Gilded Gates

The empty uneven road that connected the cities of Kingsport and Arkham lay right along the ocean shore. It was mid-spring, the sun shining brightly amidst the blue sky, occasionally hiding behind swiftly moving clouds. The grass grew thickly on the western side, stretching to the horizon like a green sea. On the eastern side, peaceful ocean waves lapped at the warm sand of the shore. Only a thin yellow strip of road, seemingly ready to sink into both of these seas, divided them.

Traveling along the road, gently swaying, was a lone bus. It was almost empty; not many people traveled to Arkham. Some of today’s passengers slept or gazed out the window, someone read a book. Among them stood out a young man dressed in a strict brown suit. His straight nose, slightly curved eyebrows, clear gray eyes, plump lips on an oval face, and unruly tousled black hair created an image of naive childlike innocence, contrasted only by a deep white scar crossing his left eyebrow. An open folder lay on the young man’s knees, and sheets of paper covered in writing were scattered on the seat next to him. The young man looked out the window, playing with a pen in his hand. He chose one of the drafts of his work, took a blank sheet of paper, placed the folder under it, and began transcribing the short manuscript into a final version. Almost anyone reading this text would undoubtedly think that it was merely a work of fiction; in reality however, everything described there had happened to its author in real life, and quite recently. And the story itself was nothing more than a report on his work, albeit in a somewhat unusual form.

Greetings, dear reader, I am glad to welcome you from the pages of another of my stories, which happened with me in April 1914. My name is Richard Charles Warring, and I hold the position of an occult detective in the occult bureau of the city of Arkham, Massachusetts. Few people know about such part of police department as the “occult bureau,” and even fewer would believe in its existence on word alone. However, the fact remains: it exists, and without it, perhaps there would be nothing familiar to us on this earth long ago. The events described in this story are just one example of what can forever change our world, destroying it to its foundation. Right now, however, there is no cause for concern: everything mentioned here is in the past, and in this report, I will describe how I managed to stop the impending doom.

Same as other most peculiar cases, this one came to me, so to speak, by fate. I was calmly working at my desk, sorting papers into their respective piles when suddenly I noticed a suspicious person: some young man had snuck into our department. He was looking around carefully when noticed that I was closely watching him. Contrary to my expectations, the young man did not try to hide, but decisively headed straight for my desk. I had never met this guy before, but from the first minute, I had a vague uneasy feeling that I saw him somewhere before, but I had no idea when. The young man stopped in front of me.

– Hello. Is this the occult bureau?– he said with a slight tremor in his voice.

– Perhaps, – I replied. – Do you have a question for them?

– I have a very important matter. A request. Can you rid me of curses?

– Well, maybe, – this question caught me off guard, – if you believe in such things. Please, have a seat. On whom does the curse lie, and why do you think so?

– It’s on me. Whatever I do inevitably leads to a disaster for me and my loved ones. Even random passers-by sometimes fall under the curse’s influence. I don’t know what to do.

– Is it really that serious? Can you give examples to describe the scale of the disaster?

– Well, recently, because I decided to help an old lady cross the street, there was a car accident in which three people died. Once, just because of my sneeze, a building collapsed, and also my father died when I said that I was interested in history.

– How is that related?

– The next day, he decided to go to the museum to deal with some criminal, and he didn’t come back. There was a fire there too, you probably remember. His name was Mike Kaltman; he was a police officer.

Of course, I remembered him. For the past few years, I had desperately tried to forget that dreadful day, but just mentioning it awakened in my memory that horrific scene, as if the tragedy had happened only yesterday: Kaltman’s face, engulfed in flames, his eyes and mouth wide open, and his throat slashed by the madman’s knife. Such monstrous moments stay with you for a lifetime, no matter how hard you try to forget. Now I understood why the young man seemed familiar to me – he was an exact copy of his father.

– Yes, I remember that day, – I replied, rubbing my temples. – But why do you think you are responsible for his death? It could have been a mere coincidence.

– I tried to convince myself of that too, but his records put everything in its place. In them, he wrote that he himself was searching for the source of the curse, and it seemed like he even found salvation from it, but he didn’t mention what exactly. But I know that he quite often went out of town, towards Kingsport, and sometimes stayed there for several days. And nothing horrible ever happened to him that could be associated with the curse.

– So, you suppose he discovered something, either the source or the salvation from the curse, and managed to appease it, at least for himself?

The young man nodded.

– Alright. I’ll talk to my superiors and see what we can do. What’s your name?

– George. George Kaltman.

– Good, George. Now head home, try not to interact with anyone, and give yourself some rest, – I handed him my business card. – If you have any urgent questions, give me a call.

The young man thanked me and went away. As soon as he left the department, I went to see my boss about this matter: it could either be the usual paranoia of a young man, or, which happened more often than not, a serious problem for all the residents of Arkham.

My boss was as calm as ever, filling out some documents. He just glanced at me quickly when I entered and returned to work.

– Sir, George Kaltman sneaked into our department, claiming he’s cursed.

– Fabulous. And how did he manage to get into the department?

– I have no idea.

– Well, it’s good that you noticed him, then. I’ll have to talk to the security guard. George Kaltman, you say? Is he related to the person, who died under the museum?

