13 Nights of Halloween NL #8 - The Iron Giant (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited. I hope it was worth the wait. Don't forget these will all be put in an anthology. The ebook comes as part of your membership so don't worry about it. There will be a bunch of other stories included that happened in and around Halloween to our boys. Keep an eye out.

Thomas

Thomas looked around at the large space and at his family—his chosen family—feeling stupidly sentimental. The air shimmered with body heat and the faint hum of electricity from the overhead lamps. For a fleeting second, he let himself imagine they were simply gathered for another family meeting, not standing in a makeshift execution chamber.

Not everyone had chosen to participate in Beverly’s untimely demise. Enzo and Seven had left to escort their family members home, stating they’d be back before brunch the next morning. The executive members of Elite had left to catch a flight back to the West Coast, leaving only their agents guarding the perimeter in place of Thomas’s usual staff. 

Ever, Shiloh, and Cricket had opted to stay with the littles in the nursery. Lola and Calliope were monitoring from the war room. The twins hovered at the back, Felix squeezed between his two sons, Zane in Asa’s arms. Arsen, Levi, and Cree stood off to one side with Matty’s friend Jordan. Mal and Nico stood beside August and Lucas, the neurodivergent pair like dark mirrors, both fascinated by machinery and ruin. 

Mal seemed utterly captivated by August, which didn’t surprise Thomas in the least. He often wondered about the depth of Mal’s own psychopathy, whether it was learned, sharpened, or simply inherited from proximity to chaos.

Noah was fussing over Adam, whose arm was now in a sling. Atticus and Jericho lingered near the doors, the latter fretting that the heat might be too much for Atticus. Archer and Mac murmured back and forth in their own little world while Aiden paced in front of his creation like he was Frankenstein about to unveil his monster. The rhythmic click of Aiden’s boots on the concrete echoed like a metronome, steady and oddly reassuring.

Thomas could only assume Matty and Lake were still… too occupied to join them. Probably for the best. He wasn’t sure how Jordan would handle this, but so far, the kid seemed unfazed by the events unfolding before him. Next to Cree’s quiet steadiness, the boy practically radiated energy, like an over-caffeinated puppy. Cree appeared to find his enthusiasm amusing.

There was a strange energy in the air–not quite anticipation but something closer to resignation. This had been a long time coming. The weight of years pressed down on them, Zane’s trauma transmuted into purpose. Outside, the night was cold enough to freeze one’s breath, but inside the confined space it was warm…and about to get much warmer. The shed smelled of lumber and something slightly burnt, almost metallic, the kind of smell he could taste. Every time someone shifted their boots on the concrete, grit whispered underfoot. The place buzzed with tension, like static right before a lightning strike.

August was fixated on the large tarp now sitting in the center of the room just before Beverly, who had finally stopped screaming behind her duct tape. Her silence was the worst kind of noise. Part of Thomas hoped she’d died from blood loss, but another part wanted to see her understand what was about to happen. 

Maybe he was a psychopath. She was going to die in agonizing pain, and he couldn’t muster an ounce of sympathy for anyone but Zane, who shook like a leaf in Asa’s arms. Whether from nerves, fear, or shock, Thomas couldn’t tell.

“Are we gonna get this show on the road or what?” Atticus asked. “Some of us prefer to be in bed by now.”

“Settle down, grandpa,” Adam cracked.

“Yeah, I want to see what’s under the tarp,” Mal said, eyes glinting.

“Take the hood off her first,” Felix reminded. “I let her keep her eyes. It would be a shame to waste my generosity.”

Thomas’s lips twitched. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes Felix was more Mulvaney than even Avi. 

Noah walked to where Bev had gone eerily quiet and yanked the hood off. Her hair clung to her face in damp ropes, the skin beneath her eyes mottled and gray. Her makeup had sunk into every crack and crevice making her look like some monstrous creature from a horror movie. The light hit her pupils like a laser; she flinched, nostrils flaring.

“Oh, good. You’re still alive,” he said. He looked at Thomas. “Duct tape on or off?”

