“Socks?”
“Check.”
“Underwear?”
“Check.”
“Tent?”
“Check.”
“Books?”
“I got two.”
“Food?”
“I’ve got a whole zip-lock of expired granola bars.”
Ben paused from reading over his list. “Why expired?”
I shrugged. “It’s what I had. I do have other food, too. I’ll be fine.”
“But you're still taking the expired granola bars?”
“Can granola even go bad? I feel like it would just get stale.”
“You’re asking the dead man about food?”
“You weren’t always dead!”
A spectral hand passed through my front door.
“Come in, Matthews!” I yelled. A second later, the new ghost walked through the door.”
“Sorry, knocking seems to be beyond me.” Ben waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s tricky to figure these things out.” He made a fist over my coffee table. “You gotta… gather yourself, so that there’s more of you in your fist, then spend a bit of magic. Makes it more solid.” Ben knocked on the table, his fist contacting with a thud instead of passing through.
“Thanks,” Matthews said. “I’m not sure what gathering myself into my fist means, but I’ll try it out.”
I turned to Matthews. We were sitting in my living room, which doubled as my kitchen and entryway. My house wasn’t exactly large, but it was more than enough for one guy.
“So, you sticking around?” I asked.
“Yeah, I don’t know for how long. You’ve helped me, and I… I don’t want to just vanish before understanding what’s going on. Or at least knowing that you're going to be alright.”
I nodded. “I don’t know how much I understand myself but ask, and I’ll answer.”
Matthews took a seat across from me. I noticed that he didn’t sink through the chair, but I didn’t mention it. If he noticed, he might end up falling through it.
I started going over the clothes I needed. Matthews would ask his questions when he was ready.
It turned out Matthews was ready right then.
“Why exactly are you going on a trip?”
“To see if I should give the Northwoods vouchers.”
“Which are?”
“It lets factions of the Pact vote on what to do in an area they don’t have any holdings in.”
“Umm. I’m just going to assume the Pact is some kind of alliance of nations,”
“Pretty much.”
“So, why do they need vouchers to do anything? That seems-“
“Sorry, I explained it wrong. They don’t need them to do anything,” I cut in.
“If a clan of Werebears decided to go take a swing at somebody, they don’t need vouchers. Hell, even if they wanted to come attack Silver Spruce, they wouldn’t need any vouchers. But all of that would be done on their own, without any involvement from the Pact.”
I stuffed a sweatshirt into the bag.
“Getting vouchers and having a vote means that you can get factions you aren’t involved with to act. Assuming they get outvoted.”
I looked around, and Ben pointed to the shirt I was looking for.
“And as for why the vouchers exist in the first place, it’s to stop factions from committing atrocities against a community they don’t have any stakes in.”
Matthews nodded slowly. “So, what stops someone getting a voucher and then turning around and screwing over the person who gave it to them. “
I threw on a dark gray jacket before turning back to the ghost.
“It’s… it’s. A lot of these spooks, the supernaturals, they have very intense cultural views on debts. For some of them, it’s literally unthinkable to go back on debt. Taking a voucher from someone is a form of debt, and going back on that would smear their own sense of honor and ruin their reputation.”
“And you're getting the werewolf who threatened you a voucher?”
I waggled my hand. “Maybe. We’re going on a trip partially so someone a lot smarter and wiser than me can decide. And so that I can get a better sense of her.”
“And the whole, threatened you part?”
I shrugged. “Spooks are different. They have different morals and social customs. For some, a tap on the shoulder is enough reason for a duel to the death. For others, breaking their nose is like raising your voice. It’s still frustrating when I get strong-armed, but you have to move past some things in the supernatural world that you wouldn’t normally. At least, people like me have to.”
Ben slapped a game board on the table.
“This conversation has gotten a little heavy. Alder is about to go on a dangerous trip. Time for a bit of levity before you go.”
“Levity, that’s a big word, Ben. You been reading more lately?”
Ben flipped me off, then started setting up the board.
“Well, I told Blair to meet me here at 10:00, so we have some time to kill. Matthews can go to Rogers with more questions. He loves explaining things,” I said with a shrug. We might as well relax for a bit.
