The Last Halloween

She bit his arm until the flesh tore, so he slapped her. She moaned and asked him to do it again. She finally wriggled out from underneath him only to turn around so that he could take her from behind, across the altar. He could see all the scars on her back, the keepsakes of that time hundreds of years ago when the men of the church had burned her on a pyre: she'd stood for three days and three nights tied to the stake as the witch hunters added more and more fuel to the blaze. Eventually they ran out, and she walked away.

He was changing even more now; he couldn't help it. He squeezed Anne's tits until she screamed and swore, and slid his cock between her ass, leaning into her as hard as she could and letting the pressure stimulate his shaft. Her fingers dug furrows in the candle wax. Chann was getting ready to release the pressure pent-up inside of him all over her when something pale and luminous fluttered by his peripheral vision. He looked up for a half a second and saw that a beautiful, stern, pleased-looking woman had snuck on them. He'd never seen her before, but he recognized her instantly:

"Mother!"

He stopped. Anne stopped. The ghouls stopped singing and the ghosts stopped wailing, and every witch bowed her head in respect as Mother Night passed.

She said nothing, although everyone she saw believed she was just about to speak, perhaps even to say their name...

And then, as quickly and mysteriously as she'd come, she was gone. Only the slightest stirring of autumn leaves marked her departure. But they all felt different now that they'd seen her, like a veil they hadn't realized they were wearing had been pulled away from their eyes at last. The night looked brittle and beautiful. Chann exhaled. Everyone else did too. In fits, the party picked back up again, but there was a solemn note to it now, like a great wake for an old friend who everyone would miss.

"I feel...good," Anne said. "I feel like I haven't felt in ages."

"I feel young again," Chann said.

"I bet they all do." Anne slipped a hand into his paw. "We'll all be just a little bit stronger after tonight. Not much...but maybe enough that we'll all make it to next Halloween. Just maybe, this doesn't have to be the last one..."

Chann thought Anne looked a little like Mother herself: Full of love and sorrow. He wanted to take her in his arms (gently) and say very foolish things then, and the only thing that stopped him was another voice, half-recognized, and an even more familiar scent, from somewhere nearby. Could it be?

Anne was distracted watching the fires, so he slipped away from her and followed the new sounds and smells. Underneath another tree he discovered a naked woman who was herself halfway transformed into a wolf, twined in the arms of an incubus boytoy. Even like this, he still recognized her. Chann cleared his throat. Diana looked up, then started, looked again, and stood up so fast she actually dropped her gigolo on the ground.

"Chann! Um. Hello. ...this isn't what it looks like."

He looked at the demon on the ground, then at Diana. Her mouth had fresh blood on it.

"All right, so it's exactly what it looks like," she said. "But he means nothing to me! Honestly."

"Hey?" said the incubus.

"Oh hush up," she said. She paused and looked Chann up and down. "You look...different."

"You too."

"I guess I must. ...I was going to tell you about this eventually, honest. It's just...I thought this part of my life was behind me. But I ran into some old friends tonight, and one thing led to another, and then...well, it is Halloween, after all."

Chann looked at Diana, then back at Anne, then at all the others, and finally at the moon, huge and yellow in the sky. He couldn't help but laugh.

"It is at that," he said.

And, closing his eyes and throwing back his head, he howled.