The Angry Ghost and Other Stories

by Peter Spokes

  “No! You’re wrong! Let me speak to him! I must see him… I must see him now!” she shouted suddenly, her voice rising and her dark eyes suddenly taking on a yellow glow.

  The constable stepped back a pace.

  “Miss Ficowski!”

  “Willow…” Ash said quietly moving quickly towards her and gently but firmly leading her out of the room. As he had feared and half expected, a low rumble was starting from her throat and her face was already changing as he lifted her off her feet and headed to the furthest room he could find.

  Ash found it odd and yet familiar as he remembered doing just the same when they were younger. Ash remembered his father telling him how remarkably restrained he could be but needed to look out for the signs of Willow’s emerging beast. When Willow’s passion flared, it was time to remove her from the eyes of strangers.

  Ash had come to accept how – with some effort – he was able to hold off his own beast while Willow’s was always close – especially in moments of extreme agitation.

  As she twisted her head back, he saw her canines growing and her jaws lengthening and the long blonde hair was starting to billow like platinum clouds down her back.

  As Ash had grown up he had never really experienced fear until he saw Willow at the end of a hunt. She was her father’s daughter, as they say. Unlike Juniper, Willow seemed to lose all humanity; untamed was not the word; she became something feral supreme.

  He carried her into the room, released her quickly and jumped back.

  Scene 3: Ash Confronts Willow

  He turned and faced Willow realising he had not really thought this through. For eleven years he had denied the beast but knew that without it now he might die.

  Ash had no time to remove his clothes, so as his body manoeuvred itself into a different creature – a creature he had not visited and had been afraid of for so many years – he felt himself ripped out of his civilised, material cocoon.

  He watched Willow, now on all fours, her dressing gown on the floor, coming towards him.

  Ash noticed how she favoured her right side, limping on her front left paw.

  He had not expected the odd but almost climatic sense of relief that came with the change; a feeling – he supposed – similar to that experienced perhaps by a lunatic whose straitjacket had just been removed. It wasn’t that he was giving in to the change – he ached for it while the choice of metaphor was not lost on him.

  Ash fell forwards onto all fours still analysing the moment and realising how important it was for them – any of them – not to deny themselves the things that made them what they were. The mind and body needed to be totally in tune for optimum health and for the mind to deny the body – or vice-versa – only provided seeds for dissatisfaction and frustration. The remembered painful changes to his bone and flesh structure were oddly welcomed and savoured.

  Both the mind and body were inherently aligned and depression and discontent must ultimately be created if a psychical and physical balance was not maintained.

  As they faced each other Ash kept his teeth hidden and made no move towards her – he was surprised by the human control he still felt despite being a wolf.

  Willow snarled, her head now low, her yellow eyes fixed on him.

  Ash was physically stronger than his sister though he had always been lesser to her when it came to the passion of the hunt and he now faced her hoping she would back down – at least until the constable had gone.

  He was wrong.

  She moved forward and in the wink of an eye leapt at him and then back again. With a sudden pain in his shoulder he looked down at three lines of blood. He knew that he had been ‘away from the hunt’ as his father used to say, for too long, and his experience as a wolf was as a novice compared with that of Willow.

  She made another quick motion – Ash was stunned by its speed. He twisted but she was too quick for him – another bloody left shoulder.

  He knew that she could probably kill him – this was a warning.

  All animals are driven by basic feelings such as hunger, cold and self-preservation.

  In Ash’s current situation, it was the latter that determined his actions. It is not part of a wolf’s psyche to be defensive and endure pain. So, Ash moved slowly towards his sister, his teeth now bared – time to even things… if possible.

  At that moment, there was a loud knock at the door and Juniper came into the room. “He’s gone. The constable had a call; the man Moon has escaped!”

  Scene 4: The Chase

  Ash looked once at Willow and then ran past Juniper. Willow had been right: the murderer of his uncle will know what it means to murder a Ficowski.

  Ash had not felt this way for so many years and drank in the liberation.

  He soon caught Moon’s trail and ran through the quicksilver forest.

  The moon was full as he followed the scent. It was musky and smelt of fear. He didn’t see the trees as they sped past. His eyes were focussed ahead of him. About fifty feet ahead, a man crashed through the foliage, all reasoning gone from his mind, replaced with madness.

  Then a moment later, there he was and saliva ran from Ash’s mouth. He could have reached him much earlier but he had been enjoying the hunt and anticipation.

  Finally, the prey stopped, turned around and looked at the stalking beast in despair and horror but Ash only felt happiness – and a sudden hunger.

  He was drunk on the excitement and power of what he was.

  Ash slowed and stared at his prey. He readied to leap already anticipating the hot blood gushing down his throat. Why had he denied himself this? No human could come close to experiencing this kind of ecstatic wonderment.

  Ash leapt and locked his jaws on… empty air as, at the last moment, he twisted his head. Moon was sent tumbling away from the impact of his paws.

