None of us took a seat. The chairs had been luxurious once, but looked like they’d been here considerably longer than Upton. Cold seeped through the plate windows; drafts crept among their frames. I ran a finger along the glass and came up with a grimy film that smelled of cigarettes. Spector came up beside me and repeated the test, frowning at the dark smear.
“Mrs. Bergman’s place is nicer,” I murmured. Mildred Bergman had been priestess of the congregation whose activities first caused Spector to contact me. The one who’d believed herself beloved of Shub-Nigaroth—and believed that if she walked unafraid into the Pacific, the deity would grant her eternal life. Spector’s raid on her congregation, at my behest, had forestalled her attempted apotheosis. When last I visited her, in the asylum where the state had placed her, she still hadn’t forgiven me.
He wiped his finger on a handkerchief. “I did some research. A lot of these places have gone downhill in the past few years. The best ones are staffed by conscientious objectors, Quakers mostly. People who take on the work as a calling rather than the best of poor choices.”
I blinked. “Thank you.” I hadn’t realized that he’d done anything beyond bringing Bergman to the nearest available facility; his masters certainly hadn’t required it. He shrugged uncomfortably and handed me the handkerchief.
Footsteps in the hall distracted us, and the attendant’s voice: “See, Danny, there are some people here to see you.” And an old man’s querulous response: “I keep telling you no one’s come for months. They don’t want me—”
The attendant stood at the door behind a man who must be Upton. His white hair was cropped short but poorly kept, and an age-stooped back took only a little off his height. Gray pants and shirt hung loosely on his gaunt frame.
He stared at me, small eyes wide, then tried to back away. The attendant held fast. “You! No, I promised, you said—it was you! You said it would be safer, and it wasn’t, was it?” He surged forward suddenly into the room. “Don’t you blame me for it! I was here, I didn’t say anything! Leave me be—” The attendant grabbed his arms before he could throw himself at me.
“I’m terribly sorry, miss, he gets these fits sometimes. Been a while since the last one, but they pass. Danny, you calm now? You won’t make more trouble for us, will you?”
Upton slumped in the attendant’s grasp, and remained so as the man cautiously loosened his hold. “No, sir. No trouble, I promise. Probably for the best.” He twisted to look over his shoulder, wincing. “Maybe you’d better leave us alone, sir. For the best.”
“He’s right, sir,” said Spector. “I realize it’s irregular, but if we could have a few minutes.”
It wasn’t something I’d expect in any respectable hospital, but this attendant was no conscientious objector. One of Trumbull’s bland gazes was enough to decide him. He backed into the corridor, and we heard him leave, footsteps a little fast.
Upton drew himself up as well as his spine would allow, and looked first Caleb and then me in the eye. The others he ignored. When he spoke, he no longer sounded angry or afraid, only tired. “All right, then. Let’s get this done with.”
I held out my hands and tried to soften my voice. “Mr. Upton, we mean you no harm—”
Caleb interrupted. “That remains to be seen. What’s the ‘this’ that you think we came to finish?”
He looked around as if he’d forgotten something. Spector found him a ratty chair. “Innsmouth.” He gave a hacking laugh. “Wanted to protect your reputation. And you couldn’t. I was still here, called mad for what I said. And now you’re back to take revenge.”
I put a hand on Caleb’s arm. “Are you claiming responsibility for what happened to Innsmouth?”
This time his black laughter descended quickly into a coughing fit. When he recovered, he said, “Of course not. I was here. But why should that stop you?”
I felt Caleb’s muscles soften beneath my hand. I knelt, bringing myself back to Upton’s level. The others did likewise, or found more-or-less acceptable chairs—save for Trumbull, who remained silent by the window. I began to have an inkling of why she had come along, and could not decide whether I was grateful for her witness.
“Mr. Upton,” I began. “We’re not here for any sort of vengeance. Caleb and I were—” And here I paused, for he certainly hadn’t sounded sorry about Innsmouth’s destruction. “You carry a piece of our town’s memory. Something that we missed, because we were children and the elders would no more than drop hints when we were around. We know what Ephraim did to Asenath, and then to your friend—but not what happened afterward.”
“Ah. Just innocent children, then, are you?”
I bristled. “Not for a long time.”
“Heh. Well, I shot her. Him. Avenged Edward Derby, for all the good that it did. And tried to tell what I’d seen. The authorities had no other explanation, but they sent me here anyway—better that than believe such things possible.” He peered at me closely. “But they burned Ed’s body. Didn’t believe, but they did what I asked.” Another bout of alarming laughter, but then he turned serious again. “They put me in Arkham. I couldn’t bear it. She died there, he died—whoever died, they all did it there. Even with the body gone, the place was haunted. I begged my family, anywhere else or I’ll go mad in truth, and finally they sent me here. And then forgot about me.”
I tried not to let my flinch show. For all that it had been more kindly meant than ours, Upton’s imprisonment had still stolen half his life. But he would not appreciate the comparison and I did not care to share it.
“Well, then, I had a few weeks to think about what I was going to do, how I could convince them I’d recovered from murderous insanity and get back to my wife and my work. And then your family came. Some of them had your look.” Unnecessarily, he put his fingers around his eyes, and stretched the skin so that they appeared to bulge. “And some of them were worse.”
For the first time he gave attention to the others. “Don’t know if you’ve seen their relatives yet. Ought to get out while you can. Horrible creatures, like great walking frogs, or fish. Big mouths. Scaly. Gills.” He wiggled his fingers beside his neck, and I put my hand back on Caleb’s arm. “They wore cloaks to hide themselves, till they had me alone. They asked me about old Ephraim, about Asenath and Ed. I told them—why not. And they thanked me for carrying out Ephraim’s just sentence. Thanked me! Then they talked with each other, some strange burbling, barking tongue, and then they said—” The manic energy faded from his speech, and when he resumed he sounded only a tired old man. “They said that it was safest to leave me here. That people were spreading terrible lies about their children—I suppose that’s you—and that if people believed me, they wouldn’t understand that Ephraim was a criminal, it would just be one more bloody rumor about Innsmouth.