A/N - i own nothing :( except Alira. she's mine

hmm, this chappie gets a little...morbid? mmm, not really the right word. sorry - it's 12:45 in the morning and my brain has shut off.

SO sorry for the wait time. end of term WAY too many things going on. tonight was the only free time i've had for well over a week. last half may be full of errors, as i havent checked it yet - wanted to get this chapter up asap!!! please tell me if there are any spelling errors (or if i've used the complete wrong word. this late, i wouldn't put it past me :p) so i can fix them for you guys!

without any further ado...chapter twelve...

Twleve

The rain thundered down on the castle, pounding loudly over the cacophony of swords and shouts in the entrance hall of the grand castle on the mountain. Black clouds had blocked out the sun, and within the castle a grey stone head curved round morosely to stare up at the pitch sky, sighing loftily.

Opposite the window of the southern turret, its stained glass long since cracked and lying in dull shards on the floor far below, the wooden rafters of the roof crisscrossed and stretched over each other, competing for the space inside the ancient tower. Grey stones made up the inside walls; an endless repeated pattern of grey lines and grey slabs. And high up among the rafters, looming majestically over the interior of the tower were dozens upon dozens of faces.

Carved stoically into the inside wall of the tower, the gargoyles watched sullenly over the tower. Most featured the faces of birds, while some were other animals, but all shared the same distraught – sometimes angry – expressions, as if they shared in the terrible fate soon to befall the denizens of the castle.

Suddenly, with an ominous cracking noise, the head of the great raven turned once more from looking out of the window at the oppressing storm and back to the room that it had been surveying intermittently for the past century. And then, once more, it started to move, shaking; as if it were ruffling its feathers after a long roost.

Out its wings stretched. Flapping strongly, they shook the bird's whole body, and the stone around it cracked; fissures snaking all across its surface. The coating of rock fell off, the pieces crashing to the ground far below and smashing as soon as they hit.

In the place of the stone gargoyle perched a gleaming white raven; a faint white glow surrounding it and emanating from it.

Outreaching its wings, the white bird soared off of the ridge, swooping down through the turret, flapping its wings frantically.

It ends tonight.

The raven fell gracefully through the castle, landing finally on the edge of the balcony of the entrance hall. Down below her a strange and motley group of people were desperately fighting the ghosts she had become so familiar with – though they did not know she was there, nor that she had been silently observing them all these years.

Or, does it begin?

But where was the boy? The one on whom this all depended? She looked around her in puzzlement.

Suddenly outside there was a blinding flash of green-white light, snapping her attention sharply to the window. She felt a strange pull on her soul – her power.

What on Earth was that?!

She closed her eyes and disappeared in a flash of the same colored light, her wings flying out to her sides. She reappeared at exactly the same moment outside the castle, perched high up on top of its outer wall, peering around her. And down there, on the hill below her there was a motion in the trees.

She fluttered down from the outer wall and landed in a tree just above the unidentified motion. She peered down through the branches, unwilling to be seen but also finding it hard to see.

She finally made out a figure collapsed on the ground. Her hair was raven-black, and her clothing was all black too – which was why she had had so much trouble spotting the girl in the oppressing dark of the night. The rain was still thundering down on the ground, spattering mud across the girl's prostrate form, dirtying her clothing and smudging across her pale face. Rivers of soiled water trailed down the slope of the mountain, avoiding the girl and rushing fallen leaves past her.

But now that she had spotted the figure in amongst the dirt and leaves, she recognized her instantly. It was the fiery girl who had arrived at the castle just in time to cause havoc; and break the spell. Of course, she had not yet, and despite her obligation not to allow her emotions to invade upon her job, Alira found herself wishing desperately for the stubborn girl just to admit out loud her love for the strange ghost-boy. She knew she did indeed love him: for she was the Ghost of the Heart.

And he did not deserve to die.

