The Dark Yule Read online

  A shadow moved beneath the ice, and I paused to observe it; when did a cat not stop to look at a fish? It certainly seemed fishlike, as it slid tantalizingly beneath the frozen surface. It also appeared to be growing in size…or, perhaps, getting nearer. Tail lashing with sudden unease, I lowered my head, putting my nose almost on the ice in a vain attempt to see beneath it.

  “Go on, then, Spice,” Dot grumbled behind me, but I didn’t answer: I was too shocked. In mere seconds the shadow, which had been the size of my paw, was now nearly the size of me altogether. Whatever it was, it was rushing the ice!

  “Go!” I snapped at Cinnamon. The Savannah, bless her, never hesitated. In two swift jumps she’d made it to the shore of the little island. I followed suit with a mighty leap of my own. Even as I was in midair, I could hear Dot’s rapid breathing behind me. I landed on the island and turned at once, to face whatever might be coming.

  There was no monster emerging from hidden depths—yet. But there was Libby, as frozen as the river itself, staring down at the black shadow that rose to swallow him.

  Crack! The ice heaved sickeningly, thrusting upwards…then slowly sank back into place. Water started seeping from new cracks in the surface, and the whole area sagged a little more than before. One more good hit, and it would shatter altogether.

  “Libby!” I called. “Quickly!”

  “It’s coming!” he squalled, legs braced, ears flattened with terror.

  He was right. Even from where I was, I could see the shadow expanding, as the creature raced toward us once more. I kept my eyes upon the obscure shape as I careened onto the ice, slipping and sliding my way around the cracked, sinking area. It was the size of my head…the size of my body…

  I seized the scruff of Libby’s neck roughly, not caring for my teeth, and hauled him after me like an oversized kitten. If he’d been any larger, I wouldn’t have been able to budge him, he was that petrified by fear. My claws scraped across the ice as I pulled him after me; with every painful step I lost traction.

  Crack! The ice thrust upward once more, and this time it did break. Luckily, the impact actually threw us backwards, nearly all the way to the island’s narrow shore. I released Libby and we scrabbled onto the sand, before turning to gape at the monstrosity that had shattered the ice.

  It was an enormous, carp-like fish, twice as big as any of us, with alabaster scales edged in gold. That sounds beautiful, but its eyes were a flat, dead yellow, and they glared at us as it writhed amidst the shards of ice. Angrily it snapped in our direction; its long, needle-sharp teeth appeared to go all the way down its deep red throat.

  Finally, with a last frustrated smack of its tail, it disappeared beneath the water once more, returning to impossible depths that surely couldn’t exist in this pond.

  Libby huddled against me, shaking so hard it shivered my own bones. “Toto,” he whispered, staring at the massive hole left in the ice, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

  “What does that mean?” Cinnamon wondered.

  “It’s from a movie…” Libby muttered. He swallowed hard and managed to sit up, still shaking. No sooner had he accomplished that, than he collapsed back into me—this time, to offer me a quick swipe of his cheek, and a grateful nuzzle under my chin. “Thanks, Spice.”

  “You’re lucky you’re little,” I teased him. I groomed his ear for a moment, steadying him with long, soothing licks, until he no longer trembled. That was just long enough for me to start shaking, not so much from adrenaline—I’d been in worse scrapes just yesterday—but from the state of my injured shoulder. I shouldn’t have put so much weight upon it. Gingerly I pressed my paw to the sand, and could not suppress a hiss as pain lanced all the way from the base of my neck to the tips of my toes.

  “Maybe you should have gone to the vet after all,” Cinnamon said, sniffing dubiously at my barely-scabbed shoulder.

  If I could have put my weight on that leg, I would’ve whacked her on the nose. Suggesting a cat willingly go to the vet! I mean, really. “I just need to rest,” I said stiffly.

  “Bullshit,” said Dot cheerfully. “You can barely walk. Stay here, and keep the key. We’ll explore the island.”

  “But…but…” I couldn’t find the words I needed, to sound properly authoritative. But this is MY string, the kitten within me yowled. You can’t take it away from me!

  “Fine,” I snapped, succumbing to hated reason. “Give me the damn key. And hurry up. And be careful.”

