Armitage laughed. “We got off on the wrong foot back there in Arkham, but we’ve come a long way, you and me. Try to stay out of mischief anyway, will you?”
“Maybe I can turn over a new leaf.”
“That’ll be the day,” Millie said.
“She’s still skeptical,” Macky said.
“You take care of yourself,” Millie old Armitage. “And here’s that kiss I promised.” She kissed Armitage on the cheek.
Armitage blushed and raised his eyebrows. “You keep this one around, Dev. I think she’s your good luck charm. How else do you manage to survive these adventures?”
“She hounds me too much. No pun intended.”
“You two take care,” Armitage said, smiling.
“Will do,” Macky said.
Armitage gave a smile before heading out the door. He waved to them before leaving the office.
“I like that man,” Millie said.
“I think he’s gonna be just fine,” Macky said.
—
Creighton looked at the Amulet of Leng for a long time. For a second, he thought a shadow was hovering behind him. It had been a long time since he’d acquired anything new. He didn’t want anyone else to know about this. These things had been turning up for a while. He was going to need a secret museum inside the museum. With the Elder Scrolls being gone, and now this in his possession, he wondered about the dark forces in the universe. Portals, gates, the man he’d killed. Upsetting, to say the least, and he wasn’t the kind of man who could get over things quickly. He still had nightmares about killing the guard. That and the creature in Dunwich—Yog-Sothoth of a thousand spheres.
He was alone in the museum, except for the security guard. He didn’t know where the man was. But it was quiet, and he liked that. Even though he could hear the nails clipping along the hallway. A green glow appeared. He thought of himself as a midnight caretaker, digging up the graves of lost monsters, finding trinkets from a forgotten era, much like the one he’d just put away.
Was that the baying of a hound, or just his imagination? Was that the smell of tarry stickiness in the air, a portal opening, a glowing orb? For a second, he could sense Nyarlathotep standing nearby wanting the amulet. Demanding it, in fact. What was to prevent the Outer God from obtaining it on his own? From walking in here and kiping it?
The hound clipped along the hall. The green jade grew brighter.
It might not be the best of bodyguards, but it was reliable. The hound itself, though under a new sort of spell, was no threat to Capshaw. Just the opposite.
Or so he hoped. You never knew with these things.
Capshaw put the amulet in a different drawer with a different lock and sealed it up tight. He grabbed his bowler hat from the coat rack and decided to treat himself to that drink he’d never finished. Maybe that same band was there, the blonde singer in the cocktail dress.
—
Frye W. Fields was sitting up late with Munster curling around his legs while typing up the latest article on the Havoc of Innsport, as he called it.
A knock sounded at the door.
He lifted his eyebrows, got up, giddy, hoping to experience something similar to what had happened before. That had paid off, the book, the tome, that had been left him. It had spoken to him, and the deep had roiled. It paid off, too. His editor, Barnaby Bundlesnitch, considered giving him a raise.
Fields went to the door and unlocked it. He pulled it wide. Before he could see who it was, a fist collided with his nose. A lightning jab of pain blossomed across his face like a hot flower. Blood started to flow. He fell backwards and hit the ground. Munster bolted to the space under his bed.
Whoever had punched him was already walking away. He saw a fedora and a light gray trench coat, but he couldn’t tell who it was.
It was probably just as well.
—
“How is Creighton?” Macky asked. He had his feet up on the desk, leaning back, while Millie dusted the knick-knacks. Benny Goodman was playing on the Vectra 2 radio on the lone stand under the bright window overlooking Innsport.
“I think he’s lonely, Dev. We should do something for him. I don’t think he’s gotten over killing that guard.”
“That was your fault.”
“How was it my fault?”
“Because you wanted to be the Queen of Sarnath. Boy, you were really something, too, Mill. You had it down, too. That green chiton you had to wear all night was good, too, but it left me empty.”
“Everything leaves you empty.”
“Why the sharp tongue? What did I do to you?”
“Dev, you left everyone on the brink of horror . . . again. Your ineptitude started this whole, blasted mess.”
