Her hand tightened on the knife. Could she charge the dais? Raise the blade? Plunge it into that monster, still crawling from the darkness, and send it back wherever it came from?

  Sometimes, in her dreams, she did just that, with… mixed results. In reality, as best she could recall, she’d simply dropped the blade and stumbled to the back of the chamber, turning her face away from the horror.

  Another Seeker had joined her, and spoke softly, as if to a skittish cat. “Diana, isn’t it? Your first summoning? Not something that happens every day. You did well.” He took her hand and led her toward the far door, chanting turning to cheers behind them. “It’s hard, the first time you see something like that.” He was an archivist, she thought, at the historical society, and his voice was kind. “You might have an odd dream or two later. There’s a doctor in the Lodge who still prescribes laudanum, which is a great help. Let me know if you’d like some.”

  “He… that man… Walter…” Diana said.

  “He chose to take part in the rite willingly,” the archivist said, a little stiffly. “Our master guided him to his proper path.”

  “I… but what did they summon?” She was both bothered that she hadn’t gotten a good look at the thing in the circle, and grateful she’d been spared the sight. “What did we summon?”

  “Something our master has a use for,” the archivist said, and took her back into a place of light. Except, in a sense, the darkness of that place had never left her, and she feared it never would.

  There were at least two monsters in that chamber: the thing pulled from the darkness, and Carl Sanford. He’d manipulated Walter, surely. No one would offer themselves up like that unless they were deceived or deluded. What lies had Sanford told, in order to trick that poor boy and bring that monster into the world? Had the girl come willingly at all? Either way, Sanford had traded people for a thing, for some unknown but grim purpose, and the other members were celebrating! She had fallen among evil men and women, and it had happened so gradually, she hadn’t even realized it.

  If Sanford was willing to sacrifice innocents, and even his own people, to summon such a monster, he must be willing to do anything to further his occult goals, and someone like that shouldn’t be allowed to wield power – not over other people, and not over the mysteries of the world. Diana could not be party to such horrible acts. Diana had to oppose them. At that moment, she ceased to be a faithful Seeker, and became an enemy of the Lodge, and all her thoughts turned toward stopping Sanford from ever sacrificing anyone else for dark designs again.

  Abel said, “Diana?”

  She blinked. “Sorry. I was just remembering… What did you say?”

  “That my comets and I did a lot of research, and questioned people, and performed certain, ah, rituals, and, yes – they all point to Carl Sanford having possession of at least a piece of Asterias.”

  What could Sanford do with such a thing? Could he use it to make comets, like Abel did with the amulet? Had he? “And this Asterias could regenerate fully from such a piece?” she asked. “Like those starfish you talked about, spawning from a severed arm? The god could come back?” Would Sanford want to revive such an entity? It was in his nature to use any path to power available to him, and she feared what he might do.

  Abel shrugged. “That’s the theory. If the proper rites are performed, in the right place, in the right way, the god will return to life and power. I didn’t doubt it when I was under the influence. I don’t doubt it now. I only fear it.”

  “You’ll have to tell me about your fall from grace,” Diana said. “But later. I need to go to the Lodge now.”

  “Could you… would you… keep an eye out? If we can find that fragment before my comets do, we may be able to destroy it, and end the threat of Asterias forever.”

  She laughed, a little bitterly. “If I see a piece of a god sitting on a shelf, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

  He scowled, a stubborn and mulish look. “It would look like a biological specimen, probably in a jar–”

  “That’s not the problem,” Diana said. “Sanford doesn’t leave items of power just lying about. If this god fragment is in the Lodge, it’s likely locked away someplace that Seekers don’t usually go. I’m sure Sanford has a vault, probably more than one, but I don’t know where they’re located. I’ve been deep into the Lodge, a few times, and there are more rooms and basements in that place than seem possible. I saw a room…” She shook her head.

  “What?”

  She took a breath, and let it out slow. “Once, walking down a corridor underground, led by a Brother of the Dark, I passed an open doorway, and when I glanced inside, it seemed to lead outside, to a vast gray plain… and there were stars in the sky, glowing red. I paused, trying to make sense of what I was seeing, and the Brother seized my arm and told me not to dilly-dally. My point is, the piece of your god could be anywhere, and it’s not such an easy place to search.” Diana rose. “I’d better not dilly-dally now, either. You can stay here until I get back, if you like. We still have much to discuss.”

  “I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.”

  “It’s only partly kindness,” Diana said. “Your research might have uncovered things about the Lodge that I need to know. Things that can help me in…” She trailed off, unsure how much to say, or how to articulate it.

  “In what?” Abel said. “My goal, insofar as I have one, is to stop the rise of Asterias. What’s yours?”

  “Carl Sanford is a master of monsters,” she said. “He made me complicit in his dark work. I could not live with myself if I allowed him to continue perverting the nature of reality. I have to try to stop him. If what you say about this Asterias is true, Sanford may have plans for the dead god, and I don’t want those plans to come to fruition.” She considered Abel carefully. He was too wretched to lie, she thought. A broken man, but perhaps he could be mended. They had similar goals, and she needed allies. “I will do anything I can to oppose Sanford.”

