Nicole Collins feels confident that all the clues of the obscure poem translated by Esther and interrupted by Noah Mankowski lead to the malodorous and sinister-shadowed seaport of Innsmouth. And so, hoping to confirm her suspicions that not only is Innsmouth the starting point of the poem but she fears that someone else has also unraveled the poem and may already be enacting the strange ritual to raise the Witch and capture the Trapezohedron. If so it is a race against time.
Opening soundtrack: [www.youtube.com]
The rainy afternoon had been overcast and grey. Cold winds blowing in from the North Atlantic. Nikki had been able to rise early, as the sun remained obscured by clouds.
With the small glass of cracked ice and Gibleys to her lips, Alison Drew stands at the window, the stained butterscotch drapes pulled back so she can watch the two women, Nikki and Samantha, walk over to the old, battered black Impala. Lamont Trepsichore, takes a drag off the last of the joint, and holds his breath for a long moment, before letting the cloud of marijuana smoke drift across the room, Leave her be, Alison.
Alison Drew takes another drink, Have I not let her be.
Yes, but not because you want to. His New Orleans accent more drawn-out, becoming as always more pronounced and intentionally exaggerated, the higher he gets. But because she compels you she is leaving now, Alison so, let her go.
A slight rattle of ice in the glass as the gin is almost gone, What if I want to let her go?
It is the siren call of the bloodonce she is gone, it will grow weaker.
And so, just who anointed you my saviour? She asks, watching Nikki getting into the car and closing the door.
She did.
Alison Drew watches now as the old black car pulls out of the motel parking lot and onto the main highway.
Nikki leaves Woonsocket, taking I-95 north, toward Ipswich, Rawley and Newbury.
As she takes an off ramp leading to a desolated landscape of sand, sedge-grass and stunted shrubbery the first thing that is noticeable is there is no indication that the highway leads of Innsmouth. There hasnt been a single road sign that would give anyone the suggestion that it even exists.
Samantha sits watching the blue water and the hazy sand line of Plum Island. She is not even sure why they are going to Innsmouth although she is sure it has something to do with whatever Nikki learned from Ark Boy the other night.
They crossed several frightening wooden bridges frightening from their neglect.
As they lose sight of Plum Island now the vastness of the sea stretches to the horizon. The smell of the sea permeates the car. Not the hospitable, inviting scent of the ocean calling one to the beach but something ominous and malevolent. Samantha turns to look at Nikki, who stares straight ahead.
What is she thinking? God, this trip as only added to the conflicts that must be going on inside of her . . .
And then there is Innsmoutha vast huddle of sagging gambrel roofs and peaked gables. A small fishing village that looked like it had been captured in time around 1928 and then never released to catch up with the rest of the world. Various building seems to have been left to neglect and decay. Some buildings the roofs have sagged in as if they have finally given up, unable to withstand yet another moment beneath a painful gravity.
The road was desolate all but deserted. A single sea-green GMC truck passes them driver, his baseball cap pulled low on his forehead giving them a long lingering look.
Samantha blinks and stretches And I thought Rhode Island was bad. She mutters, as she looks around at the murkiness of the town.
The few people that were at all visible were those looking out the windows of the few businesses open this time of night; their stares were odd and intense.
I don’t like it here . . . Samantha finally says as she looks over to Nikki.
“Samanthado you have your gun?”
I have that old Colt I got from Pickman’s studio.
“Please keep it very close. ” Nikki says as she continues to drive slowly down the main highway.
Off the seaside, there was an old brick building. It looked as if it hadnt been used in years and must have been some kind of small factory.
The waterfront area now seemed to have been left to a century of disuse. Samantha watched through the window as it passed by wharves, or rather the ruins of wharves just seem to jut out from the shore into decay and rot.
Out to sea there was a long black line the reef!
The windshield wipers click back and forth slowly as a light rain begins to fall.
Over on Nikkis side of the road they pasted what looked like an old Masonic Hall, with a black and gold sign, the faded words barely legible, Esoteric Order of Dagon. Samantha looked at Nikkis profile, what the h**l is a Dagon? Or should that have been Dragon?
They passed another old pickup.
Samantha peers ahead and nods, Miss Nikki, what are we looking for here?
