Chapter 9: Filling in the Blanks

It was a scene Neal had grown accustomed to. He and Peter sat across the table from an infuriated Diana in the interrogation room of the police station while she decided what to do with them.

"Who do you think you are? Batman and Robin? And don't you dare answer that." She crossed her arms and scowled at them for a moment. "Let me paraphrase what you just said. You claim you were trying to spare me embarrassment by not notifying me before you illegally entered private property. Oh, thank you so much. Are you offering to explain to Captain Hughes why I allow lawbreakers to consult on our cases?" She pointed her finger warningly at them. "He's not as tolerant as I am. He doesn't have my sweet, mild-mannered disposition." She fixed her eyes on Neal. "I'll deal with you later. First I'll try my luck with the more rational member of your gang."

When the police arrived at the location, they found two men entering the house and arrested them for trespassing, but there was no sign of the priests or the first three men there. Diana had dusted the starfish Peter brought back from the tower for fingerprints. It was now lying on her desk in a plastic evidence bag. It was probably the only thing saving them from being locked up on general principles.

"You claim you found this in the house?"

"That's right," Peter replied smoothly. "It was in a corner of the room." Neal noticed he didn't explain which room. "We suspect it's connected with the ritual the priest was performing."

"You assert they held you prisoner, but then what happened? Don't try to tell me they simply walked off and left you there? Isn't it long overdue that you let me know what's really going on?"

That they poofed into another world? Peter looked at Neal and raised an eyebrow. Neal nodded. It was time. "This may be hard to accept," Peter cautioned.

"I'm not believing you now," she retorted, "so you might as well give it a try."

Together they led her through the sequence of events. Not only in the house but also Neal's experience at the church a couple of weeks earlier. To Diana's credit, she heard them out. She laid her sarcasm temporarily aside as she listened to the tale. They also discussed algolnium. The only parts they left out by unspoken agreement were any mention of Lavinia and the algolnium within Neal.

At the conclusion, Diana had filled out several pages of notes. "So, to confirm, you disappeared through the wall onto another planet with multiple moons where the laws of physics didn't work. A dragon-like creature attacked you, wounding Peter. Neal found the starfish in a corner after which tentacle-faced rodents called zoogs poured through a skylight. You fled back through the vortex, which closed shortly after you reemerged."

Neal eyed her warily. Did she actually believe them?

"You further described an earlier trip through the same sort of vortex or wormhole. That time Neal was by himself. He'd entered—illegally— the Church of St. Jude after having spotted a similar dragon circling the church steeple. In both instances, a ruby crystal supposedly acted as a gateway and sucked you into another reality. You now speculate the ghasts, the zoogs, the starfish, and the dragons all come from this other world."

"Or worlds," Peter corrected.

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you. That makes it so much more credible." Her sarcasm had reemerged. Neal predicted any moment the volcano seething within her would erupt. "And this new element"—she glanced at her notes—"algolnium. It's somehow tied to the wormhole and space creatures invading our peaceful town."

"We believe the starfish are damaged somehow in transport through the wormhole," Neal added helpfully.

"Whereas you and Peter are miraculously healed by your journeys? Why was that again?"

Peter frowned slightly. "You know we haven't discovered the answer. The explanation may lie in that we originated on Earth whereas the starfish came from who knows where."

"I've already told you I never considered myself a fan of science fiction, but faced with disappearing starfish, a ghast I've seen with my own eyes, and the other reports coming in—"

"What other reports?" Neal demanded.

"Of weird rats or opossums," she admitted. "Jake in animal control has received several calls from citizens who claim to have seen rat-like creatures with worms on their faces. The sizes range from a rat to something about the size of a housecat. Since I've apparently become the de facto expert for anything bizarre happening in Arkham—and you know how thrilled that makes me—Jake brings me the reports. The observers only had brief glimpses. The descriptions vary and I'm sure are colored by the observers' imaginations, but they contain similarities to the zoogs you described."

"When was the earliest report?" Neal asked.

"Three weeks ago. Unfortunately, no one has obtained a photo. The sightings have all been at night under low light conditions. The observers swear they weren't drinking, but . . ." She shrugged. "How dangerous are zoogs?"

"Honestly, we don't know," Neal said. "The only information I've found is from the Necronomicon. The author reported they can be vicious, particularly toward cats."

"Could they have rabies?" she demanded.

"Or something worse?" Peter shrugged. "Until we catch one and examine it, I'd say all bets are off."

"How about the weasel who called me earlier this evening? He reported you two had gotten trapped inside the house. Who was he?"

