The Last Ritual: An Arkham Horror Novel by S A Sidor

Author:S A Sidor [Sidor, S A]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Dark Fantasy, Fiction, Fantasy, Historical, Media Tie-In
Publisher: Aconyte
Published: 2020-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

By the time I arrived at Oakwood after breakfast, the sleet had turned to snow. Whiteness sugared the evergreens, the walk, the hip roof. Barren trees framed the house. I’d pick up a few things, then be out again. A quick turnaround. I hadn’t been spending much time at the family hearth lately. Mother was tense because I hadn’t moved out yet. That would be changing now. When I entered, Thorn greeted me. Mother was less sanguine. She passed specter-like, silently gliding at the back of the hall, her head turned to note my arrival. I didn’t call to her with the good news. I’d tell my parents once I had official word from the Colony that Dunphy’s apartment was mine. A few days at the most, I figured, after Preston made his calls. Father wasn’t home; he’d absconded to New York to meet with his brokers.

I wiped my shoes and went upstairs. Thorn weaved in front of me. He loved to romp in the snow, the sight of snowflakes made him giddy. Inside my rooms, he dashed to the window and stood up with his paws on the sill, checking if the snow was still swirling. It was. He looked over his shoulder at me, his sad gray eyes pleading.

“All right, I’ll take you for a walk. Let me change my clothes.”

Thorn’s tail wagged.

Roland had my walking clothes ready, hanging on the closet door. The man scared me sometimes with his prescience. He’d looped Thorn’s leash on the door handle. I grabbed a satchel stuffed with toiletries, clothes for the weekend, and my sketchbook.

“Come on, boy. I’ll show you our new digs.”

We descended French Hill, taking a circuitous route. Thorn and I needed our exercise. We cut through the Miskatonic campus. Thorn loved it when the college girls would stop to rub his ears and praise his handsomeness. The quad was empty, and I couldn’t guess why until I remembered it was the week before final exams. Everyone was inside, studying. I always loved taking tests. I performed at my best under pressure. Lack of urgency is what plagued me. Sloth and procrastination were my nemeses. If the net blob and the gargoyle did anything positive, they spurred me to get to work. I had painted a life-size canvas of the winged creature riding the train, and, frankly, the sight of it disgusted me, not because the demon was hideous but because it made me realize how I’d wasted years of my life painting anything else. I was born to midwife monsters! As much as they lit my creative fires, I was happy not to have met up with them again. Except in my dreams.

Nina and I were both suffering from frequent nightmares. I was perpetually back in Spain, having the tall, masked man toss me on the pyre or goblins fork out my guts. Nina dreamt she was Dr Silva swinging under a streetlamp. Another night she’d be roasted at the stake side-by-side with the Galinka sisters. Following our run-in with the watchman, I steered clear of the docks.

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