* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

                       SEX, LIES, AND NECROMANCY

                                  by

                    Daniel Parsons and Brandi Weed

                 Kill one man and you are a murderer.
                Kill millions and you are a conqueror.
                      Kill all and you are a God.
                            -- Jean Rostand

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


     The door to Angel's room opened with a bang, and Grayson tossed
her clothes onto the bed. "Rise and shine, Ms. Braithe.  We're going
to tha Orkneys."
     Groaning, she looked at the clock. "Sir, it's six o'clock in the
morning."
     "Need to catch tha ferry.  There's your clothes and sidearm. I'll
see you in tha lobby in ten minutes."
     "When did we get released from the hospital?"
     "I'll ask tha doctor to do that on my way down."
     Angel picked up the roll of clothing and shook it until her
sidearm fell out. "Do really think this is a good idea?  The doctor
may not want us to be released, and we'll have to shoot our way out."
     "Weren't you complaining earlier that I didn't care about tha
case?  And when did you get a sense o' humor?"
     "Sir, at this hour it's either joke or shoot you.  Why are we
starting so early?  Is there only one ferry?"
     "Tha minute we leave, Merryweather will know about it.  He's been
killing our links to him right and left, and I'm pretty sure he tried
to kill Ardrin too.  We need to find him soon as we can, which means
getting there while it's still daylight."
     "Ah, so you do believe it was a ghost."
     "I do not.  But Ardrin's tha last person in tha world I'd expect
ta come up with a wild story like ghosts, so I know he saw
*something*.  And I intend to ask him about it, but after we arrest
him and throw him in tha loony bin."
     "I'm sure we'll meet stubborn resistance, and we've not been
authorized to have a heavy weapons team."
     "I called in a few favors, and got some equipment."
     "What sort of equipment?"
     "Heavy weapons."
     "Where did you get them?"
     "My Uncle Biggles."
     "Ah, of course.  Now I need to change."
     "Great.  Lobby.  10 minutes.  See you there."

                            *     *     *

     The ferry left Duncansby Head 10 minutes after 7.  It was cold
and drizzly, with a hard, icy wind driving out of the north.  On the
prow, Ardrin and Grayson were staring ahead at the approaching
islands.
     "Where are we gonna find Merryweather, anyway?"
     "He's got to register with tha government in Kirkwall.  Then, we
rent a boat."
     "And what about when we get there?"
     Grayson grinned, and pointed his finger like a gun. "We wave our
magic wands and tell 'em all ta come along quietly, o' course."
     This brought a derisive snort from Ardrin. "Yeah, right.  And
when that doesn't work?"
     "Ye of little faith.  Tha pen is mightier than tha sword, but tha
machine gun speaks its own beautiful language.  Just hope they ain't
too heavily armed."
     "Figure they'll have some more of that armor?"
     "Maybe."
     "Cheerful thought."
     As they approached, the ferry steered around the northern side of
one island, and into a calm bay.  A small town was spread out along
the south shore; Kirkwall, the largest town in the Orkneys. It boasted
a population of nearly 600 souls, and the town hall was a full four
stories high, if you counted the attic.  After they disembarked, they
went to the town hall and into the clark's office, and got a directory
of the islands to look up Merryweather.
     But the only address was a postal box in Kirkwall; no home
address could be found.  A call to Oxford was no help; they only had
the postal number too.
     "Shit," Grayson said philosophically.
     "Now what?" Janie looked in her bag. "I still have the picture of
his grandfather from the library.  We could ask around."
     "Actually, we should ask at the local constabulary," Angel said.
"I'm sure that in a town as small as this one, they know everyone and
would easily be able to show us his whereabouts."
     The station was right next to the town hall, and all five members
of the local force were in, having tea.  They weren't too happy about
the interruption, but they came out to answer their questions after
some cajoling.  But none of them knew Merryweather, or recognized the
picture.
     "Look, are you sure you've never seen him?"
     They all shook their heads. "Not here no there.  Yoo sure he's
not in the Shetlands?"
     Angel was becoming quite vexed. "No.  Have you seen a tall blonde
man, wearing sunglasses?"
