Chapter 4: SCAGR

Marrakesh, Morocco. Friday, January 9, 1976.

By now Henry didn't really expect Neal to explain what had happened in the cave, sweet though it would be. If nothing else, the incident at Scorpion Hill confirmed the necessity of traveling to Arkham.

As a gesture of goodwill, Henry went out of his way to go swimming in the hotel pool that evening so that the others would have plenty of time to discuss the events at the cave among themselves. He comforted himself that soon their secrets could be his too.

They flew to Boston in first-class luxury, a world apart from the cattle-car flight he'd made to Marrakesh. He breathed easier when the person who made the arrangements didn't question his alias. It was the only passport he'd brought with him. Only Neal joked about sitting next to Dallas Frazier, the man who made "Alley-Oop" famous.

Mozzie was on hand to greet them at Logan Airport when they arrived in Boston. It was Henry's first time to see the astrophysicist in fourteen years, but Mozzie picked up the conversation from so long ago as if it had just occurred.

"I hear you're interested in joining the Guardians of the Universe," the astrophysicist said, twisting Henry's fingers as he shook his hand.

"What's that? The secret handshake?" Henry joked back.

The only response he got was a snicker. Talk about awkward. In fact, you could describe the whole journey to Arkham the same way. Henry didn't want to divulge any further details about the firm he worked for. Mozzie was plainly bursting with questions about the trip, but Peter and Neal restricted themselves to only discussing events that Henry was already familiar with. Elizabeth was a calming influence, but that was because she was suffering from jetlag and slept most of the way to Arkham.

They rode back to Arkham in the largest limo he'd ever seen. There was plenty of room for the five of them to sprawl in the J-shaped configuration. When Elizabeth nodded off, Mozzie spent the rest of the journey lecturing him about parallel universes called branes. M-branes, A-branes, Z-branes—soon his brain was spinning with all the letters of the alphabet.

Science had never been his strong suit. Did he really want to spend his life with a bunch of eggheads? Henry liked his job because it wasn't a job. It was a set of invitations to adventures. He could pick the ones he wanted and make up the rules as he went along. The pay was great, the thrills were always there. Granted he hadn't experienced the excitement of being hauled off by a monster scorpion, and he had to admit the wormhole was pretty cool even if he couldn't see it very well. But how often could he expect that to happen?

When they arrived in Arkham, the driver first dropped the Gilmans off at their townhouse. The next stop was a couple of blocks away at a house large enough to qualify as a mansion where Neal rented the loft.

"I'll bring Henry by your apartment after we meet with Lavinia," Neal promised Mozzie as they got out.

Lavinia . . . the name conjured up a scary English teacher who'd haunted Henry's days and nights in elementary school. Surely this one wouldn't be so bad.

No worry about night terrors from Neal's landlady June Harper. She greeted him like a member of the family and offered him the use of a guest bedroom, free of charge. Not that he intended to stay for more than a couple of nights. No matter what happened, Henry had to leave in a couple of days. He'd already promised his team he'd help on the Argentina job. The saving-the-universe gig would have to be on the back burner till then.

Neal asked if he wanted to get the test out of the way, and that was fine with him. He wasn't going to learn anything otherwise. They took off for the university campus, on foot no less. When Henry joshed him about it, Neal admitted he didn't own a car. Claimed he didn't need one. Who in their right mind doesn't want wheels?

That was just one of many head-scratchers, but the kid had always been hard to figure out. When Neal was eight, he was a locked box of secrets, and he hadn't changed much. For one thing, he was far too serious for his age. From where Henry was standing, Neal should feel like he was on top of the world. But despite having close friends and a comfortable job, he seldom let his guard down.

Is this what came with having accumulated far too many diplomas for any twenty-two-year-old to rightfully possess? Did he ever go to parties? Have a social life? Henry had the uneasy feeling that Neal's idea of fun was hanging out with Peter and Mozzie and discussing branes till the wee hours of the night.

Yeah, Neal needed him big time, and it wasn't just because he and his friends were weird. Although, if the stories he'd heard about Lavinia were accurate, she'd set a new standard.

Was it an omen that she lived inside a library that resembled a haunted house? Not that Henry was an expert on universities. When he graduated from high school, he kissed the school scene goodbye. Who needed mind-numbing classes in math and history for the work he wanted?

