Chapter 4: Shadows of the Wood

"When you enter a grove peopled with ancient trees, higher than the ordinary, and shutting out the sky with their thickly inter-twined branches, do not the stately shadows of the wood, the stillness of the place, and the awful gloom of this doomed cavern then strike you with the presence of a deity?" - Seneca.

Peter and Egon found themselves taken to a small conference room where there were already several people engaged in a heated debate about the problem at the newest garden. Although a few people glanced their way, the noise level barely abated, forcing the professor to raise his voice in order to be heard.

"If we could have quiet for a moment, ladies and gentlemen!" Although the room subsided, Peter had the distinct impression it was more as an excuse to back out of endless arguments and circular logic without losing face than out of any real interest in seeing what the director had to say.

"Alec, Tim." Birkenall waved them over. "I'd like you to meet two of the Ghostbusters, Doctors Venkman and Spengler."

Peter watched two men detach themselves from the table and approach them. The one who had reacted first was an average-sized fellow with a rangy stride and intelligent, determined eyes. Peter bit back a grin at the expression he was so used to seeing on the face of another scientist he could have mentioned. The other man was slightly shorter, with long, ragged hair and watery blue eyes. Dressed casually in sloppy, comfortable clothing, he looked as though he had never left his student days behind him and his expression was more curious than wary.

"Doctors of what?" the taller one asked bluntly, staring boldly at the Ghostbusters.

"Psychology," Peter looked him over with more than a hint of mischief in his gaze. "You seem to be a dedicated scientist, Mr... I'll assume you're Doctor Newman. Right? Good." He didn't pause as he saw his challenger start to nod and answer and he could see the slightly startled expression appear in the man's eyes as he continued. "Well, Doctor Newman, we're here to ask for your expertise in resolving this matter. Since you are familiar with the history of the Charles Austin Memorial Garden, you're our logical starting point."

Alec studied him suspiciously. "Psychologist, huh?" He paused, obviously thinking over what Peter had just said, then smiled dryly. "You're good," he added sourly and his tone indicated he knew exactly what Peter had just done to him. "Okay, I'll bite. How do Ghostbusters, logic and superstition go together?"

Peter winced. "Ouch, you said the s-word," he muttered as he watched Egon indignantly straighten up to his full height. "Down, big guy," he patted his friend's shoulder with a sly smile. "Doctor Newman, I'd like to introduce you to Doctor Spengler. If you can find a doctorate he doesn't have, I'll be amazed and considering you seem to share his distaste for all things superstitious I have the feeling you two will get on like a house on fire."

His grin grew wider at the identical expressions of irritation the two men threw him. "See?" He winked at the second man and watched as the expression of barely concealed amusement changed to surprise at having been caught. Then the man shrugged and grinned openly.

"Doctor Tim Richardson but call me Tim. Everyone else does," he offered Peter his hand and the psychologist shook it.

"In the seminar you gave yesterday, you indicated that Doctor Austin had habituated the plants to the American climate from the more variable Levantine climates. I was therefore given to understand nothing in the Memorial Garden is actually new. Was my assumption correct?" Egon asked, coming to the point with his usual blunt approach.

Alec looked startled for a moment. "You were at that talk?"

Egon nodded. "Botany is the hobby of one of our employees," was his only comment and he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Uh... right." The botanist pulled himself back on track with a visible mental effort. "And the answer is yes. We weren't able to accommodate most of his collection but we did transfer a sizeable portion of it. It was his wish to have his garden recreated as closely as possible so our influence on it has been minimal."

"Hm," Egon said in response. "Has Doctor Austin's estate been documented as having any similar events occur there?"

Alec blinked. "Nothing I've ever heard of. But I wouldn't know."

Peter glanced at Egon. "You think they could have inherited a little hitch-hiker along with the plants?" he asked him.

"It's possible," Egon's answer was non-committal.

"Hey, if anything weird was going to hitch-hike, it would have to be on the Cedrus," Tim said thoughtfully.

"Don't be ridiculous, Tim." Alec said shortly as the Ghostbusters attention suddenly centred directly on the dendrologist.

"The Cedrus?" Egon asked at once.

Tim shrugged. "Yeah. There were these two young Cedrus we took with the last load. Spookiest things I've ever encountered and I've had a lot of trees pass through my neck of the woods - no pun intended but these two were... different."

"Different?"

"Tim." Alec said warningly.

Tim shot Alec a withering look. "Who cares if the feeling wasn't logical, Alec?" he demanded. "I definitely felt something around those trees. And I know you did as well. You didn't want to go back into that house any more than I did."

Alec sighed impatiently and turned to the two Ghostbusters. "It was late, we were tired and Mr. Jabbaar had regaled us with one too many haunted forest tales. Our imaginations were running away with us," he glared at Tim. "That's all it was."

