The Lurker at the Threshold : A Horror Mystery

by Brandon Berntson

  A black hound went running across the street and disappeared around the block.

  “What, Dev? What is it?”

  “Nothing, Mill.”

  They were quiet for a while. Macky looked down at the book on his lap and touched the cover. It was different than he remembered it.

  “It does look kinda gruesome in the light of day,” he said. He lifted the cover and studied some of the markings.

  “Please don’t open it, Dev,” Millie said. “Something doesn’t feel right since you brought that thing into the office. With the bookstore, I am now officially scared.”

  “Mill, you remember when you first started working for me? We were in the business of finding stolen items, missing persons, tracking unfaithful husbands and wives. We’ve moved up. We’ve gone into bigger and better things. We are now in the business of making monsters disappear. We have found our calling. With that said, this thing does look like it’s made out of something unnatural.”

  “Certain editions are made from human skin and inked in human blood.”

  “Does that add value to it or decrease it?” he said.

  “You’re not that stupid.”

  “Maybe we can sell it.”

  “I don’t want anyone else to have that thing.”

  “Thank you for humbling me.”

  “So, what should we do with it?”

  He shrugged. “I was thinking of taking it to Capshaw. I bet he knows something about it.”

  Millie brightened at this prospect. Her eyes lit up. “Dev, that’s the brightest idea you’ve had all day!”

  “That’s twice you ‘sort of’ complimented me and ended up insulting me instead.”

  “Who said I was trying to compliment you?”

  Chapter 3

  They parked the coupe at the curb, got out, and headed for the entrance. It was 10:00 am. The Natural History Museum was an opulent, white sandstone building three floors high. Macky wanted to shower and get some breakfast, but the Danish at the coffee shop would have to do.

  Deb was at the reception desk, the same girl Macky had met when he’d talked to Capshaw about that Bluebell business two years ago. Deb had flirted crazily with him at the time, and he’d flirted crazily back. He’d sung to her, and she’d been enchanted. She’d given him her phone number, but he’d never called her, and, of course, he’d never told Millie, which, now that he was here, might’ve been a bad idea.

  Deb was wearing a tight, white pearl-colored blouse and a dark blue skirt. She had a necklace and earrings to match. Dark blue pumps were on her feet, reminding Macky of a blue-eyed diamond ring. Her platinum hair was curled like the sky in Van Gogh’s “Starry Night.”

  “Devlin Macky, is that you?” she asked, smiling.

  “How’s business, Deb?”

  “You were supposed to call me?”

  “I was?”

  Millie raised her eyebrows, tilted her head, and looked at Macky.

  “It slipped my mind,” he said. “With Dagon terrorizing the city, and the Shady District awash in flames, I must’ve forgot.”

  She turned and looked Millie up and down. A sneer curled her lips, and her eyes darkened. Millie saw the whole thing and raised her eyebrows at Deb.

  “Is Mr. Capshaw in?” Macky asked.

  “Of course he is, Dev. You’re always welcome, you know that. He’s probably fawning over his latest find. Go ahead and go up.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No serenade today?” she flirted.

  “Oh, boy,” Millie said, under her breath, and rolled her eyes.

  “Pardon?” he asked.

  “She asked you for a serenade, you big, strong sailor,” Millie said. She laced her fingers together, put them on Macky’s shoulder, and lifted one leg. She batted her eyes and pouted her lips. “What do you say? Can you woo two ladies at once, Dev?”

  Deb narrowed her eyes.

  “Ladies, ladies,” Macky said. “Maybe some other time. Business first, you know?”

  “Ta-ta, Debbie-do,” Millie said, waving her fingers.

  They made their way to the elevator. He opened the cage doors, stepped inside, closed the doors behind him, and pressed the button. The elevator started up.

  “Really, Dev?” Millie said.

  “What did I do?” he asked.

  “Serenade? Flirtation. Did you see the look she gave me?”

  “I did not. Girls like that don’t like competition, I guess.”