But right now it was the girl who was unmoving. Alira cocked her head and looked around, feeling inexplicably guilty before even having done anything. As quickly as she could she dropped to the ground beside the girl and hopped onto her chest.

She was alive; she could sense it. With a flood of relief, she outstretched her wings and was about to take flight once more before she could be spotted – when she suddenly felt another strange pull on her power, like the one she had felt before, in the castle. She looked back in confusion at the girl.

It was then that she noticed the locket around her neck. It was still faintly glowing with a white-green light – her power, her energy. Alira recognized the piece of jewelry instantly, after all these years, as the locket that the lady of the castle had been wearing on the night of the curse. It must have harnessed her power somehow. She had heard of that happening.

But how had the village girl come by it?

Suddenly the fingers on the pale hand lying muddied beside the girl's head curled around falteringly. Alira leapt back in fear of discovery and pounded away, up into the air, back to the castle, hoping upon hope that the girl would break the curse in time.

Sam groaned. It felt as though her body was trying to turn itself inside out. Her shoulder was still throbbing agonizingly, her wrists stinging, her back and legs aching. With a poorly suppressed curse she heaved her body up, taking note of all her damage. But there was one thing she noticed above everything else.

She was freezing cold – and wet.

She swore again when she realized just how hard it was raining, and how completely soaked her nightdress was. She pulled herself onto her feet, hissing through her teeth at the pain the movement caused in her body. She looked around her, and realized that she was in Amity Forest. How…she could have sworn she had been in her uncle's basement…

Oh.

She remembered the engulfing flash of light that the locket had emitted. It must have…teleported her here somehow. She shook her head unknowingly, and hugged her arm to her body in a vain attempt to ease the pain in her shoulder. It was relatively futile, but the pain was beginning to be strong enough to inhibit her ability to even think.

She knew she had to get out of the rain. She did another full turn, and this time she noticed a very faint, hazy light before her. She squinted at it, desperate to make it out.

She thought vaguely that her vision should not be this blurry – even in the pouring rain.

At exactly the same moment she made out the shadowy form to be Danny's castle, she realized that she was on a severe slope, the slope of Amity mountain; and wondered how she had not noticed that before. Without thinking, she picked up her right foot and set it down a little way before her. The other rose slowly, and, gradually, agonizingly, she moved towards the castle.

A little while later she collapsed – her knees folding beneath her and her frail body tumbling to the floor. She rolled back down the hill many feet, hurtling between trunks and through ferns, until she cracked into a tree and was painfully halted.

The rain hurled itself down upon her, a grey, shimmering haze all around her as she was wrapped backwards around the tree trunk. She was coated with mud, her face covered, her clothing caked. Her head rose, and she noticed belatedly a new agony in her neck.

She struggled back to her feet, moving forward once more, making up the ground her fall had lost her. Ferns grew thickly now around her feet, and she had to work harder to push herself through them. Her arm was still pressed protectively to her stomach, alternating now between throbbing agonizingly and being worryingly numb.

When she reached the end of the trees she found herself looking up hopefully. But her heart plummeted when she realized that she was standing at the base of an almost sheer cliff face – at least thirty feet high. She knew that without the full use of her legs and without any use of one of her arms that she was never going to be able to climb it.

In despair she allowed her shaking legs what they wanted. She crashed to the floor on her stomach, dimly glad that her shoulder had chosen that moment to be numb instead of highly sensitive and painful. She lay there for many minutes, her face pressed into the dirt, the rain soaking her completely, creating a liquid layer over her pale flesh that glinted in the moonlight.

She finally picked her head up, rain droplets cascading down her face – and froze.

All around her were the sides of the cliff. Ferns were crushed below her and fanned out before her – into what should be the solid rock of the cliff face. She realized that her face should have smacked into the rock when she fell forwards.

Reaching out before her with her one good hand, ignoring the pain shooting back into her opposite shoulder, she grabbed the dry dirt before her in a clumsy fistful, small pieces of it escaping her grip and padding back down to the ground. She pulled her body forwards along the sparse grass. She pulled herself again with the fragile arm, deeper into the cave, out of the now torrential rain.

