“Indeed, Doctor.” The man Abraham called ‘Detective’ replied. “I trust your trip was a restful one, I’ve always found the rhythm of a locomotive soothing, myself.” Well, the Detective and I did not share the same idea of soothing. I for one found the ride nerve-shatteringly claustrophobic and this is coming from someone who spends a great deal of their time inside a pack of pointy sticks.
“Impressive. Vhat gave it avay?” asked Abraham.
“Ticket stub, bottom right pocket of your jacket.” said the Detective matter-of-factly.
“Ah! Ja. Ja,” My master nodded and then after a moments pause continued, “an interesting time to visit London, is it not? I had just caught vind of this tragedy mere moments after my arrival. Such a shame.” he frowned and turned his eyes to the floor.
“Margaret Hawthorne. Aged twenty-two. I suspect the cause of death was exsanguination.”
“Vhere there any vounds upon the body? Needle marks or punctures, most likely to be found upon the neck, the breasts or the inner thighs.”
“Two such wounds, spaced an inch and a half apart and piercing to a depth of three quarters of an inch, located as you have said, on her neck.”
At that my master leaned forward to brush the dead girl’s long curly hair out of the way and took a closer look at the miniscule wounds. Abraham let out a tight lipped hum. “It is as I feared.”
“Tell me, Doctor, what would you do?”
“There is little choice in vhat the next step must be now. There is still vun treatment that may help this poor soul.”
“’Elp ‘er? You’ve got to be bleedin’ mad, sir. She’s still as a coffin nail. There’s naught to be done for ‘er now save catchin’ the bastard what did this!” The voice of the constable rang up from the hallway. The Detective and Abraham turned their attention his way for a moment but that was all the mind they gave him.
“The treatment, sir?” The Detective prodded.
“To have this girl moved to a secure location. I vill return mit my post mortem knives.”
“I don’t believe this, she don’t need an autopsy! We know ‘ow she bloody died! The needle marks on ‘er neck say as much!” The constable interjected again and I could see a flash of annoyance on the cool exterior of the Detective. My master was used to skeptics though, it barely registered on his stern, sorrowful features.
“If you are quite done with your inane ejaculations, there are men attempting to work here. I have long been a friend of the Yard, but I swear to you I will abandon this endeavour if you so much as utter another word, constable…. Forgive me, you needn’t have gotten such a welcome as this, Doctor.” the Detective sighed. “No, not an autopsy; you want to cut off her head and remove her heart.”
“Ja.” My master whispered accompanied by a questioning raise of the brow and a series of nods.
“Your reputation does precede you, sir. Alright. I shall have it arranged. With the caveat that I be allowed to attend the dismemberment.”
“Certainly. Vun must alvays have an assistant to ensure that the job is finished. I must admit…I did not expect you to agree to what some say is a very drastic, very morbid course of action, so readily. You are a believer?” Abraham asked. It was rare for him to find someone that shared his ideas on certain nocturnal predators of man.
“I have seen much these past weeks to lend credence to certain theories that fit a bit too well when one steps into darker – some would say, more fanciful – reaches. Now that I see these things have caught your interest as well… there is little reason in straying away from this particular path of investigation.” The Detective led Abraham out of the death-smelling room and down the stairs. Somewhere in our descent we were joined by a huskier man with a well groomed mustache that – by the way the Detective regarded him – I thought to be his friend.
“You speak of my arrival as if it is a timely thing, mein freund. But in truth I am very late to London. My only hope is that I might still make a difference.” A long frown contorted my master’s face. He was right, we were far too late in our arrival. The death of the moon had already passed, the players had arranged themselves, the site had been set. In all the Games that I had witnessed I had never seen an entry like this… but then the will of men had as much to do with such things as fate or God – or gods. Abraham was a very willful man.
“Interesting,” the Detective said. “I would be happy to trade information with you. I would like to know a bit more about these creatures your purported to hunt. In return I shall bring you to speed with regards to certain individuals and events that I feel are suspect.”
“Das is very generous, Detective. I vould be happy to share my knowledge of such matters.” We were outside on the front stoop of the building when Abraham, the Detective and his companion shared a smoke, my master telling them to be on the lookout for symptoms of sudden anemia and consumption amongst comely young women. That would be the surest sign of his presence.
“The body will be at the Yard, Doctor. When shall I meet you?” asked the Detective once the cigars had been finished.
“Three. In the morning.” Abraham responded.
“The witching hour.”
“Very gut, Detective. You are already avare of a few things. That vill serve to grease the vheels, ja?”
“I thought it impolite to say so in front of the constabulary, but… your cock is showing.” The Detective canted his head in my direction and I felt my master smooth down the leather flap over my beak so that I was trapped in the pointy, garlic-stinking darkness again.
“Ah…an old man’s foible… ve had only just arrived. I barely had time to set up mein room! I do look forward to speaking mit you again, Detective. Until the vitching hour is upon us, auf wiedersehen.” Abraham hurried away. I could tell because the pointy sticks were moving faster and angrier than before.
