The Lurker at the Threshold : A Horror Mystery by Brandon Berntson (books under 200 pages .txt) 📗

a voice said.  “Yog-Sothoth is the way!”

The voice was the same, throaty, diabolical intonation that had come from Gomory and where Mike had been digging.  The orbs grew, brightened, and gained another dimension.

“Dev, let’s get out of here,” Millie said.

“Something isn’t right,” Macky said, turning one way, then the other.

“You think this is normal?” Millie asked.

Mr. Kalabraise barked at the orbs.  Capshaw and Armitage walked slowly towards the door.

Macky picked up the phone on the desk.  Before he could get the operator to say Innsport 6-5000, another voice chimed in: “That which can eternal lie . . . you have opened the Seventh Gate.  Scar thanks you.  You will be rewarded.”

Macky put the phone down.

“What is it, Dev?”  Millie asked.

“Prank call.  It said the Seventh Gate was already open.  We’re more than halfway there.”

Mr. Kalabraise continued to bark.

“Dev, let’s go,” Millie said.

He nodded and backed toward the door like Capshaw and Armitage.  He shut the door once they were in the hallway.

They hurried down the stairs.

—

Once they were on the streets, Macky turned and saw a strange-looking creature with kangaroo legs and claw-like arms.  It had no ears.  Its eyes were enormous, a mouth of sharp, pointed teeth.  It was heading toward a woman running down the street.  She clutched a baby to her chest.

“Millie, gun,” he said, holding out his hand.

She reached into the car, grabbed her purse, pulled out the .38, and handed it to Macky.  He took aim and fired.  The bullet sailed wide.

The creature stopped and hissed at him. The woman with the baby disappeared around the corner.

“I think you just made it mad,” Armitage said.

“Yeah,” Macky said.  “But I distracted it.”

The thing was coming toward him.  Macky aimed, fired a second time, and missed again.

“No practice,” he said.

The thing hissed and screeched—a full-blown wail.  He tossed the gun to Millie, who caught it by the handle, took aim, and fired.  It was no more than five-feet from Macky when it hit the ground.  She shot it in the forehead, dead center.

“Thanks, Mill,” he said.

“Anytime, Dev.”

Other things were visible he hadn’t noticed.  Giant wasps, bodies that were somehow crustaceous, like a lobster, flew cumbersomely through the air.  Their heads and faces were devoid of features, the sound of their wings beating fast, buzzing loudly.  Their faces were an illuminated mass of dripping fungus.  Enormous, gossamer wings, like dragonflies, blurred as they moved.

“In the car, hurry,” Macky said.

They poured into the coupe.

Macky turned on the ignition and hit the accelerator.

—

“Hi, Jerry,” Macky said.  “Is Duke or Newt in?  I’m guessing they have their hands full.”

Jerry was on the phone and put his finger up.  He was listening to someone intently.  He wrote several things down, told the person he would have someone check on whatever the problem was, and hung up.

Captain Warrens was on vacation.  Again.  The mayor was with him, and Jerry was trying to man the station alone.

“What was that, Dev?” Jerry asked.

“Duke and Newt?  Are they in?”

“They’re investigating that hound business.  I’m not sure I could get a hold of them if I wanted to.  I just have to wait till they call in or we see them again.  Hi, Miss Millie.  That’s an interesting outfit you have on.”

Millie gave a wide smile and curtsied.

“Thanks, Jer,” Macky said.

They left and got in the car.

Macky was about to turn the ignition when a figure wearing a turban ran around the corner of the police station with a book in hand.

Macky put the car in gear and lurched onto the road.

—

“Did anybody see that?” he asked.

“What, Dev?” Millie asked.

“That guy.  I think I just saw Abdul with The Necronomicon.”

“You’re kidding?” Capshaw said from the backseat.

Macky pulled the car to a stop around the next corner.  There was no sign of the Mad Arab.

“This is getting annoying,” he said.

The setting had changed again.  A house on a hill was flickering light behind the windows.  Storm clouds gathered above.  Something else was happening behind the façade.

“Do you happen to have a flashlight, Dev?” Armitage asked.  “With everything going on, it’s hard to read back here.”

“Maybe in the glovebox?” Macky said.  “Millie?”

“Whatever you say, sailor.”

He continued to look up and down the street.  There was no sign of the Mad Arab.

“Here ya go,” Millie said, handing back a flashlight she found in the glovebox.

“Much obliged,” Armitage said.

Macky continued to sit behind the wheel, thinking.  “Have you guys found anything useful in those books yet?”

“Most of the stuff we already know,” Armitage said.  “There are no indications of how to close the gates.  I’m not sure that’s an option anymore.  We might need another plan for that.”

“Do you have a plan?” Millie asked Macky.

“Not really.  Do I ever?”

She shrugged.

He put the car in drive and started down the road.

“Where are we going?” Millie asked.

“The only place I can think of.”

—

Macky parked the car in front of Amelia’s Used Books.  He’d met Amelia during the Dagon business two years ago, not realizing the information she’d provided about Haddonfield would be crucial.

Amelia, who had a terrible stutter, had been introduced to Newt after the affair was over.  They were married months later.  Newt had been bringing her out of her shell.  Love did that to people.  She still stuttered but not as bad.  They made a home for themselves in the apartment behind the bookstore, separated by a single curtain, but the place was homey and pleasant.

The bookstore was closed.  He tried the knob to make sure.  It was locked. Macky banged on the window.

“Newt!  Amelia!  Hey, you guys in there?”

“Discretion was never his strong suit,” Millie told Capshaw and Armitage.  Armitage smiled.