Ghost Moon

by Cheree Alsop

  “And you’ll smell good,” Virgo said with a tired chuckle as he made his way back to the couch. “That’s an improvement.”

  Ceren laughed. I shook my head and shoved the knife into my pocket.

  “Thanks,” I told him.

  The warlock held up a hand in acknowledgement before dropping back onto the cushions.

  Obeying his order to get breakfast, I heated up some of Mrs. Willards’ seemingly bottomless spaghetti in the microwave and ate it while watching the trees in the backyard sway with the morning breeze.

  “You didn’t tell him the nightmares were about his mother.”

  “No,” I replied. I glanced at where Ceren stood in the kitchen doorway watching Virgo try to find a more comfortable position on the couch. “And I won’t.”

  She walked over to me. “Why not?”

  I looked away from her searching gaze and studied the remaining strands of spaghetti in the bottom of my bowl. “Because maybe I should have saved her.”

  They were words I hadn’t spoken aloud and neither had Virgo until his nightmare. I didn’t know if I could have reached the platform before she stepped off it into the fire that took her life. Aspen’s words about everyone dying if I gave myself up had held me back, but maybe they shouldn’t have. They were just the warning of a demon spoken through the eight-year-old he had a connection to. Perhaps he was just stirring up more trouble.

  “Good morning, Zev. Good morning, ghost.”

  I stared as the aforementioned eight-year-old walked into the kitchen, nodded at both of us, and then went to the refrigerator. Ceren and I exchanged a wide-eyed glance before watching the girl pour herself a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk, put the milk jug away, then carry her breakfast and the cereal box to the table to sit across from me. She had taken several bites of oat-smelling circles before I could bring myself to address the ghost-shaped elephant in the room.

  “Aspie, you can see Ceren?”

  She glanced away from whatever she was reading on the back of the cereal box long enough to look from me to Ceren.

  “Of course.”

  She resumed munching and reading.

  Ceren’s eyebrows raised.

  “It’s alright,” I reassured the ghost. “Aspen’s a bit more…well…in tune with the other realms, I guess you could say.”

  Aspen looked at me and then Ceren. Before I could apologize for the way I had put it, she drew the cereal box closer to her and motioned for me to bend down so she could talk to me from behind it.

  “What’s wrong with her?” the little girl asked in a whisper.

  I resisted the urge to look up at Ceren’s expression and instead whispered back, “She’s lost, I think.”

  Aspen nodded, her expression as serious as if we were talking about a normal human instead of a ghost. “If Borig wakes up, I’ll ask him about her.”

  “Only if he wakes up,” I replied.

  The thought of her conversing with the demon for any reason at all worried me. As much as the demon had helped us and appeared to be acting as her protector, my instincts said not to test that relationship if at all possible.

  “Deal,” she whispered.

  She sat back up and resumed her perusal of the cereal box.

  I threw Ceren an apologetic look. My eyes focused on the clock just visible through her semi-transparent form.

  “I’m going to be late for school,” I said.

  “A werewolf with a school schedule,” Ceren replied, her tone a bit wistful. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

  She vanished from view.

  I quickly washed the bowl I had used and hurried to the backyard. I reached the cluster of trees that were my go-to for privacy and was about to phase when I realized I wasn’t alone. Somewhere between the kitchen and the forest, Ceren had begun to follow me again.

  I hesitated with a hand on the hem of my shirt.

  “Uh, I’m going to change now,” I hedged.

  “Go ahead,” Ceren replied. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  My eyebrows rose before I could control them and Ceren’s cheeks touched with red. By the time I pulled off my shirt, she had turned around to give me privacy.

  I usually didn’t care. At the Lair, we phased without thinking about modesty. We had all grown up together, fought and bled side by side, and had been trained not to think of anyone as more than warriors or challengers.

  I couldn’t explain why it felt so different with Ceren there. For the first time in my life, I had the distinct impression that I was just a boy and she was just a girl together in the woods without anyone else around. The fact that I was a werewolf and she a ghost didn’t matter. I felt all the uncertainty and awkwardness of my nineteen years, and by the shy look in her eyes before she had turned around, she was still a young woman with the same feelings and emotions.

  I had never felt like a young man. A killer, yes, a monster, most of the time. Professor Shipley’s suggestion that I enroll in college to embrace the true human experience had surrounded me with humans my age whom I felt were either also very immature and naïve to the world around them, or jaded by the experiences they had already had. I didn’t feel like one of them.

  Yet, standing there with Ceren facing away from me made me undress and phase as quickly as if I was an inexperienced youth alone with a girl for the first time.

  Foolish hadn’t been a usual emotion I had experienced at the Lair. Bumbling, tripping over my own pant legs, and acute awareness of my mussed hair and many scars made me hurry to phase. The sigh that escaped my lungs when I was in wolf form and fully protected by fur, fangs, and four paws made me cringe. But when I glanced up and found Ceren still averting her gaze with a hand on her eyes that didn’t hide the blush of her pale cheeks, I smiled inwardly. No matter what I had gone through, fate had thrown us together. We may have been two completely different creatures in this world, but at heart we were troubled, lost youth barely into adulthood attempting to fake our way in a world we didn’t understand.

