Secrets in the Snow

I

“You trippin’, Mate?”

Night nurse Ace Murray had stepped out of the Candlelight Ridge Care Center in London’s Crouch End borough for a breath of air and an argument with himself about whether he should have a cigarette. He had started smoking at twelve. He was now 51 and had a nasty chronic cough. With his long, slender body, shoulder-length black wavy hair, and pale complexion, Ace knew he looked like a vampire. He did not, however, want to retire to a coffin just yet.

Ace was glad for security guard Thomas Octavian’s peculiar behavior distracting him from his desire for a smoke. Thomas was an imposing figure, six foot two and built like a Sumo wrestler. His long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, revealing the tattoos on his neck. Ace knew that like himself, Thomas had heavily tattooed arms. The pair were once involved in the music business but had transitioned into healthcare. At this moment, Thomas looked like a big kid gawping at something in the heavy snow which buried the hedges near the walkway.

“Something’s under this shrubbery, Aces.”

“Like what? Don’t be all mysterious-like.”

“Well, it’s a mystery to me too, innit? I saw this hole in the snow, and when I shone me light in, there was a large blue cat with big saber fangs sitting there.”

“Cat from Uranus then? Well, that ain’t something you see every day. Was it a hostile?”

“Nah, it was friendly. I was tryin’ to strike up with a conversation with it, but it popped off through a gate. It left these items behind.”

Thomas revealed a pair of aquamarine-blue crystals hung on black cords. The crystals emitted a barely audible hum.

“C’mon, we can look at ‘em inside,” Ace prompted. “I’m freezin’ me balls off out here.”

“That’s ‘cause you ain’t got no meat on yer scrawny bones,” Thomas teased. “Say, I wonder if our new arrival will be up and about in the wee hours to join us like he has for the past week.”

“Lugh said Gerry seemed down at the mouth tonight and turned in early. Last time I checked he was asleep.”

“I think I’d do meself if I discovered I was gonna lose meself as Gerry is,” Thomas mused.

II

Ace sat beside Thomas at the security station to begin the overwhelming amount of charting that was the primary function of his job. After a few minutes trying to organize his thoughts, he put the laptop aside.

“Fuck me, and curse you and yer bloody extraterrestrial visitor,” he groaned. “I’m gonna be here all fuckin’ morning again trying to play catch-up. It’s a good thing the patients and families tend to like me. Admin would just as soon slag me off ‘cause I do such a rubbish job of playin’ by the rules. So, let’s see if these baubles you found are anything besides pretty.”

Thomas took the crystal from his pocket and set it on the desk. The crystal hummed and gave off a gentle glow. Ace prodded Thomas’ shoulder excitedly, pointing at the security monitor.

“Will you fuckin’ look at that!” he exclaimed. “Gerry’s astral projecting, and he’s got visitors.”

“I recognize the fancy bloke next to him,” Thomas said, pointing to the ghost of a flamboyant black man sporting a fedora, a mesh tank top, and tight jeans. “That’s Henry Kalmar.”

“Yeah—refresh my questionable memory.”

“Yer gonna need to ask for a room for yerself soon,” Thomas teased as Ace gave him a shove. “Henry Kalmar, New Orleans blues musician, best known fer bein’ a founding member of Fancy Trash, a band that was…”

“Mostly gay blokes. Yeah, I remember now. But who are those two natty chaps with him?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Ace. Just book yerself a room, and I’ll take care of the nursing duties. Those are Henry’s granddads, Henry Kalmar IV and Wyatt Van der Zee. Name the act!”

Ace groaned and stretched forward onto the desk.

“Sod off, ya sadistic feckin’ pork chop,” Ace whimpered melodramatically. “Something that starts with an S, innit? The Scandalizers?”

“So close, and yet so far off the mark,” Thomas revealed. “Their group was called The Tantalizers. They were killed in a wreck coming back from a New Years’ gig in 1965.”

“Well, it doesn’t surprise me that Gerry was friends with Henry VI. I suppose there’s no reason that Henry wouldn’t introduce him to his grandfathers.”

