Paradigms Lost - eARC

by Ryk E. Spoor

  “No problem, you’ve been through a lot. So what about in the time since?”

  He recounted a few other incidents, which boiled down to the simple fact that no one—not him, not his family, and none of the few friends he’d dared tell about the problem—had been able to spend a night in that cabin since. Some of them wouldn’t even walk in the door; they got a feeling of dark foreboding that something terrible was waiting just inside. “So the damn place is going to fall to pieces. Ain’t no one been inside to clean it since that first time we ran out—I didn’t do any of that on my surveillance trip—and no one has stayed long since.”

  I nodded. “Sounds like it happens mostly at night. Is that right? Has anyone run into this thing in daylight?”

  “Well…no, not really. The cabin feels a lot creepier and less friendly than it used to, but no one’s ever seen or heard anything in the daytime.”

  “If all it does is scare people, maybe you could use that.”

  He gave a short, explosive laugh. “Yeah, a tourist attraction. Thought of that, actually. But a real tourist attraction, you still have to know what you’re dealing with and be able to control it. I don’t know that this thing is just trying to scare us. It can move doors, at least, so I have to ask myself: what else can it do? It sure don’t seem friendly.”

  “No, you’re right there. If I look at it as thinking even vaguely like a human being, well, a person who liked doing that is the kind of guy who tends to escalate—they start out small, then get worse. You’re doing the right thing. If you still have the surveillance data, I’d like to look at it.”

  “Sure, no problem. I didn’t find anything on it, but if you can, more power to you.” He looked apprehensive. “Um, how much is this going to cost?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t necessarily charge if it’s important enough, or interesting enough. There are advantages in being The Guy Everyone Calls, and my contract for CryWolf gadgets means I don’t actually have to work. Let me talk to a few consultants first, then I’ll get back to you with an estimate.”

  Chapter 77: Awakening Power

  The cave ceiling glowed faintly like a starry sky overhanging the small trees and grassy sweep of lawn below it. I leaned against the altar at the center of the Heart, admiring the view. “I swear, it looks brighter in here.”

  “Your perceptions are most accurate, Jason. It is indeed brighter, a fact of considerable concern.” Verne’s dark-skinned, aristocratic features, with their underlying vampiric pallor, mirrored the concern of which he spoke. He stood at the edge of the Mirror, the mystic pool which was the true center of this underground temple to the Earth goddess Eönae.

  “What’s the problem? Light is pretty good for plants; seeing them growing underground like this is still quite freaky.”

  The wry smile showed the sharper canines more than the other teeth. “The light, by itself, is not the problem. It is that such brightening is the first objective indication I have had of something we were before only speculating about. The strength of the Powers is indeed increasing, in a very disturbing manner.”

  He frowned. “The…Gabon Blast is another worrisome indication. I am afraid that even after some investigation, I cannot say why such a detonation should have occurred at the site of one of the Towers. It has been, as you observed, half a million years since the Fall; any energy in the sites should long since have been released or dissipated.” He gazed into the Mirror for a few moments. “But if…for some reason…the power is returning, somehow leaking past the Great Seal…well, many things may happen.”

  “Do you think Mr. Plunkett’s problem is related to this?”

  “I would, in fact, be quite astonished if it was not—and if similar problems are not occurring elsewhere.”

  “We really need to sit down and talk about this sometime. Soon. And if this kind of thing is going to keep happening, I may have to start hiring. Syl can’t keep being the filter on my answering machine; she has her own business to run and since she started studying with you, that business has gotten a lot more serious, for those of us who get to see behind the fluffy exterior.”

  “I am very much afraid, Jason, that you cannot escape your destiny to be at the very center of such events. Yes, we must discuss the overall implications, and soon. But first, to the very interesting problem of Mr. Plunkett and his no-longer-friendly vacation home.”

  I nodded, moving away from the altar stone. “I’ve brought all the stuff with me. Coming up?”

