“You’re what?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure,” said Vance, “but I’d say it’s seventy-thirty for it.”

“But I’ve seen you with women.”

“That would be the thirty part of the equation,” said Vance as he sipped his coffee.

“Oh my God. That’s why you agreed to do this with me. You think I’m gay, too!”

Vance chuckled. “Dude, you’re not gay.”

“I know I’m not, but do you know I’m not?”

“I’d say ninety-two-eight on the straight side,” said Vance.

“How the hell—”

“They’ve made some terrific advances in gaydar, dude.”

Philip laid his head on the table and thought about it for a while. “So eight percent gay?”

“Remember that week you went around humming ‘Hello, Dolly’?”

“That’s worth eight percent?”

“That, and the fact that you did want to open a bed-and-breakfast. Even I had my doubts when I first heard you mention the idea.”

“Bed-and-breakfasts are not an innately gay enterprise,” countered Philip.

“Fair enough,” said Vance. “But I wouldn’t lay odds on many single straight guys who start these things up.”

“But—”

“I don’t make the rules, dude. I just get them from the website.”

“So if you don’t think I’m gay, why did you agree to do this with me?”

“For the reason I originally said,” replied Vance. “I’d just lost my job, had nothing holding me in the city, and it sounded like something to do.”

“And that’s it?”

Vance shook his head. “Philly, I love you, buddy. I do. But you’re not my type.”

“I’m not?”

“What? Are you insulted?”

Philip was pondering that when the front door jingled. He didn’t know how he still managed to get excited at the sound. It never meant a tourist looking for a room. It had been raining for the last few hours, a slick, frozen rain that made the roads hard to travel. So maybe someone had to stop, and the Nook was the only place convenient. It was a long shot, but he peeked out into the foyer with a smidgen of hope.

It was Angela. Although she wasn’t a tourist, she wasn’t an unwelcome sight. He introduced Vance.

“This is my friend Vance,” he said, hitting the friend part hard. “My good friend Vance.”

Angela and Vance exchanged smirking glances. And he could see their point. Hitting friend too hard was a double-edged sword. It could be trouble.

“Don’t mind him,” said Vance. “He’s just discovering he’s homophobic, but otherwise, he’s a good guy.”

They gave her a quick tour. The rain started coming down harder, judging by the increasing beat on the roof. Lightning flashed, too. Lightning without thunder. Philip couldn’t remember hearing thunder once in Clam Bay, even in the heaviest storm.

“You guys did a great job. I hardly recognize the place,” remarked Angela when they completed the journey and ended at the kitchen. “Love the decorating.”

“That was mostly Vance,” said Philip. “I’m more of the carpentry and plumbing guy.”

“Yes, and I’m in charge of flower arranging and doilies,” said Vance with a perfectly straight face.

She reached out and put her hand on Philip’s. “I believe you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Actually, I believe Vance. We had a talk when you were making the espressos.” She took a drink of hers. “You make a great espresso, by the way.”

Things were looking up in Clam Bay just then.

The front door jingled again, just as the lights flickered on and off. It wasn’t uncommon during a fierce storm.

“You two stay put,” said Vance. “I’ll check who it is.”

“Thanks,” said Philip.

Vance left as the lights continued to flicker.

“Wiring,” said Philip to Angela. “We’re still working on it. So I’m glad you stopped by.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

They shared a smile.

The lights went out. Given the darkness of Clam Bay nights, he expected nothing but black. But there was a soft green light coming from the foyer.

Vance screamed, but the sound was cut short. Philip and Angela ran to see what had happened.

It was hard to discern details. Vance was on the floor, groaning. And something stood over him. Something with large eyes that radiated an unearthly emerald glow.

“What the—” started Philip.

Silent lightning flashed, and the person, the creature because there was no other word for it, was illuminated, just for a moment. The thing was hunched, gray-skinned. It had a huge head with a gaping mouth. And frills on the side of that head extended as a strangled hiss rose out of its throat. Philip didn’t hear the sound, though. He was too busy looking out the windows, where shadows lurched. At least four or five of them. And each one sported those same unearthly eyes.

He stood transfixed, unable to move. It wasn’t terror that held him. Terror was too tangible. Terror was overwhelming. But this strange creature, even mostly hidden in shadow, was simply the unknowable. It was the intangible made real, and there was no easy way to absorb it. So he just stood there and gaped, even as the creature menaced Vance.

Angela rushed forward. The monster lurched at her. She seized it by the hand, spun into it, and did some kind of kung fu move that happened so fast, the creature was thrown to the ground before Philip even knew it happened. The fish creature shrieked, flopping around on its back. The creatures outside joined in on the gruesome dirge.

She yanked Vance off the ground and dragged him back to Philip.

The front door pushed open, and the bell jingled as several more creatures entered.

“Is there a back door?” asked Angela.

When neither Philip or Vance replied, she grabbed Philip by the shirt and shook him. “Your back door, Phil!”

“Uh . . . in the back,” he replied.

She pulled both the men with her as she moved toward the exit. They didn’t get far. Three other creatures must have slipped in the back and blocked the way. There was no way out. The creatures’ raspy breathing and eerie green glow alerted them in time to avoid stumbling into an ambush. In the foyer, something was smashed to the floor.

“My vases,” said Vance.

But he said it the fancy way, the way Europeans did. Philip wondered why it had taken him so long to figure out Vance was gay. Then he wondered about the stereotyping and how absurd it was. Then he realized how absurd it was to think about this while the creatures from the Black Lagoon were about to eat him alive. But that was kind of the point. It was easier to think about something stupid than about the alternative, pressing as it might be.

“The cellar,” whispered Vance. “We can hide in the cellar.”

Philip had always hated the cellar. It was musty and dank. But it was the only choice as the creatures closed in on the kitchen. They went down. Angela had the good sense not to let the trap door slam. Vance had spent a week organizing the cellar, so even though it was dark, there was little to trip over. Vance moved like a cat. At least, Philip assumed Vance did. It was hard to tell in the darkened cellar. But Vance managed to retrieve a flashlight without making a lot of noise. He flicked it on, covering it with his hand to keep the light low.

They said nothing as the creatures trod over their heads. They watched the trap door, waiting for it to open, waiting for the monsters to come down and devour them. But after a few minutes, the creaking stopped and the raspy breathing faded.

They still didn’t speak for another five minutes after that.

“What the hell are those?” Vance finally asked, so softly Philip almost didn’t hear him. “Are those monsters?” His voice rose. “Are those fucking monsters?”

“Deep ones,” said Angela.

“What the hell is a—”

“Just a story,” she said. “Not even that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She wiped her brow. “It’s hard to explain. You know how every small town has a story? Clam Bay is no different.”