“Unknown spirit,” said Andrew, “we are seeking information we believe you discovered while alive. Did you determine the astral correspondences to the beings known as the Ancient Ones?”
Trying to relax, but unable to forget my previous experience with Mr. Hunt, I grabbed a hold of the table, and emptied my mind. There was a long pause of icy silence, then a voice from nowhere spoke.
Yes.
The word was clear and strong in my mind—and in English, or my mind interpreted it as such. For some reason, I had expected Portuguese.
“We would like to know which star in the heavens corresponds to the entity known as Sothoth Pnath, the shadow of Yog Sothoth.”
There was another pause before the reply came. I got the impression, for some reason, that there was an enormous gulf between ourselves and the spirit with whom we were speaking, despite the fact that it was theoretically hovering above the flame only inches from us.
The star is known as Regulus.
The answer! We had the answer! And none too soon—only a sliver of the parchment remained.
“Spirit, we have one final question,” said Andrew hurriedly. “Which star corresponds to Great Cthulhu?”
The flame began to sputter during the silence after Andrew finished speaking. I clearly heard the voice say, The star, then the flame died and the winds began. I could imagine that I also heard known as, as the noise of the winds picked up. But try as I might, I could not discern any other words above the rushing and whistling that ensued.
When stillness returned, Andrew concluded the ceremony by uttering the two separate sets of magical phrases. When he had finished, I could no longer contain my excitement, and jumped up out of my chair.
“Regulus!” I said. “We did it!”
“Yes! One answer, anyway. And so close to a second one.” He sighed. “So close.”
But despite his tone, a smile covered his face. Bounding over to the couch, I retrieved my papers and spread them out on the table. But even with this new revelation, I was still missing one vitally important datum.
“The coordinates for Regulus,” I said. “I need the sky coordinates.”
Andrew hesitated only briefly.
“I can get that.”
He ran downstairs and returned holding an expensive-looking volume. I quickly located the information I needed, and inserted the numbers into the equation. My fingers trembled as I performed the calculations. To be sure, I performed them twice more, before looking up at Andrew and nodding.
“Confirmed,” I said. “There is no doubt.”
“So that’s it.”
We paused there, looking at each other. I was unsure what to do next. That is, until Andrew spoke up.
“We must make a decision, then,” he said. “Or rather, you must.”
“Decision?”
He leaned on the table with both hands and looked squarely at me.
“If you recall,” he said, “I asked if you were interested in vengeance—if we could determine that Sothoth Pnath was the cause. Now that we are sure: Do you accept the task before us? That of banishing this monster from the Earth?”
“At the risk of my life, yes.”
Hearing my solemn tone surprised even me. Was I truly that committed?
Andrew, too, was taken aback.
“Well, that’s…it’s good to hear your dedication, Robert. But I don’t plan on risking either of our lives. We just need to proceed cautiously.”
He picked up the dish from the table, and headed for the kitchen.
“And be paranoid,” he added as he disappeared through the doorway. “Very paranoid.”
There was a clatter, as if he had dropped the dish onto the counter instead of setting it down cleanly. He was moving much more slowly when he emerged from the kitchen.
“The demands of the ceremony seem to have caught up with me,” he said haggardly, grabbing onto the table. “The longer the spirit has been dead, the more energy is used by the magician. But I didn’t expect it to be this taxing.”
He attempted to sit down, but began to fall. Having seen his unsteadiness, I was already partially out of my seat, and managed to grab him before he hit the floor. As I maneuvered him into the chair, his stomach growled audibly. He tried to focus on me, but his eyes fluttered.
“You need food in your stomach right now,” I said. “You mentioned chicken soup?”
“Yes, it’s still warm. Warm enough, anyway. On the stovetop.”
The pot held enough for two people to fill themselves, but in my estimation, it was just enough for Andrew to replenish his strength. I found a towel, and a spoon as well, and returned to the table. In the small amount of time I had been gone, he had already started to list to one side. I placed the towel before him as a placemat, the pot on top of it.
“Do I feed you, or hold you up?” I asked, grinning.
He laughed, straightened up, and held his hand out.
“Spoon, please,” he said. “Neither, but it wouldn’t hurt to be ready to catch me again.”
He practically inhaled the soup, only pausing when two-thirds of it was gone. There was an enormous belch, followed by a giggle.
“Pardon,” he apologized. “I feel as if I’ve had three bottles of Merlot to myself.”
“Please, do share some of that wine next time,” I said, trying to keep the mood light-hearted.
“If I get any more, certainly.”
He chuckled occasionally as he polished off the soup. When finished, he sat back in the chair. His smile faded.
“No, I shouldn’t laugh,” he said, looking at me. “This is serious. Someone is watching us closely. Too closely.”
He was at least able to focus on me, though the weakness, or dizziness, was still evident in his slumping posture. As he began speaking, some of the words were slurred.
