The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (50 page)

“Before we head back to the Aerie, I want to make a phone call.” The Peregrine pulled out his radio communicator, a portable device of his own invention that allowed him to speak to his allies across great distances. It functioned like a traditional telephone in many ways, but with the added ease of mobility and enhanced clarity. “If you don’t mind handling the authorities…?”

Stone nodded, moving outside where he could greet the police as they arrived. The Peregrine dialed in a number and waited for the man on the other end to pick up. “Ascott Keane?” he asked. “I need some information.”

CHAPTER VI

The Unknown Island

The rain fell in sheets, reminding Nathaniel Caine of the night when he’d inspected Hazzard’s body. Only here, instead of being safely hidden within the cold confines of a city morgue, Nathaniel was trudging through a muddy path on Unknown Island.

Rachel was at his side, grateful for the small protective spell her husband had cast over each of them. The rain struck against an invisible shield just inches over her head and shoulders, rolling off the mystic “umbrella” and leaving her dry, but not particularly warm.

The married heroes had arrived courtesy of a Catalyst-generated spell, standing on the shores and looking out over choppy seas. The wind was howling when they had first arrived, but had slackened since, leaving the rain to fall in a steady downward arc.

“So what are we looking for?” Rachel asked, straining her mental abilities in an attempt to locate any other living entities on the island.

“There’s a powerful mystic artifact at the heart of this island,” Nathaniel said. “I’m not sure exactly what it is, but I can sense it up ahead… if we can grab the bloody thing before the villains do, we might be able to disrupt their scheme.”

“You know more about this than you’ve let on, don’t you?”

“Did you see that in my head? Or is just a woman’s intuition?”

Rachel nearly slipped on a patch of wet grass but Nathaniel caught her by the elbow and saved her from an embarrassing spill. “The latter.”

“I’ve had some visions, and I know there’s a prophecy involved. A snippet of it has come to me:
That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange eons even death may die
.”

“What does that mean?”

“Those were words written by a mad monk named Abd al-Azrad. He worked on a dark book called the
Necronomicon
. His name actually translates to The Worshipper of the Great Devourer.”

“Now who would name their child something like
that
?” Rachel asked, half-joking.

“People who are pawns in a great game between chaos and order. I believe the men behind all of this are trying to raise the sunken city of R’lyeh. The Great Old Ones slumber there in stone houses, waiting for the stars to align so that they can reawaken.”

Rachel’s curiosity was beginning to overwhelm her now, so she peeked into her husband’s mind and plucked out what he knew of the Great Old Ones directly from there. What she saw chilled her far worse than the cold rain could ever do.

The Great Old Ones, she saw, were ancient extraterrestrial beings of immense power, and most were also colossal in size. They were worshipped by deranged human cults, as well as by many non-human races who were thought to exist only in myth or human nightmares. The Great Old Ones were at some point imprisoned—a few beneath the sea, some inside the Earth, and still others in distant planetary systems and beyond. The reason for their captivity has never been known, though two prevailing theories eventually won out as the most likely:

1.They were sequestered by the even more powerful Outer Gods for using black magic against them, or

2.They were sealed off somehow from the rest of the Universe of their own volition.

According to the first theory, the Great Old Ones were once related to the Elder Gods. When they committed some unknown blasphemy, they were cast out and imprisoned in various places in the Universe. The Great Old Ones impatiently await the time of their release, eager to seek retribution against their jailers.

The second theory holds that the Great Old Ones are intentionally dormant. To account for this, it is possible that the Universe experiences cosmic cycles, similar to the natural seasons which occur on Earth. Just as some animals hibernate during the winter, so too must the Great Old Ones rest in a death-like sleep during the present cosmic cycle. If this is so, the Great Old Ones are currently trapped by powerful cosmic forces and must remain so until such time as the planets are in a certain alignment.., or “the stars are right”—the event upon which they may be released and can revel once more across the cosmos.

“Make more sense now?” Catalyst asked, looking at his wife with some amusement. He hadn’t felt her mental probe, but the look on her pale face had clued him in to what she must have done.

