Ignoring the strange magnetic pull, like a thousand strong spiderwebs, Deacon pulled himself through the glass, also ignoring the dozens of new little cuts forming on his arms and face. When he first cracked the glass, he heard shouting and scurrying from inside. Now he saw nothing. "Where are you… fucking magical rat… with your werewolf army and your… um… fucking shiny thing?" The rest of the office would have normally been of note anyway – shiny mahogany furniture stocked with ancient books, the likes of which would have made Viago's extensive library jealous – but it was lit almost solely by a strange chandelier. It was huge, round, and glowing white, with a porous surface, almost like craters, almost like,

"Fuck… is that… the moon? How is that possible?" Deacon looked around the room. "Wherever you are, Mr. Fucking G, piece of shit, come out where you're hiding from! I have questions about this moon lamp. Also wanting to kill you. Questions first!" He paced the room, turning around continuously, aware of not wanting to expose his back. He felt he could really use backup. "Nick. Come up here. It's time to kill this fool."

"Mate…" Nick muttered, barely heard from down on the ground. Deacon looked out from the office. Nick had been sitting in that same strange seated position, pale, head bowed, both hands slowly stroking the werewolves' heads in alternation. "I shouldn't get up now."

"Well, mate, this is the climax of everything we got here for. Get your cheesy necklace up here and let's find and kill this bastard."

"Deacon, I think they're dying."

Deacon's stomach dropped, which was not a sensation he knew he still had access to. He wished he still didn't know. "How do you know —why do you think that?"

"It's, I guess, I don't know for sure," Nick looked up at Deacon, eyes brimming with exhaustion and sadness. "Slow heart rates. Rapid breathing. Also that kind of, uh… know what you mean know by having that… kind of sense. For that kind of thing. Hard to explain."

"I think he has… a moon lamp of some kind. It looks like the moon." Deacon floated himself up to the ceiling. The glowing rock was hanging by a loose chain. It struck Deacon right away as poorly made, so easily taken down from such flimsy construction. The things money thinks it can buy, he thought, taking the chain with the fake moon off its base with a rickety click. The electrical glow ceased quickly turned off, but the pale round rock still seemed to glow, so pale in the dim flourescents bleeding in from the fight club ceiling. What another strange sensation, he thought, to be holding the moon.

He walked to the edge of the office. "Doesn't this look like the moon to you? What the hell is it?"

Nick shrugged. "Looks like the moon. Could be made of rocks from the moon."

"… You can buy pieces of the moon?"

"For a lot."

"How much?"

" … A lot." The werewolves had started whining. Nick took his hands off of them. "Yeah. I guess that's it."

"'That's it' it's the moon, or 'that's it' they're dying?"

"I think both."

"You think?"

"Deacon. Please. I don't know shit about anything. I just. I think. That's all I got."

Deacon was beginning to feel silly, holding a facsimile for the moon, talking down to Nick and some dying former friends of his. "You are doing good. Okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

Deacon wasn't sure of what else to do. So he floated up to the ceiling to think about it. Generally, this was a pretty comfortable spot. So he let gravity sort of reverse itself on him and let himself just drift on up. His head hit the top of ceiling, making a pleasant sort of pressure. He ignored seeing bits of dust and cobweb fall around him. His hair was probably getting dirty. What else was new?

"What're you doin?" Nick asked.

"Floating."

"Why?"

"Try it sometime."

"Okay."

Without knowing why, Deacon dropped the moon lamp. He heard it crash to the floor and Nick make some sort of startled noise, but nothing else. Deacon stayed up there, floating, staring at what looked like plumbing fixtures in the distance. He could see a couple of cameras too. Those must have been what was watching him and the others during their fights in the chalk circles. He couldn't help but wonder how much of the watching was done by Mr. G., or how much of it was done by Gina, or how much of it they watched together. He was thinking hard about this, trying to induce anger about it, enough to motivate him back inside the office he wasn't invited into. But all his anger was gone, and all he felt was sadness when he thought of Gina and her nice tight pants and where she might be, if she was anywhere to be found. Hopefully she was somewhere. He figured he wouldn't mind never being able to find her again, if that meant she was at least alive and well.

He didn't see Nick float up toward him, just heard the soft tap of Nick's head joining him on the ceiling.

"Did they die?" Deacon asked.

"Yeah."

"Why do you think they died?"

Nick paused, probably thinking about it. "You know how like, basketball players, the big and famous ones don't live long most of the time? Like the real tall ones? Because they're not supposed to be that tall for that long? It's bad for their hearts?"

"No but go on."

"I don't think humans are supposed to be wolves for that long. It's really supposed to only be every full moon, probably. Not for fake full moons forever."

"I wonder if it makes them tired to turn into wolves."

"Stu said it did, once. Made him need to sleep for a long time those days after."

"I wonder if it hurts."

"Stu said it did… once."

"Where do you think Mr. G. went?"

"Dunno. Maybe he can teleport."

"What do you think he is?"

"A wizard maybe?"

"Nick? Deacon?" asked the softest, most familiar, most German, and probably most welcome voice Deacon could remember in some time. "What are you doing up there? So dusty."

Deacon looked down and stared at Viago, angling his head every which way, trying to figure out what was different, then: "Oh! Your hair is gray now."

"Yes. It… something changed. Do you like it?"

"No. You look old now."

"Oh. Well. Vladislav said he liked it. So I suppose that's enough."

Deacon glanced between the two of them, aware that they were not looking at each other, and the strain it was visibly taking. "Oh. Kay. Tell me more about that later when I have time."

"Alright," Viago said at the same time Vladislav said, "Shall not."

"Bye then," Nick said, floating down to the floor. "Good talk, Deacon."

"Good talk," Deacon agreed. And he meant it. Life was certainly different those days. More talking. Less arguing. He wondered if he missed the arguing. Maybe he did. But maybe this was better in the long run.

He heard a shuffle from the office, someone moving, the clink of broken glass.

"Oh good," Deacon said, turning around, moving himself toward the opening in the wall. "One last thing to take care of."

And as he said that, he heard a sound, another strange new one, like a gun, and before he could register that he had just about enough of Strange New Feelings those days, a wooden stake shot across the ceiling and went straight into his chest, and out the other side.


If you had the chance to read the apology letter that Nick gave to Deacon before their last house meeting – which means that you were only Viago, because he saves items like that for scrapbooking, and Deacon, as a rule, has not read letters since 1942 – here is what you would have read (typed on the local library's Microsoft Word, printed out, folded not very neatly in half):

Hey man,

I'm not the best at letters or saying sorry but I wanted to write this out for you real quick. I know you're mad because I made a huge mess of everything last time I was there. And you think I generally fuck shit up. I think you're right. I used to think it didn't make me upset that you thought that. Then I figured out I was right the first time. It didn't. But at least it means I'm on your radar. I hope we can be for real mates soon. And I'm thinking you might want that too because I think if you want to get people off your radar, you probably just do that.

Thanks and sorry again for the mess. I'll get you some more yarn for a new sweater. Not sure where to buy it but I'll figure it out

Nick

Actio