#eternally haunted by her family’s history which keeps repeating itself over and over and over | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imnotwolverine · 4 years

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The Monster’s Lair - Fangs Deep

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 9 | Chapter 10 - Fangs Deep | Chap 11 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - mourning, angst, blood thirst (again, no idea how to tag this)

Author’s note: I just reread @viking-raider‘s Fangs Deep, to get some inspo for this long fic and darn is it an absolutely wonderful world she built! Such rich characters and well-set out plot. Lovin’ every word of it! Read it if you haven’t yet!

Now. As I’ll never be able to truly build a world as rich as hers, especially not in this fic, I decided to keep it small, but invest some more words in the castle, history and surroundings in this chapter. Tiny world building ❤️

Thank you darling @thelastsock, for beta’ing for me! 🌹

Word count: 3.657

Reading music: Arvo Pärt - My Heart’s in the Highlands

(Link to my Masterlist)

A week had passed and the snow had blanketed the world until it was whisper quiet. That was, until now.

Loud bells were chiming in the chilly morning air, making the Master flinch at every beat. *Ding-ding-ding-ding* The steelish echo reached far and wide over the snow-covered tree tops, all the way up to the Master’s anguished ears, his mouth silently cursing his vampiric sensitivity.

It happened on occasion that these bells would ring, but never this long, never this hauntingly. And thus the Master had climbed up the many stairs to the highest tower so he could see what was at hand. And what he saw was quite haunting indeed; a large procession of people, standing out on the semi-rebuilt village square, their faces not joyful at all.

A mourning procession. Not uncommon now winter was in full strength and the crops had failed this year. But not often were these mourning procession this well-attended. This large. Someone had died. And not just anyone. Not even for weddings would the bells toll so long a time, their lilt echoing far and wide. It had to be an important person. Someone..someone..hmm. The Master frowned as the cogs in his old mind started to spin into motion, memories flooding his tired mind.

History will repeat itself. History will repeat itself. History will repeat itself!

‘Okay. Everyone in position!’ Lumiere conducted with his candles, the flames dancing around him as the make-shift stage was cleared, a ghostly napkin and the army of “footsoldier” wardrobes ushering aside. Belle sat up from the large reading chair when two small silhouettes appeared in the shadows cast by the large fireplace. It was difficult to decipher what they were until they hesitantly set foot on the stage, eyes blinking in the bright light. A golden hairbrush and a red leather gauntlet. Lumiere cleared his throat, introducing the two new actors on stage. ‘The Queen mother!’ - The hairbrush dipped her head. ‘And Hamlet, prince of Denmark!’ - The gauntlet turned towards Belle, whom smiled warmly. ‘Go on!’ She encouraged.

The gauntlet almost seemed to glow an even deeper shade of red as he curled a finger up to his chest, as if reaching for his heart - thanking her, before bowing to the rest of the audience. Waiting a moment for the hairbrush to also settle, the scene began, throats cleared and the room silent again.

The hairbrush dramatically swivelled ‘round, her back now turned to the audience before she slowly turned her head, bristles crisping.

‘Do not forever with thy vailèd lids

Seek for thy noble father in the dust, son!’

Letting out a soft sigh - affectionate as only a mother can do, she turned to Hamlet.

‘Thou know’st ’tis common; all that lives must die,

Passing through nature ..to eternity.’

Belle blinked, settling a little deeper in the chair to hide the sudden discomfort that graced her features. When the furniture had offered to act out this so-called ‘Hamlet’, she hadn’t expected much more than some fun diversion. Their short description of a challenged prince, ghosts and true love had sounded like a good bit of entertainment in the long hours of yet another cold day.

But here she was. Here they were, the enchanted furniture acting out a tale of great betrayal, and dead fathers.. Belle’s neckhair rose as Hamlet let out a despaired sigh - much like the one she was fighting to hold inside. Grabbing onto the arm rests she took a deep settling breath, her eyes peering at Hamlet as he burst out in an emotional monologue.

‘ “Seems,” madam? Nay, it is. I know not “seems.”

’Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

Nor customary suits of solemn black,

Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,

NO, nor the fruitful river in the eye,

NO, nor the dejected havior of the visage,’

He inhaled sharply, as if ready to cry, head hanging low.

