This probably won't be the best fight scene in the world since the protagonists aren't in the ideal shape at the moment for a prolonged battle. But hopefully you'll still like it a little.
The permanent destruction of the deceased, as opposed to simply moving on, is a difficult act to achieve. There are only a small number of possible causes.
The most common method employed, though increasingly less common as the knowledge is lost among the living, is through the process of exorcism. During the process, the deceased will be drawn to a location prepared by the member of the living performing the exorcism. Side effects of the process include loss of voice, floating, gradual loss of strength, degradation of the physical form, and extreme discomfort. Other ghosts are highly encouraged to interrupt or reverse an exorcism on another member of the deceased if they should encounter such an event in progress. When an exorcism is properly implemented and allowed to reach completion, the irreversibly-damaged deceased will be banished to the Lost Souls Room and unable to exist outside the room.
The deceased who are completely exorcised will be left in a completely intangible, translucent state where they gradually lose further strength, physical composition, awareness of surroundings, sense of identity, and existence. During the process, pain and discomfort will remain as long as there is some semblance of a physical body and/or mind present. The process has been comparatively described as "like having your soul sandpapered away until nothing is left." The entire destruction process can take between two and three centuries, but it cannot be stopped or reversed once the exorcism is allowed to reach completion and the deceased are banished to the Lost Souls Room. Any deceased who enter the room shall be unable to leave. It is highly recommended that this outcome be avoided and prevented.
Another method of the permanent destruction of the deceased is to disruption of their physical integrity beyond what can be handled. Exceeding the limitations of the deceased is one way this can occur. A more powerful ghost can also cause enough damage to a weaker ghost to destroy their existence. Certain artifacts can be used by the living to cause significant disruption to a ghost's physical form and can reach levels to threaten their state of being.
All three of these variations essentially involve the disruption of the physical integrity of a ghost in different manners and rarely occur. Pain and discomfort discourages the deceased from exceeding their personal limitations. Mediation and discussion with caseworkers can prevent disagreements between the deceased from escalating to serious fights. Artifacts of power are rare and seldom in the possession of knowledgeable members of the living.
Even so, these are viable methods for the permanent destruction of the deceased, which will invariably lead to extreme pain, discomfort, and cessation of existence. Caution should be taken and these scenarios should be avoided at all costs.
-Excerpt from "Handbook for the Recently Deceased"
The window, the numerous television sets, and even the glass globe of the streetlamp shattered for no reason, raining glass shards all over the sidewalk. The noise was deafening and unexpected, she and Sanduleak flinching at the sound and flying fragments. But Lydia, the surprising explosion of glass snapping her out of her paralyzed state, recovered first and brought her knee up sharply against her attacker.
She knew ghosts. They were tougher to cause harm to, possessed a variety of powers, and didn't require the usual necessities of life due to being… well, dead. But they tended to share a few traits with the living. The Maitlands still slept. He still liked to eat, albeit preferring insects. And, when dealing with those who could see them, they tended to be somewhat substantial. So when she hit a man-shaped ghost in the right place, he reacted the same way that a living man-shaped entity would: stumbling backwards in surprised pain, doubling over, and snarling curses.
Shoving the knife-wielding hand away, Lydia flung herself as far from the poltergeist as possible. She scrambled across the sidewalk, glass crunching beneath her feet. She didn't know how to get away from Sanduleak, the mist making it impossible to move quickly or easily, but at least she was moving. She wasn't paralyzed with dread and terror anymore.
"Ugh, another one with spirit," coughed Sanduleak, making the girl look back. The poltergeist straightened back upright, snatching up his cane, and continued, "I hate that. Last time I dealt with a woman with spirit, she managed to turn my own blade against me and had her brother help toss my body in the river afterwards. Sad thing is she didn't mean to or even know she accidentally killed the infamous Jack the Ripper. I doubt you'll be as lucky, though."
Trying to suppress the urge to shiver, Lydia said, "You never know."
Her words made Sanduleak smirk, which in turn made her skin crawl. Twirling his cane in his left hand and the knife still tightly gripped in his right, he stepped across the fragments of glass. The crunch of it cracking underfoot seemed ominous.
"Now that we're past your mandatory escape attempt and the Ghost With The Most's little temper tantrum," he said, kicking a larger piece of glass aside, "why don't we go back to the first half of tonight's fun?"
"How about we skip it?" shouted a voice as a black-and-white blur burst out of the fog and hit the poltergeist.