  Cinnamon nosed the key over, sliding it across the sand to rest before my paws. I ignored it utterly, gazing out over the pond as if I’d spotted something interesting there. Dot, at last managing to heed basic cat etiquette, took my dismissal for what it was. She quietly led the others away, through the ring of bare-branched bushes that surrounded the island’s interior. They were out of sight soon enough—especially in the fog that still hovered, oblivious to the sun’s valiant efforts—but I could hear them crunching and conversing for some time.

  As soon as they’d left, bone-deep lassitude nearly overwhelmed me. Nothing in this world sounded better than stretching out and taking a little cat nap. After all, I’d hardly slept; and it had been nearly a full day since I’d last ventured in the dreamworld. It would be good to stretch and race and leap without this throbbing, burning pain in my shoulder; good to chase small, squeaking shadows in the sunset city, or curl up in front of a friendly fire and a bowl of fat cream in Ulthar. I might even track down that rascal Solar again, so he could regale me with more stories of stolen lifetimes in the dreamlands… But no. The others were counting on me to keep watch, and protect the key. I dared not even rest my eyes.

  The shadows lengthened as I waited, wondering what could be taking so long. The thin, brittle branches of the scrub grew too, rising upward, transforming into a dark and silent forest. Eventually, I got to my feet and ventured further inland, to find my friends.

  The aroma of pine lay heavy; I inhaled the scent gladly as I wandered, enjoying as I never had before the silence of the hidden forest, its deep hollows and secret, shadowy places. A quiet descended upon my mind. Rather than move on to the sunset city or Ulthar or anywhere else in the dreamlands, I thought I might tarry here awhile, and rest in a bed of pine needles, which had accumulated in enormous drifts beneath their mother pines, untouched by the wind in this still wood.

  I was just settling into my nest, purring a drowsy song—when it occurred to me that it was a good thing I hadn’t gone to sleep while on guard duty. I opened my eyes, my “dream eyes” at least. I was in the dark pine forest between worlds. How had I gotten here? Surely the adventure was over and I was back at home, snuggled into a warm pile of blankets. I wouldn’t have fallen asleep alone, and unprotected, on that island’s barren shore…

  I began to wake, my mind stubbornly drawing my exhausted body from the beguiling dreamlands. In that long, long second during which my soul hovered between worlds, the pine needle nest became much less comfortable. It began to prick, and to squeeze. It began to feel as hard against my side as old, cold bone.

  With a mighty effort I opened my eyes—and beheld nothing but white. White fog was everywhere, opaque as cotton fluff. Yet something gripped me hard, crushing me against the sand, tightening cruel claws over my ribs. Bewildered, I struggled against an invisible enemy, one that hid in the mists and strangled me from behind. I could barely breathe from the pressure. Floating black dots crowded my vision, and I wondered: how much more could this poor body take?

  Then I saw a particular spot in front of my eyes, one larger and differently-shaped from the others. I stretched my paw out a few millimeters, and hooked a claw over the key talisman’s leather ring. Something like electricity shot down my spine, and whatever was squeezing me spasmed, as if in pain. Its grip slackened slightly. In an instant I violently wiggled myself free, scooped up the talisman (and a mouthful of sand), and wheeled to face my unseen opponent.

  There was nothing there.

  I blinked in sho
ck for a moment or two, and looked dumbly about myself, with the naivete of a newborn kitten. Then I recovered my senses, blinked, and re-focused my eyes in that special way, to See That Which Cannot Be Seen.

  When I saw it, ice gripped my guts, gnawing all the way down to the base of my spine. My tail puffed, the hair stood all along my back, and I hissed even as I scrambled madly backwards.

  Eyes!

  The mist was full of floating, disembodied eyes. Hundreds of white, blank, staring orbs. Following me. Watching me.

  A claw scraped down my back. I yowled and turned what was almost a complete somersault, but my shoulder betrayed me, and I landed badly in an awkward crouch. From there, I craned my head back, watching the mist gather itself above me. It seemed to be thickening into an increasingly solid shape. I looked up…and up…at what the fog was assembling from itself.

