“I thought we were going to Saint John first.  In New Brunswick.  Not St. John’s, Newfoundland.”

Donna shrugged.  “We’re here now.  It’s still a smallish city, right?”

Gwen sighed.  “Yes, I suppose.  But it’s upper tier, I thought we were going to start small.”

“Bah.  Better to find out what we’re up against now.”

Donna brought the tiny crystalline ship in lower.  She’d expanded it from a few millimeters to a few centimeters once they’d slowed to subsonic, the ship and everyone aboard still clear and tiny to make it impossible to see them.  “There, do you feel it?”

Gwen shook her head, but Bunhill nodded.  “It killed recently.  Be careful.  Shield now.”

Donna sighed, and closed a bubble tight around her mind.  “Hate how this feels.  I can barely sense anything.”

“Practice flicking it open at random intervals, then,” said Gwen.  

“Just long enough to get a snapshot?  That could work, I do that with my eyes sometimes, to see how well I can navigate blind.  Would that be safe, Bunhill?”

“Try it and I’ll see.”

Donna flashed open a pinhole in her shield and slammed it shut.

“Any time now,” said Bunhill.

Donna flicked her shield open for long enough to start changing Gwen into a twin of the tiny, clear bunny-woman.  Bunhill’s eyes went wide.  “I felt that, but never saw the hole.  You’re scary.”

Donna flashed her a toothy grin.  “I try.  Let’s go see to this ghoul.”

Donna guided the craft to a familiar sort of building.  Even in architecture it resembled the hospice where she’d encountered her first ghoul.  The miasma was familiar, too.  This time instead of hacking through it, Donna landed nearby, behind a row of shops that were unoccupied so early in the morning.  They grew back to normal size, and Donna created a cloak for Bunhill to cover her unusual features.  Gwen gave up her rainbow hair and spots to more easily pass in public.

The door was simple for Donna to open, just a touch of force on the inside handle sufficed.  There was an intern as the front desk, but he appeared to be asleep.

Moments later the intern was dead and a bolt of black energy was arrowing toward Donna.  She flicked it aside with the slightest of efforts, then felt Bunhill’s pulse of fear before her warning to re-shield could hit her vocal chords.  She slammed her shield shut on a probing tendril of darkness, took a microscopic moment to gather herself and pushed a second such shield out much further.  Around her friends.  Around the dying hospice patients in the nearby rooms, saving two from death.  Further still, covering the whole facility except for a pocket of dark resistance.  

Donna tripled the shield around that pocket, and by the dark battering from within it, knew she’d trapped her quarry.  She took a moment then to open her inner shield... and saw that every occupied bed in the facility save the four closest to her was burning.

Enraged, Donna hammered the shielded pocket smaller and smaller, crushing it to the size of a marble.  The ghoul died then, but its death released enough energy to crack Donna’s shield.  A torrent of blackness escaped and shattered the east wing of the building before Donna could redirect it up and away.

Bunhill stared at the devastation.  “I don’t think you should do it that way.”

Donna took a moment to foam the fires.  Once they were out she sighed.  “I got a little angry.”

“You cannot afford anger,” said Gwen.  “How many people did that blast kill?”

“None,” said Donna confidently.  “It killed them before I killed it.  That’s why it had to die, and swiftly.”

Sirens could be heard in the distance, and Donna winced.  “Time to go.  Fires are out, the rest of the building is sound.”

Once they were back in the tiny jet and well above the city, Donna took a moment to scan the area.  No sign of the ghoul, or of any arcane residue from the blast.  “It attacked so fast,” she whispered, staring down at the half-destroyed hospice.

“Yeah, the mages that claimed the easier cities to get to were the toughest of the lot, and fastest on the draw,” said Bunhill.  “It should get easier as we go west.”

It did get easier.  In part, this was because Donna was refining her bubble-sweep technique to isolate the ghouls before they could act.  Each in turn would be trapped inside a shimmering bubble before they could act.  

The ghoul in Saint John battered at its cage so violently that its reflected bolts killed it before Donna knew what was happening.  By the time they got to Kingston, she’d learned to wash the bubble with pure Lunar power as soon as it closed, denying the ghoul its power.  Even then, each and every one died.  Some just dissipated as soon as she purified them, turning to dust.  Others, the ones less lost, returned to a semblance of sanity before choosing to die rather than face what they’d become.

