Night Things: The Monster Collection

by West, Terry M.

  Herbert put it down and stepped closer to the bars. "I thought you had perished. You have been immobile for ten days."

  "I have been in a death sleep. Your elixir has continued to change me, even as I rested, and it was very taxing."

  A large beastly hand emerged and gripped the bars. The flesh had grayed, and large black nails tipped the fingers. Herbert didn't know how he had managed to fit Edmund under the stairway.

  "I was quite angry with you at first," Edmund said. "I thought you had perverted my design. I will never be able to appear again as I did. But, despite that, I think what you have done will have great benefits for me."

  "There is absolutely no way a human would have transformed the way you did," Herbert said. "What are you, sir?"

  "I am the bastard child of ancient and terrible Gods," Edmund explained. "The Old Ones. They occupied space when it was only a black void. Before the stars came. As life began to develop, my sires fell into a deep death slumber. They consigned me to your world, to walk and adapt and await their return."

  "Old Ones?" Herbert said, resisting the urge to scoff.

  "Yes. Most still float in space. They are cloaked. They can bend darkness around their forms. The eldest is here, under a great ocean. This planet formed around him. Acted as a bit of a cocoon. He slumbers at its center. And he dreams."

  Edmund retracted his hand and sighed. "When first my feet met the soil of this world, I was confused and lost. But when I took my first meal from a warm-blooded beast long ago, I could hear the dreams and whispers and songs of the Old Ones. It was through feeding my hunger that I could perceive them. As man evolved, I discovered that the voices of my elders strengthened when I nourished myself on early humanity. I was able to look like a human, with immense mental effort, and blend in beside them. They were easier than the great beasts to feast upon. But there was a strange side effect to the partaking of their flesh."

  "What was that?" Herbert asked. He was slightly disgusted but also utterly fascinated.

  "The first humans I consumed were Mayan warriors. I killed and fed from six of them. But soon after taking my bite, they rose. They attacked me, mindless and rabid dogs that they were. After that, I had to employ tools and weapons to take my meals. I had no desire to fill this world with children who wished to murder me. You can understand that dilemma, can't you?"

  "Yes," Herbert admitted. "All too well."

  "As time went on, I discovered it was best to feed on those who wouldn't be missed so much. I disguised my meals in violent tapestries. There was usually not a fuss. Peasants and whores were not so keenly missed or mourned. But I did cause a stir in Whitechapel."

  Edmund took a pause, and then continued his story.

  "So I traveled this globe. Its deserts. Oceans. Mountains. Jungles. I have traveled it over and over. I feed, when I need to. And then I find a safe place and sleep. And I dream, along with my kin. When I awaken, sometimes after a week, sometimes after a hundred years, I begin anew. I feed, I hear the thoughts of my fathers and mothers, and I rest. But, not long ago, I heard something else. I heard the thoughts of your children. I found you, sure that you could place the reins of control into my hands. I did not want a world of hungry and vicious beasts. Unless I could manage them."

  "That research you spoke of. Putting your thoughts into their heads."

  "That was my goal from the beginning. To control what you had wrought and what my very bite can cause. I had drifted, hearing the thoughts of my elders. But I was shut out from them. They do not hear me. I have never been given a directive, but after discovering you, it became clear. My mission is to create a society from the seed of the Old Ones and populate this earth. To erect a dark kingdom on this soil."

  "My assistant and housemate. He didn't leave. Did he?"

  "No," Edmund confessed. "I buried what I didn't eat under the roses outside. I left you the note of his departure. I didn't need him in your ear."

  "I will keep you imprisoned until I find a way to destroy you," Herbert swore.

  "You won't hold me much longer," Edmund promised. "I feel strength beyond what I had previously gathering in my muscles. I will be able to bend the bars soon."

  "Then I will fortify them. You mustn't escape," Herbert said.

  "I know why you wish to keep me here," Edmund said with a knowing chuckle. "I am too great a specimen for you to destroy. You wish to study me. Understand the science of me."

  He was right. Herbert decided to end the conversation without another word. He started to ascend the stairs.

  "Herbert, there is something I must tell you. Something vital."

  Herbert turned, came back down the stairs and stood before the cell again. "What is it, Edmund?"

  "How many of your creations have escaped this basement over the years? Would twenty be an accurate number?"

  "Why?" Herbert asked, sensing something foul at work.

  "I hear them. In the cemetery. They have united and prepare to storm this house. They seek retribution against you. A misshapen army marches now, as we speak."

  Herbert looked around in a panic. "You're lying," he said, hopefully.

  "I wish it were a deception. It is not. This affects us both, my friend. You are my jailer and the only hope I have of controlling the fiends one day."

  Herbert heard pounding at the upstairs door. He looked around for a weapon.

  "You must release me," Edmund said.

  "Why? So you can join them in their revenge?" Herbert said.

  "They hate me as much as they hate you. More perhaps. I am the only chance of survival you have against so many. And I don't wish for you to perish. We have great work ahead of us."

