“She learned,” he said. “She wanted more independence. You’re an independent woman yourself, so I’m sure you understand the appeal. Driving isn’t so difficult. She’s watched people do it for years, after all. You just have to pay the least little bit of attention. I’ll let her know you stopped by.”

  This was no good at all. “I’m sorry, Mr Berglund, but could I come inside, just for a moment, to… freshen up? It was a long walk, and…”

  He clearly wanted to say no, but he was ostensibly a gentleman, and bound by certain courtesies. “Wish you’d called first,” he grumbled. “I could have spared you the walk. Come in, come in, you know where the downstairs bath is. You used it last time you were here.”

  How had he recalled that? He’d barely grunted a greeting at her when she passed him on that visit, and he’d been reading a newspaper in the living room at the time. Unless… oh, no. Abel said the comets had extraordinary powers of memory. Berglund’s comment was hardly proof he was a comet, but it was troubling.

  “I’m ever so grateful,” Diana said. She wouldn’t have an opportunity to snoop much, but at least she could tell Sanford she’d tried, and that his suspicions were correct. Something was odd here. People as settled as the Berglunds didn’t change their habits, not at their age. She stepped inside and went toward the hallway, Berglund following rather too close behind her.

  Something thumped above them, and a groan drifted down the stairway. Diana frowned. “Is that – oh, but you said Mrs Berglund was out.”

  He scowled again. “Her sister is visiting. She’s not well. I’d better go up and check on her. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as he vanished up the stairs, Diana hurried to the living room, glanced around, saw nothing, and went to the kitchen. There was salt spilled on the dining room table and a handbag hanging on the back of a chair. The bag didn’t look like something Cornelia would carry; she was partial to immense purses, and this was smaller and more modern than her taste. Maybe it had been a gift from her husband. He hardly struck Diana as the attentive type. There was nothing else of interest–

  Except… were those drops of blood on the tile, by the door to the basement? Diana walked over, feeling half entranced. The door was secured by a sliding lock, and she eased it open, then put her hand on the knob. If Berglund caught her here… well, she could always claim she’d heard a noise. Even the finest houses on French Hill weren’t immune to rats in the walls, so it was plausible. She turned the knob and took a tentative step onto the wooden stairs. A bare bulb illuminated the cluttered space below, casting deep shadows.

  “Hello?”

  A wild-eyed woman in a frumpy dress appeared at the bottom of the stairs and rushed toward her. “Go, go,” she hissed. “We have to get out of here, they’re murderers, they took me prisoner, let’s go!”

  Diana could hardly do anything but comply, so she about-faced back into the kitchen as the woman barged by her. The stranger skirted around the draped table for some reason and snatched up the handbag from the back of the chair. “Come on, you’re in danger too, if you aren’t one of them.” She opened the back door and slipped out, and Diana followed, a little dazed by the suddenness of everything. The stranger – who was younger than she looked at first glance, judging by how nimbly she moved – flew across the backyard and scrambled over the board fence.

  Diana glanced back at the house, shook her head, and then hurried to the fence herself, getting a running start before leaping, her bag banging against her side. She hauled herself over the fence, not as smoothly as the stranger had, but creditably enough. She’d grown up on a farm, and though working at the shop was hardly physically strenuous, she was still in fine condition, a regular walker up and down the city’s hills, and a frequent swimmer at the Arkham Natatorium.

  The two of them were now in the backyard of a house facing a different street, and the woman – had she really been kidnapped? – was hurrying toward the side gate. Diana caught up with her. “Who are you?” she said.

  “Edna Glasby. Who are you? What were you doing in that house of horrors?” She opened the gate and walked out as if she had every right in the world to be there, glancing up and down the empty sidewalk, and then setting off toward the north.

  “I’m Diana, Diana Stanley, I run a shop. I was just making a delivery–”

  “Do you have a car nearby, shopkeeper? I need to get to the train station. Hmm, no, they might look for me there. It’s better if I drive out of town.”

  “No, I walked over. I don’t own a car.”