“The Moon is getting low,” fretted Bunhill after the ghoul in Guelph had done just that.  “We need to skip a few and move on.”

Donna agreed, and they skimmed further west.  Thunder Bay, Regina, Saskatoon.  All gone within moments, barely even putting up a fight.  During the long cruise west to Alberta, Bunhill fretted.

“Did you sense a soul in any of those?” the rabbit woman finally asked.

Donna shook her head.  “No.  There was nothing left when they died.”

A minute and a hundred kilometers later, Bunhill asked.  “Do you think I destroyed mine, too?”

“No,” replied Donna immediately.  “It’s there.  Weak, and in need of... something.  I don’t know what.  But it’s there.”

Bunhill hugged her.  “Thank you.”

Donna smiled.  “And it brightened just a bit.  You’ll be fine.”

Bunhill sighed.  “I hope so.  This is wearisome work.  Some of those were people I once knew.”

“We could stop now.  Red Deer and Lethbridge will still be around next month.”

“No.”  Bunhill’s voice was firm.  “These are the last two that are killing regularly.  End it now.”

The ghoul of Red Deer vanished like the rest, barely even aware that something was happening before it was dust.  Lethbridge proved different.  When the luminous power faded from the bubble, a person was standing there.

“Is it finally over?” he asked into the darkness.

Donna appeared before him, a glowing goddess in the cellar he’d made home.  “Yes.  You are not the only one, and not alone.”  She drew Bunhill to her side.  Gwen stayed outside the building, ready to help from outside should things go wrong.

Bunhill looked at the man, then her eyes widened.  “Robert?”

“You know me?” he asked, puzzled. “But it has been...”

“Centuries,” said Donna softly.  “She went by Brunhilde once, before we met and I refused to let her die for her sins.”

“Oh God,” Robert said, falling to his knees.  “How many?  How many have I killed?”

“Too many for your soul to bear,” said Donna softly.  “I am sorry.”

“No!” cried Bunhill.  “You can’t give up on him!”

“Bun, sweetie.  There’s nothing left.”

“I don’t care!  Save him!”  Bunhill rushed to the figure inside the bubble.  It thinned for a moment, letting her in, then snapped closed behind her.  She hugged Robert.  “Don’t give up.  Not you too.”

He turned his face away from her, arms falling to his sides.  “How can I face what I became?”

Donna swore, and a blade of light sprung up between the two of them.  Bunhill staggered back, hand to her heart.  A tendril of blackness curled and crumbled there, where Robert had tried to draw off her life-energy.  The bubbles separated, and she stared in horror at the crumbling thing on the other side.  “NO!”

Donna pulled her into a hug.  “I am so, so sorry.”

Bunhill cried as the ghoul crumbled to dust.  Before long, Gwen entered the cellar and wrapped her arms around the two of them.  They stayed there until the setting Moon reminded Donna that she’d left promises undone.

“We have to go.  Come on, an hour in the hospital will cheer all of us up.”

Bunhill sniffed and nodded.  “Can I come with you?”

“Of course, sweetie.  I’m taking you everywhere until you’re sure of yourself again.”

Bunhill shrank in Donna’s arms, becoming a simple plush bunny toy.  “I’ll seem less odd this way,” she whispered just before her voice vanished.

Gwen shook her head and patted the bunny plush.  “You can do this.”

Before long they were arrowing westward again, pushing the speed even higher than before to race against the setting Moon.

Doctor O’Brien was looking a little worse for wear when Donna finally showed up.  “It’s awfully late,” he said.  “Or early.  How much time do you have left?”

“Enough,” said Donna simply.  “I need this as much as they do.”

The doctor looked her over and shook his head.  “Are you sure you’re up to this?  You look like you’ve been through a wringer.”

Donna snickered.  “Kind of wish that’s all I’d been through.”

He nodded, and led the way.  First was the pediatric ward, where Donna tucked the plush bunny into the arms of one child after another as she worked on them.  Each time she did so, she’d leave a magic-made plush behind, and carry Bunhill to the next.  When a dozen children were sleeping more easily, they moved on.

“Thank you,” whispered the plush when it was sure nobody was looking.  Nobody except the doctor.  He favoured Donna with a curious look and she just smiled and shrugged.

By the time the Moon was grazing the horizon, Donna had healed everyone in the hospital who needed it.  She hugged the yawning doctor, and made her farewells.

Gwen gave the two of them a big hug when they dropped her off at her new apartment.  “Thank you for having me along as well.  Did I have to be a clipboard?”

