THAT DARN SQUID GOD

by Nick Pollotta

  Must be either a tavern or a temple , the squid decided wisely.

  "Hey," a pieman cried, "h'its a bloody great octofish!"

  Squinting in an attempt to focus her vision, a charwoman gave a hiccup in disagreement. "Nyah, yawr balmy, mate. It's one'a them things they makes chutney outta."

  "Oh!" the pieman cried, very impressed. "I never seen a whole one'a them. How do they get 'em into them 'ittle jars?"

  "I dunno. Hammers, maybe."

  "Think it came from the circus?"

  Annoyed at their cavalier attitude, the Squid God shot a pillar of flame into the sky, expecting the primitive humans to faint from sheer terror.

  Instead, the crowd broke into applause and started cheering.

  This gave the demon pause. In its long absence, humanity had obviously become remarkably sophisticated. They were no longer easily swayed by the simple tricks that had served it so well in Dutar. Okay, fair enough.

  Hooting like a thousand tortured banshees, the Squid God expanded its eyes and sent out twin death rays to sweep the crowd. Dozens of people exploded into vapor at the contact, and the rest ran shrieking into the night, their cries only adding to the chain of chaos radiating throughout the city.

  Watching the growing pandemonium, the Squid God used the tip of a tentacle to wipe away a bead of sweat from its brow. Whew! Tough crowd.

  Scooping a few of the least dead humans into its mouth, the Squid God messily munched on the bodies as it wriggled along searching for something tastier. The colossal demon paused at the sight of a burnt skeleton of a wooden vessel that was large enough to accommodate a hundred Squid Gods. After a minute of scratching its head, the squid gave a rippling shrug of confusion and moved on. How very odd. He would have to remember to ask somebody about that.

  ***

  In the kitchen of the museum, Mary Einstein clumsily lit the gas stove and set the kettle on the flame. Walking with a cast on her left leg was most inconvenient, but she had been very fortunate to receive only a broken bone in the firefight with the squiddies. Most of the other ladies had been seriously wounded and required surgical attention. However, every one of the Squid God worshipers had been killed, except for one fellow disguised as William Owen who escaped with that big black pot of blood. Why in the world the squiddies wanted that, Mary had no idea, but she was sure that it boded ill for England.

  For the past two nights, Mary and the few undamaged survivors of the London Explorers Club Ladies' Auxiliary had stood guard in the museum, but there had been no further attacks. Perhaps there were no more Squid God worshipers in England, or at least in London. Thankfully, ever since the appearance of the burning Ark, the police had established a protective cordon around the museum. Ah well, better late than never.

  Pouring herself a nice cup of tea, Mary started to spoon in some sugar, but then paused to listen. Had there just been a knock at the side door? Katrina was in town buying some new tigers, and Lady Danvers was standing guard on the rooftop with the portable cannon she called an express rifle, so Mary was alone for the moment. Even with the army of police constables outside, this would be a prime time for the squiddies to attack again.

  Again the knock came at the back door, much louder this time.

  Lifting the Remington 12 gauge shotgun, Mary warily stomped across the kitchen. "Who is it?" she called out sweetly, trying to sound old and frail as she cocked back the hammers on the shotgun.

  "Darling, it's us!" the voice of Lord Carstairs called.

  Having been fooled that way before, Mary was supremely suspicious. That certainly sounded like her Benjamin, but there was something different about the voice. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and shoot me for being an idiot, as Uncle likes to say.

  Tightening her grip on the shotgun, Mary carefully flipped over the conversation hatch and peered outside. Dark shadows masked two people standing under the rose arbor. The size and shape of them were correct for her uncle and Lord Carstairs, but there was something odd about their clothing.

  "Step into the light," she demanded.

  "Actually, I would much rather not," Lord Carstairs demurred.

  "That was not a request, sir," Mary stated in a dangerous tone, leveling the shotgun out the hatch.

  Raising his hands in surrender, Lord Carstairs stepped quickly to the hatch and placed his face in the opening. Snatching the man's nose, Mary tugged hard, until his eyebrows rose in consternation.

  "Oh, I do say," Carstairs murmured.

