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The Lovecraft Affair |
Disclaimer
This is a work of amature fiction, no contravention of copyright is intended and no profit is made from this endeavour.
Napoleon drove as fast as he could, only slowing to take the deep
corners. If he had been by himself, he might have chosen to go back
to get to the bottom of things. But, Illya was afraid. And Illya
was never afraid. And he wanted to get as far away as they could.
So, Napoleon kept driving.
Neither of them spoke, Napoleon concentrating on his driving, Illya
on pulling himself together. Suddenly, Illya let out a yell, his
hands braced on the dashboard. "Watch out, Napoleon!"
Napoleon slammed on the brakes. "What, what is it?" He looked in
every direction, searching for danger.
Illya was out of the car. "Didn't you see them?"
Napoleon followed him, confused. "See who?"
"Those men?" Illya walked around the car. "You ran right through
them."
A chill went down Napoleon's spine. "I ran right through them? Like
through them?" His hand moved forward in space to complement his
words. He followed Illya around the vehicle, then took a look at the
front grill. "Illya, I didn't see anything." He moved next to his
partner, and in the glare from the headlights, he put his fingers
under Illya's chin to lift his face.
Illya jerked his head away. "I am perfectly sane, Napoleon. I know
what I saw." His eyes widened, and he pointed to a space behind
Napoleon. "There, there they are." He yanked Napoleon to the side,
until he was no longer standing between Illya and whatever he was
seeing.
Napoleon turned around and looked, and saw nothing. He scrunched his
face up and looked at Illya. "What exactly are you seeing?"
Illya had his hands up to ward an unseen enemy off. His voice was
pleading. "Do not let them take me, Napoleon. Do not let them take
me."
Napoleon looked again, trying to see what Illya was seeing, desperate
to see what Illya was seeing. He didn't know how to help Illya fight
ghosts. He pulled Illya closer to his side. "There's nothing there,
Illya."
His words didn't help. Napoleon could see the fear in his partner's
eyes and it leaped between them, infecting him as well. Napoleon had
no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, he knew it was bad.
Illya stiffened at his side.
Napoleon glanced at him in some alarm. "Illya, let's go. Let's get
back in the car and get out of here." He tried to tug on Illya's arm.
Illya resisted and he turned to stare at something over Napoleon's
shoulder. His mouth opened and he began to speak, but it wasn't
Illya's voice that came out. "They wait forever at the Gates, for
the time draws near, the hour is soon at hand."
Napoleon felt an unnatural fear grow within him. Dreading what he
might see, he slowly looked over his shoulder. When he saw nothing
but darkness, he grabbed his partner by his arms and shook
him. "Illya. Snap out of it. Illya!"
The voice continued to pour out of Illya. "Great Cthulhu shall rise
from R'lyeh, Hastur the Unspeakable shall return from the dark star
which is in the Hyades near Aldebaran, the red eye of the bull,
Nyarlathotep shall howl forever in the darkness where he abideth,
Shub-Niggurath shall spawn its thousand young, and they shall spawn
in turn and take dominion."
The words snaked around Napoleon like wisps of fog on a dark and
moonless night. He was as close to panic as he'd ever felt. "Illya,
please." He was appalled to realize he was close to tears. He
needed an enemy he could fight.
Something touched his shoulder, and Napoleon let out a yell, turning,
reaching for his gun. He stopped in his tracks when he saw an
indistinct shadow of a robed man. The robe was identical to the ones
worn by those he'd seen in Illya's room. Napoleon went to grab the
man around the neck, but although he felt some substance, his hand
went right through the specter. "Jesus." Napoleon took a step
backwards, almost knocking over Illya.
Then, suddenly, the old man who had helped him earlier, stood before
him. "We must hurry. I cannot hold the shape of a spirit of the
dead for long."
Out of the corner of his eye, Napoleon saw Illya start to sway. He
turned just in time to catch him as he collapsed. Napoleon assisted
him to the ground, sinking to his own knees, holding Illya against
his chest, almost in his lap. He looked up at the old man,
anguished. "What's happening? What have they done to him?"
"I thought we were in time to save him, but I fear we may be too
late. The bond between he and the woman is too strong. It must be
broken before they control him completely." The outline of his body
grew hazy.
Napoleon let out a cry and reached for him, his hands slipping
uselessly through the illusion of fabric. "No, don't go. I need to
know more."
The man's form continued to waver. "He will die if you take him off
this property. He is as bound to this land as he is to the woman.
You must return him."
Napoleon shook his head, his body rigid. "There's no way in hell I'm
taking him back there."
"Then they have won. His death will open the floodgates." The man
started to fade again, and his final words resonated in empty
air. "You must free him."
Napoleon looked down at the blond head resting on his chest. He gave
his partner a gentle shake. "Illya? Are you all right?" When there
was no answer, he shifted him so he was leaning against the car.
Then he lifted his partner's chin. "Hey, tovarisch? You back with
me?"
Illya's eyes snapped open, and Napoleon couldn't help his instinctive
recoil. Illya's eyes were completely white.
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