The Wizard of Lovecraft's Cafe

by Simon Hawke

  “But you’re not under a spell of compulsion,” said McGuire as he lit up a cigarette, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here. So what did he do, bribe you? Promise you something? Use blackmail?”

  “All of the above,” Case replied. “They gave me just a hint of what they were capable of doing, and it was enough to scare the crap out of me. You haven’t met them, you don’t know. They’re capable of causing pain you just would not believe. And they told me—”

  “Wait a minute,” said McGuire. “You said they? There’s more than one?”

  “There’s at least two of them,” said Case, “a male and a female. I thought it was only one, at first. He was bad enough. His name is Beladon, but I just met the female today, and she makes Count Dracula look like a mosquito. Her name’s Delana, or something like that, and I was as close to her as I am to you right now, and let me tell you, I was so goddamn scared I tossed my cookies.” Case gulped down his drink and reached for the bottle.

  “Take it easy on that stuff,” McGuire said.

  “Screw that,” said Case, filling up his glass again. “I’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through me right now, I don’t think I could get drunk if I wanted to. And believe me, I want to.” He took another gulp. “I’m telling you, McGuire, these people are fucking terrifying. They’re not people. I don’t know what the hell they are.”

  “I think I’ve got some idea,” said McGuire. “I’m not going to judge you, Case. I don’t think you had much choice.”

  Case sighed heavily. “I appreciate that,” he said. “It doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better about what I did, but it’s decent of you to say that.”

  “I mean it,” said McGuire. “I don’t know that I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your place. We all like to think we know ourselves, but we’re only human. And they’re not. What did they make you do for them?”

  Case grimaced. “Jump through hoops, is what they made me do. I gave Beladon everything he wanted. I gave him all the information I had; I had Bureau headquarters get me the D.A.’s file on Angelo and I turned that over; I pulled strings and got you to back off, I just totally caved in.”

  “There’s not much point to self-recrimination,” said McGuire. “At least you’re doing the right thing now. What finally made you come to me?”

  “I’d like to think it was my sense of duty finally waking the hell up, but the truth is it was fear. The minute they don’t need me anymore…” He shook his head. “You should have seen the way that bitch was looking at me. Now I know what a mouse feels like when it’s staring at a cobra. I’m scared out of my wits, McGuire. I’m just a miserable, fucking coward.”

  “But you didn’t run,” McGuire said. “You could have.”

  Case stared at him and licked his lips nervously. “Yeah. I guess I could have, at that.”

  “But the point is that you didn’t,” said McGuire. “And you’re probably not so important to them that they’d waste time trying to find you. No offense.”

  Case nodded. “Yeah. Maybe I’m stupid. Maybe I should be looking for some deep, dark hole to crawl into.”

  “And maybe you’re not quite the coward you think you are,” McGuire said. “Sometimes heroes are just cowards who were too scared to run.”

  Case gave a small snort. “Where’d you get that?”

  “I just made it up. But I’m sure somebody important said it first. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

  “Damned if I know,” Case said miserably. “How the hell do you fight necromancers who can’t be killed?”

  “Is that what they told you?”

  “Well, they’re immortal, aren’t they?”

  “The way it was explained to me, they live practically forever because their cells are capable of almost infinite regeneration. But they do age, apparently, although at an incredibly slow rate, and they can be killed.”

  “How?”

  “A well-placed bullet right between the eyes should do the trick, if I understand correctly. Or any immediately fatal wound.”

  “You’re kidding me. You mean I could have simply shot the bastards?”

  “Well, that’s easier said than done,” McGuire said “You’re dealing with necromancers, after all. They’re much more powerful than any human adept. And these necromancers aren’t even human. They’ve been at it for a long, long time. You’d have to take them completely by surprise, your aim had better be damn good.”

  “I never was much good with a gun,” said Case. “Not much call for it in my line of work.”

  “Mine, either,” said McGuire, “but I still remember how to shoot. The problem is, we’re in a real legal gray area here We’re officers of law, not judges and juries. How do we justify what amounts to murder?”

  “Are you serious? How else are we supposed to stop them? These people aren’t even human.”

  “Prove it,” said McGuire. “They appear biologically similar to us, right? Well, unless an autopsy can tell the difference, you kill them and you’re liable to wind up facing charges.”

  “Right. Find a jury anywhere that would convict me, under the circumstances.”

  “That’s just the point,” McGuire said. “We have to explain the circumstances and make it convincing. I think there’s an excellent chance we can pull it off, because we’re not the only people who know about this and the others are all willing to testify. But we can’t simply take the law into our hands. We both have to go to our superiors with this.”

  “Terrific,” said Case. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

  “Meanwhile, you’re going to have to hang tough. On best chances still lie with the runestones,” said McGuire “Angelo is now one of the avatars, as you know. The other two are a young adept named Wyrdrune and a young woman named Kira. They’ve also got some help and, as near as I an tell, almost unlimited resources. However, they’re still wanted on international warrants. Before we do anything else, •eve got to get those warrants lifted, and we’ve got to get them the full backing of the authorities.”

