Maybe we should back up a little bit, explain what got us here first.
Fortunately, Pretty Boy Donovan had a meeting place for us - his own little slice of boozy heaven, the Manhattan Magnum. It was a speakeasy he ran, situated pretty well under a little inconspicuous flower shop. Making our way in, Donovan greeted us in his typical over the top fashion, and poured us a round on the house - well, except for dry Hemlock, who got a soda instead.
As he cleaned glassware and we settled in at the bar, our talk turned to the clues we'd obtained. We quickly ascertained, from just the clues in room 410 alone, that Elias had been involved in some real deep shit, shit that only confirmed his frantic phone call the week before. There was some bizarre connection between all this, and all leads practically begged to be explored - not to mention, someone brought up Jonah Kensington, Elias' publisher over at Prospiro House, and yet another mentioned he may have looked elsewhere besides. Amongst the five of us, we quickly decided the best route was to look into each lead privately, and descended on the task with vigor.
Hemlock, less one hand and plus one prosthetic, took the time to follow up with Lt. Poole at the NYPD, since he was a lawman himself. In Poole's office, they discussed the odd situation of Elias' murder, and the lieutenant brought up some rather interesting information. Apparently, Elias wasn't the first murder like this - numerous victims all around Harlem and Red Hook, but more recently in Times Square, had cropped up with the same MO, same weird symbol, same brutal death. They were black, white, rich, middle-class, poor, of all ages. No single thread, no single motive, but all apparently occult in nature, which Poole believed firmly. He and his boys had asked all over, but nobody would say anything, not even the Harlemites so affected by the killings. The voodoo cults he knew about? None of them claimed the symbol, clamming up as soon as they saw it. The best guess the police had was that it was the symbol of some African cult, apparently centered in Kenya, that had transplanted to Manhattan. Lt. Poole knew nothing more of it, but was determined to help Hemlock however possible and would be watching to see exactly what information turned up.
Brad's job was to follow up with Kensington, still hard at work as ever at Prospiro House editing Elias' latest manuscript. He'd apparently been so busy he hadn't known Elias was murdered, and immediately grieved as soon as he found out from Brad. Kensington explained that for the last year or so, Elias had been acting strangely. He had been keeping copious notes in Nairobi, something about some cult at the Mountain of the Black Wind called the Cult of the Bloody Tongue. He had copious interviews, notes, and assorted information there - all of which was collected and sent to Kensington a few months ago. Elias then dropped off the grid for a bit, but his next telegram was frantic, claiming he'd been to Shanghai and Cairo, and planned to head to London next. He rambled on and on, and said he found evidence of some sort of vast conspiracy - not at all like the Elias they knew. He even claimed he'd found evidence that Roger Carlyle and his expedition were still alive! He needed a stay in a sanitarium, in Kensington's opinion, that was how nuts the information he had sounded. He even showed Brad the London notes he got from Elias not that long after his arrival in New York City, a scrawled and frantic set of notes that betrayed Elias' fraying mental health. The letters disturbed Kensington enough that he was almost reluctant to show it to Brad, and it took some persuading on his part. Craving justice, Kensington then offered to connect Brad and his crew to leads all over the world, trustworthy parties he knew that could help them further. There was a Miss Erica Carlyle, brother to Roger, who was another lead he thought might help us. He even knew a man, Joe Corey, who could pilot a seaplane should we have need of quicker travel. He, as much as Brad and the rest of us, wanted revenge for Elias' demise, and was eager to do all he could to help us seek it.