     "Rodriguez?  Yeah.  Farm equipment salesman.  Trucking around
some of the northern islands."
     "Farm equipment."  Grayson snorted. "Never check cargoes, do ya?"
     There was a long, pregnant pause, before the constable slowly
stood up and waddled angrily over to face to chest with Grayson. "Yoo
better watch yer mouth.  We aren't keen on Loundoners tellin' us our
business.  We go' our own hands full with the murders to go looking
throogh honest men's boats."
     "Murders?"
     "Yeah.  Some of yoor business come up to us.  The school bus went
missing, with a dozen children, day before yesterday.  Some pervert
from the main island."
     "Wait," Janie said. "You said missing.  What makes you so sure
they're dead?  Have you found any bodies?"
     The constable crossed his arms. "I dinna ask yoo to come up here
and poke around.  I dinna ask yoo to tell me how to do my work.  And I
dinna--"
     "Yeah, yeah, whatevah," Grayson grumbled. "Yoo dinna moind if'n
us city blokes has a leetle look around yoor preshus leetle island,
does yoo?"
     "I do.  But I ain't going to stop you.  Just don't ask too many
'leetle' questions.  People around here don' like it."
     "Don't worry."
     The main island only had three towns on it, though the roads were
not in good repair; it seemed that a bus would barely be able to get
over them.  Grayson knew how to operate a motorboat, so they rented
one at the harbor and spent the rest of the day fruitlessly asking
around the island.  No one knew or recognized Merryweather.  Finally,
with night falling, they went back to Kirkwall.
     "Shit."  Grayson said philosophically.  "Shit, shit, fuck, shit,
shit."
     "Well spoken, sir."
     "Janie, don't encourage him.  Perhaps he's on one of the other
islands."
     Ardrin shook his head. "I think he's involved with the murders.
He's gotta be on the main island.  They were in a bus.  The other
islands are too small to need one."
     "Wait," Janie looked at Ardrin. "The other islands aren't large
enough to have their own schools.  Wouldn't the 'bus' be a boat?"
     Grayson groaned. "O' course!  They ship 'em all over here for
schooling.  We should be lookin' where it was last seen."
     Back at the station, the constable was the only one in, asleep at
his desk with the remains of a huge meal spread before him.
     "Wait here."  Janie took off her shoes, and tip-toed through the
station door, up to the desk.  The constable kept snoring.
     As she looked over all the papers on the desk, occasionally
lifting plates to have a better look, Ardrin glanced at Angel. "Gee,
do you think this is legal?"
     "Of course it is."  Angel never took her eyes off Janie. "I mean,
it's a public station, the door was unlocked, and we're not about to
remove anything.  Besides, I'm sure the constable would be in a very
disagreeable mood if we were to wake him, and we'd best avoid that."
     "Yeah.  Why wake the police up?  I mean, let's be polite as we
trample our way through his jurisdiction, why don't we?"
     "Certainly, Mr. Grayson.  Makes perfect sense to me."  Back at
the desk, Janie was staring at a report. "Think she got something?"
     "Looks like it.  Here she comes."
     Janie slowly tip-toed back to the door and closed it behind her
with almost exaggerated caution. "Well... according to a witness, it
was last seen off this island called Westray, up in the northwest
part.  But the witness says it was chugging along, when a whirlpool
formed around it and it vanished."
     "What?"
     "Yeah, I know.  He says it was just going along like it always
does, when a whirlpool formed real fast right under it, and sucked it
down into the water.  They haven't found wreckage or anything."
     Everyone stared at Janie, blinking slowly. "I'm telling God's own
truth, or at least what's in the report.  The constable thinks the
witness was in on it because he's not local.  And from the tone of his
questions, I think he's been reading those books on satanic abuse."
     Grayson ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "He may be
half-right for once.  All right, we find a place to spend the night.
Westray in the morning."
