The New Lovecraft Circle by Robert M. Price (ed.)

Author:Robert M. Price (ed.) [Price, Robert M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780345472274
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2004-03-29T16:00:00+00:00

The kid was named Dave Harvis, he was from Battersea, and he’d been waiting in the hotel lobby of the Bloomsbury Park for an hour in order not to be late. He wore a blue anorak and was clutching a blue nylon bag with a cassette recorder and some books to be signed, and he was just past twenty-one. Holsten picked him out as he entered the lobby, but the kid stared cluelessly.

“Hello. I’m Jon Holsten.” He extended his hand, as on so many such meetings.

“Dave Harvis.” He jumped from his seat. “It’s a privilege to meet you, sir. Actually, I was expecting a much older . . . that is . . .”

“I get by with a little help from my friends.” Holsten gave him a firm American handshake. “Delighted to meet you.”

The tentacled mouths stroked and fed, promising whatever you wanted to hear. The figure in its tattered yellow cloak lifted its pallid mask. What is said is said. What is done is done. No turning back. Some promises can’t be broken.

“Are you all right, sir?” Harvis had heard that Holsten must be up in his years.

“Jet lag, that’s all,” said Holsten. “Let’s go into the bar, and you can buy me a pint for the interview. It’s quiet there, I think.”

Holsten sat down, troubled.

Harvis carried over two lagers. He worked on his cassette recorder. The residents’ bar was deserted but for the barman.

“If you don’t mind, sir.” Harvis took a gulp of his lager. “I’ve invited a few mates round this evening to meet up at The Swan. They’re great fans of your work. If you wouldn’t mind. . . .”

“My pleasure,” said Holsten.

The figure in tattered yellow now entered the residents’ bar. The pallid mask regarded Harvis and Holsten, as Harvis fumbled with a microcassette tape.

Holsten felt a rush of strength.

Holsten mumbled into his pint: “I didn’t mean for this to happen this way, but I can’t stop it.”

Harvis was still fumbling with the tape and didn’t hear.

Neither did any gods who cared.

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