Wolf and the Big Apple

by DrummondType2

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters appearing in this, and am in no way profiting from this story.

I.
It was a somewhat simpler time, and a more inviting place, the city of New York in the year 1987. He'd been sipping a nice red wine at a social gathering, striking up conversations, ostensibly to promote his business, but certainly not missing an opportunity to flirt with an attractive young woman whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"Dr. Venkman," he heard the distinctly feminine voice call his name, and turned to see a young woman in a flowing black dress, wearing a large fur hat over her head. She had luxuriously long reddish brown hair, and to Dr. Peter Venkman, it seemed as if her eyes might be a deep crimson color. Peter didn't think she could be much older than a teenager, except that she carried herself with the confidence of a grown woman, and when she spoke, she seemed to be more intellectual than most of the people he'd met during his days teaching at the University.

"Can I help you?" Peter asked, wondering how old this girl was.
"I hope so," She smiled, and Peter thought he saw the hint of a fang. But he quickly dismissed it. Their close call at Lupusville must have been too fresh in his mind, "I'm Mrs. Lawrence. I tried to call your office. Your secretary told me that you'd be here."

So, this was a client. Peter was both relieved and a bit disheartened. Sure, she looked a bit on the young side, but she might've been an adult. At least he couldn't be accused of chasing jailbait. And she had to have some clout, if she'd managed to make it into a party that was invitation after only just learning of the whereabouts of he and his fellow Ghostbusters.
"Mrs. Lawrence? What can the Ghostbusters do for you?"

"It would be best if we talked elsewhere. It's a private matter, after all, and I'd prefer to keep this discreet."

"Of course," Peter said, "Let's go back to the Firehouse, and we can talk there. I'll let my colleagues know, and..."
"There's no need to involve them," Mrs. Lawrence said, "Not yet, anyway. I'm not even sure you'd be able to help, yet. And there's no sense asking all of you to leave if it turns out that my problem isn't something you can help with."
"But you don't mind asking me to leave?"
"Well, someone has to hear me out," the girl said with a deliberate air of mock pouting, "And it might as well be the de facto leader of your group, yes?"
-Be careful, Peter-his instincts told him-She's got a trace of the old con-man in her. She could probably run rings around Dad, too.-
Peter smiled, in spite of himself, "Sure, that makes sense. You and me, then." On the way out the door, he tapped Ray Stantz on the shoulder, "Ray, may have a client. I'm heading back to the Firehouse."
"You want me to come with?"

"No. You, Winston, and Egon stay here and keep drumming up sales. I'll see what the young lady wants, and then we can work on it."

"Alright. But Peter, best behavior."

"Ray, I'm shocked that you would think I could be anything other than a proper gentleman."

"Uh huh."

"Don't hurry home, Ray."

#######

A short while later, Peter and Mrs. Lawrence were at the Ghostbusters' famous firehouse. Janine had already gone home for the night. Peter was greeted upon his return by the enthusiastic cries of Slimer.
"Slimer, down!" Peter yelped before he could be coated in ectoplasmic goo, "We have a client! Best behavior, or I'll have Egon shove you in the containment grid."

Slimer relented, turning and floating off.
"What a curious creature," Mrs. Lawrence said.

"He's tolerable in small doses," Peter said, "Now, why don't I take your hat and coat, and you can..."
She gently pushed Peter's hand away, "I prefer to keep the hat on."

"Suit yourself. In any event, what seems to be the problem?"
"I need your help in finding a pouch. It was once tied around my neck by a leather cord. But it was taken from me by thieves, and I don't currently have the resources to find it myself."

"Not to be rude, but shouldn't you file a report with the NYPD?" Peter said, "I mean, I don't know what you expect me to do."
"I have reasons to believe you'd be better equipped to handle this. Besides, if I told the police what was in the pouch, they'd laugh me out of the station, assuming they didn't arrest me for what they would see as a waste of their time."

"And what was in the pouch?" Peter raised an eyebrow.
"Wheat. Grains of wheat. Several hundred years old. And one other thing."
"I'm listening," Peter said.
"My soul."

Peter stood up, "Well, Mrs. Lawrence, it's been a very lovely night, and I'd like to help you, but I'm afraid that..."
"Dr. Venkman, how old do you think I am?"

"Oh, I dunno. I'd say as young as fifteen, maybe as old as nineteen?"
"You'd be well off. I'm well over a thousand years old."

"And you hide it quite well," Peter said, "But I'm afraid that I'm going to have to..."
"Dr. Venkman, you haven't asked me my given name. Lawrence was the name of my late husband, the man who gave me that pouch. Would you care to know what name he knew me by?"
Peter shrugged, "Sure, I'm game."
"Horo."

"That doesn't ring any bells," Peter said.

Horo closed her eyes and sighed sadly, "So, I have been forgotten. I should have sought out your other companion, Dr. Spengler. I'm sure he would at least know who I was."

"Well, I can ask him," Peter said, picking up the dispatch radio Janine would use to communicate with them in Ecto-1, "Hey, Guys, this is Venkman. Anyone there?"
There was a moment of static, then Winston's voice came over the radio, "What's up, Peter? Your date go south?"
"Very funny, Winston. Is Egon there?"
"Right here, Peter. What is it?"

"Egon, I have a young lady here who claims that her name is Horo, and that we should know who she is. Old friend of yours?"

