Dark Purpose - XIV

XIV.

So much to learn, so much to keep track of, so much to uncover. Cairn was swept up in the books he had laid about his room that he had neglected to even venture to the police station in two days. His comings and goings were his own now and that was fine by him. He let his phone ring and he dismissed the lessened yet still persistent wishes to have him on radio and television. There was still a lot of talk about the killer and the implications of the ongoing investigation but Cairn, going against his normal demeanor of wanting to speak at length, found himself shying away to concentrate on this new phenomena that he had stumbled upon. He had made his own calls to those he knew in New England in regards to the texts that were supposedly housed there.

                “Operator, please patch me into Boston University…Anthropology…thank you.” He sat with his shirt off letting his shoulder wound breath and drank a glass of wine. A few seconds later he was connected.

                “Yes, can I have a line to Dr. Newbury? Thank you.” Again he waited, thumbing through the book in his lap.

                “Hello?”

                “Ah yes, Dr. Newbury?”

                “Yes, who is this? It’s late.”

                “I know, my apologies. It’s Dr. Cairn. Lewis Cairn, from Criminology. Do you have a few minutes?”

                “Lewis? Ah yes, what can I do you for?”

                “Well I’m looking for someone to set me in the right direction. I’m working a criminal case right now and I’ve stumbled upon something that I don’t rightly know what to do with. I was hoping you could help.’

                “A criminal case? You’re a cop now?”

                “Not exactly, more of a consultant. But can you help me?”

                “Depends on the context. I don’t need to fly anywhere do I? I’m booked full I’m afraid.”

                “No, that’s not necessary. I just need some information.”

                “Alright, shoot.”

                “Have you heard of the Necronomicon?”

                “That sounds vaguely familiar. What is that in reference to?”

                “Some occult goings on. A book used in different rituals. If you don’t know then I’ll go to my next question: Have you heard of Miskatonic University?”

                “That I have heard of. It is now a defunct university not far from the coast in Massachusetts. It was hushed up before too long because of some strange goings on.”

                “I figured as much. So it hasn’t had classes or students in a while then?”

                “Not for a few years at the very least. A decade at most. Only reason I know about it is because a few hangover students came to my classes after it closed. They were fairly tight lipped themselves. I let it go since it wasn’t pertinent to my courses.”

                “Interesting. Do you know at all if any of the school materials were dispersed to other schools? Or perhaps abroad?”

                “Come to think of it we did get a few boxes sent to us from there. The state requisitioned items from the school and I think we made a bid though I’m not clear on the details. Like I said if it doesn’t fall within my own spectrum of importance then I let it go. Too much to remember already if you know what I mean.”

                “Sure, sure. That’s completely understandable.”

                “Speaking of which, why did you call me specifically? Wouldn’t you have been better suited calling the Theology section about this stuff? Seems more like their area of expertise, plus I think they acquired most of the materials if memory serves right.”

                “Theology? Hadn’t crossed my mind in fact. I figured since this was more occult and outside the realm of actual religious realm it would fall under you as an anthropologist.”

                “Actually, occult studies is a subsection of the School of Theology at Boston. Are you sure you work here doctor?”

                Cairn laughed.

                “Yes, doctor, but like you I don’t much leave my own wing of the school. We might be on the same campus but when it comes to disciplines, we are on different planets.”

                “You’ve got that right. Well, if I’ve satisfied your curiosity…it is rather late here.”

                “You have indeed. Thank you. It looks like there is another phone call I’ll have to make before too long. Have a good night doctor.”

                “You as well.”

                Cairn hung up the phone and went back to his silent contemplation. So Miskatonic was indeed a real school at one point and this Necronomicon, another occult text he stumbled upon in his readings, once resided there. Perhaps in learning more about that text he would have a better eye into the murder’s mind. The more and more he read, the further and further he felt the Butcher was from sanity. The things that came about in the ancient texts and their descriptions called upon deep seeded mania, naming of old gods, unlike the ones in the Bible, the Torah, and the Quran. Tales of rituals, spending of lives for arcane knowledge, eldritch horrors and other unnamable entities wrought on the unwilling by those who sought to cause harm. The methods varied but the underlying madness was the same across all accounts. A madness that sought clarity, that yearned for knowledge, knowledge too great for one man to possess hence leading to greater madness. A vicious cycle.

                Looking at the clock Cairn decided it was indeed late for more phone calls and set himself to sleep. He had been having many rough nights of late, not wholly unrelated to the case he was helping with. Mad dreams of chaos wrought by men in cloaks. He realized that his readings were having an affect on him but that didn’t hinder his veracity to the work. in fact it intrigued him more, like he was wiping away the dust on a mystery that desired to be revealed. The dreams only made him feel he was getting closer, closer to understanding what only the killer could know. The true mind of madness. He hoped, as the lights went out and he crawled into bed, that the killer would be found soon so he could enact his interviews and see once and for all the eyes of the depraved. A link was forming and when the time should come he would be ready.

                “I’ll make the call early in the morning.” Cairn whispered pulling the covers up to his chin. He needed to learn more about this book and this cult. It held more keys, he was sure of it.

               

A plane opened before Cairns eyes; cold, desolate, wide, and dark. He stepped forth and felt the vibrations of not just the wind against his body but the ground against his feet. A world devoid of life yet filled all at once with shambling shadowy forms. He felt his legs move yet he wasn’t the mover. He felt his arms swing but he wasn’t controlling them. It was as if he was a passenger inside his own flesh. He was carted through the dark plane witnessing shadows grow around him. In thoughts we recalled the texts he poured over, the references to otherworldly planes, the transportation of the mind through dreams. He was there now, he felt it.

