Davis pulled his truck around to the front of the police station. It was sunset, and they all knew that this was indeed a point of no return. From now on, they would have only Sheriff Davis and Will Bryant to prevent this ritual, whatever it intentions were, they had all agreed that it must not occur, for nothing was worth the death of four friend, one soon to be a friend, and twenty innocent dogs.

     Will hopped in the passenger seat of the truck, and Joey shut the door behind him. "Good luck to both of you. We'll see you when you return."

     "Don't wait up for us." Davis told him. He then fastened his safety belt. Will felt exempted from that ritual this time, looking down on Joey from the seat of the truck, right out the window.

     "You keep your head in the window now." Joey teased him, and Will just gave him the look that clearly said, that was not funny.

     Davis ignored the wry remark, and put the truck in gear, and started off down the road. The town of Barken left them behind shortly after that. It wasn't until they were a few minutes out of Barken that Davis said anything. Will looked at him in the pale moonlight, the scar on the right side of his face giving him a sinister cast that was wholly unlike him. He found that the words spoken by him were quite measured, considering the intensity of feeling that he knew were behind those words.

     "Elliot Engel was a sentry for us six years ago. He worked hard, he did his job quite well, and for a time there it looked as if we might have a sentry that could possibly even rival Randy in tenacity. Then the divorce, and we never saw him again. That is until now. I don't know what has gotten into him, he seemed sane six years ago, but there is no way he is sane now. I lost some good friends because of him. He permanently scarred me, I have no choice but to go through the rest of my life with a face that makes me look like I stepped out of a Batman comic book. He is going to pay, and I can't see anything better currency than his life."

     Will looked at the enraged police officer, unable to do anything but feel empathy for him. His own anger flared in tandem with Davis's and he found his emotions alarming, but justified. Here he was a dog, something he had never before been in his life, and something he had never thought he could ever be before he had heard of Barken, TX; now he was starting to act and react like a dog, sharing the emotions of the humans around him, feeding off of them, making them his own, and in general take them past the point that humans generally did. This alarmed him, as he usually remained calm in pressure situations, whereas now he was about ready to fly off the handle, he just wanted to take something in his mouth and rip it to shreds.

     It was several minutes before they reached a point that Davis felt they should abandon the truck. They both scrambled out of the car, and Davis took a pair of field glasses, and looked off in the distance. He could see both the ledges sloping towards each other. At the point where they converged, he saw that there looked to be an old warehouse, with lights on inside. That was strange, he had never heard of such a place, then again, there were many abandoned buildings in the desert that nobody had seen in years, and this most certainly must be one of them.

     Davis turned and looked down at Will. "It looks like a warehouse. You go up around from the top, and I'll hug the base to the right. It should take us about an hour-and-a-half to get over there if we don't want to be seen. So I'll buzz Bill then. That will give us about two hours before midnight. Good luck."

     With that Davis started making his way around, well out of sight of the warehouse, towards the opposite cliff face. Will watched after him for a moment, and then turned lopping off in the other direction, heading up to the top of the escarpment.

     Dr. Joey Vermiclin headed first back to the clinic, he had a few patients to check up on make sure they were recovering all right. For a veterinary clinic, it was amazingly well stocked. Of course he realized that that was because it had to serve both human and canine needs. His three patients for the night, Avery perkins, Vance Lawford and Stephanie Engel, had been gas bombed the day before. So far, not a one of them had stirred. He was keeping constant track of their vital signs, but so far the read outs had remained constant.

     As he perused them for any signs of swelling or other side-effects, he chanced a glance at their vital signs. Both the sentries seemed to have moderately improved, while Stephanie was still in the red but stable range. There wasn't much more he could do for them except give them time. He didn't know what gas had been used on them, it apparently wasn't lethal, or they would have most likely died already. However, he was going to keep them in constant check ups, if one of them went into shock, he wanted to be there to take care of it.

     Elliot Engel looked over his work, and smiled. Just a few hours, and the entire affair would be complete, the artwork a masterpiece. His labours would have come to fruition, and the rewards that he had envisioned would be spread all around. Oh it would be a glorious time, for he was indeed Ole St. Nick, and the gifts he was giving were not available in stores anywhere. Of course there were a few final preparations that needed to be made.

