Two of the shelves in The Crawling Chaos had been shoved to the walls to make room for a set of folding tables and chairs. Neil had produced an old-fashioned reel projector from the briefcase Riley and I got in New York. It sat on the end of the table, directed at a white sheet tacked to the wall. The Queen of Sheba was curled beside it as if she thought the projector needed her protection, the tip of her tail flicking warningly.
Riley and Neil hunched over the counter, murmuring to each other in their strange language. I presumed they were talking about cultists and the Alignment and stuff that an insignificant mortal like me couldn’t understand. But I didn’t care, my mind was elsewhere.
I sat at the table, trying to ignore how the cat was staring at me as I flipped through a leather-bound diary I’d found on the magazine rack. I wondered how Neil expected to sell it when there was a giant hole right through the center and it was just pages and pages about some kid’s crappy life in an orphanage, and it definitely wasn’t doing a good job of keeping my mind off Vik.
Crap. Vik. Why had he skipped school? Could Bree be right? Was it because of what happened yesterday? Was he mad about me and Riley? I was sixteen years old. Didn’t I have the right to date somebody without constantly being judged and harassed for it? I’d told Vik for years that we were just friends. That’s it—friends. Who I dated was none of his business. There was no good reason for him to get all bent out of shape about it, like he was my father or something.
I glanced over the book to see Riley leaning against the counter, his lean, defined body lithe and casual at the same time. I didn’t see how anybody could protest me spending time with such a gorgeous creature. Any real, good friend would be happy for me.
Maybe Vik wasn’t as good a friend as I thought.
Or maybe he was in some sort of trouble after all. Vik was a total nerd; I’d never known him to miss a day of school.
As if he could sense my eyes on him, Riley glanced up and met my gaze. “What is wrong, young one?” he asked quietly, interrupting Neil.
I blushed and folded my arms. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I just—I’m worried about Vik.”
“Who now?” Neil tapped the end of his pipe.
“My friend,” I said, the word almost catching in my throat, though I wasn’t sure why.
“This the kid who thought it would be cute to let cultists steal his Necronomicon?”
“The same,” Riley answered for me, his expression clouding over with dark warning.
I sighed. “But you don’t understand. He’s been acting weird for days. I just—I wish that I knew he was okay. That he’s not angry at me. He’s been so edgy and defensive lately. Especially about his stupid tutor.”
Riley said something to Neil I couldn’t understand, and Neil’s eyes lit up.
“How close would you say you are to this kid?” Neil asked.
“I’ve known him all my life.”
“Awesome.” Neil stood and walked to the edge of the table, rubbing his hands together and grinning.
“Awesome?” I was confused.
“Yes. Been wanting to try this baby out.” He patted the projector affectionately and then shooed the cat off the table. “Want to check in on your friend?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“This is Crystal,” he said, introducing me to the projector. “Crystal, Andi. Andi, Crystal.”
When I only stared at him, Neil rolled his eyes and continued. “Grab the crank and think about whatever—or whoever—it is you wanna see. If your connection is strong enough, Crystal will find it for you. Wanna check in on your friend?”
Behind me, Riley gave a disapproving snort. “Waste of time. The boy will be fine. We should be focusing on the cultists.”
“Well, none of us have intimate connections to any cultists, now do we?” Neil countered.
I almost wanted to agree with Riley, but then I hesitated, remembering the resentment in Vik’s expression as he stormed away from me, and I felt sick. What if he was still upset? I needed to know. I couldn’t stand the anxiety.
Riley’s annoyance softened into indulgent resignation as he saw my face. “Very well,” he begrudged, flicking off the lights. “But let us make this quick.”
I wrapped my hand around the crank of the projector.
“Think about finding your friend,” Neil instructed, adjusting the lens. “His name, his face, his personality, as you’re turning the crank. Give it a go.”
It’s worth a try, I thought, and pushed the crank. It made a clattering sound as it moved, and a light came on inside the machine. A glowing, flickering box appeared on the sheet on the wall. As I turned the handle, I thought about Vik’s house, the Bollywood music playing in his kitchen as we snacked on naan together, his cute, bright smile, his faint accent, the way he loved his Vespa, the way he defended yoga as manly… Vik, my friend. We were still friends, right?
Colors and images flickered across the sheet.
“Slow down,” Neil said. “I think we’ve got it. Is that him?”
A slender frame faded onto the screen, and I recognized the figure, the sweater vest and white shirt. It was Vik. I saw him like I was standing right there next to him. He stood at the edge of a platform in some kind of darkened cavern, his arms crossed as he studied the space. As he turned, I saw a sea of empty seats filling the space behind him and I realized he was standing in an old, dimly-lit theatre. Dark figures milled around the edge of the stage, melting in an out of the shadows as they worked at something just out of sight.
