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

“He is?” Muggins said.

Frankie rolled his eyes.  “It’s all sugar rolls, you know what I mean?  You got a long way to put your hands in the dough to make the swirls come out right.  Tell me I’m wrong.”

Duke and Newt had no more idea what Frankie was talking about than anyone else.  The two goons were cracking smiles, but no one moved.

“Whattaya say, Duke?” Frankie said.  “Wanna dance?”

“I wouldn’t want Bullwinkle to get jealous,” Duke said.

Frankie narrowed his eyes.  “You got any greenbacks on you, honey?”

Duke stared at him.  “You’re the most predictable thug in Innsport, you know that, Bullwinkle.”

“He’s Bullwinkle,” Frankie said, gesturing his thumb at Muggins.

“That doesn’t make much difference at the moment,” Duke said.

“You getting this, Mugsy?” Frankie asked his partner.  “He’s standing here trying to be funny, but no one’s laughing.  What does that make me?”

“A boob,” Duke said.

The thugs behind Frankie stopped smiling.  They were reaching into their pockets.

Newt watched all this, fascinated.  His hand inched toward his iron.

Four against two weren’t good odds, and Duke was a slow runner.  That made it, with the size of the goons, about six against one and a half.  Frankie had no problem taking people out, and neither did his goons.  A couple of gumshoes wouldn’t go over well with Frankie’s boss, however, who would have the entire Innsport Police Department after them.  Duke thought he and Newt could take Rocky and Bullwinkle easily.  It was the goons who were the problem.

“What are you two doing out this late anyway?” Frankie asked.

“You don’t ask the questions, pipsqueak,” Duke said.  “Guns don’t give you the license to flap.  Got it?”

Newt raised his eyebrows.  He’d never seen this side of Duke, but he liked it.  The man hated dealing with the underground scum of the city, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

The fog was thickening, crawling around the buildings like giant fingers.  Duke thought he could hear the clip of toenails against the pavement.  He wasn’t thinking about the thugs or Rocky and Bullwinkle.  He was thinking of the hound.  He turned to his partner.

“You hear that, Newt?”

Newt turned in his direction.  “I don’t.  What am I supposed to be hearing?”

Frankie did a dramatic gangster bit: pointing two fingers at them from the waist and cocking his head.  He said out of flamboyantly curled lips, “What kind of game you playing, tough guy?  You trying to crack foxy?”

“You settled for small-time, Rocky,” Duke said.  “You gonna stand there and tell me you haven’t noticed anything strange tonight?”

“Just the fog,” Frankie said.  “And . . . I keep hearing this wolf howl.”

“We’re in the animal shelter,” Muggins said.

Duke and Newt looked at each other.

“You catching this drift?” Rocky asked his sidekick.  “All the stuff’s on the wire, man!  These gumshoes are trying to play it cute!”

“It’s a little over my head, boss,” Bullwinkle said, scratching his head.  “But that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been taken to the cleaners.”

“Sure, sure.  I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Frankie said.  “It’s the way it's going down.  Who’s got the bubble-gum?”

The orbs started glowing.  Greenish blue lights popped up along the alley.  That stink returned, something hot, alien, and tarry.  The sound of crickets grew louder, a decibel of insects crying in the night.

“I got some advice for you, Rocky, and for your goons,” Duke said, backing up slowly.  “Turn and walk away.”

“You trying to get smart?” Frankie said, doing that hipster, two guns at the waist bit with his fingers pointing.

One of the goons made a sound of contempt.  The light was growing.  It got Rocky’s attention, along with the goons.

“Hey, what gives?” Frankie said, looking around.  “What’s with these glowing lights?  You seeing this, Mugsy?”

Mugsy/Bullwinkle, and the goons saw it.  Their expressions went from amused to confused.

“I asked you a question, copper,” Frankie said.  “What’s with the glowing balls?”

“I warned you,” Duke said.  He reached out and took Newt’s sleeve, backing up.

“Run for it, boys,” Newt said.

Frankie and the goons looked around.  They were backing up.  The insect sound was louder.  The stench was almost palpable.  Frankie and the goons looked left and right, walking backwards, and as they did, their eyes continued to get bigger.

“Run!” Duke shouted.

Duke and Newt ran.  The hound bayed close.  The next thing they knew, Rocky and the goons started screaming.

—

“These don’t belong to you,” Nyarlathotep said, indicating the scrolls.

“We can talk possession later,” Macky said.  “Gates are opening.  Things are crawling around the city, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Yes,” the god said.  “Ten now, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Ten?” Macky said, surprised.

“Ten?” Capshaw said.

“Ten?” Armitage and Millie said.

“Ten,” Nyarlathotep repeated.

“I thought we were at nine?” Macky asked.

“The Mad Arab moves quickly,” Nyarlathotep said.  “Many hands have touched it.  Most of which you won’t recognize.  It’s a mad, mad, mad, mad world, isn’t it, Mr. Macky?”

“You seem awfully amused by the whole thing.”

“I enjoy mischief and mayhem.  It makes me laugh. I find this whole charade quite entertaining.  The Mad Arab is moving things along nicely.  Favorably.  That doesn’t make him any less of a fool.  It just means he’s persistent.”

“I thought you said you hated him?” Macky said.

Nyarlathotep nodded.  “I admire his ambition, even if he’s a sycophant.”

“That means he’s a suck-up, Dev,” Millie said.

“I’m glad you’re here for something, Mill,” Macky said.

“I hate feeling useless,” Millie said.

Macky turned to Nyarlathotep.  “And he’s sucking up these gods?”

Nyarlathotep nodded.  “Yog-Sothoth, mainly.  Azathoth.  Didn’t we discuss this already?”

“You people are something else, you know that?” Macky said.  “Egos completely out of control.  I thought politicians were bad, but you guys take the babka.  You don’t settle for worldly gain. You’re looking