Chapter 2: Taken

Lavinia rose from her desk and strode over to the window. From her office high in the turret of the library, she had a commanding view of the path leading up the knoll to the main entrance. Ch'uli jumped on her shoulder to peer out the window with her. Absently, she stroked the chittak's soft silver fur. For the past several hours, Ch'uli and her mate Ch'orri had taken turns keeping watch.

Phineas said he'd visit her today, but as usual, he hadn't provided any specifics. When she chided him, he claimed absentmindedness was part of his persona. Was it absolutely essential that he portray someone so inconsiderate?

When Lavinia huffed her frustration, Ch'uli jumped off her shoulder onto the window sill, whipping her tail nervously.

"Don't look at me that way," Lavinia grumbled. "You think it's what I deserve for being so rude to Neal and Peter."

She went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She'd long ago discovered that tea to calm her nerves before meeting with Phineas was a wise precaution.

Relations had become increasingly tense as Neal rebelled against the wall she'd constructed around herself. His actions made her question their decision to delay informing him. Had she and Phineas been overly influenced by his initial condition when they arrived on the planet?

She and Phineas knew this moment would come, but she couldn't help wishing they could have waited another ten years. She'd grown to accept that humans mature faster than Meropians but even so . . . If anything happened to Neal, they'd have to abandon Earth as a lost cause.

Ch'uli's excited chitter roused her from her musings.

She returned to the window. A man was walking briskly toward the library entrance. Who else but Phineas would wear a safari outfit on a cold November day? At least he wasn't wearing his pith helmet. When was the last time he'd taken a comb to his hair? It looked like birds were nesting it. Perhaps that was the look he'd aimed for. The logic of why he'd chosen to adopt the appearance of a caricature from a British TV comedy series escaped her. Didn't their directive instruct them to assimilate themselves inconspicuously into the human population? She heaved a heartfelt sigh that proved oddly comforting.

By the time Phineas knocked at the door, she'd prepared the tea and had set out two mugs for them. "What took you so long? I was beginning to wonder if you'd stopped to chat with Neal and Peter. They're currently in the vault."

"Yes, I know," he said, unceremoniously sprawling into a chair. "I considered it. I'm sure Neal will be delighted to see me. Is he coming to my lecture?"

"How would I know? I'm not his secretary."

Ch'uli, the flirt, was ecstatic at seeing Phineas and immediately leaped onto his shoulder. Ch'orri had also awakened at the noise and scampered down. After a quick greeting, he bounded off to the kitchen in search of cookies. Chocolate was unknown on Merope, but both chittaks had quickly become addicted to it. Lavinia kept a cookie jar stocked with Oreos for them. She'd grown so accustomed to seeing Ch'orri's emerald-green face streaked with chocolate crumbs, she barely noticed it.

Evidently, they weren't the only ones who'd developed a craving. Phineas filched one of Ch'orri's cookies for himself and happily dunked it into his sandalwood tea. "Has anything happened since we last talked?" he asked between nibbles.

"No, Arkham has become peaceful once more. Once the wormhole in the crypt was closed, there haven't been any sightings of zoogs or ghasts. The nightgaunts disappeared as well."

"Does Peter still ask you about the voice he heard in his head?"

"Fortunately he appears to have given up. It might have been more expedient if you'd gone ahead and identified yourself."

"Time was of the essence, my dear. As it was, they barely closed the gateway in time." Phineas gave her a sly look. "And what of your suitor? Does Mozzie continue to court you?"

Her groan made Ch'orri drop his Oreo on the floor. "He's persistent, I'll give him that."

Phineas had the temerity to roll his eyes at Ch'orri. "You know she's missing out, don't you?"

"Really?" Lavinia shot him a glare that would have dissolved any human into a puddle of mush but had zero effect on the Meropian Lothario. "Have you dallied with humans?"

"Of course. When in Rome . . ." He stopped her before she could berate him for his foolishness. "Don't worry, only harmless flirtations, nothing more." He dusted the cookie crumbs off his lap. "How do you want to handle it? Invite Neal and Peter here for tea?"

"That was my initial thought," she admitted. "But once I invite them, they may wish to bring the other members of their group. My office will be claustrophobic with so many people crammed inside."

"How many are in this Algolnium Web as Mozzie dubbed them?"

She ticked them off on her fingers. "Besides the three of them, there's Peter's wife Elizabeth, Cyrus Dexter, the head of the chemistry department—"

"Ah yes, Cyrus. His identification of the element algolnium was impressive. The research he and Elizabeth are conducting indicates how much their civilization has advanced. Who else knows?"

