“We must begin the great work now,” Seth said.

  Abel nodded. “I know. I made you to help me, and we can make more brothers, too, if need be. But I’ll be honest. I don’t know where to start. Some piece of Asterias survives, I saw it, but I can’t see where – I get glimpses of a room, but there is no detail, and no context.”

  “I have examined those visions from every angle, in their every detail,” Seth said. “I can look at our memories as easily as you could study a photograph or a map. And I have to agree. Our god is on a shelf in a room, and I cannot ascertain anything more specific. Our god doesn’t even know its location – the Ravening Deep was dormant during its travels from the sea to the shelf, I think. Our god was truly dead until you found the amulet, and formed a connection that quickened what little life remained. But… you do know where to begin, Abel, because I know where to begin. What did Mother always tell us, when we were young?”

  “A lot of things,” Abel said. She’d been a fount of maxims and little wisdoms and tidbits of trivia.

  “‘If you want to know something, go to the library,’” Seth quoted. “‘If anyone ever knew it, it’s written down in a book.’”

  Abel snorted. He did remember his mother saying that. The little library in their town, run out of a dusty old one-room schoolhouse, mostly held yellowing magazines and well-worn copies of the classics, not the secrets of the universe, but his mother’s faith in the power of the written word was unwavering. “You think we’re going to find information about Asterias in a book?”

  “I do,” Seth said. “Our god wasn’t killed millennia ago, like some I could name. Don’t you sense that Asterias was alive and well more recently? The war that killed our god happened decades ago, maybe a century at most, and people, or things like people, worshipped Asterias. A power like that, located not so far off the coast of New England… There must have been stories, rumors, folk tales, legends, whispers. If we can track down those whispers, maybe we can find out how our god died. And what became of its immortal remains.”

  “I don’t think the library here in town is going to be much help,” Abel said.

  “We should go to Miskatonic University.”

  “In Arkham?” Abel’s family had taken day trips to Arkham several times. “Mother took me to a museum there, once. I remember there were these carved masks I found terrifying.”

  Seth nodded. “I remember.” Of course he did. He could probably look at the memory and read the little identifying labels stuck on the wall beside the masks. “The museum is associated with the university. Miskatonic is famed for its anthropology department, and their library is supposed to be one of the finest on the East Coast. If there’s information about our god anywhere, it will be there.”

  There were trains to Arkham, but the nearest train station was so far away a car would be just as quick. “We’ll need a vehicle,” Abel said. “I still have some money, but buying a car would wipe us out.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Seth said. “I have an idea.”

  •••

  Abel wasn’t comfortable with committing crimes, but he was on a divine mission, so he sat in the diner and drank coffee and ate steak and eggs and said hello to everyone he knew while Seth took their father’s old revolver from its hiding place under the floorboards and robbed the pawn shop with a bandana over his face.

  Shouldn’t have bargained with me so hard over the necklace, Abel thought. Even if the owner recognized him under the bandana, Abel’s presence in the diner was a perfect alibi.

  He got back to the house, and Seth was there, upending a pillowcase full of loot onto the table. “I got all the cash, of course, but also all these rings and watches – we can pawn a few when we get to Arkham.”

  “You didn’t run into any problems, then?” Abel asked.

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Seth said. “I got us this, too.” He reached down under the table and drew out a shotgun. “The owner pulled this on me, so I took it away from him.”

  Abel swallowed. “Did you… did you hurt him?”

  Seth shrugged. “Shot him in the shoulder. There was no reason to kill him, with you out in public like you were.” Seth was nonchalant about committing such an act of violence. Abel had been in his share of fights over the years – growing up by the docks was rough-and-tumble, and he’d thrown a few punches as an adult, too, usually when somebody (including him) had too much to drink. But he’d never fired a gun at anything but bottles and tin cans.

  “I ran out the back and was well on my way before I even heard sirens,” Seth continued. “I got away clean, don’t worry. I called our friend at the bank and asked if he knew anyone with a car to sell, too.”

