Chapter 4: Starman

After El's disclosure, Peter was uncertain about how to proceed. Neal was clearly stunned. The implications would be far-reaching, but for the moment they could only speculate. Theories on why he had algolnium in his system would most likely be unprovable. Peter shuddered to think what ideas Mozzie would come up with.

Now he understood why El had been so hesitant to tell Neal. She'd admitted before he arrived that if Peter hadn't already mentioned it to him, she wouldn't have gone ahead. Peter and El never kept secrets from each other, but was this an instance she'd regretted talking about Neal's case? Peter hoped not. Keeping people in the dark was not the answer. Time was. Give Neal time and he'd process the news on his own.

During dinner, Peter and El shied away from speculating on the algolnium. Instead, the conversation revolved on the previous night's attack, a subject only slightly less controversial but not quite so personal.

"I spoke with Diana this morning," Peter said as he carved the roast at the table. "She inquired about you. As she tactfully put it, she was relieved you hadn't permanently scrambled your brain. The would-be thief exhibited many of the same symptoms as the assailant who attacked us in the bookstore. The apparent cause of death is a heart attack. His name was Rusty Schuyler. He was a known troublemaker who usually hung out on the waterfront. He'd been brought in for petty theft, but wasn't known to have committed any violent crimes."

"Did Diana mention if she included the ghast in her report?" El asked.

"No, and I don't blame her. Without any proof who would believe her? Although Diana doesn't believe she was hallucinating, she admits she can't do anything unless she has hard evidence. As it is, Jones refuses to believe he actually saw a ghast. He continues to insist the donuts were drugged. He ordered the entire staff at the donut shop brought in for questioning."

"Jones will have to find another donut shop," Neal predicted, forking a slice of the roast onto his plate. "If he goes back to that store, they'll probably lace his donuts with salt." His expression grew serious. "What about the starfish?"

Peter shrugged. "Just like the others."

"Not again!" El exclaimed. "You mean it disappeared too?"

Peter nodded and responded to the question on Neal's lips. "Don't worry. Diana said the photos will be ready to pick up on Monday. She was prepared for its disappearance and is taking particular care on the photography."

"Sweet potatoes?" El tried to hand Neal the bowl, but his mind was elsewhere. "Neal?"

He looked up and took the bowl. "Sorry. I was just thinking . . . the starfish . . . the ghasts . . . everything disappears. You've seen the ghast now too, Peter. Did the ghast disappear last night because of my amulet or would it have poofed anyway? How do you study something so transitory?"

"I don't know," Peter said. "So far we only know of one other person who's seen them. The author of the Necronomicon didn't mention if anyone else had witnessed ghasts. But we've made significant progress. Ghasts are no longer merely the stuff of legends and hallucinations but are real."

"And if we now assume that ghasts are real, does that imply that the other creatures and gods in the Necronomicon are real as well?"

"We can't dismiss the possibility," he replied.

"But there may be other explanations," El countered. "I read a paper on medical uses for holographic technology. In the future, we may be able to use holograms to display three-dimensional images of the brain. I wonder if something similar could have been used for the ghast, but of course, that doesn't explain the starfish which were physical objects with mass and a well-defined structure . . . until, that is, they winked out."

"Mozzie believes a physical property causes them to be unstable in our world," Neal said. "Something similar to antimatter perhaps, or extra dimensions."

"I talked with Cyrus today," El said, "and explained how your amulet glowed last night. He'd like you to bring it in tomorrow for him to examine."

Neal nodded. "He called me this afternoon. I'm meeting him and Mozzie tomorrow morning at nine in the lab."

Peter looked at El questioningly and she nodded. "We'd like to be there as well."

"It may be a long morning," Neal warned. "The tests could take a while."

"That's not a problem," Peter said. "It's Sunday. Both of our schedules are clear."

El refilled Neal's water glass. "Peter and I have tickets to the Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young concert next weekend. Are you going?"

"I wasn't planning on it. It should be a great concert though."

"I haven't seen them perform since Woodstock," Peter said. "El has a couple of extra tickets. Would you like to join us?"

"We should call it a celebration for you having survived the attack so well," El added.

"Celebrate our victories while we can?" he said, breaking into a smile. "When you put it that way, how can I refuse? Thanks, guys."

"That fourth ticket is unspoken for," El added. "Would you like to invite anyone to come along?"

"Mozzie? At a rock concert?" Neal chuckled. "He refuses to listen to anything but classical music, and June will be gone that weekend. There's Travis . . . but it's hard to drag him away from the telescope at night."

Peter heaved an inner sigh. Was Neal being deliberately obtuse? "How about Sara?" he asked in as nonchalant a manner as he could muster.