  Releasing the noble proboscis, Mary lowered the shotgun and placed a hand on the bolt, but paused once more. "How did you get past the police?" she demanded.

  "Hell's bells, girl, I own this property!" Professor Einstein snapped from the shadows. "Why shouldn't they let me pass?"

  "Although they did have a bloody good laugh," Carstairs added with a grumble. "Cheeky bounders."

  The professor gave a snort. "Actually, we're the cheeky ones, lad."

  "How very droll," the lord drawled sarcastically, glancing sideways. "Have you ever considered vaudeville, sir?"

  Scowling, Mary kept her hand on the bolt. Now what was that nonsense all about? Just because it looked and felt like the men could not be considered conclusive proof of identity against the camouflage of a magical glamour.

  "What's my middle name?" she demanded, releasing the bolt and fingering the trigger on the weapon.

  "You have two, Elizabeth and Victoria," Professor Einstein snapped in reply, going on tiptoes to peek through the hole. "Both coming from your cousin's step-daughter who died of the flu on your second birthday! There is a scar on your left buttock resembling Bolivia from where the dog bit you, and I once caught you making sand castles inside the Arc of the Covenant. Now open the damn door, please. We're freezing out here!"

  Good enough! Lowering the shotgun, Mary pulled back the bolt. "Thank God, you're both alive!" she cried, stiffly limping aside to swing the door wide. "I have been so worried about you both!"

  Moving fast, the two men squeezed through the narrow opening, dashed past Mary, and sprinted across the kitchen. Automatically assuming that they were being pursued, the woman slammed the door, threw the deadbolt, turned, screamed, and spun about again.

  "You're naked!" Mary shouted at the wallpaper.

  "Semi-naked," Lord Carstairs corrected, sounding very embarrassed.

  "Sorry, lass," the professor said in a husky tone. "Our lack of clothing is entirely an accident of our travels."

  There came scurrying sounds, muffled grunts, and the rattle of dishes.

  "My dear, your leg!" Lord Carstairs cried out, from the other side of the room. "Are you all right?"

  Using the shotgun as a crutch, Mary waved the trifle aside. "A simple fracture of the tibia. Nothing serious."

  "Really?"

  "Well, not serious for me. But it cost the Squid God some twenty worshipers who are now permanent guests of the Royal London Morgue!"

  "Good show, lass!" Professor Einstein added. "See, lad? I told you that she was a wonderful curate!"

  "Indeed you did, sir."

  "Well, I had help," Mary started to explain, while studying the design of the wallpaper. "Decent, yet?"

  "Semi-decent," Lord Carstairs rumbled.

  Turning about very slowly, Mary relaxed slightly at the sight of her uncle covered in one of Katrina's cooking aprons, while Lord Carstairs had draped himself with the tablecloth in the manner of a Greek toga. The dishes on the kitchen table were still trembling from his nimble extraction.

  Although thrilled by their return, Mary started to speak, but then found that she could only stare at her uncle. Or rather, whoever this was that sort of resembled her esteemed relative.

  "Uncle Felix?" Mary asked hesitantly, swinging her cast forward to step awkwardly toward the man.

  "Something wrong, niece?" Professor Einstein asked timidly, trying to shift the apron to hide his secret tattoo. He always knew that drunken night in the West End would came back to haunt him one day. Damn Dr. H
yde and his silly chemical experiments!

  "Your hair!" Mary said, gesturing with a vague wave. "And your face!"

  "Yes, what about it?" he demanded, rolling his eyes in an effort to look at his own features.

  Reaching into a pocket of her dress, the woman pulled out a small mirror and passed it over. Examining himself in the looking glass, the professor gasped in surprise. His stock of white hair was now glossy black, with just a touch of silver at the temples. His features were the smooth face of a man in his early forties, and curling back a lip revealed a full set of teeth. Even the hole in his ear from being tortured in Rome was repaired! A fast glance down underneath the apron made him gasp in delight. The tattoo is gone. Hurrah!

  "How is this possible?" Professor Einstein demanded of nobody in particular.

  "Apparently, when your healing spell repaired me, sir, it also rejuvenated the caster," Lord Carstairs said, running a hand over his smooth chin. Every previous scar was gone. "No offense meant, sir, but you were a tad out of control there at the end."

