Chapter 18: Goodnight Moon

"NO!"

Hope flew to the boy's side, catching his body before his broken head hit the ground. She tumbled backward at the dead weight of him, and there she fell, trapped and kneeling. Howling.

The bullet had passed through his jaw and through his clavicle, and out a messy explosion between his narrow shoulders. Wherever the bullet ended, it did not stop at simply killing him. Thom's face was sooted in gunpowder, and the blackened blood swelled over his features like a liquid blanket. Hope covered his body with her little arms, the blood soaked through her sweater and mingled with hers (now already dry and black).

Within that breath, some blur of a shape collided into the murdering vampire with blinding speed. And the growl was more feral and more powerful than any sound the other wolves could have ever made. Surprised, Olfaq lifted his arm to defend his face with his silver baton, but George, still fully human in the physical—snatched it from the air and ripped the weapon from his hand. The gun fell to a side and Josh, following closely behind George, snatched it up before anyone else could benefit from its power.

But even though the vampire was completely disarmed, subdue and helpless, George did not lift up. Instead he threw his nails into the vampire's face with one relentless strike after the next. And all the pain George had suffered at the hand of this undead oppressor was felled upon Olfaq with the ferocity of an unchained beast.

It was Olfaq's hand that stripped the skin from George's flesh, and sprinkled powder of salt and silver on the raw and red open wounds. The guide didn't often to get the opportunity to have so much fun; so the image of George's face contorted in pitiful pain was seared clearly in Olfaq's mind's eye. And even as he was being beaten to death by a creature of his own making, Olfaq couldn't help but have that fleeting notion that the face George made in pain, looked exactly like the face he made during murder.

Strike after strike, George didn't stop till the body of the tormentor began to crumble under his weight. And still being unsatisfied, the werewolf filled his lungs with the pack's battle lust then let off a warning to any of the other vampires with the brilliant idea to intrude.

Besides him, Josh had tried to join Hope; her whole being was stricken and unmoving. Even as she lay exposed, she did not let herself lift from where she stooped over her blood brother. The wolves around her became disoriented, and some began to howl. Josh, not as connected to the lust of the pack as they had been, took up the one large pet-trapping poles that had not been splintered, and swung it in a wide arch to clear space for the little alpha.

He chased off the vampires with silver weapons, and werewolf induced strength till Hope and Thom had space to mourn.

Seeing Josh fight and George kill, the other wolves took cue, and continued to unleash their supernatural strength out on the vampires. But they had lost coordination, and small skirmishes broke out between them. Chaos had overwhelmed the arena, for vampires and werewolves alike. And they were at a sudden impasse.

Sally, who had been by Hope's side since the attacks started focusing on her, stood equally shocked. She had the luxury to blank out the world, nothing could have harmed the ghost now; not after seeing what remained of the man she had come to know this past month. She wanted to be with Hope, wrapped around the 'wolves in a life-giving embrace. But she didn't have life anymore—and she couldn't touch—she couldn't even cry.

Around her the sounds of the fight became more feral and spiraled out of control; but the ghost suddenly couldn't hear it. It was as if everything except the loud sobs of the pre-teen became muted and irrelevant. They were muted and irrelevant.

Hope's hands seemed so small when cupped around Thom's face. And as he lay bleeding, she cried with pain hot on her breath.

Sally had let the shock settle, her hands on her heart and the gasp in her eyes. The werewolf was broken and battered, and limp. But the bones and the blood didn't touch his eyes, with his placid gaze, the pleasant twinkle of a smile. He had no anger. He showed no fear and no frustration. And morbidly, Sally thought: 'It's the first time I've seen him at peace.'

"I didn't realize you'd be so beautiful."

Sally and Hope turned suddenly: the werewolf stood beside them with his eyes fixed on the ghost. Sally felt a tear well up behind her eyes and she cried out: "Thom."

The 'wolf smiled softly, putting his hands in his pockets as if he were looking for his lighter. He fiddled with the seam of his pocket for a shy minuet.