Trying desperately to ignore her agony, she slid herself up the rough side wall of the cave, the rocks ripping at the skin of her back, and looked deeper within it. Though it was almost pitch black, she realized instantly that it had the same interior as the labyrinth of passageways under Danny's castle had.

Her eyes widened. This must have been a tunnel for the inhabitants of the castle to get out of it in during a siege, or attack.

But it would serve her purposes just as well.

She walked forwards, able now to tune out the pain as resolve and purpose flooded her. She was on a rather steep incline, and it made the going hard. Her hand crept up to the locket around her neck, her other arm falling, forgotten, to her side. She was distantly surprised to find it open, and still glowing. She looked down at it in the gloom, and could make out two tiny pictures.

The one on the left was Jazz – older than she had been in the portrait she had found in the passageway, but younger than she was now. Her smile was beatific, her eyes glittering youthfully.

She looked so…carefree. Sam smiled at her likeness, able now to see sparks of the girl in the photo in the too-early matured woman she knew.

Then the picture on the right – it was a young boy; a little younger than Jazz. His hair was pure black, just like Sam's own, and his smile was mischievous and naïve. He looked friendly and sweet, as though he was always ready to play – or to play a trick. She found herself grinning just at the tiny portrait of the boy – before wondering who it was.

If this was Mrs Fenton's locket, and the other child was Jazz…then this must be…

Danny.

Her eyes widened further, and she stopped abruptly. That was Danny: before he was a ghost. His eyes were a piercing blue – just like the ones she had seen in her dreams.

But how could she possibly have…?

She shook her head, starting to walk again; her pain forgotten as she gazed into the boyish eyes of the man that she loved.

The man she…loved?

She grinned almost ruefully, and snapped the locket shut, clenching it in her hand as her pace quickened, ignoring her body's throbbing protests as she disappeared down the obsidian tunnel, far below the castle, her tapping footsteps echoing through the passageway – heedless of the dark red trail she was leaving behind her.

The sounds of the battle could be easily heard ringing through the halls, but they became steadily quieter as he drew away from the main hall, slipping through the castle alone.

"Now, will you be cowering in your chambers? Or hiding in some other room?" Vlad mused as he moved quickly down the west hallway, his sword raised ready at his side. "Why are you not fighting?"

He swept around towards the staircase, and ascended it swiftly. After many minutes he scowled, and instantly a black light shot over his body. In its wake his physique changed from that of an old, thin man with grey hair to that of a far younger man with black hair, standing up devilishly from his head, his eyes glowing unnaturally red. His clothing became a white cloak, swirling out behind him as he soared intangibly up to the very top of the tower.

On that fateful night, almost exactly one hundred years ago, when the magical light had taken up the castle, he had had one foot outside the castle, and one in. Consequently, he had gained the ability to be either a ghost or a human – he was something in between, some sort of 'halfa'.

Oh, how he had used that to his advantage.

He turned invisible just before his head phased through the floor of the uppermost room of the tower. He looked around cautiously, and was just about to leave when he spotted him.

He was hunched pathetically in a corner, his body wrapped around itself. He was close enough to the wide open doors for the wind to be whipping his hair and clothing, but just far enough away not to be soaked by the pouring rain.

Vlad smirked victoriously and floated up the rest of the way through the floor, though maintaining his invisibility. His arms folded, he stood across the room from the younger ghost, watching him, his sword held nonchalantly in one hand.

He had time.

"What do you want, Vlad?"

Vlad was startled out of his invisibility. His eyes trained on the ghost in the corner – but he had not moved. He was still hunched over his knees, staring at the floor. There was no way he could have seen him….

Unwilling to be seen as having been ruffled, Vlad moved slightly towards the ghost, wiping the startled expression from his features. Danny's head came up momentarily to stare out of the window. He sighed, then stood. He moved over to stand, his legs braced far from each other, right in front of the doorway.