"Okay, time out," Peter interrupted. "How about we take this from the top? What's a Cedrus, who's Mr. Jabbaar and what haunted forest tales?"

"Cedrus is a genus within the Cupressaceae," Tim jumped in immediately. "You've heard of the white cedar and red cedar?" He waited for the pair to nod and continued. "Well, they aren't cedars, they're just misnamed junipers. True cedars are confined to the genus Cedrus and there's only four species, most very rare and none native to the US. The two trees we inherited from Doctor Austin were originally brought over from the Levant three years ago and are Cedrus libani, the Cedar of Lebanon. We're lucky to have them - the species is becoming quite rare," he glanced at Alec.

Alec looked wry. "You'll have to excuse Tim. Trees are his life, he never shuts up about them."

"Reminds me of a physicist I know," Peter threw Egon a teasing look and was rewarded with a scowl.

A small, genuine smile flitted briefly over Alec's features at the interaction between the two Ghostbusters before he wrest control of his emotions and picked up the story. "Doctor Austin had an old gardener called Nasim Jabbaar. Completely obsessed with plants, trees in particular. He's not a trained botanist but our dendrologists have found his knowledge useful over the years."

"He's not American by birth but has been with Doctor Austin for several years," Tim explained. "I don't know anyone alive who knows Austin's estate better. He..." he looked briefly uneasy. "He told us we had to keep the Cedrus in Levantine soil to avoid bad luck. The locals where the trees came from said they were haunted and Nasim kept importing Levantine soil to ward off a curse."

Egon and Peter glanced at each other. "Let me guess," Peter sighed. "You changed the soil recently?"

"Yes. Levantine soil wasn't necessary for the trees to survive in," Alec said defensively. "It was only a superstition."

"What do you say, Egon. Think we found our culprit?" Peter turned to his friend and was surprised to see the uncertain look on Egon's face.

"We already know that plants can be possessed," Egon mused. "The geranium that tried to take over Brooklyn is evidence enough..."

"That story was true?" Tim interrupted incredulously.

"Yeah," Peter said. "For the sake of New York City, we had to ban Egon from ever giving a woman flowers again." He grinned at the baffled expressions on the two botanists' faces and particularly at the affronted one on Egon's.

"If you are asking me whether or not a pot of soil can prevent a possession or control one that has already occurred, then I would need to research that more comprehensively," Egon finished tersely, choosing to ignore the psychologist.

Peter tapped his walkie-talkie. "Hey, Ray, you there?"

"Peter? Anything wrong?" Ray's voice sounded slightly strained and distant.

"You ever heard of a tree possession that could be controlled by using special soil?"

"Soil native to the tree's origin," Tim corrected, his eyes afire with curiosity as he leaned forward to listen. Peter eyed the dendrologist for a moment then decided for the sake of his sanity to do everything in his power to prevent Tim and Ray ever coming together in the same room.

"You hear that, Ray?"

"Soil native to the tree's origin. Yeah, got it, Peter." The walkie-talkie lapsed into silence.

"Uh... Tex? You there?"

"Sorry, Peter. I'll need to hit the books to be sure but soil by itself won't do the job. It would need to be part of a binding ritual or a gift from the conjurer to attempt to control the spirit. Why? Peter, are we dealing with a possessed tree?"

"Sounds like it, Ray."

"Doesn't make sense. Why would a possessed tree use fire? Is Egon there?"

"Yes, Ray," Egon lifted his off-hand to manipulate his walkie-talkie. Peter frowned at that and made a mental note to address Egon and his injury as soon as possible.

"Hey, Egon. What tree are we talking about here?"

"Cedrus libani. The Cedar of Lebanon."

"The Cedar of Lebanon?" Winston's voice cut in. "Are you sure?"

Startled, Egon and Peter exchanged a glance. "Is that significant, Winston?" Egon asked quickly.

"You never read the Bible, Homeboy?" Winston responded dryly. "It's the tree of Kings. Solomon's Temple was built out of it, it's how he showed off his wealth. According to him, it was the greatest of trees."

Tim nodded. "Your friend is right. The Cedar of Lebanon can be considered a holy tree. Ironically, that's one of the reasons it's become so rare."

Ray's voice came through again. "Alright. There is something familiar about this. I'll need to check it out when we get back home. Egon, can you get a sample of the soil the tree was in?"

Egon turned to look at the botanists.

"You'd need to talk to Nasim," Tim said. "We don't have any."

"We'll try," Peter said. "How's the helicopter coming?"

"We're going to be here a while," Winston replied. "If you need to go anywhere, you can come back and pick us up later."

"Alright, looks like we'll be taking Ecto-1 for a spin. We'll catch you later."

"Peter?"

