 
DeadPixel Publications Presents

Demonic Hearts

By

Tony Bertauski, Robert Brumm, Thomas Cardin, J.W. Kent, Travis Morhman, and Steven Wetherell

With

Robert Bevan, Renee Miller, Katrina Monroe, and Hanna Elizabeth

Copyright 2016 ~ DeadPixel Publication

Smashwords Edition

www.deadpixelpublications.com
In 2015, the authors of DeadPixel Publications thought it might be fun to write a book together, each one of us taking a turn at writing chapters. We held a random drawing where the grand prize winner got to decide the title of the book and the setting of the opening scene. The main character was also named after the winner. Two runner up winners got their names in the book as supporting characters.

Karen Chappell chose the title Demonic Hearts and the setting of Point Hope, Alaska in May of 2021. Aimee Berry and Rainne Atkins came along for the ride as runner up winners.

Thank you to everyone who entered our drawing and thank you for reading our experiment. We hope you enjoy it.

\- Robert Brumm
Chapter 1

The sky looked like an old wool blanket had been stretched overhead. Drizzly rain, mixed with a bit of sleet, fell just hard enough to make things miserable. Karen wrinkled her nose in distaste, before venturing out of her door.

"Another beautiful freaking Spring day in Point Hope," she muttered. However, she knew it could be worse, and judging by the latest forecast, it would be over the next few days. The forecast called for a cold front combined with heavy snow moving into the area later in the week. At least for now the rain was melting the snow already on the ground. North of both the Arctic Circle, and the Bering Strait, Point Hope was a spit of land that pointed out into the Chukchi Sea, as if Alaska was giving it the finger.

The woman trudged eastward down Qalgi Avenue towards the "new" town. Had it not been Sunday, she would have been walking in the opposite direction, to the Tikigaq School, where she was employed as a teacher. Even after five years, Karen was still amazed that the Inupiat accepted her as well as they did. Perhaps it was because she had been raised on an "off the grid" homestead down near Holy Cross on the Yukon River, or maybe it was just a grudging respect for her abilities as a crack shot. When Karen first came here, there had only been around seven hundred residents, the vast majority of whom were the native Inupiat. The population had swollen to almost double that number a year and a half ago, when the scientists moved in.

Karen had no idea why they were here, and neither did any of the other locals. Rumor had it that something had been found over by the lake. Whatever it was, it must have been important, because a profane amount of money was being spent on whatever they were doing over there, as well as the level of security. The Inupiat were suspicious as hell of the outsiders, but were pragmatic enough to take advantage of the greatest economic windfall that had ever come their way.

Lost in thought, she almost didn't see the boy watching her pass. Karen recognized him as one of her former students, and waved. He did not wave back. She was almost shocked; normally the Inupiat children were quick to flash smiles at her, and chat endlessly about Caribou or something. Today however, the lad just stared at her with a strange, almost predatory gaze. Resisting a brief impulse to kick him in the balls, she just continued on. The exchange left her in a foul mood that the weather didn't help at all.

Days like this always reminded her of her father. Hugh Chappell had been her rock, and damn she missed him. A former Catholic priest, he had left the church to marry her mother. She had few memories of the woman, or of New York City. After her tragic death in an automobile accident, her father packed the four-year old Karen up, and headed for the wilderness of Alaska. Karen sighed. She wondered where she would be now if her father was still alive. She had just turned eighteen when she lost him. Emotionally unable to remain on the homestead without him, she managed to be accepted to New Orleans' Tulane University; she'd been homeschooled by a man with Doctorate in Theology after all. Five years later, after an anticlimactic graduation ceremony, a rather unpleasant experience in the bayou, and one very bad relationship, she had run back to Alaska with her tail tucked between her legs. Anchorage had not been any better to her, and after yet another relationship that ended very badly, she took the position here at the Tikigaq School. "My life story in a nutshell," she said out loud. "What a fucking loser."

Her mood growing worse by the minute, she finally came to the house of Rainne Atkins. House was a kind word for a structure that looked like a cross between a shipping container and a bait shack. It had stood there for less than two years, and already one side had begun to settle, and streaks of rust marred the stark white paint. Karen raised her hand to knock, but the door opened before she could.

"Hey! I'm glad you made it, I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up," the lithe, blonde-haired woman said with a smile.

Rainne was a godsend. Around the same age as Karen, they had become fast friends not long after Rainne had arrived with the scientists in Point Hope.

Karen shrugged. "You're the only one around this shit town with an espresso machine."

"I ought to start charging you."

Karen plopped down in an armchair and watched her friend turn the alien dials that would produce three ounces of what amounted to drinkable cocaine. Rainne opened a bottle of Old Grandad Bourbon, and splashed some in the cup.

"Cheapskate."

The blonde laughed, and poured in a good bit more.

"That's more like it."

Emboldened by the drink, Karen looked quizzically over the brim of her cup. "So, have you figured out what the hell all this is about yet?"

Rainne laughed. "Shit no. I'm just IT, I don't have the clearance to know why we're here."

"That has to drive you nuts."

"Meh. Two years in the Air Force setting up communications in Syria for the ground troops, kind of got me used to being kept in the dark."

The women sat in silence for a while. Karen drained her cup and her host pointed at it with raised eyebrows. "Damn straight, I want another." Rainne laughed, and grabbed her cup. As she poured, she glanced back at Karen.

"Why the hell are you in this shit-hole anyway? You're still young and attractive, you should go someplace where they believe bathing is something that should be more than an annual event, find some guy, and settle down."

"You trying to get rid of me?"

"Hell no, you're the only person in this god-forsaken place I can talk to... I just worry about you."

Karen shrugged, as she took the offered cup of coffee with a healthy whisky payload. "Let's just say my luck with men hasn't been all that good."

Rainne sat down. She raised her eyebrows. "There's always room on the all-girls' team...."

"Watch it, or I'll tell your girlfriend you're itchin' for this." Karen shimmied a little. "Admit it. You want me."

Rainne laughed. "No, I just like watching your face turn funny colors."

Karen rolled her eyes, and chuckled.

"Oh," Rainne blurted, "Speaking of Aimee, she is flying in for a visit next week! Said she wants a good spot to scope the big eclipse."

"Oh shit, I forgot all about that... this place is going to be crawling with whack jobs. Damn it, I may call in sick and go shoot Caribou or something."

"But Aimee really wants to meet you."

"Sucks she's so far away."

"It's not too bad. One of the perks of being on the IT team is that I have my own satellite internet connection, and I can Skype with her every night."

Karen's mind wandered to thoughts of lesbian Skype sex, how awkward she'd feel trying to find the most photogenic position in which to flick the bean, and desperately attempted to think of something she could change the subject with. She didn't have to. Frantic pounding on the door made any subject changes unnecessary.

"What the hell?" Rainne uttered. She opened up the door, and John Cocker burst inside. John was a tall, bearded member of the scientist's security team, but Karen thought he just looked like a fucking hipster. The asshole had made a pass at her two weeks ago, and had not taken no very well. She had a nasty comment involving his last name on her lips, but he was so visibly shaken that she held her tongue.

"Atkins! The server is down at the site again, and I have to send an email right away!"

"What's wrong?"

"Doctor Chang is dead... mauled by a bear or something. I have to get these pictures to headquarters immediately."

"Oh shit, Chang? Dead? That's horrible."

"More than horrible." He pulled a thumb drive out of his pocket. "Here, the files with the message, and the photographs are on here... you know what address to send them to."

Rainne snatched the drive out of his shaking hand, and thrust it into her computer.

"All sent," she said a moment later. "I can't believe Chang is dead."

John reached around Rainne, and removed the thumb drive. "I have to get back. Maybe they'll hold a briefing tonight."

He rushed out without a thank you, or even bothering to shut the door.

"Holy shit, that's awful," Karen muttered.

"Yeah, I actually liked Chang, he was a decent sort." Rainne hit a few keys on her keyboard. "Oh God..." She muttered, hand over her mouth.

"What?"

"I copied the files... I could get fired for it, but curiosity won out... I wish I hadn't... oh damn."

Karen walked around, to look over Rainne's shoulder at the computer monitor. Her blood ran cold. Doctor Chang's body was horribly mutilated. Blood was splattered around his body in viscous, dripping streams. His chest was ripped open, and it was obvious that his heart was gone.

"That was no bear," Karen said.

"Then what the hell was it?"

"I don't know, but no bear could make wounds like that... too sharp, too precise."

The wind rattled sleet against the side of the house. Karen walked over, and grabbed the bottle of Old Grandad off the counter. She chugged from it desperately. After she caught her breath, she said, "I have seen wounds just like that before, and the authorities tried blaming it on a bear then too."

Karen took a deep, ragged breath, that was almost a sob. After another swig that effectively drained the bottle, she looked her friend in the eye. "Those are the same kind of wounds that my father had when I found his body."
Chapter 2

Aimee checked the address on the door against the one she had written on her gum wrapper. Having confirmed she was at the right house, she spit the gum into the wrapper, wadded it up, and banged on the door.

The bitter wind seemed to be ignoring both her jacket and skin, tearing right into her insides. So much for an early summer. God teased them by dishing out a few days where the thermometer almost hit fifty and then it's like he flipped a switch and sent them back to the freezer. Dick.

She banged on the door for a full minute before a fat balding man finally opened it up as far as the chain would allow.

"Yes?"

"Moe Riley?" asked Aimee.

"I am. Who are you?"

"You called for a mechanic?"

Moe Riley looked her up and down doubtfully. "You're the mechanic?"

Aimee spread her arms out and faked a friendly grin. "In the flesh."

"I was expecting someone..."

"With a dick?"

Moe's eyes went wide. He looked past her. "With a tow truck."

"I'm not here to drag your car around, Moe. I'm here to fix it. You gonna let me in or what? I'm freezing my ass off out here."

Moe closed the door. A second passed where Aimee wasn't sure if he was unlocking it or telling her to fuck off before she heard the chain slide. The door opened wide, and Aimee stepped into the welcome warmth of the house.

"Sorry," said Aimee. "It's cold out there." She reached into one of the many pockets lining the inside of her jacket and pulled out a business card, which she held out for Moe. "Aimee Berry."

Moe took the card, looked at it, and frowned. "You're a psychic?"

"What? Shit. Give me that." Aimee snatched the card out of Moe's hand and shoved it into her jeans pocket. "New jacket," she explained as she felt inside her jacket for a different pocket. Pulling out a new card, she confirmed it read "Mechanic" before offering it to Moe. "Here. Got coffee?"

"Sure," said Moe. "Just brewed up a fresh pot."

Aimee noticed that Moe failed to accompany his statement with any action. "That was meant to convey more than mere curiosity, Moe. I'd actually like some coffee."

Moe frowned down at the business card he was still holding with both hands. "I'm sorry, but are you sure you know what you're doing? I called you because I'm in a bind. Every day I'm without a car is a day I can't get to work. I'm already falling behind on my bills, and I've got child support to pay. I was told you work quickly."

"I work even more quickly with coffee in me, Moe. How about you point me toward the garage, and pour me a cup of joe while I take a look at your car?"

"Down the hall. Last door on the left." Moe took a set of keys off a hook on the kitchen wall and tossed them to Aimee.

"Thanks, Moe."

The garage was colder than the rest of the house, so much so that she could see her breath. But it wasn't the kind of soul-biting cold the wind was whipping around outside.

Flipping on the light, she found a late 80's model Ford. Perfect. The older the car, the less complicated the problems. When she opened the door, she was met with the smell of stale cigarette smoke and old fart. Moe needed to air this shit out once in a while.

She put the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened.

"Do you know what's wrong with it?" asked Moe, holding a mug of coffee toward Aimee.

"Yeah, Moe. It won't start." She took a sip of coffee, relishing the warmth on her palms and down her esophagus where it pooled in her stomach. "Ah, that's the stuff. You got any tools, Moe?"

"What kind of mechanic doesn't have tools?"

Aimee sighed. "I've got tools in the truck, Moe. But it's fucking cold outside. If you've got some in here, I'd just as soon use those."

Moe lowered his head. "I'm not much of a handy person."

Aimee shivered and fortified herself with another sip of coffee. "All right, Moe. Open the garage door and pop the hood. Be ready to close that shit as soon as I get back in here."

Moe nodded, then pushed a button next to the light switch.

The garage door began to rise, and the bitter wind blew dry, dead leaves into the garage. Aimee ducked down so that she could run out to her truck before the door was completely open. She opened the rear hatch above the tailgate, grabbed her ice-cold toolbox, and hightailed it back into the garage. "Close it! Close it!"

Moe was quick to comply. Aimee warmed her hands on the coffee mug until the garage door finally closed.

The coffee had cooled enough by this point where she could take it down in gulps. When it was finished, she looked under the hood of the car. "Start her up for me, Moe."

Moe turned the key, and Aimee observed nothing happening. She bit her lower lip and nodded.

"So," said Moe, joining Aimee at the front of the car. "Do you know, specifically I mean, what the problem is?"

"Yeah," said Aimee. "It's this thing here." She clanked a wrench against the part she was referring to.

"This thing?" said Moe. "You don't even know what it's called?"

"Jesus Christ, Moe. Would you feel better if I told you it was called a flux barometer? Who gives a shit what it's called? All you need me to know is how to fix it."

"Do you?"

"No. It'll need to be replaced."

Moe groaned. "And how long is that going to take?"

"A couple of hours."

Moe looked at her incredulously. "Where are you going to get a replacement part in a couple of hours?"

"I've got some shit in the truck. I should be able to throw something together."

"Throw something together?"

"Listen, Moe," said Aimee. "I'm not here to waste your time, and I'm sure as shit not here to waste mine. I've got a thing later on this evening that I'm going to have to cancel if I stick around here to build a replacement for your thing here. That's the long and expensive option. Your other option will only set you back two hundred bucks, and I'll be out of your hair in a few minutes."

Moe scratched his head. "Will the cheap option make the car work?"

"Give me some credit, Moe. It's a Band Aid fix, but it'll get you to work and back."

Moe nodded. "Let's do it."

"I need to get some shit out of my truck. Same drill as before, okay?"

Moe pressed the garage door opener button, and Aimee ran back out into the cold, grabbed a crateful of junk out of the back of her truck, and hurried back into the relative warmth of the garage.

"Let's see what we can do with this." As it turned out, the Band Aid solution was even quicker and easier than Aimee had anticipated. She banged her wrench against some things and pretended to tighten others for a while in order to make Moe feel better about forking over two hundred bucks. But all the practical work she did involved a piece of wire and a piece of tape.

After she felt like she had put on enough of a show, she peeked out from under the hood. "Start her up!"

Moe sat in the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine roared to life.

"That's remarkable!" said Moe, joining a satisfied Aimee in front of the car. "How did you do that?"

"Here's what you need to do," said Aimee. "See how I've got that bit of wire taped there?"

Moe nodded.

"That tape's going to melt off before too long, but that's okay. The wire only needs to be touching there when you start the car. Keep some tape in the car with you, or else you'll need a second person to hold the wire in place while you turn the key."

"You're not like any mechanic I've ever met. Where did you learn all this?"

"My dad owned a junkyard." Aimee nodded at the box of random parts she brought from her truck. "Those were my Legos."

"I can't thank you enough."

"Sure you can, Moe. Two hundred dollars is all the thanks I need."

Moe pulled out his wallet and started counting out bills. He started with twenties, which turned to tens, then fives, and finally ones, like he was one turn away from finally losing a game of Monopoly. But it was enough.

"Thanks, Moe. Help me carry this shit back to my truck?"

"Sure thing." Moe hit the garage door button and picked up the crate. Aimee picked up her tool box. As soon as the door was high enough, they hurried to the back of the truck and loaded Aimee's shit into it.