“Ace, yer senses are dull as dust. Henry and his grandfathers are trying to talk Gerry into something, and Gerry’s being self-deprecating. Let’s have a coffee, then we’ll do rounds and see if we can’t figure out what’s what.”

III

Thomas watched the monitors as the astral-projected human and the three ghosts strode down the hall and through the basement door. Suddenly, Thomas made a strange squawking sound. Ace glanced curiously at his friend.

“What’s yer situation, Tommy? You sound like a strangled rooster.”

“It’s only that I don’t like the looks of that,” Thomas replied, pointing at the monitor.

 “Yeah, I don’t like the look of it either,” Ace mused as he observed blurry flashes of multicolored light forming against a dark rectangle framed in nearly blinding phosphorous light at the east end of the basement hallway. “That light cluster is familiar, but the only thing that’s coming to mind is the doom that came to Sarnath, and I know that ain’t it.”

“Well, the only thing that’s comin’ to my mind is ‘evil eyes.’ Whatever it is, it seems to be hot for Gerry.”

“Let’s see if these jewels can help us focus our energies on a disruption spell. Then let’s see how this entity likes to tango with the Mother of Pus.”

“You off your trolley, Mate? That thing is noncorporeal. The Mother of Pus is a fetid ooze of slime, tentacles, mouths, and eyes.”

“Yeah, and I suddenly feel as if me bones have turned to a quivering mess of jelly. I just remembered what that light blighter is.”

“Care to fill me in?”

“Best not till we’ve let the Mother of Pus have at it and pushed them both through a gate. Here’s hoping there’s a nasty bucket of mop water in the janitor’s closet. You got the supplies?”

“Always,” Thomas declared, grabbing what appeared to be an old-fashioned doctor’s bag emblazoned with a star with a flaming eye at its center.

Thomas unlocked the basement door, and he and Ace hurried down the stairs. The light cluster was brighter and clearer now. Thomas began to chant strange words while Ace grabbed a mop bucket and splashed it down the corridor. Ace lit a blue candle emblazoned with the same star and eye symbol appearing on the supply bag. He began to chant.

The men noticed the astral-projected Gerry Clifford frozen with fear beside the gate as the trio of spirits accompanying him attempted to battle the malevolent presence.

“Go, we’ve got this!” Ace shouted as he threw a handful of sparkling powder towards the entity, which was now tangled with a bubbling ooze that was thrusting pseudopods into the orbs of light of which the colony was composed. The spirits hurried through the gate.

“Where are we gonna send this WWE match from hell?” Thomas inquired.

“Send it to my home world,” suggested a resonant telepathic voice belonging to a blue cat approximately the size of a sheep who had slipped in through a gate of its own making. “Neither of these entities will wish to remain there long, and it will buy your friends some time.”

“Down to the bottom of the bottomless lake it is,” Ace said with a wicked grin. “Let’s do this!”

The two humans and the Cat from Uranus chanted, and the otherworldly adversaries were drawn through the dark rectangle, which then disappeared.

IV

“Ah, it’s our friend from the shrubbery!” Thomas declared. “Right pleased to make your acquaintance, and I thank you for the gifts. I must ask, did you intend them for us, or were we simply the lucky ones who encountered them?”

“The crystals wouldn’t work for anyone who didn’t have mystical knowledge or psychic proclivities,” the cat explained. “They found you because you had the need and the ability.”

“Need there was indeed,” Thomas agreed. “I’m Thomas Octavian, and this is me partner in crime, Ace Murray.”

“My name is unpronounceable to your species. A ghoul gave me the name Fortune. I find this name acceptable. I have other tools that you gentlemen may find useful in the upcoming battle. May I join you at your abode when you have completed your night’s work?”

“Yeah, of course,” Thomas agreed. “So, Ace, why didn’t you want to tell me what that evil Lite-Brite was?”

“Because you’d have been afraid, and it feeds on fear. Bad enough to have me quivering in me boots. Didn’t need the fear doubled.”

 “I can explain while I accompany you on your rounds,” Fortune suggested.