– Yes, related, that’s his son.

– Did he mention his father?

– Yes, he told me that his father was also looking for relief from the curse and frequently travelled to Kingsport on that matter.

– How convenient that you mentioned Kingsport. We have a complicated case there that has been bothering us for some time. I think it’s time to put an end to it. Wouldn’t you agree?

– Well...

– Excellent. Then tomorrow you’re heading to Kingsport. You can find all the documents related to the case in the filing cabinet. As for Kaltman’s curse, I’ll try to find out something about it, but you can also try to learn something in Kingsport while you’re there. Arm yourself as usual.

– Sir… with all due respect, don’t you find it odd, that I’m informing you about cursed person, who mysteriously appeared in our department, and you just casually wave it off and send me away on a completely different case?

He folded his fingers together and looked me in the eyes. I never liked when he does that: it felt like his gaze is piercing into my soul, reading it, while he makes millions of calculations in his mind.

– Although it might not look like that from a first glance, I deeply respect you and your talents, Warring. I understand your concern and assure you, that all my actions are justified and have a very solid foundation to them. No matter how illogical my decisions might look right now, I assure you, that they were made with consideration of all facts and possibilities I’m aware of. If I suddenly send you off, then it means that it is absolutely necessary. Now you may go. As I’ve already said, I’ll do what I can to find out more about young Kaltman and his issue.

Basically, our conversation ended on this. I left the office without saying another word, once again blessed with the unwanted gifts of my superiors. First and foremost, of course, I armed myself: a revolver, which I’ve been carrying since my first day at work here, and a box of enchanted bullets for it. I witnessed the usefulness of these charms firsthand during my first investigation when one bullet simply destroyed a witch who attacked me. Ordinary people are almost unaffected by the spell; my boss said it’s all the more effective the more magical power the enemy has. Finally, I took a dagger, the blade of which was covered with special runes: this was a recent addition to my arsenal, which I received after completing the mandatory hand-to-hand combat and fencing courses in our department. Then I gathered all the necessary documents and notes on the case, packed them into my briefcase, and headed to the bus stop to buy a ticket to Kingsport.

The journey there turned out to be simple and even pleasant. At first, my modest transport leisurely traveled along the turbulent river, replenished by melting snow from its northern sources, and the air around was filled with the freshness of cold water and the greenery, awakening after winter slumber. Then my path crossed a wide road running along the sea coast, where the salty breeze carried an enticing smell of the ocean, invariably associated for me with summer holidays and warm memories of school vacations.

The bus slowly arrived in Kingsport. This small town immediately made a favorable impression on me: the small cute houses were painted in various colors, and this motley created a quite festive look. The few residents leisurely went about their business, further enhancing the idyllic tranquility that this place exuded. The pleasant atmosphere of the seaside town and the fresh spring wind filled with the scent of sea salt, reigned on the streets of this settlement located on a small peninsula.

But I tried to focus on work and left the bus stop. According to my tradition, every time I was on business in another city, I first went to the police station. Finding my way there was easy, thanks to the abundance of signs and the helpfulness of the townsfolk. Arriving at the place, I immediately went inside, expecting that, as a colleague from distant lands, arriving to help with the resolution of their particularly difficult cases, I would be assisted, or at least, welcomed. Unfortunately, I was mistaken.

The reception turned out unexpectedly gloomy and stuffy, which I wouldn’t have expected on such a pleasant spring day. There was only one constable on duty in the room, sitting at the desk, reading a newspaper. The best word to describe this person would be “huge”. I have no prejudices against larger people; many of my friends are somewhat bigger than me. However, this person was an extreme case. His pudgy pale face seemed to melt off his skull, his raised eyebrows were sparse, just like the rest of his hair, and his chin was covered in unkempt stubble. A large red nose hung over a tightly pursed mouth, and his small eyes lazily moved across the newspaper lines. The duty sergeant was sweating heavily, constantly wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. It was evident that he didn’t particularly enjoy his job, although judging by the abundance of personal items, from mugs to various trinkets, he spent a lion’s share of his time here. He only gave me a quick, displeased glance and pursed his lips even tighter. I couldn’t help but feel pity for this man because I didn’t like being confined within four walls myself. However, soon my compassion had mostly vanished.

– Hello. My name is...

– State your business, – the constable grunted, not looking up from the newspaper.

– I’m a detective from the city...

– State your business! – he repeated with emphasis.

– I’ve come to investigate a suspicious crime that occurred in Kingsport.

The constable gave me a disdainful look and returned to reading.

– We don’t involve civilians in police investigations, young man. Go home.

– I’m not a civilian, I’m a detective, your colleague from Arkham.

– Even from the moon, you can call yourself whatever you want, but that doesn’t make you a detective.

– I hold an official position at the police station and uphold the law just like you, sir.

– Oh, yeah? Maybe you even have a badge, kid?

I handed him my badge. The constable snatched the star from my hand, inspected its unusual bluish shimmer, and then, with great effort, mumbled the title of my position almost inaudibly, moving his lips. He smirked and depreciatingly tossed the badge back to me.

– We don’t believe in such nonsense in the police, – he said. – Anyone can craft such a trinket, so take it back and don’t bother me.