“Before, you said it would’ve happened regardless.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Everything turned out fine. I don’t know why you’re so upset.”
“Have you seen the city lately? It’s in shambles.”
“I think the President is going to help. He’s offering us Monster Aid, or something like that. Mayhem Aid. Mayhem and Monster Aid. They just passed a bill for it in the Senate. It happens.”
“You really know how to downplay everything, don’t you?
“Things work themselves out. I attribute it to higher forces, of which I am now becoming a believer. I’m on the good list. How is Amelia?”
“Her stutter is back in full force. That’s to be expected. You know, monsters and mayhem and all that. Doctor said she’s a little traumatized. It’s to be expected. But she’s okay, emotionally. Newt has been a gem. He’s taking care of her. Service, he said. Love is based on service without expecting anything in return. That’s the point of living. I think the Elder Gods would agree.”
“There are lessons to be learned from the darkness that prowls the night,” Macky said.
Millie shrugged.
“Which leaves us with the grand Mr. Kalabraise. Innsport’s hero in many ways. How is our beautiful cocker spaniel?”
Mr. Kalabraise was in a small, cushioned bed Millie had brought from home. Macky thought it was only right. It felt good having the fearless dog with them. She was curled up asleep after a meal of liver and onions.
“Aside from giving her a bath, which she detested, she is doing just fine,” Millie said. “I do not like the look of Mr. Kalabraise with blood on her face. It isn’t right.”
“Hey, she saved everyone. She took out that freaky Wilbur Whateley, and she took out that Brown Jenkin thing. What kind of hideous creature was that anyway?”
“I big, blind, bucked-tooth rat.”
“She proved herself the most courageous of all. Except for me, of course. Don’t bother to thank me. I risked life and limb to . . . get this . . . bargain with the Elder Gods. I’ll tell you, it was no laughing matter, Mill.”
“You don’t even remember anything,” Millie said. “You were drunk.”
“Be that as it may. I . . . remember a . . . cave . . . I think. And some freaky, one-armed creatures that spoke in . . . rhyme . . . I think. And some Ubba-Sambatha-Gregorian chant character. And the Elder Gods, of course . . . I think. I remember a silver light. Or was it an orange light? Either way, it doesn’t matter because obviously, whatever I did worked. I persuaded them to help us. Me, Devlin Macky, Supernatural Sleuth, Private Eye in cahoots with the Elder Forces of Light and . . . what was that word?”
“Benevolence.”
“Benevolence. Right. It’s a tongue twister.”
“Especially when you’ve been drinking.”
“Doesn’t matter. Elder Gods. Outer Gods. Monsters and mayhem, and we still came out on top. Again. See, Mill, it pays to fight for the good side. That’s not your everyday, average, amateur sleuthing. That’s just great detective work. Deducing. That means figuring things out.”
“Uh-huh,” Millie said.
“Dimensions, portals, gates, monsters. All of it. Armitage and his quick wit. Capshaw’s clever defensiveness. Mr. Kalabraise’s fear
less courage. And what did you contribute?”
“I pleaded with Nyarlathotep for your life. And I bought you a bottle of bourbon. I figured you’d earned it. Especially since you didn’t get the compensation you were promised.”
“Are you being serious?”
“Yes.” She reached into a bag she had on one of the chairs in front of his desk and put the bottle on his desk.
“Wow!” Macky said, his eyes lighting up. “Would you look at that? Everything has its own reward. You did better than all the rest, Mill.”
“Hardly.”
“Mill? What’s the matter?”
“I feel bad. Dev. My faith is in doubt. And yours is growing. Which I’m thankful for. But I never quite felt like myself during this whole charade. That Sarnath thing got into my head and changed me somehow. I think it changed all of us. It bothers me. I feel like I’ve been pretty strong in these situations, but this time, I just didn’t know what was wrong. All those monsters and gods. Everything. The people in the city who lost their lives.”