  “I don’t play those petty high school games. It’s infantile. There’s always someone more beautiful and more intelligent than you. Beauty is only skin deep. I understand that’s all some people care about, but I find it shallow and superficial.”

  “She’s got nothing on you anyway, Mill.”

  “Really?”

  “I never called her, you know?”

  “But you still have her number?”

  Macky shook his head. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. As a matter of fact, I tossed it in the first garbage can I saw.”

  “What does that mean? ‘Damned if you do, damned if you don’t’?”

  “I noticed you chose to focus on that phrase and not the other.”

  “There was another?”

  “It’s a figure of speech, Mill.”

  “It’s sexist. I know what you’re driving at.”

  “It’s not sexist. You think if I wink at you, it’s sexist.”

  “It is.”

  “Like I said, damned if you do . . .”

  They were quiet for a while as the elevator chugged along.

  “Dev?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you really serenade her?”

  “I-can-see-the-morning-sun, like-dewdrops-in-the-rain . . . It-sparkles-in-your-fancy-dress and-makes-me-go-insaaane.”

  “It must be an acquired taste,” she said.

  —

  Creighton Capshaw looked exactly how Macky remembered him. It had been a while. Still portly, he had salt-and-pepper hair and a beard to match. He wore tiny spectacles on a round, pink-skinned, cherubic face. His suit was a woolen, charcoal gray with a waistcoat and pants to match. A pearl-white, silk, polka-dotted bowtie was neatly wrapped under the collar. The bowler hat that completed this ensemble was hanging on the coat rack behind him. The smile and gleam in his eyes were the same. Since Haddonfield and Dagon, Capshaw had grown close to Macky and Millie, giving them a tour of the museum after the business was over.

  Unlike Millie, Capshaw was delighted to see The Necronomicon. His eyes went to it right away.

  “Do you mind, Dev?” Capshaw asked.

  “Of course not,” Macky said. “We were hoping you could tell us a little about it. Maybe even what to do with it. It came into—”

  “How did it come into your possession?” the small man asked.

  Macky coughed into his hand. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “How did it come into your possession, Dev?” Millie asked, raising her eyebrow.

  “That’s enough,” Macky said.

  Millie nudged him in the side.

  “What?”

  “Just tell him.”

  Macky scratched his stubble-lined chin. “I . . . acquired it by accident. That is—”

  “The Mad Arab gave it to him himself,” Millie said, raising his eyebrows, hands behind her back, and getting on her tiptoes.

  Capshaw looked over his spectacles at Macky. “Do you mean to tell me—”

  “It appears I ran into the man himself,” Macky said. “Crazy, huh?”

  “You have a knack for finding the rarest of artifacts,” Capshaw said, looking the volume over.

  “The burden is real,” Macky said. “It’s what happens afterward that concerns me.”

  “Kinda like booze,” Millie said, smiling.

  Macky looked at her and frowned. “The booze comments are growing tiresome?”

  “Look, Dev. It’s just bad luck. First Haddonfield. Then that Arkham business, and now this. Fa
ce it, horror is drawn to you. Or you are drawn to it.”

  “At least something is,” he said.

  Millie shrugged.

  “It’s ironic, I must admit,” Capshaw said.

  “I have a knack for overcoming evil,” Macky said. “I could use some cabbage to get us by, though.”

  “What does cabbage—?” Millie asked.

  “A century or two,” Macky said. “A pair of C’s.”

  “Huh?”

  “Money, Mill.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just say that?”

  Macky sighed. “The point is if we’re going to start cracking down on cosmic evil, ancient horror, and monsters from the deep, the least we could do is get paid for it.”

  “It’s not about the money, Dev,” Millie said.

  “We gotta eat, blossom-drop.”

  “Don’t you dare call me blossom-drop!”

  Capshaw looked at them, amused. “Do you mind if I keep this for a while, Dev?” he asked. “I would love to study it.”

  “No,” Macky said. “That’s the reason I brought it. I’m worried about leaving it, though. I believe there’s something . . . attached to it. I don’t like the vibe it’s giving off.”