I took back the badge and hoped to come up with some argument against the stubbornness of this police officer, but none came to mind. Meanwhile, the constable didn’t back down. Seeing my momentary confusion, he continued his attack.

– Well, what’s your problem?! – he exclaimed, waving his hand dismissively and leaning forward threateningly, like a seal on a rookery. – Get out, don’t interfere with work! Every shady character tries to hamper justice here, scram before I arrest you!

I left the station with a sense of resignation in my heart. If a real catastrophe were ever to happen, one that could endanger our country or even the whole world, it would be because of such stubborn, self-absorbed, and lowly individuals like this constable. Indulging in their own insignificant power, they are ready to turn mountains just to do nothing and only keep bossing around people. Their ego grows endlessly until it crushes everything it touches.

I sighed heavily, contemplating what to do next. Another possible source of information could be some local bar, where I could fish out a couple of worthwhile facts amid the sea of gossip and fables that most regulars consider truth. But as soon as I took a step toward the road, I heard a piercing scream in the side alley.

Without a second thought, I rushed to help. An elderly woman was screaming; at the moment I saw her, she was lying on the ground while the criminal was tearing off her necklace. As soon as he noticed me, he fled down the street, leaving the frightened victim behind.

– Are you alright? Are you hurt? – I asked.

– I am fine, – the poor lady replied in a trembling voice. – He stole my necklace! Please, call the police!

But I was already chasing the criminal, trying to catch up with him. The thief hadn’t gone far and remained in sight; I followed him closely and even managed to shorten the distance a bit when suddenly he made a sharp turn into a narrow alleyway. When I reached it, the criminal had disappeared without a trace.

I darted through the alley, hoping to catch the fugitive on the street he was heading towards, but my attempts were in vain — the street was empty, and there was no sign of the criminal. I returned to the alley in search of possible clues; the thief might have dropped some item in haste that could shed light on his identity. However, instead of clues, I discovered a hidden entrance behind crates and trash bins. The narrow staircase leading down seemed barely wide enough for one person to pass. The canopy above the entrance was almost level with the ground; no wonder I missed this place on my first run through alley. The grim wooden door was cracked in places, and the paint on it had begun to peel off; a dim light bulb above the entrance glowed faintly. The thief could well be hiding inside, so I decided to go in. I didn’t know what awaited me on the other side, so I readied my weapons, then grabbed the door handle and pulled with all my might.

The door was locked. I sure wasn’t ready for this. Suddenly, a narrow window opened at the top of the door, through which the guard peered at me with stern disapproval.

– What do you want? – he asked in a deep voice.

– Hello, I really need to get in, – I modestly replied.

– Password.

– Please?

– Wrong.

The window closed. I cautiously knocked.

– Don’t you have anything else to do? – the guard asked, appearing again. – If you don’t know the password, beat it.

– Well, um... – I tried to come up with something, anything relevant. – Gotta... get saturated?

He squinted. An awkward silence hung in the air.

– Lucky guess, isn’t it?– he finally said. –Alright, come in. But this is the first and last time.

The door opened almost silently, which was a bit odd, and I entered the gloomy underground establishment. The light from the street barely penetrated through the small basement windows right under the ceiling, so even during the day the chandeliers were lit, but not providing much more. The air was thoroughly filled with cigarette smoke, irritating the eyes and lungs, only adding to the prevailing darkness. All the furniture was heavily worn and cracked, tables bore traces of cuts and suspicious brown stains. The patrons of this establishment fit perfectly in the surrounding atmosphere: dirty, grim, and absorbed in their drinks. Most of them silently drank alone, some also played cards, others discussed something in hushed tones. Some of the people sitting closer to the door gave me a couple of suspicious glances, but then completely ignored me, as if I were as inconsequential to them as a lamp or a piece of furniture.

I calmly approached the bar, trying look calm and avoid attracting unnecessary attention. The bartender was slightly taller than me, stocky, his square face seemed like a roughly carved wooden mask, his sparse dirty hair with deep bald patches sticking out in all directions, a deep scar crossed the entire right side of his face from forehead to jaw. He smoked a cigar and leisurely wiped the mugs, occasionally scanning the patrons, ready to notice any signs of a brewing fight and disperse the brawlers to different sides of the bar. When he noticed me, he pushed a mug aside and scrutinized me from head to toe.

– What’ll it be? – he grumbled.

– Let me think for a moment. Better tell me, has anyone come in here right before me?

– What’s it to you? Are you a detective or something?

– Just curious. He stole a necklace from an elderly lady.

– What’s it to me? If he’s not breaking anything, he can stay. For a while.

– I still want to sort this out with him as soon as possible, so if you have any information...

– Hey, I know you, – interjected a bearded thug sitting nearby. – You’re a detective! They wrote about you in the newspaper! Guys! That’s a cop!

I don’t understand why I earned such bad attitude towards me, but as soon as the patrons found out I was from the police, they immediately fell silent and stared at me. In this silence, I could distinctly hear unpleasant sounds: people were getting their knives and clubs ready.

– He’s from another city. How lucky, eh? – the bandit continued, grinning menacingly. – Oh, you shouldn’t have come here.

