Ghost Moon

by Cheree Alsop

  She frowned for a moment, then seemed to warm to the idea. “Alright. Like what?”

  I took a guess. “Maybe your family?”

  She turned away, but not before I saw the tears that glittered in her eyes at the mention. “No, not them. I’ve tried to talk to them or get their attention, but my mom can’t hear me. She cries a lot. So does my dad and brother. I can’t get them to pay attention to me.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I know they’re missing me and it breaks my heart, especially when I can’t tell them I’m okay, because I really don’t know if I am.”

  The heartbreak in her voice ate at me. I truly did owe her my life. I didn’t know how to repay a ghost, but I would sure try.

  “I’ll talk to my friends,” I promised her. “If anyone can find a way to help you, they can.”

  She threw me a damp smile. “Thanks, Zev.”

  She made her way toward the back of the warehouse. The glow around her dimmed as if she was about to disappear. But her use of my name made me realize something.

  “Wait. You know my name. What’s yours?”

  “Ceren,” she called over her shoulder. “Ceren East.”

  “Where do I find you, Ceren?”

  She turned back to face me as she vanished into the darkness. “I don’t think you can find me, but I’ll find you.”

  The sadness from her voice lingered like a heavy weight in the warehouse. They weren’t just words. The girl was truly lost. I don’t think you can find me. She needed help; I just wish I knew how to do it.

  The sound of a car pulling up in the night jarred me from my thoughts. Three sets of footsteps crossed the cement.

  “I wouldn’t have thought of using lavender and silver in that way, but it apparently worked.”

  The sweet voice sent a tremor down my spine. It took a steeling of my nerves for me to turn and face the warehouse door. The shadows beyond appeared far more ominous than the seemingly normal discussion of three older women. I had learned to trust in shadows.

  “The werewolves did quite the job,” Madam Henrietta noted. “It’s amazing they didn’t kill it.”

  “We did.”

  All three woman turned to face me. Madam Henrietta and Madam Doxy appeared surprised to see me, but Madam Anna merely smiled. “Hello, Zev. How are you this early morning?”

  Her long black hair caught the lingering moonlight with a splay of raven purple. It offset her somewhat troubling cat sweatshirt and accompanying poodle skirt, beneath which peaked her usual pair of cat-adorned sneakers.

  The sight made my heart tighten in fear. I willed my heartbeat to slow and forced a small smile to my lips. It wouldn’t do for them to sense my uneasiness. I had no doubt they would feed on it like a pack of hungry felines.

  My assessment might not have been fair. Their smiles were welcome enough and they didn’t act like anything other than innocent women called upon to take care of a bothersome paranormal creature. Yet my chest ached at the reminder of the bullets that had nearly killed me, bullets the cat-sneaker-adorned woman had ordered shot at my chest herself. Something like that was a little hard to forget.

  “I’m well,” I replied. “And I’m glad to say the jakhin, or whatever it is, isn’t.”

  Their attention turned back to the dead creature a few feet from me. It looked even more eerie in the light of the early dawn.

  “Yes,” Madam Anna said. “A jakhin is right.” She gave me a curious look. “There are quite a few similar creatures out there to settle on the right one. Who figured it out?”

  “James, I think,” I told her. “He’s a human but has studied the paranormal for a quite a while. He came here with Virgo.”

  “Why did Virgo leave?” Madam Henrietta asked. “I was hoping we could see him.” She lowered her gaze and said quieter, “To see how he’s doing.”

  I didn’t know how to answer her unspoken question. Virgo’s mother had been their dear friend as well. It was clear to see how hard losing her had been on all of them. I went with the easy answer. “The jakhin clawed his arm, so James took him back to the Willards’ to get patched up. He left me to answer any questions you might have.”

  Movement caught my eye. I glanced over to see Ceren the ghost girl watching the witches as they studied the jakhin. Madam Doxy bent down and poked the creature with her wand. I took a step back in case it returned to life. I couldn’t blame Ceren in the least when she did the same.