Vlad's eyes followed him.

They stood in silence for a long time, the thundering of the rain and the distant clanging of weapons interspersed with pained yells the only audible sounds. Vlad finally turned his attention to the clock ticking in the corner.

Twenty minutes.

With a twist of his lips, Vlad threw his sword to the ground and drew his arm back past his ear. A deep magenta light began to burn between his fingers and his palm. With barely a sound, he threw his arm forwards and let the blast go.

It hurtled forwards and struck Danny squarely in the back. With a yell, the younger ghost was thrown forwards, flying out onto the balcony and crashing into an ungainly mess across the low wall framing the semicircular balcony. He winced, and heaved himself up onto his feet, flexing his back muscles and glaring through the rain at Vlad, who had moved into the doorway.

If he was surprised by Vlad's new appearance, he did not show it.

"What are you doing?" he shouted.

"Securing my future," Vlad muttered almost inaudibly, charging up another magenta blast and letting it rocket into the center of Danny's chest.

Her sneeze ripped through her body and almost sent her sprawling onto the floor. She regained her solid footing and continued walking. Her hand was tracing along the wall of the passage, since as soon as she had rounded the second turn the meager light from outside had disappeared, and she had been thrown into disconcerting blackness.

She sniffed back another sneeze, still walking, her feet padding endlessly down the passage. She was still on an incline, but it had started to smooth out about fifty feet ago, and continued to gentle as she carried on.

Squawking could faintly be heard from further on in the tunnel, and she just hoped that if it was the sound of bats, as she thought, that she would not run into them at any point. Above her she could hear commotion – some strange, unidentifiable noise that reminded her distantly of the blacksmith pounding on his anvil, only far less rhythmic.

She suddenly threw her good arm up to her nose, pinching it shut, refusing to sneeze. She came to a standstill as she desperately fought the tickling urge. It eventually passed, and she released her nose.

But the moment she did, the tickling returned, with a vengeance, and before she could respond, she sneezed again, the violent motion tearing across her and sending her pounding into the stone wall behind her.

Exhausted and in unspeakable pain, she allowed herself to slump down the wall, crumpling into an agonized heap on the floor.

"Danny," she whimpered, as if it was her life. "I'm sorry, I couldn't…"

She pressed her eyes together, collecting her resolve. She would die before she would allow Vlad or Dash to hurt her Danny.

She pulled herself back up onto her feet and staggered along down the corridor. She had figured out somewhere along the way that her other arm was broken in at least one place on her forearm, and she was fairly certain that she had dislocated her shoulder – at least a little. Her arm was constantly aching now, pain searing across it with each step she took. She had already torn off a strip off of the bottom of her nightdress and made herself a crude sling for the useless arm.

She was dripping. Water still ran down her face from her hair, the black strands slicked to her forehead and cheeks, and her black clothing was sodden and sticking uncomfortably to her body. Her bare feet were soaking, and felt torn open. The backs of her legs were wet too.

She didn't understand how she could still be dripping water after how long she had been out of the rain.

Suddenly she stopped abruptly.

Unintentionally.

She rubbed her nose crossly where it had come into rude contact with a wall, and reached out her useful arm to the right. It touched another wall, so she shrugged her good shoulder and walked to the left. The passage became more of a maze then, snaking and twisting and turning and dead-ending all over the place. She knew that wherever she went, she would end up somewhere under the castle, so just carried on until she found a staircase.

It did not take her too long to trip over one.

She waited, her face pressed into the icy stone, for the screaming pain to subside before standing up. She climbed up the remaining six steps, and then tapped on the ceiling, just to make sure that there was indeed a trap door there.

There was. She felt over the surface for a handle, a ring, a dip, anything. Finding nothing, she frowned and tried pushing up on it. Nothing happened, so she tried harder. It shifted ever so slightly, and she scowled venomously up at it in the pitch black. She threw he shoulder up at it, but only succeeded in injuring herself further.

