The Horror at Cecil Cove
by Una Persson
Introduction - August 12, 1928:
A bleary-eyed Una woke to the sound of a phone ringing. And ringing. And RINGING…
“Homer! Kindly answer that!” she yelled, wincing as the sound of her own voice sent waves of pain radiating through her head. I have to stop going to Vogue’s parties, I can’t keep doing this to myself she thought, as she pulled the covers over her head and tried to dampen the din of the phone.
A grueling 2 minutes later found her padding down the hall in her robe, cursing her second-cousin’s name with every step. What good is Homer as a gofer if he can’t even get the damn phone? Finally reaching the object of her torment, she snatched the receiver from it’s cradle and croaked “Persson residence?”
“Una? Is that you? Why, my dear girl you sound simply terrible!”
“Hello Eutychus. What can I do for you?” she settled into a chair and closed her eyes, one hand rubbing her throbbing temples.
“Well, that doesn’t sound like someone who’s happy to hear from her dear old colleague.”
“I’m a bit busy right now, make it quick.”
“Oh yes, you’re very busy I imagine. What with your trip to Spain cancelled, your funding cut off completely from the University, your last paper rejected by every journal of higher journalistic standards than the Calcutta Times, and your brother off in Ceylon somewhere doing God knows what. I suppose you must have plenty to do…”
“If you called to insult me, then consider your mission accomplished. Goodbye.”
“Not so fast my dear girl. What if I said I might have a project for you. A rather important one.”
“Not interested, sorry.”
“Well then, what if I told you that some members of the Cabal had taken a, how shall I say, special interest in this one, and charged me with finding the right man - or woman as it were - to take the job?”
“I’d say the Cabal hates me enough as it is, and would just as likely send me on a wild goose chase as to my death.”
“Ah! You wound me, dear girl. It’s not like that at all. You know that you were just too, well, controversial to be admitted? And I did vote for you after all, you know.”
Una sighed. “So you keep telling me. Well, what is this ‘project’, as you call it?”
“That’s the spirit, old girl! I knew you would be curious. Well, suffice to say I’d rather not reveal it over the phone. You will have to come in and talk to us about it. It’s rather, well, difficult to explain.”
Una thought in silence for a few seconds. Euty was right, she didn’t have anything to do, and her pride was still hurt from her last disastrous mission to Montana. She didn’t trust the Cabal any further than she would a nest of vipers, but they did know things, and they did have resources. A successful mission under their patronage might even be enough to elevate her status enough to be considered a second time. And could be very profitable as well, she thought, remembering the sorry state of her bank account…
“Una? Are you still there?”
“Yes Euty. When and where?”
"Splendid! Meet me at the Unnatural History museum at 3:30 this afternoon. You know, I really am looking forward to - "
“Goodbye Euty.” Una replaced the receiver in its cradle, and tried to collect her thoughts. The clock in the hall indicated it was already just past noon. Time to find Homer.
Homer was quickly located by looking in his usual haunt - the garage. Una spied a pair of overall-clad legs sticking out from under a Plymouth, which seemed to be the source of some considerable amount of cursing and yelling. She picked up a leather bearing-hammer and banged it once on the fender. She was rewarded with a yowl as Homer’s head contacted with the bottom of the engine. Homer slid out quickly from under the car.
“What the Hell are you - oh! I’m terrible sorry Miss Persson, I didn’t know it was you. And how are you doing this wonderful morning?” Homer removed his stained engineer’s cap and held it in his hands.
“I need a ride to the University Homer, I have to be there by 3:30. And this time I can’t be late. Understand?”
Homer shuffled anxiously. "I’m terrible sorry 'bout that last time Miss Persson, you know, I had just put on that new carburetor my cousin gave me, and I didn’t know those jets went in two different ways, I mean, how are you s’posed to know when they - "
“Homer! Are we going to make it there, or do I have to call a cab again?”
Homer flushed slightly. “Gosh no, Miss Persson. I’ll get you there if I have to carry you there on my back. Uh, beggin’ your pardon, that is.”
“Just as long as I get there on time.”