  They were in the house now. Herbert heard them wail and destroy his belongings.

  "If you do not liberate me, they will tear you apart and carry your still screaming head off into the night," Edmund warned.

  Herbert pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Edmund rushed out, grabbed the startled man, and threw him roughly into the cell. Herbert regained his footing and rushed back as Edmund slammed the door. The creature's large, horrid face, now lit, smiled. His flesh had hardened and warped further. But now it was set. The metamorphosis had produced a giant out of the unassuming form of Wraight. The monster stretched, looking close to twelve feet in height.

  "You'll be safer in there," he assured, as the basement door flew open.

  The monsters charged down the stairs. Herbert watched breathlessly as the angry dead things attacked Edmund. The monster grabbed the first that reached him, the Nigerian, and he slammed the beast against the basement wall. He pressed the thing's head in to the stone until it erupted like spoiled fruit. Five more of Herbert's creations latched onto Edmund. He laughed heartily and shook them off. He grabbed what had been an elderly schoolmarm and bit her head off. He spat it at the others. They climbed him, a mountain that lead to Hell, but Edmund had an easy time peeling them off and tearing them into gruesome pieces.

  Limbs flew. A leg hit the bars that held Herbert. The giant snickered and seemed to deeply enjoy the carnage he was creating. He pounded them with his great grotesque limbs. He bit them into filthy sections. At no time did Herbert feel that Edmund might fall.

  The last four did something Herbert had thought them incapable of. They fled.

  "How's your poor feet! Go back and shiver in your tombs, you meaters!" Edmund shouted after them. His dark, gleeful laugh shook the basement. He trudged through the remains and stood at the bars. Herbert retreated to the back of the cage.

  Edmund tossed the key inside the cage. "I'll be going now," he said, wiping gore from his arms. "It is time to find a cold and dark hole to sleep in. When I awaken, I think I will make a few children. Set them adrift, like I was. See what sport they can make. I'll put them on the doorstep of your world and monitor them from a safe distance, until I can control them properly. I will also find you, Herbert, so you can give me what I long for."

  "I hope you sleep one hundred years, so
I'll be long gone when you awaken," Herbert said, defiantly.

  "Oh, I have a feeling, no matter how long I sleep, that we will see each other again," Edmund said with a smile. "If not, I will find whoever inherited your research. It is far too important to die. But either way, what happens next is all because of you, Mr. West. I thank you, dear friend, for the purpose I now serve."

  Edmund turned and dashed from the basement. Herbert dropped to the floor and searched madly for the key.

  16.

  Stücke in the Middle with you

  I didn't know what to expect when the elevator opened to Johnny Stücke's penthouse. But when I stepped into the greeting room, my expectations of cob-webbed dark furnishings courtesy of syndicated Munsters reruns disappeared. The man had taste, or he employed an interior designer who had it.

  The place was masculine and elegant.

  Glass motioned down the hallway. "The dining room is the second door on your left."

  I nodded and walked a marble floor that was more expensive than my co-op. When I entered the dining room, it was lit by candle. Johnny Stücke rose from a small table and strode toward me.

  "Carol Haddon. I am honored to have you in my humble home," he said.

  "Humble?" I said with an appreciative look around.

  "Please," Johnny said, pulling a chair back for me.

  I took a seat and Johnny returned to his. Suddenly, from a side door, a red-headed hunchback in a butler uniform appeared. He carried a tray of food.

  "This is Victor," Johnny said, as a plate of steak tartare was deposited in front of me.

  Victor smiled and grunted. Then he delivered a rib eye to the big man. After that, he left us.

  "I hope you're hungry," Johnny said. "You had quite an ordeal today."

  I stared at him. In person, he was much larger than the television had projected. That scarred, gray face of his stared kindly at me as he cut into his steak. I was with a creature that was capable of beating me into a bloody puddle. But I felt safe. I knew there was a sinister side lingering inside of him. Everyone suspected his ties to mobsters. But what prominent man didn't have a dark streak?

  "Mr. Stücke, why exactly am I here?" I had to ask, above the awe and fluster.

  "Herbert called me when the Spook division pinched you. He told me everything. I used my influence to get you out of that hellhole. You are very important to the world," he said. "But come on. Eat. I know you must be starving. We'll talk after you have some fuel."

  I nodded and looked at the meat on my plate. The struggle wasn't there anymore. I inhaled my meal. I looked up, and Johnny stared at me, appreciatively.

  "You got a healthy appetite. That's great," he smirked, half of his steak still there on his plate.

  "I'm sorry," I said, wiping my face with a table napkin. "I have no control over how I eat anymore."

  "You shouldn't," Johnny said, talking through a mouth full of meat. "Eating is a disgusting chore."

  I laughed.

  "Can I make a confession?" I asked, sipping at a glass of wine.

  "Well, I am not a priest. But I'll listen anyway."

  "I have always been a little obsessed with you," I said. "You fascinate me."