"Didn't he give you his name?" Neal said, trying his best to look guileless. "We shouted at him and asked him to call you." Close enough to the truth. She'd assume they were calling out through the window, not that he'd entered the house with them. It was a deception Mozzie would approve. Neal was starting to get the hang of being a con man. And he liked the feeling. "Why didn't you ask him?"

"I did, and he refused to answer. Jones already traced the call. Public phone booth, worse luck." She turned to Peter. "The book that Neal saw the ghast carry to the house this afternoon . . . You saw it too?"

He nodded. "I believe it was the same book we later examined in the locked room."

"And the name that's on the cover, Aza . . . tom?" She glanced down at her notes.

"Azathoth," Neal corrected. "That's the name of a deity who's been associated with cult worship. The priest in the monastery at Leng said he was Azathoth's servant."

"And it's not just the name itself which is intriguing," Peter added. "There's a small symbol on the frontispiece that's identical to one of the glyphs in the starfish script. The large illustration of the writhing ball of tentacles matches descriptions of Azathoth in old texts. The book appears to be a registry of cult members."

"You're telling me we may have a cult in twentieth-century Arkham that worships an ancient god?" she asked incredulously.

Peter nodded somberly. "That's exactly what we're saying, and it's no laughing matter. That same symbol was found on the armillary sphere that Neal saw in his vision. It's now in the possession of Dr. Dante Atwood. He's a professor of —"

"I've heard of him," she interrupted. "I worked on a security detail for a book signing he held. I was so impressed, I bought his book. It's called The Brane Game. The man's a genius at expressing complicated concepts in simple terms. He was mobbed like a rock star at the store." She paused a moment as she considered their words. "Are you consulting with Professor Atwood on these events?"

Peter nodded. "Professor Dexter, the head of the Chemistry Department at Miskatonic, is also assisting us."

She jotted down an extra note. "These references, particularly Professor Atwood, will be a help when I make my report to Captain Hughes. You speculate Azathoth may be represented by the symbol. What about the starfish carvings? Are they also meant to represent Azathoth?"

"It's certainly possible," Peter agreed.

Diana studied them for a moment. "If you hadn't entered that wormhole or whatever it was, you could have easily been killed by that gang. And, speaking as a member of the police force, that's not something I'm very happy about. Plus, for some unknown reason, I find the two of you rather likable. So do me the courtesy of alerting me in advance the next time you set off on some harebrained scheme. You have no business dealing with thugs."

Diana continued her lecture for several minutes before letting them escape. She promised to share what she learned from interrogating the suspects.

It was close to midnight by the time they'd left the police station. Neal was ready to call it a night and head home. Peter looked equally drained. As they walked down Pine Street, Neal spotted a man lurking in the shadows next to one of the houses.

"What do you see?" Peter asked in an undertone. "Another ghast? A zoog?"

Neal sighed in relief when he saw a familiar shape emerge. "False alarm." He waited for Mozzie to approach. "What are you trying to do? Give us a heart attack?"

"And why weren't you at the police station?" Peter demanded. "We had to cover for you."

"Me, at a police station?" he squeaked. "You must be suffering the after-effects of your ordeal. What happened?"

"If you'd joined us at the police station, you would have known," Peter growled. "El's expecting me. You'll have to wait till morning."

"I'll sit in a corner. You won't even know I'm there." He lifted a canvas bag he was carrying and pointed at it suggestively. "I brought liquid refreshments to loosen your tongues. I'd planned to go to Neal's but your place will do nicely."

Peter groaned. "It's late. El's probably already in bed."

"Think nothing of it. We can dispense with formality and meet in your bedroom. I won't mind. I'm sparing you the bother of repeating your tale. You really should be more appreciative of my thoughtfulness."

Neal did his best to discourage Mozzie, but he'd latched onto a midnight chat like a bull terrier. Mozzie wasn't married. He viewed June and Neal as family. Now, he apparently also wished to adopt Peter and El.

"Oh, very well," Peter grudgingly agreed. "But you need to stay on the stoop till I check with her. Neal can come in."

"That's okay," Neal interjected quickly. "I'll keep Mozzie company outside."

When they arrived at Peter's townhouse, Neal and Mozzie waited on the wrought-iron bench outside the front door.

"Any chance you could show me how to pick locks?" Neal asked once Peter had entered the house.

Mozzie looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"I really don't know," he admitted. "It just looked like a cool thing to be able to do."

He nodded in approval. "Good answer. And with your slim fingers, you'll have no difficulty. Our lessons will begin tomorrow. Come to my office after your classes are over for the day."

