by Cheree Alsop
Mr. Stewart sat in silence for a few moments. His gaze was distant as if he saw something beyond the room in which we waited. His swollen fingers closed and then opened, then finally spread on the wood in front of him to leave sweaty marks on the desk when he moved them.
“I was being haunted,” he began.
Virgo glanced at me. I ignored the chill that ran down my spine and kept focused on the man.
“After that earthquake that threw everything around in here, my world turned on end.” He speared Virgo with a look. “It cracked the foundation of my house. Can you believe that?”
“I can,” the warlock said, his tone dry.
Mr. Stewart sighed and clasped his fingers together. “Anyway, I was throwing out the chandelier that broke when Sam’s ghost showed up.” He hesitated, then rubbed his forehead hard enough to leave red marks. After a glance at me, he focused his attention back on Virgo and said, “I guess it’s my fault for killing him.”
Ice spiked through my veins. I saw Virgo’s shoulders straighten. Whatever pain the warlock’s arm was giving him didn’t hold a candle to the man’s words.
“You killed someone?” Virgo asked quietly.
Mr. Stewart nodded. “It was an accident, sort of.”
At our expressions of disbelief, he said, “Look, if someone catches you in a Ponzi scheme, what are you going to do? Let him take you to jail? I couldn’t do that to my wife and kids. They’d be humiliated!”
“So you killed him?” Virgo asked. “Really?”
“I paid to have him killed, but same thing, I guess,” Mr. Stewart replied. “At least, that’s what Sam’s ghost kept telling me when he started following me around here night and day.”
“So you tried to banish him,” Virgo guessed.
The man shrugged. “I inherited that book along with a bunch of my crazy grandfather’s other things when he died. I remembered seeing something about ghosts when I put it on the shelf in here, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”
“Did the jakhins chase the ghost away?” I asked.
The man looked at me. “I didn’t summon them to chase away the ghost. I summoned a, what was it called again?” He paused, then said, “A khavis.” He gave a visible shudder. “I summoned a khavis to get rid of the ghost. It did, but then it terrorized my family and I didn’t know what to do. It wanted to kill my children!” He shook his head. “I didn’t know what to do to get rid of it until I found the spell to summon the jakhins. It said something about them being a threat to beings from both realms, so I gave it a try.”
He rubbed his face before he said, “The jakhins took one look at the khavis and ran out of the house. The khavis took off after them and never looked back.” He put his arms around himself. “But I can’t let my family come back here until its safe. And it’ll never be safe with any of those things around.” Tears filled his eyes. He squeezed them shut with his fingers beneath his glasses. His other hand trembled on the desk. “I didn’t mean to endanger my family, and now they can’t come back home. I should have just let Sam report me.”
Virgo and I exchanged a glance. I didn’t know what a khavis was, but one fact remained clear. He needed to pay for murdering this Sam fellow.
I took a step forward, but Virgo held up a hand. He didn’t even look at me. That fact that he knew what I had been thinking was irking.
“If you confess to your crimes and turn yourself in, we’ll take care of the khavis,” Virgo told him.
“Turn himself in?” I said. “Virgo, he killed someone.”
“I’ll turn myself in,” the man sputtered, rising. “Just take care of the monsters and protect my family.” He held out a hand and shook Virgo’s heartily. “Thank you so much. You’re protecting my wife and my children. I don’t know how to thank you enough.”
Virgo pulled his hand away and wiped his palm down the front of his shirt.
“But he killed someone,” I said.
My hands itched to pay out the justice he deserved. I had been raised in an environment of kill or be killed. I had learned to fight with knives, guns, and every other weapon imaginable from the moment I could walk. I had lived every day with blood on my hands.
But during my time with humans, I had learned that they were fair, caring, and considerate. They saw to the needs of others before their own, and they gave selflessly. The fact that this man stood before us with blood on his hands, slandering the very meaning of humanity, made my blood boil in my veins. He had been raised to know better. He had children who looked to him as an example. And yet he smiled in relief that we would take care of the creatures he had released into this world to deal with the ghost who haunted him. The bitter taste that filled my mouth refused to leave.
I walked around the desk.
“Zev,” Virgo began.
I silenced him with a look. I didn’t know what to say. There was no way to phrase how I was feeling. The reality of what I saw before me threatened to undermine the very delicate framework I had begun to build when I left the Lair.
Humans had become an example to me of all I had yet to learn. Students dedicated themselves to studying math, science, the arts, and other things far beyond defending oneself or trying to reach the top of a rigged hierarchy. I had taken steps of my own to embrace that side of me, to find a way beyond the animalistic way I was raised.
Yet before me stood an unrepentant example that perhaps some humans weren’t so very far removed from the animals themselves. I felt betrayed, disheartened, and the need for vengeance made my muscles tighten.
“What’s up with your friend?” Mr. Stewart asked Virgo. His eyes shifted between the warlock and me.
“Just sit down,” Virgo warned. He kept his gaze on me, his expression uncertain. “Zev, what are you doing?”
“You took another man’s life,” I said to the man. “And you don’t even care about that.”