“Out of curiosity, Mate, why are you helping us?” Ace inquired.

“Why, because the fate of the cosmos rests on the outcome of this battle,” Fortune replied.

“Yeah, I reckoned as much. I don’t suppose you’ve any sort of trick to assist with me charting.”

“In fact, the crystal that I gave you can be used to telepathically transfer the information from your synapses to your device. Then all you need do is double-check your work.”

“Oi, Tommy, you’ve just been replaced as my best mate,” Ace quipped. “Fortune, yer a godsend. I ain’t been able to concentrate on me charting worth fuck-all since Gerry Clifford arrived here. That little bloke is at the eye of one fucker of a hurricane. Me Spidey senses were tingling off the charts a good fortnight before he arrived here. The Dreamlands is in an uproar and there’s been a rise in odd disappearances in this bloody borough.”

“Crouch End is in the eye of a storm,” Fortune agreed. “You gentlemen and I will work together. Come, Friend Thomas, let us enjoy a walk in your planet’s mild weather.”

V

“Mate, are you going to explain that light cluster to me?” Thomas inquired as he and Fortune walked around the storied mansion that had been repurposed as a long-term care center in 2012.

“Yes, dear friend, this is a subject on which we shall confer,” Fortune promised as he moved silently over the icy ground. “However, as you realize, ignorance is bliss, particularly for creatures prone to nyctophobia. In order to prevent you from, as your friend Ace says, transforming into a quivering jelly, this entity would best be discussed in the light of day over a ploughman’s plate while binge-watching programs of interest on the telly. Do you know, I have never had the pleasure of binge-watching documentaries? I am looking forward to the opportunity.”

“Mate, I don’t think there’s a documentary about that thing, unless it’s one of them programs about hauntings or ghost hunting or such.”

“Yes, such documentaries could be useful. However, you realize that some revelations are couched in fables and fictional dramas.”

“Yeah, ‘course. So, this blighter is one of those fictional whatsits that ain’t fiction.”

“Indeed. Fortunately, said blighter has been temporarily misdirected. How do you feel about ghouls, Thomas?”

“Depends on the ghoul,” Thomas replied as he shone his torch towards the graveyard. “You mentioned that a ghoul gave you the name Fortune.”

“Yes, one Robin Roberts by name,” Fortune replied. “I believe you will find his resting place in yonder necropolis.”

“Don’t sound like he’s doing much resting,” Thomas quipped. “So, he’s a good ghoul?”

“Indeed. He and his bosom companion, Little John Tamboli, happened upon a spirit called Ketil Nagel and a Yithian scientist upon whom Ketil bestowed the name Yitzy.”

“Ketil Nagel…that name sounds familiar.”

“In life he was a musician, like you and your friend Ace.”

“Ace was a musician. I was a roadie who played music on the side.”

“You play music. Therefore, you are a musician.”

“I can see why this Robin bloke took a liking to you,” Thomas praised. “You see the best in folks.”

“Sadly, some beings have lost their best. They are either blinded by greed or corrupted by sadism. These traits make them vulnerable to the appetites of the Outer Gods.”

“Right you are. So, what was Ketil doing with a Yithian?”

“He befriended the Yithian on the world from which that light entity originated while seeking a way to prevent the destruction of the Cosmos. We are all soldiers in this fight, Thomas.”

“Well, if I must fight, I’m right pleased to have you and Ace as my compadres,” Thomas declared.

VI

The blue crystal around Ace’s neck gave a low hum as he entered the room of the first patient on his rounds. Janyce Ottis was 98 years old and had a rare form of dementia called Binswanger’s disease. She was a tiny woman who was a professional dancer in her youth. Upon retiring from performing, she opened a dance studio which was now run by her friend, Hiawatha Sachs. Born in 1929, Hiawatha was no spring chicken himself, but he was in perfect health. He was like a son to Janyce and came to visit her nearly every day.

Ace knew that Janyce was dead the moment he stepped through the door. Her glassy eyes stared, unseeing, at the cold moon outside. Her slack-jawed face was frozen in a rictus of terror.