Una sighed again, and walked back to the house, hearing behind her a crashing of tools as Homer desperately started restoring the car to running condition. She wasn’t looking forward to this afternoon, but Euty was right - what else was she going to do? She resigned herself to it, and prepared to visit her old school - Miskatonic University.
The Meeting:
Homer was good to his word, and Una was dropped off at the front steps of the Museum of Unnatural History at 3:30 sharp. An impressively large and terribly gloomy-looking building, she could not help but remember the 26 men who died during it’s construction, now memorialized by a small brass plaque affixed to the black marble facing. She slowly climbed the 66 granite steps to the front door, thinking idly of the thousands of times she walked this same way all through school - so long ago. She was standing near the summit, daydreaming a bit, when she felt a light touch of a hand at her right arm. She snapped to attention and whirled to face the owner of the hand, her left hand seeking the ghurka knife concealed under her skirt. She relaxed with a sigh as she saw her old graduate assistant Woodrow Thrush.
“Doctor Persson? Hello! I’m sorry to scare you like that, but I was calling you and you seemed to be far away.”
“Woody! I’m so happy to see you again - what on Earth are you doing here? Don’t tell me Cornell didn’t want you after all…”
“Oh no, that went very well. In fact, I’m an Associate over there now. I’m on a 2-term sabbatical doing some independent research, and I was just stopping by to trace some slides of mutant birds from the Tepuis that we have in the museum. Cornell may be a much better school in every way, of course, but it lacks some of the…collections of our dear old Alma Mater.”
“Well that’s great Woody! I hope you find what you’re looking for. Look - I’m sorry to run, but I have a meeting with the Cabal, you know, so I simply mustn’t keep them waiting.”
Woody laughed. “Oh Gods no, you better get going before they decide to sacrifice you to some obscure Sumerian God. I’ll drop you a line later on. Good luck!”
Una surprised Woody with a quick hug goodbye, then turned and ran up the last few steps. She entered the large bronze doors, and made her way past the Gift Shop and downstairs, directly to the European Wiccan room. She finally stopped near a diorama depicting various methods for determining a woman is a Witch, all of them very gruesome. She faced a nondescript steel door mounted in the wall, with no visible handle or hinges, next to the janitor’s closet. And waited.
After just a half a minute, she heard a small “click!” and the door slid aside to let her in.
Eutychus was waiting on the other side, overdressed as usual, this time in an exquisitely cut French tuxedo, blue eyes twinkling from behind platinum-framed spectacles. He opened his arms and smiled. “Ah my dear Una! I’m so glad you came!”
Una avoided his embrace and forced him to settle for a handshake. “Oh, that’s right, you’re still into that whole Sappho business, I keep forgetting. Well, we can still be friends, can we not?”
Una forced a smile. “Of course, Euty. Now what is this project all about?”
“Please, I think it’s better if Zotti explains it himself.” Eutychus turned and walked down a short, ornately furnished hallway towards a leather-bound oak door.
“You mean Zotti is here? Well, you weren’t lying about this being important, at least.”
As they reached the door at the end of the hall, Eutychus turned to her and made a face. "Please, I’ve never lied to you - "
"No, you just withheld things that got my men killed you dirty - "
Una was cut off by sudden opening of the door. She and Eutychus both turned to face the wizened and frowning face of Professor Zotti.
“Children, children! Please, no arguing! Come in, come in!” Zotti motioned, to them, and they followed him as he turned and walked into the room.
Una was no Spring Chicken herself, as she would never see the sunny side of 35 again. But Zotti was of a whole different order - he could very well be her great-great-great grandfather. No one knew how old he really was, but it was rumored among the highest circles - in darkly serious tones - that he was more than 150 years old. Una didn’t know whether to believe it or not, but she had certainly witnessed and learned far stranger and more disturbing things in her time at Miskatonic University.
The room Zotti led them into was enormous, and filled to overflowing with all manner of curios. Large columns of ancient books threatened imminent collapse, bric-a-brac was placed on every surface even close to horizontal, and large crates and boxes contained an unknown number of artifacts and treasures from the four corners of the World. In the far end, between two very large blacked out windows, was a marble fireplace with three overstuffed chairs. A roaring fire was burning in the fireplace, occasional embers threatening a pile of French tapestries from the 9th or 10th Century.