  Abel nodded. “Then I’ll stay. We’re sailing in the same direction, and I’d much rather sail together.”

  Chapter Six

  The Lodge

  Diana dressed in a simple but elegant two-piece cotton day dress with a low waist and a straight skirt, dark blue with a pattern of tiny white flowers, and a simple strand of pearls. She perched a straw hat with a matching dark blue ribbon on her head and slipped on a pair of Oxfords. Her strappy heels were more fashionable, and showed off her ankles to better effect, but she was walking over to French Hill, and she didn’t relish the idea of catching a heel in those cobblestones. She didn’t want Sanford or anyone else at the Lodge noticing her ankles anyway.

  Mid-morning in early autumn was a beautiful time to be out and about in Arkham, and the Merchant District was sleepy, since it was Sunday. She turned off Main Street and headed east along Church Street, past the more established shops, and the titular old churches, though neither set of venues were bustling. She dreamed of moving her store over here – Main Street, despite its name, was a less important thoroughfare than Church, and a more fashionable address would help her business thrive even further.

  She paused, slumped, then straightened her spine and adjusted her hat in the reflection of a shop window. She was still thinking about her little ambitions, her plans to find greater security and success, but she was setting herself against the Silver Twilight Lodge, and that sort of conflict wasn’t likely to end well for her.

  Unless… Could there be a way to stop the Lodge without losing everything she had in the process? Carl Sanford was the key – without him at the head, leading the group’s incursions into occult matters, the Lodge would become as harmless as all other fraternal societies. If she could take down Sanford…

  “Ignore the monsters and the magic,” she murmured as she turned onto South French Hill Street and began to ascend toward the Lodge.

  What if she could gather evidence of everyday, ordinary criminality? Incriminating information about Carl Sanford himself? He didn’t hesitate to break the laws of nature and God, so she didn’t think he’d pay much attention to mere human laws. If she could find proof of criminal activities, proof she could anonymously turn over to the local police – or even the state, since the Lodge probably held sway over the city and county forces – then maybe she could send Sanford away, without anyone even knowing she was involved.

  It wasn’t quite a plan, but it was, at the very least, an idea. She would keep her eyes and ears open for incriminating evidence.

  Diana ascended French Hill, gazing up at the dark, thorny spire of Bayfriar’s Church. Some of the oldest homes in the city were located in this neighborhood. Grand Georgian piles with black iron gates and ornamental shrubbery, though there were still brick row houses and smaller dwellings with Dutch roofs interspersed.

  Some of those grand homes had been a lot more grand twenty or thirty years ago, too; some very old families lived here still, but many of them weren’t as rich as they used to be. This street was lined with trees and well maintained, though some of the little alleys and thoroughfares that twisted up between the houses and over the top of the hill were showing their age, and in the steeper places, there weren’t alleys at all, but narrow flights of stone stairs, many with crumbling risers.

  The Silver Twilight Lodge was perched high on French Hill, with a view of Arkham spread out down the slopes below. Diana paused before the rust-flecked iron gate, as always troubled by the apparent decrepitude of the place.

  The Lodge was an immense Victorian mansion, though it was clearly not a private residence anymore – Diana thought you could always tell when a place had been transformed into an institutional structure, somehow, like the building was missing its soul. The Lodge might have been a funeral home or the administrative offices of a failing charity organization. The lawn was untended, full of long grasses just beginning to go brown. The trees dotting the lawn were sick, trunks mottled with fungus, and if they weren’t dead, they were nearly so, their spreading branches so many widowmakers in waiting.

  She pushed open the gate, which didn’t creak, despite its look of disrepair. The walkway, at least, was kept neat, a row of pale stones free of weeds, forming a narrow path that meandered a bit on the way to the front porch and the front doors. The first time she came here, she must have shown her surprise at the state of the place, because her guide chuckled and said, “I know, it’s a bit of a mess, but we prefer to devote our resources to our charity and good works, rather than putting on a fancy façade.”

  When Diana approached the porch, a figure stood up from a chair placed deep in shadow: a tall woman, with red hair and green eyes, in a dress that had been nice a decade or two ago – the sort of outdated garb that would never grace a rack at Huntress Fashions.

  “Hello, Sarah,” Diana said. She looked around for the woman’s constant companions, a pair of immense black mastiffs, but the beasts were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were lurking in the long grasses. Or gnawing the bones of a trespasser…

  Sarah Van Shaw was the warden of the Lodge. Diana still didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she suspected anyone who tried to gain access to the house without an invitation wouldn’t make it far, and might not ever make it off the property again.

  “Diana,” the woman said, sounding, as always, as if she were amused by a private joke – and the joke was probably on you. “You’re here to see the master, I presume.”

  “When he calls, I answer.”

  “The master has his eye on you,” Van Shaw said. “Some find ambition in a woman unseemly, but the Order is untroubled by such distinctions. Fortunately for both of us.”

  The idea of any commonality between herself and this strange, intimidating woman struck Diana as repugnant, but she smiled affably and said, “Once they gave us the right to vote there was no stopping us, was there?”