  “It does have some great historical significance,” Capshaw said, caressing the cover. “But I’ll be careful with it. I promise. I’m familiar with some of the countering spells. My motives aren’t about resurrecting demons or monsters. I do, however, want to gain some insight into its origin, and what it has to say. Sometimes the best way to defeat an enemy, Dev, is to know as much about it as you can.”

  “Mr. Capshaw,” Millie said. “I’m not trying to be a bore, but all Dev did was open it and try to read from it. Now there’s a bookstore that is no longer a bookstore, and a hound baying in the city. Or so he says. This doesn’t prove anything or mean anything terrible is going to happen, but . . . I can’t help being concerned.”

  “It would be disappointing if, after all that, something didn’t happen,” Macky said. “That’s what she’s trying to say.”

  Capshaw and Millie looked at him and frowned.

  “Yes,” Capshaw said, nodding at the book. “But like many ancient artifacts, there is always a weak spot, something that can banish it back to where it came from.”

  “Can’t we just burn the thing?” Macky asked. “Or leave it in a dumpster?”

  Capshaw looked horrified at the thought. “Good heavens, no! That would be absurd! Rest assured, I’ll be fine. I have forces of light to protect me.”

  “You do?” Macky asked, brows coming together.

  Capshaw nodded. “Of course. Unlike you, Dev, I believe quite strongly in God.”

  —

  “I like him, Dev,” Millie said.

  “Because he believes in the same bearded fellow you do.”

  “I like Capshaw because he’s a very sweet man. He has pure motives. He loves what he does, but he is careful. Unlike you. And I don’t believe God has a beard.”

  “Ever since this began, you’ve been pretty snippy with me, Mill.”

  “You’re reckless, Dev. You go willy-nilly into it, and the next thing you know, you’re fighting monsters. You put everybody at risk.”

  “Excuse me for trying to liven things up.”

  They continued to ride the elevator to the first floor.

  “Regardless,” Macky continued. “That thing is officially out of our hands. No need to thank me or congratulate me. I know you’re grateful. What we do is we stop the bad guys. That’s our business, Mill. It’s a service to humanity. We kill the darkness. We put the light back into the world and give people the freedom to live the lives they want to.”

  “If you think that’s the last we’re gonna hear about that book, you’re mistaken.”

  “That’s a real defeatist attitude. You’re making too much of it. I admit that book is kinda creepy, and things have been spooky since I got it, but it’s all in your head. Or my head. Or both our heads. There aren’t any demons roaming the aisles of Innsport at the moment. Or isles.”

  “Very funny,” Millie said.

  The elevator doors opened. Macky pulled the cage door back. They stepped out. Deb was looking more alluring than before. She’d put some lipstick on and more eyeliner. She stuck her chest out.

  “How did it go, Dev?” she asked.

  “Good.”

  “Call me, okay?”

  Millie elbowed him in the side, and they sauntered into the cool October morning. The air smelled like rain and autumn leaves. The sky was overcast. The wind was blowing but it wasn’t raining yet.

  “I just saw a demon, Dev,” Millie said.

  “Demon Dev. Sounds like a new number by Count Basie. Where did you see it?”

  “Sitting at the desk inside the museum.”

  “Capshaw? He’s no demon.”

  “I meant Deb, ya dink.”

  “Debya Dink. Another number by Count Basie. Maybe a one-hit-wonder. I don’t know. Those blue eyes look like sapphires, and the blonde ringlets like platinum curls. And she seems anxious to start something romantic.”

  “She has experience in desk jobs. Maybe you need a new secretary.”

  Macky stopped walking and looked at Millie. Her eyes were on fire, cheeks red. “Mill, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you jealous before.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “You look here, mister. Jealousy is the last thing on my mind. I know a two-bit floozie when I see one, and I have no respect for the shallow, cad, superficial men who fall for them. Or the women who use that kind of thing to their advantage, which is quite a handful, I might add. I give you exhibit A.” She motioned toward the museum. “You wanna wine and dine some blonde dame, be my guest. But when the demons come calling and the shadows get darker, you can see how well she stacks up against the adversity. And don’t you dare make a joke about stacks.”