  We’re doing this for god, Abel told himself, and pushed his misgivings away. No one had died, after all, and now they could fund their mission.

  Seth took care of picking up the car – it was a 1922 Dagmar, a six-cylinder, with a dent over one fender, but otherwise a beaut. Abel whistled when he saw it come purring into the driveway. “I was expecting a beat-up old jalopy.”

  “We found a motivated seller, trying to catch up on mortgage payments before his house gets seized. Our pet banker put us in touch. He was a good investment.”

  Seth had gotten a close shave while he was in town, while Abel had the makings of a full beard. “You can always shave if we need to alibi each other again.” Seth wore a wide-brimmed hat jammed low on his head while Abel sported a newsboy cap. They still looked like brothers, but were less obviously identical now. They didn’t want to draw too much attention.

  They spent another night in the house, discussing strategy, then set out for Arkham, first on side roads, then joining up with a highway, and they made good time. Abel hadn’t done much driving in his life – he’d spent a lot more time on boats than in cars – but Seth had a real knack for it. Abel commented on the disparity.

  Seth shrugged. “Oh, I just remember every time I’ve ever been in a car, every situation, and that helps. I’ve got good reflexes, too, better than human – so do you, with that amulet on.”

  “You don’t think of yourself as human, then?” Seth had made such comments before.

  “I guess I think I’m something new. Or… something old, and long forgotten, that’s come back again.”

  Most of their conversation was more fun than that, as Abel took advantage of Seth’s perfect recall of their shared experiences to clarify his own foggy memories. “Now, was that the Christmas Father tried to teach me to ride a bike?”

  “No, no, you got the bike a year after, that was the Christmas you got that old sled…”

  They hardly talked about Asterias at all. They didn’t need to. They both knew their purpose.

  When they arrived in Arkham, it was nearly dark. They motored on through its narrow streets. “When I was in town I called and got us a room at the Independence Hotel, by the square,” Seth said. “Mother said she always wanted to spend a night there, and we can afford it now.”

  “You think of everything,” Abel said.

  “It’s why you made me.” Seth grinned. “So you don’t have to.”

  The hotel towered over the buildings in its vicinity, eight stories of red brick standing tall among shops and offices. They let a valet take the car – their guns were stowed in their bags – and strode into the lobby side-by-side, Abel’s hat tilted back, Seth’s pulled low. Abel had never stayed in a place so fancy; he’d barely ever walked past a place so fancy.

  The lobby was floored in gleaming black-and-white tiles, the walls were black marble shot through with streaks of gold, and that great dome of a ceiling sported a mural of important-looking figures doing important-looking things. Abel imagined the mural transformed, the center of the cupola painted with the seven-pointed star of Asterias, with devoted followers arrayed around the sides, offering up sacrifices and worship. Purpose thrummed through him. They were going to change the world. Their god was coming back, and this time, it would come back stronger. So strong it could never die again.

  “I reserved a room for my brother and myself,” Seth said to the fussy-looking man at the counter, who brightened when he flipped through the ledger.

  “One of our finest suites,” he said. “And you’ll be with us for, let’s see, two nights?”

  “At least,” Seth said. “We’ve got a little business in town, and we’ll see how soon we can wrap it up. Could be you’ll have to put up with us a little longer.”

  The man chuckled the way those who were paid well to chuckle at the jokes of customers usually did. “I’ll just get your keys, Mr Chesterfield.”

  “Chesterfield?” Abel whispered to Seth as the bellboy pushed a luggage rack along after them toward the elevators.

  “Well, I didn’t want to say Davenport, and ‘Chesterfield’ was just the first thing that came to mind. Would you have preferred us to be the Sofa Brothers? Mr Chaise Longue?”

  Abel tried to hold back laughter but couldn’t stop himself from letting out a snort.