  Johnny smirked. "Well, thank you. I have been an admirer of yours for quite a while, as well. You used your fifteen minutes as a pro-fighter to further the cause of Night Things. You have always championed us. But still, the transition must be tough for you. Is there anyone out there I can contact?"

  "No," I said, pushing my mother from my brain. "And I wish I could tell you it was harder than it's been. To be honest, I didn't have much of a life before this. As crazy as it sounds, this feels natural. Like I am finally where I belong."

  Johnny nodded. "I am sorry for the life you lost. But I would be lying if I said you weren't a welcome addition to our ranks. Maybe it was fate."

  "I see you splashed on the news every night. I know you didn't want the attention before Z Day. What's that like?"

  "It's a necessary evil," Johnny confided. "Someone had to step up. It's taken a lot out of me, to be honest. I have speech writers and publicists on my payroll now. Every news program wants an interview whenever a crisis rears its head. I barely have time to terrorize the villagers these days."

  I laughed.

  Two figures emerged in the dining room. One was a young woman, in her mid-twenties. She had Down syndrome. She wore pink and smiled brightly. The other was a child, twelve at the most, who had to be a runner-up for the most depressed person I had ever seen. She wore black jeans and a black sweater. Her auburn hair was twisted off in a sloppy ponytail.

  Johnny stood and I followed his example.

  "Come in here, kids," Johnny said. "I have someone I'd like you to meet."

  They came in. The older girl in pink led with a bright smile, which I suspected was always there. The moody teen followed indifferently.

  "This is Sheila and Holly," Johnny said. "My girls. Girls, this is Carol Haddon."

  Sheila shook my hand. "You are so pretty," she said. "Your eyes look like little moons."

  "Thanks," I said, taking back my hand and offering it to Holly. It was ignored.

  She looked sideways at Johnny. "Is she a Night Thing?"

  "Yes, Holly, she is."

  "Is she your girlfriend?" Holly said, speaking as if I wasn't there.

  "No," Johnny said, softly. "She is a friend."

  Holly nodded and walked toward Johnny. "We need popcorn money."

  "Oh," Johnny said, digging out his wallet.

  "Uncle Johnny rented a theater for us!" Sheila said, excitedly.

  Johnny put the money in Holly's hand. She began to walk away, and then looked at me. She came back to Johnny, who was seated now, and wrapped her arms around him. She planted a huge kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she said.

  Johnny smiled and patted her on the back. "Have a good time, sweetheart. Don't let Sheila eat that red licorice candy. It makes her sick."

  "No it doesn't," Sheila argued from across the room.

  The girls left. I turned to Johnny as they headed toward the elevator. "Sheila is sweet, but Holly… wow. She was marking her territory."

  "She has grown a bit possessive of me. But it has been rough on her," Johnny explained, compassion in his eyes. "Her mother was killed by an old enemy. Holly was held hostage. And then her father died not long after. He was a troubled friend of me."

  "Who was he?" I asked.

  "His name was Gary Hack. He was a filmmaker and artist. A largely reviled artist, but an artist all the same. He had a heroin addiction. It killed him. He died in a filthy alley and zombies got to him. The authorities identified him by his dental records. He saved my life, during Z Day. Holly and he had issues and there was nowhere else for her to go, so I swore to watch over her. Gary was a lost and misunderstood soul. And no one gets that better than I. He treated me like a friend. Shot straight with me, and I liked that. Disagreed with me when others would have been afraid to. I miss him."

  "I'm sorry," I offered.

  "I heard you had a scuffle with Abraham Janvier," Johnny said, changing the subject.

  "Yeah," I said curiously, skimming my plate for scraps. "How do you know about that?"

  "Abraham works for me. He lives here, in this building. Trains here."

  "Tell him to chill out. He comes down too hard on the Night Things."

  "We have spoken on that very subject. He was very distraught when he thought you were gone. You left an impression on him. And a few bruises."

  "He had it coming," I said.

  "I don't doubt that. He wished he had been there the night your office was attacked."

  "Oh. Speaking of that," I said, digging into my pocket and pulling out my illustration of Vic. "I saw one of their faces. I wanted to take this to the police, but Herbert didn't think it was a good idea. His name was Vic. I heard one of the attackers call him that."

  I handed the drawing to Johnny. He studied it. "You saw his face?" he said curiously
. "I thought they wore masks."

  "I kicked this guy's ass, and took off his mask before they shot me," I explained. "Herbert thinks I should let it go, but I would like for these men to pay."

  "May I keep this?" Johnny asked. "I will have my people look into this. See if we can't bring the bastards to justice."

  "Sure. That would be greatly appreciated."

  Johnny rose and dropped his napkin on his plate. "Would you take a walk with me? I have something to show you."

  ***

  Johnny and I took the elevator to the floor beneath his penthouse. We walked to a door. He dug a pair of keys from his pocket and opened it. I stepped inside and stood in the darkness. Johnny hit the lights and I gasped.