The Mysteries of Holly Diem (Unknown Kadath Estates Book 2)
Read The Mysteries of Holly Diem (Unknown Kadath Estates Book 2) Online
Authors: Zachary Rawlins
The Novels of the Nameless City
The Night Market
The Unknown Kadath Estates Trilogy
Volume One : Paranoid Magical
Thinking
Volume Two: The Mysteries of Holly
Diem
Volume Three: The Floating Bridge
(Coming 2016!)
Other Books by the Same Author
The Central Series
The Academy
The Anathema
The Far Shores
Copyright ©
2015 by Zachary Rawlins
Cover photograph copyright © 2015 grandfailure
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any
manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.
Published by ROUS Industries.
Oakland, California
[email protected]
978-0-9837501-5-4
Cover design by Chloe Rawlins
First Edition
for my brother, Jordan,
who is awesome.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
1. Better Off with the Girls in my Head
2. The Oppression of Architecture
4. Some Girls Wander By Mistake
5. The Principalities of the Air
8. The Fate of the Three Sisters
10. Concordance of the Fifth Assembly
12. Not Knowing When the Dawn Will Come, I Open Every Window
13. New Forms of Thirty-Six Ghosts
I fell victim to expedient seating arrangements
. Holly Diem and April Ersten laid
claim to the pair of seats up close by right of enthusiasm, leaving a block
near the back for the rest of us.
Yael
Kaufman looked as uncomfortable sitting beside me as I did next to her, but she
put a buffer between the building manager, Kim Ai, and me, so she was aces in
my book. I tried to sit up straight and fought the temptation to undo the top button
on my shirt.
“It
is difficult to articulate
the pride I feel, regarding your
accomplishment today,” Professor Dawes offered, his voice quavering irregularly.
He beamed at the graduating students, and they beamed right back.
“You worked hard to get here – and deserve recognition
for your labors – but, if I know this fine group of young women and men, then
this is only the beginning of your journey, and only the first of your
successes. The Randolph Carter Academy prides itself on producing the highest
caliber of gentlemen – and ladies as well, for the last thirty years, due to
court order – and this class does that tradition proud. When I look at you,
graduates, I see people who will change the world, in as far as the Nameless
City allows for such things. You may decide to continue your studies as one of
our esteemed graduate students, or to move on to the Nameless City’s Black
Libraries, Hidden Monasteries, and various occult centers – where I am certain
that your work will honor the good reputation of our Academy.”
Professor Dawes paused to wipe his eyes, and the two
dozen graduates burst out in cheers for no particular reason. Holly Diem dabbed
her eyes with a silk handkerchief and clapped wildly, while to her right, April
Ersten cheered with fervor of a drunken football supporter. The sun decided to
make an appearance after weeks of intermittent rain, and it was nearly warm on
the broad green of the campus center. Behind the stage, the whitewashed brick
of the clock tower loomed, the clock face claiming a time several hours in
either the past or the future. Aged maple trees that bordered the green were
grudgingly producing new leaves, the soil around them a soggy mess from the
late spring rains. The heat of the summer would not arrive for another month,
and in the meantime, we struggled through the bouts of frigid rain that had
been battering the Nameless City since the melting of the winter snow. I adjusted
the suit jacket that Holly insisted I wear, and tugged at the unfamiliar collar
on my shirt.
“It is my pleasure to introduce the Salutatorian of
this year’s graduating class, Elijah Pickman, who will offer a benediction in
the traditional languages of the Randolph Carter Academy. Elijah has been a
cornerstone of his class since his transfer two years ago, as an Architecture
major with minors in Prehuman Linguistics and History, as well as the
top-performing humanities scholar at Carter for all save one semester of his
undergraduate study.”
Dawes said this with a boastful grin, but Elijah
Pickman frowned slightly at the mention of his less than perfect record. The
student who had bested his GPA during the most recent semester sat up front,
waving and blowing kisses in Sumire’s direction. April’s academic prowess was
rough on Elijah – even more so as he was her beloved tutor.
The affairs of young adults are always complicated.
Elijah Pickman nodded politely at the end of Dawes
remarks, and then took the podium himself. He was a self-possessed kid with
silver-rimmed glasses, an excellent tailor, and the handsome features of a
minor nobleman afflicted with consumption. Probably half the girls in the
audience nursed a crush on Elijah, and he was a regular and popular visitor at
the Estates, even without the excuse of a tutoring session.
His voice was chilly and composed. The half-Windsor
knot in his cerulean tie was finishing school perfect; his pants pressed to
razor-sharpness. The crowd began to applaud before he even opened his mouth,
earning an impatient smile.
He delivered the benediction in six different
languages – three classical, another pair archaic, with the final portion
delivered entirely in one of the impossible Elder tongues. Members of the
student council held up cue cards for the audience, so we would know when to
laugh and applaud. During the extended and throat-shredding conclusion of the
benediction, we covered our ears to avoid going mad.
It was well done. The small crowd showered him with
applause. Elijah accepted them with aplomb.
“Very good, Elijah!” Professor Dawes returned to the
podium, his mortarboard looking decades older than the man himself did. “You
are a credit to the institution. While the foundation of our school may have
been the establishment of the Nameless City’s premier institution for the study
of the humanities, the Carter Academy’s academic mission has broadened greatly
over the years. This year’s valedictorian exemplifies this trend. In her four
years of undergraduate study, she has completed a double major of Linguistics
and Mathematics, served as the captain of the volleyball team, helped lead the
basketball team to a perfect season, and sang alto in the school choir.”
