Other noises could be heard over the rain, thumping against the roof of the Suburban. Small round things were smacking wetly against the window.

"Now, that's different," Gus said as the wipers knocked away the blood and meat on the windshield.

"Dude, roll the window up!" I shouted.

"Oh, gross!" Trip exclaimed as something hit him.

It was raining frogs. Thousands of tiny amphibians were striking us, bouncing off of the hood or road. Some were falling faster than others, hitting hard enough to explode in little red puffs.

"Isn't this from like the Ten Commandments? Let's get out of here before the plague of locusts show up," Lee suggested nervously.

"Well, actually, it's not an unknown phenomenon to have it rain frogs," I said. "Tornadoes or water spouts can pick them up and drop them someplace else. Fish too."

"Not the time for trivia, Z," Holly said.

I bit my tongue. My attempt at explaining the phenomenon was rather lame. We all knew what this meant. This was the day. One of the frogs examined me through the glass before the wiper batted it aside, leaving only a red smear.

MHI assembled in the parking lot of a small grocery store. We were only a few miles from the caverns, and Harbinger did not want us to hit the site until the sun was fully up. Not that I thought it would do much good; the clouds and rain were thick enough that it might as well have been night.

"How much light can a vampire stand?" I asked.

"Very little can cause them pain. A direct hit and they catch on fire. And maybe we'll get lucky and get a little sunshine," Julie answered.

"At least it quit raining frogs," Sam grunted.

A large contingent of us had assembled under the store awning, making last-minute preparations, asking questions, or just stretching our legs before the final fight. Some extremely curious locals had ventured out of their homes, trying to figure out what the large group of paramilitary-looking folks were doing in their small town. Considering the things that had happened over the last few days, we were not that weird in the grand scheme of things, but we still must have been a sight.

Sam nudged me and pointed across the lot. A local teenager in a yellow rain slicker approached one of our parked vehicles, a three-quarter-ton pickup hooked to a gooseneck horse trailer. It belonged to our orc contingent. Overcome by curiosity, the kid peered over the side door, only to stumble backwards and fall into a mud puddle when something large slammed into the sheet metal and growled.

"Hey, kid! It ain't polite to poke your nose in other folks' business. You trying to lose a hand?" Sam shouted.

"What was that? Who are you guys?" the kid shouted, suddenly afraid.

"It's your momma. And we're the circus. Now scram!" Sam let his duster jacket open to reveal his armor and.45-70.