Free The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 2: Cold Wars (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #2) by Michael Panush Page B

Verona’s face, right where the radiation had melted his cheek. His skin felt like mush, and I kept pushing until I hit something solid that must have been bone. Verona started screaming and pulled back, letting go of my throat.
    He came to his feet, holding his face. I had clawed him deeply, and strips of yellow flesh, muscle and bone were visible. “No, no, no, no!” Verona cried, and turned to run. He forgot about Gillman. He forgot about me. All he wanted to do was get out of my sight. I saw the hitman hurrying away, and felt just a little sorry for the bastard. I shook the feeling quickly from my head.
    Now High Priest Gillman was all alone. He stared at me as I came shakily to my feet. “Drop the book, and I’ll let you live,” I said. “If you don’t, I’ll kill you where you stand.”
    “Oh no,” Gillman replied. “I’ve come too far. I am about to touch the face of a long forgotten god. I cannot stop now.” He raised his hand and opened his mouth wide. “In Dagon’s name, I will see you dead.” He muttered a frenzied whispering chant, and looked back at the fire. The flames danced crazily, and something started to crawl out. “You will be food, Morton Candle – food for the shoggoth!”
    It came out of the fire, sliding onto the grass with a hundred clutching tentacles aimed my way. The thing was like a giant blob of Jell-O, but greasy, black and the size of an automobile. It changed its shape constantly, forming blinking eyes, clutching claws, shrieking mouths, and even terribly human faces. It made strange chirps, like demented birdsong. The shoggoth was terrible to look at, and it was coming my way.
    I scrambled to dive for my fallen pistols. I brought them up and started shooting. Bullet after bullet rippled through the gelatinous body of the shoggoth, without leaving a mark. It coursed forward, dripping over the ground as it came for me. Both automatics clicked empty in the second before it enveloped me.
    Tentacles battered my body, gooey innards pressed against my sides, and claws reached out to slash me open. I closed my eyes, then reached to my throat and grabbed the necklace Weatherby had given me. That little wooden green star was the only thing in the whole world I had left, and I held onto it like a life preserver in a stormy sea.
    Slowly, the shoggoth rolled away. It left me lying in the dirt, coated in slime and feeling like I had been thrown into a washing machine. I slowly came to my feet, groaning with each movement. The shoggoth hurried into the hills behind me, running like a beaten dog. I looked up and stared into Gillman’s bulging eyes.
    He was confused. “In Yog-Sothoth’s name, how did you—”
    I opened my hand, letting him see the Elder Sign. Weatherby stood at the edge of the slaughter, his revolver drawn, watching everything. “I got a friend, Gillman,” I said. “And I owe my life to him.” I nodded to Weatherby. “Look away, kiddo. You shouldn’t see this.”
    I ran towards Gillman. He dropped the Necronomicon and went for a dagger, but I was faster. I grabbed his hand and forced the blade from his grasp, then slugged him in the chest. He started gurgling, but I wasn’t done with him yet. I grabbed hold of his shoulders, and then slammed his head into one of the standing stones. One of those bulging eyes popped out, as blood ran across his gray, scaly skin. I was wondering just how to kill him, and then I saw the fire.
    Gillman struggled and kicked, but I overwhelmed him. I forced him down, and then pushed him forward, plunging his head into the blaze. Green flames started licking at his skull. He started screaming, and I planted a boot on his back, keeping him from going anywhere. I thought idly of a fish fry, as Gillman’s writhing ceased and he finally lay still. I tossed the Necronomicon into the fire after him. It seemed like the right thing to do.
    When it was done, I felt all the strength I had called up flowing away. I nearly collapsed, but Weatherby