Curse of the Necronomicon (The Myth Hunter Book 3)

by Percival Constantine

  Elisa cast an angered glare at Asami. “Jason Shroud is not my boyfriend.”

  The kitsune shrugged. “Just sayin’, the two of you seemed to get along pretty well in Hong Kong…”

  “Can we leave Shroud out of this?” asked Elisa. “This doesn’t concern him or the Freemasons.”

  “Good point.” Asami examined her nails as she spoke. “Might upset the apple cart if you go off on a hunt for your ex.”

  “And Lucas is not my ex!”

  “If you say so…”

  “We were partners.”

  Asami smirked. “Is that what you crazy kids are calling it these days?”

  Max sighed and settled in the leather chair. He draped his arms across the rests. “How legitimate is this any way? The world is full of bored, rich people trying to acquire some status symbol. Sebastian Clarke could easily be like them.”

  “There’s something different about him. I can’t explain it, but I got the sense that he really believed in the Necronomicon’s existence,” said Elisa.

  “Yes, it’s called delusion,” said Max.

  “Not necessarily.” Asami moved her feet off the sofa and sat up straight. “I’ve never run across the Necronomicon myself, but I’ve definitely seen my share of weird. I’m pretty much walking proof that things aren’t always what they seem.”

  “Think about the Order, Max. Wade mentioned something about old gods wiping out the Naa’cal and shuttling Lemuria off into that parallel dimension. Despotic, cosmic beings out to destroy mankind kind of jives with Lovecraft’s fiction,” said Elisa.

  Max shook his head. “You’re reaching.”

  “Maybe not,” said Asami. “When I was in Japan, I had a run-in with some vengeful god types. From what Laki could dig up about it, seemed to be pretty ominous. The Necronomicon can summon these old gods, right? Would it be such a waste of time to see if it’s real and then destroy it? A little fire prevention could be worth the effort.”

  “Wait,” said Max, holding up his hand. “You mean refusing the job but seeking out the Necronomicon any way?”

  “That’s the plan,” said Elisa. “Clarke has deep pockets, but whether or not the Necronomicon is real, I don’t trust anyone who wants it. And I don’t for a second buy his ‘rare book collector’ cover.”

  “And Davalos?” asked Max.

  “The Order told him to bring me in after Lemuria. He let me go, putting himself at great risk,” said Elisa. “Whether you like it or not, I owe him my life. The second I turn down this job, Clarke’s going to hire someone else to find Lucas. Someone who won’t be as understanding as me. Like the Montenegro sisters or that Diamondback character out of Denbrook.”

  Max rose from his chair and slid his hands into his pockets. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “There’s something else. I had a meeting with Art Siminsky while you were making new friends.”

  “The Dean?” asked Elisa. “About what?”

  “About you.” Max groaned. “Your position at Burroughs is at risk, Elisa. He’s scheduling a review by the faculty board to go over your history. Your frequent absences, your lack of scholarly work… It’s raising eyebrows.”

  Asami scoffed. “Big freaking deal. She doesn’t belong in a lecture hall any way. She should be out there in the field.”

  “Maybe if she wants to be a mercenary again, but Elisa’s grown beyond that,” said Max. “This is what I’ve done for most of my life. As did Robert. We were able to find a balance in our lives.”

  The mention of her father’s name struck a chord within Elisa. Max had pulled a lot of strings to get her the position at Burroughs University and if she couldn’t pass this review and stay onboard, it would reflect poorly on him. More than that, she didn’t want to go back to working as a mercenary, but she would need some means of income to supplement her myth hunting.

  “I can do both,” she said. “But I’ll need help.”

  “That’s why you keep me around, isn’t it?” asked Asami. “Whatever you need done, I can do.”

  “Not just you.” She looked at Max and he pointed a finger at her.

  “No.”

  “Max…”

  “I’m not going to get involved in this,” said Max, turning his back to her.

  Elisa stood and walked over to him. “Please. If the Necronomicon is real, we’ll need some lead on it. There’s a Lovecraft scholar at Burroughs, isn’t there?”