I am not certain, but if I ever needed you to do as I ask, please do it tonight.”
Samantha nods, checking the Colt, Yes Miss Nikki.
Hold on to that Colt and let me do the talking.”
Pervading everything now was the most nauseous fishy odor imaginable.
Samantha wrinkles her nose, God, it smells like a cheap brothel outside.
At a cross road in what appeared to be the center of town, Nikki pulls the Impala to a halt in front of small cafe. Opening the car door she steps out into the light rain and stands in her black wool overcoat and looks around the intersection cautiously.
There are a group of young men huddled together on the sidewalk beneath the awning of some hardware store.
They glare at her and Samantha as Samantha closes her door.
Nikki feels her fangs distend as she narrows her eyes and glares back.
The men avert their eyes.
“Sam stay close.”
They walked over to the cafe and opened the door.
A young woman stands in the empty cafe behind the counter, cleaning it with a wet rag.
Samantha, her eyes on the woman at the counter, stays right behind Nikki, keeping a hand in her pocket.
Georgia Whipple looks up from her wet rag and stares as the two enter. Nikkis brilliant blue eyes establishes and maintains eye contact with the woman behind the counter as she slowly saunters into the café. She is struck by how the womans slightly protruding eyes do not blink.
Nikki walks over and slips into the first available booth.
The café smells of an odd mix of various disinfectants, which do little to mask the lingering scent of bait.
The tabletop is clammy, damp.
Samantha glances at the woman behind the counter as she settles in the cracked vinyl booth across from Nikki and mutters softly, I dont see any waitresses . . .
Georgia remains behind the counter watching the outsiders, unblinking as she continues to wipe at the Formica.
Nikki looks over at the woman behind the counter, “Good evening. Is it possible we could get two coffees, please.”
Letting the cloth lie where it is on the counter, Georgia Whipple takes a pad of paper and a pen out of her pocket and approaches the two.
Samantha glances at the woman’s eyes, before immediately refocusing her own on the tablethey are like . . . like fish eyes. Samantha shudders slightlyand even more so as the woman makes a croak-like sound before speaking. Two Coffees?
“Yes, two coffee’s please.” Nikki says her British accent much too noticeable here in this strange cafe.
Nikki hears some machinery humming back behind the counter.
Georgia Whipple slowly writes the order down on her pad. Samantha watches her . . . just how long does it take to write down Coffee-2. After a minute, Georgia Whipple looks up again, first to Samantha and then Nikki, Black?
Nikki looks at Sam, “Black for me. Samantha?”
A fluorescent light above one of the back booths buzzes loudly.
The tube of light flickers.
Samanthas not at all certain she even wants to see what they call coffee here, ummm . . . what the hell, its February, make it black.
Unblinking, Georgia writes this down, mostly out of habit, To goyes?
“No, we would like to have them here please we have been on the road a while.” Nikki smiles, her eyes still looking into the womans odd unblinking ones.
You want to drink them here. She points at the table with her pen.
Yes, please. Nikki nods and looks about the deserted café, aware that her fangs are still distended. My, it certainly seems as if you don’t get very many tourists. The town looks so cloistered.”
The fluorescent tube buzzes.
Flickers above the booth like cold lightning.
Georgia pauses; looking at the woman for a few seconds before returning her pad and pen to her pocket and turns without a word to head back behind the counter.
All we need is some really incredible bad Italian horror movie music playing. Samantha says and leans across the clammy tabletop. Miss Nikki, She whispers
Slowly walking over to the end of the counter, Georgia Whipple flips on the coffee maker, which looks more at home in the 1980s.
Yes.” Nikki replies.
The eyes . . . did you notice the eyes, Samantha barely even breathes the words hoping Nikki can read her lips.
The light tube flickers.
The coffee machine makes a horrid soundas if it had not been used since the 1980s.
Georgia keeps a close eye on the two strangers as the coffee brews.
Nikki nods, It’s called the Innsmouth Look, try not to pay much attention to it, if you can.”
Samantha cannot suppress the shiver, Ok . . .
Nikki suddenly reaches out and places her hand atop Sam’s “Oh, and don’t really drink the coffee.”
