Chapter 4: The Lurker
Eric's apartment. Arkham. Thursday, October 28, 1976.
"Did Sara describe the costumes she selected for us?" Eric asked.
"Not in much detail," Henry said. Their cat Luna jumped onto his lap and began kneading his chest as if hoping for a costume too. But Henry knew better. She refused to wear even a collar.
Sara had decided that their team should wear similar historical costumes at the brewpub's Halloween party on Saturday. Since she volunteered to supply the duds, he wasn't about to protest. "She's aiming for something out of Jules Verne."
Eric hadn't attended the wrap-up meeting from their mission although he would have been welcome. Henry thought he was still a little uncomfortable about participating in the group's discussions. And he had a ready excuse. The Arkham Planning Commission had signed off on the wharf revitalization project. Not only that, Fei Hong had secured permission from Gideon Talmadge to invest in the project. After years of scrounging for commissions, Eric had more work than he could handle on his own. He'd hired a drafter and rented additional space in the building where he had his office.
At Eric's urging, Henry had moved into Eric's apartment at the start of the month. It still felt weird but in a good way that Eric was taking a chance on him.
Against all odds and mainly thanks to Tracy, the brewpub would be ready in time for the Halloween bash. When Henry first proposed the project, he was on his own, swinging from a star. But unexpectedly, June and Cyrus transformed the idea into a co-op project with the university. If Henry had continued to tackle it without assistance, he would have quickly been sunk. But thanks to Tracy's organizing expertise, he was confident that it would finish on time.
Jack and his girlfriend Tracy would manage both the coffeehouse and brewpub. The vibe of each place was very different, but both would feature live music with paintings by local and student artists on the walls. Henry had initially planned to help out at the brewpub during slack periods, but lately there hadn't been many of those. Fortunately, with the university also supplying staff, his assistance wasn't a necessity.
Looking ahead, in three years he'd qualify for a PI license so he'd be able to investigate cases during down times.
Eric reached over to stroke his cheek. "Thinking good thoughts?"
"Yeah, making plans for the future and that's because of you. Before I met you, dreaming about the future didn't make much sense."
"Same." Eric brushed his lips with a kiss. "You know Olmstead's townhouse?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"The owner has offered to sell it to me for a song. My office could be on the ground floor. I'd live upstairs ... with you and Luna. Eventually, once you get your PI license, you could also have your office there. Does the idea have any appeal?"
"You know living anywhere with you does, but you're not worried the place may be haunted?"
"I suppose I should be, but I'm not. There's also the portal that opened to some different universe I don't want to think about. But doesn't that mean we were meant to own it?"
Henry laughed and pulled him close. "I like your attitude."
"Besides, we won't be able to move in for a while. The renovation will take months—plenty of time to chase away any ghosts."
Henry took a breath. He'd never have a better chance, and he wanted Eric to know before he started talking in his sleep. "Speaking of ghosts, I felt like I ran into one in New Gwandala."
Eric's expression immediately turned serious even though Henry had tried to keep his tone upbeat. "I'd wondered. You've had a distant look on your face a few times since returning."
"It wasn't about you, babe. Our contact—the Librarian-in-Residence—was the spitting image of my dad. He even had the same first name."
Eric stared at him, shocked. "What are you saying?" he demanded. "Could he actually be your dad?"
"I doubt it, but after finding out about Neal and aliens living among us, I suppose anything's possible. Lavinia warned us we could run into people who appeared to be doppelgangers of ourselves or our friends. It's an effect of cross-world contamination."
"What do you know about your father?"
"Next to nothing. All I have is a photo." Henry pulled out his wallet and retrieved a copy of it. "This was taken at a carnival booth in Providence. Mom was twenty. She met my dad at a bar and spent a weekend together. He never knew she became pregnant. The name he gave her was Robert Smith—most likely an alias. Seeing Robert in Gwandala makes me want to find my father and reconnect." Henry shrugged. "It may be near impossible but I'd like to try."
"I'll do whatever I can to help."
"I appreciate that. I hope I'm not opening a can of worms that I'll regret."
"You aren't. You know how important family is to me. Mom already considers you to be a member of ours, but you should have the chance to get acquainted with your dad. He'll be very proud to have you for a son."
Would he? Henry wished he could be confident, but Eric's support gave him welcome reassurance. "Is there any news on the revitalization project?"
"A representative of the biochemical firm that's interested in the sanitarium came back to view the property. I bet they'll purchase it. Sara told me she was interested in filming a student movie there. She may need to work fast."
"I've never seen the inside, but I've heard how creepy it is."