  "No offense taken, lad," Einstein replied with a growing smile. "And unless I miss my guess, you've gotten those five years back as well."

  "Really?"

  "Yes!"

  "Splendid!" Overcome with joy, Lord Carstairs gave a whoop of celebration and grabbed the professor. Laughing like loons, the two explorers danced about in the kitchen, rattling the dishes in the cupboard and the silverware in the sideboard.

  "Will you two please get dressed!" Mary bellowed, covering her eyes. "This is most unseemly!"

  Lurching into action, the men dashed into the hallway and closed the hinged partition.

  "Ah, where are the spare travel bags, my dear?" the professor called out from behind the louvered doors.

  "In the washroom!" Mary answered, valiantly trying to hide a smile. "I stored the bags there with my own kit in case you summoned me to join you in the field."

  "Stout girl!" Lord Carstairs boomed in delight. There came a scuffling sound, and then that of a striking match. "Ah, I have the lamp lit, Professor!"

  "Good show, lad," Einstein said. "The washroom is this way."

  "After you, sir."

  As their voices faded, Mary carefully slid her plaster-coated leg under the table and gratefully sat down in a chair. She took a sip from her cup of tea, only to find it tepid. Then, in spite of the situation, she secretly smiled at the memory of the two partially naked men waltzing around the room. She would drink cold tea for that anytime!

  Giving the men a few moments of privacy, Mary stiffly rose, set about making sandwiches, and put a fresh kettle on the stove. When the food was ready, she stomped to the hallway door and listened. She could faintly hear the muffled grunts of men getting dressed in a hurry.

  "So wherever did you go?" Mary asked loudly. "What happened?"

  "Italy first, and then we were transported to another realm, where magic ruled instead of science," Lord Carstairs said emerging from the hallway. He was in safari khaki again, and dripping with firearms. "Aside from that, rather a dull place, actually."

  Going to his side, Mary rested a hand on his arm, and Benjamin reciprocated. For a few delicious moments, neither of them spoke. Each savored the wonder and majesty of the other's presence.

  "But Uncle is now younger?" Mary asked, breaking the spell. "And you were wounded somehow?"

  "Indeed he was, my dear, and very badly," Professor Einstein said, pushing the louvered door aside. His khaki shirt was improperly buttoned and appeared to be a size too small. But the professor also sported a small arsenal of lethal ironmongery. "Luckily, I was able to use the local magic to repair him for you."

  Suddenly aware of their scandalous position, Lord Carstairs and Mary Einstein lost their smiles and slowly looked at the professor. Although their hands still touched, Lord Carstairs blushed and cleared his throat, while Mary tried to speak, but no sound would come.

  "Yes, yes, I know, you're in love. Wonderful," the professor said irritably. "Niece, you have my permission to marry. He's a fine man."

  "Thank you…Uncle," Lord Carstairs said, removing his hand. Then the lord went down on one knee, "My darling, I know this is not the most appropriate moment…"

  "No, it most certainly is not, Bunny," Mary interrupted, gesturing at the kitchen chairs. "Try formally asking me tomorrow after we have gotten some much needed rest." Along with a ring. Men. Sheesh !Taking a seat, Mary rubbed her aching hip. "Right now, I want to hear all of the details. How did you stop the Squid God?"

  As the lord rose, the professor shuffled his boots, and the two men exchanged covert glances.

  "You did stop it," Mary demanded, tapping the shoe on her good foot. "Correct?"

  A distant explosion filled the night.

  "Library," the professor said urgently.

  As quickly as possible, the three ran down the hallway and into the next room. Professor Einstein yanked back the drapes, exposing a panoramic view of London. A goodly portion of the city was on fire and, revealed in the terrible light, was a monstrous squid standing taller than Big Ben. The squid uprooted a small building and shook out the residents, who fell into its gaping maw.

  "Dear God in Heaven," Mary whispered, clutching the back of a chair for support.

  The sound of a large-bore rifle firing came from the roof of the museum, closely followed by several more reports.

  "What is that?" Professor Einstein demanded, glancing at the ceiling.

