Willing Sacrifice
by Joy Riddle


"Hi, sport. This one o' yer usual hangouts?"

Ray Stantz started slightly at the familiar voice, nearly dropping the book he'd been holding. He turned to look at the man, noting the grey suit and hat. "Hi, Harry. No, I think this place is new -- just noticed it today and decided to stop in . . . No telling what you can find in used book stores that might be helpful . . . "

"Lotta dust in here." His wireframed, grey-tinted glasses gleamed golden momentarily in the dim lighting as Harry St. Cloud picked up another book and blew pale, feathery debris from its cover -- not at Ray, but over into a corner -- and glanced at its title. "So this part ain't new, is it? Mebbe you just never noticed th' place before."

"Or maybe you have something to do with it suddenly being here," Ray murmured, knowing full well if St. Cloud were here and dressed in a suit, he was there for business of some sort.

"Me?" The street performer shook his head. "Nothin' t' do with this place appearin' or disappearin' -- that sort o' magic I don't do."

"Been hunting dragons and demons again?"

Another quick shake of his head reminded Ray of a horse for some reason; it was a wonder his hat didn't flip off. "Nope. You been takin' Venkman pills or somethin'? I thought we were friends!"

Peter Venkman and Harry didn't get along; too much alike in personality, they tended to clash whenever they met, with Peter usually the loser, and determined to escalate the battle the next time the two met up. Not that
Harry tried to start anything, but Peter was determined to finish it.

"Sorry, Harry. I've got a lot on my mind . . . and I'm supposed to be back at the firehouse now . . ."

"Uhm," St. Cloud put the book back on the shelf, dislodging a slim volume as he did so. "Oops . . ."

Automatically the Ghostbuster scooped the book off the floor; it had fallen with its spine down, revealing the inside text. "I don't know this language," Ray frowned.

"Dr. Spengler probably does," Harry drawled, glancing at it himself. "What's that?"

The redhead followed the pointing finger. "Something tucked in here . . . old, maybe older than the book . . ."

"Crib sheet?"

Shaking his head, Ray studied the parchment he'd pulled from the pages. "No . . ." The odd characters seemed to blur as he stared at them, then became words he could read. "Ohmigosh -- "

The busker frowned at Ray's sudden change. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing. Nothing's wrong, Harry. I gotta get going -- " Ray pushed the parchment back into the book, shoved the book onto the shelf, and almost ran out of the used book store.

St. Cloud watched the young Ghostbuster make it to the door, glance around wildly, then run in the general direction of the firehouse that was Ghostbusters Central. He picked the book back out of the shelf easily, opened it, and found the parchment. "Magic," he murmured as his fingers touched the old paper and a slight blue tinge emanated from it. "But not
necessarily evil magic . . ." He watched the odd characters rearrange themselves into English and read them, a slight frown on his face. "Hmmm . . ."

He looked up, his eyes focussed on something in the not-too-distant future. **Right. That's pretty soon . . . not that people aren't always expecting the end of the world in one form or another around here, but now Ray knows more than he should . . . ** Harry shrugged and sighed. **Guess I know why I had to be here and now . . . they're gonna need a little support . . .**

The street magician replaced the parchment, glanced at the price on the cover, and went to the front counter to buy the book. "Got any idea where this came from?" He asked nonchalantly as the girl rang up the purchase.

She looked at him in surprise. "It was here when we opened the shop; guess Ed decided to see if it'd sell. No one I know can read the thing, and there aren't any pictures -- that's why the price is so low. We couldn't find it listed in any booklists, so it was probably a privately published thing. You know, like a vanity press? And some of it seems to be missing,
and there are all sorts of stains . . ."

Harry scratched his cheek. What she saw and what he saw were different; the book was in perfect condition although old, intact, and seemed to have no other purpose than to shield the parchment until someone with the right qualities opened it. The writings inside were gibberish; only someone with a lot of time and patience would have discovered that, and not until after a
lot of work in deciphering went into it. With his innate magic, he had seen that right away -- and although Egon Spengler, another of the Ghostbusters, could probably read it, none of it would make much sense to him.

"I'm buyin' it f'r a practical joke," he commented in an offhand way. "I've got this friend who swears he c'n read any language given enough time, so I'm gonna give 'im somethin' to work on f'r a long while!" Harry gave a crooked grin as she gave him back his change. "Hope you sell enough t' keep in business f'r a long time!"

"Well, we've only been open about a month, and it's slow. Ed keeps saying it'll pick up, but so far, we haven't sold too much."

"Bet that'll change," Harry pinched the brim of his hat to her, bobbing his head as he picked up his purchase. "Bet that'll change real soon."