"Diana was quite complimentary to you. You should change your opinion of the police or at least make an exception for her."

"What? You told them about me?" Mozzie began scanning the bushes as if cops were lurking behind them.

"We feigned ignorance of your name, but later on we referred to you in connection with the armillary sphere. Diana served on a security detail at one of your book signings. She called you a rock star," Neal added enticingly.

"She did?" Mozzie thawed noticeably.

"Not only that. She bought a copy of your latest book and praised it. I bet she'd be thrilled if you'd autograph it for her."

The door swung open as Peter reappeared at the doorway. "You can come in. El is delighted to have our home invaded."

She was standing in the hallway to greet them when they walked in, barefoot and wearing a colorful kimono. Mozzie kissed her hand. "Any more of those delicious brownies?"

She laughed. "I'll check the freezer. There may be some I could thaw."

"Oh, he won't be staying long enough," said Peter hurriedly.

"Tosh, Peter, where are your manners? For El, I'll happily stay all night."

A few minutes later, they were sitting at the dining room table. Mozzie uncorked a bottle of wine. El set out glasses and a plate of cheese and crackers. The brownies were thawing in the oven.

Peter related their experience, with Neal supplementing it at times. No secrets from El was a rule Peter had made early on, so they laid it all out. When Mozzie heard what had happened, he was inconsolable for not having been locked up with them.

"I felt like I was in a Twilight Zone episode," Neal admitted, "but then I've felt like that a lot recently."

"Rod Serling was unusually prescient, a giant of our times," Mozzie noted. "His death earlier this year was cause for great lamentation. He would have realized that what you experienced was a journey into non-Euclidean space, a realm where our laws of physics don't apply and time itself is bent. Space is curved. Geometry is best represented by fractals." He turned to Peter. "What is your opinion of wormholes now?"

Peter hesitated. "I've made no secret of my skepticism, but in this case, a wormhole seems the only possible explanation."

Mozzie nodded his approval. "Like Sherlock, you agree that when you've eliminated the impossible, whatever's left, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. There's no longer any doubt that Neal actually traveled to other worlds that night in the church. Peter has now also witnessed the Plateau of Leng. Both of you saw shantaks, a dragon, and an invasion of zoogs. To have two people experience a simultaneous hallucination of such complexity is simply not possible."

"But we're left with still more questions," El said. "Who locked you in the room? Could it have been the zoog?"

"An intriguing possibility," Mozzie said, reaching for another slice of cheese. "That hypothesis needs to be tested. Are zoogs intelligent beings? What are they capable of?"

"And was that really a dragon we saw or something else?" Peter asked. "We need to research it in the Necronomicon. All the other creatures have been there. Perhaps it is, too. Von Junzt didn't include an illustration of a shantak, but we may find it there as well."

Neal took out his notepad and a pencil. While the others talked, he set to work sketching the dragon and shantaks. When they were done, he passed them to Peter. "Are they how you remembered them?"

Peter nodded. "You should draw as many of the scenes as you can, particularly the view out the window and the ruby crystal. Your sketches will be the only evidence we have."

El rose to reexamine Peter's neck. "What concerns me most is that gash you had. You say it was raw and blistered, yet now there is nothing there. How can that be explained? Do you feel any discomfort?"

"No." Peter rubbed his hand over the location and shook his head. "It feels perfectly normal."

"I still want to x-ray it tomorrow."

"It's similar to the wounds Neal said he experienced when he was drawn inside the crystal at the church," Peter said. "You told us how creatures had gnawed at your flesh, but the injuries disappeared when you were ejected onto the Plateau of Leng as if you'd been miraculously healed."

Mozzie nodded complacently. "That conforms with my hypothesis. When you pass through a wormhole, a ghost image of your physical form remains behind. Upon your return, your essence reunites with this ghost image. In layman's terms, you rematerialize."

Peter rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I warned you about applying Star Trek concepts to what's happening."

"I was doing you a favor by ignoring you. I predict that many of the concepts used on Star Trek will become reality in our generation."

Neal pondered Mozzie's words. If he were right, a ghost image of Neal would have had to be present on the plateau. How else could he have been healed? Had Neal traveled to Leng before and now didn't remember it? He had no memory of his early childhood. Had he been at Leng? That was not something he cared to speculate about. Or was there something in the wormhole itself that had the power to heal? That sensation of being gnawed he'd felt . . . What if that wasn't a destructive force?