Somehow, his transformation to ghosthood had colored his cheeks, and the dark circles that Sally had associated with him were lifted, his black eyes bright and glittering. He looked around him as new 'wolves cleared them a space in the underground arena. Like a wild pack, they ripped, clawed and dusted the few vampires that dared stay in reach.

"I guess I could have picked a better place to die," he admitted.

Sally dared not step forward, even when he looked at her and beckoned her. He was again at ends with himself. As she lingered uncomfortably in the glowing hot aura of a new spirit in her presence, he restrained himself.

"Are you okay?" she asked timidly

"Yeah," and as if the question opened the floodgates, he filled the place between her and himself with two short steps and took her face into his hands. He poured his spirit into her, a kiss of a sort, but more. She felt her soul meet his, and melt into the warmth of his new and bright spirit—Even as she tried to make sense of his actions, Thom continued to pour his love through his space and hers. When he touched her she saw the whole world in his eyes—a fear and a pain had been converted to relief, and a lonely void was suddenly filled with the moon and her children.

Thom may have needed to breathe (or the ghost equivalent of breathing) for he stopped the embrace just long enough to tell her "I love you."

Now, Sally let her tears float through the spirit world. Their second kiss was much less needful—soft and sweet and it lifted like a balloon. Sally was the one to let their spirits untangle first for her eyes were fixed on the door over their shoulder.

Not her door.

She suddenly wished she hadn't seen it, for her gaze meant he knew it was behind him too. Of course, a ghost can feel his own door when it arrives, just like a ghost knows when a door doesn't belong to them. But some part of her still wanted him to touch her again, and she wanted him to miss his, the way he missed hers.

Thom's door was an intricately carved piece of wood—each etch in the material was deep and purposeful with twisted designs and the occasional blossomed flower. It was painted completely in a dry mat black, some peeling in places so that one could see wood—a latch handle and a dark silver frame beckoned the wolf.

Come nearer.

He seemed surprised and relieved. Holding Sally's hand, he marveled, "I can't believe it." And then thoroughly shaken he scoffed, "After everything in my life, all of my unfinished business still unfinished. I was the last person to guess that my door would be… waiting for me."

Sally tried not to be crestfallen. Despite her desire, she pushed him toward his door. "Don't keep it waiting," she brushed away her tear before he turned, only to remember it would have melted into the supernatural anyway.

"It's here because of you, Sally." He turned to her with an expression of aw unbridled with sincerity. "Just by being there, listening to me. I just needed to meet you. And you completed me…"

Sally let loose a bittersweet smile; that's me, the finder of all doors not mine. "I…" was hoping that we could spend some more time together, was what Sally wanted to say, but instead she cleared her throat and said, "I'm happy for you."

"It's almost too fast," Thom said, walking toward his door. "I just found you."

"You could always," she halted herself then continued, "you know," Sally struggled with a politically correct way to say, "stay?"

He did look sorry for a second, and he retreated back to her for another short kiss, "I've been here long enough. I am ready to move on. When you get to the other side, I'll be there."

"I know. Go get 'em." And Sally pushed the wolf's ghost toward the door again. "I was just dreaming."

Thom smiled at her again and she felt her heart smash on the floor at her feet. His happiness was devastatingly handsome and she wished he could have stayed with her. But instenad, he gripped tightly onto the latch of the black gateway. Through the crack of light, the wolf looked at his alpha, still on the floor rocking his broken body. He had never seen her cry this way before, and in that instant, Thom realized that Hope had true feelings for him. He was a part of her pack—no conditions.

"Thanks Hope."

And he slipped into his door, closing it gently behind him.

Realizing she was too late, Hope cried, "Wait, Thomas!" and she lifted herself up from his body. Then to the space where his door had been, she muttered, "I'll miss you…"

But the moment was over and a small silver pipe pressed through the little wolf's ribcage. Hope gasped as much as she could gasp, but it felt like her lungs filled with a thousand thin needles. She was dragged to her knees by her own weight, and her body slumped over that of her dead pack mate. Without a second of rest, Hettie pulled the pipe from her ribs and swung it hard against Hope's head. And the girl crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

"Holie shit!" Sally screamed.

ettie chuckled and wiped off a smear of wolf blood, the acid left a gray rash across her face. "Don't worry, all dogs go to heaven."

