Jazz Age Cthulhu Page 3

  “Protection from the evil we fight. Now that I know you are on the side of light, I may tell you. I know because I have contacts within the enemy’s lair, friends from before everything went wrong … and because I received a divine vision that Lady Helen was in danger.”

  “A divine vision? Why me?” Helen hated everything happening around and to her, without the ability to control it.

  “I don’t know, child. All I know is what is. They took you, used you in their ritual, and now you … and all of us … will suffer the consequences. This is what God has told me.”

  “Unless?” Helen shook her head. “You wouldn’t go through all this if the situation were hopeless. Why help me? Why try to bring me to safety?”

  John put the coin down and began writing again.

  “Because my visions say that not all is lost. You are the key to stopping the Blackest of Rams from rising in this world. I—wait! Don’t touch that!”

  Helen heard Grace’s warning as she picked up the foreign iron coin. By then, it was too late. Pain wracked her body, radiating outward from her lower abdomen.

  ***

  Helen laughed as Hemaraj whispered in her ear. “You’ve been chosen, my sweet.”

  “Chosen for what?”

  He stood and offered her his hand. “To participate in our secret ritual. You please our high priest.”

  “I please many people.” She glanced at the elegant Egyptian man standing off to the side before accepting Hemaraj’s hand. Around his wrist, the gold cuff winked its blood-red eye at her. She touched its swirls as he led her down the stairs. “Is this one of your finds?”

  “It was the first … and the most important. Until now.”

  The dream shifted to something darker, alien, frightening.

  They stood before a doorway carved into the wall of the stone cellar. On the other side of the door was not another room. Instead, it was another realm: an impossible landscape filled with ancient ruins and a blackened sky, impossibly enclosed within a cave so large she couldn’t see the sides—and yet, she knew it was there. Framed within the door was a black stone altar surrounded by lit torches, fallen columns, and creatures that defied description. Helen wanted to look away, but the gleaming altar called to her. Even as she stepped backwards, the crowd of strangers—once thought of as peers and the nouveau riche—pressed forward.

  Hemaraj gripped her hand tight. “It’s time, my sweet.”

  “For what?” Helen pulled back from him even as he dragged her forward.

  “To fulfill your destiny.”

  “I won’t do it. You lied to me.” She flailed at the people around. “No. No!” Her struggles were in vain as Hemaraj pulled her through the mystical doorway into that other realm.

  From a long way away, someone yelled her name over and over, even as she struggled against the people holding her. Helen felt the hands leave her body as darkness descended. For a moment, there was nothing. Then light. Then the realization that she was looking up at John as Grace stood at the head of the bed, praying.

  “Can you let the coin go?” John touched her clenched hand.

  Helen lifted her hand to him and opened it. There was a sucking sensation as he plucked it from her palm. He stood and put the coin on the table. She looked at her palm and saw the design of the coin burned into her flesh. Flexing her hand, she felt no pain. Just a raised white scar in the shape of the open, five-pointed star surrounded by a circle.

  “God has seen fit to bless you with an intrinsic weapon against the dark. It is something that cannot be taken from you.” Grace smiled down at Helen as she made the sign of the cross over her.

  “What is it?”

  John sat back down. “Yes, what is it and what did it do to her?”

  If Grace took offense at his accusatory tone, she made no sign of it. “That is known as an Elder Sign. It’s a powerful ward against those demonic beings that seek a way into this world.” She raised a hand to forestall his questions. “I’m knowledgeable, but I’m not all-knowing. Who they are, what they are, is a mystery. Those who worship them crave power and do these creatures’ will. There are cults dedicated to bringing them into this world. I have fought these demons before and banished them with that small coin.”

  Helen sat up. “Mister Sorin, the dead man, was he Hemaraj Kumari?”

  John nodded. “Yes and his family is … most upset.”

  “Do they know about me?”

  He nodded. “They’d like to speak with you.”

