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The Lovecraft Affair, chapter 9
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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.
Napoleon swore under his breath as the pain lanced his leg and pulled the
pen communicator out of his pocket. He didn't expect it to work and when it
finally crackled into life he smiled and looked heavenwards in thanks. This page is an unofficial site that
exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the
television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton
and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television
characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages
is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and
is not presented here for profit.
"Channel D priority relay to Professor Jonas McKeigh, Myskatonic University,
Boston."
There was a short pause before the communicator came back to life.
"It's four in the morning, this had better be good." The voice on the other
end of the communicator sounded rough with sleep and on the testy side of
humour.
"Professor McKeigh, my name is Napoleon Solo of the U.N.C.L.E. I need to
talk to you."
"Am I supposed to know you?"
"No sir, your name was given as a possible reference in the matter of a case
we are working on."
"So explain again why I should talk to you."
"Cthulu." Napoleon said quietly as if to speak would invoke the demons and
he shuddered.
"Where are you?"
"About five miles from the old Lovecraft estate."
"I'll have a car pick you up in a few minutes. How will my driver know you?"
"I'll be the man in a suit shivering on the side of the road talking to a
pen." There was a chuckle down the communicator.
"Ah well that is not as strange as it may sound."
~~~oooOOOooo~~~
Professor McKeigh was a middle aged librarian, his face kindly if not care
worn as he ushered Napoleon into a battered arm chair and handed him a hot
cup of tea.
"I suggest you tell me what's going on."
"My partner was married to the granddaughter of Lovecraft, since then
strange things have happened."
The Professor shook his head. "Amateur bloody fools, you have no idea what
you're dealing with here do you?"
"I must profess none."
"As if that wasn't evident. Alright you need to know some of the history of
Cthulu and the cult. Lovecraft died at an early age and until recently
historians had thought his wife Sonia had died barren. However, she
conceived a daughter who died in childbirth at the age of fourteen. The
matter was kept quiet, Sonia was a well-respected businesswoman of Russian
Jewish ancestry and left a reasonable estate. Which is the house you just
came from, Arkham Manor."
"Yes."
"Did you see a book?"
"A large black book covered in thick leather." Napoleon nodded and
remembered it on the altar behind the celebrant at the service.
"That book Mr. Solo is the Necrinonimcon. It is bound in human skin and is
one of three that we know to exist. The mad Arab, El Hazrid, who went insane
during the course of its construction, wrote it. It details the history of
mankind."
"Indeed. So this hocus pocus is real?" Napoleon frowned.
"You may indeed make light of this Mr. Solo, but unless you believe that you
are fighting an enemy here your friend and perhaps all of our lives will be
forfeit. I have no urge or desire to live under the rule of their gods."
"I apologise, this is not easy for me to believe."
"And yet your partner does?"
"He is Russian, and is more open to suggestion of a demonic nature than I
am, he is a scientist and therefore not a true skeptic."
"Well I would have assumed he was given his background. Nevertheless, there
are two ranks of Gods, the Old Ones want to terminate mankind in order to
rule this sphere, the Elder Gods fought them and kept mankind in safe hands
and closed the portal."
"So we can call on the Elder Gods to help?"
"I doubt it, where the old ones want to destroy the elder gods would like to
farm mankind for their own uses. Both Cthulu and Yog Sathoth are the many
tentacled Gods, there is Hastur who is the keeper of the gates, the soul and
messenger is the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep." He opened an old book similar
to the one in the house and read aloud. "I found myself faced by names and
terms that I had heard elsewhere in the most hideous of connexions -
Yuggoth, Great Cthulhu, Tsathoggua, Yog-Sothoth, R'lyeh, Nyarlathotep,
Azathoth, Hastur, Yian, Leng, the Lake of Hali, Bethmoora, the Yellow Sign,
L'mur-Kathulos, Bran, and the Magnum Innominandum - and was drawn back
through nameless aeons and inconceivable dimensions to worlds of elder,
outer entity at which the crazed author of the Necronomicon had only guessed
in the vaguest way.... There is a whole secret cult of evil men (a man of
your mystical erudition will understand me when I link them with Hastur and
the Yellow Sign) devoted to the purpose of tracking them down and injuring
them on behalf of the monstrous powers from other dimensions."
"Illya spoke those names."
"When he spoke was it his own voice?"
"No, it was another and there was a strange man dressed in white who
appeared to warn me that Illya will soon die."
"He was old or you assumed him to be old?"
"Actually he appeared to be no more than forty but with a distinct Victorian
air."
"That Mr. Solo would be the bound spirit of Howard Phillips Lovecraft."
"Oh great, we've got Gods, Demons AND Ghosts???" Napoleon groaned.
"Have faith Mr. Solo you will need it, I suggest you return to your partner
and hold him close, love has many curative functions and no doubt it is love
which has so far kept him bound to you. A lesser man would have already
succumbed."
Solo sighed. "How much time do we have?"
"Until the astronomical conjunction is aligned for the ritual we have
another six days. In that time Mr. Solo you must make sure that Illya sees
the sun, walks in days and keep his mind with you and you alone. You must
bond with him to save him. Do you understand?"
"No but I'm beginning to." Napoleon sighed again as he stood up...
A/N:http://www.hplovecraft.com/creation/bestiary.htm
A bestiary of all the creatures Lovecraft created with excerpts pasted
direct into the text.