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

the counter.  “You are too quick for me, sir.  Yog-Sothoth greets you.”

“Yog . . . what?”

Macky didn’t get the chance to hear a reply.  He was out on the street with the book in his hands.  He didn’t remember walking outside, but when he turned to the store, it was dark. The candles had been snuffed out, and the sign had been turned to, Closed.

He was back on Lincoln Avenue.

—

After Millie had left, he didn’t think much about it.  He had gotten the gift the day before after she’d gone home, and he’d brought it to the office the next day.  Halloween gag gifts.  It was the only thing that made sense.  Pretty clever, even carnival-like.  He was disappointed Millie had taken it so seriously.

He’d make a night of it, though.  It would be fun.  He got some bourbon, lit a few candles, a cigarette, and put his feet up on the desk, and set the book on his lap.

He opened the tome and started turning the pages.  They were old and delicate.  He scanned the introduction, which made him smile—a bunch of nonsense and poppycock.  He laughed at the mention of “forbidden knowledge—studying the arcane truths of cosmic evils in light of humanity’s insignificance.”  Macky didn’t know what that was supposed to mean.  Instead of sounding intelligent, it sounded verbose and pretentious.  Silly, even.

The room darkened, or was that the flame dwindling on one of the candles?  A cold breath caressed his ear.  Macky shivered but continued to read.  It didn’t take long before his eyes grew tired.  The book’s point was unclear.  He was trying to recite a foreign language in a tongue he didn’t have.  The words were gobble-de-gook.  He’d wanted to immerse himself in dark tales, forbidden knowledge, even a touch of madness.

But it didn’t happen.

He grabbed the bourbon, took a sip, and set it on the blotter. He leaned back in his chair.

Far across the city, the hound bayed.

And someone screamed.

Chapter 2

“Dev, I brewed some coffee.  I must say, it is dee-licious.  I thought we—”

Millie trailed off and looked at Macky, who was sprawled out in his chair, feet up on the desk, The Necronomicon on his lap.  It was open.  A bottle of bourbon, a short glass (empty), and an ashtray were on the blotter.  Macky had his hat down over his eyes.

“Dev?”

He stirred, dark stubble on his pale face.  “Is that you, Mill?  Coffee?  You’re a plum.”

“Dev, have you been here all night?” Millie said.  “You didn’t go home?”

“I guess not.”  He rubbed his face, put his feet on the floor, and put the book on his desk.  He took his hat off and set it beside it.  The ashtray was filled with cigarette butts.

“Oh, man!” he said, rubbing his head.  “Did I have some crazy dreams!  First, I was in the desert riding a camel.  Then I was on some farm with some crazy farmer chasing me with a pitchfork.  Some doozy-maroonies, if ever doozy-maroonies showed themselves in the construct of dreamland and made themselves presentable to the other dreamscapes.  You gotta shake it before you bake it, Mill, you know what I mean?”

She cocked her eyebrow.  She was dressed in a green sweater with white stripes across the chest and arms.  She wore pants again today, a thicker fabric for the cooler weather.  Her hair was in a pin-up style with a green bow in the back.  “Don’t tell me you were here reading that vile thing all night?”

“Huh?  Oh, yeah.  I guess I did.”  He yawned, stretched, putting his hands over his head.  He looked over, poured some bourbon into the glass, and downed it in one gulp.  “Breakfast has been served.”

“Dev, it’s eight o’clock in the morning!”

“I know.  I’m past due, right?  But you’ll be glad to know I’m already feeling better.”

“You’re spooking me.”  She handed him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, Mill.  Your plum-ness isn’t going unnoticed.  I’ve put in a good word for you about a raise to the boss of this fine edifice.  It’s in the process of evaluation.”

“Did you say plumpness?”

“Plum.  Plumness.  Goodness.  Peachiness.  Oh, man, my head hurts.  I guess I slept here all night, huh?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been here all night with that vile thing?”

“You said that already.  I can’t give you a different answer, but yes.  And it wasn’t so vile. Kinda disappointing.”

She tapped her feet.  Her arms were crossed.  She narrowed her eyes.

“Mill, you look genuinely scared.  It’s just a silly book.  Supposed to summon demons or something.  All it did was summon my exhaustion.  Never been so bored in my life.  I don’t understand how people like to read.  Puts me to sleep.  Sigils everywhere.”

“Sigils?”

“Yeah.  Kinda like in the book.  I recognize a few of them from the shop.”

“The man had sigils in his shop?”

“Sigils in the Shop.  That would make a good song title, Mill.  “I-got-sigils-in-the-shop. I-got-sigils-in-the-shop. I-got-sigils-in-the-shop-that-go . . . bop-bop-bop!  Oh, man, that hurts my noggin.”

“Stop doing that!”

“Try not to shout, Mill.  It must’ve been the full moon and all that fog.  I had a few drinks before seeing the bookshop.  Maybe that had something to do with it.”

“You didn’t?”

“I just said I did.  Why do you have to contradict me all the time?”

“You walked right into it.  I mean, right into it.”

“Right into what?  Mill, you’re overreacting.  Like always.”

“I want you to take me to that bookstore, so we can get rid of that thing.  I want you to give it back to the guy before anything weird happens.”

“Nothing’s changed.  I’m just sitting here having an early snort, and you’re making it out like World War Three.”

“So help me, Dev, if you’ve opened some evil gateway . . . I want you to take that thing back right now!”

Macky