"What kind of truck is this?" asked Moe.

"Kinds," Aimee corrected him. "I Frankensteined it together with parts from four different trucks, three cars, and a school bus."

"Remarkable!"

Aimee climbed into the driver's seat. "Ha, this is nothing. You should see my plane."
Chapter 3

Aimee used the term "plane" loosely, of course.

Like her truck, it was a mad scientist's nightmare. A collection of metal sheets and knobs (some stolen from a dresser she rarely used) and enough duct tape to wrap twice around the world. It looked more like afterbirth than a plane, but fuck if it didn't fly.

She used some of the cash from Moe to buy something shiny for Rainne. Their last skype session--during which Aimee had pulled out some of her best moves--had turned into one of those passive aggressive fights she'd lost without ever realizing there was a fight to begin with. Something something not enough attention. Something something where is this going? Something something shiny things.

What did Aimee know? She didn't understand women. She understood machines. During one of their bigger blow ups, Rainne had not-so-subtly suggested she build herself a girlfriend.

"I probably could," she'd said, sending herself to pussy purgatory for a week.

A duffel bag stuffed beneath the one seat in her plane, Aimee checked the satellite for any of Mother Nature's hissy-fits. All clear. She smirked. Rainne thought she was coming in later that week. Aimee would get brownie points for the surprise, and with her latest business slowly circling the drain, she could use all the brownie points she could get. Rainne had always said she never wanted to get married, but Aimee knew better. She'd seen Rainne's nude selfie, the one showing a bridal magazine on the back of the toilet.

The radio clicked and a nasally voice came through the static. "Hey Diddle Tittle, come in."

Aimee snorted. That shit never got old. "This is the Hey Diddle Tittle. What do you want, Boomer?"

"I know you're not gonna try and get that hunk of scrap into my airspace."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She flipped a few switches. The single-prop squealed like a dying boar before jutting to life. "That's illegal, isn't it?"

"You're damn straight it is, DT."

The entire plane vibrated as she swung its nose onto what passed for an airstrip. Her ass went numb almost instantly.

"DT?"

Aimee clipped the radio back to the console. She had about three minutes before Boomer pissed his panties. Just enough time to get a head start.

"God-dammit, DT."

She smiled and pushed the throttle. Boomer's voice rose with the Hey Dittle Tittle until it rivaled the sopranos at that opera she had seen that one time.

Her navigation system tinged. Destination: the frozen asshole of Alaska. Point Hope.

She allowed herself a moment of optimism. If the horror novels were right, only weird shit could happen in a place called Point Hope. Aimee lived for weird shit.

***

Karen surveyed her class from behind her desk. A collection of minds to be molded. Futures to shape.

She'd never tell anyone, but she hoped she was dead before they became the leaders of the world. All the algebra and red-lined double-negatives wouldn't save them. They'd been brainwashed by the cult of Apple. There was a Snow White metaphor in there somewhere, but she was too buzzed to think of it.

Too buzzed and too queasy. That picture of Dr. Chang smudged the back of her mind with red. Rainne had run off to wherever it was that IT people run off to when colleagues have been murdered, leaving Karen with nothing to do but drink. And go to work.

A pair of students--Terrance and Portia--hovered over the glowing screen of Terrance's phone. "This is some weird shit," he said.

"Phones away," Karen ordered.

"But," Portia sniffed dramatically, "There's been a murder."

Karen stiffened. "What?" How could they have found out so fast?

"It's all over YouTube. Look." Terrance held up his phone. A flash of Dr. Chang's bloodied face was dubbed over with the Friday the 13th theme song.

Fuck, that was fast. "Phones. Away. Now."

Trisha, all perky girl tits and glitter, raised her hand. "Can I go? I'm distressed. I don't feel like I'm able to, like, learn right now."

A collection of students nodded along.

Portia added, "Yeah, Miss. I'm traumatized."

Karen had a feeling the only thing that would traumatize these kids was a lack of Wi-Fi. As much as she wanted to assert her teacherly right to torture her students with a pop quiz, Karen didn't feel much like being there, either.

"Fine," she said. "But if I see any of you not hunched over with grief, I'm assigning a thirty-page paper on the societal implications of a double space after a period."

Portia and the others dipped their heads and gathered their things.

Once the classroom was empty, Karen pulled out her cell and dialed from memory. She hadn't spoken to him since her father's funeral, but she couldn't think of anyone else to call.

Father O'Keefe answered on the first ring. "Aye? What's this shite, waking me up at the wee hours of the mornin'?"

Karen smiled. "It's almost noon, Seamus."

"Ah. Well." He grunted. "Who be this?"

"It's Karen."

A crash rocketed through the phone. Father O'Keefe muttered and cursed. The phone met his mouth mid-sentence, "...right, foul cunt he was, but I loved the man."

Karen didn't have time to reminisce. She rattled off what she'd seen in the photos before she lost her nerve, finishing with, "I need your help."

Father O'Keefe was quiet for a long time. For a moment, she thought he'd fallen asleep. Narcoleptic, with a taste for communal wine, he wasn't the liveliest of men.

"Seamus?"

"Blast and be damned, girl. Will ye not let the man rest in peace?"

"You know I can't."

She could almost hear his heavy-headed nod.

"Aye," he said. "Neither can I."

"So you'll help?"

"On one condition."

Karen straightened. "Yes?"

Silence, then a soft, guttural snore.
Chapter 4

Tenuxtpi sighed, a sound that the wind pulled from his lips and made into its own low howl. The human children passing around and through him merely pulled their coats tighter about their tiny frames. They felt chilled where he grew hot. Only the black sun peering through the scattering rain clouds cooled him, its darkness reflecting everywhere off the equally black ice and snow outside the small schoolhouse.

He sniffed at the departing children, for they carried her scent. Tenuxtpi had been close enough to smell his promised mate once before, directly, not mixed second hand with the flesh smells of children. She had been wandering the frigid bayou far to the south and he had let himself draw delightfully close, close enough that his tongue could have flicked out and caressed the nape of her neck. Despite not existing on the physical plane, his nearness and desire had caused her to swoon.

Of all the places in the world for her to have journeyed since that brief encounter, she had chosen one of the twelve ley line convergences. A place where the barrier between planes was weakest. A place where beings with hungers deadly and perverse could cross over from the deep realms to the nether realm where only the thinnest sliver of reality separated them from their human prey upon the physical realm. Or in his case, they could be sent across in an effort to thwart his destiny. It had happened before, and now it was happening again.

Zelial had sent the Cthoggu, a creature of the lower planes that the Inupiat people called a heart harvester. One had slain his mate's father, then it had been turned back somehow, and now another had come.

Unlike Tenuxtpi, the Cthoggu could manifest on the physical plane, but only when it and its victim were alone. By its very nature, it left no witnesses to its predations.

A howl of hunger like tearing metal sounded from across the black fields of ice bringing Tenuxtpi up from his haunches. Whenever his promised mate was alone, she was in danger. He cursed again the restrictions upon his being and the enmity his line had drawn from Zelial. Tenuxtpi could not yet get any closer to her than he was now, but the Cthoggu would have no such limitation. Tenuxtpi could not just stand vigil, he had to act.

Another sniff of the departing students brought him a scent he could use, a scent he had been waiting for since the Cthoggu had first bellowed its hunting cry. One of the young females was in her time of blood. Through that blood he could act, and until he and his mate could meet in the flesh beneath the moon's shadow, it was his only means of protecting her.

With a single bound he pounced upon the young female and thrust his being inside of her. She gasped and spasmed, almost dropping the device which had held the attention of her eyes and hands before Tenuxtpi seized all control of her nerves and muscles. He locked her legs, preventing her from collapsing to the ecstasy coursing through her. Entering her as he did, his being would feel like fire in her veins, a burning pleasure radiating from between her legs. Pleasure for the moment, but for him to stay too long that pleasure would turn to pain... and eventually kill her.

Locked in her mind, the girl screamed, a mixture of confusion, terror, and pleasure. Tenuxtpi, keeping her breathing level, allowed no sound to pass her lips. He explored her memories, sifting through them quickly for information he could use. When he understood the device in the girl's hands he wanted to crow in exultation. He could communicate beyond the girl. He could compose a message for his mate. A promise and a warning.

"Be at ease, Trisha." Tenuxtpi whispered through the girl's own lips. "Try to enjoy the sensations you are feeling."

"What's happening to me? What are you?"

"I am Tenuxtpi, an incubus, though I prefer the term your people use for my kind--soul dancer," as he spoke, he worked the phone in Trisha's hands, tapping furiously across the keyboard display with her narrow fingers. "I am possessing you, but I shall do no harm and you will remember me only as a dream."

Another limitation upon his kind. To be remembered only in dreams, as no more than a fantasy, had, on more than one occasion in his long life, made him doubt his own existence. Those women who could not reconcile the pleasure he brought them remembered him only in nightmares. Such women had forever cursed his kind as demons, but they were wrong. The real demons, like Zelial, existed to bring about only suffering and death.

Through Trisha's eyes he saw the physical world as it truly was. The snow and ice that covered the cracked sidewalk sparkled like white diamonds in the sun, not the black substance of the nether realm. The wind that touched her bare face and un-gloved hands bit and chilled the skin.

One of the girl's friends, Portia, had stopped in her departure from the schoolhouse to return to where Trisha had halted. She fluttered her hands in Trisha's face. "Trish, are you there? Earth to Trisha!"

Tenuxtpi raised Trisha's eyes to look at Portia. "Sorry, I have just received a message from my mother to which I must reply. Portia, could you please return to Miss Chappell's classroom and look for my misplaced history book? Please hurry before she departs and locks the facility."

Portia pulled back with her eyes wide. "Fuck my life! Girl, double-ya tee eff?"

He kicked himself. Human communication was an ever evolving medium. These girls talked with curses and exasperated sighs. Tenuxtpi knew every human tongue, as did most creatures of the deep planes whose existence centered around the life cycles of humans. They existed only because humans lived, breathed, and died upon the physical plane. His could only cite his own urgency, driven by the howls of a gibbering horror, as an excuse for not seamlessly adopting a proper form of communication between these girls.

"Girlfriend," Tenuxtpi said as he ransacked through Trisha's mind for details of her relationship with Portia. "Get your skinny-ass in there or I will post those selfies we took over Thanksgiving break straight up on your mom's Facebook page."

He held up Trisha's phone and rocked it side to side.

"You wouldn't dare!" Portia fairly shrieked.

Within her mind, Trisha took up a similar cry. Fear of embarrassment appeared to be a potent driving force among the current generation of young humans.

Tenuxtpi lifted Trisha's finger over the crystal screen of her smartphone and held it there meaningfully.

Portia let out a massive groan and turned to trot back toward the school entrance. Her nerves afire, Trisha had begun to fantasize. The image of a thin young man with a mane of blond hair swept down to conceal half his face popped into Trisha's mind as Tenuxtpi typed a few more words onto the phone screen. Trisha clung to the image while her pleasure nerves continued to fire unabated. It was the face of a popular musician, one whom Trisha adored.

"Do you look anything like Justin?"

"For you, my dear Trisha," he whispered through her lips. "I look like his far more handsome twin. I must leave you now for your own safety, and you will not remember me."

"Don't go!"

"I have left you a very important message, and when you sleep tonight, you will dream of me." Tenuxtpi withdrew himself slowly, relinquishing control of Trisha's fingertips first, then her hands and arms. The hand with the phone dropped to her crotch while her other hand went to her throat. She gave a moan as he released her mouth, head, and neck. He withdrew from her waist and legs last, letting her settle gently to the ground where she gasped and twitched.

Her eyes were vacant, all trace of him already forgotten. In time, she would forget the sustained orgasm as well, a mercy, since no man or woman of the physical realm would ever be capable of delivering the same experience.

Tenuxtpi hovered over Trisha as she regained her breath. Like a talisman of power which required the constant focus of one's will to remain potent, she eventually held up the phone in her still quivering hand. She read what he had written there. Her face showed confusion at first for the message came from no known sender. Once the expression on her face shifted to one of comprehension, her head jerked up and her eyes scanned the snowfields visible from between the sparse structures lining the street.

Tenuxtpi looked across the same vista within the nether realm, a landscape painted in stark, opposite shades. The Cthugga either hid behind one of the buildings along Qalgi Avenue or remained too distant for its heavy tentacle limbs to be picked out against the obsidian snow. Were the beast present, there was nothing Tenuxtpi could do to turn it from its query. Compared to the denizens of the deeper realms, he was a slight thing. But where the Cthugga was a powerful beast of low cunning, Tenuxtpi possessed wisdom and the ability to manipulate events upon the physical plane.

He looked back to Trisha who was climbing to her feet and turning back toward the schoolhouse. She held her phone out at arm's length, the information on its screen a protective ward.

"Good girl," Tenuxtpi whispered. Karen Chappell would be safe for the time being. The Cthugga could not manifest on the physical plane if she was not alone. It could not plunge its whip-like abdomen into her breast like a striking snake and rip out her heart.

That would not be true beneath the moon's shadow. While Tenuxtpi would be able to ascend to the physical realm and take human form, the Cthugga would likewise be able to manifest with no restrictions, keeping its deadly cephalopod form. It would cut through these humans like a scythe through ripe wheat whether they were alone or in throngs.

No, he could not allow that to happen. He had to discover the secret that was used to banish the first Cthugga. To do that he had to risk finding a sensitive, someone he could truly communicate with. He would be vulnerable to such a person, he shuddered to think of how he could be used, but it was a risk he had to take to assure the future for which he had so long strived.

***

Aimee dropped down through the chop of the scattering clouds, cursing the loose aileron cable that came close to rattling the fillings from her teeth.

"I love you," Aimee said, giving a strip of duct tape on the console a quick caress, "but hold together you piece of shit."

Point Hope spread out below, a scattering of low buildings and homes for the most part. Aimee banked her plane toward the airstrip a couple miles north of town, recently expanded and resurfaced by the military to facilitate the influx of scientists. Further beyond the airstrip, a cluster of Quonset huts and utility sheds marked the science installation itself.

Movement on the icefield drew her eye. At first she thought it was a polar bear, large and dingy yellow against the pristine white snow, but its hide glistened like wet rubber, not fur. Aimee's breath caught in her throat and for a moment the rattling plane around her seemed to vanish, leaving her hanging in the air.

Aimee shut her eyes and squeezed the stick hard, focusing her senses on its rigid grip like an anchor to reality. The creature that creeped across the icefield a thousand feet below on a half dozen thick tentacles was not a bear nor any other natural animal. Despite the low angle of the sun, it left no shadow, and no tracks marked its path in the snow. Its evil brought the taste of bile to the back of her throat.

"Dumb, Aimee, very dumb," she muttered, choking back the urge to vomit. "You asked for weird shit and you got it--holy fuck."

She raised her head before opening her eyes again, so that only the airstrip ahead and the horizon filled her view. A handful of snowflakes bounced off the windshield, quickly growing exponentially as she lowered the flaps and made her descent. By the time the wheels touched down on the tarmac below, the snow was so thick she could barely see ten feet beyond the nose of the plane.
Chapter 5

Aimee taxied her plane down the landing strip. She carefully positioned the bird between two of the recently constructed hangars built specifically for the feds. Not shelter per se, but if the wind kicked up from the south at least the snowdrifts wouldn't get too high. Aimee and snow shovels weren't exactly getting along, thanks to her banged up elbow courtesy of a goddamned ice patch outside of the garage. Digging the plane out didn't sound like it would be much fun when it was time to go home. If she was able to go home at all. It might have been her imagination, but she could have sworn she felt a new vibration on the way in and the normal haze of exhaust in the cabin seemed a little thicker than usual.