  “In a moment. If you would, please stay while I speak with the Lady.”

  I remained, staying respectfully silent. “Speaking with the Lady” was Verne’s phrase for prayer, but unlike in prayer sessions in other places of worship, I had gotten more and more the feeling of Someone being present when Verne closed his eyes and spoke in the ancient tongue that had not been heard in half a million years. I’d asked him if he thought other religions were false. His answer was vehemently negative:

  “No! Never should one judge the truth or falsity of religion based on such nebulous things—or even, truth be told, on far more objective events. If the Powers be present, there are those deities who will show themselves openly; there are others who do not. There is a myriad of reasons why they may, or may not, manifest to their worshippers in physical ways. It is my belief that most religions are true in one way or another; they simply focus on different aspects of the Creator and Its Children.”

  This time, that feeling of Presence was even stronger; I thought I saw a luminous glitter from the Mirror as Verne bent over it and touched its surface gently with spread hands. Then he rose. “I am now at your disposal, Jason,” he said, his archaic turn of phrase complementing his theatrical style of dress, which echoed all the best cinema vampires—or, perhaps it would be better to say, his style seemed to be emulated well by all the best actors of vampires.

  We sat in the large yet cozy den into which Verne had had me dragged when we first met, almost two years ago. The usual tray of snacks was already waiting for me; Morgan always anticipated my need for additional fuel when researching the weird. Verne, of course, had his usual glass of blood.

  “You mentioned that the security images were not entirely without value. You obtained some images of interest, then?”

  “Yep. Here, take a look.”

  The critical frames were taken from the moment that the cameras had faded out. To someone viewing them casually, it just looked like the camera failed; the screen went black. But the human eye doesn’t discriminate shades of dark nearly as well as a camera can register them, and playing with the original data showed something very different. The darkness didn’t hit the camera in a uniform fashion, but started on one side of the field of view and spread—very quickly, within one or two frames—to cover the entire camera. And in a couple of those frames…

  Verne nodded thoughtfully. “That looks like part of a hand, does it not?”

  “Yep. Blurry as hell, and black as pitch, but there’s structure to that darkness that covers the cameras. The blur might be from movement, or the thing itself might be blurry. So, any ideas, Verne? This a ghost, a demon, what?”

  Verne considered for a while. I knew enough not to bug him, but instead ate a few of the spiced roast beef crackers that Hitoshi had made this evening. Finally, Verne sighed. “The problem, Jason, is that I have entirely too many ideas on this subject. The described events and behavior could be caused by a large number of supernatural creatures and forces, and it will require some effort, investigation, and deduction to determine which one.”

  I made a face. “I knew this would happen one of these days—that I’d get a case where the answer didn’t just drop obviously out of the events. Even the Maelkodan pretty much narrowed the field down quickly once she left a statue out for us to see.” I still felt a slight twinge of regret over the Maelkodan’s end. I really wished I could have found some way around the creature’s death, but even the Maelkodan itself admitted that there was no real chance it could stop
killing—especially humans and werewolves.

  “If there were no signs of the Awakening, the answer might well be narrower,” Verne said. “But as the overall level of power increases, things that were too weak to manifest previously become much more likely to be seen. I would say that the three most likely candidates are a ryunihav, a zarbalath, or one of the thansaelasavi.”

  I knew the first two; “ryunihav” was the Atlantaean for ghost, though I needed details on what they meant by “ghost.” “Zarbalath” was one of a number of words which basically meant “demon.”

  “What’s that last?” I asked, activating my Lumiere SmartCall phone so I could record this for later transcription.

  “Thansaelasavi,” Verne repeated.

  “Okay, got that…um, if I remember right, that’d be ‘magic…something.’”

  “Very good, Jason. An exact translation would be difficult, mainly because it is a shortened form of a far more descriptive phrase. The best description is ‘creatures born of and sustained by the magic of life.’ Some believed such creatures were the creations of wizards or deities; others that they were natural products of a world steeped in magic, that evolution would act upon magical traits exactly as it would upon ordinary genetic ones. In my view, likely all of these are true for some particular group of thansaelasavi.