“It’s scary as hell, is what it is.” Rachel looked up at her husband and her face was full of concern. “How do you sleep at night, knowing these things?”

“Not well,” he admitted. “It’s strange… a lot of things I have to read up on. I mean, I’m supposed to be the High Mage of my generation, so I figure I should be an informed bloke, but some of this stuff just comes to me. And those things are usually the worst.”

Rachel stopped moving and embraced him, using her telepathy to tell him just how much she loved him. He kissed the top of her head and felt her suddenly stiffen. “What’s wrong?” He pulled away and saw her staring at something through a clearing in the underbrush.

The strange cyclopean ruins that planes had seen from overhead were just over the next ridge, and strange lights were now dancing all around them. Amongst the flashes, Catalyst could see figures moving amongst the ruins.

“They just… appeared,” Esper was saying. “One second, nothing… the next, I sensed them.”

“Maybe they teleported in, like we did.”

“No,” Rachel said, shaking her head firmly. “It’s more like… they woke up. Or were turned on, like a machine.”

“We’d better get down there,” Catalyst said. He took his wife by the hand and started to lift them both into the air, but she yanked her hand free at the last minute.

“You can fly in directly,” she said. “I’m going to move around from behind.”

Nathaniel nodded, blowing her a kiss before taking off in flight.

Rachel waited until he was out of sight before turning around to face an old man dressed in a finely-tailored suit, his weight resting heavily on a walking cane as he moved into view. “He can’t see us now,” she said.

“You’re making the right decision,” Moriarty declared, his eyes fixed on hers.

Rachel said nothing, though her heart hammered away in her chest.

* * *

Catalyst soared over the ruins, his eyes fixed on the bizarre scene below him. The creatures—he didn’t think of them as people now that he was close enough to get a good look at them—were tall things, with chocolate brown hairless bodies. Where their heads should have been was a small depression, from which came two glowing lights—floating “eyes,” as it were. The creatures were digging in the soft muddy earth, retrieving small egg-shaped things that were a light yellow in color. They would then ascend the ruins, placing the eggs in a teetering pile at the very top. Nathaniel saw that something—something so dark and feral that it hurt to even look at it—was crouched over the eggs.

The dark thing had bat-like wings folded against its back and looked like something out of “Night on Bald Mountain,” a segment in Disney’s
Fantasia
film. Nathaniel had seen the animated masterpiece only once since its release in 1940, but the scenes with the demon Chernabog had always stuck with him.

The demon looked up at him as he soared past, and to Nathaniel’s surprise, it spoke. With each word, brimstone-scented clouds of smoke tumbled from beneath its teeth. “The High Mage… Thy appearance has honored me. I had not planned to visit with thee until later.”

Catalyst descended, landing just a few feet from the demon, which he continued to refer to as Chernabog in his mind. He gestured towards the creatures who were continuing to stack the eggs all around them. “What’s going on here?”

“The stars are aligning, O great Mage,” the demon continued, somehow managing to sound both ingratiating and patronizing at the same time. Nathaniel got the feeling that the demon considered him too powerful to destroy, but too contemptible to be worthy of respect. “My island home rose from beneath the waves and now my servants are gathering my children… and soon one of them shall be taken by a servant of darkness and used to revive the Great Old Ones.”

Nathaniel realized that this Unknown Island was a small outpost of R’lyeh, home to a lesser follower of the Great Old Ones. How many more of these things were out there, waiting to be revived along with their dark lords?

“I can’t let that happen,” Catalyst whispered. He looked into the dark eyes of the demon. “I really am sorry for this.”

Before the demon could try and stop him, Catalyst unleashed a spell he had stored up for the occasion. A brilliant wave of fiery energy shot forth from his body, engulfing not only Chernabog but also its horrid children. The tiny babies began to cook within their shells, their screams echoing throughout the rainy night. The demon howled, seemingly taking damage from the wounding of its children. It fell backwards, toppling off the top of the ruins. It landed with a thump in the mud, its body continuing to burn. The servants of Chernabog fell where they stood, their bodies breaking down into mud and silt.

