by Nash, Bobby
Although she wasn’t generally prone to angry outbursts or fits of violence, Alexandra Holzer did not take kindly to threats against her family. Before she even realized she had done it, she punched the Slaugh in the face. He fell backward into the van, still laughing as blood spurt from his newly split lip.
Alexandra shook her fist. “Ow!”
“Feel better?” Jacob asked.
“No. That hurt,” she said, rubbing a sore knuckle.
“It takes practice,” Jacob told her.
“I thought you said this guy was a ghost?” Joshua said.
“He is.”
Joshua pointed at the van then tapped his own lip. “Then why is he bleeding? Last time I checked, ghosts were dead. No blood.”
“He’s right,” Alexandra said, rubbing her sore knuckles. “He’s pretty solid.”
“In this form, yes,” Jacob said.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple, Miss Holzer,” Jacob said. “The ghost has possessed this man. The outer body is just a shell, a human shell.”
“So it can be hurt?” she guessed.
“After a fashion.” Jacob scratched the back of his neck as if deliberating on whether or not to reveal more. “The spirit and the host are connected. If you hurt the host, the spirit will register the pain.”
“So, if we hurt them, we can stop them, right?”
“It will be difficult. There is nothing to stop them from vacating the host.”
She smiled. “But then they’re back to being spirits and that’s something we know how to handle, right?”
Jacob smiled. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
“We have to get to my father,” Alexandra said. “It’ll take too long to drive or take the train. I need options!” She had to shout over the rising thrum until she realized what was causing the noise.
She looked up; they all did, just in time to see a black helicopter hover over the alley before settling onto the roof of the building that housed the OAGI.
“I know,” Jacob said over the noise of whirring blades. “I took the liberty of arranging transportation for us.”
“Us?” Joshua asked.
“Yes,” Jacob said. “I’m going with you.”
“Then so am I,” Samuel said.
“Me too,” Joshua added.
“Sounds like a party,” Jacob teased. He motioned toward the nearest entrance to the building. “Shall we?”
Alexandra was the first one up the stairs, the others hot on her heels.
Minutes later, the helicopter lifted into the air and angled away from the building that housed the Office of Angel Guides on a straight shot toward Holzer House.
As she watched the city pass by beneath her, Alexandra hoped they were fast enough.
Hans Holzer awoke at his desk.
He pushed his face off of the book that lay open on his desk. He had been deep into studying history books for any mention of vessels such as the one his daughter had brought him to study. Aside from small breaks for food, sleep, and a few brief moments of quality time with Catherine, he had been locked away in his office. It was not unusual for Hans to lose himself in a case like this. When he sunk his teeth into something, he held on with a tenacious ferocity not unlike a territorial canine with an old gnarled bone.
He had earned the nickname “Professor” years earlier, which seemed apt as he was often called upon to give lectures and training sessions. He loved public speaking, especially when he found a receptive audience with open minds and closed mouths. Sadly, these days he seemed to run across those who had that backward and preferred closed minds and open mouths.
After checking the pages to make sure he hadn’t drooled on them during his catnap, Hans stretched and wondered when he had stopped being able to stay up for days at a time without sleep. It didn’t seem like so long ago when he tackled investigations with gusto, often losing days at a time while lost in the fog of research. He would never admit it to his loving wife, but there were times when he missed those days.
Despite the dark gray of winter outside his window, his pocket watch told him that it was late in the afternoon. The thick cloud cover that blocked out the Sun’s warm glow threatened to dump more snow on them as evening turned to night.
Pushing away from the cluttered desk, Hans stood and stretched out the kinks that came from sleeping at his desk. More than once he had promised Catherine that he would stop working and come to bed when he felt fatigued, but somehow he always ignored the warning signs in his attempt to get “just a little more work done” before calling it a night. Then, he would wake up with an ache in his back and a kink in his neck. His wife joked that those aches and pains were his body’s way of reminding him that he wasn’t as young as he once was. She was right, of course, she usually was, but it was a bitter pill to swallow.
Alexandra, bless her, was becoming a lot like her mother. Hans knew his daughter’s pestering him about his work habits came from a place of love. That didn’t make it any less annoying. He was a grown man and had been taking care of himself for years before the women in his life came along. He wondered why they treated him like a helpless old man these days. He made a mental note to have a long talk with them about it the next time Alexandra came by for a visit.
Without sunlight streaming through the windows, he reached out for the freestanding light stand nearby and pulled the cord. The lamp clicked, but the light did not come on.
He tried it again, but achieved the same result.
Hans walked over to the room’s overheard light switch and tried it.
Nothing.
“I know there’s a torch in here somewhere,” he mumbled as he searched through the shelves of one of the cabinets that lined the walls of one side of the office, each one filled to overflowing with trinkets. He was a bit of a pack rat, not an unfamiliar trait for those in his profession. His office held trinkets from multiple hunts, research trips, archaeological digs, and other assorted odds and ends he had picked up on his travels.