"Your Star Trek rationale doesn't explain why Neal and Peter were able to access the wormhole in the first place," El objected. "The priest clearly felt you'd be killed when you hit the crystal."

"Like when antimatter collides with ordinary matter," Mozzie interjected.

"I suppose so," El said. "But for some reason, they didn't."

"It must have either been the algolnium within Neal or the amulet which saved them."

Peter nodded. "I suspect I entered the wormhole because I was holding onto Neal. When the priest flung him into the crystal, I tried to pull him out. Instead we were both sucked in. We didn't explain the circumstances to Diana but simply said we both entered the wormhole. She knows about algolnium now. Before very long, if the element is officially recognized, the world will know as well."

"Altogether a most fascinating experiment," Mozzie said, refilling his glass with wine. "Such a shame the wormhole closed before I could examine it. I wonder where the next one will appear. As long as there are zoogs in Arkham, we know they must have a portal nearby."

#

Keller had parked his pickup on a side street off Birch Street where they could monitor the house. He and Chad slouched down into their seats when the cops arrived. Chad had argued against cutting the ceremony short, but Keller was proven right. Two squad cars arrived shortly after they left the house.

Chad seethed in anger when the late arrivals were led off in handcuffs. It had been impossible to warn them. Still, they'd gotten three recruits. Not bad for one night.

"How come the intruders didn't explode when they hit the crystal?" Chad asked.

"Hell if I know," Keller rasped. "Azathoth must have granted them passage. But why? I was told that the crystal could only be penetrated by those who were from the other side. Zoogs and ghasts can go back and forth but we can't."

"So the Book of Azathoth is from the other side?"

He nodded. "You're my acolyte. It's time you understand more of our secrets. Our charming friends, the ghasts, bring the book with them. They need to be protected from the outside world so reside within the believers we provide. Like Rusty. You can think of him as a vessel anointed to receive a ghast. He died a martyr for the cause."

"Why can we see ghasts and others can't?" Chad asked.

"It's the gift of the moon-tree wine. The zoogs make it and bring it with them from the other side."

"And those starfish the ghasts carry? What's their purpose?"

"Ghasts have many outstanding qualities, but brainpower ain't one of them. Supposedly they can only execute the simplest of commands. The writing on those rocks carries the instructions of Azathoth and allows them to execute his will."

"Where does the anointed one receive a ghast?"

"Hey, I can't share all my secrets. But you have one of your own to spill. Why were you staring at that kid? You picked him to go first. What gives?"

"I recognized him. He was in the foster home where I grew up."

"So that's why you were disguising your voice." Keller eyed him appraisingly. "Good thing you wore a mask. It wouldn't do for them to know who we are." Keller considered for a moment. He had an odd look on his face like he was listening to someone. "What's his name?"

"Neal Carter."

"Are you pals?"

"Me and a nerd like him? You gotta be joking."

"Too bad. We need to know more about him and the wise guy who was with him. They need to be watched. We're supposed to keep a low profile but I can make an exception in their case."

"Understood. You want me to approach the kid?"

"Let me check around first. I'll decide later."

Chad inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't have a clue how he could become pals with Neal. Not after the way he treated that scrawny wimp in the home. And it wasn't like they could meet in the pool hall. The kid had probably never even held a cue stick.

"Now that the cops suspect something's going on in the house, we can't use it again," Keller said. "But that's not a problem. I already have a new place chosen. The old sanitarium will be ideal. Its location is much more convenient than that dump of a house."

"How so?"

Keller smirked. "I've answered more than enough of your questions for now. But don't get me wrong, you did good. Azathoth is pleased." He reached behind the seat and pulled out a bag. "How about some of that moon-tree wine I'd promised you?"

#

Neal was in his office finishing up his notes for his next day's lecture when Peter came to see him. And he arrived with a gift.

"I stopped off to see Diana and she had the photo ready for you," Peter explained, handing him a manila folder.

Neal had checked with Diana earlier in the day and just like all the starfish left at crime scenes, the carving had disappeared in a poof. "Did Cyrus call you, too?"

Peter nodded. "Any idea why he wants to see us?"

"He's playing it close to the vest. All I know is that Mozzie will also be there."

"Perhaps he's heard back about the algolnium." As they descended the stairs of Wingate Hall, Peter told him what Diana had learned from the men they'd apprehended. "They spun a tale of a spiritual leader who was guiding them on the path of salvation. Both men had criminal records, but they said they'd been reformed and were about to join a church. The Church of Starry Wisdom they called it."

Neal stopped dead in his tracks. "I've heard of it."

"You have? Where?"

