The diner didn't need much help in its sacred task. It had been leeching the supernatural energies of the Gate for years now. All that unnatural potential had to go somewhere. Weird shit attracts more weird shit, and this mother lode of strangeness had no small effect on Rockwood. Under the influence of the Gate, the small town had suffered a veritable invisible plague of otherworldly afflictions. Not that the plague was all that invisible. Just mostly unnoticed through supernatural influence.
Even now, the upswing of power was having its way with this rural patch of desert. The sun hadn't even set, and already darkness was descending. There would be no stars tonight. The population of Rockwood would cower in their homes, stricken with an unexplainable apprehension. The werewolf, who would normally stay dead a good twenty-four hours given the time and method of his demise, was already recovering nicely. His broken skull was knitting itself together so that within a few hours, he'd be back on his feet. Just in time to provide the old gods with their sacrifice.
In the meantime, Tammy performed what little preparations needed to be made. The eternal stain on the floor, the ill-fated final offering of Gil Wilson, boiled and steamed. She dipped her fingers in the crimson pool and used the dark powers within to paint her runes. She set up a few candles in key points of power. She read through chants she had already memorized long ago. And she waited for the hour of the opening.
At some point, the ghost of Gil Wilson showed up.
"How did you get out?" she asked.
"You didn't think to hold me forever, did you?"
She had hoped, but she was not at all surprised. Gil Wilson was no ordinary specter. She didn't have time to bother with him at the moment.
"You need to add a little line here." He indicated a half-finished rune.
"I know," she snapped.
"And that candle over there should be a few more inches to the left."
"I don't think so."
"This is my design, girl. You're merely a pair of hands to finish what I started. Fix the candle."
Her hands tightened into fists. Distant thunder rumbled. "It doesn't need fixing."
Gil Wilson despised his situation. She'd learned the forbidden arts well, but she was still merely an amateur. Her level of magical powers paled to those he'd possessed while alive, but being dead put him at a disadvantage. Though he knew of ways to kill even from the ectoplasmic sphere, he couldn't do it. Not when his plans were so close to fruition.
"Fine. Leave the candle. It won't make much difference anyway."
And it wouldn't. Just a little hiccup in the cross-dimensional matrix. Yet, the very idea annoyed him. Any Armageddon worth doing was worth doing right. When she wasn't looking, he edged over and gave the errant candle a spectral nudge in the right direction. Tammy blasted him with a spirit bolt. His body collapsed into a puddle of blackened ectoplasm.
She calmly readjusted the candle. "I know what I'm doing. Now go and sit in the corner before I splatter you all over your precious diner."
He conceded, slithering into a booth.
The sun set, and a smothering black rolled up like ebony fog. It was almost as if the whole of Creation had vanished. That if one stepped out the door of Gil's All Night Diner, they'd tumble into oblivion. The only light at all came from the moon. The glowing crescent cast down a hard glare that shone upon the diner like a spotlight. As it rose, it grew brighter and fuller. And larger, as if drawing closer and closer to the earth, pulled downward by the unnatural collapse of space. The light filtered through the windows, bending and arcing in ways that defied physics, shining on hideous faces shimmering in the air through the thinning dimensional veil.
Time dragged. Tammy grew impatient. The old gods grew impatient. They filled her mind with hideous growls and shrieks, but when the time of the casting finally drew near, half past seven-thirty, they quieted down to allow her to concentrate.
She called Chad in, performed some last minute checks, and began.
She handed her follower a large knife. "When the moon is full and the sky is red, you have to plunge this in Duke's heart."
"Me?" He held the knife away from him in two awkward hands. "But I haven't ever, uhmm, well, why can't you do it?"
"Because you have to."
"But—"
"But what?" She put both hands on his neck and squeezed with delicate, impossibly strong fingers. "Did you think you could earn the favor of the old gods without shedding blood?"
"Uh. . well."
"Did you think you could ascend to godhood without first proving yourself?" She chuckled. "You stupid son of a bitch. There's no such thing as a free ride."
"But. . "
She pulled him close. Her breath smelled of rot.
"You'll kill him, Chad. It's a great responsibility. The final sacrifice. I know you won't let me down."
"No, Mistress Lilith," he gasped.
"That's my boy."
She let him go and began the Incantation of Reborn Darkness in a quiet mumble.
