GHOST GAL: The Wild Hunt (17 page)

“Yes,” he said.

She pointed toward Samuel and the containment vessel he carried. “We can end this now. My friend can help you leave this plane and cross over. Your war is over. You can have eternal rest. All you have to do is end this.”

“You stupid witch!” the lead Slaugh said as he advanced on Alexandra. She flinched, but stood her ground, ready to fight him if she had to, even though the odds were not in her favor. If Jacob couldn’t stand up to him, what chance did she have?

That’s when a miracle happened.

The floating Slaugh ghosts dove down in attack formation, passed Alexandra, and straight for the creature that had led them for hundreds of years.

The four ghosts attacked their fifth member with swift and violent efficiency. The Slaugh who had once fought her father, who had killed Max Bartlett, who pulled his brothers from their place in limbo, their leader, howled in pain as they tore into him. They stripped away any last vestiges he had to the mortal plane until he was fully a spirit like they were.

No longer did the leader of The Wild Hunt have a foot in two worlds.

Now, he belonged to only the spirit world.

“Do it,” Alexandra said.

“On it,” Samuel said. He stepped forward, mumbled a few words that she couldn’t make out, then pulled free the cork stopper from the containment vessel.

The roaring wind returned, but this time it flowed from the room toward the bottle like a vacuum. The ghosts of the Slaugh did not fight against it. Instead they welcomed the release. For all but one of them, they had lost the desire to hunt, to fight, a long time ago.

Now, they simply wanted to rest.

Only the one who had been their leader fought against the
inevitable. It reached out with its claws, trying to grasp hold of anything it could to defy the pull of the vessel.

It failed.

The moment the last of The Wild Hunt entered the jar, Samuel slammed the cork into place. The wind stopped and the room fell silent.

Samuel blew out a breath.

“Yes!” Alexandra shouted. “We’ve done it, Samuel!”

Samuel set the jar down carefully. “I’m glad that worked,” he said.

“You mean you weren’t sure?” she asked.

“I’ve only taken them out of the bottle,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve tried to put one, much less five, in one.”

“And they’re all in there?”

“Yes.”

“Will this one jar hold them?” Alexandra asked.

“For a short time,” Jacob said as he hobbled over to them. His face was bloody from having his nose slammed into the wall and he walked with a slight limp, but they were injuries that would heal in time.

“He’s right,” Samuel said. “We’ll need to dispose of them fairly quickly.”

“I’ll deal with them, if you don’t mind,” Jacob said.

Samuel gave him a concerned look.

“Don’t start,” Jacob said. “These guys are dark and you know it. You would have sent them to us to deal with regardless.”

“I don’t want to hear of you looking for payback,” Samuel warned.

“I promise,” Jacob said. “I’ve had about enough trouble with the Slaugh to last a lifetime.”

Samuel handed over the jar to his counterpart from the dark.

“I’m going to want that vessel back when you’re done with it,” Alexandra told him.

“We’ll see,” Jacob said.

Before she could respond, someone shouted her name. They all turned to see Joshua standing at the remains of the front door.

He ran forward and embraced her in a big hug. “You’re okay?”

“Fine and dandy,” she said. “Looks like the worst is behind us.”

“Good to know.”

“My parents?”

“They’re fine,” Joshua said. “They’re outside with the fire
department. It seems one of your neighbors called them to report a fire.”

“Speaking of which,” Samuel said, looking at Alexandra. “How did you know that would work?”

She beamed proudly. “It’s like I’m always telling Joshua and my father, spirits are just like us to a point. Sometimes all you have to do is just talk to them, find out what they want, and help them get it.”

“But how did you know they would turn on each other like that?”

“Oh, come on boys, haven’t you heard?” She smiled. “It’s a dog eat dog world.”

Her companions groaned and walked away from her.

“What?” she asked before running to catch up with them.

A
lexandra Holzer was tired.

It had been a week since the attack on her parent’s house. Contractors were already busy repairing the place and making necessary upgrades as per her mother’s wishes. Foremost among her requests was for a larger kitchen. She had mentioned something about enough space to host larger dinner parties.

While repairs happened, Alexandra had agreed to let them stay with her at her Soho apartment. She had never considered her apartment small until she shared the space with Hans Holzer and the Countess Catherine Buxhoeveden. She loved them both dearly, but after a week she was ready for them to move back in to their own home.

Life had returned to normal, or as close to what passed for normal in her life.

Joshua started work on a big case so he had been sequestered away in the law library for most of the week. Thankfully, her father had offered to chip in and help her out with any jobs that came her way. In the week since the attack, there had only been one incident with a free floating “stay behind” that they dispatched quickly.

