The Little Apartment Building: The Faulty Shoggoth

The Little Apartment Building Of (mainly) Lovecraftian Crossovers, Crack, Meta-references And Other Assorted Horrors

Chapter 8: The Faulty Shoggoth

May 26, 1934 06:03

Khaa'r spent the short trip from Arkham to Innsmouth in the back seat of Julius Marsh's car, not bothering to strike up a conversation with his driver. The young man did not seem to mind, so he prattled on about his father's latest calculations and how they only needed twenty more years before everyone in Innsmouth had enough of the Deep Ones' blood inside their veins to be capable of 'taking to the water', as they called it.

In other words - twenty more years worth of gold, fish and endless patience, that was what old Barnabas Marsh wanted, most likely in order to set aside some money for the runts to inherit after their town was finally abandoned for good. Khaa'r glared at the back of the boy's head - had these greedy little humans ever stopped to consider the efforts his people made to provide for them? And for what - several hundreds new Deep Ones at best, most of whom remained disappointingly short and weak even after their transformation; and don't even get him started on their unsightly fins!

Khaa'r watched as the first rays of the rising sun set fire to the horizon. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the Atlantic Ocean, whose glittering waters showed no hint of the tragedy that had befallen the beautiful underwater city, known to the local humans as the Devil's Reef. Khaa'r realized that he had sunk his nails into the leather cuisses on his thighs to stop his hands from shaking. He took a deep, calming breath - the traitor had been dealt with, the humans' government had been placated, the dead had been buried. He tried to focus on the pleasant smell of the sea and how he was going to spend at least several days swimming and fishing, if his duties permitted.

This was shaping up to be a very shoddy millennium - first the Kanaky mess in the Pacific Ocean in 1838, then the embarrassing 1925, when the great lord Cthulhu had essentially talked and walked in his sleep, then the commotion in Innsmouth in 1928; and now he was stuck on dry land and forced to deal with Wilbur Whateley's shenanigans, while the R'lyeh Council threatened to make yet another half-baked decision that would complicate Khaa'r's life even further, like actually declaring war on the human race.

There were so many problems, and so little of them could be solved with a single well-aimed dagger...

The car stopped in front of the old building of the Esoteric Order of Dagon, which now looked somewhat better than during his last visit to Innsmouth - the walls and the decorative pillars in the front were whitewashed, the previously broken windows were boarded shut and painted as well, the old double-leaf door was replaced with a new one.  

It was all very odd, especially in the light of the government's raid six years ago, when many buildings had been burned down and dynamited and many people - some of which part-Deep Ones - had been arrested and most likely tortured and killed. When Khaa'r had first arrived in town to inspect the damage, he had almost immediately decided that Innsmouth would probably never recover. Needless to say, he was glad to be wrong.

Khaa'r strode right through the new door, ignoring the two sleepy half-breeds that were probably supposed to be guards. The main hall of the Order was well lit - somebody had broken out the fancy candelabras - and very clean; the pews were practically shining. He found his mother sitting in the first row next to Mrs. Marsh, who was enthusiastically telling the Deep One about her youngest grand-daughter's accomplishments.

"My little lamb is such a keen reader, and she's barely five years old!... Oh, and here's your own darling, marching towards us like the brave soldier he is."

Khaa'r bowed stiffly before the two very different women and murmured a greeting.

Normally, he would have forced the impertinent idiot to eat their own thumbs for calling him a 'darling'. However, Mrs. Marsh was one of those old ladies - she could both insult and intimidate you while offering you a cup of tea. The way she twirled her walking cane and the remnants of red in her fluffy white hair reminded Khaa'r of a barbarian princess he had met in Hyperborea once who had almost beheaded him with a battle axe.

O'ghihiriminidrarazyoa, The One Whose Face Is Indescribable, was a tall, stocky Deep One - a mother of ten children, nine of which were daughters and as such capable of continuing the bloodline. Her smooth gray skin and long limbs spoke of her dolphin ancestry, while her long fins and yellow eyes were inherited from her own renowned beauty of a mother. O'ghihimmayvoikhaa'ra, The One Who Dances With The Dolphins, was said to have been an almost exact copy of Mother Hydra, right down to the almost impractically long fins on her head, neck, shoulders and back. She had also chosen, to her family's great shock and disappointment, to mate with dolphins and raise the children from these strange unions all alone.