The inside of the library, though . . . man what a place. The wood paneling looked like something out of an English castle, and he should know. He'd broken into more than a few of them. Those books had to be worth a fortune. Neal didn't give him a tour, but Henry caught a glimpse of some gated-off room at the end of a passage that reminded him of a vault. Just what kind of treasures were they hiding inside? In his experience, vaults were always worth investigating. But for now, that one would have to remain a mystery like so much else related to Neal. Instead of checking out the vault, they climbed a narrow iron spiral staircase in the back of the building.

"Do you have any concerns about the procedure?" Neal asked.

"What exactly is she going to do to me?" Henry didn't care to reveal how creeped out he was starting to feel.

"Did you ever watch Star Trek?"

"Sure."

"Then you know what a Vulcan mind-meld is. What Lavinia can do is somewhat similar." Neal paused on the staircase and turned to face him. "She can read your perceptions. And I'm sorry, but it is intrusive. She'll have access to all your memories."

Henry stopped in his tracks. Not happening. Neal already knew he was gay, but that was nothing. The list of crimes the woman would discover could send him to prison for . . . he didn't even want to guess. Neal was watching him as if he could read what he was thinking. Was he a telepath too? Where was the eject button?

"I don't know of anyone more close-mouthed than Lavinia. You have my word that she won't use the information against you." Neal's eyes drifted up to the ceiling. "For instance, if your memories happen to include something illegal, she won't report the crime—or you—to the police."

Henry swallowed. "Good to know." Should he trust Neal? Maybe she'd brainwashed him. On the other hand, stop and think about what Neal just said. This woman was capable of reading minds. No human could do that. Henry was about to meet his first space alien . . . unless he already had. Lavinia was Neal's friend. Was this the confirmation of what he already suspected? Neal and maybe Peter and Mozzie as well were from outer space?

"She'll be able to learn if you have any ulterior motives or are being influenced by our enemies," Neal continued.

"Influenced how?" Henry asked, intrigued despite his resolve to reject any attempt at mind-melding.

Neal hesitated for a moment. "That zoog you saw? It's highly intelligent. It can parasitize a man's brain and control his actions."

Henry stared at him. Neal appeared deadly serious. "Are you worried there's one inside me?"

"No, but we can't take any chances. Don't feel obligated to agree to the probe. It's your choice. We'll still be friends. There will simply be areas I can't discuss."

Zoogs living inside brains? No wonder Peter had been so wary. Where did zoogs come from? Who was Neal really? This was his chance to find out. If he turned away now, he'd never know. He'd been on the run before. If Lavinia turned him in, he'd simply assume another identity.

Henry took a breath, giving himself another moment to change his mind. Damnit, he'd always known he had too much curiosity for his own good. "I've gone this far. I'm not turning back. If Lavinia wants to ransack my mind, she can have it, but she may not enjoy the experience."

Neal relaxed into a relieved smile. "Thanks. I know this is asking a lot."

As it turned out, Lavinia wasn't at all like his former English teacher. She was a thousand times worse. A forbidding scowl appeared to be permanently carved on her brown face. As for her eyes . . . that greenish glint was unsettling. It didn't help that her apartment resembled a mausoleum. What sane person lives in a library? Undoubtedly bats roosted in the rafters of her turret. Her tweed skirt looked as ancient as the tapestry cloth on her table.

But Neal seemed more relaxed than at any time since the scorpion cave. He put on a pot of tea and even dished out a plate of Oreos for them. Evidently, Lavinia wasn't into gourmet food. Judging by the stack of cookie boxes in her kitchen, the lady had a sweet tooth. He could relate to that.

So okay, Henry drank the emerald wine which turned out to be a lot more refreshing than the Kool-Aid taste he'd expected, and, yeah, he let her jab her fingers against his skull. He'd endured a helluva lot worse. He had no idea how long she held them there. It seemed to be over in a second. Afterward, he slouched against the uncomfortable oak chair. "Did I pass?"

"You'll do," she said. Was that a ghost of a smile on her lips?

Neal, for his part, must have spent the time gorging himself on cookies. Half of the plate had been emptied. He poured Henry a cup of tea, although he would have much preferred an additional glass of wine.

Henry reached for a sugar fix and stopped in astonishment as one of the cookies rose from the plate of its own volition. A second later, it vanished. He glared at Lavinia. She had to be responsible. "Are you some kind of witch?"

"You shouldn't listen to student gossip," she chided dismissively.

"Lavinia's not a witch," Neal assured him. "What I tell you can be discussed with no one outside our group. Is that acceptable?"

