"Go away."
"I intend to. But first, I need your help."
More knowledge came to her.
She saw Gil poring over books, studying ancient texts, researching things man was never meant to know. Spending years and years in darkened rooms, deciphering arcane secrets, figuring heavenly alignments, and plowing deep into the advanced physics of interdimensional space until finally finding the fabled Gate of the Old Gods in a quiet, dusty town called Rockwood.
Coming to Rockwood, he'd bought the seemingly unremarkable plot of land under which the Gate rested and built a temple to his masters, disguised as an innocuous all-night diner. It was far more than that. Cathy saw how something that looked so ordinary could be so much more. It was all in the architecture, the angles, the placement of the supporting pillars, and all the other little details that added up to something wholly unnatural. Even the positioning of the porcelain toilets and track lighting made a difference. She didn't understand completely. She didn't want to. But she knew the diner served to weaken the Gate even further, and that this was not a good thing.
"Yes, Cathy, you know my secrets, and I know yours. I must admit I feel somewhat cheated by the exchange. I mean, really, the worst thing you ever did was lie about hitting a baseball into Mr. Weinberg's window."
He chuckled.
"Wait. I'm getting something else. Ah, you ran over a kitty once and stole some candy and also, yes, yes, you cheated on some math tests. Terrible sins indeed. The guilt must be tearing you apart."
The horrible acts Gil Wilson had performed in his quest for unholy power swam just beneath her own memories. In an effort to repulse them, she concentrated on the less ghastly remembrances invading her.
Strongest was the night fate, or destiny, or perhaps merely random chance had nearly destroyed his chances for godhood. It was after a simple ritual, the final consecration rite of his temple. After sanctifying it with an offering of his own blood, he rose on wobbly legs. Groggy from the magic spell, he failed to notice a ketchup bottle lying on the floor.
It fell underfoot, and he tripped. The knife wound up between him and the tile. It plunged into his heart.
The old gods, enraged at his failure, gathered up enough power to reach out and drag him to their hell where they might torment him for eternity. They only got his flesh. His spirit barely slipped through their grasp. But as a ghost, Gil was powerless to open the way.
He'd all but given up hope when finally stumbling upon Tammy. Sensing the talent within her, he groomed her to complete what he had started. When she opened the way, the old gods would know who was really responsible for their rise and reward him appropriately.
He'd tutored her, teaching her secrets only he knew. She'd locked him in this prison in gratitude. Where he could once again feel his destiny passing him by. Yet fate saw fit to give him another chance. By persuading Tammy to bind another ghost in the ball, he'd tricked her into giving him his means of escape.
"That's right," he agreed. "Together, we are strong. Strong enough to escape this prison."
"No."
His voice became icy. "What?"
"No!" she repeated, stronger than before. "I won't help you. You belong here. I won't let you out."
"Would you stay with me then? For eternity?"
She didn't want to. His soul was like acid, eating away at her own spirit. But he was too dangerous, even as a ghost, to let loose on the world. Even if it did end up destroying her utterly.
"How selfless," Gil spat, as if through clenched teeth. "Yours is a noble soul, girl, but I will not be denied."
She tucked deeper into herself, calling upon fond memories in an effort to ignore him. Playing baseball with her dad. Her favorite song. Her college graduation. Earl.
"Your undead admirer. You are quite fond of him, aren't you?" Gil's voice oozed into her. "In fact, you love him. A trifle premature, if you'd like my opinion. You haven't even known him a week."
"Shut up!" She wished she had hands to cover her immaterial ears. "Leave him out of this!"
"You'll never see him again, shut away in this ball, Cathy."
"I don't care!"
"Yes, you do." He thrust deeper, digging into her memories. "Cathy, you little slut. Throwing yourself at the first vampire that comes along. I'm disappointed in you."
She didn't want to remember, but he forced her to.
"You'll never feel his touch again. You'll never feel anything again. Just you and me together for eternity. Or you can help me, free yourself, and run away with Earl."
It wasn't as simple as that. If she let him out, then the world would end. There'd be no place for Earl and her to run away to.
