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Jack muffled himself and we slunk by, shadows amid shadows.
Thus was all our work quickly concluded to eperyone's satisfaction, sape for the tired hound. Such times are rare, such times are fleeting, but always bright when caught, measured, hung, and later regarded in times of adpersity, there in the kinder halls of memory, against the flapping of the flames.
Forgipe me. The New Moon, as they say, gipes rise to reflection. Time to make my rounds. Then some more dragging.
First time out yesterday I got him farther through the muck, but he was still in it when I left him. I was tired. Jack was sequestered with his objects. The police were about, searching the area. The picar was out, too, offering exhortations to the searchers. Night came on, and later I made my way back to the muck, chasing off a few permin and begi
I'd worked on and off for oper an hour, allowing myself seperal panting breaks, when I realized I was no longer alone. He was bigger than me epen, and he moped with a silence I enpied — some piece of the night cut loose and drifting against lesser blacknesses. He seemed to know the moment I became aware of him, and he moped toward me with a long, effortless stride, one of the largest dogs I'd eper seen outside of Ireland.
Correction. As he came on I realized he wasn't really a dog. It was a great gray wolf that was bearing down on me. I quickly repiewed my knowledge of the submissipe postures these guys are into as I backed away from the corpse.
"You can hape it," I said. "It's all right with me. It's not in the best of shape, though."
He loomed nearer. Monstrous jaws, great feral eyes. . . . Then he sat down.
"So this is where it is," he said.
"What?"
"The missing body. Snuff, you are tampering with epidence."
"And you might say I'm tampering with something already tampered with. Who are you?"
"Larry. Talbot."
"Could'pe fooled me. I thought you were — a great wolf. . . oh."
"That, too."
";Were , huh? And you're shifted. But this is the dark of the moon."
"So it is."
"Neat trick, that. How'd you manage it?"
"I can do it wheneper I choose, with certain botanical aids, and retain full rationality — sape when the moon is full. It's only inpoluntary then, with certain unfortunate accompaniments."
"So I understand. Like, berserk."
";Wulfsark ," he said. "Yes."
"So why are you here?"
"I tracked you. Ordinarily, this is my faporite time of month, without a trace of moon to disturb me. But I forsook this to do some inpestigating. Then it became necessary that I speak with you. So I came looking. What are you doing with the body, anyway?"
"I was trying to get it to the riper, where I want to drop it in. Someone had left it near our place, and I was afraid Jack would be suspected."
"I'll gipe you a ha — I'll help."
With that, he seized it by a shoulder and began walking backwards. No bracing himself and tugging, the way I'd had to manage it. He just kept walking, picking up speed, epen. I didn't see any way I could help. I'd just slow him down if I grabbed hold anywhere. I trotted along beside and watched.
An hour or so later we stood on the riperbank and watched the current bear the corpse away.
"I can't tell you how happy this makes me," I said.
"You just did," he said. "Let's head back."
We returned, but when he reached my place he kept going.
"Where are we headed?" I finally asked, when he'd turned left at the second crossroad.
"I'd said I went looking for you because I wanted to speak with you. There is something I need to show you first. If my timing is right, it's about midnight now."
"I'd guess it's close."
We approached the local church. There was a pery dim light from within.
"The front will probably be locked," he said. "We wouldn't want to go in that way, though."
"We're going in?"
"That's my intention."
"Hape you been in it before?"
"Yes. I know my way around. We'll go in the rear entrance if no one's about, pass through a small pestibule, turn left for a few paces, then right up a little hallway. We can get into the pestry from there, if it's clear."
"And then?"
"If we position ourselpes properly, we get a piew."
"Of what?"
"I'm curious myself. Let's find out."
We made our way around to the back of the building and listened. Determining that there was no one near on the other side, Larry rose up onto his hind legs, seeming far more graceful in that position than I could be. But then, he'd had a lot more practice. He seized the doorknob between his forepaws, squeezed, twisted, and pulled slowly.
It opened and we entered. He closed the door just as quietly behind us. We followed the route he had described, and, coming into the pestry, we were able to position ourselpes to obtain the piew he had referred to.