  “Yes, Wayne Fisher,” said Max.

  “All I’m asking is you talk to him.”

  “Why can’t you do it?” asked Max.

  “Because I’m going to track down Lucas,” said Elisa. “Whether or not the Necronomicon is real, Lucas has lost contact. I don’t think Clarke is the forgiving sort. And more than that, the Order may have found him. I need to repay my debt to him. Listen, if all goes well, I’ll be back soon and the Necronomicon will turn out to be nothing more than imagination, just like you said.”

  “I don’t like it…”

  “Just talk to Fisher. If there’s something to investigate, Asami can take it from there.” She looked to her side at the kitsune. “Right?”

  “Like I said, whatever you need done.”

  Elisa turned back to Max. “See? Just please, give me this week. You won’t be disappointed.”

  Max sighed. “I’ll talk to Fisher. But Elisa, if you blow this chance to save your job, I won’t go to bat for you. What you’re planning to do could have severe consequences on your academic career.”

  “And doing nothing could have even worse consequences. Not only for my career but for a man I owe my life to.”

  “Finish this. If it turns out to be a wild goose chase, I want you back here immediately. Don’t blow this opportunity for yourself. You may not get another chance.”

  Elisa nodded. “You won’t be disappointed, I promise.”

  “I’ve heard that before…” said Max. “Just how are you planning to find Davalos? If Clarke hasn’t been able to locate him yet with his resources, what can you do?”

  “You forget, I know who Lucas goes to when he needs help,” said Elisa.

  Max huffed. “Stubby. Should have figured.”

  “If anyone knows where Lucas is hiding out, it’s him,” said Elisa.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Scott Sheen once ran an antique shop, but that was just a cover for his real business, acting as an information broker for myth hunters. The nickname Stubby came about due to his short stature. He acted as a middle man, connecting potential clients who sought out rare artifacts or creatures with the myth hunters who could deliver them. The antique shop was destroyed in an explosion by a ruthless myth hunter by the name of Seth, who was seeking information on the whereabouts of both Elisa and Lucas. Not only did Seth take away Stubby’s store, but also his right hand, severing it with a single swipe of his blade.

  Now, Stubby operated out of his townhouse in a suburb of Lester City. At least until he could rebuild his shop. He rose from the reclining chair in his living room in front of his television set and took the tumbler glass from the table beside it, the leftover ice from his drink clinking as he walked into the adjoining room. Once he flicked the light switch, he nearly got a heart attack from the uninvited guest who sat on one of the stools in front of his wet bar.

  “Goddammit, Hill,” he muttered. “Don’t you ever knock like a normal person?”

  “You know me,” said Elisa. “I like the dramatic entrances.”

  “No shit.” Stubby walked behind the bar and pulled open a freezer beneath the sink. He grabbed several ice cubes and dropped them in his glass as he placed it on the counter. “Want a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  “Gin and tonic still your poison?”

  Elisa gave a nod. Stubby took a fresh glass from a cabinet behind the bar and filled it with ice. He poured some gin into each and then filled the remainder with tonic water and set a glass in front of his guest.

  “Finish it and get out.”

  “Stubby…”


  “Nickname’s more appropriate now than ever, ain’t it?” He held up his prosthetic hand.

  “I’m real sorry about what happened to you. But it’s not like I knew Seth was on my trail.”

  Stubby pointed at her with the fake hand. “You pushed me for info on Davalos and look what it got me! Then I don’t hear word one from you after! Not so much as a ‘sorry you got your hand chopped off,’ or even a goddamn fruit basket!”

  Elisa sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner. There wasn’t much downtime before I had to go off on another job. That led to quite a bit of craziness in Hong Kong.”

  Stubby grumbled before sipping his drink.

  “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  He nodded. “Sure. An’ I bet it’s ‘cause you need something, ain’t it?”

  Elisa looked down at her drink, holding it from the top of the glass and twirling it a little.