Thomas caught Zane’s gaze. The boy’s expression was hollowed out. “That’s his call.”

Zane’s back rested against Asa’s chest, his husband’s arms wrapped around him like steel bars. “Take it off.”

Noah seemed to take great satisfaction in ripping the duct tape from her mouth. The sound tore through the silence like Velcro in a cathedral. Bev’s gasp was wet, her lips splitting again where blood had already dried.

Her wild eyes darted from person to person until she found Zane. “Zane, Zaney. I kn-know that I was… wrong. I know that now. I’ll go away. I’ll go away and never bother you again. Ever.”

Zane just stared at her, gaze distant. Thomas could see the tremor at his jawline, the muscle ticking beneath pale skin, a boy trying not to shatter.

“Zane? Zaney, please? Talk to me. We can talk about this.”

“It’s too late for that, Bev,” Asa said, his voice low, warning.

“Don’t talk to him,” Thomas said calmly. “Talk to us.”

“Yeah, nobody’s coming to save you,” Aiden added. “You’ve used up all your chances. You don’t get to walk away this time.”

“Come on,” Adam practically whined. “I want to see what’s under the tarp.”

Aiden looked to Thomas, who nodded. It wasn’t a dramatic nod, just a quiet command. Thomas didn’t need volume to command attention; his authority pulled obedience out of people.

The others crept forward, gathering in a circle around both Bev and Aiden’s latest masterpiece, still on its wheeled platform. Aiden finally pulled the tarp back, revealing his creation.

The metallic scent thickened immediately, copper and machine oil, the cold surface reflecting the overhead lights in fractured amber. The shape rose from the platform like something dragged out of the underworld.

Thomas smiled, pride blooming behind his ribs. Aiden had worked so hard on this.

Atticus tilted his head. “Is that… a metal dog?”

“Looks more like a bear, no?” Nico guessed, leaning in.

“A cat, maybe?” Adam speculated.

Aiden fixed each of them with a flat stare. “It’s a bull.”

“I mean, it’s a cow at best,” Avi taunted. Aiden glowered at him, but it was lost on Avi. “Why’d you make a giant metal cow sculpture?”

Thomas fought the smile threatening his lips. It was clear they were just giving Aiden a hard time. That would never change, regardless of his status or position in the family. It very much looked like a bull, or maybe he was just biased. Aiden had spent months perfecting it, and it was finally ready. Its horns gleamed dull gold, and the slatted vents along its ribs reminded Thomas of the grill of an old Cadillac. It was beautiful, terrifying, frightful engineering. Aiden’s specialty.

“It’s a bull,” August confirmed, his tone leaving no room for argument as he prowled closer to run a hand along the side. “A bronze bull.”

It was clear by the lack of reaction that only two people outside of himself and Aiden knew what that meant. Thomas’s stomach curled with satisfaction when realization hit August and Mal, both of them lighting up like they’d just seen the ark of the covenant.

“What is that?” Nico whispered, sounding both curious and horrified.

Thomas didn’t answer. He let the silence stretch. He wanted the horror to bloom naturally…to feel earned.

Mal’s eyes were shining with a dark malice Thomas rarely saw outside his own children. “The Bronze Bull, also called the Brazen Bull. It was an ancient torture and execution device invented in Greece around 500 BCE by a man named Perillos of Athens. He made it for Phalaris, the tyrant of Acragas in Sicily. It was a hollow bronze statue shaped like a bull, big enough to fit a person inside. When a fire was lit underneath, the metal would heat until it literally roasted the victim alive.”

A murmur of appreciation rippled through the room, the kind reserved for good craftsmanship, or a particularly beautiful murder. The gleam in Mal’s eye said this was fascinating.

“Your brain is entirely wasted as a dance teacher,” August said, almost as an aside.

“So it’s an oven?” Lucas asked, face pulled back in a grimace.

“Jesus Christ,” Noah whispered.

“Sick,” Adam said gleefully, then winced when Noah elbowed him right in the ribs.

“That’s not even on my bucket list. Can’t believe I didn’t think to add it,” Avi said, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You’re going to… cook my mother?” Zane asked faintly, looking a little green in the gills.

