Call of Cthulhu: The Black Elixir

The smoking man looked slowly at his friend and as the light shifted Henry could see his eyes a little clearer. They were milky, the irises pale. Possibly an albino, though his hair was dark, and the shape of the eyes was more oriental than anything. The man seemed to be a patchwork of different races, as unplaceable as his accent.

He turned back and the shadows resettled. "Never said I was close to the Cargwyn's. That's the one family I can't help you with, Sherlock."

Clamping his cigar between his teeth, he stepped away and returned to the table by the door. "Coming, Mac?" he said as he passed his companion.

The second longcoat wearer was bigger, strong hands hanging by his sides and flexing as he took long breaths. This man had never taken his eyes off Henry. "Just gotta take a piss." his deep voice rumbled. Then, waiting till the smoking man was out of earshot, he took another step forward and spoke so only Henry would hear. "They got real nice toilets here."

He held the stare a few seconds longer then turned and moved along the bar, pushing through a small door that led to the restrooms. As it swung closed he glanced one more time over his shoulder.

Meanwhile, the smoking man settled back at his table and stubbed out his cigar between the two untouched glasses of ale.
 
Henry turned back to the bar and drained his glass. That settled it, the sooner he was out of town the better, but, curiosity was taking root in the back of his mind. Did the big man want to tell him something, something he didn't want the other man to hear. He stood and checked to see if the cigar smoker was paying attention before turning back to the bar "Have another waiting for me when I get back love, I haven't seen porcelain since yesterday."

He moved across the room to the door towards the loo. It was true, he hadn't relived himself in more than a few hours and the only reason he hadn't yet was the convocation, if your could call it that, in the bar.
 
Constables murdered? Children summoned to an old mansion, never to be seen again?

This is sounding more and more like a penny awful by the minute, yet going by Kate's reactions to what George was saying at the bar there's certainly an element of truth to it all. Most disconcerting. There seems to be more going on in Penkos than I had originally anticipated.
"Yes, you're probably right about keeping my nose out of it," I reply to George, taking another drink, "Isn't really much to do with the article I've got to write, is it?" I glance out the window and into the storm that rages through Penkos. "I suspect I'll need to be waiting a few days for the storm to die down before I can get anything but preliminary work done, however."

I glance back to George and decide to change the topic; I'd rather be remembered as the man who was just asking a few questions about the town than the man who was asking about it's dirty secrets and unpleasant goings-on. "Have you been able to take your boat out these last few days, or has the weather stopped you?"
 
She did her best to keep the wind at her back, to allow the gusts to speed her flight, her strange longcoat billowing about her thin body like torn masts. It was a trick she had learned from her childhood. But the wind proved too much for her, and Ariadne went sprawling into the mud and rock.

"Ass!" She hissed through gritted teeth, the harsh exhalation prevented her from noticing the pain that bit into her palms.

She couldn't find a cab at the train station, so she took her satchel only, leaving her suitcase on the platform, and tore off into the storm as if possessed. They said she was crazy for trying to run back to the town in this storm. They just liked to point out the obvious.

A half hour's walk quickly bled into a whole. Assailed by the winds and blinded by the rain, Ariadne half-stumbled half-groped her way back to Penkos, guided by memory and the pinpoint of flame from the lighthouse beyond. Her father was up there, now. No doubt being pelted by wind and seawater as he kept the lighthouse lit.

She would never make it to her old home, but she had no interest in that, now. What she sought was at the Eagle Arms.

Kate. . .


Ariadne pushed on.


The door to the Eagle Arms opened with a bang, pushed by a gust of wind. What the patrons thought to be a young boy in an Edwardian longcoat and newsboy hat stumbled inside. He was soaked to the bone and caked with mud.

"The piss 'o God!" The feminine voice was in obvious imitation of George, peppered by a raspy, shivering laugh as the young woman removed her hat, shaking out her soaked blond hair. She tried, without much luck, to shrug off her longcoat. The wet fabric was heavy and stuck tight to her clothes. With a sigh, she turned her gaze to the others.

"Any 'o you fine 'gents care to 'elp me?"

