The Job

One

It was October.

The wind was crisp and smelt of burning leaves and rain. There was a cold breeze that blew from the east and traveled west down the street. It carried refuse and brightly colored leaves as it traversed it's path. Dominic stood by his car and watched as an aluminum can rolled past him slowly and was blocked by the tire of his auto.

He reached inside the pocket of his coat and pulled out a cigarette, the can managed to circumvent his tire with the help of yet another gust of wind and continued its slow journey down the street. A cat, as black as coal, suddenly appeared from some bushes in front of a house and chased after the can playfully.
It was very early in the morning but Dominic preferred it this way. He always found that things tended to run more smoothly in the wee hours of the morning. Less people milling about, fewer eyes, little to no chance for witnesses.
Not that he really had to worry.

He had paid his dues.
He had given his sacrifice long ago.
Becoming an acolyte for an Eldritch deity did not come without some personal loss.

This was the way of things.

He could see the look on his wife face when he closed his eyes. He could see the terror wash over her parents face as he finished his summoning ritual. He hadn't blamed them. He had initiated the ritual by craving the necessary sigil into his chest with the same butchers knife Dominic had used just a hour before.

To cut vegetables no less.
He laughed as he reached into his coat and pulled a cigarette from its packet, it lit as soon as it touched his lips. Some would've considered this nothing more than a parlor trick used to impress women, but to Dominic this was a constant reminder of what he was capable of.

Anything.

When Dominic sacrificed his wife and her parents to Azathoth it was a culmination of something he had been working towards for years. His boring job at the accounting firm, his boring house, his fruitless existence as a whole.... it all changed after that night.

They had been sitting in the living room enjoying a few drinks after a delicious meal his wife had cooked. Dominic had made preparations during the day, gathering the book he needed for the incantation, along with a vial of dirt from his local cemetery and the teeth of an addict he had stabbed to death downtown. Luckily, his abilities were already starting to manifest before the summoning and he casually opened a rift to dispose of the corpse.

But to attain the level of skill he was at presently he had needed to watch his wife beg for her life as the sound of flutes played over the agonized cries of pain from her mother and father.

Azathoth, the Eldritch God of primordial chaos made short work of all three of the them. A schism had appeared in the wall behind Dominic as he spoke Azathoth's name. The sheer sound of Dominic speaking this aloud caused all three of them to drop to their knees. They cried out holding the sides of their heads as blood streamed from their eyes, nostrils, ears, and mouth.

His memory was interrupted by the sounds of a vehicle that was approaching on the street.
The car drove towards him slowly.
He could see that there were at least three people seated inside.

The driver was wearing loose fitting clothes that looked mismatched and very old. His abnormally large head seemed to stretch to accommodate his even larger and bulbous eyes, eyes that looked glassy and didn't appear to blink. His skin color was off, it was gray and almost dull to the point it blended in with the interior.

The second occupant of the car that was seated next to the driver was thin and sharply dressed. His suit looked neatly pressed and starched and there was a distinct pocket square that seemed to glow with a bizarre luminosity that almost caught him off guard.

Well, almost.

Dominic stood his ground as the car pulled up along side him. The cat that had been chasing the can was back, this time simply sitting on the curb less then ten feet away. Watching Dominic and the car.

The man with the suit was wearing a trench coat that hung loosely on his frame, and as the passenger side window descended Dominic could smell how the musky cologne the man had bathed himself in. The man in the suits hair was dark and slicked back, and when he finally looked at Dominic he smiled a wide and white toothy grin.

His teeth, he thought.
His teeth look like candy.

The driver made no sound and simply turned his head almost like a swivel in Dominics direction. His eyes still not blinking.
"What's his story?" Dominic asked.
The suited man looked at the driver and then slowly back at Dominic his grin widening even further.
"Paul here?" His voice was soft like a pillow.
"Oh Paul here don't talk much. He's an Innsmouth man, they never were really much for talking I'm afraid." The suit reached over and patted Paul on his shoulder.

Paul did nothing.

Dominic looked towards the back and could see a robed figure wearing the garments of a High Priest of Azathoth. The priests features were concealed by the robe and Dominic recognized the patterns that were weaved into its fabric. They seemed to sway and move, it was like watching soapy water descend down a drain.
"You know what to do correct?"  A voice escaped from somewhere inside the robe. It was barely audible, almost a whisper.
"Yes, yes sir I do." Dominic drew a long drag from his cigarette and looked towards the Priest.
"Azathoth demands the book. You are bound acolyte," the Priest drew in a breath and instantly Dominic felt air escaping his body.
"I'm aware." He stepped back from the car. Putting as much distance between himself and the Priest as he could without appearing rude.
It wasn't the Priests fault, when you ascend the hierarchy involved with this particular cult a nasty little side effect is feeding off the breath of those around you.

Especially as you change, and become less human.

This was the way of things.

"It's only through his arrival on this physical plane that he may begin his grand design. Azathoth birthed this universe into existence and it's only through his will that...."
"Yes, yes.... I've read the stories as well."
"These are not stories boy! This is our gospel! You were granted powers just as we all were. He...needs...that....book." The patterns of the Priest's robe stopped moving as he said this and for a moment Dominic felt uneasy.

Well, just for a moment.

"Alright fellas," Dominic threw the butt of his cigarette to the ground, "which house is it?"
The man in the suit pointed across the street, the chalk white shine of his teeth reflecting in the moonlight.