A note from the author:

This is the penultimate chapter of this fan fic. One more chapter before THE END.

Thanks to all who have come along on this fabulous journey with me. More to come…

Chapter Nine

Who Has Possessed You?

"No! Don't! Look out!"

The shouted words of desperation echoed inside the car. Wilkie jumped in shock, throwing his outstretched hand over the back of his seat as he turned to look behind him in the direction of the anguished voice.

But there was no one there. The back seat was empty. Then the strident sound of a feline's indignant hissing underscored his confusion.

He frowned in puzzlement. "What the…?"

It was all just too surreal. He'd begun to think he was dreaming. He pinched the back of his hand. "Ouch!"

Nope, definitely not dreaming!

"You again! You confounded pup! How dare you!" Turner whipped around to glare behind him but for a different reason. He could clearly see Elroy and his blasted cat, with all its fur standing on end, glaring back at him with its baleful yellow eyes.

'Go away or else!' He used his mind to threaten the unwanted and untimely appearance of the two ghosts. 'You do not belong here!'

'No!' Elroy stuck out his tongue at the demon. 'And you can't make me! I'll tell the Captain about you. See if I don't!'

'You're a meddlesome, addle-pated fool! I should have drowned you when I had the chance!'

'Yeah, well, maybe, maybe not. But the Captain's still my Captain,' Elroy replied stoutly. 'I'd die for him.' He blinked. 'Well, I did die for him. So, you don't scare me! Or Mr Peabody!'

The black and white feline hissed his agreement. He swiped one set of gleaming claws toward the demon's face, making Turner duck back in shouted surprise.

"Will someone tell me what's going on here?" Wilkie demanded. "What are you looking at? What can you see? What's wrong with you?"

"It's nothing and no one," Turner denied brusquely, turning around again in his seat. "Now where were we?" He lifted his hand again, wiggling his fingers enticingly. "We were about to make a deal that would benefit both of us."

"No, you were about to get out of my car," Wilkie stated grimly. "I don't think we have anything more to say to each other. I don't like the look of you, the smell of you, or your offer!"

"But I can give you everything," Turner protested, his hand balling into a fist. "Everything you have ever wanted can be yours. Money, position, power. All that has been taken away I can restore. All you need to do is shake my hand. It's all I ask!"

His dark eyes hardened with dislike. "Why is it so hard for anyone to do that for me? First Claymore blasted Gregg, and now you! Humans! Bah!"

"This is nuts…" Wilkie stared at him in dismay. And at the confusion of the twin horns that had grown from Turner's forehead once more.

"You're not human…" he whispered. "Who are you? I mean, what are you?" He waved a disbelieving hand before his nose. "And that smell…"

"There are some days when I must ask myself, why do I even bother," Turner grouched. "I collect souls to please my master and he sends me right back out for more. And for what? To humiliate me? I was better off where I was, floating in nothing with nothingness all around."

He jerked his thumb toward his spectacles. "I've lost some of my sight in my left eye because of interfering humans who don't know when they're beaten. I've lost friends, enemies and sleep. And all for what? What's in it for me? When is it my turn?"

"I have no idea and I care even less…" Wilke was still staring at the twin horns on the other man's forehead. "But I'm beginning to think I'm in the wrong game…"

"Tell him to go away…" the voice from the back seat replied to him. "You have not shaken his hand and given away your soul. If you order him to go, then he must..."

But Wilkie's attention had been arrested by something Turner had said before they had been mysteriously interrupted. His brow furrowed and he licked his lips.

"You said I can have everything…" he said thoughtfully. "Everything I have ever wanted can be mine. All the money, position, power. And all I have to do is shake your hand…"

"Yes…" Turner leaned forward eagerly, extending his hand enticingly once more. "What do you have to lose?"

"Nothing, I guess…" Wilkie glanced into the empty back seat, wondering if he truly was dreaming. His head began to thump painfully with the confusion of it all. "And everything to gain…"

"Oh, don't do it. Please, don't give in…" Elroy pleaded in anguish.

But it seemed as if Wilkie was no longer listening. After a few seconds of indecision, he touched the tips of his fingers to Turner's. He jumped almost immediately as if an electric shock had gone up his arm.

