The Mysteries of Holly Diem (Unknown Kadath Estates Book 2)

by Zachary Rawlins

  April snuggled deeper into the embrace of an arm as organic as a dock crane. She was angry with me, and maybe she had reason.

  Sumire squeezed April’s hip with fingers that appeared to have been carved from piano keys, grinning as if she had won the jackpot. She was pleased with me, but I think that was probably a misunderstanding.

  Sumire’s bedroom looked more or less as I would have expected. The walls were covered in Kamen Rider and Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure posters; a shelf above the bed groaned under the weight of a high school worth of trophies; a mirror was surrounded by photo booth pictures, mostly taken with April. Flowers and cards from what must have been half the student body at Carter covered every available surface. In the corner, half a dozen Mylar balloons printed with cheery Comic Sans messages bled helium and sank slowly to the floor. A rat’s nest of audiovisual cables and videogame controllers sat beneath the television, a collection of morally suspect manga spilled out from beneath her bed.

  “Thanks for the arm, Preston!”

  Sumire shed the majority of her hospital trappings, aside from the bandages loosely wrapped around her artificial hand. Even attached to Sumire, poking out of a t-shirt commemorating an intermural volleyball tournament at Carter, the arm was still a baleful thing. She seemed happy with it, though.

  “Think nothing of it. Are you sure that arm isn’t evil, though? I mean, it came off a witch and everything. It’s made with monster bones, or something.”

  “That just makes it cooler,” Sumire assured me, flexing articulated ivory fingers. “When I use it to punch that stupid witch in the face, it will be like fighting fire with fire.”

  “I’m not sure that’s entirely how that expression works,” Yael pointed out, giving Sumire an affectionate pat, “but I am happy to see that you are feeling better.”

  “Much better.” Sumire cracked her knuckles, starting with the flesh hand. “I told you I was invulnerable, Preston.”

  “I’m not gonna get into that. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “The two of you have been at it for a while, now,” Sumire said cheerfully, pulling April closer. April rested her cheek against the side of Sumire’s chest and fixed me with a pointed stare. “Do you have a suspect?”

  “Yes, but...” Yael pursed her lips. “It’s been complicated.”

  “I sort of expected that. What sort of complications?”

  “The worst.” Yael’s grimace made me think she might have some idea what she was talking about, despite her age. “Our neighbors are involved.”

  Yael hesitated, as if reluctant to dive into cold water, and looked to me. I nodded, because it seemed like she wanted me to do that.

  “Elijah Pickman,” she said, hanging her head guilty. “He did it.”

  “That’s…” Sumire went pale, her face etched with unfamiliar distress. “Why?”

  “He wanted to make a gift of your arm to Holly’s younger sister, Madeleine. We think he was responsible for all of the other attacks, too, for the same reason. He is collecting…pieces of girls. Arms and legs. Because Madeleine lost her original set.”

  “Holly has a sister?”

  “Oh. Sorry, Sumire,” Yael said. “You missed a lot, while you were recuperating.”

  “Like what?”

  “Holly has two sisters – and they seem to spend all of their time cutting off people’s limbs – or each other’s. Oh, yes – also, as it turns out, Elijah is Holly’s great grandson.”

  Sumire stared at Yael wide-eyed and drop-jawed.

  “I told you it was complicated.”

  “This is awful!” Sumire wailed. “I’ve been talking about beating up the person who did this to me for days. I don’t want to hit Elijah!”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “He cut off your arm, Sumire, and then he cut your throat. You should be dead.”

  “Preston, stop that,” Yael scolded me. “Don’t dwell on it, Sumire. It wasn’t his idea. I’m not sure what’s wrong with Elijah, but Madeleine is ultimately responsible for all of this.”

  “That’s for sure,” I added helpfully. “I saw her wearing your arm, Sumire.”

  “Oh.” Sumire looked as if she might be ill. “Gross.”

  “Preston!” April shouted and hurled her pillow at me. “How could you say that?”

