«That was what I had in mind. Morris here, MacCab to his right, then Jill,» he said, gesturing.
Jack nodded, just as a dark shape swept past the face of the moon. Moments later, Nightwind dropped out of the sky, coming to rest atop the woodpile.
«Hello, Snuff,» he observed. «Care to switch?»
«No, thanks. Yourself?»
He did one of those unusual rotations of his head.
«I think not, especially when we outnumber you in all respects.»
Shortly, Tekela swept in with a caw, landing upon the vicar's left shoulder.
«Greetings, Nightwind,» she said.
«A good Game to you, sister.»
She looked at me and looked away. She said nothing. Neither did I.
Everyone added more kindling and more ingredients to the fire. Finally, a pair of fairly large logs were set upon it. Many-colored flames played about them, and soon the logs darkened and the fires danced upon their surfaces. A mixture of odors reached me as powders, bones, herbs, fleshy samples of anatomy, both human and other, were added. A few vials of liquid were also dumped upon it, to smolder and produce heavy, crawling ropes of smoke, to flare brightly, briefly. Within the crackling, I seemed to hear a subliminal whispering begin.
I heard Jill's footsteps mounting the northern slope long before she appeared. When she did she was hard to distinguish against the night for several moments, as she had on a hooded black cloak over a long black dress. She looked taller, more slim; and she carried Graymalk, though she set her down immediately when she achieved the level area.
«Good evening,» she said, in general. All four men responded.
«Hi, Snuff,» Graymalk said, coming up beside me. «It's a good fire already.»
«Yes.»
«As you can see… .»
«You were overridden.»
«Did you find Larry?»
«No.»
«Oh my.»
«There is a backup plan,» I said, and Nightwind came by just then, to greet Graymalk.
I felt a strong desire to howl at the moon. It was such a howlable moon. But I restrained myself.
The smell of incense reached me. Jill had just begun casting parcels into the banefire. The moon moved nearer to midheaven.
«How will we know when it is time to begin?» Graymalk asked me.
«When we can talk with the people.»
«Of course.»
«How's your back?»
«It's all right now. You look fit.»
«I'm fine.»
We watched the fire for a time. Another log was added, and more packets. The smells became a sweetly seductive bouquet. The flames leaped higher now, changing colors regularly, flickering in the wind. Sharp, tinkling musical sounds came sporadically from their midst, and the sounds of voices rose into and out of audibility. Looking away from it, my gaze was attracted by a new light source. The inscription was beginning to glow. Overhead, the moon had reached midheaven.
«Jack, can you hear me?» I called.
«Loud and clear, Snuff. Well-met by moonlight. What's on your mind?»
«Just checking the time,» I said.
Suddenly Nightwind was talking to Morris and MacCab, Tekela to the vicar.
«I guess it's time,» Graymalk said, «to take our places.»
«It is,» I replied.
She went off to collect Jill, who was tossing a final packet into the fire. The air was distorted above its colored flames now, as if it were burning in more than one place simultaneously, and in the shimmering area just about it one could catch glimpses of some of those other places. From somewhere to the north, I heard the howl of a wolf.
The vicar went and stood at the spot he had indicated. Morris and MacCab moved to take up their positions to his right; Nightwind stood atop a rock between them. Then Jill moved to stand beside MacCab, Graymalk next to her but three cat-paces forward. I went and stood near her, Jack to my right. The line was bowed, out away from the big stone, with Jack and the vicar across from each other. Lynette dozed on the altar about ten feet in front of me.
From somewhere within his cloak, the vicar removed the pentacle bowl, which he placed on the ground before him. Then he withdrew the Alhazred Icon, which he propped against a rock to his left, facing the glowing stone. Nightwind moved to a new position, back behind the pentacle. The openers always begin things, as the closers' work is purely reactive.
Jack's satchel, to his right, was already open, from the removal of various ingredients for the banefire, but he leaned and spread its mouth fully, for easy access.
MacCab knelt and spread a piece of white cloth upon the ground before him. As it was windy, he weighted its corners with small stones. Then, from an ornate sheath which hung from his belt beneath his jacket, he drew a long, thin blade which looked to me like a sacrificial knife, and he placed this upon the cloth, point toward the altar.
Then the moon went out. We all looked upward as a dark shape covered it, descending, rushing toward us. Morris shrieked shrilly as it fell, changing shape as if dark veils swam about it. And then the moon shone again, and the piece of midnight sky which had fallen came to earth beside Jack, and I saw that vision-twisting transformation of which Graymalk had spoken, here, there, a twist, a swirl, a dark bending, and the Count stood at Jack's side, smiling a totally evil smile. He laid his left hand, the dark ring visible upon it, upon Jack's right shoulder.
«I stand with him,» he said, «to close you out.»
Vicar Roberts stared at him and licked his lips.
«I would think one of your sort more inclined to our view in this matter,» the vicar stated.
«I like the world just the way it is,» said the Count. «Pray, let us begin.»
The vicar nodded.
«We shall,» he said, «to its proper conclusion, with the Gate thrown wide.»
The Count tossed a twig and a small parcel into the flames. The fire moved in its colorful dance, crackling and chiming, burning a hole in the night, through which the voices, now chanting, emerged. Shadows constantly moved past us, over the altar, and across the face of the stone. I heard the howl again, much nearer.
I looked at the vicar and saw him flinch. But he straightened and performed an opening gesture. He spoke a word of power, deeply, slowly. It hung in the air and resonated afterwards.
The inscription on the stone began to glow a little more brightly, and now, very faintly, I could discern the formation of the door-like rectangle come to frame it, that configuration which earlier had sucked Graymalk and me through to our Dreamworld adventure.
The vicar repeated the word and the rectangle came clear.
Within the chanting, I could now hear faintly «Ia! Shub-Niggurath!» being repeated, as if in response. Ahead of me, Graymalk had risen to her feet and was standing very stiffly.
The vicar turned then, rather than proceeding to the next phase, and moved slowly to the cloth on which the sacrificial blade rested. To his rear, I noted that the Alhazred Icon had also begun to glow. He knelt and raised the blade with both hands, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. Then he rose and turned toward the altar, Tekela still upon his shoulder.
And there came a movement from my right, beyond Jack and the Count. Another dark shape was moving to join us.
The vicar had taken but a single step ahead when a great, gray wolf moved into the firelight and rushed past him toward the altar. Larry Talbot had arrived, apparently in reasonable control of his faculties.
He seized hold of the girl's left shoulder with his teeth and dragged her down from the altar. With that rapid backing motion I had seen him employ before, he dragged her quickly before us toward the north, whence he had come, to my right.
The report of a gunshot filled the air and Larry staggered, a dark blot appearing and spreading high upon his left shoulder. The vicar held a smoking revolver, pointed in his direction. Larry continued moving almost immediately, however, and the vicar fired again.