The Maltese Cthulu
This bonus piece is something a little different. The organiser of my writers’ group runs a Christmas competition every year. Last year the theme was ‘horror mash-up’ and I created this short piece combining the worlds of H.P. Lovecraft and Dashiell Hammett. Sadly, I missed the event because of a Covid scare (a false alarm) and no one ever actually got to read the thing. So I thought I’d publish it here for your enjoyment. I hope you like it.
Gutman dropped his bulk into an armchair. “You’ll have to forgive the intrusion,” he said, “but we’ve urgent business to attend to. And Mr Cairo gets anxious when he’s made to wait.”
Cairo made no remark as he sidled in behind Gutman, standing by the window and placing his gun down on the table beside him.
Wilmer shadowed Spade and O’Shaughnessy to the sofa, jabbing his revolver into Spade’s side to hurry him on. Sam turned on his heels, “Get away from me. Your stink’s bad enough. I don’t want that gun going off in those wet hands.”
“I can’t wait to get a piece of you,” Wilmer hissed.
“Wilmer!” barked Gutman. The kid skulked over to Gutman’s side, never taking his fisheyes off the pair as they sat on the couch. O’Shaughnessy wrapped herself around Spade’s arm.
“Well sir, it’s been quite a chase. You’re a worthy opponent, but now we have the upper hand.” Gutman leaned forward, a malignant glint in his eye. “We have the statue, and we have you. Hand over the ritual, and you can leave here, your heads held high. You played a good game.”
“Don’t do it Sam,” Bridgit begged.
Spade stroked his chin. “Well there’s just one problem with that,” he said, allowing his wolfish grin to creep across his face. “I’ve put the ritual somewhere you’ll never find it.”
“Five minutes with me and he’ll spill,” said Wilmer.
Spade’s smile grew wider. “That’s a more apt phrase than you might expect. You see, I took the Necronomicon, and I found the pages relating to that statue.” He pointed to the black lacquer Cthulu that stood on the dining table. “I tore those pages out, folded them, and served them up with a side of spinach, cucumber and thousand island dressing.”
Bridgit released Spade’s arm. Cairo grabbed the back of Gutman’s chair.
“In essence gentleman… I ate the ritual.”
“You ate them!” Cairo screamed, running his hands through his golden curls.
“But not before reading them carefully and commiting them to memory,” said Spade. “You wouldn’t want that kind of information to get lost.”
Gutman stared deeply into his eyes, then threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Bravo sir!” He slapped his thigh. “Bravo! You are a character. Well, this does put a new complexion on things, doesn’t it? I take it sir that our prior arrangement will suffice?”
“That will depend,” said Spade, “on who’s in this split. I don’t know that we’ve all contributed the same.” He turned his gaze to Wilmer, whose gills flared. “Besides, I don’t know if you understand what’s in this ritual. For the Cthulhu to reveal its treasures, it’s going to take a sacrifice. And there’s nothing in there about tainted blood not counting towards that…”
“Why you dirty—” Wilmer raised his gun to Spade, but it was too late. Cairo had crept up behind him and rapped him across the back of the skull with his pistol.
Spade was quick to his feet and kicked the piece from Wilmer’s hand. Cairo bound Wilmer’s wrists with a silk handkerchief.
The two of them hoisted the kid onto the kitchen counter, leaving his head drooping over the side. Spade placed a bucket beneath him and handed Cairo a cheap paring knife.
“More in your line than mine,” Spade said to him.
Cairo took it grudgingly, but didn’t flinch as he nicked Wilmer’s neck. He pressed a rag against the wound allowing the blood to drain into the bucket.
At Sam’s direction, Bridget closed the curtains, and turned out the lights. Sam placed candles around the room, lighting them one by one.
He approached the Cthulu with all eyes burning holes in his back. Dipping his fingers into Wilmer’s foul-smelling blood, he began to smear it over the statue, while uttering the ancient words of the "Mad Arab" Abdul Alhazred.
He didn’t understand them, and wasn’t sure how to pronounce them. But he found, once he started, that it didn’t matter, because the words flowed uncontrolled from his lips. He spoke of the ruins of R'lyeh, of the all-knowing Yog-Sothoth, and Shub-Niggurath, Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young. His voice trembled as he spoke of them, but he couldn’t stop his recitation even if he had wanted to.
The room grew darker. Bridgit screamed suddenly; the walls were no longer there. They were surrounded by impenetrable darkness. All they could see were two dreadful, glowing eyes, two peepers the size of Golden Gate Bridge.
Gutman stood, “Ancient one,” he cried, “We have completed the task you require. Deliver to us that which was promised.”
A long, purple tendril appeared from the dark. It wrapped itself around Cairo’s throat, silencing him. He looked helplessly at Gutman as a second tendril pulled his feet from under him. He landed smack down on the floor, and was dragged across the carpet. He vanished into the endless night.
“You think you can do deals with elder beings?” Spade scoffed. “Rewards and tributes mean different things to Gods than to you and I. Their great gifts aren’t diamonds and rubies - it’s worship! The pleasure and privilege of your undying, endless, eternal worship.”
Gutman lunged at Spade, but as he reached out, new tendrils fired across the room and twisted themselves, first around his hands, and then his ankles. He came close to putting hands around Sam’s neck, but he was overpowered. He fell flat and was pulled into the distance. His scream continued long after he vanished into the dark.
Sam unfroze and yelled to Bridget, “Cover its eyes. Don’t let it look at us.”
It took a second for O’Shaughnessy to realise he meant the statue. She dashed across the room, reached for the doormat, and threw it over the idol.
The indescribable eldritch gaze vanished. A violent blast of air knocked them both over.
When they stood again, Spade’s apartment had been restored, the candles all blown out.
Bridgit went to throw her arms around Sam, but he stopped her. Holding her back, he shouted, “That’s what happens when you try and make bargains with demons. It’ll cost you more than you could ever pay back”.