Van Shaw said, “I can send the girl, or–”

  “No,” Sanford said. Van Shaw almost never left the Lodge, and that meant the odds of her being compromised and replaced with a duplicate were low. “You, personally, and come right away.”

  “Right away, master.”

  Sanford hung up. His mind wanted to plan, to strategize, and to plot his next moves, but he simply didn’t know enough.

  He would soon. Acquiring knowledge was what he did.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Reunions

  Abel hid behind shrubs across the street and watched in secret as the Van Shaw woman hurried down the Lodge’s path, through the gate, down the block, and out of sight. He’d led her on a merry chase nearly all the way around the perimeter of the fence earlier, shouting obscenities and taunting the dogs, but eventually she’d started hurling rocks at him with terrifying precision, and he’d been forced to retreat. After that she’d gone back inside and… well, something had gone wrong; that much was obvious. Even from all the way on the other side of the gate, Abel had seen the anguish on Ruby’s face as she realized she couldn’t get past those huge mastiffs. Abel hadn’t been able to come up with any way to help. Diana was still in the Lodge, too, at least. Would she be able to help Ruby? Or did she need help herself?

  He crouched in the bushes across the street in an agony of indecision. Whatever he was going to do, he should do it dressed in something other than rags. He had better clothes stashed in a pillowcase in the same bushes, and he switched out his shirt and pants. Then he shoved the big, battered hat he’d used to hide his face down in the pillowcase with his dirty clothes. He rose, checked to see if he was unobserved, brushed off the stray leaves, and walked toward the Lodge again. He pretended to saunter past, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything useful. But the old house just offered him a view of blank windows and solid doors–

  A tingle troubled his mind, and he whipped his head around, looking north. The comets were moving. They were moving this way. Lots of them… and those were just the ones he could sense – the comets made from Cain. There could be others with them, too. Were they coming here? Had they finally gathered sufficient forces, or turned enough powerful Lodge members, to risk trying to breach the house directly?

  The reason for their approach didn’t matter. They were on the move, and that meant Abel needed to move. He took a deep breath and pushed open the gate. The Van Shaw woman was gone, and he understood from Diana that she was the chief guardian of this place, the “warden”, making sure that no outsiders could enter. There were still the dogs to worry about, but surely they didn’t savage everyone who walked down this path – people must knock on the door occasionally. But what if the dogs had his scent, and recognized him as a target from before?

  He had to try. Abel stepped through the gate… and no dogs emerged from the long grass. That was good. He wasn’t likely to do well in a fight against those beasts. Maybe they were off somewhere sleeping, or taking advantage of their mistress’s absence to gnaw bones and rest. He moved slowly at first, in case the dogs were just lying in wait, then hurried up the walk and tried the front door. Locked. He didn’t have any of Ruby’s skill at housebreaking, so he did the only thing he could think of: he lifted the heavy brass knocker and pounded on the door.

  When it opened, Abel wore his most impatient scowl, copied from the faces of any number of bankers and port authorities he’d encountered over the years. “I come with an urgent message for the master,” he said into the startled face of the young blonde woman who answered. “Stand aside.”

  “I, ah, that is…”

  “You would keep me waiting? A Guardian of the Black Stone?” Abel put all the offended hauteur he could manage into his voice.

  Her eyes popped, and she squeaked, “I didn’t, I, are you really?”

  Abel made a complicated series of passes with his hands, all crooked fingers and hooked thumbs, and then raised an eyebrow at her. He huffed at her blank stare. “You’re not even a Seeker yet, are you?”

  “I am an Initiate, sir.”

  “Then move aside for your betters.” Without waiting to see if she’d obey, he stepped forward. If she was the suspicious sort, he was in trouble, because his bluff didn’t have anything behind it, but the Lodge had impressed the importance of hierarchy upon her, and she stepped aside. He strode across the foyer like he’d been there a thousand times before, the blonde following at his heels.

