Leah Mercy and the Ghost of the Past

Lem groaned and opened her eyes. She lay sprawled across a branch of the Old Barbican Willow. Her arms and back felt like they were on fire. Although she supposed, she should’ve been used to it by now being a were-owl.

Beep-berrrep-beep.

Groggily, she fumbled for the ancient pocket watch she’d modified into a communicator-matter materializer. It clicked open and a hologram of Beryl appeared, her antlers gleaming in the early dawn light.

“Hey, Ber. What’s up?”

“Leah Michelle Mercy you look like cud. Are you sure you feel up to working today?”

“No, but I need the money. See ya soon.” Carefully, she hung the watch from her neck and clambered down from the tree.

Her hoverbike still lay in the shade of the trunk. That was part of why she liked coming to Old Barbican on the nights of the full moon, hardly anyone else cared for the old mansion, they usually gathered in parks or nature reserves instead. She hopped onto her hover bike and pedalled around the roots, parallel to the mansion. The imposing grey three-storey house had stood on the outskirts of Birk’s Bluff for as long as anyone could remember. It’d been empty since the Great Unveiling when her ancestors and others like them had revealed themselves to the world.

This morning, as the birds sang and the frogs croaked, a white-clad form stood in the upper right window of the mansion. Confused, she frowned and squinted, wishing her sight was still as good as last night, but it wasn’t. The form refused to come into focus and disappeared from the window.

Lem shook her head and continued to work. She’d have to tell Beryl about it. Was the form a ghost or just someone squatting? It’d never been put up for sale. As far as anyone knew there were still plenty of valuables left in the old place  — spell books, silverware, rare wines and possibly other long-lost antiques — it wouldn’t have surprised her if someone tried to take something.

Lilac’s Diner was a cozy little place with only a few tables. She smiled as Beryl waved from behind the cash register then ducked into the back to tie on her apron.

Silas, the were-vole cook, bared his teeth at her. If it hadn’t been for Silas it would’ve been the perfect analogue restaurant with no unnecessary electronics or holograms. He refused to operate without holograms of food orders in the kitchen. In all honesty, she wished that Evard had hired someone else for Cook’s position. After all, how good of a cook could one be if they needed holograms to make it right? Especially when Silas said he’d been cooking for five years already. Of course, she’d expected a bit of hostility this morning, just like she had yesterday and would tomorrow too. That was just how it was between predators and prey at Month’s End.

Nothing interesting happened in the first four hours of her shift. She settled into her lunch of steak with a side salad as Beryl slid into the chair across from her before opening her winter moss and juniper berry salad.

“So, something happened last night? You look spooked as a chinchilla this morning.” The Brazilian ungulate asked, raising an eyebrow while chewing on a juniper berry.

“I suppose you could say that.” She explained what she’d seen after regaining consciousness from her shifting.

“Mm, it could be squatters. Or it could be a cute ghost, eh? Maybe you help her move on, she helps you get a girlfriend?”

She rolled her eyes, “Ber, I don’t even know if that was a woman. Everyone wore blouses and night dresses in the Old Times, so it could just as well be a man.”

“Perhaps you could introduce me to him then, no?”

Beryl leaned forward conspiratorially, “I’ll tell you what, Lem. You go to the mansion when you wake up tomorrow and I’ll take your shift. It works, yes?”

“Okay, alright, I’ll do it.”

The next morning…

Lem rolled her shoulders and brushed her long black curls behind her shoulder. She picked up the Atom Slower from its holder; she’d modified the cane to fire beams from a time crystal inserted into the wolf’s head topper. With a deep breath, she skirted around the roots and crossed the marshy ground up to the Old Barbican’s front doors. A moth-shaped door knocker rested against the ancient pitted wood. Carefully, she knocked and wriggled the door open.

Silver flames glowed softly in the wall sconces as she stepped into the ante-chamber. There was a loveseat covered by a dust cloth to her diagonal right. Dust covered the floor. Instinctively, she opened her pocket watch and whispered, “Mask, please.” A black mask beaded with the twin moons materialized in the ray of energy, it had two vents on either side that were flush with the fabric. Making sure the mask didn’t pull at her earrings, she settled it in place and stepped into the main hall.

The flames flared as a chill made the hairs on her nape stand on end. The form of a woman coalesced in the middle of the hall, her braids fell to her waist and were clasped with turquoise beads. Her dark brown eyes were full of curiosity. “Boozhoo, boozhoo?! G’dizhnikaas na N’dizhnikaas Mitena.”

She put her fist against her chest and swept it forward. “Boozhoo, Mitena. N’dizhnikaas Leah Mercy, indoodem Waawaashkeshi. N’doo bizaan.”

“Lem?” Mitena frowned and touched her beautifully beaded leather headband. “Wegonen ojibwewinikaazh na”

She shook her head. “Ka n’ojibwewinikaash. I hardly know Ojibwe.”

Mitena stepped forward as if to take her hand then stopped and looked at her hand. “So long it’s been since I could speak my language with someone, even a little. My father had me wed Barbin to secure peace between our peoples. Barbin refused to let me speak our language or see my father. He didn’t let me attend his funeral either. After I died, I went back to our summer camp but my people, our people, were gone. I thought they were dead but knowing you are here, perhaps I can join Father and the Ancestors at last.”

Barbin? That name sounded familiar. Hadn’t Great-great-great Grandfather’s last name been Barbin? “I think…, I think we’re related. Was Barbin’s first name Amos?”

“Yes, yes, it was. Oh, Gitchi Manitou, my daughters lived!” Mitena leaned her forehead against hers. “Miigwech, n’indaanis Lem, miigwech.”

Lem smiled as a wolf made of silver fire formed at Mitena’s side and nudged the other woman’s hand. “Baa Maa pi, Nokomis Mitena.”

Happy tears coursed down Mitena’s face. “Baa Maa pi, Lem, Baa Maa pi!” Mitena followed the wolf as it loped past her into the woods.

She turned to watch her Great-great-great Grandmother as her spirit and the wolf faded into the ether. A subtle weight appeared in her pocket. When she pulled the weight out, it was a carving of a deer made of birchbark. Its eyes were carved of river stones and shone with soft wisdom. Her eyes welled with tears, “Miigwech, Nokomis.”

Of course, Beryl was a bit disappointed to learn that it wasn’t actually a hot ghost but she was still happy with how it’d turned out.

–

Ojibwe Translations (I’m still a beginner at Ojibwe so some words or phrasing may be rough)

Boozhoo = Hello (Formal)

G’dizhnikaas na = What’s your name?

N’dizhnikaas = My name is indoodem Waawaashkeshi = I am of the Deer Clan N’doo bizaan = I am peaceful

Wegonen ojibwewinikaazh na = What is your Ojibwe name?

Ka n’ojibwewinikaash = I don’t have an Ojibwe name

Gitchi Manitou = Great Spirit, the Creator

Miigwech = Thank you

N’indaanis = My daughter

Nokomis = My grandmother

Baa Maa pi = Later again I see you