  “I’m sorry!” I didn’t dare duck the pillow. I just collected it, after it bounced off my face, and then handed it back. “Thought she would want to know.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” Sumire ran her fingers through April’s unkempt hair. “I just have to go get it back, okay?”

  April squealed and hugged Sumire.

  “You are so cool, Sumire!” If Sumire could have seen April’s eyes darken in that moment, she never would have let the girl touch her. “Nothing scares you.”

  Sumire nodded contentedly.

  “Especially not Holly’s sister. It must be some sort of misunderstanding, right?”

  That was a little much for me.

  “Actually, if you don’t mind,” Yael cut in, looking a bit flushed over their public display of affection, “I have some questions for you, Sumire. If you are up for it.”

  “Of course! I haven’t remembered anything new, though.”

  “That isn’t it. I’m not interested in the attack at all. I want to know what was going on before that. You were working for Holly, right?”

  Sumire’s glee flickered like a dying lightbulb. April nestled in closer, as if afraid that someone might try to take Sumire from her.

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I need to know what Holly told you,” Yael said, ignoring Sumire’s question. “Any instructions or background, anything like that.”

  “Okay,” Sumire said, with a doubtful expression. “I don’t mind saying, and I don’t think Holly will care. But, why do you want to know? I know you said that Holly’s sister was responsible, but that has to be coincidence, right?”

  Yael sat down on the corner of the bed, patting Sumire’s knee.

  “I’m not sure. I plan to be, however, in the very near future.” Yael spoke with unselfconscious conviction. “I suspect Madeleine Diem is targeting people related to Holly, or the Estates, or maybe even the Empty District.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” Sumire said, shaking her head. “The other girls who were attacked didn’t live at the Estates.”

  “They were all students at Carter.”

  “Okay, but…”

  “Like I said, yesterday was complicated. I did make the time to do some basic research, though.”

  Yael gave me a slightly superior look, and I offered a grudging nod in return. It seemed like she’d earned that much.

  “So?”

  Sumire sounded impatient.

  “Holly Diem deeded the land for the Randolph Carter Academy’s founding, and provided much of the seed money.” Yael frowned as if vaguely put off by the information. “The library, too – she donated the majority of the books.”

  “Wait a minute,” I interjected. “How long ago are we talking?”

  “The timeline’s a little fuzzy, but the school is at least two centuries old,” Yael said, with a tiny shrug. “Give or take.”

  Sumire’s pallor returned. April’s eyes darted from Yael’s face to mine, gauging reactions.

  “How is that even possible?”

  Sumire rolled her eyes at me.

  “She is a witch, Preston.”

  Yael’s bombshell was enough to convince Sumire to cooperate. All I gleaned from it was that Holly had a much more comprehensive picture of Madeleine’s attacks than she admitted to, but Yael leapt to her feet excitedly, mask on her belt bouncing, as soon as Sumire finished sharing her part in the affair.

  “Yesterday was rather eventful.” Yael nodded politely at Sumire and April. “Preston and I have a great deal to do today. Thank you for your help!”

  Yael’s back was turned, and Sumire fluctuated between troubled and distracted, so neither paid any attention to the ugly e
xpression on April’s face. I had to double-check, to make sure that she didn’t have a sharp object handy.

  “Preston, please try to be home for dinner tonight.” April’s voice was as sweet as the little marshmallows in that cereal she likes. “You’ve been so busy lately. We’ve hardly had a chance to talk.”

  I grimaced and hesitated.

  “Sorry, April. I don’t mean to ignore you.”

  “Be home in time for dinner,” April reminded me. “Don’t be late, or I will be angry.”

  ***

  “You get something out of that?”

  “Not exactly. It was more that I put several different things together.”

  “So? Spill it.”

  “Not yet.”

  “I hate waiting.”

  “Sorry, Preston.”

  “At least tell me where we are going.”

  “Iram.”

  “Iram? Planning on doing some shopping?”

  “I might at that.”

