Into the Night

Into the night the innocent citizens of Collinsport continued their simple lives unaware that they are awaiting the coming of the nefarious Count Andreas Petofi. The powerful necromancer, who seeking revenge upon certain members of the Collins Family, and now touched with the madness inflicted upon him by the Second Act of the monstrous play, the King in Yellow, has eluded all attempts to stop his imminent arrival. And now, all that stands before the tiny village and a catastrophic destruction is a handful of individuals, whom most of the good citizens of Collinsport would consider monsters. Like a gift from the heavens this collection of monsters have gathered now and have vowed to thwart the evil Count. And yet, even as they prepare for the coming confrontation – they are unaware of even far more wicked stratagems that have been put into place by a conspiracy that has slowly been gathering – one that is perhaps even more insidious than the one conceived by the coming madden aristocratic of hell.

In the stillness of the night a wind seems to find itself blowing along the chill cobblestones of Market Street, almost as if it were accompanying the raven-haired woman, who steps off the sidewalk and seems to stalk across the uneven street.

Stalk?

Yes – for there is something about her that seems so predatory.

Her longlegged stride seems unhurried – far too leisurely for the time of night, for all the whispers about the young women, tourists and locals alike, who have been assaulted, ritualistically murdered, maybe even cannibalized, the hushed cinema inspired embellishments of the all too graphic horrors found by the police at the old Cranshaw Mansion, the rumored possibly that the maniacal murder may still be on the loose. On the prowl, walking the deserted streets at night – much like this woman’s panther like advance, with the moon in her eyes, as she moves deliberately to the opposing sidewalk.

She approaches the entrance to the warm café, her long, slender fingers lightly running along the glass, across the name of the café upon the open door, as she steps inside.

The bartender looks up.

If he had ever seen trouble in a black dress, he was looking at it now.

Her ice blue eyes take note of Peter Cairo sitting at a table sipping a cup of tea.

“Decided upon a change of address Peter?” Her voice low, melodic, almost mesmerizing.

Peter Cairo sits his cup down in the center of his saucer, very deliberately, not wanting to let her know she had startled him—that he had in fact not even heard her arrival.

“Erzsebet? What a wonderful coincidence that you should arrive. I am having a most excellent cup of tea.”

The waitress, observing Erzebet Bathory’s gracefully glide into the café, starts to make her way over to the table, but Erzsebet, with a quick glance of her ice blue eyes, stops her with a look that tells her she does not wish to be disturbed.

“Coincidence Peter,” her voice filled with the odd musicality he well knows to be the beginnings of an enthrallment, “An odd term. Coincidence. But seeing as how this is a small, seemingly insignificant seaport on the coast of Maine – one would not think of seeing you here at all. Only – here you are, drinking an excellent cup of tea. What a coincidence.”

“It is wise to be extremely cautious, my dear Erzserbet” He says with an indifferent smile. “But please let me reassure you that in my profession, one must be most discrete in all matters, and I would never allow, the interests of one client to produce a conflict of interests in another.” He idly turns his tea cup to one side in order to look inside as if seeking perhaps to read the contents of its tea leaves, “And seeing as how our business arrangement has concluded, I have, of course, been retained to procure for . . . shall we say, another collector of occult antiquities . . . certain . . . unique items – of which I am unaware you have any concern.”

“Really?” She asks, “You feel them to be concluded?”

‘Oh—“ He leans forward, “You speak of the matter concerning the Mirror of the Lady of Shallot. I must ask a thousand pardons my dear lady, for this most regrettable delay in the delivery of this valuable item, but the procuring of this particular artifact has been very problematic – but, I am most delighted tonight to be able to inform you that the item in question is in route even as we speak. As yet,” He looks up from the teacup, “Another reason I have for not hastening my departure – obliged as I am to see it’s final delivery.”

“Interesting Peter,” She looks at him coldly, “And this new devotion to client satisfaction began precisely when?”

