by Bo Luellen
His mind raced to all the compromises to his humanity this path had demanded, I’ve taken the life of sacrifices such as goats, rams and other animals in the Library, but never murdered.
The song of the cicada’s filled the night air as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Pulling off the goggles, he lifted the rifle up to his shoulder and looked down the scope. With a sharp flick of his thumb, the telescopic sight engaged its own night vision, and he could clearly see the woman sat straddling a branch. He found it oddly enjoyable to watch her look around in the darkness and see the dread in the Prey’s face.
He thought, She knows we’re close, the barking Hounds took care of that. I wonder why she didn’t keep moving?
Samuel placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, “You don’t have to do this. You can give the moment to someone else. Whatever the Master brings against you for your failure, we will endure.”
Tightening the butt of the rifle against his shoulder, Richard pulled the crosshair down. He could barely keep from shaking, as the realization came over him that he was about to take a human life for Cthulhu. As he breathed out, he gently pulled the trigger until the pop came from his gun. The bullet’s impact dislodged her from the perch, throwing her backward and out of the tree. The ringing in his ears kept him from hearing her crash onto the ground, but he could still make out the excitement in the Hounds.
Motionless, he stood in place until Samuel came up from behind with a massive grin shining through the old man’s camo face paint and exclaimed, “Well done, my boy!”
The Hunters led the dogs to the lifeless woman and let the Hounds feed on her body. Richard remembered looking down at the open eyes of his kill as the head rocked each time the animals ripped off some meat. The feeling of power came over him as he knew he had served a higher purpose tonight.
Samuel put a fatherly hand on his shoulder, instructing, “The weak must be removed. Tonight, you’ve proven yourself as a Hunter who now knows his place in the cycle of life.”
He let the words roll around in his head and then yelled in satisfaction, “C’ ahl ‘n’gha ahor c’ uaaah ahorr’ eog! Our Hunt shall make us strong!”
Tulsa, OK - Tuesday, October 16th, 2018 – 6:19 p.m. CST
He heard a voice come from the earpiece Marcus was wearing, which prompted the Leviathan to command, “The Master is ready. Follow me.”
Coming down the ramp to the main audience chamber, he saw the torchlight that encompassed the circular room. As he entered, Richard saw the symbol of The Crimson Brotherhood painted in blood on the wall behind the Master. The highest-ranking Elders of each Order of the Tulsa Sect were lining the walls and surrounded by their apprentices.
The Mages dressed in their usual white, with High Mage, Elder Walsh, standing there looking at him with a layer of perspiration rolling off his bald head. Looking to his right, he saw the blood-red robes of the Seers and recognized the two elderly men whom he had first met when Samuel recruited him from the Freemasons. Surrounding the Master were three of the purple cloaked Leviathans, who were shortly joined by Marcus.
The other members had gathered on the upper level and looked down from the balcony. Each was armed with machine guns and had daggers at their hips. The walls of the chamber were concrete, decorated with six red tapestries that depicted the tentacle face of Cthulhu resembling the mask of the Master. The leader of the Tulsa Sect sat in a high-backed chair opposite Richard. Between them was Samuel, who was lying prone on a sacrificial altar. Samuel’s arms and legs were bound by chains to the corners of the platform. The tight manacles were outfitted with metal teeth that had bitten into his Mentor’s flesh. His belly was opened up on the left side by something cruel and sharp. A portion of his intestines was lying on the cold stone table next to his body. Parts of his own organs he had been made to eat were still present on the corners of his mouth and in his white beard.
The Master’s electronic voice bellowed out over speakers installed in the ceiling, “Vulgtmah Cthulhu!”
Richard responded, “Vulgtmah Cthulhu!”
The way the Master almost magically floated to a standing position made Richard think, Nice trick. A little sleight of hand and smoke and mirrors to make the Master seem magical. I’m sure it instills fear in these peons, but not me. I see through this façade of fakery and want-to-be wizards. This night is mine and it’s time to take a higher seat.
