by A L Fogerty
He put everything in a sack and carried it down the ridge trail back to the village. Sid and Riddick were busy digging a grave in the pack’s graveyard. It was important that the ground be consecrated before and after the burial, which would help the soul of the departed be released from the world. Without such precise rituals, the spirit would be trapped on the earthly plane. It had been that way since the cataclysm.
Twenty-five years before, a great earthquake shook the west coast of what had once been the United States. During the sundering, a crevice had opened from Canada to California, creating a deep fissure into the earth. The tsunamis and volcanic eruptions that followed were nothing compared to what crawled from the black hole in the earth.
A gateway into hell had been opened, and all the creatures who lived there were set free into the world. They brought with them a terrible virus that swept through the human population, turning ninety percent of them into mindless creatures the living had come to call zombies.
In the years since the portal to hell opened and the human population had been decimated, the paranormal creatures who had always lived on earth had risen in prominence. Witches and vampires ruled entire cities, claiming the remaining humans as slaves and blood sacrifices. The shifters had been devastated by the plague in different ways. The shift, which had once been instantaneous and effortless, had become more and more difficult with each passing year. Kayla Redclaw was the last alpha female.
Quinn carried with him the words of his late mother, a wolf shifter seer like himself. His mother had predicted that the last female alpha would mate with all five of her sons, and together they would bring an end to the darkness and usher in a new era of light, peace, and security for all.
They’d found Kayla at a tournament held by her father. She had reluctantly gone with them and joined the quest to find their missing pack, who’d been kidnapped by witch slavers during the brothers’ absence.
Quinn placed his stones around the new grave, creating a sacred circle, then pinched the salt and spread it around the circle, whispering prayers to his goddess, who was the source of his power.
Sid and Riddick emerged from the grave they’d been digging and nodded at Quinn. He continued the consecration. With the circle cast, Quinn sprinkled salt over the earth at the bottom of the grave and mixed it with the herbs from his pouch. He knelt beside the grave and placed his hands on the soil, closing his eyes. The rich, deep scent of fresh earth filled his nose as dampness sank through his robe and into his knees.
“Oh, blessed Wolf Mother, please consecrate this ground. Please receive another soul into the loving embrace of eternity. Please guide him on his way to the afterlife. Keep him safe and close on his journey from this plane to the next.”
He pushed all his healing power and magic into the earth, spreading it out around the grave. The villagers brought Jamie Lark’s body forward, wrapped in hempen cloth. Quinn asked them to stay outside the circle. Mourners tossed flowers into the grave as Quinn blessed each one, adding to the consecration of the ground. The scent of autumn flowers mixed with the damp smell of earth and the acidic tinge of blood. On Quinn’s command, several men lowered Jamie’s body into the hole, using ropes to allow his body to gently descend into the damp darkness of the earth.
“May your walk to the afterlife be swift and peaceful, Jamie Lark. Those you leave behind will miss you, but it is our firmest wish that you should move on. Leave the cares of this world behind. You are free. Be free. You are released from suffering. You are released from this body. You are released from this life.”
Jamie’s body rested at the bottom of the grave, and the men began to shovel dirt back over the corpse.
“You are released. You are released. You are released. Wolf Mother, accept him. Wolf Mother, embrace him. Wolf Mother, guide him to the afterlife.”
Betty Lark sobbed at the edge of the grave, clutching flowers in her arms. Quinn felt tears rising into the corners of his eyes as a wave of her suffering hit his body with breathtaking force. He had always felt every feeling, every emotion, every pain, and every triumph of everyone around him. It was excruciating and exquisite. Whether it was a blessing or curse, it was what made him a shaman. It was what allowed him to connect to the goddess.
He felt Wolf Mother’s strength fill his body, and her words whispered in his ears.
“Jamie Lark is with me, my son. I walk with him to the afterlife. I have heard your prayers, and I am here to provide his soul guidance.”
