The Shoggoth Who Loved Me

by K X Douglas

  It was the first time in years that he had seen a minion of the Old Ones on Earth. Moreover, it had managed to remain undetected long enough to murder several people. If it was summoned by a human, was that person among its victims, or were they still at large?

  Perhaps it would be a good idea to have a talk with Professor Carter. That is, if I can manage to find him. Meanwhile, I’ll have to see if I can find anything useful at the library here…although I don’t think it’s very likely that I will.

  Hours later, when the college was open, Peter made his way to the library. It was small for a school library, only being two storeys, and most of the books that were relevant to his interests were on the upper floor.

  As he shuffled down each aisle between the shelves, looking at the library’s collection of old and worn books, he cursed under his breath. As he expected, much of the library’s content was basic academic fare.

  He found himself in the history section, looking through a collection of books about the Canadian confederation. One book stood out from the others; it was a folio bound in thick black leather, and unlike the others there was no title on the spine.

  Peter grabbed the book and slid it off of the shelf; he had to plant his feet and pull with both arms, for it was wedged firmly in between two other books and apparently hadn’t been moved in some time. After a good ten seconds or so, he pried it free.

  To his dismay, the book was bound shut by a heavy iron padlock, and the key was nowhere to be found. There was no title or author on the front cover, either. He tucked the book under his arm and headed to the front desk.

  There was one person currently at the front desk; it seemed that the regular schedule wasn’t in effect until the beginning of classes.

  “Excuse me?” he asked. “This book has a padlock on it. Do you have the key?”

  “A key? None of our books should have padlocks on them. What’s ISBN of the book?”

  “I, uh, I don’t think it has one. Have a look,” Peter said as he sat the book on the counter in between them.

  “Where in the hell did you find this thing? I’ve never seen a book like that outside of special collections, and usually they’re kept locked behind glass and stuff.”

  “History section.”

  “Really? Well I’ll see if there’s anything about a book with a padlock in our database.”

  She sat down at the computer and started searching. After a couple of minutes, she started muttering under her breath. She ducked under the counter, and Peter could hear the jingling of keys as she opened a drawer. She stood up again and placed a large, old-fashioned iron key on the counter.

  “It was right here! It’s weird. I don’t know why a book would be locked.”

  I can think of a few reasons…

  Peter inserted the key into the lock and turned it. He felt a click, and the lock popped open. After sliding the lock out of the metal hoops, he was able to open the book to the first page, upon which the title and author were written.

  It was a book called Von Unaussprechlichen Kulten, written by Friedrich Wilhelm von Junzt.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Huh, interesting,” Peter muttered.

  This might be just the kind of book I was looking for. What language is this, German?

  He climbed up the stairs again, searching for a quiet and secluded place to read the book. It didn’t take him long to find one; a table nestled in one of the back corners. Nobody was sitting at it currently.

  Peter opened the book past the first page and began browsing through it. He hadn’t had to read anything in German for some time, and so he had difficulty deciphering some parts of the text.

  He could, however, glean a great deal from the illustrations that accompanied the text; grandiose engravings of torture, of sacrifice, of ghastly magic and beasts from beyond the stars.

  His concentration was suddenly broken by the sound of a chair sliding out from under the table. Looking up, he saw Isabelle sitting across from him. She had set down a book and a mug of coffee.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you!” she said.

  “Don’t worry, it’s fine. Isabelle, right?”

  “Yeah. Peter? I think I remember you being at the party on Sunday?”

  “Yeah, I was there.”

  “So, what are you up to?” she asked.

  “Oh, just about to start reading this book,” he replied, holding up the hefty tome for emphasis.

  “Why’s it got a padlock on it?”

  “I really don’t know. Had to talk to someone at the front desk to get the key. They didn’t even know that the book was a part of the collection.”

  “There’s no title on the front, either. How’d you find it?”

  “It was right next to a biography on Louis Riel. Kinda hard to miss, what with how big it is.”

  “In the history section? Weird.”

  “Yeah. I was curious, so I decided to check it out and start reading it. Can’t understand much of it though, because it’s in German.”

  “Oh, you know German?”

  “A bit. Used to live there,” he said.

  “How much of the book have you understood so far? It’s a history book, right?”

  “Yeah. It’s about these secret societies in Germany. Cults dedicated to occult gods, human sacrifices, that kind of stuff.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “It’s pretty fucked up.”

  “Can I see?” she said, shuffling around to his side of the table and pulling out another chair.

  “Uh, sure.”

  She sat next to him, and they read the book together for the next half hour or so, with Peter translating what he could. Eventually, he felt her legs brush up against his under the table as she leaned closer in an attempt to get a good look at the engravings. Whenever he would turn a page, he found his hands meeting hers as she moved to do the same. The smell of shampoo filled his nostrils, and he found himself trying to guess exactly what kind of scent it was.

  Their reading session was interrupted when a drop of blood spilled onto the pages, momentarily staining the vellum and obscuring the writing. Peter looked up to face Isabelle and saw that her nose was bleeding.