Zotti motioned for her and Eutychus to take a seat, and after doing so himself pulled on a woven bell-rope near his chair. A small, beautiful Spanish boy appeared out of nowhere, silently wheeling a stainless teacart to the chairs. Zotti signed a “Thank you very much, you may go now” to him, and the boy bowed and disappeared as silently as he had approached.
“Who was that?” Una said, fixing her coffee.
Zotti took a scone from the tray. “Oh, I found Handy when I was in Caracas last year. Incredibly intelligent, and possessing a special unique gift, but also quite deaf. The perfect person to participate in certain…rituals that would fatally imperil the hearing. Now Miss Persson, let me say that I am so happy you decided to come in and talk with us this afternoon.”
“Well, you know me. I’m like a bad penny - I always turn up.”
Zotti frowned. “Yes, well, levity is nice in it’s place, but perhaps Eutychus has not explained the gravity of this situation fully.”
“Oh I understand perfectly. You have a dirty and distasteful task, that will either be a wild goose chase or likely result in death and damnation for all involved, with no possibility of reward, and you want me to do it for you.”
Eutychus made an embarrassed cough and shifted nervously in his chair, but the ancient professor only laughed. “Well, at least there will be no preconceived notions. You are correct in every point, except for one. This project can be quite rewarding for you.”
“How much?”
“Well, let’s just say that when the Cabal voted on your membership application, the vote was 7 to 6 against. And I cast the deciding vote.”
Despite her attempt at self-control, Una sneered. “How sweet! I didn’t know you cared so much! Anything else I should thank you for, like my anemia, perhaps?”
“Now don’t take it so hard, your good friend Eutychus here also voted against you. And your anemia is your own fault, for sticking your little nose in where it did not belong.”
Eutychus seemed to want to shrink into the folds of his chair as he withered under a killing glare from Una. “Is that so?” Her voice dripped with acid.
“Yes my dear, but let me say this. If you were to go on this project for us, then successful or not, well, we would have to re-examine your application for membership. And I can assure you the vote will be quite different. I’m seeing…7 to 6 in favor, under the current circumstances.”
“Oh yes, that’s just aces with me. And I’m sure I can trust you two, can’t I?”
“Well, if nothing else you can trust $125,000, which was just deposited in your Chase Manhattan account about 5 minutes ago.”
Una was struck silent. That was a lot of money, but she was angry and decided to push her luck. “And I’m supposed to pay for this ‘project’ out of this ‘generous’ sum?”
“Oh no, that is yours for coming in today. Call it a goodwill gesture on my part. You will have access to a separate budget for expenses.”
Una thought for a second, and stalled by making herself a second cup of coffee. Zotti was known to be as devious as Satan himself - no, scratch that, far more devious. Around Zotti, Satan had better damn well watch his back. But this was obviously important if they were willing to go this far to recruit her. And she couldn’t argue with the money - even if he was lying about the vote, she would still have the money. And she could always use more, since her estate was drawing closely towards bankruptcy.
Eutychus and Zotti waited patiently as she let her coffee cool, and then took a drink. “OK, at least tell me about it.”
The Mission:
Zotti led her over to a table set between a large golden Buddha an Australian Aborigine mummy. Eutychus followed behind after grabbing some more cookies.
A large map was spread out on the table, with several odd markings in pencil traced over it, as if someone was mapping lines of magnetic force. After glancing at it for a second, Una noted it was a map of Southern Missouri and Northern Arkansas.
“You are familiar perhaps with this region of the United States, called the ‘Ozarks’?”
Una frowned. As a matter of fact, she was not. But Homer was born and raised just North of that region…
“Well, no matter.” Zotti continued. “It is a little bit off the beaten path, after all. In fact, this area of the world has received very little attention at all from us.”
“What? The Cabal overlooking something important? Next thing you know you’ll tell me the Pyramids have vanished.”
Zotti ignored her sarcasm. “As I said, there was no reason to have attention drawn to it before.”
“Well, what changed your minds?”
“Two years go an operative of ours was in that area on a holiday, to go spelunking of all things. The area has limestone karst formations that are riddled with caves of sometimes surprisingly large sizes - very similar to the Kentucky region. In any event, while down there this person had opportunity to stop in a local “rock shop” as it was called, and discovered this item for sale on a dusty back shelf.”