“Thank you, Wolf Mother. Thank you for all you provide,” Quinn whispered, palms raised and eyes closed.
The anger, frustration, and sorrow of the mourners filled his heart and twisted around him. He tried with all his strength to maintain the clarity and love that Wolf Mother provided. It was his work.
As the last shovelfuls of dirt were piled over Jamie Lark, the stonesmith brought a grave marker that had been inscribed with his name and “Loving husband and father. Exceptional farmer who provided for his pack. Our love be with you, forever in the afterlife.”
Sid helped the stonesmith place the headstone on Jamie’s grave. Quinn placed his palm on the smooth surface when it was done. In his other hand, he grasped a handful of salt. “You are released. You are released. You are released.” He sent another wave of healing magic into the salt and sprinkled it on the grave, repeating his mantra. “You are released. You are released. You are released.”
When the soil filled the grave and every inch of the sacred circle was covered in a thin layer of salt, Quinn said his final prayer, silently thanking Wolf Mother for her guidance and love. The mourners drifted away from the gravesite. Quinn retrieved his stones and the statue of Wolf Mother, bringing his ritual to a close.
He caught Kayla’s eye as he started back toward his cave. He could feel her concern vibrating through him. He wanted to hold her, kiss her forehead, and tell her that everything was all right. But the moon would be full that night, and he had much to prepare for.
He gave her a small nod, lifting his chin and waving. She gave him a knowing nod. He had important work to attend to. She and Jagger would spend the rest of the evening attending to pack problems. Kayla did not enjoy it, but Jagger was more than happy to fill in the gaps. Kayla was more diplomatic and more levelheaded than Jagger, her empathy stronger and her desire to help much more developed. Jagger enjoyed telling people what to do. All in all, Kayla and Jagger made a good team as leaders of the pack.
Things would have been good for everyone if it weren’t for the ghosts that lingered. Quinn had been unable to consecrate the graves and pray for the safe passage of the souls of their dead before they’d been trapped.
In his cave, he filled a basin with water and meticulously washed each moonstone and his statue with salt water. After scrubbing them clean, he laid them out on a hemp cloth to dry.
He lit a fire in his cave, and the smoke billowed up through a small crack in the ceiling, escaping into the night air. The autumn chill was upon them, and the warmth of the fire was welcome in the cold.
He placed the cleansed moonstones in a circle around his fire, sprinkling salt around the circle. He laid out a bleached hide from the skin of a wolf and laid out his ritual implements. He placed his statue of Wolf Mother at the center of his shrine, beside a bowl of water, his ritual dagger, bundles of incense, herbs, and sweet-smelling resins.
He knelt on the fur in front of his fire, consecrating his magic circle. After casting a protective bubble around himself, he put a kettle of water onto the coals. He sat in meditation until the water boiled. Then he poured hot water into a cup of herbs and mushrooms. After it had steeped, he drank the brew in one gulp, ingesting the ritual ingredients that would take him into a deep trance.
He did not need hallucinogens to speak to his goddess. He had practiced for a decade and had become the strongest shaman in the region. But that night, he needed her close. He needed to ask a question.
“Wolf Mother! Wolf Mother! Hear my prayer,” Quinn said, ope
ning his channel to the great goddess of his people.
She appeared at the entrance to the cave with moonlight in her hair, as if she traveled on a moonbeam. She was flanked by a pack of wolves that were silver like the moon. She walked toward him as if gliding on air and stood beyond the firelight.
“What is it, my son?” she asked, holding up her palms.
“Our village is overrun by ghosts. Is there nothing I can do?”
“I’m afraid it is beyond my power now.”
“Can the witch, Mackenzie, release them?”
“The necromancer has power. But she lacks the tools.”
“What tools does she need?”
“She will have her answer soon.” She began to drift away like a feather floating on the breeze.
“Wait! Wolf Mother! I have one more question.”