  “That’s going to take time,” said Case. “And it may not it easy.”

  “We don’t have any other choice. Is there any chance you can play along with the necromancers in the meantime?”

  Case moistened his lips nervously and shook his head. “I don’t know. They haven’t read my mind. Leastwise, I don’t think they have. They function on intimidation, and they’re damned good at it, too. They probably don’t think I’d have the nerve to cross them.” He sighed heavily. “But, man, the very last thing I want to do is have to face them again.”

  “Well, this is where you start earning your big paycheck,” said McGuire.

  Case closed his eyes for a moment and compressed his lips into a tight grimace. “Right. What the hell, I’ve got nothing to lose except my soul.”

  “The avatars are probably going to be in touch with me soon.” McGuire said. “I’ll tell them what we’ve decided. It would also help if I could give them some idea of what the Dark Ones are up to. Have they confided anything in you?”

  “Not a lot,” said Case, “but wait’ll you hear what they have told me. They saw that file Mathews had on Angelo’s operation, and they’ve decided to go into the drug business.”

  “What?”

  “Tommy Leone’s started dealing in Ambrosia,” Case said.

  “He’s supposed to have a big shipment coming in sometime soon. Beladon has decided it serves his purposes to make humans weak with thaumagenetic drugs, so he’s going to take over Leone’s operation and increase distribution.”

  “Good God,” McGuire said. “That’s all we need. Immortal necromancers taking over organized crime. As if things weren’t bad enough already.” He bit his lower lip. “But at it gives us something to work with. If they’re going to target Leone’s operation, then we’ll know where to watch for them.”

  The buzzer sounded.

  “That’s Christine,” McGuire said, getting up from the table. “Now
we’ll get some idea of just how hard this thing is gonna be to sell.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CALADOR HAD BEEN chafing for the opportunity to do something and now that it had finally arrived, it wasn’t at all what he’d expected. He had been well on his way to establishing his domain in the remote mountains of the country the humans called Afghanistan when Beladon had found him. He already had Delana with him then, and Calador chose not to test Beladon’s power because he did not think he could prevail against the two of them together. With or without Delana, Beladon was strong. He had been strong in the days before the war, and he was strong now, though the centuries of confinement had weakened them all. Calador had not been certain he would have been a match for him.

  If there had only been more time. From the moment he escaped the pit where they were all confined, he had searched for a place where he could begin to establish his domain, an isolated place that could still provide sufficient human resources to increase his power. He had known that it would not take long before the others started to compete among themselves for dominance, and he wanted to be ready when the time came to determine the matter of supremacy. But Beladon had not given him that opportunity. Yet, the opportunity had not been lost, thought Calador. It had merely been postponed.

  He detested this country where Beladon had brought them. Its flatness and lack of natural majesty was a poor substitute for the raw and savage beauty of the mountains he had left behind. The human tribes who lived there had been simple creatures, fierce and primitive, easily brought under his control. They had regarded him as an earthly incarnation of a god, just as they had in the old days, and there was a comforting familiarity in their behavior. They seemed not much different from the humans he had known before, a bit more intelligent perhaps, but that was only to be expected as the species had evolved. Still, they seemed a far cry from what Beladon claimed the humans had become.

  On the other hand, he was forced to admit that these humans had made more progress than he had given them credit for. They had truly accomplished a great deal. Still, they were merely humans. What amazed him was that some of them had been able to learn magic. Beladon had said that it was because surviving Old Ones had mingled with their population after the Great War, and they had interbred. The very thought filled Calador with disgust. It was like mating with beasts, for they were little more than that, despite all their advancements. Calador could scarcely believe that Beladon perceived them as a threat. To an immortal who was weak, perhaps, a sufficient number of them might represent a threat. However, they were no match for a necromancer at the peak of his abilities.

  In the absence of the immortals, there had been little to check the growth of their population, and the planet was now teeming with them. However, all that meant was that there would be no shortage of the life force resource for a long, long time to come. This new idea Beladon had put forth, using this Ambrosia substance to make them docile and ensure their continued reproduction, seemed absolutely pointless. He was beginning to sound like one of the members of the Council, who had always thought more of the humans than they had deserved.

  The time was not yet right to risk pitting his powers; Beladon. He needed to be certain of success. Delana was the key. She was a prime young female, a far better mate for him than for Beladon. And as unattractive as this country was, despoiled by the massive constructions of the humans, it was rich in the life force resource. Beladon was much too slow to take advantage of it. He was too cautious, too concerned about the threat posed by the avatars who bore the runestones that had held them in a living death for all these years. Calador would not make the same mistake. The way to deal with the spirits of the Council was through strength.

  “You are unusually quiet tonight,” Delana said.

  She was sitting beside him in the crude conveyance the humans called a “car.” It was one of those belonging to the estate where they were staying. Its thaumaturgic batteries had just been freshly charged and they had driven it to the area known as the South Shore of Long Island, to a community known as Long Beach. It now sat parked across the street from the iron gates of Tommy Leone’s home.