I had a feeling I was going to get precious little of that in the near future.
~<>~<>~
The moon was creeping closer to full. Blair could sense it in the back of her mind. It was like the reverse of feeling the sun on your back. Cold instead of warm, but still comforting.
Sometimes, she felt strange not hating the moon. Despite all the problems her bond to it had caused, she still loved it. It sat there, a constant, comforting presence of strength and safety. One that could envelop her if she just reached out for it.
“Are you sure about this?” Bobby’s question snapped Blair’s attention back to her surroundings. She was sitting on a couch in the Manor's main hall. A towering backpack in front of her. A pack she was currently filling with neat stacks of food.
“Not entirely. But I think this is our best shot at getting vouchers. George has tried to intimidate too many of the locals. They’re a little sour on werewolves right now.”
“Blight and bone!” Laurel swore. “Why the hell is Gorge being such a prick?”
“Umm, isn’t that normal?” Simon asked. He was huddled on the far end of the couch from Blair; his knees tucked to his chest.
Laurel flopped in her chair and stretched. “Yes, but he’s normally a small prick. Right now, he’s being a massive prick.”
“Ah, maybe he’s compensating?”
Laurel snorted.
“As much as I appreciate Simon being in a bantering mood, we need to steer this conversation back on course,” Bobby cut in.
They all straightened and turned towards Blair.
She looked up from her pack, a can of beans in hand. “I think this is the best course. What do you all think? Is there a better play here?”
They were quiet for several long minutes as Blair continued to pack.
“I don’t like it,” Simon finally said. “With you out there on your own with a stranger. Did he say why we can’t go with you?”
“The trip is dangerous. He said the more people, the more danger.”
Laurel frowned. “Well, at least that a good reason. But I’m still not thrilled about you going off on your own where we can’t protect you.”
Blair smiled at her pack, a pulse of warmth going through her. “It’s my job to protect you lot, not the other way around.”
They all frowned at her.
“And besides, Alder is a small human, he couldn’t hurt me if he wanted to, and I don’t think he does.”
“Isn’t he a mage?” Bobby asked. “He might break his hand if he punches you, but he could set you on fire with his mind.”
Blair paused. Was Alder a mage? He had magic. She had felt it. Had seen the ripples of green and purple hanging around him. But…he had only affected ghosts and what the old woman had said.
“I think Alder’s a Telss.”
Everyone stiffened. “What? Why?” Laurel asked.
“The old woman,” “The one you think might be the adjudicator?” Bobby cut in.
“Yes, Bobby, that old woman. She said some things about mages and ghosts. And about Alder.”
She reached for a shirt and carefully rolled it before placing it in her pack.
“Did anyone see him use any magic? Aside from destroying the barrier and taking care of the ghost.”
Laurel and Simon shook their heads, but Bobby hesitated. “Bobby?”
He shook his head. “When he was fighting the ghost, he didn’t use anything except that purple and green aura.”
They all turned to him.
Simon adjusted his glasses. “Elaborate?”
Bobby had been light on the details of his possession, and none of them had pushed.
“I…” Bobby’s usual smile faltered. “While it was happening, I was losing the fight. He was strong, even by our standards. Then Alder burst in and dropkicked him. And while they were fighting, his aura covered the ghost in a blanket of purple and green. I could see it clear as day.” He sighed and reached into his pocket.
He brought out his pipe and idly turned it in his hands.
“That aura never changed to anything else. It didn’t even flicker.” He frowned.
“Not even when Nail had a noose around his neck.”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
They were all silent as they took that in. The sight of those bruises came to Blair’s mind, and she shook her head.
A Telss…
“Wow. What are the chances of getting saved by an errant Telss? Do you have a rabbit's foot we don’t know about?”
Bobby threw a pillow at Laurel. “My luck is balanced if anything. It had to be pretty crap to get possessed in the first place!”
“Fair enough.”
Simon ignored the others and turned to face Blair.
“If he is an errant Telss…”
Blair met his gaze, a hint of blood red spilling into her own. “We aren’t selling him.”
