The Lurker at the Threshold : A Horror Mystery Page 9

  “I got to know Addy,” the doctor said. “Knew of her, of course, but got to know her more after you and Millie went back to Innsport. Lots of chaos after that, things that needed to be . . . put back where they belonged.”

  “Let me ask you a question,” Macky said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do you think Shub-Niggurath is still . . . underground?”

  Armitage didn’t say anything for some time. He shrugged. “I’m not sure things like that can be fully destroyed, Dev. They take more than human intelligence to do away with them. I think Shub-Niggurath lives in some way or another. But she is limited if she does. Her influence has weakened. The robed figures were caught, the Children of a Thousand Eyes. Every one of them. They were jailed and convicted. Addy had taken over as a sort of authority on everything, not just taking care of the people. Much like Tiki did, she hunts things in the dark . . . of which there are plenty.

  “We looked for every entrance to the catacombs we could find. We found quite a few . . . filled them with cement. That was the biggest thing. Every now and then you run across some blasphemous creation that should not be. So, we . . . destroy it.”

  “Not a good bedtime story, it sounds like,” Capshaw said from the backseat.

  “If Shub-Niggurath still lives below, she’s trapped,” Armitage said. “She might influence what lives in the ground, but that’s all. For now anyway. Which is why we stay vigilant.”

  “Isn’t it frightening living in a place with so much uncertainty?” Macky asked. “Don’t you think, after enough time, she’d find a way out? Or find someone else to do her bidding?”

  “We all live under the guise of uncertainty, Dev. That’s where faith comes in. Besides, that’s one of the main reasons I stay put. In case anything bad happens.”

  “You sound like Millie, too,” Macky said, smiling.

  “No thing ever really dies,” Armitage said. “Not like that. We’ve had several . . . disturbances since you left. The tomb-legions. Even . . . laughter.”

  “Laughter?”

  “The laughter of a mad woman. People claimed to have heard it in the night. Some say it comes from underground.”

  Macky thought about Angelique, the headless wife of the headless Moorland, and how she hadn’t wanted to be a part of Moorland’s ‘vision.’ In the end, she’d gotten the best of her husband, instead of vice-versa. The whole thing had been eerie from the start.

  “I’m getting the Hillbilly Shakes,” he said.

  “I know the feeling,” Armitage said. “Some things don’t want to die, and those things come out only at night. You keep a firearm by your side, plenty of matches, and torches. That’s the way of life in Arkham now.”

  “But Addy is okay?”

  Armitage nodded and smiled. “Strong woman. Determined. She talks about you and Millie a lot. I admire her”

  “I’ll have to tell Millie that. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to say hello. Maybe next time.”

  “I’m sure she’ll understand,” Armitage said.

  They were quiet for a while. Macky continued to drive.

  —

  They finally pulled up to Millie’s building on Kensington. They got and took the stairs, not wasting time with the elevator. Armitage left the books in the car. Macky, Capshaw, and Armitage were out of breath by the time they got to the 6th Floor.

  Sarnath had grown. Expanded. It was taking over the hallway, branching off in all directions from the nexus that was Millie’s door. The floor was covered in tall grass, stalks of wildflowers and roots of trees pushing through the walls. Rocks and boulders were visible. Leaves had sprouted on vines. Macky, to his surprise, saw creatures in the midst of it. A caterpillar was crawling along a branch. A praying mantis blended in with the leaves. A ladybug flew in the air and landed on his hand. He shook it off. This was too close to Arkham, especially since they’d just been talking about it.

  “Good Lord,” Armitage said, eyeing everything with horror and amazement. “I didn’t expect this.”

  Mack grabbed the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. The branches, vines, and rocks moving in and out of the wall had intertwined with the door, sealing it shut. He dug his fingers into the vines and tried to rip the branches off.

  “Help me with it,” he said to the others.

  Capshaw and Armitage were quick to help. They took pocketknives from their trouser pockets and proceeded to saw through the branches. At this rate, it would take forever.

  “Stand back,” Macky said.

  He ran into the door using his shoulder. After the fourth time, the door gave way, creaking open. His shoulder throbbed.