"I have a key to the place," Eric said. "I'm going to show her around on Sunday. Would you like to join us?"
"You realize Sunday is Halloween, don't you?"
Eric grinned at him. "We're going in the afternoon. The ghosts won't be out yet."
"I wonder if Neal knows about the visit."
"Why? Will he want to come along? He's welcome, of course."
"I'm sure he will but not for the reason you think."
Arkham. Sunday, October 31.
The abandoned sanitarium loomed large in front of Neal. This was a terrible idea on so many levels.
Even in the sunlight of midday, the gabled edifice reeked of lurking horrors. At least it did to him. Evidently not to his three companions.
Sara, Henry, and Eric were chatting happily about her student film project. She'd volunteered to mentor a film club on campus and was eager to experiment with the new camcorders on the market. They recorded up to two hours on a video cassette. The university had bought a couple for student use.
Henry and Eric were still riding the high of the brewpub's launch party. The place was packed. It was an auspicious start. Sara worked overtime with Milly to create wardrobes for the entire team. June and Cyrus wore speakeasy attire from the '20s. That decade was also favored by Peter and El who picked field expedition outfits such as Laban Shrewsbury might wear.
Mozzie and Lavinia's costumes were a sensation. Mozzie came as Doctor Who. Tom Baker had become the fourth incarnation in 1975. Mozzie wore a multicolored scarf, a large floppy hat, and a frock coat such as favored by the Doctor. Lavinia claimed she was dressed as a female Time Lord in a Victorian outfit.
This was Skylar's first party. Cyrus had prepared a nursery in his office for Peter and El's son where Lavinia's chittaks would watch over him. Lavinia promised El that if Skylar had any difficulty, the chittaks would immediately report to her. This wasn't the first time for them to play nanny. One or the other was a constant presence in the Gilman nursery. Neal half-expected that Skylar would wear a chittak outfit for the party, but instead he was clad in a dragon costume. Sara claimed the attire was Peter's idea. Neal was just grateful no one asked him to come as a dragon.
He wished he felt as optimistic about Sara's film project as he did about the brewpub's future. But Sara had the right attitude. Instead of viewing the sanitarium with dread, he should feel jubilant. They'd emerged victorious from their confrontation with the Starry Wisdom cult. And honestly, after looking into the orb of Yog-Sothoth, any other horror paled in comparison.
Eric looked up into the sky. "I'm trying to picture what a nightgaunt would look like soaring overhead."
"You're welcome to see my drawing of what it looked like," Neal offered.
Sara turned to Neal, with a mischievous half-smile on her face. "Hey, Neal ..."
"What ya thinking, Mockingbird?"
"It's Halloween. The trick-or-treaters won't arrive for hours. You know what we should do?"
"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."
"You should take the three of us on a tour of what happened that night you and Peter rescued me. Someday we may want to post commemorative plaques. After all, Boston has markers for Lovecraft."
Henry snorted. "That's in a different world."
"My point stands," she said, totally unfazed. "Eric, wouldn't you enjoy it?"
"Definitely. I never heard all the details."
Henry crossed his arms. "And as your head of security, I demand the uncensored version. You never know when we'll need to draw on that experience."
If they wanted to make a fun Halloween adventure out of what was one of the scariest episodes in his life, it was fine with him. "You see that warehouse across the street? The doorway is where Peter and I hid while waiting for the police to show up."
"Eric, is something wrong?" Henry asked in a low voice.
Surprised at how serious Henry sounded, Neal turned to see Eric staring at a guy crossing the street a half-block away.
"That man in the pea coat and jeans," he murmured, turning to them. "I'm getting a strong vibe of something different about him."
"Like he's otherworldly?" Sara asked excitedly.
"Maybe?" Eric winced. "It's just a feeling, but it's not the same impression I get from Neal or Lavinia."
"You three continue your tour," Henry ordered. "Head for the cemetery. I'll meet you there, but first I want to follow that guy and see what he's up to." He took off before they could protest.
Neal longed to accompany him, and he knew Sara felt the same way, but their tailing skills didn't begin to compare. For what Henry had in mind, they'd only sabotage his efforts.
"I probably shouldn't have said anything," Eric muttered. "I doubt there's anything strange about the guy."
Sara shook her head. "Your instincts have been right every time so far. You shouldn't doubt yourself." She arched an eyebrow at Neal.
Ouch. He deserved that. How many times had he tried to dismiss one of his visions as a daydream?
"But he wasn't that close," Eric protested. "I've never experienced anything from a distance."
"Your ability could have strengthened," Sara suggested. "Remember, the algolnium in your system is self-replicating."