**Of course it will, now that the book has found the one person it needed to see it.** he thought to himself as he left the used book shop. **It's been keeping anyone away but those who might act on the parchment . . . not
too many around with Ray's particular qualities, and I don't count, since I'm not from around here . . . **

* * * * * * *

Ray was jittery as he swiftly walked to the firehouse. He had a lot to think about, and not all of it was good. He couldn't remember the exact wording of the parchment, but he knew when to go to the place it mentioned. "A visitor will come who looks for someone willing to sacrifice his life for the earth," he murmured to himself, frowning slightly as he tried to remember
the words clearly. "Something like that . . . "

Well, he and the others had risked their lives several times in defending the earth from supernatural menaces; this wasn't any different. Except that he knew if he did go, he wouldn't be back; and if he didn't go, the world would be destroyed. "Not much choice," he sighed, knowing the one he had already made. "I'm gonna miss the guys . . ."

He had a little while to think it over; he'd have to make sure his will was in order, and in a place the guys could find it. There was so much he needed to do, and so little time.

* * * * * * * * *

"What's with Ray?" asked Peter as the redhead had walked past him and disappeared into the bedroom. "Wasn't he supposed to be checking out a new bookstore or something?"

Egon glanced up from the paper he was working on. "He had mentioned he was going to be looking up some used book shops, to see if they might have some useful reference material," the physicist adjusted his redframed glasses as they slipped too far down his nose.

"He wasn't carrying anything; just looked deep in thought."

"Not a good sign," Egon sighed. "He must have found something in one of those book shops that worries him."

"Uh-oh. Meaning he's gonna go off on his own an' do whatever needs to be done by himself if we can't find out what it is." Venkman nibbled on a hangnail thoughtfully. "How're we gonna find out? If we ask, he'll just get stubborn and clam up on us."

The door opened downstairs; the two Ghostbusters peered down the fire pole to see who the newcomer was. "Hey, Winston -- what're you doin' back already?"

"Dunno, man -- just felt like it was time to come back." Winston had been visiting with his parents over the weekend; it was only Sunday afternoon, and here he was, walking in as if someone had called him. "Found this outside; one of you drop it?"

"Not I," Egon murmured, glancing at Peter. "Perhaps Ray?"

"It's a book someone bought today, paid cash for, the receipt's still in it," Winston frowned as he looked the book over. "Can't make heads or tails of it, myself -- anything you can read, Egon?"

"Probably something he can read in his sleep," grinned Peter. Ray had probably gone into deep thought mode and left the book bothering him outside. "Let the Big Guy see."

Spengler studied the cover thoughtfully; the language seemed to be a conglomeration of several ancient tongues, and possibly a few dialects. "It looks like it's some sort of diary, or maybe predictions of the future," he shook his head. "There really doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to it."

He carefully opened the book, the pages crackling and brown with age. "Odd . . . no mildew smell . . . "

"If it were mildewed, you'd just add it to your collection," the psychologist teased. "You're right -- no smell at all! That doesn't add up . . ."

Winston shook his head. "As old as it looks, it should have some sorta odor. Musty, maybe, if not mildew or mold of some sort."

Spengler and Venkman shot significant looks at each other; this might be what was bothering Ray. "Ray went into the bedroom, looking distracted," Egon murmured, still trying to decipher the ancient languages. "I wonder if this was the cause of his unease?"

"Wouldn't he have given it to you to translate?" Winston pointed out. "Ray's no whiz at languages like you -- if he's distracted, it's because of something else."

Peter frowned and pulled at a crumpled corner. "What's this?"

An aged piece of parchment came loose from the pages. Peter flipped it open, frowning, then gasped and dropped the thing as if it burned his fingers.

"My guess is, that is what concerns Ray," Egon picked it up slowly as if it might burst into flame at any second.

"Oh. Oh, my . . ."

Winston growled and grabbed the offending scrap, then his eyebrows went up. "Magic, right?"

"Right." Egon reclaimed the parchment, smoothing it out carefully on the table he had been working at. "I wonder -- do we all see the same wording?"

"You mean, did we all see the same wording," Peter pointed out. "Looks like it gives its message out only to one person at a time, then disappears."

The parchment now had some of the same odd looking markings on it as the book, and showed no signs of changing into anything readily legible. And when the three Ghostbusters compared their quickly seen message, it always seemed
to be the same wording, but not quite. One thing was clear; unless someone was willing to be a sacrifice, the entire world would be destroyed. Each knew the exact location and time the mysterious visitor would come, and each
one knew he would be there.