October 17-18
By the time we returned home I was exhausted. Even the sharp jabs of wood weren’t enough to keep me from dozing off within the comforting warmth of the satchel. I heard the door shutting behind Abraham and stirred. I knew I had to stay awake for just a few more minutes, it would be midnight soon and there would be much to talk about. My master set his satchel down upon the table and opened the flap. He helped me out of the confines and cradled me in his palms before setting me down onto the ground. I offered him a quick nod of my head before I stretched my wings to the side and took a few strutting steps around our new space. You can’t really know a place until you’ve gotten up high and seen it all at once, but that would have to wait until tomorrow morning. I’d have to be satisfied with just a walk until then.
“Hahn, darling…our sweet beautiful bird. Why won’t you visit with us? We would love to see you.” came the lilting, seductive chirping. A dark leather cover was draped over the cage that contained a trio of beautiful cockatoos. They were skinnier than the girls that usually got my blood up, but there were three of them – that counted for something right? Plus I hadn’t seen a hen in so long that the gaslight fixtures were starting to look good. Too bad that the girls had wound up as part of Abraham’s transfusion experiments. They were strictly no touching, off limits. I saw what they did to the mice the master fed them. Still… they knew just how to move and just what to say. It was easier for me with the cover down, but not by much. I idled next to the cage; I loved the way they said my name in that exotic accent that cockatoos have. You know the one. Beside their cage was the smaller one with the rabbit inside. The master called him Hase. He was a new addition and he didn’t talk much. He licked at his dish of water and looked around the room before settling down amidst a comfortable-looking pile of bedding.
“So this is the place?” said Hase. I was still clicking my claws about the outside of the girl’s cage. I was rewarded almost immediately by the sound of them cooing and urging me closer.
“I suppose so.” I replied. “Now, ladies… calm down in there…” I added, I wasn’t really supposed to interact with them either, but passing alo
ng the master’s wishes shouldn’t count against that. Just to be sure, I cocked my head to the side to look over at Abraham. He had already set up his vials and beakers and burners and foul smelling chemicals on the sturdy wooden table that dominated our small apartment. As usual, he was entirely absorbed in his work.
“Oh…mm… Hahn… so commanding… so dominant… come in here and make us…” They whispered and pleaded, punctuating their voices (for when they spoke their sentences drifted together seamlessly) with little moans and gasps that sent an electric current through my feathers. I fluffed up a bit as I shifted on one foot and then the other.
“You’re not supposed to do that.” Hase muttered, in a vaguely bored sort of way. The great grey rabbit was staring at me through one half-open blue eye. I ignored him, because I wasn’t about to be lectured on abstinence by a rabbit. The girls were pressing up against the leather cover, small bulges sliding up along the brown material from where I assumed they were poking their pretty little beaks up between the bars. Well, how could I resist pressing my beak back against their little fondling motions, just a bit?
I realized my mistake the moment I did.
The cage nearly jumped off the table with the sudden furious impacts batted against the metal and the leather covering. I was in the air clucking and cawing my surprise before I knew I had thrown myself away from the shaking cage and the awful hissing sounds coming from within.
“Hahn! Leave them alone.” Abraham muttered, without breaking his attention from his current experiment.
“Told you.” Hase shook his head disapprovingly at me. I landed on the ground, suddenly happy that I couldn’t see the rabbit’s smug face. Instead I preened myself for the short time between my master’s reprimand and the sound of the clock on the mantle striking midnight. When the last of the chimes had faded I spoke.
“We need to get hens.” I said to Abraham.
He adjusted his thick goggles and toyed with the burner beneath a particularly round glass beaker.
“Mm. If I can go vithout a varm embrace, so too can you. Besides, vas it not you that told me that ve could not unduly jeopardize civilians?”
“A harem shouldn’t count.” I objected. “And you’re so much older than I am… sort of.”
“This does not mean that I do not still have my virility, nor that I have forgotten just vhat I am missing, ja?”
“We could get a harem for you too. Humans have harems right?” I fluttered up onto his bench and then hopped onto the table. One of the purple liquids was bubbling over the white-blue flame of the burner.
“Ja, some. But I have told you, I am married.” Abraham pointed absently to the band of gold around his finger before scribbling something down into his journal. I sighed, in so much that I can sigh, really it was more of a dip of my neck than anything else. I didn’t want to get him started on his wife again. The whole situation depressed my master more than anything and we had other business to discuss.
“We’re playing a dangerous game, Abraham. I’ve never seen anyone try to join into the game after the death of the moon. We’re very far behind in our collections and we don’t have any inkling as to who any of the other players are!”
“Ve know vun of them.”
“Yes. He’s here and he’s brought his gipsies. But that’s all we know. We don’t know if he’s an opener or a closer.”
“That… does not matter.”
“Yes it does, very much. What if he’s the only closer and you succeed in destroying him? The world is left without a champion and who knows what would happen if the elder gods did take hostile dominion over this world? We need to be very very careful about all of this!”