     "You want me to do what?" the figure in the shadows asked, not believing his ears.

     "I want you to lie down here in the centre of the pentagram. I will secure you so that you may not move during the proceedings, and then when it is over, you will be as you once were." Elliot explained.

     "And you are going to do what to me during the ceremony?" he asked.

     "I will have to cut you ritually with this knife." Elliot held up the large bowie knife, which was marked in several places with archaic designs.

     "Why? And why that knife?"

     "This was the knife that I used to skin all 25 of the dogs. The'ir spirit is contained in the knife now. Only when it is used in this following ceremony can the spirits be released. When I cut you with it, it will release the energy, the bonds containing both them, and you, will be broken, thus you will be free of your affliction."

     "I don't like to be bound." the figure protested.

     "Then fine, you don't have to be." Elliot conceded. "Of course the ceremony won't work because you need to stay completely still during the whole thing."

     "Fine, restrain me." the figure intoned.

     "You need to come out here for me to do that." Elliot pointed out.

     The figure stepped into the light, and Elliot looked upon it in all of it's monstrosity. It was no wonder this pitiful creature wished to have the blessing of Barken removed, for him it was indeed a curse, for he looked like no dog that Elliot had ever seen, but instead some monster that had risen from the depths of Hell.

     The figure approached, and he laid himself chest first down in the centre of the pentagram. With Elliot's assistance, the figure was secured in a certain position, so that it's head was pointing northward, and it's other four limbs each towards one of the spires of the pentagram. The only thing that was left out was the whip-like tail of his.

     "Now, before this ceremony can begin, I must cut your tail off, as no human being has a tail." Elliot told him.

     The figure grunted under his imprisonment, and he could see out of the corner of his eyes that Elliot was pulling out a machete, not the bowie knife he used to skin his victims, but a real machete. He felt his tail lifted up, and he could feel the blade resting against the base. Then suddenly it wasn't there any more, and he felt an excruciating pain radiate throughout his body. He let out a very canine whimper, much to his own disconcertment. Looking back again, he could see that Elliot was holding the tail aloft, the bloodied machete in the air as well. For the first time in nearly four years, he didn't have a tail.

     Elliot discarded the useless tail outside the pentagram, as well as the machete. He then moved back, and dipped his fingers in the pool of blood that was pouring out form the bloodied buttocks. He then drew symbols around the figure with the blood, symbols similar to that which were on the knife, symbols which held no meaning for the figure strapped down to the ground, who was still in excruciating pain. Then he felt something applied to his wound, and eventually the bleeding stopped, though the pain was still there.

     Elliot then came around in front of him looking down on the immobilized creature, "This ritual has begun." He said in as foreboding a tone of voice as possible. He saw the ritual knife pulled out form behind his back, and as he watched, it was brought overtop of him. The words of Ted still in his mind, "He's going to sacrifice you." he kept an eye on his would be saviour. These binds were no match for him, if he so wanted, he could get out of them. If at anytime it looked like he was doing something other than break his curse, than he would act.

     It had taken Will over two hours just to reach the top of the escarpment. Looking over, he could see the warehouse down, about one or two miles from where he was. It must have been much further than it appeared at first glance, but of course he had gone a round-about way to get where he was now. Smelling the air, he caught a particular canine scent that he couldn't identify. He had gotten a bit decent at distinguishing between his own scents and the scents of others. He had embarrassed himself when he had marked the police station as his territory this morning, but he was a dog, and he was acting like a dog would, there was nothing that he could do about that at the moment.

     He wondered just whether he could change back now, some people took a lot of time to change back, others the process seemed second nature to them. Will had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to be a dog for quite some time. Of course, so what if he could change back now? He didn't have any clothes, and it was very cold out here in the desert at night. Plus, he didn't have any gun, at least while he was a dog he has some natural weaponry. He got the impression though that he was more of a distraction to let Davis take care of this business. Of course he could understand that motivation, it was after all Davis the one who's friends had been killed and maimed. It was Davis's town that was being threatened by this madman.