"I won't let Ray go alone, if this is what's bothering him," Peter's hand clenched into a fist. "We've always stood together -- I don't intend for him to go alone."

"Nor I," Egon agreed. "I think we all agree on that. Somehow, I don't think this is something we can trap."

Winston blew out a long-held breath and nodded. "You got that right -- I got the feeling if we tried to contain it, we couldn't. It's something old, something powerful."

"Not like Gozer, though," Peter said thoughtfully. "It's not coming out of malice; more like it just might be time for this world to die."

"I, for one, do not want that to happen."

"I don't want Ray to sacrifice himself, either -- maybe we can talk this thing out of taking him? Show there's some good in the world?"

"Yo, m'man, what else is a willing sacrifice?" Winston shrugged. "Maybe it'll take one of us in exchange."

"If we all show up and all volunteer, which one would it take?" Egon hazarded a guess. "It might very well accept us all as sacrifices. We have no way of knowing."

"I say we all go -- if it takes Ray, it's gonna have to take me too!" Peter burst out. "And I hope it chokes!"

Egon nodded assent. "I'm in."

"Me, too."

The three looked at one another. "I think it's time you found our last wills and testaments in the safe, Peter." Egon said somberly. "It will instruct Janine what to do with our effects and how to maintain the Containment Unit once we're unable to do so."

"Yeah," the brown-haired psychologist mumbled. "Gotta make sure the living know how to handle the spooks. Too bad we never did get any back-up trainees."

"Perhaps Janine will think of that; the various patents and blueprints are available to her, once we . . . are gone." Egon swallowed hard. To go down while fighting was one thing, but to willingly submit to death was quite
another. He was not looking forward to these final hours.

"Hey, she'll hold up. Melnitz will know what to do," Winston nodded. Having been in the military, he knew this was not a fight, but a surrender and it had to be done. "She'll be proud of us -- uh, one of us needs to write her some notes on what we are doing . . ."

"I will," Egon said softly, picking up his pencil and the paper where he'd been working out some new equations. "She won't like it, but she'll know there was no other choice. And this visitor may only take one of us . . ."

"It can't take Ray. Not without me!"

"Go open the safe, Pete -- we don't have enough time to argue right now. Maybe we can later, but not now." Winston shoved the psychologist towards his downstairs office. "If I remember right, the thing's goin' down at midnight -- and we can't let Ray find out we know what's goin' on, or he'll try and give us the slip."

Still fussing, Peter let Winston guide him down the stairs while Egon stared into space and tried to write a last note to Janine.

* * * * * *

The others went to bed early for a change; Ray pretended to be asleep himself, but after he was sure the other three men were actually lost in slumber, he crept out of bed and downstairs. He pulled on his uniform over his pajamas; this would be his last time as a Ghostbuster, but it was doing what they had always done best -- saving the world against supernatural
invaders. Wishing he could have told the others about his final decision, he quietly opened the door and stepped out into the chilly night air. He had plenty of time to be at the meeting spot, but he also wanted to walk there. For some reason, he knew there would be no muggers or dangers for him, and he couldn't take Ecto-1 without waking the others.

Upstairs, Peter watched out the window. "There he goes," he said in a low voice. "Think we should tail him in Ecto, or just walk?"

"Walk," rumbled Egon as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Let's get our uniforms and go out as Ghostbusters." He fumbled his lamp on and picked up his glasses.

"Gotcha." Winston pulled his boots out from under the bed. The other two found their boots and jumpsuits where they had left them and pulled them on over their nightwear as Ray had done, then slipped out and downstairs, trailing their youngest member. None of them looked back or they might have seen a tall, slender man in a grey suit and hat turn off the lights and lock
the firehouse doors before he also walked after them.

* * * * * * *

"Almost midnight," Ray shivered, glancing around the clearing. Somehow he had found his way here with no trouble -- he had known no one would bother him in the short walk to the nearby park -- but it seemed awfully dark, considering there had been a full moon shining brightly only a few minutes before. Then he realized the visitor was coming, blocking out the moon; it
was enormous, shining palely in the darkness as it made its way towards Ray.

"A - are you the one?" Ray whispered. He couldn't actually see what the entity was, other than it was huge and rather amorphous in form. Stantz wondered if it could really pick something solid up; maybe it just engulfed
the sacrifice and incorporated it into its bulk somehow. "Are you the visitor?"

****I AM,**** the Ghostbuster 'heard' telepathically. ****ARE YOU THE ONE I SEEK?****

"I . . . I am. I'll let you have me, just leave my world and my friends alone."

There was a rustle behind him and Ray jumped, then realized who had made the noise. "Peter! What are you doing here?"