  I gave a quiet snort and she glanced at me.

  “That is a cool trick,” she said. “Maybe you can get a job as some magician’s assistant.”

  The thought of how Professor Shipley would respond to such a suggestion made me give a wolfish grin.

  “Nope, too scary,” Ceren said. “You’d frighten the audience.”

  My grin faltered. I used my muzzle to push my pants and shirt into the pile of leaves where I hid them at the base of the tree. The corner of the plastic bag Virgo had given me stuck out of my pants pocket. I was tempted to leave it, but the thought of being attacked by a jakhin empty handed changed my mind. I bared my teeth and managed to nip the corner of the bag. I dragged it free and got a better grip, careful not to snag the plastic. The smell of lavender was strong enough to burn my nose. I didn’t need more of it leaking out.

  For lack of any other way to carry it, I was forced to hold the bag in my teeth. I lowered my head and ran with the thought that I probably looked ridiculous. Ceren’s laugh before she vanished seconded the thought.

  Chapter Seven

  “You could probably save time by taking a car or something,” Ceren suggested when I finished changing into my clothes and told her she could turn around.

  I kicked leaves over my hiding place near the aspens that lined the back of the college and shrugged. “I prefer running. It’s less claustrophobic.”

  The smells and conversations of people on the bus could be overwhelming, especially in the morning when it tended to be overcrowded. Besides, I hadn’t been back to a bus stop since saving the little boy, Jeffie. I didn’t know if that would change things. I was worried someone might have seen how fast I moved. The last thing this town needed was for individuals to start arousing suspicion about the paranormal.

  I slipped the knife into my pocket and ran my fingers through my hair before walking across the college grounds.

  A thought occurred to me and I glanced at the ghost who wafted silently at my s
ide. She still walked as though she was alive. She seemed unaware of the fact that her feet floated a few inches above the ground.

  “Where do you go when you vanish like that?”

  Ceren glanced behind us as though the answer was there. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice a bit vague. “I’m just gone for a while. There’s really not a place. It’s like…it’s like when you’re falling to sleep and you just hover in that space between sleep and awake. You really don’t know how long you’re there, but it’s comfortable, like there’s no hurry to move along.” A few minutes later, she said in a contemplative voice, “Sometimes I find myself at my house. My room is like a shrine. Nothing’s been moved or touched since I died.” She shook her head. “I hate to see my family cry. I wish they could move on after all these years. It’s like…it’s like they hope that by keeping everything the same, I’ll just appear there as if I never left.”

  The sadness of her expression ate at me. I asked before I could stop myself, “Would it be easier to be forgotten?”

  She thought about that for a moment before she said, “I’m afraid that if they forget me, I might vanish forever. What if I go to that place in between and never return? What if that’s all there is?”

  The fear in her voice made me wish I had never asked the question. I turned to her. “Ceren, I promise never to forget you.”

  She looked up at me and blinked her brown eyes as if fighting back tears. “Thank you, Zev,” she replied quietly. “That means more to me than you’ll ever know.” A slight smile touched her lips and she said, “I didn’t take werewolves for the sentimental type.”

  I cleared my throat uncomfortably and replied, “Don’t tell anyone.”

  She gave a musical laugh. “You have my word, and the word of a ghost is, well, I don’t know, but it’s a lasting one.”

  “So is mine,” I told her.

  I thought about that promise as I led the way into Professor Shipley’s class. A few of the other students nodded at me on my way to my chosen seat in the back corner. It was closest to the window where I had first met the professor, and far enough from the jars of formaldehyde that the smell only burned my nose slightly.

  The girl in front of me turned around and gave me a big smile. “This is for you,” she said, her voice warm.

  She set a small, folded piece of paper on my desk and then winked at me before turning back to face the front.

  I opened it to read, ‘Party, my place. Hope to see you there.’ It gave an address of a dorm in Township. The paper smelled of the same expensive perfume that wafted from her hair whenever she moved.

  “Good morning, class,” Professor Shipley said when he entered the room.

  A few mumbled replies answered.

  The professor laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ve survived to Friday. Let’s celebrate by discussing reproductive organs.”

  “That’s how I like to celebrate,” a boy near the front of the class said.

  Laughter rolled through the room.

  Professor Shipley held up a hand. “That’s not appropriate, Brian, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.” He motioned to the diagram on the screen next to the whiteboard. “You get to tell us where the ovaries are located.”

  Brian groaned, starting another round of laughter.

  “You should go to the party.”

  I glanced at Ceren in surprise.

  “Why?”

  The ghost shrugged. “You don’t get out and socialize much.”

  I gave a wry snort and whispered, “You know why that is.”

  “Because of the fangs and fur and all that?” she replied. At my nod, she waved a hand as if it shouldn’t matter. “Girls like a tough guy.”

  A chuckle escaped me. A few students glanced in our direction. I pretended to be interested in Brian’s failed attempts to find the items the professor had requested and they turned their attention to the front.

  I covered my mouth with my hand and whispered, “I think you’re missing the point on purpose.”

  She smiled in answer. A few minutes later, her voice was more subdued when she said, “Something has been following me.”

