“Was machst du hier?” said the ghost. His face was awash with confusion as he stared at the woman who had appeared before him. He knew, instinctively, that she was alive. No spectre stood before him, no mournful banshee or tormented soul. A woman, an alive one, had found her way into his world of death. “Was machst du hier?” he repeated.

Elspeth replied, defaulting to the translation method of British people world-wide. Loud and slow. “Hello. Do. You. Speak. English?” She was cupping her hands around her mouth as she spoke. It was pointless of course, there was no air here, no sound transmitted by vibrating molecules. She walked carefully towards the German ghost, smiling as she did.

“Some, enough to get by,” the ghost replied, his accent thick.

“Oh, thank god.”

“There is no God. Not here at least. You are not dead, am I right?”

“You’re right there. Good, you’re still conscious at least.” Elspeth stepped down from the ruined building, her feet hitting the ground. Dust from her boot listed upwards lazily, as though suspended in water.

The ghost raised an eyebrow. “Conscious? Should I be concerned?”

“You know where you are, right?”

The ghost nodded, the loose cap on his head flopping as he did. “I do not claim to understand it. I am trapped between this life and the next am I right?”

“Yeah,” Elspeth replied, remorse heavy on her voice. “Look, I need your help. Maybe, in exchange we can help you?”

“You English always want something in return.”

“Not English, Scottish. But yes. A little tit for tat. You seen anything unusual around here.” She looked at the ghost, taking in his appearance. “Aside from yourself.”

“There are a few other spirits. They are not as…whole as me. Some are quite mad. I assume that isn’t what you refer too. I think you’re talking about the…other thing.”

“Other thing?”

The ghost sat upon the doorframe of the building nearest him, scraping his feet idly across the ground. “It is, something. I am not sure what exactly. It is in your world, the living world, but as it stalks the island it…ripples in this one. Everything around here seems wrong as it passes. I don’t know what it is, but it has been abroad more frequently recently.”

“How often have you seen it?”

“I’ve never seen it. Not really, just it’s wake in this world. I first saw it not long after my, uh, trip to this side. Then maybe once every few years. I’ve seen it these past three nights though.” The ghost pressed his hands to the side of his head. “I worry, when I see it. I try and keep as far away as I can. I felt it once, its wake washing over me. I could feel anger building, like just being near it eroded my sanity.”

Elspeth considered his words for a moment. She could feel a pull, her body calling her soul back to its fleshy prison. She resisted, willing herself to remain a little longer.

Cernunnos stalked the countryside, his legs striking the ground in impossible ways as the thundered over the hills. A mighty stag lording over its domain. He was relishing his new hunt. The few tributes his children had provided so far were perfunctory, simple sacrifices arranged by ritual. This was something different. He couldn’t sense this new prey, there was no magic binding him to them. This hunt would rely on his skills. It was thrilling.

The stag crested the hill, striking a silhouette against the full moon. It looked down across the island, scanning it with senses beyond human. There, across the island two humans, their scents different subtly from his children, were scrabbling around in a set of old buildings.

Old was relative. Cernunnos had been content to slumber, called upon once every few hundred years, though he had existed for longer than even he remembered, his early history fuzzy, half-remembered flashes and truths. His children had become more demanding in recent years, more insistent on their requests. He had fulfilled them, for now, though the constant requests were grating on him, proper payment or not.

He didn't understand their questions. Not really. The modern world was confusing, hectic, strange castles stamped across the once pristine countryside with little regard for the myriad spirits and entities that called them home. It was a shame, to see humanity so all-encompassing. Cernunnos had called out, briefly to his fellow gods. The replies had been pathetic, faint.

The god flexed his front hooves, shaking his head, antlers swaying against the moonlight. It was time to hunt. To claim his prize.

Gregor sat, watching the body of Elspeth. It was frozen, perfectly still save for a shallow breathing. He had seen her use her abilities only a few times. Elspeth had repeatedly stated a reluctance at using them, even going so far as to hide them from the rest of the department. It didn’t sit well with Gregor, in their line of work it was an incredibly useful skill, but neither was he going to turn his partner in. The bonds formed in the line of duty outweighing any sense of loyalty to the job.

He dragged the heel of his boot across the dirt, boredom setting in. Gregor let out a loud sigh and leant back, arms touching the dirty floorboards behind him as he did so. He stared up at the full moon, letting its light wash over him. He found it oddly soothing. Something caught his eye, moving oddly against the great white disc. A shape. An animal of some kind. Gregor squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look. It was a stag, or at least, had the rough shape of one. Its antlers were wrong, the elegant natural lines replaced by jagged shapes and odd arrangements.