By the time she grabbed her overnight bag, Aimee had almost convinced herself what she'd seen from the air was a figment of her imagination. It wouldn't have been the first. Since she was a little girl she'd been chasing shapes and shadows out of the corner of her eye, noticing things nobody else did.

"Not getting enough sleep, that's all," she muttered to herself. It was a hollow excuse she'd used too many times. Even she didn't believe it anymore.

A gust of wind kicked up and she tightened the hood of her parka against the bitter cold. The walk to Rainne's place was only about a mile, but the last time she had hoofed it was late August. Surprising Rainne by coming a day early had seemed like a good idea back home, but if she would have come as they'd planned she'd be on the back of Rainne's snow machine about now.

Aimee fought to keep her thoughts off the cold and snow and definitely not the thing she absolutely did not see from the air. Would it be the end of the world if she couldn't get the old war bird up and running on Sunday? Maybe getting stranded in Point Hope for a while would be exactly what she needed. What her and Rainne needed. It would kind of force them to take things to the next level. And after all, she loved the girl. Didn't she?

It's not like she really had anything keeping her in Nome anymore. Her mother had been six feet under for almost a year now and the garage hadn't turned a profit in almost as long. She could have a life here. And from the sound of it, jobs were still hard to fill in town ever since the research facility had been up and running. Somebody in charge should be more than willing to snatch up a girl who could turn a wrench.

The sound of a motor behind her snapped Aimee out of her daydreaming as a vehicle pulled up beside her. The passenger window of the Jeep Liberty rolled down and the driver waved.

"Need a lift?" he called out. He grinned with narrow teeth, a well-chewed tooth-pick rolling against his bottom lip

Aimee glanced behind her. It felt like she'd been walking for miles, but the airport was so close she could practically spit on the runway. In contrast, the closest building in town was barely visible in the fading daylight and increasing snowfall.

Aimee figured the odds of a serial killer rapist in a remote town of a few thousand people were pretty slim, so she approached the Jeep. If she was wrong she'd at least be able to warm up for a few minutes before getting disemboweled.

"Nasty out there!" he shouted through the open window. "Hop in and get out of the snow."

Mid-thirties, maybe forty. His slicked-backed hair full of product was as out of place as his meticulously manicured beard and expensive-looking glasses. He was no townie.

"Thanks," Aimee said. She tossed her bag into the backseat and got in, immediately feeling better in the toasty interior.

"Name's, John." He slipped off his leather glove and extended his right hand to Amy. "John Cocker."

She kept her gloves on and gave him a single pump. "Aimee Berry. Thanks for the lift."

"No problemo." He dropped the Jeep into gear and headed for town. "So what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

He actually said that, Aimee thought to herself. For once you're not just imaging creepy things.

"Just in town for the weekend visiting...a friend. What about you?"

John sniffed and leaned back, piloting the Jeep with his left hand and dangling his right over the center console. "Me? I'm in security at the DARPA station over by the lake." He turned his head to glance at her and Aimee actually saw him wink out of the corner of her eye. "So don't worry, you're in good hands." He smiled again, the toothpick wiggling up and down with phallic enthusiasm.

"I'm sure."

"So where you headed? Boyfriend's house or...?"

"My friend lives on Umigragvik Street."

"I don't know it, but I'm sure I can manage without getting lost. There's only like ten roads in town anyway." John laughed. "You need to be an Eskimo just to keep all the crazy street names straight, am I right?" He laughed again.

"I think they prefer Inupiat in these parts."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind."

They drove in uncomfortable silence for a moment until the Jeep reached the edge of town and John turned onto Ippig Street. "So what does your boyfriend do?"

"I never said it was a boyfriend. She's a girl and she works in IT at the station. I'm sure you know her. Rainne Atkins?"

"Oh, sure." John looked at her as if for the first time. "So you must be her lady friend from Rome."

"Nome."

"Right. She's mentioned you." A grin crept across his face, the toothpick slowly rising. "Right on."

Aimee didn't know if she wanted to throw up or punch him in the throat. She wondered if it was possible to do both.

"This is it up here." Thank god.

John pulled up in front of the house. "Alright, Aimee from Nome. You have arrived at your destination," he said in his best impersonation of a sat nav's voice system.

"Thanks." Aimee opened the door and John grabbed her left arm a little too tightly.

"Let me know if you girls get bored. Me and a few of the guys usually shoot pool and have a few beers at the bar after work."

Aimee turned to him and batted her eyelashes. It was stupid, but she couldn't resist. "Trust me, John." She licked her lips. "We won't get bored." His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed and she slammed the door before he could say any more pervy bullshit.

***

John watched Aimee walk up to Rainne's front door for a moment before he drove on. It was impossible to know for sure due to her bulky parka, but he bet she had a tight ass. He spat out his toothpick, which he had inadvertently bitten in half.

"Damn shame," he muttered. A face and body like that and she had to go and be a muff diver. Just his luck.

He drove through town and pulled into the access road that led to the research station. Not a minute too soon, either. It was snowing harder than ever and the last thing he needed was to get stuck in the ditch.

Not that sitting by the side of the road waiting for help would be any more boring than his actual job. The thought of working up in Alaska in some top secret DARPA research station seemed pretty exciting back in Ohio when he accepted the job. In reality, it was mind-numbing tedium for twelve hours at a stretch. If you didn't count Doctor Chang getting killed, of course.

That had turned the entire station upside down, but not for long. Once the state cops had flown in there was little for John and his team to do. It almost felt like the big wigs who ran the place were eager to brush the whole thing under the rug and move on a little too quickly. It was almost like Chang never existed in the first place. Whatever. He was a prick anyway.

He parked the Jeep and shook his head at the cluster of buildings, especially the large dome-shaped structure dominating the base. All this infrastructure, money, and manpower for a dumb ass fissure in the ground. He may not have been one of the eggheads in a lab coat, but he was smart enough to know it was just a hole.

A big fucking hole.

John punched in and tried to mentally prepare himself for another graveyard shift. Only two more weeks and he'd be back on days, which was a little less boring. Most of the staff cleared out by seven or eight at the latest and after that he had the whole complex to himself. His fingers wiggled in anticipation. John was the master of the discreet knuckle-shuffle on company time. The only thing better than jerking off was getting paid to jerk off.

He nodded to a couple of scientists on their way out and ducked into the locker room to put on his uniform. He heard the tick of the motion sensor light switch click on as he passed the threshold, but the lights didn't turn on. The door to the hallway closed behind him, sending the room back into complete darkness.

"Oh for fuck's sake." John fumbled for the switch on the wall and hit the manual button. Nothing. He dug in his front pocket and pulled out his cell phone, lighting the room with the screen. He considered saying fuck it and just keeping his street clothes on, but he didn't get along with the director very well and she'd love to write him up if she found out.

John placed his phone face up on the bench and opened his locker. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. Not only were the lights on the fritz but it was cold as hell. Great. The highlight of his shift would be trying to get the on-call maintenance guy to come down and fix the lights and heat.

The display on the phone started to dim so he touched the screen again while he buttoned up his shirt. He turned his head at a sound from the bathroom. Some kind of... slap followed by a dragging sound. Like somebody dropped a raw steak on the floor and pushed it aside with their foot. He picked up his phone and pointed it at the bathroom doorway, but saw nothing.

John quickly dropped his pants and hurried to finish getting dressed. The locker room was giving him the creeps and the sooner he could get out of there the better. The display on his phone started to dim again.

"Oh come on!" His voice echoed through the room, sounding more frightened than he cared to admit. He tapped the screen again just as another sound came from the bathroom. Another slap followed by a low moan. Or growl. His mind went to the image of Chang's eviscerated chest and he swallowed.

He aimed the dim light of his phone at the doorway again and called out. "Hello? Anybody in there?" Nothing. He slowly shuffled to the bathroom in his stocking feet and absentmindedly kept tapping the screen of his phone every few seconds.

The bathroom was empty. He even checked the two stalls just to be sure. John turned around, ready to get the hell out of there when a sharp pain stopped him. He put his hand over his chest and the pain faded as quickly as it came.

He took another step and it returned in force, so sudden and severe, he clutched his chest with both hands, dropping his phone. He fell to one knee and tried to call out, but his lungs didn't want to work. Nothing but a gasp escaped his open mouth.

John's heart pumped harder than it ever had in his life and the intense pain was followed by intense heat from his core. His insides were on fire, his body ready to burst.

Flailing on the floor, he ripped his shirt open and clawed at his chest, drawing blood with his fingernails as he tried to relieve the massive pressure, stop the all-consuming pain. One by one his ribs broke, snapping like twigs. His skin started to split open.

John finally drew a breath and screamed as the light from his phone started to dim for the last time. A dark shape moved into his field of vision a second before his heart was ripped from his chest and his world went black.
Chapter 6

The Inuit had fifty words for snow. Karen only needed one. Snow-fuck.

Like God fell asleep with his finger on the trigger, the fluffy white shit started falling and never stopped. Even by Alaskan standards, it was heavy. The flakes were the size of golf balls. In half a day's time, three feet had piled up.

Point Hope gave up hope.

They shut down, said wait it out. Put the plows in park until God got off His ass and made some sense. Weather reports suggested Point Hope was the epicenter of this snow-fuck, winter dropping on the town in biblical proportions. Outside of Point Hope, no one seemed to notice. Inside, no one seemed to care. It was a good day to drink.

Normally, Karen wouldn't argue. The phone reception had turned to shit. And Father O'Keefe wanted to talk. His last words were, "This can't—"

Wait. He was going to say wait.

"Slow down," Aimee said from the back seat. "You bury this in a ditch, I'm not walking."

"Thought you were asleep," Rainne said.

Karen hugged herself in the passenger seat. She couldn't see past the hood, the snow gobbling up the headlights. The wipers barely kept up, packing ridges on the sides.

"You all right?" Rainne asked.

Karen nodded.

She didn't want to say much. She'd already walked over to Rainne's house in the middle of the night to ask if they were getting reception. Same deal, though.

"The research station should be good," Rainne had said. "Sat com will sing right through this."

It was doubtful. But if anything could penetrate the weather, it was the government. Karen had crashed on the couch and listened to Rainne and Aimee wreck the bedroom. They'd been sexting for weeks, but girl-on-girl was best served warm and hot.

When Rainne shook Karen awake at 3:30 in the morning, she was surprised Aimee dragged her ass out wrapped in a blanket. Toe-curling orgasms was the glue that held them tight.

"How can you see the road?" Karen asked.

"I'll be honest, I'm sort of guessing."

The truck was built to eat snow, but not ditches. It was a relief to see a light ahead. At first, Karen thought it must be emergency responders. It was red but not flashing. Rainne checked her phone.

"Fuck."

"What is it?" Karen asked.

"Power's down. Back-up generators are running." She stepped on the accelerator. "I didn't get the message."

She stopped beneath the light and looked in the back seat. Aimee was out.

"Leave her," Rainne said. "She's a bitch until she gets four hours."

"I heard that," Aimee said.

"You coming in?"

She rolled over and wrapped her head. "Keep it running."

Rainne cursed and jumped out. Karen followed. She could hear her footsteps crunch in the snow. It was eerie. Not so much the density of the snowfall, but the quiet.

There was no wind.

The snow drifted down like ashes. As if the world had died.

Rainne swiped her badge at the door with no response. When she tried the knob, it opened. "All right."

The facility was dim and surprisingly warm with a whiff of methane. Emergency lights were just enough to illuminate the corridors. It occurred to Karen that this might have been a wasted trip.

"Come on," Rainne said. "You can use my office. I'll be checking on the servers."

She showed Karen where to go. The place was empty. It was unlikely anyone else had received a message about the power either. But someone should've been there. It didn't matter. Karen couldn't give a fuck less about DARPA research or the mysterious crack in the earth that brought them to Alaska.

She just wanted to talk to Father O'Keefe.

Karen still wasn't getting a signal. Rainne had one bar but she needed her phone. She booted up the laptop and pulled out a chair.

"Skype him," Rainne said.

Karen waited in the office for the laptop to boot, wondering how many times Rainne threw her legs up on the desk with Aimee on the other end of Skype. Karen placed the call, knowing the odds weren't good that Father O'Keefe would be awake. It was four hours earlier there. The old man hadn't seen the sun rise since the day he stopped doing early mass. And if he was awake, he wasn't going to answer his computer.

"Eh?" was the first sound she heard.

I'll be damned.

Wild gray hair passed the camera's view. When it returned, a bleary-eyed Father O'Keefe squared up on the screen.

"Seamus," Karen said. "For the love of God."

"Indeed, darling. For the love of Him, indeed."

"Have you been drinking?"

Laughter dribbled out of him, eyelids weighty. His eyes were glassy from booze, or crying. Or both.

"Twenty years, darling," he muttered. "Not even the blood of Christ for twenty years."

Then he drank deeply from a coffee mug, wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Not a smile in sight.

"What's wrong?" Karen asked.

Again, the trickle of laughter. He squinted at the screen. "Look at you, all grown up."

"Seamus—"

"Has it been that long?" He sighed, shook his head. Almost looked like a big blubber was coming. "I should've told you before this, darling. For that, I ask forgiveness."

"Told me what?"

"Your father made me promise. I gave my word. You see, my word might not seem like much coming from an old celibate drunk, but it's all I've got. All I've held onto."

"You're not making sense, Seamus."

"None of it does, darling. God cast us into the dark to feel our way out. His light is our only guidance. And there are days it does not shine, that I can promise you."

He lifted his cup. Cheers.

"What happened to my father?" Karen asked.

All these years, she assumed her father's death was an act of random violence. Even when Seamus shooed her away from the area, to seek solace in another part of the world, to start a new life, she hadn't suspected anything sinister beyond the shortcomings of man.

Now it was written all over Seamus's face. Had it always been this easy to read?

"Your father," Seamus muttered. "He was a good soul, Karen. You remember that, you understand now. There are good people and there are saints. Your father was somewhere in between. But even the saints succumb to weakness and temptation. Your father succumbed to neither, darling. But he fell nonetheless."

"Be clear, Seamus. Now."

Her attempt to snap him into clarity only brought a round of hysterical laughter, the kind that haunts the doomed. The guilty. The logical thing would be to hang up and talk when the storm passed, maybe even fly out to see him, sit down with him sober. But the look on his face made it clear that wasn't not an option.

There was no time for that.

"Seamus?"

"Yes, yes. Be clear." He sighed, deeply. A sob seemed to teeter in his throat. He swallowed it and began. "Your father didn't leave the church, darling."

He nodded to himself. When he didn't stop—a needle stuck in a scratched groove—she chided him forward, "Is that all, Seamus?"

"Your mother was an angel. I'd have left the church had she set her green eyes upon me. Your father, though... his faith was strong. She was... sick." He waved his hand over a muddy expression. "You could see it in her eyes, the pain. Weakness. She came to confession weekly, sat in the back pew until your father took his station and went to confess her sins to him and him alone. He came to me once, you know. He consulted with me of his troubles. Never did he betray her confessions, mind you. But true love, darling, isn't a secret one can keep. Your mother loved him. He loved her, I can tell you."

"And he left the church."

Seamus nodded but wasn't answering her. He drained the cup and refilled it just out of the camera's eye. A door slammed somewhere in the research station. Karen was jerked back into her seat, suddenly aware of the strange smells and the stillness. Sweat chilled on her neck.

Something was dragging across the floor.

"I thought, perhaps, his trip to the Vatican was to seek guidance on his troubling decision."

Vatican? He'd never mentioned Italy.