     It didn't take him much longer to reach a point where he could climb down the cliff face. There seemed to be a natural trail leading downwards, switching back on itself as it went down. He started down the path, making sure to stay against the cliff face, he did not want to be seen. Other than that, he moved pretty quickly. The warehouse continued to grow closer, and closer, till he could actually distinguish the individuals shingles on the roof. He must have gotten distracted just then, because he accidentally kicked a small stone, which tumbled on down the path, making a loud clatter as it knocked into larger boulders. Will laid down on the path, getting as much out of the moonlight as possible.

     He listened and smelled the air about him. He detected a human scent, he could tell it was close by. He didn't recognize it at all, but he could tell that whoever it was, he was most certainly angry. He laid there for what seemed like an eternity, looking out in the cold darkness, barely seeing any movement, always just out of sight. He then heard an audible click, and he closed his eyes, hoping the end was not to come. The bullet dashed off the rocks not ten feet from where he lay, and he nearly jumped with a start at the sound of it.

     Suddenly, he caught the howling of other dogs in the night, and he felt the urge to howl along with them, to join them in their nightly chorus, singing to the sky that sweet song all canines feel deeply in their hearts, that sense of wildness that could never be taken completely from them; that feral aspect that was as much a part of them as their tail or muzzle was a part of their body. The canine chorus stopped soon afterward, the echoes fading in the distance. Will heard the human mutter, a hint of disbelief in his voice, "Stupid coyotes."

     Will waited for the man to leave. He could just barely hear his breath against the wind. It was a cold night, the slight wind making it even colder, and at the moment Will was very thankful for his fur coat, and for the fact that it made the human breathe a little heavier. Obviously the man was hoping that he would have thought the man had left, and would have continued moving, giving him a an easy target. He was not that stupid, and he waited for the man to finally give in to his own pronouncement, and turn and walk away. He had no idea how long he was held there at bay, but however long it was, he knew that he had very little time left to get down there and stop Elliot Engel.

     Randy heard the gunshot, and immediately perked his ears up. The hole he had been digging in the wall was nearly wide enough for him to get through. He tested it then, and it still was about an inch too narrow. He looked back over his shoulder at Joe, he was still quite out of it. Whatever they used on Joe must certainly have been more powerful stuff they had used on him.

     He crawled over to one of the slits in the wood and looked back into the main chamber. The creature was still chained to the floor in the centre of the pentagram. He knew that creature very well, though he had not seen him in years. It was Eddie Jones, and from the way things sounded, this ritual was going to restore Eddie to full humanity. That was not a pleasant thought. He did not want Eddie hunting the folks of Barken again. Ever since Eddie's transformation nearly four years ago, he had not ever attacked Barken again, the reason was obvious, for he did not want to tempt his fate any more. If he were freed of it, then what would stop him. Randy could think of only one thing, and that was himself.

     Randy returned to picking at the wood. It wouldn't be long now. Soon he would have escaped, and he would stop this ritual.

     Little Stevie Engel was woken with a start at the sound of the gunshot. He jumped out of bed and ran to the door. Locked. He tugged on the handle, but it wouldn't open. In a huff he sat down on the floor, quite distressed. He wanted to see what was going on, but already his Daddy was keeping him locked up. He didn't like this trend.

     Stevie suddenly got an idea, he scampered over to one of the toy chests, and pulled out a miniature fix-it-yourself tool kit. It was designed for children a little older than he was, but that wasn't what worried him right now. He figured if the door was locked, then simply remove the handle. His mommy had told him that one. She had said that if he ever found himself locked up by a strange man that he should if possible remove the handle, because you could open any door that way.

     The screwdriver barely fit, and he was just tall enough to reach it, but it was enough, and he started to slowly inch the screws out of the door.

     Dr. Joey Vermiclin looked at his watch. It was eleven-thirty, and he was getting worried. Not about whether they would get the signal from Davis, he was not in the police station at all. He was worried about his patients, well one of them at least. The vital signs for Avery and Vance continued to improve as the night wore on. He speculated that they might be up and around sometime tomorrow morning. What worried him was the fading signs of Stephanie Engel.

     It wasn't that she was sinking fast or anything, in fact her signs appeared quite stable. However her signs now and her signs six hours ago were two different things. She was sinking ever so slowly. However, there wasn't much he could do for that he hadn't already tried. He was not a medical doctor, he never worked with patients that were alive, and he felt a terror growing inside of him, afraid that he was unable to save this woman.