  “I was merely thinking,” Calador replied. “Does it not strike you as rather wasteful, this errand we are on?” He stressed the word “errand,” lacing it with sarcasm to underscore the way that Beladon was treating them. It was time to begin planting the seeds of dissatisfaction in her mind.

  “Wasteful?” she said. “In what way?”

  “Traveling in this crude vehicle, for instance,” Calador replied, “when we could easily teleport. This takes so much more time.”

  “But it also conserves our energies,” Delana said. “Beladon explained that, did he not?”

  “Oh, yes, he explained,” Calador said scornfully. “Since we came here, he has done precious little save explain things.”

  Delana gave him a curious look. “I had thought that you were merely impatient. But you do not agree with his methods?”

  “For all his explanations, I fail to understand them,” Calador replied. “We are immortals, Delana. We are the Dark Ones. We once ruled all that we surveyed. Yet look at us now. We hide. We masquerade as humans, cutting our has and wearing these foolish garments. We play at intrigue with these inferior creatures, treating them as opponents worthy of respect instead of the chattel that they are. Is this what we have come to?”

  “Beladon has explained what happened to the others, who were careless and too quick to act. He—”

  “Beladon has explained,” Calador repeated scornfully “Can you not think for yourself? What do we really know of how the others fell? Perhaps they failed because they were weak. Perhaps they failed because they lacked resolve. Perhaps they failed not because they moved too quickly, but because they were not quick enough. It is strength that ensures victory. When was the last time you felt the power of fresh life force flowing through you?”

  She moistened her lips. “It has been a long time.”

  “And with each day that passes, your hunger ever increases,” Calador replied, “as does mine. Yet Beladon counsels discipline and patience. Soon, he tells us. Soon we may feed the hunger. But when? Is it truly the runestones that he fears, or does he fear that we may grow too strong?”

  “Beladon denies himself, as well,” she said.

  “We have only his word for that,” Calador countered. “How do we know what he does while he is absent? Can you say for sure he has not fed?”

  He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and smiled inwardly. He knew that appealing to her hunger, the hunger he himself knew only all too well, would bring immediate results.

  “You need not answer,” he said. “Your loyalty is admirable, but I often wonder if it has not been misplaced.”

  “Beladon is strong,” she said, though there was doubt in her voice. “He knows much more about this new world we have awakened in than either of us does. He has taken time to study it, and to formulate his plans. We can profit from his knowledge.”

  “Perhaps,” said Calador, “but at what cost? I do not fault Beladon for his ambition. Indeed, I commend him for it. However, it is his ambition and not mine. In the old Beladon was among the strongest of us, but do > how he maintained that strength? By subjugating others to his will. By controlling a greater number of acolytes, and maintaining greater access to the life force resource. And by making certain that no one could accumulate more power than he had at his command. It is no different now. He seeks to do exactly the same thing.”

  “He said he wants to unify the others—”

  “Yes, of course. Under his control. He will respect their decision, he claims. But who will question his right to supremacy when he has become the strongest? You know as well as I what will become of anyone who dares to challenge him once he has assumed the mantle of supremacy.”

  “And yet you dare to question his methods and his aims,” she said. “Are you not afraid that I will pass on your remarks to him?”

  “I am n
ot one to live with fear,” said Calador. “You are tree to do as you desire. Beladon trusts you, because he has selected you to be his consort. At least, for now. And that is why he has sent us on this petty errand for him. It is merely a small test, both of your loyalty and of my obedience. Once we have carried it out, he shall praise us in paternal tones and reward us by allowing us to feed the hunger, but not too much. He means only to whet our appetites and make us anxious to please him, so that we may feed again. And that, Delana, is how he shall control us, by remaining stronger and making us come to feel dependent on him.”

  “He has said nothing to me of such things,” she said.

  “Why should he? He already owns you.”

  “No one owns me!” she said angrily.

  “Perhaps not,” said Calador. “But you have given your allegiance to him, have you not?”

  “I have merely joined my strength to his, the better to destroy the runestones, so that all of us may live free of their threat and prosper in our power.”

  “I see,” said Calador. “And just what is it we are doing here tonight that will further that cause?”

  She remained silent.

  Calador nodded. “Yes, you cannot answer. I do not see how this serves that purpose, either. The only purpose this shall serve is to gain Beladon more human acolytes, for it is his bidding they shall do, not ours.”

  “You seek to test his power,” she said.

  “I seek only to assert my own,” Calador replied. “If you wish to subordinate your strength to his, your will to his, then that is your decision. But I think it is a waste for you to cheat yourself of your own destiny.”

  “Which you see as being linked to yours, perhaps?” she asked archly.

  “I will not deny that I sense your power and am drawn to it,” said Calador smoothly. “But I have no desire to subjugate your will to mine. That would diminish you, and it would diminish me. What need is there for us to compete among ourselves? There are so many humans now, this world is choked with them. Why waste our energies against each other when we could both grow strong together? Think what we could accomplish.”