  I let it go. The train was too loud for conversation, anyway. Holly told me once that the transit authority’s line workers were loath to work on the subway tunnels that went near the harbor, passing directly through Iram and the affluent core of the downtown. Apparently, during the construction of the tunnel, diggers encountered numerous ancient, hand-dug tunnels, connecting decrepit houses with cemeteries, and the sea. Bodies, as well, harvested from violated graves, or worse.

  The Iram station was busy and well maintained, with the better sort of the Nameless City spilling out into the broad residential boulevards surrounding the station, or crowding into the shady arcades arranged like a maze around the bazaar. Across the street from the station, the stately elms and maples of Burroughs Park waved gently in the breeze, while picnickers and pedestrians enjoyed the relatively rare spring sun. A nearby bakery filled the air with smells of baking bread and burnt sugar, and the cries of children from a nearby playground echoed off the concrete and statuary of the station. I took my jacket off for what felt like the first time in weeks.

  I wasn’t at all surprised when Yael led me to Carver Heights. She didn’t take her windbreaker off, despite the relative warmth of the afternoon, but that wasn’t a surprise, either. Neither was finding Dunwich waiting patiently for us nearby. By the time we came to a halt in front of Neil the dealer’s house, I’d had time to think.

  “Remember this place, Preston?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I found you and Jenny here, the other night.”

  “I told you, I remember.”

  Yael put one hand on her hip, and cocked her head.

  “What were the two of you doing in there?”

  I had to tell her something.

  “You know. Friends of Jenny’s, I guess.”

  Yael clucked, crouching to pet the cat.

  “Jenny doesn’t have any other friends.”

  “You’ve got me there.”

  “Want to try again?”

  I sighed and let my shoulders sag as if defeated.

  “Drugs.” It wasn’t a feint as much as a tactical withdrawal. “Jenny wanted to buy…”

  Yael’s chin jutted forward in challenge.

  “Why would she bring you along?”

  “Revenge. Jenny hates me, you know?”

  Yael’s eyes narrowed, weighing me out before she took me to pieces.

  “I can believe that. I don’t buy it, though. She must have a reason for bringing you along, Preston.”

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  A cartoon flat-line frown.

  “I can’t find her.”

  “Yeah. She does that.”

  “Don’t talk like you know her.” Yael bristled shortly, and then put it aside. “Tell me why you were here.”

  Nothing for it. I gave the game away.

  “Jenny buys drugs here; regularly, I guess. Another customer’s odd behavior came up in conversation with her dealer. The customer showed up bloody and deranged the night Sumire was attacked.”

  “Well?” Yael’s cheeks flushed with the excitement of discovery. “Who was the customer?”

  “Your tutor,” I said, with a wide and unintentional grin. “Elijah Pickman.”

  Her jaw dropped, and the cat nudged her hand with her head, disappointed at the abrupt loss of attention. The effect was comical, but it seemed the wrong time to laugh. Besides, teenage girls are so sensitive.

  “Why…would Elijah buy drugs?”

  “You aren’t worried about the blood and the arm-stealing?”

  “Of course!” Yael seemed offended. “It’s not entirely…unexpected, however.”

  It was my turn to stare.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that Elijah was on my list, too, Preston,” Yael said, with an offhanded nonchalance. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

  The grade was steeper than I remembered, but the houses were every bit as old and magnificent. The street smelled of wet hardwood and confiner needles that we crushed underfoot. Clouds loitered on the outskirts of the sky, working up the courage for an attack on the broad plain of faded blue overhead.

  “This street makes me nervous.”

  Yael looked up at the crown of Prospect Hill, Carver Heights winding around it like a garland, thousands tons of mud straining behind retaining walls. The foot traffic around us was brisk, polite, and affluent. Everyone was intent on getting somewhere in an efficient, but eminently reasonable manner.

  “Really? I would think Leng would be more worrisome.”

  “I’m alone in the Empty District,” Yael explained curtly. “What’s frightening about being alone?”

  I passed on that one.

  “Prospect Hill seems pleasant enough. Old houses, old money.”