  “We have a few questions for you,” Ceren said.

  Madam Henrietta turned around and asked, “Did somebody say something?”

  Ceren opened her mouth to speak again, but I shook my head at her. The last thing she needed was for the witches to become aware of her presence. They had shot me and imbued Isley with the full strength of her elemental power without her consent. Who knew what they would do to a ghost?

  Ceren crossed her arms and glared at me.

  “Maybe they can help me with my problem,” she said sullenly.

  I shook my head.

  “Who are you looking at?” Madam Doxy asked, following my gaze.

  “Nobody,” I said. I looked away, but not before I saw the hurt expression on the ghost’s face. I told myself I didn’t need to feel guilty, but I did. I hated human emotions.

  “What were you saying about the jakhin,” I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

  “This James is correct in his labeling,” Madam Anna said. “I would like to meet him someday.” She said a word and the body of the jakhin levitated off the ground.

  “Whoa,” Ceren exclaimed. “I didn’t see that coming. They really are witches!” I shot her a wide-eyed look and she sighed. “What am I supposed to do? Remain silent like a ghost.” At my eyeroll, she stuck out her tongue and stomped soundlessly to the door of the warehouse.

  I caught Madam Henrietta’s searching gaze and said quickly, “I think they package meat in some part of that warehouse. The smell keeps distracting me.”

  She gave me an understanding smile. “Must be hard battling your wolf side all the time. The poor dumb animals are always worried about food above all else.”

  Ceren giggled.

  I ignored her and pressed the small advantage the witch’s leeway gave me. “It is hard, especially with all the paranormal entities running around. What should I do if I’m constantly plagued by the ghosts who were freed by the earthquake?”

  “Interesting question,” Madam Doxy said, joining our conversation. “We’ve been hard put settling the ghosts around here to rest. The earthquake that followed the breaking of the dark coven’s chant upset a lot of spirits. If some won’t settle, we’ll have to find their bodies and burn them to release whatever hold they have on the souls they used to house.”

  I saw Ceren give a visible shudder out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t imagine watching my body burn as a ghost. The thought was unsettling. I gestured toward the jakhin to give her a break. “Was that what woke this up, too?”

  “Probably,” Madam Doxy began, only to be cut off by Madam Anna.

  “No,” she said firmly. She motioned with her hand and the body turned in a slow circle. “Jakhins aren’t restless spirits.”

  The creature’s dark eyes stared accusingly at me. I told myself she was dead, but looked away until the head rotated past.

  “They’re called, not awoken,” Madam Anna continued.

  Madam Doxy stared at her with wide eyes. “So this one wasn’t an accident?”

  The witch she addressed shook her head.

  “What does that mean?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  “Two things,” Madam Anna replied. “Somebody summoned this jakhin on purpose, and odds are there’s another of them out there.”

  I felt as though I had been doused with a bucket of cold water. I glanced at Ceren and saw the same shocked expression on her face that must have been on mine.

  “Another of them?” I said. “Are you sure?”

  Madam Anna nodded. “Jakhins are known as the double thre
at of the underworld. They always run in pairs.”

  I swallowed uneasily. The creature had nearly killed me. It would have if it hadn’t been for Ceren’s help escaping the warehouse and Virgo vanquishing it so it wouldn’t heal and rise again.

  “It wanted to hurt a guard in the warehouse, and it killed a family’s dog,” I said. “The other one will be dangerous.”

  “Where did you find it?” Madam Anna asked.

  I described the house near Virgo’s bookstore.

  “Interesting,” the witch replied. “I wonder what drew it there. Jakhins are known to be very single-minded when it comes to being summoned. We need to question the family to see if they know of anyone who has been involved in black magic.”

