The Amulet
Page 20
Two more tentacles pierced Dunlop's body, and thick red blood poured in a river from his mouth. At first I feared he was already dead, but his eyes were still alive as he lifted the wand above his head. There was another blinding flash of blue light and the amulet fell to the ground, a writhing piece of tentacle still attached.
At the same moment there was a rending in the blackness. I had a glimpse of a purple sky above as a split appeared in the membrane.
I can't describe some of the things I saw there-they seemed to defy the eye, to melt and flow like molten mercury. There was something solid amid the fluidity-a leathery, barrel-shaped body with a five-pointed star where its head should be and huge, gossamer, veined wings.
Then the horde behind the veil parted and something huge and black began to make its way forward. I have an impression of tentacles of an immense size, but my memory of the true shape of the creature has gone, burned for the sake of my sanity. I can only say that it was huge, it was old, and it was hell-bent on coming through.
Fiona stood in front of the altar. I shouted at her, but she ignored me and bent to the floor. She picked up the amulet. It pulsed a sickly green in her hands.
Above her Dunlop still fired great gouts of flame at the creature that held him, but the flame no longer held its dazzling blue quality, and, although he still damaged the creature, the wounds he inflicted were no longer as deep or as penetrating.
Fiona held the amulet at arm's length, oblivious to the tentacle that hit her in the midriff and immediately began to burrow.
She looked at her husband, and I caught the slow nod of his head and the spreading smile on his face as she drew her arm back and the amulet sailed through the air. Despite the efforts of three tentacles to catch it, it disappeared into the gulf beyond the rift.
She turned to me, tentacles now writhing over her torso, and said just one word before reaching out to clasp her husband's hand.
"Go," she said. I moved towards them but was too late. The pumpkin head writhed and all the tentacles screamed in a chorus.
There was a flash, a blinding explosion that seared through my brain, knocking me almost senseless to the floor, a floor that shook and bucked as if in the throes of some diabolic birthing.
Dunlop lay limp in the creature's grasp, but Fiona was still alive, only just. She leaned forward to the creature's great head and thrust her hands into it, passing through the flesh as if it were plasticine. She jerked her hands, just once, and the creature screamed, a roar that shook the walls and dislodged small pieces of dust to hang in the air.
The veil bulged, swollen like a balloon filled with water, then burst in an explosion of rainbow light that forced me to close my eyes again. And when I opened them, Fiona, Dunlop and the creature were gone and there was no sign of the rift in space. I was left alone in silence, with Durban's dead body and the body of an ancient Arab lying across the altar, a body that was decomposing even as I watched.
Pieces of earth fell into the chamber as a jagged crack ran across the ceiling. I just managed to make it to the stairway before the roof collapsed in a flurry of rubble and masonry. I fled up the stairs as the walls swayed and the roof threatened to come down on me.
Doug lay in the hallway. At first I thought he was dead, and I panicked, shaking him hard and cradling him to my chest.
It took me several seconds to realize that he was still breathing. I hoisted him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry, almost bent double by his weight, and got out of the house as quickly as I could. The structure fell down around me and the floor heaved like the deck of a ship. I made it out of the door and into the garden, but I don't remember how.
I laid Doug down on the grass and turned back, in time to see the eyes of the house flare redly for one last time before collapsing in on itself in a storm of smoke, burying the crypt and all who laid in it under several hundred tons of stone.
And that's the end of it.
I visit Doug every week, and he's coming along fine, but there is still fear down deep in his eyes, and he sleeps with the light on.
As for me, I went back to the newspaper business.
The police never bothered me about Stan and Ollie. I reported finding the bodies-anonymously, of course-and just happened to mention how close they were to Durban's house. That must have been enough for the powers that be. The story never made the papers-I'm not sure anyone would have found it believable anyway.
The only evidence of anything untoward came in the obituary-Durban's, Fiona's and Dunlop's appeared on the same day, all having died 'suddenly, and at home'. I visited their graves once, but there was no sense of any power there-how could there be, when their bodies are somewhere beyond this earth?
At least being back on the paper gives me the chance to check on any news of Arkham House. I shift pieces of paper, I interview local councilors, and I keep my eyes open for stories concerning lost cats.
I often find myself daydreaming of being back in my office above Byres Road, waiting for Fiona Dunlop to drop in, but all in all I'm contented-sometimes boredom is a much sought after condition.
At nights I dream, dreams in which something huge and black and monstrous tries to break trough a veil, a veil that gets thinner and thinner. And every night I wake up screaming.
But that's not quite the end of it. I haven't yet come to the reason I'm writing this story when it would have been better to forget it completely.
I found it in the Times three days ago-and I can't get it out of my mind. It was in the description of items coming up for sale at Sotheby's.
* * *
Lot 29 -- The Johnson Amulet. Long feared lost, newly returned to the market, this is one of the most interesting archaeological artifacts to come to our attention for a long time. Private sale, bidding will start at 400,000 pounds.
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