Only Half Human

Dreams Aren't Reality

  Sitting on the bed, I was silently staring at the pair of stuffed animals on the pillows while thinking. I couldn't sleep at all last night, not after what happened with Tom, and especially due to the fact that he never came back home. Alex and Hal never came back either, leaving me alone in the old Honolulu Heights.

  Things were seemingly falling apart in the worst of ways, and I couldn't figure what exactly had started this downward spiral. Was it the last time we helped Hal get off the blood? Should we have left him there longer? Was it before then? After?

  "Hey, stop your moping, we've got to find the boys." Alex appeared while swinging open the door.

  "What?"

  "They're going to kill each other if we don't stop them."

  "Where are they?"

  "I'm not sure, but I was right and just spent the entire bloody night in a coffin."

~

  "Okay, ladies." Alex sighed after yanking the stake from Tom's hold before he could stab Hal. "We need to talk."

  "Why do you keep on savin' him?!" Tom got to his feet, clearly upset while being roughed up. "He killed Natasha!"

  "Oh, my. How many times do I have to say this? She killed herself." Hal stood up and wiped his face, leaving a streak of blood across his cheek.

  "Hate to say it, but he's right." Alex sighed. "Her ghost told me. She was sent here to break us up as Rook's latest attempt at-at saving his department."

  "Did she mention why she-" Hal made a noise while dragging his thumb across his neck.

  "Because Captain Hatch told her to." Alex shot Hal a look.

  "What? The old bloke in the wheelchair?"

  "Except he's not an old bloke in a wheelchair. He's the devil."

  "We've been played." Hal started laughing while walking toward the bar. "My God, we've been played. He wants to start another war."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "The devil feeds off the conflict between werewolves and vampires." Hal sat down on one of the still-standing stools as many of the others were busted and scattered across the floor. "Last century, he incited a full-scale war between us. In the end, we performed a ritual, cut off his power supply, confined him to his current body. But it looks like he's made a comeback." He raised his foot and set it on a broken chair to tie his shoe.

  "How does werewolves and vampires fighting give him power? And why does doing a ritual defeat him?"

  "I swear if you're about to tell us that old legend is true-"

  "What legend?" Alex turned to me, and I crossed my arms.

  "My grandma told me it. There's this belief that lycanthropy and vampirism were curses from the devil."

  "And she's right. And it's his curses coming together to unite against him that takes away his power. The ritual must be performed by a werewolf, a vampire, and a ghost." Hal waved his hand.

  "So we'll just do the ritual again."

  "There's a catch."

  "What?"

  "No, it's fine. I should be able to remember all the gubbins. It was nearly 100 years ago, though."

  "Why should we trust you?"