Page 20 of Feathered Web

As we drove into the woodland town, the gloom descended. It was a miasma, surrounding the town, and immediately, I wondered how Kerris could live here. There were spirits everywhere, but they weren’t all ghosts—the town was haunted by a dark cloud of creatures, and I could sense the nightmares waiting to happen.

Shadow town…I thought. This was truly the epitome of a shadow town.

“How do you handle this?” I asked.

“You get used to it. I had no choice. This is where I belong, and if I leave, there’s no one to do my job. Spirit shamans are far and few between.” Kerris sighed. “Once I get pregnant—and it better be soon—my daughter will be brought up to be a spirit shaman. If we have a son, he’ll be a shifter like Bryan, and he’ll grow up to be a guardian.”

I thought about their bloodlines—actually, there were nine. Nine families that carried the spirit shaman blood, and so also, nine families for their guardians. But they were scattered around the world and seldom met or mingled.

Grateful I was one of the witchblood, I let the subject drop.

We came to a stop at a crossroads on Bramblewood Way.

“The cemetery is to the left, and my house isn’t far from here,” Kerris said, turning left. “We’ll need to drive through the cemetery to get as close to Penelope’s tomb as we can. Her crypt straddles the line dividing the modern graveyard from the Pest House Cemetery, so be on your guard when we get there.”

“How are you going to prevent her from being kidnapped again?” Rowan asked.

“The Crescent Moon Society will be meeting tomorrow, and we’ll figure out something. Trust me, we’re not letting this happen again,” Kerris said, turning into the cemetery.

We wound through the graveyard, and I could see spirits everywhere. They were wandering, talking, leaning on tombstones. I’d expected to see the graveyard clear, given they had a spirit shaman, but apparently not all spirits were ready to go to the Veil.

We parked near a mausoleum that was at the base of a knoll of grass, beneath a large yew tree. In the dark, it would be almost impossible to see the crypt clearly, but a nearby light shone just bright enough so that we could find our way to it. Tarvish pulled in behind us, and we all spilled out, tired and weary from the long trip.

“We’re almost done,” Rowan said. She yawned, stretching. “I’m so glad we’re not driving home tonight. We couldn’t catch a ferry anyway. We’d have to drive down the peninsula, through Shelton, around through Olympia, then all the way up. It would take all the rest of the night.”

“We owe you so much,” Kerris said. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

She headed toward the crypt and we followed. A sconce with a light affixed to the side of the door illuminated a plaque that read: Here Lieth the Mortal Remains of Penelope Volkov, Guardian of the Veil, Gatekeeper of the Graveyard. Enter and Despair.

As Kerris opened the crypt door, Tarvish, Killian, and Bryan unloaded the sarcophagus and carried it through the opening. Inside was a chalice in which a blood-red liquid churned and boiled, circulating like a lava lamp. I had no clue what it was but decided to ask later.

The men fit the sarcophagus back in place, and Kerris stepped forward, peeling off the seal. “Let’s hope she’s not under a spell,” she said.

“She won’t be,” Rowan said. “The seal that kept her in her sarcophagus for the trip was also enchanted to negate any spells that might be lingering. She should be back to herself.”

We stepped back, watching.

I had no idea what we were waiting for, but Kerris motioned for the men to leave. They stepped outside, and the next moment, the door swung shut, and the lid of the sarcophagus started to move. It made a sound like hollow wind rustling through dry husks. My stomach knotted, but I forced myself to not to move. Rowan reached out and took my hand, steadying me.

A figure slid out of the sarcophagus, reminding me at first like a snake in her movements. But as she unfolded, standing at a full six feet tall, I felt both terror and yet, a pull so strong it was hard to stand still.

Penelope, Gatekeeper of Whisper Hollow, stared at us. Her blond hair was piled up in a messy chignon, and she wore a sheer dress, black lace beaded with black sequins. Her skin was as pale as a vampire’s, and her irises were bloody red. Her eyes were ringed with black, like a raccoon, and her veins showed through the pale skin, black as ink, trailing across her body like delicate lace lines. Her lips were black as her veins.

But it wasn’t her countenance that sent a trail of terror through me. No…it was the steel nail points jutting out from her skin—covering her forehead, her neck and shoulders, peeking through the lace dress, protruding from the inside out. Around each nail tip was a halo of blood, sparkling like rubies, dried and permanently decorating her skin. I remembered what Kerris had told me—Penelope’s mother had killed her with a curse, and that curse stayed with her, an ornamentation of betrayal.

I felt myself bowing, and realized Kerris was doing the same.

“Kerris, stand and introduce me to your friends.” Penelope’s voice echoed, dry and husky, aged like her body.

Kerris turned to me. “This is Rowan Firesong, high priestess of the Crystal Cauldron. And her granddaughter, January Jaxson. And this, is Penelope, the Gatekeeper of the Veil.”

Penelope looked at me. “You bear the energy of the Veil.”

“I work with the dead, where I live. I’m not a spirit shaman, but I’m witchblood.”

“Then you are part of the cycle, like Kerris is, like I am. You are always welcome here when you visit Whisper Hollow, but I don’t recommend you spend much time here. It will drain you.” Penelope paused, then said, “Leave me now, to talk to Kerris.”

I nodded, easing my way out the door. I knew better than overstay my welcome with spirit beings. As Rowan and I stepped outside, the men looked up from where they were sitting on the damp grass. I nodded to them, giving them a thumbs-up, then walked over near the yew tree.

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