"Dang it!" Phillip muttered as he shuffled noisily through the grass. His hurried steps were aimed... like an arrow... at the stable not far ahead. "Dang it! I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

His apology was intended for the horses that were not yet within earshot. Phillip and his horses lived by a tight and well-rehearsed routine. A farmer's work never really ended; it was always one chore after another from dawn to dusk, and often beyond. Without some kind of plan, the day's work would quickly devolve into chaos in which nothing got accomplished... much like today. Phillip had awakened to the soothing sounds of shouting voices and pounding fists. He and his neighbors then spent the prime morning hours investigating a giant hole in the ground.

Yes... a giant hole.

It wasn't HIS hole. It certainly wasn't HIS ground. But the owners of the neighboring farm were his friends, and if something had reached up and snatched their children down through a hole in the floor, then, dang-it, he had to do something about it. So it was off to the sheriff, and straight into an even bigger mess: Sheriff missing. Deputy missing. Half the damn town standing around in the street talking about monsters. All of it was very interesting indeed, but flapping his lips all morning wasn't going to get his chores done.

The horses were undoubtedly wondering about the lateness of their breakfast. Phillip could tell time by the sun with reasonable accuracy. But the sky had gone all gray this morning, foiling his efforts to discern just how late he was. No doubt the horses knew EXACTLY how late he was.

"Odd sky, that is," he mumbled to himself as he reached the stable door. He set his lamp down on the ground and dug the key out of his pocket. His eyes searched the sky for signs of normalcy... or even a sun. Finding neither, he unlocked the door, picked up his lamp, and went inside.

The stable was dark, and there was an odd, metallic smell in the air.

And there seemed to be more flies than usual.

Phillip lit another lamp hanging from a nail by the door. The feeble illumination did not dispell the darkness... it merely shoved it aside for a bit.

It was quiet.

The horses should have been whinnying and pawing the ground and otherwise showing their displeasure at their continued hunger...

...but the stable was silent.

Except for the flies.

"Macy?" Phillip called for his favorite mare. When he heard no familiar whinny in reply, he went over to her stall. Macy's equine snout did not appear to greet him.

Phillip hung his lamp from a wooden post, then opened the stall door. The instant he undid the latch, the door flew open under the weight of something that had been leaning against it-

Macy.

The horse had been gutted. Not gutted in the clean, orderly way of a butcher... but ripped open with brutal, chaotic slashes, followed by the gleeful tossing of entrails all around the stall.

"Macy!" Phillip gasped. He stepped back and drew his old trusty... and rusty... machete from the loop on his belt. His eyes scanned the dark, motionless stalls around him. They were empty. No horses in any of them. No LIVING horses.

Several thoughts wrestled each other for prominence in Phillip's mind.

Who or what would DO such a thing?
Where the HELL was the sheriff?
and
Who was going to clean up this mess?

The thought that the man or beast responsible was still somewhere in the stable did not occur to Phillip for several seconds. By then, it was too late.

Phillip turned toward the next stall.

"Speedin' Jack?" he called to the other horses. Phillip listened... and hoped... for some kind of reply. "Big Ken? Lasher? Bru-MMPH!"

The name of Phillip's sturdy work-horse 'Brucey' never made it past the man's lips.

The hand appeared from behind him and clamped over his mouth. An iron grasp wrapped in black leather choked off Phillip's yelp of surprise

"SSHHHhhh...." The intruder's breath hissed into Phillip's ear like a cold breeze blowing across a grave.


Phillip yanked forward and tried to twist out of the intruder's grasp, but something small and sharp pressed against his neck, just below his jaw.

"High tension mini-bolt, " said the voice-from-the-grave. "Penetrator tip... my own design. Goes all the way through; makes a bigger mess coming out than it does going in. Stay still."

"Y-yes sir!" Phillip squealed from behind the stranger's hand.

"Be quiet," the intruder hissed again, his voice barely a whisper.

"Wh-wh-who-"

The intruder suddenly... and silently... spun Phillip around so that he farmer was facing the opposite row of stalls. Phillip heard the rustling of cloth that may have been a long coat or a... cape? The hand tightened on Phillip's mouth again.

"It heard your footsteps while you were still on the front porch of your house," the stranger whispered. "One whiff of your breath from across the room, and it'll know what you had for dinner three nights ago. It's stronger than you. It's faster than you. And right now-"

The leather glove slipped away from Phillip's mouth and grabbed his chin. It forced his head upward so that he was staring up at the rafters above the horse stalls. There was nothing there but darkness.

"-its up there watching you. It's already torn you apart six different ways in its mind, trying to decide which one will be the most entertaining. If you don't want to find out for yourself, I suggest you leave... slowly... and don't come back. Do you understand?"

The stranger's grip on Phillip's jaw loosened just enough for the farmer to nod his head.

"Now when I let you go, you walk slowly back the way you came. When you get outside, run. Don't stop running until you hit the next town. If that next town is Montfort, you keep running until you hit the one after that. Understand?"

Phillip nodded again.

Suddenly, the stranger was gone. The hand over Phillip's mouth vanished, and the sharp object at his throat disappeared.

Phillip turned around-

-but the only thing behind him was Macy's bloody stall.

"What are you waiting for?" the stranger's voice came from.... nowhere? "Go."

Legs shaking almost to the point of convulsions, Phillip crept toward the stable door. His eyes never left the dark rafters over the stalls. He couldn't see anything up there... but it didn't matter if the stranger was lying or not. Phillip knew for a fact that there was at least one dangerous man in his stable... whether there was a monster in there with him or not was irrelevant.

When Phillip reached the door, he stepped calmly out into the grass..... and ran for his life. Today, the chores would be left undone.

Gallows was in the stall next to Macy's. He was neither crouching nor hiding.... merely standing in the far corner where the feeble light of the lamp could not find him. When the sharp ember of Phillip's fear faded into the distance, he stepped forward. He had drawn his other mini-crossbow and now, with a weapon in each hand, he moved quietly toward the other side of the stable.

There was a wide shelf above the stalls... a balcony for storing tools and extra feed. A single ladder lead up into the dark space. Gallows glanced at it only briefly. There was also a rusty chain wrapped around an equally rusty pulley hanging from the ceiling. Gallows brushed against the hanging chain as he walked past it. It made a single, metallic 'clink' and started to swing slowly back and forth.

The sound elicited a twitch of silent, sinister mischief from above.

Good. He had its attention again.

"Horses?" said Gallows. He'd reached the center of the stable, and now he began moving along its length, at a right-angle to his former direction. His steps were maddeningly slow. His eyes remained fixed on the space above the stalls. "Why horses?"

There was no sound. No movement. No response.

"And why come all the way out here?" Gallows continued. "Afraid? Nooo... not afraid. I don't sense fear. I sense.... deliberation. Deliberate action. You weren't running, before...were you? You were leading me. Drawing me out..."

Gallows paused in thought and motion as he realized that maybe... just maybe...

"Just how smart are you?" he said, speaking more to himself than his quarry. "Smart enough to set a trap?"

Reading emotions... especially non-human ones... was always tricky. The creature he'd followed from town was close enough to human to have all the associated emotions, but it didn't use them the same way. It's feelings were so quick and intense that they all bled together into something unpleasant and almost unreadable. But on the other hand, its thoughts were so tightly bound to its emotions that the occasional snatch of clarity was almost like reading the creature's mind. Gallows was trying to find that piece of clarity right now... but it wasn't there. All he was getting was pain, confusion, and hunger. Not the good kind of hunger, either.

"It's still alive, isn't it," Gallows said. He started walking again, but this time with more caution. "Down there... under the ground. I can't feel it, but you can. It's in your blood. In your thoughts. Did it just wind you up and set you off... or is it after something more specific-"

The archer's foot came down, and a fiery chill shot up his spine.

"aaaG!" Gallows winced , eyes shutting as something powerful gripped him. It squeezed hard.... claws tearing into his soul- "UNGH!"

Gallows threw himself backward out of the thing's clutches. There was no poise or poetry in the motion, it was a desperate thrust that deposited him on his back on the dirty stable floor. He looked up at the ceiling and listened to the rapid beating of his own heart.

"...what...the hell..." he said between gasps. He was out of breath. His legs were shaking.