"I should have known it was about something else. He was smart, lass. And courageous. The man had the backbone of a savage, and the heart..." He slugged back a swallow, didn't finish the sentence. Something lodged in his throat.

"What about the Vatican?"

"The Vatican. He had journeyed with your mother there. They travelled separately to avoid rumors. It was later they returned with the news that your father decided to leave the church. I knew otherwise, darling, but that would be the story given to the parishioners. Your father could no longer fulfill his promise to the church, his love too strong for your mother. Perhaps no one else took note, but I saw the truth the moment I laid eyes upon them. Your mother had been healed."

He paused, falling into the rhythm of memory.

"And your father had done something unforgivable."

"Unforgivable? Like heal my mother?"

"Aye." That he followed with a swallow.

"And that was unforgivable?"

The image of Seamus scattered on the monitor. The lights outside the office dimmed for a moment. Somewhere Rainne was cursing. Somewhere else, something was still dragging.

"And then they had you." He skipped ahead in the conversation. A smile brightened his sloppy face. "They loved you, Karen. More than life itself."

That was the Seamus Karen had known. The congregation only knew the Father O'Keefe that kept mass on time, the priest that organized bake sales and led Alcohol Anonymous meetings in the back of the church. Karen knew Seamus, the man that came over to root for the Patriots on Sunday, the man that left her presents on Christmas. The man that was like an uncle.

The man now shitfaced on the computer.

"They loved you, darling. I want you to know that. They did the things they did because they loved you more than their very own souls."

"What does this have to do with my father, Seamus?"

He sighed deeply, again. Looked into the cup.

"Seamus?"

"Your father made a deal, darling."

"What does that mean?"

"Your mother's accident."

"Yes?"

"You were with her."

She died when Karen was four years old. It was a dark period of her life, a scar that never healed. One day they were happy, the next alone. But Karen wasn't with her mother in that accident. Her mother had gone to the store and was t-boned on the bridge across from the bank. The car flipped upside-down and sank to the bottom. The window was open but her body never found.

Her father was following. He saw it all. She heard him tell the police when they came by the house the following week. But he didn't tell them about the accident. Just that she'd been missing. Where was I?

"I wasn't with her, Seamus." Her throat tightened. "I was with my father."

"You remember the accident?"

She remembered. The road was in front of her, the bridge up ahead. The radio playing old Rolling Stones... I can't get no...

The strange sensation of an invisible arm reaching through the windshield and grabbing her mother's chest, fingers sinking inside her, wrapping around her heart.

She yanked the wheel.

...satisfaction.

"Your father lost faith, darling." Seamus sounded sober. "God was going to let you die. But your father wasn't."

Something heavy fell outside the office. Steam hissed. Karen opened her coat to cool off.

"How do you know this, Seamus?"

"He loved you, darling."

"How do you know?"

"He wasn't going to let God take your mother. He sure as hell wasn't going to let him take you."

"Seamus!"

She shook with rage. Trembled in fear.

Seamus took a drink and looked down, unable to meet her eyes. "When your mother was sick, your father did not go to the Vatican to seek advice, darling. He went to save your mother. He had spoken to secret contacts, he learned of ancient texts hidden within the walled city. Texts that could summon powers beyond earthly reach. Powers that could steal. Powers that could heal."

Tracks of sweat streaked her cheeks.

"And when you had your accident, he brought you here, darling. He dumped the car into the river and brought you with your mother. It was too late for her, but not you. That was the day I learned of what he had done in the Vatican, the day I discovered the ancient texts still in his possession. It was the day I learned how he healed your mother."

He put his hand to his chest, then a fist between his teeth.

"It was not the accident that took your mother," he said. "Something was coming for her. It wanted something your father had stolen."

"What?"

"Something your father took from it to save your mother all those years ago."

"What is it?"

"He summoned something terrible to save her life, something unforgivable. Something the church wouldn't allow. Something God frowned upon."

"Speak clearly, goddamn you!"

"He sold his soul to save her. Perhaps I sold mine to help you."

He looked up, his eyes dreary with drink, tired beneath years of guilt.

"It wants it back, darling."

"What? It wants what?"

His lips trembled, an old man wilting before her eyes. She could feel the guilt seep through the monitor and wrap its cold, wet arms around her shoulders, sink its long teeth into her neck. They did it for me.

"What have you done?" she whispered.

An explosion shook the building.

Items fell off shelves, the monitor tipped over. The lights went down completely, leaving her in the black ink of a musty office. The monitor was dead. It was the last time she would ever see Seamus.

He was tapping his chest.

Karen continued holding onto the desk, afraid to move in case something had fallen in front of her. The temperature had risen almost fifty degrees. She thought it was her own fear that made the room so hot, but the research center was becoming an oven.

And the smell.

A rotten stench, an acrid tang of spoiled eggs and sulfur.

A dull orange glow was somewhere on the other side of the building. It outlined the sharp corners of temporary walls that crumpled in the explosion.

"Karen?" Rainne called.

"In here!"

Rainne came running from the left, her phone lighting the way into the office. "Where's Aimee?"

"What?"

"She's not in the truck."

"I've been in here."

"The door was open."

"She probably got cold—"

"Oh, God." Rainne looked out the office window. The orange was getting brighter. Her thoughts took her to a very bad place. What if she came looking for Rainne and ended up over there?

"Stay here," Rainne said.

"Bullshit."

"I don't know what the fuck happened. Stay here until I find out."

"I'm coming with you."

Rainne didn't have much fight in her, but she wasn't going to let Karen come along. If something happened to Aimee, Rainne wasn't planning on coming back. She'd find her or die trying. After talking to Seamus, Karen welcomed that idea.

Something was dragging again.

It was wet and limping. A form filled the open doorway and stalled. Rainne threw her phone's light on it.

Panic escaped in a shriek.

The coat had been shredded, downy feathers matted in wet streaks that dripped on the floor. The chest had been opened like a vault without hinges, the sharp edges of bone hanging on shreds of pink flesh.

Rainne backed into Karen. They got behind the desk.

The thing dropped one foot in a puddle that formed from fluid streaming out of the cavity that used to store lungs and a heart. The eyes were shut, the face swollen beyond recognition. The chin shivered in an effort to work. The tongue—plump and purple, the tip snipped off—jutted between its lips. It reached for them, not another step.

But it wasn't reaching.

It was pointing at Karen.

A spot heated between her breasts. As if a laser was burning a hole through her shirt, her pulse throbbing just below her breastbone. She covered it with both hands, felt the tug inside her chest.

Another step.

"Stop!" Karen shouted.

Rainne would assume she was talking to the thing nearing them. But Karen could feel a presence inside the body, some other thing that willed it forward. It was coming for her.

Karen doubled over in burning pain.

Rainne threw the computer monitor. The corner caught its temple. The head twisted and brought a slight bit of relief to the burning coal in Karen's shirt. But another wet step and it was back. It had them cornered.

She slumped to the floor.

Thump.

That was a new sound preceded by scuffling. Something wet cracked beneath a rigid object. It happened again and again. Thump, thump, thump.

And then a heavy bag slapped against the floor.

The thing was a man. His outstretched hand twitched on the concrete, still reaching for Karen. The burning had stopped. A pair of boots kicked his arm away.

Aimee stood over them, a bloody table leg in one hand.

"What the fuck is that?"

Rainne grabbed her and wept, then shook her for leaving the truck door open and scaring the shit out of her. Aimee never took her eyes off the bloody pulp still twitching on the floor. Rainne grabbed Karen and they backed away.

The chest had been torn open.

The heart was missing.

The fucking heart.

"Who is that?" Karen muttered.

"John," Rainne answered, distantly. "Never liked that piece of shit."

Aimee was about to agree when the second explosion hit.
Chapter 7

Tenuxtpi never doubted he would reunite with his promised mate. While he knew it would take time, and there would be many obstacles in his way, he was never without hope. Until now. He stood transfixed as demon after demon emerged from the crack in the earth. They pushed upward, hitting the barrier erected by the humans, and then retreating. Tenuxtpi whispered a prayer for the dome to hold, but his hopes were shattered as the demons surged upward again and then broke through the top. As they rose into the sky, the snow whirled around them, but not a single flake touched their charred, broken skin.

They drifted upward, invisible to human eyes, gathering like a flock of birds and hovering around the abyss. One by one, the demons turned, until their fiery eyes rested on a single point. The ground shook. Tenuxtpi heard a scream. He turned to the building he'd watched her enter only moments before.

She wasn't alone, though, which eased the panic in his heart. The Cthoggu might know where she was, but they couldn't harm her. His certainty wavered as the demon horde took flight. Their massive shadow melted the snow beneath it as they drifted toward the station. Tenuxtpi followed.

This was unlike the Cthoggu. They did not travel in hordes, and they certainly didn't attack when they might be seen. They couldn't manifest on the material realm in the presence of anyone other than their victim, but that would all change with the eclipse. Perhaps the storm provided enough cover. People would've scattered, searching for a safe place to hide until the danger passed. He imagined any number of humans might be stranded in this place, alone and unprotected.

As he reached the perimeter, he paused. If the Cthoggu attacked, what could he do? While he was powerful, Tenuxtpi was one being against a legion of demons and he was limited by the confines placed on his existence in this plane. True, the demons were limited as well, but as he watched them search the land surrounding the station, he realized they had a plan.

A dark figure swooped down from the hoard. Tenuxtpi heard the cry of a man. Another shadow dropped several feet from the first, and then another scream pierced the howling wind. The demons would rip out the hearts of every single human they found wandering alone, until the only one left was Karen. And then... Tenuxtpi shuddered. The moon was coming, and they knew he would act the second he was able to take human form. This was Zelial's chance to ensure Tenuxtpi never retrieved his love's heart.

Where was the wretched girl he'd enlisted as Karen's guard? Probably got herself stuck in a snowbank. Perhaps he had been too impulsive in his choice. He knew better than to allow desperation to guide his hand.

Tenuxtpi couldn't intervene now, but he could at least ensure Karen's safety until he could take human form. The woman accompanying her, Aimee he heard them call her, had sensed his presence. He heard her heartbeat slow as she searched for the presence following them. Tenuxtpi had retreated, believing they were safe in the station. He preferred to delay his first contact with the sensitive, but the Cthoggu gave him no other option.

Tenuxtpi drifted toward the door he'd watched them enter. A bright pink spot in the snow caught his eye as he approached the front of the building. He stopped.

Kneeling, Tenuxtpi examined the open chest, and the multiple rings on the slender fingers, now an inhuman bluish color. The nails were painted purple, with sparkly swirls at the tips. He sighed. Trisha. Blasted demons. Tenuxtpi closed his eyes and searched for the sensitive. He felt her fear as keenly as if it were his own. Perhaps it was his own. Tenuxtpi had no doubt the Cthoggu would not stop as long as the snow provided them cover. He latched onto Aimee's mind and used her emotions to pinpoint the location of his mate.

Tenuxtpi appeared in a hallway. The light was dim, as the only source came from small boxes close to the ceilings. These flickered as the mass exodus from the fissure caused the walls to shake.

He turned, focusing on the sensitive. A door across the hall flung open. Three figures emerged, all sprinting toward him. Tenuxtpi recognized his heart's mate at once and the temptation to touch her disrupted his focus. She was so close...

The woman leading the charge away from the door suddenly skidded to a halt and then turned. Her eyes locked with his, although Tenuxtpi knew she couldn't see him. He forced himself to ignore Karen and the demons, and urged the woman to run.

"What is it?" Karen turned as well, searching what he knew would appear as an empty hallway.

"I'm not sure."

"Do not leave her alone," Tenuxtpi whispered to Aimee. "Not for a second."

The woman backed away, a frown marring her otherwise pleasant features. "Come on," she said to her companions. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

A man cried out. The sound was muffled, but Tenuxtpi knew it came from one of the rooms along the hallway. He urged the woman to hurry, and told her they were safe in a group. Tenuxtpi hoped he was right.

As long as the demons exiting the crack in the earth were all Cthoggu, humans were in no danger if they stayed in groups. The problem with such an event was that any demon with enough gall to challenge Zelial could pass through the gates to this plane. Zelial might allow them passage, if it meant Tenuxtpi would be unable to retrieve his mate's heart. Not all demons faced the same limitations as Tenuxtpi and the Cthoggu.

Another rumble shook the walls, and Tenuxtpi heard a thump. It was followed by a dragging sound. The women froze as a shadow lumbered down the hall.

"Jesus," said the little one. "His heart's gone. Just like Cocker."

The man wore a suit, though the front was charred and bloody. He held out his hand, reaching toward Karen.

"They seem to like you," Aimee said to Karen.

"I feel so blessed."

Tenuxtpi stepped in front of the dead man, who probably had seconds before the Cthoggu released his body and moved on to another. "Run."

Aimee fought him for a moment, but Tenuxtpi would not be denied. He pushed harder. She looked at her friends and then the dead man. "Let's get out of here. Now."

Tenuxtpi shivered as the corpse passed through him. It shuffled a few more steps and then collapsed.

***

"What the actual fuck is going on?" Rainne screamed.

Aimee could barely hear her over the howling of the wind and the constant shaking of the ground. Her head throbbed. Something had been in the hall with them. She knew it would sound ridiculous if she told Rainne or Karen, but she was as certain of the presence as she was of her own heartbeat. It wanted her to protect Karen, but why?

They reached the main doors and Aimee braced herself for the gust of wind that would accompany the opening of said doors.

"When I pull these open," Aimee said. "You guys run to the truck. Don't look back. Don't stop for anything. Just run. Lock yourselves inside."

"We can't go anywhere in this shit." Rainne argued. "The truck is probably buried already."

"You saw those bodies. I'd rather face a snow storm than whatever's running around murdering people in here."

Karen rubbed her arms. "I forgot my coat."

"Of course you did." Aimee wanted to tell her to suck it up, but knew the poor girl would freeze to death before they reached the truck.

"I'll go back with her to get it," Rainne volunteered. "It'll take us two seconds."

"Famous last words." Aimee said.

Rainne patted Aimee's jacket. "You brought your gun. I recall someone promising to leave it at home."

"Good thing I didn't."

"Give it to me then. We'll get Karen's coat and I'll make sure nothing rips anything from anyone's chest."

The presence was back in Aimee's head, telling her not to let Karen out of her sight. "I don't think we should split up."

"We're not in a horror movie."

"No? Tell that to the mangled corpse back there."

"Scared?"

"Fuck yes, I'm scared. Cocker went all zombie on us, and then suit guy shuffles in. While I'm pretty sure they're both dead, there could be others stuck here who might not go down as easily. I'm not waiting here by myself and I'm not letting you two out of my sight."

"You could go to the truck ahead of us." Rainne said. "Clear it off and get it running. Whoever's in here isn't going to follow you out into a blizzard."

Aimee didn't know why, but something inside her said that'd be a worse idea. She knew somehow that they had to stick together, and no one should be alone. "We go back together."

"Sorry," Karen said.

"Don't know why you took the damn thing off in the first place." Aimee snapped.

"It was warm and I didn't think there'd be a mass murder today!"

"Whatever. Let's go."

Aimee stomped away from the door.

"My lovely girlfriend," Rainne said. "Has control issues. Don't let her bitchiness bother you. This isn't your fault. She's just scared."

"So am I."

"Panicking only makes things worse."

Aimee looked back. They were several feet behind her. "Would you two hurry the fuck up?"

Though she wanted to run, Aimee slowed her pace to a jog. She watched the doorways as they passed, and almost tripped over the body of a guard. His chest was open, the heart gone. Guards usually traveled in pairs. Where was his partner? Probably lurking behind them or something. Aimee fought the urge to turn around again.

