another string of articulated whispers, then bowed slightly, as if to salute him. “It’s been a long time, old friend.”
Herbert could understand us all very well, only he didn’t speak our language anymore. His irregular jaw and the long, curved fangs in his mouth made it difficult to make such sounds, which was why he was reduced to what we called the ghoulish tongue. Grandpa pointed at the bag, which the ghoul was quick to notice. That he was ravenous would’ve been an understatement. In less than a minute, the contents were gone, and Herbert was licking his clawed fingers.
“There we go. Better, right?” Grandpa murmured, and Herbert nodded faintly.
“Shall we get cracking on the questions?” I asked.
Herbert shot me a glance I could only describe as sullen. How am I pissing you off?
“He’s a little moody,” Grandpa Ibrahim replied, his smile slightly strained. “It’s unlike him, but then again, he’s been locked up for more than four decades, if not more. I can’t remember the last time we spoke.” He spoke to Herbert next, in their whispery dialect.
The ghoul shook his head slowly, then settled on the floor, crossing his bony legs. Once more, he looked at me, and I felt like I was in one of those bad dreams where my clothes were gone and I was in front of a massive crowd. I braced myself for the roaring laughter, but it never came. A troubling sensation tickled my brain, though, as if someone was picking through it with their bare fingers.
My pulse spiked. “Grandpa, I think he’s doing something to me,” I said in alarm.
“Don’t be afraid or resist,” he replied. “Herbert is just curious. He’ll only go as far as you let him. He simply wants to get to know you.”
“Last time you two met, we didn’t even have Arwen. Not to mention such a spunky granddaughter,” Grandma Corrine chimed in, visibly amused. Her expression changed for a moment, as Herbert sets his sights on her next. Grandpa was right: as soon as I rejected that nagging feeling, it went away. This was as close to a trained ghoul as anyone would ever get. These were primal creatures, curious and deceitful, and there was only so much control one could exert on them in exchange for good behavior. The witches’ rough punishments made sense for those who didn’t obey.
Herbert, or any other ghoul, for that matter, was basically like a shark or a tiger on a leash. There were limits to the control one could put on them. Their nature would never truly vanish.
“He’s a little out of it,” Grandpa said. “He’s adjusting to this new time, to the idea that he’s been locked up for so long. I’ll have to reward him later with some fresh meat.”
In part, I realized that ghouls and the Eritopian shape-shifters were physically similar. The same tall and wiry frame, ashen skin, and killer instincts. Only, the ghouls could make themselves disappear, moving between the planes of the living and the dead as they wished. In that sense, I had a feeling they were one level over the jinni and the fae, whose invisibility abilities were slightly more physical, tied to the world of the living. Speaking of, it had been a while since I’d seen Serena’s “pets,” the four shape-shifters that Viola had tamed during the war with Azazel. I made a mental note to ask about them the next time I saw her.
“So, what, we give him a few minutes to take it all in?” Grandma replied, offering Herbert a most sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you were in that box for all these years, Herbert. It’s just that… we don’t really use ghouls in the Sanctuary anymore, but we don’t let them loose, either. I hope you’ll forgive us.”
Herbert whispered something and glanced at Grandpa Ibrahim, who, in return, gave him a brief nod. “I promise you, I won’t keep you locked in there for years on end ever again,” he said. I understood that the ghoul was genuinely upset and worried he’d be pencil-boxed once more, after we’d finished this uncanny meeting.
They exchanged a few more ghoulish words, and it seemed like a rather heated conversation. It wasn’t often that I saw Grandpa Ibrahim’s temple vein swell like that. I had a feeling this wasn’t going in the desired direction.
“What’s wrong?” Grandma asked, frowning.
“I want him to tell us about Reapers and Death,” Grandpa said. “He seemed surprised to learn that we know about them, but he’s