Catherine had offered to help him clean the office a few times early in their marriage, but eventually stopped asking when she realized how particular he was with regards to his office. It was the one room of the house that the Countess did not rearrange from time to time. His office was one hundred percent Hans Holzer and he liked it that way.
“Ah! There you are,” he said as his fingers curled around the handle of a small oil lantern. A soft shake revealed that there was still liquid within. “Now all I need is…” he started even as he moved around items in a drawer. “Ah, ha! And there you are.” He pulled a box of matches from the drawer and moved back to his desk.
The lantern ignited easily and filled the room with a warm glow. Hans dropped the box of matches in his jacket pocket then scooped up the lantern and headed for the door. If the power were out in the rest of the house, surely Catherine would have called him. The house was old so there was every real possibility that the breaker for his office had simply blown while the rest of the house remained well lit and inviting.
“Catherine?” he called from the top of the stairs.
There was no answer so he started down the stairs. The lights were off all around him as well. He did not expect to find her in any of the upstairs bedrooms. She rarely came upstairs except to sleep. Alexandra’s old room remained all but untouched since their daughter had moved into her own place. Well, almost untouched. They had taken to storing things in there whenever they needed extra space.
Halfway down the stairs he called out again. “Catherine?”
Still, there was no answer.
The house was far too quiet for his tastes and he started to worry. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Hans expected to hear something, anything, but there was no sound at all except a low rumble of thunder in the distance. Through the open curtains, he could see the gray swirling clouds. What he couldn’t see was his wife.
“Catherine?” he called again, a little louder t
his time.
“I’m here,” she called out from deeper in the house.
He followed the sound of her voice and found her coming up from the basement where the fuse box was located. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said with a smile. She liked it when he was concerned for her. “Looks like we blew some fuses is all.”
“That’s a relief,” Hans said.
“Unfortunately, we do not appear to have any spares on hand. I think someone forgot to pick them up from the hardware store.” She gave him a wink.
“So I did,” he agreed. “I’ll head out now…” he started, but a shake of her head stopped him in his place.
“Tomorrow will be fine, Hans,” she said softly. “There’s a storm moving in. I think we will be able to survive one night without electricity, don’t you? If worse comes to worse, we have our transistor radio so we can listen to music and we’ve plenty of batteries, lamps and oil for light, and a roaring fire in the fireplace plus some spare blankets for heat. We’ll be fine.”
“Sounds like we’ve got everything we need.”
“Except spare fuses,” she reminded him.
“Except spare fuses,” he echoed, nodding.
Catherine twirled around playfully. “Who knows, a fire, candles, a bottle of wine, this might even be romantic.”
“It might at that,” Hans said before leaning in to kiss her.
“See? We’re off to a good start already,” Catherine said.
“Why didn’t you call me when the power failed?”
She smiled at her husband. “I did.”
“Oh.” He looked only mildly chastised.
“Fell asleep in your office again, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said sarcastically.
Catherine hooked an arm around her husband’s free arm and tugged him along toward the dining room. “Well, now that you’re awake, why don’t we have a snack?”
“That sounds lovely, darling,” he said and led the way with the lamp to light the way.
They were almost there when the sound of shattering glass filled the darkness.
“What was that?” Catherine asked.
“It came from the living room,” Hans said as he moved back the way they had come, the lantern lighting the way.
There was a man standing in front of a broken living room window. It was hard to make out any features in the dim illumination, be he looked young and fit. Not that either of those things impressed Hans Holzer.
“What do you want here?” he asked. “I demand you leave at once.”
“Or what?”
Before Hans could answer, another window shattered and he saw another man crash through. He landed in a crouch before rising to his full height, easily six feet tall or more. He giggled the entire time.
“Now, see here…” Hans started.
Before he could finish, the front door burst open as a well-placed boot splintered the wood around the lock. Two more men entered and stood on opposite ends of the open door. A third man walked up the steps and across the porch. He wasn’t as fit as his companions, but from the way they deferred to the newcomer, he was undoubtedly the leader.
“I demand you answer me,” Hans said.
“Demand, Professor?” the newcomer asked. “It’s good to see that some things never change.”
Hans strained to see against the gloom, but he did not recognize the man nor was his voice familiar. “Do I know you?”
“You know my name, laddie,” the newcomer said. “Or, at least you did once upon a time. You may not remember me, but I certainly remember you, Hans Holzer,” Max Bartlett said as he stepped into the light.
“I don’t know you, son.”
“Well, to be fair, Professor, I looked a lot different the last time we met.”
Suddenly, as though a light bulb had gone off above his head, Hans knew what it was he faced. “Laddie? Duncan? You were the one who killed that kid… Duncan!”
“Oh, I did far more than kill him, Professor,” the Slaugh said. “I stole his health, his stamina, his memories, his life. I took everything that made Duncan McGrath the man you knew and devoured him.”