"Neal and Peter have confided in a police detective, Diana Briscoe. She's been surprisingly open-minded. It gives me hope that they'll take our warnings seriously."

"Unlike the past? Earthlings have no appreciation of how their nascent civilizations were prevented from crumbling. But the Celaenians are no longer around to be their protectors."

"Our resources are also stretched to the limit," she agreed.

"Still, we must not give way to gloom and doom." He slapped her, most unnecessarily, on her back. Sometimes Phineas reminded her in the most annoying way possible of Mozzie.

"There is one other who knows—Neal's friend Sara Pabodie."

"Chrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraw!"

Lavinia jumped at Ch'orri's alarm cry, the tea from her cup sloshing onto the table. The chittak had assumed his alarm stance, flattening himself to the surface of the table, his long tail extending straight out behind him. Ch'uli leaped back on Lavinia's shoulder, adding her chitter to his. Someone had opened a wormhole to Merope.

Phineas pressed a hand to his temple. "The vault!"

Lavinia was already moving to the door. She brushed off Ch'uli. "We must go at once."

"We'll be too late," Phineas warned. "My link to Peter has been severed."

When they arrived at the vault, Ephraim was on the phone. The guard took one look at her and jumped up. "I was trying to contact you, ma'am. Something terrible's happened!"

"Calm yourself," Lavinia ordered. "What did you see?"

"The professors . . . they just . . ." He swallowed, fumbling for words.

Lavinia pushed Ephraim back into his chair. Attempting to question him would be fruitless. He was distraught to the point of incoherence as he ranted about how the men vanished.

With no time to waste, an information extraction was the only recourse. Pressing two fingers into his left temple, she probed his mind. Ephraim's face went blank as she pieced together his recollections—the crackle of electricity, a brief moment of blinding white light from within the chamber. When the light subsided, he discovered that Neal and Peter had vanished. Patiently she scoured his memory while Phineas updated the record book to show that Neal and Peter left fifteen minutes ago.

"Did he see anything else?" Phineas asked.

"He doesn't recognize its significance, but he overheard them saying something about the crystal manuscript glowing red. That's when the wormhole opened."

Phineas's face whitened at the mention of the crystal manuscript. The enormity of the catastrophe brushed aside his normal demeanor.

Satisfied that she'd extracted all she could from the guard, Lavinia erased his memory of the event and withdrew her fingers.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked Ephraim, looking at him with concern.

"I don't know what came over me," he mumbled, rubbing his forehead. "I feel a little dizzy."

"I'm not surprised. I found you slumped at your desk. Many of the students have the flu. You may be coming down with it as well."

"Don't worry about me. I feel fine now."

"You should go home and rest," she urged, helping him up. "In any case, I'd intended to close the vault early. I came downstairs to start an inventory. Until the work is complete, the vault will be unavailable to all users."

"Very good, ma'am. Would you like me to return later this evening to lock up?"

"That won't be necessary. I'll take care of everything." She wished she had the confidence she'd projected onto the guard. Ephraim would be all right. As for Neal and Peter, they were beyond her reach.

Phineas had already gone inside the vault and was examining the objects on the reading table. The vault entrance was protected by a wrought iron gate. The massive outer oak door was seldom used, but Lavinia closed it behind her as she entered the chamber.

The crystal manuscript lay on the table, barely recognizable. Its once translucent surface was now a blackened and shriveled relic. There was no trace of the script it formerly contained.

His face somber, Phineas probed the crystal at length with his fingers before shaking his head. "It's useless now. Our link to Celaeno is gone."

"It may have already been gone for decades. The last time it was used to transport anyone was when the librarian sent Laban and Andrew back from Celaeno."

"But the librarian retained the crystal," Phineas reminded her. "And that may have determined its fate."

She nodded absently. When Zophar returned to Celaeno ten years later, he found the librarian vanished, the library in ruins with its precious contents destroyed, and the crystal manuscript gone. Everyone presumed only the Ymar could have been guilty of such a despicable act of wanton destruction. After a search of eleven years, Zophar found the manuscript on an outlying planet that had also suffered the ravages of the Ymar. Sometime between 1929 and 1951, the crystal manuscript must have become contaminated. When Zophar secured it inside the vault, he had no idea how dangerous it was.

"All these years we've stored it as a priceless artifact in the Shrewsbury cabinet," Lavinia said, voicing her dismay aloud. "We never suspected we'd invited Azathoth into our midst."

"What role did it play in Thaddeus's abduction? Did Azathoth use it to ensnare him too?"

