“Vincent…Marsh?”
“The same,” he said gleefully.
When Albert poured his coffee, he held it up and we clinked cups in a toast, both of us laughing.
I opened my mouth to ask any one of a thousand questions, but nothing came out. Faced with such a revelation, my mind whirled and nearly refused to accept the situation.
“How did you get here?” I was finally able to ask.
“Here? Robert, this is where I came after my parents died. I came to live with the Wentworths.”
Again, the words were almost too incredible to comprehend.
“It’s true!” he insisted. “I grew up in this very home with Elizabeth and the rest. This poor family…the twins, Mary and Catherine, succumbed to the influenza scourge soon after I arrived, so I hardly knew them. William was a casualty of the War. Soon after armistice was declared, I began my travels through Europe. Last year, my stepparents visited me while on a trip through Africa and Europe. A short time after meeting with me, they died of some sort of strange illness. And Elizabeth…of all of them, I favored her the most. She was so kind and so beautiful. Unfortunately, I was in a secluded part of Eastern Europe at the time of her death. That was when this happened.”
He waggled his left forearm.
“The news took time to catch up with me. With both parents and all the children dead, I inherited this estate.”
As difficult as it was to believe, it all began to sink in. Vincent’s description of the family called to mind a conversation I had with Thomas Wentworth.
“The one thing that confuses me,” I said, “is that Thomas Wentworth never mentioned you. And neither did Aunt Marie, for that matter.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said with a frown. “Uncle Thomas never liked me, and never made any effort to hide it. Aunt Marie is at least more polite, but she faithfully follows her husband’s lead. Enough of that for now, though. Our breakfast is getting cold. Let’s eat.”
He was right. We took our time eating. It gave me a chance to ponder how Fate could have so intertwined our lives. Each of any pair of us knew the third, but was unaware of the third. It was a bizarre situation. I got nowhere near a solution and decided to chalk it up to coincidence. But what had Andrew said about that? There was no such thing. Eventually, I discovered that he had been right.
With coffees refilled, Vincent led me out a back door. We took seats on a porch overlooking a nicely manicured lawn. After a few minutes of bird watching, I decided to restart the conversation.
“When did you realize it was me? Your beard did an excellent job of disguising your identity from me.”
“Toward the end of our conversation yesterday. Right before you told me of Elizabeth, I had an inkling. Some mannerism of yours gave me a clue. But when you mentioned your relationship with her, the desire to converse ended. I was hoping that we’d have a chance to continue in the morning, as we are now.” He chuckled briefly. “You’re actually the first of three men I’ve known with your name. There’s a fellow here in Boston, and I once met someone else in England. After all this time since our childhood, I thought you were simply yet another Robert Adderly, not the original from Mount Haverton.”
“And obviously, I knew both halves of your name, but not together. I did not associate Vincent with Fenster. Why did you choose that? Why not Vincent Wentworth?”
“Why? Through various means I discovered some long-hidden facts. I decided to adopt my true family name.”
That baffled me completely.
“But in Mount Haverton the only Fensters were long dead when you and I were born,” I said. “That crumbling shell of a house on the other side of the river…that was all that was left of the Fensters.”
“Not so,” he said firmly. “The line is not yet dead. My father, Jonathon, was actually the illegitimate son of the last woman to bear the Fenster name, Konstanz Fenster. Shortly after my father was born, the entire Fenster household died. The Marsh family adopted and raised him.”
“Did your father ever know that?”
“I don’t think so. Forgive me for speaking ill of the dead, but he was a dull-witted ass. I know that sounds harsh, but you never had to weather the effects of his stormy and unpredictable moods. As the years went by, he grew more and more dependent upon the stupefying effects of cheap whiskey. My mother and I suffered severely at his hand. I do not miss him.”
The bitterness in his voice was very evident at the end. Sitting next to him, so many years after the fact, I could still picture before me the young boy I’d known, battered and bruised at the hands of his father.
“I am sorry for dredging up painful memories,” I said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
“It’s quite all right.” He paused briefly. “But while we’re on the subject of painful memories…”
“Yes?”
“It’s my turn to apologize, and I’ll do it in advance, but I never did find out any details of Elizabeth’s death. Can you tell me about it?”
I sighed, not wanting to speak of it. But he was entitled to know.
“There is not much to tell,” I said. “I proposed to her one afternoon, after the final examination for her undergraduate degree. She accepted. That evening, I prepared dinner for the two of us. We ate in the dining room of the boarding house where I lived. After dinner, we sat in front of the hearth and talked. While I was returning the dishes to the kitchen, I heard her say, ‘The fire is changing my shadow.’ An instant later, she screamed. I rushed back to the dining room to find her completely covered in flames. In less than a minute, she was gone—completely consumed by the fire.”
“That’s not possible,” he said defiantly. “A human body cannot—Ah! That was the reason for the initial inquiry which I received from Andrew.”
I nodded.
“Yes. With an ordinary flame, it is certainly not possible. However, this was no ordinary flame. As Andrew and I later discovered, the fire was caused by an unearthly being known as Sothoth Pnath.”