She was before him again in an instant, her face looming large over the firelight. “Ask it.”
“It’s Kayla. I am concerned about her. She hasn’t been happy since she learned that her father is not her own.”
“Oh? Reginald Redclaw is aligned with darkness.”
“She’s confused. She doesn’t know who or what she is. Can you tell me?”
“Kayla’s path is for her to walk, Quinn Blackfang. You cannot walk it for her.”
“But you know who she is,” he implored.
“There are things beyond the minds of mortals.”
“You said her father was not of this world.”
“And that is true.”
“What world is he from?”
“All worlds and none. He is a being who crossed the barrier and found a vessel. He used the body of Reginald to deposit his seed. That was how Kayla came into being.”
“Was he a god?”
“These beings only come into this realm when there is no other hope. Kayla is the hope for the future, Quinn Blackfang. You are her mate, tasked with being her support on her journey. You cannot walk it for her, but she need not walk alone. There will be many trials before all of you. But it is your love for Kayla that will see her through.”
“What about my brothers?”
“Your brothers love Kayla in their own way. She needs all of you to fulfill her destiny. But it is your support she will seek in her darkest hour. You must be there for her. Don’t forget these words, Quinn Blackfang.”
Chapter Three
Kayla walked with Quinn through the oat field as the farmers took their meager harvest from the ripe autumn stalks. Sorrow over Jamie’s death was palpable. Quinn had just told her about his interaction with Wolf Mother the night before.
“What do you think it means?” she asked.
“I think that you have a very special lineage.”
“She didn’t say anything else?”
“She only said that your father came from another realm. He used Reginald’s body to transmit his seed to your mother. These beings only come to our realm during times when there is no longer hope.”
“I wish I knew what kind of being it was,” Kayla mused.
“So do I.”
“I should ask Felix about myths and legends.”
“Felix is an endless well of information.”
“It certainly does come in handy from time to time.” Kayla took a deep breath and looked up into the hazy evening sky. It had been growing colder and darker every day. Soon, the winter chill would come, and snow would cover the ground. The day before had been warm and clear, but the clouds hung low in the sky. She squinted into the pale-gray haze overhead and focused on a circling black dot. She shielded her eyes with her hand in an attempt to make out the tiny creature. The figure swooped, and she finally saw the details of the bird approaching.
Willa and Mackenzie scuffled out onto the porch of a small log cabin at the edge of the village and hurried to join Kayla and Quinn near the oat field.
“It’s come,” Mackenzie said.
The raven dove and landed on the wooden fence separating the field from the forest. He hopped toward Mackenzie, a rolled note tied to his leg with a red string. Mackenzie untied the note, and the bird immediately launched into the air and disappeared into the gray clouds. She unrolled the note, her eyes moving back and forth as she read. She rolled it back up and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Wolf Mother said you would learn how to remove the ghosts very soon,” Quinn said.
“And I have,” Mackenzie said. “But it’s not what I’d hoped.”
“What is it?” Kayla asked, sensing Mackenzie’s concern.
“This is a note from Malik Hunter, our chaos mage friend. You met him in Dark Haven.”
“I remember.”
“He’s also a scholar of magical antiquities. He says he knows how to exorcise the resistant spirits. I was hoping to avoid this method, but it seems that it’s inevitable.”
“What is it?” Willa asked, placing her hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder.
“He says I need a spirit box,” Mackenzie said, shaking her head.
“What is a spirit box?” Kayla asked.
“It’s an object that pulls a spiritual essence and traps it inside.”
“But we want the spirits to move on to the afterlife,” Kayla said. “These ghosts are part of our pack, our friends and family.”
Kayla had never met the deceased people who haunted the Mist Valley village. It was the Blackfangs’ pack, and she was only a surrogate alpha. She’d left her own pack on Smoke Mountain when she escaped her father and an unthinkable arranged marriage.
