by Bo Luellen
Beads of perspiration poured down Richard’s face as he asked, “Are you reading my thoughts?”
His old teacher stopped and answered, “My boy, when you killed me, you claimed my possessions, my holdings, my station in the Brotherhood, and also my debts at the moment of my death. You think so little of those spells and incantations that you ignore the rituals you take part in. Just because you don’t believe in them doesn’t mean The Great Old One doesn’t honor the contracts you sign.”
Richard gave him a hard look and contemplated, I signed no contract to be haunted by the ghost of a failure of a man such as yourself!
Samuel resumed his circling as he replied to Richard’s thoughts, “But you did. What was it you said, ‘As Samuels charge, I inherit his debts and fortune.’ Wasn’t that it? My soul was committed to the taking of Hyde, and we serve Cthulhu even after death. The Sleeper of R’lyeh has seen fit to compel me to honor that bargain regardless of being dead. I’m to assist you, Richard, and I don’t get my reward until you have completed your contract. I’m bonded to you until that time, and to answer your first question, yes, I know your thoughts.”
Richard turned and asked, “Help me in what way?”
Samuel pointed downwards and answered, “By educating you.”
The spirit busied himself, making a complicated series of lines in the dirt with his shoe, as the Mentor continued, “You are standing inside a casting circle. I’m going to teach you a protection spell that will allow you and I to speak and think freely, without risk of anyone knowing your words or thoughts.”
Enfield gave him an indignant look and scoffed, “What good would that do? We are in the middle of the woods. Only that owl could possibly hear us.”
Samuel swept his hands in the air in a ritualist fashion, declaring, “That owl shouldn’t be dismissed outright. You are speaking to the dead spirit of the man you murdered. Perhaps it is time you start opening your mind up and realize there is a hidden world around you. Move your hands like mine, to complete the sanctuary ritual.”
Richard looked conflicted as he replied, “Why should I trust you?”
The spirit continued his hand motions while answering, “The Master will blame you if Hyde escapes again, and he seems very good at eluding capture. So the odds are you’ll be dead by nightfall, and that will damn us both.”
Reluctant but complying, Richard followed the ghost’s example and mimicked the ritual casting. The air between him and Samuel shimmered as a domed shield raised from the circle and engulfed him fully. Enfield gasped and fell onto his backside in fright. After a few moments of fear mixed with a euphoric sensation of realizing the unknown, he caught sight of something moving outside of the shield. He realized it was Samuel, who now appeared as a foggy image of his once-crisp likeness. The ghost's voice was silenced, but Richard could make out that the spirit was pantomiming more spell work. He decided to go on a little faith and continue miming his dead Mentor’s movements. An opening formed in the shield, and Samuel walked in. As soon as he was through the open portal, it shut again behind him, sealing them inside an orb of arcane energy that pulsed like water.
Richard looked at his own hands with astonishment and asked, “Am I a Mage now?”
Samuel’s laugh echoed off the spell barrier, creating an ominous reverberation effect that caused his former Apprentice to hold his ears. Richard realized that every part of the ghost was trapped in here with him, including his voice. He noticed his Mentor was no longer walking, but floating inches off the ground to get eye level with his former student.
The ghost turned to say, “You are like a bad pupil in their fourth year of college, unprepared for life, not the trials to come. This is simple magic. The Seven Deadly Sins are the cornerstone of the Demonic crafts. Their spells are fueled from Hell itself, and the threads that weave those incantations together are uniquely alien. You won’t see Hyde coming, not because you’re not paying attention, but because your infant mind has no capacity to perceive him. His kind is from a different dimension than our own and travels in ways you would dismiss as absurd. The Master hasn’t given you an honor by making you the lead Hunter; it’s a death sentence. Without my help, you will die horribly. The problem with that is if you fail, I will return to the realm of Cthulhu, to continue my tortured punishment for all eternity. My greatest mistake was in trusting you, and for that mistake, here I am, a ghost, compelled to trust you again.”