“Essentially,” Thomas said. His voice came out level, but inside he felt that same cool hum he always did when justice was about to be served.

“That’s not even the most fucked-up part,” Mal added.

August nodded. “He’s right. The really twisted part is that it was designed with an acoustic system–pipes and vents–that made the victim’s screams sound like a bull’s bellowing. Perillos thought that was genius and showed it off to Phalaris… who was apparently so horrified—or impressed—that he tested it on Perillos himself. Then, depending on which version you read, Phalaris either pulled him out before he died or left him there to burn.”

“Sounds like poetic justice,” Cree murmured.

August smiled. “Eventually, Phalaris was overthrown and executed in the same bull.”

“So yeah, karma has range,” Mal agreed.

People laughed softly; it wasn’t joy, not really, it was that strange laughter that happened when people weren’t sure how to react. The sound bounced off the metal walls, brittle and unnerving, the echo almost musical. Zane seemed to flinch at the noise, like feedback from a speaker too close to the mic.

The bull itself gleamed dully under the overhead light. Its curved haunches caught the glow, skin polished to a mirror finish that reflected back distorted versions of everyone in the room, twisted halos of gold and shadow. Heat still hadn’t touched it, but the promise of it seemed to pulse in the air.

Bev licked her split lip and tried for contrite, her breaths coming out through her nose in heavy pants, much like the bull before her. “Zane, sweetheart… this is… dramatic. We can fix this. I’ll get help. I’ll call a lawyer. I didn’t mean–”

“Stop. Talking. To. Him,” Thomas said, letting as much menace as possible leech into his tone. He stepped forward, his signet ring glinting. The light caught on the family crest, a subtle reminder of where true power lived. “Talk to me.”

She blinked, recalculating, the oldest trick in her arsenal. Thomas almost admired the reflex, it was pure predator instinct, even when cornered. “Thomas, we can settle–”

“There’s no deal left to make,” Thomas said mildly, and somehow that was worse than shouting. “You had money. You had a way out. You burned it down and came back for more. I’ve warned you again and again that you’re not wanted here, yet you couldn’t resist the chance to keep tormenting your own son.” He looked to Zane, then back to Bev. “So he’s my son now. You were given a gift that you never appreciated, but we do. Now you can leave him to me…to us.”

The words settled like ash in the still air.

Bev’s mouth opened and closed. No sound escaped. Her jaw trembled once, a fish gasping for air. The flickering light caught the wet sheen on her split lips, making her look less like a woman and more like a cracked porcelain doll someone had decided to melt.

Archer leaned toward Mac. “Now that was dramatic.”

Mac’s quiet chuckle was out of place, but not unwelcome. Even now, levity was their armor.

The room’s temperature seemed to tilt. Beneath the animal was a metal brazier, fire-safe, the perfect amount of kindling just waiting for a spark. Thomas could already smell the faint trace of accelerant, a ghost of smoke and oil, that familiar promise of combustion. Asa’s hands never left Zane, one braced across his chest, the other cupping his hip, a human barricade.

Aiden snapped on heavy gloves and tested a hatch along the bull’s flank. The hinges groaned, a deep, resonant sound that echoed off the steel walls like something alive. 

August drifted closer, eyes incandescent. “Airflow inlets here?” he asked, delighted. “You compensated for thermal expansion along the hinges?”

Aiden gave him a bland look. “Always.”

Mal crouched, fascinated by the ventwork along the jaw. “And the bellowing, acoustic chambers?”

“Precisely measured,” Aiden said. “The pitch will modulate as the temperature rises.”

“God, that’s beautiful,” Mal breathed, not about the math, but the art. 

Thomas couldn’t disagree. There was a kind of perverse beauty in precision. The same meticulous devotion Aiden poured into engineering, now channeled into something ancient and terrible.

“So, is this a thing you guys do a lot?” Jordan asked the other boys.

Arsen arched a brow. “Roast the elderly?”

Jordan snorted. “I meant gathering the family to kill people, but yeah, I guess that too?”

