A Little Learning
Warning: This is a horror story, and as such contains
descriptions of acts and situations that may be considered disturbing
or distasteful to some readers. It also contains scenes of violence
and gore. Reader discretion is advised. The lesbian themes and
inadequate descriptions of things that should be naturally
incomprehensible can likewise be avoided as per the reader's taste.
Author's Notes: I am not an expert on the Mythos, just a fan who
was inspired by the books, films and games I have seen and played.
You are free to disagree with this interpretation of the
inconceivable beings and cosmic setup if it does not fit your own,
but please remember that this is intended to be an enjoyable horror
story, and that has been put before all other considerations.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
*********************************************************************
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Hanna did her best not to look around as the doctor led her down
another hallway. The place was called a 'psychiatric hospital' now,
but to her it still felt like the lunatic asylum it had originally
been. The heavy stone walls were claustrophobic and imprisoning, yet
scrubbed and whitewashed with modern thoroughness until clinically
clean, devoid of any character and life they might still have held.
Anyone living there must have had no hope of recovery, she
thought. It was the kind of place that, over time, would surely have
driven her mad if she had been one of the patients.
Then again, it seemed to have no effect on the smiling, confident
doctors and nurses, and the patients seemed happy enough as they
wandered the place. 'Those capable of happiness, that is,' she
thought morbidly.
Hanna forced herself to think about something else before she
ended up picking out a bed there. Unfortunately there was only one
other topic that really came to mind. "How is she?"
The doctor, a tall, middle aged woman by the name of Carolyn
Turner, gave her a gentle, motherly smile. "She is doing very well
these days," the bespectacled woman replied. "Her nightmares are few
and far between, and she remains alert and lucid. She asks after you
often."
Hanna sighed. "So... does that mean she can leave soon? What
about the drugs?"
Doctor Turner shook her head. "She is on minimal medication right
now, just to help her sleep. We are also giving her something to help
with her self control, but that is more for her own peace of mind
than any worries about her behaviour."
"A placebo?"
Doctor Turner nodded. "It is a crutch that we can wean her from
in time. The only reason we want to keep her here is to make sure
there is no possibility of a relapse. After such a fast recovery I'm
sure we both want to be sure that she does not need to return here
once she leaves, even if she makes for good company!"
"Yeah." Hanna had to agree. The only thing worse than leaving
Victoria in that place would be having the whole thing start all over
again. Once had been bad enough.
They finally reached their destination in the left wing of the
huge building, and Doctor Turner's knuckles rapped twice on the hard
wooden door. "Victoria, are you ready? Your visitor is here."
The door opened and Hanna allowed herself to smile. "Hello
Vicky."
She didn't even have to force it. Victoria looked so much better
than she had on her last visit, four months ago. Her hazel eyes were
no longer circled by ugly rings of sleep deprivation and her rich
brown hair now shone the way it was supposed to instead of lying flat
and stressed. And Victoria was smiling. Not a manic grin of wild
abandon or the twisted, fearful grimace that had seemed to plague her,
but just a normal smile. Even the way she held herself seemed... It
just seemed like the Victoria she remembered from two years ago.
"Hi Hanna," Victoria said, stepping back and obviously hoping the
pair would come in. "I'm glad you could make it."
Hanna nodded and gave the young woman a hug. "So am I. You look
good."
Victoria's smile just broadened as she returned the embrace. "I
feel good. You look better. I think you've lost some weight though!"
Hanna just shook her head. Right now Vicky could be as bratty as
she liked. That was what she was supposed to be like. "I'm on a diet.
I ate too much junk food during my exams."
Victoria seemed subdued by the mention of life outside, but she
wanted to know all the same. "Did you pass?"
"I don't know. We haven't got our results yet." Hanna poked her
in the stomach with her finger, making her recoil with a laugh.
"You're one to talk about losing weight. You were too skinny to start
with!"
Victoria just laughed and looked at Doctor Turner. "You can't
blame me for that. Chef's food sucks, right Carolyn?"
The psychiatrist just kept her diplomatic silence. "I'll let you
two catch up properly."
The pair nodded as she left. The click of the closing door
sounded loud as Hanna and Victoria stared at each other, neither sure
how best to proceed.
"She's just going to be outside," Victoria finally said, as if
the information was somehow relevant. "You are doing okay, right? I
mean, I hope I didn't screw anything up too badly. I actually don't
remember it too well."
Hanna shook her head. "No, the same as last time you asked. A few
things replaced, lot of tears and some postponed coursework. Nothing
permanent." She smiled. "The doctor says you're doing well though."
Victoria cautiously mirrored that smile. "I think I am. I wish
you'd write more, but I know you're busy. And I guess I wasn't in
great shape last time, so I can't blame you."
Hanna could see Victoria was warring with herself over something
there, as if unable to swallow her worry but fearful of speaking it.
However, the inner conflict was over before she could ask.
"Have you... found someone else?"
Hanna's knee jerk reaction was one of shock and denial. Of course
she hadn't! What a stupid thing to ask! But then, in the last year
many things could have happened, and many feelings could have changed.
Some actually had.
"No. No, I haven't." She sat her girlfriend down on the bed and
leaned down. The kiss lingered softly as their lips met, and Victoria
mewled into the affectionate touch. As they parted Hanna could see
tears glistening in her lover's eyes. "You were worried about that?"
"Of course," Victoria retorted, her voice mixing relief and worry
together until it was impossible to tell one from the other. "Why
would you stick around for a woman who screams gibberish at night and
snaps at the drop of a hat?"
Hanna gathered Victoria in her arms to comfort her. "Because I
want you back. I want you well so you can finish at college and we
can go back to getting on with life."
"It's called 'University'," Victory replied, showing her British
origins despite her fading accent.
"When in America..."
Victoria obviously didn't care and leaned in for another, more
passionate kiss. "I never meant to... I never wanted to hurt you. I
never did."
"I know," Hanna replied after the brief but intense display, and
it just seemed to draw Victoria in further.
"You're so beautiful," Victoria whispered, cupping Hanna's cheek,
and soon they were peppering each other's lips with their own, making
up for so much lost time. Hanna had not felt the embrace of another
since she had lost Victoria to this place over a year ago, and she
gave in to the warmth as they held each other. The feel of her
delicate fingers, the smell of her hair, the taste of her tongue, it
all came flooding back in that whirlwind of kisses and caresses.
Then something broke the spell and Hanna realised where she was
and what she was doing as she lay beneath Victoria, her shirt raised
up and Victoria's fingers working their way into her underwear. It
was far too much and far too fast. She wrestled up from where she now
lay on the bed, forcing her own hands away from her lover's bosom.
"W-wait, this isn't right..."
Hanna grabbed Victoria's wrists and Victoria stopped dead, her
eyes locked with Hanna's own in eager anticipation, and her breath
ragged with desire. Then the next moment Victoria had wrenched
herself from the bed and collapsed against the dresser by the wall,
grabbing one of the clear pills from the bottle there and swallowing
it dry. She steadied herself against the furniture as Hanna hurried
to re-button her jeans, looking on worriedly. Victoria's breath
gradually began to slow. "I didn't... I didn't want to hurt you. I'm
so sorry!"
Hanna got up and laid a tentative hand on Victoria's shoulder.
"I'd better go Vicky. I'm staying in Arkham for a little while, so
I'll... come and visit again soon. Maybe tomorrow even."
Victoria nodded through her emerging tears. "I'd like that."
Then the hand left her and Victoria clenched her eyes shut,
wishing she could will away whatever it was inside her head that made
her lose what she still perceived to be her own self-control. She
didn't even trust herself to say goodbye without it turning into
something that would only push Hanna further away.
She only looked back in time to see Hanna disappear. "I miss
you!" she called, but the door had already closed behind her with
that deafening click. Victoria just looked down at the bottle of
pills in her hand. "I am getting better," she said, forcing herself
to believe those words. "I am."
She couldn't tell any more, not outside the fact that she no
longer had so many nightmares. But if Hanna said it was true, then it
must have been. If there was anyone she could trust, it was her.
***
Hanna looked up at the sky, her head hanging over the back of the
wooden bench in the hospital's front grounds. She paid no attention
to the few patients that wandered the grassy garden. She was lost in
the sound of her own thoughts and the lingering rush of her
interrupted libido.
'What were you thinking, Hanna? She could have done anything to
you.
'But she didn't. She's so much better now.
'Something like that might push her back over the edge.
'It wasn't just her. I wanted it too.
'So you'd risk her sanity just to satisfy your own frustrations?
'No. That's why I stopped.
'And you saw what it did to her.
'How much more guilt am I supposed to feel for that?
'If you have to ask then it's not enough, is it?
'Why do my inner monologues have to be so confrontational?
'Because I still blame myself.
'Why only shift into first person now?
'Because that's what you do with realisations. You want to feel
good about admitting it.
'It's not like I didn't know that before. It can't be my fault,
but I blame myself anyway. I don't even know if I really love her any
more, but that just makes me feel worse. After all that pain and
grief, and putting up with everything she did, I've wanted to walk
away so many times...
'But you didn't.
'I just don't have anywhere else to go.
'No, you don't *want* anywhere else to go.
'She still loves me.
'...
'I don't know why I love her any more, but God help me because I
do.
'... You know, for a linguist you *could* have more intelligible
conversations with yourself.
'I don't want my mind wandering, so stop it. Just enjoy feeling
good. It's all turning out okay, isn't it?'
It was only then, in that pleasant haze of thought, that Hanna
realised she wasn't alone on the bench any more. She recoiled
instinctively, a flash of worry passing through her mind about what
kind of unstable person might have joined her.
If she had expected anything, it hadn't been for that person to
be wearing a habit. A surprisingly young woman in fact, probably only
four or five years older than Hanna herself. She had thought all nuns
these days were in their fifties, but this one couldn't have been
older than thirty at the most.
The nun smiled, having obviously been observing Hanna's inner
conflicts. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you," she said in a surprisingly
frank voice. "You looked as though you might have wanted someone to
talk to, but it seems I made my assumption too soon."
"Uh, thanks," Hanna said, hesitating and feeling rather off
balance about the sudden company. "I was just... thinking."
The nun nodded at the obvious remark, slightly amused but still
understanding. "Yes, anyone who needs to come to this place would
have troubled thoughts. I am glad to see that yours ended well
though."
Hanna sighed. She knew the woman meant well, but this was all
just a bit too invasive for her liking. "I'm sorry, but I really
don't want to talk about it, and even if I did you wouldn't
understand anyway."
The nun nodded, unhurt by the words. "I see. I apologise for
intruding. Still," she said as she stood back up, "please do not
think that my faith would make me closed minded, or judgemental. It
is all a matter of perspective, as I have had to re-learn during my
time here."
Hanna frowned, suddenly confused. "You're not a nun? You're a
patient?"
The woman turned back to explain, seemingly unconcerned but
Hanna's attitude. "No woman begins life as a nun, and I am no longer
a patient here. However, this is the life I now lead, and even that
does not make me immune to the 'human condition'."
Hanna looked down, feeling slightly ashamed with herself. Even
after rejecting her company this woman was still willing to talk
about such personal things. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," the nun replied with a gentle smile. "We all have our
problems, and I doubt we will ever truly overcome them. It is
learning to live without giving in to them that makes us human. I
doubt any religious words will ease your mind, but at the least I
will say that it is our hardships that make us who we are. They make
the rewards of life that much more precious."
Hanna nodded. "Yeah. She's precious alright." Then she realised
what she had let slip and looked up at her companion.
To her surprise the nun just nodded. "And I am sure she thinks
the same of you, if your smile was any indication." Seeing Hanna's
face she let out a laugh. "Oh don't look so surprised. I doubt the
Lord will smite you for the preferences he gave you, if my guess is
right. I can think of far worse sins than an honest love, whatever
your interpretation of His wishes."
"Sister Mary," called a stern voice from the path, breaking into
their conversation, "I do hope you are not condemning yet another
soul to boredom with your idle chatter."
They both looked over to see the stocky pastor, looking somewhat
put out.
"Don't mind him," Sister Mary said with a wink. "He has come to
know me too well." Then her mood turned gentler again. "I had better
be going, but remember that this is not the only place where people
will listen if you find yourself with a need to talk."
Hanna nodded, accepting despite herself. She knew that if she
were to turn to someone a nun would not be first on her list, no
matter how open minded. Still, it had been an eye-opening encounter,
and she watched with a strange interest as the woman fell into line
behind the pastor as they departed. She seemed to change as they
walked, becoming more the kind of deferential, proper nun that Hanna
had expected.
Idly she wondered why it was that Sister Mary had been a patient,
but she didn't think about it too hard. She just wanted to get back
to her hotel room, take a cold shower, and wonder how to apologise to
Victoria about what had happened.
***
The hotel room was sparse but comfortable, Hanna had finally
decided. At first she had been very unimpressed, but now that she had
taken the time to relax there and clean herself up it had taken on a
sort of homeliness, despite being so plain to the eyes. As she sat in
front of the unvarnished dresser, clad only in her towel as she dried
her sopping hair, she couldn't help but think that she was making
poorly veiled analogies about herself. She wasn't the type to take
too much interest in temporary surroundings, so when she did it was
usually a bad sign.
Thinking about Victoria had really started to get to her now.
'The nun was right,' she thought, 'Vicky is still valuable to me,
otherwise I wouldn't be here.'
She wrapped her dark, shoulder length locks in the second towel
and stared at her reflection in the aged mirror. 'Vicky really thinks
I'm beautiful? Those must be some seriously rose tinted glasses she
has. Or maybe she really it mad.'
Hanna shook that sarcastic thought from her head. Her
girlfriend's sense of humour must have been a bad influence on her.
She should be grateful that Victoria saw it, whatever it was she saw
in Hanna's own dull, grey-blue eyes. At least her skin was in better
shape now. Over a year without any reason to look good had kept the
foundations and creams lost in the bottom of her vanity box at home,
and if anything she felt that she looked better for it. Now that she
had also weaned herself off the self-pitying beer and burgers every
meal she was beginning to think that she looked fit for her
girlfriend to come home to. She reached down to her stomach, feeling
the looser skin there where she had lost that unsightly extra weight.
"No more cheese and chocolate for you," she said to herself. She
missed them terribly, but the fear of losing Victoria a second time
because she had let herself go in her grief was a far, far worse
prospect.
She groaned and rested her chin on her hands as she stared at her
own image. "This is stupid." She had been feeling better after
returning from the hospital, but somehow she had driven herself back
into that maudlin cloud that had accompanied her all the way to
Arkham. Whatever had happened, this wasn't like her. She needed to
find something to do. Sitting there alone and letting everything swim
around in her head wasn't doing her any good.
She put her foot down and threw her towels onto the bed,
determined to find something worth doing in this weird excuse for a
town. But, what was there to do in Arkham? It wasn't exactly a hive
of activity; what little rough nightlife there was wouldn't begin to
get going for another five hours, and she wasn't the type to check
out all the creepy curio shops.
There was Victoria's university though. Hanna paused as she
pulled on her pullover, and heaved out a sigh. Why bother to fight it?
She could at least see Vicky's tutor and see what she would have to
do to get back on track, assuming the hospital could release her soon.
***
Hanna had never really liked Arkham, but the Miskatonic
University was the one exception. The large, spacious campus lacked
the oppressiveness that pervaded the shadow-strewn streets, as if it
was still moving forward while the rest of the town was lost in its
own closeted past. There was no doubt that both the town and the
university had had their share of unfortunate incidents over the
years, but since first visiting the place Hanna had always felt that
there was a certain depressed wistfulness hanging over everything
except the university. As if the rest of the town actually mourned
the loss of such unhappy times.
The university on the other hand was always looking to the future.
It was well renowned for its arts programs, and the medical students
it shared with St. Mary's Teaching Hospital just down the road. It
was always short of money, and filled with far too many enthusiastic
teachers whose work came before their budgets, but it was those
attitudes that made it so well worth enrolling. Both the building and
the people there were quirky, but not as standoffish as the rest of
Arhkam. At least not without good reason.
It was sad really that all Hanna's praise was in comparing the
university to its town. It didn't do it justice. Victoria had done
well in her medical and biology studies there, and she was not one
who easily took to schooling.
It was largely thanks to her main tutor that Victoria had scored
as well as she had before she had lost her grip on reality. Even then
Professor Walters had helped them both when given the chance, even
though it had been beyond the call of duty. If anything he was too
kind to his students and very lenient on tardiness to his lectures,
but his reasoning was simple: he would teach those who wanted to
learn, and fail those who didn't. He also seemed to have very little
life outside the university grounds as far as Hanna had been told.
What free time he got was usually spent with his students anyway,
answering questions and debating at great length about their work.
He looked every one of his forty seven years, with his greyed,
wiry hair constantly escaping from under his hat. His short, rounded
stature didn't do him any favours either, but his eyes were as bright
and as sharp as they had always been. He only seemed to have the one
waistcoat but he was never without it, and ratty as it was it seemed
to suit him no matter what shirt and trousers he chose for the day.
He had a surgeon's fingers, precise and not too stubby despite his
portliness, but he had never actually got around practicing his craft.
His research and bookish nature has always kept him distracted and
out of the clutches of the St. Mary's staff, though they had tried to
convert him more than once over the years.
Hanna stopped short of his office when she got there though,
watching from the corner as he and another young woman spoke.
"It isn't the theory I am disputing Maria, it is the ethics of
the thing. If nothing else you are proposing to stand on someone
else's shoulders to get your grades, using his unpublished material
at that, without going through the discovery process for yourself.
How you even got hold of such notes is beyond me, let alone how you
could put faith in such an absurd notion."
Maria just smirked. "Dr. West is long dead professor, plagiarism
isn't even an issue. I'm telling you, this is ground-breaking work.
It's about taking a revolutionary theory and turning it on its head
to make it work. If you think outside the box instead of following
the logical but ultimately unusable medical assumptions, there's
nothing to say it *can't* work."