The Slaugh smiled.
“He was delicious.”
“You monster!”
“Oh, come now, Professor, did you think it was over?” Max asked. “Did you think I would not one day rebuild The Wild Hunt and take my revenge?”
“To be honest, I never gave you a second thought,” Hans said solemnly.
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Max Bartlett sneered.
“Who have you taken this time?” Hans asked. He wanted to keep the intruder talking while he got Catherine to safety. His wife was a strong woman and could handle almost anything, but the being he faced now was more dangerous that any simple spirit they had encountered before.
Hans took a small step backward, then another, angling them toward the stairs.
“Oh, yes,” the Slaugh said, running his hands across his cheeks. “My new host. You’ll appreciate this one, Professor. His name was Max. Max Bartlett. I believe you knew his father.”
Hans felt his anger threaten to boil over, but reined it in. He had to keep calm, keep his wits about him to get Catherine to safety. “How did you free yourself from your prison?” he asked, trying to buy time, but he was curious.
“We have young Max here to think for that.” The Slaugh smiled and took a few steps closer to Hans, who retreated backward a step to keep the distance between them constant.
“How so?”
“Well, like so many boys his age, young Max decided to tear down the old and replace it with something new and shiny. The irony is, he only did it to make his dear old dad happy. Oh, Conrad, he never did explain to his offspring exactly what he had done. If he had, we wouldn’t be here now having this pleasant conversation. It’s such a shame that families no longer communicate. This modern world of yours does not compare with the way things used to be, Professor.”
“World’s going to hell in a handcart. It has been for a long time.”
Max’s smile shone against the darkness. “Then, it’s lucky for you that we returned when we did.”
“What do you mean?” Hans asked.
“Come now, Professor, even you must see the beautiful symmetry. We are sin eaters.” He spread his arms wide. “Surely you did your homework on us after our last encounter. This modern world of yours is dripping with it. You can even smell it in the air. Sin is all around us. Death, disaster, war, famine, plague… these are the rewards your enlightened age has sown.”
“You’re insane,” Catherine said.
Uh, oh, Hans thought.
“No, dear lady,” Max said. “We are The Wild Hunt! And we have come for you, Hans Holzer! Your sin is pride and it is time for you to die.”
Hans knew there would be no talking his way out of this one. What he needed was a plan. Moving on instinct, he hurled the lamp at the leader of the pack, who easily sidestepped it, just as he had hoped he would.
The glass shattered on impact as the lamp hit the hardwood floor. The full base of oil splashed wildly and the darkness was soon replaced by flickering orange as the living room erupted in flame.
“Run!” Hans shouted as he pushed his wife up the stairs toward his office. “Go! Go!”
Hans and Catherine bolted up the stairs and ran into the study Hans used as his office. He slammed the door shut behind them and latched the slide lock in place. Then, he slid the old red leather couch he had picked up at a house he had investigated against the door to wedge it closed.
He pointed toward the door to the balcony. “Secure that door!” he said and Catherine ran to it.
She turned the lock and pulled the curtains closed.
“Are we safe in here?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said as he started looking through the shelves for something to help them. “For a few minutes.”
“That’s not very reassuring, Hans.”
He stopped searching and turned to face her. Hans put his hands on her shoulders. “You’d be surprised what you can do with a few free minutes,” he said and offered her a wink before resuming his search.
“We may not have that long,” Catherine said.
“Why not?”
“Just a hunch,” the Countess said as she saw Max Bartlett through the sheer curtain over the door leading to the balcony. All that separated them was a thin piece of glass and wood.
“What?”
“He’s here.”
Alexandra was anxious.
The helicopter bounced along, fighting against the turbulent winds. It was a large vehicle and reminded her out of something from a war movie except that it was painted black instead of the usual green that was portrayed on the silver screen. The color choice wasn’t all that unusual since it was Jacob Black’s private helicopter. She had never seen him wear any other color or drive anything that was not black. It added to his smoldering appeal.
She wasn’t attracted to the man, at least not in a physical sense, but Alexandra could not deny the man’s appeal. Jacob was the very embodiment of the bad boy that mothers had been warning their daughters about since time began.
And he wanted to be her friend.
She cast a glance his way, not surprised to find him as cool as ice. Nothing seemed to faze him. She looked to her right where Joshua sat. Flying didn’t bother him, but the turbulence had even him holding on. To her left, Samuel Esau looked much the worse for wear. He had a white-knuckled death grip on the handle next to his seat and another on the seat next to his leg. He stared straight ahead, never glancing out the window at the city below.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Fine,” he bit back.
“You don’t look fine. What’s the matter?” She grew concerned. “Does it have anything to do with my parents?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if it did?”
“Yes,” he said, closing his eyes. His voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I just don’t like to fly.”
“Really?” She tried not to laugh, but her eyes lit up with amusement.
