The dragon heaves its carcass up and away.

The newcomer's presence is too loud here for me to get a precise fix on. But he knows where I am.

This is my job. I have nothing else to do. The balance needs to be shifted.

I lay my pack down on the rough ground, and stretch out, using it as a pillow.

I've slept in more uncomfortable places.

After getting caught up with events via my longtime minion Deimos, I'm ready to commit some evil. As it so happens I just reading the latest issue of 'Evil Weekly' a couple of days ago and ordered some wonderfully evil artifacts.

Deimos and I travel into the Old Quarter to the park over the swallowed remains of the strip mall where my lair resides. Here the clouds are darkest and lighting rages in the sky, but aside form the weather the park is distastefully pleasent. Fortuately, that situation will soon be rectified.

A FedEx truck pulls up and the driver brings out a small box for me to sign for. I gladly sign and the driver quickly retreats to his truck and speeds away. Meanwhile, I greedily open the cardboard to reveal an iron box. Inside is a little statue of Cthulhu along with a set of instructions. Damn, it needs a human sacrifice and here I just let that driver go away.

"Looks like we need a sacrifice, you know, they could just do that at the factory it's not like it's expensive."

"Not a problem boss." Deimos points to an individual jogging in our direction.

"Looks like jogging isn't going to be so healty today. I think you know what to do Deimos."

A couple of hours later, the required ritual is complete and a wonderfully dark and forboding temple to Cthulhu has been gated into the park. As a nice touch it gated in complete with a starter set of acolytes and a few are already dressed up nicely in suits and heading out to neighborhoods with literature to recruit more cultists. Even better, it came with the blight feature and the trees near the temple already turning black and twisted. This is nice work, I'm no longer angry that they didn't pre-sacrifice the artifact.

"Looks good boss" comments Deimos. "Can it blight the whole city?"

I consult the manual again. "Looks like it as long as enough cultists are recruited."

"What now boss?"

"Back to the lair, there's much more to do."

Over breakfast, I feel my hackles rise.

"Did you feel that?" I say aloud. Aimee shrugs, but Hector is glaring wildly about, every hair on his body standing up. That, in itself, is impressive.

"The balance?" Hector hazards.

"Yes. It's being tipped again. And I think I know who's doing it..." I think back to the Infernal Spam I received. Damn it. You'd think dropping a mountain on a guy would do the trick.

I get up and head for the television, switching it on. Judge Hatchett rails at some poor schmoe. I grab the remote and punch in a long series of numbers, a digital invocation.

Aeshma. My teeth grind.

But I can't make out where he is. It's dark, it's dusty...

He glances my way and smiles.

"Miracleman. How are you old friend?"

"Been learning from the Villains Cliches for Dummies? 'Old friend' indeed. What are you doing here?"

"After my lengthy repose in the middle of a MOUNTAIN, you mean? Just passing through. Nice town. I think I'll destroy it, rend asunder the fabric of space/time and KICK YOUR DAMNED ASS!!" He's frothing at the mouth by the end of the last sentence.

I smirk. He hates it when I smirk. "Such vulgar language, Aeshma, especially from someone so advanced in the Orders." He snarls and I laugh.

"Well, this being here and now," I say "I suppose I should respond in kind. So...bring it, bitch. You got nothin'."

As he lunges for the screen, I mutter a small incantation and switch the channel. Aeshma finds himself in the middle of a "Green Acres" marathon.

"I'll get you for this!" he screams.

"Bite me." And I turn off the TV. He'll be back...this little trick won't hold him but a few minutes. I head for my cabinet to gather some tools and prepare.

What the hell is that smell? I know for a fact that there is no carcass processing plant anywhere near this area. Gods, it's like a hundred dogfood factories.

The reek passes by like an evil cloud, leaving only a hideous memory behind. That is the smell of evil, and not the kind that I like, either.

That's it. Now I'm pissed off. I grab a few dozen Instagolem, my handy curse kit and head over to Milo's. Someone there might have information, or at least be interested in forming an angry mob. I wonder if they'll have weapons handy.

Weapon. Yes. I scrawl a message, form a paper airplane and let fly. The plane goes straight up for about 100 feet before plummeting back to earth far away. Hmmm. I wonder what ita is up to.

Achmed, lovely tolerant creature that he is, brings the coffee back to the bedroom for me. Bob's lounging around trying to look impressive, and he doesn't appreciate being snickered at by Achmed.

"Ignore him," I say, kicking Bob in hte ankle. "What do you mean we've got another evil overlord wannabe with delusions of grandeur wandering around?"

"Well, I didn't hang around for the whole spiel. Once I saw him dust the mambo class--"

"What! The whole class? But they were good!"

"'Fraid so. The guy's got no appreciation for art."

"Oh, that's going too far. If he wanted to take over hte vampires and stalk around trying to look scary, well and good, but to hit the Dead Can Dance Troupe! This is going to get ugly."

I make my way to Milo's after a day of fruitless searching. I don't know what I'm looking for, really, only that I keep walking into walls and stumbling off of curbs. Something's not right.

There's no one here except a talking penguin wiping off glasses behind the bar.

"DX here?"

The penguin jerks his thumb towards the upstairs, then mimes his head settling into a pillow.

"Sleeping? Oh. I can wait." I settle into a booth, and Zar lies down across my feet.

The penguin looks pointedly at the clock.

"Yeah, it sure is late. Can I get a pint while I'm waiting?"

