Sins of the Father

by JG Faherty

  My preference would have been to attempt the awakening in private, in case I failed. But time had run out. My enemies had arrived sooner than I’d expected, and it sounded like Ben had brought an entire militia with him.

  The Followers I’d dispatched to slow them down would serve as little more than cannon fodder, because they’d stand no chance against armed men, not with their bodies only in the beginning stages of transformation. The creatures within them were still only embryos, with little to offer their hosts.

  A Follower opened the jar. The harsh odor of purified alcohol burned my nose. At my gesture, he removed the body and placed it on the ground before me. I touched a talon to my wrist and paused. It occurred to me that even if my blood revived my not-so-distant relative, I had no way of knowing what state of mind it would be in.

  But what choice did I have? The shouts and gunfire were drawing closer.

  I pierced my flesh and quickly placed my arm over the still form, which appeared more squid-like than ever, far more so than either myself or my father. Using my other hand, I squeezed the wound as hard as I could, wringing out a trickle of dark ichor that dwindled to mere drops as my body healed itself.

  The moment my blood touched the rubbery flesh, it disappeared, absorbed faster than water on a thick cloth. The octopoid body vibrated once, twice. Bulbous eyes opened, revealing fiery yellow orbs that burned with fearful intelligence.

  The creature sprang up and shot through the air, landing on the face of the nearest Follower. A muffled scream turned into a choking gasp and then the man fell as if poleaxed. A loud suckling sound ensued. Rivulets of blood dripped down the man’s cheeks. Seconds later, his face caved in, the flesh shriveling like a mummy’s. His arms did the same, and his chest collapsed with a great sigh.

  At the same time, the thing’s color changed from a pale gray to a dark green. Its body inflated and I could swear the tentacles lengthened. Even its human appendages appeared to thicken.

  The infant rose on suddenly muscular legs and looked up at Callie and me. Horizontal, rectangular black pupils floated within seas of yellow flecked with orange. Its mouth opened and it emitted a series of wet grunts and clicks, like a frog calling underwater.

  To my surprise, I understood it.

  “Gnaiih?”

  “It thinks me its father,” I said, as much to myself as to Callie. It spoke the language of the Elders, which came to me as if I’d known it all my life.

  “Gof’n ot ya ‘fhalma,” I replied, my throat forming words no human could attempt. Child of my mother.

  I spread my wings and tentacles to show it our shared heritage.

  “Ahf’ agl ah fahf?” What place is this? Its alien gaze showed no emotion for having spent countless decades in unnatural slumber.

  “Ymg’ mgepfhtagn ehyeeog y’or’nahh.” You slept many years.

  “Ya fhtagn mgeplllln’gha ya.” My dreams consumed me.

  That made me pause. What would one such as this dream? And how had it not gone insane, for surely it had to sense the passage of time in some way, even if it was not awake.

  “Ahf’ ymg’ ah yaah?” What is your name?

  “Y’ mgep mg yaah.” I have no name. Undoubtedly he’d been captured not long after birth: weeks, or perhaps only days. But much like the squids and octopi all the half-breeds resembled, he was in many ways fully functional, despite his embryonic appearance.

  I wanted to question him further but shouting reached us from somewhere outside the storage room. We only had moments before the invaders broke down the door and attacked.

  “C’ mghrii nog,” I said. “C’ ahnythor mgehye’bthnk. Ymg’ ah’n’ghft.” Our enemies come. We must fight. Hide yourself.

  It cocked its head toward the exit just as the crash of wood and glass breaking stole my next words. This was it.

  From our vantage point, I was able to see across the cavernous space. Dozens of men shouldered their way through the broken door. Callie called out to the Followers, who sprang from their hiding places. Gunfire and screams filled the air. Cries of pain came from both sides of the melee.

  Followers tumbled to the floor, their bodies gushing blood. Others, those whose hatchlings had matured enough to effect physical changes, leaped into the fray with half-formed tentacles whipping back and forth. Surprise and terror made up for a lack of weapons. Ben had no doubt informed the police of what they’d be facing, but hearing it and encountering the reality were two vastly different things.