  The woman huffed. “I need to get off the street at least, lie low for a bit–”

  “You can come to my shop,” Diana said. The offer was instinctive – the urge to help out a fellow woman in need. But it was also a smart move. This woman was yet more evidence in support of Sanford’s theory that something strange was happening, and she might have information about what that something strange was. Though Diana had a sinking feeling it had something to do with Abel and his comets. “It’s closed on Sunday, and no one would look for anyone there.”

  The woman glanced at her. She really was quite young, maybe even younger than Diana herself. Why had she made herself up to look so frumpy? “I… that’s kind of you. You don’t even know me.”

  “Someone recently told me I’m an independent woman. If I don’t use that independence to help other women, what good is it?”

  The woman nodded, but didn’t smile. “Is your shop nearby?”

  “Just in the Merchants District.”

  “Then let’s go. But stick to the side streets, if you would?”

  •••

  They made it to the shop without incident. As they walked, Edna laughed and told frivolous stories and gave every impression of being out for a lighthearted stroll with a friend. When Diana remarked on this, Edna said, “If you’re on the run, you never want to look like you’re on the run.”

  “Are you an actress?” Diana asked.

  “My line of work often requires a certain amount of acting ability, yes,” Edna said. At Diana’s shocked look, she burst out laughing, and the genuine sound was much more pleasant. “Oh, no, I don’t mean – I’m not a lady of the evening. Though I do work a lot at night. I’m sorry, I’m just – I think I’m a little giddy. I didn’t think I’d make it out of that basement.”

  They approached the back door of the shop. “We should call the police,” Diana said, unlocking the door and letting them in. She’d considered making an anonymous call to the authorities to report Walter, the boy from the ritual, missing, but had decided they’d be unlikely to believe her outrageous story without proof. Surely the testimony of a kidnapping victim would spur them to action, though!

  “No police,” Edna said.

  “But–”

  “No police,” Edna said. “If you don’t agree to that, I can’t come in with you. I’ll just have to take my chances on my own.”

  “I will agree… if you explain,” Diana said. “If you tell me the truth.”

  Edna grunted. “Yes. All right. Fair. But I don’t think you’ll like the explanation. You seem like a fine upstanding citizen. Someone who doesn’t get down in the dirt too much.”

  “I may be more acquainted with the dirt than you imagine,” Diana said.

  They went into the shop, and Diana sat Edna down in the back room. “Let me just run upstairs for a moment to check on something,” she said. Before Edna could ask any questions, Diana hurried up and checked the bedroom and bathroom. Abel was gone, but he’d left a scrawled note on the countertop.

  Gone to check on some things. Back later. Thank you again.

  Well, at least she wouldn’t have to explain Edna to him, or him to Edna, right away. Explaining everything required a level of understanding she lacked anyway. “Come on up!” she called from the top of the stairs.

  Edna stepped into the apartment, looking around. “Nice place. All yours?”

  “My castle keep. Well, I don’t own it, but I got favorable terms from the landlord.” A fellow member of the Lodge, of course, who’d slashed her rent in half once she became a Seeker, because membership has its benefits. “Can I get you anything? Water, tea, coffee?”

  “Coffee. I need fuel if I’m going to explain things like you asked.”

  Diana filled the pot and lit the stove. “Can you start with… what did you mean when you called it a house of horrors?”

  Edna settled down on the stool Abel had used that morning and put her head in her hands. “I don’t even understand what I saw, Diana. Do you know them well, the Berglunds?”

  “Cornelia is a good customer.”

  “Not anymore. She’s dead. I saw her body in the basement, wrapped in a tarp, and it wasn’t natural causes.”

  Diana stared. “You don’t… do you mean to say Cornelius killed her?” He’d barely even paid attention to his wife, and it was hard to imagine him killing anyone.

  Edna sighed. “This is the part you won’t believe. Cornelius is dead too. I saw his body, right next to his wife’s. I don’t know who let you in, who trapped me in the basement, but it’s not Cornelius. The thing is, I saw two of him, and two of her, too, I thought they were twins, but… maybe triplets? Can they both be triplets?”