Hanna couldn't help but frown. Maria Geseris was one of
Victoria's classmates, but calling her a friend would have been a
long shot. Maria was an over-achiever, and what's more she both knew
it and liked it. During the few times they had met, mainly because
Victoria had belonged to the same university society as her, Hanna
had taken an acute dislike to the arrogance that Maria had exuded. Of
course she was devastatingly intelligent and probably made for
excellent intellectual company, but Hanna had made it a point not to
hang out with them when Maria was around, just because too long in
the same room as the self-satisfied girl was enough to make her want
to punch something.
Professor Walters just looked at the girl. "There's nothing to
say it *can* work either. You are a great student Maria, but you are
reaching, and doing so with someone else's stick."
Maria didn't seem bothered in the least. "I'll just have to make
sure I know where to reach with it then. Unless you are denying me
the chance to try."
The professor sighed and shook his head. "If you are going to go
through with it I can't stop you. But if you expect to pass at all I
will want to see some serious work. All the theories, all the sources,
every result of every experiment, and all within the rules."
Maria's eyes lit up. "So I can have the lab?"
"Four-oh-six," the professor agreed, reluctantly holding up a
pair of keys "Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, from eight until
midnight." He looked at her carefully as she clutched them to her
chest. "Maria, if even a single line gets crossed I won't be able to
cover for you. They will be too busy hanging me from the same tree."
"Trust me," Maria replied with a wink as she all but danced down
the hallway, "it'll be so worth your while when you see what I've
come up with!"
The professor sighed as Hanna came out of hiding. "So much for
student supervision. Oh, Miss Lockett, what can I do for you?"
"What's with her?" Hanna had to ask. "It doesn't sound like you
approve."
Professor Walters shook his head. "I don't, but I know what she
is like. She wants to see my face when she shows me this wonder-
theory. I'd rather not see her fail though. She could do very well
for herself if only she stopped dreaming about achievement and
actually applied herself to real medicine."
Hanna nodded. She couldn't help feeling that the professor's own
teachers had probably thought the same about him, but she kept that
to herself. The idea that he was similar to that obnoxious girl
wasn't something she wanted to voice, even if he didn't have the same
view of her that she did. "So who's this 'West' she's stealing her
ideas from?"
Professor Walters huffed and turned back into his office,
ushering her in. "Not someone you would want to hear about. A man
whose brilliance was matched only by his ignorance. I doubt anyone
knows what really happened, St. Mary's was quick to clean up the mess
he made, but it is enough for me to know that his experimenting cost
him his life. Anyway enough about that," he said, brightening
considerably as he offered Hanna a seat. "How have you been my dear?"
Hanna gave him a wan smile. "I've been better, but I can't
complain. Vicky's actually looking like a real person again. That's
why I came actually. I'm hoping they release her soon, so I thought
I'd better see what I'd have to do to get her back in your classes."
Professor Walters' broad smile said it all. "I'm glad to hear it.
As far as I'm concerned she can re-start the second year whenever she
likes. Just give me a call when the time comes and I'll make sure to
have all the paperwork on hand. She will have to re-take one of the
lab examinations, but I'm sure Doctor Sykes won't mind taking in one
extra paper." He settled back in his chair, crossing his hands over
his paunch. "Tell me, how is she coping these days?"
Hanna just kept that wan smile. "I don't really know, but better.
A lot better. Maybe better than me..."
***
South Church was not a small building, and surrounded by old
residential Americana it stood out like a sore, almost classically
gothic thumb. The ornate carvings, vaulted windows and flying
buttresses gave it a strangely intimidating presence, as if it were
trying to play the role of cathedral and making up for its lack of
standing with promises of fire and brimstone.
Sister Mary Liten forced herself to turn away from her dormitory
window, and smiled at the thought. In that way at least pastor
Matthews was the perfect man to lead the ceremonies there. Smaller
than he would like to be, but very imposing, and never straying from
the angry word of God.
Mary knew the truth though. Both her church and her priest
covered themselves in bluster and attitude only for the sake of
keeping the flock faithful. It was a shame that society was so quick
to forget good teachings because there was no threat to 'enforce'
them. Pastor Matthews gave them that threat, so he kept his
congregation, but Mary was not fooled. He was a man considerate to a
fault, and more than worthy of his position and his cassock. After
all, he kept her and the other sisters well even though he didn't
really need so much extra help.
Sister Mary couldn't help but feel guilty for that. She had
surely been more effort than the other three sisters combined, but
the fact that she was still there in her dormitory was proof that
love for your fellow man, and indeed fellow woman, was not limited by
convenience. It was just one more lesson that had been reinforced the
hard way.
Such lessons had happened many times since she had first taken
shelter under the cloth. Had anyone asked her about becoming a nun
even six months before she joined she would have laughed for a very
long time, but that had been six years ago. She had worn the black
gown and wimple for five of those years now, so long that it actually
felt natural.
It wasn't something she could sleep in though. She stood from her
desk and closed her wardrobe door, not wanting to see herself in the
mirror as she changed for bed. It was in irrational quirk, but there
was something about seeing a nun naked that didn't sit well with her,
even if that nun was herself. She also turned to the window, ready to
close the curtain without even thinking about it, but her eyes locked
onto the house that their dorm backed against. She stared at it for a
moment, trying to force herself to look away. It was an old place,
and it had seen better days, but they had dug their own simple but
large swimming pool in their garden, which took up most of the space
out there. She had used to like watching the owners swim during the
summer. It was the upstairs window that held her gaze now though.
No doubt they didn't realise that their curtains were not as
thick as they could have been, and when the bright light cast its
silhouettes through them Mary could not help but watch and worry. A
concern that had almost consumed her once. These late night parties
were loud, loud enough to hear the shouts and cries since their
properties backed onto one another, but there never seemed to be any
music. And the shadows that played across the curtain acted...
chaotically.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, marching to the corner of
her room and undressing herself as hurriedly as she could. She should
not have been thinking such things, especially about members of her
priest's congregation. There was nothing to suspect, and suspicion
was just a part of her imagination rebelling against the life she had
taken up. Many people held parties at night, she had done so in her
earlier years, and she had behaved abominably at times. This was none
of her business, and she had shamed herself and Father Matthews
enough already over it.
She took her time folding her robes, steadying her nerves as she
did, and made to hang them over her chair.
But her chair was on the other side of her room, bathed in the
moonlight coming through the window that she didn't dare approach
again tonight, least of all when naked. She felt an involuntary
shiver run through her and just laid her clothing down by the side of
her bed. Then she slipped beneath her well laid sheets, trying to rid
herself of every thought that she could. She knew rationally that
there was nothing to think about at all, her time with the good
doctors had proved that, but now that the notion had appeared every
thought lead to same worrisome place.
It just had to happen again now. She would get over it, she knew,
but she found that sleep was a long time in coming that night.
***
Upon the seashore, lost in her deepest dreams, Victoria danced.
Her body and mind burned with energy so strong that it would surely
have consumed her if she had stopped even for a moment. She felt
alive and free, joyful simply because she existed in that moment. The
beat of the drums and the licking of the flames spurred her on, and
she let out a cry of exultation. She was *alive*, releasing every
ounce of energy within her and still her body moved, as if with a
mind of its own. She never wanted to stop. She would dance and sing
and love and hate and cry with both anguish and joy, until her body
could take no more.
She knew this was a nightmare. It was the ecstasy that made it
terrifying.
Many others danced with her, all lost in their own joyful release.
It was an orgy of kinetic hedonism. Everyone that could move danced,
and everyone that could not lay in rapture, ravished by whatever man,
woman or creature had the desire.
As always, not all the revellers were human. The bulbous-eyed,
piscine men and women danced with them, their watery worshipping long
forgotten in the rush of the Dance. Victoria had no idea whether
their joy was anything like hers, but neither race of beings made any
differentiation between each other now. They danced together, raged
together and loved together, the sand writhing as their numbers
seemed to grow and the drums seemed to beat faster.
Victoria could no longer tell whether it was the drums or just
the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears. Her breath was fast
and ragged, almost painful as she sang out into the night sky.
Neither she nor any of the others cared who or what might have heard
them. The guttural screeching that replied from the vast silhouettes
above caused them no fear. It just made Victoria sing louder.
Nobody cared for their safety as these Star Spawned giants danced
upon the same shores. Those trampled under the feet of the huge,
winged things simply lay where they fell, their blood colouring the
sand a wonderful, deep red. Victoria could feel the stickiness
between her toes as she danced, but she felt no revulsion or remorse.
Such things were for the sane, waking world. She just danced and sang
and cried out until, at some unknowable signal from within herself,
her knees gave out and she fell to the bloody sand, writhing as the
feet of her fellow dancers fell around her.
She crawled towards the fire, basking in the warmth and feeling
her energy return. Several of the men and fish-men dashed back from
the dance, another trampled body slung between them. Around the fire
everyone called out with a, 'One, Two, Three!' as the grinning
quartet slung the corpse onto the rails across the bonfire. Across
from them another pair drove their spears into the side of the one
already there, hauling it off and into the hungry mass. Victoria
joined the scramble for the feast as a man, human and built like a
brick wall, cleaned and jointed the grisly barbecue before slinging
the meat for them to catch.
Victoria collided with something cold and slick as she lunged for
her piece, and both she and the fish-woman fell together, wrapped
around the food. The fish woman snarled, baring her tiny, pointed
teeth when Victoria took the bone for herself, but violence was best
left to those who enjoyed it. Victoria lay down atop the thin but pot
bellied Deep One and their lips met around the flavourful meat she
held in her teeth.
It was then that she glanced over to what remained of their meal,
just the head and backbone left for the crabs on the bloodied sand.
Hanna had been able to make it to the dance after all.
That was when she should have woken up, but Victoria knew that
would not happen. The night was yet young, and she would be forced to
enjoy so much more before she would be allowed to scream herself
awake.
***
Hanna had approached the hospital in high spirits. Both the
talkative nun and Professor Walters had been very reassuring the day
before, and even a restless night had not managed to sour her mood
much. It must have been the humidity, she thought, because the
bedcovers had found their way to and from her hotel room floor more
times than she remembered.
However, the longer she waited in the hospital reception the more
those high spirits began to seep away. The bench was hard against her
back and the sounds of shuffling feet were magnified as they bounced
around the open room. She looked up to the clock on the wall again,
wondering what was keeping Dr Turner. It had been a full twenty
minutes since the man at the desk had paged her. It wasn't as though
she was in a hurry, but the longer she sat there the more licence her
imagination took for itself. Hanna wasn't the most creative person on
the planet by any means, but even she could end up picturing the
various repercussions that her last visit might have had. Ones that
could well be keeping her in the dark now that she had returned.
Sadly, that wasn't far from the truth. The clock had reached half
past eleven by the time anyone appeared to see her, but it wasn't Dr
Turner. Instead the wild squeaking of running feet found her ears,
and she turned to see Victoria career out into the reception, moving
so fast that she could not stop herself from flying right over the
desk and into the startled receptionist. The cries of the pursuing
nurses and attendants followed the young woman's inadvertent assault
on the reception desk, calling to restrain her, but by that time
Victoria had already found her feet. "Hanna!"
Hanna just stared in shock as Victoria bowled into her, knocking
them both onto the bench as Vicky wept into Hanna's shirt with relief.
"You're alive!" Victoria bawled, "God Hanna, I thought they'd got you.
I thought I'd never see you again!"
The realisation was slow to dawn in Hanna's numb brain, but the
tears were already sliding down her face as Victoria clutched at her.
This wasn't the Victoria she had seen yesterday, but one of the many
shadows of herself her girlfriend had become so long ago. A Victoria
driven by some unknowable despair or paranoia or rage. What had
triggered this? Was it because she had turned up again after so long?
Was it because she had not made love to her, or because she had
allowed their passions to go as far as they had the day before? Was
she herself the focus of some kind of emotional knot that her
girlfriend had kept down within herself and left to fester? Surely,
the only thing that had changed to warrant Victoria's madness was her
own presence in Vicky's life again.
Seeing her tears Victoria seemed to calm a little, and then her
hands began to roam, checking her girlfriend for some sort of injury
that might have caused them. "Hanna, what's wrong? What have they
done to you?"
Hanna wanted to scream. 'What have they done to *you*!? What have
*I* done to you? Why now? Why couldn't you just get better!?'
The moment seemed to drag out for an age before the nurses
finally reached them and hauled Victoria from her lover's arms.
"Wha..? No!! Get off me you bastards! Hanna, the stars are coming
right! You have to run! This is a cursed place! He can see us here!
His dreams can reach us anywhere!" She tried to wrestle from the
nurses' grip, bringing her knee up violently between one poor man's
legs and sending him cringing to the floor, clutching his abused
testicles.
"Let me go, you don't understand!" Victoria continued to rant as
Hanna could only look on helplessly, "The city will rise from its
watery grave! The Dead Cthulhu will wake! It is nearly time!"
Hanna felt a hand on her shoulder as Victoria was taken away, and
looked up to see Dr Turner. "Why?" she whispered through her tears.
"Why now?"
Carolyn shook her head. "I sincerely doubt it is because of your
visit," she replied, trying to sound comforting despite her own
sadness over Victoria's apparent re-lapse. "A particularly unpleasant
nightmare seems to have been the trigger, but given a few hours, and
something to calm her, she should be feeling better. Her last bouts
of this mania, a few months ago, did not last long."
Hanna just nodded, looking at the pristine, white floor. "She
isn't going to be released now, is she..?"
Dr. Turner sighed. "I can't do that in good conscience, no. You
saw how badly she kicked that orderly in trying to get free."
Hanna nodded again, feeling the tears roll down their assigned
paths. "... Can I see her again, when she calms down?"
"I have a session with her this afternoon, and she has said on
more than one occasion that she would like you there for them,"
Carolyn replied. "It breaks the normal procedure, but given the
situation it might help her recovery. The question is just whether
you want to hear us talking about her dreams and fears. They can get
rather personal and unpleasant."
Hanna just stared at the blank floor. "It can't be anything worse
that I heard at the beginning," she said, thinking back to the things
Victoria had accused her of before she had been committed. Everything
from being an amoral freak to being the bastard spawn of some great
devil, sent to condemn her.
Dr Turner seemed to understand the sentiment, but that wasn't the
point she was making. "But do you *want* to be hearing those things
again?"
Hanna glared up into the doctor's eyes. "Of course not! But..."
she said, her speech faltering, "I want to see her again, like I did
yesterday. I don't care what crazy things she'll say. Maybe if I
understand it more... I might be able to deal with it better. I just
want to see her happy again."
***
Hanna walked in a daze after that. She barely registered where
she was as she travelled the Arkham streets, unable to think clearly
about anything that had happened in the last twenty four hours. First
her girlfriend was almost in the clear, and in the space of a day
that happy notion had been dashed away, as if her first visit had
been nothing more than a dream. She found herself standing outside
shop after shop, staring at the trinkets, dresses and even the
tattoos that were offered, but not seeing them. Retail therapy had
its limits, and right then she would not even have known what she was
buying.
But what else could she do? She had been promised some sort of
explanation, if only in the form of Victoria's fears spoken aloud,
but it was hours away. She couldn't stay at the old asylum. Being so
close to Victoria but denied her presence would have driven her to
tears again, even though her girlfriend's delusions would no doubt do
the same. She also had to eat eventually, but she barely tasted it
when she finally had lunch at the diner in the northern half of town.
An hour on and she couldn't even remember what it was she had ordered,
but it had filled her well enough.
The worst of it was that she wasn't all that surprised with the
way things had ended up. This was the status quo now, and who was she
to expect it to change?
It wasn't as though she had anywhere to go either, now that she
was in town. Professor Walters would be in classes, her parents were
a continent away, and the friends she would have had in Arkham were
all Victoria's, not hers. 'Several of them must have graduated by now
anyway,' she thought, feeling morose at the idea and wondering
whether any of them had visited Victoria before they left. She could
have gone to see the nun, but counsel wasn't what she wanted right
then. She wanted a shoulder to cry herself out on, and to be put to
bed when she had exhausted herself. It was that or just keep holding
the frustration in until something made sense again.
***
If the session had been one hour later Hanna would have cracked
and gone to see the nun after all, but four o' clock finally arrived
and she was admitted into Dr Turner's room. The doctor looked
professional and caring as always, but Hanna could see the lines of
tension around her eyes, and her hair was not quite was well kept as
it had been that morning.
And Victoria...
She looked positively hollow. The leather chair would have
threatened to consume her if she sat curled any further into herself.
It was almost as if she didn't dare to look as Hanna entered, for
fear of being struck down where she sat. Her eyes looked raw and red,
and her clothes seemed to hang from her at odd angles, as if worn by
a doll, but even if she was uncomfortable she made no move to fix
them.
"Have a seat Hanna," Dr Turner said, offering her the other
leather chair. "I'm glad you could come."
Victoria looked timidly across as she sat down. "I'm sorry Hanna.
I didn't want to make you cry."
The small, desolate voice pulled at Hanna's heart. No matter how
confused she was her emotions knew what they wanted. "It's okay. I'll
live. I've cried before."
The joke didn't bring a smile to Victoria's face though. Instead
she just looked back down at the floor, waiting for Dr Turner to
start. After all, she knew what was coming.
Instead of speaking however, the doctor lifted a small, old
fashioned tape recorder from her desk drawer and placed it on the
table. "I am not an advocate of alternative practices," she said
seriously, "but with cases such as Victoria's we have found
hypnotherapy an unusually effective treatment."
"Cases such as hers?" Hanna parroted. She had not thought that
Victoria's elaborate manias were something a psychiatrist would see
very often.
Carolyn nodded. "While unusual her symptoms are not unique. In
fact when they do occur they seem to have many aspects in common.
Victoria and I had a short session before you arrived," she said,
tapping the tape recorder, "in which I asked her to describe her
latest nightmare. It contains many of those shared images. Victoria,
why don't you tell her why you want her to hear it."
"Because..." Victoria halted. "Because I'm afraid to tell you
myself."
Dr. Turner pressed play on the machine. "You can tell me to
switch it off at any time, either of you."