  I leaped off the platform to join the battle, Callie close behind. The labyrinth of columns and statues not only provided cover but confused our attackers even more, creating among them the same disorienting effects I’d felt when encountering them as a human. The Followers used that to their advantage, darting in and out, striking from behind. Bullets buzzed through the air like angry bees. The thud of nightsticks, rifle butts, and fists striking flesh was a drumbeat of violence playing counterpoint to the screams of pain.

  Then a familiar voice rose above the din, shouting for the men to regroup.

  Flannery.

  I changed direction, using the inspector’s bellowing as a beacon. He was the one I needed to kill. Without him, the others would have no leader and they’d fall before us.

  He stood between two obelisks, Ben Olmstead right behind him. Both carried pistols in hand. Flannery also held an electric torch, while Ben’s injured arm hung in a makeshift sling. I stepped in front of them, arms and wings spread.

  “Gilman.” Flannery evidenced no shock at my appearance, although his mouth twisted in disgust beneath his mustache.

  For a moment, the world shifted around me and I was once again in the cavern below Innsmouth, dozens of weapons pointed at me as I begged for mercy.

  Then Callie spoke from somewhere behind me and I returned to the present.

  “You shouldn’t have followed us, brother.” Her voice carried no trace of emotion. Ben’s eyes went wide.

  “Callie?” He looked around. “Where are you?”

  She stepped out from the shadow of a megalith and pride filled my heart. Head held high, a dagger carved from volcanic glass in one hand, she took her place at my side. In the glow of Flannery’s torch, her skin was greenish marble and her eyes reflected the light like a wild animal’s. Her body was changing at a rapid pace. I saw the beginnings of gills on her neck, similar to my own. Her nails were sharp and black, although much shorter than my talons. Traces of webbing showed between her fingers. I wondered if the rest of the Followers would advance so quickly in their own regeneration. If so, we stood a better chance than I’d first believed.

  Ben moaned at the sight of her.

  “God in heaven, Henry. What have you done to her?”

  I extended a tentacle at him and he stepped back. “You stole the most important part of my life. Now I’ve taken that which you cherished more than anything and made her my queen.”

  Flannery growled through clenched teeth. “You’ve gone too far, Gilman.” He raised his gun but my reflexes were faster. I struck the weapon away, and then Ben’s, leaving them with lash marks on their arms and the knowledge I could just as easily tear their limbs from their bodies. That would come, but I needed them to realize they no longer dealt with the old Henry Gilman, the one who’d groveled before them.

  Now they would be the ones to kneel and beg for mercy.

  Flannery jumped back and blew his whistle. In response, footsteps pounded in our direction. Several officers appeared, rumpled and bruised but ready to fight. One of them fired a pistol and sparks glittered as it ricocheted off a nearby column. I leaped at them, my tentacles whipping back and forth, slicing open flesh with wild abandon.

  Fists and batons beat against me with little effect; I felt them as little more than dull blows. I tasted their blood through my many mouths and it fueled my rage. I dodged left and right like a boxer, making it imp
ossible for those who still held guns to aim properly. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Ben and Flannery tackling Callie. She fought back like a madwoman, more than a match for them even after she lost her knife.

  I snapped the necks of two officers and tossed the bodies aside. Turning, I prepared to put an end to the lives of my sworn enemies when a tremendous blow struck me between the shoulders and I went down. I rolled over and something fell across me. The more I moved, the more I became tangled in it.

  Fishing net!

  I poked the tips of my tentacles through the holes and began to tear through the layers of heavy line. A half dozen men fell upon me and battered my head and shoulders with heavy clubs. Colors flashed before my eyes and I feared my brains might end up spread across the floor. I heaved myself up with all my strength and managed to throw my attackers off long enough to finish ripping my way clear of the netting. Three men approached me holding cricket bats, of all things. Movements to my left and right told me Flannery’s men had taken the opportunity to circle around us while I’d been incapacitated.