Quickly, Gallows reached out with a sense that most men did not have. He opened his mind and searched through the sensations that poured in-

-the quarry had not moved. Its interest in him had sharpened... but it had not moved. It was watching. It was curious. It wondered what his insides would taste like.

Gallows took one long, deep breath, then stood up. He looked cautiously at the floor in front of him. There was something there. Something he couldn't see. But he could feel it. He could feel the buzzing around the edges of his mind...

It was not the creature that had attacked him. It was and echo. A remnant.

A psychic stain.

Gallows slid one of the miniature crossbows onto his belt and extended his hand. The tips of his gloved fingers began to burn. He reached further, and a sharp jolt traveled up his arm and into his thoughts-

Instead of pulling back, Gallows took another step forward, plunging his arm, and then his entire body into the column of concentrated emotion rising from the floor... plunging into the past. There were no voices or visions...only emotions. Fear. Fear and confusion and (innocent) and... hatred. Five or six men. Maybe more, but they were definitely men. A man's anger is (innocent) different than a woman's. They had come for vengeance. One of them... one of them... was confused. They followed him here. Afraid. Desperate and afraid. And angry. Why was he angry? Fighting. There was fighting and (innocent) someone was hurt. Hurt bad. More pain. Anger and (innocent) RAGE! They swarmed all over him! They cut him and beat him... then they held him down and (innocent) tortured (innocent) tortured him until he SCREAMED! But then... they (innocent!) cut (innocent!) out his tongue and (innocent!) they sewed his MOUTH shut so he couldn't scream any more! But he (innocent) wasn't screaming because of the pain, he was screaming because he was (INNOCENT!)... But they kept on torturing him... over and over again... for HOURS and HOURS and HOURS and all he kept trying to scream was-

"-innocent." Gallows gasped as he stepped back. His heart was pounding, and he was out of breath. He had stopped breathing without knowing it. His eyes burned. Gallows wiped one gloved finger across his cheek, and it came away moist. "My gods... what did they do..."

The attack came without physical warning, but Gallows felt the sharp jolt of hunger in his mind the instant before the creature's claws left the balcony.

The assassin was distracted... but he was no fool. Distracted or not, he was STILL Gallows.

His torso snapped around with quick and almost painful speed. His elbow tucked in to his side and his forearm angled upward... aiming at the source of the emotion even before the assassin's eyes were in a position to see it. When his peripheral vision spotted the descending fiend, he pulled back on the trigger-

-click-
wwWZZZZZTH!

J'Hasp twisted sharply in the air, and the miniature bolt sizzled past his throat... and continued up into the wooden roof above him.

But the SECOND bolt... fired from the SECOND crossbow that Gallows had snatched from his belt while he turned- hit the creature in the shoulder.

Blood sprayed from the wound as the powerful bolt sliced into... and out of... the creature's flesh.

"EEEEEE!!"

Screaming, but still attacking, J'Hasp landed in a crouch just short of Gallows... who was jogging backward while retrieving the full-sized crossbow from his belt. It was already loaded.

The creature snarled at him. Its skin was burnt from Yexhill's magic ring... huge patches of crisp black pain dotted its torso. Sharp white teeth gleamed out from the blackened, angry snout. With one shoulder shattered and useless, the creature sprang at him-

Gallows felt the attack an instant before it happened. His countermeasure was simple: aim at where the creature was going to be, and pull the trigger.

There was a louder
-click-
followed by an ominous
WHZZZZZT-THOCK!

"-EEK!"

The full-sized bolt sank into the center of J'Hasp's chest.

The creature's crazed screech died in its throat. The impact knocked it out of the air, and it landed in a burnt and bloody heap near the entrance to Macy's stall. J'Hasp's long tail twitched violently... the twitching spread to his legs... and then ended. J'Hasp lay motionless on the dirty floor of the stable.

"Man or beast," Gallows said calmly. He tugged on his gloves, pulling them back onto his fingers. One corner of his mouth curled upward in a near-smile. "No one escapes the Gallows."

---

"We make a perfect couple," said Floyd, pointing from his freshly bandaged hand to Thane's cloth-wrapped feet.

"Yeah, just don't be gettin' any ideas, pops," said Thane.

Floyd chuckled-

"Serves you both right!" Francesca fumed. She and Casey had squeezed into Floyd's favorite chair, where Francesca sat with her arms folded defiantly over her chest.

-Floyd's chuckle became a sigh of exasperation.

"You'll never find yourself a husband if you keep that up," he said.

"Keep WHAT up?"

"Opening your mouth. But if you're going to have opinions, they should at least be intelligent ones."

"Hey-" Thane scowled. "That was kinda harsh, don't you think?"

"A man can only take so much, Mr. Thane," said Floyd.

"It's not mister... its just Thane."

"Is that true for women as well?" Francesca countered. "Thanks to you and your 'new friends' we barely have a house left. Am I supposed to sit quietly while you two bleed all over what's left?"

"Yes," said Floyd. "You are. These people have done nothing but help and protect us, and all YOU'VE done is complain about it!"

"Help and protect!? And when that THING they brought into my house came after my son... which was that? Helping? Or protecting? These people are CRIMINALS, father... and nothing good ever comes from dealing with evil!"

"Forgive her," Floyd said to Thane. "She's... you know..."

"I'm not crazy! I don't know why you insist on telling people that I am! I'm NOT!"

Floyd gave Thane a sly nod.

"Mommy, is this a grown-up talk?" said Casey.

"Yes, baby. Never you mind."

"Can I go outside, then?"

"NO!" Thane and Floyd shouted.

"No more running off," said Thane. "Everybody stays here. Inside. In this room."

"And if that thing comes back, what are you going to do?" said Francesca. "Burn the rest of my house down?"

"It won't be back," Thane replied. "Not alive, anyway. If it came back, that would mean it got away from Gallows and the others. The others... yeah, that could happen. But Gallows? Nobody gets away from him. Not unless he wants 'em to."

"Thieves, ruffians, and killers... THESE are the people you've entrusted our safety to."

"And who would you have me trust, girl... the sheriff? The deputy? Where are THEY, eh? Dead, most likely... and WE are not, thanks to these thieves and ruffians."

"And the killers," said Thane. "Don't forget the killers."

"I'm glad you find your yourself so humorous, Mr. Thane. I do not-"

"You know what..." Thane stepped around Floyd and confronted Francesca, who squirmed in her chair as he approached. "Your father was right. YOU need bounce your thoughts around in your head a little more before you let them pop out in the open. You don't like me or the others? Fine. But don't go condemning anybody before you even know who they are. Maybe we're a bunch of thieves and mercenaries... or maybe you just jumped to that conclusion because of the company we keep. After all, you haven't SEEN any of us do anything illegal, have you?"

"I don't-"

"No, you haven't. But either way, we're men just like any other. Each one of us has a reason that we are what we are and we do what we do. You can like it or not... but you have to KNOW what it is that you don't like. And you don't know a damned thing. About ANY of us. So shut up."

"Very well said," Floyd beamed.

"So what is YOUR 'reason,' Mr. Thane?" Francesca said in her most patronizing tone.

"Hell..."

"Just like I thought," said Francesca. "There IS no story. You just like to steal and hurt people. I think I understand quite enough, thank you."

"You'll never be able to convince her of anything," said Floyd. "You're wasting your breath."

"No, no," said Francesca. "Say what you have to say... I want to hear what nonsense you can use to justify-"

"Justify what you THINK I am? Sure... I'll give you the short version. Quick and not nearly as dirty as the full yard. There was a war. It wasn't my war... wasn't my fight. I had a life then, see? A woman who loved me. A family. I decided it would be better all around if I didn't get myself killed or maimed in somebody else's fight. But the law branded me a coward. And the law a special punishment for cowards back then. It involved torture... and other things I won't talk about with children present. I escaped... but the family that I mentioned? The woman? The life? No, I never saw any of that again. Never will. And because of what they did to me in that prison, I don't have the luxury of being a coward any more. Now EVERY war is my war. EVERY fight is my fight. So what do I do... become a soldier? Stand up for the same law that locked me away and tortured me nearly to death? No... no, I don't think so. Law? I got no use for law. So what does THAT leave me, eh?"