Hanna had heard hypnosis tapes before, on TV shows of course, but
hearing one for real was something else entirely. Victoria sounded so
normal, but somehow dulled, as if she was narrating a science project.
The details were graphic and disturbing, but spoken with such
detachment that it didn't scare Hanna at all. After a few minutes
however Victoria's voice started to sound urgent, as she described
how she had revelled in cannibalising her lover as she and the fish-
woman had made love.
"Why are you eating her?" Carolyn's voice asked.
"Because I love her. I want to become one with her."
The surprise in Carolyn's voice reflected what Hanna was feeling,
listening to the nauseating tale. "But you are having sex with this
'Deep One'."
"Hanna is dead, but I can still become one with her. The Deep One
wants Hanna too. We can both have her. We can have each other. We can
have everything."
"Do you love the 'Deep One' too?"
"Yes. No. I don't, but I can't help it," Victoria's voice came,
more urgently than before. "My body is so hot I have to move."
"How does this make you feel, emotionally?"
Victoria sounded like she was on the verge of panicking now. "The
me on the beach is in love with everything. She wants to enjoy the
world. The me in my head is scared. She wants to wake up! But she
can't!"
It was then that Carolyn stopped the tape. "Why couldn't you tell
me any of this before? You knew I would ask when you agreed to the
hypnotherapy again."
Victoria just stared at Hanna, their waterlogged eyes locked
together. "Because I want to get better. I do. But I can't tell you.
People can't know! They'll only make everything worse!"
"You're talking about the conspiracy with your old college
society," Carolyn observed.
Victoria didn't reply, but the doctor knew she was right. "You do
understand that this conspiracy can't possibly exist, don't you
Victoria? A discovery as incredible as your giant demon would have
been found by now, even if you and your university friends were
trying to save mankind from itself."
"That's why we're safe," Victoria replied, "But they don't
understand. It's not enough. It never will be. Dead Cthulhu doesn't
need books to rise again. He has the stars and his Spawn and his
dreams! If someone doesn't tell them they can only be drawn in. Just
like me."
"I think we had better call it a day," Carolyn said, pinching the
bridge of her nose. She knew that it would probably take a few more
days for Victoria to shake free of her intricate fantasies if she was
still talking so freely about them in session. It was when she began
to doubt them that she grew quiet, and Carolyn could work with her
properly again.
"Harmon knows!" Victoria continued, ignoring her doctor's call
for an end to the session. "He knows about the Dead Cthulhu!"
Dr Turner smiled sympathetically as she stood and got Victoria to
her feet. "Mr Harmon only began to say that name when you arrived,"
she said gently. "And he will be here long after you leave."
"But...But..." Victoria stammered, her eyes losing focus as she
began warring with her convictions again. "But you understand, don't
you?" She turned to Hanna as her doctor ushered her towards the door.
"You understand, right Hanna? You have to leave it alone."
Hanna just watched sadly as Victoria contradicted herself. Why
tell her all this if she was just supposed to act as though it hadn't
happened. "I understand Vicky," she lied, if only to spare Victoria's
feelings.
"Wait!" Victoria suddenly said, pulling away from Carolyn's
guiding hand. "Hanna."
It seemed so sudden when Victoria wrapped Hanna in her arms, but
Hanna would have been swept away by it regardless. She returned the
hug with all her strength, as if willing the crazy dreams out of her
girlfriend.
"I love you so much," Victoria whispered. "You have to believe
that."
"I... I love you too Vicky."
Victoria pulled away, her eyes misty again. "Can I kiss you?"
Hanna replied by pressing her lips against Victoria, and the pair
stood in that close embrace with no care in the world as to who might
have been passing. Whatever the distance that had opened between them,
that kiss was what kept the bridge from collapsing altogether.
After the orderlies had taken Victoria back to her room Dr Turner
walked Hanna back to the reception. "I'm sorry you had to hear all
that, but I think it will be easier on Victoria now, having you to
anchor her away from her dreams."
Hanna just walked. "I think I heard what I needed to. Actually, I
didn't realise how broad it all was, thinking that there's some sort
of conspiracy going on. A benevolent one at that. The Miskatonic
Society is going to have something to answer for if they helped cause
this to her."
"It isn't uncommon for a patient to work significant aspects of
her life into her fantasies," Carolyn said. "I have spoken with some
of the members at the college personally, but they are just a book
keeping club. They don't even have the obligatory, morally dubious
initiation ceremony, unlike the swim team."
Hanna sighed. Another target for the blame would have been nice
right then. She just prayed she wouldn't have any dreams when night
came, because the images she had heard on the tape were not ones she
wanted to see for herself.
***
Even shaken as she was by what she had heard, Hanna seemed to
have more direction that evening. Her wanderings around the town had
a purpose; aware and resolute. There was far too much going on in her
head to allow her to rest, and too many conflicting emotions to allow
her to wallow in self-pity or feel contented that a real and clear
remnant of her girlfriend could still be stirred inside Victoria. But
she had soon known what to do to remedy all her current ills, and
guarantee herself a full, if restless, night's sleep.
She was going to get blind, stinking drunk.
It was a temporary solution she knew, but it would work, and she
could see about dealing with what would happen next while nursing her
hangover. The plan had only one drawback: none of the real bars
opened until after the dinner rush, so after a long, circular walk
looking for one she ended up having to settle for the diner that was
only ten minutes from the hospital.
It wasn't a bad place by any means, but along with the alluring
smell of greasy food it was something of a relic from the fifties,
with large glass frontages that did little for someone wanting time
to herself. After the first few shady characters, one looking for a
date and the other selling the most bizarre collections of junk,
Hanna suspected it was only a matter of time before she got some
company that would decide to stay.
"You really should have something to eat if you plan on drinking
this early."
Strangely, that company turned out to be the nun.
Hanna stared up at her, slack-jawed with the combination of
surprise and her third pint of beer. "You?" When she realised that
she wasn't seeing things she looked back down to her drink. "Thanks
for the concern, but I don't think I'll be eating again for a while."
Sister Mary's face grew concerned. "I see. Would you mind if I
joined you?"
Hanna allowed herself a dry laugh. "I can't stop you, but you do
stick out in here you know."
She was right. With the overweight truckers on their stools at
the counter, and the leather and jean clad types eating at their
tables, Mary's stark, black and white presence might well have been
from another world entirely. Mary only gave them a cursory glance
though, reasoning that they weren't too likely to take offence unless
she decided to offend them personally.
"What happened?"
Hanna just looked at her, her features actively blank. "Look
sister... Mary, was it? Do you want to lose your appetite as well?"
Mary just returned the gaze, unshaken by the tone in Hanna's
voice. "Not particularly, but I like to think that my company is
better than that of a bottle."
Hanna blinked, not making the connection, before she threw back
the last of her pint and called out for another one from the waitress.
"Alright then, virgin Mary, let's trade. My story, in all it's gory
detail, for yours. Why did you get sent to the head-shrinkers?"
Mary's gaze didn't waver in the slightest. "Okay. But before I
begin, I haven't even asked your name yet."
"It's Hanna."
"Very well Hanna," Mary said, nodding. "My story is simple to
explain. I let my beliefs cloud my judgement."
Hanna chuckled a little cruelly at that. "Religion has a habit of
doing that, eh?"
Mary just smiled at the poor joke. "On occasion. I joined the
church when I was a few years younger than you, most likely. The
details are complicated, but it was a sanctuary for me, more than a
calling. I had to learn my religion almost from the beginning. In
many ways that was a blessing. Being a nun is a matter of genuine
faith for me, and not just a routine that I have found myself
following after years of constant repetition."
"Unfortunately," she continued, her voice turning low, "it also
seems to have made me susceptible to overzealousness, now that I do
believe. I turned that misplaced zeal against a member of our
congregation and his family, based on presumption and supposition
that could not possibly be true, now that I look at it in a clear
light. I accused them of things that I should not have, and even went
so far as to try breaking into their house. I was so convinced that
what I was doing was right, and that my suspicions could be nothing
but the truth."
"That sounds like Vicky," Hanna said quietly into her drink, but
not so quietly as to hide it from her companion.
"Perhaps she and I are somewhat alike in that respect," Mary
replied kindly. "I may still have these fears, but at least now I can
see them for what they are."
Hanna just stared at her, her drink-fuelled attitude mollified by
the honestly told tale. There was too much in it that she could
connect to, and it both saddened her, reflecting her own memories,
and gave her some hope that Victoria might make the same kind of
recovery that Mary obviously had.
"Vicky started to go weird a couple of years ago," Hanna finally
replied, beginning her own morbid tale. "Nightmares she said, and
they really screwed her up. I did my best to help her, but we were
going to different colleges by then. She was here, and I stayed in
New York." She let out a small, involuntary chuckle there. "We were
both studying there when we met. Probably five years ago now. Five
and a half maybe. We moved in together when I graduated, then she
moved out when she did the same the next year, and she came up here.
She bitched so much that I didn't drop out to come up with her.
"Still, the drive isn't that bad, but that's when her nightmares
started. It started slowly at first, but she got more paranoid, and
started getting violent for no reason, or breaking down because she
suddenly got scared. I came up whenever I could, but... one day she
went too far, I called the college, and we had her chucked in the
loony bin."
"Surely the university staff must have noticed something?" Mary
asked, amazed that it could have gone on with only Hanna to take any
action.
"Professor Walters helped a lot, but apparently he's all for
giving his students freedoms. If she had a bad day she just wouldn't
turn up. Heh, if only he knew." Hanna said with a mirthless laugh.
Mary's gaze turned quizzical. "Knew what?"
Hanna just shook her head. "Vicky's convinced she was part of
some sort of conspiracy in her college society. Some book group
trying to hide the 'truth' to protect everyone. That would make
Professor Walters one of her accomplices, and all this would be their
fault."
Mary nodded, but there was an unusual seriousness in her eyes.
"Sometimes there is a little truth in the craziest fantasies. Maybe
it wasn't their fault, but a book can affect a person's life even if
it is just words on a page. If those words have meaning, it is more
than possible. This book allowed me to start my life over again," she
said, pulling the tome from her robes. A small, beautifully bound
bible in black leather.
Hanna stared at it for a moment before the idea sank in. "Maybe I
should talk to Professor Walters again. If that is what started
giving her those nightmares..." Hanna swallowed hard and took another
gulp from her drink. "Well, the reason I'd rather not eat? I heard
her talk about her latest dream, on tape. Apparently she enjoyed it,
aside from being desperate to wake up throughout the whole thing.
Then again, the blood, the mermaid orgy, chucking my trampled body on
the barbecue for a midnight feast..."
Hanna could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. "She ate me -
and while she was fucking some fish-person too. That's so fucked up.
And she made it sound like it was... That she ate me because she
loved me, and for a moment it actually sounded like that made some
fucking sense!"
Mary paused at hearing the unpleasant story, and moved around to
sit by her companion, putting a comforting arm around her. "Have you
ever taken communion Hanna?"
"When I was a kid, sure," Hanna replied, her eyes watery but no
longer threatening to spill over.
To Hanna's surprise Sister Mary seemed calmed by the admission.
"Then maybe you know how she feels. There is something indescribable
about communion for me, in what it symbolises and how I feel to
accept it, but I am never scared by the more explicit implications of
worshipping Christ that way."
She sighed, not wanting to get too deeply into the issue,
especially since she could only give what amounted to armchair wisdom.
Hanna was better educated than she was after all. "Just remember that
dreams mean something, but the meaning often isn't the most obvious
thing that you see."
Hanna just sat there, soaking in the idea. It seemed to make some
sense, but her alcohol-fuzzed head was unwilling to make the picture
as clear as it should have been. "I... I understand, I think." She
let out a heavy sigh and wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her
pullover. "I guess I'd better go. I don't feel like drinking any
more."
She got up and Mary did the same to let her out. "Hey," Hanna
added as she made her way to the door, "thanks Sister. That really
did help after all."
Mary just smiled and nodded. "I'm glad."
***
It was the following morning that Hanna sat across from her
girlfriend's professor in his study. She truly liked the man, but had
all his help over these two difficult years been out of more than
simple kindness? She had suggested that maybe, just maybe, Victoria
had found something in one of the books their small society read and
organised. Even when she had woken, Sister Mary's words had still
rung somewhat true. A children's book could give nightmares with its
tales of trolls and cannibalistic giants, no matter how much of a
fairy tale it was. A bible could draw someone to God, whether the new
believer was a penniless working man or one with more material
comfort than he knew what to do with.
Hanna had expected her scholarly friend just to shake his head,
or perhaps even laugh off the possibility. However, the gravity that
seemed to fall upon him was almost tangible. Could some of his help,
his kindness, have been born out of guilt?
"Hanna," he intoned with a solemn air, "if anything that she did
with us did somehow contribute to her condition, then there is no way
I would be able to make it up to you. However, I would never have
done anything to hurt her. You know that."
Hanna nodded, a little cowed by the unexpected intensity in his
voice. "I know, but even if you didn't mean to..."
Walters let out a heavy sigh. "Hanna, the best you can do now,
that any of us can do, is to care for her. She is a girl with a lot
of promise, and I will do anything I can to help her see that through.
If she does associate us with her condition though, surely trying to
dig up what caused it will only lead her further from us."
"I just..." Hanna replied, her voice halting. "I just want to see
the book. I have to know for sure. If I can understand her delusions
better then maybe I can help show her that's all they are."
She could see that Walters knew he was cornered now. No matter
what he said or did, he would have to admit his culpability. "All
right," he finally said. "I will show you. But we would not have
given it to her if we had thought it could have had such an effect on
her imagination."
That admission shocked Hanna into silence, even as the Professor
rose from his seat and began to lead her to the library. As they
walked Hanna tried to sort some of this madness out in her head. This
society really had been the cause, or had at least contributed to
Victoria's insanities. Professor Walters knew it. But she also knew
him as a person. He would never have done it to harm her. Victoria
had always had a sensitive, artistic side: a creativity that she
rarely used, but that had made academia difficult for her. Had she
finally found an outlet for it in studying this book?
"Professor, why? Why tell me all this now? Why hide it for so
long?"
Walters didn't turn back as he answered. "Because I don't want to
hurt you or Victoria. I was horrified by what happened to her, and to
you as a result. I didn't think it could happen to her. I don't want
to think it can happen to you either, but given your situation I
don't want you to read too deeply into it."
"But I know what it is," Hanna replied.
Walters tried not to respond, but found a small, sad smile upon
his face. "I always liked a book that could make me cry, even if I
had read it before."
When they finally reached the library Walters lead her to a
secluded reading alcove and fetched the book in question. Hanna
noticed that it wasn't even on display, but that he had to go into
the room at the back to fetch it. That was the area for speciality
books, only open to the staff and students who specifically needed
them for their courses.
When he returned he also had a student in tow. The young man was
called Alex if Hanna remembered correctly, another of Victoria's old
society friends. However, she was more interested in the 'book' that
Walters lay in front of her. It was a simple thing, far thinner than
she had expected. The cover was blank, with no indication of what
might be inside other than the name of the author, one Dr Laban
Shrewsbury.
Above her the Professor gave Alex a look, to which the young man
nodded before being left to supervise Hanna. Just to make sure she
didn't get too absorbed in the scratchy, hand-written notes. Hanna
was surprised at the poor quality of the text, and at the thin,
weathered paper under the cover. "It's old," she said, stating the
obvious.
Alex nodded. "Victoria re-bound it herself. We're all sorry about
what happened to her. I've been to visit, but she doesn't seem to
want to see me."
Hanna blew the air out of her lungs, beginning to read. "She
seems to have changed her tune since then."
The conversation didn't last long, replaced instead by the rustle
of turning pages. Hanna felt like she had to be careful not to
accidentally tear the thing as she skimmed over it. It was written
not as a dialogue or a narrative, but as a free flowing of thoughts
onto the page, no doubt to become a book further down the line if the
author had ever finished it. The ideas and warnings came jumbled and
out of any real order, detailing the supposed cult he was warning of
- this cult of the drowned god Cthulhu. Then the next page would be
taken over by all but hysterical scribbles and hand drawn diagrams of
dreams and nightmares that were given to the 'children of man' as the
Great Beast dreamed them.
Hanna could also see the hints of greater meaning behind the
words, but she had no desire to read more carefully over the
delusions. They struck her to be similar to several recent movies.
The whole thing left her unsure whether this dialogue was a
compelling fiction that, by being so hectic and from the first person,
tried to persuade its reader that it was real, or whether the writer
truly did believe in what he was writing.
Still, by the time midday had rolled by Hanna had little of the
thing left to read. She could have studied it for weeks, pulling
together a somewhat cogent story of this great, world spanning cult
and its monsters from the scrambled notes and warnings. However,
simply casting her eyes across the pages of the short book seemed to
take little time at all. It was then, however, that her eyes were
drawn back up from the pages as Maria, the over-achieving girl that
the Professor had had words with the last time she had come, appeared
from behind the bookshelves. "How studious," she said, her voice
faintly mocking as it always seemed to be. "Go and have some lunch
Alex, I'll look after her. I have a few things to look up anyway."
Alex thanked her and gave her his seat, which she took with a
smile. "I haven't seen you for a while Hanna. You seem to have
acquired a new pastime."
Hanna just looked back down to the book. "I'm nearly done Maria.
You don't need to stick around for my sake."
Maria put a feigned injury into her voice. "Ouch, I'm hurt. And
here I thought you might have wanted some help; a shoulder and an ear
to help lighten your load." Then the mischief evaporated from her
voice. "I'll still say that Victoria knew what she was getting
herself into, but she was also my friend. I'm willing to give you
more credit than the Professor does."
Hanna's head slowly rose, studying Maria carefully. "What do you
mean?"
"Some things are best left alone," Maria replied, both cryptic
and unusually serious. "Some of those things also have a lot more to
them than it first appears, and being blind to them will leave you
with too many regrets when you finally open your eyes. It's just a
matter of balance. I will have my magic medicine, and you should have
your lover back."
The cocky girl's smile returned to her face. "Victoria told us
about you sometimes. A linguist who has never read 'The Art of War'
in its original language is really missing out."