He knelt and held out the Athame dagger, which caused Samuel to let out a cry from the altar, “Vulgtmah Cthulhu! You did it, my boy! You did it!”
The Master’s electronically modulated voice boomed, “You see Samuel, you haven’t completely failed. Your apprentice has managed to redeem you in the eyes of Cthulhu, returning with the Athame Dagger.”
Marcus walked over to Richard and took possession of the Dagger. He inspected the blade and then placed it back into its rune-covered blackthorn wood sheath. The massive Leviathan turned to the Master and held up the dagger, then walked it over to the High Mage.
With a few waves of his hand, Elder Walsh declared, “The blade is empty and still endowed with the power to imprison the creature.”
He looked down at the intricately carved cement floor, All that time you spent positioning yourself to be the one to capture the demon wasn’t in vain.
The Master's voice blasted out again, “You have managed to mitigate some of Samuel’s failure, but the blood pact with the Sleeper of R’lyeh has yet to be fulfilled.”
The leader of the Sect paused before continuing, “Still, you have impressed me, Richard Enfield. My Seers tell me you were discovered by the police and escaped with the Athame. No small feat. Your loyalty to your Mentor is to be truly… laudable. Still, Samuel failed in his task to trap our Prey in the Athame, and so a sacrifice must be made to Cthulhu.”
From the right, the Sect brought forward three men prepared for execution. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and their heads had been black-bagged. Richard heard labored breathing and some odd giggling from the trio as they were forced to their knees by the large cultists. Richard noticed a familiar IV port in the backs of their hands and had no doubt that they had been given the same cocktail as the Prey received at the Preserve.
The Master looked over at Richard and ordered, “Cthulhu’s favor is not lost. For your courageous act in service of awakening the Dark Lord, I will grant you a prize for your service. You may make any request that is within my power to grant. That is after you’ve sacrificed a life.”
Marcus pulled a 9 mm pistol from under his purple-robes and handed the loaded weapon to Richard. He gripped the gun in his hand and stood up straight. The men holding the Prey stepped back so as not to be struck by a stray bullet from Richard’s gun.
A gurgling from his Mentor eked out beside him, as Samuel managed to get out, “Oh, Vulgtmah Cthulhu! My boy, you’ve done it. When we leave, don’t take me to a hospital. Get me to a man named…”
Richard cut off the eviscerated Elder and yelled, “I have made my decision.”
The Master’s squid-like helmet nodded as Richard leaned down and whispered, “Last night, you signed a contract with Cthulhu to plunge the Athame Dagger into the Vessel and capture the demon. An act that would have earned you a high seat in the Sect and would have elevated all your Apprentices. You crept up on your Prey from behind on that cold, snowy bridge, and like a coward, stabbed him in the back. It was unfortunate that a passing car startled you into withdrawing the blade before it could finish its work. Who would have thought that a simple flashing of headlights and honking of a horn could frighten the fabled Elder Samuel, mystic Master of the arcane? I would imagine that the driver of that car saw Lewis Turner plummet over the side of the bridge and onto the train tracks below.”
His Mentor’s eyes went wide and looked like they were going to pop as the man muttered, “W-w-what, are you saying…”
Getting even closer, Richard continued, “The driver must have seen you panic and run, but not before you found a crack in the wa
ll and lodging the Athame inside. Packing that snow on top of the hidden blade must have been so hard with bloody hands. It almost certainly turned the pure white a pretty pink color. How frustrating in such a moment of crisis.”
Samuel tried to speak out, but only red fluids came out of his mouth while his apprentice added, “You told the Sect it was luck that the cops never got a description of you, but it wasn’t luck. That person driving the car that caused you to flee like a scared rabbit must have had a good reason not to phone the police. It is our duty to cull the herd of the old and weak. The Hunt is over.”