She flashed a quick wink at Kate, then made a show of trying to remove her coat.
 
George peered over Arthur's shoulder. He had been on the verge of launching into the day's seafaring tale when the door crashed open to admit the sodden Ariadne, an entrance most disruptive.

"That there storm's brung some good business," George remarked, and when the girl called for help he began the slow effort of getting up again. "Raaaaagh!" he growled as he willed his old knees to straighten.

Meanwhile, at the bar, Kate stared blankly as Ariadne winked at her. There was a pause before she gave her customary greeting. "Evenin', pet."


No one had noticed the smoking man leave his table.


In the men's room, the big man turned as Henry entered. He had opened the window above the urinals, a big half-pane now propped open to admit the spitting rain and howling gale. The sill was already soaked and the air had dropped to a freezing chill.

"What did I tell ya?" the man smiled and spread his powerful hands, as if presenting the men's room to Henry. The room was tiny, a single swinging light bulb, a cracked toilet with no seat, only one working tap and a poster for cough syrup peeling from the wall.

Not exactly Henry's idea of 'nice'.


CLUNK!


The blackjack struck him square at the base of the skull, a blow that instantly sent his vision spinning. He crashed forwards, falling into the big man's arms. A perfect catch. The pain spread like a cancer, paralysing every synapse as he was manhandled into a better position. The big man slung Henry's arm across his shoulder, whilst the smoking man got the other. He pocketed his blackjack before nodding to the window.

Henry was dragged across the tiles, the rain lashing his face as he tried to seize the fleeting pieces of his consciosuness. He sagged as the smoking man released him and climbed up onto the sill, sliding half his body into the ruthless night before turning. His gloved hands gripped Henry's shirt and with the big man hitching up the legs, Henry felt himself being pulled, awkwardly, up and through the opening.

"Hurry up!" snarled the smoking man, and his companion gave a final shove that got him over the sill. Henry crashed down into the puddled soil at the back of the pub, wind and rain assailing his body. A lightning flash kept him conscious and his vision recorded the boots of the smoking man, then his companion's as he tumbled through the window after them. Then both pairs of hands were on him again.

"Ain't nothing sweeter than a family reunion."

And with the smoking man's last remark, Henry was dragged deeper into the town of Penkos.
 
James took a drink of his water as Kate gave her warning about asking about the Cargwyns. He gave a small laugh at the idea of asking questions about people. Taking another drink he finally spoke up. "A room would be lovely Miss. Don't worry about me causing problems, don't have much interest in it. Only thing I'm interested in, is getting a job until I can afford to move on," he said to Kate

Finishing the glass of water, he put it down on the counter and stared at it for a few seconds. Looking back up he finally asked the question he had just stated, "So, know of anyone willing to hire some help until I can move on?" James started staring at the empty glass again as he waited for the answer.
 
Another face enters the Eagle Arms, this one a woman with soaking blond hair from the weather outside. She attempts to remove her jacket but the damp material refuses to budge, forcing her to ask the patrons of the pub for assistance.

George begins his attempts to rise, growling with the effort, but I stand up before he gets too far.
"Don't worry about it, George, I'll go help," I say politely, not wanting the old man to exert himself too much. No doubt he'll grumble about me doing so later, but I was raised to have some manners and courtesy.

Crossing the pub to the woman I flash her a smile before moving to help her remove her jacket.
"Not exactly weather you want to be stuck outside in, is it?" I say with a chuckle as I assist her in removing the damp longcoat, "I'm surprised the wind didn't blow me out to sea when I was last out there."

Manners; they cost little but can help a lot.
 
Looking away from Ariadne as Arthur helped her with her coat, Kate returned down the bar to where James was sitting. Luckily, one of the Portugeuse sailors had got up to close the door, so the storm was kept a bay for another few minutes.

"Only work these days is the docks, pet," she said as she took Room Key No. 5 from the drawer. "Mine's closed down now and fishin's dried up. P'rhaps they'll gi' yer some work. I 'ear them boys is moving some cargo or some such. Workin' night and day they are, loadin' up them boats. God knows what they's found to ship from these parts though."

She passed him the key.