  “Hey, uh, Isabelle? Are you okay? Your nose…”

  Isabelle held a hand up to her nose and brushed against it before looking at the little smear of blood that it left on her fingers.

  “What the hell?” she asked.

  “I’ll see if I can get some tissues.”

  “Shit, I dripped on the book! The librarian’s gonna kill…”

  As her voice trailed off, Peter looked down at the page where the drop of blood had fallen. It was nowhere to be seen, as if it had spontaneously evaporated.

  “Wha…what’s going on?” she asked, looking back at the blood on her hand as if to make sure that it was still there.

  Peter stood up from his seat and ran down the stairs to the front desk.

  “Hey, uh, do you…do you have any tissues?” he said to the librarian.

  The librarian pointed to the far side of the counter, and Peter took a handful of them.

  “Thanks,” he said before hurrying back up the stairs.

  Isabelle hadn’t moved from her seat. Peter gave her the tissues, and she wiped the blood from her nose.

  “Thanks, Peter. Hey, you saw the stain my blood made on the page, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Look. It’s gone now.”

  Not only was there no stain on the page, but the vellum was completely dry. It was as if no blood had been spilled on it to begin with.

  “That’s weird. Are you feeling alright?”

  “Yeah, I feel fine. Dunno what happened to make my nose start bleeding.”

  Peter closed the book and started fitting the padlock onto it.

  “You have to head out?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got plans,” he lied.

  “We should do this again…but maybe with a different book?” she said.

 
; Peter could have sworn he saw her blush slightly.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said.

  I really don’t want anyone else to read more of this book If that’s the cause of Isabelle’s nosebleed, who knows what could happen to a human if they read more of it?

  He left the library and made his way back to his dorm room, book and key in hand. Once he was there, he slid the book underneath his mattress and placed the key in a drawer in his nightstand.

  The question is: how can I keep this out of human hands without pissing off the college? It’s not like they’d be willing to part with a book like this permanently, and I can’t prove that it’s what caused Isabelle to have a nosebleed. I think I’ll have to pay Professor Carter a visit.

  Peter made absolutely sure to lock the door to his dorm room when he left, and spent nearly a minute fiddling with the door handle, dreading that he would be able to open it. He hurried to the college’s front desk. There were a couple of people already talking to the secretaries there, so he had to wait. When they moved aside, he walked up and one of the secretaries noticed him.

  “Hello, how can I help you?” the person at the desk asked.

  “I’m looking for Professor Solomon Carter’s office.”

  “Go up the stairs in the back to the third floor, you’ll find a sign when you get up there that has a directory of offices.”

  “Thank you.”

  He ascended the stairs and followed the sign down a hallway all the way to the end. A sign on the wall bore Solomon’s name. The door was open a crack, and he could hear movement on the other side.

  He knocked.

  “Yes?”

  “Professor Carter?”

  “Yes, how can I help you?”

  Peter opened the door and stepped inside.

  Solomon Carter’s office was small and cramped, having been stuffed with multiple cluttered bookshelves and a myriad of binders and stacks of paper. The blinds were drawn over the only window, and as a result it was dark except for the blue light of multiple smart devices. There was room for two people to sit at opposite sides of a small desk, if barely.

  “Professor,” Peter said, opening several mouths across his face and speaking in multiple concordant voices. “It’s me. From the river. You wanted to talk about the case?”

  “Ah, yes! Have a seat, please.”

  Once Peter sat down, Solomon offered his hand. Peter took it.

  “I should introduce myself properly. I’m Solomon Carter.”

  “Peter Nelson,” he replied.

  “You looked like you were in a hurry. Did something happen?”

  “There’s this book I found in the library when I was looking for more information on the case. Von Unauss-something Kulten, by Von Junzt. Bound in black leather, with an iron padlock.”

  “I know the book. Where in the library did you find it?”

  “The history section.”

  “Just on the shelf?”

  Peter nodded.

  “I was reading it with a friend, and when we got a few pages in, her nose started bleeding. I think the book might have some kind of adverse effect on humans.”

  “You said she only read a few pages?”

  “I was translating it for her. It’s in German. She mostly just looked at the illustrations. The blood stain sort of vanished when we weren’t looking, as if it were completely absorbed by the page.”

  Solomon bit his lip and rested his head on one hand, stroking his chin.

  “I don’t know what the devil a copy of Von Unaussprechlichen Kulten is doing in our library. It sounds like a first edition, too, which makes it even more dangerous. I can’t help but think that the book is connected to the missing and murdered people.”

  “Right, you wanted to ask me about that?”

  “Well, you mentioned that you were looking into it. I had a hunch that you might know something that I didn’t.”

  “I was at the nightclub that night, and when I went into the bathroom I saw a dead body in one of the toilet stalls. The body was impaled on a large icicle made of toilet water.”

  Solomon’s eyes went wide.

  “So that confirms that the gnoph-kei was probably the culprit in some of the murders. Since you have the book, do you think you could read through it and see if there’s a spell in there to summon gnoph-kei? I’ll have a talk with the librarian and give her some excuse for you to keep the book for an extended period of time.”