Sanduleak flew back several feet as the blur landed between the poltergeist and her. Lydia was surprised and relived to recognize the white-haired version of Danny, the ghost version. His fists were glowing green and he looked exactly like a triumphant hero arriving to save the day. All that he was missing was a cape fluttering in the wind.
"Sanduleak, I presume?" Danny continued. "I know you're new here, but this is a 'no creepy murderer' zone. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Blinking owlishly and brushing glass fragments off, the poltergeist muttered, "What are you?"
"Your worst nightmare: the best of both worlds. A human and a ghost," he answered. "Lydia, Sam, and everyone else in my town are off-limits, so don't even think about it. Leave. Now."
Tilting his head, the poltergeist remarked, "Well, you certainly don't see that every day. The glowing fists are a new one too."
Lydia watched as Danny aimed them towards the ghost and said, "If you like that one, wait until you see what else I can do."
Sanduleak barely dodged the sudden blasts of energy, but didn't escape Danny's flying tackle. The pair crashed to the pavement. The boy managed several hits before a solid whack with the cane knocked him aside.
"Not bad," said the teenager, sounding winded, "for an old guy. The last ghost was tougher, though. You're more like a kid wearing a bed sheet and yelling 'boo' at people."
Realizing that Danny trying to keep Sanduleak distracted, Lydia quietly edged her way backwards. Even if she couldn't actually navigate through the mist and the darkness, following the sidewalk beneath her feet should eventually lead her out. Maybe if she could edge her way off the battlefield, she could escape with her life. And hopefully with her gone, Sanduleak would leave too. At least for a little while. The girl kept her steps slow, remembering that fast movement attracted attention.
"Maybe you'd like to see my newest talent, then," Sanduleak said. "I picked it up about a decade ago, but you might find me a little 'tougher' this way."
Danny dove towards the poltergeist, but Sanduleak dissolved into the very fog that surrounded them and the teenager passed harmlessly through the space. While the boy looked bewildered as he hit nothing but pavement, a chilling laugh echoed from everywhere and sent an increasingly-familiar feeling of dread to the pit of Lydia's stomach. The destruction of the streetlamp meant that that there was even less light to see with and the thick fog surrounded them, meaning he could come from any direction. They would never see him coming until it was too late.
"I don't know if it counts as being tougher, but it's certainly more annoying," shouted Danny, glancing around the fog frantically. "Are you done acting like a coward? Because I really don't feel like playing hide-and-seek all night."
"Well, if I don't have time to play first," said the poltergeist, materializing back out of the fog directly in front of Lydia, "then I'll have to skip straight to the main event."
The slash towards her throat was lightning fast, as was to be expected from the infamous serial killer. Lydia couldn't react in time, but someone was already moving. A familiar handbook slammed into the ghost's knife hand right before it made contact with her neck, leaving it to slash empty space instead. Sanduleak didn't get a second try because a blast of green energy knocked him flying back into the swirling fog.
"Danny," said Sam, wielding the handbook as her impromptu weapon. "Welcome to the party. You have great timing."
"The thermos doesn't work on him at all," added Tucker, following her out of the mist. "And did you know Lydia's the—"
"Mortal Bride? Yeah," Danny interrupted. "I figured that much out."
"And how do all of you know that dumb name?" asked Lydia, her eyes scanning the fog for the killer. "None of us ever called me that."
Ignoring the question, Sam said, "We need to get her out of here. He's after her and wants her dead as some kind of revenge."
"Easier said than done," muttered Danny.
He sounded exhausted. Lydia could see it in his posture and the way he was breathing heavily. Whatever ghost emergency he was handling before must have been tough. And now he was facing a psychotic killer ghost who could turn into fog. Sanduleak was also clearly skipping his previous unnerving and creepy plans for her in favor of just straightforward murder, which wasn't much of an improvement. This wasn't good.
The four of them formed a protective circle, back to back. They stared out into the gloom uneasily. He could form from the mist, so Sanduleak could be anywhere. He could appear from any shadowy point. Lydia could feel her head pounding as they tried to figure out a strategy.
He was after her. He might ignore the others if she wasn't around. She needed to escape, but running wouldn't work very well. The only one with effective attack against Sanduleak was clearly at the end of his strength. Physical attacks, like Sam hitting him with the book or even Danny punching him, would only work when he reformed and wasn't expecting it. They needed help and Lydia only knew of one person to call when she was out of options.