‘Together with all forms, moods and shapes of grief,

That can denote me truly. These indeed “seem,”

For they are actions that a man might play;’

A glove finger reached back to his leather heart as he looked back up at the Queen mother.

‘But ‘tis no play, Mother! I have that within which passes show.

Passes the trappings and the suits of woe!’

The room went quiet, except for the crackling of the fire..and a soft sniffle. Belle quickly wiped away the tears that were burning from her watery eyes, hands hiding her torn expression from the furniture’s curious eyes. For a week now she had tried to accept her faith. Accept her father’s death. Her newly found status as an outlaw. And for a week now she had tried to hide her tears.

But no more.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Belle sniffled quietly, quickly wiping away the tears as they watered her heated cheeks, an apologetic smile glueing to her lips. ‘I didn’t..’ *sniff* ‘I didn’t mean to. Oh gods.’ More tears were bound to spill when her voice hiccuped, chest tight with sorrow.

‘Sweet Belle. Oh dear! Do not apologise.’ Hamlet broke out his role to walk up to the mournful maiden. ‘We can delay if you-’ Belle shook her head, more anguished tears bursting from her being, shoulders shaking with grief. ‘I just...Wherever I go...bad things happen.’ She removed her hands, face puffy and red now she watched Hamlet shake his fingers in disagreement. ‘No! Milady!’ He hopped up on her lap with ease, slightly shocking Belle who blinked in surprise. ‘Good things are happening where you are, Belle! Do you not see?!’ He pointed in the direction of the long hallway that led to the main staircase. ‘The Master hasn’t been so lively in years, centuries! And we are most glad to have you in our company. We are!’

The rest of the furniture hummed in agreement, but Belle was inconsolable, more tears springing to the surface. ‘I’m-I’m sorry. I can’t. I--.’ She shook her head and prince Hamlet hesitantly climbed onto the armrest as he noticed she wished to leave, her body not missing a beat as she lifted from the seat. ‘I just need a moment.’ She cried, rushing out of the library and into the long cold hallways upstairs.

A moment.

There had been a lot of moments needed in this peculiar household. Mostly by the Master. No matter how often he tried to settle down for dinner or a sociable reading session in the library - at some moment or other he felt that horrid nervousness wash over him again. At first he thought it was just hunger. Insatiable hunger. But after endless hunts it became clear it was not that. At least..he wasn’t hungry for blood. He was hungry for..hmm..dare he say it..a..a heart?

But as the Master had ventured far and wide to calm the clicking of his nervous teeth, he had too noticed something else. Something new. The wounded deer had been just the beginning. Now there were more messy kills - most animals only half-dead when he got to them. There sure must be a young predator on the loose. Peculiarly strong, fine clawed..and leaving little to no tracks. The Master couldn’t help but feel the cold chill on his skin whenever he returned to the castle; something was brooding in these forests. And it forbade little good.

In the past week or so, her foot now healed, Belle had wandered around a bit. But it was only now that she realised how truly large the building was. Even after minutes of walking, she seemed to not have reached the furthest wing, the cold licking at her bare skin as she sniffled back the last of her tears. Throughout the length of the hallway walls there were large tapestries and portraits, telling great tales of the families that once lived here. Stately portraits, hunting scenes and depictions of the build of the castle. With amazement Belle took them all in, large brown eyes also noticing that a few paintings were missing, the lighter shade on the wall leaving a lasting mark of what had once been.

History laced the dusty air here, and it took away what last tears still stuck to her eyelashes. Curiosity, as usual, got the better of Belle. Especially now she heard some sounds coming from the end of the stately hallway.

Was someone there?

With silent feet she moved closer, finding a door ajar, light slipping through the crack. Inside she noticed signs of life; clothes strewn about, a bed unmade. It piqued her curiosity even more when she recognised the clothes. The Master’s.

*CREEEEEEeeekk* The door moved.

OH merde! Shit shit shit!

The Master had apparently heard her - of course he had - his head now peeking around the corner of the door. Clearly he was a little baffled to see her here, so far away from the library or her room.

‘Belle.’

‘M-milord.’ Belle quickly curtsied, red eyes casting down at the floor.

‘Are you well?’ The door was opened further, his hand reaching out to thumb away a stray tear on her cheek.

A most endearing gesture.