“We don’t really discriminate by age,” Cree said, studying Jordan. “You don’t seem very disturbed by this.”

“I don’t know her. Why should I be upset?” he asked.

Levi frowned. “’Cause she’s a human?”

Nico scoffed. “Debatable.”

“She seems like a super shitty person. Thomas and Aiden are cool. I can’t see them doing this for fun. They must have their reasons.”

That simple faith settled somewhere deep in Thomas’s chest, a small, surprising ache. Jordan’s matter-of-fact acceptance was a strange kind of validation that bringing Matty–and by extension, Jordan–into the fold was the right thing to do.

Jordan was a good kid. He and Matty had grown up together. Matty didn’t think he and Aiden knew about his and Jordan’s extracurricular activities…the ones that had occurred before they moved to be closer to them. Thomas was content to let him think that. Aiden was happy to have his brother close by even if he was twice Matty’s age. Though they had different moms, Thomas could see Aiden in Matty’s personality. He remembered the hostile, beautiful boy Aiden had been when they’d first met, ready to fight the world.

He found it fascinating that both of the Kendrick children had taken whatever twisted genetics given to them by Marshall Kendrick and used it for good instead of evil. Thomas also held a bit of smug satisfaction knowing that Matty had agreed to change his last name from Kendrick to Mulvaney. Each time one of them claimed the name, it felt less like expansion and more like evolution.

His family was growing bigger by the day. He absently wondered about the possibilities of having Matty and Lake as a couple, further solidifying the bond between Jericho’s boys and the rest of the Mulvaneys. It was probably best to stay out of it. He was far too old to concern himself with college romances. Still, he couldn’t help picturing the quiet stability of Lake beside Matty’s volatility–the kind of symmetry that made sense in his world.

Though he couldn’t deny that Jordan and Cree also made a striking couple. Maybe there was something to that as well.

“I can practically hear you scheming,” Aiden murmured softly. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Thomas promised.

Nico hovered beside Arsen and Levi. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” he whispered.

Thomas turned slightly, catching the whisper in the charged quiet. He believed it. This was what came of cruelty. Justice wasn’t always poetic. Sometimes it was crude, violent, grotesque even.

Arsen shrugged, his accent thickening with fatigue. “Zane deserves to feel safe, and sometimes the only way that happens is if the person threatening that safety is dead.”

Levi nodded once, jaw tight, eyes soft. The gesture was small but absolute, same as their decision.

Jericho stood with hands in his pockets, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Been a long time coming,” he said. “Zane deserves some peace.”

Bev began shaking her head, small at first, then violently. “Zane, baby, please, be reasonable. You were always too sensitive. I said things I shouldn’t have. It was stress–grief–Gage–”

Zane’s voice flickered up from somewhere far away. “You blamed me for him killing himself. You said it should have been me. You said you wished I’d never been born. You called me a parasite; you said it made you sick to look at me…”

He craned his head back to look at Asa, who kissed his forehead. Thomas had never been more proud of Asa. He’d come so far and he truly loved Zane.

Out of all his children, Asa had been the most worrisome, reckless in ways that made the rest of them proud and terrified in equal measure. He was the one most likely to break rules, to give it all up for the thrill of the hunt. But that had been before Zane. Thomas didn’t quite understand Zane’s need to be hurt as much as he understood Asa’s need to hurt him, but it was clear they recognized something in each other. He had no doubt Asa would die for Zane, and that was something he’d never thought possible–not for anyone other than Avi.

Bev seized on the moment. “I was hurting. I lost my child. I didn’t mean—”

“He’s your child too,” Felix snapped. “Jesus, even when begging for your life you can’t seem to accept that.”

Her eyes went wide like she couldn’t believe she’d made such an error. “You–you’re right. You’re right. He is my child. I’m your mother, Zaney—”

“Don’t call me that,” Zane said flatly. “Only Gage and my family get to call me that. You’re not my family.”

“I gave birth to you,” she screeched. “You wouldn’t have any of this if not for me.”

“You’re a horrible fucking person,” Noah said, incredulous, both disgusted and baffled at her refusal to perform the most basic human instinct: self-preservation.

