“Wait, who?” asked Chulzh’th, startled into English.
“He avenged Asenath Waite,” I said. “And you left him in a madhouse for it.”
“I did that,” said my grandfather. “No one would have sent a new-made acolyte against Ephraim. And if you had heard his killer ranting against us, or seen the destruction wrought by mere fear of body theft, you would not question our decision. You must learn patience, child.”
“Which brings us to the current question.” Ngalthr’s bass cut through our escalation. “We still must decide what to do with these children. And they are children, as Aphra Yukhl says. Can they be trusted, having given us their own secrets as surety?”
“And…” Chulzh’th trailed off, but her glance at Leroy’s chest made their concern clear. His body might tell what his tongue would not.
“The Miskatonic Monster!” said Audrey. She shrunk back as a dozen heads turned her way.
One of the elders I didn’t recognize shook her head. “Regardless of rumor, if there were still wolves in this part of the state we’d have smelled them.”
“Hasn’t been a sighting in twenty years anyway,” said Sally.
“We’re not trying to catch it,” said Audrey. “Look, we carry him up closer to the construction site, everyone who can vanish vanishes, and I get hysterical about how we were exploring the marshes outside town and this huge wolf thing jumped us, and it was the Miskatonic Monster, and just keep being hysterical so they bring him to the hospital without asking too many questions. Jeez, Sally, if you guys knew how to do a cover-up story right, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten caught trying to summon demons under your skirt with the boys!”
“The girl’s plan is sound.” Trumbull spoke at last. “If you do wish to continue your connections with the land for another few decades, I suggest not standing around in endless argument over a bleeding body. This area is open, and sound and sight carry information a long way. The men in town are bored and cold, and will investigate the least anomaly soon enough.”
A pause while everyone considered this, and then Archpriest Ngalthr ducked his head. “As you say, Great One. Yringl’phtagn?”
My grandfather nodded. “Jhathl and Khr’jhelkh’ng, bring the body closer to the marshlands, and make enough tracks to support their story. Don’t let anyone see you. Child”—this to Sally—“come here.”
She crouched beside Leroy a moment longer, then hesitantly stood and approached. She cast her gaze up and down, taking in my grandfather’s form.
“I apologize, but we must have surety for your word. Hold out your arm.”
This time she looked to me, and when I nodded she did as he bid. Her hand did not tremble. Audrey slipped up and touched her shoulder. Slowly, so as not to startle her, my grandfather took Sally’s hand and nicked her palm. She shivered but did not pull away. A drop of blood welled to the surface. “Aphra Yukhl.” At his direction, I rolled up my sleeve. He sketched a sigil on my forearm with the blood-dipped claw. I winced at the blossom of pain and the dim echo of Sally’s corporeal fear in the sigil, clear in my mind for a moment before it faded. “There. With that, you will practice tracking, and you will know if she betrays us—and do what’s needful.”
The look in his dark eyes dared me to argue further, and I ducked my head. “Yes, Grandfather.”
“Good.” He gathered me close again, and I wished that I could forget all the day’s fearful demands in the circle of his touch and scent. He gestured Caleb over, embraced him, held him at length. “Study with your sister, and do not be frightened away by the ignorance that was forced on you.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“And both of you, think on the duties we’ve discussed. We’ll talk further when you return—do not wait so long this time.”
In moments, we were alone—save for the two elders that my grandfather had assigned to move Leroy.
“All right.” I squared my shoulders, tried to focus on practicalities. “Who will have been exploring the marshlands with you?”
“I’ll go,” said Audrey. “I’m usually with them when they do stupid things, and I can do believable hysteria at the drop of a hat. Anyone else’ll get more questions. You’ve got a car, right?” Sally nodded shakily. With the promise that Audrey would report back that evening, they left, trailing Jhathl and Khr’jhelkh’ng and their burden.
“Have you other errands here?” asked Trumbull.
I looked back at the dunes. “No.” I considered asking if she had learned what she wished, realized that I wouldn’t be able to ask politely.
“Your family…” Charlie trailed off.
“We’ll talk about them later. For now, let’s go back to the university.”
When we returned, we found the campus invaded.
CHAPTER 14
At first it seemed natural that, on the Saturday before classes began, we should find a long line of cars wending slowly through Miskatonic’s wrought iron gate. However, as the line moved forward I saw a barrier across the road, and five tall men in well-tailored suits who spoke to each driver before permitting passage.
“They’ve got guns,” said Neko quietly. She was right. The bulges under their jackets were unmistakable—nor, I thought as I saw one man flash his badge at a recalcitrant chauffeur, were they intended to be mistaken.
Caleb grimaced. “We should turn back. Something’s happened.”
“Don’t be absurd,” said Trumbull. She gestured at the cars. “Can you think of anything more suspicious? Look at how they all conform.”
So we remained. “Puritans,” I murmured to Caleb, and he nodded. They were all of the type that we’d grown up calling by that name, and that I always had trouble distinguishing: tall and uniformly pale, with small eyes and aquiline features and chins that looked half cut off.
“Puritan soldiers,” he said. And indeed, they wore the close-shaven haircuts of the camp guards. I tried not to look frightened, and I tried not to look like someone masking fear. But then, how would an ordinary person react? I watched the drivers and passengers in the other cars, tried to hear them above the rumble of idling engines. I caught snatches of curiosity, irritation, respect—a couple of boys, presumably returning students on the G.I. Bill, snapped salutes and passed easily. In others, though, I caught a hint of fear. Perhaps I could let some of what I felt show without marking myself as their rightful prey.
Neko pulled up the hood of her coat, and buried her face in her scarf.
“Hello, ma’am,” one of the men said when Trumbull rolled down her window. He sounded bored, though he peered curiously at the rest of us. The returning students did not, as a general rule, have nearly so many females in their cars. “What’s your business on campus?”
“I’m a professor of mathematics. I’m returning home to do a great deal of course preparation.”
One of the others frowned. “Miskatonic has girl professors?”