  “Yes.” Yael pursed her lips as we began our ascent. “That is exactly the problem.”

  I remembered Mr. Sothoth, and his shrill insinuations. I took a stab in the dark, as one does.

  “Remind you of home?”

  Yael smiled, as if to a private joke.

  “What do you know about my home, Preston?”

  “Not much,” I admitted. “The lawyers gave me some basics. Can I trust it?”

  “Oh, yes. Mr. Sothoth and Mr. Yog have represented my family for generations.”

  My double take was comedic. It begged a response. It deserved a response.

  Yael chose not to notice.

  “You must be kidding…”

  “That’s what everyone says,” Yael complained. “Why is that? Is it a crime to keep lawyers on retainer?”

  “Not usually, but those particular lawyers…”

  “My family conducted business with the Visitors.” Yael’s tone was neutral, but there was unease swimming beneath. “No other form of representation would have been appropriate.”

  “What business did your family do with these Visitors?”

  Old pain lurked behind Yael’s carefully rehearsed smile, the kind of scar one plans a wardrobe around.

  “My family was very traditional. Women in the family were discouraged from involving themselves in business affairs.”

  “You know, I can’t help but notice that you keep using past tense.”

  “Yes.” Yael gave me a clear-eyed nod. “I do.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “You could say that. How much do you know about the Night Market, Preston?”

  Prospect Hill was exposed to the wind off the ocean, which was sporadic but powerful, and as we progress, I was forced to pull my jacket back on.

  “I was just introduced to it the other night by Snowball.”

  Yael nodded.

  “I thought as much. The Night Market, as you may know, operates on the barter system.”

  I did not know, but saw no need to interrupt Yael.

  “You would be surprised what can be bought and sold – no matter how jaded you consider yourself. Not long after I arrived in the Nameless City, I was brought to the Night Market, in an attempt to resolve certain
personal difficulties. In order to regain something I had lost,” Yael mused, “I had to give up something else. I gave up my past, Preston; my home, my family, the city where I grew up. Lost to me forever.”

  “Are you saying it blew up, or something? Because you made a wish?”

  She gave me a look of withering contempt. I think that was the first time I really made Yael mad.

  “Don’t be absurd! No! My family is as they always were. They don’t even miss me, I’m sure. Roanoke is the same. It simply isn’t mine anymore.”

  We started up the last incline, and the houses on our right disappeared as the slope steepened. The ocean was quiet, a dark mirror grudgingly reflecting sunlight. The tide was in, the city in the harbor completely submerged.

  The absence of seagull cries tugged at me in an obscure and sentimental way. They roosted in a few overlooked crannies at the Institute, the only free things, as well as living reminders of the existence of the ocean.

  “I think that I understand.”

  Yael glanced over at me to see if I was making fun. She seemed pleased with the results of her survey.

  “That’s good. I thought you would say otherwise.”

  The last leg of the climb silenced both of us. I was out of breath by the time we made it to the cul-de-sac up top, the curved shadow of Constance Diem’s observatory enveloping the plaza below.

  “You told me about this.”

  “The observatory. Dawes said it belonged to Holly’s older sister, back when she still lived in the Nameless City…”

  “That must be wrong, though,” Yael said, toying with the zipper on her windbreaker. “How could she leave? No one ever leaves.”

  I was going to object on principal, but that’s what assholes do. I didn’t subscribe to the prevalent notion that there was no exit to the Nameless City, but had no real counter argument, other than the basic principles of reality.

  “What about a Black Train?”

  “I doubt it. Everyone believes Madeleine Diem left the Nameless City because Holly told them as much.”

  “Hold on. That’s…”

  “I know. I didn’t – don’t – like it, either. You have to admit that it is the most likely answer, though. Think about it – if you believe Holly’s story, Madeleine left the Nameless City after she took revenge on Constance. Why would Madeleine leave the city, when she had just defeated her hated rival? She supposedly spent years with the Drowned Empress, serving as regent and biding her time beneath the waves. Why depart after her triumph was complete?”