Nursing her other wounded shoulder and cursing both her stupidity and the obstinate trap door, she thought frantically for another option. She really did not want to go searching for another trap door – for God knows how long it would take her, and she knew that Danny did not have that much time.

So, she resorted to her only remaining option.

"Hello?!" She shouted as loudly as she could. "Someone? Help!"

A tiny red trickle slid off of the back of her heel, and dripped down the stairs.

Only a tiny handful of villagers were left by then, and most of the ghosts were resting around the large room, watching the others beat back the straggling humans. Tucker and Valerie were still sparring back and forth with one of the villagers. Judging by his size and his top-heavy physique, they guessed he was a blacksmith, or something similar.

The fact that he was fighting with forge tools helped with that assumption.

Valerie finally got in a low swipe and injured his leg. He tumbled to the ground like a felled oak and roared loudly. Valerie yelled at him to leave, and he did so with only momentary delay, favoring his cut leg.

Jazz swung her sword ferociously around her head – painstakingly careful not to actually hit the man she was fighting; just to scare him. It worked, and he ducked, yelping in fright. But he drew back his sword once more, and was about to deliver a blow to her leg from his low position on the stone floor. She merely stood still: knowing that she could phase right through it.

But just before the blade would have made contact, she was violently thrown to the side. She landed on the floor under something very heavy, crushed under its weight. It suddenly got up, and it turned out to be Kwan, holding out a hand to help her up.

"Kwan? What was that for? I was intangible, he…"

She froze when she saw the huge gash in Kwan's side, his hand splayed protectively across it.

"Wh-wh-how did…you're, but, we…"

"We can't go intangible anymore Jazz."

"H-ho-why?" Suddenly her eyes widened. "It must be because of Danny!…because he fell in love with Sam…that's half of the curse fulfilled. Which means, we aren't really ghosts anymore – and we can be hurt!"

She watched Tucker and Valerie fighting still, far more nervously than before, but soon realized that Valerie was quite capable of fighting the unskilled human and coming away unscathed. Tucker, however, she dashed over to and dragged away by the arm.

"Tucker," she whispered.

"Yeah?" He was still engrossed in the fight, looking nervous, his eyes flickering back and forth between Valerie and the burly human.

"I'm really worried."

He turned to face her. "Why?"

"Vlad isn't here. I bet he's gone to get Danny!"

"But, why?"

"I don't know, Tucker!"

He nodded. "We'd better go check it out. Valerie!"

With one final heaving swipe at the man before her, Valerie relieved the man of his sword and held her own to his chin. She barked at him to leave, and he did so – scurrying out of the door and leaving the trio staring after him.

He had been the last of the humans to go, and a resounding cheer sounded through the entrance hall. But neither Jazz, Tucker nor Valerie were there to share in the triumph – and they heard the celebration of their victory as an echo down the halls as they flew as fast as they could up to the west turret.

Three ghosts rushed past him, and he followed them both nervously and suspiciously with his eyes. They did not seem to notice him, and continued on down the hall, their feet hovering far off of the floor.

He smirked, and pushed back the tapestry. He shuffled out from behind it, and dusted himself off pompously. He had no interest whatsoever in fighting the spooks – all he knew was that Samantha cared for a being in this castle, whom she referred to in her sleep as 'Danny', and that he was going to kill this 'Danny', right before her eyes.

Revenge was sweet. She defied him, and now her heart was going to pay. Looking both ways down the corridor, he decided to head after the ghosts, and turned right.

He loved it so when he found weaknesses of hers. His favourite, of course, had been her undying affection for her father. He had held that over her head many a time, and it served its purpose wonderfully as an instrument of both torture and control.

Another one he liked was her obvious physical weakness.

But this new one – this 'love' she felt. Ripping that away from her would be sweet control the likes of which he had never known before. He would break her. He would finally break that damned spirit that had allowed her to defy him for all these years.