"So instead, you kill people for money."

"Sorry," said Thane. "You have me confused with someone else. I fight because if I don't... I die. And money or not, I never killed anyone who didn't need killing. That's my story. Kinda light on details, but then you get what you pay for, don't you?"

"Is all that true?" Floyd asked incredulously.

"Maybe." Thane replied. "Or maybe I'm just a liar."

"Well," Francesca began with a little more softness and hesitation in her voice. "Just... just because life was cruel to you, doesn't mean you have to be cruel right back. I mean... look what happened to me. And you don't see ME running around with thugs and-"

"No, you're just a bitter old woman who isn't even old," said Thane.

"HA!" Floyd barked. "That's a good one! I'll have to remember that!"

"It's true," said Thane. "You know, you'd be pretty if your nose wasn't stuck so far in the air, and if you used or mouth for something other than screaming, complaining, and spitting on people who're trying to help you. Here we've saved your life a half-dozen times and you're still running off about thugs and criminals. Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's a lot worse things out there than whatever it is you think WE are. Doesn't mean you have to like us... 'cause I sure as hell don't like YOU... but it DOES mean you should tone down that mouth of yours and get some damned perspective about things. Some respect would be nice, too-"

"Nevertheless," Francesca retorted. "YOU brought that thing into my house! And-"

"And it isn't even your HOUSE!" Floyd growled.

"Oh, father, why don't you take-"

"Mama, there's someone at the door," Casey interrupted. The front door was as closed... or closed as it could be with a missing hinge and a warped frame. If someone wanted in, they wouldn't have to work very hard at it. But there was no sign of anyone trying to enter. In fact, when Thane, Floyd, and Francesca stopped talking, a thick silence permeated the old house.

"I... I don't hear anyone," Floyd whispered. "Maybe-"

"Stay here." Thane started toward the door, but the boy stopped him.

"They say we shouldn't let him in," said Casey.

"They?" said Thane. "They who?"

-Knock-

Francesca jumped in her chair, nearly tossing Casey onto the floor. Floyd and Thane turned in unison to the source of the knock: The Kitchen.

"Back door," Floyd said. "Someone's at the back door."

Knock-Knock

"You expecting company?"

"Probably the neighbors checking up on us," Floyd replied.

Knock-Knock-Knock.

"Yeah. Probably. Nobody move; I'll check it out."

Thane reversed directions and went into the kitchen. The door to the basement was closed and blocked by several hastilly-assembled chairs shoved in front of it. The door to the back yard was also shut tight... but it shuddered violently as someone strong and increasingly impatient pounded on it from the outside-

KNOCK!
KNOCK!
...pause...
KNOCK!

Thane paused for a moment to consider his options-

KNOCK!KNOCK!KNOCK!

-walking up to the door and opening it was not one of them.

There was a window with a view of the yard. Thane went to take a look outside, but as he crossed in front of the door, a final booming impact snapped the metal hinges and sent the door flying into the kitchen. The speeding door hit Thane across the left side, throwing him back hard against the antique kitchen table, nearly breaking his leg in the process.

"MR. THANE!" Floyd called from the living room. Thane heard the old man's shuffling footsteps coming toward the kitchen.

"..STAY BACK!" Thane shouted. He turned toward the door at the same time that Floyd D'Arcy slid to a halt at the edge of the kitchen.

They both saw it at the same time...

IT...

...was a corpse. There was no mistaking that. The rotting-meat stench rolling into the kitchen would have given that fact away even if both Thane and Floyd were both blind. But they weren't. With perfect and unfortunate clarity, they saw the moist, half-decomposed THING smiling at them with tarnished teeth... teeth set into a crooked, blackened jaw and covered with a face that was on the verge of sliding right off of the skull to which it was so tenuously attached. The face was limp and rotted... yet still animated. The corners of the blackened mouth jerked upward into a wide grin... a grin punctuated by a glistening, ghoulish gleam from the puss-filled orbs resting loosely in the eye sockets. The thing wore loose sheets of its own sagging skin like a robe, barely covering the frame of stringy muscles and maggot-ridden bones. One leg was almost completely devoid of flesh, while the other was swollen with worms and putrescence. Together, they held the uneven weight of the broad shoulders and stout upper body. Any traces of a musculature were long since erased by the years this thing had spent submerged in a swamp somewhere south of Hell. Chest and arms were just gnawed shards of bone onto which random strings of tendons, muscles, and a thin sheen of slime had arranged themselves as if splattered on by the hand of a mad and seriously disturbed child. The thing had a small hole in the center of its abdomen, from which several loops of decayed intestine hung like lengths of black rope reaching almost to its one visibly intact knee. The hole looked like a wound... perhaps the wound that had originally dispatched this thing into realm of the dead, but had somehow prevented it from returning. Now, however, the black cavity was home to several hundred maggots, leeches, beetles, and other assorted parasites that were slowly... one at a time... spilling out into the grass... and scurrying away.

...plop...plop...

...plop.

Yexhill Thane... fighter, mercenary, and professional thug... took one look at the thing in the yard and became violently ill all over Floyd D'Arcy's antique kitchen table.

Floyd was for the moment unconcerned about the new decoration now adorning his furniture. One glance at the thing... at its dead, drooping, but still smiling face... had frozen the man in his tracks. His jaw fell open, and his chin hovered near his chest for a second before he managed to squeak out his next two syllables:

"...F-Filkus..."

---

With no sunlight or living warmth to thaw them, the walls of the cavern were still covered with ice. Frozen vines and roots wove through the ice like veins, and the once-living floor crackled noisily beneath the necromancer's bare feet.

N'Doki reached down and snapped off one of the dead tentacles. The act of freeing it caused the entire mass to crumble away into shards of frozen pulp. N'Doki picked up one of the chunks and held it up to his face.

The cruel yellow light from his eyes illuminated the icy morsel, causing it to glow.

"Dead and dead again," N'Doki whispered. "Dead and dead again."

N'Doki turned his glowing eyes upward toward the top of the cavern. There was ice everywhere he looked.

"Such power," he hissed. "Dis should not be. Such power should not rest in mortal hands... lest those hands be controlled by N'Doki. You tink de same ting, no? You use de power to destroy... and so sure are you dat you risk your own destruction?"

The necromancer's face contorted into a frown.

"N'Doki not tink so. Sly one, you are. You were here... but now you are hidden. You leave your own death behind like de snake dat sheds its skin. Leave dis behind to fool even one such as me! Almost. But do not fear N'Doki... N'Doki cares not for you OR dis place. I seek odder tings. Even now, de spirits track you not to where you hide... but to where you BEGAN..."

N'Doki made a motion with his hand, and the darkness swallowed him.


---

"EE-HEEHEEHEEHEEEEEEEEE!" The thing in the doorway shrieked, and the sound of its voice made Thane's stomach contract even harder. It also snapped his mind out of the reeling fog of shock... returning it to the horror-show that was here and now. Thane stepped into the space between the creature and D'Arcy.

"Get back!" His warning was directed at both D'Arcy and the creature. "Just Get... back..."

"I... think... we'd better be going," said Floyd.

"No! You stay right there in that living room. I can't protect you if you're off down the street somewhere!"

"Protect?" The word came in a high pitched, almost effeminate voice... a voice that certainly did not belong to the decayed throat that had birthed it. "But Filkus is just here to play with the kiddies! Filkus luvvvvs the kiddies... they're perfectly safe with me! Heehee!"

"uhh... D'Arcy? Did that thing just talk?"

"Yeah, that's Filkus all right. He was a bit.... odd... in that way... you know."

"I think I like these zombies better with their mouths sewn shut."

"S-so do I."

"Helloooo Floyd!" The thing squealed. "Can that delicious little boy you're hiding come out to play? Hmmm? Can Casey come out to play with Fillkussss? Pleeeease?"

"YOU GO AWAY!" Floyd shouted over Thane's shoulder. "GO! YOU'RE NOT WELCOME HERE!"

"Oh nonsense!" The rotting corpse that Thane could only assume was Filkus stepped into the kitchen. "Everybody loves Filkus! And LOOK!"

The creature stuck its hand into the whole in its gut... and pulled out a pus-covered lump. He held it up.