His mood had gone serious, and Lavinia looked even grimmer if that was possible. Henry had the impression that if he lied, she'd send hellhounds to carry him off into a fiery pit worse than anything he could imagine. But he couldn't stop now. The questions were exploding in his brain like grenades.

#

"What's your impression of Henry?" Gideon asked. He'd stayed in Lavinia's bedroom while the boys were present. A necessary precaution although one Neal might not have approved of. In the end, though, Neal's assessment was correct. His friend could be trusted.

"He's a better fit than I expected," she admitted. "He has skills in many areas that could be useful to us, and his desire to protect Neal is genuine."

"I've heard of the outfit he works for," Gideon said. "Their tactics are often illegal and their sense of morality doesn't fit the norms. They've made a name for themselves by operating outside the law."

"Henry's a misfit with no family. He's not in love. He views Neal as the closest relative he has. It bodes well for the future."

"Especially since my time on Earth will be greatly reduced," Gideon said. "The situation in the Andromeda sector worsens."

"We'll manage. You've trained Fei Hong well. She's ready to assume greater responsibilities."

"Her financial skills are better than mine," Gideon admitted readily. "Funding will never be an issue." He took a seat, helping himself to the lone remaining cookie. "Was including the chittaks your idea?"

"No, Neal suggested it when he called me."

Gideon smiled. "They provided proof of a world Henry wasn't aware of."

Ch'orri was sitting contentedly on the window sill, grooming his fur and licking off crumbs. Neal had taken Ch'uli, the chittak's mate, home with them. The disclosures would likely continue into the night. What Lavinia had related had been a brief introduction to the early history of the Elnath, the Ymar, the Celaenians, and their own species. Whatever Neal chose to reveal about his personal history was up to him.

Lavinia's focus had already turned to other matters. Further testing would be required to understand the luminescence Neal exhibited in the cave. No Meropian glowed in the way Peter had described Neal. It was likely an indication that the Celaenian components in his body chemistry were continuing to develop, a hopeful sign for the future.

"How do you propose to handle the situation in Marrakesh?" she asked.

"For now, we watch and wait. I provided the head of the secret police with evidence of Kattan leading a dangerous group of insurgents who wish to overthrow the monarchy. He said he'd discuss the report with the king. Now that the wormhole is sealed, the cult's supply of moon-tree wine will dry up. The zoog within Kattan's brain will eventually die from a lack of proper nutrition. The problem will resolve itself without our assistance."

#

Mozzie joined Neal and Henry for dinner at June's that evening. Henry continued to sling questions non-stop. Neal sensed that Henry would have had a much more difficult time believing them if he hadn't met a talking armillary sphere and invisible creatures who loved cookies. Milly's presence alone, not to mention the Meropian instruments in Mozzie's lab, would be enough to convince the most hardened skeptic.

After the others left, he and Henry adjourned to the loft. Neal kept a supply of beer in the refrigerator for Peter. He'd need to increase his reserves with Henry around. If Henry stayed . . .

"So you didn't know you were a hybrid when you were a child?" Henry asked from his position on the couch, giving a random swat to Ch'uli who was grooming his hair.

Neal shook his head. "I knew Gramps had visited other planets but that was the extent of it. I only learned the truth a couple of months ago, and there's still so much I don't know."

"What do you hope happens?"

"In a nutshell, our goal is to stop the Ymar from invading Earth. I'd love to kick them out of Tirelia and Merope too." Neal didn't voice his innermost hope of going to Celaeno someday. Perhaps eventually they could explore other planets.

"Do you think that's achievable?"

"Honestly, I don't know. We're just beginning to understand a few of Milly's capabilities. For now, we're in the business of sealing wormholes and collecting crystals where we can. The crystals come in different colors indicative of their attributes, but Milly hasn't explained what they are. Even Mozzie admits that so far the science of alien wave mechanics is beyond his grasp."

"Milly believes you may have the ability to seal wormholes by linking with the algolnium energy found inside them. Have you ever tested the concept?"

"No. I wish she'd told me before we set off for Marrakesh. Then I could have experimented with the wormhole beneath Kattan's riad. Not that I'm criticizing Milly," he hastened to add. "The way I glowed in the cave was the evidence she needed, and that was the first time it's ever happened."

"No wonder Peter is freaking out about the uncertainty of your situation." Henry took another swig of beer. "What's hard for me to see is how I would fit into this. Sure, if you need a spy or a hired gun, I can help. You want something stolen, I'm your guy. But I'm no scholar like the rest of you. Your lives revolve around the university. When you're not saving the galaxy, you have your jobs to return to."