  “The master and the warden are both out, but you can wait here–”

  He stopped so short she bumped into his back, then spun on his heel, looking down on her with every inch of his height advantage. “You are telling me where I may go?” He felt bad for bullying the young woman – she probably didn’t even realize what a den of vileness this place was, if she was a mere Initiate – and was a bit dismayed that doing so came this easily. This felt more like something Cain would do.

  Cain did come from you, a treacherous voice whispered in his mind.

  She found a little steel and glared up at him. “I keep the master’s appointments. And you are not in his book.”

  Abel smiled. “Your loyalty speaks well of you, Initiate. Fine. When the master returns, tell him Brother” – he thought quickly, but his brain would only supply one alias – “Chesterfield is waiting beyond the Threshold of Salt. I have business downstairs anyway.”

  Her eyes widened, and he saw the wheels turning in her mind. If he knew about the Threshold of Salt, and knew how to find it, something even she didn’t know as a lowly Initiate, then he obviously belonged here. Abel was grateful that Diana had offered up so many details about this place. Even so, he wouldn’t have gotten past the front gate if the warden hadn’t left. Come to think of it, why had she left?

  Well, no matter. The comets were nearly at the bridge now – they seemed to be coming on foot, rather than by car, moving in ones and twos and spread out, but Arkham wasn’t that big, and they’d reach the Lodge before long. Abel resumed walking, through the door and into some sort of conference room, trying to remember the map Diana and Ruby had drawn together when they planned their heist. “Tell me, Initiate, have you seen Sister Stanley? She assisted me in an… errand… recently, and I wanted to give her some advice about how to better acquit herself in the future.”

  “I didn’t know Sister Stanley ever made mistakes,” she muttered, and then, in a rather sunnier voice: “She came in earlier, but I’m afraid I’m not sure where she is now. If I see her I’ll be sure to let her know you asked after her.”

  “Oh, no need. I find that criticism works best when it comes without warning.” He patted the Initiate on the shoulder and said, “I’ll let you get back to your work now.”

  She took the hint and sat down in a chair by a pile of papers on the conference table, and Abel strode across the room like he knew exactly where he was going.

  Once he’d gotten deeper into the house, he leaned against a baby grand piano, closed his eyes, and exhaled. There was a bar cart against one wall, crystal decanters glimmering with dark brown and deep red liquid oblivion, and he was tempted… but no. Maybe he’d have a drink after this was all done. For now, he needed his wits and speed. His priorities were to find Ruby and Diana and get them out of here before the warden returned, or Sanford himself did, or the approaching comets arrived.

  But there was something else tickling at the edge of his consciousness, like a feather brushing his cheek, but in his mind. It was a different mental sensation than the sense he had of his comets – they felt more like pieces of him, moving off on their own. He’d heard men maimed in war talk about the feeling that their missing arms or legs were still there – some even said they could close their phantom fists and wiggle their phantom toes. The comets felt a bit like that, he imagined – they were his lost fingers, still tingling, still connected.

  This new sensation was something else. It felt more like something looming, but not above him; like something looming from below, if that made sense. As if he were looking down, only to discover he was suspended over an abyss… or an open mouth, big enough to swallow him.

  “Asterias,” he murmured. What else could it be? The piece of his god was here, nearby, and he could sense it. If he closed his eyes and concentrated… yes, he could sense a direction. The piece of Asterias was off to his right, under his feet. What did it mean, that he could still sense the Ravening Deep, even without the amulet around his neck? Was he forever polluted and corrupted by their prior association? Abel was the chosen one – did that mean he was chosen forever, whether he liked it or not? Maybe that’s why Cain wanted to feed Abel to their god. As long as Abel lived, he was the true high priest of Asterias, apostate or not.

  Abel shook off those brooding thoughts and focused on the matter at hand. He had to help his friends and destroy Asterias – the god’s true death would free him at last. If he had a pickaxe and infinite strength, he could hack his way straight down through the floor, following his senses to the god, but in the absence of those advantages, he’d have to find a more mundane way down. Abel envisioned the map Ruby and Diana had drawn together, and proceeded carefully through rooms and corridors. Once he found the old servant’s quarters, the path was easier, and his fear of discovery began to diminish. When he reached the pantry, the shelf was already lifted, the secret door already open, and the lights beyond the Threshold of Salt lit.