Bev turned wild eyes on Noah. “You don’t know–”

“Stop.” Asa’s voice was quiet but everyone obeyed. He slowly turned Zane in his arms and lowered his head until his mouth was nearly at Zane’s ear. “I’m going to handle this. Okay? You trust me, right?”

“You know I do,” Zane breathed. 

Thomas felt the strain line Asa’s face. His palm was warm and hard against Zane’s ribs, counting out a rhythm like a small drum. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to do anything. Soon this will be over. You don’t owe her anything.”

Avi stared at Bev like she was something stuck to his shoe. “Can we kill this bitch now? We owe Zane a cuddle puddle and I’m honestly tired of looking at her.”

“How long will it take?” Zane asked, voice dull and far away.

“Varies,” Atticus said, professional and bored. “There’s factors–”

“Like?” Zane asked.

Atticus hesitated, looking from Thomas to Aiden to Asa, who gave a slow nod. He returned his attention to Zane. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Zane flicked his gaze to his mother. “I want her to know.”

Atticus’s brows shot up. “Oh, well, in that case… Most deaths in fires aren’t from being burned alive, they’re from what you breathe. Carbon monoxide and other combustion products steal oxygen from the blood and brain within minutes, and cyanide from burning plastics can shut down cellular respiration just as fast. If the airway is hit by superheated air, the upper airway swells and can close in minutes to hours. If none of that knocks her out right away, massive burns, fluid loss, and shock will kill over the next several hours.”

“Hours…” Zane said faintly.

“She’s not in great shape,” August reminded. “If she’s lucky, she won’t last long.”

“Wait.” Bev’s voice cracked, raw, almost breaking on its own fear. “Zane, Zaney. I’ll go away. I’ll disappear. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll say I lied. I’ll give you—”

“You’ll give him nothing,” Thomas said, stepping aside so Zane could see the bull head-on. The air between them shimmered faintly from the heat. The brass hide of the bull gleamed like a living thing, its hollow belly promising retribution. His hand touched Zane’s shoulder and squeezed once. “You’ve already taken enough from him.”

Felix’s hand found Zane’s and curled tight. Across Zane’s other side, the twins flanked him. Their presence felt gravitational, their silence speaking more than words could. Asa was the mountain in the middle, an immovable monolith of calm.

“Put her in,” Thomas said.

August stepped forward. He and Aiden each took an arm–gloves against skin–a choreography of efficiency learned from years of similar tasks. They manhandled Bev to the hatch with clinical indifference. She screamed, she shouted, she swore. The sound of it scraped the air raw, like broken glass. She writhed as well as a woman with no fingers could.

For a second she craned around Noah’s shoulder and found Zane’s eyes. It was a last, sticky dart aimed for the softest place.

“Zaney,” she wailed, frantic now. “Don’t let them–”

“This isn’t his decision,” Asa snapped. “It’s ours. Zane’s only here so he knows you’re actually dead and can’t hurt him anymore. He can’t stop this. He can’t save you. You were dead the moment you stepped foot on this property. All you can do now is hope you go into shock and die before you learn what it’s like to be cooked alive.”

“You’re all monsters,” she screeched. “You’ll pay for this. You’ll pay. You’ll—”

Archer rushed forward, snagging Bev’s face in one hand. “Shut up before I take your tongue, too.”

Asa’s palm came up, blocking Zane’s view, tipping his head up. “Look at me,” he repeated. Zane did. “This isn’t your fault. I made the decision. We made the decision for you, as your family. You’re not killing her. We are. She meets the code. Thomas made the call. This is all by the book. You don’t have to feel bad about this, Lois.”

They wrestled Bev inside. Her screams warped, muffled, as her shoulders wedged through the opening. The interior was polished bronze, reflective enough to throw her terror back at her. Bronze rang dully where her shoulder struck. She sucked air like it could save her.

Aiden fastened the hatch with a heavy, satisfying clunk, the sound echoing through the room like a gavel’s final strike. He patted the bull’s side, smiling faintly, admiring the seal, not the suffering.