  Macky opened his mouth and closed it. He was going to make a joke about stacks.

  “Millie,” he said. “I was trying to be polite. I didn’t want to insult her, and we had business with Capshaw. Important business. I’ll tell you another thing. Floozies are a dime a dozen in this city, but you, Mill, are a class-A lady. A woman. And I emphasize the word woman, most of which I think most women should aspire to. That’s why I like you and am glad you’re on my side. You’re irreplaceable. It’s about time I told you that. There’s more to you than flashing red hair and jade green eyes. And everybody knows it. Duke knows it. Newt knows it. Even Capshaw knows it. No one can compete with you, Mill. And every woman in Innsport knows it. That’s why they try so hard. That’s why they sneer with contempt. You got brains, charm, common sense, compassion, understanding, but most importantly, a fighting spirit. When the floozies come around, I have to let them down easy, so they maintain their dignity. That’s all I’m trying to do. Now, can we go back to the office? I’m thirsty.”

  Millie stood staring at him for a long time. “I suppose that was your idea of an apology?”

  “I’m not apologizing. I complimented you. Grandly, I might add.”

  She smiled. Her eyes sparkled. “Could you do it again, Dev? And elaborate on that fighting spirit bit more. I didn’t catch all that. I liked the jade-eyed bit, too, but you didn’t mention anything about my red hair, other than that it was red, of course. Don’t you think you could add go into more detail about it . . . Dev? Dev?”

  Macky turned and walked away.

  Chapter 4

  “Dev, Bardhoff and Givens are here to see you.”

  “They didn’t bring a bottle with them by any chance, did they?”

  “No,” Millie said. “They’re on duty. Maybe coffee?”

  “It’s late enough in the afternoon. Getting darker earlier, too. I’m running low on giggle juice, Mill. We might have to make a run to the liquor store. As long as they don’t want any hooch. That’s not very hospitable, is it?”

  “You’re being very stingy, Dev.”

  “Thanks for the clarification. Send t
hem in, Mill.”

  She nodded, disappeared, and Newt and Duke came in shortly afterwards. Newt was wearing a snazzy, dark blue pinstripe suit with a polka-dotted tie and hat. A handkerchief fluffed from the breast pocket. Duke was wearing a classic earth tone brown, which went with the season. He had a brown tie with yellow diamond shapes on it.

  “Evening, Dev,” Newt said. “How’s business?”

  “Good, Newt. How’s married life with Amelia?”

  “More than I imagined. She’s a gem. We’re perking up the bookstore with a few amenities. So far things are going smoothly. You should come by and see it.”

  “It’s been almost two years, and you’re still in the honeymoon phase. I’m happy for you, Newt. Care for a snort to celebrate?”

  “We’re on duty, Dev. But thanks all the same.”

  “Just as well. I’m low on the sauce. How’s the stutter?”

  “She still stutters around large crowds, but it’s not as bad as it used to be. She’s coming out of her shell.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Can we dispense with the domestic syrup and get down to business?” Duke asked.

  “Sorry, Duke,” Macky said. “I forgot you don’t like wasting time on pleasantries and nurturing the importance of good standing with your fellow brethren. Religion calls it hesed, a Hebrew word that means ‘steadfast love.’”

  “How did you get to be so cute, Macky?” Duke said, frowning.

  “Some questions have obvious answers Duke, and that’s one of them.”

  “Duke’s a little testy this morning, Dev,” Newt said.

  “He is? Well, can I get you guys a coffee? Would that help?” Macky asked. “Orange soda? Raspberry twist?”

  “I’d love a raspberry twist, Dev,” Newt said, brightening.

  “Millie!” Macky called.

  “Would you stop that?” Duke asked.

  Millie poked her head into the office. “You wanted something, Dev?”