It was the severed head of a small black dog.

"I brought a puppy! Kiddies luvvvvv puppies!"

Francesca D'Arcy picked that very unfortunate moment to come and see what was happening in her kitchen.

What she found was a rotting, animate corpse holding a bloody pup's head... and smiling at her.

"OHHH look! Francie! I remember you, Francie! You're alllll grown up now, but that's okay... you're still a kiddie to me! Filkus would still luuuuv to play with you! Play with your insides! See my puppy, Francie!! I played with his insides, toooo!"

Filkus wiggled the head at her. Several large maggots fell out of the stump and landed on Filkus's foot, where the tunneled into his flesh and disappeared.

"He reeeally liked it!"

Francesca's eyes got a glassy, far-away look. But instead of fainting, she simply backed slowly away... leaving a small puddle on the floor where she had been standing.

"D'Arcy," said Thane. "Make sure she doesn't bolt. I'm going to escort our guest out."

The zombie's horrible smile flickered. The hairless knots that were its eyebrows knotted quizzically. When it spoke, its voice had take on the tone and rhythm of a childish chant.

"You'rrrre not supposed to beeee heeeerrreee."

"That makes two of us," said Thane. He stroked the jewel of his ring, but didn't activate any spells. Yet. "But only one of us is leaving. That ain't gonna be me."

"My new friend was supposed to make sure you were gone..." Filkus said as came toward Thane.

"New... friend?"

"YES! He's just like a puppy! Only he has clawwwwws. I was jealous, so I made claws too! See!"

Filkus held up his other hand and wiggled his fingers. What little flesh had still remained had been scraped off. The bone underneath each exposed fingertip was sharpened to a jagged point. They looked just like claws. Exactly like claws.

They even had fresh blood on them.

"They make the playing so much better. I played with some kiddies just outside! One of them got scared... but the other stayed to play with Filkus! She was pretty... especially when her insides were alllll spread out..."

"...My gods... what ARE you?"

"I'm FILKUS, silly!"

Thane was on the verge of being sick again. War, he had seen. Injuries, death, and even madness... his and other people's.... he'd seen that, too. But this?!?

"You... you ate that girl... in the alley"

"Noooo! Filkus doesn't EAT the kiddies! That would be SICK! Filkus isn't sick... I just like to play! I play with the kiddies... I make their insides all pretty! I'm supposed to make Casey's insides pretty, too, but you're still here..."

The zombie pouted.

It actually... pouted.

"Maybe you can pretend not to be here? Just for a little while? Just for Filkus, hmmmm?"

"You DO realize I'm going to kill you... right?"

"Silly! I'm already DEAD! You'll be dead too, soon! Then we can play together! Ooooo, I think I'd like that!"

Filkus winked at him.

And that... was quite enough.

---

The assassin walked toward the stall... then stopped. He studied the limp, motionless body for a moment.

"Well now," he said, drawing another bolt from his quiver. "You ARE an odd one. More than one heart? Or is it just tucked away somewhere other than the usual place? But I bet I know something you've only got one of... and that's always in the same spot..."

Gallows slid the bolt into place, and took aim at the creature's head.

J'Hasp sat straight up. Before Gallows could fire, the creature sprang out of the archer's sights... and onto one of the support posts, which it used to change direction and spring again... this time at Gallows. The creature was moving too fast for the assassin to follow its movements. It was all he could do to spin out of the creature's path. Instead of removing the archer's intestines, J'Hasp's claws slashed across Gallows' arm... carving deep and bloody grooves down its length and sending the loaded crossbow tumbling out of the assassin's grasp.

"AGH!" Gallows snarled as he backed away. The creature came again-

"EEEEK!" J'Hasp suddenly veered away and circled around the archer, leering at him with eyes that were both shocked and furious.

"Man hurt J'Hasp's!" the creature hissed at him.

One of J'Hasp's arms was limp and bloody from the earlier shot, and now the creature was holding the other arm close to its body, as if it were hurt as well. But other than the burns, there was no sign of any new injury.

Gallows smiled and held out his own bleeding arm.

"I guess you didn't know empathy works both ways. Try and tear me apart if you want, but you won't get far. You'll feel every inch of it; and I seriously doubt your pain tolerance is higher than mine."

J'Hasp eyed him with suspicion. The creature continued to circle around him... circling, not getting any closer.

"I'm just full of surprises," said Gallows. "And I've got another one for you. Four words... lets see if you're smart enough to put them together:"

J'Hasp crouched-

"Remote trigger: Aim. Fire."

The loaded crossbow that Gallows had dropped was resting on the ground not far away. At the archer's command, the weapon spun and angled upward as if guided by an invisible hand. The trigger snapped back, launching the missile.

The bolt struck J'Hasp in the center of his torso, just below where the previous bolt still protruded from his chest.

The momentum of the bolt knocked J'Hasp backward toward another one of the horse stalls. Crawling and squealing in pain, the creature quickly retreated into the stall. Blood was pouring from the creature's wounds, and a long trail of red warmth led into the darkness.

"Just trapped yourself," said Gallows. He removed the collapsible longbow from its place on his back, then drew one of the flame arrows.

-CRACK-

The sound was wood being broken. The wall? A piece of the stall? Gallows couldn't see-

WARNING!

The jolt of anger came too late. J'Hasp had broken off a long piece of wood from the wall and hurled it at the assassin-

"Wha-"

-CRUNCH-

The edge of the wooden plank struck Gallows across the left temple, sending the archer stumbling backward... blind with pain. Gallows echoed the pain straight into the mind of his attacker, which caused J'Hasp to burst from his hiding place and run for the stable door-

Then, with one hand clasped to the side of his blood-soaked face, Gallows collapsed...

...and his mind exploded into fury and pain.

Of all the places in the stable... of all the spots he could have fallen...

...he had to fall THERE!

---

A corona of thick orange flame blossomed around Thane's right hand. He thrust his fist toward the undead thing... A thin, bright finger of flame leapt between Thane's hand and the creature, striking Filkus in the center of its rotting torso and throwing him back out into the yard-

"EEEEEEEeee!" Filkus squealed. He hit the grass and rolled several times before stopping. Thane extended his fingers, and the arc of flame widened into a cone that swallowed the still-burning monster before it could even attempt to rise...

...but rise it did.

A burning, sub-human form got to its feet in the heart of the inferno. Then it started toward the door.

The flames licked at the oily, slimy corpse... but they refused to catch. Filkus would not burn... not even a little. And by the time Thane's blast died away, the murderous corpse had resumed its place in the kitchen doorway, where it greeted Thane with a warm and yet still sinister grin.

"Heehee!" Filkus' corpse giggled. "That was fun! I bet you enjoyed that!"

"Not as much as I'm going to enjoy THIS!"

Thane crossed the space between him and Filkus in three rapid steps. The thing stood there... a perfect set up for a spinning hook or a flying side kick, but Thane's wounded feet were already beginning to throb. He would have to take the fight closer.

Thane's shoulder plowed into Filkus' chest and drove the creature back...

...almost.

Filkus grabbed the door-frame and held on as Thane's momentum expended itself, then he shoved forward, tossing Thane back into the kitchen. Instead of stumbling and falling, Thane took a single step back and drove his left fist into Filkus' throat. Before Thane could feel the satisfying *crunch* of rotted cartilage beneath his knuckles... he drove the heel of his open right hand upward into Filkus' face... a deadly strike to the ridge of bone just under the creature's nose.

"NGK!" Filkus grunted.

Thane's torso whipped around so quickly that his clothes caught the air with a loud *snap*. His edge of his hand sliced into the side of Filkus's skull with enough force to shatter a brick. The skull cracked open like an egg, revealing a thick grayish-black ooze that perhaps had once been a human brain.

Thane stepped back into a tight fighter's stance, expecting the zombie to either go down or retaliate-

"OOooo, look at the precious little RINGY!" Filkus squealed, reaching for the red jewel perched atop Thane's clenched fist. "Let me see-"

Thane let him see it. Twice. The first punch shattered the misshapen sack of pus that was Filkus's nose. The second sent Thane's fingers into the soft flesh just behind the zombie's jaw. Thane hooked onto the bone, twisted around and yanked the creature into the kitchen...