Simon frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”
She took a deep breath, forcing the spike of anger down. “Your parents. When they find out, what are they going to do.”
Her parents. They weren’t necessarily cruel, but they were very, very old. And being alive, and being a leader, for that long tended to shift one’s view towards the long term.
If they had found out about Alder before she named him a friend of the Pack… “Nothing. They won’t sell him out to the clans, not after I named him a friend of the pack. They won’t betray that.”
“Alright,” Simon said. “I can’t think of a better option.”
“Neither can I,” Laurel called out. “I don’t like you being alone, but I’m coming up blank on anything better.”
Bobby pocketed his pipe and strolled over to her pack. “I too am satisfied with the ships course captain!” He said in a terrible pirate accent.
He snatched a can of spam from the coffee table and tossed it in the air. He straightened an imaginary hat then caught the can without looking.
“Now, how do you want us to store this booty?”
~<>~<>~
I’ve played a lot of board games. From zero skill dice rollers to games you need a manual, a week, and a personal assistant to make sense of.
Plenty of ghosts had the strength to move cards or shove pieces along aboard, and even if they didn’t, I could always move the piece for them or hold up their hand of cards. I didn’t have much else in the form of entertainment, just books and an ancient box TV that might be indestructible. I once tripped and spilled an entire mug of coffee on the thing, another time, I dropped it while redecorating. Both times the screen hadn’t so much as flickered.
That’s beside the point, though. The point is that Ben and I know our way around a game board. But Matthews, Matthews made us look like amateurs.
Even with games the man had never played before, it only took him a few rounds before he was back to wiping the floor with us. Finally, after many losses and only a handful of victories, we decided to call it a day.
The clock was ticking, and Blair would be arriving soon. So I asked Ben to show Matthews around town and the two headed out.
I walked over to my small kitchenette and poured myself a cup of coffee. It was strong, dark, and cheap. I savored the smell for a moment, then took a sip. It wasn’t great coffee, I wouldn’t even hazard to call it good, but it was my favorite.
“Are you sure about this?” I took another sip, ignoring how it burned my tongue, then turned to face Rogers.
He’d slipped in through the back wall while we were playing a game of kings and peasants. He had elected not to join us, instead grabbing a tattered old paperback from my shelf. Now he’d set the book down and was staring at me from his seat.
“About this trip? Yeah, I- actually, let’s have this talk outside. I’m feeling a little cramped.”
I walked out the door while Rogers opted for floating.
I stepped off my porch and walked over the dead ring where anything refused to grow around my house. Another step, and I was on the fresh green grass of the graveyard.
A gentle mist had rolled in, drifting between the graves in a lazy tide.
Rogers stood next to me, taking in the quiet atmosphere.
“I wasn’t talking about your reasoning for the trip if that’s what you were thinking. It's…”
He trailed off, then started absently drumming his fingers over William's grave. The old ghost had moved on years ago and wouldn’t mind.
“Six days alone with the Northwoods. That’s the longest you’ve ever been alone with another living person. I’m worried about you.”
I scowled around my cup. “I’ll be fine. And what does her being alive have to do with it?”
Rogers gave me a flat look. “Alder, you don’t like to touch the living. I just want to make certain you're okay with going on this trip.”
My scowl deepened. “I do not! I gave Ben a hug like ten minutes ago!”
“Ben’s dead. I didn’t say you had a problem touching the dead. And there is nothing wrong with not liking to be touched. Plenty of people don’t like it.”
“I know that! But I’m not one of them. I- look, Rogers, I'll be fine. I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine.”
Rogers hesitated, then nodded.
“If you're sure.”
“I-” a soft meow cut me off.
I glanced at Rogers. “Yeah, I heard it.”
It sounded again, but I couldn’t pinpoint it through the mist.
I started walking around, and guided by the occasional meow, found its source.
A small, black cat was huddled against a wet gravestone, shaking from the cold.
I stopped a few feet away and crouched low, not wanting to scare the little guy.
Luminous green eyes bilked up at me, and that cat let out a questioning meow.
The little guy was right to question. Silver Spruce had an interesting history with black cats.
