A response sounded, something on the other side. It was listening and responding to his words. Fields was under the spell of the book, the thing speaking to him from the other side of the cosmos, from deep space, underground, and beyond Innsport. But he understood its language. He welcomed it. How could he not? That which all things eternal lie, a voice said. Even death.
Even death.
It was the heart of Yog-Sothoth. Its progenitors. A successive line of monsters from generation to generation. From the Ancients. The Old Ones. The Outer Gods. Beyond space and time. They were waiting to come through. A resurrected horror lay buried in the deep, beyond the gates, longing to get through.
Fields realized he had the opportunity to do just that. The gates opened one by one. He could see it happening, the Mad Arab moving from place to place, starting with Macky and ending with Frye. Fields was number thirteen. Eleven and Twelve had been opened shortly before. In his mind, he saw a great, tentacled nightmare. It crawled up the side of the building like a giant octopus. The tentacles weren’t part of its body, though. They were part of its face.
“What’s it saying to you, Frye?” a voice said.
The book had a voice, and it was asking him questions
“What exactly is it telling you to pronounce?”
“C—” was all Fields could make out. He had no idea how to pronounce the word, let alone if he could pronounce it correctly.
“That’s fine. That’s fine,” the book said. “But there’s a long way to go. Give it another try.”
“Ct—”
“It gets easier once you get the hang of it, doesn’t it? Yes, it does. Go on. Go on. Don’t let me stop you.”
“Ct—” Fields tried and gave up. “I can’t. I can’t pronounce it.”
“Sure, you can. Just think of it differently. Think in the ways the words were spelled out to you in a different language, but you still understood. It’s a cosmic tongue, Frye. Don’t clench it between your teeth. Think . . . abomination. Damnation. Madness. Horror beyond dreams, nightmares, dreamscapes, from those who’ve lost their way. They are beyond him now. Space. Their beginning lies elsewhere. They aren’t who they claim to be. But it can come through if you let it. You just have to pronounce it in its native tongue. You were chosen for this, Frye. Consider yourself blessed. Does that help?”
“Yes. Yes,” Fields said, eager now. “Cthu—”
“Now you’re getting it. Keep going, Frye. Keep going.”
“Cthu—”
“It’s getting better. So close. Soooo close.”
“Cthul—”
“You’re bringing tears to my eyes, Frye. It’s happening. It’s happening now. Once more. Take a deep breath. Concentrate. You have it. You have it!”
“C-C-Cthulhu!” Fields finally got out.
The voice started laughing. “Very good! Very good, Frye! You do our makers proud! You have opened the Thirteenth Gate. You have made the Outer Gods happy! As is Cthulhu’s father, and his father before him. Thank you for your cooperation, Frye! Now, bow to the Outer Gods and submit yourself to their mercy!”
Chapter 18
“I’m-just-singing, singing-to-the-sounds-of-monsters-in-the-city. I’ve-just-been-singing. Singing-to-the-sounds-of-girls-who-are-so-pretty.”
Macky took a deep breath. “You know, Mill, ever since this nightmare began, I haven’t had a single drink. Now I know what you’re going to say. You’re gonna say you’re proud of me, that you knew I could do it, and that’s great. The fact is, I feel great! I really do! We’re about to enter the witch-house on account of our good friend, Nyarlathotep, who is leading the way most valiantly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was starting to feel a little hope. It might not be much, but it’s something. I’m thinking we might beat this thing after all. With all that said, boy-howdy, I could use some giggle-juice.”
“I had a feeling your monologue was going to end a drunken note,” Millie said.
Ten feet ahead, Nyarlathotep lead the way in silence.
Mr. Kalabraise trotted happily alongside Millie, tongue hanging out of her mouth. Her tail wagged, not caring the world was falling apart around her. Portals were opening, monsters snatching helpless citizens from the streets, but to Mr. Kalabraise, it was a chance to stretch her legs.
“You could pretend you were proud of me,” Macky said.