Mrs. Marsh had the decency to leave quickly after the obligatory small talk - yes, madam, I am fine; no, madam, I have not killed the Whateley boy yet (a polite laugh was in order); yes, madam, I eat enough vegetables; Ephraim Waite sends you his greetings as well; good bye, madam.

His mother waited for the old lady to close the door before motioning to Khaa'r to sit down next to her. She looked even more majestic than he remembered, with her ramrod straight spine and effortless elegance. She wore several pounds' worth of intricate jewelry, as befitting a noblewoman of her rank - mostly in the form of dozens of necklaces, chains and bracelets, as well as a diadem that was richly decorated with pearls (one for each child and grandchild that shared her bloodline) and emeralds (a symbol of royalty).

"You look weary, child." O'ghihiriminidrarazyoa spoke quietly in dialectal Aklo. "This troubles me more than you can imagine. " Khaa'r allowed her to stroke his face with the back of her hand. "After all, an assassin is supposed to be ruthless - both to those around him and to himself."  

"Mother, while I am proud to inform you that my mission is so far a success, you will need to report my findings to the Council as soon as possible."

"Tell me what you have found, child, and I shall decide whether the rest of Council need to be informed."

Khaa'r suppressed a tired sigh. His mother had been adamant that humanity should pay dearly for the Devil's Reef. After all, one of the destroyed palaces had been hers.  

"First of all, the High Priests' visions were correct - something has indeed happened to this universe. I do not know how or why, but Yog-Sothoth has rearranged time and space..."

"Impossible. Yog-Sothoth is locked out. Everyone knows that."

"... and not only has he managed to do so once, which resulted in the resurrection of his half-human spawn, but he continues to do so, through the assistance of that same creature."

O'ghihiriminidrarazyoa glared at him, her fins moving gracefully in tune with her breathing.

"Wilbur Whateley, the one who threw a book at your head and caused you to briefly lose consciousness? That Wilbur Whateley?"

"The one and only."

"How can you speak of that with such ease? You, who have slain so many great warriors and emperors and slit the throats of powerful wizards! You, the Dolphin!" She gradually lowered her voice to an angry whisper. Some mothers liked to yell at their disobedient children. O'ghihiriminidrarazyoa preferred to hiss. "The Council is considering reintroducing dolphins as potential mates for our race again, after one hundred thousand years, all because of your accomplishmentsﾅ"

Khaa'r remembered that one time when he had assassinated the royal family of an ancient coastal city by infiltrating the king's harem. It had been far from glorious, even though it made for a good story to tell after a couple of drinks.

In fact, the same could be said for most of his missions. There was nothing glorious about war, that much he knew from his rather limited experience in Atlantis; assassinations, however, were downright unpleasant and often disturbing.

Accomplishments, right...

"Please understand, mother, this Wilbur Whateley seems to be in the center of it all..."

She listened intently as he told her everything he knew.

He told her that Wilbur's resurrection, inexplicable as it was, had somehow altered the fates of several individuals: a human physician had been torn to pieces, only to reappear a decade later alive and well, albeit stitched up; a Dreamer and a ghoul had somehow been summoned from a distant planet and from the Dreamlands to help Wilbur reach Earth safely, even though Yog-Sothoth was not supposed to be capable of summoning anybody to do his bidding; that Ephraim Waite had been shot dead, only to wake up on the next morning in his bed while his killer had committed suicide out of fear of losing his own mind.

He told her that Wilbur would summon Yog-Sothoth at certain dates, which would inevitably result in small earthquakes, very similar to the tremors that had worried the hills near his childhood home in Dunwich.

He told her about the diary Wilbur had kept for the better part of his life, in which Yog-Sothoth's plans for total destruction of all life on Earth were strongly hinted at, and the calculations and charts that clearly marked several days as astrologically similar to the date of Wilbur's resurrection - all of which he had found in the cabinet of the same librarian who had banished Wilbur's monstrous twin from this world.

"And this is what worries me the most - I have compared these dates with the dates of the Shoggoths' recent riots. Have you noticed how rebellious they have been for the past year and a half? The dates match. Whatever Wilbur is doing, or rather, whatever Yog-Sothoth is doing, the Shoggoths can sense it. And it drives them insane every time it happens."