  “You think someone used this book to summon the gnoph-kei?”

  “It’s a possibility. There aren’t many such books in the area, and I know who owns most of them. Used to be that Tadhg collected them, but he had to sell some of them after an…unfortunate incident. Nonetheless, I’ve kept track of who he sold the books to, and fortunately none of those people have resold them.”

  “Yeah, he killed someone. His daughter told me about it, and I looked it up on the internet.”

  Solomon sighed.

  “The man’s more than a bit unhinged. That’s to be expected of anyone who spends too much time looking into these things.”

  “Er, speaking of which, Professor, I’m surprised to see that you haven’t started bleeding after seeing a glimpse of my true form.”

  “Oh, I’m a bit inured to things of that nature now,” Solomon said. His face broke out into a ghastly un-smile.

  “I didn’t know it was possible for a human to become inured. You’ve had a few encounters with creatures that serve the Old Ones?”

  “Oh, I’ve encountered one of the Old Ones themselves. One by the name of Hastur. My colleagues and I, we killed him.”

  Peter adopted an expression of utter shock.

  “You killed Hastur? How?”

  “A frankly ridiculous amount of TNT. But that’s a story for another day. Have a look through that tome and let me know if you find anything.”

  “I will,” Peter said.

  He walked out of the office and back towards his dorm room. When he arrived, he fiddled with the door before unlocking it to make sure that it was still indeed locked.

  Good, looks like nobody broke in. Not that many people know that I have the book, but you can never be too careful.

  After unlocking the door, Peter stepped inside and locked the door behind him. For a moment he contemplated moving some furniture to bar the door before realizing that he didn’t exactly have any extra furniture to move.

  He pulled out the book from under his mattress and unlocked it. Walking over to the small table next to his fridge, he brushed things aside to make room and set the book down.

  I don’t really know much about magic, and my German isn’t very good, but I should be able to just skim through the book and find any mention of ‘gnoph-kei’.

  Unfortunately, the book was massive, and the print was small. He spent the better part of the rest of the day bent over it, combing through thousands upon thousands of words, many of which he didn’t understand. There were engraved diagrams spaced throughout the book depicting more of the usual fare.

  By the time he had made his way throughout approximately a third of the book, it was dark out and he was well and truly exhausted. It was as if his vitality had been drained away. He climbed into bed and zoned out.

  When Peter awoke, he lay on his back on damp soil, looking up at a sickly green sky. He sat up and looked around; he could see the distant horizon in all directions. Most of what lay around him was a barren and lifeless landscape of soil and rock, but he could hear the splashing of the tide in the distance.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  He sat up and began walking towards the sound, hoping to find water. There was no sun in the sky, so he had no way to measure the passage of time. After a while, he reached the shore, and was met with a vast ocean of green slime.

  On the other side of the ocean Peter could see what he thought were buildings of some kind. It may have been a city, but it did not look like any city that humans had built. A flock of some sort of creature flew in the skies above; from his c
urrent distance he couldn’t tell if they were birds, or insects, or something altogether different.

  They were flying towards him. He wasn’t sure how exactly they could see him from that distance, or why they were looking in his direction in the first place. Though it seemed as if they were kilometres away, they reached him within minutes and began to swarm around him.

  The creatures were about the size of a human. They had segmented, arthropod bodies with eight limbs, six of which were hairy and insect-like. They had two forelimbs that ended in crab-like claws, and two membranous wings that protruded from their backs which allowed them to fly. In the place where the head would be on most earthly creatures, was a bulb of flesh covered in antennae which resembled the cilia within a human body.

  They flew up close to him and began prodding at him with their claws, as if to make sure that he was real. His flesh reacted as a human’s would, breaking open in some spots and oozing red blood. Eventually the creatures resorted to directly slicing him open so that his bones were exposed and his muscles began to fall apart.

  Peter woke up in a cold sweat. His heart was pounding.

  Was I dreaming? Why was I sleeping to begin with?

  He climbed out of bed and peered through the window. It was still dark outside. When he looked at the clock on his nightstand, he saw that only a couple of hours had passed.

  Right. The book!

  He reached under his mattress and pulled the hefty grimoire out, setting it on the table. He unlocked it and flipped to the page where he had left off.

  I wonder if Isabelle had a similar dream? Something like that would probably terrify a human.

  As he skimmed his way further into the book, he came across a diagram depicting one of the creatures that had appeared in his dream with frightening accuracy. As far as he could tell, the book referred to the beast as a ‘”mi-go”, and they were inhabitants of some faraway planet.

  The place I saw in my dream was probably their homeworld. I’ll look into that after I make my way through the book and possibly find the spell to summon a gnoph-kei.

  His second reading session didn’t last quite as long as the first one. Again, he felt unusually tired, and he locked the book up without having found what he was looking for. He looked up from the table and saw that the sun was just rising. Unfortunately, it was pouring rain outside, and the sky was overcast.