  That spiked my attention. “What is it?”

  She shook her head, her brow creased in worry. “I’m not sure. But it’s not an it, it’s a she.”

  I watched her closely. “Describe her.”

  Professor Shipley cleared his throat and said, “Zev, is everything alright?”

  Everyone turned to look at me. The girl in front of me fluttered her eyelashes. Others laughed. I felt my cheeks heat up at the sudden attention, but shoved down the feeling of embarrassment.

  “No, Professor. Sorry. Please keep teaching.”

  He turned back to the slide and whatever it was he was explaining about human biology. I had taken enough anatomy and biology during my time at the Lair to teach the class. I turned my attention back to Ceren and was careful not to speak.

  “She’s tall,” the ghost said. “She wears this black dress, but it moves like it’s made of water. She has really long arms and legs, but she’s not scary.” She paused as if considering, then said, “It’s more like she’s watching over me, not trying to intimidate me.”

  “Have you seen her a lot?” I whispered, concerned.

  A boy two rows ahead of me shot me a look. I met his gaze and held it until he sighed noisily and turned back around.

  “A few times,” Ceren admitted. She toyed with one of her sleeves when she said, “She’s at the edge of things, not really a part of them. I’ve tried to approach her, but then she’s just gone.”

  “Don’t approach her,” I said louder than I intended.

  “You should approach her,” the girl in front of me said. “Maybe that’s what she’s waiting for.”

  The girl on her right giggled.

  The bell rang. Students rose and grabbed their bags to head for their next class. I had art history next, followed by a few other classes until the end of the day found me back in Shipley’s for animal biology. I wasn’t in a huge hurry to get to art history. We were studying Bouguereau’s work and his painting ‘Dante and Virgil in Hell’ hit a little too close to home.

  “Is everything alright?”

  I looked up to see Professor Shipley cross his arms and lean against a close desk.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean to interrupt class.”

  “I’m not sure if helping Brian locate the ovaries could actually be considered teaching,” the professor replied with a wry smile, “But I am hoping to do some good in here.”

  “And I really am trying to learn,” I told him. “It’s just that….” I let the thought die away without saying it.

  Shipley motioned for me to continue.

  I lowered my gaze to my hands so I wouldn’t have to see his expression when I said, “It’s hard to study charts on a wall when I’ve held the various organs in my hands and had to identify them as the warm blood from their recently beating heart coats my fingers.”

  Professor Shipley was quiet for a moment before he said, “It really puts it into perspective.”

  I traced a scar down my left arm with my eyes, remembering the manticore quill that snagged it. Hoping to lighten the mood, I forced a slight chuckle and said, “But ovaries sure beat locating the gizzard on a mandrake demon that took out four of our pack before we could slay it.”

  The professor’s eyebrows rose and he said, “I’ll bet,” as if he wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate.

  I glanced at Ceren. She was watching a little square of sunlight that had pooled in from the window. The slightly lost expression on her face goaded me forward.

  “Professor, it’s Ceren.”

  “Who?”

  “The ghost,” I reminded him.

  His eyes widened. “Is she still here?”

  I nodded.

  He gave a short whistle as he followed my gaze, but it was clear by the searching of his eyes that he didn’t see her.

  Ceren st
retched her hand into the light as if hoping to touch it. Her expression fell slightly when the sunlight shone right through her hand without any sign that it was there. She glanced at me, found me watching, and gave a slight, sad smile before disappearing from view.

  “It’s strange for one to stick around so long,” he said. “I thought the witches were taking care of them.”

  “Most of them,” I told him. “But this is…different.”

  I didn’t know how to put my concern into words. What she had told me about the Ankou bothered me.

  “Is there a reason only I can see her?” I pressed. “You saw her before; why am I the only one who can now?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’ll ask Kristen when I call her at lunch. Maybe she’ll have some idea about it.” He grimaced. “Or her mother will. That woman has no problem weighing in on our conversation whether I want her to or not.” He gave a shake of his head. “Who knew it would be easier to have a living mother-in-law than a deceased one?”

  “I have no idea,” I replied.

  The bell rang and students began to drift in. Shipley walked to his laptop and switched the presentation over to his next topic. A picture of a dissected daisy with labeled parts took up the majority of the slide.

  I wandered to the door. “Thanks, professor. I’ll try harder to concentrate in here,” I told him.

  “You do that,” he replied. “I’ll be here if you need to talk.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  I didn’t see Ceren for the rest of the day. Worries about the Ankou and what the ghost seeing the Angel of Death could mean pressed against me. I looked for her in the halls and hoped she would show up during animal biology, but the room stayed maddeningly uninhabited by ghosts. The end of class found me at the professor’s desk hoping for answers.

  “How was it? Learn anything new?” Professor Shipley asked as he stacked a set of books next to his desk. He glanced at me. “Or do you learn more about ruminant digestive systems when you hunt cows in your wolf form?”

  I snorted. “We don’t hunt cows. They’re far too tame to make for a good chase.” I realized at his raised eyebrows that he had been joking, so I continued with, “Besides, if it takes them four stomachs to digest all those greens, why do so many humans try to do the same with only one?”