  Sarah opened the door and gestured for Diana to go inside. She stepped into the anteroom, where all pretense to disrepair vanished. There was a fire burning in the great hearth, and as always Diana’s eyes scanned across the spines of the countless books on the floor-to-ceiling shelves on the opposite wall. There were valuable first editions here, though the truly precious volumes were kept elsewhere – there were rumors of some so precious and dangerous they were kept chained in a basement. Even so, this was a library to boggle the mind of the farm girl Diana had once been. She longed to sit on the Chesterfield sofa by the fire and peruse a few titles, but there was no time. When Sanford called, you came.

  She proceeded past niches in the walls that held bits of statuary from the ancient world, squat and ugly things that possessed no beauty, though their antiquity demanded respect. Incense burned in one niche, thickening the air with cloying smoke. This anteroom was a disorienting space, the ordinary mingled with the strange and disturbing, and she suspected that combination was deliberate, meant to keep visitors on their back feet.

  She went through the door that led deeper into the Lodge – it was often kept locked, but it opened for her now – and into a large meeting room dominated by a gilt-inlaid table, flanked by austere high-backed chairs. Sanford was seated there, talking in a low voice with the perky Initiate who’d called Diana. Sanford took note of Diana’s arrival and patted his assistant on the hand. “Leave us alone for a few moments, would you?”

  The Initiate, a young blonde woman wearing elbow-length white gloves, gave Diana a bright smile and then disappeared through one of the room’s many doors.

  “Greetings, Seeker,” Sanford said. He was an older gentleman, though she had trouble guessing his precise age – the years didn’t weigh on him as heavily as they seemed to do on most people. He had silver hair, though, and a neat beard to match, and wore a suit of refined cut and obvious expense – menswear was not her specialty, but she could recognize quality. The only time she’d seen Sanford wear anything other than a suit was the night of that horrible summoning ritual, when he wore robes like the others, except for fine scrollwork in golden thread around the neckline, sleeves, and hem.

  Sanford’s eyes moved up and down her body, though she’d never gotten a sense of lustfulness from him – it was more like he was conducting a thorough inventory to determine what use she might be. She hoped the intensity of his gaze did not extend to the inside of her head – if he could sense thoughts, she might never leave the property again. “Have a seat, Miss Stanley.” He patted the chair the blonde had departed.

  Diana sat beside him, glancing at the files on the table before her. She noted the names of some of the most prominent citizens in the city on those folders – at least a few of them were people she’d seen at Lodge meetings, and several others had passed through her store, or at least their wives had. “Thank you for inviting me,” Diana said. “It’s always a pleasure to serve the Lodge.”

  “We never talked about the ritual. The one you assisted with, some weeks ago.” As if she could have forgotten. “What were your impressions?” His voice was mild, and she tried not to show her nervousness.

  “It was… extraordinary, master. Though I didn’t entirely understand it.”

  He nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to, at this stage of your development. I confess, inviting you to help with that rite was a test, of sorts. Some people… well. They don’t know how to process an experience like that. Their minds are weak, and they recoil. Then we tell them the impossible things they saw were hallucinations, brought on by tainted whiskey or too much heat and incense.”

  They did rituals like that often enough to have such processes in place? Diana was appalled, but kept an expression of bland interest on her face. “I never doubted the evidence of my senses.”

  “I’m told you were troubled by the disappearance of the postulant.” Sanford looked at her levelly.

  She didn’t dare lie, but she could shade the truth. “I was surprised.”

  “It’s quite a surprising thing. The young man lacked direction and meaning in his life, but the Lodge provided him with a greater purpose. What he wanted most of all was to break free of the shackles of the mundane – he was oppressed by the banality of the world, you see. I can relate. I offered him an opportunity to explore… other realms, and he leapt at the chance. The ritual sent him on his way.”

  “He’s alive, then?” Diana’s heart thrummed with hope.

  Sanford shrugged. “The place he wished to explore is not without risk. But I prepared him as well as I could for what awaited him, and I hope he is thriving there. He may even return someday, with new wisdom. Stranger things have happened.”

  Diana’s hope evaporated. She’d spent enough time around horse manure to recognize it when she smelled it.

  Sanford clapped his hands, once, sharply. “But enough about our intrepid postulant. I am interested in you. You acquitted yourself well on the errands we sent you on after your ascension to Seeker, situations that brushed up against the uncanny, and I invited you to the summoning because I wanted to see how you reacted to a true confrontation with the underlying reality of the world. You acquitted yourself admirably – no screaming, no gibbering. Your mind, it seems, is made of stronger stuff than most.”

  “Thank you.” This was her moment. The opportunity she’d been waiting for. If she could gain his trust, if she could gain access, she might find what she needed to take Sanford down. “I just want to learn, and be of service.”

  He chuckled. “You want to move up, Miss Stanley. You came to Arkham two years ago from a hardscrabble farm, the last living member of your family, and you transformed yourself into a successful businesswoman. You’ve made connections with some of the most powerful and prominent people in town. Arkham can be an insular place, and hard for outsiders to thrive in, but your charm and work ethic have paid off. You aren’t satisfied with a comfortable little life, though. You want more. What do you want?”