"You aren't listening to me. I'm ninety-seven years old. Ninety-seven. That's almost a whole d.a.m.n 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 get 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.

"d.a.m.n it, you p.r.i.c.k. 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d to finally expire. He screamed himself hoa.r.s.e 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.

"d.a.m.n it, Duke," he grumbled. "You better kill me tomorrow, or I'll have'ta kick your a.s.s, you son of a b.i.t.c.h." 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 n.o.body 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 G.o.ds, 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s, 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-d.a.m.n 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 pet.i.te girl. "It's you."

"Took you long enough to figure it out."

She threw a small vial at his feet. It shattered, 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 G.o.ds 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 s.p.a.ce, seemingly unaware of the b.l.o.o.d.y 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 dumba.s.s 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 G.o.ds could do when she got very unhappy. That was enough to convince him.

It wasn't hard to find Earl's trunk. He lay in twitching sleep. Napoleon raised his half-face and growled at her. He couldn't stop her from pounding a stake into the vampire's heart. Earl's eyelids fluttered open and a weak gasp escaped his throat.

Tammy spent a couple of minutes debating whether to finish him off. She decided to keep him around just in case Duke failed to perform as she expected. It was always handy to have a backup plan.

She went back into the kitchen and had a seat beside Duke's carca.s.s. Napoleon trailed, barking and yipping at her ankles. She tried ignoring him, but her patience waned. She threw a bolt of spectral lightning at the dog. He whined and ran off.

"Y'know, Loretta, I didn't want to do it this way. I didn't want to reveal myself. It's a risk I'd rather not have taken. But you had to be stubborn about this. You couldn't just leave."

The old G.o.ds stared up through the thick, red pool. The blood boiled with their impatience.

Duke moaned. His fingers jerked.

"Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn."

A cast-iron skillet joined the rolling pin in a new round of werewolf-braining.

Tammy's mother avoided going into her daughter's room if she could help it. She wasn't the snooping kind. Not that she trusted her daughter. She often got the impression that Tammy was not a nice girl, that there were darker things lurking just behind her eyes. But Tammy's mother also believed that it was her duty to ignore these hunches. Her job was to nurture and care. It was the father's responsibility to address the unpleasant business of the teenage years. Unmentionable female-related bits the exception. But twice a week it was required of her as a good mother to venture into Tammy's room and collect the small pile of dirty laundry stacked by the door. She diligently avoided looking at anything else lying about the bedroom. She didn't notice the Magic 8-Ball on the dresser, and her back was turned as it started throbbing like a living thing. She gathered up the dirty clothes, blissfully unaware of the incredible spiritual forces being brought to bear mere feet away. At the exact moment she left, shutting the door behind her, the ball split in two and fell to the floor with a muted thump against the carpet. The liquid spilled, forming a deep blue stain that would greatly displease Tammy's mother when she discovered it.

An ectoplasmic cloud billowed from the broken orb. Four eyes formed. Eight tangled limbs solidified. The mist split as the very different souls of Cathy and Gil Wilson repulsed each other. It was a natural aversion, like oil and water. It was also very draining, spiritually speaking. Cathy's legs weren't up to supporting her just yet. She floated until she noticed her feet weren't touching the ground. Flesh-and-blood people didn't defy gravity, and Cathy fell on her b.u.t.t with a resurgence of mortal expectation.

Most of Gil Wilson had left her, but there were bits left behind: nuggets of information about ghostly existence. Ectoplasm was a product of the soul, and as such reacted mostly how the soul expected it to. It was why ghosts tended to look as they did in life, and why their intangible form didn't just sink into the earth or float away. Knowing that didn't make it any easier to change her instinctive reactions, but at least now she understood why it happened.

The rot in Gil Wilson's soul manifested in a sallow, wasted form. His flesh was peeling, muscle and bone showing beneath. An ectoplasmic duplicate of the sacrificial dagger that had killed him stuck out of his chest. He grinned with long and sharp teeth. He stretched, first his arms, then his legs, and finally his head, which he twisted nearly three-hundred-and-sixty degrees with a pop and a crack.

"You'll only get this warning once, girl. f.u.c.k with me, and I'll spend the next thousand years tormenting you in ways the living can't imagine. Your soul shall be a shattered, wasted thing when I'm through with it. Are we perfectly clear?"

Standing, she nodded.

"Why don't I believe you?"

She backed away. "I won't. I swear."

"Don't bother lying, Cathy. I've seen your soul. You're too decent, too d.a.m.n good. Even now I know what's running through your mind. You're thinking of Earl, and how you can't just leave him there to face Tammy by himself. If it makes you feel any better, I can a.s.sure you he's dead by now."