Ghost's Dilemma (5 page)

Chapter 5

Ghost slept well but woke to an empty bed. He padded to the living room and peeked out the window to find Gerry sitting on the low garden wall, strumming his guitar. Gerry looked relaxed and thoughtful while enjoying the unusually warm autumn morning.

Ghost decided he had no reasonable excuse to avoid reaching out to the witchsisters. He removed the scrying mirror from the back of his formulary cabinet, unwrapped the soft layers of hide protecting it, and peered into the polished silver surface.

Ghost focused his will as he visualized his message. Unlike many of his other tools, the scrying mirror was not a relic of the ancients. The talent for telepathy marked Ghost as a true witch. Telepathy was the magic that had to be in the blood, the gift of the Seeker herself to her chosen witches. He decided to send an open call to all the sisterhood, although a widespread call was harder and took more out of him. The more witches who heard him, the more likely he was to get responses. His mental voice was strong as he shaped the words around his memories of the patients he had seen.

"Hear me, my sisters. Ghost of the Heartlands seeks your help. An outbreak is attacking my people. I saw the first patients yesterday, and four have died already. They suffer from vomiting and fever. Before they die, blood appears in the vomit and leaks from the mouth and nose. Some of the patients recover, but the old and very young are most susceptible. Does anyone know this disease?"

Several tense minutes passed as Ghost waited for a response. The pressure behind his spiral turned to pain, and Ghost tugged at his hair. Relief filled him when his spiral tingled and the mirror filled with clouds, indicating he'd made contact. The shadows on the surface shifted and sorted into the semblance of a deep blue crescent, a witchmark he knew well. The tension left his shoulders in a rush.

"Zereda, my sister," Ghost said, smiling and meaning it. "I'm glad you heard me." Ghost counted the Southron witch as a rare friend among the sisterhood. He took it as a good omen Zereda was the first to answer. Her reply was not audible. Instead, he heard her voice in his mind, exactly as he would in person.

"Little Ghost brother," Zereda replied, her words slurred and softened by her Southron accent. "You have trouble in your green valley between the mountains. This illness which plagues your people is familiar, and yet not. I will consult my formulary, little brother, and seek answers among the others of our kind here in the South." She paused, her disembodied voice sounding troubled when she resumed. "Be careful in the advice you heed. If you can look within, do so. I feel a strange dread. Curious this happens at a time the Witch is wandering."

Ghost looked into the mirror, not letting his hold on the conversation waver despite feeling a subtle alarm. "What do you mean?" He waited for Zereda's response.

"The Witch may have stirred things up in places which should not be disturbed, little brother." Zereda still sounded troubled. "This would not be the first time. Though I love her as if she were a true sister, the Witch is ever one to go where she should not and to seek out what should be left hidden. I do not know if the Seeker guides her steps or the Seeker's dread mate. You may be able to See the Witch more clearly than I would in this instance. But all I have Seen tells me the Witch may have the answers you seek."

The notion of dealing with the hidden Eighth was enough to coax a shudder from Ghost. "Your advice isn't making me want to try to See the Witch, you know. And you've been a seer far longer than I have. I'd have thought you'd be better able to track her."

"You have not even tried," Zereda chided. "She has cloaked such knowledge from my Sight."

Ghost shook his head in dismay. "I haven't felt her, but I haven't tried either."

"You Saw something the other night. I felt you in the wake of the Seeker's passing. Did the vision not help? Or was your Seeing for another purpose?" Zereda's witchmark sharpened until Ghost could almost make out her eyes in the mirror, or perhaps he was Seeing them. They were narrowed, whether in concentration or in concern, he couldn't tell.

"What I Saw may be connected. I don't know for sure. I need to think. I get very frustrating riddles." Ghost sighed and felt the ripple of amusement from the Southron witch.

"Do you think the Seeker makes her messages easy for any of us who are given this gift? The gods never speak plain. You should know this, little brother." Zereda relented after a moment. "The riddles have a pattern to them. You must turn them over in your mind and see them as the gods would. They are not hampered by our small concerns, our need for food and shelter and companionship. I do not even think they require our love and worship. I would offer both still, and freely, for they are worthy of my worship."