“It is possible for them to move on. They lose more and more of their connection to this world the longer they are inside the box. It’s like a spiritual purgatory. It takes time, but it works.”
“That sounds like a good solution,” Quinn said.
“It is. The only problem is that spirit boxes are quite rare, and I don’t have the skill to make one myself.”
“Oh,” Kayla said, losing the momentary hope that had started to build in her chest.
“Malik does have one suggestion, though,” Mackenzie said. “A group of witch treasure hunters went into old Knoxville, now called the City of Ghosts, on a quest for treasure not long ago. They lost their spirit box when they were driven from the city. Malik believes that it’s still there.”
“So all we have to do is retrieve the spirit box and bring it back here,” Quinn said.
“If you think this village is bad,” Mackenzie said, “the City of Ghosts is a thousand times worse. Necromancers have been trying to clear the spirits for decades, to no avail. With every spell and every passing year, the spirits grow stronger. They are not insubstantial wraths anymore. Not only that, the activity of spirits has drawn other creatures there. Ghouls, zombies, and the like are attracted to the psychic energy that such powerful spirits give off. Getting in and out alive will be quite a challenge. Retrieving a spirit box without any idea of where to look will most likely be impossible.”
“What else are we going to do?” Kayla asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to let you down, but I know I’ll fail if I go there alone.”
“We wouldn’t let you go by yourself,” Kayla said. “I will go with you. And I’m sure Quinn will come too.”
“I will never leave your side again,” Willa said.
“I’m sure my brothers will join the quest,” Quinn added.
“I doubt we could drag Jagger away from Mist Valley right now,” Kayla said.
“Probably not. But Sid, Riddick, and Felix will join us. Just tell Riddick there’s treasure and Felix there will be books. Sid is always down for an adventure that might allow him to smash something with his hammer, as long as there is enough food involved.” Quinn smirked.
Kayla nodded. “It’s settled, then. We’ll travel to the City of Ghosts to retrieve the spirit box.”
“If you’re sure,” Mackenzie said.
“It is our best hope to ridding Mist Valley of the plague of its own dead,” Kayla said. “We’ll discuss it wi
th the others at dinner tonight.”
The brothers, Kayla, and the two witches sat around the table, enjoying the food. Not being much of a cook, Kayla had retrieved it all from the communal kitchen—it had been prepared for the big dinner meeting. The table was filled with plates of barbecued boar ribs and grilled venison, fresh salad greens from the garden, ripe tomatoes, and oat bread covered in butter.
Jagger looked up at Mackenzie and frowned, shaking his rib free of excess sauce. He grumbled and took a bite. “Have you made any further progress?” he asked Mackenzie, wiping his face with a napkin.
Kayla touched his arm. “That’s why I brought them over tonight.”
“We received a raven from Dark Haven.” Mackenzie folded her hands in front of her on the table. “Malik suggested a solution to the haunting problem.”
“But it’s going to be a challenge,” Kayla said.
“A challenge?” Sid asked, raising an eyebrow.
“There is a device called a spirit box, which is able to suck spiritual ectoplasm and trap it inside. The longer the spirits remain in the box, the less attachment and connection they have to the world. Eventually, they are able to move on,” Kayla said in a rush.
“Where do we get one of these boxes?” Jagger took another rib from the platter.
Mackenzie straightened. “Spirit boxes are extremely rare, and I lack the skill to make one. But I do know where one might be.”
“Might be?” Jagger bit into a third rib.
“If no one else has retrieved it.” Mackenzie’s lips tightened.
“That doesn’t sound very promising,” Felix interjected.
“It’s unlikely that anyone has,” Willa said. “It’s in old Knoxville, the most haunted city in the region.”
“How do you know it’s there?” Jagger pointed his half-eaten rib at the witches.
“Malik knows of a group of treasure hunters. They just returned from old Knoxville a few weeks ago. They were run off by the spirits and lost their spirit box inside the city.”