* * * * * *

Henry's knees ploughed through mud and water. With his coat at the pub, his single layer of clothes did nothing to save him from the elements. He was soaked, shivering, and his head was leaking blood. And as the longcoated men dragged him by each arm, it was with a force that almost dislocated the shoulders.

He wouldn't last long out here.

They were moving fast, following the dirt road that skirted the south side of town. The Eagle Arms was behind them now, the last building before a wilderness of woodland and grassland. And to the north the houses of Penkos were wreathed in darkness, no lights on but for a single lamp burning in the church window. Beyond it was the cove, where boat masts loomed like gravestones above the murderous sea.

But they weren't heading in any of these directions. They were going west, towards the headland where the ground began a slow ascent to the cliffs where the Cargwyn Mansion perched.

And in the swirling darkness of cold and pain, Henry could just make out their voices.

"How we gonna play this?" asked the larger one.

"You shut the fuck up. I'll do the talking," replied the smoking man.
 
A Mrs. Jones but no Jago Jones. A sick Mrs Jones at that it seemed. Not exactly what he was looking for but with some luck it could be the correct Mrs. Jones. Might as well try and look into it, he told himself, don't have a lot of time to find this guy. Rox took the key from Kate, "Thanks very much. So you have a sick woman who check in as Mrs. Jones, huh? Well Jago is married and the last letter I got from him said he was still dragging his wife around. Poor thing, it seems every letter, no matter where he goes his wife is sick with one thing or another."

Rox looked back at the new woman coming into the bar. He started to rise to help her but noticed the reporter already heading over there so he sat back down. Opening the envelope from his captain he handed Kate the money for the room and the shot, "I gotta get my stuff up to my room before I get too much drink in me. If you like I can check on Mrs. Jones if she's been up there a few days. With some luck it might be Jagos wife and she can tell me where I can find him. Even if she isn't it'd still be good to make that woman is alive and well." As he waiting for Kate to respond he put the key in between his teeth, grabbed his suitcase, tackle box and fishing rod preparing to log his gear up to his room. It'd be good to get another fix and get settled into the room to wait out this damn storm.
 
"Oh, friend of 'ers, are yer?" Kate said. "Well pet, it'd put me mind at ease if you was to check on 'er. And ask her if she wants any food or extra blankets, won't you? Poor thing must be suff'ring, what with 'er cold and this 'ere storm. I put 'er in Room 3, with a nice view of the 'eadland."

As Rox nodded and made his way to the stairs out of the bar, he was watched by six pairs of eyes. The Portugeuse sailors followed his every move, and only when he was out of sight did they go back to staring at the table and not saying a single word to one another.


* * * * * *


A quarter mile away, where the dirt track from the pub met the main coastal road, Henry was dropped in a shallow ditch awash with mud and rainwater. His whole body was shaking now, the wind and rain cutting to the bone, his every thought swirling. Beyond the ditch was the main road and then the slope to the headland.

But as his vision blurred he saw that the entire headland was walled off - a twelve foot barrier of stone running about a mile in either direction. Behind it, on the precipice of the cliffs, the Cargwyn Mansion was illuminated, by lamplight that kept the night at bay and shone brighter than the entire town below. The wall itself was dark, except for two oil lamps that marked an iron gate directly ahead.

Stairway.jpg

The smoking man jumped into the ditch, landing ankle deep in mud and kicking Henry onto his back. He planted one foot on Henry's chest then called up to his companion. "Go knock on the gate."

Above them, at the edge of the roadside, the larger man froze, the colour draining from his shadowed face. Beneath the rim of his hat, Henry could make out a definite fear in his eyes. "Me...?"

"Yes, you! Move!" the smoking man yelled, kneeling to pin Henry against the side of the ditch.

The big man's voice trembled, the strange accent seeming to distort. At times it sounded Oriental, then Hispanic, then American - as if it couldn't settle on where to be. "I can't... please, don't make me!"

The click was loud, even amid the storm, and Henry saw the silver glint as the smoking man drew a revolver. He pointed it squarely at his colleague, his own accent distorting as he snarled. "KNOCK ON THE FUCKING GATE!"

