No, Zac thought quickly, I don't want to see this. Not now. . .
A sheet of transparent film in front of him. No. Please, no. A voice, soft as the wind. "Zachary . . ."
Zac felt cold beneath his ghostly covering. "Grandma?" he whispered, his voice coming out weak and hollow. "Is that you?"
The transparent film before him slowly took shape. Zac watched in awe as the earthly body of his late grandmother formed. The transparent vision smiled. "Little one," she said in the same wind-voice as before.
Zac's face lit up. "Grandma!" he cried. He rushed toward the figure and attempted to wrap his arms around her.
It didn't work.
Zac turned around, confused. He had fallen through his grandmother. "Grandma . . .?"
"Sh," she whispered. "There's not time now, Sweetheart. The hour approachs."
His brow knit. "What?"
His grandmother's face was solemn. "You spoke the spell's words wrong, little one. You succeeded in not only making your costumes look real . . . They are real."
Zac gasped. "What? No. The lady at the store said -"
"You spoke the words wrong," she repeated.
"Oh, my god," Zac whispered. "You mean, we're stuck like this? Forever?" He panicked.
"There is still a chance to save yourself, and your brothers. You will still change back to your former selves at midnight," said his grandmother.
"What's the catch?" Zac asked.
"If one of you kills before the clock srikes the final toll of the twelfth hour, you will all stay in your current forms." As she said the words, Zac noticed her face fading.
"Grandma?" he asked carefully.
The ghostly figure managed to smile at him. "My time grows short," she whispered, fading. "You can still save your brothers, little one. You can do anything, but remember, 'thou shalt not kill' . . ."
As the final words were spoken, Zac watched his grandmother disappear into the night. An invisible tear streamed down his ghostly cheek. "Grandma," he whispered. There was no reply.
Though he had no body, he felt as though he were swallowing his fear. He had to get out of the graveyard. He had to save his brothers from whatever they might be doing.
Off he went. No wind to push him this time; he was on his own. It was up to him now.
Isaac stood on his haunches. He was ready to take the life of this doe in both body and soul. He had already brought it down leaving a large gash in it's hind leg. He breathed in a last bit of air as he went to devour the flesh of the doe, the blood so inviting.
As his teeth tore into muscle and he savored the blood, he felt a tingle, a rush, a strange sensation run up his spine. Suddenly, he could go no further. A voice in his head. Zac. "Don't do this, Isaac. Don't kill. Don't kill!"
No. Get out. Don't make me stop. Don't!
Isaac - the part of him that was still Isaac and not the werewolf - pulled away as fast as he could. Panic filled him. Instincts told him to run. He could not think beyond the instincts; he could only run. He headed for the center of Tulsa, not thinking what or who was there.
Taylor slipped through the shadows, basking in the cool breeze that surrounded him. He saw in the distance a young woman surrounded by small children. He smelled her. Her blood. His senses reeled, then he prepared to attack.
A rush. A tingle. A sensation that filled him. A voice in his head. Zachary. "Don't go for it. She's low on blood already. You'll kill her with one puncture. You can't do that."
Tay wanted to rush forth and go against Zac's wishes, but he couldn't. Every time he tried to move, there was that tingle. It was painful now. He stopped.
He turned and ran. He didn't know exactly where to go, but his body seemed to. The center of town. The tingle gone now. Finally.
Zachary watched his brothers go, not knowing where they were headed, knowing only that he should follow them.
He found his way to the center of town with no problem. It was hard to miss it. People surrounded his brothers. They knew these weren't costumes. They knew. But how could they know?
Without thinking, Zac joined his brothers. The people crowded closer. They held sticks, fire pokers, rakes, brooms. It would be a hilarious sight to any onlooker, but to him it was anything but hilarious. This was his fault. His fault. His...... Fault...... Your..... Fault.....
His mind screamed for the townspeople to stop. He had to get his brothers out of there. In the back of his mind, a voice said, "Thou shalt not kill."
We didn't kill, Grandma, Zac's mind cried. We didn't! It's almost midnight, it has to be. His ghostly eyes searched frantically for a clock.
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