"Yes Ray?"

"Egon's driving."

Peter blinked once. "What?"

"He's the only one of us who hasn't crashed Ecto, Peter. Let him drive."

"Ray," Peter said firmly. "Bye." He turned off the walkie-talkie and rolled his eyes. "Only Ray," he sighed and glared as he spotted the twinkle in Egon's eyes.

In the end, Ray didn't get his way. Grumbling something about the only reason Egon hadn't crashed the car yet was because he was usually too busy playing with P.K.E. meters to drive as frequently as the other three did, Peter planted himself firmly in the driving seat. Spotting the rebellious look within Egon's eyes, he deliberately glanced in the direction of Egon's damaged hand. The physicist hadn't raised the subject of the destroyed meters since the accident had occurred but he hadn't used the hand again either. Given the speed at which his defiance subsided over who was driving, Peter was convinced that Egon was hiding the pain he was in.

When they arrived, the little gardener was easily found, sitting on the porch of the cottage he had been allowed to maintain after his employer's death, smoking an old-fashioned pipe. The smoke curled around his form, dancing like a playful ghost in the light breeze and his dark eyes were fixed on them as they approached, shining brightly in the dim light.

"Mr. Jabbaar?" Peter asked cautiously.

"I am."

"I'm..."

"Yes. I watch the news. How can I help you boys?" the old voice was thin and reedy, almost like an oboe and both of them could see the huge irritation that was consuming him.

"We are investigating an anomalous manifestation of psychokinetic energy in the Charles Austin Memorial Garden," Egon said calmly. "Doctors Newman and Richardson suggested we speak with you."

"I heard about the excitement on the news. The scientists did not listen to me. They will reap the consequences of their lack of wisdom."

Both Ghostbusters stared at him. "And what exactly are the consequences?" Peter asked warily.

Nasim sighed. "These two trees are the legacy of their ancient father who once stood above all others of his kind. Now, only they remain, the ancient father long gone from this earth. But the people who live there still remember and pass the stories on to their children. The ancient father protected the forest and when he died, the forest died with him. But in his dying he spoke a terrible curse and now all that wrong the forest suffer his fate. Without this last link to their home, these children have been exiled and their father rises in anger at the treatment they have received."

"Do you know how to make the... er... ancient father sleep again?" Peter asked

Nasim gave him a thin smile. "That is easy. Take him home."

"Home? To the Levant?"

Nasim nodded seriously. "That is the story."

"Are you from the Levant, Mr. Jabbaar?" Egon asked curiously.

"My family has made its home there for many generations," Nasim replied.

"Which is how you know this story?"

Nasim nodded. "I believe most people that attribute their bad luck to the trees do so to avoid assigning blame to where it should correctly be," his eyes turned distant as if he was watching something happening very far away. "All things are connected. One does not need to see the roots to know without them the tree will die."

"Did this... ancient father cause any trouble for Austin?" Peter asked.

"At first," Nasim admitted. "The men who brought the trees back here all died within weeks of the cedars arriving. One died of tetanus, another broke his spine in a fall from a ladder, another jumped off a bridge and drowned... then I brought the Lebanese soil to see if that would help. It did" he sighed. "The trees have caused no trouble until now"

"In all the stories of your people, did any involve a storm manifestation protecting the trees?" Egon asked.

Nasim considered that with a thoughtful frown on his face. As last he shrugged. "The stories have never been specific about the ways bad luck occurred. Only that it happened and that people died."

Peter sighed. "Is there anything else you can think of that could help us?"

The old gardener shook his head silently.

"Do you have any Levantine soil?" Egon added.

Nasim studied Egon curiously for a few moments. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"I would like to conduct an analysis to determine if there are exogenic elements within the sample that could account for the dormancy of the trees paranormal activities."

Nasim stared at him for a moment then glanced at Peter. "Does he always talk like that?" he asked dryly.

"Sometimes I think he starts the day by having a bet with the universe to see how many long words he can fit into one sentence before bedtime," Peter responded morosely.

Egon raised one long finger and pushed his glasses back up his nose with a single, emphatic gesture designed to express his annoyance with Peter's comment. Nasim smiled suddenly. "Wait here," he walked into his cottage, leaving the two Ghostbusters standing outside on the porch. A few minutes later he returned with a sealed container. "The soil your pleonastic associate desires." He handed it to Peter with a strange little twinkle in his eyes as he observed Egon's reaction to his vocabulary. "Perhaps you should carry it for your injured friend?"

The psychologist took it with both hands, surprised by how heavy it felt and surprised also by how perceptive the old man was and returned it to the car. Egon followed a few minutes later and climbed back into the passenger seat. "Firehouse or Brooklyn?" he asked.

"Neither," the psychologist smiled grimly. "Now we go to the hospital."