His lips twisted.

Suddenly he heard a noise, and jerked instantly against the wall, tensing his muscles and listening intently for any further signs of danger. It sounded vaguely like someone calling.

And it was close.

He slipped along the wall a little ways, and opened the door there. He entered the room and looked around. Then he heard it again.

"Anyone? Help?"

He grinned as he recognized the voice, not caring how impossible it was for her to be there - not even thinking it.

He listened as she continued to yell for help, and finally deduced that the sound was coming from below the floor. Below the couch. He did not bother to contemplate the strangeness of that, and moved over to the piece of furniture. He picked it up and, with a vague struggle, pushed it to the side. Beneath it was the obvious outline of a trapdoor in the wood flooring.

There was a deep groove on one edge, and into this he inserted his fingers. With some creaking, he ripped the door open.

She blinked unseeingly up at him, obviously blinded by the light he had let in. Seizing his chance, he reached down and delved his fingers into her hair. Clasping his hand around her tiny head, he lifted her out of the hole in the floor, and tossed her across the room.

Due to a small error in judgment, she landed, relatively unharmed, on the couch he had just moved. He strode immediately over to her, and picked her up once more by the hair. He wrenched her to her feet, and was mildly taken aback.

She was a mess. She looked worse now than she ever had after he had left her, beaten and bruised in her room. Her left arm was torn open and bloodied, glaring black bruises already formed in four distinct oval shapes on her forearm. There was a curious purplish bump near her wrist also, and he figured that that was her bone, snapped and protruding. Her neck was bruised too, and swollen. Her left shoulder looked unnatural, hanging strangely.

The backs of her legs were drenched in blood, and streaks of blood were across her face, intermittent with smudges of dirt and pieces of hair plastered and soaking to her skin.

But even through her obvious pain and physical destruction, those annoyingly purple eyes were still spitting fire at him, and all he could feel was his consuming hatred for the bitch.

He drew back his hand and struck her across the face with his knuckles. She fell instantly to the ground, her broken arm crushed unnaturally under her. She pulled herself up. Pain radiated from her features, from her body, from her trembling lip, but still, those infernal eyes defied him.

Fury sparked within him, and he threw his booted foot into her stomach, watching her body bend around it, her eyes screwing shut in agony. He grinned, having been able to get at least that much out of her. As long as those defiant eyes did not look at him, it was alright.

"Do you know why I came here, Samantha?"

He kicked her once more, rolling her over onto her back as she wrestled with her pain.

"I heard you mumbling in your sleep about some boy here. A certain 'Danny', I believe."

He crushed his boot down on her chest.

"I'm going to kill him. I'm going to take his life, and you will watch."

He kicked her face now, and she rolled back over onto her stomach. He heard a muffled sound come from her lips.

"Sorry? What was that?" With his last word he delivered one more, shattering kick to her back. She rolled several feet from him, and lay still. There was a long pause.

"No."

With her good arm, she pushed her body up, until she was sitting on her feet. Her face was marred now with a bruise where he had struck her, and the skin was split in two places - one injury from his knuckles and one from his boot, slicing cleanly open the flesh on her cheekbone.

"No."

"No?" More insolence! "No what?"

"You will not kill him."

His nostrils flared, and he clenched his fists. Why was it that he could break her body over and over again, but could never break that relentless spirit? She was still defying him!

"Yes, I am. And I will do it in front of you. And you will watch him die. And there will be nothing you can do about it!"

"No, he, he can't die…not now…not when…" She suddenly grabbed her stomach and retched. He glared at her and took a step forwards. She was rocking now, her eyes tightly shut. They eventually opened, and she glared at him.

He practically boiled over then and there. He stormed forwards and gripped her hair, yanking her head back at a painful angle. He put his face right up close to hers.

"Not when…?" He demanded for her to finish.

"I…" Her voice cracked. Blood was beginning to leak from her lips, and she pressed them together to keep it back. And she could only finish in a hoarse whisper.