  Flannery stood up, clutching Callie to his chest with one arm. Somehow he’d gotten a gun and had it pointed at her head.

  “That’s enough, Gilman. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” His eyes told me which he preferred; me dead on the floor, even if bringing me back to Innsmouth alive for a public hanging would gain him more notoriety.

  “You promised you wouldn’t kill her.” Ben’s voice held no conviction.

  “If she was human,” Flannery said. Ben’s mouth tightened but he didn’t argue. Perhaps he’d been resigned to losing her ever since he found us together at his apartment.

  Even with my superhuman reach, I had no chance of getting past the officers who stood between me and Flannery to save Callie. I stared at her, regret and fury warring within me that once again he was about to steal a woman from me.

  Flannery smiled and his finger tightened on the trigger.

  Callie’s head darted down and she sank razor-sharp teeth into his arm. Flannery shouted and she slipped free. Ben lunged for her and she drove her knee into his nether region. He doubled over and she darted past.

  An officer smashed his baton across the back of her head and she collapsed to the floor.

  Flannery cursed. “Enough of this shite. Tie him up and I’ll put an end to this one.”

  Two men approached me, holding out more of the heavy fishnet. I tensed, ready to lash them the moment they got in range.

  “Watch him,” Ben said. The men stopped. Flannery motioned with his hand and three other officers appeared, with flaming torches.

  “Mind yourself, Gilman.” He gave me a nasty grin. “Fire cleanses your kind, as it does all evil. My da knew that. I never believed his stories about the real cause of the plague that ruined Innsmouth, not until I saw those creatures of your father’s in the morgue. But I remembered what he told me, how they put an end to the troubles. That’s how I knew what needed to be done with your father, and that beast in the cave. I’m betting you don’t want to go the same way.”

  I didn’t. Bruises, gunshots, even broken bones I could heal. But I’d seen how badly fire damaged ’Fhalma and my father. Better to let them tie me up. As long as I lived, I maintained the possibility of finding a way to escape.

  Callie would not be so lucky, and that infuriated me to my core.

  I’d no doubt I could replace her as a breeding queen, but she’d already proven herself more than that. An able companion, intelligent, ruthless, and devoted to her king.

  And as much as I loathed to admit it, I still harbored feelings for her. She belonged to me.

  All of those things made her irreplaceable and I vowed I would have revenge for her death.

  Flannery raised his gun as the netting wrapped around me once more, binding me like a man in a nuthouse jacket. I tensed, preparing myself for the awful sound of Callie’s death.

  A high-pitched keening filled the air and Flannery tumbled to the side with a grunt. Through the layers of hemp, I caught a glimpse of something, a pale object flying in and out of the circle of light cast by the torches. The men around me shouted and glanced wildly in all directions.

  “N’gha l’ ymg’!” cried a familiar voice. Death to you.

  My heart soared as the Unnamed One landed between Ben and Callie. Its wings fluttered as it balanced itself on human legs and two pseudopodal appendages. I noticed immediately it was much larger than before, almost four feet tall. Blood – the red blood of men – dripped from its tentacles and its mouth. Its growing power reached me through the ethereal bond we shared, a humming like that of a telegraph wire. It had undoubtedly been feeding on Flannery’s men, and I expected we’d find more than a few behind the pillars, their bodies drained of fluids.

  A gun went off and my half brother twitched. A dull ache blossomed in my shoulder just as the Unnamed One let out another keening wail. It jumped into the air with a sound like a steam engine releasing pressure and sailed over my head. I tried to turn but the netting hindered me. I fought it, chewing at it with my sucker-mouths and pulling it apart with tentacles and hands. No one stopped me; the police all focused their attention on the new arrival.

  Screams of pain echoed from stone and cement, making it impossible to determine the creature’s location. I freed my arms and emerged from my fibrous cocoon. Something landed at my feet with a sound like a sack of mud.