  Abel stepped over the threshold, hesitant, wishing he’d held onto his gun instead of giving it to Diana. Who knew what horrors lurked around the next corner?

  The only thing lurking around the next corner turned out to be Diana herself, crouching before a closed door, shoving something under the crack and whispering, “I’m sorry, it’s all I have, and you’re lucky I have that! I don’t usually even carry bobby pins – I hardly ever use them.”

  “Hello, Diana,” Abel said, and she looked up at him, wide-eyed. He could sense that his god was in her bag, hanging off her shoulder. Its proximity throbbed in his mind like a rotten tooth in a jaw. He had a sudden urge to snatch the bag, flee the house, find a boat, reach the temple… He steeled himself against the god’s psychic whispers, focusing instead on Diana, his friend, his ally, his savior. There was dust in her hair and a smudge of something sooty on her cheek, and she looked fierce and intrepid.

  She rose to her feet. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Is that Abel?” Ruby’s voice came muffled from the other side of the locked door. “How did you even get in here?”

  “I came to rescue you both, but you seem to be doing fine,” Abel said. “I got in because Van Shaw left–”

  “She’s gone?” Diana said. “She… I heard she never leaves, that she’s always here – they say she doesn’t even sleep. There are rumors that she’s under a magical compulsion to guard the Lodge above all else.”

  “I can’t explain it, but we should take advantage of her absence, and get out of here,” he said.

  “I’m picking these locks as fast as I can,” Ruby said. “I don’t have proper tools, so it’s like trying to build a house with nothing but an ice cream knife and a tennis racket.”

  Abel chewed his lip, but there was nothing he could do to speed things up. He turned to Diana and nodded to the bag. “It’s in there, isn’t it? The piece of Asterias. I can feel it.”

  “That’s not disturbing at all,” Ruby offered. Something clicked, and there was a little clatter, like a hairpin dropping on a stone floor, and she swore.

  “Yes, it’s here.” Diana patted her bag. “I was expecting some immense container, but the jar is small, like something you’d keep pickles in. After Ruby lured the shoggoth away, I didn’t have any trouble finding it.” She turned toward the door. “Ruby, I am so sorry. I wanted to chase after you, to use my immunity to shepherd you to safety, but I knew it was our only chance to get the jar, and I feel terrible.”

  “If you’d chased after me, I would have kicked you,” Ruby said. “I ran away so you could finish the mission.”

  “Even so. I helped summon that thing into existence. I was there at the ceremony, and if it hurt you–”

  “Oh, stop that,” Ruby said. “You didn’t even know what the ritual was for. Don’t take the blame for things that aren’t your fault. I hardly ever even take the blame for things that are.”

  “I’m sorry,” Abel said. “I’m feeling a bit lost. What’s a… shoggoth?”

  “A monster,” Diana said. “It was guarding the vault, and, by coincidence, the room full of junk where your – sorry, the cult’s – god was kept.”

  A monster? He’d had some experience with those. He looked around. “Did you kill it?”

  “I don’t know if it can be killed, but it seems to have been… dismissed,” Diana said. “Sent back to its lair.”

  The door swung open, and Ruby stepped out, rubbing her wrists. “The manacles were harder to open than the lock. You didn’t send us anywhere, Abel – we sent ourselves. The two of you just love taking responsibility where you shouldn’t. It’s like an illness. Right. Mission accomplished, then?”

  Diana nodded.

  “Good,” Abel said. He could tell most of the comets were on this side of the river now, and their relative proximity made his teeth ache. “We have to go. They’re coming. They’re almost here.”

  “Who’s almost here?” Sanford said, stepping around the corner with Sarah Van Shaw at his side. She looked furious enough to spit nails, but he was his usual self, urbane, with an expression of mild curiosity. His usual self except for his suit, anyway, which was ripped in several places.