Belle opened her lips to speak, but as soon as her eyes looked back up into his she lost all strings of thought. ‘I eh..’ Looking away her gaze once again fell upon the clothes that were strewn about. Quite messy a living space for someone seemingly well-put together. Never had she seen the Master in anything less but gentlemanly attire. Even now, in the privacy of his room.

‘I should go.’ She breathed, turning on her heel but finding her movement halted as his hand curled around her upper arm. ‘No please. I just didn’t expect..’ He licked his lips. ‘..a visitor. Please Belle.’ He gestured her to step inside, floorboards creaking beneath their feet. The room was cold in temperature, but warm in atmosphere. Heavy deep red drapes hung around the four poster bed and the walls were completely covered with paintings; a few portraits, but mostly landscapes or mythical depictions. And books, so many books! Stacked up nearly to hip height, their covers were showing clear signs of the many times they had been read, old leather cracked and pages curled.

‘Do come in.’ The Master slightly bent his head, stepping back to make way for Belle.

‘So..’ Belle nodded quietly, a watery smile appearing on her lips. ‘The Monster’s lair.’

‘Aye.’ He grinned.

The tension was near tangible as Belle carefully stepped over a few books, eyes taking in the great many things that were here to be seen. It was then she noticed a strangely familiar portrait. Familiar not in the straight sense of the word. In fact she trusted she had never seen it before. No. It looked familiar as in..it looked like her. With widening eyes Belle blinked at the exact representation of..her. Belle.

‘Did you paint that?’ Belle hiccupped.

The Master sighed and stepped in besides her, fingers lacing behind his back. ‘No.’

Belle felt a strange eeriness travel up her shivering spine. ‘No? Then..who..’ She swallowed harshly. ‘..what is that?’

The Master’s face contorted with pain as he turned away, eyes however remaining locked on the painting. ‘Tis my late wife.’

Of..course it was. Darn! How did Belle always get herself into such trouble?!

Belle wasn’t sure what to do next. Run? Scream? Cry out in terror? She knew that nobody would come. Nobody would care. She was here, all alone in the Monster’s Lair. And, from the looks of it...this wasn’t the end of the surprises that she’d find in these castle halls. His wife had looked like her? What’s next..? Did he think she WAS his wife, maybe? Is that why he was so strangely obsessed with her?

Then again. She was just as obsessed with him, right? For nights on end she had now watched as he fled the castle to go out, his dark silhouette returning only hours later, panting, lips tainted with fresh blood. The sight had both terrified and intrigued her. The Master intrigued her. To an almost unhealthy extent. Was she becoming a monster now, too?

‘I see.’ She whispered, eyes finding the Master’s stark blue ones as he looked over his shoulder. She could feel heat creep up her cheeks. Oh, why did she feel this way?!

‘I should have told you.’ He sighed, looking back at the painting, the portrayed woman wearing a fine red gown, dark brown hair mostly hidden beneath an early century headdress. Nothing Belle would ever wear, but she had to admit the woman looked dreamily beautiful.

And like her.

Belle licked her nervous lips, her chest suddenly unbearably tight in the restraints of her corset. ‘Is ..is that why I’m here? I mean. Nobody has been here for centuries and now-now I’m..I…’ Her eyes started to tear up with fright. But not for him. No. It was in fact more of a quiet hatred towards herself. SHE was the one who ventured into HIS domains. SHE had called this upon herself.

‘Tis part of the curse.’ The Master said benevolently.

‘So..then I am cursed as well.’ Belle sniffled, gladly accepting the kerchief the Master handed to her, his large frame now fully turning back towards her, eyes gentle. ‘In a way.’

Lingering their eyes met, two souls captured in a dance they didn’t know. But though the steps were unknown, their hearts were more than willing to learn. Why were they feeling this way? They had barely talked to one another except on the few occasions that the Master had ventured into the library or Belle’s room. And despite Belle’s best efforts, he would flee every single time. As if he was afraid of her. Hurt by her presence.

Was it because she looked like…?

Belle took a shaky breath, eyes studying every little detail of the portrait as it looked back at her. Calm. Serene. Though also slightly melancholic. ‘Was she cursed as well?’

‘No.’

‘No?’ Belle huffed. ‘Then why does she look exactly..like me?’

The Master grimaced, his hand gesturing towards a divan. ‘I think you may wish to sit down. A-are you cold? Shall I..’ He bit his lip as he noticed the true mess he had made of his room; clothes strewn everywhere. What an impression he was giving her! His father would have scolded… No. Do not think so. Father is dead. And it’s time to own up to your responsibilities!