Neal quickly shook his head, his eyes widening at the thought. "No, I'm not . . . I couldn't . . . She wouldn't be interested. Besides, she only likes jocks," he added emphatically as if that would put an end to it.

"Good," El declared. "Then she won't consider it a date. You'd be asking her as a friend to attend with you."

Her logic didn't work with Neal. El liked to say Peter sounded like a bear, but Neal was giving a good imitation of grumpy one himself. "Forget it. Better I don't go. I'm sure you have colleagues who'd love to attend or maybe your teaching assistants."

"Don't be ridiculous," El said. "We invited you. We don't have to use the other ticket."

Neal agreed to join them at the concert but retreated into his shell for the rest of dinner. El was concerned about Neal's lack of appetite but her attempts to encourage him to eat were not very successful. Satchmo the thief sensed an opportunity and was hovering nearby. The way that dog was growing, there's no way it would poof out of existence.

They all carried their dishes into the kitchen, then El ordered them out, claiming they'd just be in the way. She suggested they have dessert in the living room after she'd cleaned up a bit. When Neal wasn't looking, she gave a nod to Peter in his direction.

Neal was standing by the door leading to the patio and looking up at the night sky like he wanted to fly away.

That wasn't about to happen but Peter could offer the next best thing. "It's a mild night. Let's go outside."

Neal readily agreed and Satchmo wouldn't be denied. Peter switched on the patio light. Neal sat down at the patio table and Peter joined him. The night was peaceful with only a few street sounds.

When Neal broke the silence, he spoke so softly Peter had to strain to hear. "I'm sorry I overreacted about the concert. I still can't believe Kate's gone. I dream about her. I think she's beside me in bed." He swallowed and lapsed into silence.

"We regret we made you so uncomfortable. It wasn't our intent."

"I know. I'm not ready to jump back into the dating scene, and I don't know when I will be."

He looked so miserable, Peter couldn't leave it like that. "You know, as Kate's advisor, I got to know her quite well and I can easily understand why you miss her so much. But Kate wouldn't have wanted you to be a hermit forever. Going out, even when you don't feel like it, may make it easier. Fake it first and then reality will follow."

"Right now, dating is the last thing on my mind. I don't even know if I'm human."

"Neal!"

He huffed with frustration. "Wouldn't you wonder if you were told you had some unknown element in your body? I can hear what Mozzie will say. He'll start calling me Starman."

"I doubt that."

"Trust me, he will." He hesitated for a moment. "When I was a kid and Mozzie heard I didn't know who my parents were, he dubbed me Perseus after the constellation. He invented stories about my parents being space aliens. All I wanted was to be a normal kid with regular parents."

How was Peter supposed to respond? Commiserate? Tell him to cowboy up? Neal had been given a raw deal when he was a child, and El's revelation about algolnium had opened up old wounds. Peter suspected Neal was already regretting he'd said so much. If Peter responded directly, Neal might feel even worse. "At the risk of sounding like Lavinia, what's normal these days anyway? I'm not at Mozzie's level, but I keep up with the latest news in astronomy and what I hear is that you can call us all starmen. Comets may have initiated life on earth. So if Mozzie calls you Starman, you have lots of company. Your stardust may simply be a little different. It's like that Crosby, Stills, and Nash song—'Woodstock'—where they sing we're all stardust."

He acknowledged it with a smile, some of the tension leaving his face. "They're singing my song."

"Besides, you're not thinking of all the advantages algolnium may give you. Some of my favorite dig sites are in cold climates. Nepal, Tibet, Mongolia. Man, I could use some antifreeze in my veins."

He shrugged, not looking impressed. "I may not physically turn into an icicle, but I still feel the cold. I'm sticking exclusively to expeditions to warm climates—Egypt, the tropics. England perhaps, but only in the summer."

"And miss out on Viking ruins? You can't fool me—I know about your expertise in Old Norse. I was already making plans to go on a dig in Gotland with you."

Neal laughed. "El calls you a panda, but clearly polar bear is more appropriate."

"She told you that?" Peter groaned. "That was supposed to be a secret, but if it makes you laugh, it's worth it. I keep telling you, don't lose yourself in the personal stuff. Focus on the ghasts, not what's going on with you. What are they doing in our world? Who are they? You could be Earth's best defense against a ghast invasion."

Neal snorted. "A real-life Invasion of the Body Snatchers?"

Peter glared at him. "Now who's not taking this seriously?"

"You're right. I've been trying to convince myself for so long they were simply a hallucination, I didn't let myself believe they might be real."

"Let's go inside. I bet El has the dessert ready."

