The Ghoul of Christmas Past

excuse me, all is not yet ready for the presentation and I must get back to work.’
The ghoul lingered, unsure what was expected of him since no instruction had been given. When he glanced down at the man on the floor, he saw the fear in his eyes. The ghoul blinked twice and tried to communicate a question.
On the floor, backed hard against the cold, damp wall, Jason was horrified by the noise the creature made. It appeared to be trying to say something, but the sound was nothing but a low wailing moan, a mournful noise that spoke of terrible things to come.
When it grabbed Jason in the car, he’d lost control instantly and shortly thereafter lost consciousness. Jason didn’t know where he was, but when he came to, he found his bindings were far too tight to move around or escape from which made his location a moot point. The three girls he was due to collect were bound to report him missing at some point, but until then, no one would be looking for him – he was supposed to be on his way to France to spend Christmas on the slopes.
The monster reached an enormous hand down to Jason’s face, causing his squirming motions to return. ‘Get away from me,’ Jason squealed, fear making his bladder threaten to betray his commands.
The ghoul’s hand stopped moving forward, pausing for a moment before withdrawing. Jason stopped squirming; he had nowhere to go anyway. Mercifully, the horrific apparition stood up once more, showing off his full height, and left him where he was. Walking away, Jason got his first good look at the beast. It had to be over seven feet tall and looked to have been hewn from a girder. His arms, legs, and shoulders were huge blocks of meat and his chest was a barrel holding it all together.
The ghoul rounded a corner and was lost to sight, giving Jason some hope that he might be left alone and could work on trying to escape. However, when a door clanged shut with a resounding thump, the creeping sensation that he was locked in as well as tied up stole over him. Would it matter if he couldn’t break free of the bindings? Why was he here? Why him? The mad man made it sound like he had a specific reason for kidnapping him, but for the life of him, Jason had no idea what it was.

The Library. Saturday, December 24th 1119hrs
The shopping took longer than it needed to in Michael’s opinion. It was as if Mary had chosen to deliberately drag her feet and peruse the goods in each aisle with far greater scrutiny than ever before. Was she doing it just to make sure he wouldn’t have time to get up to anything else?
Michael Michaels kept his lips sealed on the subject, knowing there would be no benefit to starting a fight about it. Instead, he used the time to ponder what he thought to be a case worthy of investigation and tried to phone Tempest again.
His phone showed six calls had now gone unanswered and this one was no different. Whatever Tempest was doing, it was demanding his undivided attention. Given that Michael’s son had only gotten out of hospital the previous afternoon after a close run with hypothermia, he didn’t find it too surprising that he couldn’t get an answer – it did worry him a little though.
Was he okay? Sure, Tempest was as tough as they come, his military training had seen to that, but he was still human. Staring at his phone, which he hadn’t had long and was still getting used to, he grumbled, ‘I’d send you a message, son, if I could work out which button to press.’ Pocketing it again, Michael told himself the most likely cause for his son not answering the phone was that he was sleeping late to regain the lost hours the previous case stole. It was that or he had Amanda with him and could hear the phone but sure as heck wasn’t going to answer it.
‘What are you doing, Michael?’ Mary’s voice invaded his thoughts, grabbing his attention just as he guiltily realised he hadn’t been listening to her.
‘Yes, dear?’
‘The gravy granules.’ It was clear from her tone it was not the first time she had asked.
‘These ones?’ he groped for a familiar looking brand which drew a sound of impatient disgust. He tried again.
‘Oh, goodness, Michael,’ Mary sighed as she stepped into his personal space to pluck the ones she wanted from the shelf by his hand. Thinking it would have been simpler for her to have done that in the first place, he maintained his policy of keeping his mouth shut. ‘You’re away with the fairies today,’ she muttered, tossing the box into the shopping trolley. ‘Whatever is it you’ve got in your head?’
She was daring him to bring up the subject of the Dickens museum again, and he wasn’t falling for that trick. Hitting her with an engaging smile, he said, ‘Nothing, dear, I was just basking in the warmth of your love and drifting along on the enchanting scent of your perfume.’
Had her eyes gone any narrower when she cut them at him, she wouldn’t have been able to see. ‘You are up to something, Michael Michaels, and I don’t like it.’
‘I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, dear.’
The rest of the shopping proceeded as planned, at least so far as Mary was concerned, but her husband was acting decidedly odd.
From the supermarket, they parked outside the library and walked across the road to the pharmacy opposite. Mary much preferred using the local shops because she knew the owners and was able to have a chat with them. There were so few left though. When the children were still children, she had been able to get