Neal did his best to distract them from what Henry might discover by giving an exaggerated account of his and Peter's pursuit of the nightgaunt through the streets of Arkham. No one wanted to speculate about the significance of the man Eric had spotted. Nothing had been heard about Dark Riders or the Order of the Yellow Hand since the incidents in early September. Even though the contamination sources were removed, the order was likely still around. Since Eric had an earlier run-in with them, he could be more sensitive to them.
When Henry returned, he had unsettling news. "The guy circled to the back of the sanitarium, opened a door with a key, and went inside. Could he have a legit reason for doing so?"
Eric shook his head slowly. "I suppose he could have been called on by the owner to do repair work but in that case, he would have driven a van."
"And carried a toolkit," Sara said. "Eric, how carefully has the facility been inspected?"
"I only had a brief walkthrough with the owner when he gave me the key. A thorough inspection has been scheduled for next week. We could call the police but we're not certain the guy has done anything wrong."
"Let's try to find out," Henry said. "Eric has every right to be in the building. We'll go in through the front entrance. We were planning to check it out for a film project. We should continue with our plans."
Neal monitored his amulet as they stepped into the foyer of the derelict hospital. It remained cool and inert—an indication no ghasts were around. It had been a long time since he worried about ghasts being present in Arkham. Now that the permanent wormhole in the crypt was sealed, ghasts could only enter if someone opened a portal. In any case, Neal was positive that the man Eric spotted wasn't possessed by a ghast.
The grimy windows filtered out most of the light, but they all carried flashlights. The rooms looked as creepy as Neal remembered. Henry and Eric were in the lead since Eric was familiar with the layout.
Was the stranger a Fae or some other alien species? Maybe he was a ghost. Neal could take down ghasts, but against a ghost, no one had any special ability.
Henry paused, studying the jumble of tracks on the dusty floor. He pointed to one footprint. "This was made by a work boot like our suspect was wearing," he whispered.
The prints led to a metal door. Henry whipped out a small magnifying glass to study the lock, and then nodded to them, mouthing the words "fresh scratches." He retrieved a lock pick from his wallet and set to work.
When Henry opened the door, Sara launched into her pre-arranged script. They'd already decided that if they found a lair of some sort, they'd pretend to be discussing her movie project.
"This will be perfect for the scene with—Oh!" She gasped in feigned surprise at the sight of the man. He hurriedly swallowed something as they entered.
The room was bare except for a metal table and several folding chairs. An old trunk was along the wall. An open bag was on the table. Next to it was a jar of pills.
"What are you doing here?" Henry demanded. "This is private property."
The man looked at him, wild-eyed. His pupils were blown wide. "Stay away from me!" he screamed. "The lurker who sees all will protect me!" He made a frantic dash for the door but Henry tackled him before he could escape.
Neal went into the hallway to call Mozzie on his com-link, asking him to place a call to Diana. Their vagrant was clearly high on drugs. But why had Eric detected something otherworldly? And who was the lurker the man had babbled about?
The cardboard boxes contained books and newspapers. Most interesting to Neal was the bag of pills. Several containers were in the bag. How many others had taken the drug? The man was no help. He'd passed out shortly after being tackled.
They didn't have to wait long for the police to arrive. Diana brought along a couple of detectives.
"Thanks for arriving so quickly," Neal said.
Diana shrugged. "It's Halloween. Something told me you had more on tap than the party at the brewpub." She gazed around the room. "A haunted sanitarium is what I've come to expect."
"It wasn't haunted," Neal protested. Faced with her withering gaze, he added, "Not really."
The trespasser was carted off to the hospital. Sara alerted El about him, hoping she and Cyrus would be able to determine what was in the pills.
The man had a tattoo of the Yellow Hand on his wrist. When he revived, he claimed to belong to the order but didn't know much about them. He'd suffered a drug overdose. Detoxifying him took weeks, and his memory was shot. He didn't even remember his name.
The drug he'd taken was another mystery. The compound contained unknown molecules. Cyrus was convinced they were of alien origin which would explain Eric's reaction. Lavinia agreed and sent a sample to the Meropian home base for further analysis.
The man had spoken of the lurker. Was that a name for Yog-Sothoth or Nyarlathotep? For now, it would remain a mystery.
Notes: The mystery will remain just that for a while. In my next Arkham Files story, Neal receives a distress call from New York City. The story's title is Slimed. I'll post it next March. A spoiler-free introduction is in my blog post: "Arkham Files: Slimed."
As for "the lurker who sees all," his time will come in Apophis Rising, a story I hope to post later in the year.