With large steps he strode to his wardrobe, its door magically flying open as he clicked his tongue. ‘A..robe, perhaps?’ He looked back at Belle as she sat down on the worn bench, fabric matching the heavy velvet drapes. ‘Eh..ye-yes please. Thank you.’

And so, now warmly wrapped in a heavy robe of luxurious brocades - worthy a land owner of great riches -, Belle learned the history of not only the Master’s wife, but also hers. The Master spoke of the start of the curse, which probably came with the death of his wife. Or, perhaps it had been the Fay witch Morgana, he couldn’t be sure. But either way; the tale was greater than any book Belle had ever read.

Fairy witches, rich lords, poor women, curses and deceit. Forbidden love or no love at all - claimed either way. With surprising richness in his words, the Master spoke, his countenance relaxed as he retrieved details of times long past. He was a good storyteller. Quite surprisingly so, especially after the long nights where he had barely spoken a word. Belle’s eyes did not once venture away from the man as he paced up and down the room, enacting the moments as they had happened.

He was truly in his element.

With gestures at a few of the portraits, he spoke of the curious way the women in her family would always have girls. Procreating yet another generation of young women to carry the curse on and on. And on..and on. From the Master’s sister in law begetting twins, to her mother...giving birth to her. And strange as it was, all women in her family somehow carried the same traits. Dark-haired and bright, they captured the hearts of a Le Comte more than a few times. And quite a few times they had refused a Le Comte’s advances. And even more than a few times a Le Comte took what he wanted anyways, thereby carrying on the curse - him turning into a vampire and the woman not dying long after.

‘But I have no sister. Or nieces..I think.’ Belle added thoughtfully when the Master got to the tale of the here and now.

‘That we don’t know, Belle. A few women have sent off their daughters, in hope to break away from this curse. Not all successfully, I’m afraid. But still. I fear it does not end here.’

‘But you do want it to end?’

‘I am the one who started it, Belle. I am not one to want anything more than for this to stop. I have caused..’ He looked back at his late wife’s portrait. ‘..great agony. I carry the blame.’

‘No..no..do not say so milord. Is it not that a great many men after you have chosen the exact same faith?’ The Master looked back, eyes thoughtful as Belle stood from the bench. ‘They have. But perhaps..that is the curse too. Poisoning their minds.’

‘Where are those that turned to vampires like you?’

Good question.

‘Dead. For as far as I know, they are all dead. They were too eager, too contemptful. You see, Belle, we can be killed like any man. Especially when the daylight is strong and our strengths wane.’

‘Have they ever tried to kill you?’

The Master lowered his head, a melancholic smile brushing over his lips. It was a silent “yes” to a question he knew she’d ask at some point or other. ‘Did they hurt you?’

‘Belle.’ The Master brushed a hand up over her sleeved arm, eyes meeting hers. He didn’t wish to speak any further on the matter, that much was clear. Belle licked her lips. And the Master brushed his hand further down her arm, capturing her hand before pressing a fanged kiss on her soft skin. Even through his lips she could feel his vampiric canines.

Oh he sure was fascinating as ever.

‘What happens if you bite?’ He stretched back up to full height. ‘Hmm..Either I’d kill you, or..’ He frowned, ‘..you’d become like me. I think.’

‘Unless I love you first.’ Belle said with certainty in her gentle voice, slightly unsettling the Master before her, his hand clenching her fingers more tightly. And Belle? She squeezed back.

‘That is why you were cursed, right?’ The Master remained quiet. ‘For love.’ Belle quirked her head to the side, searching his gaze. He seemed pained, unsure. Scared even.

‘Would you love me?’ He asked, his voice far less honey-rich now uncertainty cracked through its vibration. The Master suddenly seemed so small, fragile, agonized. But Belle didn’t know about the turmoil in his head; first he had forced her to stay here, then her father died, it..no..it could never be. He was still evil! He.. He should have never asked -

‘I could.’

---

How could two words change things? It was a question that kept the Master up through the late nights and long days. Knowing now that he craved not food, but something else. Love? Maybe. Either way, he remained within the castle walls. And with even more fervour he tried to get into the good graces of Belle. A daily routine was set where the Master would join Belle for tea, luncheon, supper and on occasion a moment of dialogue or other diversions in the library. With his stocks well-filled he made sure she would only receive the best. The most fragrant tea, the most succulent meats and the most well-spiced vegetables and stews.

