Sins of the Father

by JG Faherty

  It was to prepare the world for the true gods, the ones that had dispatched Mother and other emissaries out into the universe.

  The reasons for his error were gone forever, rotting away with the rest of him in the silt at the bottom of the river. But I could hazard a guess or two. Perhaps his injuries had been worse than mine, and his brain not quite able to handle all the changes and information Mother’s life force wrought.

  Upon reflection, though, more likely his essential makeup, that narcissistic component of his being that influenced all his decisions throughout life and made him unable to imagine anyone his equal, remained a part of him even after his rebirth. Rather than pave the way for the coming of the Elders and serving as the key to their eventual gateway, he thought to create his own kingdom and rule over it as a god himself.

  In that, he was mistaken. Just as when he thought to cure my birth mother by replacing her infected parts with those of corpses. Attempting to create an army of the undead held no chance of success. The disappearance of so many people, the inherent problems of keeping rotting corpses animated…foolish.

  But an army of demons?

  I knelt by the water and dipped my hand in. Dozens of my brethren approached, reaching out to brush their tentacles across my fingers. They were young, barely hatchlings, my little brothers and sisters. They would need time to grow. Which they would, especially once they made their way out to the sea. Not quickly, more on the scale of a man or dolphin. But one day they would be mature enough to breed, and they would need to find mates.

  As would I.

  “Learn from your mistakes, Henry,” my father used to tell me. And so I would. His, and mine. Like him, I had been tasked with creating a new race. But I would do it the way Mother had intended and not let my own hubris detract me from the ultimate goal. My actions would deliver me a kingdom, yes, but that would only be the first step in the reshaping of the world. I would be both ruler and an agent of the future. A placeholder for the true king and queen.

  I slipped into the water and my siblings crowded around me.

  “Follow the river,” I told them. “Go to the sea and partake of the bounty it provides. When the time is right, rejoin me.”

  Their acknowledgements reached me as a comforting hummmm I felt as much as heard. They dispersed, save for a few that remained to accompany me on my journey to the twin rivers of the surface world. Those chosen ones would subsist on fish and the occasional unlucky swimmer, and they would eventually become the guardians of my underground realm.

  I dove, my powerful legs pushing me forward and down in an instant. The change from breathing air to water was instantaneous and required no thought on my part. My eyesight adjusted as well. Rocks and other obstacles were dark gray against a gray background, like a photograph. My siblings provided more than enough light for my improved vision. We swam against the current, me using mighty kicks of my webbed feet, the little ones undulating their bodies like squid to easily keep pace with me.

  As I swam, I tried to make sense of the incredible library of knowledge Mother had transferred to me. Some of it, such as her reasons for traveling to Earth and the basics of my altered biology, were crystal clear. But large portions remained elusive, shadows behind gossamer curtains.

  I felt like a primitive man who’d wandered into an ancient library where too many of the tomes were written in languages I didn’t yet understand. Others were filled with unpronounceable words and mystifying scientific explanations far beyond my comprehension.

  Whenever I tried to concentrate on them, my head began to ache. In time, a voice within me whispered. Father’s? Mother’s? Some queer combination of all three of us? It is all part of the transformation, which will not come easily or quickly.

  Although it was not in my nature to be patient, I accepted the need to wait, to trust that as I continued to evolve into whatever Mother had in store for me, the curtains would open, the words become clear, and my comprehension would grow apace.

  For now, though, my grasp of the advanced sciences and magic her race routinely utilized remained frustratingly vague. For instance, I knew she’d come from a planet orbiting a star so far away that even on the clearest of nights I wouldn’t be able to see it. A planet where fantastical behemoths warred with each other and their neighboring star systems for millennia.

  I saw that this wasn’t the first time her kind had tried to settle on Earth and that I would need to tread carefully lest all be for naught again. Despite the great powers of Mother and her kin, and the knowledge they wielded, they’d still failed in their initial attempt, unprepared for the tenacity of humankind and the internecine squabbles that had reduced their numbers to just a handful.

