Whispers in the Woods (Firemountain Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Dinah blinked, uncertain about this vehemence. “I was just curious. I had heard rumors of magic but never actually met a witch before.”

  “Don’t buy into the propaganda. Wicca is a peace-loving religion, not a form of Satanism. That went out in the seventies.”

  “Well thank you, Alana, I didn’t mean to offend but you gave me a hook for my next article. Would you care to join me at the reception? You can come as my guest.”

  Alana’s eyes widened. “Do you think that you could introduce me to her?”

  Phylis finished her speech to thunderous applause and cheering.

  Dinah led Alana to the backstage reception. Phylis usually made cursory appearances because she needed to prepare for the next stop. Dinah wove through the throng with Alana right behind her.

  Phylis’s inner light was glowing bright that night, chasing the shadows away. Dinah clutched a nearby pillar and swayed. The candidate didn’t notice she was chatting with Alana.

  Phylis made her excuses and left the reception. Dinah waved at her and turned to Alana. “Was it everything you expected?”

  Alana shrugged. “I don’t get a negative vibe off of her and I believe that she does care about constituents.”

  The rest of the night passed pleasantly enough, and Dinah and Alana spent several hours talking about the Earth Religions.

  ***

  Dinah tossed in her seat on the plane, her feet kicking the seat in front of her. She huddled under the thin blanket and shivered. The dreams plagued her—she saw a small city nestled in the Cascades of western Washington.

  She jolted awake. Firemountain. She pulled out her laptop.

  The website for the newspaper was decidedly low key. Dinah studied the articles on it. They were insightful and informative, definitely not off the wire. Op-ed had a liberal bent. The city was shrouded in mystery and money.

  “The city has always been a bit odd,” an article in the Seattle PI started. “Founded during the time of the lumber barons of the eighteenth century, it not only succeeded, but thrived. The founders of the city guided Firemountain into prosperity, which exists to this day. Even though Mt. St. Helens was dormant, they called their haven Firemountain and in the 1980s it became even more relevant. Ever since the eruption, the influence of the city has spread. The university has attracted students from all over the world. Even the governor of Washington has visited this small city and met with the town council. One of the odd things about the city is its refusal to allow cellphones. The citizens of the city voted and the ruling was upheld: No cell towers within fifty miles of the city.”

  Dinah shut her laptop and rested her head on the seat cushion. What do I do now?

  The man next to her muttered in his sleep. Shadows around his eyes and his face were deep, and pinpoints of red flame swirled around him. A shadow slipped into his open mouth as he slept.

  Dinah gasped and blinked. The shadows were gone along with the flame. She poised her fingers above the keyboard and opened a new folder. She wrote down what she had dreamt. Things were moving fast. She had to find out more about Donald Hatchett.

  ***

  The morning air was cold and clear as Dinah’s van followed the limo that Phylis had taken to the rally. Behind the limo were police, secret service, and, of course, the press corps.

  The leaves were already turning and it was unseasonably cold for mid-September. The rolling hills of New Hampshire were dotted with a panorama of reds, golds and browns.

  This day was important, though Dinah had no clue as to why. She was excited because Don had flown out from Washington. The Firemountain Tribune had sent notice to the press corps to expect the funny reporter.

  He was waiting in the press box along with Associated Press, Reuters, and several other major news agencies. Dinah sandwiched herself between two reporters and set to work studying Don.

  She knew what the candidate would say. Violence in the Middle East, uncontrolled immigration, domestic terrorism, along with several liberal agendas like women’s rights and the environment. She had heard it all a thousand times.

  Don didn’t appear to notice her. He swayed on his feet as he sipped from a silver hip flask. He focused on the stage, where Phylis stood at the podium.

  She followed his gaze. Phylis was surrounded by a nimbus of silver light. It shone so brightly that it covered the stage and chased away the shadows.

  From behind the curtain stepped a large shadow, bigger than any Dinah had seen before. She wriggled through the reporters and camera men. She touched Don’s arm.