The knife trembled in Chad's hands. He glanced from the blade to the moon to Duke's body. Something sinister bubbled up in his brain. It was the chorus of hell, and he surrendered to it. It swallowed his conscience and doubts, leaving him with a numb indifference. The moon ascended. Shadows slipped across its face as it grew bigger.
Tammy chanted in ever-increasing volume.
". . And the sacrifice shall be made by one who knows not what he does, and the blood shall wash away the Fetters of Ages. The Gate shall swing wide, and Frush'ee'aghov the Lesser shall be the first. And he shall open his eye and behold the world. In beholding it, he shall unmake the cursed guardians of light. And the old gods will step onto the Earth, and the blight of man shall be wiped away."
Her voice echoed deep and long. Shapes squirmed beneath the floor like malformed sharks swimming just below the surface. Chad held the knife over his head and watched the moon.
"Ee-Thay age-ay of-ay ight-lay ill-way end-ay oonight-tay. Frush'ee'aghov, eye-ay offer-ay ee-thay is-thay aste-tay of-ay udd-blay at-thay ou-yay ite-may eepare-pray ee-thay orld-way oo-tay eceeve-ray or-yay others-bray."
Chad's muscles tightened to deliver the deathblow.
Duke twitched. His head was practically healed, but Chad didn't dare strike before the sign was given.
Tammy kept chanting. Her masters joined in, filling the diner with a thousand inhuman voices. The very earth grumbled beneath them.
A red haze crept across the moon's twisted face.
Cathy pushed her way through the dark soup of the last night. The closer she got to the diner, the more resistance her ectoplasm met — as if the old gods knew her intent and were trying to keep her away. She pushed on, even when she couldn't see anything at all. As long as it kept getting harder, she figured it had to be the right direction. Just when she thought it would become too thick to continue, she broke through.
The diner pulsed and throbbed. Hundreds of bestial spirits wormed their way from the concrete walls and gathered in a gray cloud made of screaming, twisted grimaces.
She bit back the urge to run shrieking into the night and peeked through the large front window. Knife in hand, Chad stood over Duke's body. Tammy chanted. Gil Wilson watched on. There was no sign of Earl.
"Crap."
With Gil around, she needed protection. Her phantom baseball bat materialized in her hands again. She went around and walked through the back wall. The pool of Duke's blood rumbled and growled. Loretta and Sheriff Kopp stood to one side.
Tammy's chant roared from the front.
"Eyes-ray! Eyes-ray! Eyes-ray! Frush'ee'aghov, Frush'ee 'aghov, Frush'ee'aghov! Eyes-ray! Eye-ay ive-gay ee-thay urld-way oo-tay oo-yay! Eyes-ray!"
The diner slurped down Duke's blood through a pinhole interdimensional drain in the floor. A disfigured limb, part hand, part hoof, forced its way upward.
Something growled from behind Cathy. Then it yipped excitedly.
"Napoleon!" The dog jumped in her arms. Half his head was missing, but she had more pressing problems.
"Where's Earl, boy? Where's Earl?"
Napoleon lapped at her face with half of a wet tongue.
"I'm glad to see you, too, boy, but where's Earl? I have to find Earl."
The ghostly terrier wagged his tail enthusiastically.
"Never mind. I'll find him myself."
She let him down. He circled her legs as she went to the storeroom. Earl lay in an open steamer trunk. She set down her bat and grabbed the stake in his chest. "Come on, Earl. I need you. The world needs you."
An ectoplasmic tentacle wrapped her neck and yanked her away. "I thought I heard something," Gil Wilson remarked. "Cathy, you foolish, foolish girl. I guess I'll have to kill you."
He knocked away her bat as she reached for it. She tried to pry off his choke-hold. He squeezed. The pressure was about to pop her head off her shoulders when Napoleon bit into Gil Wilson's butt. Gil yelped. Cathy slipped free and grabbed her bat.
Gil twisted and growled at the terrier attached to his rear end. Napoleon dug in deeper.
Cathy took advantage of the distraction to awaken Earl. She yanked, and the stake came halfway out.
Napoleon howled as Gil Wilson's arm distorted and sliced off his tail. The dog lost hold and fell away, whining.
"Fucking mutt!"
Cathy raised her bat to fend him off, but his arm snaked in an odd angle and knocked her down. She tumbled back. The stake arced through the air and bounced off a can of tomato soup. He was too intent on killing her to notice.