A knife flashed in his hand. I acted lightning-fast; the training sessions in our department proved to be very useful here. Like an eel I slid under the villain’s arm, simultaneously twisting it. Then I threw him into the crowd of drunks and jumped onto the bar counter, pulling out my gun. When another brute stepped forward, I made a warning shot under his feet. The small blue flash from the bullet in this semi-darkness was as blinding as a lightning strike, shocking the attackers, and the sound of the shot in the small room was louder than thunder. I aimed the cocked revolver at the crowd.

– Wha-what are you waiting for?! – one of the patrons said uncertainly. – He ain’t got enough shots for all!

In response, I put down my briefcase, which I somehow managed not to let go of for all this time, on the counter and drew a dagger from my belt. The bartender began to slowly back away.

– You’ve seen what I did to that thug with only one hand, imagine what I’ll do to each of you with a knife! Now put your hands up where I can see them, and down on your knees right now, all of you! Or I’ll start shooting!

It’s a remarkable sight when about fifty huge pumped-up guys simultaneously awkwardly kneel before you, a frail fellow, ready to lose consciousness from fear at any moment. Fortunately, I managed to keep my composure and spoke firmly and confidently.

– Now spill it, where did that guy go?

The men either looked at the floor or awkwardly glanced at each other. Obviously, most of those present had no clue, while others did not want to stand out. It infuriated me quite a bit, to be honest, but before I could raise the pressure, we heard an approaching police siren.

– Damn! Who called the cops?! – exclaimed someone from the crowd.

– It must be because of the thief I was chasing. It’s in your best interest to confess...

But nobody listened to me: half of the bar’s patrons had already disappeared through various secret passages, while others clustered near the back exit. I put away my weapons in my briefcase and stepped down from the counter, preparing to meet my Kingsport colleagues.

The entrance door flew off its hinges and crashed to the floor; I don’t know how the police managed to knock it down, especially from the nook that was outside. They swiftly stormed into the room and began mercilessly clubbing everyone indiscriminately. I pulled out my badge to show them.

– I’m a detective and...

Without letting me finish, one of the police officers struck my hand, then together with his fellow, knocked me to the ground and handcuffed me. I was illegally searched, escorted to the cars, and taken to the station, the one I had so recently left. There, at the entrance, the duty sergeant immediately recognized me and didn’t miss the opportunity to once again jab at me.

– Ah, I knew this swindler would come back! Tried to trick me with some junk! Sit tight now, that’s where you belong! That will teach you!

In short, I had never encountered such police arbitrariness in my life. It might be, that only in Arkham most of law enforcers were law-abiding and polite citizens, but I prefer to hope for the best. However, the term “best” definitely did not apply to the local police officers.

I found myself in a cell and spent a whole day in it with several other visitors from the underground establishment. I got a whole bench to myself: the other inmates huddled together on the other side of the cell, afraid to make a sound. I tried to engage them in conversation, but they only grumbled incoherently in response, moving further away from me. The officer assigned to this task reached me only the next day. Stocky, dry, dressed in a worn uniform, he stared at me without blinking for several minutes. His gray face with an overstretched skin, long nose and glassy eyes made him resemble a hungry reptile. To him, the inmates were not just riffraff; he considered them a prey.

– Get up. You’ll go to lineup, – he rasped, and his thin lips curled into a malicious grin. – Looks like you’re here for long.

They took me and a few other inmates to a small dark room where only five of us were lit by lamps. I tried to maintain composure and dignity, which wasn’t difficult compared to my fellow sufferers. In the dark part of the room, I heard a familiar voice.

– For how long will it continue? – a woman asked. – I have a very busy schedule.

– Don’t worry, madam, this is the last batch for today. Examine them carefully.

There was silence for a while, then the woman exclaimed in surprise.

– I definitely saw the young man with number three, – that was my number. – But he is not a criminal, he is a decent gentleman. I have never seen the rest. Now, if you will allow me, I would like to leave and take this unfairly maligned young man with me.

– But, madam, he was apprehended at the scene of the crime, with all the others. He couldn’t have just ended up there by chance, could he?

– Considering how you do your job, you might have just grabbed him off the street and accused him of God knows what. I vouch for his innocence with my word. And now I demand that you release him.

The policeman didn’t argue with the authoritative figure, and soon I got my belongings back. It was amusing to watch how changed the expression on the face of the officer who handed my items over, from disdainful contempt to surprise and shock as he returned first the revolver and then the dagger the size of my arm. I tried to lighten the mood and awkwardly smiled, but the policeman was horrified and hastily handed me the remaining items without revision.

My benefactor, as I suspected, turned out to be the lady I helped on the first day of my stay in this city. Her demeanor exuded confidence. She had perfect posture, her elegant dress tailored by the latest fashion trends fit her impeccably. Her narrow face with a straight nose and slightly protruding chin seemed somewhat stern due to age, but still retained much of its former beauty. Her straight gray eyebrows were only slightly furrowed, despite the unpleasant circumstances of the past few days, and her sharp black eyes unmistakably conveyed her superiority. Her long gray hair was neatly tucked under an elegant hat. Despite probable fatigue after the police linings, she maintained her dignity, avoiding looking at the local officers who were clearly unpleasant to her. She waited for me to be released, kindly allowed me to open the door for her, and we both left.