Macky looked at her for a long time. “Pull up a chair, Mill. And let’s have a toast. I want to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Nodens said things are just different from his perspective. Death, horror, madness, evil. It all serves a purpose, it serves a greater good, even if we can’t see it. Even if we never see it. I thought that was the best we could do under the circumstances. But it gave me some peace.”
She looked at him for a long time.
“What?” he asked.
“So we’re just supposed to accept evil and pain and suffering?”
“Not accept it, Mill. I think you’re missing the point.”
“Which is?”
“Love and death. Pain and compassion. They go hand in hand. We can’t have one without the other. No sacrificial love without evil. No compassion without pain. It’s not very promising, I know. But it’s the best I have.”
She nodded. “Maybe. Thanks, Dev.”
“Good. Now, let’s have a toast.”
“To what?”
“To spreading light. And providing a service to humanity in the face of all our fears. To love, light, and victory over the darkness. And . . . I bought a book, and I want to read to you.”
“Oh, my gosh, you didn’t,” Millie said.
“I did.” He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a thin, small paperback, the kind you find in a drugstore.
“What is that?”
“Rex Stout. Ever read him? The Nero Wolfe series? Oh, man, this is just great stuff. Not like Weird Tales, maybe, but still pretty good.”
“But you don’t read. I’m not sure you know how to read.”
“I have to sound out the words pretty slowly, but it comes eventually.”
Millie pulled up a chair. Macky made them both a drink, and they got comfortable. Mr. Kalabraise continued to snooze away in the corner.
“This place looks better without all the glowing orbs, doesn’t it, Mill?”
“Boy-howdy!” she said.
“Okay, Mill. Let’s have a toast before we get started.”
“Another?”
“Sure. To no more monsters.”
“Perfect,” she said.
They clinked glasses and drank. Macky opened the book and started to read. “Chapter One,” he said, and frowned.
“What?” Millie asked.
“What’s this first word, Mill?”
She looked at the book. She didn’t look amused. “‘The.’ The first one is ‘The,’ Dev.”
“Oh, I see. Yes.” He looked at the book for a while longer. “And the second?”
“See you later, Dev.”
Get the latest volume in the Lovecraft Mysteries:
Arkham: Reanimated (The Lovecraft Mysteries Book 2)
Thanks for coming along for the ride, Dear Reader. Reviews are always appreciated, especially if you liked the tale.
Enjoy these other titles and genres by Brandon Berntson:
Horror:
Snapdragon
Hill Haven Creeps and the Halloween King
Boone
Corona of Blue
Collections:
Darkness and Devotion: Tales of Horror, Fantasy, and Romance
Body of Immorality: Tales of Madness and the Macabre
Series:
The Night of Dagon (The Lovecraft Mysteries Book 1)
Arkham: Reanimated: (The Lovecraft Mysteries Book 2)
The Lurker at the Threshold (The Lovecraft Mysteries Book 3)
Urban/Dark Fantasy:
All The Gods Against Me (Divinity Series Book I)
Calliope (Divinity Series Book II)
Worlds Away (Divinity Series Book III)
Divinity Series Box Set
Young Adult Fantasy:
When We Were Dragons
Castle Juliet
Comedy/Horror:
Buick Cannon: (A Joke from the Moon)
Brandon Berntson studied English and Literature at Utah State University but grew up in various towns throughout Colorado, where most of his stories take place. His work spans from serious, adult horror to playful, young adult fantasy and everything in between. He is the author of Castle Juliet and When We Were Dragons, enchanting, magical reads for all ages. He is also the author of Body of Immorality, a cryptic collection of horror stories, and the raw, adult-themed, All The Gods Against Me.
Brandon is a fan of Stephen King, Clive Barker, Ramsey Campbell, Jonathan Carroll, Anne Rice, Elizabeth Hand, Peter Straub, and classic literature.
He enjoys Colorado sports, Bugs Bunny, Beethoven, Ronnie James Dio, The X-files, and classic horror films. He makes his home in Boulder, Colorado.
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The Lurker at the Threshold : A Horror Mystery Page 21