  There were other images as well. Another of her kind dormant below a glacier of ice and snow in a land far away. An ancient city, its inhabitants long gone, buried at the bottom of a tropical sea, guarded by a mindless, ravenous beast. Pyramids, similar to those of Egypt, but hidden in perpetual shadow on a rocky plain that looked like nothing on Earth.

  Queer sensations accompanied these visions, a muted vibration within my chest, almost a tugging. I felt I could follow it, the way a homing pigeon follows a path to its nest. One particular impression seemed close by. Arkham? Miskatonic? I received no picture to go with it, but it seemed I was traveling in the right direction.

  Whatever it was, it would need to wait. I had more important business to attend to.

  Starting with Ben Olmstead.

  Chapter Thirty

  I emerged from the Manuxet River in the wee hours of the morning. Fog shrouded the city so thoroughly it even hindered my new ability to see in the dark. For once I didn’t curse the gloom, as it provided a necessary cloak for both my lack of clothes and my new form.

  I followed the river’s edge for a few blocks until I reached an area of tenements and warehouses near Fish Street. A good location to make my entry into the city, as a furtive, disheveled man would attract far less attention amidst the squalor than on a busy street.

  Along the way I caught a few glimpses of myself in empty windows. Like my father before me, although not to as great a degree, I’d taken on a decidedly amphibious countenance, my mouth wider, my teeth sharper, than any human. Some of my original nose still remained, not yet devolved into fleshy slits. My hair had disappeared, leaving my pate a pale dome.

  The changes didn’t disturb me. Rather, I felt proud of what I’d become and eager to see what further transformations might occur, physically and metaphysically.

  It took only a few minutes to locate what I needed: a pair of drunken fellows lurching down a side street.

  “Evening,” I said, stepping from the shadows. One of them gave me a bleary-eyed examination while the other hung onto his friend’s shoulder and mumbled something obscene.

  “Here, now,” the more upright of the two slurred. “Get yer sorry arse out of here. We’ve no coin to spare for no damn Mary.”

  “It’s not your coin I want,” I said. Faster than the eye could follow, I grabbed them by the necks with my tentacles. Bones snapped and they went limp in my grasp without a sound.

  I hurried to strip them before someone else came along. Neither was quite my size, but between them I was able to dress myself well enough to pass muster, at least in the fog. A quick examination of the bodies showed that my attack had left incriminating circular bruises on their throats. If Flannery were to hear of it, he’d no doubt set every cop in Innsmouth searching for me, above and below ground. I couldn’t risk dragging them back to the river, so I did the next best thing. I found a sewer and dropped them down. With any luck, the stench of their decomposing flesh would blend into the general miasma of the neighborhood until the next good rain washed them away.

  Dressed and having warned myself to be more careful when involved in physical confrontations, I made my way through alleys and side streets to Ben Olmstead’s apartment. It wa
s my fervent desire to find him sleeping off his exertions, hopefully with Callie there as well so he could keep watch over her. That would allow me to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

  The omnipresent fog no longer seemed treacherous; rather, it aided my passage from one street to the next as I crossed the waterfront district. I had no fear of dangers waiting in the mists. I was the danger now, and woe to anyone who encountered me. Still, prudence kept me from making my presence known.

  A gnawing hunger in my belly reminded me I hadn’t eaten in more than a day, not since before Ben and Callie discovered Flora in my house.

  Just thinking about my beloved’s death brought my rage to a boil again. First I would deal with Ben Olmstead. Then I would assuage the emptiness in my belly. Perhaps with pieces of my old friend’s steaming, bloody flesh….

  I’m coming for you, old sport. You will grovel before me, and your sister will be mine as well.

  I reached Ben’s apartment and tried the door. Locked, as I’d expected. No matter. If he thought a door could protect him, he was sadly mistaken. I gripped the knob with a tentacle and squeezed until the metal gave way with a loud crack. Then I shouldered the door open.