And with that Maria took up both her own books and Hanna's and
left, filing them away where they belonged. Hanna just sat for a
moment. Maria knew everything, and was pointing her towards some
greater truth behind what had sent Victoria to the old asylum. But
could she trust the arrogant girl? Well, no matter how Hanna disliked
her, Maria and Victoria had been friends of a sort, working together
on their medical studies.
Hanna rose and made her way to the foreign language section,
finally finding the book Maria had alluded to. It had been misfiled,
but somehow Hanna suspected that might have actually been intentional.
After all, anyone who read Chinese would have found nothing of Sun
Tsu's writings inside the cover. The closest Hanna could make to a
title once she was past the cover, a bastardised sound unnatural to
the oriental tongue - the text taking pains to accurately pronounce
it, was 'R'lyeh'. A name Hanna recognised from long ago, just before
she had put Victoria away. The name of the great sunken city that was
this 'Dead Cthulhu's' resting place. She turned the page and began to
read, and many hours later it was only under the light of the moon
that she left the closing library, her stomach hollow and angry with
hunger.
The next day she learned from that mistake.
She took her meals with her.
***
Sister Mary Liten's dreams often drew out things that she tried
hard to forget in the waking world. The strange things that she had
believed her congregation capable of in the dark corners of her mind.
The memories of her old motorbike, crippled and rusting away where
she had left it as she fled for her safety. Her initial unease and
suspicion of the faithful people that had taken her in.
That night though, as Hanna studied by the dim light of a desk
lamp, Sister Mary dreamed of a plateau beneath a sky of orange and
purple. It was a place of both uninhibited instinct and unnatural
purity. The ground beneath her bare feet was clean, but as soft and
gentle as freshly tilled earth. The trees that dotted her vision were
bare as if in readiness for some inexorable winter, and yet the air
bore no hint of a chill. The pleasant breeze wrapped visibly around
their smooth branches, leaving ghostly trails that mimicked the
flying tendrils of a windswept willow. Because of that these trees
had no hint of the haggardness that their lack of greenery might have
shown, but instead only added to the ethereal beauty of the place.
Mary was herself afflicted by the aura of this dreamland. She
stood naked in the breeze, her unbound auburn hair flowing down past
her shoulders, but for some reason the sight of her own flesh bared
to the world caused her no shame now. She bore no embarrassment for
her nakedness, she never had, but in reality the ghosts of her
earlier years filled her with guilt, to such an extent that seeing
herself nude seemed to dirty the woman of God that she had become. It
was an association that went beyond her own body, no matter how
irrational, but in this dream her nakedness was somehow pure, just
like the leafless trees in the distance. An innocent nakedness, like
that of a newborn child.
She stood there for what could have been years, watching the
colours in the sky shift and whirl. Then, quite when she wasn't sure,
she realised that she was not alone. She turned to see a proud, regal
figure behind her. It was female, possessing an unearthly
attractiveness, but beyond that Mary did not know what to make of it.
On the horizon it might have looked human, but it was not the face of
a person that stared deeply into Mary's eyes. The inhuman woman
licked the lips of her delicate feline muzzle as she stepped closer.
To her own surprise Mary did not back away, or even feel afraid of
the cat-headed being. She was too... in tune with the peacefulness
that surrounded them.
However, this cat woman also brought with her a threatening air.
Her motherly smile was made with a fang toothed jaw, and her hands
seemed swollen and miss-proportioned, as if trying to be both human
and feline at the same time. She traced the strap of her simple
leather bag with her finger, and it showed all too well that her
claws were not clipped. Similarly, in contrast to Mary's innocent and
unblemished nakedness, this woman wore garments of translucent purple
silk across her perfect breasts, tied behind her neck and stretched
down to the string-like belt at her hips, from which hung a similar
cloth to obscure her crotch. It was not clothing of modesty though;
the translucency of the cloth hid nothing, and in this place, wearing
such garments, this feline woman was the sole source of any earthly
sexuality.
They stared at each other for a long while, Mary losing herself
more than once in the woman's clear, slitted eyes. "Who are you?"
The cat woman smiled, but the rise of her tan-furred eyebrows
held a certain bored aloofness. "Of all the things that could be said
or done in this moment, and as always it comes to a single question.
Tell me, human, what would you have me called? Warrior? Lover? Mother?
What meaning would you ascribe to me?" Mary had to think about that,
but the cat woman sighed before Mary could try to explain what she
meant by so simple a question.
"What does it matter... You may call me Bubasti if such a name
makes me a more comfortable presence."
And it did, Mary realised. A name, however little it meant, made
this 'Bubasti' a person and not just an unknown entity. "Thank you."
She took a moment to realise the connotations that the name brought
with it, especially in light of this woman's appearance. "Would that
make you... a Goddess?"
Bubasti chuckled lightly at the idea. "I am as you see me. I will
never understand you creatures."
Mary pressed the point though. "I heard about you in a film once.
But, you see, if you are a Goddess, then what am I to think of my
faith? Even if this is a dream, I would like to know what I'm
thinking by dreaming about you."
"You are a curious one indeed," Bubasti replied, though it wasn't
quite clear which meaning of 'curious' she meant. "I am long since
tired of faiths and prayers. As to what you believe by dreaming me
here, that is for you to decide. I have my own reasons to dream of
you."
"What do you mean?"
Bubasti reached out to touch her, and Mary flinched as the clawed
fingertips traced her jaw. She didn't want her unblemished dream
existence influenced by Bubasti's complex, primal aura.
"You have a much twisted path, curious one," Bubasti answered,
brushing the backs of her furred knuckles against Mary's chin. "Many
penances and many passions constantly warring beneath the surface,
stumbling along what cannot be a straight line regardless of how it
appears. The coming enlightenment was inevitable, but to have it
involve those such as yourself... that intrigues me."
The cat goddess' hand pressed more firmly against Mary's skin as
the pads of her fingers caressed her throat. Mary moved to speak, but
one look from Bubasti's intense eyes silenced the words before they
were spoken. "I am tired of your questioning, curious one," Bubasti
said, her voice becoming breathy, as if in anticipation, "but I have
questions of my own. I would not have you lost when fate claims you.
I wish to see what emerges from the enlightenment, and that your
salvation can be a part of it pleases me all the more."
Bubasti's hand pressed into Mary's chest, her palm flat and her
clawed thumb tracing its way down the side of Mary's breast. "I will
have you, at least in part, curious one. I will be the mother to
protect you, and you shall witness the breaking of the eternal
cycle."
She stepped close until they stood bosom to bosom, Bubasti's
feline lips at Mary's ear and her hand pressing into the woman's
abdomen. "Do not fear, beloved human," she whispered. "You are safe,
eternally." Mary felt the tears erupt from her eyes as she cried out,
the skin of her belly splitting apart as Bubasti's claws raked into
it. Mary reached down to her wounds in panic, but found only the
simple cloth of her nightdress as she sat up, gasping in her bed.
There was no blood, no pain, and she wiped her hands across her
eyes to clear her tears. The stark morning light shone through the
gap in the curtains, which she had actually remembered to close the
night before. Sister Mary took a moment to recover before slipping
out of bed and slowly donning her robes, wondering how such a
wonderful dream could have become so terrifying, and also wondering
what it said about her.
***
Hanna didn't know how many days she had spent devouring that
oriental monstrosity of a book. Professor Walters had been right when
he said that these tomes drew you in. Hanna had spent every waking
moment that she could in that library, secreted in an alcove away
from the prying eyes of Victoria's old society friends. Something
told her that the lead Maria had put her onto was not something that
the rest of them would have approved of.
Still, however long it had been, it was the crack of dawn on
Sunday when she finally broke the routine. Before the sun had even
come up she had crept down from her hotel room to wait outside the
small dormitory that sat next to the South Church. The wait was a
nervous one, watching from across the road until a pair of nuns
emerged from the building. Despite their full robes Hanna could see
that Mary wasn't with them, so the wait continued. The peal of the
church bell came and went, and there was still no sign, so Hanna
finally decided to move.
She knocked on the door and waited, feeling slightly foolish.
Surely Mary would have been at the service. Maybe she went early to
prepare. But then Hanna would have pulled her aside if she had seen
her, so if Mary was absent then it would be a blessing in disguise. A
rather odd sort of blessing coming from this church, but one she
would have been thankful for.
So, when Mary did open the door for her, Hanna breathed a silent
thank you to the powers that were. "Sister, I know this probably
isn't the time, but I really need to talk."
Sister Mary barely heard her words though. Hanna looked as though
she had not slept for days and there was a certain agitated edge to
her eyes. Seeing that, Mary hoped that the girl hadn't taken anything
illicit. "Hanna, what happened? You look terrible. Come in and sit
down before you fall over."
Hanna's relief was obvious and she eagerly took the chair that
Mary offered her. "Thank you. You know, I didn't actually think I'd
say this, but you were right. Everything that Victoria used to
believe in, everything that she's afraid of, it's all in those damned
books. Down to the smallest detail, and tons more."
"I see," Mary replied cautiously. "Just calm down a little and
we'll talk about it over a cup of tea. You look like you need one."
Hanna took a deep breath and blew it out through her teeth, her
head falling back to stare at the ceiling. "... Yeah. Tea would be
good I guess."
Mary nodded and stepped out to the kitchen to put the water on to
boil. "I am... glad that you have found what you were looking for,"
Mary said, hoping she would be allowed the white lie given the
circumstances. "But you mustn't rush to any conclusions. Even if they
are responsible for your girlfriend's condition, I can't see the
university doing it on purpose."
Hanna sighed, letting that advice roll around inside her head for
a while. "... I know. I don't think they intended to do anything to
her. Professor Walters seemed so apologetic, and even Maria seemed to
feel bad about it."
"Maria?" Mary asked from the kitchen.
"One of Vicky's 'friends'. She showed me the R'lyeh text. She
thinks there's some sort of power out there too. She's got the
professor to give her lab time to make... a magic medicine, she
called it."
Mary re-appeared a moment later with two cups, and handed one of
them to Hanna, who took it gratefully.
"So," Mary probed, cautious about pushing Hanna in the wrong
direction, "you think there is some sort of power there after all?"
"What? No, of course not," Hanna rebutted. However there was a
waver in her eyes that worried Mary as she explained. "But... it's
all there. This book even told of the sinking of the continent of Mu,
the ancient Atlantis that Victoria used to dream about at the
beginning, and how this great monster of hers went down with it. The
cults, the way he sends out dreams to people, the Deep Ones that
worship him, it's all there."
"Deep Ones?" Mary could see that whatever this book was it had
gone into enough detail to shake the poor girl severely, reminding
her of her girlfriend's bouts of delusion.
"They're these fish-people, like servants or something," Hanna
explained, trying to remember what she had hastily read. "They're the
things Victoria said she dreamed about... having sex with. Apparently
they're supposed to have been interbreeding with humans for centuries
now."
"So then you know where she got these ideas from," Mary observed,
speaking gently.
To her surprise however Hanna just shook her head, tears
beginning to fill her eyes. "No, that's what doesn't make any sense!
How can she have read it? It's in Chinese! She was dealing with some
rambling book notes that never even tried to make sense of themselves.
Just trying to put a meaningful narrative together out of that one
made my head hurt. It never even spelled 'Cthulhu' the same way
twice."
Whatever Hanna might have said after that was lost on Mary. She
knew that name, even though she had not known that it was a name at
all. That one Sunday morning, all those months ago, she had broken
into the house that backed onto the dormitory. She had failed to find
anything that had proved her paranoia justified, but she had only had
so much time to search before one of that extended family returned
early. He had shouted some strange curse at her before attempting to
take her down, but after the fact her doctor had simply put it down
to her hysteria at the time.
'Cthulhu' had definitely been part of that foreign sounding curse
though, when she had been caught trying to force her way into that
upper rear room that she so regularly had too good a view of. Did
this mean that family really did have some belief in strange things
outside their Sunday morning worship? Were their night-time
activities as unclean as they had first seemed to be? If Hanna's
girlfriend had come to believe in this seemingly blasphemous 'cult',
could they have done the same?
"Hanna," she interrupted, her anxious voice wavering just a
little, "do you believe in all that?"
Hanna stared at her, surprised out of her rambling explanations.
"N-no. How could I? But Vicky does, and I don't know how she could
know it all so accurately. And I think Maria and maybe even Professor
Walters believe in it too, or at least in something that's hidden in
that library."
"I see," Mary replied, suddenly unsure of herself. She recognised
this feeling, and it was not one that she liked. "Hanna, just
remember that you are trying to help Victoria. I..." she found
herself stumbling over another white lie, "I have errands I have to
run. Please, go back to your hotel, have something to eat, get some
sleep, and try not to worry. I will come by tomorrow, and we can talk
properly then, when we're both more ready for it."
How Hanna could avoid worrying, let alone sleep, was beyond her,
but she did as she was told. In fact by the time she had got back and
put her head to the pillow she was out like a light, and slept until
mid afternoon. Mary on the other hand just retreated to her room
after they parted, her unfinished tea in hand, and found herself
staring out to that upper back-room window until the cup in her
fingers had gone cold.
***
Of course, while Hanna's midday snooze had been a much needed one,
it also left her wide awake by the time the moon had risen. She would
have gone to see Victoria, but she found the best she could do was
book her next visiting time. The hospital had hours to keep as well.
Three days seemed like such a long time before she could see Vicky
again, but if Sister Mary really was going to come by to listen to
her properly then Hanna wanted to be there. She still had too many
unanswered questions, and too much of what she had learned made far
too much sense to discredit Vicky's delusions so easily.
The entire thing worried Hanna far more than she had let on.
Victoria knew details of her own delusions that she couldn't possibly
have studied without a great deal of help. It was such an obvious
fantasy, this nightmarish vision on sea monsters, cults and sunken
cities, and yet the deeper Hanna looked the less proof she had that
it was only make believe. She would have gone out to get drunk again,
but she didn't want to take the risk that she might be the one to end
up raving about monsters in the claustrophobic midnight streets if
she did.
As the hands of the clock began to approach midnight a sharp rap
at the door to her room startled Hanna out of her reverie, so much so
that she fell off her bed with a shriek. Who would call on her at
this hour? Unless...
Sure enough, it was Sister Mary she found when she finally
unlocked her door, but the nun's expression held anything but the
calmness that it usually possessed.
"Sister?" Hanna asked, more than a little confused.
Mary just swallowed, trying to keep her composure. "I'd like you
to see something."
Then, without anything more, Mary took Hanna's hand and began to
lead her away, only just giving the young woman time to lock her room
behind them. "S-Sister? What is it?"
Mary just shook her head. "I don't know. But... if *you* do, then
I was right. And maybe your girlfriend is. And maybe God is showing
me this for a reason after all."
Hanna just followed as Mary led her through the streets,
seemingly unwilling to explain herself any further. Whatever it was,
knowing it was somehow connected to Victoria was all Hanna really
needed to keep walking.
Eventually they found themselves back at Mary's dormitory, and
the older woman led Hanna quietly up to her room. It was just as
Hanna might have expected, sparse and unassuming, but her nerves were
taut as Mary hesitated behind her, then, placing a hand on each of
Hanna's shoulder's, led her to the window.
At first Hanna wasn't sure what she was supposed to be seeing,
but soon she saw it and looked down at the windowsill, away from the
window opposite. "They're having sex," she noted, stating the obvious
and feeling rather embarrassed. "Lots of people have sex you know."
Mary just squeezed Hanna's shoulders in annoyance. "I'm not the
virgin you take me for. Just watch. It's like this every time - the
dancing, the chanting..." She dropped her own head now, not willing
to watch the silhouetted display any further. "I hope I'm wrong, and
that it's just my imagination, but when you mentioned Tuthooloo, or
whatever it was, I remembered what he shouted at me when I was...
while I was under my own delusions."
"They do this every night?" Hanna asked. Now, as she watched,
there was something almost tribal about the 'activity' in that house.
And having sex so openly around others struck her as rather atypical
for the rather insular people of Arkham.
"Not every night," Mary explained. "Just sometimes. I was
thankful that they are leaving on holiday soon, but I know now that
it is not my place to judge, unless..."
"Unless they're trying to act out what Vicky believes," Hanna
finished for her. The more she watched the less random the dancing
seemed, and a few small things began slotting together in her
memories. "Deep Ones..." She whispered to herself, "they're going
down to the coast for their holiday, aren't they?"
Hanna felt Mary's fingers tremble where they lay on her shoulders.
"Y-you knew?"
"When are they leaving?"
"Tomorrow," Mary replied. "I was looking forward to being at the
church services again. After what I did that family prefer it if I
don't attend."
Hanna turned away and sat down heavily on the bed. "I'm going
over there."
Mary looked at her in shock. "What?"
"I..." Hanna hesitated, barely believing what she was saying, "I
read that there are rituals and things for paying homage to the Deep
Ones. A high priest or shaman or someone gets high and believes he
can talk to them. Vicky told me about that once. She was a giant Deep
One in her dream, and someone tried to bargain with her through that
trance, like it was magic."
Mary looked mortified by the idea. "You can't believe that's what
they're trying to do?"
"That's what I'm going to find out. Maybe they're just perverts
behind closed doors, but I have to find out for myself. I need to
find something to say that this is all just nonsense from a crazy old
Chinese storyteller."
***
Victoria sat in the clean, bright hallway, finally allowed out of
her room again. She had been terribly lonely over the days that had
passed since her nightmare, in part because the memory of Hanna's
last kiss lingered so clearly in her mind. She couldn't wait to see
her, but who knew when she would come back to visit again. After the
recording of that nightmare she couldn't blame Hanna for avoiding her,
and if she had fled to safety, away from Arkham, then all the better
for her.
She had not admitted it to Dr Turner, but Victoria had had more
nightmares since then. None so graphic and upsetting, but they clawed
at her mind as if trying to drag her back down into the perpetual
fear she had once felt several years ago. She knew it could only mean
that the stars really were coming right again, and she had prepared
herself for them. She would weather the nightmares, if only so that
they would have no hold over her waking mind. She would protect Hanna
from them this time. When Cthulhu woke, she and Hanna would be far,
far away, no matter what it took. If hiding would keep them safe from
the awful, rampant pleasures, then so be it.