Richard started to give an aggravated interruption when Samuel’s booming voice squashed his attempt, “Be silent! Let me make something clear to you, boy, I was far from powerless. Because of the Master’s plan, I had to strip myself of all my mystical powers and protections so the demon wouldn’t sense me coming. You know but a tiny fraction of who I am and what I’m capable of. I was prepared for my passing. Unlike others who have moved over to the afterlife, I carry my magic with me. For my Apprentices and me, this was a deeper plan than just moving up one step. You think you wrested power from your Mentor, but, without my help, you’ve sealed the fate of my entire House. I’m not some retired bank teller playing with a Ouija board, I’m your everlasting nightmare. a ghost will turn all of your joys into ash in your feeble hands if you don’t work with me. If you decide to still defy this partnership, when Hyde plucks your life from this world, we will suffer in ways that drive you mad to imagine. In the darkness, in timeless space, until creation is undone. I have no intention to find my way back to that unspeakable anguish. We will capture Hyde and fulfill our contract. So boy, you will listen to what I have to teach, or I promise to take an eye from your oldest son and feed it to you.”
Richard let himself sink onto the ground and thought over his current circumstance, Okay, Samuel. You made your point. I think it is in our best interests to work together. Where do we start?
Samuel’s eyes turned blue flames that licked his white hair as he divulged, “There is much you need to know for us to succeed, and we will need to gather our strength. You will first pay my daughter a visit. I see her at her office at the Tulsa Morgue. Her name is Amy Howard.”
Chapter 8: Amanda II
Tulsa, OK - Wednesday, October 17th, 2018 – 5:00 p.m. CST
The bell rang, and Amanda Lanyon’s last class bolted out of their seats and filed out of her room. She looked at a stack of exams from class and briefly thought about pulling Jekyll’s paper back out to grade it for the third time. She was beyond suspicious at his dramatic turnaround in his in school performance and appearance.
She picked up her coat and thought, Maybe the death of Lewis had sharpened his focus, or perhaps he just applied the study techniques she had taught him. Either way, it was a huge blessing for the young man.
She bowed her head and said a prayer to God for Henry’s health and mental wellbeing. She finished with a quick Amen, as her phone vibrated in her pocket. She opened the screen to see she had a Facebook notification, and that Josh Dyer had accepted her friend request. She sent a message asking for his number, and before she put the phone in her pocket, Amanda got a response. She locked her classroom up, walked to her car, and dialed him up.
Dyer’s voice gave an exuberant, “Mandie! Oh, my goodness! How are you, Love?”
Her voice raised with excitement saying, “I’m good. ’Mandie,’ Josh, no one has called me that in ages. It is so good to hear your voice!”
His tone shifted, and he gave a smooth, “No matter what name you go by, you shine.”
She gave a playful laugh and replied, “I hear your patent's sold, and now you’re a wealthy man.”
Amanda could hear his grin through the phone as he replied, “I got lucky and got a few ideas out before everyone else. I still work for a living.”
Lanyon exited the front door to the school and stated, “I wouldn’t call being a CEO of the Dyer Foundation a job. Your name is on the business cards. I think you can miss a few days of work when you like.”
He took a long sigh and remarked, “It’s not as easy as all that. I wish it were
, though. I wish we were back at Northeastern State University when things were simpler. Back then, we could sit back, smoke weed, and do a little ayahuasca. We took some spiritual journeys back then with the help of a few psychedelics.”
She smiled and reminisced, “Our search for meaning and the essence of God. I also recall you making a living off of selling pot to the freshmen. You had a grow site just outside of Tahlequah. I remember the Dean used to stop you in the halls and publicly call you out. He never had any proof, so he couldn’t do a thing about it.”
He seemed to be breathing heavy as he replied, “The Dean didn’t like me much anyway. My turn to the Druidic approach to life didn’t sit well with his Christian values. I don’t think it sat well with Larry’s either, but you seemed to be able to see your way to more than a few of my lectures in the woods over the Druid path.”
