Chapter 17: All Things in the End

"Where are they?" Growled Snow, throwing Mitchell to the ground and pressing his face to the vaulted one-way glass.

The viewing platform was in a cozy red cavern with elegant tables, and a bar—It was for entertainment best that Mitchell could gather. The room below must have been where George and Josh were being held captive. There was upturned furniture, and a broken alarm. The whole captive space could be seen where they stood.

The door to the room was wide open and the young vampire thought there was no one inside. But he couldn't be completely sure for Mitchell had only a second to take it all in before he was dragged by the hair down the stairs and toward the empty cell.

Even while being torn down the hall and into the little cage, Mitchell couldn't help but be relieved and worried that his roommate was not where he left him.

Snow sniffed the air as he looked around, then finally gave a ferociously frustrated bark before throwing Mitchell into the only upright chair. "Nevermind the dog. Blind luck allows it to live another day. You on the other hand, still owe me."

From his reflection on the ceiling, the young vampire could clearly see how pathetic he was compared to the Old One. He had earned his reputation, as Snow had earned his. There was no shame there, just raw and uh-tapered fear. "This is more than I bargained for," complained Mitchell defiantly. "If you really want Yumm's Skin that much, then you can strip it from him yourself!"

"You are a dead man if you don't fear me!" Snow's eyes glowed a hot red and Mitchell felt the skin on his body tighten like a vice around him.

"I am afraid of you. I'm terrified of you! But do what you want with me, I will not let you hurt George."

Snow stifled a laugh. He was shocked. Then he decided not to stifle it after all and was soon rocking the room with a mean cackle. "What a small-small creature you are." The old vampire flashed his gums and rotted teeth. "What an irritating thing. I have presented to you an opportunity for my favor to do this one thing for me! My brother only emerges from his place once a thousand years! And you squander my preparation and your chance at a life free – for what? For 'George'?"

Mitchell felt the sting of the Old One's hand long before he realized he was even struck. Blood seeped from his temple and into his eyes and from base reaction, his pupils filled up. The world turned a blinding brightness, and the blood and heat outlined itself in a halo of vampire sight.

"You will die knowing every vampire under my blood will hunt down your dog more precious to you than my trophy. He will never live free as long as I cannot have what is due to me!"

"It is not too late," pleaded Mitchell. "I can still do as you ask. And you can still punish me as you see fit. Just leave my roommate alone."

Snow growled, after his outburst he seem to think it was time to return to his familiar broody persona. And even though the excitement had lowered its volume, the sinister aura never once tuned down. "Do you think that I want your promises now?"

"You went further on your bargain. I was willing to do all you asked if you hadn't captured George in the first place."

"Are you still arguing about that?" Snow fought back his temper, "In hindsight it was obviously a terrible idea for me to have separated you from your beloved animal. I should have returned him to you the moment Olfaq reported him captured. But the young generation, so ever unpredictable. In the old days, you could string a man along for years if you promised them their loved ones back. Not anymore apparently." Snow's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Where has the romance gone?"

Mitchell didn't like that and he spat loudly at the old vampire. This did not please the Old vampire and he wiped his shoulder unhappily. "I'm very disappointed in you Mitchell. There was such potential in you." Snow hit him again with sharp vampire sting. "Alas, You are not who you use to be."

"I've changed," admitted Mitchell. Snow sneered at how pleased he was with himself and he took his hands around the young vampire's neck with all the intents to break it and Mitchell surrendered to the inevitable.

"You haven't changed, though, little brother."

Snow's gloves left the king's neck suddenly and both stared stock at the arrival of the lord or America. Yumm was looking sternly at the pair, his young face clearly unhappy. His female body guards were armed with silver loaded hand guns. Their fingers laced in the pouches that contained wolfblood syringes. Yumm trained them young, and kept them charmed most of the time. He only brought two with him, Snow realized that his brother had not expected any confrontations.

Still, he did not shy from him, and Snow cursed himself for not bringing his own familiars. A body-guard would have at least bought him some time to escape.

"Thinking of running?" Mother said, smugly. She unhooked her hand from the crock of Yumm's arm and approached Snow with wicked defiance. "Pathetic thief."

"That is quite enough, lady," Yumm uttered sternly and tiredly. Then to Snow, "I would ask you to explain yourself, brother. But I think I have heard enough." And he looked up through the double glassed window to the viewing room beyond. And then Mitchell understood; some time during his argument with Snow, Yumm and his company must have entered the balcony and overheard their entire conversation. Mitchell spied Aiden by the valet's side. He stood protectively over the old maid that Mitchell had seen enter the Hotel earlier. She may have tipped them off.

"You don't get to lecture me, 'brother'." Snow pouted, "I am the father of the European vampires."

"An impressive brood," agreed Yumm, "Yet you still stoop to stealing family artifacts?"