"I'm sure I read about it in the Necronomicon. When we check on the dragon, I'll try to find the reference. Does Diana know anything about the group?"

"This is the first she's heard of it. Peter shook his head. "An obscure cult worshiping Azathoth has managed to survive for centuries. Who knows how far back they go? Based on the signatures we saw, it may have even existed in ancient Egypt or Sumer."

When they exited the building, Neal heard his name being called out. Sara was dashing across the quad. She waved them a greeting.

"I was just on my way to see you," she said when she caught up. She turned to eye Peter inquisitively, clearly in news-ferret mode. "I hear my FBF may have gotten you both in trouble again."

"That's a new acronym. Care to translate?" Peter asked.

"Fake boyfriend. Didn't Neal explain? I offered to rescue him from the overly zealous overtures of his female students by pretending to be his girlfriend."

"Just for a few days," Neal hastened to explain.

"That's not the way I remembered it," she countered. "I believe I have a long-term contract till the real thing comes along."

Peter bit back the laugh threatening to erupt. "Neal didn't describe it in quite those terms, but I'm glad you're willing to put up with him. We're looking forward to you joining us for the concert."

"Don't you think my FBF should explain why the two of you were taken by squad car to the police station last night?"

How had Sara found out about that? Did she have a source at the police station? No matter. She was in for a disappointment. "Sorry, FGF, not happening," Neal said as he and Peter continued to walk toward Derleth Hall.

"Oh, come on," she wheedled. "Just a little snippet? I'll never tell where I heard it."

"You're out of luck," Peter said. "Neal and I both signed confidentiality agreements. Diana would not only have our heads—she'd slap us in jail."

She sighed melodramatically. "Just my luck to fake-fall for someone with ethics."

"How's your bartending career coming along?" Neal asked, hoping to change the subject.

"The tips aren't bad." She filled them in on her undercover role. "The gang activity is on the increase in the wharf district. If I can expose who's behind it, I could establish my credentials as an investigative journalist."

"I hope you're being careful," Peter commented. "That's a dangerous assignment you've chosen for yourself."

"You sound like my editor. I'll tell you what I told him. There's not much I'm scared of."

"Oh really?" Neal eyed her skeptically. "I remember an encounter with a pet tarantula."

"I'm talking humans, not spiders, Carter. Besides, who wouldn't be a little jittery at a five-inch long furry leviathan crawling up your back?'

"Two inches, tops," Neal scoffed. "Kate thought it was cute. She said you were . . . " Kate's image flashed in front of him and the words died in his throat. "Sorry," he muttered, unable to remember what he'd intended to say.

"That's your subconscious being kind and refusing to talk about spiders," Sara said, linking her arm through his. "I'm fighting two battles now—being a woman and being young. No one takes me seriously, especially my FBF."

She walked with them to the entrance to Derleth Hall before saying goodbye. "Since you insist on being so unhelpful, I'll have to go elsewhere for my news sources."

"I wonder what she'd think of ghasts?" Neal asked Peter as they jogged upstairs.

"She'd probably be unfazed." Peter shrugged. "We all have something that sets us off. For me, it's scorpions. What does it for you?"

"You mean besides Lavinia? Isn't she enough?"

They found Cyrus and Mozzie waiting for them in the chemistry lab.

"It came through this morning!" Cyrus said excitedly. "The U.S. Committee passed algolnium on to the international body with a recommendation to accept its designation as a new element." He waved the letter in front of them.

"I know of someone who'd love writing it up for the Arkham Gazette," Neal said.

Cyrus raked his hand through his hair causing it to stand on end. "No publicity."

"At the federal government's insistence," added Mozzie. "They want to know more about its properties first. Normally I abhor secret government maneuvers, but in this instance, they're right. We don't want to cause a panic about space aliens walking among us."

"We've already told Diana about the new element," Peter said. "Like everything else revolving around the starfish, she'll treat it as confidential."

"I assume there's no problem with that," Cyrus agreed. "I'd informed university officials and they've been in contact with the government. Despite the government's insistence, it will be hard to keep algolnium a secret." He turned to Peter. "I suspect you won't have any difficulty in obtaining a grant for another expedition to Abydos."

"The thought had already been teasing me," Peter admitted. "If I go, I'll have to persuade my algolnium-sniffer to come along."

"We'll need to go as well," Mozzie declared. "I can free my schedule at a minute's notice."

An expedition to Egypt? Explore tombs, gaze upon Pyramid Texts? If Peter could somehow secure the funding to take a linguist along, Neal was ready to start packing.