A Night in the Lonesome October (33 page)

    
I felt a familiar tingling in the air.
 
The time had come for the opening.
 
I glanced at Jack and could tell that he felt it, too.

    
Larry dragged himself another foot forward.

    
I was looking at the vicar as he spoke the final word.
 
I saw the Count's left hand twitch.
 
But apparently the vicar did, too, and he stooped and raised the pentacle.
 
Something dark fled forth from the Count's ring, but the vicar caught it in the pentacle bowl and it was reflected off into the night.
 
It was probably too late for killing the man, anyway, for the opening was definitely beginning.
 
The vicar stooped again, raised the icon, and placed it upon the Count's chest.
 
The ring did not flare again.
 
All in all, as I regarded both Larry and the Count, I was forced to a sort of grudging respect for the fellow.
 
He was much better at his business than I'd have guessed.

    
"Jill," he called out, "use the wand now."

    
Jill reached inside her cloak, produced the wand, raised it.
 
Oddly, the growing brightness of the stone halted for a moment.
 
Jack had his wand out in an instant, raising it and training it upon the same target.
 
I heard the heavy footsteps again, this time approaching us.
 
The rectangle began to brighten once more, and a great depth occurred within it, swimming with colored lights.
 
The cries from the banefire grew louder and louder: "Iä!
 
Shub-Niggurath!
 
Hail to the Black Goat!"
 
The music also increased in intensity, and the moon blazed like a beacon overhead.
 
Larry began dragging himself farther along.
 
The experiment man came into view off to the right, heading toward us.
 
I glanced at Jack.
 
Beads of perspiration had formed upon his brow.
 
I could tell that he was pouring his will and spirit into the wand, but the opening continued.

    
The experiment man lumbered up to us.

    
"Pret-ty kit-ty," he said, pausing in front of Jack, which might have killed anyone else, but he already smelled of death and seemed aware of nothing untoward.

    
Suddenly, the opening was arrested, the Gateway lost some of its depth.
 
The experiment man stooped and quickly snatched up Graymalk.

    
"Pret-ty kit-ty," he repeated.
 
Then he turned and walked away in the direction whence he had come.

    
"Put me down!" she cried.
 
"I can't leave now!"

    
He sat down just beyond the firelight and commenced petting her.

    
Larry continued his crawl, steady now.
 
Depth returned to the Gateway.
 
I thought I saw a tentacle stir within it.
 
Then something large and amorphous seemed to be drifting our way.

    
"This isn't working well," I heard a small voice say.

    
I sought its source.

    
Bubo's head had emerged from the left side pocket of Jack's coat.

    
"Bubo, what are you doing here?" I asked.

    
"I had to see it," he said, "to learn whether what I'd done was right.
 
I'm not too sure now."

    
Yes, it was a tentacle, extended from the dark, approaching mass, reaching for the Gateway. . . .

    
"What do you mean?" I asked.

    
"I'm a pack rat," he said.
 
"I thought you were outnumbered and outgunned, and I wanted your side to win.
 
So I did the only thing I know how...”

    
"What?" I asked, already beginning to guess.

    
The dark mass was much nearer, and I smelled a deep reptilian musk.
 
The experiment man had put down Graymalk and risen.
 
He was approaching us again.
 
Larry had moved much farther to my left.
 
A tentacle emerged from the Gateway, groped about, located Morris's right foot, wrapped about it, dragged him back inside.
 
A moment later, it returned for MacCab.
 
Slurping sounds followed.

    
"I fixed it so they'd defeat themselves after they'd disposed of you," Bubo said.

    
"How?"

    
There were great masses of tentacles now, all of them writhing toward the Gateway.

    
"I sneaked about last night," Bubo said, "and I switched the wands."

    
I seemed to hear the odd sounds of a cat's laughter.
 
It's so hard to tell when they're smiling.
 
The old cat hadn't been telling me to fetch a stick. . . .

    
_Carpe baculum_: Seize the wand.

    
I sprang into the air, catching it in my teeth, twisting it out of Jack's grip.
 
I could see the astonished expression on his face as I did so.

    
A terrible wind began to blow past us.
 
I heard the vicar cry "No!"
 
Tekela sprang up from his shoulders, wings beating.

    
Turning my head, I saw that the Gateway was closing.

    
There followed a roar Growler would have been proud of as Larry leaped at the vicar.
 
They rolled upon the ground, passing right over the Count, knocking the icon from his breast.
 
Then the mighty wind caught them and they were carried toward the closing Gateway and on through it.
 
Jill looked puzzled as she continued to wield the closing wand, hair and cloak streaming forward.
 
Jack had braced himself.
 
Then his arm moved, hand dipping into the satchel and out, emerging quickly, casting the wine bottle of slitherers into the Gateway, to gunk it up.
 
He grinned at me.
 
"Any port in a storm," he observed.
 
I felt the wind pushing me forward.
 
Nightwind was trying to get behind a rock.

    
Then the experiment man came up and halted before us and the pressure was suddenly eased.

    
"The, Count?" he asked.
 
Had Graymalk sent him after our ally?

    
"The man on the ground!" I replied.
 
"Take him away!"

    
He continued past us, swaying but holding his own against the wind.
 
He stooped and caught hold of the supine figure, raised it in his arms.
 
I glanced at the Gateway.
 
It had already grown somewhat darker.
 
The fire, scattered, flamed at a dozen small points, glowed from as many more.
 
A few of these faded and winked out as I watched.

    
Jill stared at the wand that she held, and I could read the realization coming into her expression.

    
I heard Graymalk's voice from the shadows:

    
"Come on!" she called.
 
"Let's get the hell out of here!"

    
Bubo had already ducked back out of sight into Jack's pocket as we moved to take her advice.

    
A single note, as of a crushed crystal goblet, filled the air.
 
The stone was blank again.
 
Abruptly, the wind ceased.
 
The voices had already died away.

   
 
We made our way northward toward the slope.
 
Overhead, the moon seemed enormous.

    
"Let's go!" Graymalk urged, as we came up beside her.
 
And she was right.
 
The hilltop would remain dangerous till dawn.

    
I turned and looked back in time to see the experiment man start down the southern slope, carrying the Count.

    
"Hi, cat," I said.
 
"I'll buy you that drink yet."

    
"Hi, dog," she said.
 
"I think I'll let you."

    
Jack and Jill went down the hill.
 
Gray and I ran after.