She pulled out her keys and stated, “I was curious, and you were more than charismatic. I wasn’t the only one; you had quite a few people following you to those woods. When you dropped out of college to pursue ’a deeper connection between plans and consciousness,’ you could have knocked us over with a feather.”
He giggled and replied, “Hey, I left with a Bachelor’s Degree, at least.”
Amanda gave a scoffed, “In Agriculture with a minor in Biology. Who becomes a telecom mogul with a degree in that? I mean, really, where did you go after college? How did you go from selling pot to Freshman to on the cover of Forbes?”
The man's seemed out of breath as he answered, “The universe provided the answers. Initially, I scraped together every dime I had and moved to Scotland. While I was studying with a Druidic order there, a rather influential entrepreneur came to our group. We hit it off, and before I knew it, we were cutting down new roads in telecommunications. I came up with some ideas, and I started the Foundation. Now, our team works as a consultant for many of the top companies when they need a fresh approach. You wouldn’t believe how my roots in the Druidic studies affected how I developed the technology. It helps you step back and look at the big picture. To see the network and information as more than individual puzzle pieces. Man, it’s a trip, and I love it.”
She turned on the highway and remarked, “You found your passion in life.”
A short pause lingered on the phone before Josh replied, “No. I left my real passion back at college. Leaving you behind was the hardest thing about that.”
She blushed a little and reminded him, “That was a long time ago.”
His voice became steady as he asked, “Time is a relative thing.”
Amanda changed the subject and asked, “You sound winded, where are you at?”
Dyer let out a sigh and revealed, “Well, currently, I’m in Montana hiking Granite Peak. I’m at seven thousand feet and headed down. I was about to set up a base camp for the night. I’m not as young as I used to be, so I like to take naps during adventure time.”
Focusing, she charged ahead, “Josh, I hate to ask this, but I need a favor.”
A cheer came into his voice as he responded, “Sure, Mandie. What can I help with?”
She pulled out a pen from her purse and asked, “Are you still into the occult? You know, that pagan stuff?”
The sounds of wind whipping against his phone accompanied his reply, “The short answer is, yes. I never stopped, actually. I teach lectures on the subject in various conferences and private venues. Are you finally digging into the deeper mysteries beyond your Christian faith?”
She had a smile on her face she uncovered, “Let’s say I’ve mellowed out a little on observing the stricter tenets of my faith. Josh, I’ve had something come up, and I’m hoping you can help me. A student of mine was questioned in connection to a murder. The student was cleared, but the murderer is still at large. The police told me that one of the detectives got a look at what they think was the weapon used. It was a black-handled dagger that had some carvings on the handle, and the description reminded of something from those old books you kept about witchcraft.”
She took several minutes describing in detail the octopus-like symbol to the best of her ability. Dyer was silent, and Amanda added how a homeless man had escaped with the weapon. As she turned down her street, she parked her car along a curb and a few houses down from her home.
He had a change in his tenor, stating, “The blade you’re describing doesn’t sound like something the average vagrant would carry or risk life and limb to retrieve. Tell me more about the murder itself.”
She leaned back in her seat and replied, “The victim was stabbed, then he fell over the edge of a bridge onto a train track. The train came by, and its wheels sliced the head off the body.”
He quickly replied, “That could just be just how he fell.”
She sighed and retorted with, “Hon, the head was taken. Only the body was found.”
After a long silence, Dyer replied, “So, yes, that does look more than suspicious. Although, the head could have been removed to avoid identification or for some other purpose.”
She put the car in park, pondering, “Yes, but with today’s technology, identification wouldn’t have been hampered in the least. Taking the head must have some other significance.”
Josh gave a belly laugh and observed, “So the game is afoot, huh? Let me guess, you feel obliged to see if there is something more to this? Yes?”
She looked outside at the low hanging Oklahoma sun and answered, “I think that God puts things in our lives for a purpose. This student, these details I was given and, to be frank, your friendship with me was aligned by design. So before you put your degree in Botany against my Ph.D. in Psychology in a war of psychoanalysis, tell me what you think about this case?”