     They hadn't brought much money, so they all had to share a single
room.  Grayson also insisted on unpacking and assembling the AK-47's,
and setting up alternating watches, though he did forget to wake Angel
for her watch so she got to sleep through the night.  Nothing happened
to disturb their slumber.  Some of the locals saw strange lights out
in the water of the harbor, and heard strange noises, like rumblings
all the way from the floor of the ocean, but the hotel was too far
away from for any of this to reach the agents.  By morning, when they
arrived at the harbor to rent another boat, all was quiet.

                             *     *     *

     Westray was about 10 kilometers north of Kirkwall.  The sky was
dark with storm clouds, and the wind fiercely cold.  Everyone was
huddled into the tiny boat, wrapped in whatever clothes they'd brought
with them, and actually grateful for the heavy kevlar vests Grayson
insisted they wear.  He was sitting back by the engine, staring down
into the sea, muttering darkly.
     Angel glanced back.  She'd been trying to get used to the heft of
her new gun without actually firing it, as there'd been no opportunity
to practice with it anywhere else. "What is it, Mr. Grayson?"
     "Current's weird.  Like no matter which way we turn, we're
heading against it.  Suckin' us back."
     "That is strange."  Angel looked down into the dark, cold water.
"Mr. Grayson, look at the way the water is making loops around our
wake.  I don't seem to remember it doing that yesterday."
     "Nah.  I don't know the currents up here, but it don't look
normal.  Which is why I'm giving it full throttle.  Whatever this is,
we want to be out of it quick.  Better safe than sorry."
     But the little engine wasn't in good enough repair to keep
gunning forever, and it soon began to overheat.  None of them wanted
to be caught out there in a dead boat, so they made for the nearest
island: Papa Westray, which had a small town called Keckhaver on the
east shore, according to the map.
     Keckhaver was a little barnacle of a town, spread on the side of
the small rocky island.  There was a jetty, with a few decrepit old
boats tied to it, a couple of large buildings on the south side of
town, and another west of town, near the highest point of the island.
     As they pulled in, they stuffed their guns under coats and into
bags to made a presentable disembarkment.  None of the locals were
out, nor could they see any boats on the ocean.  There was a flyspeck
of an island about 500 meters out, barely more than a rock, but they
couldn't see anyone on it.  An ancient petrol station sat next to the
jetty, dispensing diesel fuel, so Grayson filled the tank while his
charges went in to look around the town.
     Ardrin was the first to find the restaurant, if it could be
called that.  A middle-aged couple had set up a few tables on their
front porch, and a menu with four items was nailed up on the wall; the
ambiance was completed by a glass-fronted refrigerator, with patterns
of mold growing on the sides. "Hey, girls.  How about we get something
to eat?"
     Janie looked at her watch. "Sure, it's lunch time.  What do they
have?"
     "Not much.  Fish, fish, and fish, and meatloaf."
     "I don't think I want fish," Angel said.  "I'll get Mr. Grayson,
so go ahead and order for me; I don't think it'll be too hard to."
     By the time they got back, Ardrin and Janie were already eating.
The meatloaf wasn't great, but it came with a peculiar mushroom sauce
that turned out to be quite tasty.  The lady of the house, who was
apparently the cook as well as waitress, was hovering nearby with a
teapot, watching closely.
     As Grayson dropped their bags, Janie gestured them over. "Try it,
it's not bad.  Tea's kind of bitter, though.  Needs lots of sugar."
     "I hate meatloaf.  What else they got?"
     "Fish."
     "Ugh."  Grayson ambled over to the refrigerator. "How much for
one of them sandwiches?"
     "Oh, you wouldn't want them," the woman said. "They're all old,
and I'm afraid the refrigerator broke down yesterday, so they've
gotten all.."
     But Grayson had already grabbed one of the sandwiches. "Naw, it's
fine.  Gimme a cup o' that tea too."
     Thunder echoed and the wind picked up as they ate.  Concerned,
Janie called the woman over.
     "Ma'am?  Is there a boarding house in town?"
     "It's just up the street."
     "Thanks."
     Ardrin pointed to the south. "What's that big building with the
circular thing on the roof down there?"
     The woman paled and stammered a bit. "That's the local church.
The order of the Dagon.  I don't think you've heard of it."
     Ardrin shook his head. "Nope."