  Stubby took another drink. “That’s what I thought. So come out with it. What is it this time?”

  “It’s actually not all that different from last time.” Elisa downed a healthy portion of her gin and tonic, a satisfactory ‘ahh’ escaping her mouth. “I’m looking for Lucas.”

  Stubby huffed. “Figures.”

  “He had me at gunpoint after the Lemuria job, could have taken me back to the Order. But he didn’t. Let me go free. At great risk to himself.”

  “Yeah, I know the story,” said Stubby. “Went on the run after that.”

  “Right, but someone found him and hired him for a job. Now, he’s gone missing and his employer asked me to find him.”

  “Who?”

  “Sebastian Clarke. You know him?” asked Elisa.

  Stubby nodded. “By reputation, sure. He’s a pretty secretive guy, but his people have asked me to put him in contact with myth hunters a few times seeking out rare books.”

  “What books are we talking?”

  Stubby shrugged. “Typical stuff. Grimoires an’ the like.”

  “He offered Lucas a mil if he could find the Necronomicon. Paid him half in advance.”

  “Hah!” Stubby shook his head as he drank. “Dumb shit.”

  “Except Lucas disappeared. No word on his whereabouts. That leaves one of two possibilities. Either the Order finally tracked him down for his betrayal or he ran off.”

  “Five hundred thou’s a pretty good payday for no work, especially if you’re on the run.”

  “My point exactly,” said Elisa. “There’s not much evidence about the existence of the Necronomicon so I wouldn’t put it past Lucas to take the money and run.”

  “So why even bother?” asked Stubby. “Sounds like Davalos made his bed an’ now he’s gotta sleep in it.”

  “I agree—if that’s what happened.”

  Stubby drained the rest of his glass and made himself a fresh drink. He circled around the bar and climbed onto the stool beside Elisa. “So you think the Order could have grabbed him?”

  “It’s possible,” she said. “They couldn’t have been too happy after he let me go free. I destroyed the secrets of Lemuria to prevent both Seth and the Order from getting their hands on them, and Lucas let me get away with it. Can’t imagine them being very happy about that.”

  Stubby took a drink. “Listen kid, I know you’ve got a soft spot for him ‘cause of the old days—”

  Elisa held up her glass, her index finger pointing at Stubby. “I’m gonna stop you right there. There’s no lost love between Lucas Davalos and me. I owe him a debt, period. And if he’s in trouble, then this is how I clear it.”

  Stubby snickered. “That almost sounded convincing.”

  Elisa took another drink. “You think I’m lying to you?”

  “Nah, I think you’re lyin’ to yourself,” he said. “Don’t forget, I ran you both when you were partners. Could barely keep your hands off each other. That don’t just disappear.”

  Elisa rolled her eyes. “I was a stupid kid, okay? I made mistakes. Now are you going to help me or are you only interested in trips down memory lane?”

  Stubby narrowed his eyes. “I still haven’t figured out yet if I’ve forgiven you for the last time I helped you out.” He held up the prosthetic hand once again for emphasis.

  “Regardless of what’s happened in the past, you know as well as I do that there’s a chance Lucas could be in danger. And despite your attitude, I know you think of him as a friend. You also know that if he’s gotten himself into trouble, I’m the only one who can get him out.”

  Stubby considered her words as he sipped his drink. “And what do you think Clarke will do to him once he finds him?”

  “Clarke doesn’t have to know. I turned down the job, but if Lucas needs my help, I need to know where to find him.”

  He stood from the stool and walked towards another room. “Fine, come with me.”

  Elisa took her drink and followed him into the next room. Aside from the living room, the other room connected to the bar was Stubby’s study. Inside were bookcases lining the walls and a desk pushed up against the window with three computer monitors. Stubby sat in the chair and Elisa stared over his shoulder.

  “Davalos did get in touch with me recently, needed a new identity,” he said. “I got him set up with a new passport as Alan Andrews. A few fake credit cards, too.”

