Maelstrom (12 page)

He made no reply, only shook his head.

I sighed. Better to let the
matter drop for the time being. It wasn’t as though we didn’t have
plenty of other concerns. “That...
thing.
On the island. What was
it?”

“The Wisborg Codex has an illustration of
such a creature,” he said. “Which makes me wonder if everything in
it is real. It’s not a happy thought.”

“So you’ve no idea what it might have
been.”

“I do, as a matter of fact. You’ve heard the
legend of witches’ familiars?” Whyborne took my empty cup from me
and set it aside. “In Salem, during the witch trials, some of the
accused said they’d been given demons in the shape of rats and dogs
to serve them. Ordinarily I wouldn’t put stock into such tales,
especially given how the confessions were extracted.”

“But?” I prompted.

“But Blackbyrne fled Salem
to found Widdershins.” He met my gaze, worry clear in his dark
eyes. “Moreover, the
Liber
Arcanorum
mentions the Man in the Woods
will give such familiar servants to tutor aspiring sorcerers in
magic, if they will agree to serve him.”

“The Man in the Woods,” I said. “You mean
Nyarlathotep?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “The one-eyed man tried to
steal the codex.”

I shuddered. “His arm...it wasn’t like that
when you saw him before, was it?”

“No.” Whyborne shuddered as well. “I don’t
know what happened to him. He failed to steal the codex...perhaps
that was his punishment.”

I touched the tender skin of my throat.
“This case gets worse with every conjecture.”

“I’m afraid so.” Whyborne sighed. “We
already know the standing stones are connected with the worship of
Nyarlathotep, thanks to the association with Blackbyrne. It isn’t
much of a stretch to imagine the rat creature is a familiar given
by him to an aspiring sorcerer.”

God, what a tangle this was. “So you think
Nyarlathotep is a real being? Something from the Outside, perhaps,
like Nitocris?”

Whyborne didn’t look happy at the thought.
“It’s certainly possible.”

“Damn it.” I tilted my head back and stared
at the ceiling. My eyes ached. “All right. So we have a connection
to Blackbyrne and his ilk. Two sets of standing stones, both of
which seem to have had some sort of bloody ritual conducted on
them. But to what end? Are there any other standing stones in the
area?”

“Not that I know of,” Whyborne said. “Then
again, I didn’t know of the set on the farm...oh.”

The expression on his face said he’d had the
same thought as I. “The stolen surveyor’s map. The one that showed
Indian villages and the like on it. What if it indicated the
locations of the standing stones? And what if the two sites we now
know about aren’t the only ones?”

“If there are more, there are likely to be
more sacrifices,” I said.

“Yes.” Whyborne fell silent for a long
moment. “Christine gathered up the wands before we left. I’m going
to examine them tomorrow and send a letter to Reverend Scarrow.
With any luck, someone in the Cabal will know what to make of all
this.”

“Good idea. And there is one more
question.”

“What’s that?”

“The cultists, the rat familiar...they were
expecting us. Waiting for us on the island. How did they know we
would be there, tonight?”

Whyborne cursed softly. “That’s a good
question.”

“Yes.” I rubbed gingerly at my painful
eyes.

He brushed a lock of hair gently from my
forehead. “You’re still not well. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Dr. Whyborne?”
I asked in a rather feeble attempt at humor.

But instead of rolling his eyes, he only
smiled. “If you like.”

My headache had receded, and my eyes didn’t
trouble me enough to become a distraction. “I think I would like,
yes.”

He took my hand, and I let him pull me to my
feet and lead me to his bedroom. Once there, he kissed me softly,
his mouth gentle against mine.

We undressed slowly, unhurried, helping one
another with buttons. I brushed my hand across his chest, tracing
the shape of his ribs, delighting in the feel of his skin beneath
my fingers. “Lie down,” he said, so I did, stretching out on the
bed and waiting to see what he had in mind. Anticipation of his
touch woke my cock, bringing it to lazy attention.

He only looked at me, as
though memorizing the shape of my body. I took the advantage to do
the same. I’d wanted to seduce him from the day we met, to delve
beneath the frosty exterior and reveal the passion I sensed boiling
within. Years later, and I knew that passion, knew
him,
more intimately than
I’d ever known anyone else. And he knew me.