"But if you keep me here, Tammy shall complete the ceremony anyway. It's your choice. I can't force you. Either way, the world ends. At least my way, you'll get to spend a few precious hours with your lover. Who knows? You might even warn him in enough time to stop me." He laughed skeptically. "Doubtful, but you're welcome to try."
She groped for other solutions, but none came. This was the only way. The only way to save the world. The only way to save Earl. And she admitted to herself that he was her true reason for even considering it. She'd been alone too long. Whether it was selfish or not, she had to take the chance.
"Okay, what do I have to do?"
"Not yet. Tammy is watching. But soon."
In the darkness of their prison, Gil Wilson grinned a wide, immaterial smile.
"Soon."
Earl spent the rest of the night in the empty graveyard. Hector hadn't been able to provide any answers for what had happened. He reassured Earl he'd look into it, but Earl didn't have much hope. He sat on Cathy's grave, nursing a six-pack, and feeling sorry for himself. It was times like this that he really missed being able to get drunk.
About half-an-hour before dawn, Duke moseyed into the cemetery.
"I'd offer you a beer, but this is my last one." Earl popped it open. The warm alcohol foamed and spilled over his hands. "Shit."
"Hector tell you what happened?" Duke asked.
"Nope. Said she might have finally moved on to the next plane."
"Say why?"
"Said he didn't know, but told me he didn't see how it could've been anything I'd done."
Earl offered Duke a drink. Duke waved it away.
"No thanks. So how you doing?"
"Me? I'm just fine. I just killed my girlfriend, that's all. How else should I be?"
"If Hector said it ain't your fault, then it ain't."
"Aw that's bullshit. I screwed it up, Duke. She was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I screwed it up."
Earl threw the half-full aluminum can at the moon. It twirled, spraying beer, and hung in the air for a long while before finally coming down to earth.
"I fucked it all up."
"Ain't as bad as all that," Duke offered.
"Hell it ain't!"
Earl wiped a solitary drop of moisture that had managed to work its way free of his dried-up tear ducts.
"Sorry, Duke. I ain't mad at you, but you just don't understand. You don't know what it's like, being me. Everybody likes you. Or at least they don't not like you."
"People like you, Earl."
"No, people get used to me." He chuckled. "It's not the same thing. No big deal, really. I'm used to it. My mama didn't even like me. And my daddy thought I was a worthless pile of cow shit. Told me so on his deathbed. Pulled me over and whispered it in my ear just before croaking.
"My whole life, I can count four people who liked me. There's you, and this pet turtle I had when I was six, and my grammy Betta. And Cathy. She was the first woman who really liked me."
"There'll be others."
"You aren't listening to me. I'm ninety-seven years old. Ninety-seven. That's almost a whole damn century on this earth. And all I got to show for it are four people. And one of them ain't even a person.
"I used'ta wonder sometimes why living forever was supposed to be a good thing. Don't ge
t me wrong. Being immortal ain't all that bad. I was always a night person anyway, and the powers can be kind'a cool. But, I mean, this whole undead stuff sounds good on paper, but it ain't all it's cracked up to be.
"See, the way I got it figured, dying is sort'a like the thing that gives your life meaning. You may not want to get there, but, without it, you're just looking at a long, long road to nowhere. I'd gotten used to looking down that road, Duke." He looked to the horizon where the sun would be rising soon. "But I don't think I can do it anymore."
"What'cha talking about, Earl?"
"I'm talking 'bout maybe it's time to end it."
Duke cast a disagreeable glance at the vampire.
"Now hear me out 'fore calling me stupid. Everybody's gotta die. We undead try to pretend like we don't, but just 'cuz we don't die of natural causes, that ain't exactly the same thing. Sure, it's possible I might last till the end of time, but I wouldn't take odds on that.
"Now I've lived a good hundred years. Most of it hasn't been bad. There's been some good spots here and there, but mostly it was a whole lotta nuthin' special. Then Cathy and these last five days come along, and I figure that it was worth the wait. And it was. But now that it's over, I don't think there's anything better out there waiting for me.
"Now I'm not saying I really want to kill myself. But it's gonna happen eventually, and either I'll have to do it myself or somebody's gonna do it for me. Probably in one of the less pleasant ways."
