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

and down the block as if the store were going to materialize out of nowhere.

“I think we’ve come out all right so far,” he said.

“Where is this place?”

“If my calculations are correct, and they usually are, the little bookshop from Rhode Island should be right about—here!”

Macky stopped and turned to the line of businesses along the street, the shops, and awnings.  The lampposts were at their back.  Some of the shops were open, being nine in the morning.

Rhode Island Books was gone.

“Great,” Millie said.  “Just great, Dev.  The best P.I. work I’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.  You’ve done a great job at deducing as well.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Regardless.” Macky paused.  He looked around.  “It was here, Mill.  Honest.”

Whatever it was, was no longer there.  Eerily, where the store should’ve been was a small empty space with a For Lease sign in the window.  Macky went up to the glass and peered inside.

“Looks like he moved,” he said.  “See, it does happen.”

“Overnight?”

“Maybe his lease was up, like I said.”

“Maybe there was no lease.  Maybe the whole thing was your blasted imagination, or whatever spooks the city—or this Abdul character used to dupe you into taking that wretched thing.  Might I say, ‘Mission accomplished.’”

“There is that, too,” Macky agreed.

“Do you realize what this means?”

“I’m a tad short of clarity this morning, Mill.  Enlighten me.”

“It means you were tricked, duped, and bamboozled.”

“You’re trying to make me feel stupid with big words again, aren’t you?”

“Because you read from that vile thing, you probably opened a doorway, releasing some cosmic, ancient horror upon our poor, defenseless city.”

“But we don’t have any proof.  Not yet.  Maybe Amelia will give me a good trade for it.”

“No!  She’s innocent enough without adding a bunch of unnecessary horror to her life.”

Macky had met Amelia when trying to track down several missing people thanks to some business a couple of years ago. She was a stutterer who was married to Newt Bardhoff, a lieutenant of the Innsport Police Department.

“Here we go again!” Millie said.

“You’re repeating yourself, Mill.”  He was still staring through the window.

“It’s only a matter of time,” he said.  “I can feel the dark forces at work.”

“Sure.  With an attitude like that, I’d want to open a dark portal, too.”

—

“I think this might be a good time to sit down, have some coffee, and think about things.  Just because Rhode Island Books is no longer where it used to be, doesn’t mean anything.  We can agree on that, right?”

Millie had her hands in the pockets of her coat.  The wrinkle above her nose stood out.

“Your look tells me I might be underestimating the gravity of the situation.  Which is funny if you think about it because I don’t think that has anything to do with it.  Not really.  Don’t you think that’s funny, Mill?”

She’d turned into a robot.  She didn’t say anything.  She didn’t blink.

“Millie?”

Millie just stared.

“Mill, can you at least say something?  Anything.  Blink.  Yes or no.  Two for no.  Five for yes.  That’ll get the point across.”

She shook her head.  A tiny sigh escaped her throat.  He’d never seen her at a loss for words before.  It worried him.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she finally said.

“But nothing’s really happening, Mill.  It’s possible the bookshop is on another street, and I am not thinking clearly.  That Abdul guy is probably a few blocks over.  I don’t always remember things correctly, you know?”

“The guy’s name was, Abdul Alhazred,” Millie said.  “Rhode Island Books only makes sense if it were in Rhode Island, Dev.  And we’re not in Rhode Island.  We’re in Innsport.  Rhode Island is where H.P. Lovecraft was born and buried.  This whole thing has mess written all over it.  And now you’re creepy store is gone.”

“I was searching for a simpler explanation.”

“That man tricked you, Dev.  He’s the author of that vile thing, and to make matters worse, he’s a complete lunatic.  Mad, Dev.  Crazy.  As in, belongs in an insane asylum.”

“So, he’s nutty?”

“Yes.  And he probably wants to let loose a horde of demons on the city.  His search for black knowledge had to do with the Outer Gods, Outer Darkness.  Cosmic horrors.”

“Why would anyone want to do that?”

“Because he’s a nut.”

“Crazy people have odd motivations.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“I think this would be better discussed in a quaint coffee shop over a danish.  Maybe some pumpkin bread for the season.”

“You’re buying,” Millie said.

—

The place they went was on the corner of 182nd Street and Madison called, Dreams in the Coffee House, which Macky thought was finally a unique name for something.  He was drinking black coffee with sugar and cream.  Millie was having an English Breakfast tea.  They were sitting at a small table in the corner with dark wood walls and plenty of windows.  A light jazz piano was on a Vectra radio.  Millie was picking demurely at a piece of pumpkin bread with chocolate chips.  The Necronomicon was on Macky’s lap.  Millie didn’t want to look at the thing while she was drinking tea and eating.  The wind was blowing harder outside.  Leaves tumbled and blew down the street.

A black hound went running across the street and disappeared around the block.

“What, Dev?  What is it?”

“Nothing, Mill.”

They were quiet for a while.  Macky looked down at the book on his lap and touched the cover.  It was different than he remembered it.

“It does look kinda gruesome in the light of day,” he said.  He lifted the cover and studied some of the markings.

“Please don’t open it, Dev,” Millie said.  “Something doesn’t feel right since you brought that thing into the office.  With the bookstore, I am now officially scared.”

“Mill, you remember when you first started working