“Are you going to spend all night looking?”
I teased.

“No.” He climbed on top of me, straddling my
hips. The friction of his thigh against my cock drew a pleased moan
from me. His lips brushed mine, his hands drifting over my chest.
“You frightened me,” he whispered against my mouth. “When you
collapsed, my heart nearly stopped. You were so still when Iskander
and I carried you back to the boat.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you, my dear.”

“I know.” He kissed me again, deeper this
time. I shaped the planes of his back with my fingers, slid my
hands down and cupped his taut buttocks in my palms. He pressed his
body against mine, his hips starting to move, rubbing us together.
“I love you. I couldn’t...if I lost you...”

I wrapped my arms around him and rolled onto
my side, taking him with me. His leg tightened around my hip, and
his arms slid around me, holding me in turn. We clung to each
other, kissing and rubbing, letting desire build. I started to draw
back, thinking to look into his face—but the sight of my bloody
eyes would probably remind him of his fear. So I slid my hand to
the underside of his thigh, pulling him tighter, our cocks trapped
between us.

“Feel this,” I growled. “I’m not lost, not
even close to it. Feel me, Ival; feel how I’m alive, how badly I
want you.”

“Y-yes,” he gasped against my lips. His
movements became more urgent, and I grinned with the joy of it. I
loved his busy mind, but I also loved when I could make it all
stop, take away every thought and replace it with raw sensation.
His breath came like the gasps of a drowning man, and his leg
pressed into my hip as he rocked and rutted against me.

He stiffened. Heat spread across my belly,
even as he bit my shoulder in blind passion. Even before he’d
finished, he grasped my cock with his hand, tugging urgently, as if
begging me to join him. I shivered and moaned, and spilled against
his stomach.

We lay quietly for a while, semen and sweat
drying on our skin. “Are you reassured of my health?” I asked at
length.

He sighed and snuggled closer. “Somewhat.
Enough to sleep, at least.”

“Good.” I kissed his forehead.

His breathing evened out soon after. As
tired as I’d been, I’d hoped to join him. But my sleep proved
restless that night. Wild dreams of ketoi and umbrae, of the
leering face of the rat-thing, kept me tossing and turning. The
dreams mingled with the sound of chewing, accompanied by
half-asleep glimpses of Saul patiently stalking mice in our
walls.

Whyborne

The next night, we rattled up to the rise
overlooking the beach in Father’s carriage. Griffin sat across from
me, dressed in his best suit, paired with a green bow tie and vest.
Ordinarily, they would have looked striking on him, bringing out
the emerald of his irises. Tonight, however, they seemed to only
emphasize the bloody red sclera.

Seeing him collapse last night, with blood
leaking from the corner of his mouth...for a horrifying moment I’d
thought him dead, burned up by the power of the maelstrom. Because
of my touch.

I’d never felt the differences between us so
keenly. I could draw on the power of the maelstrom only because I
wasn’t fully human. What had Bradley said, about accidents of
birth? He didn’t know the half of it.

“Did you examine the wands today?” Griffin
asked.

I’d taken one to the museum with me, and
left Griffin with strict orders not to overexert himself while I
was gone. Whether he obeyed me or not, I wasn’t certain. If not,
he’d at least made the pretense, as I’d returned to find him curled
up with Saul. My suggestion he remain in for the evening, rather
than subject himself to my family, was met with a roll of the eyes,
however.

“Yes.” I stared out at what
little of the scenery was visible in the darkness. “They’re
inscribed with various arcane sigils, most of them related to the
spell they cast. As for the rest, some of them are hinted at
in
Unaussprechlichen Kulten,
suggesting they were associated with certain
medieval cults. Which, given the involvement of the Man in the
Woods, makes sense. I sent a letter detailing them to Reverend
Scarrow, to see if he knows any more. In the meantime, I’ve put
them all in your locked cabinet.”

The carriage slowed to a halt. “We’ll return
in a few moments,” I told the driver as we exited.

He’d been in service to the Whybornes for
most of his life, so he only nodded and said, “Yes, sir.” As if
there was nothing at all odd about going to a lonely place along
the coast to pick up a passenger. Given the doings of my father and
brother, this was likely not the strangest request ever made of
him.

