Autumn Thorns Read Online Free Page A

through. It reached out to examine me, cold and clammy as it tickled over my skin. Then, as I blinked, shivering, it vanished. Whirling, I glanced around the room, searching the corners. But the kitchen was empty.
    Something was looming in the town, all right, and whatever it was, it knew I was back.
    â€œI’m home, Grandma Lila,” I whispered. “I just hope you’ll be around when I need you.”
    And right then, I knew that—before whatever this was had ended—I was going to need all the help I could get . . . from
both
sides of the grave.

CHAPTER 2

    I pulled into the driveway and eased the car into park. As I stared at the stone house, I wasn’t sure just what I had expected. I had been to Ellia’s house before, but I remembered it as cold and looming. I was expecting to see a broken-down house, covered in moss, behind an overgrown tangle of weeds. But there it stood, pristine and tidy. The house was old, that much was true. Built of stone, it looked like it was from out of another era and it probably was. Whisper Hollow had been founded in the mid-1800s, when it was barely a settlement of ramshackle houses in the woods.
    As I gathered my purse and slipped out of the CR-V, I took a deep breath as I looked around the yard. The gardens were neat and tidy, with a hint of overgrown wildness. Ellia liked mums—a row of mums lined the pavers that ran up to the front of the house. The lot, like my own, was thick with trees looming up and over the yard. Where Ellia lived on Fogwhistle Way wasn’t far from my own house, and close enough to the cemetery that she could walk there if need be.
    It had stopped raining and the clouds had scattered for the moment, letting the stars shine through. In late October, thenight came early, especially out in the outlying areas without the incessant glow of the big city to light the area. Finally, I decided to face the inevitable. Somehow, the thought of facing Ellia made everything real—once I walked through her door, my grandmother was truly dead, I was committed, and both thoughts scared the hell out of me. But my time to run was over. Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I took a deep breath and headed up the stone steps to the front door, slipping on my gloves as I did so. The last thing I wanted to do was to touch Ellia’s hands. That was one rabbit hole I knew I didn’t want to fall down.
    The bell was shaped like an ornate brass flower. I pressed the center and waited. Another moment and then the door opened, and there she stood, pretty much the way I remembered her. A little older, a little grayer. An ethereal smile stole across her lips, and she stood back, ushering me in.
    She smiled at my hands, not offering me her hand or a hug. “Gloves. You remembered.”
    Her voice took me back and I flashed her a shy grin. “How could I forget? Are things the same? Do you still . . .”
    â€œOh yes . . . these old hands of mine can still drag you down to hell.” She laughed, then sobered and held up her hands. She was wearing long cream-colored opera gloves that disappeared up her sleeves. “If I could wear gloves and play the violin, I would, but unfortunately, I’m not quite that dexterous. I hate causing unnecessary pain, so I just make sure I carry them with me wherever I go.”
    She stood aside as I entered the hallway. A sharp bark came from behind her, and a dog peered around from behind her, gorgeous and white as snow, looking suspiciously like a wolf.
    â€œDon’t mind Viktor. He knows friend from foe.” She ushered me into the foyer and shut the door behind me. The dog gave me a long look, sizing me up. He was either going to eat me for dinner or—he pranced forward, leaned down toward the ground with his head against his front feet, and then did a little wiggle and barked. A lick to my hand and he bobbed his head, then abruptly turned and padded down the