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

help.  I would not come to you if it were not important.  The Outer Gods have broken through the Third Dimension. The Lurker of the Threshold inhabits the earth.  The Eradication has begun. The cycle begins.  I plead to you for mercy, not for me, but for this man here.  And for the Third Dimension.”

The flames in the picture on the wall brightened and towered higher. The Elder God nodded.  His eyes flashed.  “What has this man told you?” Nodens asked.

“He has told me of Yog-Sothoth . . . and Nyarlathotep.  They roam the earth.”

“They will lose their power soon enough,” Nodens said.  “We have waited for this day.”

“I have no right to ask of your motive, Nodens,” Ubba-Sathla said, and bowed again.

“But you long to know?” Nodens said.  Macky thought he saw the god smile.  “We understand.  Sacrifice for a worthy cause is favorable in our sight.  Even rewarded.  We admire it in him, despite his current . . . state of inebriation.”

“It was the Weevles,” Ubba-Sathla said.  “He was hungry, tired, and they toyed with him. They entertained him.  I was unaware until it was too late.”

The god continued to look at Ubba-Sathla.  “Weelves cannot be blamed.  They are doing what they were made for.”

“Will you help him?” Ubba-Sathla said.

“Don’t we always?” Nodens replied.

Macky was having a hard time focusing. The picture in the wall was one that intimidated and frightened him.  He had no idea what to expect or how to talk to a god.  Nyarlathotep was one thing.  This was something else.  He felt foolish.  The edges of reality continued to blur and separate.

“We know your mind, mortal,” Nodens said, turning his gaze to Macky.  “You do not need to seek forgiveness, though it would be respected, even honored with great grace.  We have seen Innsport from afar.  We’re aware of the gates, and we know of your troubles.  They should’ve never been opened to begin with.  How did this happen?”

“It was the Mad Arab,” Macky said, trying to blink the gods into focus.  “Abdul Alhazred, and The Necronomicon.  He fooled me with it. And others.  We opened the gates, not willingly, of course.  It was . . . an accident.  He played us.  Hiccup!  Excuse me.”

“And the Outer God, Cthulhu, wreaks havoc upon your city.  He has taken lives.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Macky asked.

“Of course,” Nodens said.

“Why wouldn’t you help, if you knew?”

“It is not wise to question the gods,” Nodens said.  “Though I admire your courage for it.  We have our reasons.  And we work pain for a greater good.  We are, what you might call, the Pain Lords.  Death is not defined the way you define it.  You are here and gone tomorrow, but there are other pathways.  Other worlds.  Like most good, it demands sacrifice.  All good things do.  A sacrifice made from love.  You have proven worthy to the cause, Mr. Macky despite your . . . mental state of mind.”

“It’s a vice, I know,” he said.  “But the Thirteenth Gate?  It’s opened.  And Yog-Sothoth is already through.  Hiccup!  Excuse me.  I feel terrible about this.”

“There is no need for you to feel shame,” Nodens said.  “Your repentance is most welcome . . . and forgiven.  We will intercede on your behalf.”

“You will?”

“Of course.  We are the Pain Lords.”

“What do you want from me?” Macky asked.

“Want?” Nodens asked.

“Yes.  A sacrifice.  Allegiance.  Loyalty.  My body.  My . . . blood?  You must want something.”

The god looked lost, confused.  It surprised him.

“You misunderstand us, Mr. Macky.  We do not seek sacrifice in the literal sense.  We are merely honored by it.  That alone has its own rewards.  The truth is, we pity your race.  There is evil among you, but there is good.  We will banish these gods back to the Outer Darkness where they belong.  They should have never been created to begin with.  That was our mistake.  The cycle must begin again, and we will go to war.”

“You’re fighting for us for no reason?”

“There is always a reason.  If you want to know, call it love.”

Macky raised his eyebrows.

“Does my answer surprise you?” Nodens asked.  “It’s different than how you imagine it.  Our words mean different things where we are.  Your definitions are worldly, Mr. Macky.  Ours are eternal.  Our motives, even in your pain, are for your greater good.  If you desire to give us anything, give us your allegiance.  We would be honored.”  Nodens paused. “Or . . .?”

“Yes?” Macky asked.

“Believe,” Nodens said.

“Believe?  Are you serious?”  Macky suddenly felt very sober.

“Believe . . . and trust in us,” Nodens said.

“Sounds like a fair trade,” Macky said.  “Consider it done.”

“Very well,” Nodens replied, and nodded a single time.  He looked to the other gods, who nodded in return.  “Let us go to war.”

Chapter 20

Yog-Sothoth echoed out a long, rage-filled lament.  The pillars of light shining through the add-on grew brighter.

Capshaw, Duke, Newt, Amelia, and Mr. Kalabraise—mouth wet with Wilbur’s blood—ran back the way they came

The clouds were a fierce, swirling, wind-gusting vortex.  Lightning flashed.  The Mad Arab had one hand raised to the sky, the other cradling the dreaded Necronomicon.  Pages whipped back and forth in torrential gusts.  Villainous triumph shone from his eyes.

“Whatever happened to the hound?” Newt asked, searching the area.

“Good question,” Duke said, holding onto his hat while he ran. “It doesn’t make sense.  Let’s worry about it later.”

Amelia clung closely to Newt.  Her knees were shaky.  She had no intention of letting go of him.

Capshaw stopped.  He looked around.  “How do we get back?”

“Duke?” Newt asked.

The big man shrugged.  “What are you asking me for?”

“But you’re a philosopher?” Newt said.

“I’m just a cop.  There’s a difference.”  He looked at the Mad Arab.  “But I can