     After the woman had retreated, Janie quietly leaned over and
whispered to Grayson, "I think there's something you should know."
     "What?"
     "I think we're in big trouble."
     He looked out as rain began falling. "Oh, *really*?"
     "Did you ever read about the Dagon?"
     "No."
     "It's a church that worships Cthulhu, I think."
     For the first time Janie could remember, Grayson was speechless.
Finally, he barked out, "They WHAT?"
     The waitress looked over at them.  Janie shushed Grayson and
whispered, "I think they worship Cthulhu, but I'm not positive.
Lovecraft never really explained what the order does..."
     They all stared dumfoundedly at the building, then slowly turned
to look over the rest of the town.  Even though the sky was dark, and
rain was falling quite hard, no fishermen were coming in, and there
were no lights in windows.  But people were beginning to appear, in
straggling ones and twos, loitering in doorways or slowly wandering
down the street.
     "Come on.  Let's see if there's anything like a hotel or boarding
house around here."
     The locals shiftlessly watched them go by, seeming to try not to
look like they were watching them.  The rain was coming down hard and
fast when they reached the boarding house and went in.
     The front room was small, and had several overstuffed chairs
smelling faintly of mold.  There was a bell, which they rang, and
waited for someone to come.
     Ardrin let out a loud belch. "Whoo.  Even worse the second time."
     A timorous looking man finally looked through the door. "Hello?"
     "Hello."  Elbowing past him, everyone cleared out of the front
room and into the hall.  "You got rooms?" Grayson asked.
     "Yes... 6 rooms, 6 vacancies.  A room with a window, how long do
you want to stay...?"
     "Until the storm blows over.  And yeah, windows.  Two rooms,
second floor, facing the street."
     Ardrin belched again.  Grayson glanced at him, then asked, "What
kind o' facilities do you got, anyway?"
     "There's an outhouse outside, and chamber pots in the rooms."
     "Lordy.  Give us the keys."
     Angel got one set of keys, and Grayson the other, and they all
trooped upstairs and looked over the rooms.  They were small, but very
clean and comfortably furnished, though the faint smell of mold and
sea water was everywhere.
     Angel dropped her bag to the floor. "Ardrin is disgusting."
     Janie set her bag on the bed, and stood for a moment, looking
slightly confused. "Well, you have to admit, it wasn't a very good
meatloaf.  I wish I had a breath mint; it left kind of a metallic
aftertaste."
     "Yes, actually, it did.  Very unpleasant."
     Janie took a deep breath, and slowly let it out again. "Actually,
I think I would like to lie down.  I don't feel so good."
     "We'll probably have plenty of time on our hands."  Angel sat
down by the window and looked out. "This storm looks like it's going
to last for quite a while.  Do you know how to play whist?"
     "Um, no.  I'd play cribbage if we had a board."
     "How about rummy?"
     "Not since I was eight."  Janie sat up, and immediately lay down
again.  "Whoa."
     "What is it?"
     "Got real dizzy."  Janie lay quietly on the bed, looking confused
and a little alarmed. "I hope I'm not getting sick."
     Frowning, Angel started to walk out to the hall, but stumbled.
"Oh.  I don't think I'm feeling all that well either.  Do you think it
might have been the food?"
     "I don't know.  We better ask Ardrin how he feels.  Tom didn't
eat the meatloaf, did he?"
     "No, he just had the sandwich.  I'll go ask."  Angel got up to
walk to the door, then slowly sank to her knees on the floor.  "Oh..."
     "Are you all right?"
     Angel shook her head, then suddenly gagged and threw up on the
floor.  "Oh, Saint Myhra..."
     "No, you are not all right.  Let me go get help."
     Janie got up, feeling very light-headed, and walked out into the
hall.  But the distance to the stairs seemed much greater than it had
been when they'd come up, and as she watched, they slowly stretched
even further away.  She shook her head, and rubbed her eyes; the hall
was normal again.  Gingerly, she walked across to the other door and
knocked.  Ardrin answered.
     "Hi, Ardrin.  You two feeling all right?"