  “I think I would have heard. That’s the sort of thing people comment on.” Diana’s mind whirled. She’d seen Berglund, too, and had no doubt it was him, or someone who looked just like him. The conclusion was inescapable: Berglund was a comet. Cornelia too. It was the only thing that made sense, if you could call that “making sense”. “Edna… do you believe in magic?”

  “I used to say I just believed in people who believed in magic,” she said. “I thought they were deluded or gullible. But I’ve seen some things. I saw something impossible just today. If it’s a choice between believing in magic or disbelieving my own eyes, then I guess… sure. Magic. Do you? Believe, I mean?”

  “I don’t just believe. I know.” She poured a cup of coffee. “Do you take it black?”

  “As the woods at night,” Edna said. “You know, huh? You’re going to have to explain that.”

  “I will. But you said you’d tell me the truth, and I want to hear the rest. What were you doing in that house?”

  “I’m in the antiquities business,” she said. “Just like Berglund. He was supposed to buy something from me.” She opened up her purse and removed a red gem set in a dark metal setting, and placed it on the counter. “This. But when I got there, he locked me up.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Diana looked at her closely. “I don’t believe you. People are dead, and you aren’t being honest with me. I’m going to call the police–” It was a shot in the dark, and mostly a bluff, but it worked.

  Edna took her hand. “Wait. Stop. All right. Honesty is not… it’s not exactly a virtue in my line of work. I’m a thief, Diana. Berglund hired me to steal that ruby. That’s why I don’t want to get the law involved. There are too many scenarios where I end up behind bars. Anyway, the whole job, the ruby heist, it was all a setup. A trap. Berglund, the job, it was all just bait to lure me back to Arkham. Have you heard of the Silver Twilight Lodge?”

  Everything was coming back to the Order. Sanford’s tendrils were everywhere. How could she stop him, when she could barely comprehend the scope of his machinations? It was like trying to tear down a mountain with her bare hands. But she had to try. If she could stop Sanford, maybe it would finally banish the nightmares… “It’s hard to live in Arkham without knowing about them.” Now she was being dishonest. Diana would come clean later – she didn’t want to distract Edna by explaining her own complicated relationship with the Lodge yet.

  “Yeah, well, you probably think it’s a social club. It’s not. The Silver Twilight Lodge is neck-deep in the occult. And I… I stole something from them, a while back. The guy who runs the place, Carl Sanford, he wasn’t too happy about that, and he’s been after me ever since. Turns out he hired Cornelius to track me down and hire me, all so he could trap me.”

  “Your name isn’t Edna Glasby,” Diana said. She knew who this woman was. Sanford had talked about her. It was one of the only times she’d ever seen him lose a fraction of his cool. Diana wasn’t high enough in the Lodge to know what Ruby had stolen, but she knew Sanford wanted her punished even more than he wanted his property back.

  The woman sighed. “I was getting to that, yeah. You saved my life, so you deserve to know my name, anyway. I’m Ruby. Ruby Standish.” She smirked. “Stanley and Standish. We oughta start a law firm.”

  “Ruby…” She let out a slow breath. “I’m surprised you trust me enough to tell me all this.”

  “Like I said, you saved my life, and that earns you some consideration. Besides, I’m about to skip town, and once I do that, I’m never coming back here. I might even leave New England entirely.”

  Diana didn’t want her to leave. Ruby knew things. She’d gotten one over on Sanford once. She could be a resource… perhaps, even, an ally. “Ruby, I’m about to tell you something that will make you want to run away. But please don’t. I’m on your side. It will just take me a moment to explain how and why.”

  Ruby stiffened. “I can’t say I like those terms, but I’ll try to abide by them.”

  “I am a member of the Silver Twilight Lodge – no, please, wait!”

  Ruby had leapt up from the stool the moment the words were out of Diana’s mouth, but she hesitated. “Hand me a big knife, and I’ll listen for another minute.”