  Alert for any movement, I entered the apartment. I’d made enough noise to rouse the soundest sleeper from their dreams. If Ben were there, he’d by now be readying himself to fight off a burglar. He owned a gun and wouldn’t be afraid to use it. I had no idea if I could survive a bullet to the heart or head. My physical changes were vast, but my father’s death – and that of Mother – were powerful reminders of my own lack of immortality. Someday, perhaps. But until then, I must be careful.

  Pausing in the sitting room, I breathed deep, considering the flavors in the air. Hints of food and cologne, and traces of perfume as well. Callie’s? It seemed they were both here. Upstairs, perhaps? Hiding?

  Waiting.

  A trap? Logic told me it most likely was. I pictured Ben in his bedroom chair, or perhaps standing in front of the bed, pistol aimed at the door, Callie cowering behind him. The moment I entered the room, he’d pull the trigger. Even if I came at him full speed there was a good chance he’d get off several shots before I could take him down.

  And yet I fully intended to take the risk. Justice required that I avenge Flora’s death. I couldn’t allow Ben to see the morning sun. And once I had Callie in my possession, I could retreat to the underground river and find a new place to hide, one where Flannery and his goons would never locate me. There I would bide my time while my consolation prize birthed my future army.

  Despite the lust for revenge boiling inside me, I retained enough common sense to press myself against one wall as I climbed the stairs and approached Ben’s chambers. Flickering yellow light seeped out from under the door, confirming my worst fears. He waited, roused by my entry.

  For the moment, I remained out of his line of fire should he decide to shoot through the door. However, in order to enter the room I’d have no choice but to expose myself.

  Bullets hadn’t been enough to end my father’s life; I had to hope the same held true for me. Using my new strength and speed, I threw the door open and leaped through. I landed almost halfway across the room, my tentacles raised to attack my sworn enemy, my body tense with the anticipation of the pistol’s roar and the impact of a bullet, a pain I remembered all too well from being shot in the cavern.

  Nothing happened. No explosion of noise, no hammering blow to my chest.

  The room was empty.

  “You came.”

  The soft whisper from the bed alerted me to my error. Callie lay there, mushroom-pale beneath a single sheet. Dark smudges perched under her eyes that had nothing to do with the shadows cast by the single lamp burning on the dresser. She stared at me and I saw no horror in her gaze, despite how monstrous I must look to her.

  “You sound as if you’ve been expecting me,” I said.

  She gave me a tired smile. My entrance had woken her from a deep sleep, and I wondered if she’d also partaken of alcohol or laudanum for her injuries. I approached the bed and still she didn’t shrink away, despite the shocking changes to my appearance.

  “Not expecting, praying. For days and nights,” she replied. “So many that I feared you might have perished in that cave.”

  I paused. This was not going as I’d imagined. Days and nights? She made it sound as if—

  Callie sat up and pushed the sheet to her waist, exposing her nightdress and ample bosom. She gestured for me to come forward.

  “Hurry, we haven’t much time before he returns.”

  He? She had to mean Ben. He wasn’t home, then. No matter. As much as I’d come to avenge my beloved’s murder – and the attempt to end my own life – the most important thing was to begin the creation of the new race. I wouldn’t fall victim to my father’s foibles, let my personal desires get in the way of the master plan.

  Callie would be mine. I had wanted Ben there to witness my capture of his sister, but instead I’d have to settle for a different type of revenge. I would leave here with Callie and let my bastard ex-friend suffer a lifetime of guilt and sorrow, never knowing if she lived or died at my hands.

  “Come, Henry. Claim what is yours.” She ran pale hands down her chest, unbuttoning her nightdress. Her words and gestures made no sense to me; she acted as if I’d shown up for an illicit rendezvous with a secret lover, as if she’d been awaiting my embrace. Her eyes glittered with ardor from within their dark, sunken cavities.

  Surely she must be feverish! Perhaps she didn’t even see the real me before her, but rather some vision of my past self. I thought back to Flora’s rapid descent into illness after her injury. Did Callie suffer the same poisoning of her blood?