  "Sounds like a Holland & Holland .475 Nitro Express," Lord Carstairs stated, cupping an ear. "Old brass, hand loads, using the formula for cordite favored by the Explorers Club."

  "So it does, lad," Einstein murmured thoughtfully, although he could not detect any of those details. However, it did sound like a very big gun. "Niece, is Lady Danvers walking our parapet, by any chance?"

  Unable to wrest her eyes away from the view of London, Mary simply nodded in reply. "She is standing guard on the widows-walk to watch for any Squid God worshipers," Mary answered, hugging her shotgun. "I have no doubt that she was unpleasantly surprised to spot the infamous squid itself."

  With a tingling sensation in his stomach, Professor Einstein had to admit he was quite impressed. Walking the roof all by herself, eh? That Penelope Danvers is quite a woman!

  The flames from the city were growing higher, and the leviathan squid began juggling horses, popping each one into its mouth like gumdrops. Shuddering in revulsion, Lord Carstairs closed the drapes. Placing an arm about Mary, the lord tenderly helped the crippled woman back into the kitchen. A few seconds later Professor Einstein joined them, his face a grim mask.

  "It's a lot larger than it was before," he said, stumbling to the table.

  Taking command, Carstairs poured them each a hot cup of tea and everybody drank a round posthaste. It helped, but not much.

  "Any whiskey?" Lord Carstairs asked.

  Professor Einstein jerked a thumb. "In the cupboard, lad."

  "All gone," Mary countered. "Katrina used it to make a firebomb."

  "Egad, did it work?"

  "Tied to a coal oil lamp, the results were quite spectacular."

  "Good show! I really must remember that trick," the professor said, glancing about the kitchen. "By the way, where is our cook?"

  Mary turned a sullen face towards the living room. "Doing some shopping downtown."

  The professor glanced in the direction of the library as another explosion came from London.

  "Oh dear," he said softly.

  >From the roof, the H&H Nitro Express rifle fired again and again. Then something rattled down the shingles and the eaves, musically bounced off the gutters, and landed on the flagstone walk with the telltale metallic tinkling of spent ammunition.

  "What a brave woman," Professor Einstein said, peering upward. "I really should have married Penny when I had the chance, but such is luck."

  "Tommyrot!" Mary snarled, slamming down the cup and cracking the china saucer. "We make our own luck, Uncle. All right, what s
hould we do now?"

  "As I see it," the professor said, taking a bite of a cucumber sandwich, "we have two options."

  "Three," Lord Carstairs countered, buttering a steaming scone.

  "I wasn't counting running away, lad."

  "Neither was I."

  "Really? Then you go first."

  Devouring the pastry, Carstairs picked up a mug of tea and took a deep swallow. Ah, tea! For any true Englishman, it is like blood to a vampire.

  "First, we could try to return to the dimension of magic," the lord said, leaning closer. "Procure another magic book and find a way to bring it here with us. Although I personally think that plan is unworkable."

  From outside came the sound of a building crashing, followed by hundreds of screams. In response, the Nitro Express sounded in a thundering double-report of both barrels being fired at the same time.

  "I quite agree," Professor Einstein said, hunching closer. "Now as I see it, due to their ethereal nature, all demonic creatures have a material weakness - something that binds them to the physical plane. Vampires can be killed by wood. Werewolves with a silver bullet…"

  "Actually," Carstairs interrupted with a delicate a cough, and flexing the fingers of his left hand into a fist. "Werewolves have two weaknesses."

  "Really?" the professor asked. "Sounds fascinating, lad, but tell me about it later."

  "Of course."

  "Anyway, our second option would consist of systematically hitting the squid with weapons constructed of every chemical compound we have. By trial and error, we may eventually discover something useful."

  "I think it extremely unlikely that we'd discover anything soon enough to be of any benefit to London," Mary said, nervously scratching under the cast, her exposed toes wiggling in harmony. "What's our third option?"

  Draining his mug, Lord Carstairs brushed the crumbs from his shirt. "There is always the chance that the military will kill the beast. The British Army is the best equipped, most dedicated fighting force on the face of the Earth!"

  The mournful wail of a fire engine joined the cacophony of distant noises. Another boom came from the roof, followed by more rattling cartridges tossed away.