"Take me instead. Or if you won't do that, take me as well." Venkman stood beside his friend, putting an arm around his shoulder.

"I volunteer as well," Egon stepped forward on the other side of Ray.

"So do I." Winston chimed in and stood behind Ray, at attention, as if he were still in the services.

"I'd volunteer," murmured a tenor voice behind them, "but I doubt you'd take me, considerin'." Harry St. Cloud sauntered into the clearing, hands in his pockets, off slightly to one side of the Ghostbusters. He caught Ray's eye and winked.

The vast entity considered its choices, or appeared to. A tone of wonderment crept into its telepathic comment.

****FOUR OF YOU?****

"Hey, the note appeared to all of us -- for all we know, you need all four of us! Or five," Peter admitted as he glared at St. Cloud. For all the fact he didn't like the guy, he wasn't as much of a coward as Peter had always thought he was. And for all he knew, Harry was the right sacrifice, even if he wasn't one of the Ghostbusters.

****FOUR,**** came the thought. ****AND ONE NOT EVEN OF THIS WORLD WHO
WOULD VOLUNTEER . . . ****

The visitor seemed to give itself a shake and the men could feel a strange lightness in their mood. ****ALL I ASK IS ONE WILLING TO TRAVEL WITH ME TO SAVE THIS WORLD -- I DO NOT ASK THAT HE OR SHE COME WITH ME.****

"Y-you mean all you want is someone who would come with you of their own free will? You aren't going to -- "

****THERE ARE ONLY A CERTAIN FEW IN EACH SEVERAL GENERATIONS WHO WOULD BE WILLING TO GIVE HIS OR HER LIFE FOR THE REST OF HUMANITY,**** the being cut in. ****HERE, THERE ARE FOUR WILLING AND ONE NOT OF HUMANITY WILLING TO GO. I AM PLEASED. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MANY READ THE PARCHMENT AND DID NOT COME. YOU WERE MANKIND'S LAST HOPE.****

"If none of us showed up -- " Peter began as the words finally sunk in.

****YOUR WORLD WOULD END. NOW.****

"And since we all showed up?" Egon hedged.

****IT SHALL BE MANY GENERATIONS BEFORE THE PARCHMENT REAPPEARS. YOU SHALL NOT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT IT.**** The visitor slowly retreated. ****NOR DO ANY OF YOU HAVE TO ACCOMPANY ME.****

"Oh, I might go with you for a while," Harry St. Cloud grinned. "These guys need t' go home an' get some sleep. You will make them think this was all a dream, right?"

****OF COURSE,**** the entity said. ****YOU ARE NOT OF THIS WORLD -- WHAT FUNCTION DO YOU PERFORM HERE?****

"Call me a guardian o' sorts," Harry waved a hand and the Ghostbusters vanished back to the firehouse. "You want yer book back?" He pulled the thin volume from his coat pocket, offering it to the cloud like being.

****KEEP IT, IF YOU WISH.****

"Sure." Harry nodded back at the ground; he was levitating along with the visitor. "So tell me, how'd you get inta this partic'lar gig?"

The being seemed to smile and began to tell its history to the Mage who protected the Ghostbusters from time to time . . .

* * * * * * *
"Man, what a night!" Peter stretched and yawned. "I dreamed we met up with Harry St. Cloud again. I swear, the next time I even think I see him, I'm gonna go up an' punch him in the nose just on general principle!"

Ray shook his head. "Maybe if you didn't dislike him so much, you wouldn't dream about him." He frowned. "I think I dreamed about Harry too . . . and some ghost or other we had to bust."

"Harry doesn't bust ghosts," Winston snorted. "He likes BIG things like dragons and demons an' such. Funny . . . now that you mention it, I coulda sworn I was talking to him in my sleep . . ."

Egon ruffled his hair, which settled back into its customary blond curl. "I seem to have dreamed of St. Cloud as well . . . I wonder what that means?"

"It means we cut out late-night horror movies with garbage-can pizza!" Peter complained. "I think I may still have an upset stomach over that last no-brainer -- I mean, really, who can't remember the line 'Klaatu baraada nikto?' And all those silly skeletons running about and fighting -- unreal."

"Klaatu nikto baraada? Baraada Klaatu nikto?" Ray shrugged. "Must be in the way you say it -- clearly, if not quite the right pronunciation . . . "

The odd shared dream all but forgotten, the Ghostbusters rose to a sunny Monday morning and a new beginning that they would never remember having a hand in, let alone an adventure that had renewed one entity's faith in the goodness of humanity -- and given it a companion for a short while in its long journeys through the universe.