His mother began playing with one of her bracelets - a nervous habit. She stared straight ahead, seeing neither the currently empty altar in front of the pews nor the cracked wall behind it.

"We wasted four Shoggoths already, and lost twenty soldiers." O'ghihiriminidrarazyoa finally said. "They were good soldiers, too, not moronic half-breeds like the ones we get from this pathetic little pile of bricks."

Khaa'r frowned at the jab to Innsmouth, but nodded along.

"When did you discover this connection, between the Spawn and the Shoggoths' revolts, I mean?"

"Less than two weeks ago. But only because of the librarian - he did all the calculations, all I had to do was read his notes thoroughly."

"The Shoggoths are becoming more and more aggressive. You must ask the Spawn to stop summoning Yog-Sothoth until we have found a way to completely subdue them."

Khaa'r snorted.

"Of course; and afterwards, I will ask him to let me braid his hair. That will surely strengthen our friendship."  

O'ghihiriminidrarazyoa gave her only son a dirty look.

"You spared his life. You gave him the books he tried to steal from this wretched temple..."

"Will you believe me, mother, if I tell you that Wilbur always pays me back in the same coin - a truth for a truth, and a lie for a lie? He is not stupid; he knows that I'm not supposed to be trusted. After all, what is a Deep One doing so far away from the ocean and among the humans?"

"How did you explain your presence, anyway?"

"I told him I was on a research mission."

"You told him the truth?!"

"And he told me that he summons Yog-Sothoth because he is a faithful son."

Khaa'r cracked his knuckles - that was his own nervous habit.

"The truth is a small plant, mother, yet its roots run deep and unseen."

***

May 30, 1934 08:31

Henry Armitage waited for Carrie to sit on one of the chairs across his desk, before pushing the tidy pile of books towards her. She cocked her head to one side and the books immediately flew to her, each of them adjusting its position in the air as she read their titles.

"'The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde', by Robert Louis Stevenson." she read aloud. "'The Picture of Dorian Gray', by Oscar Wilde. 'From A Buick 8', by Stephen King - hey, he wrote my book as well. 'Rose Madder', again by Stephen King..."

"All of these books appeared in the archive on May 26th - needless to say, it wasn't me who accepted them and wrote their titles down in the catalogue." Armitage scratched his eyebrow as he watched Carrie place the books back on the desk. "I guess Yog-Sothoth doesn't find it worrying that he's giving us clues as to who exactly he's letting in..."

Carrie bit her lower lip. She was even paler than usual and looked more tired than ever.

"But there are so many of them!" she blurted out. "The last time you got new books, it was only mine and Adam's."

"I tried to read them as quickly as possible, skipping pages and scanning the lines for certain words..."

"Come on, just say it - you were looking for the villains."

"And are they unpleasant! Two psychotic murderers - one has a dual personality and the other is a corrupt policeman. An immoral immortal, whose eternal youth and beauty depend on a cursed painting. And finally, an eldritch abomination that is shaped like a car, but also acts like a portal to another world."

They both stared at the pile of books, as if it might do an interesting trick. Carrie ran her fingers through her long hair. Armitage reached for his glass of water.  

"So now I have to try and find these... villains, right? And kill them? How does one even ki... Wait, a car? There's a book about an evil alien car?"

"We'll worry about the newcomers later."

"Huh?"

"Right now, you have to go and find Whateley. And kill him."

"What?"

"Who knows what other horror his father might unleash on this planet from some accursed alternate universe..."

Carrie looked at the librarian as if she was seeing him for the first time, before grinning maniacally at his grim determination.

"I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking. Consider it done!"

***

May 26, 1934 09:36

O'ghihiriminidrarazyoa gave Khaa'r a new quiver - one that was small enough to be attached comfortably to his thigh. It was divided into twelve sections, each of them containing a crossbow arrow. He pulled one of them out for closer inspection and the sharp sour stench of poison filled his nostrils. The arrow's tip shone in many different oily colors, like a stagnant puddle of water.  

"A single arrow should be enough to bring down an entire Shoggoth." His mother told him. "One drop of Atlach-Nacha's spit can dissolve a whale carcass in less than an hour."

"I thought our reserves were running out."

"I do not think that twelve drops are that much of a waste, compared to the damage a rogue Shoggoth can cause."