"I fear that was the case," she acknowledged. "When I gave him algolnium, I placed him in the Ymar's crosshairs." She'd often blamed herself for not having taken better care of Neal when he was a child. Had she been the cause of what befell Thaddeus, too? Were all their efforts to go for naught?

"It's my fault as much as yours. You mustn't blame yourself." Phineas's attempt to comfort her was appreciated but futile. She'd failed Neal. Failed Peter.

The table was covered with work materials. Neal's notes in his flowing script were easy to recognize. There was a sheet of paper covered in one of Laban's coded languages. It must have been what Neal was working on when the disaster occurred. Had Neal deciphered it? Lavinia longed to know what it said.

She placed the materials in the Shrewsbury cabinet. The crystal manuscript she'd take upstairs. Its power was gone, its contents destroyed. Once Phineas returned, they'd have to decide on a permanent solution.

"The chittaks are positive that the wormhole terminated in Merope," Phineas said. "I'll depart immediately. I may not be able to establish a link with Neal, but I can still access Peter's thoughts. Once I'm on the planet, I should be able to find them."

If they're still alive . . . Lavinia didn't voice her fear aloud. There was no need to. Phineas was fully aware of the dangers on the planet. "You can use the astrolabe in my office for the trip."

She'd need to prepare medications. Sornoth may have already captured them. If so, keeping them alive could be a major challenge. She wished she could go along. Phineas was not as skilled a healer as she was. But the wormhole opened by the astrolabe would accommodate only one of them, and Phineas alone had the skill to access Peter's mind.

Her task would be nearly as daunting. What would she say to Elizabeth and Mozzie? Perhaps she could delay speaking with them till the morning. By then, Phineas might have already returned with Neal and Peter, safe and well. If she professed ignorance, wouldn't that be kinder than telling them what actually occurred?

She and Phineas left the vault together. Lavinia paused for a moment to scan the chamber one last time before locking the door. Nothing was out of place. The crystal manuscript was in her bag. They'd maintain the illusion till tomorrow, and then?

#

Sara arrived at Dorian's Coffeehouse only fifteen minutes late. Neal could hardly tease her for what in her world counted as an on-time arrival. But it might be good if he did. A little levity could make the news she had to share less painful.

What would it be like to grow up without knowing who your parents were? In comparison with Neal's childhood, her life had been a dream scenario of Father Knows Best. She used to chafe at the restrictions her parents imposed, but she always knew she was loved. She knew who she was. Neal was still trying to answer that question.

When she entered Dorian's, one of the coffeehouse regulars, a senior at Miskatonic whom she'd heard before, was singing Bob Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind." Would Neal feel the same way when she told him?

She glanced around the room. The coffeehouse was a popular hangout for students and most of the tables were filled. There was no sign of her fake boyfriend anywhere. For once, he was later than her, a point she intended to milk to the utmost.

She spotted Jack, the coffeehouse owner, sitting at a table with Mozzie. Such an odd name for a brilliant astrophysicist. Neal's friend was much more charming and witty than any other scientist she'd met. Another point in his favor—he liked happy hour as much as she did.

She strolled over to their table. "My date isn't here. Can I join you two handsome fellows?"

"We're sampling wines for my book signing party," Mozzie said with an expansive smile. "You and your refined palate are welcome."

"I may have to change the name to Dorian's Wine Bar," Jack said, glancing at the array of bottles on the table. Mozzie's publisher was footing the bill for a signing party to celebrate the publication of his latest book, Branes Among Us, and with good reason. His first, The Brane Game, was a nationwide bestseller that read more like a thriller than an introduction to supergravity. Mozzie had let Sara read an advance copy of his new work and she predicted it would be equally successful.

"An excellent idea!" Mozzie said.

"I was joking," Jack protested.

"But I wasn't. We'll talk later," Mozzie added comfortably. "After the book signing, you'll be much more receptive to what I have in mind."

Hosting the party was good business for Jack. It also made sense for his love life. He'd fallen hard for Diana Briscoe but had yet to work up the courage to ask the Arkham police detective out on a date. Sara and Neal were doing what they could to smooth the way. Coordination with the police was necessary to manage the expected crowd at the book signing. Surely Jack would take advantage of the opportunity.

Neal didn't know if Diana was already seeing someone, and Sara had assigned herself the task of finding out. Diana was in her kung fu class, but apparently affairs of the heart didn't blend well with fighting. Or Diana was singularly obtuse. Sara had yet to discover if Jack had any competition for Diana's heart.