  A leg, still in blue uniform pants.

  Seeing Flannery on his knees and shaking his head, and Ben standing frozen in shock, I went to Callie, who was just opening her eyes.

  “I’m not dead.”

  “Neither of us will die today,” I told her. “We’ve an unexpected ace up our sleeve.”

  She frowned, and I explained as I half dragged her to a spot behind a pillar carved with battle scenes, too reminiscent of our own fight for my pleasure. After assuring myself she wasn’t seriously injured, I returned to the fray, with the intention of finally giving Ben Olmstead his due. And Flannery as well, if the Unnamed One hadn’t already taken his life.

  “That’s far enough, Gilman.” Flannery’s voice. He stood near a pillar, Ben at his side. They each held a flaming torch, were using them to keep the Unnamed One at bay. It snarled and gnashed its teeth, its tentacles twitching and coiling like a nest of cobras waiting to strike. Scorch marks on its pale flesh showed it had already made several attempts to get to them.

  I slowly edged to my left, forcing them to split their attention. One of them was bound to falter, and then either I or my blood brother would take advantage of the mistake.

  “This is the end,” I said. One of my tentacles flicked out, leaving a red welt on Ben’s good arm. He gasped but held onto the torch. “You offered me a choice once upon a time. Now I offer you one. Die or surrender.”

  “So you can turn us into walking abominations?” Flannery spat in our direction. “I think not.”

  I nodded. I’d expected nothing less. Once more I lashed out, this time striking Ben’s leg. He stumbled and Flannery gripped his arm. I thought it was to support him, but too late I realized he had something else in mind.

  “Now!” Flannery shouted. The two of them threw their torches at us and then turned and ran for the exit. I made to follow and then came to a stop as dozens of bottles landed around us and shattered. I had just enough time to smell the kerosene before it ignited, waves of flame springing to life and blocking our escape. Acrid fumes burned my eyes and the blaze grew higher as the fire quickly spread across the floor and climbed up the walls.

  The Unnamed One screeched in terror. Callie called out to me.

  “This way! Hurry!”

  I dashed toward her, my stepbrother leap-hopping alongside me. We sped past the throne platform and I saw several of the Followers ahead of us.

  “There’s another exit,” Callie said, as we caug
ht up to her. “It leads to—”

  A sonorous roar overwhelmed her next words. The floor shook and plaster dust fell from the ceiling. Pillars and monuments toppled over, the massive shapes threatening to crush us as we dodged left and right to avoid them.

  Explosives!

  I cursed Flannery and his devious ingenuity, and my own foolishness. I should have known he’d try something like this; after all, I’d seen him use the very same tactic against my father. Such a simple plan, and I’d failed to anticipate it. While most of his men kept the Followers – and me – occupied, a few others had planted explosives throughout the storeroom. And when Flannery saw the tide turning against him, he’d set his devious strategy in motion.

  The kerosene had merely been a distraction so we didn’t see them lighting the fuses.

  And now my error might be the end of us all.

  I ran faster. Our only hope was to reach the exit and escape the building before it crashed down around us.

  Another deafening explosion and suddenly we were running downhill as the floor gave way ahead of us. I tried to stop but my feet found no traction. I fell and rolled over, digging my claws into the floor and trying to grab hold of anything with my tentacles. I heard screaming through the ringing in my ears.

  A stentorian rumble caused me to look up just in time to see a massive block of stone sliding toward me. I tried to leap out of the way, using all my limbs, but I was too slow. It struck me in the side, knocking the breath from my lungs and shattering several bones.

  This time the screams I heard were my own as the pain overwhelmed me. Through a red haze, I watched a gigantic black mouth open before me.

  And then it swallowed me.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Agony carved through my body. Every limb, every bone, down to my soul. Each breath stabbed at me like a thousand knives.

  But I still breathed.

  All of this came to me before my awareness even fully returned.

  I lived!