"What's your point?"
"Point is, Duke, one way or another, I'm gonna die tonight. And I'm asking you, as my best friend, to help me out. I'll just turn my back, here on Cathy's grave, and think about her, and you'll sneak up right behind me, and rip my head clean off. It'll be the last favor I ever ask you, and if you're really my friend, you'll do it for me."
He turned, cleared his head, and felt the cold, dry earth beneath him. Cathy's smiling face came to him, and he smiled back at her. He dared hope that he'd find her on the other side, though if there was an afterlife, he doubted they'd end up in the same place.
"You aren't gonna do it, are you?"
Duke shook his head.
"Damn it, you prick. It ain't all that much to ask."
"Maybe, but you'll have to do it yourself."
"Fine. I will. I'll just let the sun take care of it."
"You do that." Duke hocked up a mouthful of saliva and mucus and spat it in the dirt. "Y'know, Earl, there'll be others."
"Not like her."
"Give it time."
"What? Another hundred years? Thanks, but no thanks."
"Suit yourself. You ever seen a vampire done in by sunlight?"
"No."
"I have. Once." Duke shook his head slowly. "It's not like in the movies. He didn't blow up or catch fire or nuthin' quick like that. No, it was more like he turned to sludge. First his skin peeled off, layer by layer. Then his muscles sorta just sloshed off his bones. And his organs smoldered and dripped into a black puddle. Then his bones popped and snapped and liquefied. Took 'bout five minutes for the poor bastard to finally expire. He screamed himself hoarse for most of it."
Earl glared. "You aren't talking me out of this, Duke."
"I'm not trying to. Just figured I'd tell you what you had to look forward to."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. Well, you got about ten minutes to dawn. I'd stick around but seeing one bloodsucker get a tan was enough for me."
"If you were my friend, you'd kill me."
"Well, maybe I'll feel up to it tomorrow night, but you can't wait that long." As the werewolf walked through the cemetery gates, he shouted without looking back. "See you 'round, Earl. . or I guess not."
The first rays of dawn came. The horizon turned soft red. It hurt Earl's eyes to look at it. He tried thinking of Cathy, to not think about the pain morning might inflict on his delicate complexion.
"Damn it, Duke," he grumbled. "You better kill me tomorrow, or I'll have'ta kick your ass, you son of a bitch." Squinting, he shielded his eyes and ran back to the diner.
As the sun rose, a drowsiness fell upon Earl. It took forty-five minutes for his undead nature to overtake his stressed mind. His sleep was restless. Normally he lay in his steamer in a corpselike slumber, but today, he twitched and kicked. Headless Napoleon sat curled up on his chest.
Duke checked on him a couple of times the first hour, and a couple of times the next hour as well.
"You really care about him," Loretta observed.
He closed the trunk and rapped it softly with his knuckles. "He needs looking after."
"S'pose he does at that. Seems to be taking things pretty hard. He's lucky to have a friend like you."
"Guess so, but it ain't a one way thing. He's been there for me when nobody else was. Sure am gonna miss him if he don't change his mind."
" 'Bout leaving?"
Duke sat on the steamer. Snorting, he wrung his hands. "Wants me to kill him."
Loretta gaped. "Over a missing ghost?"
"Mostly. But you gotta understand, life ain't exactly been easy for him. Being undead doesn't help none."
"We all got our troubles, Duke."
"True enough," he agreed. "But he made a good case for himself. I don't really see as I got much of a choice."
"Good Lord says there's always a choice."
"Don't know if Earl and the Good Lord are on speaking terms. Anyway, if he still wants it tonight, I'll have to do it."
"You can't."
"Gotta. I'm his best friend."
"I'll pray for him."
"Don't know if that'll help, but I appreciate the effort just the same."
Duke spent the rest of the morning finishing the diner's new gas line. The job was mostly done, but he took his time. It kept his mind off zombies, old gods, haunted diners, and suicidal vampires. For the moment, none of those problems existed. There was only the trench and the pipe. Duke didn't care much for hard labor. He didn't dislike it. It was just something to do, usually for money and occasionally for distraction. And though he stretched this particular distraction out as long as he could, it inevitably came to an end. He tossed the last shovelful of dirt back into place and smoothed it with the rusty spade.
