The Lurker at the Threshold : A Horror Mystery by Brandon Berntson (feel good books txt) 📕

do something about that grating pustule.”

Duke pulled out his gun.  He aimed it at the Mad Arab and fired.  The report was loud, but the bullet sailed wide.  Abdul Alhazred, despite failing his god, continued to summon dark forces from The Necronomicon.  Shadows came to life beyond the trees.  Yog-Sothoth was a waiting, pulsating light of horror.  The wind continued to blow.  Pillars of light continued to emanate from the barn, reaching the clouds.

Duke ran toward the Mad Arab.

“What’s he doing?” Capshaw asked.

Duke ran, firing at the same time.  Soon, the chamber was empty.

A whirlwind of dark matter moved around the Mad Arab.  He chanted, gathering more darkness, and started to laugh.

—

Jerry Fogherty didn’t have names for what he was seeing.  The only words that came to mind were monstrous, horror, and insanity.  It was in the skies and streets.  The real horror was the towering leviathan that stood over the city like a shroud across the night.  Cthulhu was one hundred stories high.  Behind him was a trail of razed buildings, fallen telephone poles, broken concrete, smashed cars, and crumpled bridges.

The spherical god, Yog-Sothoth, the Lurker at the Threshold, moved beneath the stars, the mass of which Jerry’s mind could barely comprehend.  The glowing orbs and spheres were everywhere in the city, dancing in a complex, interwoven conglomeration like a colossal game of connect-the-dots.

The other monsters inhabiting the city cowered at its presence.  There wasn’t enough room.  The Lurker at the Threshold was no longer at the threshold.

“Dear God, save us,” Jerry whispered.

Beside him, the rookie fainted.

—

“He has succeeded,” Nyarlathotep said.

They were looking into the miasma that was the witch-house.  The place was still a swirling conglomeration of electric-colored lights and wind-blasted landscapes.

“Succeeded?” Millie asked.  “Who?  What succeeded?”

“Your friend,” the god said.

“Dev?  He did?”  Millie got excited and started jumping up and down.  “He got through! Are you being serious?  Did you hear that, Henry?”

“I didn’t think he had it in him,” Armitage said.

“It is far from over,” Nyarlathotep said.

“But you just said—” Millie reminded him.

“There is another,” Nyarlathotep said.

“Another?”

“Yog-Sothoth.  Cthulhu.  But there is a progenitor before them.  Azathoth.  The father of both.”

“You’ve got to be kidding?” Millie said.

“Like one big monstrous family,” Henry said.

—

The gates were closing.  The monsters were free to roam Innsport, laying siege and destruction to everything in their path.  They couldn’t go back to the Outer Darkness.  In the interim, Cthulhu and Yog-Sothoth swelled to life waiting for the one who came before.  While bats swarmed the skies and rats filled the streets, giant spiders took to the buildings, mi-gos flew at random throughout the city, and the kangaroo monsters hopped along, ravenous and clawing.

Azathoth soon appeared, a colossal black hole with a thousand eyes and teeth.  It looked like a giant, wrinkled mouth across the sky.  The horrors over Innsport had the entire city in the panic and terror.

Screams filled the night.  Cars crashed.  Sirens sounded.  Horns honked.  Glass shattered.

The towering sentinels—while bodies were being plucked from the city—began the purpose they’d been waiting their entire lives to set in motion:

The eradication of the human race.

—

Duke had been running toward the Mad Arab with everything he had.  It wasn’t much, considering his size. He was out of shape.  His gun was drawn, but the chamber was empty.  Abdul Alhazred must be in some corporeal, resurrected state—the power of his dark knowledge.

“Duke!” Newt shouted.

His partner continued to run.

Duke was no more than ten feet from the Mad Arab, when the man noticed him.  Abdul summoned a spell, making a circular gesture with his hands.  He aimed it at Duke, released it, and the big detective was thrown backwards and onto the ground.

The Mad Arab laughed and vanished in a puff of smoke.

—

“What now?” Macky asked.  “How do I get back?  You threw me a nice party and everything, and don’t think I’m not grateful.  I have a feeling this wine of Kadath is going to give me the worst of hangovers, but I gotta get going.  I have friends back home.”

“You can’t go back,” Ubba-Sathla said.

“That’s funny.  Seriously.  How do I get back?”

“The Weevles want you as a permanent house guest.  Let’s face it, it gets pretty lonely here.  Imagine if that was all you had for company.  It’s maddening.  Why don’t you think about staying?”

Macky stared at the man, the creature, whatever it was.  The dialogue with the Elder Gods had sobered him up.  Maybe that was their power.

“Look, if you can summon the Elder Gods, surely you can get me back home,” Macky said.

“It’s not that easy.”

“What do you want?” Macky asked.

“I’m thinking of the Weevles,” Ubba-Sathla said.  “They’re going to be disappointed when they wake up and find you gone.”

“Tell them I’ll be home for Christmas.”

Ubba-Sathla raised his eyebrows at this.  “You promise?”

“Of course.”

“You’re a good man, Mr. Macky.”

“I’ll be sure to remind them back home.”

“Another cup of wine before you go?”

“One for the road, as they say.  Don’t mind if I do . . .”

—

“But can’t we get them back?” Millie continued to plead with Nyarlathotep.  “There must be some way to get them back.  A bunch of gods, and portals, and gateways, and witch-houses, and the like, you’re going to stand there and tell me that’s impossible?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Nyarlathotep said.

“I have something that might persuade him,” Armitage said.

“What’s that?” Millie asked.

Henry smiled.  He reached into his pant pocket and pulled out an amulet on a gold chain.  The amulet was of a dog with wings, a jade crystal in the center.

Nyarlathotep flamed, bristling with fire.  “How did you get that?”

“I’ve come into a lot of things over the years,” Armitage said. “This just happened