After the fight it took to drag the little troublemaker into Samuel’s office at the OAGI, it took very little effort for him to help the little fellow cross over. It reminded Alexandra how much they needed to find some solid method of containment to use in the field. Even without access to a containment vessel to study, she and Hans were working on a few different ideas.

After the meeting, she placed a call to Jacob Black to check on the status of The Wild Hunt and to ask him just when he expected to return the jar to her. He danced around the issue until finally telling her that he would return it to her when they had lunch the following Tuesday. She agreed to meet him at the restaurant of his choosing. He had earned enough trust for that, she believed.

As she climbed the stairs back to her apartment, Alexandra started peeling off the layers of winter clothes and wished for warmer climates. She would be very happy when winter was over and the spring thaw
started.

When she entered her apartment, an amazing aroma unlike any she had smelled before assaulted her nose. Not surprising, her mother was in her tiny kitchen, working up a new culinary masterpiece. It smelled delicious. The Countess had met some new friends while exploring SoHo during her stay. When she came across a cooking class, she decided to try it.

She had been experimenting with new recipes the past couple of nights.

“Smells great,” she said. “Where’s Poppa?”

Her mother chucked a thumb over her shoulder. “Outside.”

Hans Holzer sat on his daughter’s tiny balcony with his feet propped up on the railing. He was reading an ancient history textbook from his study back home. They had been relieved to discover that almost everything in his office was salvageable. The room was filled with priceless artifacts and memories.

“Whatcha reading?” she asked then smiled when he showed her the title. It was titled
The Lively Ghosts of Ireland
. “Studying up on our guests, huh?”

“I figured it was prudent to reacquaint myself,” he said.

“Do you think they’ll come back?” she asked. “Will The Wild Hunt ride again?”

He closed the book in his lap. “I’ve learned to never say never, Shura, but I believe that we’ve seen the last of them.” He stared out at the horizon.

“What are you thinking about, Poppa?”

“Hmm?” He cracked a thin smile. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about a castle in New Hampshire and a young man named Duncan? Have I ever told you about that one?”

“I’m not sure. You tell a lot of stories, you know.” She said it playfully because she treasured each and every one of his stories.

“We should plan a trip. I could show you where I last fought a Slaugh.”

“I would like that,” she said. “So, what happened at this castle?”

“Is dinner ready yet?” he asked.

She sat down and propped her feet up as well. “No. We’ve got time. I’d love to hear it.”

“Okay,” he said. “Energy crackled through the halls of this old
castle like a thing alive.”

Alexandra Holzer smiled as she listened to her father tell his tale. No one could captivate her with a yarn the way he could.

Even if she had heard it a few dozen times already.

A good ghost story was worth hearing one more time.

The End…
…until GHOST GAL’s next exciting adventure from Bobby Nash titled
A HAUNTING WE WILL GO

John Masefield (1878-1967)

About the crowing of the cock,

When the shepherds feel the cold,

A horse's hoofs went clip-a-clock

Along the hangman's wold.

The horse-hoofs trotted on the stone,

The hoof-sparks glittered by,

And then a hunting horn was blown

And hounds broke into cry.

There was a strangeness in the horn,

A wildness in the cry,

A power of devilry forlorn

Exulting bloodily.

A power of night that ran a prey

Along the hangman's hill.

The shepherds heard the spent buck bray

And the horn blow for the kill.

They heard the worrying of the hounds

About the dead beast's bones;

Then came the horn, and then the sounds

Of horse-hoofs treading stones.

"What hounds are these that hunt the night? '

The shepherds asked in fear.

"Look, there are calkins clinking bright;

They must be coming here."

The calkins clinkered to a spark,

The hunter called the pack;

The sheep-dogs' fells all bristled stark

And all their lips went back.

"Lord God !" the shepherds said, " they come;

And see what hounds he has:

All dripping bluish fire, and dumb,

And nosing to the grass,

"And trotting scatheless through the gorse,

And bristling in the fell.

Lord, it is Death upon the horse,

And they're the hounds of hell!"

They shook to watch them as they sped,

All black against the sky;

A horseman with a hooded head

And great hounds padding by.

When daylight drove away the dark

And larks went up and thrilled,

The shepherds climbed the wold to mark

What beast the hounds had killed.

They came to where the hounds had fed,

And in that trampled place

They found a pedlar lying dead,

With horror in his face.

There was a farmer on the wold

Where all the brooks begin,

He had a thousand sheep from fold

Out grazing on the whin.

The next night, as he lay in bed,

He heard a canterer come

Trampling the wold-top with a tread

That sounded like a drum.

He thought it was a post that rode,

So tui-ned him to his sleep;

But the canterer in his dreams abode