Henry's point was a valid one. Much as Neal would like him to move to Arkham, he'd quickly grow bored without a meaningful occupation to fall back on. "Your work for the current outfit is freelance. Perhaps you could treat us as another client. Do you think that would be acceptable with your current employers?"

Henry nodded slowly. "That might work. If nothing else, I could say my family needs me."

"And it would be true," Neal said, delighted at his acknowledgment of their connection. "That surname you adopted comes with strings."

Henry arched an eyebrow. "Technically Chaseman is just an alias."

"That's close enough," Neal insisted. "You can't disappear on me now." He intended for his words to sound like a joke, but they weren't to him. Henry was the only one he knew from his life before Arkham who was still alive. His presence over the past few days had strengthened those ties.

"That's not going to happen," Henry said quietly, his face unexpectedly serious. "Both of us were dealt the short end of the stick when it comes to relatives." Henry understood what Neal hadn't said aloud, just like fourteen years ago. It was a good feeling that they could still read each other so well.

"What do you call your group?" Henry asked.

"Mozzie dubbed us the algolnium web, but that sounded too much like spiders to me. I suggested a band."

"Like a band of thieves?" Henry chuckled. "Peter must have loved that."

"You know him well," Neal said, returning his grin. "Mozzie liked the analogy though. I was actually thinking of musicians, not thieves."

"It's still kinda lame. Give me a minute." Henry pursed his lips for a moment. "SCAGR."

"What's that?"

"Scholar-Adventurer-Guardian Reprobates." He nodded decisively. "Now that's a group I'd be proud to be a member of, even if one of them does click like a scorpion."

"Hey, only under special circumstances, like saving your butt!" Neal was relieved they could joke about it. Admitting that he could communicate with the scorpion hadn't been an easy subject to tackle, but if nothing else, Neal's ability had convinced Henry of his hybrid nature.

Henry snorted. "Stop with the tickles, Ch'uli! How much algolnium will I need before I can see her?"

"It's a gradual process but it won't take long," Neal promised. He considered Ch'uli his secret weapon. Henry would insist on hanging around long enough to see the animal who'd been teasing him all evening.

Henry stood up, inadvertently dislodging Ch'uli, and went over to Neal's guitar which was propped in a corner. "Do you play?" he asked, a glint in his eyes.

Neal shrugged. "A little. Rock ballads, mainly."

"I like to play the guitar too, but I'm more of a Stones man. Is there any place to play in this sleepy little town?"

"The coffeehouse where we met in December lets anyone sing. The owner, Jack Dorian, is a friend. He's a better guitarist than me. We're not totally without nightlife," Neal added a little defensively.

Henry eyed him skeptically. "Studying in the library doesn't count."

Neal felt himself redden. With Sara in London, Henry's remark was perilously close to being accurate. "A disco opened up a few months ago on the south side of town. It's already attracted quite a following."

"And how would you know about that?"

Neal shrugged as he admitted, "My students are a ready source of the latest trends."

"Uh-huh." Henry considered for a moment. "It's late. I'll give you a break tonight. But tomorrow I'm sure you'll want to take me out to celebrate my agreement to join SCAGR. We'll start at Dorian's then hit the disco together."

#

The next day, Gideon offered Henry a permanent job handling security. It would be a fresh start, a chance for him to go legit. His Henry Chaseman alias would be his legal name.

Henry would continue to describe his job as being in finance and acquisitions. Neal doubted anyone would ask for details. As far as the outside world was concerned, Henry was one of Talmadge's employees. By inventing plausible tales of checking out potential investment opportunities, he'd have more than adequate leeway to travel anywhere. He could also continue to work with his old outfit when he wasn't needed by SCAGR. Gideon had been amused by the new name. Peter remarked it sounded more like Scatter-Brained Rascals to him. Neal took it as an encouraging sign that he could josh Henry about it. Henry left for Canada that evening, promising that he'd return to Arkham when the job ended.

Neal's first chance to talk with Sara wasn't until several days later. She'd been in Edinburgh with her team when Neal returned from Marrakesh. Their telephone conversations were restricted to secure locations which meant that Sara needed to go to Gideon's office for prearranged communications. For his part, Neal took advantage of Mozzie's new secure facility.

Now that Mozzie was in charge of Milly and the Meropian devices being left on Earth, he'd converted a seminar room adjacent to his suite into what he dubbed his bunker in the sky.