"Why do we not use Yig's poison? At least he is easier to reach."

"We are still testing its properties and so far his poison's effects have not been found satisfactory."

Khaa'r put the arrow back in the quiver and met O'ghihiriminidrarazyoa's eyes.

"What do you need me to do, mother?"

"Ephraim Waite and his... coven proved themselves to be incapable of protecting the pit of Shoggoths near that human village... oh, its name escapes me at the moment."

"Chesuncook."

"Yes, right. Most of the coven's leaders were murdered last year, were they not?"

"Ephraim speculates that the magical circle around the pit had been imperfect."

"Which only serves to prove how unprepared they all are, even for such a simple task. Not to mention that this particular Shoggoth is defective beyond hope - it is capable neither of breeding nor of growing..."

"And yet it survives on remarkably little nutrition and, as far as I know, has not reacted at all to Yog-Sothoth's summonings. Now that there is nothing left of the coven, Ephraim visits the pit on a weekly basis and has yet to complain."

"What did I tell you - defective. Which is why the Council has decided to reduce the number of Shoggoths that are at our disposal."

"Downsizing? When the Devil's Reef needs to be rebuilt?"

O'ghihiriminidrarazyoa stroke Khaa'r's face again and sighed.

The Deep Ones had to choose between two evils - either to rebuild the Devil's Reef and risk a full-scale Shoggoth rebellion, or let the ocean reclaim the ruins that once were a beautiful city and remain in relative safety.

"My child, your only concern now is the Shoggoth in Chesuncook. Think of it as mercy kill, if that helps..."

***

May 27, 1934 11:17

Tekeli-li!

Keziah Mason, also known as Nahab the dimension-hopping witch, stopped to catch her breath. The entrance of the Chesuncook sanctuary had not been difficult to locate (after all, how many ominous-looking caves were located near the village?), but it was the six thousand steps leading to the underground temple that did a number on her tired, aging body. Nahab allowed herself to rest for an hour as her senses slowly grew accustomed to the darkness, to the overwhelming stench of mould and corpses and, last but not least, to the nightmarish sounds that came from the pit in the center of the cavern.

The light from her electric torch helped her trace the carved stones that marked the magical circle of protection around the pit. Nahab smirked at the dead wizards' insolence - the circle's sole purpose was to keep the monster inside the pit, rather than protect the spellcasters from outer attacks as well. She imagined the ease with which Carrie White had slaughtered them, one by one, and then dragged the bloody remains to the outskirts of the forest, where they were sure to be discovered soon.

Tekeli-li!

The monster moaned from the pit, as if asking who dared to disturb its slumber.  Nahab's smirk grew wider. She reached inside her large handbag with her free hand and after a while pulled out a small crystal bottle that was filled to the brim with light pink syrup. It was an honest-to-goodness love potion - oh, how ridiculous those words sounded to an experienced witch like her! - and its components were so rare and so precious that she had been forced to visit the only planet in the universe where these potions were not only considered nothing special, but were treated as a type of herbal tea. The fact that this planet had been destroyed several million years ago by a black hole did not bother Nahab in the slightest.

The old witch proceeded to extract from the depths of her handbag a clean white handkerchief, which she unfolded with great care. A single blonde hair laid in its folds.
Nahab's grin turned sinister. Brown Jenkins, ever the crafty little furball, had managed to snatch the hair from Ephraim Waite's pillow during its last visit to the apartment building, right after Carrie White had finished trashing the place.

Tekeli-li!

Shoggoths were incapable of feeling neither love nor lust - their only urge was to kill and destroy. Annihilation was their passion. Only an utter fool would try and order around these brainless lumps of mutating slime without constantly being on the look-out for signs of rebellion.  

Nahab unplugged the bottle and put the hair in the thick liquid. She watched as it dissolved and caused the color to change from pink to peach.

A single drop of this potion was sufficient to make anyone fall desperately in love with Ephraim Waite.

And annihilation was the Shoggoths' only passion.

Nahab walked to the edge of the pit and whistled to attract the Shoggoth's attention. While it struggled to climb up and properly inspect its visitor, she poured the bottle's contents on the creature's massive shape and watched in delight as the Shoggoth too changed its colour - from pitch black to transparent gray.

Tekeli-li!