"Now, we shall see how the game is played…" The demon chuckled as he vanished completely leaving behind but his sulphurous smell.

"Oh, no… Oh, dear…" Elroy shivered and sighed as he passed a hand over his eyes. "I need to go and warn the Captain…" He vanished, taking his cat with him.

"Where am I?" Wilkie shook himself as if waking from a troubling dream. But the headache behind his eyes was still there and now his mouth tasted foul.

He licked his dry lips as he turned to stare through the windscreen at the two-storied house he could just see through the trees. All was quiet and bucolic, seemingly asleep in the warm sunshine. There were none of the children playing fetch in the front yard with their barking dog. Not even the huge white cat was in evidence.

"At last, we have finally managed to gain the upper hand and I intend to use it to its fullest…" He chuckled evilly with an edge of madness in his tone as he reached to turn the key in the ignition.

※※※※※

"It's bad, Sir…" Elroy stood to quivering attention, his hand to his forehead in a rigid salute. "I must report that I left Wilkie in his car back up on the hill road."

"Report noted." Daniel nodded. "You may stand at ease, Seaman Applegate."

"Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!" Elroy dropped his arm. "Turner was there again, too. He was determined to strike a bargain with the man." The seaman shivered. "They shook hands, Sir. I was there. I saw it happen."

"Turner…" Lucius spat the name as he chewed on the end of his unlit cigar. "Blasted Turner, you say. What does that cowardly cur want now? As if I didn't know…"

"Aye, Captain, Sir…" Elroy's anxious eyes swivelled to him. "And he wasn't a happy demon. Now he's shaken hands with that basted Wilkie."

"He did, did he?" Daniel replied. He leaned his hips back against the edge of his desk. "That blasted demon has not learned from his past mistakes. He seeks again to reach for what cannot be his. This will be the very last time he ventures here to make mischief. I will not have him trying to blight our future together."

He turned to finger the sharkskin scabbard of the demon knife. "Maybe you should have lodged this blade in his worthless spine, Lucius. While you had the chance. Then he would have been banished for all eternity to the pit of slime he crawled back from."

"Maybe…" Lucius rolled his eyes toward the cobwebbed harpoon hanging on the wall. "I still say that fate is too good for him. I would skewer him like the snake he is. Then his master may have his sorry carcass."

"We may have no choice in the matter…" Daniel picked up the sheath and drew the blade out. "If Turner has managed to find such a willing victim, someone like Claymore he can manipulate, then he'll make full use of him. He will come our way, you can be sure of that."

The dark, green/black metal of the blade that had been forged thousands of years before from the remains of a fallen star winked in the lamplight. In his hand, the hilt felt oddly warm and the weapon seemed to be whispering its secrets to him.

"Your thoughts, my friend?" Lucius asked quietly, lighting the end of his cigar. "Knife or harpoon? One or other must do the job for good. The demon can only have this one last desperate chance to prove himself to his master. But while he exists on this plane, you can never be safe from his schemes and attempts to best you in a fight. Fair means or foul…"

"If we must stoop down to the level of that base entity, then so be it," Daniel replied grimly, fully removing the knife from its sheath and passing it through the air before his face. "He seeks to undo all he has been forced to do. He once pronounced, 'Let there be love' and there was and is. But the boon itself was never his to grant nor take away."

He flicked the knife through the air and it whickered keenly. "I would surrender my own soul before I would allow that to happen. It was a thing set between his devilish master and myself. It shall stay that way for all of eternity and beyond…"

He passed the knife again, making it whimper and murmur its unique song. "Or my name is not Captain Daniel Gregg…"

※※※※※

Claymore got out of his car and hurried up the front path of Gull Cottage. All was quiet and still, almost as if no one was home.

"I do hope someone's home," he muttered as he ran up the front steps and seized the door knocker.

He banged it loudly several times, stirring echoes inside. Then he pressed the doorbell again and again, muttering beneath his breath as he did so. "Come on, come on, come on…"

He'd woken from his faint to find he was alone in his office. It gave him no comfort. He wondered what the demon was about now and where. Claymore had tottered to his feet and managed to make it to his car.