They passed the suit a few feet from where they'd left him. He lay face down in the middle of the hall, hand still outstretched and curled into a grasp.

"Shit," Rainne said as they reached the door to her office. "Must be more than one guy. No way a single man leaves this much carnage behind."

"It's not a man," Aimee said. "I don't know how I know that, but I do."

"It's a woman?"

Aimee scowled. "I mean whatever killed them is not human."

"Not this shit again," Rainne groaned.

"I can do without the patronizing tone."

"I'll just run in," Karen said. "I know where I left it. You guys... talk or something."

A pressure pierced the back of Aimee's head. She shook it off. "No. You can't go in alone."

"Okay, Mom," Rainne said. "You go with her. I'll guard the door."

"No one is safe alone."

"And I'm not going to run in there and get trapped by zombies. I'll stay out here, where you can see me through the windows, by the way, and make sure we don't get surrounded."

A whisper drifted through Aimee's mind. It told her Rainne would be okay. What mattered was protecting Karen. She nodded. "Fine. But you get the hell in here and lock the door if shit gets real."

"I'd say it's already as real as shit gets."

Aimee smiled. Rainne could take care of herself. She always did. Karen pushed the door open and Aimee followed her inside. The office was dark. They felt their way through, stumbling over chairs and computer equipment, until Aimee heard Karen's soft sigh.

"Got it," Karen said.

"Good. Now let's—"

The sound of Rainne's scream stopped Aimee's heart for a millisecond. She didn't pause to worry about Karen, or to listen to the voice that insisted she stay right where she was. Aimee rushed to the door. Something struck her shin, but she ignored the fiery pain that blossomed down her leg.

"Wait!" Karen called.

Aimee flung the door open, but Rainne was gone. "Rainne!"

"What happened?" Karen joined her in the doorway.

Aimee shook her head. She walked into the hall. A shadow moved a few feet away. Aimee walked toward it. "Rainne?"

The shadow drew closer, and Aimee saw the outstretched hand.

"Jesus," Karen breathed. "Oh my God."

"Her." Rainne shuffled forward.

Aimee stepped in front of Karen. She didn't know why. Her chest burned for Rainne, whose own chest was an empty cavity. She should be furious with Karen. If not for her fucking coat they'd be in the truck. Probably stuck in some snowbank freezing their asses off, but Rainne wouldn't be a walking corpse. Instead, every instinct said to keep Karen safe.

"Her." Rainne repeated.

Aimee blinked back the tears that blurred her vision. She backed into the office, forcing Karen to retreat as well. Rainne continued forward.

The voice in Aimee's head urged her to put Rainne out of her misery. It pushed through her resistance, insisting it wasn't Rainne anymore. Aimee pulled her gun from her jacket pocket. Slowly, keeping her eye on Aimee's advancing corpse, she lifted her arm. Sorrow and fury mingled in her chest. Whatever did this would pay.

"Her." Rainne's eyes locked on Karen, but they were cold. Lifeless. Her voice wasn't the same either. It was rough, as though something else spoke through her.

Aimee's hand shook, but she managed to keep the gun trained on Rainne's face. "Don't make me do this."

Rainne didn't seem to hear her. She advanced, oblivious to the blood oozing from her chest. "The one."

"Karen, get back." Aimee said.

"She's already dead. You don't have to—"

Rainne lunged. Aimee squeezed the trigger. She closed her eyes as Rainne's head whipped back.

"Ohmygodohmygod." Karen's whispered chant forced Aimee to open her eyes.

Rainne lay on the floor, arm straight out.

"Got your fucking coat?" Aimee asked. She couldn't look at Rainne's face.

"Uh... yeah?"

"Let's go then."
Chapter 8

Karen shoved against the door, fearing at first that something was pushing back against it. It was just the wind though, and it whipped the heavy fire door out of her hands when it suddenly changed direction. Aimee pushed past her, gun held out in front, one arm up to ward off the snow.

"Come on!"

Karen darted after her, suddenly sure the wind would change again, trapping her inside the complex alone. In her hurry she tripped, falling into snow that was ankle deep even in the relatively sheltered annex of the DARPA facility.

She looked up to see Aimee looking down at her with barely concealed contempt. "Will you get your shit together?" she snapped.

"You think I'm doing this on purpose? Jesus Christ, I just lost my best..." Karen stopped herself, but too late.

Aimee's face was unreadable. "Yeah, you lost your buddy. That's rough, alright." The shorter woman grabbed the scruff of Karen's coat and hauled her to her feet. "You seem like a swell gal, Karen. Rainne liked you and that makes you okay in my book. But I just had to shoot the woman I love in the fucking face, so here's what you're going to do, okay? You're going to shut up. We're going to get to the truck, we're going to get far away from here, and then I'm going to crawl into a bottle and not come out again until the world stops being a prick. You copy?"

Karen nodded, the tears on her face already beginning to freeze.

"Grab onto my arm."

Karen dug her fingers deep into Aimee's jacket and the two women trudged through the dark, heads turning from side to side as they checked the shadows around them. The truck, barely thirty feet away, seemed to take an age to reach.

They got in, slamming the doors behind them, Aimee taking the driver's seat. She put the heater on full blast and for a while the women sat in shocked silence, gasping while they watched the harsh storm unfurl.

"I'm sorry," Karen said. "Rainne was... I just can't believe what's happening."

Aimee didn't reply. Karen noticed she kept the gun on her lap. "You don't believe what's happening, huh?" Aimee said.

Karen frowned. She didn't know Aimee very well, and had trouble reading her tone. "No, I..."

"Yeah, it's all pretty unbelievable, I'll give you that. Being chased around by some John Carpenter fuckers? This is some late-night-cable crazy bullshit. You know what's really weird, though?" Aimee pointed the gun at Karen's chest. "What's really weird is I just lost the only woman I ever really loved, and all I can think about is making sure that you're safe. You want to tell me why that is, Karen?"

Karen tried to keep the quiver from her voice. "Jesus, Aimee. I don't know what's happening any more than you do! Will you point that thing somewhere else?"

Aimee didn't move. Didn't blink. Karen looked into her eyes. Aimee didn't seem angry anymore, just deeply sad.

"Aimee, please. I don't know what you mean."

Aimee put the gun away. "I believe you. Wouldn't have shot you anyway. —It's the strangest thing, I get panic attacks just thinking about you being in trouble. Now, I ain't the maternal type, and no offense to you but you're not the kind of gal I normally go for. But, right now? Right now the thought of you being out of my sight makes me physically ill. Ain't that something?"

Karen shrugged. "It's probably just psychological. We've both just been through some traumatic..."

"Nah," said Aimee. "It's something else. Like there's something riding on my shoulder. Something just as fucked up as those Carpenter freaks out there. I can feel it."

Karen turned the truck's radio on, fiddling with the dial to search for something other than static. "You can't be sure of that," she muttered.

"Rainne ever tell you I'm psychic?"

Karen stopped herself before she rolled her eyes. "She mentioned you read tea-leaves for old people. Talk to their dead husbands and stuff."

"Oh yeah, sure, I do that. But that's not what I mean. You think I wouldn't have my own private island by now if I could read the future and talk to dead folk? No. I'm psychically sensitive, is what I mean. I see things, feel things, that other people can't. Or won't. Got it from my momma. She was Roma. Died in a nut house by the time I was twelve."

"Fuck, Aimee, do you think I'm not freaked out enough right now?"

"Hold on, I ain't telling you this for kicks, 'kay? I'm telling you this because I know for a fact that you're not seeing what I'm seeing right now."

Karen searched Aimee's face, but the woman just stared blankly through the windshield. "What?"

Aimee said nothing, just nodded to the empty space in front of the truck. She flicked on the truck's headlights.

Karen jumped. "Holy shit!"

"You see it?"

Karen scanned the stretch of snow in the headlights. There was nothing there, of course, but for a moment...

"Just like something in the corner of your eye, wasn't it? You look and it's not there anymore. It's still there, you know."

All of a sudden Karen felt dizzy, nauseous, the insanity of the day hitting her all at once. "Fuck, Aimee, there's nothing there. It was just a trick of the... I don't know...there's nothing there."

"Here," Aimee took off her glove. "Take my hand."

Karen hesitated.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to sing to you." Aimee smiled, but Karen noticed she didn't take her eyes off the windshield. Not for a second.

Swallowing, Karen entwined her fingers with Aimee's and looked out the window. "I don't..." She startled so suddenly it was like she had been electrocuted. "Oh God!"

There was something crouched in the circle of light, something so hulking and obvious and alien it was baffling she had ever missed it. Something that looked like the tortured offspring of a bear and a tapeworm, with sickly rubber skin, and meaty, bulbous limbs. Something that had a face that was really no more than a mouth, a lamprey-like circle of razored teeth. The thing crouched, it's only motion a flicking of its barbed tail.

Almost as soon as she looked at it, Karen had trouble focusing on the beast. She could look at a leg, or the tail, or the teeth, but could not take in the whole thing at once. As hard as she stared, the thing seemed to flicker from her view, as though her eyes didn't want to see it.

"What is it, oh God, Aimee, what is it?"

Aimee shook her head slowly. "Fucked if I know."

"I can't... focus on it. It's like..."

"It's not really there? It's not. Sorta. It doesn't exist on our level. It's on a different plane."

"Can it harm us?"

Aimee thought for a moment. "I don't think so. It looks like it can see us. Sense us, I guess. But I don't think it can do anything."

"Why not?"

Aimee frowned, an idea forming in her head unbidden. "As long as we're not alone. It can't manifest if we're not alone."

"Is it still there? I can't see it."

Aimee shook her head again. "It's leaving. Like it spotted something else. We need to get out of here. We should go where there are people. Any suggestions?"

Karen thought. "The school. The gym's the closest thing we've got to a community center. If there's an emergency people will either stay in their homes or head there."

"Okay." Aimee held up her pistol. "Can you use one of these things?"

Karen took the gun, cocked it and tested the sight. "I prefer a rifle, myself."

"I'll take that as a yes." Aimee started the truck, temporarily drowning out the noise of the wind with its roar. "We're going to take it nice and easy. The last thing we need is to fishtail this thing into a ditch."

Before she could put the truck into gear there was a sudden flickering light.

"What the-?"

A Sheriff's truck rolled into view, lights painting the snow around it patriotic red and blue. It was rolling, slowly, and did so until it collided with the side of the DARPA facility with a crunch and a brief mournful blare of its siren. Karen stared in disbelief, trying to see who was driving. It looked as though the driver window was blacked out, sort of like...

"Oh god, that's blood. The whole damned cab is full of blood!"

Both women watched in mute horror as the police vehicle's door swung open and something bulky and wet flopped onto the snow and stood up. From the waist down, the trooper looked completely normal, with his regulation pants and snow boots, but everything from the belt up was a surrealist nightmare. The upper torso blossomed out like an exotic flower, broken rib shards erupting in every compass direction. A soaking mess of bulging organ and ruined skin draped from the thing's shoulders like an overcoat, and as it walked toward the truck it wobbled from side to side in a mad drunken stumble.

"Holy shit," Aimee mumbled. "It knows we're here. How can it know we're here?"

Karen desperately tried to stay on top of the rising fountain of panic in her belly. "Did that other thing tell it? Let it know where we are?"

Aimee frowned again as she stumbled over alien ideas in her head. "No. It's controlling it. It couldn't get us, so it made this... puppet."

One of the thing's arms, boneless as a tentacle, shot out, and Karen felt a now familiar burning sensation. She clutched at her chest with her free hand. "Oh fuck, it's hurts! It hurts!"

"Hang on!" Aimee roared. She put the truck into gear and stomped on the gas. Acceleration was slow coming as the tires spun.

"Come on, you whore!" Aimee screamed. "I know you can do this!"

The truck suddenly lurched forward and Aimee spun the wheel hard. The truck's back end skidded out and slapped the Carpenter thing, driving it into the snow in an explosion of gore.

Aimee let out a whoop of victory and steered the truck into the night. Karen breathed heavily as the pain in her chest subsided to a tingle. She checked the rearview mirror. The dark lump in the snow did not move.

"You okay?" said Aimee.

Karen nodded. "I think so."

"What is it they want with you? I swear to God, Karen, if there's something you're not telling me..."

"No! Father O' Keefe didn't make any damned sense. I don't have any answers."

She recalled the old man tapping his chest. She opened up her coat, pulled her sweater outwards and looked between her tits. There was no mark, no bruise, nothing to indicate the crippling pain she had felt only a few moments ago. "Those fuckers want my heart."

"You and everyone else, doll."

"What if it's me they're after? Remember what Rainne said?"

"That wasn't Rainne." Aimee clamped her mouth shut, and Karen knew better than to push it.

"It doesn't matter," Karen said. "Let's just get where there's people. Somebody will know what to do."

In the distance she could make out an electric glow on the horizon. The high school had a pretty good generator. Whatever they had to face, Karen consoled herself that they wouldn't have to face it in the dark.
Chapter 9

The red flashing icon reflected off the watery eyes of the young man in front of the computer. After clearing his throat, he tilted his head and said, "Sir, we've lost contact with the Point Hope site."

"Fuck," muttered Jim Bryson. He'd only been the director of the Adaptive Execution Office (AEO) within DARPA for 8 months. He knew going in that it was the sort of appointment that burned a person up. The human body simply wasn't built for this type of stress. Most people went a year, maybe two, and then put in for full retirement. Jim thought of it like a candle burning brightly just before the end.

One man lasted in the position for two and half years and then collapsed dead of a massive heart attack in nearly the same spot Jim was currently standing. He had no intentions to die in this position. He had too many fish yet to catch in what he hoped was a long and blissful retirement. Days like this made him wonder if he would make it that long.

The AEO was set up as a sort of 'Hail-Mary' group within DARPA. If there was a possibility of world-changing technology and it came with a tight timeline, the AEO took the ball and ran with it. Many of the projects never panned out, but the ones that did were epic.

Ten years ago it was the AEO that solved the riddle of global climate control by using rigged explosions deep inside volcanic chains to create atmospheric chain reactions. They found out that you could, essentially, float chemicals just above the volcano and then during a release those very chemicals were spewed all over the globe which started reactions capable of actually absorbing CO2, methane, or anything else if the right chemicals were used. With this procedure the AEO was able to quickly change the ratio of atmospheric gasses. Goodbye uncontrolled climate change.

Jim still wasn't entirely sure what was going on in Point Hope, but they had determined it was some sort of a dimensional rift. If they could learn how to access that rift and take control of it, it would literally open new worlds to explore. It was a real world version of Baxter and Pratchett's classic novel The Long Earth and everyone was very excited about the possibilities.

Well, they had been excited, up until everyone started dying a few hours ago and Jim had personally come down to the office in the middle of the night to watch events unfold. He knew he'd sent these folks to their death. The least he could do was lose sleep over it.

"Do we know what happened?" Jim growled.

"We have confirmed deaths of at least 14 researchers but suspect much higher. Someone was still accessing the servers when we got the last batch of data. All our readings started spiking. The output of the rift soared well beyond anything we've seen before."

Jim's head snapped up. "How much higher was the output? Do we have that data?"

"At the moment of last data transfer, just before we lost the feed, it was 23 times higher than our previous highest reading with no signs of slowing down."

This was the moment he'd been hoping for. He had watched the waves crash at the beach long enough to know that after a large crash, the surf draws itself back out to sea. The loss of life was regrettable, but not unexpected. This project was finally entering its endgame. Jim was actually relieved. He wasn't sure if his plan would work. At least this fucking project would end.

"Leave."

"Sir?"

Jim spoke very calmly. "Get up from your station and take a walk. Grab a Hot-Pocket. Play some Playstation 6. I don't care. I need the room. Inform the rest of the team if you see them."