  The next day, after a luxurious evening spent in feather beds, they went to the university. They parked on the edge of campus and made their way further in on foot. Class was in session, and serious-looking young people bustled to and fro. They asked directions once, but it wasn’t hard to spot the library once they got close – three stories high, dominating its section of campus, an imposing structure in a neo-classical mode.

  “Orne Library,” Seth read. “I wonder who Orne was?”

  “That little detail isn’t tucked away in your memory vaults?”

  “Ha, no. I don’t know everything. I just know everything I know.” He grinned. “This is exciting.” They went together into the library, glancing around at the polished desk staffed by three librarians, the rows of open stacks, and the bright chandeliers hanging overhead, casting a warm and even light. The two of them made straight for the imposing card catalogue, rank upon rank of wooden cabinets full of small drawers – the full catalogue took up an entire wall. “If there’s anything written about Asterias, it’ll be in here,” Seth said.

  Abel made for the subject headings first, looking up “Asterias”, and was thrilled to see card after card… until it became apparent they were all references to books about marine life, “asterias” being part of the scientific name of the common starfish. That wasn’t the god’s true name, Abel knew that, just one of its many titles, but still, he’d hoped.

  He moved on, looking up “gods” and “gods, sea and ocean” and everything related he could think of. There were references to legends about something called Dagon, and Mother Hydra, and Y’ha-nthlei, but none of it seemed to have anything to do with Asterias. The world was full of mysteries and terrors, it seemed, but none of them were any use to him. He slammed one of the card catalog doors shut in frustration, earning him a sharp look from one of the women behind the desk. He gave her a sheepish grimace and mouthed “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ve got something,” Seth said. “I just started looking up variations on everything related to Asterias I could think of, and I found this.”

  Abel hurried over and looked at his card. It wasn’t a subject entry, but a title card: The Ravening Deep; and Other Curiosities of Coastal Lore, by someone called Willum Stillwater, PhD, published 1905: “A compendium of lesser-known legends from the coastal communities of Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Maine.” They noted the call numbers and went to the stacks, scanning the numbers until they found 398, then checking the spines on the shelves. “It’s not here,” Abel said.

  “Librarian.” Seth said and marched to the desk, Abel trailing after. “Pardon me, miss,” Seth said to the youngest and most approachable-looking of the three women behind the desk, as she stood sorting through checkout cards.

  She glanced up, dark eyes curious, and looked from one to the other. “Oh, my, are you twins?”

  “Just brothers,” Seth said. “I’m the younger one.” He winked.

  She smiled. “How can I help you?”

  “We’re looking for a book – we found the title in the card catalogue, but it’s not on the shelf.”

  “Let me see what I can track down,” she said, and took the title and call number. After perusing her records she sighed. “We had one copy, but it was checked out years ago and returned with severe water damage and pulled from circulation. Doesn’t look like we ever replaced it. Let me see… it looks like we have the manuscript in special collections. The author was a professor in our anthropology department. Are you students here?” Abel and Seth exchanged a look and shook their heads. “Accredited researchers?”

  “Not technically,” Seth said.

  She shook her head. “Then I can’t help much, I’m afraid. Access to the special collections is restricted.”

  Frustration welled up in him again. You’d think things would go more smoothly when you were on a mission from a god! Were they going to have to break into the library after hours? Did this place ever even close? Maybe there was a better way… “He’s a professor here, you said?” Abel asked. “Perhaps we could go by his office–”

  “He’s retired, I’m afraid,” she said. “I wish I could do more.”

  “The thing is, well, miss, our mother recently passed.” Seth looked at her with soulful, pleading eyes. Abel wondered if he could manage a look like that. “She grew up on the coast, and she used to tell us stories she’d heard as a girl, but my brother and me, we can’t agree on some of the details, and it’s all just… slipping away. It’s like we’re losing her a second time. This book would be a great help to us, if there’s any way to find a copy.”

