Music blared from the rig of a DJ in one corner, rotating lights with blue and green filters turned, casting flickering underwater shades across the walls and ceiling. Food and drinks were laid out on tables. Howard ignored it all, keen to be on his own. Darya came to him, her hips swaying like a soft tide, eyes hooded. He saw her now as cold and dangerous, the image of Dean with another woman disturbingly similar to Darya leapt through his mind and made his stomach churn.
She held out a drink, began to say something. Howard pushed the drink aside, shook his head. “Not tonight! No more, okay?”
Her face flashed fury and for a startling moment sharp teeth bristled behind her full lips, three slits either side of her throat gaped angrily, then flattened shut again. Howard’s mouth fell open, fear trickled through his limbs. Darya’s expression softened as she glanced past Howard’s shoulder. He turned to see what she was looking at and saw Geoff Day gesture to the woman, his fingers mimicking the silent sermons he had witnessed in his dreams. Enough. Howard’s eyes widened and he turned back to see Darya’s reaction, but she had already turned away, offering his drink to another employee. Gary Clarke, he realised absently, who he had spoken to over breakfast.
Howard looked back to Geoff Day, but the boss was already deep in conversation with others, his face wide with laughter.
Howard hurried to this room. He locked the door and sighed with relief. All he wanted was to hold Skye. And he wanted to show her the wonders of the world he had discovered under reality. The peculiarity of people notwithstanding, that place called to him, cajoled him to fly in its endless depths, and he had to take Skye there. He would show her adventure. He could ignore the dark city. These people be damned, he and Skye had journeys to enjoy.
He watched the hours crawl by until he was sure Skye would be in bed, then fell into his cold, damp sheets and closed his eyes. He relaxed and breathed deeply, thinking only of sleep and the deeps of the ocean below the world. He smiled as he gently walked the streets of the serpentine city, supported by the salt waters of infinity. But not to be tempted, he kicked away and swam up, distancing himself from the temple, thinking only of Skye.
He saw the floral designs of the bed linen in the shadows beneath him and swam down to her. His held breath began to burn his lungs, but he knew he had held it for impossibly long periods before this dream, on previous nights. He could hold it longer still. Long enough to show her wonders.
He put a hand on Skye’s shoulder and she startled awake, looked around herself with wide eyes. Then she looked up at Howard, her expression both impressed and full of disbelief. He nodded, pointed at the pillow below her, his shirt. You’re dreaming, he said with complicated patterns of his fingers that suddenly came as naturally as blinking. We’re dreaming together in the oceans of infinity.
He pushed aside his guilt at thoughts of what he had done with Darya, took Skye’s hand. She let herself be lifted and they swam together. Unsure where to go, they drifted, and then there was the city below them. He was shocked to see the entire congregation in the streets outside the temple, looking up with wide, sad faces. The tall priests stalked among them, more than a dozen of them, then as one they turned their thin faces upwards too. Their wrongly jointed arms raised and together they spoke in sign, telling Howard and Skye to breathe, to let infinity in and feel the sacred blessing of the eternal Dagon.
Of course.
Howard laughed, knew that any resistance was pointless. The ocean was already in him, had been since his lips had first touched Darya’s. This was inevitable. He turned Skye to him and her face was twisted in terror, eyes wide. She shook her head side to side, hair floating behind like a halo in the currents. She opened her mouth to scream, tried to pull away from him, but he held her tight, his hands around her upper arms. He opened his mouth and drew in a great breath of salty ice water and nodded at her to do the same. As her scream came to an end she had no choice but to do so and he refused to let her go. This was them together at last. Always together.
Geoff Day, CEO of Day & Gohn Inc., stood with Cecil Maron, the Innsmouth Chief of Police, Geoff’s cousin on his mother’s side. Beside them stood Stanley Maron, Cecil’s brother, the town’s forensic examiner. They surrounded Howard Bloch’s hotel bed, where Howard lay cold and wet. His blackened eyes stared unseeing at the mould-stained ceiling.
“You’ve filled in the paperwork?” Geoff Day asked his cousins.
Cecil nodded. “Drowned in the harbour. Hell of a thing.”
Stanley signed off the sheets of paper on the battered clipboard, returned it to his cousin.
“The next of kin?” Day asked.
Cecil laughed, a clotted, wet sound. “Wife. Spoke to the local PD this morning. Says it’s the damndest thing, they found her dead in her bed at home. All signs point to drowning.”
