Return of the Deep Ones: And Other Mythos Tales

by Brian Lumley

  Yes, she brought me my conch, a shell similar to the type used by the adaro of the Solomon Islands to call to their land-born brothers and lure them down to the sea. And indeed it was that conch which had first lured me, whose colours and contours had struck hidden chords of that ancestral memory which flows in the blood and lingers in the minds of all Deep Ones. That shell, and with it those dreams from R'lyeh with which I had been so singularly honoured, had been the triggers to quicken the seeds within me. The rest of it should have been a slow but certain process of indoctrination and preparation.

  Sarah was to have helped, was the sweet worm with which they had baited their tender hook, and certainly I had taken the bait. Then, just as things were going exactly as they had planned, I had wrecked the entire scheme by returning to the place on the beach when they were not expecting me. The only course left open to them then had been to take me forcibly and process my metamorphosis as quickly as possible.

  These things I already knew, but there were others I still did not understand. Sarah told me about them. For instance, there was her “father”. He was not her father at all, but her four-times-great-grandfather! One of the benefits of being a Deep One is extreme longevity. And I, too, could be “proud” of my genealogy, for my unknown grandfather had been an Innsmouth Marsh of the original Marsh line, which was one of the two reasons why I had been tracked down and singled out for rehabilitation?

  As for the other reason: Belton had been right. I was a marine biologist, and there was much I could teach the Deep Ones—and learn from them—there in the great deeps. There were problems to be overcome, though, for science in a submarine environment is no simple matter.

  All of these things Sarah told me, and certain others, but when I felt the madness returning, I made her go. Then I boarded up the door again before taking a shower in the last of my water to cool and ease pains both mental and physical. As to what had set the rage burning in me once more—that vicious boiling of my blood and the hideous lusts it engenders—I think it was Sarah’s face, no longer a wholly human face, and yet in no way as repulsive as I had thought I might find it. It was to me, with its bulging eyes and thickening lips, as a mirror of my own face, which no longer offends me but looks almost—natural? And, indeed, that was the paradox that sparked the rage in me … but only for a little while.

  Since making her leave me, I have spent most of my time at my desk, tidying up this work as best I might, and at last I have brought it to a close. Now, as midnight approaches, there are strange shadows on the silver sands, and some of them tower and nod in an entirely monstrous fashion. For this is the hour appointed, when I swore to deliver to the Deep Ones my final word—which is that I shall join them there in the Deeps!

  Except that—

  Whoever you are, reading this, be certain of one thing: that even though I go to join them, still I loathe and detest them! But life is dear to me—even as a changeling, life is dear—and all the untold wonders of the oceans await me …

  Yet still I say to you I will be avenged! This I swear!

  Whoever you are, and whenever you discover this manuscript locked in its metal box, do not delay, but ensure that it meets the eyes of the proper authorities immediately! The continuity of your very world depends upon it!

  And whosoever doubts my word, only let him look beneath the waters, let him only walk along the shores of this world and listen to the songs of the sea. For in the end, if ever the Deep Ones are to be rooted out and destroyed, it must be you and not I who brings about that destruction. I cannot help you, for I can no longer help myself. Although I have sworn vengeance, such vengeance can strike only through you now.

  For the madness is on me and the voice of the storm calls to me. I hear it raging from the mouth of my conch, see it foaming in the whitecaps conjured in the contours of its whorl! And I must go where the octopus stares with cat’s eyes and the squid silently starts on jets of ink, where the timeless tides tell stories of primal ocean, and coral labyrinths thrill to siren songs from abyssal caverns.

  Ia-R’lyeh!

  I am one with all the hosts of Dagon and Mother Hydra—one with the Deep Ones in the worship of the Great Father Kraken—and with them I shall make my home in vasty vaults of ocean …

  Personal—by hand—for the attention of:

  William P. Marsh, Esq.

  c/o The Gilman Hotel

  Innsmouth, Mass.

  July 28

  Venerable Brother—

  Most humble greetings from England, where all proceeds according to plan—except for that of which you were previously apprised. Ahu-Y’hloa grows apace, and already her columns take on a certain lustre—but more of that, and of the gains we have made and continue to make in Seaham at a later date.

  With regard to the manuscript which accompanies this:

  It was discovered hidden beneath some loose floorboards in a ground-floor room of what was once your grandson’s house. We have, of course, acquired the place in the furtherance of our plans, and the discovery of the manuscript was quite by chance.

  In reading it I am sure you will note that under the precipitate circumstances all of our actions were fully warranted, and that if anyone is to blame for the outcome that one must surely be David Semple. As you are aware (and as the manuscript so graphically tells), he has already paid in full for his inefficiency.

  As was your wish, no penance has been taken of your grandson, since it is deemed that by virtue of his own folly he has already paid enough. Despite his oath at the end of the manuscript, he no longer displays any hurtful tendencies towards us; at his best he is an avid student of The Lore.

  Furthermore, he desires permission to undertake a pilgrimage—to R’lyeh! He wishes to enter that most sacred of doors and go down to the lower vaults, to the feet of dreaming Cthulhu Himself. Aye, for he has heard the call of Cthulhu in his dreams, wherefore we cannot deny him that most high audience.

  The girl, Sarah, of my own flesh as you well know, would go with him on the journey. This will be an undertaking of several years’ duration, during which they will visit and carry Cthulhu’s word to many of the more remote settlements along the way. Of course, it is understood that she must first abide the time of her spawning. Since you have intimated your own desire that no further harm befall John Vollister, and since unfortunately he is no longer of any use for much else, the plan would seem a good one. His condition is quite irreversible, but the girl will be there to care for him when he is not himself…

  Yrs. by the Sign of Ab-Hyth,

  Ephraim Bishop