  Many animals can be trained, but the veneer of domestication and obedience is only skin deep and though Ash had experienced countless bad nights full of evil memories, here he was reprising the event; he was doing what he was born to do and yet it seemed that some rational human part of him was still present enabling him to rise above the primitivism and savagery of the beast. Arguments assuaged between irrefutable reasons for ripping the throat from this human and an overwhelming rationale to turn and walk away because it was wrong. Ash shook his shaggy head in an attempt to clear his confusion.

  He looked at the human scrambling away from him. Ash snarled; he had made his decision – the human was fresh meat.

  But as he leapt turning his head sidewards and his jaws opening for Moon’s throat, he was hit suddenly by something fast – and blonde.

  Willow’s unexpected appearance caught him off guard but he immediately recovered and turned to face his sister, currently staring at him with head low and legs braced wide.

  He paused.

  Ash was now pack leader and blood was his objective – it ruled him; it was the everything – it was the all. But oddly he still maintained a mental control that reminded him that Willow was his older sister and more wolf than he would ever be. She saw, and felt things more than he; understood the wild, was not restrained or tainted by civilised doctrines. Maybe there was a rational reason in Willow’s behaviour. Ash was in her world now.

  He slowly sat back on his haunches and began licking his paws – something that always gave a ‘I’m chilled’ indication to another wolf.

  Ash waited, still slightly bemused, if that is indeed possible in a wolf, that he still had control.

  Moon disappeared holding his shoulder tightly to him and staggered into the forest, and with him, the need for the werewolves to confront each other.

  Willow started to change and so Ash followed.

  After several moments Willow and Ash faced each other on two legs – and naked.

  “What are you doing?” Ash started. “It was you who said t
he murderer’s throat should be torn out.”

  “Moon did not do it!” Willow shouted back.

  Fortunately, there was a sound to his left heralding the arrival of Juniper and a sack of clothes.

  Chapter 8: Forrester

  Scene 1: The Athame Brotherhood

  Willow, Ash and Juniper tracked Moon.

  After an hour, they reached the Athame Brotherhood’s cabins. It was difficult to see how many there were as they all appeared connected to one another and sprawled throughout the clearing. It looked as though the entire brotherhood had come out to meet them and they moved with some caution through the throng.

  Except for Willow.

  The siblings’ focus fell upon a tall man with long white hair, piercing green eyes and an air of serenity. The only thing that spoiled the messiah-like illusion was an ugly scar that ran from just below his right eye down across his lips to the middle of his chin. His smile appeared honest – if slightly crooked – as he took a few moments to look at each of them in turn.

  He nodded. “Welcome, Pack of Ficowski. My name is Forrester. I had hoped that one day I would meet again the offspring of Besnik and Violca.”

  Ash, Willow and Juniper looked at each other and then back at Forrester. He continued, “There is no cause to be concerned. I have been aware of your… ways since your father first came here and also, Willow,” he looked in her direction, “has been most welcome these past few months.”

  Willow winced and leaned forward. “The police are looking for Moon; they think he murdered Uncle Stefan.”

  “And what do you think, Willow?”

  “He’s innocent – he would never do such a thing.”

  “Ash, what about you?”

  Ash paused a little, taken aback by the direct question from the stranger.

  “Well, the police say they have evidence that he was in the barn,” he said trying to seem unperturbed by Forrester’s intense stare.

  “Yes, he did have some of your uncle’s blood on the sleeves of his shirt right enough – quite a lot actually.”

  “Well, there you are, he must have done it,” Juniper said.

  Forrester looked at Juniper for several moments before, “Gravediggers put dead bodies into the ground but are not responsible for their deaths.”

  Juniper looked over at Willow and Ash and whispered, “We are wasting time; the longer we wait, the further Moon will have fled.”

  The man called Forrester smiled. “Moon is here but I would ask you to follow me to my cabin. Now is the time that some truths must be told.”

  Juniper persisted. “Ash, Willow, why are you listening to him?”

  Willow spoke up, “Moon did not do this.”

  Forrester said nothing as he turned and walked away.

  Scene 2: Truths and Revealed Secrets

  The siblings were directed to a dwelling at the furthest end of the cabin complex and upon entering Ash immediately noticed an altar to one side supporting a small cauldron and a knife.

  He looked over at Willow and nodded to the altar. Forrester saw his motion and smiled, “There is much I would like to tell you about our ways; for instance, I have owned that Athame knife for over sixty years and never harmed anything with it. Indeed, it has never cut anything. Its purpose is simply to harness and focus my powers from my gods.”

  “With all due respect… that’s crazy,” Ash couldn’t help offering.

  “I think in view of the current circumstances your argument is a little… capricious, but urgency demands we discuss our situation – I say ‘our’ because we are all involved.

  I knew your father well as we played together as children in the forests of southern Romania.

  A year before your parents were exiled from the clan, I too was banished. As both my parents were dead and alas, so too my dear wife, it wasn’t as difficult as it had been for your parents.”

  Juniper looked over, “I can’t believe we are wasting our time listening to this. What does it matter that this man belonged to our old clan and knew father?”