Griffin followed me, carrying the valise
we’d brought with us. The path led past a sharp bend and a tumble
of boulders, concealing this secluded cove from the road.
Persephone and Mother waited for us on the beach, golden jewelry
shining in the moonlight. Two other ketoi waited with them; I
recognized Stone Biter, the male, but the female was a stranger to
me. Persephone’s tentacle hair writhed nervously around her
shoulders when she turned to greet us.

“Brother,” she said. “Brother’s-husband.”
Her hands twisted together, claws gleaming in the moonlight.

“You don’t have to go,” Mother reminded
her.

“I want to.” Persephone stilled her hands
and nodded, as if to herself.

Griffin held out the bag. “We brought a
dress and a heavy veil,” he said. “Were this Boston, I’d say it
would rouse rather than allay suspicion, but as this is Widdershins
I’m sure no one will look twice.”

While Mother played handmaiden to
Persephone, Griffin chatted with the ketoi. I was just as bad at
making small talk with ketoi as with humans, so kept mainly
silent.

“There,” Mother said a short time later.
“You’ll...well. You won’t be naked.”

It was perhaps the best thing that could be
said about Persephone in a dress. I’d brought one without sleeves,
but they’d had to rip the seams anyway to fit it over the fins on
her arms. The indigo silk looked odd against the pearlescent white
and dark swirls of her skin. She took an experimental step, her
batrachian feet hidden beneath the long skirts.

“Human women wear this?” she asked
skeptically, plucking at the skirts. “Why?”

“It isn’t so bad once one becomes
accustomed,” Mother replied.

Persephone pulled on the veil. With her
hands hidden, she almost looked...well, not human, exactly. But a
quick glimpse in dim lighting, and someone might assume her one. I
glanced at Griffin, and saw he was trying very hard not to
laugh.

“We should go,” Griffin said, and offered
Persephone his arm. She looked at it dubiously.

“Good luck,” Mother told me. Then she turned
and vanished beneath the waves, taking the other two ketoi with
her.

Whyborne

“I wish I might have seen out,” Persephone
said wistfully as our carriage drew up in front of Whyborne House.
We’d kept the curtains drawn over the windows once we reached town,
and the interior now smelled of a mixture of Griffin’s cologne and
seawater.

Despite her disappointment over covering the
windows, she’d spent the ride enthusiastically bouncing up and down
on the seat beside me, apparently entranced by the cushioning. Now
that we’d arrived, her nervousness seemed to have returned, and she
shrank back just a little when the door swung open to reveal
Fenton.

“Good evening,” he said, offering her his
hand. “Welcome to Whyborne House, Miss Persephone.”

“I remember you.” Even though the veil hid
her face, her tone turned bright. “You drove Brother and I in the
motor car to kill the Endicotts.”

“I have a motor car now,” Griffin said as we
climbed out after her. “Perhaps we can go for a ride one night,
Persephone.”

Bad enough he was trying to kill me with the
accursed thing; now he wanted to add my sister to his list of
victims?

Father awaited us in the foyer. His
expression remained impassive, but I thought I saw a flicker
of...what? Pain? Regret?...when Persephone removed her veil to
reveal her seething hair and orca skin.

“Persephone,” he said, his voice thick.
“It’s good to finally meet you.”

She stepped forward, then stopped. “And you,
Father.” She looked around at the marble, the priceless vase on its
gilded pedestal, the sweeping grand staircase. “This is very
different from brother’s house.”

From her tone, I guessed she preferred my
accommodations. Perhaps she sensed the disappointments and
distances that had soaked into these walls, the silent resentments
and angry quarrels. Or perhaps I merely projected my own experience
onto her reactions.

“This is still Percival’s home,” Father
said. “And it is yours as well.” He took a step back and gestured
toward the dining room. “Dr. Putnam and Mr. Barnett are already
here. Fenton will bring them from the parlor to join us for
dinner.”

We followed him to the dining room.
Persephone’s silk skirts rustled loudly as if to emphasize her
awkward gait. Christine and Iskander joined us, and Iskander’s eyes
grew round at the sight of her dress. Christine only snorted.
“Honestly, Whyborne, why didn’t you say something? I could have
lent her something more sensible.”