With little ceremony Georgia Whipple returns with two plain white mugs of coffee. She sets them down in from of Nikki and Samantha, Will that be all?
“Oh, my friend and I are traveling through New England, and we were just discussing your lovely city. Did you at one time have more than one Lighthouse? Wasn’t there two here at one time?”
No. There is the one. One here. One north of here on Plum Island. Georgia says, her voice croaking before she speaks, The northern one wa{wheeze}s torn down.
“Oh, so, one here . . . and one on Plum Island, so that would be the second we were thinking of?” Nikkis hands cup the white mug.
The fluorescent tube buzzes louder.
The light flicker flashes.
“Oh, my, we had hoped to see ithow long ago was it taken down?” She looks steadily at the woman.
Samantha sits looking at the coffeeit smells of fish!
Week ago . . . Why are you s{wheeze}o interested in our Lighthouses?
“Oh, I’m sorry, I guess you can tell I’m from England, Nikki smiles, I just love lighthouses. We’ve been up and down the coast looking at them as part of our holiday.”
Samantha cocks her head and looks askance at the woman as she can not help noticing the unhealthy sound of the wheezing.
I recommend you see this one, she tells Nikki pointing to the one visible in the distance outside the café window, Quickly, and thenleave. There is a Storm Commin’.
The fluorescent tube buzzes.
“Well Sam we just missed seeing it, torn down a week agojust a shame.
Yeah, a d***ed shame.
The tube flickers.
I guess the community wasn’t all that thrilled about losing such an old landmark?”
Samantha sighs, I was so hoping to see that one, I do so love plums.
Georgia Whipple looks at Samantha and then back to Nikkiaware that the woman with the brilliant blue eyes is asking too many questions. Your total is ten do{wheeze}llars and six cents.
“Yes, such a shame. Wellyou still the have the one, but as I was saying, I would guess the community wasn’t at all happy about seeing the one on Plum Island go.” Nikki continues.
Samantha blinks looking at the fish scented coffee, 10 dollars? For coffee?
We petitioned to have it taken down. Too much money to keep. Too old. Georgia says looking at Nikki with her big, unblinking eyes.
“Oh, so the town was actually glad to see it torn down?”
The fluorescent tube flickers.
The humming behind the counter grows louder.
Georgia looks over at Sam. You don’t like our prices?
Samantha suddenly blinks flustered and embarrassed, No, no . . . I was just surprised to find such a good deal . . . I . . . I cant remember the last time I saw coffee under 20 bucks.
Georgia looks back to Nikki, suspiciously, Local econo{wheeze}my can’t handle more than one Lighthouse.
“I guess you get a lot of people asking about them, has anyone lately been here asking about the Northern Lighthouse?”
Outside in the light misty rain, walking along the deserted street, idly, Narcissa Snow feels the chill ocean breeze. It reminds her of the house on the dunes and the spray of the surf on her face, the feeling of the sand on the soles of her feet.
You are going to fail, Narcissa. She is here. And she is looking for you. Her grandfather says as he walks along beside her, shaking his head sadly.
She says nothing, only lifts her chin and slightly shakes her head to let the breeze run through her hair. The rain spit against her face.
At the corner of the intersection, the three young men step out from the dark recess under the awning. One swarthy looking man with his hands now reaching down to cup his crotch, says. Oh, now look at this, is she not just so lovely?
Looks good enough to rape. The tallest of the three, carrying a wooden stick, says with a horrid smile.
But the question is. The young man holding himself asks, Who goes first?
Narcissa cocks her head and her yellow eyes catch now the dim light of the street lamp and reflects it much like a cats eye, So many questionsso few answers.
I got your answer. The man holding himself smiles as he taunts her.
You do? She steps closer toward them, her eyes seeming to twinkle with amusement.
D**n right b***h.
So, are we going to stand here talking or are we going to rape her or what?
Yes Narcissa asks, now only a few feet away from them, Are you?
The tallest twirls the wooden stick he has been carrying; trying to remember that film he saw sometime ago on cable about good old Ultra-violence, Maybe we will even sing in the rain.
“They all need to die Narcissa,” The voice of the waitress she killed in Arkham whispers, Every last one!