...then slammed it face-first into the antique kitchen table.

WHAM!

Thane pulled the zombie's head back and slammed it down again

WHAM!
-crack-

...then one more time, just to be sure

CRACK!

Then he grabbed the creature by the back of its neck and yanked it backward, dropping the creature across his upthrusting knee. Filkus's spine broke with a wet-

-cruk!-

-after which the creature rolled off of Thane's knee and landed in a foul heap on the floor.

Thane immediately drove his fist straight down into the center of the zombie's chest. His arm plowed through the cold, squirming flesh until his knuckles touched the bare floor. He snatched his arm free with an unpleasant-

-sshhluck!-

-and quickly flung away the maggots and leeches that were now trying desperately to attach themselves to his flesh.

"There-" said Thane.

Filkus' rotting fingers clamped around his left ankle like a vice.

"That wasn't nice!" Filkus hissed. "Not nice at all!"

"Aww, F-"

Filkus's claws lashed out at Thane's exposed abdomen. The slash would have ripped Thane open from gut to testicles... but instead of soft flesh, the zombie's claws found only the unyielding energy of Thane's magic ring. The protective field absorbed the slash as Thane grabbed for Filkus's head. But the zombie still had his ankle. Filkus jerked the fighter's leg upward in an amateurish attempt to throw him back. Thane flipped and landed on his feet... then hissed at the pain as several the stitches popped. The bandages on his feet started turning red.

Filkus exploded from the floor, slashing with carved claws... not at Thane, but at the table beside them. The heavy oak table split down the middle. Filkus snatched up half of it and swung it.

Thane ducked-

WHAM-

And found himself flying into the living room. His ring's shield had protected his delicate flesh, but the spell expired just before he hit the carpet. With a grunt, Thane rolled into a low crouch and eyed the doorway to the kitchen.

Filkus appeared, smiling demonically at him. The monster's eyes shifted and it turned its attention to Casey... huddled in his mother's arms near the front door.

"MOMMMY LOOK!"

"Mr. Thane, DO something!" said Floyd. The old man was standing directly in front of the door, preventing his daughter and grandson from fleeing. It wasn't going to work for long, however; Francesca looked ready to chew a hole through him and half the town to get to that door... and that was BEFORE the Filkus creature opened its black mouth and gurgled:

"THERE you are, lovely kiddies! Hello Casey! Do you and Francie want to play with me, now!?" The zombie stroked the looping coils of intestines hanging from his gut. "I'll let you play with MY insides before I play with yoourrrsss."

Francesca screamed.

Thane WANTED to scream.

But instead, he charged.

"Oooo, more fun!" Filkus squealed.

Thane vanished.

"Eh? Ohhhh, no fair!"

"Father, he LEFT US! The coward LEFT-"

Filkus lurched to the left as something struck him across the side of his skull. Filkus fell to the side, but caught its balance quickly. It turned and slashed... claws catching something solid, yet invisible

-shrriipp!-

"UnrrgH" Thane blinked back into sight... the front of his shirt was bloody and torn. The zombie had sliced him across the chest. The claws came around again for a second attack, but Thane blocked the clumsy strike and delivered quick chop to the elbow-

The joint came apart with a single, splintering

-CRACK!-
sshlurp...

Filkus' arm snapped off at the elbow.

"HEY! That's MINE!"

"Here; have it back, then!"

Thane smashed Filkus across the face with his own rotting arm, then, with a spinning thrust, he shoved the limb claws-first straight into the hole in the zombie's abdomen. The zombie retreated-

"EEEEEEE-HEEHEEHEE!!"

-its ghastly smile widening with every step.

Thane darted around behind the creature and hooked his right arm around its neck in a tight choke-hold. He dragged the monster back toward the kitchen.

"...'scuse me, kiddies..." Filkus gurgled, waving with his remaining arm. "I'll be right baaaaaack!"

Just as they reached the kitchen, the zombie threw itself backward, propelling them both toward the wall. Thane slipped out from behind the zombie, allowing it to bash its OWN head against the overhead cabinets instead of HIS head.

"Hey, wanna see a surprise!?" said Filkus, smiling giddily. Thane was already in mid-punch when the corpse in front of him made an ususually loud, wet, POP!

Thane didn't see Filkus's stomach expanding, but when the oozing wound in the zombie's belly yawned open, he very CLEARLY saw the squirming nest of entrails within... an instant before the entire mass leapt out and wrapped around his neck.

"MMMPH!"

"SURPRISE!!!!" Filkus squealed. Thane grabbed at the loops of thick, rubbery flesh, but he couldn't stop them from tightening around his throat-

"HEEHEEHEE! Bet ya didn't see THAT one coming!"
---

"AAAAAARRRRGH!"

Echoes of Dorath Chesterson's torment SCREAMED into his mind.

Gallows struggled, trying to pull himself away from the cursed spot on the floor, but his limbs wouldn't respond. Between the storm of agony in his head and his real-life concussion, he could hardly move. He was stuck... he was stuck in the middle of Dorath Chesterson's final terrified moments... stuck in HELL!

"nnnNNNNAAAGH GODS MAKE IT STOP!!!"

Meanwhile, a lurching, bleeding J'Hasp had reached the front door... which Phillip had left open after his departure. The creature... slowed considerably by its own injuries... was still moving surprisingly quick when it darted out-

-and connected with a very small pair of boots that flipped down from the ledge above the door and planted themselves in the center of his face.

WHUMP!

Emerson Shaw kicked J'Hasp back into the stable, then dropped to the ground. His golden blade was drawn, and he was quite happy.

"ReMatch!" Emerson shouted. "Think ya can take me again? Huh? Huh? Do ya?"

The air around Emerson grew cold and thick as a large shape loomed behind him. J'Hasp looked up at his master... then quickly turned to run back the other way-

The stable's side door flew open, nearly demolished by a powerful blow struck from outside. Hemingway Shaw and Harrison Blackshear stormed into the stable. Hemingway held his battered war-hammer ready. Harrison's swords were still in their scabbards, but the swordsman's hands were resting on the hilts.

"Gallows!" Hars shouted. "Where are ye?"

"nnnnGGH!" was all Gallows could manage as a reply.

"Sounds like that thing hurt him bad," said Hemingway. "I'll see what I can do."

"And I'll do the same," Hars replied, drawing his weapons.

J'Hasp eyed the Night's Bloom with increasing desperation.

"J'Hasp," The deep whisper came from throat of J'Hasp's master. As
December entered the stables. J'Hasp limped to a nearby post and crawled halfway up, secured himself with claws and tail. He looked down at his master.

December stopped below him and held out his arms.

"Come to me, old friend," he said. "You are sick. I will help you..."

"WHO'S THERE!" Gallows shouted. Hemingway knelt over him, and the archer grabbed Hemingway's arm. He tried to pull himself up, but Hemingway forced him back to the floor.

"Easy now; It's Hem. You lay right there and don't move-"

"Get me out of here!"

"Not yet. Let me see what we've got here-"

"DAMMIT! I HAVE TO MOVE!" The assassins limbs flailed violently as he tried to move in several directions at once. Hemingway's huge hand pressed down on his chest and held him in place. "HELP ME! I CAN'T... I CAN'T STOP IT!"

"Oh come now... all that moaning over a bump on the head? Hell, I got half my face scratched off and you don't see me-"

"They're TORTURING HIM IN MY MIND!" Gallows shrieked. "They're- MMMM!!"

"Huh?"

Gallows' jaw clenched shut, and his lips pressed together so tight that they began to change color.

"MMMMM!" Gallows began to claw violently at his own face, trying to pry his lips apart. "MMMM!" But they wouldn't budge. It was almost as if they were.... sewn shut.

"MMMMMMMMM!"

"Master no help," J'Hasp said slowly. "J'Hasp remember..."

The creature leaned down slightly, as if to whisper as secret.

"J'Hasp remember... Reynaldooo."

December recoiled as if stricken.

"...no..." he whispered.

"Master not kill J'Hasp now..." the creature's hiss took on a dangerous quality.

December backed away, staring up at the strange creature clinging to the post above him as if he were now afraid of it.

Harrison Blackshear nodded at Emerson. Emerson eyed the chain in the center of the room... then sprinted for it-

"J'Hasp KILL MASTER!"