  The door across the hall opened. Mrs. Newsome, a middle-aged woman who lived alone and sometimes looked after Mr. Kalabraise, poked her head into the hallway. She saw the growth, widened her eyes, screamed, and slammed the door. A sparrow flew into her apartment before she did. They could hear her screaming inside.

  Armitage, Capshaw, and Macky looked at one another. Macky shrugged. “She doesn’t adapt well to change, I guess,” he said.

  They pulled at the door until there was enough room to get inside. One by one, they stepped within. It was like walking into another world. The sun shone, but it was going down. The grass was thick and green. The lake reflected the stars and moon. There was the sound of music, revelry coming from the city to the south.

  “Incredible,” Armitage said, in awe. “The city of Sarnath in the land of Mnar.”

  The towers and trees, the city below was filled with torchlight, music, and dancing.

  “This isn’t a good sign,” the doctor said.

  “What?” Macky asked.

  “They’re celebrating Ib’s destruction already, the city on the other side of the lake. The one in the forest.”

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  “Sorry, Dev. There’s more going on than I realized. The people of Ib had green skin, pouty lips, bulging eyes, and strange ears, but they never spoke. They came back years later. Many years. In all that time, Sarnath lived in peace after the People of the Moon were slaughtered. But the people of Ib, the People of the Moon, never forgot. On a certain night during a full moon, they returned. They killed the high priest and stole back their idol as a warning. The high priest knew who they were and why they came. He was able to write a single word in blood on the ground before he died. ‘Doom.’

  “Years later, the city of Sarnath was celebrating the destruction of Ib, like they did every year. Lights in the sky started to form. A mist rose from the lake. All the people of Sarnath were driven mad, driven away, or . . . destroyed.”

  “You mean . . ?”

  “Yes, Dev. Look.”

  A mist was rising from the lake as Armitage spoke. From the forest, lights emerged. The moon was beginning to rise.

  “You mean it’s happening . . . now?” Macky asked.

  Armitage nodded. “We’ve no time to lose.”

  The three of them found a trail and descended into the city.

  —

  The moon was bright and full, like a bulbous eye. Lights were visible in the trees on the other side of the lake. It took Macky a second before he realized they were eyes, attached to lunar green faces.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat. He picked up speed while Armitage and Capshaw lumbered after him. Sarnath and the celebration were in full swing.

  “Come on! Hurry!” Macky called.

  “Of all the blasted, ridiculous antics . . .” Armitage muttered under his breath. “We’re not as young as you, you dangle-headed . . .”

  Macky heard enough of this to make him smile.

  Capshaw looked wide-eyed and pale-faced behind the doctor, holding onto his bowler hat.

  There were roughly five-hundred people in the city. Music, lutes, lyres, mandolins, and recorders rang in a melody that, Macky admitted, he liked quite a lot. It wasn’t Count Basie, but what was?

  The drinks were flowing. The revelers were kicking up their feet, wearing chitons,
swinging arm in arm, laughing, and having a good time.

  Macky looked to the trees.

  The eyes had disappeared.

  “Did anyone think to bring a weapon besides pocketknives?” Capshaw said. The man was out of breath.

  “Improvisation is how I move,” Macky told him.

  “Do you ever plan anything?” Armitage asked, who was right behind Macky. “Or do you just always go on impulse?”

  Macky turned and smiled at the doctor. “I was never one to exercise patience. Being rash might be the worst of my failings.”

  The world, according to Armitage, was 10,000 years old. It was hard to imagine. Did they have music and instruments back then? Now wasn’t the time to get remiss about the details, but he wondered . . .

  Macky looked at the lake again. Were those boats on the water? A strange mist gathered, something more than fog. The moon was partly obscured by the clouds. Cold stars shone. If not for the history lesson, it would’ve been beautiful.

  “For England, Valhalla, and Saint Joooohhhnnn!” Macky shouted, and stormed the bastille. Or the city in this case.

  “Dear God in heaven,” Armitage said. “He’s gone completely insane!”