  Despite my thoughts, I found my eyes drawn to her body, enticingly exposed to me from the waist up. She’d always been properly chaste when we’d dated; we’d never done more than kiss goodnight, hold hands, and briefly hug each other. Yet there’d always been a physical attraction between us. Even now, I remembered the feel of her breasts against my chest, soft and enticing, like two perfumed pillows.

  In many ways, she and Flora had been exact opposites. Flora outgoing and unafraid to buck convention by speaking her mind or exposing more flesh than appropriate if it meant putting extra tips in her pocket. Small in stature but big in presence, her fiery personality lit up a room.

  Callie was more voluptuous, needing no corset to present an hourglass figure, one she kept politely covered at all times. Her demeanor matched her style of dress, elegant and civil, a true woman of society. In that respect, they were both the opposites of their brothers, with Scott always acting the true gentleman and Ben a solid working-class fellow.

  For the longest time, I’d imagined that one day Scott and Callie would finally realize their many similarities and take their friendship to the next level. Only Scott never seemed interested in Callie or any other woman, and Callie never extinguished the torch she carried for me.

  Now she would get her wish, although not in the manner she or her brother had dreamed.

  I climbed into her bed, my very human lust rising as she slid the gown from her shoulders, revealing her body to me for the first time. Delusional she might be, but she showed no confusion or hesitation as she reached for me. My hands shook with anticipation as I loosened my trousers and positioned myself over her. One of my appendages caressed her neck, ready to deliver the injection that would enable my seed to flourish within her womb. She moaned and closed her eyes, giving herself over to me.

  A thunderous explosion filled the room and a painful blow struck my shoulder, knocking me off the bed. I hit the floor hard and rolled to my knees.

  “Die, you fiend!” a familiar voice shouted. Ben Olmstead.

  He fired again, the report deafening in the small space. A piece of wall shattered next to my head. My injured arm refused to work but I managed to lash
out with my tentacles. One of them struck him across the chest and he stumbled into the hallway. I followed, leaping from side to side to throw off his aim. He was just raising the gun again when I reached him.

  His eyes grew wide as he got his first look at my face. I laughed. He couldn’t have expected this new version of me. After all, the monsters were supposed to be dead. Mother, my father, Flora. And I’d been human when they watched me fall into the river.

  “Hello, Ben. Surprised to see me?”

  Instead of firing again, he backed away, too stunned by my monstrous appearance to do the sensible thing and pull the trigger. Or run.

  “H…H…Henry?”

  I grasped his arm with one of my octopoidal limbs. He winced as the rubbery appendage gripped him with bruising force and the gun fell from his hand.

  “You’re supposed to be dead!” His face was pale behind his orange beard; his freckles stood out like ink dots on paper.

  “Indeed. At your hand, and Flannery’s. But as you can see, I’m very much alive.” I raised my arms and then winced as a stabbing pain ran through my injured shoulder.

  “How…?” He glanced at the tentacle holding him and then back at my face. I saw in his eyes the same questions I’d had for my father that night in the caverns.

  “Fate had something in mind for me other than death. I fear you won’t be so fortunate.” I gripped him tighter, relishing the girlish whimper that slipped through his clenched teeth. He dropped to his knees, clawing futilely at impenetrable skin with his free hand. I increased the pressure, was rewarded with the brittle crack! of his wrist breaking. He screamed and tears ran down his cheeks.

  “How does it feel, old chum? That’s but a fraction of the pain you inflicted upon me.” I wrapped his fingers in a coil and squeezed. Snap! He gasped and moaned. “No physical pain comes close to the agony of watching the woman you love die in your arms. Or the soul-wrenching ache of being betrayed by your best friend, shot and left to die like a mongrel dog. No, you will never know that kind of suffering. But you will know pain. That I assure you. I will tear your body apart limb by limb, organ by organ. First, though, I have something else to take care of.”