She took a seat. "Don't tell me Neal was already here and left? I'm less than a half-hour late."

"On Friday afternoons he and Peter work in the library vault," Mozzie said, pouring her a small amount from one of the bottles.

"I thought they had lectures."

"Replacement professors have already been assigned so they can devote more time to research," he explained. "Neal probably got buried in a translation and forgot. I'm sure he'll resurface eventually."

"We'd planned to rehearse songs for the party," said Jack. "He may have gone home to fetch his guitar."

An hour later Sara's stomach was beginning to rumble from too many wine samples and not enough food. Her fake boyfriend was still blowin' in the wind, and the folksinger had moved on to "Nowhere Man." Not a good sign. Jack offered her the use of the phone in his office to track him down.

She retrieved Jack's phone book from his bookcase, an untidy mix of bills, art supplies, and sheet music, and sat down at his desk. Plainly Jack needed someone to take care of him. Why he'd fixated on Diana to accomplish that herculean task escaped her. Judging by the way she kept her desk, her house was probably messier than his. But that was a challenge for another day.

She first called the front desk of the library where she had partial success. Yes, the student had seen Neal arrive along with Peter, but she hadn't noticed them leave. Sara prevailed on her to check the vault. After a few minutes, the student came back to the phone to report that they'd signed out at 4:15. The vault closed early for inventory, and the guard had left for the day. It was now almost two hours later. What had been bemusement over an absent-minded professor turned into real worry. Yes, she could see Neal losing himself in a translation but not in anything else. And he wouldn't have missed showing up, not when he expected news about his childhood. Unless . . . did Peter have an emergency?

Sara dialed El's number, but the only response was a busy signal. It took multiple attempts before she could get through. El was equally worried. Peter had yet to appear. She'd called Neal's landlady June and she also hadn't heard anything. El had already left a message for Diana at the police station.

Sara had been kidnapped a couple of weeks ago in broad daylight, but it didn't seem likely that two people could have been seized at the same time. Had Neal spotted one of the bizarre creatures he'd told her about? A ghast or a nightgaunt? Reportedly, both were creatures who were active in twilight and during the night. An overcast late afternoon in mid-November could qualify.

Had they taken off to chase a ghast without her? Or was one chasing them? And what if it was a pack of ghasts?

#

"Still no answer." El placed the telephone receiver back on the hook. "Is Lavinia refusing to answer her phone? I've become so suspicious about that woman, I wouldn't put it past her."

"You should drink this," Mozzie said, pressing a glass of brandy into her hand. "Tea is not strong enough to combat the disappointment that you, that I, that we all feel. Yet again Neal and Peter have taken off on an adventure and left us behind." His wail of anguish wasn't helpful.

He and Sara were keeping her company in the living room. June had also stopped by, staying until she needed to leave for a theater rehearsal. El particularly appreciated Sara's presence. She could be more objective than the rest of them.

El had already spoken with Diana twice. So far the police hadn't uncovered any clues. They'd interviewed the library staff, and no one remembered seeing Neal and Peter leave. Lavinia was either out or holed up in her office, refusing to answer inquiries. El was inclined to believe the latter.

"Why do you feel Lavinia knows something?" asked Sara, reaching for her purse. She took out a brown leather pocket notebook and unscrewed the cap from her pen. El was glad to see Sara was taking notes. She found it comforting to have some action being taken, no matter how small.

She gathered her thoughts for a moment as she thought back on the past incidents.

Mozzie had no such restraint. "Neal told you about his visit to the boarded-up church in September, but did he mention that Lavinia contacted both Peter and me about the danger he was in?"

Sara looked at him, shocked. "No, had she gone with him?"

"Hardly," Mozzie scoffed, "but somehow she sensed he was there. And that's not the only strange thing about her. Neal's shown you his amulet, right?"

"Yes, and I'd wondered about that. How did he know it was an amulet?"

"Lavinia informed him that same night," El said. "But she didn't provide any details about what that meant."

"And she didn't explain how she knew it was an amulet?" Sara asked incredulously.

"Not a word," Mozzie confirmed gloomily. "Neal discovered by chance that the amulet is lethal to ghasts when he was attacked at the Nautical Shop. In the crypt at Swan Hill Cemetery, he used it to shut an open wormhole. It would have been helpful if Lavinia had enlightened us about the amulet's properties beforehand. Who knows what else it's capable of?"

"The evening Neal went to the church," El said, "Lavinia was aware he was in danger. She called Peter, ordering him to go to his assistance but never explained how she knew. Later that same night she showed up at our door unannounced. Somehow she realized Peter had brought Neal to our house."