The young man stood and walked out. He wasn't accustomed to working so closely with the director, but he wasn't about to question orders.

After watching the door close, Jim locked it remotely with the voice command and began drafting his message to his superiors.

Sirs,

It is happening at the present. The rift is expelling great amounts of energy. We don't yet know what that energy is, but it isn't the point of this operation. One constant that we know in the universe is that when one thing goes out, other things go in. I am readying the strike team. All personnel at the Point Hope facility are deemed KIA. The strike team will make its way to the rift and once the exhale ends, the great inhale should draw them into the rift and we will finally know. We will have achieved dimensional travel. It's still unclear if the rift will accept physical matter, but the team has a full array of devices to send every type of wave we can muster into the crack in space. It's time to quit fucking around.

I am scaling this team at HQ down to the bare bones. Knowledge of this strike team is need to know and, obviously, carries an Ultra Top-Secret classification.
Chapter 10

Aimee pushed the truck past its limits. Every time they came around a corner her foot smashed the gas pedal down so hard that the torque caused the frame to twist as the beast lurched toward the school.

"Crashing on the way to the shelter isn't going to help anyone," Karen added.

The corner of Aimee's mouth twisted in a wicked grin. "It very well may help someone. I mean, something really wants you dead."

"Don't be a bitch".

Aimee took another corner and had to slow down to avoid the debris in the road. "Just relax, I don't crash. I have been known to field test safety restraints, though." She looked around the dark street while weaving through the abandoned cars. Many of them had dark splatters over the windshield. "Jesus. This place went to shit quickly."

Karen was chewing on her bottom lip, watching the lights from the school gym get steadily closer. She hadn't realized when she had done it, but she was clutching Aimee's hand as if she would drift off otherwise. "We need to know more about the researchers. They caused this. I just know it."

"I don't think this is the kind of thing that government goons can cause, honey. This is some biblical shit. Maybe they unleashed it or something. Or maybe all those whack jobs on late night TV are right and my box munching ways have finally summoned Cthulhu to wipe my stain from the earth".

Karen smiled, knowing Aimee didn't buy into that garbage, but it did get her thinking. If the government had somehow unleashed whatever this was, maybe they knew how to put the genie back in the bottle. Or at least stuff a cork in it to stop the bleeding.

"The school is just ahead. Go up three blocks and turn right. The main entrance is on the side of the building." With that approach Karen would get an idea of how many people were inside as well.

The road ahead was clear, so Aimee sped up as the old truck twisted itself yet again. As they rounded the corner, the giant wall of windows of the gym became visible. The windows were meant to allow the great room to be lit naturally, taking full advantage of the extra Alaskan sunshine during the summer. Tonight they just made it easier to see the gore.

The truck slowed down as the fog fell away and they both took in the scene. The generator was obviously still running, but they didn't see anyone alive. The windows were splashed with blood. They could see bodies on the inside and outside of the building and they all seemed to sport that trendy ragged hole in their chests.

Oddly, none of the bodies were close together. They all appeared to be separated by a space of five to eight feet, but never closer. Karen squeezed Aimee's hand harder and Aimee squeezed back.

"We're going inside. At least the building still has power. Maybe we can call and get help."

Aimee drove the truck right up to the doors and shut it off. The old thing coughed and shuttered and finally came to rest. Aimee patted the dash the way you'd say 'good boy' to a trusted old hound and then turned to Karen. "Do you think anyone is alive?"

"I don't know. It's a big building. People could be hiding anywhere they think is safe." Karen stared through the blood-stained windows, hoping to see movement.

Aimee was looking to make sure none of the creatures were around. She closed her eyes.

"What are you doing?" Karen asked.

"Just... concentrating. Reaching out, you know."

Karen frowned. "What, like, with your mind powers?"

Aimee sighed. "Christ, Karen, don't say it like that, you make me sound like a fucking comic book. I just think that I might be able to sense these things."

"You can really do that?"

Aimee opened her eyes and shrugged. "If you'd ask me that yesterday I would have said 'yes, definitely' and then charged you ten dollars to speak with Elvis. Today? Today, I'm not sure. But it feels... okay, I think. If those things are around, then they aren't nearby."

Karen released her hand and reached for the door handle. Aimee grabbed her hand back, "Listen, we're getting out of this truck on the same side. I'm not risking anything here. Just slide right over and we'll both go out on this side. That way we're not between the brick wall and the truck and I can go out first." Aimee pointed at the big, industrial brown gymnasium doors. "We can go straight inside this way."

Karen began sliding her butt across the cracked vinyl of the bench seat. The door squealed its displeasure and the pair slipped out.

As soon as Aimee was out she could feel it. It was almost like a smell, something she noticed but couldn't see or touch. It was just there, suddenly all around her. And it felt horrible.

"Inside, now. We can't stay out here." Aimee squinted but wasn't sure if she saw movement at the edge of the fog or if it was just the wind swirling around itself. Either way, she wasn't taking any chances. She swung the gym door open and forced Karen inside.

The smell hit her first. Karen had expected the smell of death, but what washed over her was the overpowering scent of metal. The bodies were too fresh to begin decaying, but the heating system in the building was at least partially active and that warm, recirculated air was heavy with the iron-like smell of blood. Once inside they could see it on almost everything.

"Good lord. There's so much", Karen whispered.

"Yeah. The hearts are gone, but a heart only holds ten ounces of blood or so. That leaves about one hundred and fifty ounces in every body...or from everybody, as the case may be." Aimee lifted her boot out of a slowly advancing pool of blood. "Where are they taking the hearts, do you think? Eating them?"

Karen didn't respond. She was focused on the small hand clinging to the open door frame on the opposite side of the gym. A little girl was peeking out. Karen turned to point her out to Aimee just as an adult came up from behind the child and waved them on. "Come on, hurry! They might come back!"

Aimee was about to protest, but Karen dragged her along. To avoid causing them both to slip in the blood, Aimee had to run with Karen across the bloody floor. She didn't get a sense that the direction they were headed was a bad one, so that was good enough for her. She was happy to meet up with other people, she just didn't inherently trust people in general.
Chapter 11

The old man squinted into the blowing snow. What little could be seen of his face was creased with wrinkles. Ikpariksarpok was his name, and he was proud of it. Parik was what most people called him, and he cared but little; after all, he knew his name. Ancient beyond measure, even he did not know the year of his birth, but his youngest son had been almost ten years old when the soldiers came to Point Hope during the Second World War to build the airfield. Few outside the Inupiat people would believe him and he didn't care.

Parik had tired of all the commotion caused by the newcomers, and simply left to go hunting to get away from it. When the snowstorm hit, he had taken shelter in an old hut built of whalebone; such emergency shelters dotted the tundra, and many were even older than he was. It was late in the year for a storm of this magnitude, but he had seen worse. Cozy in the shelter, he had actually enjoyed it for the first day. Then the dreams came. His people were in danger. Parik knew he had to return, and swiftly, in spite of the elements.

The old man sighed. His grandfather had been a shaman, and had intended for Parik to eventually take his place. The training had all been in vain, however, because the life of a husband and father seemed much more attractive to the youth. Besides, what need was there for a shaman in the modern world? He shook his head. So much of the old ways were gone. So much knowledge forgotten. The worst part was that none of the younger ones even cared.

To keep his mind off the path that led to 'maybe they deserve whatever they get', the old man focused on his surroundings. The wind kept the tundra swept almost clean of snow, with the exception of mountainous drifts between ten and twenty feet high that he was forced to walk around. Parik grunted. His way was almost twice as long as it would have been without them, and he needed to hurry. The dreams had been disturbing. There was conflict in the spirit world, and that conflict was spilling over into this one. Somehow, the new teacher was in the center of it all. The Inupiat would have shunned the white woman, but Parik had spoken for her. She was touched by the spirit world, and therefore special. His people had trusted him, and now they were in danger. He felt responsible. Parik quickened his pace. His real name, Ikpariksarpok, means He who puts things in order. He certainly hoped he could do just that.

***

Parik stopped in his tracks. The wind carried a strange odor. He squinted. It was almost as if vinegar had been poured on hot iron. The smell was faint, but the old man knew it wasn't his imagination. He looked down at the rifle in his hands. He had won the worn, battered M1 Garand in a card game from one of the soldiers back in 1944. The 30-06 would be useless against whatever he faced. With a sigh, he slung the rifle over his left shoulder. With a determined gleam in his eyes, he reached behind him to his pack. Fumbling for a moment with the ties, he finally pulled free a spruce shaft tipped with what appeared to be a crudely forged iron spear head. His grandchildren's children made fun of him for carrying the spear with him on his hunting trips. They didn't know its power. The tip was not iron, though it was malleable when heated like that metal. Unlike iron or steel, however, a magnet would not stick to it. It was star metal, part of a meteorite that had fallen when Parik was a small boy.

Before him came a wet, slapping sound. Visibility was horrible, but the old man knew what he heard was close by. He closed his eyes, and recited a few words in his native tongue. When he opened them, the world looked different. Lines of power, invisible to normal human sight, illuminated the snow filled sky. Revealed also, was a sight that Parik would have described as a creature from a nightmare, but no human mind could conjure up such an image. Obscene, the rubbery, almost shapeless thing carried itself on fat appendages. The old man's teeth clenched in a grimace. The abomination had no real face, just a gaping mouth filled with absurdly long, needle-like teeth. Above that frightful mouth was a long, narrow appendage that looked like something between a trunk, and a limb. At the end of this horror were sharp, almost scissor like... claws? Teeth? A single eye stared at the old man with a hatred that could almost be felt.

"Seal shit." Things were bad indeed, if such as this walked the world. Most men would have been frozen in terror, but Parik felt no fear. He would die, or he wouldn't.

Moving much faster than the old man ever would have guessed, the creature suddenly charged him. Parik raised his arm, and with all his strength, hurled the spear.

His weapon flew true. The spear struck the creature right in that wretched eye, and sank deep. The abomination screamed. There was no sound audible to human ears, but the old man could feel it in his bones. The blob from hell writhed in agony, mushy appendages slapping the ground with wet, nasty sounds like two morbidly obese lovers having sex in a vat of motor oil.

Sickened, the old man watched as the horrible thing burst into flames. Bluish flames that gave off no heat. When the flames guttered out, the creature was gone without a trace.

Parik retrieved his spear. Strangely, it was unscathed; the flames had not damaged it at all. The old man grunted. He turned and began trudging toward Point Hope as fast as he could, considering the weather conditions. Barely ten yards later he came to another stop. His breathing was suddenly labored, and there was a searing pain in his chest. "Shit. Only guy that can stop the end of the goddamn world, and he has a fucking heart attack."

The old man ripped off a heavy glove, and reached under his seal skin parka. He pulled out a battered rectangular tin. He popped it open, and removed a tiny pill, that he quickly placed under his tongue. As Parik closed the tin, he saw the words "Curiously strong mints" printed on the lid. He chuckled. He was a bit curious about two things, and they had nothing to do with mints. Would he live long enough to get to Point Hope? And, if he did, would he get there in time?

***

The storm grew worse as the old man neared the town. The wind buffeted him, but he stoically continued on. At least he felt a little better. His chest was still tight, and his breathing was more labored than he would like it to be, but at least he hadn't dropped dead in his tracks. He needed to rest someplace warm, and some hot food would do more good than anything, but he had a bad feeling that both would have to wait.

The complex the scientists erected was a vague blur through the blowing snow. Parik cursed that he had to circle around it; more time lost. Something about the main structure seemed "off" to him. The old man narrowed his eyes even more than they already were. Summoning his spirit sight only made him curse again.

"Damn fools! Messing with things that should be left the hell alone!" He spat.

Once, he had heard someone use the expression "best to let sleeping dogs lie," but this was more like slapping a sleeping polar bear on the ass.

"The fucking idiots have opened up a gateway to hell," he muttered.

There was nothing he could do. He had not the strength to close the rift. Perhaps forty years ago, but not now. Parik shook his head. With a particularly vehement string of profanity, he swung around the compound. He had to think of his people first; if it were not already too late.

The town appeared to be completely dark. The power must be out everywhere, not just at the stupid compound. Then the old man saw a dim glow in the distance. He grinned. The school was not only the most prominent building in town, it was also the only one with a backup generator. At least Parik now had a specific destination. There was a wet, slapping sound ahead of him that was barely audible over the shriek of the wind. The old man gripped his spear a bit tighter, and summoned the spirit sight again. Three of the abominations appeared before him. His upper lip raised in a feral snarl, as a growl sounded deep within his throat. The creatures from hell actually backed away, before they winked out of sight.

"You bastards had better fear me!" Parik shouted. Brave words from a tired old man that barely had the strength to do much more than stay on his feet.

***

Karen followed the little girl down the hall past the cafeteria. She kept a firm grip on Aimee's hand, who seemed to follow her reluctantly. The familiar halls of the school seemed different somehow. Less welcoming, almost sinister. Maybe it was because the emergency generator only powered a quarter of the lights, but even the hollow sound of their footsteps seemed foreboding. Karen shook her head. It was like being trapped in a bad dream. Only this was one nightmare that she couldn't escape.

Her guides finally came to a double doorway and the young woman darted inside without hesitation. The little girl smiled and waved her on. The room was a large unused classroom that Karen had never been in before. Her own class was on the other side of the building, and she seldom ventured this way. Before she could walk in, an old woman suddenly blocked the entrance. Karen didn't know her name, but everybody in town called the eighty-some year old, "Grandmother." The old gal gave Karen a three toothed smile and bid her come in with her hand. She halted Aimee with the same hand, held out like a traffic cop. She squinted her rheumy eyes at the younger woman, and Karen could have sworn she actually sniffed the air.

Finally, she gave a satisfied nod, and gestured for Aimee to come inside.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Aimee whispered to Karen.

Her only answer was a confused shrug.

Karen glanced around the room. There must have been thirty people inside, all of them Inupiat, and most of them children. She wondered if this was all that was left of Point Hope. Were there any other survivors of whatever the hell was going on? It was uncomfortably warm, and the smell of sweat was heavy in the air. She also smelled smoke, and thought for a moment that they had inexplicably set a fire in the room. Then she saw an oil lamp burning. Sitting on one of the metal framed plastic chairs so ubiquitous in older schools, was a clam shell filled with whale oil. The burning wick gave off not only a feeble light, but much more heat than it should have.

Someone handed her a battered old Winchester Model 94 rifle and she accepted it gratefully. Her father had carried one just like it, and the familiar shape in her hands lent some comfort.

"So, what do we do now?" Aimee asked of her.

"Fuck if I know," she answered. "I'm going to run down the hall to the restroom, before I even try to think about what comes next."

She turned to do just that, when the little girl that had led them to this place grabbed her arm.

"No! You must not go anywhere!" She pointed to a drywall bucket in the corner. "Use that if you really need to."

Karen decided that she really didn't need to piss so bad after all, and plopped herself into one of the plastic chairs with a sigh. The little girl deposited herself next to her, and Aimee reluctantly sat on her other side.

"I guess now we wait."

Aimee suddenly shrieked, as the door flew open. Karen almost shouldered the 30-30, but recognized the figure that staggered inside. She gave her friend a reassuring pat on the knee. "No worries, he's cool."

The old man looked horrible. Snow was plastered to his sealskin parka, and Karen wondered how far he had walked in this shitty ass storm.

"Is that a fucking spear?" Aimee blurted. Karen ignored her, sometimes it was impossible to explain the Inupiat; they did what they did.

The woman known as Grandmother rushed to his side, and helped him out of his parka, scolding him in her native tongue, but with relief in her eyes.