"Get my journal out," she whispered.
"Now?" asked Tucker. "I really don't think this is the best time for that."
"I need the name inside it," she answered. "I need to remember."
"You don't remember his name?" said Sanduleak incredulously, materializing in front of her before cackling. "That's just too perfect. His little bride forgot all about him."
Firing a couple of ecto-rays towards the ghost, one actually managing to clip him before he dissolved back into mist, Danny remarked, "This is getting old really fast. Get her journal or whatever she needs."
"It fell out of my backpack," Sam said regretfully, her eyes never leaving the fog and her grip on the handbook never loosening. "I lost it earlier when he tossed us like ragdolls."
"We need to get it back," said Lydia. "We need the name."
"Or we could just let me have my fun instead," declared Sanduleak from the dark depths of the mist.
Once again, Lydia saw all of her companions flung away by an invisible force. The shouts of surprise were swiftly swallowed by the thick fog, making her feel isolated and vulnerable. She hated the unnatural mist that engulfed them so thoroughly. The girl knew they weren't too far away, but the thick and entrapping fog would slow them down. They wouldn't get back in time. And she wouldn't be able to run away fast enough to make a difference. She knew he would kill her this time.
No one would swoop in with a blast of energy, a thick book, or a sandworm right in the nick of time. She was completely on her own. No one would stop him.
Her heart thundering wildly in her chest, but refusing to show her fear, Lydia glared into the gloom defiantly. She saw him reform from the mist and refused to flinch. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. And if he got close enough, she'd risk her luck with a punch to his smug face. It wouldn't do much, but it would be worth it.
"I hope I come back as a ghost so I can beat you up for this," she said sharply, thankful that her voice wasn't wavering too much.
If she came back as a ghost, maybe she could talk someone in to letting her haunt her old home with the Maitlands. And if she didn't, maybe she would be with Dad, Delia, and maybe even Mom again. Not even the ghosts knew for sure what lay beyond. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad.
Chuckling darkly, Sanduleak twirled his knife between his fingers and remarked, "What an imagination you have. As if anyone could truly stand a chance against me."
"How about you reconsider that statement and get away from her?" shouted an unexpected, wonderfully-familiar, and highly-welcomed voice.
The look of blind terror that materialized on Sanduleak's face in response nearly filled Lydia with as much relief and comfort as the gravely, rough, familiar voice itself. Then the majority of the fog dropped to the ground and vanished, leaving behind the bewildered teenagers and two poltergeists.
For the second time in a far too short time period, Sam was thrown by an invisible force and sent tumbling across the blacktop. The addition of glass fragments made it even worse the second time around. She was already scrambling back upright before she actually came to a stop. Her mind was already racing. Sanduleak would kill Lydia.
He wanted to kill Lydia. She was the Mortal Bride. The Ghost With The Most was looking for her. Sanduleak hated the Ghost With The Most. Lydia was missing a ghost friend she couldn't remember the name of anymore. Sanduleak mentioned her forgetting the Ghost With The Most's name. She was friends with the Ghost With The Most, which cast into doubt all the assumptions about his motivation. Her thoughts kept racing and circling as she ran in the direction she guessed was right.
Lydia was the Mortal Bride and Sam was holding a wedding ring. That thought struck her hard, her gut urging her that there was an important connection there.
Any further ideas she might be considering were frozen as the majority of the fog sunk to the ground and dissipated. Sam spotted Tucker climbing up, grimacing at the scratches from the glass fragments. Danny was also getting to his feet unsteadily, no longer in his ghost form. She saw Lydia further away, a strange expression of relief on her face. Sanduleak, far too close to the girl for comfort, looked absolutely terrified. The strange shift from smugness to extreme fear was a little scary. But Sam's attention was quickly drawn to the newcomer.
Walking slowly and deliberately towards Lydia and Sanduleak with the clear intentions of getting between the two, another ghost had stepped onto the battlefield. Frazzled blond hair, a striped suit, and dark circles around his eyes, he seemed like another of the non-ectoplasm ghosts. The stranger was wearing the scariest and angriest death glare she'd ever imagined possible and moved very stiffly. Sanduleak stared at him like the new arrival was the Grim Reaper himself or something.
"You shouldn't have crossed me and you definitely shouldn't have gone after her," said the blond ghost, his voice tight. "I'm not going to be nice this time around. How fast can you run?"
