Chapter 4 – The Midnight Crusade

Most dads get their kids a bike for their fifth birthday.

Maybe a puppy.

Or a savings bond if they’re boring.

My dad broke out of a maximum-security dimension to gift me a cult.

I wish I was joking.

He literally walked out of the facility, teleported to my kindergarten graduation, and handed me a heavy, gold-leafed tome.

“Happy birthday, sport!”

He had patted my head, ignoring the screaming teachers.

“These are the Deeds of the Faithful. They worship you now. Try not to smite them all at once.”

Then he vanished before the tactical teams could even breach the windows.

So now I own a cult.

They call themselves the Order of the Silent Void.

They believe my immunity to eldritch horrors is actually “Divine Indifference.” They think I’m the avatar of the end times, sent to judge the unworthy by simply ignoring them to death.

It’s highkey the most annoying inheritance in history.

I stared at the cold pepperoni slice in my hand.

The cheese had congealed into a rubbery orange mat. It looked unappetizing. It looked sad.

It matched my mood perfectly.

3:15 AM.

I took a bite anyway.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the rhythmic drip-drip of the faucet I kept forgetting to fix.

I chewed slowly.

I just wanted to finish this slice, drink a glass of water, and pass out for three hours before shift.

That was the dream.

BUUUUUURRRRR.

A low, resonant hum vibrated through the floorboards.

It wasn’t the cell phone.

It wasn’t the landline.

I stopped chewing.

“No.”

BUUUUUURRRRR.

The sound was coming from the bottom drawer of the pantry. The one behind the oversized bag of rice I never used.

The frequency rattled my teeth.

It was the God-Phone.

Technically it was an enchanted obsession stone that allowed my followers to commune with their deity, but I called it the God-Phone.

I groaned, dropping the pizza crust onto the plate.

“I am not doing this. I am literally not doing this.”

The humming got louder.

It started to shake the silverware in the drying rack. A spoon clattered into the sink.

If I didn’t answer, they would assume I was testing their faith.

Testing their faith usually involved them setting something on fire to get my attention.

I dragged myself off the stool.

My knees popped. My back ached. Being a divine entity was terrible for your posture.

I kicked the pantry door open.

I shoved the rice aside and pulled out a polished obsidian slab the size of a dinner plate.

It was glowing with a menacing purple light.

I tapped the center rune.

A hologram projected into the middle of my dark kitchen.

It was Elizabeth.

She was nineteen, wore tactical gear that cost more than my car, and had eyes that screamed “I will murder for you.”

She knelt immediately, her forehead practically touching the floor of the projection.

“Oh Divine One! You honor us with your presence!”

Her voice was breathless. Fanatical.

I leaned against the counter, rubbing a smudge of tomato sauce off my chin.

“Elizabeth. Stand up.”

She scrambled to her feet, snapping a salute that was sharp enough to cut glass.

“High Priestess Elizabeth, reporting for duty, my Lord! The Order awaits your command!”

I squinted at her.

The background behind her was dark, but I could see torches. And people in robes. Lots of them.

“It’s three in the morning, Elizabeth.”

“The witching hour! A perfect omen!”

“It’s a sleeping hour. Why are you calling?”

She clasped her hands over her heart. She looked like she was about to cry from sheer joy.

“We have prepared the ritual, Great One. The alignment is complete. The non-believers are asleep in their beds, vulnerable and unaware.”

I sighed.

Rituals. They were always doing rituals. Usually it meant chanting in a parking lot until the cops showed up.

“Elizabeth, go home. Go to sleep.”

“But the Master Plan! We are ready to execute Phase One!”

My brain was running on fumes.

Phase One? Last week Phase One was a bake sale to raise money for new robes. The week before that, it was a leafleting campaign in the park.

“The expansion project?”

“Yes! The expansion!”

Her eyes went wide and manic. She pulled a knife out of her belt and held it up to the light.

“We shall expand your domain across the city! We shall paint the streets with the color of your glory!”

I yawned, covering my mouth with my hand.

My brain filtered the words. Paint the streets. Glory. Right.

They were probably doing graffiti again.

Last month they spray-painted “THE VOID WATCHES” on a billboard. I had to pay a fine.

“Look, if you’re going to paint stuff, just be careful. Don’t make a mess.”

Elizabeth froze.

She looked at me like I had just handed her the keys to the universe.

“A… a clean strike. Surgical. Precise.”

“Sure. Whatever. Just keep it quiet. I don’t want the cops calling me.”

“Silence,” she whispered. “Yes. We shall be as silent as the grave. No screams. No warnings. They won’t even know we were there.”

“That’s the vibe. Low profile.”

I reached for my water glass.

“And Elizabeth?”

“Yes, My God?”

“Don’t stay out too late. It’s a school night. Or a work night. Do you have a job?”

“My job is to serve your will!”

“Right. Well, get some rest after you’re done with the… art project.”

She looked at the knife in her hand. Then she looked back at me. A shiver seemed to run through her entire body.

“Mercy,” she breathed. “You grant them mercy even in their destruction. You wish for us to finish quickly so we may rest. Your benevolence is terrifying.”

“I’m just tired, Elizabeth.”

“The Fatigue of Atlas! Bearing the weight of existence!”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait! My Lord! One final question!”

She stepped closer to the pickup, her face filling the hologram. She looked intense. Like, really intense.

“The government building downtown. The one with the antenna.”

“City Hall?”

“The Tower of False Idols.”

“Okay, sure. City Hall. What about it?”

“May we… remove it?”

I scratched my head.

Remove it? She probably meant picket in front of it. Or maybe put a sticker on it.

Cultists were weird about symbols.

“I don’t care. Do whatever you want with the building. Just don’t block traffic.”

Elizabeth went rigid.

She turned to the robed figures behind her.

“HE HAS SPOKEN!” she screamed.

The crowd behind her erupted into a silent cheer—raising fists and weapons into the air without making a sound.

She turned back to me, tears streaming down her face.

“We shall topple the pillars! We shall clear the path! Traffic shall flow unimpeded over the ruins of the bureaucracy!”

“Yeah, traffic flow is important. Goodnight, Elizabeth.”

“Goodnight, Sweet Prince of Entropy!”

I slapped the rune.

The hologram vanished.

The purple light faded.

The kitchen was dark again.

I shoved the obsidian slab back behind the rice and kicked the pantry door shut.

“Weirdos.”

I picked up my pizza crust.

It was hard as a rock now. Inedible.

I tossed it in the trash.

My “birthday present” was a logistical nightmare.

But at least they listened better than Thalia. Thalia would have frozen the city just to see if I noticed. Elizabeth just wanted to do graffiti and protest traffic jams.

Whatever.

I shuffled toward the bedroom.

My feet dragged on the linoleum.

3:25 AM.

If I fell asleep right now, instantly, I could get exactly two hours and thirty-five minutes of sleep.

That was basically a full night’s rest in my line of work.

I walked into the bedroom.

The ceiling fan was still spinning. Click-whoosh. Click-whoosh.

I didn’t even check under the bed for monsters.

I worked with monsters. If there was one under my bed, I’d just ask it to pay rent.

I collapsed onto the mattress.

The springs creaked in protest.