  He jumped and stared at her. “You?”

  “What is that?” she asked, nodding at the shadow on the stage.

  “Don’t know.” He took a sip from his flask.

  “Did you know it would be here?” she asked, taking out a steno pad. Even with all of today’s gadgets, a steno pad was still the best way to record events.

  The giant shadow circled Phylis. The nimbus flared brighter, but the shadow formed an axe and leveled it at the candidate.

  Dinah called out, drowning out the crowd and the reporters. Phylis stopped speaking and stared at Dinah.

  Dinah felt the blood rush to her cheeks. The shadow turned its evil eyes to her. Her cold blood rushed to her extremities and numbed her fingers.

  The giant rumbled, and it opened its mouth but no sound came out. Next to Dinah, Don trembled.

  The giant left the stage as Phylis took up her speech where she left off.

  It oozed through the gathered constituents, supporters and reporters. The ground trembled beneath Dinah’s feet. Don shoved her back and stood in front of the great beast. He raised his ancient camera and snapped a photo. He took a swig from his flask and swayed once more as he faced down the shadow.

  “Be gone,” he hissed.

  The thing threw its head back and laughed a silent laugh.

  Don reached into a pocket and withdrew another flask. He threw the water onto the giant and with a flare of silver light it vanished.

  “Hey,” the man in front of them muttered. “Why are you throwing water on me?”

  Don just shrugged and returned to his note-taking. “Meet me after the rally,” he whispered to Dinah.

  Denny’s was nearly empty when Dinah and Don walked in. They slid into an orange booth and stared at the menu.

  “Coffee,” she ordered.

  “Beer,” he ordered. “So you saw that thing?” Don asked quietly.

  “What was it?”

  “We don’t know. We see them amongst the shadows. These are new.”

  Dinah chewed her lower lip. “I think I am going crazy. This whole world has turned upside down since I was in Washington.”

  Don’s expression radiated sympathy. “It is going to get worse. Come to Firemountain when you are done. We will provide answers. But for now, Dinah Steele, tell me all about you.”

  They ordered breakfast even though it was ten at night, and over buttermilk pancakes and scrambled eggs she regaled him with tales of her childhood and, for a moment, time disappeared.

  ***

  On election night, the air crackled with electricity and energy. Phylis wore a red suit that enhanced her color. Next to her stood her husband and daughter. The results were rolling in. Some unexpected turns had popped up so far, like Texas, for the first time in nearly a hundred years, voting Democrat. But the battleground states were still up for grabs.

  Polling booths shut down on the eastern seaboard and results continued to come in.

  Shadows darted through the gathered crowd of press, constituents and supporters. Phylis clutched at her husband’s hand while her daughter stood close by.

  The air was jubilant. Dinah caught the energy. There was more silver light pouring off of the press, the supporters, the rally. Vincent had flown out from Seattle to be with her and the candidate. Phylis was in New Hampshire for the election.

  High spirits, wine and food were lavished. Dinah had a glass of sparkling wine as she waited for the polling reports.
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  As the polls closed across the country, the shadowy giant strode into the shining throng. It ignored the bright silver lights and focused on the candidate.

  She glowed more than any other, and her radiance sparked other silver lights.

  The shadow giant swung his axe. From within Phylis a being of pure light stepped. The polls were closing but it was not yet decided.

  Dinah wondered what the other team’s celebration looked like. Would it be such a spectacle of light?

  Great wings unfurled from being of pure light. A sword of silver flashed through the air.

  Dinah raised her fist to her mouth, wanting to shout out. Around her the celebration blossomed with silver light. An army of beings drove the shadows from the hall. Red, white and blue balloons filled the hall, held aloft by silver light.

  Finally the last state reported in.

  The silver being ducked beneath the ponderous swing of the shadow axe and leapt, driving the sword into its heart. The shadow slid off the blade to the floor and dissolved into the wood, disappearing from view.