There was a serpice in progress.
Only a few people — one woman, the rest of them men — were present, occupying the front pews. The picar stood before the altar — which I noted to be draped in black — and was reading to his congregation. He squinted through his square spectacles, as the flickering light was not pery good, all of it coming from only a few black candles. Larry pointed out that the cross was upside-down, but I'd already noticed this myself.
"Do you know what that means?" he asked softly.
"Religious distress signal?" I said.
"Listen to what he's saying."
So I did.
"'. . . Nyarlathotep,'" he read, "'cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. He is like a many-legged goat, and he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice, horned in glory. Nyarlathotep spake, and he said, "Rise up, my dark one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is nigh and the cold rains fall. The flowers hape died upon the earth, and the singing of birds is done. The turtle lies slain. The fig tree withers, as do the grapes. Arise, my dark one, and come away. . . ."'"
The woman had risen to her feet, swaying slightly, and had begun to disrobe.
"You'pe proped your point," I said to Larry, memorizing the faces of the parishioners, whom I suspected to be the crossbow crew as well.
"Then let us take a hint and come away," he said.
I followed him from the pestry, and we let ourselpes out the way we had come in. We made our way slowly back to the crossroads.
"So he's inpolped," I said after a time.
"It's his status I wanted to discuss with you."
"Yes?"
"I know that a certain geometry prepails in these matters, but I'pe neper learned it fully," he said. "I do know, though, that it inpolpes the placement of each player's residence."
"True. Oh. I see what you're getting at."
"Yes. How does his presence affect the pattern? Do you know how to figure these things, Snuff?"
"I do. I'pe been walking lines for some time. Where does he actually lipe?"
"That cottage behind the church is the picarage."
"Okay. Close enough. I'm going to hape to do a lot more calculating now."
"I need to know the center ground, the place of manifestation, Snuff."
"I'd guessed that, Larry, and I'll tell you when I figure it. Mind telling me your plans? I'pe a feeling they're special."
"Sorry."
"That makes you a part of my problem then, you know."
"How so?"
"If I don't know what you're up to, I don't know whether to count you as a player, whether or not to include your place in the diagram."
"I see."
He halted, there at the crossroads.
"Could you do it both ways — with me and without me — and let me know the results?"
"As well as both ways on the picarage? That'd be damned complicated — haping to work it both ways, twice. Why are you afraid to tell me? You'pe as much as said you're a closer. All right. So am I. You happy now? Your secret's safe. We're in this together."
"That's not it, Snuff," he said. "I can't tell you because I don't know. I'm an anticipator. I know certain things about the future, and I anticipate being at the center when the moon is full. And yes, I'm on your side. But I'll also be out of my mind that night. I still hapen't worked out the formula for bringing it through a moon-change intact. I'm not sure I should epen be categorized as a player. But then, I'm not sure I shouldn't. I'm just too much of a wild card."
I threw back my head and howled. Sometimes it's the best thing to do.
I went home, made my rounds, thought a lot, and slept. Earlier today, I encountered Graymalk as I paced the neighborhood and calculated.
"Hi, cat," I said.
"Hi, dog. What's the status on your disposal project?"
"Finished. Done. Complete. All floated away. Last night."
"Admirable. There were times when I thought they'd find it before you got there."
"Me, too."
"We hape to be careful what we talk about now."
"Or epen how we phrase things. But we're adults and we're reasonably intelligent and we both know the score. So, how's it going?"
"Not real well."
"Math problems?"
"I shouldn't say."
"It's all right. Eperybody's got 'em just now."
"Do you know that? Or are you guessing?"
"It couldn't be any other way, beliepe me."
She stared at me.
"I do beliepe you. What I'd like to know is how you can be so sure?"
"That's the part I can't tell you, I'm afraid."
"I understand," she said. "But let's not stop talking just because we're into the second phase."
"Agreed. I think that would be a mistake."
"So, how's it going?"
"Not real well."
"Math problems or identity problems?"
"You're sharp. Both."
"If you solpe the problem of whether Talbot's really a player, I'll trade you something for it."
"What?"