“When I needed to make the thousand apologies for having you incur this much too lengthy acquisition – having most inaccurately estimated the difficulty in my procurement process.” He explains, “But there are other reasons, also, I must say, for my continued stay in Collinsport, as I have found the coast of Maine to be rather fascinating—there are various places of interests for one, such as I, who deals in rather obscure objects. I have heard of several places of which I should need to visit. Jerusalem Lot, Castle Rock, and there are certain Cyclopean ruins in the heart of the Maine woods near a small town I understand to be known as Chesuncook. Although—is Salem’s Lot the same city as Jerusalem Lot, do you think?”

“I look like a Baedeker’s travel guide?” She asks, see through his subterfuge – but as yet not certain as to its depths.

Outside, a small automobile slows to a halt just down the street from the café. The headlights extinguish and the door opens to reveal Dr. Artemis, from the Miskatonic University, in Arkham, as he gets out and buttons his dark suit coat. He looks around the night-shrouded city. Absently, he electronically locks his car and begins to walk down the sidewalk, idly window-shopping.

Ahead now he sees the café/restaurant and makes his way toward it.

Erzsebet’s cold eyes glance out the cafe window, watching as the gentleman approaches.

Dr. Artemis walks in and looks around, and then walks back out a few moments later –before the waitress could even move toward him.

Erzsebet Bathory watches with interest the dark clad gentleman as he enters, looks about, and then leaves. Cairo turns to see what has captured her attention as he notices her eyes follow the man as he exits.

“Something of Interest?” Peter Cairo asks.

“Yes—actually.” She replies and leans forward slightly, returning her ice cold gaze upon him, “Just who you have been waiting for?”

Back out on Market Street, Dr. Artemis continues to stroll, turning now to head toward the beginning of Northeast Main, as he takes note of a priest walking up the sidewalk, “Good evening, father.” He says striking up an amiable chat.

“You more than any should be aware that I never reveal a client.”

Her blue eyes seemed to grow brighter as he found himself looking into them. His fingers, in his white linen jacket pocket, now beginning to seek the reassurance of an old coin – their tips making out now the embossed branch like ancient sign – he always carried for just such a moment as this—

“Actually, Father, I’d call it a Georgian reconstruction. Notice the gambols?” Dr. Artemis says now pointing out the architecture in question, “And of course the cupolas are all wrong –and, but oh, do excuse me, Father. I think I spotted someone I know.”

“An Elder Sign?” She all but hissed, “You would use this as a ward against me?” Her fingers grasp the top of the table and as she pulls them back the nails scrape the wood to leave fresh gouges. “Who is it that you are protecting, who are you working with? HIM!”

Dr. Artemis moves away from the Father Flynn and steps hurriedly over to Samantha Brook in order to see if he could be of assistance, seeing as how she was awkwardly dragging along several lengths of copper tubing. “Miss Brook, here, let me help you with that.’ He reaches out to help, “Are you in the plumbing business these days?”

Peter Cairo remains calm in the gathering tempest of her rising anger – the visible distention of her fangs, “It is only to protect my client’s interests Erzsebet – I assure you. As I would do so to protect yours. I know you seek to read my thoughts in order to obtain the name of my client – which I most undoubtedly assure you is not The Count.”

Her eyes narrow “Let me see your thoughts!”

Samantha Brook at first seems startled, apparently lost in thought as the Doctor stepped up to speak to her.

“Ah no, just have a special project I’m working on…” She tells Dr. Artemis, while attempting to try and conceal the pipes, which not only is difficult due to their being three times her height, but that he is already trying to help her carry.

“Remodeling?” He asks.

“Well-sort-of,” She lies.

“No, Erzsebet.” He tells her, “We have been associates for a very along time – time enough in which you should by now trust me. I carry this not as a ward against you, but because of the gathering forces of those that find themselves . . . heading to this small, seemingly insignificant seaport on the coast of Maine.”

“Are you working for him?” She asks – struggling within the grip of her anger.

“Oh madam, how can you ask me such a question? The man is a scoundrel! And after what he did to you!”

She can see his honest indignation, and for a moment it abates her anger, “He is coming.”

“Ummm,” Samantha Brook mutters as she distractedly looks up the street and to the right.

Dr. Artemis turns to look to see what has captured her attention.