“The shadow of Yog Sothoth?”
His response stunned me.
“You know of it?”
Vincent shrugged and nodded. “I’ve come across vague references to it. What is the link between it and Elizabeth?”
“From what we were able to learn, the entity exists within shadows. Looking into a shadow that contains Sothoth Pnath provides a bridge for the creature to enter one’s body. It is only a matter of seconds before the victim is completely incinerated, the soul as well as the body.”
“I see.”
“Yes,” I said, rage taking root in me. “She is gone—even her soul, gone forever. That thing took her from me!”
He waited politely while I paused to calm myself.
“I still get upset at times. It was grief and anger that drove me to study as much as I did. And when Andrew suggested a form of revenge, I had to agree. But can you believe we were actually planning to banish Sothoth Pnath from the Earth?” I sniggered humorlessly. “What a ridiculous idea.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Just consider the tragedy that drove me here. Granted, we established his death was accidental, but Andrew was just dealing with a Servitor, not an Ancient One. And calling and commanding that creature was only the first step along a path of unknown length… And with him dead, I cannot hope to continue on alone.” I shook my head. “But with two deaths now, I would do anything to feel the satisfaction of revenge.”
Hearing that, Vincent grinned.
“You can still have it,” he said.
I knew immediately what he meant.
“No,” I said.
“Please listen to me,” he implored. “Elizabeth was my cousin. I have as much a stake in this as you. I am willing to take Andrew’s place. I have years more experience than you, and can continue your tutoring. We can perform the necessary research together. And one day, it will be possible for us to banish Sothoth Pnath.”
He spoke that final sentence with a confidenc
e that gave me pause, but it did not change my mind.
“I cannot involve someone else in my personal vendetta. Andrew was of the opinion that we were being watched by someone who did not wish us to pursue this. He even encouraged paranoia and caution, but…I think the thrill of danger, the potential power, was too tempting for him. I think it overrode his normal caution. Going any further will be dangerous. In fact, I may have put you at risk just by coming here.”
“But without my help, you may never achieve your goal. Those deaths may never be avenged.”
I shook my head. I did not want to give in.
Vincent smiled in response.
“Ah, but you see—I have a card up my sleeve. I have a way of utterly convincing you to agree to my proposition.”
He removed a flat, narrow stone from a vest pocket, held it up to show me, and then handed it over.
I examined it closely, but could detect nothing special about the rather unattractive, grey lump of rock. More than anything else, it looked like an Indian arrowhead, but the material was definitely not flint.
“What is so special about this?” I asked.
“You said you have some magical training,” he said, smile growing larger. “Close your eyes and clear your mind, as if preparing to cast a spell.”
I did so.
“Now, while keeping them closed, hold the stone with the tips of the fingers of your right hand. With the index finger of your left hand, trace along its length, starting with your fingertips, and finishing at the opposite end.”
Again, I did as I was told. When the index finger of my right hand reached the end of the stone, I stopped.
“I feel the end. What now?”
“Look,” said Vincent.
I was astounded by what I beheld. Although the object was only three inches long, my left index finger was six inches from the fingertips of my right hand. I could not see anything in that gap, but there was something to feel. I closed my eyes again and probed deeper. I became aware of a presence of some sort within the stone, an icy cold intelligence that transfixed me. There was also a sensation of movement, as if I was being pulled forward. A strange fluting or piping with an alien rhythm filled my mind, becoming louder, and so reinforcing that movement. Fear mounted within me. I wanted to scream, but was overcome with a paralysis of some sort. Helpless to do anything at all, I could only sense that I was nearing my destination.
“No!” shouted Vincent as he snatched the stone away from me.
I gasped and nearly fell out of my chair. The odd sounds and sensations ceased the very moment he snatched it from me.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice containing equal parts concern and anger.
I caught my breath and nodded.
“I should have warned you. If you had gone any further…in any case, you must realize that this stone is more than it appears to be. I have spent years carefully researching it.” He tried to lower his voice, but could not contain his excitement. “It is an actual shard of the Crystal of Dha’al! That is, I believe it to be.”
“I’m sorry, Vincent, but that name means nothing to me.”
“No. I would be shocked if it did. Only a handful of people on this planet would recognize it. Allow me to enlighten you.” The smile returned. “According to what I’ve been able to learn, the Crystal was created eons ago by the Elder Gods to somehow imprison or otherwise constrain the Ancient Ones. The legends are lacking any real details, but suffice it to say that the imprisonment was short-lived. The Crystal was destroyed, and the remaining pieces were scattered all over creation.”
I nodded, but could not fathom where he was headed.
“That is interesting,” I commented, “but how does it relate to the goal of banishing Sothoth Pnath?”
He gazed at the stone and was silent. It seemed as if he did not wish to say anything, as if revealing the information would diminish his position somehow. Finally, he looked up.
“As I said, the Crystal was used against all of the Ancient Ones. That implies that it was attuned to each of their…vibrations, for lack of a better word. Think of it as a tuning fork. Now, this dull-looking stone in my hand is no longer powerful enough to imprison anything, but without a doubt it could be used to repel. I feel certain that it would be an integral part of the banishment ceremony!”
