The Ghoul of Christmas Past

that it was not, in fact, people coming to buy his wares, but Tempest’s father coming through the door, followed a second later, by Tempest’s mother.
‘Brother Grey Fox,’ Frank hallooed across the shop, drawing the attention of the mostly male crowd perusing his shelves. Tempest’s father was a chap cut from the top drawer in Frank’s opinion. If anything, Frank liked him better than Tempest who could be a bit prickly at times.
‘Grey Fox?’ repeated Mary, certain she had heard Frank correctly but unhappy about her husband having a nickname.
Feeling more in his comfort zone now he didn’t just have his wife to contend with, Michael tipped her a cheeky wink. ‘It’s my biker gang name, babe.’ Mary did not approve of him calling her babe, but he was a rogue if she didn’t keep him on a tight leash and coming here was obviously the wrong thing to let him do.
Frank came out from behind the counter to shake hands. ‘Brother Grey Fox, what brings you to my establishment?’
Michael slapped his palm into Frank’s and gripped his hand tightly. ‘Brother Grizzley, I have a question for you, and I feel it is the type of question only a man armed with your knowledge might be able to answer.’
Unable to believe her ears, Mary interrupted. ‘Brother Grizzley, Brother Grey Fox? Just what are you two raving lunatics on about?’
Taking a moment, Michael turned to his wife. ‘Sweetums, it’s man stuff.’ Her hastily hitched eyebrow ought to have acted as a warning sign, but he barrelled on anyway. ‘Frank and I were both inducted into a biker gang a while back while tackling a werewolf pack. You were at a Cliff Richard concert, sugar. It’s nothing for you to worry yourself about.’
Not for the first time today, Mary narrowed her eyes at her husband. ‘You are up to something, and I don’t like it. Do you hear me, Mr Michaels? You are going to get yourself into trouble if you are not careful.’ That she meant trouble with her and not some insignificant law enforcement agency or otherwise undisclosed third party did not need to be explained. Not waiting for a response, she moved away, feigning that a display of miniature figures from Hell Boy held her interest.
Frank watched her go, unsure what the interplay between man and wife had been about. Dismissing it, he got down to the business at hand. ‘You said you had a question.’
Michael caught Frank’s elbow and used it to steer him back to the counter. Behind it, two young Chinese women were serving a queue of customers with smiles in place. Michael didn’t really notice them, not in the way that the other men in the shop did. Poison and her cousin, Athena, were around twenty years old and had that toned, athletic look that a person gets from spending a lot of time doing hard physical activity. In their case it was mostly martial arts that burned their calories and kept them lean, but they were both pretty to boot. Whether that was a happy coincidence or another example of Frank’s astute business brain in operation could be debated.
‘Frank what do you know about recent events at the Dickens Museum?’ Michael wondered if it might be better to give Frank a little more to go on than the wide question he asked but phrasing it like that he wasn’t leading him to talk about any specific topic.
Frank’s eyes instantly flared, and he stepped closer so he could drop his voice to a whisper. ‘You’re talking about the ghoul, aren’t you?’
Michael pursed his lips. ‘Truthfully, I don’t know. I only heard about the ghoul from Tempest a few minutes ago. I was referring more to the disappearance of one of the shareholders recently and a theft from the Dickens Museum. I thought the ghoul had only been seen at the theme park. Do you know different? I wondered if the events might be connected.’ He produced his wad of printed pages from the library.
Frank looked at the pictures. ‘Which of them has gone missing?’ he asked.
Michael had to shuffle the pages again, awkward to do without a surface to spread them out on. Finding the right one, he placed the loose leaf on a handy bookshelf so they could see it. ‘It’s this guy, Ronald Norton. Mary and I saw him rowing with a bank manager last week when he couldn’t get a loan. He went missing from his home three nights ago. His wife found a shoe and evidence of a struggle. The police are treating his disappearance as suspicious according to the paper.’
Frank sucked some air between his teeth and murmured, ‘I worried this might happen.’ Seeing his comment required some explanation, he said, ‘With the League gone, the forces surrounding our mortal realm and attempting to push their way in have no one to resist them. The work the League performed in silence for centuries has suddenly been stopped and the barrier is removed. This ghoul has taken residence in the area and …’
Michael raised a hand to stop Frank. ‘What is a ghoul? Layman’s terms please.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course. I always had this with Tempest too. One moment.’ Frank held up an index finger to beg a moment’s grace as he bent down to examine a nearby bottom shelf. Spotting what he wanted, he snagged a thin book and opened it. Michael leaned in to see what Frank wanted to show him. The bookshop owner leafed through a few pages to find the one he wanted. ‘The term ghoul or, more accurately, ghul, originates in Syria. Described as a huge, humanoid beast and associated with graveyards and the undead, ghouls attack people and carry them away to eat them.’
Michael pulled a face. ‘You think Ronald Norton might have been eaten?’
‘If this is a ghoul, then yes, I guess it is possible.