  The beings swelled once more and vanished. Phylis had won the election.

  “Did you see that?” Dinah whispered to Vince as balloons floated down around her.

  “See what?”

  “It was nothing I just thought I saw something.” She whistled, joining the celebration.

  Chapter 2

  “Dinah, I’m home,” Suzanne trumpeted as she entered the house. Her brown eyes sparkled from beneath a mop of chestnut hair.

  In the months that followed the election, things had been getting stranger. First there was the obituary—Donald Hatchett had died in a drunk driving accident—and then Dinah’s dreams were becoming more vivid, more urgent.

  Her mother owned an inn outside of Lynx Haven, a small town in New Hampshire, and it was getting rave reviews. Dinah needed to contemplate her options.

  She applied to all of the major papers and got offered positions at most of them even though fewer people were reading the daily news, but today she received a telegram.

  Miss Steele:

  I would like to offer you a position as investigative reporter for the Firemountain Tribune.

  Klinton Emery.

  She sat at her mother’s table and read over the telegram for the twentieth time.

  Suzanne stopped at the table. “What’s up?”

  Dinah handed her mother the telegram. “This was delivered today. Who sends telegrams anymore?”

  Suzanne looked at the paper. “What are you going to do?”

  Dinah sighed. She hadn’t seen any shadows or lights since returning to Lynx Haven. “I don’t know. This is an amazing opportunity. I have seen their benefit package. I should call and see what the offer is.”

  “But who has heard of the Firemountain Tribune? It is a good-for-nothing paper and you would be in Washington State. How do we know if there is good coffee in Washington?”

  “There is great coffee in Washington. This intrigues me. I want to follow up.”

  Suzanne sat down in the chair opposite her daughter and studied her. “Why do you have such a fascination with that place? Don’t think I’ve not noticed you studying them on the internet and searching for information on the occult.”

  “Mom…” Dinah trailed off. “It’s complicated.”

  Suzanne rose and gave Dinah a hug. “Let’s go shopping, I need some new shoes.”

  The rest of the day was filled with shopping. Dinah clutched her cellphone to her as she followed her mother through the mall, stopping at all the high-end stores. She got some new suits that looked professional, and stylish yet comfortable shoes. Dinah hated heels with a passion; anything higher than an inch and a half and she would balk.

  Suzanne, on the other hand, could wear spiked shoes without difficulty.

  They’d stopped for lunch in the food court when Dinah’s phone rang. It was Vince. She smiled and chatted with him.

  “I got a telegram from the Firemountain Tribune offering me a job,” she blurted out, her heart racing.

  “We also sent you one from the PI, did you get that offer?”

  “I did. I’m not sure what to do. The position and the benefits from the Tribune are so much more than what any other position offers. And I would have the Tribune on my resume and get prime seating in the press box.”

  “It sounds like you have made up your mind,” Vince grumbled. “But at least you’ll be closer to Seattle.”

  Dinah’s cheeks grew warm.

  Suzanne started making kissing noises over her daughter’s objections.

  “I guess I have. Will I see you?”

  “Just try to keep me away. I will see you so often you will think I’ve moved there.”

  “From what I’ve heard of Firemountain, that will be difficult. They are very conservative.”

  She hung up the phone and turned to her mother. “It’s decided. I am going to take the job at the Tribune. I don’t have to wear heels in Washington.”

  ***

  The drive across the country was uneventful. Dinah’s grandparents had given her a Prius when she’d graduated from high school. Now the economic car carried her from the lush green hills of New Hampshire to the old-growth forests of western Washington.

  Battling Seattle traffic left her with a headache. From I90 all the way to Olympia she was stuck in a slow-moving mass of cars. Not knowing the freeways made it even worse.

  Now that she was back in Washington the shadows were visible again, feeding the road rage and fueling adrenaline-laden mistakes.

  Dinah turned on the wipers—December in western Washington meant lots and lots of rain. But it didn’t come down in sheets like proper rain; it drizzled in a heavy mist, too heavy to go without wipers and too light for wipers.

