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

for cosmic control over the whole, stinking universe.  Outer dimensions!  Gimme a break!  What then?  Usurp the throne of God?  Someone’s already tried that, and it didn’t work out too well for them.”

“No one’s tried hard enough,” Nyarlathotep said.  “Yet.”

“No one will ever succeed,” Millie said, holding the cross at her neck

“We can still have a little fun in the process,” Nyarlathotep said.

“The Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad Arab is trying to impress the gods by opening gates and unleashing unholy horror upon Innsport,” Macky said.  “That Necronomicon is quite the tome, if I do say so myself.”

“So it would seem.”

“You seem pretty even-keeled about the whole thing,” Macky said.  He turned to Millie.  “That means neutral.  Unfazed.  I think.”

“I know, Dev.  I taught you that word.”

The god shrugged.  “Entertainment isn’t so easy to come by these days.  We know all the tricks.  I hold no sentiment in the value of mortals.  Groveling.  Weak.  You’re a tired and predictable species.”

“Millie, do you find me tiring?”

She nodded.  “Definitely.”

“Are you going to help us or not?” Armitage said, losing patience.

“Yeah,” Capshaw said.  “Why did you take the Elder Scrolls in the first place?”

“I wanted to know what was in it for me if I helped you,” Nyarlathotep said.

“What do you want?” Armitage asked.

The god smiled.  Or so it seemed.  It was hard to tell on the faceless visage.  “Pain,” he said.

“Another sadist,” Macky said, putting his hands into his pockets.  “Just what we need.”

“In a matter of speaking,” Nyarlathotep said.  “I long for the Mad Arab’s humility.  His time has come.”

“What kind of humility are we talking about?” Macky said.

Nyarlathotep smiled.  “I want to see him torn apart.”

—

Duke and Newt slowed down, both weary, breathing heavily.  Duke more so.  He was bent over, hands on his knees, gasping.

“I can’t wait for . . . all this . . . to be over,” the big detective said.

“I think it would be easier if the thing decided to kill us and be done with it.”

“That would be nice . . . sure.”

Silence surrounded them.  The fog, dark, the light of the October moon was all they could see.  The stench was discernible, but the sound of screaming insects had quieted.  The lateness of the hour was also getting to them.  They were tired and hungry.

“I don’t hear anything,” Newt said, looking around.

Duke labored for breath and finally stood up.  “Come on.”

“Do you think it’s wise to go back there?” Newt asked.

“No.  But there’s civil unrest in the city right now, and we’re here to uphold the law.”

Newt raised his eyebrows.

“I heard that from a radio show Vera and I listen to,” Duke said.  “I thought it was appropriate for the moment.”

Newt smiled.  “Lead on.  Although I feel like we’re going in circles.”

“I’m not going to argue.”

They started back the way they came.

“I’m getting worried about Amelia, too, Duke,” Newt said.

“I know.  Me, too.  But don’t worry.  We’ll find her.”

“Those are comforting words, but you don’t know any more than I do.”

Duke looked at his partner.  He smiled and put his hand on his shoulder.  “Don’t worry.”

The hound bayed again.  It was farther away, echoing over the city like a distant wolf howl.

“Stop,” Duke said.  He put his hand out, forcing Newt to stop.

The fog had thinned.

All four bodies were on the ground.  Blood glistened in the moonlight.  Rocky, Bullwinkle, and the two goons in yellow pinstripe suits lay motionless and dead.

“Why do I get the feeling this thing wants just put the fear of God into us, Duke,” Newt said.

“Why?  Is it working?” Duke asked.

“Very much so.”

“It wants us to know it,” Duke said, looking at the bodies.

His partner snapped his head in his direction.  “Huh?”

Duke nodded.  He looked at the foggy moon, the fire escapes between the buildings.  “It wants us to follow it.  It’s on the fire escape.  It wants us to . . . know it.”

Newt followed his gaze.  The hound with wings was looking at them from the fire escape to their right.

“This isn’t funny anymore, Duke,” Newt said.

“I know.  But instincts are telling me to lead the way—for the hound, that is.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Newt said.

“You and me both.”

As if in answer, the hound spread its wings, and took to the air.  It descended to the alley.  They understood each other.  It had never been about finding the hound and killing it; it had been about following it.

But why?

Duke and Newt had no idea.

The hound disappeared into the fog.

Duke and Newt followed.

—

“There.”

Nyarlathotep led them from the museum to the outskirts of the city.  The warping in the atmosphere continued.  The fog was shifting like a wisp of spiderwebs.  The moon was a pale smudge behind the clouds.  The strangeness of the evening, the semblance of depth and time meshed and merged in strange eons.  They walked for what seemed a short ways before realizing they’d come to a place in the country.  On the top of a long hill, surrounded by gangly trees, was a Victorian house.  From inside, it looked like a rainbow-colored electrical storm was taking place.  The windows flashed blue, pink, green, and yellow.  The place looked like a conduit for electrical energy.

“What on earth is that?” Macky asked.

“The gate,” Nyarlathotep said.  “Portal.  Dreamscapes.  The key to the Elder Gods.  Kadath.”

“As long as we know the answer,” Macky said.  “What’s a Kadath?”

“The place you’ll have to go if you want to bargain with the Elder Gods,” Nyarlathotep said.  “Home.  It’s referred to by many names.  Some don’t know of it.  Some say it doesn’t exist.  I know otherwise.”

“Sounds like a real festive place,” Macky said.

Nyarlathotep surprised