I sniffed the air around him. I could smell fear, cowardice, and old urine, but no regret. His only sorrow came from the impact to his family.
“You deserve to die,” I said.
“You’re just a kid,” the man replied, turning to face me. “How you can even stand there and say—”
But his words cut off when he met my glare. He closed his mouth and sat down on his chair. When he looked back up at me, his eyes were wide with terror.
I leaned over him and put a hand on each armrest of the chair.
“Do you really want your children to follow in their father’s footsteps?” I asked in a low growl. “Choose your next words very carefully, Mr. Stewart. You are a murderer, a coward, and a stain upon what it means to be human. When you leave this room with my friend, if you choose to do anything other than give the police an entire confession of the murder performed at your bidding, I will hunt you down and murder you myself. And it won’t be quick. Do you understand?”
His mouth opened and shut like a trout. “I-I understand,” he finally said in a strained voice.
I couldn’t stand the smell in the air any longer. I rose and walked out of the room. It took several minutes of stalking up and down the hallway for me to get my heartrate back under control. I had hoped that he would refuse. I had wanted more than anything to follow through with my threat, right there, in front of Virgo and the world if need be.
I crouched with my back against the wall and buried my head in my hands. The wolf inside me wanted to deal justice to the man. It would be so easy to phase and go back in there. Virgo wouldn’t be able to stop me. The man would get what he deserved.
Do it, the Master’s voice whispered in my head. Show him who is the most powerful. Make him pay for his actions. Tear him limb from limb.
I dug my fingers into my hair and gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached. The many brands along my torso burned with the sweat that soaked my clothes. I fought to maintain control.
He should feel the pain of your fangs, the Master’s voice taunted. Show him what werewolves are made of. Make him pay for all of your brethren and
sisters.
“The police are on their way.”
Virgo’s voice tore me from the Master’s words. I staggered to my feet.
“Are you alright?” the warlock asked as he steadied me.
I nodded, but didn’t trust myself to speak. I glanced toward the room.
“He’s tied to the chair,” Virgo said. “I made him sign a confession. The police will find it when they get here. They’ll make sure justice is served.” His eyebrows pulled together. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said in a rough voice I barely recognized.
“We’d better go,” the warlock replied, his gaze uncertain as he searched my face. “I called them on his phone. There’s nothing to trace us back here.”
“Good,” I replied.
It took all of my self-control to walk down the hall after the warlock. The further I got from the man, the easier it became. We stepped into the backyard and the Master’s voice vanished from my head altogether. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Virgo glanced at me from where he wiped our fingerprints off the door, but he didn’t press me. I appreciated his silence.
We watched from the cab of his truck parked further down the road as the policemen arrested Mr. Stewart and hauled him into a waiting cop car.
“That was exciting,” Virgo said, his tone questioning.
“I need some air,” I told him.
I opened the door and climbed out. The warlock joined me a few seconds later.
“What was that in there?”
I shook my head. “Don’t ask.”
Virgo’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve got to ask. I need to know I can trust you in situations like this.”
I shot him a flat look. “Do you expect more murderers who sent monsters after the ghosts of their victims?”
“I don’t know,” the warlock replied. His eyes flashed. “But if there are, are you going to murder them yourself?”
“It’s tempting,” I said.
His eyes narrowed.
The warlock’s cellphone rang and saved us from wherever the heated conversation was going.
I turned away and found myself face to face with Ceren. A smile touched my lips before I even realized it. Just the sight of her made my muscles relax. The worry that had pressed relentlessly at the back of my mind during her absence eased like air being let out of a balloon.
“Hi,” she said with an almost-shy smile.
“Hi,” I replied.
She looked me over. “Rough night?” she guessed.
I blew out a breath to indicate that it was an understatement and she smiled again.
“That’s right,” Virgo said from where he had climbed into the bed of the truck with the book spread out on his knees. “Khavis. K-H-A-V-I-S.”
He hit the speaker phone in time for me to hear James reply, “I was afraid that wasn’t a typo.”
“What does it say?” the warlock asked. He glanced at me. “Zev’s listening, too.”
“You’re not going to like this,” James replied, his voice tinny over the speakerphone.
“Shoot,” Virgo said.
James’ voice took on a monotone rhythm as if he was reading. “It says the khavis is an ancient phantom known as a ghost eater. It devours souls and is a threat to all who encounter it. Its only weakness is itself. It will hunt and devour all within its reach.”
“A ghost eater,” I repeated.
Ceren and I looked at each other.
“What was that?” Virgo asked.
“What?”
“That,” Virgo repeated, motioning between Ceren and me. “Is she here?”
“Who’s there?” James asked over the phone.
Virgo rolled his eyes. “Zev’s been haunted by some ghost. She’s apparently here right now.”
“She’s not ‘some ghost’,” I said at the same time that James said, “A girl ghost?”
A smile touched Virgo’s lips. “Apparently.”
“What does she look like?” James asked.
Virgo shot me an interested look. “Yeah, Zev. If she’s real, describe her. Make me a believer.”