“That business earlier today…the girl…” Wincing, he shook his head. “It touched on a very embarrassing event. I never mentioned a word about it to anyone. And I won’t go into the details with you, but you should know this much. Years ago, when I had just started exploring magic, I used that very same hypnosis spell. I enchanted an apple, and gave it to a young woman. She was a willing participant, mind you. But some foolishness on my part nearly resulted in both of our deaths. These days she walks with a barely noticeable limp. I sustained a wound here.”
He tapped a spot low on his neck.
“Another half-inch, and my carotid artery would probably have been punctured,” he said. “I learned a great deal that day—about my limits, about consequences, about fear.”
“If you never told that to anyone, how could such a thing have been discovered?”
“I can imagine a few ways, most involving magic, of course. Some not.”
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled. When he opened them again, I could tell that a certain light had returned, perhaps the soup lending him some strength.
“You look better,” I said. “Do you feel better? Back to normal?”
“Still tired, but yes,” he answered confidently. “Do you feel safe walking home?”
I had to admit that recent experiences had taken a toll on my nerves. I could still remember the feeling of invisible eyes on me, soundless footsteps, shadows of shadows.
“I do. Just…you wouldn’t happen to have a weapon that I could borrow, do you?”
Andrew bit at his lip, thinking.
“Hmm. Not really, but…”
He stood up and started to move, then sat down again.
“Can you go get it, please? I’m still feeling dizzy.”
“Yes. What—?”
“On the dresser.” He pointed. “You’ll see.”
I walked into the bedroom, and recognized the knife on top of the dresser right away: the one wielded by the young Miss Manning only hours before.
“Just keep it. Be careful, though. It looks very sharp.”
I turned it over in my hands, then slashed and poked at an imaginary a
ttacker. The smooth, glossy black handle felt slick in my hand. In an actual melee, I thought I might have to grip it very tightly in order to keep it from slipping from my grasp.
“It’s better than nothing.”
I slipped the small knife into my coat pocket and gathered my papers together. As I was turning to leave, Andrew handed me a key.
“I don’t want to navigate those stairs twice more in this condition,” he said wearily. “Please lock the door as you leave. Can I assume that you will return in the morning?”
I nodded.
“Good night, then.”
“Good night.”
I went down the steps, and through the empty, darkened store alone. Even before stepping foot outside of the building, my imagination was set afire by the sounds of rodents scurrying and gnawing within the walls. Courage, I reminded myself. After a few deep, calming breaths, I walked out the door and locked it behind me.
Fourteen
Having been given the key to the bookstore, the next morning I was able to let myself in and begin reading earlier than usual. The walk was much less scary in the daylight, but I still made it needlessly stressful by searching every shadow for hidden foes. I had been bent to my studies in the backroom for about an hour, when familiar footsteps descended the stairs. Andrew knocked and entered, smiling. After the fatigue of the night before, he seemed to be back to normal, after a sleep he described as coma-like. He brought down coffee and muffins—I had one to his three—and I took the opportunity to ask him some questions about the material I had read before his arrival. Breakfast finished, he got ready to open the store, leaving me to my studies once again.
Late morning, there was a knock at the door before it opened, and he flew in holding a few pieces of paper.
“Robert. Look at this!”
He shoved the papers into my hand. It was a letter. I skimmed over the first sheet as he explained.
“This is from one of my grandfather’s contacts. He had been travelling through Eastern Europe for almost a year, and has just recently returned to Boston.”
“I can tell you nothing about spontaneous human combustion,” I read aloud, “but the following pages detail two spells which may help you with your research.”
“Yes. The mail arrived a while ago. Business has been slow this morning, but I’m not complaining. It’s given me the time to study the first spell.”
I looked at the next sheet, and got more excited as I read. That first set of instructions was very simple, and involved animating a flame and directing it with one’s will.
“I may actually be able to handle this one,” I muttered, looking it over again.
“No,” he declared. “There’s no may. You can, even today. But I’d prefer you wait a day or two. I want to make sure you fully understand the basics.”
He paused, then added with a grin, “And I want you to watch me.”
“Watch you? Now?”
He nodded.
“I already locked the door, and put up the ‘Be Back Shortly’ sign,” he said.
An open flame was required. I looked at the wooden floor, then at the stacks of boxes around us.
“My bedroom has a fireplace,” said Andrew, pointing at the ceiling.
I nodded and we went upstairs. In the bedroom, he opened the flue, and got a fire going with a single small log. While the flames spread, he closed his eyes, and concentrated silently. He then opened them, and uttered a short phrase in Latin. That was all there was to it.
I was mesmerized as he made the flames dance around the log. First, all of the tongues gathered into a single, tall one on the far left side. That one then moved all the way to the right, then began wandering all over, all the while under Andrew’s control. At first, he pointed with his index finger to direct the movements, but soon discovered there was no need for that. His final act was to shape the fire to his initials: AC. To end the spell, he uttered a single word in Latin. Aside from relinquishing control, it had the added effect of extinguishing the flames completely.