  “I have a feeling we will shortly find out,” Ash said quietly, puzzled by Juniper’s uncharacteristic assertiveness and discourtesy. Ash turned back to Forrester. “What did you do to be thrown out of the clan?”

  Forrester smiled, “Excellent question and the crux of this situation we have all found ourselves in. I was thrown out because I refused to kill your father… and his offspring.”

  After the three of them had taken in what had just been said, Willow spoke, “Do you know who killed our parents?”

  “Of course, and so do the three of you; the time of pretence is now over.”

  Willow, Ash and Juniper looked at each other.

  “And Uncle Stefan?” Willow asked.

  “To put it succinctly, only one of you is unaware of your uncle’s involvement in your parents’ death and his planned attempt on your lives – and it’s clear from the look on Ash’s face who that is.

  More interesting is that one of you knows who murdered your Uncle Stefan.

  Before I continue, let me say that as you’ve reached adulthood I’m sure you’ve realised how nothing is black and white, while everything has shades of grey.

  Your kind is regarded through the spectrum of man’s imagination from abominations and evil creatures of the ancient world or beings of the dark side of nature to free spirits.”

  “And whereabouts on that spectrum do you feel we sit?” Ash asked carefully.

  “We don’t believe in good or evil, only what is. We believe all creatures deserve the time they are given,” he replied. “But, again, time is pressing though it pains me that we do not have the time to introduce you to our ways and beliefs… maybe another time.”

  Forrester continued, “It was about twelve years ago, I was visited by your father. He told me he thought his children may be in danger. Within two months both your mother and father were dead.”

  “And Johnne was responsible,” Ash stated.

  “Yes, but I’ve already told you, Ash; it was in the note I sent you.”

  Ash stared at him for a moment before, “Forrester? … Show me your left forearm.”

  Forrester smiled and pulled back his shirt sleeve revealing a scar arcing just below his elbow. No human had made a bite like that and Ash realised he must have been changing when he had bitten Forrester all those years ago, as he and his sisters had been pulled from the barn.

  “I always thought it was Uncle Stefan that saved us,” Willow said.

  Ash looked up at Willow and then Forrester, and as if reading Ash’s mind Forrester said, “The name I was born with was Serban.”

  “The ‘S’ in the letter did not stand for ‘Stefan’,” Ash whispered to himself and then looked up. “Did you confront Johnne like you said?”

  “No, I have not seen him since I wrote your letter. But it is time for truths and revealed secrets,” Forrester said quietly and looked up at Willow and Juniper.

  “It was your Uncle Johnne,” he continued, “… who ordered Stefan to murder your parents and yourselves but it was not out of love that he didn’t do it – he was scared of you. So Johnne took action but you prevailed. He instructed again for your Uncle Stefan to kill you but it seems that before he could carry it out – someone got to him first.”

  Ash, Willow and Juniper looked at each other.

  “As Ash is head of the Ficowski clan it was to him that I sent a letter telling of my concerns that your Uncle Johnne was going to make another attempt on your lives, though I did not know at that time that Stefan was an accomplice who had failed Johnne before.

  I was presumptuous but thought that Ash would kill Johnne – I know about your code against killing a relative but, considering the loss you suffered, I thought it necessary – but as I have just said, Johnne seems to have gone into hiding.”

  W
illow looked thoughtfully over at Ash. “I knew it! You were there, on the hill that night,” she accused.

  “Yes,” Ash said eventually. “And so were you, weren’t you, Willow?”

  “No! I was out hunting as I told you.”

  “No, Willow, I know you were there.” An unfamiliar voice entered the debate and they turned to see a tall, slim man with shoulder-length black hair enter the room. Ash recognised him though the mad terror was for the moment receded, and he held a heavily bandaged shoulder.

  Chapter 9: Moon

  Scene 1: Moon

  “You were there!” Moon repeated.

  Ash stood up and took a single step towards Moon and then stopped unsure if the man he had almost killed a couple of hours ago had killed his loving uncle or the murderer of his parents.

  Moon cautiously backed off.

  “No,” Willow started. “Why do you say that? I thought you loved me! You were the one who had uncle’s blood on your clothes!”

  Forrester coughed, “Moon, please tell them what you told me after you returned the night you stove in the back of Stefan’s head.”

  Ash, Willow and Juniper first looked at Forrester whose continued look of serenity would have looked quite normal discussing the mild weather rather than the violent death of a man; and then Moon who had become quite ashen as he looked between his father, Willow and Ash.

  “I knew it wasn’t Willow I saw that night,” Ash said.

  “I did it to protect you, Willow,” Moon paused. “I love you; I didn’t want you murdered by him or hung for his murder when he deserved it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Willow protested. “I didn’t do it! I wasn’t even near the barn that night!”

  Moon looked at his father who nodded and after a deep breath Moon continued.

  “It all started when I picked up a bag of clothes from outside your farm. On the last day of alternate months your aunt always leaves it out for me. I picked up the bag and brought it here but when I emptied it, a small note fell out. I still have it here.”