I was dumbfounded. Fate had set up everything for me. Not only did I find someone to work with, someone who could teach me, but a necessary piece of the puzzle had been supplied as well.
“This is too good to be true,” I whispered, not sure how to react.
“It is both good and true,” agreed Vincent, “but not too good. Consider what you’ve suffered through recently. Doesn’t this goodness make up for that badness? Think of this convergence of people, place, and thing as a way to balance the scales.”
Balance! Vincent could not have chosen a better word, feeling as I did. It swayed me in an instant.
“When can we start?” I asked greedily, thinking that victory was within our grasp.
He let out a sharp laugh.
“Excellent!” he said. “Tomorrow. We can start tomorrow. Right now, I need to temper your expectations. This won’t be as simple, or go as quickly, as I may have led you to believe.”
And then he told me the less exciting news: Two key pieces of information were still missing. The first concerned the dull grey stone in his possession. That shard of the Crystal was an extra-dimensional object, the three inches of which we perceived being merely a single facet. It needed to be rotated such that the facet attuned to Sothoth Pnath projected into our universe instead of the current one. Of course, it was possible that it was already attuned correctly, but that was likely not the case. Rotating the shard could only be done from Outside. The act could be accomplished, of course, by summoning and controlling a Servitor of Q’yoth. However, Vincent did not know the specifics of how much to turn it, or in which four-dimensional direction.
The second problem was simply the one which Andrew and I had been pursuing—that of discovering the exact ceremony for banishing the entity. Based upon his previous experiences, he suspected that it would be detailed somewhere within the many pages of the Necronomicon of Abdul Alhazred. He had had access to a copy of that ancient tome in the past, but could not recall coming across the specific ceremony we now desired.
As to the problem of finding any sort of volume that better described the Crystal, Vincent only said that he had been investigating fruitlessly for years. The legendary volume known as the Pnakotic Manuscripts was a possible source of information, but he had not been able to even discover where a copy of that document might reside. Because the Necronomicon was in the Miskatonic University library, I suggested that it was possible that the other might be there as well. Vincent agreed, saying that the university was the first place that he was planning to check. He frowned deeply when I told him of my encounter with Doctor Trautmann and the decree of a six-month ban on access to those books.
From there, the topic of conversation turned to our respective experiences in magic. We ended up talking through the afternoon, staying outside on the porch or walking around the yard. With much of my time over the past weeks having been spent in the bookstore, I enjoyed the time in the sun. Vincent, of course, proved to be much more knowledgeable than I, having spent the last several years dedicated to the research. He spent a lot of time quizzing me, as he needed to know what I had learned, and where I was lacking. Despite his superior magical background, he admitted that he was surprised by my disclosure that a mathematical formula existed which effectively predicted the behavior of each of the Ancient Ones given their source star.
After that, our conversation ranged all over. He spoke of his childhood spent with the Wentworths, and his travels in Europe. I told him of events in Mount Haverton after he had left. We compared opinions on current events, politics, and memories of Elizabeth, staying not long at all on the final topic, but still too long. Ultimately, his personality was reveale
d to be an adult version of the rebellious, mischievous child I had known in my youth, albeit with a well-developed intellect.
We ended up talking ourselves nearly hoarse. When he invited me to stay another night, I saw no need to decline, especially considering that I had left Arkham with little money in my pockets. I had another comfortable night, and looked forward to restarting my magical training the following day—and this time with a long-lost friend.
Seventeen
After breakfast the following morning, Victor gave me a tour of the house. It was clearly not as empty as I had first imagined it to be. Aside from the anteroom and the foyer downstairs, the furnishings in the rest of the house were perfectly intact. As he led me from one floor to the next, he told me that the roof over one of the upper bedrooms had developed several leaks, which had gone unnoticed for weeks in the unoccupied room. All of the furniture within had been destroyed. Even worse, the workmen assigned to repair the roof had been careless, and instead of remedying the leaks, they had created new ones, resulting in damages all the way down to the foyer. Repairs and repainting were done, but no attempt had yet been made to redecorate. He had just returned to the States, and playing host to visitors had been the last thing on his mind.
To the right of the foyer on the first floor sat a large, impressive-looking den. Rows upon rows of shelves lined the walls, holding hundreds of thick volumes on a multitude of topics. The furniture was all leather and mahogany. Beautiful antique tapestries decorated the parts of the walls not covered with bookshelves. I looked around the room at random, searching for volumes on the esoteric arts, but could find nothing. I looked expectantly at my host. Vincent and I were apparently of the same mind. He motioned, and led me to the opposite end of the house. Through a door in the kitchen, we descended a narrow set of stairs, at the bottom of which lay a wine cellar. The unfinished ceiling was less than eight feet above the floor—I could touch it without standing on tiptoes. That cellar room was about half the size of the first floor of the house, but there seemed to be no other doorway or passage behind the wine racks or along the south or east wall. There was nothing to see.
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