  Diana nodded, drew her butcher knife from the block by the stove, and slid it across the counter, hilt first. Ruby snatched it up and backed away toward the stairs. “OK. Talk.”

  “I did think it was a community organization.” Diana backed up too, leaning against the sink, to give Ruby space. She hoped the woman wouldn’t flee. “That’s why I joined – to make connections in the business community, and among the city’s elite. My membership was just about building my business and putting down roots in Arkham. I’ve only been here two years, and it can be hard for outsiders to gain a foothold. But then I started getting invited to help with certain rites and rituals, and recently I saw Sanford… summon something, a shapeless monstrosity covered in mouths, and he killed people to get it. I realized the Lodge is monstrous. Sanford is monstrous. I am trying to gather evidence to get him locked up, to stop the Lodge from doing such horrible things.”

  “A redeemed cultist, huh?” Ruby considered. “You’re a member of the Lodge… but you didn’t lock me up in a basement and threaten me with my own gun. I guess I’ve jumped from the fire back into the frying pan. It’s not good, but it’s an improvement. So. That’s all our cards out. Where do we go from here?”

  “I have a few more cards,” Diana said. She was pleased that Ruby hadn’t fled. For all her professed desire to flee, surely she’d want to understand what was happening here? Ruby was a curious and quick-witted person, and if Diana could pique her interest… “I think I understand what happened with the Berglunds. I met a man last night…”

  She told Ruby about Abel Davenport and Asterias and the cult, which seemed a lot more believable now that they’d both encountered unnatural doubles with strangely perfect memories.

  Ruby sat back down, and put the knife down, too. “That’s… Diana. They were going to do that to me. Cut off my finger and throw it in a tub full of salt water and make a copy of me, so they could interrogate me – her, it – and find out where their little piece of a dead god is. I thought I was in bad trouble. I thought I might die. I didn’t realize there was a worse option than dying.”

  “Do you know where the fragment of their god is?” Diana asked.

  Ruby shrugged. “I mean… I might. I guess. I think so. I saw something, anyway, in a jar, with little eyes all over it. It sure didn’t seem godlike, and I don’t think Carl Sanford knows what it is, because it wasn’t even locked up tight. He just kept it on a shelf with a bunch of other junk. I get the sense he sweeps up whatever occult items he can find, whenever he can find them, you know? He probably has people scoping out estate sales and combing through antique shops all the time.”

  “How did you reach the vault?” Diana asked. “The Lodge is hard to navigate on the lower levels. Did someone give you a map?” They could certainly use a map.

  Ruby shook her head. “The lady who hired me had this doodad that was ‘attuned’ to the relic she wanted me to steal. I guess they were connected, once upon a time, part of a whole. She rigged up a sort of compass, and that led me to my target. I don’t have the compass anymore, she took it back, but…” Ruby sighed. “I could still find my way down there again. I have a good memory for stuff like that.”

  So. Ruby was the map. Maybe Diana could actually do this; help Abel, stymie Sanford, and strike a blow against the Lodge all at once. She said, “Ruby, will you stay and talk to Abel?”

  “I need to get out of town. Even if Berglund isn’t reporting to Sanford anymore, these – what did you call them, comets? They’ll be looking for me. They think I can help them bring their god back to life.”

  “I don’t think leaving town will help,” Diana said. “From what Abel told me, these comets are zealots, and… well. There are probably a lot of them. If Sanford is right, the comets are replacing all sorts of prominent people in Arkham, and they even make copies of their copies. Their supply of manpower is basically infinite, as long as they can find a body part and some brine to grow more soldiers. Do you want to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life? Wondering if even your closest friends and confidants are really who you think they are?”

  “That doesn’t sound like much fun,” Ruby said. “But if this cult is infiltrating the Lodge, maybe they’ll find someone else who knows where the little bit of broken god is, and then they won’t need me anymore.”

  “I don’t think there are many people who’ve been to the vault you broke into,” Diana said. “Only the highest-ranking members of the Order, and those people would be hard to compromise. They’re paranoid, and they have defenses. But even if you’re right, and the cult does succeed without you…” She trailed off.