Guy had passed the faded sign a hundred times. Probably more. "Auctions Every Friday at Midnight," it said. The sign was planted on the side of the road in front of a tumbledown building whose corrugated iron roof had once been painted white but was now a dirty, rust-mottled grey. The walls had that faded maroon look that barns get after half a century of neglect. He had never been inside the building and had never seen another living person in or around it, but the place had been there for as long as Guy had been commuting to and from Tipp City. Sometimes he wondered if it was just a hallucination he had every time he passed this particular barren stretch of highway.
Not tonight though. The auction building had lights blazing through every window and its parking lot was full to capacity. Dozens of vehicles had also been parked in the surrounding fields. It was like there was a fair in town. Guy looked down at the luminescent numbers of the clock on the dashboard and saw that it was 11:43. Almost midnight. And it was Friday. He looked at the dashboard clock again and saw the date: 10/30/10. The night before Halloween. Guy gave a little shiver. He always tried to forget about Halloween, but somehow it always crept up on him.
On a whim, he swerved his car and drove through one of the fields, flattening stalks of some non-descript plant that never seemed to change or grow. He parked between a yellow Volkswagen Bug and a jet black Mustang. Ahead of him was a row of cars that included an ancient and dented El Camino, a semi-truck and a sleek red sports car that Guy thought might be a Ferrari. There seemed to be quite a diverse group out here tonight. What exactly was it that this place auctioned. He had always assumed that it was just farm equipment, and maybe odds and ends belonging to people who had died.
For some reason, a low-grade nervousness began to eat at him as he approached the flaking double doors that marked the entrance to the auction building. He could hear a low buzz of voices coming from inside, and when he put his hand on the door handle he had to fight the urge to turn around and get back into his car. He was being stupid. It was just the time of year. Goddamned Halloween. When he opened them again he realized that he was clutching the door handle so hard that his hand hurt.
Guy took a deep breath, then another. He pulled on the door and it swung open without making a sound. It led into a long whitewashed corridor that was illuminated by dirty over-hanging fluorescent lights. He walked down the hallway, towards the doors that stood at the other end, unable to justify exactly why he was doing it. The sound of voices grew louder with every step he took and the closer they became, the more he wanted to turn around and bolt. A low-level panic was gathering in the pit of his stomach and crackling along his nerve-endings, and as far as he could tell there was no concrete reason for it. When he opened that door all he would find behind it would be a bunch of farmers trying to get the best deals on remaindered tractors.
That's what he had to keep telling himself in order to keep his legs propelling him forward. When his hand closed around the door handle, his palms were slick with sweat and every hair on his body felt as if it were standing on end. Every instinct in him was howling at him to get out and get out now. Guy took a breath, told himself to stop being such a scared little bitch, and pushed open the door.
Human beings had instincts for a reason. That was Guy's first thought upon entering the vast auditorium beyond the doors. His instincts had been trying to tell him that here was danger, and he hadn't listened. But how could he have been prepared for something like this? How could anyone be prepared for something like this?
The auditorium was packed with people, but the term "people" could only be applied here in the loosest of ways. Some of them did indeed look human, but the others were monsters; it was the only word Guy could think of to describe them. There were huge, scaly lizard-men, men and women with horns curling out of their temples and blazing red eyes, others even stranger. On his right was a shirtless man with iron gray skin and a pair of sinuous bat's wings protruding from his shoulder blades. To his left stood a group of beautiful women who all looked exactly the same and who all shone with the same preternatural blue light.
The moment Guy walked into the auditorium he felt dozens of pairs of eyes immediately fix upon him. He tried to shrink into himself, to become as uninteresting as possible, but in this crowd he stuck out. He wondered if he would even be able to turn around and go back through the door before something got him. He had just decided to take his chances when an amplified voice cut through the chatter of the crowd. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please make your way to your seats. The auction will begin in five minutes time." Guy found himself suddenly hemmed in on all sides by creatures moving towards the rows of folding chairs which had been set up in front of a small stage on the far side of the auditorium. He moved with them, caught like a fish in a powerful current, and found himself sitting down between a man who looked like he had been carved out of a granite boulder and a thin and very handsome, middle-aged woman with her blonde hair set in an elaborate bun. He was relieved to see that out of all the things here, she was one of the most normal. She could have been a school librarian. Then she turned her head and smiled at him and he could see that she had fangs.
"What brings you here?" she asked. She had a slight, Eastern European accent.
"Oh, just thought I'd see what the place had to offer," Guy said, trying to keep his tone airy. He forced himself not to stare at her fangs.
"I've never seen you at any of the other auctions."
"I've never been to one before," Guy said, quite truthfully.
"Well, you're in for a treat then. I've heard that tonight's is going to be especially good."
"Why's that?" He tried to ignore the granite man on his left, who was staring at Guy as if he had never seen anything quite like him before.
"Supposedly there are a lot of exotic items on the list of sale this year." She glanced down at the antique watch she had around her wrist and remarked. "Two minutes until Halloween."
"Do you do this every year?"
"Of course not. Only every half-century."
"But the sign says every Friday."
She laughed, and Guy couldn't help but notice how very red her lips and tongue were and how her fangs looked to be about two inches long. "The Emcee has a sense of humor. He could have picked anywhere in the world, but it had to be here because it would be ironic. And it's in the middle of nowhere; we're not likely to be interrupted all the way out here."
"Oh," Guy said.
"And to be honest, I think he was hoping to attract a few breathers. He likes to play with them."
"Breathers?"
"Mortals. The Living. Take your pick of terms." The woman turned in her seat a little so that she could stare at him, her eyes running him up and down, and then her scarlet lips curled into a wicked smile. "You're human aren't you?" Her voice was low, barely a murmur.
"IβI--" Guy stammered. His brain was shutting down. If any of these creatures found out he was human they would kill him, he was certain of it.