Donna giggled.  “You enjoyed it.”

“It tickled when you wrote on me.”

Donna’s grin got wider.  “That’s not a no.”

Gwen stuck her tongue out at her friend, then smiled back.  “Yeah.  It was good.  We did good tonight.  That probably means we’re going to catch hell tomorrow.”

“Get some sleep.”

At home, Donna spent her last few minutes of goddesshood reviewing the house’s defenses.  She reinforced the walls, windows and door with carbon fibers, making it much harder to breach.  That didn’t seem adequate, so a series of crystal-controlled turrets appeared in the attic.  Satisfied with her work, Donna turned to her last task of the night.  A large crate appeared in the basement, stuffed with tiny marbles.  Enough power to last the month.  She hoped.

Donna tucked Bunhill into bed with her daughter, then vanished into crystal.  Robo-Duncan stirred briefly in bed beside Sidney, who murmured tiredly then went back to sleep.

* * *

In the morning, Duncan woke to the giggles of his daughter playing with a little plush bunny.  “Morning sweetie.  Did you sleep well?”

“Morning Daddy.  Ms. Bunny says good morning too.”

Duncan chuckled.  “So she talks to you?”

Courtney nodded.  “She can’t speak very loudly, but she says to say thank you, too.  What for?”

“She was very sad last night.  Can you help cheer her up?”

Courtney looked very serious and hugged the bunny tighter.  “I’ll try.  Come on Ms. Bunny!  Let’s go play!”

Duncan chuckled as he watched them.  While he could no longer feel Bunhill’s soul, he was pretty sure that it was brightening.

Then the phone rang.  Curious as to who would call so early on a Saturday morning, Duncan picked it up.  “Hello?”

“Donna?” asked the now familiar voice of Agent Mackie.

“More or less, yes.”

“Did you have anything to do with the Americans freaking out over an unannounced hypersonic missile test over the Rockies last night?”

Duncan sighed.  It was going to be one of those days, it seemed.  “Yeah.  How ticked are they?”

“Not ticked.  Scared.  Something about it evading their tracking systems.  They’re worried we have a weapon they can’t deal with.”

Duncan snickered.  “I suppose we do at that.  I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell them that, though.  Can you keep me out of it?”

Agent Mackie sighed.  “Probably not.  We’ve gone years without their M-Files section giving us the time of day, and now they’re... very communicative.  We need more information, and we’re going to have to give something in return.”

“Fine,” said Duncan resignedly.  “Do what you have to do.  I’ll make sure to be more subtle in the future.  They didn’t track anything happening further east, right?”

“Not that they’re telling me about, anyway.  So you can evade their radar?”

“Don’t think it was radar tracking me, to be honest.  Maybe some kind of infrared satellite camera?  It seemed to follow the turbulence.  Once I reduced the wake, they seemed to lose me.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to make them any happier.  Still, at least we can get them to stand down from alert.”

“Sorry.”

“They’ll calm down.  Eventually.  I assume this was all due to your hunting trip?” asked Mackie.

“Yes.  I’ll send you a list of cities.  I suspect you already know about one.”

“St. John’s?”

Duncan sighed again.  “Yeah.  That one didn’t go so well.  The rest were pretty tidy.”

“I think the authorities are going with gas line explosion on that one, and ‘miraculous luck’ that saved the few survivors.  I take it this is one of those cases where silver would have helped?”

“Yes!  If there’s anything you can do to get more silver into the hands of people, that would help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Once the call was over, Duncan decided it was time to make some pancakes.  Courtney approved of this plan, and Bunhill ended up with her fur sticky from syrup and needing a bath.  As crises went, Duncan felt it was much more manageable.

The real bombshell was a few days later, when Duncan got a call from Air Canada.  A few weeks earlier he’d booked a flight for his family, they were planning to go to Mexico in November to escape the cold for a time.  His parents had a time-share there, and had invited them to come along, there was plenty of space for all of them.

Duncan stared at the phone in his hand when the call was over.  “I’m on the no-fly list?  But it’s a direct flight, we’re not landing in the US at all.”

Agent Mackie was very apologetic when Duncan asked him about it, and agreed it was a crappy thing for the US to do.  But the flight did cross through their airspace, so yes, they did have the authority to keep him off of it.

“This is about that missile thing, isn’t it?” asked Duncan.

“Not exactly.  We need to talk.”