Strong arms wrapped around me, and I felt myself held and lifted. I gasped sweet air, turned my head from an approaching wave, saw that it was Grandfather who’d pulled me up.
“Thank you,” I managed. He stroked silently toward the shore, and seconds later set me back on the sand.
He put his hands on my shoulders and gazed at me. “Aphra Yukhl, later we must discuss how one makes such risks less completely foolhardy.”
“It worked,” I said breathlessly.
“Yes. And if it had not, you wouldn’t be in a position to make that argument.”
“We needed to do something in a hurry, and no one had a better idea.”
He snorted. “I’ll tell you several stories that start that way. Later.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
CHAPTER 30
It is written in the Archives that, once upon a time, the gods looked out on a universe barren and unthinking save for themselves. And they tested and experimented until they sparked matter into a form that might, one day, be capable of thought. And Shub-Nigaroth, mother of fear, looked on the first life and said: it will fail, but for now it is good.
Spector gave me a blanket from his car—unnecessary for warmth but welcome for my recovering modesty—and lectured me about hypothermia. Charlie fussed as well, though not before pointing out to Spector that cold wasn’t as much of an issue for me as sharp objects. I settled back and let them bicker; it would take both their minds off the night’s events. I felt strangely well. The ritual had been one of the hardest things I’d ever chosen to do—but I had chosen it, and survived, and saved myself and Audrey. I had not been helpless.
Professor Trumbull and Mary Harris made their way over. “Miss Marsh,” said Mary, “could you please explain what you just did?”
“In equations?” I thought about the logic of it, how the ocean might be a grand sigil for all that stood opposed to intentional cruelty. I doubted I could articulate it well enough to satisfy them. “No. I can feel the shape of it in my head, but what I did tonight—I was guessing too fast to describe it properly.”
“I have discovered a truly marvelous demonstration of this proposition,” said Trumbull. Mary laughed; I didn’t ask.
“Miss Harris,” I said. Then I hesitated. “Your team came to Miskatonic to learn magic for waging war.”
She glanced at the others, and I wondered if I ought to have taken her out of earshot, but she said slowly, “You really aren’t the ones who shared those things with the Russians, are you?”
I pushed Ephraim Waite firmly to the back of my mind. He’d forsworn our laws and our community, and would only be amused if he knew his crimes laid at our feet. “I’ve said that before, and it’s true.”
She nodded. “I don’t know if Mr. Barlow will listen to me. But I’ve seen a little of Innsmouth tonight. I don’t think you’re loyal Americans—but I don’t think you’re traitors, either. Not that kind. You’d turn your backs on our troubles, but I don’t think you’d give to someone else what you never gave to us.”
I drew myself up. “There’s only so much we can care about a country we’ll outlive—and that tried to destroy us only a few years ago. But our people fought in the First World War, and in the wars before that back to the Revolution. If we aren’t willing to protect a place, we leave.”
She nodded again, more firmly. “And that’s what we’re trying to do here—learn what we need to know to protect the United States. No one wants another war, but we need to be prepared.”
Now, I felt a wash of helplessness. We might know how to cleanse tainted blood, but we had never found spell or word to dissuade a state when it wished to do harm.
Then again, Mary was not the state, but one person who might be reasoned with—and whose cooperation and advice might do what we could not. “Have you seen, now, why we have laws and rules about which magic is permissible? That it’s not merely superstition?”
She smiled wryly. “I’ve seen that I need to take more precautions in my research, if that’s what you’re asking. And that Mr. Spector may be right about consulting with outside experts. Tonight has certainly been educational.”
“Thank you,” said Spector. “I’ve been trying to tell Barlow that for years.”
She sighed. “He cares very deeply about American security. And he’s very confident in his judgment—justifiably so, most of the time.”
“You know,” said Spector. “I could use a new secretary. I might even be able to push through a raise—to something more like what an agent makes, given the types of material she’d probably have to deal with.”
“If I hear about anyone looking for a position,” she said, “I’ll let her know.”
Spector looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he said, “We need better relations with the Deep Ones. If nothing else, think about the naval advantage.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. That was quite the storm, earlier.”
“The elders don’t normally take sides in the wars of the air,” I said. “But this is where we live, for now, when we’re on land and free.” Spector winced; Mary did not. “My father was too old, but I had uncles and cousins in the First World War. One of them was in the Navy; I know he got his ships through some hard weather. We can help—but there are laws older than this country that need to be followed.”
She gave me a penetrating look. “Are you in a position to make treaties for your people?”
“No. Are you?”
She laughed. “Not in the slightest. But Mr. Barlow listens to me, even if it doesn’t always look like it, and other people listen to him.”
“There are people in R’lyeh who listen to Archpriest Ngalthr. And others who listen to my grandfather.”
She nodded. “What are these laws? Aside, one presumes, from avoiding overly general inventory equations.”
Mary craned her neck as Ngalthr slipped up beside me. I continued: “I know you’ve been doing research into body theft. It’s not the most dangerous of arts, but it is the most destructive of trust, and of individual lives. And it’s forbidden.”
“Which is what Upton came up against, I recall—I suppose that’s reassuring, after a fashion. If it’s true, it certainly makes it less likely you’d spread it around.” She paused. “Atomic bombs and outsiders in the world, and you worry about people jumping bodies?”
“We ‘worry’ about all those things,” said Ngalthr. “We act against such crimes as fall within our domain, or we ensure the price is paid. If you find saboteurs or spies using such arts, we will gladly help you against them.”
She nodded, and didn’t press him on what he had not said: that the crime was no more forgivable in potential allies. “One can only follow so many lines of research at once. If I had a more promising avenue of study to offer my superiors…”