Eldritch Case Files: Revelations of the Dark Mother, Part 2

The rhythmatic typing of the keys lulled me into a false sense of security. Another case closed and only a measly seven hundred and fifty dollars in my pocket. That alone just barely covered expenses. The economy was shit right now. Problems in the Middle East, a new strain of COVID (and let’s face it, we all know who was really responsible for that and behind iit), and now it would seem the Dark Mother was awake and sending out her young to do her dirty work for her.

Then came a knock at my door. I raised my head to look at the door to my office and saw a so what be on the frosted glass pane. I took a set of gold coffee and stepped out my cigarette, “We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.” I called. The knock came again. I sighed and rubbed my face. Pushing away from my desk, “I said we’re closed.” I stood and walked to the door.

I grabbed the door knob and gave it a turn to see just who in the hell couldn’t wait till tomorrow morning. There stood old friend from back home. He gave me a halfhearted smirk, “Closed huh? Even for an old friend?” I shook my head and chuckled slightly, “Always open or old friends. Come on in Gregory.” I stepped aside and allowed him entry.

He took off his head and entered and stumbling a bit as he did so. I reached out to take hold of my friend’s shoulder, frowning. “You okay man?” I led him to the only other chair in the room across from desk. He settle down into the chair, slouching into it, his face ash gray, “You got a drink for me?” he said, defeat in his voice. I raised a eyebrow. Gregory was a recovering alcoholic, this was very uncharacteristic of him, “Uh, sure Brandy okay?” I got a half bottle of vermouth.” He replied, “Yeah. Whatever man.” I took the seat across from him, pouring him three fingers of the vermouth and passing over. Lighting a cigarette I said to him, “Spill it Greg.” He was eyeing the shot glass in his hands, rubbing the class between his palms for a moment before raising it to his lips and downing it like a pro. He sat the glass down and locked eyes with me. “Tommy, She’s back.” A shiver ran down my spine and I looked him squarely in the face, “You’re absolutely sure it’s Her? I mean, really Her?” He only nodded slowly and watched that shot glass like it was about to jump off the table and bite his face off.

I sat back in my chair, swiveled to the left and looked out the window. “So that’s why I saw one of Her children the other day out at the old McMasters place. But I thought it was just rumor and the ravings of an old senile man on death bed.” I shook my head and sigh, “Put three shots in that thing and it wasn’t no baby. It had to be at least thirty feet tall. Dark Young are seldom seen in these parts anymore Greg. They’re mostly only called for a purpose or because She has woken.” I took out another glass and rebuilding his and made a drink of my own.

You took the glass, but this time only took a sip before sitting it back down again. I on the other hand took a long hard drink before setting mine down. “She came night before last Tommy. As clear and as vivid you sitting here now in front of me. Birthing monstrosities. There’s been other signs as well, omens if you want to call them that. Fresh milk curdling for my eyes, all the clock I my house stopping at the Hour of the Wolf the other night, every last one of them, even the digital ones, had to replace every last one because it’s like they’re stuck on that time. Blood began to seep out of a loaf of fresh bread I bought down there in a Little Italy.” He sat forward and put his face in his hands. “And then she visited me.” He reached out a shaking hand to cool his drink this time he finished it with a grimace.

I continue to look out the window, lost in my own dark thoughts. The sky was overcast and fat gray clouds threatened to storm later. “What if the others?” I asked my old friend without looking at him. “Not a peep, Tommy. That scares me more tha Hun if one of them paint the sky blood red at sunrise and their cultists were running a muck.” I swiveled back around to lock eyes with my dear friend, “Is that all?” He shook his head, swallowed and I swear he got even more pale, “She’s birthing hybrids Tommy. Half man, half. . . Whatever! They can almost pass as human, just a few minor mutations that are a dead giveaway.” I closed my eyes briefly and thought back to Sarah Mindcroft, a young intern that worked for me years back who I found out (just in time) was working for agents of a cult that was operating here in town. That was a close call. I opened my eyes and studied Gregory’s face, it was haggard and he had bags under his eyes. Obviously he wasn’t getting enough sleep, or at least not enough restful sleep.

“How many nights has it been Greg?” I asked my friend. He looked up from staring at the shot glass with a perplexed look on his face, “Eh? What do you mean, how many nights?” I pressed my lips together tightly before speaking, “How many sleepless nights?” He shook his head and sighed. “I sleep, if you want to call it that, but it’s not really sleep as one might call it. You know me. . . or at least more than most. My dreams have always been plagued by visions since I was a young boy. I don’t recall the last time I had a normal dream like others do. But to answer your question. . .two weeks, maybe more.” He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

I watched him for some time as his chest rose and fell evenly. He seemed relaxed enough, but I worried for my friend. A twitch ran through his body and I saw his eyes begin to move beneath his eyelids. I looked around my office at the different wards I had up, the most prominent of most was the Elder Sign. This could be the most restful sleep he had in the last two months. I knew that no vision would come to him here in this office, no nightmare either. Just restful slumber.

I awoke the next day around noon to find Gregory gone. But he did leave a blue post-it note attached to my computer monitor, it read: “Thanks for the restful sleep Tommy. I hope you’ll be able to get to the bottom of this. Peace, love, and chicken grease. G.” I smirked at his childhood reference of ‘peace, love and chicken grease’. We used to say that to one another when we parted ways for the day.

I wondered over to the coffee pot to start a fresh pot of coffee. It was then that I noticed a flash from outside and across the alley adjacent to my office building. Reflexes from a life time of paranoia took over and I hit the floor seconds before the window exploded. I rolled toward the sofa and reached under it to grab the sawed-off shotgun that I had stashed there. I continued to roll until I was on my back and facing the doorway, sure that someone was going to come crashing in, guns blazing. I was nearly hyperventilating. I forced myself to calm down and take slow deep breathes. Slowly I began to calm down and my breathing became level. No one came through the door. I waited what seemed like eternity. Shoulders and upper back leaning against the sofa, sawed-off shotgun at the ready, pointing at the door. Nothing. I relaxed and let the shotgun rest in my lap. When the phone rang quite suddenly, I nearly blow the office door off its hinges. Luckily I hadn’t had a shell chambered in the shotgun.

I crab-crawled to the desk and reached up to grab the phone. “Dresden detective agency, how can I help you?” I said mechanically. “Next time we wont miss.” A deep raspy voice said from the other line. “There wont be a next time fella, do your worst.” The line went dead. I put the phone back up on the desk and leaned against it, realizing I still had the shotgun in my hand, I had a death grip on the pistol handle. I pumped the receiver, loading a shell into the chamber.