  It was a giant, bony hand, twice as tall as any human, with nasty, sharp talons at the end of six lengthy fingers. And it was coming straight at me.

  Injured shoulder or not, it was time to go. I leapt away, talisman carried tightly between my teeth, and fled toward the middle of the island. The hand followed me—I could see its enormous shadow faintly outlined just ahead of my own. I was directly beneath the palm. It had only to bring its hand down to squash me flat, the way you’d squash an ant…

  The shadow wavered across the ground. Following my instincts, I dodged sharply right, and just in time, for the hand collided with earth only a second later. The thud must have been audible to any humans on the shore. Sand flew in a stinging spray, half-blinding me, but I dared not stop.

  At least I’d gotten the others’ attention, for while I blinked and stumbled onward, I sensed—more than saw—three warm furry bodies near me.

  “Time to go!” I yelled, and promptly doubled on my own tracks, running for all I was worth. I could just see well enough now to avoid the dark forms of bushes, though their thorn-like branches tore at my face and flanks as I dashed heedlessly past. I heard another thud, and a squeal from Libby, but even then I could not halt.

  We were upon the island’s narrow beach. The other shore seemed impossibly distant, at least thirty body-lengths of dark, questionable ice away. I stared dumbfounded, still running, before the solution occurred to me—of course, the way needed to be opened. Luckily, I still held the nasty key in my mouth. From the beach I leapt toward the ice.

  I was descending toward that thin, translucent glaze upon the waters, in whose frigid depths I was surely about to drown. Then, the key kicked in. I landed on thick white ice, and saw directly in front of me the safe path to the near shore. Yet the ice wobbled sickeningly as I slipped and slid across, for it had broken into several pieces after the fish’s attack.

  Two-thirds of the way across, I at last dared to check behind myself, to See That Which Cannot Be Seen. The giant hand had vanished utterly. All that remained were thick mists…and the hundreds of blind, staring, hovering eyes within. As I looked, a new form began to gather in the fog. Long rows of solid white columns appeared, with sharp points on their ends, arranged tightly together in a peculiar order. It took a moment for me to recognize what they represented: an enormous, disembodied mouth, stuffed to the brim with dozens of jagged teeth.

  The teeth clacked in my direction, and bared themselves, all while the many eyes turned their blank orbs upon me. Then, slowly, they all began to dissolve. The mist drifted away, toward the center of the island, and even when I looked for That Which Cannot Be Seen, I could see—nothing.

  The others had also paused upon the ice, and watched the creature’s departure with fur raised and tails bristling. I was glad to see Libby was with us. I was really afraid he’d been killed.

  “Everyone all right?” I asked.

  I glimpsed motion in the corner of my eye, and leapt sideways—without a moment to spare. The ice heaved under our feet, sending us sliding, and the great white fish jumped from the dark hole it had made, leaving the water entirely. For a moment, the beast appeared to hang in the air, its gold-edged scales glimmering in the weak winter sunlight. Then it slammed into the the ice a mere tails-width from my feet, its massive, toothy jaws snapping at my paws.

  I could have clawed it, but all claws were employed in scrambling away from that vicious mouth, on a slick sheet of ice that steadily tilted more and more towards the monstrous, heavy fish. It writhed and twisted after me, pursuing me even as I struggled madly to escape.

  It was fortunate that Dot, the consummate hunter, kept her head. Circling around me, she flung herself upon the fish’s abdomen, and raked its massive stomach nearly open. The fish twisted toward her, jaws gaping, but she dodged its lunge neatly, and leapt to a less shattered patch of ice. There she sat coolly, one paw raised and ready, as if to say, “You want some more?”

  Blood oozed freely from the scratches she’d left, pooling on the ice. The carp at last appeared to surrender. It wiggled and flopped back into its hole, sliding tail-first into the mysterious depths. For a moment it lingered, its head just above the surface, still glaring at us. You could almost hear the little fishy gears grinding in its head—could it make a second attempt?