But to do that she would have to get out of the hospital. She
knew there was little chance of that now. In her dreams she had seen
that Cthulhu had the power, but she would not accept it from him. For
that matter, if he wanted her free, was it better to remain in the
institution?
"Victoria, how are you feeling this morning?"
Vicky turned and got up from the floor as Dr Turner approached.
"I'm okay. Better actually."
"Hmm," the doctor mused, looking into Victoria's eyes. "You still
look like you're having trouble sleeping. Are the pills not working?"
"No, no," Victoria lied, "they're good. I just miss Hanna, that's
all."
Carolyn smiled when she heard that. "Then I have some good news
for you. She will be coming to see you tomorrow."
Victoria's eyes lit up. "R-really?"
"Really. So make sure you get some proper rest tonight. You want
to look as good as you can, don't you."
Victoria felt the warm glow spread out from her chest at the
thought. "Yeah. Thanks Carolyn."
The doctor nodded and took her leave, walking on a few doors
before getting out her keys. "Your sister is here Gregory. Shall we
go and meet her?"
'Sister?' Victoria thought, 'Harmon has a sister? She's never
visited before. Not that he had many visitors anyway, but still...'
"Thank you doctor," Harmon replied, emerging from his room as his
door was unlocked. "I have missed her so."
Victoria knew that Gregory Harmon was a nutcase even by their
standards, but he also knew about things that made her hair stand on
end. Dark secrets, as if he had been touched by the Dreaded Cthulhu's
nightmares as well, and yet he seemed to use them to taunt the
doctors and other patients. If he had family, Victoria had to see it.
She kept a discreet distance, following them out into the grounds,
and she tucked herself behind the corner of the building as Harmon
took a bench next to the woman that had come to see him.
Victoria had never seen him so much as touch another, but he
actually hugged this woman as they greeted each other. As they talked
Victoria was stunned by how calm Harmon was, but then she supposed
that family would have that effect on many of the patients there.
However, Victoria wasn't going to give Harmon of all people the
benefit of the doubt. She might have been looking for meaning where
there was none, but she knew, as they discussed their upcoming family
reunion, that Harmon was plotting something. There was no way he
would be let out in only three days if she couldn't have a day out to
visit Hanna. She looked around to see that the two male nurses were
still watching from a distance, as they always did when Harmon was
out of his room. He would end up making a lot of trouble for nothing.
Besides, a family reunion on a yacht? Maybe some of the lucky
patients might get a day trip to the beach, but boating would really
be stretching it! Victoria sighed. She felt a bit bad for their
mother. From the way they talked Harmon obviously doted on her, and
she hadn't been to see him once. At least not since Victoria had
arrived.
***
With Sister Mary's back room view it was easy for her to know the
moment that the house behind the dormitory was vacated. The night
before they left their 'party', as Mary had forced herself to call it,
was even more energetic than was usual, and the family had packed
themselves into their cars and driven off in the small hours of the
following morning. The timing couldn't have been better, but Mary's
morals once again conflicted with her desires. It would be so easy to
break inside, with no-one left to discover her. Yet could she really
allow herself to slide down that greasy slope, away from both the law
and her conscience?
She knew the answer to that, but it was not an option she could
allow herself to choose. So, one phone call and forty five minutes
later, it was Hanna who hopped the fence when no-one was around, and
Mary was left with no choice but to follow, if only to make sure the
girl coped with whatever they would or wouldn't find. It amazed Mary
how little that back garden seemed to have changed in the time since
her last visit. It was almost nostalgic. The same bare spots of grass,
the same half-filled pool, and the same back door she had forced open.
Even the door frame was still broken from the kick she had delivered
to the cheap wooden door, now secured by a chain and padlock. Another
swift kick, from Hanna this time, and more wood gave way, leaving
them to dash inside before anyone wondered what the noise was. Not
that anyone would. It wasn't their business, so why should they pay
attention?
Once they were inside Hanna couldn't help but look around. Even
when breaking into someone else's house there was this lingering need
to compare the decor and layout to her own home back in New York. It
seemed normal enough, if rather drab, but then why shouldn't it?
Somehow in the back of her mind she had been expecting meat hooks and
bone altars, and she felt an involuntary giggle at how silly that
seemed now.
However, any guilt that might have crept up on her was outpaced
by Mary. She had been there before, seen the overweight family
portraits that hung from the walls, and knew where she needed to be.
As she headed upstairs Hanna followed, both their hearts racing at
the prospect. They were the criminals now, and they were weighing
that against the chance that whatever they might find would reveal
these people to be worse than they now were. A dead body in a closet
would have been a good start, but that kind of wishful thinking meant
that somebody would have had to have died, and neither of them wanted
that either.
They didn't find a body, but that back upstairs room did stand
out when compared with the rest of the house. It was a sparse, even
bare looking bedroom. The bed, sitting beneath the window and giving
such a good view of certain things best not watched, was stripped
bare, and neither the walls or floor were covered, just showing the
bare wood. If anything it was an improvement over the bland and faded
wallpaper and carpeting that covered the rest of the house, but it
gave the room a detached, aged feel.
"What now?" Mary asked hesitantly, looking around the bare walls.
Hanna shook her head. "I don't know. I guess we search it."
'Not that there is much to search,' she thought. But still, there
was too much unknown for her to begin thinking that these people had
nothing to hide. She chose the single, plain chest of drawers and
began to rifle through them. "They have a gun," she noted as her
hands fell upon a pistol buried in the haphazard piles of socks.
"Lots of people have guns," she answered herself before Mary had the
chance, berating herself over the 'find'.
Mary meanwhile reached under the bed. Stripped as it was she
could see the trunk underneath, and knelt down to pull it out. She
wasn't sure what she expected to find, but the statue that met her
eyes was most definitely not it. She recoiled from the foot tall
piece of stone that lay there, as if it might have reached out to
grab her. "Hanna!"
Hanna had never seen anything like it, but she recognised it
immediately. "Cthulhu."
The thing was humanoid, sitting hunched and roughly hewn on the
stone base, its knees bent and its clawed feet seeming to dig into
the rock it squatted upon. In contrast to those stubby legs its arms
were long and outstretched, as if open to embrace the viewer, and the
pair of what seemed to be bat-like wings stretched just as wide.
However, like so many works of art, how such frail seeming wings
could have lifted such a creature beggared belief. Worst however was
the mass that passed for the creature's head. It was more finely
carved than the rest, as if it was the one part of the creature that
the artist actually knew. Then again, it was little more than an
octopus sitting atop the statue's neck, two widely spaced and bulging
eyes set into a flabby looking mass, the mouth of which was hidden
beneath its many tentacles.
However, the image was one of such unnatural proportions and
anatomy that it disturbed both Hanna and Sister Mary like nothing
they had seen before. Their natural reaction would have been to laugh
at it, but something in its poise and crudely carved visage prevented
that. It was just too 'wrong' to be amusing.
"Do you think they made it?" Mary asked.
Hanna bent down to take the statue in her hands, and she
swallowed hard. "I don't think so. It looks kind of old. Look, the
wing is chipped too. Maybe their grandparents did it. They haven't
kept it too well for a god."
"But," Mary said, "if they worship that... thing, if it is a cult,
why haven't they taken it with them?"
Hanna just stared at the statue. "Maybe Vicky was right. This
monster lives trapped it its city under the sea, affecting its
followers with dreams and waiting for them to free it. Vicky said
'The stars are coming right'. That's when the sunken island rises
from the water. Maybe these people don't need a statue when they are
going to release the real thing. Maybe that's what their 'holiday' is
all about."
Sister Mary digested that idea, even as it made her insides crawl.
"But if he sends dreams to his followers, then... why is your
Victoria dreaming of him?"
That stopped Hanna in her tracks. "I don't know. Maybe she was
too sensitive to escape it. The book said that some people are more
sensitive to it than others." She sighed and tossed the crude statue
onto the bed. "Anyway, I'll find out tomorrow."
Mary got to her feet, crossing her hands over her chest in worry.
"How?"
"I've got an appointment. I can see her then."
The pair did not stay much longer, but Hanna made sure to pocket
the gun as she left. She didn't know how much of what to believe any
more, but if Victoria was any indication then these people were
dangerous. That much was certain.
***
Hanna was relieved when her wait in the psychiatric hospital's
main hall proved uneventful this time. No unpleasant surprises to
rattle her already frayed nerves, and it reassured her that Victoria
was in a better frame of mind. In fact, when she and Dr Turner
reached Victoria's room, her girlfriend practically glowed to see her
again, despite the ravages of paranoia that still lingered in her
face.
"Hanna!" Victoria beamed, instantly taking the chance her hug her.
"I'm so glad you came back."
Hanna returned the sentiments, holding her tightly. On the one
hand she was at war with herself, now knowing that Victoria's madness
was not a madness at all, at least in part, but feeling unable to do
anything about it. Victoria was in there for a reason after all. And
on the other hand she just didn't care any more. The only explanation
she had for Victoria's fantasies was that this Cthulhu existed,
touching Vicky's mind from his deep sea slumbers, and that still
sounded so patently ridiculous. They could call them both mad, if it
would let them stay together.
"Doctor, could you give us a moment?" Hanna asked as she held her
girlfriend.
Carolyn nodded, but there was a caution in her eyes. Hanna
couldn't really blame her after what had happened. "Alright," Dr
Turner replied after a moment's thought. "Call if you need anything."
After she was gone Hanna lifted Victoria's chin up from where it
rested at her collar. "You know, I never thought I'd say this, but
you were right. All that crap about cults... we think we've actually
found one of them." She gazed into Victoria's shocked eyes. "And all
your bad dreams, it's all written down in that library."
"No, no," Victoria wept, realising what she had led her
girlfriend into. "I told you not to look. I don't want to lose you!"
Hanna just smiled and kissed her deeply, relishing the taste of
her lips. "Vicky, if your Cthulhu does exist after all, these freaks
can try to release him all they want. Why hasn't he come out before?
Something just has to prevent them opening the doors when R'lyeh
rises, or make that Great Beast retreat back down into the sunken
city. What can one fanatical family really do?"
"It wont just be one this time," Victoria said, her tears
staining her cheeks. "In my dreams Cthulhu had his beach crowded this
time. They are thronging around him." Then the realisation came to
her. "You can do it. You can stop them. You're still free, you have
to get there first and make sure they can't open the doors to the
city in time."
"Vicky," Hanna sighed. "Even if I did, how would I find it? How
could I stop them? Besides, they've already left for the coast. Let
them have their wild goose chase. It's enough for me to know that you
were right about people like them existing."
Victoria seemed confused by that revelation. "They've left? But
the stars aren't right. Not yet. It doesn't feel right." The she
remembered what she had seen the day before. "Harmon! Harmon's family
is meeting on a yacht too! They'll be casting off from Innsmouth in
two days! Heh, the poor sod thinks he's going with them. But that's
got to be it. They're going to be there too. They must know when the
stars will be right already!"
"Vicky, listen, if this dead god really does exist then we can
run when it all hits the fan, but right now you're just chasing after
shadows. Let them believe whatever they want. I'm going to try and
get you out of here. I can use these people to prove you aren't
really crazy, just as long as you keep getting better, okay? No more
screaming and no more fights."
"I can prove it," Victoria replied seriously. "The Miskatonic
Society knows it. In their books they have powerful teachings. Real
magic power."
"I know," Hanna interrupted, feeling exasperated by her
girlfriends adamant fixation on actively opposing these people.
"Maria's 'Magic Medicine' and all that."
Victoria nodded, "If... If she's gone ahead and done it, if she
can make that serum and the rites work together, then she can bring
the dead back to life! That's proof enough, right? But," her face
fell, "if it's going to happen so soon, then it doesn't matter. All
the proof will be too late."
Hanna just shook her head and sighed again, caressing Victoria's
cheek. "Vicky," she said with another lingering kiss, "just let it go.
Get better and I'll try to get you out soon. Then we can go wherever
you want, if it'll make you feel better."
Victoria chose not to answer. Hanna was right, and it was too
late anyway. She leaned in to press her lips to Hanna's again, and
lost herself in the tender embrace. She would at least make the most
of her lover's touch, however brief it had to be in that place.
***
That evening, long after the sun had set, Victoria was ready for
pleasant dreams. A night of fantasy within her lover's arms, leaving
behind the horrors that lurked in the coming night. Whatever would
come was inevitable now, and she would do her best to let it lie.
And, of course, fate had other plans. Now that Vicky longed for
sleep the other patients howled into the night, crying or screaming
for their tormentor to stop his incessant chanting. Even with the
cacophony that echoed through the halls Victoria could hear Harmon at
prayer, speaking some foreign language as the torrent of words poured
from his ever-moving lips. He had proclaimed that tonight was the
night of his brothers and sisters, and that he would be taken up to
join them, soon to welcome their mother to these 'barren shores'.
It was sad - laughable even - but it still made her uneasy. The
one night Victoria wanted to rest, and Harmon had to take that night
to flip out. She could just imagine them, this madman's family,
gathered around a great stone altar and their bloody sacrifice,
chanting in rhythm with their incarcerated comrade. Then again, she
thought, this world didn't need any more like him around, let alone a
whole family of them.
After a moment she thought she heard something hit the ground
outside. Something heavy. Several somethings, as another followed it,
and another. What little warning they were had come too late though,
and from her room there was nothing Victoria could have done anyway.
With an almighty crash the building shook, and the screams turned
from ones of sorrow and anxiety to those of terror and pain. Victoria
sat bolt upright in her bed, just in time to see a great black
tendril lash its way through the air above her head. The huge, black,
ropey mass ploughed through the wall, showering her with dust and
shattered brick as Victoria screamed and went scrambling for cover.
Another tentacle followed its path, carving up the ceiling and
smashing through room after room as it obliterated the stonework.
Even through her panic Victoria realised what Harmon's babbling
had been about. His family had sent for him after all.
She could barely see the towering monstrosity against the
blackness outside, but she just caught a glimpse of Harmon's
silhouette has he emerged from the rubble. That was all she was
allowed though, as the building began to groan under the assault, and
Victoria's sudden scream was cut short as the ceiling finally gave
way.
***
The destruction could be heard all across town, but only a few
people actually left their houses or their bars to see what it might
have been. More simply braced themselves for an earthquake that never
came, but the darkly melancholic aura of Arkham did little to help
fill its inhabitants with concern. They just didn't want to get
involved.
Hanna and Mary went though, and found themselves all but alone on
the street outside the hotel, looking northwards to where the
crashing had come from. It was faint, and by the time they saw it the
thing had all but vanished over the top of the hill, but silhouetted
against the moonlit sky they saw the behemoth lumbering away. Mary
crossed herself, staring in fearful disbelief after the thing that
her faith simply would not allow her to accept. It couldn't be real,
such a being - such a demon even - was a thing of fiction come to
life, or of the hells made manifest on earth. Even seeing just a
shadow of it in the far distance, it could not have been anything of
this earth, at least not that she knew of. It had stood as tall as
the trees!
Hanna's reaction was far simpler. Victoria had been proved right
yet again, and now she may have lost her because of it. What could
that thing have been but a servant of the Dead Cthulhu? "VICTORIA!!"
Hanna made to dash away, but Mary, her eyes still glazed in
mortal dread, grabbed the cuff of her jacket. "Hanna... That thing...
These blasphemous cults are right. We... we have to stop them."
Hanna's mind raced, trying to piece together some sort of
coherent thought about what they could do. "I-I have to see Vicky!"
she stammered, tripping over her own words. "She said they were
heading to some place called Innsmouth. You go and follow them.
They... if you can delay them long enough, they can't do anything!
Take a camera, we can get proof."
She swallowed hard, feeling herself getting light headed as she
hyperventilated. "Vicky said they won't be leaving yet. We still have
time. I'll follow you, but... I have to see if she's alright."
Sister Mary just nodded dumbly and Hanna raced off, towards the
sanitorium. What could she do? She was just one woman. She had not
held any sort of weapon in years. Was there still enough of the
motorcycle riding punk left in her to take on these people? To take
on something that, from everything that she had heard, was a living
god?
She felt a swell of something in her chest. She worked for the
Lord now - no matter how shaken her faith, or even if there was any
shred of truth in it after what she had just seen. This was her duty.
She knew that the burnt out remains of Innsmouth were only a bus ride
away, and so she went. She bought herself a cheap, disposable camera
from one of the curio shops that she passed and a small bag, which
she filled with food. Enough to keep her going if she was to stow
away on board a boat for a few days. Unlike Hanna, she felt herself
lucky that this was Arkham. Many shops chose to remain open until the
late hours, to catch the custom of the rumour hunters and oddballs
who took the chance to chase up on old horror tales there. As she
left the town, she wondered how many of those tales held some sort of
truth about them. After all, she was now a part of one of them.
The bus stop was just outside the outskirts, and looking up the
hill beside it she hoped that Hanna and her girlfriend would be
alright. The psychiatric hospital was a buzz of activity, with all
manner of emergency service sirens going now.
However, as she waited she realised the flaw in her plan. Late
night buses were few and far between, if they even ran at all. With
nothing much of interest there not many people wanted to travel by
that road any more, let alone stop down by the coast. Then, as she
waited, she saw someone trudging up the tarmac towards the town. He
was tall, and beneath the hood of his long, heavy coat he seemed to
look handsome and chiselled. However, as he approached she saw that
his eyes were held too wide open and they lacked any energy or
sparkle, and by the time he reached her she realised that while clean
shaven and well groomed he smelled foul, like the restroom at a
roadside truck stop.
And, to her horror, he stopped with her. "Sister," he said in a
rasping baritone, "to think that I would find a woman of God here."
He smiled broadly and sat down in the shelter, his head knocking
against wooden wall. "Do you believe in salvation Sister?"
Mary swallowed hard, trying to disguise her worry. "Yes. Of
course."