Only the best.

But not for himself. As the sleepless days prolonged, so did his face, his already pale skin becoming near opaque, blue veins thin beneath his skin. Belle had tried to not worry as she knew little of his condition, but as the days progressed, she knew something was amiss. Was he starving himself?

‘You must eat.’ She finally said, her resolute voice travelling over the dinner table where the Master sat with no meal or wine before him. He huffed and waved it off, but Belle persevered, not accepting his grumbling “don’t be silly”. And, thankfully, the Master held a soft spot for the maiden, her voice of reason soon echoing in his skull until he couldn’t help but agree.

He needed to feed again.

As dinner finished and Belle’s plates and cups hopped off the table with elegant leaps - quite magical indeed -, she noticed the shimmer in the Master’s eyes.

He was going to flee again. She knew him by now.

And just as expected, he got up quickly, feet moving towards the door, though not making it far. Belle had grasped onto his arm, fingers locking around his fleshy forearm as he tried to tug himself free.

‘No.’

‘Have you not told me that I required nourishment?’ A beautiful frown crossed his dark eyebrows.

‘I did.’ Belle licked her lips, still glistening from her delicious meal. ‘Take me with you... I want to see.’

The Master gruntled a low disapproval; had the maiden gone mad?! But Belle was headstrong, and her curiosity always won. And so, after a few long moments of Belle holding onto his wrist and the Master gazing coldly back at her, he caved. He was too easy on her, wasn’t he? And in this quick turn of events, he forgot for just a moment what challenges this little adventure would bring.

And what deliciously hard challenges they would be.

Chap 11 >

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #vampire!henry #beauty and the beast au #long fic #angst #adult fairytale #the monster's lair #fangs deep

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tomeandflickcorner · 3 years

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Episode Review- The Real Ghostbusters: Bustman’s Holiday

Looks like we’ve got another episode that focuses on Ray and his extended family. I’m getting the feeling that he has a lot of relatives.

Interestingly enough, it takes a few minutes before the actual story to begin. First, we’re treated to some mindless filler with the Ghostbusters returning to the Firehouse after a successful bust. It appears Ray had allowed Slimer to tag along on this one, much to Peter’s annoyance. And for a little bit, Slimer decides to relish in his self-imposed status as the Ecto-1’s new hood ornament. Once this is out of the way, the plot finally picks up. While Egon was seemingly tinkering with something on the Ecto-1 (which is odd in itself, as Ray always seemed like the one who filled the role of the team mechanic), a man dressed in full Scottish regalia enters the scene. He announces he’s looking for Ray, so Egon leads him further into the Firehouse, where Peter is now bemoaning that he wants a vacation. The man, whose name is Caithness according to the Wiki page, approaches Ray to inform him that his Scottish uncle, Andrew McMillan, has passed away. Janine is quick to offer Ray her condolences, but Ray admits that he never actually met Uncle Andrew and they had merely been on Christmas card terms. Despite this, Caithness informs them that Uncle Andrew had left Ray something in his will- his castle near Argyllshire.

The news causes Ray to briefly faint from the shock. When he comes to, Peter and Winston begin to ask what the catch was. After all, it had already been established that Ray and Uncle Andrew were not that close. There must have been other relatives that Uncle Andrew could have left his castle to. Caithess confirms this, but states that Uncle Andrew hated those other relatives and viewed them as a bunch of freeloaders. But, knowing that he couldn’t just cut those other relatives out of his will, he’d decreed that the castle and the accompanying title of Duke of Dunkeld would go to whoever could exorcise the ghost that had plagued Uncle Andrew his whole life. Yeah, it seems this is a haunted castle. And Ray, most likely because of his line of work, was to be the first to try his luck at satisfying the condition. Needless to say, Ray is stunned by the possibility that he could become a duke. And before long, he and the other Ghostbusters are catching a plane to Scotland. And of course, Peter is complaining about how he wanted to take a vacation, not an out of town job. (Peter, you’re going to a Scottish castle! Quit your whining!)

