Абрахам Меррит - Creep, Shadow!

We came to a massive gate, and there was a garrison of half a dozen. We rode past the gate and came to a wide, long meadow land dotted with stunted bushes, crouching like cowering men. It came to me that this must be where the unfortunate 'Lias had encountered the dogs that weren't dogs. Under the sun, the brisk air and the exhilaration of riding, that story had lost many of its elements of reality. Yet the place had a frightened, forbidding aspect. I mentioned this casually to Dahut. She looked at me with a secret amusement; answered as casually: "Yes – but there is good hunting here."

She rode on without saying what kind of hunting. Nor did I ask; for there had been that about her answer which had abruptly restored my faith in 'Lias's veracity.

We came to the end of the wall, and it was built in the rock as McCann had said. There was a big breast of the rock which shut off view of what lay beyond. I said:

"I'd like to take a look from here." And before she could answer, had dismounted and climbed the rock. From the top, it was open ocean. A couple of hundred yards from shore were two men in a small fishing boat. They raised their heads as they saw me, and one drew out a hand net and began dipping with it. Well, McCann was on the job.

I scrambled down and joined Dahut. I asked: "How about riding back and going out the gate for a canter. I'd like to see more of the countryside."

She hesitated, then nodded; we rode back and through the garrison and out upon a country road. In a little while we sighted a fine old house, set well back among big trees. A stone wall protected it from the road, and lounging beside one of its gates was McCann.

He watched us come imperturbably. Dahut passed without a glance. I had hung back a few paces, and as I went by McCann I dropped a card. I had hoped for just this encounter, and I had managed to scribble on it:

"Something very wrong but no definite evidence yet. About thirty men, think all well-armed. Barbed and charged wires behind wall."

I drew up beside the Demoiselle and we rode on a mile or so. She halted, and asked: "Have you seen enough?"

I said, yes; and we turned back. When we went by McCann he was still lounging beside the gate as though he had not moved. But there was no paper on the road.

The garrison had seen us coming, and the postern was swinging open. We returned to the house the same way we had gone. I had gotten not a glimpse of the "rockery."

Dahut was flushed with the ride, full of gaiety. She said: "I'll bathe. Then we'll have lunch on the boat – go for a little cruise."

"Fine," I said. "And I hope it doesn't make me as sleepy as it did yesterday."

Her eyes narrowed, but my face was entirely innocent. She smiled: "It won't, I'm sure. You're getting acclimated."

I said, morosely: "I hope so. I must have been pretty dull company at dinner last night."

She smiled again: "But you weren't. You pleased my father immensely."

She went into the house laughing.

I was very glad I had pleased her father.

It had been a thoroughly delightful sail with a thoroughly charming girl. Only when one of the tranced crew knelt as he passed did I feel the sinister hidden undertow. And now I sat at dinner with de Keradel and the Demoiselle. De Keradel's conversation was so fascinating that he had made me forget that I was a prisoner. I had discussed with him much that I had wished to on the night Bill had persuaded me to be so objectionable. If at times his manner was irritatingly too much like that of a hierophant instructing a neophyte in elementary mysteries, or if he calmly advanced as fact matters which modern science holds to be the darkest of superstitions, investing them with all the authenticity of proven experience – it made no difference to me. The man's learning was as extraordinary as his mind, and I wondered how in one short life he could have acquired it. He spoke of the rites of Osiris, the black worship of Typhon whom the Egyptians also named Set of the Red Hair, the Eleusinian and the Delphic mysteries as though he had witnessed them. Described them in minutest detail – and others more ancient and darker, long buried in age-rotten shrouds of Time. The evil secrets of the Sabbat were open to him, and once he spoke of the worship of Kore, the Daughter, who was known also as Persephone, and in another form as Hecate, and by other names back, back through the endless vistas of the ages – the wife of Hades, the Queen of the Shades whose daughters were the Furies.

It was then I told him of what I had beheld in the Delphian cave when the Greek priest with the pagan soul had evoked Kore… and I had watched that majestic – that dreadful – form taking shape in the swirls of smoke from what was being consumed upon her thrice ancient altar…

He listened intently, without interrupting, as one to whom the story held no surprise. He asked: "And had She come to him before?"

I answered: "I do not know."

He said directly to the Demoiselle: "But even if so, the fact that She appeared to – to Dr. Caranac – is most significant. It is proof that he – "

Dahut interrupted him, and I thought there was some warning in the glance she gave him: "That he is acceptable. Yes, my father."

De Keradel considered me: "An illuminating experience, indeed. I am wondering, in the light of it, and of other things you have told me – I am wondering why you were so – so hostile – to such ideas the night we met."

I answered, bluntly: "I was more than half drunk and ready to fight anybody."

He bared his teeth at that, then laughed outright: "You do not fear to speak the truth."

"Neither when drunk nor sober," I said.

He scrutinized me silently, for moments. He spoke, more as though to himself than to me: "I do not know… she may be right… if I could wholly trust him it would mean much to us… he has curiosity… he does not shrink from the dark wisdom… but has he courage… ?"

I laughed at that, and said, baldly: "If I did not have – would I be here?"

"Quite true, my father." Dahut was smiling maliciously.

De Keradel struck down his hand like one who has come at last to a decision: "Carnac, I spoke to you of an experiment in which I am deeply interested. Instead of being a spectator, willing or unwilling… or no spectator, whichever I might decide… " he paused as though to let the covert menace of this sink in… "I invite you to participate with me in this experiment. I have good reason to believe that its rewards, if successful, will be incalculably great. My invitation is not disinterested. I will admit to you that my experiment has not as yet met with full success. I have had results – but they have not been what I hoped. But what you have told me of Kore proves that you are no barrier to the materialization of these Beings – Powers or Presences, or if you prefer, discarnate, unknown energies which can take shape, become substance, in accordance with laws discoverable to man – and discovered. Also, you have within you the ancient blood of Carnac, and the ancient memories of your race. It may be that I have missed some slight detail that your stimulated memory will recall. It may be that with you beside us this Being I desire to evoke will appear in all its power – and with all that implies of power for us."

I asked: "What is that Being?"

He said: "You, yourself, named it. That which in one of its manifold shapes came to the Alkar-Az of ancient Carnac as it came to the temples of my own people ages before Ys was built or the stones of Carnac raised – the Gatherer in the Cairn – the Blackness…"

If I felt cold creep along my skin he did not know it. It was the answer I had been expecting and I was prepared.

I looked long at Dahut, and he, at least, misinterpreted that look, as I had hoped he would. I struck my own hand down upon the table: "De Keradel, I am with you."