  Helen shook her head, her heart sinking. The Kumari family was well-appointed in Assam. That meant they were noble, rich and powerful. “They would not believe what I’m now remembering. If they did, they would be part of this growing evil.”

  “What do you remember?”

  She looked up at Grace. Part of her didn’t want to tell anyone about what she’d seen … remembered. They would think she was crazy. And yet …. She ran a fingertip over her new scar. “Hemaraj invited me to a party. During the party, he brought me downstairs for a display of magic. Only, it was real magic. The magician was a man he brought back from Egypt with him. I think he was the man who signaled the men trying to kidnap me.” Helen looked down at the scar on her palm. “Deep within the cellar … you won’t believe me. I barely believe it.”

  “Lady Helen, I promise, I will listen with an open mind.” John gave her an encouraging smile.

  “There was a doorway that led to a place that should not exist. It … there was another world through it. A dark underground world. And they made me … forced me through to a black, gleaming altar.” Helen shook her head. “That’s all I know. Something awful happened. I can feel the memory of it waiting like a brigand in the night. I’m frightened.”

  “K’n-yan.” Grace’s voice was soft in its horror. “You were taken to K’n-yan for the ritual. They’ve made you a portal of some kind. I knew you were to be an instrument, but I didn’t really know.”

  “What does that mean?” John looked between the two women.

  “It means two things: We must keep her safe and we must find out where this party was. There, we’ll need to seal the door between worlds.” Grace knelt next to Helen. “I know it’s horrible and frightening, but you must remember where you were. I’ll be here. Your memory cannot harm you.”

  Helen tilted her head. Grace had just lied. Helen didn’t know how she knew, but her memory could harm her. It was an awful thought. She wanted to remember, to know, what had happened, but regaining her memory could harm her more. What was her mind protecting her from and why was Grace willing to risk it?

  “I think I might be able to help with that.” John pulled a crumpled card from his inner jacket pocket. It was a small invitation card on white paper with black, embossed writing. “I wanted to show it to you to see if it helped with your memory. It was in Mister Kumari’s pocket.” He handed it to Helen.

  Malik Amit Kumari invites you to a welcome home gala for

  Chote Malik Hemaraj Kumari

  At the Black Ram Club

  Cocktails at 1900

  Dinner served at 2000

  RSVP

  Helen did not recognize it but it did feel familiar. She patted her coat pocket and felt something within. The card she pulled out was a twin to the one already in her other hand. “I think we know where it happened.”

  “We must be sure.” John stood. “I can’t call a raid on a place like the Black Ram Club without being sure. Lady Helen, would you be willing to go to the club with me to see if you remember more?”

  Finally, it was something she could do beyond reacting. Helen nodded. “Yes. I need to know.”

  Grace stood and shook her head. “This is a bad idea. She is the key. She shouldn’t go anywhere near that place.”

  “Lady Helen, can you say with certainty that this … event … happened in the Black Ram? If you can, I’ll make preparations to have the Commissioner’s Office raid the building.”

  Helen thought about it. She could not say for ce
rtain it was at the Black Ram Club. In her brief recollections, she did not know where she was. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t know. I could’ve arrived at the Black Ram and then left for another event. That’s not unusual.”

  John nodded. “Then we need to go.”

  Grace shook her head. “I cannot go with you. I must prepare for the forthcoming battle. Mister Sorin, you must not allow Lady Helen out of your protection, even for an instant.”

  “I will do my duty, Sister.”

  “There’s a phone in the front office if you wish to ring for a car.”

  John’s face was neutral in its agreement. “That would be best.”

  Grace left them in the front of the church after John made his call. Helen glanced at him. “What if I did kill Hemaraj?”

  John was quiet for a long moment. “If you did—and I am not saying you did—I’m certain the Commissioner’s Office would find you justified in your actions based on the facts of the case.”

  “What facts?”

  “You were drugged and attacked, and killed Mister Kumari in the midst of an hallucination.”

  “You think it was all an hallucination?” Helen smiled at the thought and knew it for the lie that it was.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think. The facts are that something awful happened to you and a man died.”

  Helen looked at him. “Is that the Commissioner’s Office speaking or you, Mister Sorin?”

  “The Commissioner’s Office.”

  “Because of who I am? Who my father is?”

  “Yes.” He held up the invitation to the party. “Also, if anything you or Sister Grace has said is true … this evil—and I have reason to believe it just might be—I must deal with it.”

  “Why you?”

  He shrugged. “Who better than me? This is my duty.”

  “And me?” Helen watched him with a keen eye.

  “I will recommend that you return to London where such mystical things do not happen. This will be safer for you and bring some minor satisfaction to the Kumari family.” John met her gaze. “Do you wish to stay in Assam?”

  Helen shook her head. “No. I’ve never liked this place. Father brought me here because … because he thought it would be better for the family.”

  John tilted his head. “There. All will be satisfied in some way.”

  “Even you?”

  “Yes.” John waved to the motorcar with the Commissioner’s Office seal. Once he had Helen and himself settled, he nodded to the driver. “The Black Ram Club.”

  ***

  The outside of the Black Ram Club glittered with black-and-gold adornments that spoke of a well-to-do establishment. With columns, silk awning, and a liveried doorman waiting, Helen thought it was an attractive building and the kind that she would willingly enter, but it was still unfamiliar. John escorted her from the car to the door.

  The doorman, a large, handsome Assamese man, stood straighter as they approached. “I’m sorry, sahib, the club is closed.” He nodded politely to Helen. “Memsahib.”

  “I’m aware. However, my companion believes she left something behind at the party two nights ago.”

  Helen smiled at John. He told the truth in the technical sense. She did believe she had left her memory behind and they were here to retrieve it if they could. Helen nodded her agreement at the doorman.

  After a moment’s consideration, the doorman nodded. “Of course. Please follow me.” He led them into an antechamber and spoke in a rapid dialect Helen did not know to a second man who disappeared. “I’ve called for the manager. If something was lost, he will know if one of the staff found it. Please wait here.” He bowed to them and returned to his post.

  Helen sat in one of the nearby chairs, and looked at the plush burgundy drapery and tapestry rugs. She wondered if any of the wall hangings hid a servants’ hall. Again, it was beautiful, inviting and utterly unfamiliar.

  “Anything?”

  She shook her head. “I—” Helen stopped speaking at the appearance of a tall man with a full head of glossy black hair who was familiar.

  A flash of memory saw this man greeting her as she entered with a room full of people in formalwear and jewels. He stopped and kissed her hand, murmuring a compliment to her. Behind him, watching, was the elegant Egyptian man.

  “Good afternoon. I am Venkata Yuasa, the manager here. One of my people said that you lost something here?” He was a slender man with soft voice. His attention was on John.

  “Yes, Lady Helen. She lost an earring at Mister Kumari’s gala.” John gestured to her.

  Helen watched the manager’s polite solicitude morph into a surprise that was quickly covered by a false pleasure.

  “Oh, yes, Lady Helen. So good to see you again.” Yuasa hurried to her with his hand out. “If you’ve lost something—”

  The moment his fingers touched the scar on her palm, the manager froze with a look of shock and pain on his face. If Helen had not been sitting, she would’ve fallen. As it was, Venkata collapsed, foaming at the mouth. Helen’s mind folded in on itself. There was a moment of epiphany. It was too large, too horrible, to hold. She gasped as images assaulted her.

  … Laughing and talking with friends and strangers alike.

  … Hemaraj introducing her to the Egyptian man and his thoughtful smile.

  … A small idol made from a green stone that felt slick and moist in her hand. The idol leered at her with promises of dark desires and pain.

  … Walking down stairs, deep into the earth—Hemaraj before her and Venkata behind her.

  … The otherworldly landscape, bound to the altar, watching the impossible sky and something above her. Something that was coming closer, reaching for her.

  Helen cried out as she wrenched her mind from the nightmare images. She got up to flee and wound up in John’s arms. She buried her face in his chest. “He was there. He was part of it.” When she looked down to see what had happened to the manager, she saw he was still twitching on the ground and the second guard was there.

  “Forgive him. He has fits from time to time. Please, come back later.” The man’s voice was polite, but his body was coiled for an attack.

  John nodded. “Another time.”

  From the corner of her eye, Helen saw one of the tapestries shift. Someone was there and watching. She did not want to know who it was. “Please, please. Take me home.”

  “Of course.” John led her from the antechamber, supporting her as she struggled to keep her composure.

  ***

  Grace and Pria met Helen in the parlor. Helen glanced askance at the two of them.

  “She insisted on waiting, malkin.” The tone of her maid’s voice spoke volumes of her discontent at the nun’s presence.

  Grace nodded. “I did. Where is Mister Sorin?”

  “Back at the Commissioner’s Office. He has some things to do there. He said he would return this evening to watch over me.” Helen handed her coat to Pria.

  “I knew he wouldn’t protect you as he should. It’s why I’m here now.” Grace waited until Pria left the room to add, “I don’t trust that one. There’s something about her. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  Helen shook her head. “She’s been a good maid. I appreciate her company. I assume you will also spend the night?”

  Grace nodded. “I will.”

  “I’ll have a room prepared for you.”

  “No need. I will stay on the couch in your room.”

  Helen stopped and looked at her. “How do you know I have a couch there?”

  “All women of means have a couch in their sitting rooms. Even if you don’t, I’ll sleep on the floor. It would not be the first time. My duty to protect this world is focused on you.” Grace was as implacable as she was serene.

  Too tired to protest, Helen nodded. “As you will.” She hurried up to her suite to hide from the world. This day had taken its toll.

  Edward was waiting outside her door. “Lady Helen?”

  She looked at his face
, saw the concern there, and smile wanly. “Yes?”

  “Might I have a word?”

  Helen nodded. “Of course. Though, how did you know you where I was coming?” She walked into her sitting room with its library, craft table, and couch area.

  “It’s my job as Head Steward to know where you are and what your wants are.” He closed the door behind them. “Also, it is my job to deliver things to you. Doctor Bannister left this.” He showed her a small brown bottle. “He thought it would sooth your nerves.”

  Laudanum. She must remember to thank the old man when she saw him next. This was exactly what she needed. “Thank you.”

  “One spoonful every four hours as needed.”

  “I remember. Would you have Pria bring me some of my special tea?”

  “Of course, Lady Helen.” Edward bowed and left the room.

  Helen did not wait for the tea to take the laudanum. She needed some serenity now. Between the laudanum and the tea she usually only drank towards the end of the month, she would be certain to relax. The sweet taste of the syrup did not stop her from grimacing at the cramps in her abdomen.

  As she cupped her tummy, the cramps immediately subsided. The sudden lack of tension and pain was remarkable. Helen looked at the white-raised scar in her palm and wondered if the ward against evil included the evils of a woman’s burden. The thought made her smile, though not for long. It was the scar that had also laid Venkata low. She pondered this, wondering how many other people would react when they touched her hand.

  “Perhaps only the evil ones. Still it would be inconvenient for one of father’s business partners to suddenly fall over in a fit.” With the laudanum already starting to work its magic, Helen smiled at the thought of several stuffy old men collapsing and foaming at the mouth.

  Helen spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening in an opium haze, so relaxed that Pria forced her to eat because it looked as though she ‘needed’ it. Grace sided with the maid, choosing to eat with Helen to ensure she fortified herself for what was to come.

  John returned to the house shortly after they had finished their meal. Helen was so exhausted that she barely followed the forms of propriety before she excused herself for the evening. Her last thought, as sleep claimed her, was to hope Grace did not wake her when she entered the bedroom suite.