“I’m not giving you any votes of encouragement,” Millie said.
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
“Come on, Mill. Where’s that unwavering valiant spirit, that rock-solid faith I’ve come to know and love?”
“I’m in a season of doubt,” she said.
“We’re figuring this thing out,” Macky said. “We’re making progress.”
“I’m a little off. You know, cosmic monsters, The Necronomicon, Abdul Alhazred, Yog-Sothoth. Monsters in basements. Creatures in graves. Forgive me.”
“You were always the undaunted one. What do you think got me through? Where did you think my strength came from?”
“A bottle.”
“Loosen up, Mill. What gives?”
“My previous answer is the same as the question just posed.”
“Point taken. Boy, am I getting hungry, though! Where’s a deli when you need one? How come all these adventures go till all hours of the morning? We need a change in the program. What do you think? Operating on malnutrition, sleep-deprivation, and yet, we’re still defeating the bad guys.”
“Your cockiness isn’t a good sign,” Millie said.
“I agree,” Armitage said. “We should be careful, Dev.”
“I’m with, Dev,” Capshaw said. “I’m starting to fill that fighting spirit. We’re making progress.”
“That’s the kind of attitude I’m talking about,” Macky said.
Armitage looked over his glasses. He was mumbling something under his breath.
“Find something?” Macky asked.
“Huh?” Armitage asked. “Maybe. I found an invocation, for the hound, I think. I don’t know if it will work, but I’m doing my best.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Macky said. “How about when it’s all over, we all go to a nice restaurant to celebrate. My treat, of course.”
“You don’t have any money,” Millie said.
“Your treat then,” Macky said.
“I don’t have any money, either.”
“Looks like Creighton is fitting the bill. A curator’s salary has to be pretty good. Look at the nice outfits he wears. Although I must say, I’ve been admiring your shoes, doctor, since we picked you up at Arkham.”
“I’m proud of them myself,” the doctor said, angling the two-tone brown and white shoes for everyone to see.
“Things are definitely strange,” Capshaw said. “I’ve been possessed by an evil spirit, took another man’s life, and that isn’t something you get over quickly. But in some ways, I feel better than I have, more hopeful. Maybe there’s something to this. I never hurt anything in my life. Not once. Well . . . that’s not entirely true. We would catch the neighborhood cats and shave their tails when I was in elementary school. They used to mewl and whine like you’ve never heard in your life.”
“You used to shave the tails of cats?” Armitage asked.
“I was seven. I had a lot of friends who thought it was funny.”
“That’s cruel,” Macky said. “What did you do?” he asked Armitage.
The doctor shrugged. “Sat in my room and read.”
“What did you read?”
“Detective stories. Science fiction.”
“Weird Tales Magazine?”
“One of my favorites.”
“We have something in common after all.”
“I thought you didn’t know how to read?”
“I like to look at the pictures,” Macky said.
—
The witch-house was an old, gray Victorian. It looked like a Halloween haunted house at the top of the hill. It was cartoo
nish in some aspects, sitting alone, surrounded by barren maple and elm trees, the leaves falling. Currents of light continued to flash behind the windows, brighter and more blinding the closer they got to it. Macky had to shield his eyes. He noticed the others doing the same. It looked like a Christmas tree, but there wasn’t anything festive about it.
“Where are we?” he asked Nyarlathotep. “This isn’t Innsport.”
“We’re moving in and out of a space-time dimension. The gates, when they open, reveal other gates. More gates open the more people come into contact with The Necronomicon. Consider yourself lucky this one opened for you.”
Macky didn’t like the way the lights were flashing behind the windows. It made him nervous. “On second thought,” he said. “Why don’t you guys go ahead. I don’t know if I’m up for it all of a sudden.”
“Quit being such a baby,” Millie said.
