And then there was the peculiar interest in the macabre.
Doc Pemberley was not only a world-class authority on scientific matters, he was also an amateur occultist, with a collection of books that would be the envy of almost any parapsychologist in the world. Even the good men and women at Miskatonic University would have been impressed by his holdings. He had several books that had been personally bound by the infamous Felix Cole, whose skills in handling the works of the damned were impeccable.
The combination of good looks, remarkable intelligence and a total lack of morals made Doc Pemberley a very, very dangerous man.
With Sovereign City’s notoriously revolving door prison policy, Pemberley had been sure he’d be back on the streets within hours after his last arrest… but it hadn’t happened. The judges that owed him favors were either out of jobs or no longer considered Pemberley worthy of notice.
He’d stewed in his cell for months now, still bitter over the way that Lazarus Gray and Morgan Watts had treated him.[2]
In Pemberley’s mind, Gray was a fool of the highest order, believing that he and his cohorts could bring about lasting change to Sovereign. He failed to understand that Sovereign was corrupting at its very core. Pemberley was not alone in his belief that there was something in the very air of Sovereign, something that inspired acts of depravity. Men and women who in other places would have been fine, upstanding citizens, found themselves unable to control their darker impulses in this place.
Pemberley loved Sovereign, regarding it as the perfect laboratory for his frequent experimentation. No matter how many times he’d been exiled from the city, he’d always returned, drawn back like a moth to a flame.
The doctor sat alone in his cell, thinking these dark thoughts, when the prison guards announced that it was lights out. Pemberley was forbidden to have cellmates after several of them had come to mysterious ends. He sometimes found this disturbing, since he did enjoy a good conversation, but he also enjoyed the freedom it gave him. Away from all prying eyes, he could proceed with his private works.
As soon as darkness had descended, Pemberley was off his bunk and crouching against the back wall. There, secreted in a tiny hole, were the implements that would give him his freedom once more.
The objects had been scavenged from throughout the prison, with a few key components snuck in to him by his lawyer. He spread them out on the floor of his cell, carefully drawing a pentagram with a piece of chalk. Each of the items was then carefully placed at strategic places along the symbol.
He sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. He’d been performing this same ritual for three nights now, each time feeling like he was getting closer and closer to attracting the attention of someone who could help. The words he whispered dated back to lost Lemuria and were forgotten by all but a desperate few.
The temperature in the prison began to drop appreciably and a soft wind began to blow, carrying with it the moan of a banshee. The guards who walked their rounds did so a little quicker tonight and the hardened criminals they watched over pulled their sheets tighter around their bodies.
Pemberley fell silent, sensing that he was no longer alone in his cell. Without opening his eyes, he licked his lips and asked, “Who’s there?”
“Someone who has answered your call, my friend. I’ve heard it each night this week but wasn’t sure I should respond. But anyone who is so eager to risk their soul for assistance is worthy of my time, I’d say.” The stranger’s voice was male and slightly mocking. A foul odor accompanied the words, as if the figure’s mouth contained the remnants of rotting vegetables.
Pemberley started to open his eyes but he felt a cold hand come across his face and he froze.
“Don’t bother looking at me. It’s best for the both of us, believe me.”
With a pounding heart, Pemberley asked, “Are you going to help me escape from here?”
“I can do that,” the man confirmed, removing his hand from the doctor’s face. “But the bigger question: What are you offering me in return?”
“My soul?”
The mysterious figure laughed and the sound of it echoed through the prison, giving nightmares to all who heard it. Even Pemberley felt his bowels loosen and he feared that he might lose control. “Your soul was given away long ago, Melvin. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“What do you want? I’ll give you anything.”
There was a long pause before the stranger put his hands on Pemberley’s shoulders. “You should watch your mouth, Doc… You have a way of letting it get ahead of yourself. But I’ll take you up on that deal.”
Doc Pemberley felt himself suddenly whisked away. He barely had time to scream in surprise before he was dropped hard onto the rain-slicked streets of Sovereign. He looked around but saw that he was alone, the only lingering sign of the entity who had helped him being a dark chuckle that carried on the wind.
Samantha Grace felt woozy, her hands extending out to steady herself against the black roadster. She wore a form-fitting black dress and high heels, her long blonde hair piled high atop her head. Her perfectly manicured appearance was marred only by the glazed look in her eyes and the slightly nervous motions of her body.
“Calm down, Miss Wilkes. Take a load off and you’ll feel better,” her companion whispered. He clutched her by the elbow, steering her into the passenger seat of his car. He was calling her by her false name for the evening — Claire Wilkes. His identity was that of Philip Hawthorne, a grossly fat man with beady eyes and a penchant for ill-fitting suits. He was one of Sovereign’s most disgusting men, for he dealt in the most terrible commodity of alclass="underline" human lives. He seduced young women with drink, drugs and money, leading them into the seedy underworld of prostitution and sexual slavery. It was believed that some of his girls were even sold to faraway points in the Orient, while others were pawned off to a shadowy figure called Leviathan.
Samantha heard Hawthorne shut the passenger side door and a moment later he was seated next to her, starting the car. They’d had dinner at Luigi’s, a rather high-class Italian restaurant. There had been something in her food or her wine, leaving her feeling confused and a bit nauseous. Her aim this evening had been to find a way back to the man’s apartment, where she would find evidence confirming their client’s suspicion… but now it looked like things were taking a turn for the worse.
Two days ago a man named Bo Davidson had arrived at the Assistance Unlimited headquarters on Robeson Avenue, telling Lazarus Gray that his sister had vanished after going on a date with Hawthorne. Davidson had been concerned about meeting what he assumed would be Gray’s exorbitant fees but he was soon told the truth about the operation: that no client was ever asked to pay more than they could afford.
The decision to send one of Assistance Unlimited’s female members into harm’s way was a relatively simple one, though there had been some disagreement about whether or not it should include Samantha or Abigail on the mission. In the end, Samantha’s experience won out, though it hadn’t helped her avoid being drugged.
The roadster purred steadily down the streets of Sovereign. The full moon in the sky was partially obscured by clouds and the scent of rain hung thick in the air. Sovereign always seemed to be somewhere between a full-on deluge and a brief respite before another storm rolled into town.
Samantha’s head lolled against the side of her door, the wind whistling past her window. “Need to stop,” she said, slurring her words.