Ghost pondered the words of the Southron witch. "I'll keep this in mind, my sister. If I think the vision is linked to either the illness or to the Witch, I'll contact you. I promise." He could sense the smile in Zereda's mental voice.

"The Witch always said your promise was a thing of value. You do not offer promises lightly, and you do not break oaths. I will accept your promise, and thank you for the trust. Now go, little brother. Do what a Ghost does best and look between the known and the unknown," Zereda said. "And I shall look in my formulary and ask my questions about this outbreak of yours." She broke off as a new mind joined the conversation.

"Ghost, brother." A new sending appeared in the mirror, an amber flame joining the blue crescent. Kerree's mental voice was brighter than Zereda's voice, her accent lilting.

"Kerree, thank you, sister," Ghost said, welcoming the witch from the East Marches. The Witch had told Ghost the East Marches were more a chain of islands than an actual land. Many from the East preferred to live on their swift ships, never setting foot on soil if they could help it. Landbound in the high valley of the Heartlands, the East had seemed a wondrous place to Ghost when he was small. Perhaps he had a touch of the Witch's own wanderlust. But that was a thought for another time, and he dragged his mind back to the conversation. "Do you have any knowledge of this plague?"

"Your outbreak sounds more like one of the legendary engineered illnesses, rather than a natural disease." Kerree sounded quite firm. "We've seen such things before. You take a virus from this and some bacteria from thus, and you make a new contagion, like blending extracts to make a serum. The few relics we have are not the only ones that survived from the ancient cities. Stories abound of spinning devices used to combine phages and bacteria."

"And such things are best not discussed on an open sending." Zereda's words took on a stern edge in Ghost's mind.

"It's not a mystery, Zereda. Unless you've Seen otherwise. I want to help our little brother."

The mirror flickered and Ghost registered a surge of contempt as a red dagger gleamed for an instant and vanished.

"Oh, lovely," Kerree growled. "Sri popped in, didn't she? Wester hag."

Zereda's mental snort was eloquent.

Ghost sighed. Sri of the West Reaches was one of the louder voices declaring him an abomination. He knew she had let herself show only to keep him on edge and give those witches who would speak with him pause for thought.

Ghost shrugged it off and returned to the conversation. “Thank you all for your help. Until I hear from you, I'll do the best I can. My mate's traded a night's work for more herbs, and I'll make good use of them, I'm afraid."

"Did you make it official?" Kerree sounded delighted. "Joy to you, Ghost. May the Moon shine on you both. Now, let me go check my notes and prod the godsman. I'll send to you if I find anything." The amber flame disappeared.

"I too must go, my brother. Be well, and do as I have said, little Ghost. Answers exist even when we cannot puzzle out the meanings. Clarity will come." Zereda's crescent faded, and the mirror was merely a polished piece of silver once more.

Ghost's head ached, and the stones of his spiral felt hot and raw. He stood up with care, his whole body feeling tender. He wrapped the scrying mirror in its runner hide and returned the bundle to the drawer of his formulary cabinet.

Ghost didn't want Gerry to see him like this, and so he reached up for one of the pottery jars. He took a few of the leaves, put the jar away, and went to the kitchen to make a tisane. It wasn't often he resorted to so potent a remedy, but the scrying had been difficult. If Zereda was right, he would need to open himself to See later tonight, and starting with an aching head wasn't wise.

Kerree had ventured the possibility this illness was artificial. Ghost remembered something from the Witch's notes about engineered illnesses. Now, more than ever, he needed to talk to the Witch. He would have to use his Sight to find a clever witch who didn't want to be found.

But first, Ghost wanted to relieve the throbbing in his head. The tisane would help there. He had patients to see in the village this afternoon, and a clear head was essential. And if the Seeker smiled on him, he would have answers tonight.

Chapter 6

Ghost tugged at Gerry's tunic as Gerry washed the dinner dishes. "What are you doing?" Gerry turned from his task to raise his eyebrow at Ghost.

"Leave the dishes. I'll wash them later, when you've gone. Come and sit with me a bit," Ghost pleaded.