The man's smile became a grin. "Even knowing what you now must
know?" he asked, his eyes rolling up towards the old asylum.
Mary's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. He knew. He knew
something, to be sure. How was he involved in all this diablerie?
"Yes, I do. Salvation is always possible, even if it comes in a form
we do not expect."
The man's grin sagged as if his muscles were melting beneath his
skin. But that grin did not dissolve away completely, instead
becoming nothing more than a simple, happy smile. "Sister, your bus
is here."
Looking behind her she saw that the old coach was indeed
approaching. She felt his hand on her shoulder, and before she could
say anything he shoved something large and leathery into her hands.
"Do not fear enlightenment sister," he whispered before striding past
her and towards the town.
Mary looked down to see the large, weighty book in her hands, and
nearly dropped it in revulsion. Its cover was black and cracked like
old tar, and yet the leather wrinkled and squirmed across its face
creating the most unpleasant patterns. She stared at it paralyzed
with indecision until the voice of the bus driver shook her back to
herself.
"Hey, lady, you getting' on or not? I'm only out here 'coz we saw
you walking up this way you know."
Mary blinked and nodded, climbing up the steps and being careful
not to trip on her robes. "I'm sorry. Here. I need to get to
Innsmouth."
She handed him the fistful of coins that would take her there,
and he gave her a strange look. "If you say so. Mind you, if anyone
needs a missionary it's those bums out there."
Mary didn't reply, or even acknowledge his words, but the driver
was more than content to get going, and let her take her seat. As
far as he was concerned she was a saint to want to go there, and he
just wanted to concentrate on scrounging up any straggling fares
along the way.
In her seat Mary looked at the unpleasant book in her lap,
remembering the man's words.
"Do not fear enlightenment sister."
They echoed with the words from her nightmare dream several days
ago. "The coming enlightenment was inevitable..." the cat goddess had
said.
'A premonition. For whose enlightenment?' was all she could think.
'But the cat had said it as though it was an event...'
Mary felt a crawling in the pit of her stomach, but it was not
one of nausea. With trembling fingers she opened the gruesome cover
and saw the words on the page, foreign and incomprehensible.
Or so they should have been. Mary did not know what language it
was or how she could read it, but that didn't matter. She read it all
the same. And she read, and read, and read, until time itself seemed
to stand still.
***
Around her Hanna could have sworn that the world, in all its
chaotic activity, had become lost in some sort of silent void. The
vivid lights of the police, fire fighters and ambulances flashed
around her, but she heard no sirens. People moved their lips
animatedly, but no voices reached her ears. The cries of the bleeding
wounded went unheard by her, and the calls for her to clear the road
fell upon deaf ears. The sight of so many people in panic, covered in
so much blood, was like a thing from a nightmare, or from the forever
morbid spots that played on news channels twenty four hours a day.
She grabbed a passing paramedic, asking where Victoria or Dr
Turner were, but though she stared at his lips she could not make out
what he was saying to her. Only the finger he pointed gave her any
idea where to go, and she stumbled hurriedly to that stretch of grass
where people were being laid out.
Was she in shock already? There wasn't time for that, she tried
to rationalise. She saw Dr Turner among the hubbub of activity, being
carted into the back of one of the ambulances on a stretcher. She was
alive, at least for now, and Hanna resumed her search for the girl
that meant everything to her. She did not want to see the doctor's
obliterated left arm, which the medics attended to even as she was
carried away.
But of course Hanna couldn't get the image out of her mind. The
world around her slowed so as to show her every gory detail as she
scanned the grass. The victims of this disaster howled silently into
the night as their wounds were tended. One poor man tried to babble
around the crimson fountain that seemed to pour from his mouth. An
aging lady trembled weakly as her shattered legs were tended to.
Slowly, as Hanna walked the line, she realised that the medics
and assisting police had thinned out. Another man lay staring at the
night sky, petrified as if having seen the face of death itself. Of
course, he had. These were the corpses now, left unattended by the
medical staff. There were other people who needed the attention who
could still be saved.
Finally the silence was broken by a deafening pounding in her
ears. In a maddened panic Hanna fell upon the bodies, casting aside
anything she could that covered their lifeless faces. Coats,
handkerchiefs and even hats were tossed across the grass as she
desperately searched. She hoped now never to find Victoria, that
somehow she would be left to believe that she was alive somewhere,
her body never found. The idea that she might be disturbing other
peoples' deceased loved ones never entered her mind. Her face slowly
grew wetter as her tears poured from her eyes, mixing with the dust
that flew from the bodies she searched as she tried to find the one
that she could identify.
She stopped suddenly in her tracks. Victoria didn't actually look
too bad. She was covered in dust, and several large grazes adorned
her head and shoulders, but otherwise she might just have been
sleeping. Laid out like that Hanna would never have been able to tell
if she hadn't been resting beside so many other dead. Hanna tried to
deny it, staring at the body of her love, but, like everything else,
the words of denial were lost amid the thunderous noise of her heart
pounding in her ears.
"Vicky, wake up," she said into the silence, suddenly realising
the truth. Victoria couldn't be dead. It just wasn't possible. Vicky
was the one who had known the truth about the Dead Cthulhu all along.
She was the one Hanna's life had come to revolve around, no matter
how imperfect the circumstances had become. "Come on love," she urged,
"we have to go and stop the monster now, remember? Sister Mary is
waiting for us, we mustn't be late. Vicky. Come on Vicky, wake up.
Vicky! WAKE UP!!!"
And reality hit her like a freight train. The corpse before her
was cold, it's eyes closed for its final, eternal rest, and Hanna was
alone. Suddenly the world was filled with noise again; screams of
pain, calls for aid from one paramedic to another and the mournful
wailing of a dozen lost men and women.
"NO!" Hanna screamed. Her heart shattered within her, her mind
laid waste with grief, Hanna crumpled over Victoria's still form,
gathering it up limply her arms. She wept into Victoria's pale skin,
not even having the willpower to curse the world for what it had done
to her. The rest of the world no longer existed for her. All that she
had done, and all that she had sacrificed, had been for the woman
that could no longer dry the tears that spilled in a torrent down
Hanna's face. That wretched demon didn't matter any more. Its
monstrous servant had taken Victoria away from her, and Hanna would
stay by Victoria's side until the beast came to claim her as well.
Then a moment of clarity fell upon her. This had been brought
about by a power beyond that of mortal men. And, by Victoria's own
word, such power could bring Victoria back to her.
***
Hanna didn't even realise how much of a miracle it had been
getting to the Miskatonic University. In all the tumult Hanna's
apparent clear headedness when she had offered an extra car to help
ferry people to St. Mary's hospital had been welcomed. If they had
known that the only thing in her mind was to get Victoria to the
campus grounds then she might easily have been arrested. They barely
even noticed that it was just a single body she left with, or that
her level head seemed so out of place among the people that grieved
for those they had lost in the collapse.
Hanna's grief had given her drive. She no longer had any doubt in
her mind. There simply was no room in her head left for it.
Everything was real now, and nothing would stop her. She would get
her love back.
And yet, she had no idea how. She had driven like a woman
possessed, feeling in her soul that the longer she was left to wait
the less chance she had of bringing Victoria back at all. She had not
even thought to check whether the security teams or cameras might
notice her bringing a body into the building. She lay her girlfriend
down in the simple spill bath in the first lab that she could find,
and her fingers lingered on Victoria's cold flesh. "Don't worry
love," she whispered gently, taking care not to knock her as she lay
her down and stripped her of her dusty, torn clothing. "I'll have you
better in no time."
She would have lingered there just staring at her girlfriend's
calm face for hours, but that nagging feeling that time was of the
essence returned to her. But where was it? As she ran out into the
hall she realised that she had no idea. Which lab room? She began to
panic, her eyes growing wild as she tried desperately to remember.
"Four-... something... DAMN IT!"
Still that was enough, and she raced up to the fourth floor.
Nearing the middle of the night the place was almost deserted, but
Hanna could have let out a whoop of joy when she saw a light coming
from the second hallway. She didn't even have to search, and made
straight for it. Sure enough, she saw who she wanted to.
Maria stood in her lab coat, her large protective glasses over
her face as she peered into the microscope in front of her. Her notes
were strewn across the counter top around her, her back to the door,
and she was so engrossed by her work that she never even noticed as
Hanna clicked open the door. Then, suddenly, Maria broke into a fit
of giggles as she gazed at whatever reaction was happening on her
slide. Hanna backed away a step in surprise, but a moment later her
determination returned.
"Wait 'till they see this!" Maria muttered giddily to herself.
She barely had time to flinch when she heard the shot. Hanna
flinched, the gun she had stolen from the cultist's house kicking
back in her hand. Maria was tossed over the work counter as the
bullet punched through the back of her skull, blasting a great, gory
hole in the top of her forehead that splashed blood and brain matter
onto the clean, white wall. Maria slumped over her experiment as
Hanna watched, her manic gaze transfixed by the life that she had
just taken. The sudden rush of adrenaline make Hanna's knees tremble
as she lowered her hand, the gun smoking in her fingers.
She didn't even register the guilt, or the fear, or the pangs of
conscience that she should have just persuaded the girl to help her.
She had no time for that now. She ignored the tingle in her hand that
firing the weapon had put into it and slipped the thing into her
waistband again. It was warm against the cloth, but all that Hanna
worried about was the experiment that clattered to the ground as
Maria slumped lifelessly to the floor, bringing the samples and
equipment with her.
That wasn't the prize though. Hanna saw it as she scanned the
papers that littered the countertop for some sort of instruction on
how to work this magic Maria had boasted of. Lying in a petri dish
sat the green, shining oval, looking like a miniature, almost
luminescent emerald egg. Its surface was carved, the angles
reflecting the light as if it was made of glass, but when Hanna took
it between her fingers it felt soft to the touch. She squeezed it
slightly, feeling it give, and realised that it was some kind of gel-
like solid. However, no sooner had she done so than the cut edges of
the thing sliced into her thumb, causing her to drop it with a gasp
of pain.
She sucked at the blood that welled up, looking at the papers she
had grabbed for some idea of what she was supposed to do now. The
large rubbery pill answered her before the notes did though.
Somehow Maria had used the rejuvenating formula she had
plagiarised, and improved upon it to the point that it no longer
stimulated just brain tissue back into life. She had taken the dark
ritual she had learned of in her readings, from many tomes that her
society held, and studied it until she had distilled at least some of
the impossible science behind what allowed it to return a being to
life. Had he known, Professor Walters would have been horrified that
she had undertaken such experiments at all.
However, she had managed to combine the two practices so that
each made up for the failings of the other. It was an arcane science
of biblical proportions, and as her drops of blood shivered and
roiled around the faintly shining egg, Hanna knew that it worked.
With infinite care she placed the thing back into its dish,
watching in fascination as her blood simply slid off the it, leaving
it clean, before she left. Now, with her salvation so close, Maria's
bleeding body was not even left as an afterthought. It did not occur
to her how much more work Maria might have intended to do on the egg
shaped pill. Nor did it cross her mind that it had already reacted
against both Maria's experiment and her own blood. This was a miracle
medicine. How could it not work?
When she reached Victoria's bath she gasped to see that her
love's skin was always growing a faint bluish tint. "Hang on Vicky,"
she whispered worriedly, opening Victoria's mouth and sliding the
large lozenge inside. She pushed it down to the back of Victoria's
throat, just to make sure, before she placed a gentle kiss on her
chilled lips. Hanna found herself trembling as she pulled away, and
tears once again began to leak from her eyes. "It's okay now. This
will make you better."
Hanna waited, but as the seconds ticked by her heart raced faster.
Why was it taking so long? Had something gone wrong? A minute passed,
then two, and Hanna was ready to burst into full blown, hysterical
tears, when finally she saw a fluttering between Victoria's collar
bones.
'There!' she thought in triumph. 'It's gone down into her to work
its magic!'
Then here eyes widened, and she let out a racking sob as that
small patch of Victoria's skin gently sloughed off, revealing the
soup that her insides had become. Hanna's eyes could not close or
even turn away from the gruesome sight, and she screamed in terror as
Victoria's body slowly melted into itself. Hanna wanted to faint, but
her mind was stuck in a perpetual, horrified loop. What had she done
to her? How could this happen? What had she done to her?
More skin dissolved away, leaving the essential soup of
Victoria's body to pool in the bath. Her exposed bones hissed against
the air, liquefying like melting sugar, and as the corrosion spread
upwards it ate at her cheeks and gums, leaving her teeth to flow down
into the mixture that had once been her body. Watching the face that
she adored turn to nothing but soup was more than Hanna could bear,
and she passed out as Victoria's beautiful hazel eyes disappeared
beneath the surface of the bloody mess.
However, though she was not awake to see it, the grotesque magic
continued. Soon nothing was left but a ruddy red, primordial mix. A
mix that shifted subtly of its own volition. Within the soup shapes
slowly came together, coalescing, and taking on a solid form once
again. Vague ovals and lines at first, but as the liquid Victoria
flowed around itself her human shape began to rise, rebuilt from its
own basic elements. Eventually little of the fluid remained, seeping
back into her body as the skin spread out like spider's webbing
across a bloody bark of muscle.
And then all that was left was Victoria. She was pale still, and
her hair had lost its pigment, but it was her down to the smallest
detail otherwise. A faint, scar like marking was etched into her
flesh at the base of her throat, in the same, star-like pattern that
had crossed back and forth over the luminescent pill which, having
done its work, was now nothing more than a simple chemical charge
flowing through this re-born Victoria's synapses.
A slight fluttering stirred in her eyelids, and it took little
time for her eyes to open once again. Like her hair, these eyes had
lost their rich hazel colour, as if the pastels of her irises had
been replaced with a subtle watercolour. She coughed as she awoke,
her skin cold against the metal spillage tub, and she blinked as she
sat up, wondering where she was.
Then she remembered. "The ceiling... Tentacles..."
She looked around quickly, and saw her girlfriend lying on the
floor. "Hanna!" she exclaimed, climbing from the bath to her
partner's side. "Hanna," she called again, patting her cheek, "wake
up. Please, wake up!"
Victoria's face lit up as Hanna began to stir, and she lifted
Hanna's head into her lap. "Hey, are you okay?"
Hanna looked up in a daze, and when the shapes before her made
sense she could barely believe her eyes. "Victoria..." she whispered
in awe. Then without warning she grabbed Victoria's shoulders and
pulled them together in a kiss of incredible passion. Victoria
wobbled back as she was assaulted by Hanna's lips, but she returned
the embrace for all that she was worth, even if she still felt
somewhat weak from her ordeal. She could feel the passionate
desperation in Hanna's touch, and she caressed her lover's hair
soothingly as Hanna let out every ounce of tension and fear that she
held. It was all that Hanna could do to break the kiss and allow them
both to breath again.
"I thought I'd lost you," Hanna wept with happiness. "I can't
believe it worked." The she realised what she was doing and let her
girlfriend go, suddenly worried. "Are you okay? Do you hurt
anywhere?"
Again the tension broke audibly and Hanna giggled through her
concern. "Your hair is white!"
Victoria blinked, unbalanced by Hanna's almost manic change of
emotions. "I'm okay. I think. What happened? Are you okay?" she asked.
Hanna just beamed at her, her eyes welling up with yet more tears,
though this time for the right reason. "I'm good." She leaned in and
wrapped her arms needily around Victoria's bare body. "It all went
wrong," she said, as if that explanation was enough, "and it's all
good again now."
Victoria nodded, not believing a word of it but holding her close
all the same. She had missed Hanna's touch for too long. "If you say
so. Whatever you did, thank you. I thought that was it for me."
Hanna felt a sudden surge of guilt, and wrapped her arms tighter
around her. What *had* she done to bring Victoria back? She couldn't
tell her that. Not ever.
Victoria looked at her worriedly, but didn't press the point.
There were bigger things to think about. "What about Harmon? That
thing that attacked the hospital, it came for him. To take him to his
family."
Hanna nodded. "I saw it. Sister Mary has gone to Innsmouth. She's
going to get proof of what they're doing."
Victoria broke their embrace, swallowing hard. She knew that
proof wasn't enough. Once it happened, that would be it. "But, do we
even have time to get there any more?"
Hanna wrung her hands for a moment. She didn't want to do this,
not now, but Victoria wanted to know. "... yes." She replied in a
small, scared voice. "They only left tonight."
Victoria nodded, a determined resolve appearing in her faded eyes.
"I need to find some clothes."
***
Innsmouth was every bit the wreck that Hanna had had described to
her. The shroud of the deep night clung to the place possessively,
seeming to invade the burnt out ruins and abandoned homes of its own
free will. The town was dead, reduced to a husk of charred wood and
brick, having been picked clean by the scavenging vermin and shifty,
unhealthy looking vagabonds that lay at awkward, broken-seeming
angles in the shadowed doorways and shop fronts.
Hanna walked in a haze; a thick headed daydreamer's nightmare.
The stars shone with brilliance above her, hanging in a clear, clean
sky. She envied that clarity. The air that surrounded her smelled
roughly of salt and charcoal, and the harder she breathed the nastier
it tasted.
In this dark, oppressive, skeletal town, how could she not be
afraid? The foul air slid across her skin like a slick, oily vapour,
and she couldn't help but try to brush the stuff from her exposed
skin. The few wakeful eyes there were watched them with resentful
intensity. How dare she trespass in their corpse of a town? Those
lingering eyes made Hanna sick to her stomach as she followed behind
Victoria.
Her beloved Vicky. They were re-united at last. She was the only
reason Hanna suppressed her primal urge to scream in this hateful
place. Victoria was her strength now. The wheel had turned full
circle. She held close to her girlfriend's arm, putting one foot in
front of the other as Victoria led the way down to the docks. Hanna
knew what their mission was, how important it had to be, but that
thought was lost somewhere in the back of her mind. She didn't want
to think about their predicament any more. She kept her head down,
praying that she would draw no more attention, and anchored herself
to the only thing that made sense any more. A single person that
would be her saviour, leading her through this vicious, impossible
dream and back into the daylight of normality.