  Abel stepped forward, putting himself between the newcomers and Ruby and Diana, but Diana shoved him against the wall. “Master and warden,” she said. “I caught this man trying to help Standish escape–”

  “Please, don’t bother,” Sanford said. “We were around the corner listening for a few moments. We will discuss your actions soon, Seeker, and as for you, Ruby Standish, we’ll do more than talk. But for now.” Sanford turned, giving Abel a long, intense look. “What is your name, sir?”

  He straightened. This was bad, but he would face the situation with dignity, at least. Working with Diana and Ruby had restored that much to him. “I am Abel Davenport.”

  Sanford pinched the bridge of his nose, then nodded. “Yes, I was rather afraid you’d say that. The resemblance is hard to miss. Are you the original Abel Davenport, at least?”

  “The–” Abel stared. “You’ve met Cain, then?”

  “It seems you and I should talk too,” Sanford said. “But first – who do you say is coming?”

  “Cain,” Abel said. “And his comets – the duplicates he made from himself. I can sense them because, in a sense, they came from me. But there may be others–”

  “Yes, I daresay there are – they filled three floors of the Independence Hotel, and several of my Initiates were among them.” He turned. “Warden, we may have unwelcome visitors soon. Make sure they find it difficult to get inside.”

  “None shall enter this place without my leave,” Van Shaw said.

  Sanford sighed. “That’s a nice sentiment, but they might enter anyway, you know. I gather these cultists are harder to kill than most people – isn’t that right, Davenport?”

  Abel nodded. He didn’t have any love for Carl Sanford, but he had a lot less for Cain. “All the comets are tough, and strong, and they heal fast. As for Cain, while he’s wearing the amulet, I’m not sure anything could stop him. If you cut off his head, he might just grow a new one.”

  Sanford nodded. “Then do your best, warden, but don’t sacrifice your own life to keep them at bay. If they make it past you, so be it. We have other options. The Lodge will survive this insult, and we’ll need you alive to keep protecting it.”

  “I’ll get more dogs,” the warden said, and hurried around the corner.

  “I’d say let’s talk in my office,” Sanford said. “But Initiates know where my office is, and it’s likely to be overrun by zealots soon. So… let’s talk in my vault instead.”

  He walked past them, down the hall. Abel looked at Ruby and Diana. The latter shrugged. The former looked longingly toward the exit, then sighed. Then they all three fell into step behind their enemy.

  Abel noted Ruby and Diana’s tension as they approached a doorway shrouded in shadows. “Is this where the shoggoth was?”

  “Yes, I heard you met my guardian,” Sanford called over his shoulder. “I thought it best to install precautions after Miss Standish last visited the Lodge. I was unprepared for the possibility of, what do they call it – an ‘inside job?’ I’m curious to hear how you came to be involved with this thief, Diana, and even more curious to know why you chose to help her.”

  “I did it to save the world from Cain’s cult,” Diana said.

  Sanford grunted. “Are things so dire as all that?”

  “If your scholar from Yith is to be believed, yes,” Ruby said.

  From where? Abel shook his head. You’d think he’d be used to confusion by now, but there was always some new shoal of ignorance to run aground on. Someone would tell him if it was important.

  The master of the Order turned, looked at Ruby for a long moment, and then nodded. “I see. You did make the most of your time in my basements, didn’t you? Come along.” He proceeded down a hall, and to another door.

  “The shoggoth is just ahead,” Diana said. “It’s… horrible.”

  “I don’t much like looking at it myself,” Sanford said. “I once had cause to see the lungs of a man who’d spent his life working in a coal mine – until he encountered something far below the earth that wasn’t coal, to his misfortune – and the shoggoth reminds me of those black and tumorous organs. I prefer not to see the beast at all when I come down here.” He reached into his pocket and took out a little tin whistle, blowing a single, shrill note. “It’s not the thin, monotonous piping favored by the attendants of Azathoth, but it gets the job done.” He put the whistle away and opened the door.

  No monster appeared, apparently made quiescent by Sanford’s signal. The floor was stained, though. “It does leave a filthy residue behind, and of course no one below the level of a Knight is allowed here, and they have more important things to do than swirl a mop around. Perhaps you can keep this corridor clean as part of your penance, Diana.”