Reincarnated Cthulhu
Chapter 37: A Serious Discourse on Magic

Arthur rose to his feet. This time he perched himself on the edge of the desk, his temperament too restless to remain seated while listening.

“Let’s leave that story there. After all this, you’re still concealing the climax.”

He fixed me with a gaze of subtle insistence.

“In my forty years living in London, I’ve never witnessed the sky churning like that. Stars normally invisible to the naked eye were literally rippling like water. I’d call it a night sea rather than a night sky. And that phenomenon is connected to you, isn’t it?”

I bowed my head in solemn affirmation.

“That is precisely the most difficult aspect to explain.”

“That’s exactly the answer I was expecting, Philo.”

Suddenly, a wave of anxiety seized me.

Like a man possessed, I frantically scanned the room for my golf bag, then began tearing through its contents. I flung even dangerous items like ammunition pouches onto the bed, my erratic behavior causing even Arthur to watch with alarm.

Finally, I retrieved a copy of the Black River Gospel from the bottom of the bag, clutching it with reverence. This blasphemous tome was fouled with mud, yet its defilement only enhanced its sinister aura rather than diminishing it. Something born of the sea would hardly lose its essence merely from being wet.

I meticulously turned each page, checking for any missing sections. Finding everything intact, I closed it with palpable relief. I was behaving like a paranoid lunatic.

“What is that filthy book you handle with such care? It looks as though it’s been dragged through a sewer.”

It wasn’t raining today. Arthur, noting the wet soil staining the cover, offered the most reasonable assumption he could.

“No, what’s smeared here is flesh and blood. Professor Kalas’s, to be precise. Can you imagine it, Arthur? Under the starlight, a man’s body decomposing into compost and loam? I bargained with entities beyond comprehension, trading his corpse as payment.”

The marks of estuarine creatures’ claws remained vividly etched across my throat and the inside of my mouth.

“On that tempestuous night, I transcribed this entire text by the eldritch whisperings that emanated from beyond the briny mist. Blood mingles with the ink, and though I lit no candle, the feverish act of writing alone caused salt-laden sweat to permeate every page. This is an unholy scripture, a revelation consecrated to the ancient gods of the deep-dwelling ones.”

Though speaking normally, with each word I uttered, a briny tang flooded my mouth as if seaweed were entangling my tongue. It was mere phantom sensation, yet it proved so overwhelming that I retched involuntarily.

“I presume these underwater beings aren’t charming creatures like mermaids.”

“They continue to dwell beneath our feet. Through London’s extensive sewer networks connected to the Thames, they wait with terrible patience for their moment of vengeance, ready to rise from below each household. Marie Curie… it was they who took her.”

“What? Her? Good heavens. No wonder she couldn’t be found despite my searching.”

Arthur exclaimed, visibly shaken.

“If it’s so dreadful, why not simply burn it?”

“Initially, that was my intention. But I found myself unable. The madness within me yearned for London’s destruction, compelling me to preserve this text. More than that, I became obsessed, nightly deciphering passages into English like one deranged. Even after I consumed Dr. Jekyll’s formula and my fractured mind was temporarily mended, I still couldn’t bring myself to destroy it. This was my price for glimpsing Earth’s shadowed underbelly. I believed that when the prophesied doom arrived, I would require this power—a premonition that proved disturbingly accurate. Without this gospel, I would now be a mindless husk, another of Professor Kalas’s abominations…”

Arthur contemplated silently for a long moment, thumb pressed thoughtfully to his chin.

“It sounds like magic,” he finally said.

His first words were uncharacteristically austere.

“A grimoire in all but name. That day, you wielded magic. Am I mistaken?”

“No… no, you’re right. As you said… heavens, is ‘magic’ truly the only English word to describe such a terrible and heretical phenomenon? Why not call it the mischief of the fae and be done with it?”

“To be precise, the etymology of ‘magic’ derives from the ancient Persian term for Zoroastrian priests—the Magi—and their mystical practices. Hardly a quaint expression. And are you familiar with the cruelty of fairies in Celtic mythology?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, enough!”