– I am very grateful for your help, – she said outside.

– I’m thankful to you too, if it weren’t for you, I don’t know for how long I would have stayed there. Besides, I still couldn’t retrieve the necklace.

– It is nothing. Most importantly – you tried, unlike others. Unfortunately, not many people in our city suffer from altruism.

– Well, when I first got here, many people gladly helped me find my way.

– But none of them would dare to chase after a robber.

– I was just doing my duty. May I escort you home?

– With pleasure, Mr. Warring.

We set off.

– It seems you know who I am, and I don’t even know your name.

– Oh, where are my manners! My name is Countess Eleanor Maria Isabella Mort. Our family has been living in Kingsport for nine generations and has enormous influence and impeccable reputation. We are one of the few families who managed to maintain good relations with the Crown after the revolution. You understand what opportunities that opens up.

– Incredible, I didn’t know we had a counts.

– To tell you the truth, formally we are citizens of the Empire, but almost all of our property and land are here. We had to make many compromises to survive in the cross-fire, but thanks to this, our family now takes an important place in improving relations between Britain and the States. But enough about me. I’ve heard many different stories about you and that notorious case of the fire at the Arkham Museum that you investigated. I must tell, I do not quite understand who turned out to be the criminal?

– One of the museum employees, madam. He perished in the fire.

– Well, in that case, he got what he deserved, I suppose. But what was the motive behind his crimes?

– It was madness. He was unwell, and his illness led to this tragedy.

– It is absolutely insane that thing like that could happen in such a respected establishment as the Arkham Museum. Truly, we live in dark times.

– Allow me to digress from this grim topic for a moment. Do you happen to know a certain Eustace Mort from Arkham?

– Of course, I do. He is my grandnephew, the grandson of my late brother. He was also telling me about you. It is amazing how small the world is. Dear Eustace is undoubtedly one of the finest sons of our family, although I do not particularly approve of his choice of profession. He could have become an excellent senator. Eustace has always known how to get what he wants, but unfortunately, he used this ability when decided to study medicine as well. Although, I must admit, he became a sort of bridge between our world and the world of common folk. It can be quite fascinating at times, to learn various details of the working-class life.

We continued to talk about various topics for some time until finally reached Countess Mort’s estate. I was speechless at the sight of this stunning building! The palace, built in the Victorian style, had no less than four stories in its central part, with two wide wings branching off on either side of the road paved with granite leading to the massive gates, towers of various shapes were visible everywhere. The palace was surrounded by exquisite fragrant gardens with a great variety of different flowers, the names of which I don’t even know; among well-tended bushes were placed playfully dancing fountains, each with a marble statue in the center. I was absolutely overwhelmed by this grandeur, and the countess watched my reaction for a while with a slight smile.

– Here we are, – she said. – I thank you once again for your help, Mr. Warring. I hope you would not consider it intrusive if I ask if you have a place to stay in Kingsport?

– I won’t, madam. Unfortunately, on the very first day of my stay here, I found myself at the police station, where I would have spent the night again today if not for you.

– In that case, I consider it my duty to invite you to stay with us. You are here for work, I presume?

– Yes, I was sent here to investigate a strange case. I am very grateful to you for the offer, and I consider it an honor to spend the night at your house.

– Excellent, please follow me then. It is right about time for a lunch.

We proceeded inside the manor. From the inside, it seemed even more luxurious than from the outside: intricate patterns were laid out on the floor with marble tiles, a long red carpet led from the entrance to the wide staircase to the second floor, velvet red curtains hung two stories high by the windows, various tables with flowers, tall vases, pots with exotic plants were placed along the walls, the walls themselves were covered with light beige wallpaper with floral patterns, a gigantic multi-story crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. We were greeted by the butler, who informed us that lunch was about to be served, and the countess led me to the dining room. The interior there was no less grand, although unlike the hallway, there was only one floor here. In the center of the room stood a wide, long antique table covered with a silk tablecloth, various dishes and decorations were already on it, bouquets of flowers and lit candles. The floor of the room was covered with lacquered wood, the walls – with dark green wallpaper with a geometric pattern, opposite from the windows resided a huge lit fireplace made of black marble, several small crystal chandeliers illuminated the table. I didn’t even notice when the countess ordered the servants to set a place for me too, and when I entered the room, I was almost immediately escorted to my seat. Soon the food was brought: for the first course, there was truffle cream soup.

– The young master informed that he won’t be able to attend lunch today, Mrs. Mort, – the servant said.

– Thank you. I really do not know what to do with this boy! I am afraid he is in for a very serious conversation.

– The young master? Is it by any chance Eustace? – I asked.

– Oh, if only. I’m talking about my grandson, William. He is nothing like Eustace: he is not studying, skipping classes. The university administration has repeatedly complained about his behavior and lagging behind in almost all subjects. In addition to that, he is not even interested in managing the estate and our business, but only gambling and other similar things.

– Perhaps it’s just a phase he’s going through?

– Maybe you are right. He was a very clever boy in his childhood, but unfortunately, he changed a lot when his father died in a hunting accident. After that, my poor daughter-in-law fell ill with grief, and William was left in my care. I hired the best nannies and governesses I could find for him, but they could not replace him parents.