     He sat down, and reminded himself that she wasn't dead yet, he kept telling himself that she could still recover, but he knew deep down the chances of that were not good.

     Jason was pacing across the office floor. Bill was sitting in his wheel chair. Olympia was resting on a seat in the reception area, already asleep. Taylor was tapping his good foot repeatedly and unconsciously. They were all nervous. Here it was only an half-hour till midnight, and they hadn't got the beeper. Jason was of course a Husky again. He hadn't been a Husky since, well he didn't want to think about that his last few times as a Husky.

     He liked being a Husky of course, but in this dessert clime, it was most inconvenient. Now that it was night, and it was very cold, he felt much better, but of course he was still impatient for all this to end. He felt a little trepidation as he could change into his canine form while the other two he was in the room with were locked in their human forms until they healed completely. Then there was Olympia who was locked as a Collie until she was healed. Such strange things as these he found quite interesting to think about, but not suitable for discussion.

     Of course all of them nearly jumped out of their seats when the beeper finally did go off a few minutes later. "It's about time!" Taylor remarked. Jason woofed in agreement.

     Bill picked up the phone and dialled, now the distraction would begin.

     Elliot returned inside, to see his grand work in its final stages, to be completed in under an half-hour. Apparently it had just been a coyote out there, being this close to his goal must have made him skittish. It had been good to check though and make sure, no need to have an invasion on his hands, especially not now.

     He was just about to mark the fifth ritual scar on Eddie when his cell phone rang. He looked at it in mild surprise, then set the sacred knife down, and picked it up. "This is you third and final call. Ole St. Nick here."

     "Third call, this is only the second." he heard the voice, and recognized it as Bill Budd.

     "Not true, Randy and Rick called last night, just before I gassed them."

     "This is Bill Budd. Elliot, why are you doing this?" he heard the voice come back, and then it dawned on him that Davis and Budd had been let out of the hospital today, of course they would know who he was now!

     "You know why I'm doing this, Bill. You were there when I told the court that I was sick of the way others treated people like us." Elliot replied.

     "Then why kill George Thompson? Why kill Bob Cavanaugh? Why kill Patrick Monoghan? Why kill Tad Jude? Why kill Harry Carello? Why kill twenty innocent dogs? Why Elliot? Why?" Bill insisted.

     "How else was I suppose to perform the ritual, Bill." Elliot asked.

     "What will the ritual do?" Bill asked, not flinching.

     "Can't you all get it through your thick skulls. I told you it was a surprise! A Christmas present no less. By then you will know, I guarantee it." Elliot told them.

     "I personally don't want to wait." Bill Budd called back. "Why did you have to blow both of my kneecaps off Elliot. I thought we were friends. And why did you have to stab the one I loved?"

     "You know the answer to the latter one Bill, because she was the only dog in Barken. I take it Will is the only dog in Barken now, give him a doggie treat for me will ya." Elliot called back.

     He heard a muffled moof in the background, and it sounded like Will. Of course they were all in Davis's office listening in, that's what they'd done the other times. Then a thought struck him, both Bill Budd and Sheriff Pierre Davis had gotten out that morning, so where was Davis?

     Davis slowly crept along the cliff face towards the warehouse. He was maybe a few minutes from the entrance, it looked so evil and uninviting in the feeble moonlight. He could imagine flames roaring behind it, as the double doors to the barn were in fact gates to some Hell.

     It had been an uneventful walk, though it had taken much longer than he had expected. He was going to have to have his field-glasses recalibrated, he shouldn't have made such a stupid error. But all was well, he still had a good twenty minutes to midnight.

     Just then he heard an audible click sound from behind him. He turned, his own gun raised up at whoever it was that was behind him. He felt his hand get kicked, and the gun sailed off into the desert sand, too far to jump for. Davis stared at the figure before him, and nearly went into apoplectic shock when he saw who it was. It was Rick White.

     "Rick?" Davis asked. "What are you doing here?"

     "Making sure you don't screw anything up." Rick told him, then gun unwavering.

     "What's gotten into you, don't you realize that he's killed at least twenty-five innocent beings, if not more!" Davis protested.

     "He's doing it for us Pierre." Rick added. "When he finishes that ritual, he will sacrifice Eddie Jones, and we will never again have to worry about Cherry."