  “I can do that, and I can help with the dog,” Madam Doxy offered. She winked at me and said, “I like dogs, and if it was killed by a jakhin that’s now dead, I can reverse the death.” She nudged the creature with the toe of her boot. “Actions that are caused by fiends that don’t naturally belong in this world come with a bit of leeway when it comes to the laws of this realm. I can give them their dog back and erase their memory of what happened.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of the children being able to forget what they had seen. There was no doubt the dog would be happy to return as well. “Thank you,” I told her. “I’m sure they would appreciate that.”

  She cracked her knuckles noisily. “I could use the practice. It’s been a while since I’ve done a reverse-healing vanishing memory spell.” She motioned toward the witch with the cane. “Come along, Madam Henrietta. This will be a learning experience.”

  “Oh, goody,” the witch replied with enthusiasm. “I’ll be able to use Freddery.”

  She winked at the cane. I swore the green-eyed glass snake that was carved around it winked back.

  “Her cane is named Freddery?” Ceren whispered.

  Sometime during the discussion, she had walked close enough to nearly touch my arm, if ghosts could touch. I didn’t know if it was her want to be involved or her fear of another jakhin that made her do so; I took a protective step to put myself between her and the creature before catching myself. She was a ghost. I couldn’t protect her if I tried. She was the one who had helped me, not the other way around.

  I followed Ceren’s gaze to where Madam Anna was sprinkling something over the jakhin.

  “Is that salt?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Rosemary.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “It has the same effect but smells better. More like stew than jerky.”

  I nodded as if I knew what she meant, but I had no idea.

  Madam Anna blew on the end of her finger. A flame appeared.

  She spoke without looking at me. “I’d recommend leaving now. Rosemary might cover the stench for humans, but animals’ senses are sharper to make up for their lack of intelligence. You should probably go so it doesn’t make you sick.”

  “Thanks,” I replied dryly. I didn’t know whether to be offended or appreciative of her concern. Either one felt wrong.

  I glanced around and realized I didn’t have a ride. Anxious to be as far away from the warehouse as I could, I walked past the building and into the trees.

  I felt better there away from the presence of the creature. I didn’t care if it was alive or dead; it still gave me the same chills. The sounds of birds who had risen early to herald the dawn with their cheerful chirps soothed my soul. The ache from the jakhin’s claws was fading. The wounds wouldn’t heal completely until I could spend time in the full moonlight again, but at least they were through bleeding. Even though it would have been far faster to phase and run to the Willards’, I knew better than to stress my body out more than I already had.

  The shoes in the bag I carried hit my legs with a quiet cadence. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were Virgo’s, I would have left them behind. Shoes were the most unnecessary part of a human’s wardrobe, if one didn’t mention underwear. So many layers were stifling. I couldn’t understand the reason for more than a simple covering. Shirts and pants or shorts were like fur. I had never seen an animal with multiple layers of fur, though wolves shedding their winter coat looked absurd with tufts here and there. Maybe humans missed shedding?

  Ceren had followed me into the woods. I had assumed she would vanish to wherever ghosts went when they were through indulging their curiosity in things better left unknown, yet she stayed.

  I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t one for conversation starters; I had never understood the need to fill silence with talk. Life at the Lair had been a quiet one except for growls, screams, arguments, and the occasional talk about strategy or guard routes. Small talk didn’t exist at all. I had gone weeks at a time without saying a word.

  The fact that the ghost didn’t speak either filled me with relief. Perhaps Ceren appreciated the sounds of the forest as well. The chirps of crickets loath to go to bed mingled with the question of an owl. Serenity filled me.

  I followed the sound of paws on the soft forest floor. The rabbit darted onto my path. It paused at the edge of the trail and stared at me. I breathed in its scent of dewy grass and rich, clean soil. The breeze shifted, taking my scent to the small animal. Its nose twitched once before it darted back the way it had come, leaving a trail filled with the pine aroma of surprise.

  “You want to chase it, don’t you?”