Mozzie's cachet with the university was platinum, particularly in light of the recognition he'd received for his latest book, Branes Among Us. His claim that he needed additional space to conduct experiments wasn't disputed, especially since one of the university's major benefactors—Gideon Talmadge—offered to provide the funds.

The door to the main hall was walled up. A new door had been added which connected Mozzie's suite to the new facility. Security was provided by the Meropian instruments. No giant scorpions—at least as far as Neal was aware—but force fields restricted access to all who hadn't been given express permission. In addition to SCAGR members, their furry associates—Satchmo, Mozzie's cat Betelgeuse, and Lavinia's chittaks—were also given clearance.

Mozzie was never one to deprive himself of the little touches that make life comfortable. He'd purchased a large antique walnut table for group meetings and replaced the simple plastic chairs with upholstered desk chairs on wheels.

When Neal called Sara, Mozzie was teaching a seminar so it was just the two of them, or three, if you count Milly. The armillary sphere emitted a soft green glow throughout their conversation but fortunately didn't inject herself unless asked a direct question. The peridot-colored crystal had been added to the sphere, but so far Milly had not revealed what if any extra capability she had because of it.

"I wish I could have seen the cave," Sara said with a soft sigh. "I've been trying to picture it from your description."

"Peter suspects the water comes from an underground spring. We weren't far from a waterfall. Water is likely an essential element in growing crystals."

"Are you sure there weren't any other crystals?"

"The cave wasn't large enough for us to miss any."

"Milly, do you believe the scorpion was designed by Celaenians to protect the cave?" Sara asked.

"I have insufficient data to form an opinion," Milly replied, the celaenite crystal in the center of the armillary sphere sparkling more brightly when she spoke.

"Lavinia believes the Elnath created it," Neal said. "The Celaenians may never have known about the cave, but early humans must have been familiar with the Elnath. Cyrus dated the sculpture Peter bought and the cave art to the same period, roughly 10,000 B.C. Since the scorpion in the cave had wings, Peter suspects the legends about a gigantic scorpion in the Atlas Mountains are based on it."

"Any revelations about the Book of Azathoth?"

"Analysis revealed that the cover is made of nightgaunt skin. The signatures are all written in blood and have been traced back to 3,000 BC. Lavinia declared the book safe from malignant influences and is storing it in the library vault in a locked cabinet."

"Azathoth may try to steal it back," she warned.

"If he dispatches cult members, he'll be out of luck. Before Pagna left, she installed force fields in the vault to limit access to those who'd obtained permission. The statue is also in the vault. Eventually, it will be part of the Neolithic annex to the Miskatonic Museum that the university president is already proposing."

"And the additive that Raquel tried to place in your drink?"

"It, along with the perfume, has everyone stumped. Both include floral ingredients. Lavinia suspects Tirelian plants were used. Some of the compounds are algolnium-based, but no one knows what the effect is. I've offered to drink a sample of the additive under controlled conditions, but that was nixed straight off the bat."

"I should hope so," Sara declared. "Simply the fact she wanted you to drink it means it can't be anything healthy. I wonder if it could be some sort of alien love potion."

When he snorted his skepticism, she countered, "Don't dismiss it out of hand. You told me the priestess of Isis wore it too."

"I'll let the group know," Neal said. "Perhaps it was designed to work on humans and that's why it didn't have any effect on me."

"Or there's something about your hybrid nature that neutralizes the effects."

"It will be difficult to test," he warned. "Looking on the bright side, we have solid confirmation that at the very least Raquel is associated with the Starry Wisdom cult. She may even be Tirelian or some other species."

"I knew there was a valid reason why I disliked her so much," Sara said. "Should Interpol be warned?"

"That's what we've been debating. We can't tell them she's an alien without revealing what we know, and even then, they wouldn't believe us."

"How about this? I could alert my Interpol contact that I heard a rumor about Raquel being a cult member and that she should be on her guard. Nisha already knows about the exposé we're working on. She might be able to dig up more dirt on her."

"It could put her in danger," he cautioned.

"Nisha's used to threats. She's an Interpol agent, after all. And wouldn't the risk be worse if we didn't alert her?"

Neal had no answer, but instinctively he felt that Nisha could easily get swept up in something far more serious. "At least you've got more protection."

"What do you mean?"

"Gideon will be returning shortly to his home base, but he told us we could call on Fei Hong for anything. It turns out she's also a Meropian."

"Some investigative journalist I make," Sara said glumly. "I've been taking martial arts with her for a month and I didn't have a clue."

"Don't feel bad. None of us knew about Lavinia and Gideon till they told us."