I couldn’t blame the warlock for becoming bitter after losing both of his parents, but after our encounter with Mr. Stewart and finding out that there was a creature out there who was a potential threat to Ceren, I wasn’t in the mood to be messed with.
“I don’t have anything to prove to you.”
“Oh, come on,” Virgo goaded. “If she’s real, it should be simple. Just tell us what she looks like.”
“Tell us,” James said over the phone.
I was about to snap out something immature when Ceren moved closer to me.
“Yeah, Zev, what do I look like? I want to hear it from you,” she said in a teasing tone.
Light played in her warm brown eyes and highlighted the freckles that lightly dotted her nose. When she smiled, she did so self-consciously as if my scrutiny was bolder than she had expected. The glow of her skin made me want to run my fingers over her cheek. She looked so real at that moment I wondered if I could touch her. I lifted a hand while barely realizing I did it.
“You like her!”
The statement jolted me to the present and reminded me that we weren’t alone.
I stared from Ceren to Virgo.
“Zev, you like this ghost.”
Caught off-guard, I tried to protest, but no words came out. Ceren’s eyes widened. She looked from my raised hand and back to me. Before I could speak, she moved out of my reach.
“You like me?”
“Not-not like that,” I protested. My heart twisted at the lie.
“Zev likes the ghost girl,” Virgo said into the phone.
“Yes, good for Zev! I knew he’d find someone,” James hooted on the other end.
I barely heard them. My gaze was captured by Ceren. She looked at the truck, at Virgo, at the road, anywhere but at me.
“I-I didn’t think it was a big deal,” I told her.
Her gaze found me and the look in them made me lean against the small truck for support.
“It’s just that you’re a werewolf.”
“You’re a ghost,” I pointed out, my mind racing.
“Yeah,” she replied. Her voice was quieter when she said, “But I was human once. You’re…you’re a monster.”
“A monster,” I repeated in a whisper.
The truck was all that kept me up when she vanished back into the night. The sight of her eyes with their apologetic honesty was the last to fade. I was left staring at the darkness of the trees, hoping desperately that she would return and we could pretend nothing had ever been said. But her words, ‘You’re a monster’, kept circling through my head.
Chapter Nine
Virgo was silent on our drive back toward the Willards’ house as if he guessed that he had gone too far.
“Zev,” he began once.
“Don’t,” I replied.
I couldn’t contain my frustration anymore. When he stopped at a streetlight in the middle of Township, I shoved the door open and climbed out.
“Where are you going?” the warlock asked.
“Nowhere,” I replied. “I’ll catch you later.”
I slammed the door shut and started walking. He followed me for a few blocks, but when it was obvious I didn’t want him there, the truck’s headlights eventually turned away.
Even the moon couldn’t cut through the melancholy that gripped me. I told myself I was feeling ridiculous. Her words shouldn’t have hurt so much. I had heard them before from Isley. I was the big, bad wolf. I was the creature people feared in the shadows. I was part animal, a whole monster, to the point that even my love was terrifying.
I didn’t need love. I didn’t need anyone to care about, or to care about me. Love was just another human weakness, like empathy or mercy. It had been beaten out of us at the Lair, so why was it so hard to keep it at bay in this strange, human world?
A yelp cut through the air. I ignored with
the thought that someone must be disciplining their dog. I shoved my hands in my pockets and turned down the next block, determined to reach the forest and run far away for a while.
Another yelp sounded. I lifted my head and peered in that direction. If someone was scolding their pet, the tone was all wrong. Instead of embarrassment and sorrow at the misunderstanding, the yelp held fear and pain. It sounded again. There was something else underlying it, something that made me pause. I sorted through the notes the way I would as a wolf, reading each layer for the message it carried. The final, lower cord gripped me. It was accepting and full of a different kind of hurt, an emotional pain. Someone had abused this animal before.
My hands curled into fists and I took off running. The next yelp was fainter, weaker. I turned down one alley, then the next. By the time I slid around the corner to see the group of people at the dead end circled around a dog, red colored my vision.
A man in a blue hat raised a bat above his head. The wood showed blood in the dim light of the alley.
“If you hit that dog again, it will be the last thing you do.”
My voice was a menacing growl I barely recognized.
The cluster of people, eight of them, seven men and one woman, turned at the sound of my voice.
“He’s my dog,” the man in the blue hat said. “You can’t stop me.”
“From beating a defenseless animal? You bet I will,” I replied.
“Zev, what are you doing?”
I barely glanced at Ceren. She hovered at the edge of my vision, her face pale and hands raised as if she could stop me.
“I’d like to see you try,” the leader said.
Several of the others chuckled.
The impartial side of me sized them up as my training took over. A few forearms showed tattoos of a black spider. Many wore blue, either with bandanas wrapped around upper arms, necks, or ankles, or like the leader with his blue hat. The signs that I had stumbled upon a gang prickled my senses. I had no problem fighting a gang, but they tended to be more organized and with at least some combat experience. Territory wars were similar to those had by wolves in the wild. At least with a pack I would have had someone to watch my back. As it was, eight against one weren’t the best of odds.
