Autumn Thorns Read Online Free

Lady of the Lake was hungrier than usual meant nobody was safe.
    â€œWhat changed? Has Veronica been at it again?” Veronica could be friend or foe depending on her mood, though mostly she was interested in her own agenda and tended to ignore the living. But if she got her mind set to an idea and had to turn the town on its ear to achieve her goals, she wouldn’t hesitate. We had seen that when I was thirteen and Veronica decided to throw a grand ball for the dead.
    A pause. Then—“No. I have my suspicions, but I don’t want to discuss them over the phone. Let’s just say that over the past few months, things have begun to escalate with more Haunts, more Unliving. Your grandmother started to investigate, but then . . . Anyway, since her death, the dead have been walking more. I’ve been doing my best to play the shadows to sleep, but my songs won’t work right without a spirit shaman to lead the rites for me.”
    I was nodding, though she couldn’t see me. The night of every new moon, the lament singers and spirit shamans went out to the graveyards to calm the dead who had not yet passed beyond the Veil.
    The Veil was a world between the worlds—it was a transit station for the dead, in a sense. A nebulous place of mist and fire and ice, where spirits wandered, not fully detached from the world of the living, and not yet ready to cross the threshold and move on to the Beyond. In most cities and places on the planet, the line between worlds was highly 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 strong here, and so were the ghosts.
    And now, with Grandma Lila dead—without a spiritshaman to perform the rites and escort spirits into the Veil to begin with—the lament singers’ songs would not work. And while Penelope held the ghosts at bay as much as she could, until she was able to persuade them to cross the threshold and leave behind all they had once been, the dead were still able to return and walk the earth.
    Grandma Lila had been a strong woman—a stronger spirit shaman than I could ever hope to be, though Grandfather fought her every step of the way. I never knew why, but I knew that he wasn’t her protector. In fact, unlike most spirit shamans, Grandma Lila had not been paired with a shapeshifter to watch over her. I wondered if that would be my fate, as well. She had never broached the subject during my training, and I had been too nervous to ask.
    Shaking off my thoughts, I tried to push away my self-doubt. “When can we meet?”
    â€œTonight at my house? At six P.M. You remember where I live, don’t you?”
    I let out a slow breath. This was my job now, my heritage. I owed it to the town. “Fogwhistle Way. I don’t remember the number, but I remember your house.”
    â€œThat’s right. Three Thirty-seven Fogwhistle Way. I’ll be waiting for you. It’s good to have you back, Kerris. I’m sorry about your grandmother. We needed her. And now, we need you.” With that, she 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 out to the south. A storm was coming in from the north, 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 and I’d let them out of their prison once I returned from shopping. I wanted to go through the house first to make certain there was nothing that would hurt them—no open windows, no rat traps.
    With one last glance at the kitchen, I reached for my jacket and purse. As I paused, my hand on the doorknob, a wave of shadow rolled