"Hang on, Peter, I'm consulting Tobin's Spirit Guide," There were a few moments of silence, "Horo was a harvest deity noted for providing abundant wheat harvests in medieval Europe. Her period of worship ended around the advent of the Church, during the days when Pagans were burned at the stake.
"Horo was said to be a giant wolf, of immense wisdom, but with a harsh temper if crossed."
"Well, you're not a wolf, so you can't be this Horo person."

Egon's voice came over the radio, "The Guide also says that Horo could assume the guise of an adolescent girl for the purposes of seduction of the innocent, although that might be part of the Church's propaganda to eliminate worship of competing deities."

The girl smiled sharply.

"That doesn't prove anything!" Peter protested.
The girl sighed, "I really didn't want to have to do this."

She removed her hat, revealing a pair of large, triangular ears, much like a dog's, atop her head.
"Uh...that's something," Peter said.
"I could show you my tail, as well, but it would be most ungentlemanly of you to ask," she said with a smirk.

"I'll take your word for it," Peter said.

"And the part about seduction is definitely propaganda," Horo continued, "I find that my wolf form, for all its advantages, terrifies most of your lot. If I want to have a meaningful conversation with someone, this is the shape I must assume."

"How terrifying can your wolf form be?" Peter said, sitting at the desk, kicking his feet up, "I mean, come on, you're a wolf. That's not too scary. Plus, I'm a Ghostbuster. I've tangled with werewolves, vampires, and even Cthulhu. What can you possibly offer to top that?"

"You remind me of him," Horo said.

"Pardon?"
"Nevermind. Are you certain you wish to see my true form? I will ask this only once. I won't be held accountable for what happens afterwards."

"Yeah, sure. Like I said, it's probably nothing I haven't seen before." "Very well," Horo began to remove her dress.
"What are you doing?" Peter jumped up.
"I found, long ago, that my transformation is very destructive to my garments if I'm still wearing them," Horo folded her dress, and Peter could indeed see a large, fluffy tail extending from her back.
"Now, I need an offering. Grain, or a bit of human blood."

"Well, I'm fresh out of grain," Peter said, trying not to gawk, "But Egon has some samples of plasma he was using to test potential vampire cures on. Will that work?"
"It should be fine," Horo said.
Peter handed her a small beaker, and Horo quickly downed the contents. Then she stood in the middle of the Firehouse. With a sudden burst, the petite young girl was gone, and an enormous beast stood in her place. Yellow-red eyes regarded Peter coolly, and a nose twice the size of his head sniffed at him.
"Well," Peter said, regaining his composure after a moment, "That makes it two women who've turned into dogs in front of me."

"Excuse me?" Horo's voice emanated from the wolf, "Dog? A mere dog, I? I am a proud and wise wolf, Dr. Venkman. Do not forget that."

"Of course not," Peter said, holding up both of his hands, "No offense meant. Chalk it up to my lack of experience."

"Your friends have returned," Horo said.

"Yo, Peter, why is the front door clo...WHOAH!" Winston entered to see the giant wolf deity standing in Ecto-1's usual parking space. He reached for the particle thrower on his Proton Pack.

"Winston, wait! It's cool!" Peter said, "This is Horo. She wants to hire us."

Egon pulled out the P.K.E. meter, "Fascinating. She isn't a ghost, but I'm picking up massive readings from her."

"It's quite rude to refer to someone in the third person when they're right there in front of you, Dr. Spengler," Horo commented.
"Of course, madam," Egon shifted his glasses, looking at the large creature before him, "My apologies."

"Would you gentlemen give me a moment to resume my human guise," Horo said, "I find your firehouse a bit too cramped for my proper form."

"Sure, sure," Peter ushered the others out, "Come on, guys, let's give the lady time to change." Standing on the sidewalk, Ray couldn't contain his enthusiasm, "Wow, guys! Did you see that? She easily took up every free inch of the firehouse. I mean, Egon, how did she rate on the P.K.E. scale?"
"Inconclusive," Egon said, "But she's at least as powerful as Gozer. Possibly more so."

The door to the firehouse opened, and Horo stood there, in her human form, once again clad in her black dress, though she hadn't bothered to put her shoes back on yet, "Come in, boys, before you catch your death of cold."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of working for someone who could eat us in a single bite," Winston muttered.

Horo's ears twitched, "You can relax, Mr. Zeddemore. Humans aren't my staple of choice. I prefer sirloin to human flesh any day. And perhaps some wine, or a good ale if you can find any. And I'm most decidedly fond of apples."

"It's alright, Winston," Egon said, "According to Tobin's Spirit Guide, Horo was said to be a usually helpful spirit, delighting in meat, drink, and song. She was said to take great delight dancing with the maidens of a village in her pilgrimage, and leaving them with abundant crops of wheat for years to come."

"For a human, you seem remarkably learned," Horo smiled.

"I've learned that not all spirits are evil, or harmful," Egon said, "However, it was also said that Horo could be quite destructive when crossed. "
"It is true," Horo shrugged, "But then again, you'd have to go to deliberate efforts to cross me. I'm not, as you can see, unreasonable."

"So, Mrs. Horo," Ray started.
Horo held up a hand, "Just Horo is fine."
"Alright, Horo. What can the Ghostbusters do for you?" "As I was just explaining to Dr. Venkman, I am looking for an object of some importance. And I need you to help me find it."