Suddenly the door was pulled open, and Jonathan stood there, taking a bite of a big red apple. "Oh, hey, Claymore… You want something?"

"Hey, yourself…" Claymore grumbled as he shook his head. He peered into the house. "Is your mother at home? I need her."

"Yeah…" Jonathan looked him up and down but didn't move from the opening. "You want me to go and fetch her?"

"That would seem like a sensible idea," Claymore grouched, pushing forward into the house to look all around. "Tell her it's urgent. Really urgent!" He put one hand to his aching head. "Right away…"

"Okay…" The boy stared up at him with a frown.

"What's all the noise going on out here?" Martha demanded to know, appearing from the kitchen as she dusted off her floury hands on her apron. "Claymore? Why are you here? What do you want?"

She folded her arms. "This isn't a good time. We've finally managed to get rid of Cousin Harriet. Now here you are. Mrs Gregg has a deadline she needs to meet."

She pointed to the front door. "You'd better go. I'll tell her you called."

"Well, I need to speak with Mrs Muir…" Claymore babbled, ignoring the housekeeper's dismissive wave. "Um, I mean, Mrs Gregg. I need to see her urgently. It's a very urgent matter, I tell you." He tottered slightly. "It can't wait. Not for another second."

"All right…" Martha stared at him doubtfully. "I can see that. But as I said, I'm afraid Mrs Gregg is very busy with writing the Captain's memoirs. Too busy to see you. Is it anything I can help you with?"

Claymore raised his eyebrows significantly. "There will be the very devil to pay in no short order if I don't get to speak with her immediately. Or my great-uncle," he added quickly. "I'm not fussy right now. I have news."

Martha's eyebrows rose. "Well, it must be urgent if you wish to speak to the Captain." She shrugged, turning to Jonathan. "Go up to the wheelhouse and fetch the Captain down right away. Tell him it's urgent. But don't go disturbing your mother while she's working. She won't thank us."

"Okay…" Jonathan immediately turned for the stairs and clattered up them.

"Haven't I just been saying that it's of the utmost importance?" Claymore complained, sinking into the foyer chair and mopping his moist brow with the large handkerchief he pulled from his trouser pocket. "I fear I have aged ten years in the past few hours. I've never been so frightened…"

He lifted his head and began to pat the backs of his fingers against the underside of his chin. "Do I look haggard? I feel haggard. I must look my best for the upcoming town elections…"

He sighed dramatically. "I'm up for re-election again, you know…"

"So you tell me every time I see you. That doesn't mean I'm going to vote for you." Martha frowned at him. "But you don't look any different to me. You always were too skinny for my liking. A strong wind could blow you over."

"Thanks…" Claymore scowled at her before looking anxiously up the stairs. "I wonder what's keeping my great-uncle…"

※※※※※

"Claymore…" Daniel frowned as he returned the knife to its scabbard. "I wonder what that barnacle wants now. I don't have any time for his prattle if Turner is about to make his move."

"He didn't say," Jonathan replied. "Just that it's urgent and he needs to tell someone. He wanted to see Mum, but Martha said no, she's not to be worried while she's working on your memories. Claymore went all white and looked like he was about to pass out."

"The plot thickens…" Lucius commented. "But that one always comes with bad news."

"Perhaps he brings us some further news of Turner…" Daniel straightened. Olivia was right when she said that my worthless great-nephew would be the demon's first port of call on his return. He seeks weak flesh to feast upon and make his own."

Lucius rose to his feet to stub out his cigar. "You once made a ruling that no ghost is to go below unless it's with your express permission."

His white teeth flashed within the darkness of his beard. "Well, I finally will say, that to your permission, my friend." He snapped his fingers in midair. "I'm in this hunt with you until the end. But none of those standing below are unaware of my presence here. We are among friends."

He smiled as he walked toward the harpoon and hefted it from its mount. He shook the dust and cobwebs from the rope as he admired the vicious barbed head. "A fine weapon. A true shame to see it go to waste, just hanging here when we have a use for it."

"I could use your help, certainly," Daniel conceded, as he picked up the demon knife and concealed it beneath the waistband of his trousers to lie snug and concealed against his powerful thigh. "If Turner is around then we need all eyes out for him. But he is only to be dealt with on my orders."