  I twitched at the sound of Ceren’s voice. Somewhere along the way, I had forgotten the presence of the ghost. It was an easy thing to do when her feet didn’t touch the ground and she didn’t need to breathe; so why did I feel so stupid about being startled?

  “What?” I asked to hide my embarrassment.

  She pointed. “The rabbit. You wanted to chase it.”

  I didn’t understand the point of the question. “Of course. Why?”

  The look she gave me was searching and a little fearful. It wasn’t one I had seen from her before.

  “You really are a werewolf, aren’t you?”

  I felt as though I was confessing the truth to Isley all over again. Despite a few runs at night, the elemental had found solace with her family and a life to live that didn’t include a monster like me. The look of betrayal she had given me when she found out I was the wolf who haunted her nightmares was one I couldn’t get out of my mind.

  Afraid I was about to experience a repeat, I nodded without speaking.

  Instead of pressing the topic, she said, “That means I’m really a ghost, and those were really witches.”

  I nodded again. “Yes, to all of it.”

  She stopped moving beside me. I turned to find her hunched over on the path with her head in her hands.

  “Ceren?” I asked tentatively.

  I reached out a hand to her, but drew it back because it wouldn’t have done anything anyway.

  She shook her head without looking at me. When she spoke, her voice was muffled. “That means I’m dead. I’m really dead. I don’t exist at all.”

  “That’s not true—” I began.

  She held up a hand to stop me from speaking. I was glad to comply. Giving comfort wasn’t my strong suit, which was excruciatingly obvious at that point.

  “Don’t,” she said quietly. “Just don’t. There’s nothing you can do. There’s no reason to even try. I’m dead. That’s why my family won’t stop crying. And I can’t change it. I’m gone and I can’t help them. I-I miss them.”

  She began to sob. Watching the ghost’s shoulders shake as soul-wrenching cries tore from her made me feel more hopeless than the time two demons nearly ripped me apart. I paced from one tree to the next. It may have sounded absurd, but I couldn’t leave her there by herself. There was nothing I could do, but it felt wrong to leave her alone with her sorrow.

  I found a flat spot on the path and sat down. Her sobs eased as the light from the rising sun pierced the leaves to make small patterns on the ground. The shapes danced back and forth in time to the gentle breeze overhead.

  The
warmth of the sun eased the tightness of my muscles. I didn’t know when the stick appeared in my hand or when I started drawing in the dirt. It was a rough medium, but calmed my thoughts just the same.

  “Is that me?”

  I started at the ghost’s voice and made a mark across the crude drawing.

  I blinked and looked at the sketch again. The outline of a girl bent over with her head in her hands was achingly painful to look at.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

  I lifted a hand to wipe it away.

  “Don’t,” Ceren said.

  I paused with my hand inches from the dirt. When I glanced at her, the look on her face stopped me.

  “You really do see me,” she said.

  I watched her closely when I replied, “Of course I do.”

  She shook her head and looked away. “No,” she said. She rose silently to a standing position. “I mean, you see me, really me.”

  Unsure what she was getting at, I smoothed the errant mark from the sketch of her arm.

  “People didn’t see me when I was alive. I guess…I guess I’m surprised someone does now.”

  Her confession was pained and something inside of me twisted. I felt like a young werewolf again ganged up on by four other werewolves, my food taken, banished from yet another small cave in the Lair wall I had claimed as my own, and left to curl up in a corner near the kitchen where I was kicked awake to begin my shift. I hadn’t been more than a nuisance to them, something to torment, a child to pester in the hopes that it would wither away and die like so many of the others. They hadn’t seen me as an individual until I learned to fight and forced them to do so.

  “You need to make them see you.”

  I didn’t realize I had spoken aloud until she said, “You don’t even know.”

  Her angry, accusing tone spurred me on. “You think so?” I replied. I lifted my shirt to show the burns. “How do you think I got these?”

  She reached out a hand. I shied back out of habit even though I knew she couldn’t touch me.

  “You don’t like being touched,” she said, lowering her hand.