VERDANT MAGICK BLASTED over the altar stone in front of the Sushi Priest, sizzling toward us. The air filled with the stink of burnt calamari as the tiny krakens piled in the bowls caught fire. The Man in Black lifted his red right hand, its raw fingers knotted together, and a shield of ruby-colored magick cupped around him. The green energy slammed into it, driving the Man in Black back a step, gobbets of magick spattering off to each side.
The force of the impact rushed across me like a runaway train careening through a station platform. I stumbled from the brunt of it, falling to one knee.
Daniel howled and dove to the ground as some of the excess green magick splashed across his legs. Rolling to a stop, he sat up, beating out tiny flickers of flame that speckled his jeans.
I moved to help him.
“I got it, I got it!” he yelled, pointing with his free hand. “Watch them!”
I spun and found the waiters walking toward me.
They chanted, their voices combined in a quartet of creepy lockstep like a Deadite version of a show choir. Every one of them now held a box-cutter with short, wicked razor blades extended.
I moved the Knife of Abraham in front of me, holding it tight. Mine was longer, but there were four of them. Not good odds. The words of Sensei Laura blasted into my mind.
If your opponent has a knife, run. If you fight someone with a knife you are going to get cut. Better to run than bleed.
Trapped between them and the sorcery battle, I had nowhere to run.
Daniel stepped next to me. He smelled burnt and limped as he moved. He hefted a chunk of stalactite and leaned toward me, pointing. “What are they doing?”
I looked, and the waiters were still closing in with short, shuffling steps. They had crossed their arms, laying the blades of the box-cutters against the insides of their elbows. Their chanting intensified, beating against my eardrums.
In his tank, Cthulhu stirred, agitated, pressing against the glass. Pressing against my mind. Pressing against my magick.
Free me.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the Man in Black lean forward and sling crimson magick at the Sushi Priest.
The inhuman waiters pushed the short, sharp blades into their flesh and dragged them down their own arms, splitting the skin in wide seams. The chanting never stopped as their skin unzipped beneath the cutting blades, yawning wide. Things moved in the wounds, writhing and squirming, and as blades reached wrists, the things burst out in a mass of slimy, flapping tentacles.
“Damn,” Daniel said.
Then they were on us.