     He leaned on the door frame and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"I'm not.  Grayson went down to find a mop.  You too, huh?"
     "Well, Angel's throwing up, and I think I'm not so good either.
You think it was the meatloaf?"
     "I think so."
     "Uh..."  Janie swayed, holding onto the door frame. "I think
maybe I better find the chamber pot before I--" and then she did, all
over the hallway.
     Back in the room, Angel had crawled up onto the bed, and was
trying to think.  The metallic taste might match arsenic poisoning,
but arsenic didn't make you vomit, nor did it produce dizziness.  It
also didn't make the ceiling look like it was breathing, or the bed
covers feel like they were covered with hungry tongues...
     She threw herself off the bed, landing heavily on the floor.  The
sickening moldy smell had grown stronger, or was it just her
imagination?  With eyes closed, she told herself the ceiling couldn't
possibly be breathing, and the bed covers were not alive.  She was
hallucinating, and must have been drugged; probably that mushroom
sauce.  "Janie?"
     Janie heard something like a foghorn, all stretched out like
someone doing strange things with a tape machine.  She turned back
towards her door, swimming through jello; the geometry of the hallway
was going all wrong, twisting and warping.  Angel was in the room,
curled up in a ball on the floor with her eyes closed.
     "Janie, are you all right?"
     The feeling of arrested time stopped.  She could move again, but
the hall was still stretching and bending around her. "I think we
better get downstairs and find help..."
     Ardrin was still leaning on the door frame, trying to blink the
world back into focus.  Everything was bright; the light in the hall
painfully so, and it was hard to see.  Janie was stumbling around and
Angel looked like a little black ball curling up on itself.  "Wait,"
he thought he said, and went back into his room for his AK-47.
     Grayson came running back upstairs. "Look alive, all o'..."  then
he saw Janie, staring at him in confusion. "Jesus Chroist, what tha
'ell happened ta you?  Get up, missy!  We got a situation on our
hands!"
     A weak voice came out of the girls' room. "Mr. Grayson, is that
you?"
     "Hell, YES!  The townspeople are breaking the door down!  Get up
off the floor, what's tha matter with you?"
     Angel didn't move. "I don't know, but I think we've all been
drugged."
     Ardrin stumbled out of his room, and waved his gun vaguely down
the hall. "Sir, I don't think I can shoot straight the way the hall
keeps bending around."
     There was a long, silent pause, then a stream of profanity that
could have burned paint off a battleship.  "All o' you!  Get on your
feet, get your guns, and get your mother-lovin' arses in gear!  YOU!"
He pointed at Ardrin. "Take five steps that way, and turn right!
Anything moves, tell it to back off!  If it don't, kill it!"  Then he
turned to Angel. "YOU!  Get off the fuckin' floor and quit whimperin'!
And YOU!  Get that stupid look off your face and get Angel!"
     Ardrin stumbled into a small table and held onto it for dear
life.  "But everything's moving..."  Janie started laughing.
     Downstairs, the front door buckled in, and Grayson could hear the
townspeople running in, shouting and banging doors open.  He grabbed
Janie, slapped her, and threw her into the room with Angel before
running to get his own gun, swearing all the while.
     As she dizzily hit a wall, Janie suddenly remembered where they
were and who those people must be. "Angel, are you there?"
     "I'm here."
     "We have to get out of here.  They're after us."
     "I can't.  If I open my eyes, they'll get me."
     "Angel, I think we have to."  The walls of the room began to seep
blood, and more blood splattered against the window outside.  Janie
blinked, and it was only rain.  "I think they're here to kill us, and
playing ostrich won't help."
     Angel moaned, and looked up.  "Who's here?"
     "The ones who drugged us.  I guess.  Angel, quit looking like a
rabbit."
     Angel giggled inanely.  "I'll try, as soon as you stop looking
like Rowan Atkinson."  She uncurled and crawled across the floor to
her bag.
     "Rowan Atkinson?"  Janie started laughing uproariously, and
grabbed her AK-47, waving it about somewhat unsteadily.  "Well, could
be worse. Anyway, screw up your courage!  What more can we screw up?"