I cried out in exasperation.

“Anyway!”

“Ah, one more observation—are you aware you have a habit of deflecting with that ‘anyway’ of yours whenever the conversation grows uncomfortable?”

I leapt to my feet and lunged for Arthur’s throat. However, my strength failed me, and my murderous intentions dissolved into futility.

────Knock knock.

Both our heads turned at the sound.

“I’ve brought the milk tea you requested, sir.”

At Marie’s voice, Arthur and I simultaneously stiffened. Arthur opened the door and took the tea tray from her hands himself.

“Thank you. However, the gentlemen are engaged in private discourse at present. I shall serve the tea.”

“No, Marie, do come in. This is a matter you ought to hear as well.”

Arthur turned toward me, his brow furrowed deeply. His expression betrayed irritation rather than mere confusion.

“As I mentioned previously, I will support your Frank Academy. I’ll even sign the papers if you wish. But you must accept my condition. It’s remarkably simple—merely include her name beneath my own.”

“What? Wait a moment. This requires discussion.”

He shut the door in Marie’s face and strode purposefully toward me. The milk tea sloshed over the rim, cascading onto his thumb.

“Philo, this is hardly the time for jests.”

“While wit may be a gentleman’s virtue—and I am indeed a fine gentleman—I assure you I’m entirely serious on this point.”

“An academic conference, Philo. Do you comprehend what that signifies?”

“Oh, was that its designation? I mistook it for yet another of Arthur Frank’s eccentric gatherings. Like your Great Shrew Diaphragm Research Society.”

“I cherished Marie Curie because she possessed naturally superior intellect and formal education. Your housekeeper is merely a common servant plucked from the gutter! At her very best, she’s a domestic returned from the grave. Whatever misconception you harbor, including an uneducated housemaid in an academic conference is an entirely different proposition.”

Arthur, having vehemently stated his case, suddenly fell silent as comprehension dawned on him.

“Ah, now I understand. You’ve entertained a rather childish notion, haven’t you? You feared I would neglect her should you perish.”

I nodded.

“Such thoughts have preoccupied me of late. The realization that I could expire at any moment.”

“You’ve grown old, my friend.”

“To one who doesn’t age, I suppose it appears so. Yet I remain hale enough. Were it otherwise, I would have departed London long ago and would presently be savoring lobster in some New York apartment.”

Arthur handed me the cup with an expression of mild distaste. The handle was damp from his earlier spillage. I moistened my lips with a sip of milk tea, which felt overly chilled against my tongue.

“In truth, I have never been death’s favored companion. I admit as much. I served two years on the front lines and survived malaria—an affliction where corpses outnumber recoveries. Yet each time, the specter of death would approach my sickbed and whisper thus.”

I met Arthur’s gaze directly.

“That such fortune will not favor me indefinitely. Even Death offers sage counsel to the living. I could perish at any moment, and what then of Marie? She has already become someone who cannot move among ordinary folk, and that transformation is entirely my doing. To make amends for her altered life, I’ve resolved to grant her knowledge. Besides, you’re hardly one to treat guests with discourtesy.”

“Even without such dramatics, I had planned to bring her to my estate should you expire.”

“Consider it mere insurance. Why should I doubt you?”

I paused, reconsidering.

“No, you are indeed someone worth doubting. Nevertheless, since she dwells in shadows because of me, I’ve decided she shall share in all my secrets. The Frank Academy marks only the beginning.”

Arthur began pacing with evident displeasure. After circling the room, he apparently found the area near my feet particularly suitable for his agitated orbit, hovering there like some persistent bluebottle.

Finally, with an exasperated sigh, he declared:

“Reviving her was, after all, a grievous error.”

He pulled open the door. Marie still stood precisely as before, frozen in the same posture as when he had taken the tray from her hands. What kept her so stationary remained a mystery.