With a whimper, the big man turned and hurried across the road, pulling his gloves and hat on tighter as he neared the gate. Henry heard him hammering his arms on the railings and calling out to the mansion beyond. And as he did so, the smoking man got one hand around Henry's throat.

"Alright, family-guy," he pushed the barrel into Henry's eye socket, "Youre gonna give me your name now. Or you're gonna start losing fingers."
 
When he finally found his voice, finally gained control of the merest fraction of his muscles it took all his willpower not to scream. It wouldn't do him any good, only help them get the attention of the servants in the manor, something he was sure would seal his fate. Instinctively he struggled against the man's grip on his throat his wide eye on the revolver as the other squeezed shut against the end of the barrel.

"H-Henry." he said shivering from fear and cold "Henry Prefect..." he was desperate, anything that could get him out of here. "I lied, she wasn't related I just though I'd get an answer without trouble that way." Even with the man;s hand on his throat Henry was trying to back away in the mud.
 
There was a momentary struggle, with Ariadne wriggling and writhing her way of the waterlogged longcoat, while Arthur did his best to pull it from her in the most gentlemanly way possible.

"Tha's it, put your back into it!" There were a few unladylike grunts, before Ariadne finally popped free from her coat. Arthur's shoulders sagged from weight of the sodden, heavy fabric, which slapped against his trousers with an audible 'flump.' Ariadne was already halfway to the bar, leaving Arthur holding her coat.

"Fanks, guv," she called over her shoulder to Arthur, doing her best impression of his posh accent.

"George, ye' old seagull, should 'ave known you'd be 'ere," Ariadne planted a kiss on the old man's cheek, laughing a bit when his gray whiskers tickled her face. Her watery blue eyes kept gazing up at Kate from across the bar, as she carried on with George. She had been away for the better part of three years, but she had kept in touch enough to know that Kate did not often have this many customers at one time. Even Ariadne knew better than to interrupt her now, when she was conducting business.

Ariadne caught a glimpse of her mud-flecked face in the reflection from the mirror behind the bar.

"George! Why di'nt you tell me I looked so 'aggard! I need to wash up 'efore I frighten everyone off." Ariadne whispered, or as close to a whisper a girl like her could accomplish, before she headed for the restrooms to wash her face.
 
George nodded, laughed and frowned at the same time, swept up in the girl's exuberance even though his mind had drawn a complete blank. With an incoherent mutter he raised his glass to her as she moved off to the lady's room.

Then he sat there, frowning, memories swirling like the sea and yielding not a fish of recognition...

Then it suddenly came to him. "Well bugger me, the ligh'house keeper's daugh'er!" He turned and went to say something, but Ariadne had already entered the restroom.


* * * * *


The big man had run back across the road and was hovering at the top of the ditch again. Every part of him seemed wracked by nerves. "There's no one coming. Let's get out of here, Deit. Back to the others. Please!"

"Shut up!" snapped the Smoking Man, his gaze still fixed on Henry as he pressed the revolver into his eye. "You ain't making sense, Mister Henry Prefect. And things that don't make sense get me real nervous-like."

His finger came around the trigger, the hammer creeping back. "Last time, family-guy. Are you related to the Cargwyns or not?"
 
He swallowed his heart racing, there was no way he could get away. "H-had never heard than mane until a few days ago." he stammered the cold rain and fear taking their toll "She just said to come find out what happened to the guy. They knew each other in their day and you know what old people are like, things come to them from years back." he almost expected the guy to go off at any second. His every breath to be his last.
 
Rox made his way towards the stair luggage in hand. He looked over his shoulder at Kate, key in between his teeth he said,"Oh it isn't a problem at all. I'll be back down to enjoy some more of that rum of yours shortly." As he walked up the stairs he thought about the damn prohibition outlawing liquor back in the states. Damned government trying to say what we can and can not ingest. As he got to his room he dropped his suit case and unlocked it. Pushing his suit case in with his foot he dropped his tackle box on the nearest dresser and pushed the door shut.