  “Run,” I was about to calmly suggest to the group (perhaps not so calmly). But before I could speak, the fish’s protruding eyes bulged even further. It happened almost too fast to see, but I just glimpsed a green, clawed hand rise, dripping, from the water, to seize the massive fish by its flapping gill. The huge fish thrashed and fought the entire way, but it was dragged down, down, down, with a certain horrible inevitability. In no more than a breath or two, there was nothing left but a string of slowly popping bubbles.

  I don’t know what possesses me to do these things. Before any rational thought could rein me in, I was crouched upon the edge of the hole, peering down to see what had taken the fish. The waters were dark, but I could just make out vague movements far below. These coalesced into a certain silhouette, decidedly un-fish-like in its nature. I caught a golden gleam—yellow eyes that glowed, like lamps, amidst the black depths. Their shine turned my way, and for a long moment, I stared down at it, and it stared up at me. I blinked first, and backed away from the edge. I didn’t care to wait and see what conclusion the Deep One might come to.

  * * *

  The next thing I remember, I was up the hill and in some strange human’s backyard, quite a distance from that icy bank. I was lying down and Dot was giving my shoulder a good licking, while Cinnamon purred into my ear, and Libby scolded me.

  “…should have stayed home! I mean, really!”

  “What happened?” I murmured. I tried to stir, but Dot put a firm paw upon me and continued her vigorous ministrations.

  “You don’t remember?”

  “She’s in shock,” said Cinnamon succinctly, in between throaty, soothing purrs. “She needs help.”

  Dot paused her licking, apparently in sudden doubt. “Are you dying?” she wanted to know. The subtext being, “If you’re dying, I’ll stop this waste of good saliva.” It wasn’t bad manners: we cats don’t share the same fear of mortality as humanity, largely because we’ve already died before, and remember doing it.

  So I checked in with my body to discover whether I was, indeed, dying. I was in agony, and exhausted, and in shock, as Cinnamon had suggested. But I didn’t sense that inner unraveling, the sensation of gradually slipping away, that usually marks death.

  “Not if I get in the warm,” I muttered. “And rest. And…” I heaved a sigh. “Maybe go to the damn vet.”

  “Can you get home, do you think?” Dot wanted to know.

  “If I sleep first.” I shivered—I was still quite wet, from all the fish’s wild splashing—and curled up, with an effort. I even managed to draw my tail over my cold nose. “Can you get a little closer?”

  So that was what happened. For the rest of the day I laid quite still behind a hedge, drifting from this world to the dreamlands and back. My friends took turns sleeping beside me, to keep me warm, and to watch over my ex
hausted naps.

  At last, by evening, I felt well enough to travel. Dot and Libby escorted me home, taking long ways and dead ends and narrow, pissy alleys all over town, to avoid any trouble, for I wasn’t certain yet I could climb a tree. But I rested as we went, and drank a little water, and even swallowed the head of a mouse, kindly offered by a handsome tuxedo called Onyx, with whom I was slightly acquainted.

  By sunset, I was home, approaching the house from my large, forested backyard. As we came out from under the trees, though, I sat heavily, and stared in disbelief.

  There were three night-gaunts perched upon my roof.

  We cats glared at the night-gaunts, from the (relatively) safe shadows of the snow-laden trees. The night-gaunts, having no eyes, could not reciprocate—but their eerie, misshapen heads swiveled in our direction.

  So focused was I on the night-gaunts, I almost didn’t catch the subtle sounds emerging from the house. When I did, though, I pointed my ears toward the attic, and leaned forward in concentration.

  Was that…chanting?

  My baby howled abruptly, screaming in terror. I didn’t stop to think. No injury or exhaustion or night-gaunt could have held me then. I limped toward the house, moving as fast as I could, and dove through the cat-flap.

  I saw later the bloody footprints I left on the carpet, but at the moment I was conscious of nothing but the shrieks of my baby. Up the stairs I darted, to peer around the door of his room. I would take them by surprise, whoever they were. I would leap upon their chests, knock them down, and scratch their eyes out. See if I wouldn’t!

  There was just one problem: nobody was there. That is, nobody except my baby, standing up in his crib and howling as if a thousand demons had come to devour him. I looked to See That Which Cannot Be Seen—and perceived nothing but a full diaper and a snotty nose. Neither of which are, frankly, particularly supernatural.