– I’m very sorry to hear that, madam.

– Do not worry about it, Mr. Warring. So many years passed since then.

For the main course, we were served a roast of marble beef in wine sauce with a garnish of braised Brussel sprouts, potatoes, and carrots.

– Let us change this tragic topic, – the countess continued. – You mentioned, that work brought you to our humble town?

– Yes. I need to assist the local police in solving a complicated case. Also, a friend asked me to find out something about his own problems.

– Could you tell me more about this complicated case? If, of course, it is not a secret. I am extraordinarily fascinated by all these investigations.

– Honestly, I have very little information, only the part that was sent to our city. You might have heard about the incident; it happened a few years ago in a small hotel in the poor district of Kingsport. The windows and doors of his room were locked, and the victim was killed in a very cruel way.

– How mysterious and captivating. Is there any other information available? Any clues?

– I hoped to learn more at the station, but unfortunately, I couldn’t meet with the sheriff. I was thrown out and threatened with arrest.

– It is outrageous, but unfortunately, I am not surprised, –the countess sighed. – Do not worry, I know the sheriff, and I will inform him immediately about your arrival and the important task at hand.

– Your patronage is invaluable, madam.

– I am just trying to help uphold justice, that is all. Besides, by assisting you, perhaps, I will be the first to learn new details.

Soon we were served dessert: blancmange with various berries and whipped cream.

– You mentioned another case, – the countess continued. – About your friend asking for help.

– Yes, it’s a strange case. We met shortly before my arrival here; he turned to our department for help because he believed that... – I suddenly remembered that I shouldn’t involve ordinary people in the intricacies of the occult bureau’s work. – his father might be involved in some unpleasant business, which now causes trouble for him. He claims that his father came to Kingsport on some occasions.

– But why does not he ask his father himself?

– Unfortunately, his father died when he was helping me on that day at the museum.

– What a horrible tragedy. I am very sorry for you and your friend. Perhaps, I can help in this investigation somehow? What was his name?

– Mike Kaltman.

– Yes, I think I remember that name. Honestly, I know almost nothing about him, only remember that the sheriff mentioned that someone named Kaltman helped him with some matters.

– This is very valuable information, madam, thank you. I will definitely ask the sheriff about it.

Soon we finished lunch, I thanked the hostess for her help and the wonderful meal and wished her a good night. Then a servant led me to the guest bedroom prepared for me. The room was located on the second floor of the west wing, right in the middle of the west side, among several other rooms. The interior was luxurious, like everywhere else, but very cozy: there was an atlas carpet on the parquet floor, the walls were covered with green wallpaper with a plant pattern. Most of the room was occupied by a large double bed leaning against the north wall with a silk canopy and soft quilts. Near the bed were bedside tables made of red wood, in the corner between the west and north walls stood an extensive wardrobe of similar work, next to which was a door to the bathroom. In the corner opposite the wardrobe, there was a chair with an atlas upholstery; a small fireplace was lit in the wall opposite the bed. The only window occupied about half of the west wall. I was quite tired after these days, so I immediately began preparations for sleep. As soon as I reached the soft and warm bed, I didn’t even notice how almost immediately fell asleep.

Bright sunlight flooded the room with its hot rays. My body still felt tired from my travels, and I had no desire to get up. Stretching slightly, I pulled the blanket tighter around me, when suddenly I realized something was wrong: the window faced west. There could be no visible sunrise. The light gradually dimmed, taking on a distinct reddish hue, until my room was entirely bathed in a bloody-red color. I tried to move, but my body wouldn’t obey me; I couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t call for help or recite the protective spell we were taught at the station. I began to hear a rumble, which quickly grew louder and higher until it turned into a piercing whistle. And at that moment, completely out of nowhere, a black silhouette with glowing red eyes appeared outside the window.

He tried to break in, striking the window frame, pierced me with his gaze. Beams of light from his eyes scorched my face, but I couldn’t move or close my eyes to avoid it; I felt the fire tearing through my body. With tremendous effort, I managed to unclench my jaw and mumble the incantation. The heat subsided, my hands were freed, and I grabbed the revolver. In the same instant, I aimed, and before my opponent could react, I shot him in the head. As soon as the bullet shattered the glass and pierced its target, the silhouette exploded into a writhing mass of smoke, tendrils, and burning spheres that swirled into the room, enveloping me completely.

I woke up in a cold sweat, feeling nothing but piercing cold. It was deep night, and only the faint light of the moon slightly illuminated my room. Although I was unharmed, this nightmare exhausted me more than all the adventures of the previous days. I got out of bed to stretch and open the window to let in some fresh air.

Outside, beyond the green hedge surrounding the station, a figure in a black cloak with a hood was leaving away from the palace. My soul sank, but I immediately pulled myself together and rushed to my belongings. Hastily gathering them and taking my weapon, I dashed out of the palace in pursuit of this person.