With a smooth motion, Richard stood back up and unloaded three rounds into Samuel’s chest. The blood spray-coated one of the brothers in thick splatters of red. The brother smiled through the crimson mask and licked the fluids from his lips.
Samuel managed to draw in a breath and grunted, “I cared for you… like my own son…”
Richard brought down the butt of his gun onto his mentors’ nose, and instantly, it exploded into a bloody mess. He pointed the weapon at each of Samuel’s kneecaps and delivered two methodical shots into the joint. A blast of anguish came out of the old man as the audience watched in stark silence.
Leaning in once again, he proclaimed, “You were never worthy of being my Mentor. You ran. You ran from a random stranger behind the wheel of a car. You ran from Prey.”
The old man managed to put his hand on Richard’s forearm and made an attempt at saying something. Before the man could draw in the breath, Richard put the pistol up to Samuel's forehead and squeezed the trigger. Brains sprayed out, coating a section of the top portion of the altar, leaving the Elder twitching on the stone surface.
Turning to the Master, he announced, “There lies the life our god Cthulhu demands. Vulgtmah Cthulhu! As Samuel’s most senior Apprentice, I inherit his debts and fortune. I now claim his Apprentices as my own, and I wish to claim my prize.”
The Master glided forward to within a few feet of him and demanded, “Speak your desire, and if it is with the Sect’s power, it is yours.”
Richard pointed at the Athame Dagger in the hands of Marcus and demanded, “I want to be the one who captures Hyde!”
Chapter 4: Amanda I
Tulsa, OK - Tuesday, October 16th, 2018 – 9:12 p.m. CST
Sitting out in the waiting room of a hospital wasn’t in the Eastland Christian College employee handbook. Exasperated, Amanda Lanyon looked at the time on her phone and thought about how she was missing her kids. She had a full day’s work tomorrow that would tax what little sleep she would get. She shuddered at the thought of grading a stack of papers, two tutoring sessions, and yet another pep talk from the school’s spiritual leader, Greyson Dunn.
She adjusted her purse and thought, I’d love it if one day Pastor Dunn would announce something other than promotion of the school. I would be nice to have a teaching assistant, better pay and a new computer.
A dark-haired doctor in green scrubs walked into the empty waiting room and announced, “Are you a family member of Henry Jekyll?”
She stood up and responded, “No, I’m a Professor at Eastland, but I am here for Henry.”
He shuffled some papers on a chart and asked, “Hi, I’m Dr. Taylor. Can I ask why he had you on his emergency contact list from his work instead of a family member?”
Amanda felt nervous answering, “Henry doesn’t have a functional relationship with his family.”
He waved a hand towards the benches, and he asked, “Professor, I need to ask you a few questions about Henry. Please, have a seat.”
A cold chill came over her as the pair sat down, and Dr. Taylor continued, “Professor, Henry was admitted into the hospital with a severe laceration on the back his head. The trauma caused a concussion, and he’s remained unconscious for a usually long time. During his stay, we found some concerning marks on his body.”
Her head shifted back in surprise as she asked, “What kind of marks?”
The physician clasped his hands together and admitted, “I’m afraid I can’t go into too much detail, but they are of a nature that is cause for concern. I worry that there might be something from his past that is causing prolonged unconsciousness. All my calls to his family have gone to voicemail, and I can’t find any medical records on him.”
He clicked his pen open and queried, “Do you know of any abuse or injuries he suffered before this accident?”
She put down her purse, straightened her back, and replied, “Understand, Doctor, I enjoy my work and the connection to my students. This is a calling that I feel was put on me by God. I take time to work closely with members of my class that need extra help or just some inspiration to get them moving along in life. Sometimes, a student is dealing with pain from the past that is keeping them from reaching their potential. As a Doctor of Psychology, I do my best to help them. They trust me, and it is important to maintain that trust. So, I need your oath that what is said will stay in this room?”