  “He does seem a tad reckless,” Capshaw said.

  Macky entered a square, what appeared to be the town center.

  “I didn’t think he reads,” Capshaw said, referring to Macky quoting Shakespeare.

  “He must’ve gotten it from Millie,” Armitage said.

  Capshaw and Armitage hung back, surveying the crowd. People had noticed them already, giving them curious looks. Armitage and Capshaw straightened their ties, trying to look dignified. Some people looked amused. Some pointed and laughed at their attire. Some whispered to their neighbors. It didn’t stop the celebration, drinking, or dancing.

  Macky stopped in the midst and looked around. Armitage and Capshaw did the same.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” Macky said. “Should we split-up?”

  “That would make sense, but it could be dangerous,” Armitage said. “If one of us should be left behind . . .”

  “I think you’re just scared,” Macky said, grinning.

  “I know how this turns out,” Armitage said.

  Capshaw swallowed the lump in his throat.

  Torches blazed in the mist on the lake. The eyes of the forest were visible again. Some of the people had noticed the fog on the lake, the mist with a thousand eyes. Some were pointing, shouting. Macky thought he could hear the sound of drumbeats—a readying for war.

  “My guess is she’s probably dressed like some of these people here,” Capshaw said. “What would a queen be dressed like in Mnar?”

  “Green,” Macky said. “Look for a red-head in green.”

  Disruptions were taking place. The drums were louder. The people had stopped dancing, pointing toward the lake. Some started fleeing, shouting. The music had stopped.

  From the banks of the lake, someone screamed. Macky, Armitage, and Capshaw turned, eyes wide.

  “Splitting up, we’d find her faster,” Macky said. “We might not have a choice.”

  “We’re running out of time,” Capshaw said.

  The war drums were at the shores of the lake. Screams were more constant. The tribe of Ib was moving into Sarnath.

  “Any ideas?” Armitage asked.

  “None,” Capshaw said.

  A dog barked. It came from above. Macky looked. Armitage and Capshaw did the same. On a balcony, thirty feet above their heads was a balustrade. Macky caught a glimpse of long red hair, a green outfit . . . and Mr. Kalabraise.

  Macky bolted across the square, hurrying around people who were shouting, looking for places to hide, or grabbing weapons. He hurried up a curved stairway, puffing air by the time he made it to the top. He hurried through a large open area to his left, saw a door, and opened it.

  Millie stood staring at him, red hair piled on her head. She had ringlets. In all actuality, she had never looked more beautiful. It stopped him in his tracks. She was wearing a green chiton, a gold leaflet around her head.

  “Wow, Millie,” Macky said. “You have found your element.”

  “I beg your pardon!” she said. “What’s the meaning of this? Who told you to enter my chambers? Guards, seize them!”

  “Millie, it’s me,” Macky said, moving to one side, out of the way of the guards. “Dev. Innsport. The Necronomicon. You got a bump on the head or something, sweety. Don’t you recognize me? We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “This is outrageous!” she said. “Guards! Remove this man at once!”

  “Mill, we don’t have time for this. The Tribe of Ib is on their way. You guys made them mad with all that idol business. I’m here to rescue you. Like those old romantic, chivalric novels you love to read. It’s a dream come true, Mill. Macky to the rescue!”

  “Old, what—?” she said. For a second, it looked like the old Millie had returned. Her eyes brightened, then dulled to the same, smoldering fury.

  The guards approached from behind and grabbed each of his arms. Mr. Kalabraise barked but was wagging her tail. She was happy to see Macky.

  He slipped his arms out from the guards, took several steps, and veered out of the way. They advanced.

  “This is most unseemly,” Millie said, waving her hand in the air. “Off with his head!”

  The two men smiled and stepped toward him, swords drawn. They wore gold helmets.

  Capshaw and Armitage entered at the same time, coming to a stop. Millie screamed at the sight of them. The guards turned. Mr. Kalabraise barked, tongue lolling.

  “Millie, honestly,” Macky said. “Make this easy for everyone, will ya? Pack your things, and let’s go! This isn’t you. You’re in danger. The people of Sarnath are in danger! What do you think all the commotion is for? The tribe of Ib is coming this way. People are dying! Can’t you hear the screams?”

