Free The Dark Rites of Cthulhu by Brian Sammons Page A

office, so lost in self-loathing that he didn’t even notice the black Mercedes gliding into the parking lot and pulling into the space next to his battered truck. He didn’t notice the car’s cracked windshield that still had blood and black feathers sticking to it, nor the shadowy figure behind the wheel that stared at him.
    Upon reaching the entrance of the Sunshine Harvest, Dennis did notice something out of the ordinary: the distant cawing of crows. In the back of his mind the little voice wondered That’s weird. Do crows fly at night? But as was frequently the case these days, he chose to ignore it.
    Dennis grabbed the door handle and looked at a paper jack ‘o lantern grinning up at him from the door’s window.
    “Oh yeah,” he muttered to himself, “happy fucking Halloween.”
     
    See? It’s not that bad , the little voice said, and Dennis had to agree with it this time. Although the motel would never be called luxurious, with its faded green carpet, cheap brass fixtures, and well-worn furniture at least two decades out of date, it was, at least, clean and dry.
    Everything inside was awash in a sea of orange and black for Halloween. Rolls of Halloween crepe paper ran across the borders of the walls and ceiling, joining with jack o’ lanterns, both real and decorative, to set the color palette. Plastic skeletons, rubber bats on strings, and fake spiders on webs of stretched cotton added to the celebration Halloween.
    Dennis, despite his mood, smiled. Halloween had always been his favorite time of the year. It’s what sparked his interest in all things spooky and mysterious, which had initially fostered his love for magic. He knew he should hate the holiday, just for that, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. 
    His brief feeling of joy vanished in an instant when he saw that the motel was full of people Dennis recognized from MagiCon.
    He sighed. I should have known as much. Magicians are the cheapest bastards in the world, so of course they’d all flock here on their way home, he thought. He then had his own train of scornful speculation derailed when the little voice in his head added, Isn’t that exactly why you stopped here?
    He shook his head and marched up to the registration counter. A candle inside a carved jack o’ lantern flickered to his left, and next to it sat a plastic bowl filled with Dum Dum suckers. The guy behind the counter was in his mid-twenties and still had his boyish looks, though they were starting to mature. Despite that, the clerk looked all the more childish because he was drinking chocolate milk from a bright yellow carton with a rabbit’s cartoon face on it. The cowboy costume he wore might have had something to do with the air of immaturity, too. The nametag on the man-child’s chest read Jim Stutton .
    Jim put the carton down and licked his lips clean. “Hey there, happy Halloween, can I help you?” he picked up the bowl of sweets and offered them.
    Dennis debated for a moment, then thought, what the hell , and plucked a cherry sucker from the pile.
    “Yes, I need a room for the night,” Dennis said, putting his suitcase down and digging out his emaciated wallet.
    “The Amazing Kraygen, huh?”
    “What?” Dennis asked, then followed Jim’s stare to his own chest where he was still wearing his MagiCon “hi my name is” sticker.
    Oh that’s just great, he thought as he reached up to rip off the tag. “Yeah, I’m a professional magician and I uhm…” he stammered as his face turned red and his normally dexterous fingers fumbled to find an edge of the sticker to peel it off.
    “I thought so,” Jim said, paying no attention to Dennis’ embarrassment. “Got a lot of you magicians in tonight after that convention you guys had down south. So, Mr. Kraygen, a room for one, then?”
    “Yes, and it is Dennis. Amazing Kraygen is just a stage name I use.”
    Not to mention a stupid name I took from an old Dungeons and Dragons character
    I played once upon a