"I love him."

Philip Manson had never been more furious, and yet, those three words made him feel so insanely happy. She loved him – 'Danny'. When he died – maybe so would her soul.

She would be broken.

Finally.

She went limp in his grip, and he turned towards the door, dragging her body along behind him unceremoniously, wiping a blood trail behind them as they went.

It was a little while on that he heard a very loud bang.

His head jerked in the direction of the noise, and then his feet ran there. He pushed open some double doors – and looked into a huge expanse. It was obvious that it was the grand ballroom of the castle. He heard another crash, but could not determine where it was from. Panicked, he ran into the cavernous room, and shut the door behind him.

He looked around him, and saw a chair. Grinning slightly to himself, his mouth twisted into an almost insane smile, he dragged the limp form of his niece over to it. He ripped one of the cords from around the curtain behind it, and tied her to the chair loosely – enough to keep her body from tumbling to the floor.

He did not notice her slowing heartbeat.

He did not notice exactly how much of her blood was now all over the castle floors, and still leaking from her flesh.

He didn't notice her fading away.

But when a huge crash sounded, and suddenly pieces of mortar and stone showered over him, he yelped, and left his niece's side, hurrying to hide behind one of the thick curtains behind her.

"Danny?!"

Jazz's voice rang out beside Tucker's violent slamming on her brother's bedroom door. Valerie tapped her foot impatiently behind them.

"Danny! Please answer!"

The trio suddenly heard a loud crash and a yell from inside the room.

"That's it!" Valerie shouted. She pushed the other two aside and flew right through the door into the room beyond. The others were right behind her.

The room was empty. Jazz stepped forwards and whispered into the silence.

"Danny?"

Outside there was suddenly a brilliant flash of pink. All three heads jerked to the window, and soon the trio was hurtling towards it. They flew out into the pouring rain, and looked around.

"There!" Tucker shouted, pointing.

The two girls craned their necks to look up at what Tucker was pointing to. Danny was lying on the roof above and to the left of them. His cloak was just a smouldering remnant, his clothing singed and smoking. He was resting back on his elbows, panting viciously, pointless though it was.

Hovering above him was a horrible figure – though white-clothed, he looked nothing short of evil, with spiked black hair, sickly bluish skin, bared fangs. Between his hands he held a ball of magenta energy. He drew back his arm, prepared to flatten Danny completely.

"No!" Jazz screamed.

The energy was released, and the three ghosts watched their friend tearing through the roof, leaving a gaping hole in his wake, splintering tiles and stone into the air.

The demonic ghost followed after him down into the belly of the castle.

"Come on!" Valerie shouted, soaring up into the air and then diving down into the hole.

But she was stopped, and was thrown back into the air to join Jazz and Tucker with a gasp. Across the hole was some sort of pinkish shield, pulsing with energy and defiantly impenetrable. By mutual assent, the trio of friends darted back into Danny's room and shot intangibly through the castle, in search of the fighting pair.

Danny landed with a resounding crack on a stone floor, amidst clattering debris of mortar and tiles from the roof. Vlad had blasted him right down through all the floors of the castle, right down to the ground floor. Danny looked around him, and through the dusty cloud his fall had raised he could just make out the ballroom surrounding him.

He fought himself onto his feet, stretching his muscles and clicking his twisted neck. He grimaced against the pain. It was…unfortunate…that it was now, now that he could actually use his habitual intangibly, now that he was being attacked – it was gone. Somewhere in his mind he knew why, but could not put his finger on it, and right now had more important things to worry about.

Vlad shot down through the hole in the castle he had made, and Danny immediately charged up his hands with ghostly energy. His own energy was green, but he did not notice as he shot it fiercely at his oncoming attacker – his drive for self-defense making him forget his fate.

The clock ticking inaudibly behind the blasting pair held its shortest hand less than one mark from the large 'XII' at the top of the face.

It was almost midnight.

please review :p

FunkyFish1991