"How?" said the stunned and terrified Sanduleak. "Who summoned you? Who let you out?"
Grinning like a shark, he said, "Does it matter? Why, do you think you can get rid of me before I destroy you completely? Banish me instead of fight or flee?" He took another step, prompting Sanduleak to back away from Lydia a little. "You know the name, so you better be quick this time. Last time you were a little too slow."
Sam saw the killer ghost stumble back a little further, his mouth dangling open in horror and a shocked squeak emerging. But as Sanduleak tried to get any words out, the blond ghost took another step so that he was between the guy with the knife and Lydia. And then he staggered slightly, grimacing.
Sam saw the look of confusion on Sanduleak's face, but she was also noticing the other details about the blond ghost he'd managed to hide before. He was breathing heavily, his teeth gritted tightly, and his body was shuddering slightly. His stiff movements and tight voice were now explained by the fact he was clearly struggling to remain standing upright. The deathly pallor of his skin almost looked like it was wavering continuously, as if constantly on the verge of crumbling to dust, melting into goo, and peeling apart like ancient wallpaper all at the same time. Even an idiot could see that he was in trouble and in pain.
"What did you do?" asked Lydia quietly, reaching towards his arm.
"The portal," said Danny, understanding flashing across his face. "You said it didn't work for you…"
"You're… you weren't let out," remarked Sanduleak with dawning comprehension and a returning grin. "No one said your name. You cheated." He laughed sharply as the other ghost glared venomously. "You know, for someone who claims to be the Ghost With The Most, you don't look so good. I suppose if you bend the rules far enough that they begin to break, you'll break too."
Glancing briefly towards the girl behind him, the blond ghost said quietly, "Sorry, Babes. Tried bluffing, but looks like I'm stuck with the hard way. If you get the chance to run, take it."
"I'm not leaving you alone with him. You can't ask me to do that. Not after what happened to everyone else."
"Didn't ask, Babes."
They were precariously balanced on the edge. Sam could feel it. Their fight or flight instincts were on overdrive. Even with Danny out of energy and the thermos useless, she, Tucker, and Danny weren't ready to give up. Even with the infamous poltergeist looking like he was about to collapse, there was a predatory tension that even his clear pain wasn't enough to conceal. Sanduleak's confidence was returning, his cane and knife twirling comfortably in his grip. The slightest hint of aggression or a strong enough sign of weakness would be enough to send the uneasy stalemate tumbling back into a true fight.
"Why risk it?" asked Sanduleak, confusion briefly crossing his face. "She's useful, I'll admit. Not many living would marry the dead, so it would be a setback to lose her. But destroying yourself like this for her? That's just foolish, throwing away your afterlife for a scrawny half-grown girl rather than just trick another one later." When that only made the blond ghost's expression darken, Sanduleak abruptly gave a harsh laugh of realization. "You deluded, senile, crazy idiot. You actually care about the pretty, young thing. Who would have thought you could be so easily ensnared?"
"The talking thing? I'd stop it if I was you," said the other poltergeist, panting heavily even as he stared down the ghost.
"He's distracting you,' Danny said, clearly wishing he could transform back. "He's stalling for time until you're too weak to fight back."
"I'm not an idiot. I know what he's trying," he muttered. "Unfortunately I can't do much to prevent it since I worked too hard on my big entrance, getting rid of the fog and all."
Sam could have sworn she heard Lydia mumble, "You and your sense of drama."
"Was hoping it would scare him off. Blame your aunt. I'd have more to work with if it wasn't for her meddling."
With a predatory grin, Sanduleak said, "This will turn out to be a far better revenge than I could have possibly imagined. Kill your Mortal Bride and possibly even destroy the most infamous poltergeist of all in the process."
Dashing forward with lightning speed, Sanduleak tried to dart around the blond ghost to reach the girl on the far side. The other poltergeist managed to grab an arm and stop him from touching Lydia, but it looked like it was a near thing. The blond one tried to shove him away from her, but Sanduleak dug his knife into his shoulder and dragged him closer. The murderous ghost stabbed at him rapidly in the chest and stomach, vicious and unrelenting. When one of the stabs to the gut was a hair slower than the rest, the blond ghost managed to snag his wrist and stop him.
"Doesn't work as well on the dead," said the blond ghost, panting heavily.
Before Sanduleak could react, a heavy electronic device hit him hard enough on the side of the head to make him stumble back a step. She barely recognized the ancient and outdated PDA from a few years ago. Sam spotted Tucker already holding another one.