Across the stage, a white sheet covered a tall rectangular box standing almost like an upright coffin. Next to it, a gnarled leather tome sat open on a wooden podium. Letters and geometric designs were drawn onto the stage around the podium, radiating outward like a star. I recognized the book.
The Necronomicon.
I heard Riley gasp.
But it didn’t make any sense. Vik said the book had been stolen. He wouldn’t have lied to me, and if he’d just found it again, why was he standing there like he was waiting for something to happen?
But it was more than the book that made a cold ball of anxiety tighten in my stomach. The black-robed figures. The runes, the book, the murmuring. Somehow, all of it reminded me of what had happened in New York City. Could these be… cultists? What did they want? Why was Vik with them? And where was this theatre? If Vik was there, it couldn’t be far from Portsmouth. Innsmouth.
So much for this boring place where I lived being a town of no consequence.
The sheet over the tall coffin box rustled, and a woman stepped into view, her long, smooth legs peeking out from the slit in her pencil skirt as she stood, graceful and confident in her black pumps.
Ms. Epistola!
Anger flashed through me. What was she doing there? Why was she hanging out in a dark creepy theatre with a student after school hours? Wasn’t that totally unprofessional or something?
“There.” A smile curved over her full red lips as she reached out and ran one perfectly-manicured finger down Vik’s cheek. For a moment, Vik’s lower lip quivered. “You see,” she went on, her voice husky, “Everything is ready. You have it?”
Vik fumbled as he slipped a towel-wrapped bundle out from under his arms and passed it to her. “Here,” he murmured. “I have it.”
Ms. Epistola graced him with a smile that would have melted steel, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. Typical, stupid boy. Show him a pretty face and his brain totally turns off.
Then Ms. Epistola pulled the towel away from the bundle, and my heart plunged to the soles of my feet. Sitting comfortably in her hands was a slender, red-leather bound book.
The Eldritch Grimoire.
“NYARLATHOTEP!” Riley’s roar shook the foundations of the shop.
I threw my arms over my head, cowering away from the rage, my heart thudding in my ears, my eyes glued to the screen. Vik had the Grimoire! Where had he gotten it? What was Epistola going to do with it?
“Keep your pants on,” Neil grumbled to Riley, though somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought I heard a note of concern in his voice. “We’ll figure this out.”
“My darling!” Epistola cried, delighted with the gift Vik had given her, like she hadn’t expected it at all. “You lovely, thoughtful boy!”
She leaned forward and, cradling the Grimoire to her cleavage with one hand, ran a finger up Vik’s throat. At her praise, his eyes lit up and he leaned forward, as if entranced by her scent.
“Soon,” she murmured in his ear, “we will command the gods themselves.”
She kissed him. Parted her red lips over his, and before I could even identify the sour empty feeling crawling around inside my stomach, she was sucking on his face as if she were Bree and he was last of the milkshake in the bottom of the cup.
And he was kissing her back.
“No!” The word burst from my chest, Riley and Neil stopped bickering and stared at me. I gaped at the screen, watching Vik’s eyes fall closed as Epistola painted his mouth with her lipstick.
A strange rumbling feeling sparked inside me, making my head hurt, tasting like bile in the back of my throat.
That bitch.
That grease-painted bitch.
My fingers clenched at the table so hard they were starting to go cold. I sucked at the air, trying to catch my breath.
“Oy…” Neil’s bony hand closed over my shoulder and in one sharp motion, he turned me from the screen, ripping my eyes from the horror. “Breathe.” He shoved a paper bag into my trembling hands, but I wasn’t paying attention to him. Riley stood a few feet behind Neil. He had gone silent at my outburst and now he was staring at me, his face stoic but his green eyes on fire with—with what? Rage? Fear?
My heart started beating again, thrumming like a bumblebee’s wings in my chest.
“Am I not enough for you?” Riley’s voice came soft. A thrill of fear shot down my spine.
“Riley—”
“Am I so inadequate that you must cry after other humans as well?”
“No.” Tears stung at my eyes. “No, Riley. It’s not like that. He’s just a friend. Please believe me.” I reached out for him, brushed my fingers over his hand but he jerked away from my touch.
“I have no use for disloyalty!”
A curling darkness filled my chest. I could barely breathe. My mouth opened but no sound came out.
“Sgn’wahl! Sha’shogg! Throd! Cthulhu’ai!”
All eyes fell back to the screen.
Scarlett Epistola stood at the podium, the Eldritch Grimoire open in her hands. Black-robed acolytes formed a circle around her, chanting softly. Candles flickered over the chalk design on the floor.
“Uln Cthulhu! Wgah’n ya!”
