The Far Reaches Resort was well outside Arkham and into the countryside, a rural retreat for the well-to-do. Relatives of Lucy's had once summered there, she recalled as her mind raced frantic laps around her unforeseen situation.
The rain was still pouring, lightning and thunder barking back and forth in angry debate. Lucy sought the valet's eyes as Cooke got out of the car in the turnaround, but saw the doctor press a bill into the man's hand and whisper something into his ear. The valet stood by as Cooke began to walk around the car.
Her hopes for the valet's aid dashed, Lucy yanked open the passenger door and jumped into the rain, but Cooke was right there, his meaty hand grabbing her bicep firmly.
"My suite is this way," he said.
Lucy glanced in the front door, where bright lights burned in the lobby. "We'll take the side stair," Cooke added.
* * *
Cooke locked the door behind them, Lucy shivered, her dress soaked. The suite comprised a sitting room, and a bedroom beyond. A breeze came through - perhaps there was a patio off the bedroom?
How had she wound up here, all but a prisoner to the repellant Cooke? Lucy was supposed to be delivering the doctor to the Lodge, not doing...whatever was about to happen.
Cooke grunted as he loosened his tie, pulling it off as he disappeared into the bedroom.
Lucy shivered, hugging her arms to her chest.
Cook(疑漏e) re-appeared with a thick bathrobe.
"Why don't you get changed." A direction, not a question.
"I'll call my friend Sally," Lucy said. "She'll come pick me up, or send the butler."
Cooke grunted. It amounted to "No."
Lucy changed her tactic. She allowed the faintest edge of a flirtatious smile, but withheld: "I can't very well stay in your suite. What will be said?"
"The front desk man and the valet will say you stayed in a different room. They're reliable, for a price."
Cooke unbuttoned his collar.
"I enjoyed your presentation," Lucy spit out, to say anything. She held the bathrobe like a shield. "Tell me more about the god of forbidden knowledge. You seem to have learned quite a lot."
Cooke's eyes animated; the subject was apparently one he found legitimately exciting. "Even more than can be told in public," he said.
"Oh?"
"This deity, who the savages take pains never to name, not only safeguards the forbidden but also seeks out those who've stolen such learning, to snuff out their lives and close the circle once more."
Cooke was standing close enough now that Lucy could smell his stale breath. His eyes were still animated. "I've found an ancient text that contains an incantation - a spell - for invoking the god's name to do just that. To kill. To snuff out lives."
Bare weeks ago, Lucy would have dismissed such talk as madness. Now, she wasn't so sure.
Suddenly, Cooke lunged at her. She squirmed, but he grabbed her and continued to press his mouth onto her.
Her hands scrabbled as he pressed her against the wall. She found something on the end table and brought it forcefully against the side of Cooke's head. He spit a fine mist of blood or saliva across her cheek. Then, he fell hard against her and slid to the ground.
* * *
"You're late," hissed Dart when he alone met Cooke's car - Lucy driving, the doctor laid out in back - in front of the mansion, the rain still pounding. "As your mentor, let me advise you that tardiness is not a path to advancement in the Order."
"It's lucky I'm here at all," she replied peevishly.
* * *
Lucy and Dart struggled under the corpulent academic's unconscious weight.
Dart led her to a staircase off the main corridor that she hadn't noticed the night of the **, so ingeniously was it concealed.
As they maneuvered Cooke down the stone staircase beyond, Lucy mentioned to Dart what Cooke had confided to her. "He says he's nearly learned the spell to...well, to kill someone who's learned something forbidden." She ended her tale as they arrived before a stout wooden door with a small iron grille in it.
Dart looked at her sharply. "He told you that?"
Lucy nodded.
"Anything more?"
She shook her head.
Dart didn't do anything for a minute, then said, "Help one get him in here."
Lucy assisted Dart in maneuvering Cooke into what amounted to a dungeon cell. When they were done, Mr. Dart nodded, then said, "There's something I need to show you."
Dart led her further down the basement corridor. He thrust a key into the lock of another door and opened it. "There," he said, taking a torch from the wall and handing it to her.
Lucy took the light and stepped into the small, dark, empty room. "There's nothing-"
The door slammed behind her, and the key turned in the lock.
"Simon!" she cried, using Dart's Christian name, perhaps the first time she'd ever uttered it.
"Speaking of forbidden knowledge, you may also know too much, Miss Jennings," said Dart.
"What?!" she cried.
Dart pocketed his keys and retreated up the corridor, leaving Lucy in a dank cell, her torch already beginning to sputter.
"No!" she howled.
Dart didn't turn back.