  “My name, you peasant,” she said, “is Queen von Clydesburgh. And you will address me as such. Off with his head! Off with all their heads!”

  “Oh, sure, that’s rational!”

  Capshaw and Armitage acted quickly. They rushed the guards, managed, somehow, with sheer surprise, to snatch their swords out of their hands and point them back in their direction. Macky was in awe watching it. The two guards stood staring in stunned disbelief.

  “Oafs!” Millie said. “Useless, brainless, oafs! I’ll have your heads before this night is through!”

  She turned her ear to the window and the balcony. “What is that infernal racket?”

  Macky saw her eyes widen; her face paled. He was behind her in seconds. The tribe was moving in from the lake. They hadn’t reached the square yet.

  “Hold tight to Mr. Kalabraise, Mill,” he said.

  She was about to reply when he picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and turned, heading out of the room as fast as he could. Millie dropped Mr. Kalabraise who went after the guards. She started beating on Macky’s back with both hands.

  “Let me go, you tyrant! You oaf! You cad! Let me gooooo!”

  “Ouch! Millie! Stop that! I’m trying to save your life, you shrew!”

  “How dare you call me—”

  One guard stood in the way. He spun around with Millie’s feet in the air and clipped the man in the chin. The guard fell with a thud.

  “Ow!” Millie cried. “You broke my foot!”

  Capshaw held the sword out toward the other guard.

  “Grab Mr. Kalabraise,” Macky shouted.

  “Huh?” Armitage asked.

  “The dog! The dog!” Macky said.

  Armitage reached down and grabbed the cocker spaniel. Millie continued to pound on his back.

  “Let me go, you oaf! You brute! You savage! Do you have any idea who I am?”

  Macky hurried to the door. He took the stairs. The other followed. Mr. Kalabraise barked the whole way.

  —

  “Brute! Braggard! Villain! Rogue! Hands off! In the name of Sarnath an
d the wickedness of Ib, let me goooo!”

  The place was in pandemonium. Sarnath was under a full-scale attack. Tall, moon-faced warriors with big lips, sallow faces, moony eyes stormed the square. The people of Sarnath fell one by one.

  Macky, Millie, Armitage, and Capshaw maneuvered as safely as they could. Macky watched Capshaw swing at one of the tribesman. He parried, injured the man’s arm, and hurried away, following Macky out of the square. They hurried to the trail and toward Millie’s apartment at the top of the hill.

  The citizens of Sarnath fled and screamed in all directions.

  “Dang it, Millie, stop it!” Macky shouted.

  “How do you know my name?” she cried. “Tell me you cut-throat. Villain. Rogue!”

  “It’s on your resume, pumpkin,” he said.

  “Cad! Brute! Heathen! Scoundrel! Off with their heads!”

  “That line’s getting old, Mill.”

  “Thief! Braggart! Ruffian!”

  “Harridan!” he fired back. “Battle-axe! Frump!”

  Millie gasped. “How dare you use those baseless words with me! No one calls me a harridan, let alone, a frump!”

  “You’re not getting lighter, toots!” Macky said, running up the trail as best he could.

  “Did you say I was fat?”

  “You’re no ballerina, my dear,” he said. “That’s for sure.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He was arguing with a woman he’d slung over his shoulder. He looked back and saw one of the tribesman of Ib following them. Armitage was close behind Macky. Capshaw was behind Armitage.

  “Don’t worry, sponge-cake,” Macky said. “We’ll have you back in no time.”

  “What on earth is a sponge-cake?” she asked.

  “Lemon-drop?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Pudding-pie?” he said. “Daffodil. Any of these things ringing a bell, Your Majesty?”

  “You finally got the title right, you blundering oaf!”

  “Temporary business,” he said. “Just to humor the ladies.”

  “Where’s my dog? You better not hurt Mr. Kalabraise.”

  He was halfway up the trail. Despite the pounding she continued to deliver, he cantered up as fast as he could.