While we hadn’t had a witch-burning since the ’70s, the town still had a few members who hated anything related to witches, and that hatred went generations back.
Those people had always been outliers in the town, considering just how much of it was spooks, but there used to be quite a few more.
They used to hunt black cats since they were often witches' familiars. It had created a strange dichotomy in the eighteen hundreds when a black cat around Silver Spruce had an equal chance of being killed on the spot or scooped up by a passing mage.
While cat crusades had largely died out in town, a few citizens occasionally started one up after getting into a particularly nasty rivalry with a mage neighbor.
But, thankfully, nobody had gotten to this guy yet.
The cat was small and malnourished, but he didn’t look like a kitten. “You’re a bit of a runt, huh?”
“Meow?”
I sighed and made sure to blink slowly. I’d read that doing that showed that you weren’t planning on attacking since you were breaking your line of sight. I didn’t know if that was true, but it couldn’t hurt.
“How does some fish and a bowl of water sound?
The cat cocked its head. “I’ll be right back. Rogers, keep an eye on the little guy?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
The cat's gaze turned to the ghost, and he let out another questioning meow.
Most animals could see the supernatural better than humans. I’d never met a cat who couldn’t see ghosts. Which was one of the reasons they made good familiars since their mages could tap into their senses.
I marched back to my house and quickly scoured my fridge for something a cat could eat. Finally, I found a can of tuna and snatched a bowl.
I walked back to the grave to find the cat rubbing against Rogers legs, purring softly.
“Friendly fella,” Rogers said with a smile.
I set the water down next to the cat, who immediately started drinking.
I set the tuna can down next then stared at it.
“…Hmm.”
“You forgot a can opener, didn’t you?”
“I’ll be right back.”
One can of freshly opened tuna later, and the cat was happily chowing down.
We watched him getting tuna on himself for a minute before Rogers broke the silence.
“I’m proud of you.”
I glanced up at him. “It's just helping a cat; it's not that much work.”
He cackled. “Not the cat, Alder. Though I’m glad, we found him before something else did.”
He turned to face me. “This trip, while I’m still worried, I’m also proud. You don’t have to be doing it, but I’m proud that you are.”
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat.
Rogers wasn’t someone who never threw out compliments, but he never gave them if he didn’t mean it.
“…Thanks.”
~<>~<>~
Blair marched up the graveyard’s gravel drive fifteen minutes early, lugging a massive pack with her. It dwarfed her large frame, making the werewolf look like a turtle.
I whistled. “Damn, I’d say you brought everything except the kitchen sink, but I’m not at all sure you don’t have that stuffed in there as well.” She was still a solid twenty feet away, but I knew she could hear me.
Once she had closed most of the distance, she shrugged. “I couldn’t find a small enough sink. Maybe next time.” Her voice and expression were utterly deadpan. I chuckled, reasonably sure she was joking. Probably.
“Before we head out, I need some more details.”
I nodded. “Fair, I was pretty light on those yesterday. Come inside, and we’ll go over the basics.”
She gestured for me to move, so I assumed she wouldn’t get thwacky if I turned my back to her. She followed me inside, and for one worrying moment, I thought my door frame was going to break before her pack fit through. But after a quick pull and some shifting, she managed to get it inside without breaking my house.
“Coffee?”
She nodded. I gestured to the couch, and the werewolf set down her pack with an alarmingly loud thud before taking a seat.
“Milk or sugar?” I asked while pouring.
“Lots of both.”
I gave her some side-eye.
“What?”
I shook my head. “Nothing, nothing. I didn’t take you for a milk drinker.”
She arched a brow. “A werewolf has to like their coffee black? Can’t have frilly things like cream and sugar?”
“Fair enough, fair enough. Consider my assumptions corrected.” I poured in a splash of milk and a few spoonfuls of sugar. Then, at Blair’s prompting, I added a few more.
“I assumed you’d have good taste,” I muttered under my breath.
Blair narrowed her eyes at me as I handed her a cup.
I took a seat in the armchair across from Blair with a sigh. “Alright, first things first. We are going to be hiking along Old Tom’s Pass. The woman who can get you your vouchers is at the end of the pass. Unfortunately, it's gonna be a little tricky to reach her since the pass is filled with a variety of nasty creatures and other dangers. And they’re not the kind you can punch, shoot or claw your way through.”
