened than I’d ever been in my life.  The horrible
spectacle was still flashing before my eyes and took so much effort to
disengage from my mind that I found myself feeling exhausted from the task.

Bram’s white-knuckled driving was erratic at
times; he must have been feeling the same way.  We hoped that his father
would be able to calm our fears, or at least shed some light on this latest
encounter.

When we pulled into the driveway at Bram’s house
we were happy to see his dad sitting on the front porch, almost as though he’d
known something incredible had once again happened.  He got up, walked to
the car, and opened my door, signing to Bram all the while.  The two stood
across from each other, engaged in a deep hand-driven discussion.  I got
out of the car and wandered over to the porch, sitting on the lowest step,
happy that my heart had finally slowed down to its normal rate.  I took
advantage of their conversation and gave Dad a call.  He was on his way
back to the hospital to see Grandpa.  His voice sounded easy and calm,
something that gave me great comfort considering all the turmoil he’d been
through the past few days.  I told him I’d see him soon.

Bram came over and sat beside me on the
step.   “Willow, this is my da, Aaron O’Neill.”

 His dad leaned against the hand railing and
folded his arms across his chest as he studied me.  He stood a few inches
shorter than Bram, with graying dark brown hair.   He wore glasses,
and standing there in his dress shirt and tie, reminded me of a college
professor.  He looked very distinguished.  I could see where Bram got
his good looks.

“Nice to finally meet you, Willow,” Aaron said,
then began signing once again. “I was just telling Bram about some major
disturbances that are going on.  I believe they’re related to our
situation.”

“What kind of disturbances?” I asked, standing up.

“Despite the rains we’ve seen here in Killarney
the past few days, other parts of Ireland are going into a drought.  Water
levels at some of the lakes appear to be dropping, significantly, in a
relatively short amount of time.  It’s not only here in Ireland. 
Many parts of the U.K. are seeing major weather disturbances. I just watched a
news story on TV.  It’s really quite alarming,” he said as he wiped the
lenses of his glasses with his tie.

“But I thought the only area that the tribulation
targeted was Killarney,” I said, unsure if I remembered correctly.

“Killarney is where it begins, but the tribulation
has the potential to be a worldwide threat,” Aaron answered, returning his
glasses to his nose.

“Da thinks it’s the Fomorians trying to gain
control before we do,” Bram said as he stood beside me.

“So basically, you’re saying the tribulation
is…the Fomorians?” The dazed look on my face told Aaron he needed to elaborate.

 “Willow, the tribulation is what will occur
if the Fomorians regain control of the Eye of Balor. Balor was a
Fomorian.  It was his race that was banished from Ireland after Lugh
killed him.  No one knows for certain where they were banished to.  I
believe they were sent beneath the ocean floor off of Tory Island, but that
doesn’t really matter.  They start to make their presence known when the
Triquetra is compromised, like now. They’re always on the lookout for an
opportunity to return and lay claim to what they consider to be their
domain…Ireland.  And once they claim Ireland, being the warriors that they
are, they’ll move on to Scotland and so on until they dominate the
world.”  Aaron glanced to the sky before continuing.

“Once there’s the slightest gap in the Triquetra
they begin manipulating the weather through storms, drought, and drastic
seasonal changes.   The fact that they’re able to now control weather
all over the U.K. concerns me.  This produces an energy source for the
Fomorians to tap into. The more energy they’re able to extract, the greater
capacity they have for manifesting themselves into earthly creatures.  The
first attempt at becoming earthbound is usually the mist.  Bram mentioned
that you’ve had several encounters with it.”  Aaron spoke so matter-of-factly
that it somehow eased my mind.  Like all this talk was nothing more than a
school lecture.

“Yes. The one we just saw had a hideous face
swirling around in it,” I said, looking back over to Bram.

“Aye, Da, it was like a Cyclops, with a single
eye.  It was trying to control Willow.  When I took hold of her it
faded.” 

Aaron stepped down off the porch, rubbing his chin
in concentration.  “We need to move quickly.   First thing is to
try and find the water Triquetra pendant.  Then we may be able to find a
replacement for Lucy.  But without the pendant no one else can take over.”
Aaron began pacing, wringing his hands between signs.  “If only I’d have
gone to see Shannah before she died.  She could have confided in me what
was going on and perhaps given me the pendant.”

“There’s no way you could’ve known she was going
to die,” Bram urged, sensing the desperation in his father.

“No, but the situation was becoming dire and I
should have known the fact that Shannah entrusted her earth pendant to me meant
that she was dealing with more than she let on.  I can’t believe I didn’t
press her into telling me what was happening.”  Aaron crouched to the
ground and grabbed a nearby stick, scraping it against the concrete walkway.

I looked at Bram who only shook his head, then
stepped over to Aaron.