The professor took out a small object wrapped in crepe paper from his jacket pocket, and carefully unwrapped it and handed it to Una. Una gasped when she saw it.
It was a small statuette, about 5 inches high, very finely carved from some unidentifiable stone. The carving was of a very beautiful and voluptuous woman, perfect in every way except for one hideous detail.
The head was a mass of eight tentacles, surrounding a central eye and beak, as if some deranged sculptor had placed an octopus body on top of the neck. The resulting image was powerfully disturbing, and made Una feel somewhat ill just to hold it. She set it down hard on the map table.
“Careful!” Zotti hissed, showing anger for the first time that afternoon. “This has been tentatively dated as being more then 10,000 years old - possibly older, it becomes very difficult to tell.”
Una stared at the piece. If true, it was in remarkable condition, the only blemishes being a few stains on the figure’s body, and a chip on one of the tentacles. Either the piece had been remarkably well preserved, or -
“Professor, what is this made of?”
“We don’t know, but suspect it is made of the same material as the artifacts from Antarctica.”
Una shuddered involuntarily. “So the question is - was it made by the Old Ones, or made by humans?”
“No”, Zotti said, bringing out another wrapped object from his vest, “here is the real question.” He unwrapped a second, much smaller figurine from crepe paper, and placed it on the table next to the first one. This one was of similar design, but was of a female kneeling, her arms raised to the sky. The head was still featured the hideous tentacles, although the tentacles themselves were much shorter. It was also a much cruder carving than the first piece, and was carved out of a strange translucent blue-green glass. Una finished examining it, and placed it next to the first one.
“So how old is this one?”
Zotti looked sideways to Eutychus, who cleared his throat and answered -
“About 10 years or so. It was carved out of an electric line insulator from the Santa Fe Railroad.”
Una suddenly felt like she needed a drink, Prohibition be damned. She leaned against the table and whispered - “Here too? Is this a new outbreak, or just newly discovered?”
“We don’t know. That is where you will come into the story.” Zotti took out a gold pencil and pointed to the map. “After the first find was reported, we sent a team to try and narrow down the origin of these artifacts. The shop owner was all too happy to ‘cooperate’, and told us he bought the piece from and old ‘mountain man’ who often sold such items to rock and curio shops. Well, it took nearly a year and a half but we found the gentleman in question - he was an inmate of the Harrison, Arkansas jail, serving out a short vagrancy conviction. We arranged for Mr. Kilgore’s release, and after providing him with a small amount of Canadian whiskey he was able to tell us that he had found it on the banks of the Buffalo River in Arkansas, just about 20 miles south and west of Harrison.”
Zotti paused and indicated the river’s course on the map.
“That looks like really wild and hilly territory down there. And I don’t see very many roads.”
“No, it is rather like a jungle I’ve been told. The area consists of very high bluffs and almost impenetrable forest, and is inhabited by between 100 to 1000 families - no one is really certain. There are actually several logging roads that pass through there, but they are not indicated on this map.”
“But continuing on - we scoured the area where the artifact was found, and determined that it most likely was washed down from upstream.” Zotti indicated the most hilly and uninhabited portion of the map. "About one month after we started working our way upstream, another inhabitant of the region approached us offering the second artifact for sale - a young ‘mountain girl’ named Byz, who was also an expert tracker and navigator on the river. She claimed to have been given it by a young boy who lived in the area of here - " Zotti indicated a small cluster of houses on the map marked “Erbie”.
“We then decided that a more in-depth approach was required. We brought in our two best mediums - the sisters Silver and Sea.”
“The ones from England? I read about them in The Post - you mean they’re for real? Even the one that talked to the ghost of Bram Stoker?” Una exclaimed.
“Oh yes, they are not only ‘for real’ as you put it, but very talented - two of the best Sensitives that we’ve ever employed. We started mapping out lines of energy in the area, trying to locate a focus. And to our immense surprise we found not just one, but three focal points before…the accident.”
Una straightened up. “Yes?”