     A burst of gunfire chattered out in the hall.  "Okay, all of you,
get out of here, and take your little friends with you!"
     Grayson looked in.  Janie grinned.  "Hail, Tommy!  We who are
about to die salute you!"  She thumbed her nose at him.
     "Oh, you're awake."
     "Yeah.  Can I have a kiss for good luck?"
     "AGENT CALDER!  Stuff your fuckin' box with DYNAMITE if you want
a bang!!  NOW MOVE IT YOU MAGGOTS!!"
     Janie blinked, looking somewhat sobered up from the invective.
"You read an awful lot into a kiss, sir," she said solemnly.
     She suddenly found herself grabbed by the collar, turned around,
and booted clear out of the room.  As she was picking herself up,
trying to ignore the zebra-striped fish swimming down the hall,
Grayson came out, dragging Angel with him.  "Castamir! Clear the
stairs!"
     "But a big monster ate them, sir."
     "Clear 'em anyway!  We're going down!"
     Ardrin sprayed another burst of gunfire down the stairs.  There
were some cries of pain and thudding noises, but they seemed faint and
distant.  Grayson's voice came roaring up to him, and Janie looked him
in the face.
     "Gee, Ardrin, you look almost as fucked up as I do."
     "Gee, Janie, do you think we're royally screwed?"
     "ROIGHT!" Grayson shoved past them and looked down the stairs.
"We are going out that door, and all o' you are not goin' to do a
thing about it, ARE YOU!?"
     A low roar echoed up from below.  Looking down, it seemed to
Ardrin that the stairs were there (for Grayson was standing on the top
one) and below was a great mass of seething mud-like stuff, punctuated
with waving tendrils.
     "We're going into that?"
     Janie laughed.  "We'll get through them or die trying!  Or try
dying! Or do some tie-dying!"
     "Castamir, get Calder down here!"  He receded downstairs, almost
carrying Angel over one arm.  Angel was staring around in confusion,
her gun twitching this way and that at random.
     They all went, single file, down the stairs.  The townspeople,
armed only with bats, axes, and other tools, retreated before them.
Grayson, in the lead, muttered "Right, then, that's a good little
bunch of homicidal maniacs, yes..."  as they edged down the hall
towards the back door.  Ardrin brought up the rear, pushing Janie in
front of him.  Janie had finally stopped laughing, but he still wasn't
sure if she was aware of just what was going on.
     The townspeople followed them at a distance as they went back
through the house and out the back door.  It was very dark and raining
fiercely, but no one was out there yet.  Grayson hustled everyone out,
then slammed the door and started piling garbage cans in front of it.
     The cold rain startled them all, and Angel looked up at the sky
and said, "Are we outside?"
     "Yeah.  You conscious?"
     "I think so... though you really should get those large spots
taken care of, and get some proper arms.  Where is everyone?"
     "We're here."  Janie blinked.  "I think I feel a little better."
     "Great."  Grayson cut his hand on one old rusty can and swore.
"Check out around the sides of the building for more of 'em."
     They nodded, and unsteadily went around to the corner of the
building, slipping in the mud.  Angel got there first.  Looking out
over the harbor, she could see a column of green lightning streaking
up from a small island out in the water, and hordes of green monsters
rushing towards them in the rain, howling gutturally.
     "Gee," said Janie, "I guess the rain didn't do us much good.  The
fish didn't go away."
     "What fish?" Ardrin asked.
     "The zebra-striped fish swimming through the blood in front of
those big green monsters running towards us."
     "Wait..."  Angel said.  "You see the green monsters too?"
     For a long moment, they all stared uncomprehendingly at the mob
of things hopping and limping towards them.  The smallest ones were
the size of a man; many were larger.  Their skin was slimy, wet, and
foul looking.  They had huge claws, large unblinking eyes, and many
rows of sharp, pointed teeth.  They didn't talk, but uttered low,
obscene croaks or shrill grating howls.
     The creatures got to within about 10 feet of them before they all
screamed and opened fire.
     Many of the monsters dissolved in a stinking spray, which turned
into a wave of blackness that swept over them.  Angel gagged again,
but kept firing blindly over the whole street.  She thought she could
hear Grayson shouting, but wasn't sure.