                A whisper was carried on the wind and exploded in his ears. There were no words it was another sound altogether. The shadows that flowed around him jumped and buzzed in reflection to the sound. Back and forth with rapidity. Closer and closer the shadows distorted growing and ebbing around him. From inception to end it felt like days. His arms moved to cradle his head and shut out the noise.

                The phone ring repeated in his room. Shooting up from the nightmare he was covered in sweat. He reached for the receiver, a call from the station. No news, only an update, something he asked for via PO Wilson. He laid down the phone and rubbed his eyes.

                “What a dream.” He lamented laying his head back down on his sweat soaked pillow. He looked across his room to the books on the dresser and others placed about open to random pages.

                “What have I invited into my life?” he asked closing his eyes trying to remember what he had seen. It was escaping him as wakefulness increased but one thing remained a murmur of the place. A vast sweeping desolate plane. He couldn’t know what it meant or if it really was a place of true existence or simply in his mind. He rolled out of bed to freshen himself up as the final memories were swept away. A fear was building that perhaps he had stumbled upon something that was beyond his comprehension but his curiosity muscled out the hindrance.

                Having calmed himself enough with a shower and a cup of coffee he set about to call the Theological School at Boston University.

                “Yes operator, give me Boston University…Theology…Thank you.”

                A connection.

                “Hello, can I talk to the ranking member? I have some questions.”

                Another connection.

                “Hello? This is Dr. Marcus Stendige.”

                “Hello Dr. Stendige, I’m Dr. Lewis Cairn from Criminology.”

                “I’ve heard of you doctor. What can I do for you?”

                Cairn dove directly into his inquiry starting with explaining the case he was working about the murders,  moving towards his occult findings and finally landing on the news he heard about Miskatonic and the materials.

                “I do know about the dispersal. We received quite a truck load after the ordeal. Most if not all was filed away I’m afraid. It’ll take a while to uncover what you desire. How pressing is it?”

                “Quite pressing. We’re hot on the killer’s trail and I believe that having these documents and texts would help significantly.”

                “I see, I see. Well I’ll set my best on the job. I can’t say how fast it’ll be but I’ll be sure to give you a call when I get the chance.”

                “Thank you doctor, I await your call.” Cairn turned his attention back to the texts. He had spent hours pouring over them but still felt he has only cracked the surface and with the dream, whose memory was fading away, he felt that someone or something was attempting to lead him further down the rabbit hole. He had hoped to learn the mind of a killer through the eyes of one but through these texts there was much to find and he was willing to find it.

“How sure are we that this is him?” Angela said pulling away from a patrol car and swerving into oncoming traffic to elude the cop. They had been driving around for hours now and have picked up four different patrol cars on their trail. All of which didn’t have the detective they needed but the more they had on them the more likely it would be they would find who they wanted. Angela, the more skilled driver took them around town, Erika, trying to keep down her lunch dripped the door handle tightly.

                “Who?” Erika asked breathing out of her mouth.

                “The Enigma. How are you sure?” Angela asked checking that the patrol car was lost and resuming a sensible speed.

                “How much do you know about it?” Erika asked wiping sweat from her brow.

                “Not much myself. You never really talked about it.”

                “For good reason.” Erika huffed.

                “Well fill me in now, I think I should know.” Angela looked over to Erika seeing her eye her hands longingly before speaking again.

                 “The Enigma as you know is an entity that exists outside out plane. The incident in London years ago was his inception but we know now that he…it…however you want to classify him has popped up all over time.”

                “Time travel?”

                “Sort of. He can enter the higher dimensions and slip in at different times despite only coming into existence this century.”

                “That’s not confusing at all she said skeptically.”

                “I didn’t say it would make sense, I’m just telling you what I know. The idea of him intrigued me from the outset. Learning about the Dreamworld hypothesis and all it entailed grasped me.”

                “So the Enigma, how are you sure this is related?”

                “All historical accounts, including the one of our great-grandmother, point to a similar ritual. The building of a body for the Enigma to inhabit. Since he is ethereal he can’t simply enter our plane to do as he sees fit. He must inhabit a flesh body, one devoid of a soul. Or so the accounts go.”

                “So was Angola a…”

                “No Angola is a different story all together. This sect of the Order, known as the Dreamers, are few and far between. But they are still just as dangerous.”

                “Has a body been made in the past?”

                “Twice from what I read.”

                “Ashley, Kansas?”

                Erika nodded her head.

                “So what do we need to do?”

                “Destroy the body. Which is easier said than done since we have no clue where he’s building the damn thing.”

                “I have an idea, but I’ll let you know once we find this detective.”

                Angela turned another corner and came bumper to bumper with another cruiser. She slammed on the brakes. Erika almost smashed her face on the dash. Looking up she caught the face of the man in the passenger seat, it was Greed.

                “There he is.”

                “What’s the plan?” Angela asked looking for a way out. She could hear the sirens coming up behind her from the main street. The driver of the cruiser was speaking into a handset radio.

                “Take them to the headquarters.” Erika said white knuckled.

                Angela gave her a skeptical look, but realizing her sister meant “by any means necessary” she was giddy.

                “Hold on.”

                Angela threw the car into reverse, swung it around and raced down the road passing two cruisers coming from the other direction. The detectives were close behind them. Angela looked in the rearview, smiled, and put her foot down hard. The car jumped to new life and sped ahead. They’d be there in no time flat but she had a tougher problem, of getting the other cars off her tail.

                By any means necessary. Angela repeated in her head. She was going to get wild with it.

Next →