“Ah shit,” Gregor whispered. He was an experienced detective, second only in experience to DCI Florence Weston. Gregor had spent many decades in the department and much to Weston’s annoyance had declined multiple promotion offers. Gregor knew where that road led, a trail of paperwork and worn out desks. No, his place was here in the field. As he watched the odd-looking creature begin to bound down the hill, Gregor felt a sickness rising in his gut. He knew enough to trust his instincts, the human body often had visceral reactions to the supernatural.

He stood up, turning quickly toward Elspeth. Gregor placed his hands onto her shoulders. “Come on MacAdams, wakey wakey time.” He shook her gently trying to rouse her. “Now isn’t the time to get all fucking zoned out on me. I don’t care how good the fucking chat is, time to pop back now.”

Elspeth felt another tug; her body was screaming for her soul to return. It was starting to strain on her. She could feel herself slipping in this realm, becoming almost thinner.

“Look, thanks for all this,” she said to the ghost. “We’ll help you out, I promise, after we sort out, whatever is causing trouble on this island.”

The ghost nodded. “I…I thank you. I don’t know how you can help me, I fear I am doomed to stay here forever. To become like some of the…others I have seen. All I ask is you find out what happened to my family, after the war. I gather my side lost correct?”

“You’re right on that front yes.”

"You know, I just joined the army to help protect my country. We all did. It was well paying and many of us remembered the money troubles after the first war. I was not poorly treated here. Your people even provided us with a German-language newspaper." The ghost took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he inhaled. "Just one winter where it was a little too cold. Turns out I had a heart problem I didn't know about and a little pneumonia was enough. Shame, I quite liked it here. Maybe that's why I linger?"

"Maybe, in my experience, it can be almo- “Elspeth stopped. Something was wrong. Reality seemed to be rumbling, as though something enormous was stomping its way towards her. “What is this?” She asked. The spectral buildings around her seemed to ripple with the impacts.

“What you’re looking for,” said the ghost. “It’s coming”

Gregor released his grip on Elspeth’s shoulders as her eyes snapped open. She gasped for air, sharp snapping breaths as though she had breached from underwater. Her breathing settled and she stood up, shaking her limbs. They felt strangely numb.

“We need to move,” she said.

“Our suspect is coming,” Gregor replied. “I saw it, I think, up on the hill. A weird stag.”

"Stag? No, it's nothing as simple as that. It was…resonating in the spirit realm. A particularly chatty ghost says our friend has been around for a long time, at least before the war."

Gregor nodded along as she spoke. “Ok, so. Do we have a plan?”

“We go say hello.”

The stag slid down the hill, though its hooves left no tracks, none of the expected trenches cut into the dirt by its slide. It trotted slowly towards the two detectives, who stood in the centre of the ruined camp, hands in their coat pockets. The creature titled its head in confusion. It hadn’t expected its prey to be so cooperative.

Elspeth took in the creature. It was enormous, not just in height but in thick tightly stacked muscle. Every move a display of power and strength. It emitted an overwhelming aura of wrongness. It did not belong. Not in this world. Not in this time.

“Evening sir, anything we can help you with?” Elspeth asked, a sly smile on her lips. The stag stopped its approach. From here she could see it was slick wet with blood. It was everywhere, covering it entirely. It seemed as though its skin was bubbling for a moment, before it collapsed into an amorphous glob of floating gore. It reshaped itself, solidifying into the form of a gnarled beast-man. It snarled a mouth of stained teeth.

“This is disappointing,” the creature growled. “I had expected more than this pitiful submission. Warriors I was told you were.”

"Warriors eh?" Gregor said with a laugh. "I suppose in a way. Against things like yourself. These murders on this island. Do you know anything about them? We have to let you know that you are a suspect in an active investigation. Oh right, I’m Detective Constable Lythgoe, this is DC MacAdams.”

“Suspect? Investigation? What does this mean?” it hissed.

“Means sunshine that if we find you’ve been offing tourists on this rock then we’re going to have to take you in for murder.” Elspeth pulled her jacket tighter against herself. In her pocket, gripped tight in her hand was a retractable baton.

“Murder? No. I take what is mine by right. Equitable trade. A hunt, a sacrifice for my grace. A tithe of the bounty I bring. These tourists,” the creature sounded out the words slowly, struggling with the word, “are mine by rights.”

“Well, sorry my lad, but not around here. Now, are you going to come along quietly?” Gregor asked. The creature snorted, lowering its horns. They shifted, forming rows of razor-sharp blades pointing forwards. It dragged it right hoof across the ground. “Guess not,” shrugged Gregor as the creature charged.