"I wonder how many other aliens are wandering around," Sara said.

"I asked Gideon, and he just smiled. You know how secretive Meropians are. It could be his way of teasing us."

She chuckled. "Or keeping us in suspense. I suspect it's more likely he simply doesn't know."

"We're also stymied from doing anything about the cult in Marrakesh. We're unable to make a complaint about Kattan since we have no usable evidence."

"It must be particularly frustrating for Peter," Sara sympathized. "He's unable to examine the disk you discovered."

"If you can think of a workable solution for him to gain access, we'd be in your debt."

"Since the wormhole's no longer active, Kattan may no longer be so protective. The Arkham disk has been publicly reported. If an article about it ran in a Marrakesh newspaper, Kattan might be enticed to let others see it."

"I'll bring it up at our next meeting," Neal promised. "It's worth a shot."

"Here's another topic to bring up. I know you haven't wanted to share information with my team, but isn't it time? With the resources Nigel has available, he may be able to expose the cult in Marrakesh. Shouldn't that be considered?"

Neal's initial inclination was to dismiss it out of hand, but would he be so quick if Nigel were in his fifties and happily married like Sara's boss at the Arkham Gazette? Nigel's team was researching cult influence throughout Europe and the Mediterranean. They were better placed to expose the cult in Marrakesh than anyone else. Diana Briscoe on the local police force had provided much-needed support. Nigel could be equally valuable.

After the call ended, Neal remained in the lab. He hadn't told Sara about the luminescence he displayed in the cave. There was still so little that was understood about the phenomenon.

"I sense you are troubled," Milly said.

Her quiet voice startled him out of his thoughts. He'd forgotten about her presence. "Peter described the glow I exhibited in the cave. What do you believe the cause is?"

"The highest probability is that the cave was situated at a natural fissure in the Earth's crust which permits higher levels of algolnium radiation to leak from your planet's core. Celaenians harness algolnium energy. You may also have the ability."

"What does that mean?" he asked, uneasy about the implications. Was he turning into some kind of alien energy reactor?

"In practical terms, you may be able to manipulate wormholes and influence charged etheric fields. The ability is a powerful one, but I don't know how it will coexist with your human components."

Lavinia had expressed similar concerns, warning of unknown side effects. She advised him not to attempt any experiments. But in the fight with the Ymar, wouldn't they need all the tools at their disposal?

La Mamounia Hotel, Marrakesh. Sunday.

Raquel held the phone away from her face and winced. Nigel's harsh tongue-lashing stung like acid. She already knew she'd failed.

"Let me make sure I have all the disasters correctly enumerated," he said venomously. "Neal resisted your pathetic attempts to woo him. You're unable to account for how he spent his time for two days. Is it only a coincidence that our priest reported the wormhole was sealed when the only one we know of who is capable of such actions was in town?"

She felt her cheeks grow hot. "You already know the answer."

"And it also explains who has the Book of Azathoth. With the wormhole sealed, Kattan has lost his usefulness. The zoog which resides within him is nearing the end of his lifespan. When it dies, he will too."

"But you said there would be more moon-tree wine available."

"And there will be," he said curtly. "Azathoth realizes we have only one crystal left. He has initiated a contingency plan that will be ready shortly."

"Did he give you a date?"

"Never let it be said the Ymar don't have a sense of humor. Valentine's Day."

She laughed, relieved to have the tension broken. "A love letter from Azathoth to Earth. How appropriate! What can I do to help?"

"Clearly, based on your disaster in Marrakesh, not much," he grumbled.

"It's not my fault," she protested. "Yidhra wasn't sure the perfume would work. Have you fared any better with Sara?"

"It's been slower than I expected," he admitted. "I'll give it a few more weeks then implement Plan B. With an abundant supply of zoogs, we won't have to ration their use."

Raquel smiled. She could think of several she'd like implanted with zoog embryos. The invasion was at hand.

Notes: Does the likelihood of hostile aliens meddling in government institutions sound like someone's pet theory? New York Mozzie played a major role in crafting the ideas for this story and will continue to do so in future tales. I wrote about "Alien Politics" for the blog this week.

Yidhra is one of the Ymar. She is also the only female listed among the Outer Gods in the Necronomicon. Yidhra was first mentioned in Sands of Abydos as being linked to Isis and perhaps also to the priestess of Isis.

The sequel to Scorpion Hill is Standing Stones.

Thanks for including my stories in your reading! If you're ever curious about the schedule of upcoming stories, the information is available on our blog.