"I am not stealing what I am owed." Snow countered angrily. "And since we are on the subject matter, I might as well demand them from you now before you do something foolish," and though he didn't say anything, he gave Mother a very bitter glare. She pursed her lips into a tight line, and Mitchel tried to decide if she was forcing back a grow, or a grin.

"Hhehh," Yumm crossed his arms over his chest and Mother returned to his side like an obedient wife. "As it so happens, I do not have them in my possession any longer."

"What?"

"I must have put them somewhere, I do not know where they are now."

Snow boiled with rage, and the whole room heated sharply. Finally he exploded, "How could you lose a priceless piece of vampire history? Does our superiority or even our survival as a race mean nothing to you?"

"Do not chastise me about the merits of survival." Yumm's voice raised and it sounded like the room was filled with thunder. "Not after what you did to our Sister."

Then Snow glared meanly toward Aiden's superior, "She will not replace her." It was a command, not a statement.

This time Yumm looked unnerved and he flashed broken fangs. "That is not what is going on here."

Smugly, Snow did back off, growling. Then finally, he announced with ire, "Our creator was wrong to give you her part. If he knew you'd lose it he would have sooner thrown it in a fire. Do you know what horrors could result if it fell into the hands of our enemies."

Yumm's face turned hard, and unhappily he nodded, "I do know."

Snow sighed unpleasantly then put his hands into his pockets while he let his temper fade. Then with a great inhale of breath, casually stepped out of the room: past Mitchell, past Yumm, past Mother, past the others behind them. Then like an eerie calm after a storm, he disappeared from the hallway.

The tall ancient leader let out a tight breath then, averted his attention from the ghost of a shape that had been the Eminent Snow. "Sometimes the enemy can look like family."

Aiden took now to finally piece all the parts together, that was Mitchell's goal along; never to have harmed anyone—but to have taken "Skin?"

Yumm, with the patience he had shown all hour, said: "It should not be named 'Skin'. Instead consider it a diary of conversations that my creator, the first creator, had shared with the devil. They are the orders that governed the laws and limits of vampires and the herald of our greatest moments in time. They tell our prophesies."

Yumm could have continued but Aiden didn't need him too; What Snow wanted was clear. All vampires knew of the scrolls. They had no name, and were considered a myth by most. Aiden could barely comprehend that they existed, let alone were items that could be stolen. "If only I could have seen them."

The great vampire just smiled and said, "But as I have mentioned it before, I no longer have them."

"Luckily," said Aiden, looking sympathetically at Mitchell. The British king wiped blood off of his forehead. The cut had already sealed, "or your brother Old One would have taken it."

"Luck has nothing to do with good foresight." And Yumm smiled cunningly at the old maid.

She shrugged, and replied modestly, "I will pass the praise on to my mistress. I'm sure she would be happy to hear your approval, Ancient One."

"You, young thing," Yumm looked to Mitchell and the vampire froze, having hoped he could avoid a confrontation to Snow's equivalent in America. Especially after he over-heard him conspiring with the enemy. "You are missing a werewolf, are you?"

"Yes, uh… sir. Snow held him—"

"I overheard," Yumm cut him off curtly. "You may go retrieve him. I will make sure my brother does not take out his anger toward me out of you and your family. But that's all I can promise you, for now. If he finds it in himself to re-awaken his interest in you; then do not expect me to come to your defense."

'He was basically saying: Stay out of trouble', Mitchell realized. "Yes sir," And he scuttled out toward the pens without another dismissal.

Mother hooked her hand back into Yumm's arm and then without turning said, "You may go too, Aiden."

"Are you sure, Mother?"

"I do not like to repeat myself," she said bitterly.

So Aiden thanked her, then took a few steps backward, touching the little lady on the fore arm as he dashed away to the pens. He needed to catch up with Mitchell before he dove headfirst into a werewolf led annihilation.

- - - -{Labyrinth Arena}- - - -

Thom appeared back into the arena completely expecting the lust to engulf him again—like it usually did. But somehow, fighting it to have a half sensible conversation with Aiden had broken Hope's hold on him. For the first time since he had turned, he looked upon the bloodlust led battle and felt detached from it.

Even after he had returned to humanity, there was always that deeply seeded part of him that was always werewolf—gone now.

Hope was in her state, where in this moment, Thom couldn't even recognize her as human. He always knew she was more animal than person during her hunts, but that was something he had always comprehended in hindsight after each battle. Seeing her experience it in the presence then sent shivers of disgust through him.

"How is she doing this?" Annie's soulful eyes wide as she absorbed all the carnage, "She's just a child."

Thom had only seen Annie that once at the apartment when her love for George put her close enough to his level on the supernatural plane. She was a powerful specter; much more powerful than Sally was.

Replied Thom: "This is what an Evebringer can spawn into this world."

Annie didn't question how he could see her. The fear in her eyes made him suspect she knew her emotions made her visible. "And George…?"

"Do you see why they wanted him to watch in the first place?"