Then Victoria stopped, and Hanna was jarred out of her fog as she
bumped into the back of her, squeaking slightly as she panicked that
some thing was wrong.
"Shh, shh," Victoria whispered, holding Hanna close as they hid
behind the corner of one of the many dockside warehouses. "It's okay
hon. We're here."
At first it had confused her, but now Victoria could see it in
Hanna's eyes. The knowledge. Hanna was inextricably entangled in this
freakish reality that lay beneath the skin of the world, just as
Victoria herself was. Victoria could only guess what Hanna had been
forced to see, or read, or to somehow comprehend, and it had bent her
as far as she could go without snapping her altogether.
Now, even filled with a clarity and determination that she had
never before felt, Victoria was worried for her. She had no idea how
to rescue Hanna from whatever it was that had taken a hold over the
beautiful girl's senses. She had ended up dragging Hanna down with
her. But she would be damned before she let her go. If Hanna was lost,
then Victoria would find the exit for her. Nobody else could. Not now.
Victoria peered around the great abandoned building. She hadn't
been prepared for the scale of what she saw. From small, outboard
driven dinghies to full size cruise ships, there must have been over
a dozen vessels either docked or moving off towards the black, watery
horizon. Men and women of all shapes and colours were boarding in
this wretched little town, from the rag strewn, drug addled hobos, to
eager looking executives with bag after bag of their designer luggage.
It was an exodus on a scale far greater than either of them had ever
expected.
And then, working among them, were the Deep Ones. Hanna whimpered
slightly at the sight. Thick lips and large, fleshy tongues barked at
each other with guttural voices, in all manner of languages
imaginable; many that even Hanna with all her schooling did not know.
They covered their slick and scaly, blue-grey hides with little
clothing, if any, and their large, bulbous, unblinking eyes seemed to
have a sickening sense of intensity in them.
While Hanna trembled in her arms Victoria had to fight the rising
taste of bile in her throat. She remembered them. God knew that she
would never be able to forget.
They couldn't risk trying to sneak aboard though, not with so
many people around. Together they waited, hoping that their chance
would arrive. Hanna could only fear what might have become of Sister
Mary after she had sent her down to this place. She could only hope
she was already stowed aboard in one of the larger ships and had
found a place to hide.
It took hours, but at last there was only one ship left. It was
not the largest, but Victoria would have bet what remained of her
sanity that they would be able to hide themselves well enough once
aboard. Had luck turned against them they might have been left to
follow openly and exposed in one of the few remaining dinghies.
As the Deep Ones finished up several of them boarded the craft,
while other simply leapt into the water, relying on their strong,
webbed paws to carry them to their destination. In a flash Victoria
and Hanna broke cover, dashing out as the last of the freakish
creatures waddled up the gangplank. Taking the initiative Victoria
charged the man-beast, breathing a mental sigh that there were no
onlookers, but as she hit his scaled back she simply crumpled, unable
to move his pot-bellied bulk more than a foot before she collapsed
onto the metal-studded wood. The thing spun around, snarling at her
before it realised she was not alone. Hanna was terrified beyond the
limits of her wits, panting in the vain hope that she might stay
capable of any rational thought as she held her gun outstretched.
Even with how much she trembled, from three feet away she could not
miss, and the fish-thing made a vain swipe at her before the bullet
plunged into his rib cage. He stood there a moment, wheezing before
Hanna shut her eyes and covered the sound of her scream with another
two shots.
The lead knocked out what little stability the creature had,
pitching it backwards with a violent snap and sending its lifeless
body toppling into the water. Both Victoria and Hanna stared panting
for a moment before the gun dropped from Hanna's boneless fingers,
and Victoria caught it before it could clatter into the ocean.
"Come on," Victoria urged and she helped her partner stagger into
the ship. "Let's hide, quickly, before anyone comes."
After those shots they had no time to spare. She could only hope
that, with all the crazed people aboard, these cultish zealots would
not think too much of it.
***
Much to their relief they were not discovered, and no person or
child of the deep came to find them where they had stowed themselves;
in the depths of the ship, surrounded by crates of now useless cargo.
Victoria didn't know how long they had been at sea, nor did she care
as she watched Hanna sleep, fitfully but well. It was when hunger
struck her that she worried, and eventually she forced herself to
leave Hanna to whatever dreams she had in order to hunt for something
for them to eat.
She had tried to be stealthy at first, but soon it became
apparent that nobody cared who she was. She was there, so she was one
of them. They were all strangers to one another.
And yet, they all seemed far too familiar with each other, human
and Deep One alike. To see them interact so well and with such
enthusiasm made her faintly nauseous, as if it somehow disrupted some
sort of natural, or perhaps unnatural, law. In the end she took what
she could and made her escape, ensuring that she was not followed
back to the little nest she and Hanna had made for themselves among
the canvas, wood and engineering parts.
"Hanna, wake up," Victoria whispered, gently stroking Hanna's
shoulder.
Hanna sat up like a bolt, the touch snapping her from her surreal
dreams. "Ahhh! Wha... what is it?" she asked, with a startled panic.
"Whoa, it's okay love, it's alright," Victoria soothed, taking
Hanna's face in her hands. "It's just me. I brought food."
"Food..." Hanna echoed, calming herself and taking the fruit that
Victoria offered.
She took a tentative bite at first, as if expecting the apple to
explode when she broke its skin. Victoria could see the wheels
turning as her girlfriend chewed thoughtfully, before taking another
huge bite. Victoria found herself smiling as Hanna devoured it,
obviously relishing the taste and the feeling of the juice as it
coated her chin. She must only just have realised how hungry she was,
Victoria thought.
The revived girl took a sandwich for herself and raised it to her
lips, but for some reason the urge to take a bite had faded. That was
strange. She was hungry, certainly, but now that there was food in
front of her the need to fill her stomach just wasn't there. Hanna on
the other hand barely took the time to breathe after the apple before
reaching for one of the other sandwiches and devouring it like a
woman possessed. Victoria just watched, stunned as Hanna demolished
her meal. 'She must have been ravenous.'
Eventually Hanna seemed to have eaten her fill, but the obsessed
feeding left her panting in its wake. She needed more. She needed
something, if only she knew what it was. Anything would do.
Victoria's eyebrows arched in worry as Hanna curled herself up.
Her face was flushed and she sounded breathless. "Hanna," she asked,
crawling over and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "What is
it?"
Hanna's reply came with no warning at all, taking Victoria in her
arms and kissing her with breathtaking intensity. Victoria toppled
under the passionate assault, Hanna falling atop her but not stopping
for a moment as they hit the floor. "Please," she breathed unsteadily,
her lips brushing Victoria's as she made the effort to speak through
the quagmire of conflicting emotions that enveloped her, "kiss me.
Make love to me. Anything!" she all but begged.
She did not wait for a reply before her lips locked with
Victoria's again, and she closed her eyes, lost in the warmth of the
girl that had stolen away her heart. Victoria was worried, but she
returned that kiss with all the passion she could draw from her body.
It had been so long since she had been allowed to feel Hanna's
embrace like this. If all they could do now was lose themselves in
each other's arms, then she would do so with a happiness in her heart
that she thought she had lost many years ago.
Hanna's hands traced Victoria's body in every way they could,
Victoria's clothing writhing across her skin as Hanna's fingers moved
beneath it. The girl's pawing would almost have been desperate if she
had not left such sweetness in the wake of her roaming fingers. It
made Victoria's skin tingle, and she forced herself to release her
partner as Hanna finally slid the vest she had foraged up and over
her head. Still with the garment around her wrists Vicky embraced her
lover again. While Hanna groped and caressed with abandon Victoria
retained what little composure she had, slowly returning the favour
and helping Hanna lose her own clothing. For her part Hanna's body
flushed as she was undressed. Unbuckling her belt would have taken
too much time, and she could not bear to let her hands leave
Victoria's warm flesh for so long. Laying her head on Victoria's
breast, feeling the warmth of her lover's pale skin around her, this
was all she had wanted. She could release the heat that burned within
her, and in return they could be given a little piece of nirvana.
Amidst the soft canvas, her mind bathed in those sensual caresses,
Victoria wonder why she could not feel the call. It could only be the
Dance of her dreams that enamoured the cultists of each other and
sent Hanna into such an emotional high. It had started, and started
too early for them, but that worry was lost in the pleasurable
whirlwind of their lovemaking. She had wished for this for so long,
to repay the happiness her girlfriend gave her after everything that
they had been through, and nothing would ever compare to Hanna's
wonderful embrace. They lay together, their bodies entwined, for a
time that neither one could guess at, every touch, kiss and caress
making up ten fold for all the time that they had been denied. For
those moments their only world was each other, and even in such dark
straits they could find happiness with each other.
***
In her small, lamp-lit cabin, the door both locked and barred
with furniture, Sister Mary shuddered as she sat hunched over the
dark, weighty tome. Her eyes burned and watered as she read, but they
would no longer close of their own volition. She had come too far.
The horrendous text assaulted her with greater ferocity every time
she turned the page, and she absorbed it with a relish that terrified
her.
She barely remembered how she had come to be on the ship, why her
robes were so ragged and torn, of even whether it was day or night
now. Only that it was her task, as given to her by God, to be there.
But which God? Did it even matter? The Lord had given her the means
to put an end to this wretched and hateful religion, and if the world
would have none of it then she would leave them to their blissful
ignorance. She would do her duty to God in destroying God, and the
rightness of God would become clear. To think that it was all
becoming so obvious now made her mind ache. Just a little more and
she would be there. She would have the answers. All of them.
The food she had brought sat beside her, but it lay untouched.
She had no need to eat, not when she was filled with such infernal
warmth. She let out a gasp and shuddered again, her left hand
twitching down the page from where she read. Her breathing become
more ragged as, through her shredded garments, her other hand rocked
between her legs, trying in vain to find some outlet, any outlet, for
the energy that Victoria's Dance poured into her. She cursed both
herself and that hypnotic heat for having awoken such desires after
her years of celibacy. And yet it made some shade of twisted sense.
It was a rapture she had long put behind her. One that God could
surely not hold against her. She suffered it for Her sake.
She felt a painful twitch in her right eye as the strain in it
became too much, and a trace of blood billowed like a small, crimson
cloud into the aching orb. The urge to blink it away was overwhelming,
but she could not take her eyes from the book. Not yet. Not when the
knowledge was within her grasp. Even when she doubled over, her
exhausted body finally unable to support itself as the pleasurable
inferno grew within her, her eyes still scanned the page, only inches
from the aged paper. It was there, she could smell it in the ink, she
could feel it running through her veins, and as her brutal orgasm
exploded within her she finally saw the broken fragments for the
smooth, clear whole that they truly were.
"Mother..."
***
Less than an hour later the ship lurched violently as it ploughed
into the wetness of the beach that was their destination. The shock
threw Victoria and Hanna from each other's arms and into the waking
world once again.
It took a moment for the situation to sink in. They were no
longer afloat, and the steep angle of the floor meant that they would
not be again for some time. R'lyeh had risen from the depths, and
they had arrived.
"Vicky..." Hanna whimpered, more than aware of that fact even
though her wits had all but deserted her.
Victoria just nodded. No light came in through the tiny windows
that now pointed down towards the water, so it must still have been
night. "This is it," she whispered, giving Hanna a strained smile.
Neither of them should have been there, walking into the open abyss
that spread before them, but anything they could do would be worth
all the fear.
Taking her girlfriend's hand she led her out and into the ship
proper. It was strangely quiet considering where they were and who
should have been aboard, but Victoria was not about to make the
mistake of revealing that her allegiances did not match those of this
vast cult. Death was not an option, and she had no doubt that these
people would kill both her and Hanna without any hesitation, were the
truth to become known to them.
However, as they stalked the passageways, it became clear that
the place was well and truly deserted. They were alone in their
cautious emergence into the night air, and looking down onto the huge
beach, and hearing the sound of the drums, it became clear why. The
rapturous celebration had taken those dancers completely, and their
eagerness was such that none had stayed upon the ship to even feel it
beach itself on the shoreline.
Victoria could feel that same tension in the hand that she held.
Hanna could hear the call, she could feel the heat, and it was only
the firm, protective hold that Victoria had on her that stopped her
from leaping the rail of the ship herself. Watching the display as
the men, women and fish-people danced about their small, burgeoning
bonfire Hanna's fear seemed to be subsumed within the desire to join
them. Surely, in that thronging mass of moving flesh, she could
forget her troubles and simply live. She could forget her fear of
these people, forget her crawling guilt over murdering Maria in the
lab, and join with Victoria in these celebrations.
And then Victoria squeezed her hand gently, stepping closer out
of her own fears, and Hanna knew that she couldn't go. Victoria was
the reason she was here, not these mad people. It hurt, but she would
try to be strong. She would try and resist. "Vicky?"
Victoria nodded, squeezing Hanna's hand again, but she could not
tear her eyes away from the scene that was unfolding before her. She
had seen it before, but it terrified her as if it was the first time
she had laid eyes on such a spectacle. The bonfire grew as the Deep
Ones and crazed men hacked at the small wooden boats that they had
dragged ashore, tossing the splintered wood into the blaze to fuel it.
Out from one of the ships an exuberant man came dragging a massive
metal mesh behind him, and before long he had recruited half a dozen
of the revellers to help him hoist the thing over the fire. The grill
was set, awaiting the casualties of the Dance.
And yet, the backdrop of the party was twisted beyond anything
Victoria could have imagined. In her dream she had been enthralled
among the hordes, but from her perch on the beached ship's deck she
could see the beach disappearing into the island, and stretching out
there stood the great city. Buildings both vast and small stood among
each other, crafted with a hideous architectural genius that took the
eye-straining works of Escher and make them a reality. The lines and
domes of the place seemed to writhe and twist under Victoria's gaze,
though she knew that they were as solid as the rock that they had
been fashioned from. The impossible angles hurt to look at, and
rising behind it all, towering proudly from the centre of the city,
was the vast pillar that stretched up to the stars above them.
Then as she gazed up she saw the black shapes that circled that
pillar, causing the stars to wink out as they flew in front of them.
Seeing that, Victoria knew they had to go now, if it was not already
too late. Cthulhu's Star Spawned brood could only herald his
awakening.
Not even thinking of her own safety Victoria released Hanna's
hand and leapt over the rail, landing heavily on the sand and
slumping to her knees with the force of the fall. Then she turned and
opened her arms, looking up to her worried partner. "Hanna, it's okay.
Jump. I'll catch you."
Hanna shook her head and stepped back, wringing her hands in
worry. She couldn't do that. What if Victoria missed? But then, she
had to be strong. She clenched her eyes shut, and with a scream she
leapt the rail and landed in Victoria's arms, knocking them both onto
the wet sand. "See," Victoria soothed as Hanna cringed in her arms.
"I told you."
That bravado was more than she felt though. She could already see
the traces of blood on the sand, and the sickening smell of cooking
meat was wafting down the beach. It took all her internal fortitude
to hold back the urge to throw up as she pulled Hanna to her unsteady
feet. "Okay? Follow me, around the edge of the beach. We need to find
the door to his resting place."
Hanna nodded, taking Victoria's hand again in her attempt to
resist the pull of the celebrations, and Victoria pulled the gun from
the pocket in her stolen shorts. She hoped that, when they found the
door, all they would need to do was kill those still with the
presence of mind to open the way, and they could then just wait for
the stars to shift and the city would once again sink beneath the
waves.
It was a good plan, they had little other choice, but across the
beach Hanna could already see the first of the winged behemoths that
had joined the dance. The sickly, greyish yellow beast dwarfed the
revellers beneath it, standing as tall as a house with its clawed
arms and malformed, slimy wings outstretched, stamping the bloodied
sand with its stubby legs. The thing's flabby bulk rippled in its
tribal movements, and its hairless, bloated head shook in what could
only be some alien enjoyment, matching the rhythmic swaying of its
many-tentacled maw.
"C-Cthulhu..." Hanna gasped, frozen dead in her tracks. Victoria
felt Hanna's hand slip from her grasp, and looked over to see the
thing that petrified her lover, but though it resembled the dead
Cthulhu, it was not him. Victoria knew.
However, as she went back to take Hanna's hand again, a tuneful
booming sounded from the depths of the island; the great unearthly
quartet of bassoons that was the voice of the Beast himself.
Victoria paled, realising that they had always been too late. The
priests had opened the gate, the Great Cthulhu had woken, and now
they would die, lost in his maddening gaze.
Victoria did not know what it was that drew her to the entryway
of the beach. Perhaps it was some morbid curiosity, of maybe she had
already embraced her inevitable death. Whatever it was, she stood
with the dance at her back, gazing off into the city of angles. She
stared in horrified wonder as the great arm appeared first, followed
by the gargantuan octopus, thirty feet in height at least, that was
the Cthulhu's head. As he came fully into her view he rose up to walk
as a human does, and as he did his entire body shifted in the
inconceivable way that the buildings around him seemed to. That
gruesome, tentacle riddled head actually shrank in upon itself, and
in return his comically squat legs grew out and his flabby body
stretched, until it was almost human in proportion.
Victoria could only watch in awe as the beast approached her, and
her gun fell forgotten from her limp fingers. The Great Cthulhu
raised his head and bellowed again, sending his deep, woodwind voice
echoing deafeningly across the city. It was both horrid and beautiful,
so much so that Victoria found herself weeping. And yet she seemed
unaffected when compared to the beach of worshippers who fell about
in ecstatic supplication, howling and screaming as their god's
presence tore at what little remained of their warped and fragile
minds. Only the truly mad could bear it, and they danced with the
Star Spawned brood and the Deep Ones with a vigour that was inhuman.
The mountainous monster-god bore down upon Victoria until he was
only his own breadth away, and then... he stopped, and stared down at
her. Those deep, beady eyes bore into her as she stood rooted to her
spot, and then with a crocodilian effort the Cthulhu bent down. His
arms swelled with mass and muscle as they arched at either side of
her, and his massive body melted away and the tentacles that ringed
his mouth retracted until they looked like little more than a stubby
beak of flesh. And, as they did, his vast, bag-like head expanded
until it filled the entire passage, lying inches from Victoria's
trembling skin.