     Janie tried to concentrate her fire on the big ones, so she
sprayed high, shooting out almost every window on the street before
the snake she was pointing at them coughed and died.  She did
completely miss Grayson, fortunately, who had appeared in her field of
vision as a satyr in a marine uniform.
     The satyr ducked.  "Watch it, you bitch!  CASTAMIR!!  Aim LEFT!"
     Ardrin (who had been shooting up a bait shop) spun around and
fired in what he hoped was the right direction.  Something very heavy
hit him in the back; several of his ribs splintered, and he went face
first into the mud.
     A dragon (or maybe a unicorn?) roared across Angel's field of
view and bit into her arm, ripping downwards as her gun went off into
it.  It dissolved into a blackish mist, spraying up around her; this
time, the stench was overwhelming, and she fainted dead away.
     A stream of very small realities flowed over Ardrin's back, and
he felt lighter.  Looking up, he saw a ring of monsters around him, so
he fired his gun (he knew it was a gun, no matter what it looked like)
until they all vanished.
     They all fired, at anything that moved, spraying the street and
buildings, reloading more by chance than anything else.  After they
had all exhausted both of their clips, the street fell silent.

                             *     *     *

     Kneeling beside the remains of the bait shop, Ardrin shook his
head, a fine red haze dripping away from his eyes.  His vision was
still fuzzy, and prone to warp away from him, but whatever they'd been
dosed with seemed to be wearing off.  The whole street was littered
with bodies, most of which didn't look human.  And the smell was
sickening; even the fierce, driving rain couldn't mask it.  Janie was
standing in the middle of the street, aiming her empty, useless weapon
at nothing in particular.
     "Janie?!"
     "Who said that?" she asked dully.
     "It's me."  He tried to get up, but pain shot through him and
forced him down again.  "I think I'm hurt."
     But Janie wasn't looking at him; she was looking out at the sea.
The column of green lightning was still there, moving across the water
towards shore.  And there were people at the base, five people, in
long greenish robes.  "Ardrin, do you see that?"
     He crawled to the side of the bait shop and stared out at the
approaching vision.  "Green lightning, five people?"
     She nodded.
     Something moved among the bodies.  "Unh... Janie, is that you?"
     Janie glanced over to the side.  "Angel?"
     Angel slowly stood up, holding her arm.  "What's happening?"
     Gritting his teeth, Ardrin fought through the pain and forced
himself to his feet and staggered towards Angel.  "I think we better
get inland.  We have to get away from that."
     Angel looked out over the sea.  "Oh my God."
     "Inland.  Away from them.  I need help."
     Angel turned to the group of five approaching over the sea and
raised her gun.  "Ardrin, get down."
     They had almost reached the jetty.  The lightning swirled and
crackled up all around them, brilliantly illuminating the entire
shore.  They were moving at a slow walk; Angel even recognized the
central figure of the group; Professor Merryweather.  It was a shot a
novice could have made with ease, but the bullets seemed to fry away
to nothing in the storm surrounding him.
     Janie stared at the professor numbly.  "That's it.  It's over."
     "Janie!  Where's Grayson?  Find Grayson!"
     "Grayson is dead," Janie said in a voice so flat and toneless
that the other two stared at her in plain shock.  "He was taken down
by a group of those... creatures.  I panicked; I wasn't sure I could
shoot without hitting him.  Then something attacked me, and I couldn't
help him."  She watched the approaching group.  "With any luck, we'll
die quicker than he did."
     Angel grabbed Janie, shaking her.  "Janie!  We need to get out of
here!  Stop doing this!  What would Mr. Samuels think?  What would Mr.
Grayson think?"
     Janie stared at Angel glassily, then picked up Ardrin.  "Let's go
inland.  We can make him walk a little farther before he kills us."
     "That's the spirit."  Angel ran ahead of them up the street.
     The rain blinded them, and the street quickly turned to mud as
they ran.  Behind them, Merryweather and his cohorts walked
unhurriedly through the town.