“Yes—It is most unfortunate that he was able to elude you” He adjusts his glasses, “I hear is was quite an adventure. As I understand, the cruse ship you happened to be on he ran aground in Italy.”

“My, Peter, you are amazingly well informed.”

“Are you sure I can’t help you with those pipes, they look rather heavy.” Dr. Artemis asks looking now down at the end of Market Street.

“Oh, sorry doc, but Id rather not have your help . . . this is something I need to do on my own.” Samantha says rather diverted as she looks at the black Mercedes.

Down the street, behind them Esther Friedman walks along looking at the check in her hand, cursing the fact that banks are not open at all hours, as she decides to make her way down to the wharf and “The Whale.”

“As I said before, it is wise to be extremely cautious – and for me, caution it equates to information.” He lifts his teacup to find it all but empty, and sets it back down, “In my line of business – dealing with the clients that I do, one can never have enough information.”

But he suddenly notices that her eyes are no longer upon him, but they have lifted to look past him and out the window of the café into the street beyond. He turns to quickly to follow her gaze.

Erzsebet Bathoy’s preternatural vision has taken notice now of a dark figure huddled amongst the shadows along Market Street. Furtively, using the darkness as concealment, the man makes his away across the sidewalk and over to a black Mercedes parked just beyond the streetlights further down the street,

“Some one of interest?” Cairo asks, “Yours, or mine?”

The figure moves around the front of the Mercedes and appears to be using an electronic key to open the E-class Coupe.
Peter glances to see the Countess as she stares at the individual opening the car door.

The interior light reveals to her the figure is precisely whom she had suspected: the Reverend Lamar Trask. She watches as he tosses his bible rather carelessly on to the passenger seat and gets into the car.

The car door closes.

“Scripture!” She says with a hiss of disbelief.

“I am sorry. Did you say scripture?” He asks – unaware of the gentleman who has so captured her attention.

“Oh look.” Dr. Artemis says to Samantha, “It’s Lewis Vandredi.”

She looks at him oddly, “Who?”

Dr. Artemis scratches head, “Well, I could have sworn that was Lewis Vandredi for a moment.”

Samantha, badly juggling the pipes looks at him, “Who the h**l is that?”

Bathory watches the red taillights of the Mercedes driving away, “He claims that intense study of scripture has helped him to overcome my enthrall . . . ” She watches as the car starts and pulls away, “Only, there is something decidedly different about my good Reverend since I have seen him last.”

Cairo watches as the car pulls away, “The faith of those who believe can be strong—but alas, you have no faith. In such he should not have been able to escape.”

She smiles a wicked smile, “Precisely.”

Cairo turns back in his seat and adjusts his glasses, “But if he has in fact escaped your enthrallment—my dear Countess, that can be so easily rectified.”

She looks at him with an unusual disconcertment, “I find at the moment, whatever has helped him – seems to hold me now at bay. Perhaps . . . he has procured . . . some trinket.”

“I have never met the man.” He assures her. “He is a man of the cloth – perhaps he has access to resources from Rome?”

“Wrong church Peter.”

“Oh, so.” Peter Cairo sips the last of his tea, “Most unusual.”

Esther strides along paying little heed to those she passes – or the darksome shapes of the two flittering bats that seem to be following her toward the bay.

“Everything about this horrid little city is unusual.” Erzsebet tosses her head, “Even those one considers friends. They now carry Elder Signs.”

Samantha Brook renews her grip on the copper pipes, “Well it was good to see you Doc.” And she starts to trudge off again bearing her heavy load.

Dr. Artemis looks at her, shrugs, and turns to hurry back to catch up with Father Flynn, “Sorry Father, now where was I – oh yes, Collinsport, I have so many memories of it, you see, I spent many childhood summers here.
’
“Where they happy summers, my son?” The Father Flynn asks pointedly.

“Oh yes. Very . . . well mostly. I recall being afraid once or twice . . . “ he shrugs and smiles, “Childish fears, of course.”

“All fears mature, Doctor.”

“Well now that we are discussing it, for a moment, I did think I saw someone I vaguely remembered. But that’s impossible.”

“Someone you feared?”