Zotti cleared his throat, and looked uneasy for the first time. “The last thing we know is that on July 22, the team sent a telegram that said they were trying to narrow the location of one of the focal points, this one down in the valley.” Zotti tapped the map with his pencil. “Then - they vanished. Without a trace.”
“Well, you didn’t find anything? Not any clues?”
“We haven’t sent anyone yet. We want you to go and accomplish four tasks. Find out what happened to our people down there, find the site where the old artifact came from, find the origin of the new artifact, and then report back to us and let us take care of all the so-called dirty work.”
Despite her instinctive reluctance to deal with the Cabal, and her reluctance to descend into a miasma of sweaty jungle and crazed mountain folk, and despite her firm desire to go back to bed until Vogue’s next party - she was consumed by curiosity.
She tried not to let it show, but it was obvious to both Zotti and Eutychus that they had won.
“I need to choose my own team - anyone I want.”
“Of course” replied Zotti.
“And I need gear, transportation, full support in every way. I need the law kept out of the way until I need them. And I want all the information you have - every last bit of it.”
“Everything will be taken care of - Eutychus will personally see to it, won’t you?”
“Unacceptable. I want Manny to take care of it from your end.”
Zotti cleared his throat, while Eutychus pretended to be interested in his fingernails. “Mr Manhattan is indisposed right now, and will be unable to help you. Eutychus will serve in his stead.”
Una stared daggers at Zotti, but if he was impressed his wizened face did not betray it. Eutychus broke in “Please, my dear, let us be friends now - for soon we will be sitting on the board together, I’m quite certain.”
Una looked at him. “Uh huh. So where is the last known location of the previous team, exactly?”
Zotti took his pencil and pointed to a rough-looking valley on the map, just North of the Buffalo River, near it’s source. “Here, in this valley formed by Cecil Creek, which is called Cecil Cove. It’s right near this small village called Erbie, which seemed to be another focus point. We need you to go and find the ‘Straight Dope’, as they say, on what the Hell is happening down there.”
The Gift:
Three long hours later Una emerged from the nondescript door, feeling worn out and dazed. Despite their promises of unlimited help, Zotti was perfectly happy to argue about several of Una’s choices for team members and resources. But thankfully, she had won on nearly all points, except one - there were no mediums left who were willing to go to the site, especially after the disappearance of Silver and Sea. This was going to make things more difficult.
As she took a shortcut through the Gift Shop at the entrance of the museum, she was suddenly startled as the young boy, Handy, stepped out in front of her. While she racked her brain trying to remember how to sign “What do you want?”, the boy handed her a small package wrapped in butchers paper. She started to ask a question of him, but he smiled and ran off back to the museum. She instinctively looked around to see if she was being watched, and them tucked the package into her purse and continued to the exit.
An obviously relieved Homer was waiting for her at the street. As she descended the final steps, he said “Gosh Miss Persson, I was getting’ so worried, what with you telling me how evil those folk are and how creepy that buildin’ is. I was fixin’ to take my old 12-gauge here and go see if you was alright.”
“Thank you Homer, I’m sorry, I should have sent word it would be a while. Take me home so I can get something to eat.” Then, unable to overcome a strange and sudden sense of prickling urgency, she took out the package from Handy and unwrapped it as Homer held the door for her.
Under the paper was a small, ancient box of yellowed ivory, intricately carved with unknown runes. The box radiated something that even Una, only very slightly Sensitive herself, could pick up on. With uncertain fingers, she opened the box. And gasped at what was inside.
An Elder Symbol fixed on an iridium necklace. A real, honest-to-God, Atlantean Elder Symbol, not one of the fakes that so many of her peers carried around! There were less than a dozen of these in existence anywhere, as far as she knew! There was also a small card under the Symbol, which Una carefully removed with fingers suddenly gone cold, and read:
Una felt an intense sensation of being watched, and looked up to the top level of the museum. One curtain was pulled back slightly, and a shadowy figure stood at the window. Either her eyes were deceiving her, or the figure waved once, then withdrew from the window. Not knowing exactly what to feel, other than sad and heavy in her heart, she let Homer help her into the car and drive her home.
“Don’t worry Miss Persson, when we get back I’ll whip you up a nice steak before I head home for the night, and you’ll feel a lot better. I know I always feel sick every time I come to this spooky place…”