“Welcome to the Frank Academy. Ordinarily, such words would be delivered with greater ceremony, but circumstances being what they are, you must forgive this abbreviated induction. Typically, I’d follow this with a demonstration of the mansion’s ingenious hidden mechanisms, but alas—that confounded friend of mine has spoiled everything.”

“Pardon? What does that mean? Master, what is all this…?”

I beckoned her inside. She approached with deference, standing nearby with hands clasped modestly. Arthur, apparently finding that spot to his liking, stubbornly remained near my feet.

“Today—no, last night—it happened. I transformed the heavens, the very cosmos, into an ocean. It wasn’t through any power of mine, nor was it the power contained within this accursed grimoire. When I attempted to invoke that unholy sorcery, I experienced a spiritual awakening. It resembled the apocalyptic visions spoken of by saints.”

I laboriously forced out each word, recalling the midnight revelation.

Could I truly express in language a vision that I myself scarcely comprehended? Despite my doubts, the words came with unexpected ease. Everything distilled into a single utterance:

“I heard the voice of God.”

As I spoke these words, a panorama swept before my eyes, and my consciousness plunged back into that moment.

“My soul cleaved through the void of space, reaching a future beyond mortal reckoning. Humanity had vanished utterly, with neither sun nor moon nor stars remaining. At the terminus of this dead universe existed only darkness promising eternity, with the sole heat emanating from the collective breath of countless swarming ants beneath my feet. Compared to the bitter cold I endured there, even death would feel warmer than a mother’s embrace. For forty days I wandered while vermin devoured my living flesh.”

“Matthew, chapter four,” Arthur interjected. “Tunc Iesus ductus est in desertum ab Spiritu ut temptaretur a diabolo, et cum ieiunasset quadraginta diebus et quadraginta noctibus postea esuriit.” (Translation: Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry.)

At Arthur’s words, Marie’s quicksilver eyes flickered anxiously between him and me. His deliberate use of Latin was transparent—a protest directed at me while simultaneously discomfiting Marie. As if to ask: is she truly qualified despite this?

But I was half-delirious, words pouring forth unbidden, and could not spare thought for her discomfort.

“At the culmination of my wandering, I beheld ten obsidian luminaries. Without question, I recognized them as humanity’s new sovereigns, and I swore fealty to the Divine. As there were already four messiahs in His service besides myself, I prostrated before Him from the lowest position. He proclaimed His hallowed name as…”

I glanced about the room. Marie, observing my gesture, swiftly retrieved pen and notebook from the desk. I inscribed the divine tetragrammaton that my mortal tongue dared not pronounce:

「YLTH」

The moment I set down the pen, Arthur snatched away the notebook.

“Semitic language?”

“Can you decipher it?”

“When someone inscribes four letters beginning with Y and ending with H, anyone would recognize it as tampering with the divine name of Yahweh (YHVH). Strictly speaking, it appears to be Semitic characters transliterated into Latin script, but how would one pronounce it? Yel? Il? Yal?”

Arthur tested various pronunciations, prodding me for confirmation. When I shook my head, he inquired with evident irritation:

“Did you not claim to have heard the very ‘voice’ of God?”

“It defies simple explanation. I both saw and heard, yet comprehended nothing.”

“In Spain, such utterances would have secured you a place at the stake.”

Marie and I fixed our gaze upon him. Arthur, evidently sensing his ill-timed attempt at humor had fallen flat, crumpled the innocent notebook in his hands. While I had grown accustomed to such reactions, Marie visibly flinched, her shoulders trembling.

“I presented an offering there, as had the five who preceded me. Upon doing so, the luminaries, which had numbered ten, diminished to nine.”

“You just mentioned five predecessors. Did you not initially speak of four?”

“Even I cannot be certain of this detail. There were unmistakably five messiahs, yet only four manifested in that place.”

Arthur shook his head wearily.

“This grows increasingly convoluted. So you’ve become an apostle of Satan, have you? If you intend to offer up family and acquaintances as sacrifices, I would be most obliged for advance notice. I should like to set my affairs in order before then.”

“Good heavens, no!”

I exclaimed with genuine horror. At my sudden outburst, Marie’s head, which had been gradually bowing, snapped upward.