I found one of the side gates, which, unfortunately, was locked, and climbed over it. In my childhood, I was a very active and disobedient child, so I learned very well how to climb over various fences and obstacles. As silently as possible, I headed in the direction the mysterious stranger was going, darted into an alley where my target presumably was, and indeed saw a silhouette on the other side. I swiftly crossed the alley and significantly reduced the distance: the stranger didn’t expect surveillance. He didn’t look back and moved quite quickly, delving deeper into the darkest and most dilapidated quarters of the city. I followed in his footsteps, trying to stay in the shadows and close to potential hiding spots, ready to disappear at any moment. After looping through dark alleys for some time, my target entered the back door of a gloomy two-story building.

I decided not to enter yet in case he wasn’t alone and cautiously circled the building. In one of the alleys, cluttered with various junk, a lone window on the second floor led onto the roof of smaller building, emitting a dim dark red glow. Carefully stacking several crates and trash bins on top of each other, I peeked into the mysterious room.

There, arranged in a semicircle near one of the walls, stood several people dressed exactly like the stranger I had been tracking. In front of them hung closed burgundy curtains on a golden rod, through which penetrated a reddish glow. Soon, the one I had been pursuing joined the gathering. All the cultists nodded synchronously, folding their hands in prayer, and repeated some unintelligible words in unison; as if responding to their call, the dark red glow slightly oscillated in rhythm with the words. As the voices of the gathered grew louder, their shadows cast on the opposite wall became more distorted until they merged into a strange semblance of rising tentacles swaying to the rhythm of the chant. When glowing spots began to appear on the shadows, I snapped out of this unexpected trance and realized that urgent action was needed. I tried to discreetly open the window, but as soon as I lifted the glass, an unseen force burst out of the room, striking me, and I fell to the ground with a deafening crash, dragging with me the entire pile of wood and metal on which I stood. Almost instantly, the window flew open, and one of those gathered leaned out. He quickly surveyed the mess and closed the window; very soon I heard the sound of hurried footsteps on the creaky staircase somewhere inside the house. However, by the time the man reached the dark alley, I had already slipped out of the embrace of the collapse and disappeared into the night.

There could be no doubt: these people were gathering to summon some great and terrible force into our world, capable of wiping out all humanity. I stayed a little longer, hiding in the alley across the street, hoping to get a better look at the stranger, who was rummaging through garbage cans and boxes in search of a spy. However, neither of us was successful: this person disappeared, not finding anyone, and never showing his face from the shadows. I had already decided to head back to the palace when suddenly I noticed that the light in the red window began to flicker anxiously, and then went out. My hopes that the commotion would be attributed to stray animals disappeared, and the cultists began to hurriedly gather their belongings and disperse to their homes. Most of them dissolved into the night swiftly and silently like shadows, and only one kept fumbling around, constantly looking for landmarks. Apparently, he was a newcomer to this company and had not yet developed the necessary stealth skills, which I took advantage of. Judging by his gait, shoulder width, stride length, and height, he was the same man I had been chasing tonight, and the same robber who had attacked the unfortunate countess two days ago. I could have grabbed him here and now, but I decided to follow him in case he led me to another secret meeting place. Easily sneaking through the shadows, I followed the stranger along his entire path.

The sky was already beginning to lighten by the time we emerged from the maze of alleys and found ourselves, to my greatest surprise, back at Countess Mort’s palace. Now this unknown criminal was trying to break into her house with unforeseen, but undoubtedly malicious intentions. Considering what I had recently witnessed, I feared the worst and simply couldn’t allow it. Sacrificing stealth, I rushed at the enemy.

Now that I had revealed myself, my opponent finally noticed the pursuit and dashed off at full speed. He had a slight lead in distance, and I didn’t manage to grab him as he climbed over the gate. Awkwardly overcoming the obstacle – a novice – he ran towards the manor and began to climb the overgrown ivy-covered wall. I leaped over the gate in an instant, swiftly crossed the clearing, and caught up with my target. Jumping after him, I grabbed his leg and pulled him down. Although my grip weakened a bit when I received a couple of kicks to the head, I still managed to climb after him to the second-floor window. We grappled in a dangerous duel on the narrow ledge; the enemy swung his arms furiously, trying to hit me and knock me down, while I dodged as best as I could, constantly pulling the hapless adversary closer to the window to prevent him from falling. Although a fall from this height probably wouldn’t kill either of us, landing on the rose bushes seemed to me almost as bad a fate. Finally, my opponent delivered a hook with his right hand, I ducked to avoid the blow, and he struck straight through the glass, shattering it to pieces. Losing his balance, he grabbed onto me, and we both tumbled inside.

Almost immediately, servants arrived and separated the two of us, entangled on the floor. To my greatest surprise, they released the unknown criminal almost immediately, but, on the contrary, continued to hold me tightly by the arms.

– What is going on here? – exclaimed the butler, addressing me. – What do you think you’re doing?

– This man broke in through the window, and I tried to catch him! –my recent opponent shouted. – He’s a thief, no doubt!

By this time, the young man had already managed to get rid of his cloak and presented himself before me as befitting a member of a wealthy noble family. With his light-red hair, slender frame, pale skin, he was dressed in a suit perfectly tailored to him, and his eyes expressed brazen arrogance, thin lips twisted in a triumphant smirk. Yet, something about his face suspiciously reminded me of a new acquaintance of mine...

– If you think so, sir... but how did he end up at the window?