Silence. Then the smallest sound from within, muffled and horrid. “Help.”

The word crawled out, thin, animalistic, reflexive.

Aiden stepped back to the rig. He handled the valves like a pianist touching ivory, each turn deliberate, reverent. August moved to the head, fascinated. “Listen for the resonance shift,” he told no one in particular.

Bev thudded around in the space, but she was no longer able to form the words needed to make Zane feel worse than he already did. Her fists–what was left of them–thumped weakly against the bronze, the sound dull and hollow, like the heartbeat of something already dead.

Thomas tipped his chin, unreadable. Then: “Light it.”

Zane flinched. His mouth opened. He didn’t speak.

Asa did. “Light it,” he said.

Aiden cracked the feed.

The hiss of gas filled the space first, sharp and sterile, then came ignition.

Heat bloomed like the sun. The first flames licked under the belly, trembling blue-gold, then steadied, breathing in and out. The smell of propane mingled with scorched dust, the tang of oxidized metal and something faintly sweet. The temperature climbed; the bronze exhaled a low moan, or maybe that was the first brush of Bev’s scream caught in the chambers.

Nico squeezed his eyes shut. Levi kept his eyes open, both horrified and fascinated. Arsen whistled, Cree frowned. Noah winced. Jordan turned his body toward Cree, pressing his face to his shoulder. The light painted everyone the same color, the fire reflected in sweat and pupils.

Asa, Felix, and Avi were focused entirely on Zane, keeping him turned away from the metal beast. Lucas hovered grimly beside Atticus and Jericho but said nothing. Jericho watched his brother and Zane.

Inside, Bev howled. The sound hit the pipes and came out wrong, a strangled baritone bellow that vibrated the air. It was mechanical and wet at once, something that didn’t belong to any species. A death hymn.

Zane wrenched himself away from Asa. At first, Thomas thought he might rush to his mother’s aid, but instead he bent and vomited on the floor. Noah and Felix rushed to him, rubbing his back as he continued to dry heave.

“Holy shit,” Mal whispered.

“This kind of takes some of the fun out of it,” Avi muttered, earning a slap from his twin.

The smell arrived slowly…a creeping, smoke that clung to the back of the throat. 

August tilted his head, listening, as if the pitch could tell him everything. “Hear the shift?” he asked Mal, almost tender. “That’s the inner wall heating faster than the outer.”

“Thermal gradient,” Mal murmured reverently. “It’ll sing.”

It did. The bellow thickened into a deeper resonance, the bull finding its voice, the chambers shaping a scream into something animalistic once again. The sound hit Thomas in the chest like pressure, vibrating bone, reverberating through him like a tuning fork. The room glowed with heat; shimmering air made faces stutter at the edges, like ghosts flickering in and out of focus.

Asa crossed the room to Zane, shooing the other two away from him. “He’s had enough,” he said. “I’m taking him to bed.”

He looked at Avi and Felix. “Are you coming?”

They looked around at the others like they were surprised that Asa was speaking about their plans in front of the whole family. Thomas supposed that knowing they were all in a relationship was different from hearing it confirmed aloud, in plans that had them spending the night together, theoretically in one room… and one bed.

“Yeah,” Felix said. “She doesn’t deserve this level of vigilance.”

To Avi, he said, “Let’s go.” Then, with a faint, exhausted smile: “Carry me. My feet are killing me.”

Avi smiled, sweeping Felix up bridal style. “You got it, kitten.”

As they disappeared toward the door, the glow from the bull licked across their retreating silhouettes, haloing them. 

“Come on, Lois. Let’s go to bed,” Asa said gently.

They all watched, looking as awestruck as Thomas felt by Asa’s softness with Zane. The way Asa spoke to him–low, coaxing, reverent–felt like witnessing a solar eclipse. The kind of thing you shouldn’t stare at directly, but couldn’t look away from.

It was only after the four had left that Adam jerked away from the wall. “We all saw that, right? That wasn’t some kind of mass hallucination, right?”

“It’s kind of weird, right? Seeing Asa act all… human?” Levi commented.