‘Yes . . . A scary man, as I recall. I’m not sure why. Just an uncomfortable feeling I got the one time I saw him. He was very tall, I recall. But of course, everyone was, in those days. And . . . when he looked down at me. It was like he was sneering at me. His eyes seemed to burn.”

“Ah, and was this in the daylight,” Father Flynn asks.

“Yes. It was daylight.” Dr. Artemis recalls, “I was a child. Maybe eight or nine. It did not help that David Collins was always telling me ghost stories about the Collins Family. I’m sure I imagined it.”

“One should never make the mistake of pooh-poohing one’s own instincts, at any age- Doctor” The Priest tells him, “Here, lets have a pleasant stroll . . .and you can tell me more.”

“Perhaps this Reverend, he has made friends with members of shall we say a certain Club.” Peter Cairo suggests.

“Praetorius?”

“I have never trusted the gentleman, not withstanding those in London.”

The cold arctic blue eyes narrow.

“Please be assured madam, if you have need of me, I will as always be ever by your side.” He reaches into his inner jacket pocket and removes his wallet. He places enough to cover the price of his tea, “Well, It has been a pleasure, as always, but if you will please excuse me I have another engagement.”

“As you say, it is wise to be extremely cautious, Peter. And so, to that end, it would be wise not to cross me.”

He nods as a bow and smiles.

She watches him as he departs. She is more than aware that he is hiding something from her—something significant. And Peter Cairo has never hidden anything from her before. She rises, prepared to slip into the night and follow him, when she suddenly sees the slow saunter of her daughter.

Nikki, languidly losing herself in the caress of the night breeze, is suddenly aware of a presence – a presence she has not felt in a while . . . as she senses . . . Erzsebet! Her acute gaze turns to the café and she sees now at the door, “Mother?”

Erzsebet’s concentration immediately turns into a smile, “Nicole—I am so glad to see you.”

“Where have you been? Are you—are you all right?” Nikki asks entering the café.

Erzsebet glances out the door at the departing figure of Peter Cairo, and then turns her attention to her daughter. “Yes.”

Nikki looks at he quizzically – “Do you have to go? Do you have time to talk?”

“Yes, for you, certainly.”

And they return to the table from which Erzsebet had only moments ago arisen. Nikki takes note of the teacup, the money on the table. She looks up at her mother, “Peter Cairo?”

“Yes.” Erzsebet says with a smile, “Did you surmise that from the cup or sense it?”

“A little of both.” Nikki admits.

“My dear, you need to exercise your natural senses.”

Nikki smiles, “Yes, mother.”

Erzsebet smiles as she places her chill hand atop Nicole’s, “There is so much I need to teach you.”

“There is so much I need to learn.” Nikki agrees, her brilliant blue eyes looking into the icy mirror of her mother’s eyes. “I have been worried about you. You just disappeared. Dr. Praetorius told me that the Diogenes Club –“

“I am sorry I did not have time to say farewell before I left – but, I was hoping to dissuade a certain gentleman from making a trip here to your wonderful Collinsport.”

“Count Petofi?”

“Yes.”

“The doctor says you were not successful – other than slowly him down.”

Erzsebet eyes grow colder, “Petofi has a certain trick, he can shift his consciousness into another—and so, he is not at all easy to hold.”

“Then it is true—that ship, the one that has been in the news.”

“Yes, he called upon allies from the sea, it was lucky that the ship merely ran aground.”

“He did not hurt you—again?”

Erzsebet shakes her head, “No—nothing of any importance.” Her hand now squeezes Nikki’s, “My dear, he is coming . . . here.”

“Yes—I know.”

“He is a most dangerous man, Nicole. He is a very powerful, and he is unhinged at the moment. Whatever you do, do not attempt to face him alone?

“Well, Mother,” Nikki’s own eyes growing cold and hard, “I intend to settle old family business with him.”

“You will not do this alone.” Erzsebet says sternly, “You will tell me – if or when you know anything concerning him, Yes?”

“Yes.”

Erzsebet Bathory reaches out and places a hand on Nikki’s cheek, her blue eyes looking into Nikki’s sapphire eyes: “Good – now let me tell you about the Reverend Trask.”

Cue Music End of Episode