"He would never raise a child to do this," she insisted adamantly. "George is a good man!"

"Hope is a good child, and very mature for her age," and Thom added quietly, "much more mature than I am." He turned to her and pointed toward the angry wolf girl as she inched toward the gathering vampires. "If George isn't careful, this could happen around his Legacy. And that child will only grow stronger the older it gets: Hope is still growing stronger every day."

Annie glared at him, and he knew she had not changed her mind.

"You have to be carefully Annie, and make sure George's chid will grow up protected and loved. Can you do that when you and George get back to your home? Can you protect a monster like that if it ever happened?"

"What?" Annie was truly surprised, "I thought you wanted to take him away."

"I didn't value family before," Thom admitted, "But I see now what you and he have, and I see what I have. I don't want to take him away any more than you want him to go." He smirked at Annie's bewildered look and said, "Don't worry. I'll talk to the women after this. They can be convinced."

"You're going to go back into that?"

"Of course, Annie. We have to," and Thom didn't wait to be dismissed before he rushed the arena. Even as he closed the gap between himself and his alpha with a growing bloodlust, Thom realized he was a tired of fighting.

Hope felt him almost the moment he approached. And she glared at him for having abandoned the pack. With that singular look Thom himself caught scent of the lust, he resisted it long enough to say: "Mother wrote a letter to the Great One."

Hope did look at him shocked. "The vampire?"

"It would explain," Thom said. "Did Sally pass on my message?"

"It would explain," agreed Hope. "Yeah. Which hopefully means our duty is done."

"We can get out of here before the next moon?"

"We'll go right after this." And Hope reached out to find the rest of her pack. Thom felt her concentration wane, to a moment when a shock turned her to the front doors, "The Evebringer is here in the arena."

Then with surprising clarity, Thom heard Sally's voice: "Hope, Watch out!"

But the ghost's warning came too late and Hope spun bewildered when Olfaq's silver baton cracked hard across her head, The sound rang thunder through Thom's ears. And she fell to the ground lifelessly her little body unmoving. When she was down, Olfaq lifted his silver baton high over his head and poised over her little crumpled body as if to bring the silver bat through her tiny skull.

Without Hope's battle lust, he felt his own supernatural power swell and that deeply rooted loyalty overtook all other instinct. He would protect her; she was his alpha, and his blood sister- he had to. Barely thinking, Thom smashed that look of triumph from Olfaq's face before the entertainment guide could finish saying: 'Take that bitch!'.

The bleeding fists of the wolfborn rained down on Olfaq in a fury of swipes and his power only increased when he realized how close to murder the night had come. If Thom could have chosen, he would have beaten Olfaq to death. But the vampire was part caretaker of an establishment whose sole source of income came from capturing and keeping werewolves. Of course there were methods to protect their well-being.

Thom was taken down hard by a silver noose then two, and he gnashed his teeth at the lackeys holding the end of the long pole before they started beating him with the batons again.

"So you don't transform, and silver doesn't affect you." Olfaq wiped the blood off of his nose and it left a smoking gray streak on his sensitive undead skin. "But your blood is still poisonous to us, and you can obviously communicate with this oddity. Hettie was right to command we put down the little dog; she's a smart vampire. But you I would think, are as big a threat."

Thom couldn't stop himself, and with nothing else to do, he roared—his force pulling the two guards holding him to their knees. From around his neck, Thom whipped the metal pole hard and it smashed through a vampire trying to approach them. He disappeared into dust and somewhere in the deep recess of his mind, Thom realized he must have swung the pole with enough force to snap the creature's neck when it hit.

Olfaq defended himself quickly, and his weapon struck down on the pole so hard that it snapped in half, sending a shockwave of pain from the noose down Thom's neck. The wolfblood gasped for air, tearing the silver thread from his neck as quickly as he could. But by then, Olfaq had taken a silver gun from his pocket and aimed it at Thom's head.

Hope struggled to her knees, just now barely recovering from the blow to her head. The gnash wouldn't heal, but her appearance was the least of her worries. In the sheer and utter panic of a helpless child, the little werewolf staggered to her feet and tumbled toward the battle.

She could see what was to happen.

She was desperate to stop him. She was desperate to save him. She had control over all werewolves—but at that moment, all she wanted control over one vampire.

Thom looked at her from where he knelt, and she held her breath as she clawed through the air, closing herself toward her blood brother. Even in her panic, she did see the way he looked at his pack sister: his eyes were dark and deep— And with that connection every alpha has with her pack, she knew what he meant: 'Don't worry, Hope.' Of course he had it under control.

And she felt useless.

The world around her crumble away into oblivion—and watched as the silver bullet exploded from the barrel of the vampire's gun, sear a clean and neat hole through the wolfblood's chest, and dragged his heart through the black leather jacket in a spray of warm werewolf blood.

AN: Alright troopers. Almost done.