“Zane,” Bev gasped from inside, the sound a warped, animal wail. “Zane, please–please–”

They all looked on, unimpressed. Her voice was no longer recognizable, just a guttural plea scraping against metal. A last, pitiful echo of something that once thought it was power.

Thomas walked as close as he dared. “He left. He didn’t even care enough to watch you die. You’re nothing to him anymore.”

The bull’s belly glowed faintly in the dimming light. The air still shimmered, heat coiling upward.

“You can all go enjoy the rest of your night,” Thomas said, before looking at Atticus with a smile. “Or retire for the evening. The kids are likely already tucked in bed and asleep for the night. Aiden and I will take care of this.”

Once they were alone, Thomas crossed to Aiden, wrapping his arms around him. Aiden smelled faintly of smoke and cold metal. Beneath it was something grounding, spicy. Home. Another bizarre sound exited from the bronze monster in the center of the room, a wet hiss, almost a sigh.

“Should we let it keep going?” Aiden asked.

Thomas turned to glower at the metal coffin. “She doesn’t deserve an easy death.” He paused, head tilted, listening. Somewhere under the hiss, he thought he could still hear the faint echo of the bull’s bellow. After a moment, he said, “But I’m sure she’s suffered enough. If she’s even still alive. Douse the fire.”

Aiden nodded, dampening the flames. The roaring softened to a cavernous growl, then a hiss. The air cooled by degrees, the heat bleeding away. The bronze ticked as it contracted. Inside, the sounds dwindled from animal to nothing at all.

Aiden donned a thick fireproof glove, moving toward the bull. Silence expanded, a pressure change you could feel in the sinuses. Neither spoke as Aiden carefully opened the hatch.

A limb flopped into view, the flesh seared to the point it appeared to have hardened, black and charred. Thomas only knew it was her arm by the lack of fingers. The smell that escaped was chemical and final.

Aiden pulled his knife and sank it into the side of her neck.

“She’s already dead,” Aiden muttered, pushing her arm back inside and locking the hatch. His tone was matter-of-fact, like checking a box on a list. “Let’s go to bed. We can deal with the leftovers in the morning.”

Thomas nodded, serene. “Agreed. We don’t need any more ghosts tonight. Let’s go shower, then check on Theo.”

“Shower together,” Aiden murmured, biting Thomas’s lower lip.

“Mm,” Thomas said, then groaned softly. “I forgot to remind the others that brunch starts at 11:30.”

“That’s what the family chat is for,” Aiden said. “How about we stop worrying about your children for a while?”

Thomas smiled, the first real one in hours. The tension in his shoulders finally uncoiled. Outside, the night was cool, alive with the distant hum of night creatures and the rustle of trees. They stepped into the darkness together, closing the door behind them.

“Do you think the party went all right?” Thomas asked as they turned off the lights to the workshop and secured the solid doors, before engaging the heavy lock.

“The party is just starting. We have a full house until Sunday.”

Thomas grimaced. “That’s not an answer.”

“Thomas Mulvaney has never thrown a bad party. And this one will go down in Mulvaney history.”

“So it was a good party?” Thomas said, not really looking for an answer.

“Well, as one of the lizard elite you do have a reputation to uphold,” Aiden teased.

Thomas laughed softly, the sound rolling into the dark. “You’re right, as always.”

Hand in hand, they crossed the yard toward the mansion. Behind them, the bull cooled in silence, finally still. He knew Zane’s grief wasn’t likely to cool as quickly as the tomb currently holding his mother’s body, but he hoped that knowing it was finally over would be enough to help him move on, to help him heal. He deserved to live a life without that woman poisoning every good thing he ever had. 

“He’s going to be fine,” Aiden said, squeezing his hand. 

“I know. He’s tough. I just hope I did the right thing.” 

“You did.” 

They were almost back to the house, when Aiden pulled him into his arms and kissed him thoroughly. “What was that for?” 

Aiden grinned. “Happy Halloween.” 

Thomas shook his head with a laugh. “Yeah, Happy Halloween.” 

The end.