Catalyst continued to burn through the entire area, not stopping until all the eggs were destroyed. Nathaniel was standing just outside the flames, listening to the dying screams of the monstrous babies, when Rachel stepped up beside him.

“I was wondering where you were,” he said.

“I was around back, like I said I was going to be. That demon seems to have really died. He’s just dust now and a few scattered bones. I’m shocked you were able to kill him so easily.”

“He wasn’t at full strength yet.” Catalyst offered her a wan smile. “At least we made sure no one’s getting away with one of those eggs. Even if the others fail in their missions, we’ve made sure that no one can raise R’lyeh.”

Rachel said nothing, but her face was a mask of pure guilt.

* * *

Professor Moriarty stepped onto the small motorboat and sat down carefully, his attendants making sure that he was comfortable before they started up the engine. The aged Napoleon of Crime glanced back at the island, knowing that Catalyst and Esper were probably already gone by now. He could only hope that the girl’s conscience didn’t compel her to tell the truth to her husband…

Glancing down into his lap, Moriarty studied the one surviving demon’s egg. Esper had stolen it for him, handing it over before rejoining her husband at the foot of the ruins. His experience with various mystical arts had allowed him to sense her mental investigation upon her arrival, and he’d quickly opened his mind to her, letting her see everything about him and about his plans still to come.

Thankfully, she’d immediately seen fit to throw in her lot with him. “Good girl,” he murmured under his breath. “What a smart little creature you are.”

CHAPTER VII

A Visitor to Innsmouth

From the Journals of Vincent Frankenstein:

It was a dense little town, wide at the edges, but with a frightening lack of visible life. From the rooftop chimneys came very little smoke, and three tall steeples loomed stark and unpainted on the horizon. One was in obvious disrepair, with the top looking fit to crumble down to the earth. Another’s clock-dials were missing, leaving gaping holes in their wake.

As I approached the town square, I could see that many of the roofs had completely caved in, giving an impression of wormy decay over the living spaces. There were a number of square Georgian houses, with widow’s walks, cupolas, and hipped rooftops. These were mostly set back from the waterfront, and several appeared to be in acceptable living condition.

The sense of decay grew much worse as I neared the waterfront, though a small brick structure appeared remarkably intact along the docks.

There would be no ships coming in to this harbor, however, for it was clogged with sand and enclosed by a stone breakwater.

Far out to sea, I spied a black line rising above the water. It was silhouetted against the sky but carried with it a sense of malignancy. The Devil’s Reef was what it was called on the maps of the place, and I knew that it was aptly named.

In the 1840s, the town had experienced a surge in prosperity, with much of the success being attributed to a man named Obed Marsh. Marsh was the founder and leader of a religious sect called The Esoteric Order of Dagon. The group’s actions were mostly carried out in the dead of night, but rumors of odd goings-on eventually spread to neighboring towns like Ipswich. When authorities came to Innsmouth and uncovered a surprisingly high number of missing individuals, Marsh and his followers were taken into custody. Shortly thereafter, rumors of monsters rising up from the sea and attacking the townspeople began to circulate. Those attacks soon ended, though rumors that the cult had been re-established kept most strangers from entering the town.

According to my own research, another set of unusual occurrences took place back in 1927, but most of them were classified by higher-ups, and I was unable to find out the full extent of what happened. But the aftermath was obvious enough: only a handful of people remained in what was once a booming sea town.

As I looked around Innsmouth, I could feel that I was being watched, though all the windows remained drawn and no one besides me walked the streets.

In the end, I knew that I would have to make contact with the townspeople. I drew up the hood I wore, hoping it would conceal my odd appearance. I was about to approach one of the shuttered houses and give its door a hearty knock when I heard movement from behind me. Turning, I beheld the most unusual sight…

* * *

The little girl was wearing a red dress with white ruffles. She looked to be no older than six or seven, and her arms were wrapped tightly around a ratty-looking teddy bear. She had blonde hair that was pulled up tightly into pigtails.