"Somebody's here," I said stupidly.
Julie was startled from the couch. She reached above the mantle and took down the hidden shotgun, tossed it over to me and, without thinking, I caught it. She took down a carbine and checked the chamber. "Perimeter alarm didn't sound," she said quickly.
"Aw hell." I pumped the 870 and started for the front door. "What now?"
The front entryway smelled of wood glue and sawdust. I approached the door, and signaled silently for her to cover me. Julie moved to the side, and took up a position behind one of the interior columns.
I unlocked the five heavy deadbolts. The ornate doorknob was unusually cold under my fingertips. I kept my right hand on the grip of the shotgun and kept it ready. I turned the knob and yanked the door open. I stepped back, ready to fire.
Nothing.
I sliced the pie, slowly cornering around the opening. The porch was clear. I shined the weapon-mounted light into the darkness. I could not see anything in the yard or in the parking area.
"Did we just get doorbell ditched?" I asked.
"Wait, there's a note." Julie approached cautiously. A small white envelope had been shoved under the door. She cradled the carbine in her arms as she tore it open.
"Careful," I cautioned.
"Don't be such a wuss."
She unfolded the note, adjusted her glasses, and read silently. Julie frowned, her pretty features drew into an anxious knot, and she absently rubbed the unnatural black line on the side of her neck, a habit that she had picked up when she was nervous.
"What is it, honey?" I asked. She passed the note over.
The letter was handwritten. There were two separate messages on the single sheet of paper, with two very different writing styles. The first was almost perfect calligraphy.
Dear Julie,
We just wanted to drop you a note to let you know that we are doing fine. Your daddy is adjusting to his new lifestyle rather well. He has a real flair for it. We have been traveling, and seeing the world, just like we always talked about doing, but never found the time. Now we have all of the time in the world.
We want to offer a truce. I hope there are no hard feelings about the little incident we had. As a mom I just want what is best for all of my children. Now I see that you need to live your life on your own and make your own decisions, no matter how foolish they may be. You need to learn from your own mistakes.
I wish that I could be at the wedding. I like this Owen. He is a good man. He will be a good husband. If you are wondering what wedding, silly me, I have to realize that you can't read minds. Your poor boyfriend broadcasts his thoughts so loudly that I could pick them up from Mexico. The ring is in the armory. It is rather pretty. Congratulations.
One last offer, as you grow old and approach your mortal end, or if your health is fleeing and creeping sickness overtakes your body, if you choose not the cold embrace of death, call upon me, and I will come. You are my daughter and my offer of immortality still stands. Until that time, if you avoid us, we will avoid you. Search for me and I will kill you and destroy everything that you hold dear with a vengeance terrible beyond your imagination.
Love,
Mom
P.S. I love what you've done with the old place.
The second message was shorter. The writing was blocky and erratic.
Hey Kids,
How's everything going? I hope y'all are well. I'm doing good. Susan is doing good. We are having lots of fun. I'm still real sorry about the whole thing with the lying and sending you to your deaths in Natchy Bottom, but I had to do it. I hope you understand. No hard feelings. See you around.
Love,
Dad
P.S. Kid, treat my girl good or I'll rip out your heart.
I folded the note, stuck it in the envelope and passed it back. Julie crumpled it into a ball and threw it out the door. I slammed it closed.
"And to think that regular people bitch about their in-laws," I said. "I figure I've got to hold some sort of record on this one."
Julie set her gun against the wall. She fell into my arms with a sigh. I held her tight. "Do you still think normal people suck?" she asked me.
I thought about it for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I do. Normal people suck. Monster Hunting is where it's at."
"Good. I agree." We kissed, vampire mother-in-law be damned. "So where exactly is this ring?"
"Downstairs," I replied nervously. I had had it for weeks. The thought of her saying no was terrifying.
"Owen…"
"What, Julie?"
"Yes."
Special Agent Dwayne Myers, interim head of the Monster Control Bureau, had in fact called in his "final option" when they had discovered through the actions of MHI that the Place of Power was just outside of Childersburg, Alabama.
As the moon had approached its zenith, the B1 bomber on station over Alabama had been ordered to release its payload of a single low-yield tactical nuclear device. It was only a five-kiloton weapon, but it would have been of sufficient strength to slag the area immediately around the DeSoya Caverns Park. Had "final option" gone according to plan, it would not have stopped the Old One's plot, since the pocket dimension was separated from the normal world until the final close of the ceremony.
When released, the bomb had a clear path to impact. It was programmable to air burst for maximum surface devastation, or to strike the ground first, for more penetration. Since Special Agent Myers believed the target to be inside the underground cave, he had ordered the bomb to strike as deeply as possible before detonation.
By the time the bomb had traveled its course, the rift between worlds had been prepared. The sphere of evil energy had grown to mammoth size. The Old Ones could not cross the rift into our world, but matter from our world could enter into theirs. The five-kiloton nuclear weapon passed cleanly through the rift and entered the plane of the Old Ones.
The resulting explosion split the individual atoms of a legion of the Old Ones' elite troops, and the edge of the blast singed the carapace of the Overlord itself. This was a grave offense.
It called upon its minions to sally forth and destroy the human world utterly, but in those final moments, the rift closed, cutting off entrance for another five hundred years.
Greatly offended by this slight, it called upon its many servants, demanding an explanation of how the feeble mammals had been able to actually cause a small bit of harm to an Old One. The 10,000-foot-tall crustacean commanded them to discern the cause of the explosion.
The minions searched, trying to discover what foul creature could do such a thing. Though their contact with the human world was limited, they were able to piece together a few clues. They were mostly incorrect and confused, but they were happy to give their Dread Overlord an answer, hoping to keep from being flayed alive for eons. It did not take kindly to failure.
They reported back that the attack must have come from a lone human. It was a single mammal who had dared to launch a feeble atom weapon into their plane of existence. The Dread Overlord was joyous to hear that the perpetrator had been identified, so it only devoured a few dozen of its minions. They were digested painfully for an eternity. It ordered a message sent to the world of the humans. There were still ways to send information, and there were a handful of servants on the human world able to listen and obey.
The message was sent across space and time:
To all minions of the Overlord. Find and utterly destroy the human Hunter known as Owen Zastava Pitt.
THE END
This file was created with BookDesigner program
7/13/2010
LRS to LRF parser v.0.9; Mikhail Sharonov, 2006; msh-tools.com/ebook/
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