  “For our purposes, unfortunately, it is a very broad category. All of these creatures derive much of their essence from the energies of other living beings, somewhat as the Great Wolves do. However, they do so mostly through interaction with living beings and their…auras, as Sylvia likes to call them. They are also quite diverse, as they may derive from natural creatures, or are a living essence of some mystical element or another—fire, earth, and so on. Some of these creatures are symbiotes—the typical ‘familiar’ attributed to some schools of magical practice, for instance, would be a thansaelasavi of cooperative nature, exchanging the affection and power derived from its linked partner for the services such a familiar could provide. Others are much more sinister, parasites which influence the minds and emotions of intelligent creatures to generate more energy for themselves and to weaken the creatures in question until they die. Such thansaelasavi cannot directly kill the soul, as could the Maelkodan or Great Wolves, but if someone dies when they are nearby, they can consume the released essence.”

  “Well, that last description sounds pretty much like our friend in the cabin, doesn’t it?”

  “If only it were so simple. A number of demons could, and would, operate in the same fashion. Similarly, so could a ryunihav. Each, unfortunately, implies differing means of dealing with it, and far different threats for the investigator.”

  “This thing comes out at night, or so it seems. Why don’t you come out with me? There isn’t much on Earth that could mess with you.”

  Verne considered. “What you say is true, certainly. But by the same token, such things will tend to conceal themselves if I am present. In this case, even if what you are dealing with is a demon of considerable comparative power, I am sufficiently formidable that you would find yourself in the position of a hunter trying to catch a rabbit while a tiger is prowling nearby.”

  That did make sense. “You can’t hide yourself from them?”

  He shrugged skeptically, finishing his glass as he mulled the question. “In truth, I do not know. If I knew for a fact what was there, yes, probably. But without clear knowledge, I would have to be something more like a wolf to be able to conceal my nature from all such presences. I am afraid, Jason, that you and, possibly, Sylvia will have to visit this place without my direct participation.”

  I sighed. “It’s never simple. I guess we’d better go over all the details. If I’m going to figure out what ancient horror from beyond time is awakening in the Adirondacks, I’d better have a good Field Guide to Horrors available.”

  Chapter 78: And Then There Was One

  The cabin loomed before us like a sleeping volcano. Despite the bright sunlight streaming down through gaps in the overhead foliage, the area around the cabin seemed darker. The sounds we’d heard surrounding us in the woods during the walk up the hill to the cabin—scuttling chipmunks in the brush, birds, the tap-scuff-tap-tap of deer moving cautiously through the woods just out of sight, the drone and buzz of insects—were almost totally absent, only coming to us faintly from some considerable distance.

  Syl swallowed hard. “I don’t think you need my intuition.” Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the silence.

  I shook my head. “There’s something in there, that’s for damn sure. Finding out what, now, that might take a while.”

  “No simple tests for this case,” Syl agreed, staring at the cabin and showing not the slightest indication of wanting to move closer. “Can we deal with something like that?”

  I shrugged and started forward. “Verne seemed to think so. He said that even though the world seems to be ‘Awakening,’ as he put it, it’s a long way from reaching high power levels for quite a while yet. He also said something about the ‘mark’ on me that he thought might have some effect.” I turned back. “You have it?”

  She blinked, then shook her head. “Sorry, Jasie. I have to focus a bit. Here. Remade with everything I could put into it.”

  I took the crystal hammer charm, a carved model of one version of Mjölnir—Thor’s hammer—which Syl had given to me shortly before a vampire almost ripped out my throat. Even then Syl had been “for real”; the charm had made Elias Klein back off just long enough.