Slowly, Riley sank into a folding chair. His gaze was fixed on the screen, enraptured. His fingers wrapped over the edge of the table.
“Oh boy.” Neil took a step away from us.
“Riley?” I asked. My fingers reached out to him, but something held me back. “Riley what—”
“They… they call me,” he rasped, all anger drained from his face.
Shock overwhelmed me. After everything we had done to prevent it, it was happening anyway.
We had failed.
“No!” I cried, falling to my knees at his feet. His eyes only grew unfocused and distant. No!
“Don’t go,” I pleaded.
“Cthulhu tf nngu’g nrar’thlotn sz’kz’sy.”
“They call me,” he said again, his face ashen with strain. “I must answer.”
“Don’t.” I touched his hand.
His eyes shot to my offending fingers and for a moment I wanted to draw away, then he looked into my face, and the confusion, the anger and fear and helplessness written in his eyes froze me to my spot.
The cultists’ chant rose to a boom. “Cthulhu dr’arn’tgnthet gn hk tur.”
Pain flickered across Riley’s face. “They pull at me,” he pleaded. “The call is strong. I must answer.”
Tears ran rivulets down my face. “No. You can’t. You won’t. I—I won’t allow it.”
“Little one.” He lurched forward, nearly falling into my arms as another arcane cry echoed around the room. His strong arms enveloped me, his fingers tangled through my hair, his seawater scent became my world. He let out a gurgling sound that might have been a laugh—or a sob. “You would not allow me? You would command me to stay? Just as soon command the sun to rise in the west and the moon to fall to earth—you are nothing to we who walk the stars.”
“I’m not commanding you,” I cried, “I could never! I’m asking you. Begging you. Riley… I…”
And what was it for me then, to give the final thing I’d been holding back for as long as I had known it in my own heart? I was nothing without him. What was my own pain, my own pride in the face of losing him?
“I love you,” I breathed.
His arms tightened and I struggled for air as Epistola let out another summoning cry, her voice wavering and desperate. “Dead Cthulhu!” she wailed. “Mad Priest, great dreamer, the time is nigh—answer your slaves!”
Dark spots appeared at the corners of my vision. With every exhale, Riley’s arms tightened around me until my ribs ached. I cleaved to him in turn, my hands clenching the fabric of his shirt. I held on, even as my head spun and breathing became nearly impossible. I held one thought that kept me clinging to consciousness, one phrase that I clung to like a life preserver in a storm. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
And then he answered, words that sounded like heaven in my ears.
“I know.”
He squeezed me tighter. I felt my muscles go slack, my chest convulse and still. Before the darkness swallowed my vision entirely, I heard him speak once more. His voice boomed through me, reverberated through the shop, stretched across time and space and echoed through eternity to find Epistola.
“I am not to be summoned and made a slave to meaningless human whim!”
On the screen, the chanters fell silent. Epistola froze, her eyes wide as she listened for the voice of her god.
“Leave me be, or be devoured and forgotten!”
Riley’s arms opened, and I collapsed to the floor, my lungs on fire as I sucked at the air, my head screaming with pain.
“Great Cthulhu,” Epistola whispered. “Dead Cthulhu. The time is nigh—the prophecies of old—for years have I labored for your glorious return—for years have I been your loyal slave—”
Silence welled through the theatre as they listened for an answer.
Riley angrily twisted away from the screen, running his hands through his black hair. “Slaves do not summon their masters,” he muttered, but his voice carried no further than the shop walls. “And humans do not presume to control me. I am the Great Priest. Where my feet fall, you are crushed like ants.”
Epistola and the cultists listened, but heard nothing.
A slow clap echoed through the shop.
I lifted my spinning head and cringed deeply. Neil sat in a beat-up La-Z-Boy in the corner, cradling a swirled blue pipe between two fingers as he watched us. White smoke curled through the glass tubing and formed the word ‘encore’ above his head.
“Bravo,” he said. “You just defied occult convention with the power of love. Excellent show.”
Riley spun on him. “You old fool. They have the Grimoire—where do you suppose they found that?”
Neil’s clap slowed to a stop and he regarded Riley, the storm clouds in his eyes veiling something darker, something that jolted through me like lightning on a clear day.
“I like you, kid,” he said. “But watch your tone with me.”
“Apologies,” Riley gritted. “Where did they get the Grimoire?”
Back on the screen, the cultists had begun to murmur dissent. Epistola flicked her fingers through the pages of the Grimoire, her eyes on fire with rage.
Neil puffed on his pipe and frowned. He leaned over the side of his chair to nudge the cat’s litter-box aside with the tip of his cane, and then seemed disappointed to find nothing beneath it but dusty floor and a dead cockroach. “Okay, so… there was a kid poking around in here this morning while I was busy in the back,” he shrugged. “I told you, you should have left it in the bus depot.”