"Thank you and agreed, Daniel," Lucius said sincerely. "And you know I will always have your back. Always…"

"As I will always have yours…"

The two evenly matched men shook hands, gripping each other's forearms until their tensed muscles stood out. Elroy came forward to lay his hand on top of the place where their wrists crossed.

"Me too," he added quickly. "And Mr Peabody. We stand with you, my Captains."

"And me," Jonathan added, not wanting to be left out of their pact.

"Come on…" Daniel released his two ghostly cohorts to ruffle his stepson's hair. "Let's go and see what that useless wart wants with us this time. Though I doubt it's anything good…"

※※※※※

"Oh, thank goodness!" Claymore exclaimed as soon as his great-uncle appeared at the bend in the stairs. "I have such awful news!" He jumped from his chair and began to pace in agitation waving his hands.

"He's a very funny colour," Lucius remarked, walking around his hapless prey to study him closely.

He passed the barb of the harpoon close beneath Claymore's nose. His hapless victim sneezed mightily, resorting again to his handkerchief.

"What is it this time, Claymore?" Daniel asked as he reached the bottom step. "What wild tales do you have to tell me now?"

"Come on, Jonathan…" Martha took the boy by the shoulder. "You can come back into the kitchen and help me and the children with the baking."

"Aw, do I have to?" the boy wheedled. "It was just getting interesting out here."

"Yes, you have to," the housekeeper encouraged him through the open door and then shut it firmly behind them.

"Well?" Daniel sighed. "What is it, Claymore? Spit it out."

"I do think he may faint on us again," Lucius said with a grin, waving the harpoon hopefully.

"Me and Mr Peabody can scare him," Elroy added hopefully, looking at his captain.

Daniel held up a dismissive hand. "We shall hear him out first."

Claymore looked from side to side as he edged closer to the stairs. "Who're you talking to?" he demanded fearfully. "I feel funny and cold all of a sudden. And something tickled my nose. I don't like this. I came here in good faith with urgent information."

"No one will hurt you. State your business, Claymore," Daniel replied hardly. "And be quick about it."

"Turner…" Claymore's gaze continued to quarter the foyer. "He's back and he wants your eternal soul once and for all. Or he said it's finally curtains for him from his boss…" He drew the flat of his hand significantly across his throat.

He preened slightly. "He tried to seize my soul, but I remembered what the little medium told me to do…" He began to sing his song.

"Stop that racket!" Daniel commanded, slicing the air with one hand. "So the demon has decided to gamble one last time by reaching for that which was never his."

"I can go looking for him and Wilkie," Elroy offered quickly. "I'm good at finding."

"No…" Daniel shook his head. "We need to be more subtle. If this truly is the last roll he may have of the dice, then the demon will nurse his grievances until the craven coward sees an opening he can exploit to his advantage. Then we shall have him once and for all." His hand closed into a tight fist against his thigh.

"And we will show him that opening?" Lucius asked softly, stroking the line of his bearded chin with one hand as he wove patterns in the air with the barbed harpoon. "It could work. But we will need a willing dupe to draw Turner into betraying himself in his grasping greed."

He scowled at Claymore. "And not this one. He has no backbone and faints away too easily. We need someone made of a more solid timber. Someone who doesn't quit so easily."

"Hello?" a man's voice called from beyond the open front door. "Is there anyone home? I really need to speak with Captain Gregg on a very urgent matter."

Claymore jumped as he turned to point a quivering finger at the intrusion. "Oh, and he's come back wanting my money! I've never been so besieged by unwanted people all demanding something from me!"

"Oh, for Pete's sake! This blasted place is getting to be more like Grand Central Station every day!" Lucius complained sourly as everyone turned to stare out the front door.

At that same moment, a very cross-looking Carolyn appeared at the top of the stairs, drawn from her typing by all the noise and chaos. "What going on here?" She shook her head as she advanced down the steps to stand beside her husband. She gripped his hand in hers.

"Mr Wilkie?" she asked, looking down at the man standing in the open doorway. "What on earth are you doing here? And why have you decided to come back after all this time?"

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