He steps forward and spins his makeshift cane around in her face.
You can sing? She asks, That would be nice.
The vulgar young man who had been holding himself suddenly reaches out to grab her, but her hand whips out the huge carving knife and in a blur of motion too quick for his eye, she slits his wrist.
A deep slash that cuts through the artery.
Blood spurts out to rain on the sidewalk. God!!! What the f**k!
The man next to him, startled, tries to move a step back, get his wooden stick up and into action, but Narcissa steps forward and has whipped the knife up across this face, even as she backhand slashes the blade across the silent third mans throat.
She will hear his voice later tonight.
The mans hands grasp at the sudden gush from his throat, blood slipping out between his fingers, down his worn flannel shirt.
He falls forward to his knees.
He can only make a croaking sound.
The man with the stick tries to weld it as a bat, but Narcissa dodges his anxious swing and she lashes the blade across his fingers deep and hard. She feels the blade scrape against bone and the makeshift cane falls to clatter on the cement of the cracked sidewalk.
The first man flails about trying to get a belt off to stop the flow of blood, but she whirls and slips up behind him.
With a deft move she grabs his hair, pulls back his head, and slits his throat.
She takes a deep whiff of the scent of blood.
The third man, holding his bloody hand, several fingers cut deep, just now begins to feel them again, feeling the pain radiating out from them, as the blade had cut faster than nerve endings, and he tries to run away, across the street, but Narcissa turns and throws the knife. It hits him high in the back causing him to stumble and fall.
D**n it Narcissaon the city streets! Her Grandfathers voice says filled with beratement. Youre just showing off!
Inside the café, Georgia is finishing a statement, . . . and there is a lighthouse fu{wheese}rther north on Plum Island. They use it there.
The door of the café opens and Narcssia Snow enters.
Blood dripping from the large isosceles blade of the knife in her hand.
Georgia Whipple looks over at the woman.
She is very dangerous looking her orange-blond hair wind-blown, rain wet. Her make-up applied and re-applied leaveing dark circles about her eyes like bruises. Her white mini-dress is splattered with blood.
Narcissa smiles as she looks at the booth where Nikki and Samantha are sitting as she longlegged strides down the length of booths along the opposite wall of the café. She drags the tip of the knife long the table tops.
The fluorescent tube buzzes.
The light flickers almost fearfully as Narcissa sits in the booth underneath the loud fixture.
Samantha looks at Nikki and then grips the table breaking into a cold sweat.
Georgia looks over at her, Coffee?
Oh, yes! Coffee. I want some coffee. I want it as black as midnight on a moonless night, Narcissa answers.
“Samantha do you have your gun?” Nikki asks.
Samantha nods, chokes slightly trying to breathe.
Without any L{wheeze}ow clouds to reflect the city lights I hope. To go? Georgia asks, aware that the women know each other and having this many strangers in town did not bode well.
She should pick up the phone and call The Order but she senses now that the tall, blonde woman in the black wool overcoat and the woman with the knife are not at all entirely human.
They are looking at you Narcissa, the 10-year boy she killed at the playground in Bangor whispers.
They know how you are. The dead waitress warns.
The blondeshes going to kill you Narcissa. One of the numerous prostitutes she had killed says with a very lilting voiceit could be the one she killed in Boston. And its about godd**ned time!
“Look at them Narcissaafter you cut them up, they will fill the stew pot nicely, Her grandfather says now as he sits across the booth from her. But then, you may never get the chance. You know, she knows who you are. What you are trying to do.
Who does grandfather?
The undead one over there waiting to finally do you in b***h.”
Georgia stares at the woman, who sits beneath the flickering light and talks to herself. She notes the bloody knife on the table near her hand. She then turns her back and goes to the counter to get the coffee.
The fluorescent light flicker flashes above Narcissa.
Oh really, Aldus, you think so?
Georgia pouring the coffee feels the tension in the room as the women in the booths watch each other.
Samantha says in nearly a whisper, I can take her . . . its . . . its the others that came with her . . . And she shudders.
You see the others? Nikki asks, suddenly.
Dont you?
Georgia walks over to the table beneath the flickering bulb, and places a to-go cup of coffee on the table in front of the woman with the bloody knife.