Dyer gave a resigned, “Fair enough, but if you want my honest opinion? I think you are a sweetheart of a woman who wants a little adventure herself. So, here is my offer: Go to the police and see if you can talk to the detective who witnessed this blade firsthand. Maybe this person made a sketch of the design on the knife. If he did, send it to me on my phone, and I will do my best to identify it.”
She beamed a smile and replied, “Thank you, Josh. I’ll get back to you.”
He took a long breath and remarked, “You know it’s been too long since I’ve seen you and Larry. How is that mountain of a man doing? Last time I saw him, he was one solid muscle.”
She thought about how much weight he had gained since his days as a college lineman and replied, “He’s still solid, and yes, it has been too long.”
The phone seemed quiet for a moment before he gave a soft-spoken farewell, “Take care, Mandie. I’ll watch for your message.”
Amanda hung up and thought again about the man that evaded the detective, The homeless and the underprivileged in this town aren’t exactly in a position to evade capture. They live out on the street or take up in a shelter. The police would have an easy time searching for the suspect, but so far the news hadn’t reported any arrests.
With that, she made a decision to take Josh up on his offer and searched on google for the non-emergency number for the Tulsa Police. It was hard to find someone willing to talk to with her, but with a little persistence, Amanda was given the phone number for Officer Terry Johnston. She looked up at the light on in her own upstairs bedroom, and then felt a twinge of anxiety over what Larry would think of all this.
As the phone rang, she wondered, Is this really any of my business?
A familiar deep voice answered, “This is Officer Johnston.”
Charging ahead, she stated, “This is Professor Lanyon from the hospital.”
Audibly taken back, he replied, “Oh, hi, Mrs. Lanyon. What can I do for you?”
She adjusted herself in the seat and continued, “I have a question about that knife you said the detective saw. Did he make a sketch of it?”
Terry quickly replied, “To be honest, I’m not sure. Why?”
She crept her car along her street towards her driveway and said, “Can you see if the detective ca
n make one, and then send it to me? I think I can help.”
She heard the phonemic ruffle, and then Johnston’s voice rang out, “John! John! Some Professor wants you to draw that symbol you saw on that knife and send it to her… I don’t know… She wants to help, so let her help!”
After a moment, Johnston revealed, “Okay, he is doing it now. When he’s done, I’ll send you a pic. Thank you, Doctor, the department appreciates your help.”
She pulled into her drive and gave a sigh of relief to finally be home. As she walked in her front door, Amanda was greeted by her two kids and husband. Quickly, Lanyon changed gears and settled into Mom and Wife mode. Putting the rest of her day behind her, she listened to her oldest daughter April talk about the rivalry going on with their track club. Her youngest girl, Nancy, remained mostly oblivious to the conversation and played on her phone the entire time dinner was cooking. She watched her husband move around the kitchen, making the occasional Dad joke while monitoring the steaks. She thought about how the kids had embodied the characteristics of both her and her husband.
Her cell phone blinked, showing her she had a message from Terry that had an attachment. She clicked on the icon and saw a pencil drawing of what looked like impressionistic art. Amanda hit “Forward” and sent it to Josh.
Nancy’s head appeared at her shoulder and asked, “Who’s Josh Dyer?”
Turning, she saw Larry suddenly stop stirring a big bowl of mashed potatoes as she replied, “An old college friend. I contacted him about a thing your father and I were talking about last night.”
Her daughters immediately stopped what they were doing and stared suspiciously at her. The combination of her attention to detail and her husband's quick wit made for a dynamic genetic headache when it came to keeping secrets from them. It was like a game to them, and she knew this wouldn’t just go away.
April smelled gossip and asked, “What thing?”
Larry slapped mash potatoes onto plates with a degree of aggression and replied, “Nothing you need to worry about. Mommy’s just decided to call her ex-boyfriend and not tell Daddy about it.”