“Blimey, old girl,” Ace sighed.

Ace pulled the door closed and muttered a few arcane words. When he opened his clenched fist, light shone from his palm on the unfortunate Janyce Ottis. Her jaw gave a loud pop as her mouth closed. The bones in her neck crunched as she turned her milky gaze towards Ace.

“You won’t have to deliver the sad news to the old lady’s poncey surrogate son if you’re dead yourself, Space Ace. Or, should I say, Captain Orion Wygoms?”

“’Fraid that name don’t mean anything to me, old sport,” Ace lied. The name froze the blood in his veins, although he had no idea of the context. “Bobbye Dayton Murray is the name and making a meal of plonkers like you is the game. Now, why don’t you sod off before I’m forced to get nasty?”

“You always were a treasonous rogue, Wygoms,” the gravelly voice emanating from the dead woman’s vocal cords railed. “I will have my revenge, starting with you!”

Startled as the corpse of his patient sat up on the side of the bed, her face twisted in a mad grin, Ace took a step back and stumbled over a dead rat. A strangled scream caught in his throat as he attempted to right himself.

At that moment, Thomas and Fortune burst into the room. A bolt of energy erupted from Thomas’ right palm as he chanted an exorcism spell. Janyce Ottis’ body slumped on the bed as the invading spectre departed, speeding towards Ace. The cluster of lights appeared at the window outside.

Fortune’s body bristled with electricity and a force field encompassed himself, Ace, and Thomas.

“Return to your group of sycophants before I send you back to your own demised body, Qweh,” the Uranian wizard warned. “You would find that a most unpleasant experience, I assure you. Take your colony of inept invaders and leave this world. My kind are immune to your assaults. As my new friend Ketil would say, we will fuck you up. Begone before I change my mind.”

As the phantasm departed to rejoin the hive entity it had been part of for eons, Thomas flicked on the light.

“Gor blimey!” the startled security guard gasped. “Poor Mrs. Ottis. Are you arite, Ace?”

“Yeah, fine. Nothing injured but me pride. I knew something was amiss in this room before I came in. I thought I thought was ready for it, but that fucker threw me a curveball. Guess we can’t expect to have any rest on our days off, what?”

“Probably not, but I’m looking forward to watching Fortune enjoy his first Netflix and chill, so to speak. Ploughman’s plate strike your fancy for brekky?”

“Yeah, hopefully me stomach will have settled itself by then. Right now, it’s churning like a clogged gurgler. Well, the rest of this night is fucked. I’m gonna have to call the coroner to collect poor old Janyce, and then I’ve the unfortunate task of contacting Hiawatha. Crikey, if only I could split meself in two.”

“Will you give me your permission to assume your appearance, Ace?” Fortune inquired.

“Can you do that?” the surprised Ace asked.

“Not exactly. I create an illusion in the mind of the individual viewing me. I can perform temporary healing spells and command your computer to record the necessary information. Thomas can assist me as necessary.”

“I bloody have to be dreaming,” Ace mused. “Yeah, that will be fantastic. You do the med pass bit and I’ll do the ringing the coroner bit. Together we’ll get it accomplished. We have certainly earned our Netflix and chill.”

Acknowledgments

The Cat from Uranus is the creation of Sandy Peterson for the Call of Cthulhu gaming system published by Chaosium.

The Doom that Came to Sarnath is a short story by H.P. Lovecraft (1890 – 1937), first publication June 1920 in The Scot Magazine.

The Mother of Pus is the creation of Richard Watts, appearing in the Call of Cthulhu scenario Behold the Mother. This scenario appears in the Dead Reckonings supplement copyright 1998 Chaosium.

The line “down to the bottom of the bottomless lake” comes from the 1984 song The Bottomless Lake by John Prine off the album Aimless Love.

The light entity referenced in this work is the creation of the belated husband and wife creative team of Jeremy Tarcher (1932 – 2015) and Shari Lewis (1933 – 1998).  It appears in the 1969 Star Trek episode “The Lights of Zetar.”

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