"Even the clunky obsolete models have their uses," shouted the boy. "And you're out-numbered."
"But not out-matched," said the violent poltergeist, making another dive towards Lydia.
Grabbing Sanduleak's arm, the blond ghost threw his weight into knocking him away from the girl. Using their combined momentum, he managed to send the both of them tumbling to the ground and even hit Sanduleak in the face with his own cane.
This wasn't like Danny's usual ghost fights. This involved less flying around and blasting and a lot more desperate struggles to keep a tight hold on his opponent and away from Lydia. This was the actions of someone with no other options and yet refused to give up.
Sanduleak, however, still possessed a few other tricks at his disposal. Tucker yelped as he was thrown by an invisible force towards the struggling poltergeist in an apparent attempt to knock away the blond ghost. Sam couldn't help wincing in sympathy as the teenager hit the ghost hard, sending the pair tumbling.
Tucker sprang to his feet quickly, clearly startled by his time as a blunt weapon, but unharmed. The blond poltergeist wasn't as quick to recover. He wasn't moving from where he landed.
Movement out of the corner of her eye yanked Sam's attention away from the ghosts. Lydia was running. Not away from the fight, but parallel to it with an expression of pure determination that mirrored that of her poltergeist defender. A glimpse of color across the pavement made it clear she was after the journal.
With not even the slightest hesitation, Sam took off running after her. The journal might be important. She could be right, but Sam also knew the wedding ring clutched tightly in her hand was vital. Call it intuition or a gut feeling, but Sam knew getting the ring to Lydia was essential at that moment.
Pain wracked his body, his thoughts and concentration losing all clarity and focus. He'd been out without being properly summoned for far too long, used too much power that he needed to hold himself together. He was so tired and everything hurt. Dying didn't hurt this much, though he'd also been rather drunk at the time. His mind was growing foggy. Regardless of the fact he'd been hit by a thrown boy of all things, he couldn't spare the energy to even think about what just happened. He was struggling to find the energy to move, to stop Sanduleak from harming her.
That thought managed to work its way through his increasingly-sluggish and exhausted mind. He couldn't let that idiotic Sanduleak win and he certainly couldn't let her be harmed by the creep. That was why he risked the portal in the first place. He couldn't fail her. He needed to get up.
Shuddering and gasping in pain, he shoved himself back to his feet. He saw her running, but he also saw Sanduleak swinging his cane towards her head. Without the strength to use his normal tricks, the older poltergeist was forced to rely on more ordinary methods. Lacking anything resembling coordination or style, he tackled Sanduleak.
"Not going to happen," he managed to choke out.
"You can't stop me," said Sanduleak, grabbing his suit and slinging him towards the gutter.
As much as he hated to admit it, the older poltergeist knew he was right. He'd pushed himself to the limits and beyond. His weak grip on maintaining his physical integrity was slipping away. He was unraveling, crumbling, collapsing. He couldn't keep it up, couldn't keep in one piece. He didn't have the strength or mental willpower anymore.
His vision darkened, his entire body grew heavy, and pain pushed all thought away. Sight and sound were replaced by the agonizing sensation of destruction. Everything else was lost.
Get the journal and say the name. Get the journal and say the name. Get the journal and say the name. That simple and straightforward goal repeated in her mind. Lydia needed to reach the journal. She needed to say his name. Or she would lose him.
She needed to summon or banish him now. She could see that existing in the land of the living right now was killing him. Or destroying him. Or whatever the proper term would be. She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't lose her best friend simply because she couldn't remember his name.
"Hold still, my pretty," said Sanduleak right before something tackled Lydia out of the way, reintroducing her previous headache.
She looked up in surprise to find that Sam apparently was responsible. Judging by Sanduleak's position, her fellow Goth had obviously knocked her out of the path of another knife slash. Unfortunately, it also knocked her farther away from the journal.
"You just can't make things simple," he snarled. "But it isn't like this is the first time I'll kill two in a single night."
"Going ghost!" shouted Danny as a flash of light engulfed him briefly as he fired off another blast of ecto-energy. "Guess who's catching his second wind a little?"
The teenage boy, still sounded tired, closed the distance and landed a right hook to the murderous poltergeist's jaw. It made the ghost stagger back a few steps, but Sanduleak quickly adapted to the new target by alternating between slashing with his knife and trying to knock him out of the air with his cane.
