Shadows of the Redwood - By Gillian Summers Page 0,15
a way to time-travel to the past and relive the happiest days of my life.”
Keelie straightened. “I understand how you feel.” She thought about the letter and wished she could time-travel back to when Mom was alive, to take back the things she said to her before her mother got on the doomed plane.
Blinking back tears, Keelie looked out at the giant redwoods rising to the night sky, majestic and ancient. She couldn’t bear to think of these regal trees being logged, especially without a Tree Lorem. She remembered the old ghost forest in the Wildewood, the shades of trees that didn’t know they were gone. Shivering, Keelie realized how cold it seemed in the cab of the truck.
Knot hissed.
Keelie asked, “What is your …”
A sharp pain shot through her, a flash of red slicing through her brain, obliterating her magical shield. The tree magic and the fairy magic, threaded closely together within her, began to separate like the rings of a tree being split apart on a cellular level.
Keelie shrieked and grabbed her head.
Grandmother slammed on the brakes. “Keelie, what’s wrong?”
As quickly as it had happened, the excruciating pain was gone—the redness, and that sense of being torn apart down to her molecules.
Keelie let her head drop back against the headrest, trying to breathe away the remnants of the pain. She rolled her head toward Grandmother, whose pale face was close, her green eyes wide with worry. She struggled to take a breath, then made herself relax, her hand clenched around the rose quartz charm that dangled from one of her belt loops.
“It’s the trees,” Keelie gasped. “The redwoods tried to kill me.”
Grandmother scoffed. “You’re exaggerating. But you feel it strongly, don’t you?”
Keelie pressed her palms to her temples. “It’s like a black mark on the magic. It feels sick, like a spot along the edge of the tree magic.”
The older elf’s bright green gaze was fixed on her. “What do you think it is?”
“You tell me. You’re keeping secrets. What is it?” Keelie leaned her cheek against the cool glass of the window, relieved that the pain had eased.
Grandmother stopped the truck, shoving the gearshift into park so that they all were propelled forward.
Instantly, the headache was back.
“You’re right.” Grandmother stared directly out the windshield.
Okay, Keelie hadn’t expected her to agree so quickly. Her headache faded. “What’s going on?”
“The Redwood Tree Shepherd sent me a message before the call went out to find him.” Grandmother looked at Keelie intently, as if she knew Keelie would understand some kind of secret message in her words.
“You mean he asked you for help before he disappeared? Why didn’t you tell Dad?”
“Viran was afraid. You have to understand that Viran is not the fearful sort. He’s a steady man, and he values the trees above all. He’s been shepherd to the redwoods for almost four hundred years.”
“Four hundred years ago the only humans here were the Native Americans, right?”
“That is correct.”
“So maybe he’s just afraid of change. Too many humans or something. He doesn’t like the tourists.”
“He’s seen more change than many others, Keelie. He said he feared something … dark.”
Keelie’s stomach sank. Dark. There had been too much dark in her life. What was she, a magnet for the evil gremmies of the world? Redcaps, dark magic books, unicorn killers, vampires, what next? Maybe she’d better not ask.
“There’s more, and it may be connected. Soon there will be a gathering of elves in the Northwoods, where strange things are also happening.”
“The Northwoods are in Canada, right?” Elia had said that her mother was from the Northwoods. “So the elves there are organizing?”
Grandmother nodded. “It’s unprecedented for the clans to work together.”
“Then it’s a good thing. More communication. So when did the Redwood Tree Shepherd contact you?”
Sheepishly, Grandmother gave a little half smile, which was very creepy. “To answer your questions in the order you asked them—Viran contacted me because he knew your grandfather, Zaros. He sent for him.” Keelie had a vision of an elven Father Time with a long white beard and long white hair. Zaros, her grandfather, had died (or, as the elves said, faded) a century ago.
Yet Keelie sensed there was more that Grandmother wasn’t telling her. Maybe having Dad take over as the leader of the Dread Forest had left Grandmother without a job. Some people didn’t adjust too well to retirement.
Grandmother reached down to turn the key. Keelie quickly removed it from the ignition. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on. I want to know