Ghost had spent the afternoon visiting his patients in the village. Two of them, both elderly men, were not getting any stronger. Still, no one else had died. Ghost would take what small victories he could get.

The light of the room made the hint of brown in Gerry's gorgeous green eyes flicker as Ghost gazed up into them. "I've finished seeing patients for the day. The packets are all ready for tomorrow's visits, thanks to you and your tally stick. And I have to wait to hear back from the sisterhood. So let's just sit and relax until you have to go."

"We don't just sit and relax," Gerry teased as he followed Ghost to the main room. Ghost settled into Gerry's arms on the padded, high-backed bench in front of the smaller hearth.

"Well, what do we do?" Ghost asked. Gerry had the faintest shadow of stubble along his jaw. Ghost stroked a finger over the bristly whiskers to feel the enticing roughness. "If we don't just sit, of course."

Gerry stroked Ghost's hair. "We do this. You touch and tease. Sooner or later, I lean over and kiss you. Clothing hits the floor, and we hope we remembered to close the front door."

Ghost laughed and brushed a kiss over Gerry's lips. "I didn't think I was teasing. I'm only teasing if we don't wind up with clothes all over and me making all those noises. I'll have you know, I never squeaked before I met you." He slipped his hands into Gerry's lustrous hair, the brown giving way to deep russet where the sun had lightened the strands.

"You do more than squeak. You purr like a sind's whelp. You yowl a little, too, at exactly the right moments." Gerry caught Ghost's mouth in a deeper kiss. Gerry's breath was warm against Ghost's cheek as he spoke. "You blush and you growl. I want to keep you like you are just then. All smooth, bare skin and pink cheeks. Your eyes shining up at me brighter than your witchmark."

Ghost could feel his cheeks heating, surprised by Gerry's description. The words were said with such love, a love Ghost returned without reservation. Ghost opened his mouth to reply, but all that emerged was a faint moan.

"See? Exactly like this," Gerry said with a laugh, and he kissed Ghost again. Ghost succumbed to the growing heat of Gerry's kiss. When he finally released Ghost's mouth, Ghost was dizzy with desire. "Now how am I supposed to sit and just relax when you're so kissable?"

Ghost didn't get a chance to answer, and his hand tightened in Gerry's hair as Gerry kissed him again. He moved closer, pressing against Gerry. His belly fluttered with the excitement of knowing Gerry loved him so deeply.

By the time they broke the kiss, Ghost was quite sorry Gerry needed to work. He knew he needed to prepare himself to See later, but Gerry was here now, and he was reluctant to let Gerry leave. Ghost rubbed his cheek against the light stubble on Gerry's jaw and sighed.

"I should let you go," Ghost murmured. "Are you hunting tomorrow?"

"No," Gerry replied, his lips brushing Ghost's temple.

Ghost smiled. "Wake me when you get home. I'll be the naked one in the bed."

Gerry growled, and Ghost couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his face. Gerry's heated look clearly meant he would be sure to wake Ghost. Exactly what Ghost wanted.

***

Ghost finished cleaning up the kitchen after Gerry left, as he had said he would do. Once he was done, he reached into the very back of his formulary cabinet and pulled out a worn canvas sack. Ghost handled the small, tattered pouch as though the contents were precious beyond measure. He took the sack to the main room and curled up on the floor in front of the smaller hearth.

When Ghost opened the bag, the aroma of pungent herbs tucked away in a linen wrapper wafted up to his nose. He breathed in the scent and felt a tingle of warmth behind his spiral. Beneath the linen wrapper were a shallow silver bowl, a small vial, and a slender blade of obsidian, chipped to a razor edge. The grip of the blade was wrapped in thin strips of white hide. Ghost placed the silver bowl in front of the hearth and laid the blade on the bowl's edge.

Ghost stood and stripped off his clothing, folding the garments and leaving them on the padded bench. He pulled the tie from his hair, letting his mane fall loose around his shoulders and down his back. He knelt in front of the silver bowl, removed one of the tiny bundles of twigs and dried leaves, and placed it in the center of the shallow bowl. He added a drop of potent sind musk from the vial and grasped the obsidian blade in his right hand.

