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The Lovecraft Affair - Chapter 8
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Disclaimer
This is a work of amature fiction, no contravention of copyright is intended and no profit is made from this endeavour.
"The hour soon at hand," intoned Illya. "This one must be returned for the
joining."
The words were coming out of Illya's mouth, but he wasn't the one saying
them. This much Napoleon was sure of as he crouched in front of his
partner. "Come on Illya, snap out of it," he said. "I know you're in
there, don't let them control you. Fight it Illya, fight it!" He grabbed
Illya's hands in his and started squeezing them roughly, hoping that the
pain would somehow jar the Russian back to reality.
At his touch, Illya started to shudder violently. He tried to pull away,
but Napoleon wouldn't let him go. "Stay with me," he said. "Please Illya,
you have to fight it." He was almost begging now, hardly able to even
contemplate the alternative.
Finally Illya's hands were wrenched from Napoleon's and he pushed him away,
before staggering to his feet. He only managed to stumble a few feet before
collapsing face down on the ground. Napoleon was on him in a second,
turning him over and gently pushing the blond hair back from his face.
"Illya...Illya?" He almost held his breath as Illya's eyes slowly flickered
open, only to let it out in a sigh of relief that was almost a sob, as he
saw that they had returned to their usual ice blue color.
"Napoleon?" asked Illya, a note of confusion in his voice. "What...what
just happened?"
"What do you remember happening?"
"We were in the car...and there were people in the road and..." Illya's
face went pale. "They tried to take me..." He clutched frantically at
Napoleon's arm. "You cannot let them take me. You have to get me out of
here!"
"It's okay, it's okay," said Napoleon reassuringly as he helped Illya to his
feet. "Nobody's going to take you anywhere. I promise." Illya was still a
little unsteady as Napoleon walked him back to the car. "But we have a
little problem."
"How little a problem?"
"Oh just that if you leave this property you'll die."
"I see you have not yet lost your facility for understatement," commented
Illya, dryly. "So what would you consider a *big* problem?"
"Going back to the house and getting them to break whatever spell they put
on you before the gates of hell open and we're overrun with bug eyed many
tentacled monsters."
"I thought you didn't believe in 'mumbo-jumbo' like this?"
"Let's just say that certain recent events are making me revise my opinion
on that matter." Napoleon started the car and turned it around on the
narrow roadway. He glanced over at Illya and saw how the Russian's hands
were clenched into fists as he stared out through the windscreen into the
darkness. It was clear that Illya was forcing himself to remain calm.
Reaching over, he patted Illya gently on the arm. "It'll be all right.
We'll get them to reverse what they've done to you, break the spell or
whatever. Heck, we'll even get you an annulment. You haven't consummated
the marriage by any chance, because that could complicate matters."
There was a bare hint of a smile on Illya's lips, but it quickly faded.
"And just how to expect to convince these people to reverse their actions?
We have no idea of what we're dealing with. If we go up against them
now...they may have forces beyond our imagination to use against us. We
will be like lambs to the slaughter." The noise of the engine idling was
the only sound to be heard for a few minutes, until Illya turned to
Napoleon. "You should leave this place now. Find a church and take refuge
there. It may not save you, but it's your best chance."
"Whoa there, *partner*," said Napoleon, slightly taken aback. "We're in
this together, you and me. If you can't leave this place safely, then
neither will I. We can find a way to stop this thing. You know we've
beaten the odds before, we can do it again."
"How?" said Illya, his voice unsteady. "We...we have no experience with
what is going on here. Guns and bullets are no match for curses and spells.
We do not know the first thing about what they are doing to me or why. This
is so far outside our areas of expertise..." His hands moved restlessly in
his lap as he fiddled with his newly acquired wedding ring.
"True," said Napoleon. "We don't know what we're doing here...but I think
we may know somebody who *does* know something." He pointed out through the
windscreen to where an old man was standing a few yards in front of the car.
"He's the one who warned me before. Let's hope he can help us again."
Napoleon scrambled out of the car hoping that the man wasn't going to
disappear on him again. "Okay then," he said, when they were standing face
to face. "You said that I have to free Illya. Tell me how."
"It is a dangerous process. The risks for whoever tries to break a bond of
this nature are high. And the odds of success are low."
"I'll do whatever it takes to save Illya," vowed Napoleon. "Just tell me
how."
"Beware...it may already be too late," warned the old man as he pointed
towards the car.
Napoleon sucked in his breath sharply. Illya was sitting in the drivers
seat, his eyes once more completely white. He stared unseeingly at Napoleon
as the engine revved up.
Only Napoleon's finely honed reflexes enabled him to dive out of the way as
the car lunged toward him, and even so, the car caught him a glancing blow
on the leg which sent him sprawling in the ditch. By the time he managed to
regain his feet and limp back to the roadway, the car was gone...and so was
the old man.
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