– What is all this noise? – a disgruntled female voice sounded.

Down the stairs descended the elderly lady I had already met. Seeing me in such a state, she was quite surprised but didn’t utter a single word.

– We apologize, madam, – the butler said, bowing. – We detained Mr. Warring, who somehow got in through the window. The young master claims he caught him when he noticed it.

The smile vanished from the young man’s face, and now he was completely bewildered. When the countess ordered to release me, bewilderment turned into furious indignation. I straightened my clothes a bit and shook off the glass shards.

– Thank you, Your Excellency.

– And yet, I would like to hear an explanation from you, Mr. Warring, – she said in a commanding tone. – What is the meaning of this?

– The thing is, I was following this young man from a very strange establishment in the poor district. I couldn’t know that he lives here and was just trying to stop someone I considered a potential criminal. I apologize deeply for this misunderstanding.

– Nonsense! – the young man shouted. – Why would I have wandered around at night, goodness knows where! I’ve been here all this time when I saw him climbing through the window!

– I am afraid I will indeed need evidence of your words, Mr. Warring, – the lady of the house agreed.

– If everything is indeed as this young man says, then why is he in street clothes, and why are there traces of mud and grass on his feet?

Now the guilt of my opponent was undeniable. The countess looked at his shoes with surprise and undisguised disapproval, then raised her eyes to the pale face of the guilty young man.

– William, explain yourself.

– But, grandmother, this...

– No ‘buts’, young man! Where have you been?

– Well, nowhere special, I was just meeting with friends.

– In the middle of the night? All your friends, known to me, are welcome guests in this house, and I am fully confident that at the break of dawn they are still fast asleep like righteous saints.

– Well, these are some other acquaintances of mine...

– Who?

– Well, I can’t say for sure... there was Herman, and Joe Cramp, and...

– That gambler and drunkard?! – the lady exclaimed in horror.

– Grandmother! That’s... – the young man tried to justify himself, but the lady didn’t listen.

– You, the son of the most noble family in all the States, spend your leisure time in the company of people not just with a questionable reputation, but known revelers, who just ask to be put in jail! Instead of preserving the family’s honor, you tarnish our name, aimlessly squandering your life, and associating yourself with outright riffraff! And what will happen tomorrow? I dare not even imagine!

The countess turned away, closed her eyes, and pursed her lips; her grandson stood, eyes cast down, afraid to utter a word. I had always hated scenes like this since childhood, especially because I often found myself a part of them, and so at this moment, I wished most of all to become completely invisible and fall through the ground.

All these events, happening almost instantaneously one after another, seemed to last an eternity due to the tension of the situation. With a heavy sigh, the countess approached a chair standing against one of the walls and sat down. She continued to remain silent, keeping her back as straight as ever, and gazing into space in front of her. I wasn’t sure about the feelings of her grandson, but at the moment the police entered the room, he raised his eyes from the floor, and his face expressed only absolute indifference.

The police arrived surprisingly soon, as if they had been waiting at the very gates all this time. Two officers immediately began searching for the suspect. Of course, nobody touched the young count, but the servants received close attention. For some reason, I wasn’t noticed right away, but as soon as I came into the sight of the lawmen, my hands were firmly twisted behind my back. One of the constables remained holding me, while the other approached the lady of the house and removed his helmet.

– Good morning, Countess Mort, madam, – he said, bringing her extended hand to his lips. – I hope nothing serious has happened?

– No, nothing worth mentioning, Sheriff. Please tell your colleague to release Mr. Warring, he... oh, allow me to introduce you. Sheriff, this is Richard Charles Warring, the famous detective from Arkham; Mr. Warring, this is Sheriff Willard Watting, the sheriff of Kingsport.

The policeman approached me, wrested me from the tight grip of his subordinate, and shook my hand so firmly that I hadn’t expected from a short and chubby person like him. At the same time, he broke into such a wide smile that his short triangular mustaches tilted upwards, and his already tiny eyes almost completely disappeared behind his raised round cheeks.

– I’ve heard much about you, Mr. Warring, – he said, vigorously shaking my hand. – And I’m not just talking about the case in the museum. I myself worked in Arkham for a while, and I still have friends there with whom I often correspond. You, as far as I know, are a big celebrity in your hometown and a professional in your field.

– You’re exaggerating. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

– Don’t be modest, don’t be modest. It’s a great honor to meet you in person. But what brought you to our humble town?

– To be honest, I was sent here to help solve a case that became known at our precinct. Besides, I would like to discuss a few other matters.

– I’ll be happy to answer all your questions, my friend. But tell me, why didn’t you come straight to us in the first place?

– I did, but the duty sergeant ordered me to leave, threatening with arrest.

– It is simply inexcusable of him to be so negligent in his work! Outrageous! Mr. Warring, I guarantee you, justice will prevail!

– Your staff have completely lost control, – the countess said. – You should take measures as soon as possible.

– Of course, milady, it’s entirely my fault. I’ll do everything in my power to raise discipline to the required level. Mr. Warring, if you don’t mind, let’s go to the station and talk in my office.

We bid farewell to the countess, left the manor, and got into the police car. After a few minutes of driving, we found ourselves near the painfully familiar low building that housed the police station.