Ghost took several deep breaths, slow and even, reaching into himself to find the magic that marked him as a true seer. Scrying required him to look outward. Forcing a vision was about Seeing within and required perfect balance between the waking and dreaming worlds. Tonight he would be alone and vulnerable, but he had to lower his mental shields far enough to permit the vision. He couldn't afford to be afraid.

"Seeker, guide me." His voice was firm and even. "Let me See beneath the shadows. Let me See beneath the skin. Let me See beneath the mystery. Let me See what lies within." He raised his hands, and the small bundle in the bowl ignited.

Ghost inhaled the acrid, white smoke that rose from the bowl and enveloped him. He winced as his spiral flared to life. The vivid green light from his witchmark tinted the thick smoke surrounding him. He felt no pain when the cool black edge of the obsidian blade opened his left palm, and the drops of blood sizzled as they fell into the dish.

"Seeker, guide me. Let the End avert his eyes and See me not." Ghost finished the prayer, his voice still strong and clear despite the thick smoke. He inhaled once more and held the smoke in his lungs. The obsidian blade slipped out of his hand as he plummeted to the floor, and a vision overtook him.

***

Ghost's entire body ached when he woke. He was cold, and the small hearth was dark and empty. His left hand throbbed and his mouth tasted of ashes. His stomach lurched at the smell of the sticky residue of ash and dried blood in the shallow bowl.

"Never easy," Ghost croaked. He pulled himself up to a sitting position, and his head spun. The remnants of the vision floated all around him. He stood, careful not to grab the bench with his left hand.

"First things first." Ghost picked up the soiled bowl and the obsidian knife and took them to the kitchen to be washed. He rinsed off his left hand to look at the palm.

Ghost took it as a good omen that the wound was shallow. The blood had been accepted, and the dread Eighth had looked away. He washed away the clotted blood, letting the thin line bleed freely for a moment before he rinsed the cut again with clean water. Ghost couldn't afford a wound, not when he still had no answers about the outbreak manifesting in the village. The gods' light closed the small wound quickly, only the faintest pink line showing when he was done.

Ghost returned the cleaned bowl and blade to the canvas sack and placed the bundle back into the drawer, behind a jumble of other oddments. The powerful hallucinogens in his smoke bundles were not meant for Gerry, or anyone else. Ghost drew a cup of cool water to help clear the lingering taste of ashes from his tongue and relit the fire in the smaller hearth. Still naked, Ghost padded into the bedroom, sitting back against the headboard to sip his water and reflect on what he had Seen.

The Witch was indeed cloaking herself, but a bond had been forged between them when she placed a spiral of peridot on the forehead of a frightened little boy plagued by dreams and visions he couldn't explain. The bond allowed Ghost to find the Witch, and while he had not Seen her exact location, he had Seen enough. She had hinted often enough before she left how she was going north, and the vision said she had told the truth.

The vision had shown the Witch, bundled in a cloak of fur as white as the snow circling around her. Her gray hair appeared far more silvery than when she had dwelled in the Heartlands. Her eyes were as dark as ever, though, and stood out in the unrelenting whiteness of the landscape. She had been confident and unafraid in the vision. Of course, the Witch always projected an air of unassailable calm, but her confidence felt genuine to Ghost.

The Witch would be of little help, though. She had shielded her mind from all telepathic contact, and even Ghost's bond would not let him break through to her. Travel to and from the Northlands was hard at best, and with winter approaching, she would find it near impossible to return before the thaw, even if she had heard him. Ghost had hoped to have the Witch beside him, but he needed to accept he was on his own with this outbreak. He would have only what he himself could glean from the sisterhood and his own progress in treating this illness. He would likely lose more lives before this was done, a prospect Ghost didn't relish.

Ghost sipped his water, letting the cool liquid soothe the last of the smoke-induced soreness from his throat. In the morning, he would try to figure out any pattern in the way the plague was spreading. In the back of his mind, the warning from Kerree loomed. If this was not chance, any misstep could prove deadly. Ghost did his best to push aside his growing dread until exhaustion finally won and he succumbed to a fitful sleep.