He slid his suitcase next to the bed and kneeled down. Opening it up he took out the carton of cigarettes and his special pouch. Moving back over to the dresser he pulled out the small piece of glass, razor and metal tube. He took out of pinch of amphetamines and dropped them on the glass. Back in the states you could buy them at any store in pill form. Just pull apart the pill and you had the powder that was before him. Snorting it caused it to go into the system faster. A trick one of the fisherman taught him back on the boat. Without lining it up he snorted the powder and moved into the bathroom quickly rinsing his nose with a splash of water. He thought about taking a spoonful of the liquid morphine he had but figured it'd be better take closer to bed time. Recently congress had put forward a bill to outlaw that too but it was currently under heavy opposition.

He pulled off his rain coat and hung it on the corner of the dresser. It only took a few moments for the amphetamine to kick in and he already was feeling better. He put the room key in his pocket and left the room, locking it behind him. Walking down the hall to room number he three he knocked loudly on the door, "Mrs. Jones the bartender Kate sent me up to check on you, see if you need anything. Mind letting me in?" He waited for a response. If none came he'd try just walking in.
 
Three days earlier

Ariadne nestled back into her lying position on the couch, a cigarette dangled from her lips, her nose was red, her eyes were puffy.

"Go on, then, ask me another," she snorted, trying to keep her nose from running.

"Very well," the posh lady in glasses crossed her legs, the scanned the contents of her notepad. "You were sent to St Johns Mental Hospital at age 16, after you tried to drown yourself in the ocean."

"'ell of a stay, too. What's your point?"

"You didn't leave a note."

"Pardon?" Ariadne did a double take, almost dropping her cigarette in the process. After she scrambled to catch the thin stick, Ariadne peered at the woman interviewing her, suspicious.

"Suicides leave a note. I need for you to tell me what really happened." Straight to the point, as always. It caught Ariadne off guard.

"I just wanted. . ." Ariadne trailed off when she noticed that their eyes were the same glassy blue. Her interviewer cleared her throat, then changed topics.

"What do you have to return to in Penkos?"


- - - -

Ariadne wiped the last of the mud away from her face with her handkerchief, before giving her appearance a final inspection in the cracked mirror. Her hair was still wet, but her longcoat had kept her clothes at an acceptable level of dampness.

Ariadne grinned at her reflection, then braced herself against the sink, taking deep, calming breaths. Her breathing echoed raggedly in her ears.

Wait.

That was not the sound of her breathing. It was rain and wind, coming in from somewhere.
Ariadne did a quick search of the women's room before determining that the noise was coming from the men's room next door.

"Wha' in Mary's bleedin' 'airy-'axe-wound?" She pressed her ear against the painted peeled wall.

Ariadne hoped her instincts were right and that there was an open window in the men's room, and not just someone taking an enthusiastic wee, because she was going in without knocking.



An even wetter Ariadne returned to the bar, and reclaimed her seat next to George. "Fancied a swim," she supplied, then leaned called to Kate from across the bar.

"Ha Kate, 'ad to shut a window in the gents' W.C. Think a customer di'nt fancy payin' 'is tab?" She glanced over her shoulder at the silent Portuguese men.
 
"Them bloody goat-sucklin' bastards!" Kate cried, slamming both hands on the counter. She peered over Ariadne's shoulder at the two untouched glasses of ale on the table by the door. "Din't drink them bloody things neither!" She growled and looked back at the woman. "Dockers is all the same. Thieves and liars. Dun come in 'ere for months then rob me blind. They'll be a reckning one o' 'ese days!"

Running hands through her golden-blonde hair, she exhaled to calm herself, then gave a cheery smile. "Anyways, 'a we met before, pet? You's lookin' at me like I should know yer. But I 'spect you ain't from round from these parts."


* * * * * * *


Meanwhile, upstairs, there was no answer at the door of Room 3. Rox's knock seem to echo a little differently than it should have, and now that he listened he could hear the window creaking back and forth. It was open and the storm was coming in. He stepped back as water came trickling out underneath the door, illuminated now and then by the glare of lightning.