     "What are you talking about?" Davis asked, finding the participation of Eddie in this whole adventure quite a turn of events.

     "Most everybody in the state of Texas will become like us, Pierre! Ever Cherrier will become a dog, just like we do. No longer must we go out on patrol to protect ourselves, for we will be completely safe!" Rick told him, getting excited.

     Davis looked Rick square in the eye. He was the reason Elliot had known everything about the trap they had set for him. Rick White was the reason that he would be scarred for life. Rick White was the reason that Bill might never walk again. And Rick White was the reason that Elliot had always managed to escape. Davis's love for the man vaporized in that one moment, no longer was Rick White a friend, a close companion, but he was now an enemy, another part of this whole thing that must be eradicated.

     "So what are you going to do with me, Rick?" Davis asked, feeling about the ground for something, anything. He found nothing close by, so he grabbed a fistful of sand.

     "I'm going to make sure you don't move. We don't want to hurt anybody from Barken ever again, but if you make us, we will. I swear to you that come Christmastime when everybody still living in Texas will have finally succumbed to the change, you will thank Elliot and I for what we have done." Rick told him.

     "Rick, I guarantee that I won't." Davis told him, propping his leg beneath him, preparing for his move.

     "Why not?" Rick asked, not noticing the movement.

     "Because..." Davis then pushed himself off to the side, and tossed the sand into Rick's eyes. Rick dropped the gun, fumbling to get the sand out of his eyes. Davis grabbed the pistol, and got behind Rick, putting the gun against his head. "...by Christmas, you're going to be in jail."

     "Now, we are going to the warehouse, one false move and you're dead."

     Randy slipped out the crevice he made. It was about time, he had no idea when it was, but he knew one thing, he was damn cold. He shifted to median form, growing his fur coat, and that mitigated some of the chill. He then slowly crept around the building looking for a window.

     Little Stevie Engel finally managed to get the screws out, and he slowly lifted the handle out of the door. Setting it down, he peeked out into the room below. What he saw mystified him, and made him stare in wonder. He stood there in the doorway staring, regardless what was happening, for this was entirely too captivating.

     "Look, I've got to finish the ritual." Elliot told Bill. "You all are just a bit too late to stop me, it is now 11:58. In two more minutes, we shall go beyond the stroke of midnight, and the world will never be the same. Goodnight." Elliot hung up the phone despite the protests of Bill on the other end of the line. He shook his head, and looked for his knife. It was not where he had left it on the table. Suddenly his gaze was drawn to the two figures standing in the doorway. One was Rick White, who looked slightly in pain. The other was Sheriff Pierre Davis, who had a gun trained on him, and his knife in the other.

     "Looking for this?" Davis held the knife up for him to see it clearly. "Go fetch. You'll never complete this ceremony, Elliot. It stops now."

     As Elliot tried to crack a smile, he saw another creature pad in behind Davis. It was a sheep dog, and it bared its teeth at the lot of them. It's hackles rose, and Elliot got the impression that he was not going to be wanting to fight either of them, and most especially not both of them.

     Elliot shrugged his shoulders. "Not that it matters. The ceremony was probably screwed up anyway. After all, Eddie here did indeed kill Ted, I told him shouldn't but not much I can about it now."

     Will growled at the chained figure, his target now set in his mind. Ted had been one of his best friends, and his murderer now in sight, and chained, all the better; he would kill him, that much was certain.

     "Back away from Eddie, Elliot. Just back away." Davis told him, not taking the gun off of him for a second.

     Elliot backed away, and glanced at his watch as he did so. Ten seconds left. "Rick, sacrifice him now!" He screamed, much to the surprise of both Davis and Will, who could do nothing. Elliot ducked out of the way of the bullet he knew was coming, but Davis didn't fire. Rick dived for the knife, grabbed it, and lunged for the prone figure of Eddie Jones. Much to Rick's amazement, Eddie tore free the bonds on one arm, and raised it, sending him sailing over top of him, and into the floor.

     Rick sat up, and looked down at himself, dropping his hand form the knife, which had now embedded itself inside his chest. Blood came spilling out his mouth as he feebly tried to pull the knife out, but to no avail.