Day joined in the laughter as they left the room, allowing hotel staff in to tidy up. “Dagon’s eyes see you,” Day said to his cousins as they parted in the hotel lobby.
“And find you pious,” they both replied in unison as they stepped out into the rain.
The House on Jimtown Road
Ran Cartwright
Two days and it would be Hallowe’en.
Falcon Point was in full spook mode as if the area wasn’t already spooky enough. You’d think so with the tales of spooks, ghosts, shadows, rumors of things in the bay, the ruins of the old Enoch Conger place out on the Point (who the Hell knows what happened to old Enoch; a lot of silly tales were spread back in the day, but were largely discounted long ago). And, of course, across the bay to the north was that fish bait slime pit, Innsmouth. That place alone is enough to spook your drawers down around your ankles.
But the tikes and teens just love their Hallowe’en.
So, parents were running off to Kingsport with their happy laughing wild-eyed youngin’s buying Hallowe’en decorations, costumes off the shelf, pumpkins to carve into Jack o’Lanterns, and bags and bags of candy to satisfy those wild-eyed youngin’s that would be showing up on their doorsteps.
Jack o’Lanterns decorated porches and sidewalks. Fake cobwebs were strung across doorframes, windows, and front yard shrubs. Fake tombstones decorated yards, and dancing skeletons, witches with glowing eyes, zombies, and bed sheet ghosts were popping up everywhere. And there was the Jaycee’s haunted house, decorated to thrill the older thrill seekers.
Yeah, Hallowe’en was just two days away.
And there were those late teens, early twenties folk looking for a good time, parties, pranks, and tricks.
Like Martin Gilford.
Martin was always looking for a good time, a prank, a trick, a laugh. Mostly at someone else’s expense. Hallowe’en provided the perfect excuse. Yeah, at someone else’s expense.
“I’ve got an idea,” Martin said with a grin, leaning over the table in Falcon Point’s Dockside Diner.
It was nigh on evening and the diner was mostly empty; most of those who frequented the joint had gone home to prep for the coming spooks and festivities.
“You always have some fool stunt of an idea,” Billy Finley said from across the table, a blank expression on his face. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
The guys were sitting with their girls in that diner booth, Martin with that young hot blonde, Julie Harper, and Billy with that young hot brunette, Donna Wilson.
Martin’s eyes danced from Julie to Donna then back to Billy. His smile widened to a full on mischievous grin. “TP and paraffin,” he said.
Billy sat back in the booth with a sigh. “Who’s place?” he said.
“The MaGee place over on Jimtown Road.”
The girls suddenly glanced at Martin as though they had seen a certified genuine Hallowe’en spook while Billy sat bolt upright and glared across the table at Martin.
“Are you nuts?” Billy said.
“Why not?” Martin said.
Billy was indignant. “Well, first of all, they call that old dude The Shark and for good reason…”
“Yeah yeah, I know, they say the old dude eats people,” Martin interrupted with a nod and a chuckle. “You believe that bull?”
Julie giggled. Apparently she didn’t believe the stories about The Shark.
Billy ignored Martin’s question. “Second of all, he’s one of them.”
“One of who?” Martin said.
“One of the Marsh clan,” Billy said. “That old dude’s uncle, James Marsh, founded Jimtown and his grandpap was Ezra Marsh, Obed’s brother. That old dude is named after his grandpap.”
“I don’t need a history lesson,” Martin smirked. “Besides, Jimtown is long gone and the old MaGee place stands alone out there with no neighbors for miles. Nobody is going to see us if we…”
“Nobody except that old MaGee dude and those two things that live with him,” Billy interrupted. He sat back, tapping the fingers of one hand on the table top. “I ain’t going and neither is Donna.”
Martin sat back and sighed his disappointment. “Okay, Julie and I will go alone,” he finally said, squeezing Julie’s hand under the table. “Tomorrow we’ll hook up and check out the Jaycee’s haunted house over on First Street.”
Donna and Billy remained silent, scowling, Billy still tapping his fingers on the table top as Martin and Julie slipped out of the booth. They walked away without another word.
“Billy…?” Donna said, looking up at her man after their friends had gone. There was concern in her voice.
Billy Finley just shook his head and stared at the table top. His thoughts were dark, ominous. The MaGee place. Nothing good could come of that.
“Foolish stunt,” Billy suddenly muttered the thought.