     As Angel ran through the rain, a massive shape loomed in front of
her; it was a house, the large building to the west of the town.  The
front door was open, and a huge man with a fireplace poker was in the
threshold, his face grim and determined.  Seeing no chance to reason
with him, Angel promptly shot him dead where he stood and ran into the
house, Janie and Ardrin following.
     "Stop..."  Ardrin dropped off of Janie and collapsed in the front
hall.  "I don't think I can go any more."
     "You don't need to.  This is Merryweather's house."
     The hall was draped in a sickly shade of green.  Pentagrams
adorned all the walls, and braziers burned foul-smelling incense
beside the doorway.  The other end of the hall had a huge staircase
leading up to the upper floors.  "Gee, whatever gave you that idea?"
     Angel whirled around, panicking, looking right and left.  "Find
someplace we can set up an ambush."
     "I don't think that'll do us any good, Angel."
     Angel said, "Wait, you're right, let's think.  We need to stop
and think.  He's a sorcerer.  Don't they have to have to have spell
books and things to work magic?"
     Janie shook her head.  "Not all of them.  I've also heard that
the sorcerer leaves his body and travels in another form, wreaking
havoc."
     Ardrin looked up.  "Maybe we can find the original body?"
     "Supposedly it disappears, or has to be put in a safe place."
     "Like where?" Angel asked.
     "I don't know.  Any place safe."
     Angel looked at the stairs.  "Let's look in the attic.  We've got
nothing better to go on.  How close is he?"
     Ardrin looked out the door.  "Oh, about 100 yards away.  You
better work quick."
     "Aren't you coming?"
     "I don't think I can."  Ardrin drew his sidearm and cocked it.
"Get up there and look.  And I hope you find something soon."
     They ran upstairs, guns out, but met no one.  The long hall went
around the house, with many doors on either side; they flung each one
open and checked inside.  They were all open, and each had some horror
behind it, something that should never have existed; Angel said enough
Hail Mary's for any normal person's lifetime.  None of them contained
anything like what they were looking for.  But the last door, at the
end of the hall, was locked.  Angel blew it open.
     Downstairs, Ardrin dragged himself back away from the door as the
greenish glow of the approaching lightning shone in.  A bolt from the
main column arced across the house, and it shook to its foundations
with an ear-shattering *crack*.
     Janie and Angel held on as the lightning stroked across the
window frame opposite the doorway, brilliantly illuminating the whole
room.  It was filled with Egyptian artifacts, statues and chairs and
small tables, and one small sarcophagus against the opposite wall.
They hurried over to it, and started scrabbling at the lid.
     Lightning struck the house again, and a weird moan came from
outside.  Ardrin leveled his gun as the front doors burst off their
hinges, crackling and burning, and Merryweather stepped into the hall,
his four cohorts behind him.  He looked far more natural, somehow, in
the sickly green sorcerer's robes than he had back at Oxford, and his
dark eyes glowed strangely with power.  Lightning darted from his
fingertips across the floor, burning a circle inches around Ardrin.
     With both Janie and Angel shoving, the lid of the sarcophagus
slowly slid off.  Inside was a small, tightly wrapped mummy, with a
golden ankh around its neck.  Janie glanced at the face, shuddered,
and grabbed the ankh.  A cry of pain echoed through the house, and she
thought she felt the necklace writhe in her hand.  With a little
shriek of laughter, she yanked it off the desiccated neck.
     Ardrin watched, numbstruck, as Merryweather collapsed, shriveled,
then crumbled into a puff of dust in the space of less than a second.
The empty robes fell to the floor, the lightning sputtered and died,
and the green sickly glow went out.  He aimed his gun at the four
people, who stared at the floor, trembling.
     "All right, now, either you give it up, or I kill you."
     They looked up at him, with empty eyes, and wailed in unison.
Then they charged across the room, shrieking with rage.  Ardrin had no
other option but to empty his gun into them.



    Daniel Parsons                                         Brandi Weed
                          Questions or comments to dparsons@netcom.com
        Available for ftp from ftp.cs.pdx.edu, in /pub/frp/stories/SLN