“Upon regaining my faculties, I recognized with dreadful clarity the unholy covenant I had entered. That entity was no divine being, but a demon. I shall under no circumstances serve such a creature.”

Arthur stood with arms folded, his expression betraying profound skepticism.

“What prompts that dubious countenance?”

“Well, there already stands one victim here, does there not?”

I blinked in confusion.

“You must recall, you’re the man who savaged your faithful housekeeper with your own teeth…”

“Count yourself fortunate that my limbs fail me at present.”

“Ah, does the old gentleman fancy himself a rugby player now?”

I glanced toward Marie to gauge her reaction. She displayed remarkable composure despite Arthur’s caustic remarks. Perhaps she deemed it proper to maintain a stoic demeanor in the presence of gentlemen.

“Nevertheless, I presented the offering… and transformed the firmament into an ocean. Submerging those monstrosities that advanced upon myself and the schoolgirl was accomplished through one of the three incantations recorded in this accursed tome—the Black River Gospel.”

“If these revelations you’ve experienced, these otherworldly visions, should prove authentic, we face grave peril.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed with profound concern.

“Explain your meaning.”

“This sorcery you’ve wielded. By your account, there exist at minimum four, possibly five more… practitioners like yourself in the world. And if they resemble you in character, they too would come to regret their unholy pacts and strive to escape their destiny through whatever means available. I shudder to contemplate what havoc might be wrought by individuals commanding such unfathomable powers.”

I started at Arthur’s words. His reasoning was impeccable.

“You mentioned they all presented tributes.”

“Indeed.”

I hesitated momentarily before divulging my secret.

“What I surrendered was my lucidity—my sanity. In that unearthly realm, it seemed an appropriate offering. Or rather, it was the only possession I had worthy of presenting.”

Arthur’s lips curled into a mocking smile.

“Once driven to madness wasn’t sufficient, I take it? Dare to lunge for my throat and you’ll regret it.”

“No, you misunderstand! It defies simple explanation, but my consciousness isn’t structured like that of ordinary men. Since imbibing Dr. Jekyll’s elixir, my mind has shattered into innumerable fragments. This fragmentation renders me immune to true madness. It’s why I retain my faculties despite enduring horrors that would break the average mind.”

“And you offered this splintered consciousness back to this entity?”

I released a weary sigh.

“Words fail to convey it adequately. But I’m certain I’ve been granted a temporary reprieve. At the very least, that supernatural force…”

As my lips formed the words, Arthur exclaimed:

“Enough! Henceforth, ‘magic’ shall be discussed as a serious matter! Cease this unseemly embarrassment! Confound it all, look what you’ve reduced me to!”

“Very well, very well. After wielding the… magic, I descended into temporary madness. But I’ve since recovered. The peculiar architecture of my mind is undoubtedly responsible.”

Arthur clapped his hands with sudden comprehension.

“Ah! That explains why Miss Liddell struck your head so decisively.”

“Liddell?”

He started at my question, regarding me with reproach.

“Good heavens, man! Are you telling me you don’t even know the name of the young lady who preserved your life? The schoolgirl in question.”

I found myself without defense. His admonishment was entirely justified. I should have inquired after her name long before now. Such an oversight was beneath the dignity of both gentleman and soldier.

“I see.”

“While it scarcely befits a gentleman to bandying about the name of a lady without proper introduction…”

Arthur continued his lament, yet despite his professed scruples, he divulged her identity without the slightest reservation.

“Her name is Alice Liddell. Daughter of Lord Henry Liddell.”

“Alice Liddell?”

“Is the name familiar to you?”

Experiencing a profound sense of recognition, I silently formed the name upon my lips several times. After a pause, Arthur supplied one additional detail:

“She presented herself with the middle name of Pleasance.”

Alice Liddell. Alice Pleasance Liddell.

I pressed my lips firmly together, lest I cry out at the revelation that had just dawned upon me. She was Alice—the very child who had inspired Lewis Carroll’s immortal tales!