J'Hasp sprang for December... claws aimed at his master's bandaged throat. Emerson Shaw reached the chain first. He grabbed it and went swinging through the air...

-until he collided with J'Hasp's, throwing the creature back into the post.

"TAG! YOU'RE IT!" Emerson squealed as he swung away.


J'Hasp ducked just in time to avoid Harrison's blade. The sword sank into the wooden post where the creature's neck had been and instant before. J'Hasp turned to run for the door once more, but December was between the creature and the exit.

J'Hasp tried to run for the ladder leading to the loft above, but the creature's injuries were too great. Its run was now a sluggish stumble that threw splatters of blood all around it with every step. Harrison chased the creature into a corner, where J'Hasp tried to climb the wall... but found itself too weak to do so. Cornered, the creature slid to the floor and curled into a ball, peering out at Hars with equal parts hatred and fear.

December approached the creature for the second time. The air around Harrison grew painfully cold, but the swordsman did not retreat.

"It almost killed you. Again," said Hars. "Pull yourself together, man... you're not up to this. Let-"

December grabbed Hars's wrist.

"Back away," said December.

"We came here to kill-"

Harrison's hand went numb.

"Back. Away."

"Aye..." December released Harrison's wrist, and the swordsman backed away. "Be careful. He's hurt, but he's cornered. I wouldn't get close if I was you."

"Your advice comes too late, Mr. Blackshear," said December.

J'Hasp hissed and spit at December. The creature uncurled itself and tried to stand, but couldn't complete the effort.

"J'Hasp hurt..." the creature mewled pitifully. "J'Hassp hurt baaad."

"I know," said December. He paused about twenty feet away. "You will not hurt for long, old friend."

December held his hands in front of his chest, palms hovering six inches apart. He concentrated, and the aura of cold around him began to condense into the space between his hands.

"J'Hassp still friend..." J'Hasp shifted weakly on the floor. A slight gurgle had crept into the creature's voice. "...friend...?"

"Yes," December replied. A frail, almost transparent shape began to form between December's curled fingers. "Always."

"J'Hassp ssorry..."

The knot of concentration on December's face loosened. He hesitated...

"MMMMM!" Gallows screamed through sealed lips. Hemingway had to pry the assassin's hands away from his face, but Gallows still continued to struggle.

"Hold still! Hold STILL or you'll make the injuries worse!"

"MMM!"

"Need some help over here!" Hemingway called. "Emerson! Quick!"

"No need to shout; I'm right behind you... enjoying the show. What's wrong with Mr. Creepy?"

"Brain damage, I think! Hold his hands while I tend to that head wound!"

"I'm not touching him! He could be possessed or something! He sounds an awful lot like all like that dead thing we fought!"

"Sounds like WHAT?" Said Hemingway

"MMMMM!" Gallows.

"MMM! MMM!" Emerson mocked him. "MMM! Yeah, he's possessed. I say we kill him now before he starts spinning around on his eyebrows."

"...possessed?" Thoughts began to click through Hemingway's mind in rapid succession. Empathy... 'torturing him in my mind'... mouth sewn shut... the cabin in the woods..

The Cabin. Where Gallows knew that someone had died, right down to the exact spot on the floor....

...exact spot on the floor.

"MOVE!" Hemingway warned. He grabbed Gallows by the boots and dragged him back across the stable floor. He hadn't gone more than a few feet when Gallows' lips suddenly unglued themselves.

"AAAarrrgh!" Gallows let out a final scream of pain, then sat up... and collapsed again. "what's happening..." he whispered. "Is... is it dead?"

"We got that thing trapped!" said Emerson. "December's going to put it away himself... but I guess you'll get credit for an assist-"

"No!" Gallows sat up suddenly. "DON'T!"

"Huh?"

"They followed him here!"

"What? We were followed-"

"NO, Damn you!" Gallows tried to stand, but Hemingway held him down. "Stop! We've got to STOP him!"

"Don't listen to it!" Harrison shouted. "He's fooled you twice already-"

"I know what I am doing, Mr. Blackshear." The ice gem took shape in December's palm.... small, delicate, and beautiful. December held it gently, but did not look at it. His eyes were aimed at J'Hasp... but he was not seeing the wounded, desperate animal trapped in the corner.

"...decades..." December whispered to himself. "Longer than anyone in this room has lived. You and I."

"...Massster... J'Hasp sssorry..."

"Steadyyy..." said Hars.

"So am I," December's voice was more of a whisper than it had been before. He took one step back, and lifted the gem. He looked down at it for the first time. It was perfect.

December drew back his arm. He wanted to look away, but instead, he forced his eyes forward toward his target. J'Hasp's stared at him... shivering...

"Let me up!" Gallows demanded. "I've got to STOP it!"

"That's what we're doing," said Hemingway. "Stopping it-"

"No! Don't you get it! They followed him here!"

"He's delirious," said Emerson.

"Yeah, I think so." Hemingway pushed Gallows to the ground again. "Help hold him down-"

Gallows grabbed Hemingway's neck and pressed his thumb hard into the man's throat-

"-ARK!"

"HEY!" Emerson came to his brother's rescue, but he swooned as the pain of Gallows' head injury blossomed across his right temple. "OUCH!"

"That thing we fought... it was a man, and he DIED here!" said Gallows as he got to his feet. Hemingway reached for him, but then he, too, got a skull-full of pain. "They followed him here and they SLAUGHTERED him-" Gallows grabbed his longbow, notched an arrow, and took aim at December "-just like WE'RE about to do!"

"NO!" Hemingway shouted as he leapt for Gallows... trying to reach him before he fired. "LOOK OUT!"

Too late.

"Goodbye. Friend." In roaring defiance of the hesitation in his heart, December's arm moved in a long, powerful arc. The ice gem spun off of his fingertips-

-zzzzZIKSHHH!

The speeding arrow intercepted the deadly gem just as it left December's hand, shattering the jewel and unleashing its fury prematurely. A whirling storm of frost and wind exploded outward, enveloping December and slashing both J'Hasp and Harrison Blackshear with speeding tendrils of biting, arctic air.

"AAAAGH!" Hars jogged backward, but the trailing edge of the storm drained his limbs of both strength and feeling. The wind tossed him aside like a toy. When he finally stopped moving, he tucked his head down and covered it with his numb, rapidly stiffening arms.

shhh-THWOCK!

One of Harrison's swords.... lost and whirling in the storm... sank into the ground beside him, missing his kidney by less than a foot. Half of the blade's length vanished into the soil. A second later-

K-TINK!

The exposed half snapped off and flew away, shattering against a far wall.

The miniature blizzard intensified to a howling climax... then came to a quick, merciful end. The wind died away, and the temperature ceased its rapid descent... leaving the stable filled with sharp, crisp, and painfully cold air. A thick layer of frost coated almost every surface. The blood of the slaughtered horses was now red ice.

Hars lay motionless on the ground. The exposed surfaces of his body were covered with more frost than could possibly be healthy for a living man. J'Hasp was likewise silent and unmoving. The small, child-like form was curled into a tight ball... every inch of which was white. Hemingway, Emerson, and Gallows were in a single heap on the other side of the stable. Hemingway and Emerson had collided with Gallows the instant AFTER the archer had made his shot. They had all gone down together in one pile as the storm hit.

December stood alone in the stable. The cold had not touched him. The wind had mussed his hair and wrinkled his clothing, but he was otherwise untouched. Yet, he stood as cold and silent as a statue... as if he himself had been frozen solid by his own power.

After a moment, his lips parted. Another moment passed, and a weak, feeble breath passed between them.

"...Blackshear?" he whispered. He turned to look at the frost-covered form, then looked for the others. "Shaw? Gallows?

...and finally:

"J'Hasp?"

December listened to the beating of his own heart in the cold silence.

---

Thane wrapped his fingers around the rope-like entrails and pulled. He loosened them enough to take a breath, but then they snapped back into place even tighter than before.

"See! Being dead is so much fun! Now, instead of playing with YOUR insides, MY insides are playing with YOU! HeeHeeHee!"

Something wrapped around Thane's chest and started to squeeze. Thane's ribs shifted painfully...

"NNNNGH!"