Aimee chuckled. "Must be her husband."

The little girl beside Karen gave a belly laugh, such as only a child can pull off. "That's not her husband, dipshit, that's her father."

"That's impossible!"

The child laughed some more, and held up her hands in an "I don't give a damn what you think," expression. Aimee seriously wanted to slap the little shit, but decided it was too much effort. Karen chuckled, she had learned a long time ago that the Inupiat were an enigmatic people, and not to question things like that. Point Hope was one of the oldest continuously inhabited human settlements on earth, so there were bound to be a few mysteries involved that fell into the weird shit category.

The old man, whose name Karen couldn't pronounce if her feet were held to a fire, warmed himself by the tiny oil flame. He looked a bit better, but still had a yellowish tinge to his skin Karen didn't like. He took a deep breath and turned to look at her. Straight at her. Karen felt as if he was looking into her soul, and it was unnerving as hell. She did her best to meet his eye.

***

Parik sighed. His spirit sight immediately saw why the outlander was at the center of this. He briefly considered simply thrusting his spear through her heart; it would sure put an end to everything. But he could not bring himself to commit such an act. The woman was innocent. What tied her to the spirit world was not of her doing. The person responsible had been misguided, and foolish beyond belief, but Parik believed that it had been done with love. The tightness in his chest grew worse. This earthly vessel he was contained in was too weak, and frail to do what needed to be done. There was only one way he could save his people, and hopefully this woman with them. He needed to shed the constraints of his tired old body. He said a few words to his daughter in his native language. She started to argue, but the look of determination in his eyes made her halt in mid-sentence.

Karen grew a little nervous when the old man picked up his spear, and approached her. He didn't seem threatening, just sad. He reached for her hand, and she allowed him to take it.

"This may sting a little, but I mean you no harm," he said quietly.

"What the hell?" Aimee shouted, as the old man nicked Karen's wrist with the crude spear point.

"It's okay, just relax," Karen said, even though her heart was pounding.

Parik took some of Karen's blood, and rubbed it on the spear shaft. He then made a small slice in his own flesh, and then added his blood to hers. Holding the spear horizontally in both hands, the old man presented it to her with a bow. Karen accepted it with some reluctance.

"Thank you?"

The old man smiled gently. "You will need this soon. Only it can protect you. Be strong. Fill the emptiness in your heart with love. I go to put things in order. I will do what I can to save you and my people."

He walked over and gave his daughter a kiss on the top of her head. Tears in her eyes, she fled to the other side of the room and curled up in the corner. Parik smiled grimly at his people and nodded.

He sat cross legged on the floor and began to sing. The flame of the oil lamp suddenly shot up in a brilliant burst and the old man simply stopped breathing and fell over.

Karen jumped up and ran to his side. "Oh my god, he's dead!"

***

Parik took one last look at those in the room. The sight of a spirit was much different from the living, and it was strange to see them as simply masses of energy. It was a bit unsettling to look down on his own body too. His spirit rose out of the building and soared away. He had much to do, and little time to do it. First, he needed to stop the idiots at the compound and close the breach. He felt powerful. He felt invincible. But he knew all of his strength would be needed. He hoped it was enough.
Chapter 12

The rift stood out like a beacon in the dark, a tracery of brilliant green outlining a jagged hole in reality. The hulking being who sat within the rift, clutching at its edges with a hundred hands gave Parik's spirit pause. His sense of invincibility waned like the spreading blubber from a butchered walrus.

He thrust himself at the beast, his spirit taking on the form of his former star-metal spear. One of the hundred hands rose up and swatted him away like a fly.

"I am Ikpariksarpok!" he declared. "You trespass where you do not belong. Leave and close this rift behind you!"

One of the beast's many heads rose out of its twisted mass to stare at him. "I am Zelial, guardian of the fourth realm. You have no power over me, spirit of the dead."

Parik darted at the head only to be swatted aside once more.

Zelial laughed at his efforts, the wet, phlegmy sound rising from many throats. "I work to preserve the physical realm. Bring me the woman's heart and I will leave. I can smell her abomination upon your spirit now. It does not belong to her. It does not belong on the first realm."

Parik flew about the colossal Zelial searching for a weakness in its ever-shifting form. No sooner would he think he found one and a head would rise up and another hand would hold him at bay. "Is it she whom your demons seek? I'll not aid any being of the lower planes."

"By not slaying her, you aid another of the lower planes. If he is allowed to touch her under the new day's eclipse, he will break the laws that govern all. He will become human and your former realm will see a new age of darkness begin."

***

Karen shrunk back from the wailing old woman who clutched the ancient Inupiat's corpse to her breast. Over the crone's cries, only the howl of the storm outside could be heard. The children and other survivors had all gone silent, but their eyes stared wide at the pair of elders.

With a final sob, the old woman looked up, her rheumy eyes finally landing on the spear clutched in Karen's hands.

"You have his spear," she said, her English broken, but understandable. "With it, you must protect us."

Karen held up the spear, her fingers loose and uncertain on the bleached wood, "I don't-"

"It is blessed by Father Sky to slay evil spirits," the old woman said.

A teenaged girl rose from the group of huddled survivors and approached the old woman, putting a hand upon her shoulders. Karen recognized her as one of her own students, Portia.

Portia spoke, "This is my grandmother. He was my great grandfather. He carried that spear with him always. We made fun of it, but he said it was to protect all of us from evil things."

Aimee pulled Karen back, placing herself between Karen and the door. "We'll be safe in here together," she said. "What's outside can't get in and hurt us as long as we are together. We can't be alone."

Portia's eyes grew wide. "That's what Trisha said to me yesterday. She made me go back into the school after class, told me to stay with Miss Chappell." The girl rounded on Karen. "You weren't there though, you'd already left."

Karen remembered now, after hanging up with Father O'Keefe she had rushed for home, but the coming storm had forced her to take shelter at Rainne's house.

"Have you seen Trisha?" Portia asked. "We split up to look for you. Oh, wait, she sent a message to my phone. Said it was for you if I found you first."

Portia returned to where she had been huddled and retrieved her school pack.

Karen's eyes scanned across the small group of survivors. She saw Terrance, but none of her other students. She shook her head. "I haven't seen her."

The teen drew out her smartphone and swiped it to life. "Here," she said, holding the phone out. "This is the message. She swore she didn't write it though."

Karen peered at the lit screen, Aimee leaning in as well to read the text message.

Karen Chappell, the Cthoggu comes for you. You must not be alone. It can only harm you if you are alone. I cannot protect you from it, and you must stay safe until the eclipse comes. Then, beneath the darkened sun, we will be together. Your heart will be united with the one it was destined for, Tenuxtpi

Karen sat back stunned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Aimee was equally stunned. Since when did spirits use cell phones? Again with the fucking hearts? Whoever this Tenuxtpi was, he wasn't one of the things that wanted Karen dead. He had other plans for her entirely. When the penny dropped, and it was a big one that landed with a resounding mental clang in Aimee's head, she realized that Tenuxtpi's presence was at the lab, the one that had begged her to keep Karen safe.

"Son of a bitch," Aimee growled, thinking You let me leave Rainne alone, you fucking bastard!

"What?" Karen said. "Tell me you understand all this?"

"Some," she said. "I don't want to believe any of it though. What makes you so special, Karen? These things are after you." She pointed at the old dead Inupiat. "He knew that. He took one look at you and knew it. Come clean, Karen. If you know anything at all, tell me, while there is still anything left of Point Hope."

Karen sat back and closed her eyes. "They're killing everyone to get to me, aren't they?"

"Yes," Aimee said, then checked her watch. "And it's only going to get worse when this eclipse hits us."

Karen opened her eyes and looked back at Aimee. "What about the eclipse?"

"It's going to be just after sunrise which is three hours from now. Spirits, or whatever these things are, get more powerful during an eclipse." Aimee sighed. "Rainne's dead because I felt a presence while we were in the lab. That presence wanted me to protect you above all else. I think that's who this Tenuxtpi is. He made me leave Rainne alone to protect you."

Karen sat silent for a long while before speaking, "Those things out there, the thing we saw in the headlights, they're demons. One of them killed my father years ago. Father O'Keefe, he's the one I was calling at the lab, the one I needed to talk to so badly. He said my father had done something bad, made a deal with... demons or something. He did it to save my life when I was a little girl." Her hands tightened on the spear. "It's stupid though. How can any of that be real?"

Aimee lowered her voice so that only Karen could hear her. "How can you go on about what's real after seeing what's happening here? Wake up, Karen. The world isn't the place you always thought it was, so grow up. People are dying. Rainne's dead because your daddy made a deal with demons and now they are coming to collect your heart. He took something from them that wasn't his to take, and now they want it back. This Tenuxtpi, he wants your heart as well, and if he meets up with you during this eclipse, he's going to get it."

Karen laid the spear across her legs then buried her head in her hands. "I'm sorry. Rainne was my friend. I would exchange places with here now if it would bring her back to you."

Aimee tried to breathe out her anger and grief, Karen didn't deserve to bear the brunt of it. True, the woman was at the center of this onslaught, but it wasn't directly her fault. She reached out and gently laid her hand on Karen's shoulder.

"That's not going to happen. You never conclude a deal with demons by giving them what they want. I think that's demonology 101, if it's not, then I am going to make sure it gets in the book. Rest for now. We're safe for the time being."

The children and other Inupiat survivors had spread out on the floor, as far away as they could from the corpse of their elder. Many of them whimpered and sobbed, but some had managed to fall asleep.

The storm outside slowly abated. The steady howling of the wind quieted as dawn approached. Beyond the door and the walls, something hungry and vile waited. Aimee could feel a knot of sickness in her stomach whenever she raised her head toward the door.

Dawn began a slow glimmer, a lessening of the pitch black outside the frosted windows.

Neither Aimee nor Karen had slept.

A quiet rumble began in the distance and grew into the heavy drone of a multi-engine transport plane.

Everyone was awake and on their feet in an instant.

"They're coming to rescue us," Portia said as she sprang to the door.

"Don't!" Aimee yelled, jumping to her feet and intercepting the girl. "The demons are still out there."

***

Hundreds of Cthugga surrounded the school. Many were inside. Tenuxtpi could see them through the blood-smeared windows of the gym. They didn't see him. They had no interest in him as long as he kept his distance. They were after his promised mate. They claimed her heart for Zelial.

From each of them stretched a thread that connected their being with their source upon the deeper planes. Tenuxtpi wove between those threads, slipping under them or hopping over if they moved his way. To touch one would be to alert it to his presence, just as surely as being seen by their tiny eyes.

He'd never seen so many of the fiends, would never have imagined that so many existed even though the lower planes were infinite. Zelial had drawn them all through the rift.

The demon lord had made sure Tenuxtpi would be cut off from his mate. He had so little time before the eclipse. He cleared the last of the Cthugga's threads and tried to think. They had cut him off, and they would continue cutting him off until the eclipse had passed.

He needed the secret of banishing them and he needed it now. The girls had failed in the task he had given them. The sensitive would understand, but he had sensed a great deal of disbelief in her. Regardless, he could not go to her for aid, she was barricaded away with his mate.

His mate's father knew, but he was long dead. It would require enormous power to reach his spirit and demand the secret.

Tenuxtpi cursed at himself. All the blood, it filled the cars, it froze in the street. Blood was power. All the power he needed was within his reach.

He passed into one of the cars and crouched over its dead driver. The blood had thickened in the cold, but he dipped his claws, his whole hands in it. Its power coursed through him, power that pierced across the layers of the realms.

Tenuxtpi slipped back out onto the street and began drawing circles and glyphs on the ice covered road. Falling snow drifted down and collected on the lines he left, but it did nothing to dampen the power of the spell.

When every line had been drawn, he stepped into the center of the circle. A vast region of the nether realm opened before him like a window. Countless spirits awaited him, they surged for the window he had shaped and demanded release.

"Hugh Chappell," he said the name and it became a demand. The blood in the traceries of his spell began drying to dust as its power was released with the calling of the name. Tenuxtpi would not have long to commune with the spirit.

The clamoring spirits parted and one came forward to halt before the window. "I am he," the spirit said, its face a mask of sorrow.

"I am Tenuxtpi, it is to me you swore the life of your daughter when you made me her guardian those many years ago."

"What do you wish of me, Tenuxtpi? I have given to you everything I ever loved."

"Your daughter is in danger. He who collects all debts has demanded her heart, the heart you took to give her life. He has sent an army of the same creatures who slew you to claim it. You must show me how to protect her. You hold the secret, and I must have it."

"Blood is power. Power is blood. Sever the ties with power. Without the bonds that hold them, they must retreat to their spawning pits."

The spirit of Hugh Chappell drew away as the window closed.

Tenuxtpi ran back to the car to soak his hands in more blood. The storm had dispersed while he'd been communing with the spirit realm. The black sun was beginning to rise.

He approached a thread. It stretched over the ground at waist height, beginning at the rift and terminating in one of the Cthugga stalking about the school.

He clasped the thread with both hands, painting a swath of blood upon it. A howl sounded. The Cthugga to whom the thread belonged turned and charged toward him. It closed the distance impossibly fast on its thick, tentacle legs.

Tenuxtpi pulled the thread between his hands, stretching it tight. Where the blood smeared its length it began to tear. The spiked tail of the Cthugga flicked toward his head as the thread finally parted, the demon vanished in a flash of blue sparks.

Tenuxtpi couldn't count all the threads, but he jumped to the next one.

***

Lieutenant Anderson hit the ramp switch the instant the C-130's wheels all hit the deck. The pilot had done a great job following the retreating storm into Point Hope, the rest was up to him and his team.

"Grab your shit!" he barked. "Bailey, monitor all channels, but we are radio silent from here on out. You hear a peep, ping me with the laser comm."

"Yes, Sir!" Bailey replied grabbing the bulky white pack of his comm gear and swinging it to his back.

They all wore white from parka to pecker. Even their assault rifles were colored for the arctic arena.

As the massive Hercules aircraft slowed and turned at the end of the landing strip they jumped out and rolled, some sliding. Anderson was the last out, hitting the switch to raise the ramp before flinging himself onto the foot of snow covering the runway.

The Hercules finished its turn and gunned its engines, its enormous props blowing a fresh blizzard of snow, it wouldn't be sticking around. Anderson and his fourteen men were on their own.

The sun had crawled to a point just above the horizon, a small notch already cut out of it from the coming eclipse. No time to enjoy the view, the strike team had work to do.

Anderson unslung his rifle. "Hutchins and Peralta, you two are with me. Simmons, take Bailey and find a high spot to set up that bazooka you call a sniper rifle. The rest of you, two by two, let's go!"

They climbed over and through the snowbanks surrounding the runway and struck out in the direction of the DARPA compound.

Hutchins fell to his belly and brought up his rifle. "Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!"

Anderson looked where the Corporal was aiming and swore. Rising above the wreckage of a dense cluster of buildings something huge was taking shape in the rapidly darkening sunlight. At first it looked like smoke, but it had form and it didn't move with the steady wind.

***

The spirit of Parik watched the big plane depart, leaving its cargo of white-clad soldiers to scatter then turn toward the DARPA installation.

He smiled, or he would have if he had been more than a supercharged soul. He'd been unable to thrust Zelial back, but with the eclipse beginning and these soldiers appearing, a new plan had formed.

The soldiers were already panicking from what they were seeing as the eclipse gave Zelial physical form and substance.

Parik flew to the soldiers. They were all dressed alike, but there was one to whom the rest were directing their despair. The spirit of the man was strong, that was good. Strength would be needed.

Parik's grandfather had performed a similar feat to what he now planned to do. The old shaman had mingled his spirit with an eagle and returned, claiming he and the eagle had become one.