He nodded his head and confirmed, “This will stay confidential. Quite frankly, we are at a loss as to why we can’t seem to bring him to consciousness, and anything you can tell us would help out.”
She took a deep breath and then divulged, “When Henry started my Religious Studies class, he seemed generally lost. His first month showed his lack of focus and dedication. He was bright but didn’t take tests very well. His in-class work was on par, but his scores were putting him below passing. After a few weeks of decline, I decided to reach out to him.
I invited him to stay after and visit with me. I remember he sat there looking scared as hell while I went over his class performance. Being a teacher for almost fifteen years, I had seen my fair share of problems with students. The psychologist in me took over, and I asked him to tell me why he was in Eastland.
It was slow going at first, but eventually, he opened up. The young man sat in my classroom and spilled out his upbringing. It was all I could do to sit still as he spoke for a half-hour about a childhood full of one horror after another. It was like watching a magician pulling tied scarves out of his jacket, with each a different shade of terror.”
The doctor scribbled notes, as Amanda gave a half-smile, and continued, “I remember at one point in the meeting, Henry told me about a time when he was nine years old. His father was out of town delivering cattle to an auction, and his mother woke him up early the next morning. She hadn’t slept the night before, pulled him out of bed, and told Henry to look at something on her hand. He was conditioned to follow orders and did as he was told.”
The doctor stopped her and inquired, “What do you mean, “conditioned?”
Amanda straightened the ends of her skirt anxiously and replied, “Conditioned, as in programmed to obey. Henry’s family were members of a Pentecostal Church with strict codes of behavior. Punishment of all kinds was assumed acceptable, and sinners were punished often. So, when she dragged nine-year-old Jekyll downstairs and told him to hit her wrist with a rolling pin until the bone broke, he did it.”
Dr. Taylor slowly looked up and asked, “Why did she do that?”
Amanda pointed at a tiny bone on the back of her own hand and answered, “She told Henry that Satan had placed a tumor in her hand and that he was going to help her get it out.”
The man looked appalled and corrected, “That’s not a cyst, that is the pisiform bone.”
Nodding in agreement, she continued, “As she prayed, Mrs. Jekyll reached down beneath the table and picked up a thick encyclopedia. She placed it over her wrist as Henry sobbed and asked her to go to the doctor. His mother told him that the Lord would heal it and that they didn’t have the money to go get it cut out. She told him she could die if he didn’t do what she said and that his father would beat him if he disobeyed. He took the rolling pin and did what she told him to do. Imagine being a young kid forced to maim your own mother because she believed God was commanding it.
After the bone was shattered, she made a string of phone calls to friends and family, pl
eading for help. She told the Church she had fallen down and broke her wrist, which caused a collection to be taken up to help her pay bills while she healed. This was a system of behavior that she repeated and a textbook case of Munchausen’s Syndrome. By the time he reached ten years old, she had started doing the same things to him to gain the same sympathetic donations of money and attention.”
Dr. Taylor put the pen to his mouth and diagnosed, “Munchausen’s by Proxy. I’m skirting some ethics by telling you this. Hypothetically, let's say a man such as Henry had signs of multiple bone breaks and deep scars indicating repeated cuts from flogging. As a psychologist, do you feel that is the source of his physical condition?”
Amanda ignored a text from her husband Larry as she replied, “Yes, but the emotional turmoil has been just as dramatic. When he left home, it was like leaving a prison camp, and he was disowned by his family. Jekyll went from being subjected to isolation and constant trauma to becoming a free-range adult. He has an Arrested Development that causes him to have a stunted maturity. Henry has little idea of how to treat people or what it takes to be a functioning member of society. Playing Dungeons and Dragons, smoking pot and living in terrible conditions seems to be the norm. The other students in my class sit a few desks away because of the smell. Lewis Turner was a father figure to him and recognized the man needed help. It doesn’t surprise me at all that he would faint at the sight of the decapitated corpse of the only responsible member of his support system.”