"You little monster!" Josh roared, rushing the vampire with his pole high above his head. He managed a good clean swing into Hettie's porcelain jaw and he watched as she angrily glared up at him with an unhinged mouth. She clicked it into place then dropped her fangs and sped to Josh's unprotected throat.

He swung again blindly, and by blind luck hit her from the air. She looked up with her doe eyes, and Josh did not hesitate to strike her again. But this time, she caught it, and he felt the shockwave of pain as the pole hit her hand. It felt as if Josh had hit a brick wall.

She ripped it from his grip and threw it across the arena. Before it landed, Josh found himself at her mercy, her nails digging into his throat. "You know, you're a monster, too."

As the air became scarce in Josh's lungs, so too did the werewolf power. And all of a sudden his own mortality became very vivid to him. New wolves were howling, the pain of the reformation gripped them as their spirit realized the alpha, and the reason they were transformed, was now listless and unable to support them. And in the shuddering demise of the demons, the vampires remaining saw opportunity.

The Old One saw opportunity. Her victory sealed with her lip-gloss smile.

"Hettie."

The girl jumped up. The fear lit her eyes. She knew when Snow was unhappy, simply by his voice. And he was unhappy.

"It's time to go home."

"But I want to –" 'play' was what the girl meant to say. But her superior was not in the mood.

"Now."

"Spoil sport…" She knew a lost cause when she saw one, and she shrugged, putting Josh down, not even checking to see if he was breathing. She straightened her skirt then counted how many familiars she had left. Finally she stepped up to her elder and frowning deeply like a child disappointed said, "You didn't get them?"

"No," replied Snow, irritably. "Not this time." And he led the convoy to the doors, "But no matter. My brother's ineptness is just a minor set-back. There will be other opportunities if we are patient. Many of which can be of our making." And Snow stepped aside to let Aiden and Mitchell storm into the arena.

For a moment, they exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Then Snow just shrugged as if he couldn't be bothered, and he and Hettie and her bodyguards left the arena.

"Mitchell!" George tripped over himself trying to climb the broken bleachers.

And Mitchell scrambled down the debris to greet him. They Mitchell moved in for a hug and George reached over and hit him hard across the face, "What took you so long?"

"Jesus, George." Mitchell rubbed his jaw then closed in for that hug anyway, "I was worried."

"Don't leave me alone like that again!" and Aiden thought George would start crying from the way the werewolf's voice broke.

"Uh," Josh stumbled toward the reunion then waved dumbly at Aiden, as if the vampire could not see him. "What the hell just happened?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me," Aiden said, then he saw the bodies in the arena. "Oh. No."

The door behind them opened and Aiden spun around on his heel. Yumm had entered first, with Mother. And then the body guards. And the Lord of America smiled broadly and he seemed pretty entertained at the slaughter: it didn't seem to matter to him that most of the dead were vampires and wolves withered painfully out of their fur and into their skins—and for the first time since arriving, he showed a look of utter glee. But behind them, the old maid stepped in and instantly Aiden held his hands before him to bar her view. He wanted to charm her into seeing nothing in the arena. Nothing.

"Alda, you're going to want to wait upstairs."

The old maid, just lifted the corner of her mouth crookedly. The half-smile half-snort coming out sadly from her old and weathered face. "Don't need to shield an old warrior, Aiden. Any wolf in a pack knows when one of their own passes on." She moved past the tall vampire her hand going through the motions of turning him away. "Especially when a wolf is an Alpha."

But that moment, Aiden took her weight on his arm, and he felt the old woman shaking. She rested on the railing to survey the dust and the blood and the two bodies of her family tangled in the middle. Artistic, she thought, a little red dot.

"Alda!" Sally swept forward and gave the woman a ghost hug. "I'm so glad you're alive."

And the old woman smiled softly, "Well one of us has to be."

And Sally wondered if she meant 'alive', or 'glad'.