Oh, that looks so nice. She tells Georgia and then looks across the table, Youyou are the one who wants me to fail, old man. You dont want him to take you out of my head.
You are so close my dear, so close, but . . . you were always such a f**k up, you’ll just f**k it up again you stupid b***h.” He tells her with a smile. So, I really dont have to worry.
Thats $5.30. Georgia says.
Narcissa stabs the table hard.
Georgia stares at the knife.
Shut up and dont call me a b***h! You are my f**king grandfather!”
Samantha winces at the noise and steals a glance at the woman.
Georgia stares directly at Narcissa, Its still 5.30.
Narcissa reaches inside her leather jacket pocket and pulls out a blood stained ten-dollar bill, Keep it.” She her voice deep, huskyalmost a growl.
For a moment, looking at the blood stains, on the knife, on her dress, on her hands, the ten-dollar bill, Georgia pauses, and then turns and walks over to the antique cash register to till the bill.
“You knowI like the completion.” She says aloud, across the room to Nikki
Samantha slips her hand back in her coat, gripping the Colt.
Nikki looks at the coffee cup and places a twenty on the table for their drinks, not certain what is about to happen next.
Georgia Whipple almost seems to waddle back to the two women.
No, Narcissa I was not aware.” Nikki picks up the twenty and hands it to Georgia; she smiles at the woman who has yet to blink, “Thank you so much for the coffee.”
“Blood. Dont you love it so? Narcissa asks.
Seemingly adjusting the way in which she was sitting so as to be more comfortable, Samantha aims the gun at Narcissa from within the confines of her deep coat pocket.
With a croak, Georgia tells Nikki, I hope you will be on your way now. Want to get out before the storm hits, as she takes the money and gives a final look at Samantha.
That would be wise, wouldnt it? Nikki tells her, Oh, please keep the change.
She turns to waddles over to the cash register. Wise indeed. There have been several that have not been as wise.
“Just one more twilight, Collins.”
Narcissa looks at Nikki, the flickering blub flashes above her.
Nikki looks across the dinner, “I will stop you Narcissa.”
The cash drawer opens, and the machine dings.
Narcissa laughs, “Oh please do try.”
Samantha curls her finger around the trigger.
“I am sorry if we have disturbed your night.” Nikki says, looking over to the unblinking woman behind the counter. “But I do have one more question.
Narcissa laughs, Only one?
You watch yourself with that one Her grandfather tells her and raises an eyebrow.
The woman sitting over thereshe was here when they started tearing down the Northern Lighthouse, wasn’t she?”
“I have been so way a head of youahead of that boy . . . ahead of your too smart little office girl . . . ” Narcissa says leaning forward and idly begins to rotate, slowly, the knife lying on the table with her forefinger, Ahead of Elijahahead of that musty old wizard. And the young lady is correct you should be leaving. A storm is coming.
Miss, Samantha looks over at the wide-eyed woman, You think if we left early enough we might get one clean shot at the ruins to the north?
From the counter Georgia looks at the woman with the knife, and then turns her head to look over at Samantha, before she answers, Yes. But there are no ruins. It was demolished expertly.
The ballast of the fluorescent light buzzes.
Flicker, flash, the blub overhead bathes Narcissa Snow in a strange light as she slowly gets up. Samantha feels her finger tighten on the trigger she could just shoot her now . . .
Nikkis hand reaches across the table and cups it over Samanthas hand on the clammy table as if she is aware of what she is thinking . . .
Narcissa steps over to an old Wurlitzer juke-box and drops coins, which clink and then hit the coin box loudly within. She punches numbers as if she has been there before and knows not only the song but its selection number.
The song begins to play: [www.youtube.com]
Narcissa slowly begins to sway her hips as she stands before the jukebox.
“One last question and then we will leave, after it was torn downwere there any sudden deaths?”
Narcissa moving away from the Wurlitzer, her hands rolling, weaving and waving slowly to the music, as does the knife she continues to hold, while she seductively sways her hips, dancing her way across the deserted café. She moves over toward the dirty plate glass window to watch the rain drip down the windowpane.
And when I look out my window, so many sights to see . . . and when I look in my window so many different people to be. She sings.