The man jerked, his rifle falling from his hands and into the snow, Parik found himself immersed in the man's mind and quickly grabbed hold like he had a caribou by the antlers. For being dead, he felt remarkably alive.

What's your name, soldier man?

The name rose to the front of the man's confusion. Samuel Anderson.

Sam, I am here to help. Relax and make this easier for both of us. Focus on the men around you. You are their leader, right? They need you.

What are you?

I am an old dead guy, Parik, of the Inupiat. Those DARPA people been messing where they shouldn't, now I need you to help me put down that ugly bastard floating over there. Can you make smoke?

Smoke? The man's confusion was overwhelming, but it was to be understood. Parik coaxed the thought of smoke, billowing, drifting smoke. Finally, the man grasped the image. We have flares.

That will work. Light one up and gather your men around. I will bless your weapons with the might of Father Sky and Mother Earth so they may drive that bastard back to hell.

***

Tenuxtpi had banished only twenty or so of the Cthugga before the eclipse began. He cursed as cold started seeping into his body. It bit into his hands and feet and into his tail as his body began shifting over to the physical plane.

The Cthuggu, other than the ones who charged at him when he pulled then broke their threads, were also becoming physical. In moments, they would no longer be under any restrictions to their bloodlust.

Screams and gunshots rang out from the school as the huge gym windows broke under the lashing of countless tentacles. By ones and twos the threads began vanishing as something other than his efforts began killing the Cthuggu. Still, it was only the smallest dent out of the horde that remained.

Freezing, Tenuxtpi clawed and yanked at another car door, finally opening it to get at the parka and boots of the dead man inside. As he wrestled in the car with the unfamiliar clothing his foot kicked an ice axe that had fallen onto the floor of the passenger side. He silently thanked the man even as he smeared the blade of the axe with the man's blood.

He jumped from the car, hunched over within the parka and tore into more threads with the axe. The howling of the Cthuggu were continuous.

***

Something heavy slammed against the door as Aimee pulled Portia back. Children and adults began screaming. Another slam against the door splintered a crack down the middle.

Piercing howls and breaking glass from the big gym windows sounded.

A rubbery yellow tentacle broke through the door and wrapped around Aimee's arm. "Fuck!" she yelled and tried to pull away. The door groaned as heavy weight leaned up against it. Aimee's shoes squeaked against the linoleum floor as the tentacle dragged her toward the bulging door.

Karen plunged her spear into the hole the tentacle had made, piercing into thick flesh. Aimee fell back on her ass as the tentacle vanished in a cloud of blue sparks.

"Spear against evil!" Grandmother yelled from across the room.

There was silence for a second, before the pounding returned. They bashed on the walls on every side of the room. The small frosted windows cracked and shattered. The door blasted inward.

Aimee stood up, this time holding the rifle. "Shoot them! They've crossed over. They're physical now."

Karen stayed low beside the doorway and jabbed her spear at anything that poked through. Shots rang out, deafeningly loud in the enclosed room.

Aimee fired again. The gym beyond the door writhed with the tentacles of countless hideous creatures, each one a carbon copy of the horror they'd seen in their headlights.

The bullets slapped into them with wet sounds and black ichor sprayed from the wounds, but they didn't go down. Only the pokes of Karen's spear seemed to destroy them, even if she just struck a tentacle.

"Save your ammo," Aimee yelled. "Aim for heads or eyes."

Grandmother pulled all the children and anyone not armed with a gun to her. "Come, let us say a prayer for the protection of Father Sky and Mother Earth."

She switched to Inupiat, speaking in a slow chant that the children began to repeat.

The walls began to crack, sending plaster and chunks of brick down.

Aimee saw the dark shine of an eye and took another shot. The creature whirled back into the mass, but others plunged forward. "We need a plan!"

Karen dispatched another with her spear. "I can't stay here?"

Aimee turned to Karen, incredulous. "You'd rather be out there?"

A tentacle lashed into the room, this one heavier and thicker with long thorn-like spikes. It smashed into the wall over Karen's head and she screamed. It reached around, groping for her until she jabbed it with the spear and it vanished in more sparks.

Karen jabbed toward the doorway but nothing else tried to reach through.

Aimee lowered her rifle, breathing hard. "They've stopped."

A child's sob sounded behind them. The chanting had stopped as well. Karen looked back to find that the old Grandmother was laying still on the floor beside the body of her father.

Portia stood over the bodies, wringing her hands. "It's the prayer. She gave her spirit to the prayer so we could get out of here."

Karen backed away from the door and looked out. The horde of sickly yellow creatures stood still, their tentacles only waving slightly as if they were mesmerized. Beyond the horde of demons a man in a parka swung an axe, he didn't seem to be hitting anything, but every time the axe fell, one of the monstrosities vanished in blue sparks.

Outside, the world was dark as night again. The eclipse had covered the sun entirely.

"There's another survivor out there," she said, unable to take her eyes off the man. "We've got to get to him. We've got to get out there." She turned back to Portia. "How long will this last?"

The teenager shrugged, but her eyes were huge, terrified. "I don't know."

Karen swallowed hard then headed for the door, her spear thrusting ahead of her. "I'm going."

The survivors stood frozen, watching Karen leave them.

Aimee rushed up behind Karen as the woman banished another demon with the spear. "Karen wait. Those people back in there, they aren't moving."

Karen kept moving forward behind her spear, banishing several more toward the man outside. "Good. It's me these things want; they'll be safe staying there. You should stay with them."

Aimee punched Karen in the arm. "Hey, fuck you. We're in this together."

"Because of your ghost buddy?"

Aimee opened her mouth to retort and then frowned in puzzlement. The lingering discomfort of an alien influence had gone. "Actually... no. I don't feel that anymore."

"So why not stay here, with the others?"

Aimee pulled back the bolt on the rifle. "Because fuck these motherfuckers, that's why."

Karen grunted a quick laugh and then stepped through the broken windows. She slunk through the motionless demons, and jabbed her spear methodically into their hides, clearing a space.

Aimee followed, her rifle swiveling with her head as she expected the horde to come alive and swarm them at any second. Ahead stood the man. He wore a parka and boots, but beyond that, bare flesh flashed in the darkness. Was there a rule that said a man with a massive cock had to hang it in the wind? Looking past the one noteworthy feature another appeared; his knees bent backwards as he moved.

The distance closed between Karen and the man, both swinging their weapons and making more demons vanish.

Aimee blinked hard. In the dark of the full eclipse the man now appeared to be standing up straighter. His legs were normal now, though still naked and pale under his parka. Understanding dawned on her, a flash of familiarity. "Karen, stop! That's Tenuxtpi."

Aimee reached for her parka to stop her, pull her away, but it was too late.

Karen lowered her spear. He lowered his axe. They embraced.

Aimee shuddered as a sudden wind blowing outward from the two opened her parka. The night filled with colors. Bright lines trailed off into the distance from the demons who stood motionless on their thick tentacle limbs. They each had a puppet string.

Their embrace lasted only a moment before he released Karen and swung his axe at one of the threads, severing it.

"Cut the threads," he said to Karen. "Can you see them?"

She nodded, her head bobbing in her parka, then swung the tip of her spear through one of them.

Aimee raised the rifle above her head. "I don't know what's going on here, but there's way too many of these threads and these things could wake up at any second."

Karen looked back at her, a wide smile on her face. "I don't know what's happening either, but he's going to protect us. Let's get to the truck and head to where all these threads are converging."

Aimee looked. The threads made hundreds of lines, each heading back toward the DARPA complex. "Crap."

She ran toward the truck, several demons were around it, but Karen laid into them with her spear while the man swung his axe.

A low gurgling growl came from one of the demons.

"It's wearing off," Aimee said as she yanked open the driver's door. "We are out of time."

"Let's go," the man said, jumping into the snow-filled bed of the truck. "We need to lead them away, then cut the threads. There should be just one source of them at the rift."

Tentacles began reaching for the truck even as Aimee shoved it into gear. She turned on the brights and fishtailed back onto the road.

"You know that guy in the back of the truck?" Aimee said.

Karen was still smiling. "Never met him before, but I feel like I've known him all my life. Isn't that strange?"

"Did you notice he's naked under that parka?"

Karen's hands wrung the shaft of the spear like she was trying to wring a mop. "Yes. And I felt something while we hugged. He was damn glad to see me."

You'd have to be fucking dead not to feel THAT something. Aimee swerved the truck around a corner. "You're in rainbow dreamland right now, aren't you? That's Tenuxpti, you know, the guy that sent you that message, and until you hugged him, I don't think he was quite a 'guy' at all."

"Nope, he's an incubus."

Aimee's jaw dropped open, but she kept her eyes on the expanse of deep snow in her headlights. "How the hell do you know that?"

"He told me. When we hugged he told me everything about himself. You know my father promised me to him when I was just a little girl? He made a pact and everything to make sure that Tenuxtpi would always be with me and protect me from the demons."

"But if he's an incubus, he's a demon too."

"Not anymore," Karen said. "He found a loophole. He's human now."

Aimee's foot left the gas as the staccato crack of automatic gunfire ripped out from the icefield in front of them. The eclipse made a curtain of night outside the headlights, but it was beginning to lift. She shut off the headlights and let her eyes adjust,

Ahead, a green tear had opened in space where the DARPA complex used to be. All the threads converged and flowed into it. Something dark and misshapen sat in the middle of the rift while bursts of muzzle flash strobed in the surrounding icefield.

Aimee gave the gas pedal one more pump then let the truck coast to a stop.

Tenuxtpi hopped out of the truck and handed Aimee the ice axe. "You and my mate need to cut the threads."

Aimee took the axe and stared as he ran toward the rift. "Your mate? Oh my god, Karen, you went and found Tarzan."

Karen didn't reply, she was already out of the truck and swinging the head of her spear through a dozen or more threads at a time. Aimee shook her head and set to work with her axe. The threads were concentrated close, and the sky was steadily brightening as the moon slipped past the sun.

The guns ceased firing as Tenuxtpi ran up to the rift. Figures, all in white, were lying prone in the snow, but one of them stood, making a chopping gesture with one hand.

"You have failed, Zelial," Tenuxtpi shouted up at the monstrosity. "I have the only claim on her heart now, and it belongs to her."

Zelial lashed out with a dozen huge hands, but they passed through Tenuxtpi without any effect.

Tenuxtpi laughed and pointed to the full sun on the horizon. "The eclipse is over. You have failed."

One of Zelial's heads surged forward. "Fool! You've doomed the material realm. By crossing over and becoming human, you have given the darkness in their hearts substance."

The beast slipped back into the rift, before his hundred hands clutched tight again to its green edges and halted it in place. Another head spat forward. "The things that only a few of them could do, will explode like a wildfire. It is for this reason that I tried to stop her. The sensitives among them, there aren't enough of them. They won't be able to save humans from what they will do to themselves with the power your union with that woman has unleashed."

Zelial slipped again, falling farther into the rift. Another head screamed, angry and full of spite. "Blood is power no more! You've betrayed everything!"

The beast dwindled, falling into a black gulf of space beyond the rift.

As Aimee and Karen slashed through the last of the trailing threads the rift began to close.

Karen had ceased smiling. "What the hell was that all about?"

Aimee laughed and hugged her. She was the one who now had a smile she couldn't wipe off her face. "Can't you see it? The lights, the sky isn't just plain blue any more, it's filled with color. I saw it when you and Tenuxtpi embraced and I didn't get it."

Karen looked up at the sky as Tenuxtpi returned and wrapped her in his arms. "I see it, but what is it. What did that ugly bastard mean?"

"Power is no longer blood," Tenuxtpi said. "Power is something else now, it's in the air, it's all around us."

Aimee raised her hand toward a whorl of light. It waited for her, like a machine ready to start, just waiting for the ignition to trigger. She curled her fingers into a fist and the light flowed to her, summoned by her will. It was warm, and tingled up and down her nerves ready to serve her, ready to be set to a task.

"It's magic," she said. "Real magic. That's why they wanted your heart so bad, your demonic heart. Once it was united with Tarzan there, it broke all the rules."

Karen frowned, her arm tightening around Tenuxtpi. "Are you talking like Harry Potter magic?"

The soldiers had gathered around, their assault rifles slung back onto their shoulders. Some appeared to see the lights, while others didn't.

"Maybe, I don't know." Aimee sighed and opened her hand letting the white whorl of light spin away. "Rainne would have loved this. One thing's for sure, shit just got a whole lot more interesting."
EPILOGUE

Karen stepped outside and took a deep breath of the fresh morning air. The snow had stopped falling, but still lay thick and heavy from the storm two weeks ago. The night when the world had been turned upside down.

Pulling her collar up she trudged out onto the pavement. She was still a little unsteady on her feet, and the light hurt her eyes. She and Tex had done very little but fuck since the event. Having an eons old case of blue balls, it had taken a long time for his enthusiasm to give way to exhaustion. Karen was taking a much needed break while he lay snoring in the wet patch.

When she reached Rainne's old house, Aimee was already on the porch waiting for her, a cup of espresso in each hand.

"How'd you know I was coming?" asked Karen.

"Are you kidding? I can hear you all the way down the street. You sound like a tom cat with ginger up its ass."

Karen flushed. "I think we both know that's not what I meant."

"Come in," said Aimee.

They stepped inside and made themselves comfortable in the living room.

"Seems weird without Rainne here," Karen remarked.

Aimee shrugged. "With the money those DARPA jokers gave us to shut our mouths I guess I could have moved to Hawaii, but it wouldn't seem right. I feel close to her here."

Karen nodded and searched for the right words. "You been watching the news?"

"The kid in Chicago who walked on thin air?"

"I was thinking about the lady in Egypt who brought her stillborn kid back to life."

Aimee made an elaborate hand gesture, like a cheap stage magician. "The age of miracles!"

"So they say," Karen sipped her espresso. "It's all wonder and cynicism at the moment, but how long do you think it'll take before they start heating up the ovens?"

"Ovens?"

"For burning witches."

"I think it's stakes, isn't it? For burning? Ovens are just for gingerbread witches."

Karen tried not to show her annoyance. "You know what I'm getting at!"

Aimee rolled her eyes. "You want to know if I'm being careful, mom?"

"Yes!"

"Says the lady who's fucking a demon?"

"Sort of a 'love demon', though. And he's an ex demon anyway."

"Whatever."

Aimee stared at Karen for a while, and then closed her eyes. The liquid in her cup began to bubble, then rise, until a wavering ball of coffee floated in the air.

"That's amazing," said Karen, numbly. "How do you do it?"

Aimee opened her eyes and the coffee spilled back into the cup. "I can't explain it. I don't think there are the right words in our language. To me it's like engines—I just get a feel for how it works, you know?"

"I guess."

"You don't have to worry about me. Hell, there's more and more of us magic freaks coming out of the woodwork all the time. Soon it'll just be an everyday thing."

"Bullshit," said Karen. "Tex says the world is going to turn on its head."

"Tex?"

"For short. It's...uh...I can't pronounce his name."

"Not with his balls in your mouth, at any rate."

Karen flushed again. "Look, I have to get back."

"You on dick notice?"

"Seriously, Aimee," Karen put a hand on the Aimee's knee. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Relax, K. I've got this."

Karen stared into her friend's eyes for a while and then stood. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Any time."

***

When Karen left, Aimee carefully put down her coffee. She sat, eyes closed, muttering quietly under her breath. Her senses bloomed past the mundane, and the world opened for her like a book, its secrets and hidden meanings brought to light.

"You still there, Rainne, honey?"

....yes...

"Can you see me okay?"

...yes...

"Cool. I'll go get the baby oil."

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