“Hey, this stuff is getting to me as much as to anybody else. Bats, rats, shave-tailed cats, nothingness, mi-gos, glowing orbs, spider-women, doorways, gateways, portals, which are really all the same, but still . . . It’s getting up there. Humbling. Clandestine. That means ‘secretive,’ Mill.”
“I know. But you didn’t use it correctly. None of which you mentioned is a secret. Nor is anyone trying to keep it a secret. Now, let’s get going. It’s all for one and one for all, right, Mr. Kalabraise?”
Mr. Kalabraise barked.
“Here is the Nexus of the Mythos,” Nyarlathotep said.
“The Mythos?” Macky asked.
“The Lovecraftian Mythos. Howard Phillips knew what was real and what wasn’t. The witch-house was part of it.”
“Whatever happened to him anyway?” Macky asked. “Is he locked up somewhere?”
“He’s buried in Rhode Island,” Armitage said.
“Hey, like the bookstore!”
“The bookstore isn’t buried,” Millie said.
“The doorways and dreamscapes can be accessed from here,” Nyarlathotep said. “The Outer Gods, Elder Gods. Earth. Even Innsport. This is where it begins.”
“But how do we know what to do?” Macky asked.
“You don’t. It will come to you eventually. You will be led. If you’re lucky.”
“Is that supposed to be encouraging?”
“It is if you want it to be,” Nyarlathotep said.
“You’re an extraordinary leader,” Macky said.
“I agree,” Millie said.
“I led you here, which I didn’t have to do,” Nyarlathotep said.
“Thanks for the kind offer,” Macky said. “Puzzling, tall, black and slim with no features. No bones broken. No duress. Just a bunch of rum-bunnies outside the cosmic context of space and time and horror. It’s a little over the top, if not a trifle insane.”
“We’ll be praying for you, Dev,” Millie said.
Macky looked at her and frowned. “Is that your idea of a pep talk?”
“I was never much on giving speeches.”
“Your continued support is priceless.”
“Remember, Dev, we’re here for you,” Armitage said.
“That’s comforting. Maybe you could look helpful things in those books of yours.”
“They’re not as exciting as I’d hoped,” Capshaw said, “but it’s taking my mind of the guard I killed.”
“At least you’re getting something out of it,” Macky said.
“There’s quite a bit of information here, really,” Armitage said. He pushed his glasses onto his nose and pointed at some text. “Most of which we already know. Things of the past and future. Things of the sea. Things of the cosmos. Things of other times and spaces most people have never even discovered. But I may have succeeded with my invocation. The hound’s motives may have changed.”
“Changed how?”
“Finding Amelia, of course.”
“You’re deductive reasoning is slipping,” Millie said.
“What are you here for?” Macky asked.
“Balance and security,” she said, and smiled. “And I am delivering some good one-liners, which is keeping the atmosphere light. No pun intended. See?”
“Has any of this stuff been proven?” Macky asked. “Didn’t this Lovecraft character at least get some things wrong?”
“We haven’t made it that far yet,” Armitage said.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Capshaw said.
“Most people haven’t ventured into those domains,” Armitage said. “I’m not sure anyone dares.”
“When does it end?” Macky asked.
“Not till we face out fears,” Armitage said. “It’s a precarious battlefield, Dev. Most of the people who have ventured there, have met with terrible ends or gone completely insane.”
“Like the Mad Arab?”
“Precisely. Look. Let’s not pretend everything is going to be okay. This might be a no-win situation. But what choice do we have?”
“We could all take a vacation to Bermuda,” Macky said, brightening. “Boy, does that sound exciting or what?”
“When all is said and done, there might not be a Bermuda,” Capshaw said.
“Negativity is not welcome,” Macky said.
“You fell into this nightmare,” Millie said. “You have to help us get out of it.”
“She’s right, Dev,” Armitage said. “Let’s not create a false sense of security.”
“Your friends don’t inspire a lot of confidence,” Nyarlathotep said.
“Maybe I can trade them in for a more confident group,” Macky said. “What’s loyalty like in the Outer Darkness?”