I shook my head. The choir was news to me. I wondered how
she found the time. In response to a cue that only she heard, April leapt onto
her chair and yelled Sumire’s name. Professor Dawes appeared benevolently
amused, pushing through his introductory remarks while Holly coaxed April down
and shushed her. I was so concerned with the potential pitfalls there that I
missed the first part of Sumire’s remarks.
“…not enough that we be brave, though bravery is
required. Nor will strength, wisdom, or compassion prove sufficient – though we
will need all in abundance to accomplish the task before us. I challenge each
of you to become more than you are today,” Sumire proclaimed. Judging from the
knowing looks on the faces of Sumire’s classmates, I got the feeling this
wasn’t the first challenge Sumire threw out there. “To become the heroes that
the Nameless City needs. To take the stand that no one else will, for the good
of all. To draw a line in the sand, between our homes and the desolation of the
Outer Dark, and say “No Further.” To be a light in darkness. To stand against
unfairness, injustice, and unrelenting cosmic horror – not necessarily in that
order. I have heard it said that the Nameless City is beyond hope…”
By me, among others.
“…so I challenge each of you to become that hope.”
Ugh.
“The night is long because we allow it to persist,”
Sumire said, flashing a toothy grin at her classmates. “The Nameless City is
without heroes, as long as we stand idle.”
I glanced around me. The audience mood had shifted
from indulgent good humor to inspiration and admiration. They were eating it
up. I wasn’t sure what a bunch of linguists and architects were going to do to
save us, but I appreciated that someone wanted to try.
“The moon may be close.”
It was, actually, which was frustratingly impossible.
“The sea may recede, exposing the city in the sea.”
Happening faster, according to Jacob. Something to do
with solar radiation, or emissions, or something equally cheerful and
inevitable.
“The alignment of the planets may allow the Elder Gods
to awake, and cross the cold distance between the stars.”
Holly and the Cats of Ulthar thought that would happen
sooner rather than later.
“The King-in-Chains may awake. The Principalities of
the Air may emerge from concealment. The Yellow Sign may fail. The Servants of
the Deep may spawn this year, or the Dholes worm their way up from the
Underworld, blindly seeking the surface. The Outer Dark may yet triumph, and
all other lights may be snuffed out.” Sumire had the crowd in the palm of her
hand; they held their collective breath so as not to miss the next word. “None
of this is inevitable, however, if we dedicate ourselves to the creation of a
different, better future. Remember – every night gives way to morning, every
sickness passes, any battle is winnable – as long as you believe it to be so. I
assure each of you – nothing is beyond you.”
There may have been more, but the crowd was restless
and wound up. They exploded, and Sumire’s final lines were lost in the clamor.
She smiled and waved, Mussorgsky's
Night on Bald Mountain
came over the
PA, and mortarboards went flying.
The seats around us emptied out with the sort of
urgency that suggested the small crowd had traffic to beat. That left Yael and
I to weigh the desirability of small talk.
Don’t get me wrong. Yael Kaufman is the very
definition of a nice girl. Which is most of the problem.
Yael moved into the Estates at the start of the school
year this year. She’d had previously been living at the dorms at Carter, thanks
to an arrangement Holly Diem made for her. She was April’s classmate in Dawes’s
linguistics courses, close to Holly, and friendly with Sumire.
She must have felt as uncomfortable as I did, joining
the crowd by the stage – though I assume her reasons differed from mine.
“Got lucky with the weather,” I observed, “for the
ceremony.”
“Yes,” Yael said eagerly, giving me a brief smile. “I
was worried that it would rain.”
I was encouraged, and anyway, I had nothing else to
do.
“You and April are juniors next year, right? That’s
crazy. Seems like she just enrolled.”
“It’s the same for me.” Yael reached down to adjust
the ankle strap on her polished black shoes. She was dressed up – blue dress,
makeup, nylons, and polished shoes with conservative heels – which was
unfamiliar, though she seemed comfortable. Aside from the Carter uniform, Yael
really only seemed to wear one outfit. “The Nameless City still feels
unfamiliar.”
“I don’t think that improves with time.”
Yael smiled tolerantly.
“According to April, I’ve been here longer than you
have.”
“Oh.” News to me. “Still true.”
“You may be right.” On the stage, Sumire and April
held hands and spun around in circles, while Holly looked on and laughed. “They
seem happy enough, though.”
There were only about a hundred people at the
graduation, but Yael was right. They did seem happy. What an oddity.
“Looks that way.” I snuck a glance at April. Kim had
coaxed her into washing her hair last night, so it was clean for once, and held
in check by a combination of clips and ties. “They are probably keeping up
appearances.”
“Cynical.”
“Realistic, when you consider where we live. This
graduation is an exception. Most of these people have never even been to the
Empty District, and won’t return unless it’s necessary. They’ll still refuse to
open their doors after dark, and scribble chalk on their porches when the moon
is full…”
“Close,” Yael reminded. “When the moon is close. And
the Yellow Sign isn’t a scribble.” Yael frowned, tapping her forefinger against
her lip. “Blasphemy, maybe, but not a scribble. April is your…roommate, yes?” A
loaded glance that I avoided. “You should understand the symbolic value, at
least.”
“I get it, I just don’t buy it. I’m not the
superstitious type.”
“That’s a dangerous quality,” Yael observed, sounding
mildly concerned. She collected her purse and nodded, heading for the aisle.
“You should be careful, Mr. Tauschen.”
Good advice.