***

Gerry admired Ghost's peaceful form as he slept. The last of the moonlight cast the angles of Ghost's face into sharp relief. His snowy hair spilled over the pillow in a fall of gilded silver. Ghost's bare arm rested above his head and his hand was open. His agile fingers were still for a change.

As the weather grew colder, Ghost had given up sleeping naked and had taken to wearing one of the far-too-large knitted tunics he had brought with him from the Witch's house. He had whispered to Gerry one night how the Witch had made them with her own hands, and although she could never quite get the size right, the garments made Ghost feel safe. But the bare arm was an indication Ghost had forgone warmth and comfort tonight in favor of this tempting invitation.

Gerry left his boots by the door and moved silently into the bedroom. He undressed in no time and slipped under the quilt. He reached for Ghost's warm, lithe body. Ghost smiled and turned to him, mumbling indistinctly as he pulled Ghost close. Gerry's cock stiffened as Ghost pressed against him, and he was not at all surprised to feel Ghost respond in the same way.

"You're home," Ghost murmured. He nuzzled up against Gerry's jaw. "I'm naked."

"I can tell," Gerry replied before he captured Ghost's mouth in a kiss. Ghost tasted sweet, like honey and Southron apricots, and Gerry deepened the kiss. Ghost's pale eyes opened gradually, and his fingers burrowed in Gerry's hair.

"I missed you," Gerry murmured into the kiss. He gazed at his beloved Ghost and sensed urgency in the way Ghost pressed against him, triggering a pang of alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Later," Ghost murmured. He draped one leg over Gerry's thigh, his cock brushing against Gerry. "I missed you too."

Gerry tried to decipher Ghost's mood for a moment longer and sighed. Whatever was troubling him, Ghost was more interested in making love, and Gerry was not about to argue. At least, his cock was not about to argue.

"Whatever you say, beloved," Gerry replied. He pillaged Ghost's eager mouth in another kiss. Gerry glided his hands up Ghost's lean torso until his fingers fit into the grooves of Ghost's ribs. He skated one thumb over a pink nipple and earned a squeak.

Ghost's cheeks were already flushed as pink as his nipples. He gasped as Gerry tweaked one tight nub. Ghost's cock jumped, smearing precome as the head brushed against Gerry's belly.

"What's your pleasure tonight?" Gerry murmured. He watched Ghost's eyes widen a fraction. "I'm going to make love to you, but how do you want me?"

Ghost offered up a breathless laugh and wriggled free of Gerry. He scrabbled around for the bottle on the bedside table. He handed the oil to Gerry with a wicked smile. He turned and crouched on his knees and elbows, presenting his rounded cheeks. Ghost glanced over his shoulder, and Gerry was struck again at how well he managed both innocence and wanton welcome at the same moment.

"I like you to take me like this," Ghost said, his voice husky. The tone of his voice sent a shiver down Gerry's spine, as clear a signal of desire as Ghost's promise to wait in their bed naked. A promise he had fulfilled.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaped Gerry. He opened the oil and dribbled a generous amount on his fingers. He coated Ghost's tight entrance and could feel Ghost's hole quivering as he stroked, the muscle responding to his touch. Ghost pressed back just enough, and Gerry let one finger breach his precious Ghost. Gerry's reward was a mewl as Ghost bowed his back and raised his ass up, dropping his chest closer to the bed.

"Oh, like this," Ghost whispered. He turned his head to peer at Gerry, eyes smoldering with lust. "Just like this."

For once, Ghost didn't beg Gerry to hurry, or insist he couldn't wait while Gerry prepared him. He watched Gerry with those shimmering eyes, darker now in the dimness of the room, but he held his position. Gerry marveled at Ghost's restraint but attributed it to Ghost's concern over the village. Ghost needed to forget his fears for this little while.

Ghost's breath hitched when Gerry hooked his fingers, rubbing the spot that made Ghost's purr escalate to a yowl. Gerry's balls drew up in response, and he couldn't wait a moment longer. He dribbled a little more oil on his fingers and coated his cock well, his precome mixing with the oil.