  Now, after studying under Verne, she was beginning to understand, not just the fragments of true magic which had managed to survive or be rediscovered in the time since it had been mostly sealed away, but the real basis of enchantment and the powers of the mind. She had taken the charm back and put everything she could into it. I don’t have much sensitivity to those kind of things—Verne had said, with an apologetic smile, that I was as pure a mundane in that sense as he’d ever seen—but even I could feel a difference as I put the charm back on, as though the clearing had become just a little lighter. “Thanks, Syl. You coming in?”

  She nodded. “I just don’t understand why I’m having so much trouble. We haven’t even seen anything yet.”

  “Dunno. Maybe after soaking in all the mystic woo-woo from studying you’ve gotten too sensitive. Or maybe it’s just that right now we haven’t any idea what we’re looking at; all the other times, we did, and something we don’t know is usually scarier.”

  The cabin door creaked atmospherically as we entered. Inside, the light was dimmer, and it felt as though the ceiling was low enough to bump my head on, even though a glance upward assured me it was at least two feet over my head. “Mr. Plunkett’s grandad built ’em big.” I sniffed; a faint, sharp smell reached my nostrils, the echo of something far stronger. “Gunpowder. Long time ago, but I guess the smell lingers in a closed room.” I stepped forward, felt something move, looked down. Little metal balls, mostly black in color. I picked one up, rubbed it hard against my jeans; it sparkled like a mirror. “Silver shot. He really meant it when he said no one had cleaned up.”

  I glanced around, remembering the diagram Dave had given me. “Okay, that’s the master bedroom there. Don’t move, Syl. I want to check some things.”

  I studied the floor carefully. A lot of evidence had been disturbed—several people had been here since the night the whole family was chased out—but I didn’t need any more tracks marking things up. Lots of pellets once you got outside of the main traffic path. I went into the main bedroom, studied the doorway. The sides were chewed up pretty badly in a pattern that confirmed Dave’s story: he had unloaded three blasts from his shotgun right at the doorway. Some of it had hit the doorframe, of course; shotgun blasts spread, and if he was firing from the bed…yeah, it could easily spread that much, depending on how it was choked. Still, most of the shot would go through the door and end up on the wall opposite.

  Better get some pictures. I got out the digital camera—twin to
the one Bambi Inochi had been using, which had been my fee for services rendered.Standing near the bed, I sighted through the door. “Syl,” I said, “go stand against the wall there. No, a little over…over…stop.”

  That put Syl just about in the path of Dave’s fire pattern. “Okay, you can move out,” I said, and then took several carefully focused digital shots of the wall and surrounding area. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I was seeing something. “You getting anything?”

  Syl’s normally cheerful blue eyes were haunted; her black hair seemed duller. “Too much. There’s fear…loss…loneliness…fury, hatred…” she closed her eyes. “Feels like a revenant, a ghost.”

  “What Verne calls a ryunihav.”

  “Possibly. Verne says true ghosts, in the sense of a living being’s spirit refusing to either dissipate or “go on” to some other place, are vanishingly rare—though not impossible. What’s much more common are mystical echoes of the presence of a powerful person or soul, accumulations of their essence that take on a circumscribed life of their own. That’s a ryunihav. With the increase in magic, such “echoes” would start to replay again.”

  “So it’s like a CD on repeat, and someone just turned the power back on?”

  “Except that these things can take actions, sometimes dangerous ones. But they’re usually not capable of reason. You have to banish or neutralize them.”

  “Well, that’s good. Can we try that and see if it works?”

  Syl shook her head. “I have a bad feeling about that idea. I have to do the ritual while it’s present; if it’s stronger than I think, the ritual could backfire on me, and if it’s not a ryunihav, the focus I have on the ritual could leave me open to attack from whatever it really is.”

  I don’t argue with Syl’s “bad feelings.” Even before I knew there were such things as real monsters and magic, she’d convinced me that she had something, and she’d only gotten better at it. “I don’t suppose you can ‘feeling’ your way to telling me which way to go on this?”