Abraham gave me a sidelong look and nodded. “I understand, Hahn. Thank you. Of course I vill exercise a modicum of caution.”
“More than a modicum, you’re trying to force your way into a full game, I’ve never even heard of someone doing that… but…”
“It can be done.”
“Anything can be done, it’s the consequences of those actions we need to be aware of.”
“That is vhy I have you to guide me. You have the experience und the oracular ability to see this scheme through to its end.” My master smiled, but didn’t look away from his work. The purple liquid had frothed and was starting to collect in a long glass spiral, pushing its way through into a vial with a brackish solution.
“At dawn, I’ll be able to find out if he’s an opener or a closer. It’s about that time of the month when there’s enough power behind my divination and his kind is always weakest at daybreak. It’s our best chance. Once we have that figured out, we can plan our next moves. You remember the list of ingredients we need to really shore up our closing spell?”
“I am still uncomfortable vith some of the items upon that list. If I can take them from the body of the deceased, I vill, but I vill not harvest parts from innocents. I refuse.”
“We don’t have the luxury of being picky. We’re way behind. You might be the only closer, if you don’t get those ingredients its the Book of Revelation, Abraham.”
“I do not have it in me to kill. But I vill do vhat I can.”
There was a silence between us as he watched the reaction within the second vial. It seemed to please him and he jotted another line in his journal.
“I think the Detective knows something.” I said finally. I hated wasting any of my talking time with quiet.
“A great many things, if his books are to be believed.”
“I meant about the game. He might even be playing, he offered to trade you information. That’s a staple between players and their companions. Look for an animal that seems interested in your conversation. The detective might even be an opener. If that’s the case, that could be a lot of trouble.”
“I don’t think so.” he said. I got the feeling he might not be paying a great deal of attention to me.
“You don’t think…what?” I prodded.
“Ah… if he is playing, that he is an opener.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Instincts.”
“Great.” I sighed – sort of.
“Don’t be like that. All ve ever have in the vurld are our instincts, our reason und our tools. Doch! Ja, that reminds me. I had a little present made for you.” He looked away from his beakers for the first time and removed his darkened goggles, resting them on the top of his head among the unruly curls of faded orange-yellow hair streaked through with wisps of white. He walked across the room and rummaged through his luggage, grumbling in German all the while. I don’t have a great ear for German. I guess Abraham would just have to be happy with his English speaking rooster. I can also do a pretty passable old R’yleh if I ever take the wrong turn in the dreamworld.
My master returned to the bench with something in his palms that glistened by the light of the flames powering his experiment. They were blades, sleek elegant blades of silver with an elaborate crucifix etched upon the sides along with the initials: A. V. H. in flowing script. At the edges of the deadly looking razors were loops of sturdier metal surrounded by miniature black leather belts.
“Here. I imagine this month vill be dangerous for roosters as vell as men.”
I watched as he moved to place the blades on my legs. The metal was cold against my spurs, but they fit wonderfully. I could tell even before he fastened the belts around my legs. They felt dangerous and what’s more they worked. There is a confidence that comes with being armed and I savored it.
“Thank you, Abraham.” I said as I admired the gleaming daggers affixed to the back of my legs.
“Think nothing of it, mein freund. They look good on you! They fit vell, ja?” he asked as he lowered himself back onto the bench and pulled his goggles down. I was losing him to the work again and I still had questions. There wouldn’t be much more time for asking them in the upcoming days.
“Why did you pick a rooster?” I asked.
“Are you unhappy vit my choice?”
“Consider the life of a chicken, eh? There is a vurld out there that hunts them. Vould like nothing more than to feast upon them, nein? Being hunted makes you sharp. It makes you dangerous. Underestimated. If you can survive in such a hostile place, you can survive anything.” He paused. “But vhat is so very special about you, is that even living a hunted life you still greet every morning by screaming out to the sun: I am here und I am unbowed!” I had never thought about it like that. The body he willed me into was the first I’d worn in a long time. It really was a very good body.
“This plan. There’s a good chance you’re going to die, Abraham.” I whispered.
“All of us vill die, sooner or later. If I can help ensure that there vill be a few more mornings for you to sing to, then I vill not have died in vain.”
“If you die, what should I do?”
“That is for you to decide. Perhaps you vill find your farm mit your hens.”
“What will you do if I die?”
He wasn’t looking at me and he was drifting further into his work. Abraham lifted a vial of dark red blood. I had seen him harvest it from the girls in the cage. He mixed the blood into the foul smelling elixir that he had been brewing. I was not a creature of science, but only a fool would ignore its power. It was becoming the strongest craft that man had available to him.
“What if I die?” I repeated.
“Um… I vould… do everything in my power to recover the body.” Abraham said as he swirled the vial of blood and whatever together.
“To give me a proper burial?”
“Nein, to pluck you, season you und roast you.” He affirmed dryly.
“What!?” I stammered. “You’d eat me?”
“Ja… you are a beautiful bird, to do othervise vould be vasteful. Vasting is a sin.”
Lovecraft eZine Megapack - 2012 Page 51