Of course, I have to pause a moment to discuss this. We’d already established in The Spirit of Aunt Lois that Ray’s family had some Russian ancestry. Now we know there’s also some Scottish in there as well. In addition, we get further indication that Ray came from a rich family. Not only do we have Aunt Lois living in a mansion that has been in the family for 100 years, now we got Uncle Andrew, who had been able to afford to own and maintain an actual Scottish castle!

Anyway, upon arriving at the airport in Scotland, the Ghostbusters are soon greeted by Angus Lennie, who is the executor of Uncle Andew’s will. Angus seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed because he immediately scolds them for being late. Like, don’t blame them, dude. They can’t control when the plane lands. Still, Angus proceeds to drive the Ghostbusters up to the castle. Along the way, Egon begins to question Angus about the nature of the ghost that is haunting the castle, trying to figure out if it’s a Free Floating Repeater or a simple Roaming Vapor. Angus admits he has no idea what either of those terms means, but insists they shouldn’t have any trouble. The ghost in question wasn’t that troublesome, and people simply referred to it as a Keystone Ghost. During this scene, we’re also told some history of the castle. The grounds surrounding Castle Dunkeld was utilized during the Battle of Dunkeld, which was an actual historical battle back in 1689, between Jacobite clans that supported the deposed King James VII and supporters of William III (widely known as William of Orange). Really cool that this episode references an actual event in history.

Soon, Angus and the Ghostbusters arrive at Castle Dunkeld, where they are greeted by the castle staff who come with the castle as they are paid through the castle’s treasury. The episode then cuts to nighttime, after the Ghostbusters have all gone to bed. However, it seems Peter finds his bed uncomfortable and therefore has trouble falling asleep. So he decides to get up to try and locate the bathroom. In the process, he runs into Winston, who also is out wandering about for undetermined reasons. Peter asks Winston if he knows where the bathroom is, and Winston says he doesn’t. Though he suggests they ask Ray, pointing out that Ray is currently running towards them at that precise moment. It’s rather quickly revealed that Ray is actually being chased by a floating suit of armor. Ray manages to escape the suit of armor by ducking into the room Egon’s staying in, resulting in the suit of armor to collide with the wall and fall to the ground in pieces. Egon, having been woken up by the commotion, comes out and begins to take a reading with his PKE Meter. He announces that they indeed have a pretty strong reading. At that moment, Angus suddenly appears out of nowhere (where’d he even come from?), stating the Keystone Ghost was the personification of the Battle of Dunkeld.

The Ghostbusters proceed to get into their gear and prepare to hunt down the Keystone Ghost, with Ray asking them to try not to damage his castle in the process. Peter agrees that they’ll be careful, though they seem to quickly forget that as they end up downing a chandelier during their pursuit. They eventually follow the Keystone Ghost through an underground escape tunnel that leads outside and, after a brief action sequence, the Keystone Ghost is effectively captured. However, before Ray can have a real chance to relish in the fact that he fulfilled the conditions set in Uncle Andrew’s will, they spot something concerning. Nearby, hundreds of skeletal ghosts are materializing around the monument dedicated to the Battle of Dunkeld.

The Ghostbusters watch in shock as the ghosts begin to fight against one another with spectral canons and firearms, with Egon managing to determine that there are exactly 723 ghosts. (Boy, that man can count fast!). Peter, looking for answers, drags Angus out of Castle Dunkeld to question him. Angus reveals he knew of a legend surround the Battle of Dunkeld. According to the legend, the battle was caused by one man’s rash action. As a result of that, one ghost paid the price for all. That ghost was the Keystone Ghost, who was condemned to roam the grounds for eternity so all the other ghosts could sleep peacefully. But when the Ghostbusters captured the Keystone Ghost, it awoke the ghosts of all the men who fell in battle. Peter is rightfully ticked that Angus didn’t warn them about this before, but Angus explains that he thought it was just a legend and hadn’t held much stock in it. To make matters worse, it seems that during the historical battle, the fighting migrated down to the village, resulting in everyone being killed. Which means, since these ghostly soldiers were essentially reenacting the Battle of Dunkeld, then the people living in the nearby village were in real danger of being killed in the crossfire when the fighting moved down there. And since the Ghostbusters only brought two Ghost Traps with them, they can hardly hope to capture all of these ghosts. Ray, however, isn’t ready to give up. He states that if he is the new Duke of Dunkeld, then it’s his responsibility to set things right. It seems he has an idea, but he’s not sure it will work. Still, he knows he has to try, and he announces he has to reach the village right away. Angus informs him that there’s a bicycle in the gate house that he can use, so Ray begins to pedal off on the bicycle while Peter, Egon and Winston help clear a path for him through the armies of battling ghosts. (What happened to the car that Angus used to drive them to Castle Dunkeld?) Eventually, Ray makes it through and reaches the town. Upon arriving, he approaches the door of the local electric company’s boss. Which was identifiable by the electrical substation next to it. Don’t think that’s how it works in real life, of course, but I’ll accept it for the sake of simplicity. The electric company’s boss is naturally not happy about being woken up at such an hour, but when he hears Ray stating he needs about $1000 worth of electrical equipment, and maybe even $2000, the man perks up and eagerly welcomes Ray inside so they can talk. (Would now be a good time to point out that they’re supposed to be in Scotland right now? You know, where the currency is pounds and not dollars?)