We both laughed with joy.
“And look at this,” he said, prodding the log.
It seemed to have been the gentlest of touches, but the structure dissolved instantly, collapsing into a pile of ash in the general form of a log.
“This is another reason why I want you to start with this spell,” said Andrew. “Instead of the magician providing the necessary energy, it comes from the material being burned by the fire.”
I dabbed my finger into the ashes, then stared at my fingertip. They did not disappear.
“These are normal ashes,” I said.
“Yes. I still cannot come up with an explanation for the behavior you observed.”
He closed the flue. I glanced at the second incantation before handing the papers back to Andrew. That one was much more complex. It allowed the magician to summon, control and banish a salamander, a supposedly mythical creature with the ability to endure fire without harm.
“And this other one,” he said enthusiastically, waving the paper. “We’ll do this one on Saturday.”
After witnessing the results of the first experiment, I became excited by the potential that lay before me—before both of us. The rest of that day and all the next, I pushed myself, but adopted a new approach. Instead of studying non-stop, I took frequent rest breaks to ensure that my concentration would stay sharp.
The new strategy worked. It felt as if I was making larger strides. I began to practice simple mental exercises and meditations, with successful outcomes. My confidence grew with every hour spent in study, and consequently my fears—fears of strangers and shadows—diminished. The trips back and forth to the bookstore were no longer the ordeals that they had become.
Nothing mattered except for my new obsession. No thought was given to my thesis, the professor, my other friends, my parents, the world. Mathematics was boring when compared to the study of magic, but as I read, I tried to determine how I might combine the two sciences. Were there any points where they overlapped? How many magicians were also mathematicians? The potential intrigued me.
Saturday finally arrived. Early in the day, Andrew had asked me to run out and purchase a few items we would need for the ceremony. It took some legwork, but I was able to locate and buy them all. At seven o’clock, I knocked on the door of the shop. It was not long before he appeared and yanked me inside, closing the door swiftly behind me.
“Were you able to buy everything?”
“Good evening to you too,” I said. “Yes, I was.”
He locked the door and looked out the windows suspiciously.
“How was your walk over here? Did you hear anything odd? Any feelings of being followed?”
“No. Should I have?”
“No, no. Just trying to be extra cautious, given what we’re next attempting.”
I followed him to the room at the back of the store, which by now felt to me like a second home.
“We’ll be conducting the ceremony in here,” he said, grabbing a hold of the doorknob. “Cross your fingers.”
Then he opened the door and turned on the light.
The room was vastly different than it had been the day before. Andrew had cleared out a large area in the center, and the boxes that had previously been stacked everywhere were now lined up against the walls. My study table was nearly completely hidden behind the stacks. And at the back of the room, sitting on the floor near the edge of the clearing, was a small, metal cage, and inside: a medium-sized, brown rat. It was clearly in distress.
“It worked!” cried Andrew, rushing to the cage. The rodent squealed and ran in circles, failing to find a way out.
“I assume…we need the rat?”
“Well, it’s either the rat or we lop off your hand.”
I took it as a joke, but there was no humor in his voice.
“Everything is coming together,” he continued. “Now, the items I asked you to purchase?”
I opened my briefcase and extracted what he
asked for: a bottle of cooking sherry; a small vial of chloroform; and two long, thin tapers, one red and one white.
“We’ll use the candles to construct a prison for the creature,” he explained, setting the items down beside the cage and its small prisoner. “The chloroform is for the rat.”
“And the sherry?” I asked.
He uncorked the bottle and took a long swig. Smiling, he held it out to me. I accepted, and took a large mouthful. When I returned it to him, he took another drink. He seemed to consider a third, staring at the bottle in his hands.
“The sherry will be needed for the summoning,” he said. “It’s one of the most fascinating aspects of magic. Most spells require specific components in order to work correctly. However, substitutions are allowed—encouraged, in fact! Ninety percent of magic occurs here.”
He tapped himself on the side of the head.
“Never forget that. This sherry could be nearly anything as long as I—the magician—am one hundred percent convinced that the component I substitute will work as well as what has been specified. In this case, the specified component is a fluid known as Oil of Y’trass, a very versatile concoction. For our purposes, however, the only important characteristic is an extreme flammability. Any liquid with a high enough alcohol content will do the same. Therefore, we use the relatively inexpensive sherry, instead of a rare and expensive mixture made from crushed pearls and fermented vampire bat blood.”
“Vampire bat blood?”
He nodded.
“No,” I said. “I don’t suppose I would have been able to find that very easily this afternoon. The sherry and the chloroform were difficult enough.”
He retrieved a few other things from atop one of the nearby stacks of boxes: A small rag, a long, thin piece of wood, some matches, and a shallow copper bowl about a foot in diameter. After placing the bowl on the floor in the center of the room, he poured a small amount of the sherry into it.
The Shadow Beyond Page 14