Thane grabbed the fresh length intestine and pulled as hard as he could. Several more feet of rotting gut unrolled from the zombie's abdomen... but then they yanked back in... taking Thane's hand with them. Thane's fist vanished inside the monster's gut. He let go... but now something had wrapped around his wrist and was pulling him even further in.

"OOOOOooooo..." Filkus squealed. "That feels so goooood..."

A fresh flood of vomit tried to force its way up Thane's throat, only to be blocked by the fleshy rope around his neck.

"OOOOO, YES! Deeeper! HEEHEEHEE!"

Thane wasn't strong enough to pull his arm free, and with only one free hand he didn't have a prayer of loosening the squirming entrails clenching even tighter around his throat. Something slithered across his lips. Thane opened his mouth and bit down hard. The leathery flesh ruptured, and a foul, watery slime spurted into Thane's mouth-

"OOO! Bite me again!" Filkus hissed. "I love it when they BITE! I love it when they SQUEEEAL! Bite me again.. Oh please, Oh please, Oh please!!! Heeheehee!"

Thane's vision began to go dim. He tried once again to pull his arm free, but he expended his last bit of strength on futility. As if rewarding him for his efforts, Filkus leaned forward and licked Thane across the cheek. The zombie's tongue... half-tongue, actually; the other half appeared to have rotted off some time ago... left a slimy trail from the Thane's jaw all the way up to his eye.

Thane's legs gave way beneath him. But he couldn't fall, because the monster had him by the throat. Thane dangled helplessly, his limp, bloody toes dragging across the kitchen floor. His neck stretched painfully in the noose-like knot of entrails. His chest felt like it was going to explode...

"I had a necklace once..." Filkus hissed "A necklace of kiddie-parts for me to remember all my little lovelies by! But I lost it! A mean man took it away from me... so I'm going to start a new one with you, and Francie, and cute little Casey! Heehee! You're not a kiddie, but I bet your insides are really pretty... wanna see?"

Filkus ripped the front of Thane's shirt away. Tiny droplets of blood followed the monster's claws as they traced across Thane's stomach.

"...such a pretty belly..." Filkus mewled. Thane could hardly hear him above the pounding of his heart and the roaring of his blood in his ears. But just before he blacked out, he felt the claws dig further...

"Heeheeheeeeee!"

"You always were a sick bastard, Filkus-"

The voice came from somewhere else in the room. Thane could see only shadows and outlines now... but someone was there...

Filkus inhaled suddenly in wordless gasp. Thane felt the monster turn away... dragging him along for the ride.

"-but this? This is beyond even you. Children, Filkus? CHILDREN?!"

"NOOO!" Thane heard the zombie squeal. He tried to focus into the encroaching darkness. There were two people in the room. One was short...

Emerson?

"No more, Filkus. It stops right here. Right now."

"Nooo, not YOU!"

"Someone should have killed you a long time ago..."

...the voice... Casey!? The boy!? The other figure could only be Floyd, but what were they DOING!?

"You can't hurt me!" Filkus was almost pleading now. "I'm dead! I'm DEAD ALREADY!"

"...sent you to hell before you brought your hell here. "

"NO! Not again! Don't hurt me AGAIN!!"

"Well, if the gods don't have the guts to damn you, then I guess it's up to me!"

"PLEEEEAASE!!" The zombie shook with fear. "HERE! You want THIS one!? TAKE HIM! TAKE HIM! Just don't HURT ME AGAINNN!!!"

Suddenly, Thane was free. His lungs filled with reeking air as he collapsed. His hand slid free of Filkus' gut, and the strangling intestines retreated into the space his arm had just vacated. Thane's vision snapped into focus just in time to see Filkus scoop up his severed arm and run shrieking out the back door...

"LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

"UHhhhgh!" Thane gasped his second... third... and forth breaths before managing to prop himself up. Casey and Floyd D'Arcy stood in the doorway behind him. Casey looked up at his grandfather

"...did I say it right, Grampa?"

"Perfect!" Floyd grinned. "I knew that would get him going! RUN, YOU SICK BASTARD!"

"What... What did you do?" said Thane.

"Those were the last words Filkus heard before Jerimiah Trisk ripped out his guts and... well..." Floyd glanced at Casey. "You know. I figured that if those old ghosts aren't around to protect us this time, then we could just pretend they were. HE didn't seem to know the difference. Filkus never was a smart one. Sick... but not too smart."

"Good thinking..." Thane said as he stood.

"Good enough to save your life. Heh."

"Tell me, old man... are ALL the zombies in this town fireproo-"

Thane looked down at his ring.

It was gone.

---

"And dere shall be a sacrifice of blood and life."

N'Doki held the tiny black corpse in his hand. A bird. A crow. One of the hundreds that littered the old cemetery.

Birds and rats. Worms and insects. All dead.

Powerful magic had been worked here.... but N'Doki had known that before he left Montfort. He had even known what KIND of magic.

"Oh, yes..." he said has he examined the lifeless bird. There were no injuries. The bird had not been harmed. Something had simply reached up...

...and sucked the life out of it.

"Ohhh, yessssss."

Even a mere apprentice in the black arts would have known what had happened here. The signs were clear and unmistakable.

It was a summoning.

Someone had pierced the veil between the living and the dead. The ceremony had been performed here. The sacrifices had come from the creatures that inhabited this place of the dead, the things that lived under the soil... or on it... or over it. And even if their corpses had not been left strewn around the cemetery, the lingering traces of magic... the stench of power... was still sharp and heavy in the air. N'Doki could read the traces as easily as a signpost: Something had been summoned.

And that made N'Doki uneasy.

A summoning, yes. But WHAT had been summoned? And, more importantly, WHO had summoned it?

The stirrings and echoes of this place were telling him things that did not make sense. The grass told him of the animals that died, but their voices softened to confused murmurs when he asked who had come before... who had been here to summon them... who had made the sacrifices.

No One they said.

The dead birds called out confused warnings.... warnings of nothing. Of the 'nothing' they had seen before they died. They had felt the energy from far away... they had responded to a call of power... but when they came, they had found only death. Not a death that was simply invisible... but a death that was not there at all. From nowhere, it had reached out... brought them close... and snuffed out their lives.

N'Doki questioned the rocks and the trees. They told him of a thing that had been born.... and a second thing that had been REborn. But of what had come before, they would only hum and whisper.

N'Doki frowned. His spirits would not help him here. They were confused; some were even afraid. Power does not wield itself, without the presence of a soul... human or inhuman... to give it form. But all of his senses told N'Doki that this is what had happened here.

...unless...

Could it be that the summoner and the summoned were one and the same?

Could it be that something had reached through the veil... and wield its power to summon ITSELF?

Such things were possible. If a creature were not powerful enough... yet... to travel freely between the realms, but were able to extend its will through the barrier between life and death...

But to then perform a ceremony who's power was felt all the way to Montfort? The effort involved in such a feat... the will...

This line of thought made N'Doki uneasier still.

The necromancer knelt and whispered to the grass.

"...Tell me of de summoned..."

The grass swayed. The spirits of the earth and the things that grow from it spoke in hushed and frightened whispers...

...two came... the lesser slithers below...

"And de odder? De greater?"

...Walked like a man... but was not...

"Tell me of dis one. De one dat walked like a man."

It breathed hatred, and its touch burned with a horrible fire...

N'Doki nodded.

"Which way did it travel?"

...the way of the wind when the warmth rises...

"...Montfort," said N'Doki. "And did de burning one speak?"

It screamed...

...It Screamed...

......It Screamed...

"And den?"

It spoke a word...

...it spoke a name.

It spoke fire and hate.

"Dis name," N'Doki leaned closer, listening intently. "What was dis name? What did de burning one say?"

...Decemberrrr...

---

"...the cold..." Hemingway's voice moaned from the jumble of bodies in the corner of the stable. "The cold, I get.... What I don't get, is where the hell did that WIND come from!?!"

"Umm, speaking of wind," Emerson said from somewhere near the bottom of the pile. "...now would be a good time to remove your knee from my stomach."

"That's not my knee."

"Get off of me, you fools."

"What just happened? What's that smell?"

"Get off of me. Now."

"Em, did you just-"

"Well I TOLD you to move your knee!"