Neal nodded and stood up. Satchmo had been sitting quietly beside them, but as they rose the Lab bounded over to the wrought iron fence surrounding their patio and began barking.

"Quiet, Satch!" Peter ordered. He heard rustling sounds in the shrubbery. "It's probably a cat. Satchmo makes a good watchdog but sometimes he's overly zealous." Neal strode over to try to see what the Lab was barking at. "Find anything?"

Neal craned his neck as he checked out the shrubbery. "I caught a glimpse of something," he said after a moment. "It looked a lot like that animal I told you about last night."

"The tentacle-faced rat?" Peter strode over. "Is it still there?"

"No. Whatever it was it's gone now." He shrugged and turned away. "Probably just a rat. It had a hairless tail. Maybe it was a small possum. Satchmo's not barking. I must have imagined it." He glanced at Peter and winced. "Perhaps a vivid imagination is a side effect of algolnium? You may want to reconsider your request to let you know if I see any unicorns. They're probably not far off." Switching the subject he added, "I was sorry to hear about your brother. I didn't realize you had one."

"Understandable. I don't talk about him much."

"Do you have a photo?"

"Sure. Come inside and I'll show you." They returned to the living room and Peter retrieved a photo from his bedroom. "This was taken in Vietnam. He was standing by his Seawolf helicopter."

El set down slices of apple pie on the cocktail table. "Tom was only twenty when he was killed."

"You remind me a little of Tommy," Peter admitted. "He was an artist too. He hoped to become an architect." Peter studied the smiling kid in the photo. "He could have finished college first, but he went ahead and enlisted. If I'd been home, I would have tried to convince him to get his degree before serving. Dad served in World War II and put a lot of pressure on Tommy to prove himself. I think that's why he joined the Navy and volunteered for one of the most dangerous assignments they had." He paused a moment. The bitterness still rankled. "Suffice it to say Dad and I disagreed about Tommy enlisting."

#

After dessert, Peter drove Neal home, despite his insistence he could walk. El could tell Neal felt awkward about accepting the ride, but that didn't match her embarrassment for how the evening had gone. She knew it had been too soon. Why had she gone along with telling a patient still recovering from a concussion that he had algolnium in his spinal fluid? Not her finest hour.

She could comfort herself Neal didn't have a panic attack like some would have in similar circumstances. But the lack of appetite, the distancing of himself? He was panicking, all right. He was simply doing his best to hide it from them.

Satchmo raced to the entry and began whining, alerting her of Peter's return. She greeted him at the door. "No ghasts or other unexpected encounters I hope?"

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her. "No, but Satchmo had a confrontation with a rat or possum in the yard tonight. Does that count?"

"I hope it was a possum. I don't like the thought of rats scurrying around our patio. Would you like a nightcap? I know I could use one."

"Good idea. You go ahead and sit down. I'll bring you a brandy."

El curled up on the couch and plumped the cushion behind her. "I don't imagine Neal will get much sleep tonight. I should have given him a sleeping pill."

Peter handed her a glass. "He'll be okay, hon. Stop worrying. You did the right thing to tell him. He's not thrilled about being Starman but he's coming to terms with it."

"Starman? Why are you calling him that?"

"Not me. Neal's convinced that Mozzie will give him that nickname. Starman is a comic book hero. He doesn't have the fame of Superman and Neal hopes he stays that way." Peter set down his beer. "Backrub?"

"Please." She relaxed into his strong fingers massaging her neck. "Does Neal believe he's part alien?"

"He's considering the possibility. I think the initial moment of panic is over, but we've moved from one mystery to another."

"I wonder if we should consult with Lavinia? She acts as if she understands much more about what's happening than any of us."

"You saw what she was like the night I found Neal in the church. She refused to provide any answers. I doubt that she'll be more forthcoming about algolnium. But I bet Neal will try, and he has a better chance with her than I would."

El turned to look at him. "I'm not so sure about that. You seem to have a rapport with her that, given her astonishing behavior, is quite remarkable. When I asked you about it, you put me off. Need I remind you that you're the one who's been advising me to be open with Neal? Isn't it time for you to do the same?"

He winced. "Masterfully argued, hon. I should have told you earlier, and I would have, but it concerns Tommy."

Now it made more sense. El met Peter after his brother had been killed, and that was the one subject Peter had a difficult time discussing with her. Peter had been away on a dig when Tom needed someone to balance the arguments his father was making for him to enlist. She suspected Peter blamed himself for not offering his brother more support. "I was proud of you for discussing Tom with Neal."