* * * * * * *


Henry gasped for breath as the Smoking Man's knee came away from his chest, then choked as it was replaced by his foot. Straightening to his full height, the gunman called over the edge of the ditch. "Mac! MAC!" There was a pause, then he yelled through the storm. "FUCKER'S LYING. HE AIN'T RELATED."

"FUCK!"

A flash of lightning over the cove turned the night to silver, and as the shadows erased Henry saw the man's face. His eyes went wide and he raised a hand. "Wa--"

The Smoking Man lowered the pistol and beneath a clap of thunder the gunshot went unheard.
 
James grabbed the room key from the counter. "Thank you Miss," he said. He stood up from the stool, grabbing his coat. "I suppose I'll head down in the morning, with the weather the way it is they probably closed up early."

He headed for the stairs to his room. When he was near the top stairs he heard Rox knocking on a door. Stopping he peaked around the corner, but not enough to be noticed. 'interesting' thought James, 'I wonder what he wants.' James's curiosity was getting the better of him.
 
The hollow knock and no reply roused a feeling of unease. As he heard the windows knocking back and forth he put his ear to the door to see if he could hear anything else. As the lightning flashed it drew his eyes down to the base of the door. He took a step back noticing his boots in a small amount of water, "What the hell?" His first thought was to throw his weight against the door, but, he restrained himself. Though his curiousity was peaked he didn't have the money to pay for any damages. He thought about grabbing his gutting knife from his tackle box in the room next door. Maybe he could wiggle the door open just like they had to do when the doors froze shut on the boats.

No, no need for any of that, he told himself. That was just the drugs talking. He took a step back away from the door and headed back downstairs. He nodded his head at the man as he passed him on the stairs. As he hit the bottom of the stairs he talked loudly to make sure he was heard, "Excuse ma'am! You might have a problem in that Mrs. Jones room. Waters coming out from under the door and I can hear the window slamming open and close in there."
 
Before Ariadne could answer Kate's question, the American had returned with complaints about one of the rooms. The barmaid gave a despairing sigh and threw down her cloth.

"Jesus arse Christ, was you people born in a barn? Price of ale 'll 'ave to go up to cover me 'eating bill at 'is rate!

She opened a drawer beneath the till and took out her key set, shuffling through it as she exited the bar. "You keep an' eye on things now, George!"

"Right yer are, Kate," called George's voiced, followed by "Nrrrrrgggghhhhhh!" as he started to get up. She also threw a glance to the Portugeuse sailors, who watched her as she moved upstairs.

"I know what it is," Kate ranted as Rox followed behind her, "Another bloody customer cheatin' me. Checks in for the night then goes out the bloody window! This wun't've happened in me dad's day, I tell yer. Liberties! World's gone to 'ell in 'andbasket. Is it like 'is in America?"

Rox went to answer, but Kate continued ranting. "I an't easy, y'know, runnin' 'is ere pub. Bloomin' priest scares away 'alf the custom, an' the other 'alf robs me blind!"

They got to the next floor and found James hovering. Kate raised a finger to him as she passed. "Don't you be getting no ideas, now." She continued to Room 3, selected the correct key from her bunch, then knocked abruptly on the door. "I 'ope yer decent, Missus Jones."

She let a second pass before twisting the key in the lock. "I knew it. She an't bloody in there!"

Rox was standing behind her when the door opened. The room was tiny, the ceiling low and walls crooked, unfurnished but for a cupboard and a beside table with an unlit oil lamp.

And the bed, which brought a scream as loud as the thunder.

Bed_Kill_Traditional_Film_by_surfin_roxy196.jpg

Kate recoiled into Henry, the keys dropping from her hands, her whole body going rigid. And then a wholly new flavour of terror sounded from her lungs as something turned from the open window.

Film_Noir_Villan_by_saramaus.jpg

Rox didn't see the blade - only it's effects. Kate's chest and shoulder were sliced open like paper and the blood was whip-like, lashing across his face as the woman fell into his arms. Blinded, he tumbeld back, and his last image was of the longcoated man lowering his arm and fleeing through the window.

Rox landed hard against the corridor wall, Kate swooning on top of him, and in another flash of lightning the scene was shown - blood and water repainting the walls of Room 3.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom
Back