Deep in the recesses of a mountain cave, the Shoggoth stirred. It sensed that the creature it had grown to despise with unbridled passion had left the area, heading westward. Part of it was in still in her mind . . . mot enough to exert influence, but certainly enough to know when its host was missing. As soon as the sun set, the Shoggoth would take flight for the first time since that pathetic little world had come into existence. It would not report back to its master that it had been foiled by some pathetic human, however powerful she might be. The Dark One would not wait for his foe to recover . . . it would attack as soon as possible. It would all be over soon enough.

The few remaining Strays, along with Natasha, were once again gathered around the central table. They had been debating where to move the Den for hours. Robbie was acting as his sister's surrogate, arguing to keep the Strays where they were. But he was outnumbered, even with Nat stepping in on his side as an “outside” voice.

"This place just isn't safe anymore," Shield was saying.

“There's so much bad mojo around that it's next to impossible to put up solid defenses."

"So you want to move to a slaughterhouse? How much worse can the mojo get?! And it has no power, running water and. . ."

"That can all be arranged and you know it," Tarloh interrupted.

"I'm sorry, the big man said, less confrontationally, “but I don't want to sleep so close to wear we've buried our friends. This place was good to us over the years, but we've got to go."

“And we've got to find some allies," Talia said, trying to shift the conversation to something they all agreed upon. Robbie would beat his case to death just because he knew it's what his sister wanted.

“But who the hell would want to hook up with a bunch of people in the path of a God?" Nathan asked.

"Not a God," came a voice from out of nowhere.

"Just something that wishes it was."

The Strays reacted with a start. Only one person they knew could be invisible, and that was Anya, who was sitting in plain sight. So if the hidden voice wasn't hers ...

Suddenly, a purple and green mist formed in the center of the table, and it seemed to crackle with lightning. Then red sparks shot out the side, while the mist formed the head of what humans would call a dragon. The dragon's head roared, but the roar sounded more Like a Lion.

Tarloh had collected himself quickly and was actually rolling his eyes.

"Lothar, would you can it?! You almost scared my people into doing something rash."

The mist vanished and standing in the middle of the table was a slightly pudgy young man, no more than twenty-four, wearing purple robes with an assortment of gold moons and stars and random symbols decorating it. He also wore a large, conical hat with similar decorations and a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses.

"How did you know it was me?" came the now slightly-nasal and much- less-booming voice.

"Because you have the tackiest entrances of anyone I've ever met,"

Tarloh grumbled. Lothar, or Lothar the Magnificent as he liked to be called, was a wizard from Los Angeles who had been helping Tarloh and the Strays in recent months try and identify the source of the Hellspawn threat. It was Lothar who had directed them towards the legends of the Elder Gods.

"Tacky?!" Lothar blurted.

“I worked hard on that entrance!"

Most of the Strays had recovered and were curious about the newcomer.

They had all heard of Lothar, but only Tarloh, Red and Talia had ever actually met him.

"The Dragon was cool," Chris said. He'd liked fantasy books when he was younger, so he appreciated the effort.