He caught Tammy's scent a moment before she spoke up.
"Nice job."
"Thanks."
She slid behind him, pressing her body against his, looping her hands around his wide waist as much as she was able.
He pulled away.
"What's a matter, Duke," she purred. "Don't you like girls?"
He drove the shovel into the hard ground. "I like women."
"Oh, c'mon." She glided closer. "I know you want me."
He put his hands on her shoulders, careful to keep to a minimal, fingers-only contact. No palms. "Tammy, it ain't gonna happen." He gently, but firmly pushed her away.
She stuck out her lower lip. "Why not? You like me. I like you."
" 'Cuz it isn't that simple."
"Yes, it is."
She batted her eyelashes and ran her hand down her midriff.
The primal forces that shared Duke's soul agreed. They wanted nothing more than to throw Tammy to the ground, to feel the warmth of her skin, to watch the sweat bead on her breasts, and make her moan and grunt and tremble beneath the hot, desert sun. Another time, another place, he wouldn't have hesitated, but a couple thousand years of civilization stood between him and that place. Not that the werewolf in him gave half-a-damn about any of that. But the man did, and it was every bit as stubborn as the beast.
"Whatever," she sighed. "Loretta told me to tell you she wants a word with you."
They went inside. He found Loretta in the kitchen, standing at the grill with her back to them. He grunted to announce his entrance. She turned slowly. Gray, chalky powder covered her blank face.
He whirled on the petite girl. "It's you."
"Took you long enough to figure it out."
She threw a small vial at his feet. It shatt
ered, releasing a thousand impish demons into the kitchen. The swirling flock of greens, browns, and reds covered him in a buzzing, chattering swarm. The imps were only the size of horseflies, but they held him in place. Calling upon every ounce of strength, he lurched forward one step.
In the diner, the voices of the old gods were overwhelming. Tammy's eyes darkened to black holes. She grabbed a rolling pin from the counter and spun it lazily.
Duke pushed forward another six inches. Imps screamed and expired in smoky puffs.
Tammy grinned. Her mouth stretched wider than her face would allow, and her cheeks spread to compensate. "You blew it, Duke. I would've screwed your brains out. Well, I guess I can't have everything. Not yet, anyway."
Duke's right forearm broke free. Some imps exploded. Others were thrown across the kitchen. Duke crushed a couple underfoot with another struggling stomp.
Tammy let the pin go. Instead of falling, it hovered in the air. She rotated her finger clockwise. The pin spun slowly. She wiggled a second finger, and it became a whirling blur about her head.
"I don't really want to do this, Duke. So why don't you be a good boy and stop struggling. Otherwise, I'll have to hurt you." She clapped. The wooden pin zipped forward and struck a glancing blow off his brow. "I like you. Don't make me kill you."
Duke's body tightened. Imps popped in droves in the losing fight to hold him back.
"Have it your way."
The rolling pin flitted about almost too fast to follow, smashing in Duke's skull over and over again. Bone crunched beneath wood. He stood against the barrage far better than a mere mortal. It took a full minute for his knees to buckle. Then another minute to get him on the floor. Even after he stopped moving, blood pooling around his cracked head, Tammy had the pin strike another dozen blows. Just to be on the safe side. The glistening red club rolled about in small circles.
"Can I use your phone?" Tammy asked.
Loretta stared into space, seemingly unaware of the bloody mess in her kitchen. She was actually quite aware, but the Dust of Waking Sleep prevented her from doing anything about it.
Tammy pinched Loretta's cheek. "Thanks."
She called Chad to tell him she'd be needing him tonight. He offered up a lame excuse about needing to finish an English report. The dumbass was losing his nerve. She wasn't surprised, but he was essential to her plans. She couldn't have a sacrifice without a victim. Rather than explain that to him, she told him that if he didn't show up by six, she'd be very unhappy, and all the very nasty things a high priestess of the old gods could do when she got very unhappy. That was enough to convince him.
Gil's All Fright Diner Page 16