I would not know. I don’t le{wheeze}ave town much. Georgia Whipple says watching the orange-blonde haired woman dancing.
Samantha quietly cocks the gun, coughing to cover the clicking sound
Georgia turns to stares at Sam with unblinking eyes.
Samnatha looks at her, then back to the crazy woman dancing.
Thank you, and once again sorry if we disturbed your night.” Nikki tells the woman behind the counter.
Georgia blinks once. Her eyelid is transparent.
. . . Must be the season of the witch, Narcissa sings. Must be the season of the witch.
Georgia walks over to the rag she left on the counter and resumes her wiping of the counter top.
Nikki stands and walks across the café toward Narcissa.
Narcissa sways her hips low and then seductively rises and turns to Nikki, a hand running lightly across her breasts, her yellow eyes flirting with a strange mischief, And when I look over my shoulder . . . what do you think I see . . . Are you leaving Nikki?
“Yes, Narcissa I am leaving.”
“And he is strange.” She says, Sure is strange. You know he is going to take the voices out of my head. So . . . what has he promised you?
He deceives Narcissa. Nikki tells her.
Narcissa looks at the sharpness of Nikkis fangs. Are you going to her?
“Yes I will meet you there.”
Samantha rises now, wishing that Nikki would not stand so close to her, Miss Nikki?
“I am soooooooo looking forward to it . . . Narcissa says and continues to dance. I think your friend wishes to go. She looks rather delicious . . . ” Narcissa says with a lick of her tongue. “Will you be bringing her for our littleclimax?”
Samantha shudders slightly.
“No Narcissa it will just be you and I.”
Georgia continues to clean off the countertop watching with interest the whole odd scene unfolding in her café.
Samantha looks to Nikki, her mouth agape but she doesnt argue . . . not yet!
Narcissa rolls her head, “Ah, the classic confrontation, Snow vs. Collins. The two great families of the grotesque. Vampire vs. werewolf. I so look forward to it . . . .”
Nikki watches the swaying hips, “Good night Narcissa.” And then she motions to Samantha to move toward the café door.
Miss Snow . . . Samantha, her hand in her pocket.
Nikki moves quickly and stands beside Samantha to places her hand on Samanthas forearm, NO Sam, this is between her and I.”
I . . . Samantha sighs and hangs her head.
“You do know the way now, dont you.” Narcissa asks.
Yes. Nikki tells her.
Georgia clears her throat, We Close in 5 Mi{croak}nutes!
Nikki motions to the door.
Samantha reluctantly moves toward it.
Nikki steps backwards, slowly, watching Narcissa warily.
I have only one left to go and then
Tell your Grandfather to not be so loud next time, Samantha mutters as Nikki moves her out of the café door.
Narcissa continues to dance as she music stops, It was unusually good coffee Miss.” She tells the woman behind the counter. Do you know, I do so love this town.”
You should have killed the one with the gun, Narcissa.” Her grandfather tells her.
Why because she can see you hear you? Drink you coffee old man.”
Georgias eyes watching the woman don’t blink. They just keep staring.
There are people now gathering about the bodies on the sidewalk near the awning and Samantha stands looking over the roof of the car at the crowd.
Nikki motions Sam to get into the Impala.
Samantha stares back.
Get in the car Samantha!
Samantha sighs, Yes Miss Nikki.
Georgia stops wiping the countertop and waddles over to the booth where Samantha and Nikki had been seated and cleans away the two cups of untouched coffee.
Narcissa sashays toward the front of the cafe, the tip of her knife sliding over the tabletops as she walks over to the door and watches as the Impala drives away. She puts a hand on the cold glass, Good Bye Miss Collins . . .my pretty, pretty Miss Collins And she licks her lips.
Then she laughs, and turns to look at the woman cleaning the table, How rude of them not to have drunk your coffee.”
Quite. Georgia says as she returns to the counter.
Nikki drives along the main road in silence, taking the turn that will lead her long the coast road that will run past Plum Island.
Miss Nikki! Samantha finally bursts out, I had a clean shot. We could have ended it back there . . .
We have to get to Arkham, Narcissa is not as important as the Trapezohedron.
Cue Music End of Episode