     Davis still sat stunned, focusing entirely on Elliot, who was scampering around the room for a weapon. Eddie broke free of his bonds, and looked at Will, who was now backing away from this monstrosity. "Want to take me now, doggie?" Eddie smirked, saliva dripping from his fangs. "I may have been tricked and lied to, but I'm not done yet." Eddie then bolted after Will, who ran promptly out the front door, leaving Davis to Elliot.

     Dr. Vermiclin was startled when he suddenly saw that Stephanie Engel's vital signs dropped into the gutter, her heart stopped, her breathing ended. Before he began his futile attempts at CPR, he glanced at his watch, it was just past midnight.

     Will ran as fast as all four of his legs would carry him, running back up the switchback trail that he had come down before. Eddie Jones was much faster than him though, and he knew it was only inevitable that he would have to do something now. He rounded one bend, and abruptly turned back around, and jumped at the on charging Eddie with all his force. Eddie fell backwards, stumbling over the edge of the trail, but caught on with one hand, perilously hanging over the precipice.

     Will was about bite at that hand, but he was grabbed from behind. Will bit at what had grabbed him, but received a slap to the side of the head. "It's me, Will. It's Randy!" the voice called back, and in the dim illumination, will could clearly see that it was Randy, though he was definitely in median form, given the tail and the excess fur.

     "Randy!" Eddie Jones voice came back up from gorge. "Fancy meeting you here. I suppose this is the end isn't it. You finally do me in. Well get it over with quick, I hate to wait. You've already made me wait four years for this."

     "I don't want to kill you Eddie.' Randy told him. "There's still hope for you. Please understand, the dog in you is not what makes you a demon, it is the evil actions you take that make you a demon. Come with me, you don't need to be a demon any more."

     Eddie hung silently over the edge of the gorge for a moment before he said in his raspy voice, "Pull me up." Eddie offered his gnarled paw-like hand to Randy, and Randy gripped it, pulling Eddie up. Will watched, his anger still flaring for that one twitch that would tell hi he was free to bite. That one motion that would show that Eddie was not letting Randy help him, but was trying to take him with him into death. That moment was not long in coming.

     Randy felt Eddie begin to pull him over the edge with him, and he dug his feet into the ground, not going to fall into the precipice with him. He tried to let go of Eddie, yet he had too strong a grip on his arm, he could not shake it in time, he saw the precipice yawn wide before him, destiny awaiting him, death about to clutch him, when Will sprang forward again, and bite fiercely into Eddie's arm. Eddie let out a cry of pain, and reflexively let go of Randy. Will opened his mouth, and Eddie's scream of terror, his own death knell came to a stop shortly thereafter.

     Davis tried to keep the gun trained on Engel, but he was too swift on his feet, continuously circling him, getting in closer. Davis was sort of a combat veteran himself, and would not let himself be outflanked, yet Engel was much better at this than he was. Within moments, they were locked together in a death struggle, both gripping Davis's gun, now aimed upwards, both of them matching their strengths against each other, both trying to take control of the trigger.

     Davis knew that he was falling to this younger, healthier man, but he was not going to go without a fight. However, he found his attention distracted by a peculiar sight. There standing at the railing of the balcony above him was little Stevie Engel, dressed in pyjamas, and watching the whole scene without fear. Davis stared back at Engel, his own face now one of terror, and he looked at the angle of the gun, and shrieked.

     In Davis's fright, Engel had overpowered him, and in the process accidentally pulled the trigger. Davis's first reaction was not to look at Elliot who now stood over him, holding the gun in his hands, ready to kill Davis, but at the railing, where Stevie Engel once stood. No more was he there, and on the wall behind him was a splotch of blood.

     Elliot saw the expression on Davis's face, and he turned to look at what made Davis so frightened. He saw the blood stains, and his own heart was immediately gripped with fear. He turned from Davis, and jumped up grabbing the railing, and pulling himself up to get a look. His body seemed to slacken then, and he tumbled to the ground, gun still in hand. His eyes were vacant, and he held the gun in his right hand, pulling it closer towards his face.

     "Elliot." Davis called out to him, trying to snap him out of his daze, knowing that it would most likely be useless.

     "I love you Stevie." Elliot said, though not to Davis, not to anybody. He then put the gun in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. The back of his head splayed across the wall, and his body slumped to the floor, dead.