"Do you think she's clairvoyant?" Sara asked.

El hesitated. She'd never believed in psychics, but Lavinia was testing her preconceptions. "It's possible but that doesn't explain the emerald-colored wine she gave Neal. She insisted he drink it before recounting his experiences. At first, I didn't want to allow it, but Peter persuaded me it was safe. He'd also drunk the wine and it has a calming effect."

"The woman is beyond strange," Mozzie said. "Throughout Neal's account, she nodded as if she was aware of what he'd say in advance."

"She refuses to explain her actions," El said, taking a sip of brandy, "although I've tried talking with her on numerous occasions." Mozzie was right. The brandy might not be emerald wine but it helped her nerves.

"Do you have any other reason to question her besides what happened that night?" Sara asked.

"I'm convinced that Lavinia knows much more about Neal than she's willing to reveal." El hesitated for a moment on how much to discuss. Neal continued to insist that he and Sara were just good friends, and he might be correct. There was much in their banter that seemed more like that of a brother and sister than two who felt a romantic connection. But whatever the nature of their relationship, it was clear he trusted her, and that was good enough for El.

Satchmo appeared to concur. The yellow Lab latched onto Sara as soon as she arrived, even bringing her his favorite squeaky toy, a well-loved gray monkey. It hadn't escaped Satchmo's notice that Sara, like Neal, usually came equipped with dog treats.

El proceeded to relate how Lavinia had moved to Arkham and taken up the post of head librarian the same year Neal was found. "Lavinia used to be helpful to Peter. She gave him access to the vault and assisted him with his research. But a few months ago, she started avoiding him. This was around the time Peter took Neal to see her. It was also the weekend Neal first saw a ghast. She extended vault privileges to Neal, told Peter that their lives were intertwined, but then wouldn't explain why."

"No wonder Neal finds her so frustrating." Sara stopped taking notes to consider a moment before turning to Mozzie. "When did you first become friends with Lavinia?"

"I already had vault privileges when Lavinia arrived. We share an interest in ancient astronomical instruments and have had many a cordial conversation about astrolabes and armillary spheres. Occasionally she visited my office to see my collection. But as the years passed, she grew more distant."

"Did you ever wonder if the change in her attitude was somehow connected to Neal?"

Mozzie stared at her. "I never considered that. I thought she was simply becoming a curmudgeon. It's an occupational hazard among academics. Lavinia's behavior has always been . . . Let's be charitable and call it unusual. Once she informed me I should have a cat and presented me with Betelgeuse. He was only a tiny kitten then. How can one explain such actions?" He shrugged. "I'd never owned a pet, but Betelgeuse is now my comrade."

"When did she give him to you?" Sara asked.

He thought for a moment. "It was Neal's freshman year. That makes it 1969. Classes had just begun."

"Betelgeuse was the one who killed a zoog," Sara noted.

"What are you suggesting?" Mozzie demanded. "That Lavinia had an ulterior motive in giving him to me?"

"I wouldn't dismiss anything," she cautioned.

"Neal is the key to Lavinia's behavior," El said. "On that, we agree." She turned to Mozzie. "You befriended him when he was a child. Did Lavinia play any part in that?"

"I met him at a summer astronomy camp when he was twelve . . . Come to think of it, Lavinia did encourage me to participate in the camp. I'd acquired a particularly fine astrolabe from the sixteenth century and she came over to see it. As I recall, we lamented the exclusion of ancient astronomical instruments from modern astronomy textbooks. Lavinia said I'd make an excellent role model for the younger generation. I was consumed by string theory at the time, but she insisted camp would be a welcome release that would help focus my thoughts."

Sara started a fresh sheet of notes. "Are there any special circumstances to Neal's attendance at camp?"

"He'd won a spot as an award for his entry in the science fair that year. He'd made a study on the harmful effects of light pollution."

"Could Lavinia have played a part?" El asked.

"I don't see how. I once asked him how he'd come up with the topic. It took a lot of prodding on my part to elicit a response. He was such a shy boy. Very unlike boys his age. I attributed it to the rough times he had at the foster home. Neal admitted that the idea had come to him in a dream. I remember because it sounded like one of my eureka moments."

"I think Lavinia knows where they are now," El said. "I haven't told the police about her yet, but I intend to confront her tomorrow morning. If she doesn't give me any answers, I'm going to Diana with all I know."

"I'd like to accompany you," Sara said.

"And me too," Mozzie added. "With the three of us at her door, she'll have to talk to us."