He shrugged. "Neal's a private person. He's had to be much more open with us than I'm sure he felt comfortable with. I felt I needed to do the same." He paused for a moment. "When Tommy died I fell into what you probably would call depression, but I was too proud to admit it. I spent hours and hours conducting research in the library to prevent thinking about it. I see myself in what Neal's doing now—using research to block out grief."

"That's a common coping mechanism," El commented, taking his hand. "You're being overly harsh on yourself. I wish I'd known you then."

He smiled. "I do too. You could have helped me through it. Instead, I had Lavinia."

"Seriously?" she blurted, shocked.

"That's right. Lavinia invited me into her office, had me drink some of that same emerald-colored wine she gave Neal, and the next thing I knew I was talking to her about Tommy. It became a daily ritual. Somehow she enabled me to come to terms with his death, although I never understood exactly what she did. I expect she'll do the same for Neal."

"Lavinia is so brusque, it's hard to believe she could have provided the type of insights you needed."

"I know, but I've given up trying to figure her out. Shortly after I'd stopped seeing her, on March 10, 1971, to be precise, she called me up and told me I should attend a faculty cocktail party. She insisted that I talk with a certain Elizabeth Wayland. I hadn't planned to attend and will be eternally grateful to her for the suggestion. I might not have ever met you otherwise." He pulled her close.

"Next time I see her, I'm going to give her a hug," El promised.

"You have to make sure I'm present to see her look of shock." He glanced at his watch. "We better head for bed if we want to meet Neal tomorrow."

As they mounted the stairs, El paused. "Do you happen to know when Lavinia became the head librarian?"

"I do as a matter of fact," he said, stopping to look at her curiously. "There's a plaque in the library entranceway that lists all the head librarians and their dates. Lavinia was appointed in 1962. Cyrus and I discussed her appointment when we were telling Neal about the so-called 'vault madness' disease that killed Professor Tutledge. Lavinia moved here from England."

"1962," she repeated. "That was also the year Neal was found wandering the streets of Arkham as a child. A coincidence?"

He looked at her questioningly. "What are you suggesting?"

Her thoughts were too confused to give an adequate answer. "Lavinia knew about the amulet. She appears to take a special interest in Neal. Now I find out she also befriended you. She may have caused us to meet. You've drunk some of her emerald wine . . . Where does she acquire emerald wine? Is it even of this world? Before I'd heard of algolnium or ghasts or ruby crystals, I never would have asked these questions, but I am now." She studied his face anxiously. "Doesn't it make you wonder?"

"How she obtains her information? Of course, it does. But since she visited us after Neal's experience in the derelict church, she's slammed the door on both of us." Peter rubbed a hand over his chin. "You're suggesting there may be a connection between Neal's appearance on the streets of Arkham and Lavinia's arrival at Miskatonic. The only one who can answer that is Lavinia, but you've seen what she's like. If she doesn't want to talk about it, I can't make her."

#

When Neal returned to the loft, he didn't attempt to go to bed. Instead, he sat outside on the terrace. His headache had returned with a vengeance, but the coolness of the outside air helped quiet it. The university offered a course in meditation. Perhaps he should sign up for it.

The only other man to his knowledge who'd seen ghasts was the author of the Necronomicon. Did he also have algolnium in his system? Abdul Alhazred was called the mad scholar by his contemporaries. Would Neal's fate be the same? Arkham's famous crackpot?

Alhazred's end was not a happy one. He'd reportedly been seized by an invisible monster and devoured before witnesses. Was that monster a ghast?

Algolnium. Was it a gift or a curse? He didn't have enough information to decide. Perhaps algolnium would be like the foster home he'd been assigned to. He'd been thrilled to leave the orphanage, but that happiness only lasted until the first time Chad laid into him. He'd fled outside and hidden in the bushes for hours. Cold and miserable, he eventually looked up at the stars and began inventing his own constellations. He'd figured out a way to handle Chad. He'd do the same with algolnium.

Neal brushed aside those memories. The Pleiades were peeking over the buildings on the eastern horizon. Mozzie had said Celaeno was the name of one of the stars in that cluster. Neal had found only one reference to Celaeno in Shrewsbury's journal. The note was cryptic but tantalizing: My dreams are haunted by Celaeno. Was the answer revealed in one of the texts waiting to be translated in the Shrewsbury cabinet in the library vault?

He held out his hand and studied it for a moment. It looked the same. No weird glowing effect from the algolnium. Did he have any hidden powers? No x-ray vision so far, unfortunately. Invisibility? Possibly, if poofing counted. He'd chalk invisibility up as a maybe. How about the ability to fly? Now that would be useful. He couldn't now, but El said the algolnium was growing. Maybe by Halloween, he'd be zipping around Lavinia's turret. Neal chuckled and stood up. Having algolnium might not be so bad after all.