The penguin sets down the glass and points at the door.

"Hey, look. I won't be any trouble. I'll sit here quietly and drink my beer and pet my dog."

The penguin looks confused.

"Does that jukebox have any Johnny Cash?"

Random impressions drift through my feverish dreams, coming from the crystal. I react to some: Green Acres proves that Miracleman is evil; it's lucky Johnny Cash remains unplayed; stranger still is a mambo troupe dissolving into a cloud of dust.

The last one I put down as impossible, a combination of fevered dreams and the budding telepathic link with the house. That's proceding apace, as it tries to take care of me.

I dream again, things the house is telling me; how it died, where it lived, how it moves, how it escapes total extinction on sunny days, how it knows Milo's (the building), how it can take me anywhere I like, how it hates that I used Miracleman's money to pay for it.

I really must get around to shipping in some cabbage leaves from home.

Dammit! The streets are nearly deserted, and the penguin is turning off the lights at Milo's. Memo to self: buy a watch, and actually look at it from time to time.

I jog to the door and jump inside before the bird can draw the bolt.

He shakes his head.

"One glass of merlot, and I'm outta here." I press a gold coin to his flipper.

There's no one else here but a large, um, golem drinking a pint and rubbing the area between his feet. At least, I think he's a golem. I feel a momentary stab of guilt over my recent experiments. I shake it off. Instagolem (TM) is just a marketing name, it has nothing to do with the real thing, if this is what I'm looking at. I'm not close enough to check for writing inside the mouth, but he couldn't possibly drink beer with a maw full of paper.

I walk over, trying to look friendly and professional. Given that I have a pack full of weapons and am out of breath, this is difficult, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Mind if I join you?" I ask.

"It's a free country." His voice is like rockslide. His brow ridges come together with a clink. "Is it?" He seems genuinely puzzled.

"It was free when I got here, but lately I'm wondering." The penguin brings my merlot. The giant and I toast. Now that I'm close, I see that he's got some sort of spectral being with him. A guardian? A haunting? I don't smell evil here, just dust and shale.

"What brings you to Blood?"

The searching look comes back. "I'm not sure. I have something to do. Something to find. I must find. . . her."

The penguin is starting to get really annoyed. He makes shooing gestures. If he was capable of making a fist, he would do so.

I refrain from shrugging. How would a penguin bounce a human, even a short human, never mind a stone giant? Rather than cause trouble, I tip the bird another gold spot and grab my coat.

"I have no where to go." The giant seems very depressed.

Sigh. This is probably an incredibly stupid move, but. . .

"Listen, I live at a boarding house. Mrs. Thorne would be happy to have you stay for a day or two." Or maybe she can tell if you're trouble or not, I add to myself.

He thinks a moment. "Does she take pets?"

"Oh, sure. As long as he doesn't chase cats." What on earth is accompanying this guy? Ah, well. In for a penny, in for a pound.

The penguin follows us to the door and flips the latch before we've cleared the porch. The giant doesn't make any effort toward conversation. Just as well. I have to think of what I'll tell Mrs. Thorne when we get home.

Newly angered, I prepare my attack on my old foe. The first one will be simple. I summon a few shadow demons and magically stuff them into a FedEx envelope. Shadow demons are the most dreaded fiends around, but they are easy to summon and with their venom and ability to phase in and out of shadow they can sometimes get a cheap kill. Also, they ship easily.

"Deimos, fill out this shipping label. Send it to my foe."

My faithful minion fills out the address without delay. "Who should I say it's from boss?"

I draw upon the knowlege I've soaked up from this world to produce a valid sounding mystic institution. "Say it's from Hogwarts University."

"Um, Hogwarts is..."

"Is what?" I demand.

"Um, a really good idea."

"Ah good, finish up and I'll take it off to have delivered today." I start to look through my supplies to being setting up a more serious attack.

"Uh boss, I don't think they deliver any sooner than overnight." Says my minion as he tries to figure out which delivery method box to check.

"No, you can get them to deliver something across town the same day. You just have to threaten them correctly." Ah, I find the skull I'm looking for.

"All finished boss."

"Good, let's get this sent off and pick up some supplies for the real work."

"Federal Express."

At this time of night? The delivery man looks pale and drawn. I'm instantly suspicious.

"Sign here, please."

I scrawl across the electronic pad. Not my name, of course, no use giving that power to anyone. Let them seek to do ill to David E. Kelley. The bastard.

I examine the label. "Hogwarts? Never heard of it."

"Harry Potter," Hector says, reading over my shoulder.

"Who?"

Hector sighs. "Really, boss, you gotta pay more attention. Harry Potter. The books? The movies?"

"That disfigured child in the glasses, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Why would he send me...?"

"No, boss. It's fiction. Hogwarts isn't real."

"Oh." I ponder that a moment. "OH!"

"There it is," Hector grumbles.

The envelope shakes a bit in my hand. I think I hear an evil chortle.

"I see. Well, then. Get me a box, please."

Hector does. I conjure a UPS label and fill it out. The delivery address is obscured, but a simple enchantment assures it will go back to the original sender. I mark the box (not usually found on UPS labels) "SUPER REALLY URGENT!! GET IT THERE NOW! YESTERDAY EVEN."

"Hector, can you take this to the local UPS establishment?"

"It's closed, boss."

"Oh, just drop it in the night slot. They'll deliver it first thing."

"You're slightly paranoid, aren't you?"

"More than slightly."