Back at the grounds surrounding Castle Dunkeld, Peter, Winston and Egon are still doing their best at holding the Battle of Dunkeld Ghosts at bay. Though Winston announces they can’t keep this up much longer. Especially since they’re not that far from the village. And eventually, the power cells on their Proton Packs run out, so there’s nothing more they can do other than despair over how people are going to die now. At that moment, Ray returns. He’s accompanied by a large group of the villagers who he managed to encourage to assist him. By offering them $100 each. (Again, American dollars are not accepted in Scotland, apart from at a few tourist spots.) It turns out Ray and the villagers gathered up a fleet of garbage trucks that Ray managed to convert into large Ghost Traps with help from the electric company. With these makeshift Ghost Traps, they are able to capture all the Battle of Dunkeld Ghosts.

With the day saved, Ray advises the villagers to drive the Ghost Trap Garbage Trucks away and bury them, to ensure the Battle of Dunkeld Ghosts never get free. As one would expect, the villagers are not pleased by this. After all, who is going to pay to replace the garbage trucks? Fortunately, Ray has a solution. Thanks to Mr. Macintosh, one of the villagers, Ray has learned that Angus wasn’t the executor of Uncle Andrew’s will like he claimed to be. In actuality, he was hired by Uncle Andew’s other relatives to sabotage Ray’s chances of inheriting the castle instead of them. So Ray essentially blackmails Angus, stating that he’ll only agree to not turn Angus over to the police if he agrees to replace the village’s garbage trucks. And until the replacement trucks arrive, all the garbage will be stored at his place. As for Castle Dunkeld, Ray decides that he’ll allow the other relatives to live there, as long as they pay rent to the village, as he’s turning over ownership of the castle to them. This decision greatly pleases the villagers.

Now, they could have ended the episode right there. But I guess the writers decided to finish things off with a bit of pointless filler to accompany the filler scene at the start of the episode. Sometime after the Ghostbusters return home, we see Winston posing for Peter in traditional Highland dress. (I don’t think that’s an actual clan tartan he’s wearing, though. I might be wrong of course.)

(Image credit: https://ghostbusters.fandom.com/wiki/Ghostbusters_Wiki)

Winston explains that they each got one, as a present from the Village of Dunkeld. Though Ray also received an additional present- a bagpipe, which we can hear him attempting to play upstairs, much to Peter’s displeasure. Although, I’d say Ray actually seemed pretty decent, considering he’s probably never had a single bagpipe lesson in his life.

Well, this episode was entertaining at the least. Always nice to see a change of scenery. As well as see the Ghostbusters in normal clothes. And I appreciated the fact that the writers worked in an actual battle from Scottish history. But they unfortunately seemed to forget that dollars aren’t a universal currency, which I personally found a bit distracting. And the fact that Ray was able to convert multiple garbage trucks into Ghost Traps in such a little amount of time was a bit far fetched. But maybe it just seems like that to me because I’m not a mechanical genius. Either way, I suppose it still deserves points for creativity and resourcefulness. Although, I am still scratching my head how nobody seemed to realize something was up from the get go upon being told they were dealing with a Keystone Ghost. The very definition of a keystone is ‘something on which associated things depend for support.’ Considering how Peter, Ray and Egon all have PHDs and how brilliant minded Egon and Ray are, you would think at least one of them would have picked up on that.

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