Nyarlathotep seemed to smile; it was hard to tell.
“We’ll be praying for you, Dev,” Capshaw said.
“To whom?”
Millie raised her eyebrows at his correct use of grammar.
“Give my regards to Innsport,” Macky said. “I feel more confident with our tall, dark friend here. At least he knows the terrain.”
“Devlin Bigelow Macky,” Millie said, stepping forward, and raising her finger. “I’ll have you know we have stood beside you throughout this entire ordeal. We’ve been following you, helping you, risking our own lives, pets, sanity, futures, and families on every ghostly, maddening trail this night has presented. We’ve exposed ourselves to one countless horror after another, risking life and limb, all on account of your nimble-brained carelessness over that vile Necronomicon. You are a half-witted, bumbler of accidents and misfortunes!”
“How did you know my middle was Bigelow?” he asked.
“I looked in your wallet.”
“That doesn’t mean my motives aren’t pure,” Macky said.
“Not to mention the pains Henry and Creighton have been going through, learning all they can, helping us stay alive,” Millie added, “and who knows what Duke and Newt are up against, not to mention poor Amelia.”
“Thanks for the kind words, Millie,” Capshaw said.
“Yeah, that was nice,” Armitage agreed.
“Compensation is still being evaluated and processed,” Macky said.
“That’s something, I guess,” Millie said.
—
“Wouldn’t it better if dogs could talk, Duke?”
“There’d be no mystery then. I prefer it this way.”
“But easier.”
“Life was never meant to be easy.”
“Is this going to be one of your philosophical rants again?”
Duke shrugged as they followed the hound through the city. The fog pulled back, but it was still thick. The green jade across the animal’s neck (or was it a monster?) shed a green glow along the alley.
“How long do we have to walk for?”
“Until the hound leads us where it wants us to go, I guess,” Duke said.
“Let me ask you a question, Duke?”
“Does it have to do why things aren’t easier?”
“Yes.”
Duke nodded. They continued to follow the hound. It was dark and quiet.
“Well?” Newt asked.
“I wasn’t sure what you’re question was,” Duke said.
“I was wondering what you thought about the nature of evil,” Newt said.
“You don’t waste time getting to the point, do you?” Duke said.
Newt smiled and shrugged. The hound continued to move ahead of them.
“Adversity creates growth, maybe,” Duke said. “Suffering is necessary. Or so some say. If you say that to someone with cancer, or a paraplegic, or someone born without arms and legs, you might get a different answer. It depends on your response to it, I guess. And you might not always like what you hear. I think it’s a way of rationalizing suffering. The bottom line is, no matter what you think you understand, or what you don’t understand, it’s all speculation. There are good philosophies, theologies, some truths, but there is also a great big mystery regardless of how many answers you come up with. It depends on who you are. No one ever said we were supposed to live in a Utopian society, Newt. No one, not even God, said everything was going to be perfect. Except maybe in the end. Pain and suffering are unavoidable. They’re things we have to live with, and they come in some pretty ruthless forms. We’re broken people, Newt, living in a broken world, and I think God has a plan for restoration. But he’s also showing us how to have joy and love, despite the places of pain and suffering. It sounds impossible to me sometimes, but it also gives me a different perspective. And it’s the only thing I’ve got so far. Let me ask you something, Newt? How are we supposed to embrace sacrificial love if there’s no such thing as evil? How are we supposed to make a choice? How do we know what compassion and empathy are, or how do we make a choice between good and evil otherwise? That all began with Adam and Eve and the forbidden fruit. Maybe all this is the result of that.”
“I didn’t know you were a believer, Duke,” Newt said.
“I’m not.”
“But you just said . . .”
“It helps to question, and I think it’s healthy in the face of evil. That’s what we’re facing. It’s good to question and wonder why. It’s one of many philosophies.”
“So, you’re a philosopher?”
“Not exactly.”
“You’re not making any sense, Duke.”
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