"Did you really think you could stop this from happening, you bitch? Are you really that stupid? Goddamn if I can understand what was going through that mind of yours. No matter. I'll enjoy killing you." He grinned. "And your little dog, too."
His gleaming dagger literally sliced through the air. Evil spirits slipped through the gash and flew up and away.
"Get the hell away from my girlfriend!"
Earl threw his arms around the specter. He opened his mouth wider than humanly possible and sank long, white fangs into Gil Wilson's neck, or the best possible approximation given the ghost's current blob-like shape.
The ghost screeched as Earl slurped down his soul. It burned his throat and seared his stomach, but he choked it down. It was the only way for a vampire to kill a ghost. Wilson tried to ooze away but escape was impossible once the fangs were in. He could only bluster and flail while his ectoplasmic form dissolved.
"This is my destiny! Nothing can stop me! Nothing! Not even death!"
Earl inhaled the last of Gil Wilson. He grimaced and spat. "Goddamn that guy tasted like shit." He lifted Cathy in a tight embrace and kissed her. "You're alive. Uh. . I mean you're not dead. Uh. . I mean you're here. I thought I'd lost you." He kissed her again, long and hard. "But how?"
"I'll explain later. Right now, we have to stop Duke."
"Stop him from what?"
"From starting the end of the world. He's going to make the final sacrifice."
"He wouldn't do that."
"He doesn't know he's going to. That's why you have to stop him."
Earl belched, and a shred of spirit fell from the corner of his mouth. The wiggling thing hissed in a tiny, tiny voice.
"A god. A god."
Cathy squished the pathetic ectoplasmic speck beneath her sneaker. It expired with a squeal.
Deep red light shone beneath the storeroom door.
"Hurry up. It's almost time!"
"Eyes-ray! Eyes-ray! Eyes-ray!"
Tammy threw her arms wide and gazed into a ceiling alive with writhing tentacles, dripping maws, and shadowy beings of the outer realms straining against the stucco.
"With this offering, I grant thee passage, Frush'ee'aghov! Your time is nigh! Im-sway ee-thay iver-ray of-ay ud-blay at-thay oo-yay ite-may anish-bay ee-thay ite-lay! Eyes-ray! Eyes-ray!"
The scarlet moon cast a crimson glow through the diner windows. The air became the color of blood.
"Now, Chad! Do it now!"
Her disciple didn't hesitate. He drove the kitchen knife deep into Duke's heart. It would have been a fatal blow to the werewolf if the blade had been made of silver. But it wasn't, and all it did was jerk Duke out of his pseudo-death slumber.
One meaty hand grabbed Chad by the throat. The beast tore its way free of Duke's flesh. The towering, hairy wolf howled. His lips drew back in a drooling snarl. He raised a massive clawed hand.
Earl threw open the kitchen door. "Wait, Duke! Don't do it!"
His cries fell on deaf ears. Duke didn't lose his temper often, but when he did, his rage was terrible to behold. After being beaten and stabbed, he reached levels of pissed off even he didn't know he had, and something had to die. Chad was just the most convenient target.
A flash of claws was all it took. Three precise strokes ripped Chad open like a package. His guts spilled to the floor. The stain swallowed the offering with a wailing shriek. Duke tossed aside the corpse as he turned on Tammy. He sprang. An unseen force snatched him from the air and threw him away. He landed beside Earl and Cathy. The jarring blow served to calm him down a touch.
From deep in the earth, the old gods shrieked their rejoicing.
"Goddamn it, Duke," Earl grumbled. "You stupid prick. You just ended the world, you stupid mother—"
Tammy cackled. Her body cracked and warped. Her limbs grew long and spiderlike. Gray streaked her living hair. Her mouth grew to three times its size. Dozens of misshapen teeth poked through bleeding gums.
She spoke with a thousand voices, not one of them human. "The sacrifice shall be made by he who knows not what he does. The Gate shall swing wide, and Frush'ee'aghov the Lesser shall be the first."
Chad's blood collected itself into the black pool. It ate into the floor. A hot wind poured forth. Every glass object in the diner shattered into crystalline powder.
"And he shall open his eye and behold the world and unmake the light. And the old gods shall step upon the world!"
An immense column of slime thrust through the hole. On its tip was a single closed eyelid. Frush'ee'aghov rose higher, smashing his way through the diner's roof.
"Nice going, dipshit," Earl sighed.
And the eye of Frush'ee'aghov slowly began to open.