Riley closed his eyes. “You stored an Eldritch Grimoire in a box of feces.”
“It seemed somehow appropriate. But hey, the danger’s passed.” Neil nodded to the screen. “You’ve resisted the summons through the sheer awesome power of love. Good job.” He tapped distractedly at his pipe. “Of course, suppose it didn’t hurt that she jumped the gun, performing a summoning ceremony before the Alignment reached full power…”
“Cthulhu has abandoned us!” One of the cultists shouted, and we turned to watch the screen again.
Epistola’s eyes snapped up to the speaker.
“Cthulhu has found our leader unworthy,” another agreed. “Perhaps it would please the Great Priest if we were to sacrifice her to his glory.”
“Comrades,” she said sharply, her eyes glittering with anger and—maybe—panic? “It is not Cthulhu who has found us unworthy. We have never faltered in our faith. We have never failed in our devotion. We have read the portents, we have remained vigilant. It is we who have found him unworthy!”
A wondering murmur spread through the cultists.
“Yes!” she said, snapping the Grimoire shut and stepping away from the podium. “The Alignment is at hand, and Dead Cthulhu stays dreaming! It is he who has neglected his duties. We have not failed him—he has failed the Elder Gods! We have all read the texts, we have all glimpsed the mad truths of the universe, and we know that They will return, They must return. If Cthulhu will not summon them…” Her voice fell into a deadly whisper, and her followers leaned forward to hear. “Then we will.”
A gasp rippled through the group. Epistola smiled again, now that she was back in charge, her white teeth flashing. “Oh, yes. Destiny cannot be waylaid by a lazy priest. We will do what must be done. At the hour of Alignment, at the time of destiny… we will awaken… Azathoth.” She looked around the shocked, silent faces of her followers, and whispered, “Azathoth C’ndwfl’nasdfe.”
And again.
“Azathoth C’ndwfl’nasdfe.”
And then, one by one, the rest of them, even ashen-faced Vik, joined in the chant.
“Azathoth C’nd dsfaldn!”
“Azathoth C’ndwfl’nasdfe!”
Riley jammed a finger onto Crystal’s switch, and the image went dead.
Silence filled the shop.
The pain in my chest had begun to fade, but my ribs still ached with every deep breath I took. I lifted my head from the table and blinked slowly, waiting for the dizziness to end.
“Is that bad?” I asked blearily.
I wasn’t sure if Riley heard me. “It is not possible,” he growled at the screen. “Humans could not awaken Azathoth. Not without me. Not without my call.”
“Well…” Neil mused.
Riley turned on him. “It is not possible!”
Neil lifted his hands defensively. “I just watched Cthulhu drop his aeons-old imperative and defy his inherent essence and calling because a human teenager batted her eyes and said ‘please.’ We’re throwing all sorts of convention out the window today.”
“Humans cannot awaken Azathoth!”
“If you say so.” Neil took another drag on his pipe. “It’s a long shot, anyway. If she didn’t have the power to force you into anything, she won’t hold a candle to him.”
Riley’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Exactly.”
“Would it be very bad?” I asked again.
“It would be very bad, little one,” Riley said, staring at the empty white sheet. “If it were possible.”
His tone concerned me, but I wasn’t sure how bad it could be. Riley had been strong enough to resist the summoning. He was still here, with me. He had forgiven me. Nothing could be so bad anymore.
“She’s certainly a determined woman,” Neil observed. “I’ll bet someone pissed her off real good. Hell hath no fury and all that.”
“You sound as if you admire this insignificant insect,” Riley accused.
Neil shrugged. “It takes chutzpah to give Cthulhu the finger and call out Azathoth. Crazy, crazy chutzpah. She reminds me of this Egyptian queen I once—”
“Who’s Az… Aza…?” I asked.
“God.” Neil reached under the counter and pulled out a pair of tweezers, which he used to pluck at the herbs in the bowl of his pipe. “If God were a sleeping, blathering idiot and all of you four-dimensional critters were just figments of his dreams.” He took a drag. “Also, my dad.”
“You’re Jesus?” I shifted my weight uncomfortably. So much talk of priests and God and stuff—I didn’t like to think about it. It was all too meta for me.
Neil choked. “Riley,” he said through his coughs as he waved the smoke from his face. “This one’s a keeper.”
“We cannot allow her to summon Azathoth on the day of Alignment,” Riley said, bringing us back to business with a deadly serious tone. “If Azathoth awakens, his dream will end.”
He looked at me, and I felt myself drowning in the sea of his eyes. Drowning in a good way, that made me shiver from my head to my toes.
“And if his dream ends,” Riley said, “so will you.”