I paused to take a sip of coffee, Blair mirroring me. “What is she?”
“Huh?”
“The woman, what type of spook is she?”
“She’s a ghost.” Blair stopped mid-sip. She set her cup down and was quiet for a few seconds, then her lips spread into a smile. “Oh, ghosts qualify, don’t they? So long as they can think and live—or at least reside in their case— in Silver Spruce, then they can give vouchers.”
The werewolf studied me, her blue eyes narrowed. “Yesterday, in the graveyard, then at the Manor, when you spoke to empty air. You were talking to ghosts.”
I nodded. My talking to ghosts wasn’t exactly a secret. And Blair already had the pieces to put it together. “Are there any in the room right now?” I shook my head. “No, and there won’t be any coming on the trip with us either. They could meet us at our destination, but the pass itself has creatures that can and will attack them.”
Blair leaned forward. “So, the pass is dangerous, I got that. What, specifically, do we need to watch for?”
“A lot of stuff.”
She frowned.
“Yeah, I know that’s an annoying answer, but it’s accurate. There’ll be areas of the pass where we can’t speak, areas where we have to speak. At some points, we will have to worry about wandering monsters jumping out at us, and at others, we won’t be able to trust our senses. There’s a lot of weird crap on the pass, and what we need to do will change depending on where we are.”
I finished off my coffee and sighed. “In short, be ready for just about anything. And I’ll give you the breakdown on the different regions of the pass before we get to them.”
Blair finished her own cup, then stood. “I’m starting to feel that everything in this town is dangerous, strange, or both.”
I waggled my hand. “Well, not everything in town falls into one of those. Just most of it.”
She snorted, then slung on her pack. I eyed my door frame. It could take another round… probably.
Once Blair had managed to leave without breaking anything, I followed her out. We’d barely taken a step off my porch when a gust of frigid wind smacked into us. It cut right through my coat, making me shiver immediately.
Leaves hadn’t started falling just yet, but they were well on their way to orange. I really hoped the weather didn’t turn on us. Hiking through the pass in a storm would not be my idea of fun. Well, none of this was my idea of fun. But hiking through a storm would put this even further away from that concept.
I walked over to where I’d set my pack and pulled it on with a grunt. It was nowhere near the behemoth that Blair had, but six days of food, my clothes, tent, and other camping gear wasn’t light.
Blair glanced at me as she pulled her blond hair back into a ponytail. “If you want, you can put some things in my pack. I left a few sections empty just in case.”
I eyed her. Trying to tell if she was being serious or mocking me. As far as I understood it, werewolves didn’t have masculine pride. They had werewolf pride. And while an insecure werewolf might get offended if someone questioned their strength, it wouldn’t matter if it were a man or a woman questioning them. Just that somebody was questioning them.
But that was usually for the touchy or insecure werewolves. In the healthy Packs, I had seen the Alpha looking out for the weaker members was the norm. And well, the two of us weren’t a pack; we were traveling together, so it sort of fit.
If it were a human offering, I’d say no, not out of offended pride but because I wouldn’t want to inconvenience them. But she was a freaking werewolf. If I managed to stuff my entire pack into hers, she’d hardly notice.
“I’m offended you would even ask!” I cried. “The sheer nerve!” Her expression grew alarmed, and she started to open her mouth, then paused as I slung my pack off. “To think that you when you look at me you don’t see a paragon of strength, that wounds me.” Blair let me walk around her to get at her pack. After a second, I found the empty sections she was talking about.
“I have my pride, you know, and for you to so callously stomp on it?” I stuffed my tent into one large pocket along with my tarp then cinched my sleeping pad to the bottom next to hers.
“Cruelty, true cruelty.”
Satisfied with my significantly lighter bag, I zipped up both packs before throwing mine back on.
Blair gave me a bemused look as we started walking. “I thought I really had offended you for a second there. Humans can be touchy about odd things.”
I looked at the werewolf. The werewolf. For several long seconds, then laughed.