  Dinah turned up the defroster, hoping to dry out the window a little. As she drove past CenturyLink Field, she spotted a silver being, tall and proud, standing on the highest point of the stadium. He had spread out great wings and he stood with a sword in his hand.

  She nearly ran into the car in front of her as she drove by. A honk got her attention back to the road.

  Things got even creepier once she left the main freeway to the Chelahis highway. The rain, now a heavy mist, obscured the trees. Trees grew so close to the freeway that you couldn’t see into their leafy depths.

  Even with her windows rolled up she smelled decay. She drove past an abandoned gas station. “ER Station” was all that remained of the sign that hung from a dilapidated pole.

  She shuddered as she drove by, her fingers clenching the wheel tightly. Leaves rustled and for a fleeting moment the shadows grew darker, oozing from the dense foliage.

  A hitchhiker stuck his thumb out. He looked like a college kid but she didn’t pick up strangers. His collar was pulled up against the rain and he trudged down the side of the highway.

  She crested a peak and caught her first glimpse of Firemountain. It nestled among the trees like a jewel. A tall church spire jutted up into the sky and the rainclouds cleared away.

  To the north she spotted an ultra-modern building looking out of place among the older buildings and soaring Victorian homes.

  She soon dropped in among the trees again and wound her way through dripping forests to the outskirts of town, where the sign said, “Welcome to Firemountain, population 15,000.”

  The road slowed to a speed limit of thirty. The main street was full of quaint shops, and a locally owned grocery store. A farmers market was set out on the town square, selling, among other things, locally grown cherries.

  Dinah followed the directions to Rose’s Boarding House.

  She pulled into the free parking space when she arrived. She heaved her messenger bag containing her laptop and portable printer over her shoulder, flipped out her hair from under the strap, and slid her sunglasses off her face to reveal her bright blue eyes. She wondered for the hundredth time why she’d taken this job at a small paper when major papers like the New York Times, The San
Francisco Chronicler and the Seattle PI had also offered her jobs.

  She graduated from Dartmouth School of Journalism summa cum laude after being The Dartmouth’s editor in chief.

  The house was large even by her standards. It was bigger than her grandparents’ house, which was huge in comparison to the house she and her mother had shared for years. It was a great Tudor-style house, with well-maintained trim. The yard contained rhododendrons, lilacs, and elm trees. A gazebo stood in the center of the yard with a table and chairs and some lounges. Birds sang in the huge trees as she made her way to the front door.

  A small gray-haired woman opened the door. Dinah noticed some of her teeth were missing, but she had a warm smile. “You must be Miss Steele,” she said, shaking Dinah's hand. “Finally we got someone respectable in this town. Come in, come in.” She opened the door wider and Dinah found herself in the front hall.

  “My name Is Leontine Rose, and I own this house. The paper told me you were coming in today.”

  “Pleased to meet you, I’m Dinah Steele,” Dinah replied, staring around the room.

  “Well Miss Steele, I run a boarding house in this town. We have no apartment buildings here. The town council doesn't want the kind of people having apartments would attract. Consequently, we have boarding houses. There are a few closer to the university, but this one is closest to the paper so Mr. Emery uses us to house his reporters. I must admit you are much prettier than your predecessor. Such beautiful blue eyes, and you're so slender. I bet you have a beau somewhere.”

  Dinah thought of Vince. She had been so busy since she graduated that she hadn’t met anyone else. “Not right now,” she said, and tears started to well up as she remembered Logan, her last official boyfriend, but she forced them back down. It had been a year since she had turned down the marriage proposal and he had walked out of her life. She still did not want to think about him because she knew that she would miss him even more. Vince was interested, but nothing official, and she just wasn’t ready.

  “That’s alright, dear,” Leontine said, patting her arm. “Nobody will pressure you to find a suitable husband. Come on, dear; let me show you to your room.”