"I have to get the journal," Lydia said, trying to climb back to her feet.
"Fine, but take this with you," said Sam, helping her up quickly before offering something small in her hand.
Without paying attention, Lydia reached out and took the object. At that moment, her headache intensified. She winced at the sensation. It was like something was trying to break out of her skull. Something trapped and locked away that wanted to escape.
Lydia looked down. It was a wedding ring. A simple, plain wedding ring. It was both familiar and unfamiliar. She had a wedding dress, a red and unusual thing she'd hidden in the back of her closet for so long. Should she not have a ring? Did she just forget about it too?
Not even bothering to think about what she was doing, Lydia slipped the ring on her finger.
Even as he weakened and lost further ground in his struggle to remain in existence, he felt something give.
Invisible, intangible, metaphorical links in a chain snapped as their weakest point was broken.
The ripping, tearing, shredding, crumbling pain of his body didn't stop him from grinning slightly as he realized what happened. Trying to bind the living was a tricky thing to accomplish. Even for those as tangled up in death as much as her tended to be too alive for it to work. It was surprising it lasted as long as it did. Though attempts usually could cause harm to the targets, which he'd been furious about at the time.
But that vile woman tied all her bindings together, linking them together in a metaphorical chain attached to a physical object she used to summon him in the first place. It kept him limited just as she hoped. But she brought her into the arrangement and that created a weak point. And once the weakest link was broken, the entire bindings she crafted were unraveled.
He could say her name. He could see her in reflections. The living would be able to see him in mirrors. He would be able to write his name.
Unfortunately, he still didn't have the strength to use any of it.
The entire world was abruptly rearranged. One moment, she was ignorant of ever having that ring. The next, Lydia remembered the first time she saw it. He pulled it off a bony finger at that almost-wedding, trying to finish the ceremony before Adam or Barbara could interrupt with his name…
His name. She remembered his name.
Any wonder she might have felt at the return of her memories were shoved aside as desperation reminded her of the urgency of the situation. She barely spared a moment to see Sam's questioning expression before turning to face the direction of her best friend.
He wasn't moving, looking more like a vague striped shape than an actual person. She needed to be quick.
"Betelgeuse!"
The name, his name, managed to pierce its way through the pain and sluggish fog of his mind. Someone said it. Someone was trying to summon him. A sliver of hope fed his weakening strength enough to hold off oblivion a little longer.
That's once.
"Get down," shouted Sam, shoving for the second time in just a few seconds.
Lydia hit the ground and rolled as Sanduleak attacked, far more relentless and desperate than before. She saw fury and fear both in his face as he slashed at her as she scrambled away.
Three shapes tackled the murderous poltergeist, two humans and one mostly a ghost. Somehow, Sam, Tucker, and Danny managed to get a tight grip on him and knock him to the ground.
"Betelgeuse!"
This time he was aware enough to recognize the voice. She was calling him. She remembered. Of course. Breaking the bindings on him would break them on her. Of course she would remember now.
That's twice.
She tried to say it again, but Lydia was forced to dive out of the way again. Sanduleak, throwing the trio off like they weighed no more than ragdolls, slashed and swung his cane at her rapidly. She couldn't catch her breath enough to speak. She could barely move fast enough to dodge his strikes.
She had to say it. She was so close. But the violent and almost crazed look on Sanduleak's face terrified her. If she hesitated, she would die. He wasn't toying with her now. He wasn't trying to prolong or torment her first. He was doing his absolute best to kill her before she could speak. His blade flashed and his cane whistled through the air as it moved. If she was wearing a looser shirt, it would already be in tatters based on how close the strikes were coming to her.
Lydia knew she had to risk it. She couldn't keep dodging forever and her friend was almost out of time. Hoping that she could speak fast enough, the girl took a breath.
"Betelgeuse—ahhh!"
Pain erupted as he finally hit his target and darkness swallowed Lydia.
I know, I know… Cliffhangers are evil. What can I say? I was really looking forward to this chapter. It probably isn't as great as I'd hoped, but I rather enjoyed writing this section of the story.
Once again, go and buy my book. There's a link on my profile. You can buy it for the Kindle or download the Kindle app thing for your smartphone. You can probably even download it on your iPad or other computer things. Just go out and support my original piece of fiction, please. Reviews are nice (and I always appreciate them), but fanfiction doesn't pay the bills.
I do love feedback, however. I would love to hear your opinion on this chapter and the story in general. Thanks so much.