"Great... Cthulhu..." Victoria said, hypnotized with fear as the
immense creature's now stubby tentacles pawed at the sand she stood
on. A great blast of foetid breath poured over her as the Cthulhu
squatted there, but she did not scream. She could only stare, unable
to form a single thought, lost in the truest form of awe. It was
almost as if the beast was unsure what to make of her.
Then with a tuneful screech the Cthulhu drew back, his great
bladder-head rippling, and he raised a massive arm back and into the
air. Victoria didn't even blink as the great limb tore down with the
force of a freight train and ploughed her body into the ground.
Behind all this, watching from the rocks at the edge of the beach,
Hanna screamed. She screamed for Victoria's life, she screamed for
her own, and she screamed for the fear that, in that single moment,
annihilated what was left of her rational mind. She had to get away
from that place, from Victoria's brutal death, and from all the
madness that surrounded her.
She fled away from the fleshy god, no longer able to know where
she was running to. The only thing that possessed her now was the
instinct to flee.
She did not see the vast, octopoid shadows that flew from the
rocky outcrops beside her, and the last thing that passed before her
eyes was the flash of freakish wings and baying tentacles as the
Cthulhu's Star Spawn leapt upon her.
***
Out from the shore, his great yacht rolling in the shallows of
the midnight ocean, Harmon looked out upon the terrible beach and
smiled. The rich red and blue of his painted face crinkled around his
eyes, betraying his twisted middle-age through his otherwise youthful
face. It had all come together as it had been ordained. Now the
fruits of this clandestine madness would belong to his faithful
family, and to them alone.
He held his painted body proud and upright, clad in robes of fur
and leaf, and he had adorned himself with the bone-made finery of his
station. His flock, his family whether by blood or not, knelt around
the deck of the huge boat. Similarly clad, with their bodies painted
in lurid, primal patterns, they prayed and waited for him - their
high priest - to decide that the time had finally come.
But Harmon would bide his time. This was a chance that might
never come again. A chance to give his Goddess an offering not just
of any flesh and blood, but that of one of the Great Old Ones
themselves. What difference was there in the flesh of a deer or man
to the flesh of the Great Cthulhu himself? It could only be the
Cthulhu's power. An unmatched power such as that would make a
sacrifice more worthy than any other, he was sure.
Though out on the waves, he had brought the forests of his Black
Mistress with him. A full four of her Dark Young stood aboard the
yacht, their immense hoofed feet threatening to capsize them at any
moment. The great, ropey things stood as tall as trees, and their
black flesh wrinkled horridly like tarred bark, only to open every
now and then across the tree-creatures' 'trunks' in a huge toothy maw.
At their tops their massive, thick tendrils - the 'branches' that had
demolished the wall of the old Asylum - waved in the wind, sensing
the magical tension in the air.
It was with the power of their presence he would summon the All
Mother, and offer her the greatest feast this world could bestow. It
only pained him that he did not have the power to slay the fleshly
god himself. Still, lying tied to the stone altar before him he had
enough life to make the summoning, and the Great Old One would ice
the cake to perfection. The Black All-Mother would take of him as she
could of any other living being. They were all her children, and
their lives were the All-Mother's to coddle and tear asunder as she
wished.
Harmon gazed at the Great Cthulhu as it lumbered its way down the
beach, and sensing the time he drew his butcher's knife from his
furred robes. With two heavy swings the thick blade cut deep into the
jugulars of the bound deer upon the stone altar, and they brayed
helplessly as their blood pumped from their wounds.
Harmon placed his palms into that liquid redness as it spilt
across the stone and down onto the deck. Then he threw his hands
towards the sky, and the words came.
"Az siahi shab beh to ra seda mikonim, Ey madar bozorg. Dar
monaseb tarin zaman setareh ha to ra beh mehmani davat mikonnad.seday
ema ra beshno hesarha ye vojodat ra beshkan va beh ma bepeyvand, ma
keh Hamisheh beh to eiman dashtim, kasani keh ba nirooye to bozorg
shodand.ba hozoor e khod beh ma shadi bakhsh va hadaya y ma ra
ghabool kon.ey Shub-Niggurath e bozrg, man neshaneh safar e to dar in
makan hastam.man baghorbani kardan e khod beh zohoore to komak khaham
kard.keh to mara beh piroozy beresani. Bidar shoo va beh ma peyvand."
The silence was deafening, and the air tingled around him. Harmon
could feel his Black All-Mother stirring in the ether.
Perhaps the text had been flawed, or the ritual not performed
quite to rights. Maybe his taking the summoning to sea was his
undoing, and one that not even the Dark Young could make up.
Regardless, Harmon's final moments were filled with ecstasy as the
great Shub-Niggurath - The Dark Mother of the Woods - began to birth
herself into this world.
Her worshippers stared in rapt wonder as Harmon's body was split,
and the flesh of his front and face were blasted into gore, leaving
only a slimy, gaping void of blackness in his hollowed, standing form.
And it was through that blackness that the All-Mother began to
slide. Her massive, amorphous bulk poured quickly at first, out into
the salt air and onto the deck, but soon her roiling flesh, wreathed
in a mist so dark that you could not even see whether that flesh had
any surface at all, began to balloon from Harmon's upright corpse. It
was a tiny portal for her almighty mass to be squeezed through, and
with a shudder more of her surged through as her mist-flesh became
solid for a moment, splitting into a mouth that could have swallowed
a human whole.
From the door that led below deck Mary watched, her spirit torn
apart and its fragments buoyed by the manifestation of life and re-
birth that was emerging into the world. "Mother..."
Soon the cloud of Shub-Niggurath was more than the yacht could
contain and she spilled over, her flesh taking form once again as
tendrils that tested out over the water. Her four Dark Young stomped
with vigour, and soon one had become completely enveloped in its
Mother's growth. The cultists watched with wide eyes as their
Goddess's body became solid once again, wrapping the tree-thing in
folds of tender flesh until it had become one with its creator once
again.
In a fit of adulation one of the worshippers broke his meditative
pose and rushed with open arms into the surging mass, and it seemed
almost like a physical reaction that the flesh he embraced opened up
to meet him, swallowing his body without hesitation.
Mary watched with wide, bloodshot eyes as soon Shub-Niggurath's
mass flowed down over the water, resting upon it as if it were solid.
There, from this flowing mass, a sinewy growth appeared as the flesh-
mist coalesced. It looked like a huge boil at first, veiny and
gruesome, until it grew out to a size that boggled the mind, and Mary
realised she was witnessing the birth of another Dark Young. The
thing broke free of its sac with a keening cry that echoed from its
mouths, before it toppled down and into the water, sinking without
trace, no doubt with no other option but to tread the sediment until
it reached the beach.
Looking out to the beach she could see the uproar, as a full one
hundred or more men, woman and Deep Ones surged either away into the
city in fear or down into the water, drunk with the desire to fight
off this every-growing invader. As the first of the Deep Ones reached
her range Shub-Niggurath lashed out at it with a black, ropey
tentacle. Whether out of instinct of some desire to slay the piscine
abominations Mary could not tell, but as the tendrils struck their
targets each erupted into a great fanged mouth, latching onto its
prey and ripping great, bloody chunks from them or simply draining
them dry.
And yet, even as the All-Mother's incredible mass reached him on
the shore, the Great Cthulhu barely moved to protect himself. He lay
in supplication, his deep woodwind voice quivering and barking
raspily as the mouths latched themselves onto him. He brushed off
what few caused him too severe a pain, but as his flabby bulk was
torn away his own flesh seemed to flow and fill its wounds, though it
still left them raw and hollow.
As Shub-Niggurath grew, more organs than just mouth and tentacles
could be seen. Huge reddened eyes swelled up over her surface before
being swallowed once again, immense breasts flooded themselves before
being subsumed and all manner of orifices gaped at the world around
them.
Eventually it seemed to prove too much, and the Great Cthulhu let
out a howl before he dived into the water. That tip of Sub-
Niggurath's bulk was pulled down where it had wrapped itself around
the Beast, but Mary no longer paid attention to either deity. She had
seen enough, and feeling the energy in the pit of her stomach she
threw her own hands against Harmon's corpse as his Goddess continued
to squeeze out of him. Mary's path had been chosen, and she had her
own words now.
"Ey boze siah, kalam zaban e vafadar e mara beshnoo. Sarapa
ghargh dar zibayy e to man khod ra beh to mibakhsham.bargard va
ejazeh bedeh keh in Atashe jahanami khamoosh shaved, vagar nah hameh
az beyn khahand raft.ejazeh bedeh ma beh hayat khod edameh dahim, va
to ra ghasam beh bozorgan, beh jay khod bazgard.man tamam eshghy ra
keh vojood darad beh to arzany mikonam.ejazeh bedeh keh ravesh to
baray e ma tavaghty keh ma dobareh dar in zamin koochak khod beh an
naiz darim baray e ma baghy bemand.doay e mara ghabool kon va az inja
boro."
The light that burst from Harmon's body was blinding, and an
almighty ripple passed through the huge, mist-shrouded bulk that was
the Goddess. The hazy flesh twisted and writhed, pulled back through
the blackness with painful speed, and yet the huge mass of her rose
up around the yacht and pressed itself to Harmon's portal-body as it
started to dissolve away, as if her great bulk moved in readiness to
return.
Mary smiled as she felt the flesh seep around to touch her and
she closed her eyes, awaiting the embrace. Then, with a surge of
movement the All-Mother's body split where it had touched her and the
gaping orifice extruded itself over her, leaving nothing where she
stood but the vast, wet organ that slowly pulled itself back into the
Black Mother's body.
With that rush of movement the yacht finally capsized and the
remaining Young staggered over the side, only to be caught by their
Mother's mass as she vanished beneath the waves, along with what
remained of the crumbling portal back to her natural existence. It
was with that universal symmetry that the time passed, and as the
yacht began to sink so too did the great city of R'lyeh. The time had
come and gone, for everyone alike.
***
Victoria sat staring into the mirror that stood on her dressing
table. She really did have white hair now. It looked... exotic, in a
disturbing sort of way. She traced her finger down her skin. She
could have sworn it should have felt dry under her fingertips, but
that wasn't the case. Just like the last time she had checked.
Her finger continued down the line of her throat, and hooked into
her high-necked t-shirt. Her scar was still there too, sitting like a
burning star between her collarbones. She swallowed hard, not wanting
to think about it and let the t-shirt snap back to her neckline,
hiding the thing.
She let out a sigh and got to her feet. She had to resist the
urge to flop down onto the psychiatric hospital bed. Why did it have
to turn out like this? Why had they been punished for their good
deeds?
Or, she supposed, for their attempted good deeds. She remembered
the insane, terror that had transfixed her, and the pain as the Great
Cthulhu had smashed her into the bloody sand. She had failed, and yet
the world still turned and people still carried on their lives as
though nothing had ever happened. Not that they would believe any
different even if she told them the truth. After all, how was she
still alive? It was only the most dim and fragmented of memories that
placed her on the beach as it was slowly submerged, clinging to both
the wreckage of a dinghy and Hanna's limp form, before they made it
to a sea-worthy craft. Somehow the call of death had not been sung
for her this time. It had been sheer luck that they had been found
before starving to death as they slowly fumbled their way towards the
shore. They had failed, but somehow, in their absence, they had still
won.
So there she was, with her new room in the Arkham Psychiatric
Hospital. And she would never be coming out again. That much she was
sure of.
But then, she didn't really mind. She was no longer afraid. The
nightmares no longer filled her dreaming mind. She had found a
strange peace within herself. It felt a little like floating in limbo,
sure in the knowledge of what truly existed in the depths and shadows
of the world. It scared her no more than any other modern terror now,
like drive-by murders and corporate cover-ups. Just as she had got
used to accepting that such things happened in America, so too did
she now accept that such monsters really did exist.
Then, in the corner of her eye, she saw the figure that stared at
her from the mirror. The poor child looked horribly wounded, wrapped
head to toe in bandages, but he seemed to be in no pain. He regard
her with curiosity, as if to say, 'Well, you aren't quite what I was
expecting.'
Then he smiled and that look changed to a, 'Still, you look like
fun!'
Victoria turned to the doorway to see nothing but air. Looking
back to the mirror she was just in time to see the bandaged boy
hollow out and fade away in a light cloud of dust. 'So, who were you
supposed to be?' she found herself asking, but she just shrugged her
shoulders. No doubt he would return if it mattered. She got the
feeling that he liked her, so she didn't let it worry her.
She let out another sigh and decided to take a walk after all.
After these last two weeks the place was beginning to feel like home
again. The whiteness of the paint that covered the hallways hurt her
eyes as the sunlight was bounced around them, beaming in through the
large reinforced windows, but she was use to it now. The repairs to
the east wing were going well, but the place had not been full to
capacity, so the dispossessed had just been re-located. Those that
had survived, that is.
Victoria had to feel that her natural intuition was getting
better. As she turned into the next hallway there was Carolyn, making
the rounds of her patients. Victoria felt sorry for the poor woman.
She could not see the truth, even though it had been staring her
right in the face. There was a hollowness in her gaze now, as if a
little of her natural spark had guttered out when she had been caught
in 'the earthquake'. The left sleeve of her white coat hung limply by
her side in testimony of how narrowly she had escaped.
"Hi Carolyn," Victoria greeted. "How are you doing?"
Dr Turner smiled and nodded to her. "I'm fine, thank you Victoria.
How are you today?"
Vicky just shrugged, and returned the smile. "Okay. The same as
yesterday." She hesitated a little, but they both knew she was going
to ask it anyway. "How is Hanna?"
Dr Turner's smile faded a little, and her gaze turned sympathetic.
"She is still having trouble. We haven't convinced her to leave her
room yet, so venturing outside in the near future is looking very
unlikely."
Victoria nodded. She did not know what had befallen Hanna after
she had been put down on the beach, but she was sure that her terror
of open space and the night sky, no matter how acute, was a small
price to pay for surviving at all. "Please don't push her," Victoria
asked, "she's been through a lot."
Dr Turner didn't reply to that, but just gave her a slightly wan
smile. "Would you like to see her? If you promise not to excite her,
I can allow it again."
Victoria felt her heart skip a beat. "Yes, hell yes. I'll do
anything you want."
Carolyn nodded and turned back the way she had come before
stopping outside Hanna's door and unlocking it. "I will be in here
with you."
Victoria didn't even hear her. When the door opened the room
looked empty at first, but Victoria knew that wasn't the case. She
just got to her knees and peered under the bed. There, lying in the
far corner and wrapped in her duvet, lay Hanna staring back at her
with tearful eyes. "Vicky!"
Victoria crawled under the bed frame to join her, and as much as
Hanna did not want to separate herself from her thick comforter she
allowed Victoria to slip inside. "Vicky! I missed you so much! I
wanted to see you, but I can't go! I can't!"
"Shh," Victoria soothed, laying a gentle kiss on Hanna's lips. "I
know hon. I'm here now. You don't have to worry. I'm here for you.
I'll protect you."
***
Deep beneath the waves, within the cloistered remains of R'lyeh,
stood a single great tree of flesh and sinew. The Dark Young, trapped
as the city had sunk, shifted idly on its three hoofed feet. Its
massive ropey tendrils flowed majestically in time with the shifting
waters outside them, the creature simply content to cradle its charge.
For there, lying in the wrinkled flesh from where the being's
tentacles rose up from its body, a sleeping human form. It was a
woman, almost recognisable as having had the name of Mary. Her long,
dark hair had dried stickily against her all but naked body and her
eyes were closed in contented slumber.
And yet she was recognisable only in her sleeping face. Her
stomach, once flat and clean, was swollen massively with some
unnatural, unending gestation, and across the surface of that taut,
stretched flesh the sign of the burning star was carved in deep,
long-healed scars. Her bosom was likewise affected by such infernal
pregnancy, and though her body was bloated her limbs were lined with
a muscle that she had not held before. Likewise the nails of her toes,
and of the fingers that rested comfortably across her vast abdomen,
were thick and bony things, blackened and ridged as if they
themselves should have been made to walk upon.
The Young beneath her stirred as finally, weeks after she had
literally been re-born, her eyes flickered open, revealing themselves
to be the blood-red orbs that they now were. She stared up to the
ceiling through the waving tendrils that surrounded her, and she
stretched herself out as best as her heavy body would allow.
And, caressing her fecund stomach with one hand, she smiled.
"Mother... Your daughter has heard you. She will live by your will."
'Yes, beloved mother,' came the thought that followed as she
stroked the dark flesh she rested upon. 'I will make amends.'
***
The End
***
Please send any comments and constructive criticism to:
nutzoide@nutzoide.net
They are always greatly appreciated, and there is no better reward
for a writer than to hear back from the readers.
Many thanks to Richard King for his proofreading assistance, and to a
couple of friends for the translation of my spells.
For those who are interested, here they are in English:
"From the dark reaches of the night we call to you; great Mother.
The time is right and the stars have come about to offer you a grand
and rare feast. Hear our words Dark Mother, and break the shackles of
your nature to join us fortunate faithful ones, who are made majestic
by your power. Glory us with your bountiful presence, and gorge upon
the gifts we have come here to bestow upon you. Come, great and
beloved Shub-Niggurath, I am the avatar of your travel to this place.
Through the sacrifice I offer make your flesh manifest upon the Earth
and lead us in glory of the ever-circle of life. Awaken, transit, and
be born through yourself unto us!"
...and...
"Dark Goat, hear the words from my loyal tongue! Bathed in your
glory I offer myself unto you. Turn back and allow this infernal
breach to close, lest all and sundry perish beneath you. Allow us our
thriving existence, gift us with your providence, and in the name of
your elders return to your place in the universe. I cast you out for
the love of all that you embody. Let your eternal progeny be your
legacy unto us until your power is once again needed upon this humble
rock of our. Take my prayer as the proof of my pact, and be
banished!"
Back to Non-Anime Fanfiction Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction