The Madness of Cthulhu Volume Two by S. T. Joshi

Author:S. T. Joshi [Joshi, S. T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, Anthologies
ISBN: 9781781165485
Goodreads: 25387779
Publisher: Titan Books
Published: 2015-10-20T00:00:00+00:00

THE LAST ONES

MARK HOWARD JONES

THE SEA-SCENTED AIR BLOWING THROUGH THE OPEN SIDE WINDOW almost served to clear away the cobwebs of the three-and-a-half-hour drive. The small office in the Midlands university where he’d started his journey seemed ridiculously far away as the vista of deep blue sea and sky opened before him.

He’d have been tempted to stop and drink it in, if it wasn’t for the belligerent-looking farmer on a tractor following close behind him. The weather was very clear for this time of year, he mused. Particularly for the west coast of Wales, where things could get a little wild.

Just before he began the descent down the steep hill into Narmouth, he glanced across at the headland. There were two figures standing there, waiting to dive into the wildly crashing waves. They looked like a woman and a young girl, their figures obscured periodically as the foam flew up around them. Surely they would be dashed to pieces if they dived there, he thought; the rocks looked like razors. But then the figures were gone and, within seconds, they could be seen swimming strongly away from the jagged shoreline. They were obviously practiced hands.

Despite the small size of the town, Patrick had trouble finding the guest house. It was tucked away up a gray side street. The proprietor had tried to liven the place up by painting it light blue, but that was obviously years ago, and the paint was now peeling badly, as if the house had very bad skin.

There seemed to be no other cars around, so he parked on the slight gradient outside the guest house. The houses opposite looked grim and uninviting. Several broken windows told him they must be abandoned.

He walked up the steps of the house and noted the name painted above the door in black: “Glan Mor,” which he knew meant “Seaside.” It was the only hotel or guest house he could find listed in Narmouth, despite extensive inquiries and online searches. Even if it turned out to be a pit, he was only going to be here for three days.

He rang the bell and waited. After a short while, the door opened a fraction and a face with very smooth skin and a perfect little mouth appeared before him.

“Hello.” He extended his hand which she declined to take. “Professor Patrick Neede. I rang last week to book a room.”

Her eyes were the lightest gray he’d ever seen. He thought the color almost ethereal, as if she were a deity, used to merely gazing down on the ants below her rather than moving among them. He found her intensely beautiful.

At length she nodded and swung the door open. “Please come in, professor.”

He tried not to stare at her as he heaved his heavy bag up the last step. “Thank you. And, please, call me Patrick.”

“Elin Williams. I spoke to you on the phone.” She indicated a door to the left, and Patrick struggled and fussed his case through to a small but comfortable lounge.

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