"Great. Just great."

"Well at least its warm now."

"Blackshear needs your attention, Mr. Shaw."

"Huh?" Hemingway raised his head and saw December standing over him, reaching down with one hand.

"He needs it now."

"Right..." Hemingway grabbed December's hand and got to his feet. He trotted over to where Harrison lay, and knelt beside him. "Hars?"

"...everything... hurts..." Harrison said weakly.

"Good. That means you'll live. EMERSON! We need some blankets over here! And find something to make a fire-"

Gallows appeared beside Hars. He drew an arrow from his quiver and drove it into the ground a few feet away from the man's head. The arrow immediately burst into flame.

"...that feels good..." said Hars. "...now which one of you do I have to kill for causing this?"

"That would be me," said Gallows.

"...hmph... I was hoping it'd be Emerson. Is that thing dead?"

"No." December was on one knee before the seemingly frozen creature, with hand resting lightly on J'Hasp's tiny shoulder. December's eyes glowed like two blue lanterns. "There is heat, deep within. He lives."

"Good," said Gallows. He drew another arrow and placed it in his bow. "Stand back and I'll thaw him out."

"Whoooaa..." Hemingway's hand closed on the archer's forearm, holding it still despite Gallows' efforts to move it.

"Now would be a good time to explain your actions, Gallows," said December.

"We've been played for fools," said the archer. "All of us... especially you-" He pointed at December. "This town has been toying with us since the minute we arrived. That dead thing we fought..."

"Dorath Chesterson," said December.

"A lynch mob tortured and murdered him right here in this stable. An innocent man died screaming... on that spot right there."

"Innocent. Are you sure?"

"HE was sure," said Gallows. "But he couldn't tell them because they sewed his mouth shut. They didn't even give him a chance to defend himself. They just followed him here and tortured him to death. And now, years later, here WE are..." The assassin's eyes met each of theirs in a long, deliberate glance around the room "...in the exact... same... place."

"History repeats itself," said December.

"Curious," said Hemingway. "So you're saying that this thing didn't-"

"That's the problem," said Gallows. "Nobody KNOWS anything. Did we SEE that thing kill those people in the alley-"

"I saw it attack ME, and that's good enough!" said Emerson.

"If that thing is a killer, then we'll take care of it..." said Gallows. "...somewhere OTHER than here. Things that die in this town have a tendency to not stay dead. They turn up again... and again... and again..."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were scared, Gallows."

"I kill people for a living; I don't have much stomach for places where dead things get up and start following you around."

"Nor do I," December said. "This town's past has risen up to destroy it. The longer we remain here, the more entangled we become. It does not need poison to bend us to its will... it can make monsters of men merely by arranging the proper circumstance. As it nearly did with us."

"So what about that thing in the corner?"

"Yeah... we gonna kill it or not?"

December eyed the chain hanging from the ceiling.

"That should be sufficient to contain him. We will return to Montfort, where J'Hasp's fate will no longer be your concern."

"...the hell it won't..." Hars murmured.

"And what about Bephal?" said Hemingway. "The way you're talking, it sounds like you believe that thing is still alive down there somewhere. What about the people-"

December's eyes flashed bright blue.

"I very nearly murdered my best friend, Mr. Shaw. If THAT is the cost of our involvement, then this town is damned."

---

"I don't think we should be out here, Nigel."

"Damn right we shouldn't," Nigel snarled. It was a snarl of nervousness poorly disguised as anger. "The sheriff should be here, but he ain't around, is he? Guess that leaves this kinda thing up to us."

"Th-they said something a-a-ate him-"

"Hush it, Lewis."

"Dad, I'm scared-"

"I said HUSH it!"

"Give the boy a break, Nigel," said Cordell. "Hell, I'm scared too. Do you... do you know where we are?"

"I'm not stupid, Dell. I know."

"We-we're not going that far, are we?" said Lewis. The young boy wasn't quite a teen... strong enough to fire the crossbow he carried, but not quite strong enough to load it. His father had done that for him, for which Lewis became increasingly grateful with every step he took.

"It's just a place, Lewis. Never you mind what all those folks say... its just a place."

"D-d-does that mean we're going there?"

"It's just over the top of that hill-" Nigel pointed to the ridge just northeast of them. "Now hush."

Lewis whimpered. Cordell... his father's younger brother... clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed.

"Easy, lad."

"I'm okay," Lewis squeaked. The boy eyed his uncle's other hand. Cordell was grasping the hilt of his sword so hard that the man's knuckles were white.

"You never did say what you were doing out here in the first place, Nigel."

"Lookin for that damned dog of his!" Cordell growled... again, a growl of something other than anger. "That's when I saw 'em. Bunch of strangers wanderin' around, lookin all suspiscious. With all that's going on in this town, I figure we'd be needin' to check 'em out."

"How many of 'em was it?"

"Four, I think."

"Were they big?" said Cordell.

"Does it matter?"

"Uhhh... yeah, I'm thinkin' it does."

"We ain't out to start no trouble, Dell... if'n we was, I woulda brought everybody. I'm just wantin' to get a closer look at 'em, and I didn't wanna do THAT without some proper backup, see?"

"But I don't see anybody," said Lewis.

"Yeah, where were they?"

"Up there-" Nigel pointed to the ridge just northeast of them. "Let's go."

"Ummm..." Lewis began. He'd been walking between his father and his uncle, but now he slowed down. "I'm...ummmm... I don't wanna go up there."

"That's why all the other kids make fun of ya, Lewis... 'cause you're a bloody coward, jus like your uncle. Hell, you've got the damned crossbow! If'n you see something you don't like... shoot it! You're a better shot than me anyway..."

"Why would strangers be wanderin around here, Nigel? I mean... why here?!?"

"Because they're STRANGERS, dumbass! They don't know where they are! Damned fools probably made camp right on top of it... all the more reason to check 'em out. Give 'em a proper warnin', less'n they stir up somethin' that don't need stirrin' up. We're just being neighborly, that's all. Plus, if they're up to no good, we can take 'em by surprise and make ourselves heroes!"

"You really think they got something to do with what happened in town?"

"I don't even know what happened in town... and I don't wanna know. But if there's mischief afoot, then all strangers are suspect. Heh, remember them fellas we caught out at the old huntin cabin-"

"Shhh! Nigel!" Cordell pointed at Lewis.

"What?" said Lewis. "What cabin?"

"Before you were born, boy. Old business. Anyway, they was right up here..."

The hill began significantly steeper as they walked. Lewis slipped a few times... which he took as a sign that they shouldn't be going where they were going in the first place.

"You know, Lewis" Nigel huffed as he walked. Nigel was neither small nor young. He was out of breath after the first few minutes. "...officially, this here is your uncle Cordell's property."

"Yeah," said Cordell. "This here's family land. But I don't claim it and they don't make me pay taxes on it. It ain't like I can ever USE it for anything... for obvious reasons..."

"So...... officially...... we're... ... investigating some trespassers... ."

"Nigelll," Cordell said suspiciously. "You're not plannin' on killin these folks, are ya?"

"...hell...... I'm just saying... ... if these folks is trouble......"

"OR if they look like they got money, Nigel?" said Cordell.

"If'n they got money, that makes 'em even MORE suspiscious. Else, why would they be wanderin' around out here?"

"Good point."

"Dad... wait up!"

Lewis had fallen about fifty feet behind. Nigel turned around and flashed his sternest scowl. Lewis hesitated... then hurried up the steep hill... falling only once more... and joined his father and uncle near the top.

"This is it," said Nigel as he struggled up the final few feet. "The Pit. Home ta every monster that ever came out of this town... and trust me, there's been quite a few. There's corpses in here that date all the way back to the big plague. Hell... its so many now that ya can't even bury any new ones, less'n ya start pulling up all kinds of..."

Nigel had reached the top first, and when he looked down his voice cracked and came to a squeaking halt.

"Nigel?" Cordell began. Then he, too, reached the top. Nigel pointed to the small valley below. It was a wide, flat area nestled amid the hills. From their vantage point, Nigel and Cordell could see every inch of it.

So could Lewis when he finally got the courage to look.

"...Dad?" Lewis said meekly. "Wh-what are all those holes?"

[To Be Continued]