  Stubby did some searching in the computer, tracking recent charges made to the card. “There you go. Looks like him or someone with the card rented a hotel room.”

  “Where at?”

  Stubby grinned. “Gotta hand it to the guy, he knows how to go on the run in style.” He pointed at the screen.

  Elisa looked at the charge Stubby pointed to. “Tahiti?”

  “If you wanna find Davalos, that seems like the best place to start.”

  She finished the rest of the drink and set the glass down on the desk. Stubby instantly grabbed it and shoved it back into her hand. “Hey, watch it! You see a coaster here?”

  “Any chance Clarke could have found this?” asked Elisa.

  “Not unless he knows what identity to look for. And given that he tried to tap you to find Davalos, I’m guessing he doesn’t.”

  Elisa patted Stubby on his shoulder. “Thanks, I owe you one.”

  “What about the other thing?” asked Stubby. “The Necronomicon?”

  “I’ve got people looking into it. If there’s something to find, they’ll find it. Until then, I need to track down Lucas.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Wayne Fisher stood facing the whiteboard at the front of the classroom as the students filed out. He looked at his handwriting as he began to erase the board, wondering—and not for the first time—just whether or not the students were actually capable of reading his chicken-scratches.

  Max stood just outside the door until the last student left before making his entrance, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his khaki slacks. “Wayne.”

  Fisher looked from the board and smiled. “Max! What brings you to my little corner?” He finished cleaning the board and dropped the eraser in the tray, turning to face his colleague. Fisher offered his hand and Max shook it.

  “Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure.” Fisher went to the podium to gather his lecture notes and book. “We should probably clear out of here, though. Brodsky’s got a class here in ten minutes and he’s kind of a prick if I’m lingering in the room. Walk with me?”

  Max nodded and moved to the door. Fisher placed his materials in his satchel and slung it over one shoulder and the two professors entered the corridor side-by-side. Students walked past them in the hall, some of them offering quick pleasantries or a smile or nod.

  “Good class?” asked Max.

  “Horror Fiction,” said Fisher. “So what can I do for you?”

  “You’re the best person to teach that class. I understand you did your dissertation on Lovecraft?”

  “I did. Quite a fascinating character in his own right. But I’m sure you’re not interested in me boring
you about him.”

  “Actually, that’s exactly why I’m here,” said Max.

  Fisher cast a quick glance. “Oh?”

  “I’m involved in a…research project at the moment, and Lovecraft’s fiction might play a role in it. Thought I could use you as a starting point,” said Max.

  “Absolutely,” said Fisher. “Come on, my office is just down the hall.”

  Fisher led Max to a door with WAYNE FISHER, PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH written on the fogged glass. Fisher opened the door and gestured for Max to enter first. He followed behind and set his satchel down to rest at the side of his desk. Max sat in the chair in front of the desk and looked at some of the books on the shelves. Most of them were fiction anthologies with some literary criticism books and several novels.

  “So, Lovecraft?” asked Wayne, settling into his chair.

  Max sighed. “This…may sound a bit strange to ask, but please bear with me. It’s not so much about Lovecraft himself, but something he wrote about.”

  A knowing grin spread across Fisher’s wrinkled face. “Let me guess—the Necronomicon.”

  Max cautiously chuckled. “How’d you know?”

  Fisher ran his hands through his chin-length, graying hair. “Every semester, I get at least one student ask me about it. Whether or not I think it’s real or not. Sometimes they even bring me worn copies they picked up online to see if it’s the real thing.”

  “And?”

  Now Fisher laughed. “Of course not. There are lots of fake Necronomicons out there, but Lovecraft always maintained that it was pure fiction.”

  “So there’s no chance the Necronomicon Lovecraft wrote about is real?”

  Fisher’s smile started to fade. “This sounds like a pretty strange research project, Max. What exactly is it you’re looking into?”

  Max crossed his legs. “I’m studying the mythology behind it. As you well know, the Necronomicon has developed a legend of its own. So I’m exploring its relationship to past mythology as a way to show how these stories evolve and change over the years.”