  She leaned forward, but shook her head again. “If it were up to me, I would, but I’m just a graduate student here, and my boss would have my head.” She cocked her head. “But come to think of it, he was a professor here, so maybe you should try Keene Books, downtown. They have an extensive section devoted to local history and local authors.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” Seth said, and turned to leave, Abel following. His heart was thumping with anticipation. They had a thread, and they were going to follow that thread wherever it led.

  •••

  Abel snapped out of his reverie – he’d somehow made it almost all the way across the bridge, lost in memories. Those first days with Seth had been so pleasant, so, well, fun. He’d reveled in the sense of purpose, and the belief that he was chosen, working with his brother to do great things. That was before they met the professor. Before Seth made Cain. Before all the blood.

  And before Abel realized the cost of bringing his god back to life.

  Someone leaning on the railing ahead of him stepped into his path, and Abel mumbled an apology and tried to go around, keeping his eyes on the pavement. Someone else stepped into his way, deliberately, and Abel looked up. Three people arrayed themselves before him, all strangers, one rough-clad like a dockworker, another in a suit with a vest, the third a woman with a pinched expression that didn’t match her girlish flowered day dress.

  “Do I know you?” Abel asked.

  “Cain told us he could feel you coming,” the woman said. “He says you need to stay on the other side of the river, out of the way, for now. He doesn’t need you yet.”

  These people must be comets, but Abel couldn’t sense them. Did that mean he could only sense comets made from himself, or from his own twisted progeny? There were enough of those in the city, half a dozen at least nagging at the back of his mind, but if there were more, unknown to him… Arkham could be infested. Arkham could be overrun. Anyone could be a double, in Cain’s thrall. His skin crawled and his heart thundered. Danger everywhere! How could he function in a world like that? Knowing the world was like that?

  Abel backed away, holding up his hands. There was no other foot traffic on the bridge, and precious little in the way of passing cars, and those that went by paid him no mind. People in Arkham kept their eyes on their own business. “I was just out for a walk. I’ll, I’ll go back–”

  “We can’t kill you,” the man in the vest said, drawing a blackjack out of his pocket. “Cain has plans for you. Heretics don’t get to die easy in the street. But he did say we should give you a little reminder of your place.”

  The comets closed in, and Abel turned to run, but something struck the back of his head, and his vision exploded with stars of darkness.

  Chapter Nine

  Unlikely Allies

  Diana had expected Cornelia to open the door – that was what happened last time she’d dropped by the Berglund house to make a delivery. She had a satchel with several fine silk scarves inside, and a whole line of patter to talk herself in, but that dried up when the door opened to reveal the scowling face of Mr Berglund instead. He didn’t look good – there was a bruise growing under his eye, and one of his hands was bandaged. Maybe Sanford was right, and there was something strange going on. Had the Berglunds gotten involved in some sort of unsavory business with rough people?

  Wait. The bandaged hand. Abel’s tale of growing comets from his own severed fingers returned to her. People were changing, Sanford said. Could those changes be related to the cult of Asterias? Was their new leader infiltrating Arkham society, making copies of people? But why duplicate Cornelius Berglund? He wasn’t even a member of the Lodge. How could he help them get the fragment of Asterias?

  She had to maintain appearances, and not let her suspicions show. “Oh, hello,” she said. “I’m not sure if you remember me–”

  “Diana Stanley,” he said. “Huntress Fashions. What do you – how can I help you?” He smiled at her, trying to look friendly and failing.

  “I was hoping to speak to Mrs Berglund? She wanted me to bring her some–”

  “Silk scarves, yes, I remember.”

  Diana was surprised. In her experience, the older husbands of Arkham took little interest in the sartorial choices of their wives.

  “I’m afraid Mrs Berglund is out running an errand.”

  “Oh?” Diana glanced around, and didn’t see their shiny black Packard. “I didn’t realize she drove. You always bring her to the shop–”