Dr. Baker had the rather mundane task of finding Miriam Atwright at the library, and inquiring about Elias there. Confirming the good doctor's suspicions, Atwright helpfully explained that Elias had written her about a book, Africa's Dark Sects, for help with his research overseas, but the book was not available. Apparently a Mr. Roger Carlyle, the very same from that disastrous expedition, had borrowed it and gallivanted off with it somewhere. The book had been missing since 1919 when he borrowed it, something Atwright was clearly sore over. Elias did look into the other books she mentioned, and when Dr. Baker asked further Atwright was more than happy to show her them. Within those books over about 12 hours of copious, non-stop research, was all the information Dr. Baker could have wanted on the odd sigil she found, and more. The mark was apparently an arcane symbol associated with the Cult of the Bloody Tongue, believed to have descended from Dynastic Egypt after being driven away. This cult, centered in Kenya, worshiped the God of the Bloody Tongue, a horrible creature. The cult itself was apparently extinct but had some rather barbaric practices of human sacrifice. Aside from that, Dr. Baker found nothing else on this rather ill-understood cult and its unspeakable vileness.
Meanwhile, Ted questioned a Mr. Arthur Emerson at Emerson Imports. Mr. Emerson was kind enough to explain that yes, Elias had sought him out for questioning and he'd been asked about shippers who sent exports out to Mombasa. He explained that he was the United States representative for Mombasan exporter Ahja Singh, mostly involving Kenyan crafts and goods. The only known address for Mr. Singh was some place out in Harlem called Ju-Ju House, apparently an African gift store. As for this Silas N'Kwame fellow, Emerson said he ran the shop, and he was bad news - something about the foreigners who frequented the place, and being untrustworthy or sketchy. Aside from that, he expressed condolences when Ted mentioned he knew Elias, and wished him luck in his search for information.
As for Clayton, he followed up with anthropologist Professor Anthony Cowles, who had recently given a lecture that Elias had shown great enthusiasm and interest in after the fact. A portly, ginger-bearded man, he was more than happy to give Byrd the gist of his talk. According to him, he'd done some research into an Aboriginal cult, the Sand Bat cult, which was apparently quite ancient. These cultists believed that, through human sacrifice, they could bring Sand Bat back to earth, where legend had it he would then rule over all men. They'd conduct these sacrifices in a barbaric manner, involving clubs studded with bat teeth and a poisonous solution derived from rabid bats. There was also an Aboriginal song cycle concerning great godlike beings that built a city under the sand, however living winds came and massacred them all. Supposedly, this action allowed the Sand Bat to return to earth, or at least opened a path for his return. There was even evidence of the city, great stone blocks worn by age and weather, found by a man named Arthur MacWhirr. The guy had kept a diary on it, but the expedition itself was marred by failure and constant attacks from Aboriginals. As for Sand Bat, supposedly an old Aboriginal legend told that he had a battle of wits with Rainbow Snake, the Aboriginal deity of water and all life. Rainbow Snake was victorious, and sealed Sand Bat far below the earth, where he could never return. As for his opinion on the subject, Professor Cowles was convinced the Sand Bat cult never really died out entirely, instead going dormant. Elias had inquired about it after his lecture, and he had told him the same story, more than happy to help Elias on his newest book. He too mentioned Erica Carlyle, saying Elias intended to speak with her next and that she was "a lovely young woman." He had nothing else to tell, and Byrd left with a lot of bizarre information under his belt.
That night, we brought our findings back to the others at the Manhattan Magnum, correlating our evidence. Armed with ever more leads and more confusion, we quickly ascertained that Erica Carlyle was our next stop - and thanks to Kensington's information, we knew she liked a bit of the liquor herself and frequented an upscale Western-themed blind pig called the Drunken Cattle. Sleeping on it, we resolved to find her the very next day.
Getting into the Drunken Cattle proved a little on the tough side, some of us having to sneak in or otherwise persuade the bouncer to let us through. Once inside, we saw the grandeur of the place - crystalline chandeliers, a massive big band jazz ensemble, the rich and famous hobnobbing and chatting and dancing. And, over in one corner, our mark - the radiant blonde beauty, Miss Erica Carlyle herself, a body guard and her legal representative in tow as she chatted with friends of hers and enjoyed a gin and tonic. Of course, we wasted no time in speaking to her, something both she and her bouncer were displeased at... until, that is, Brad thought to mention the evidence that Roger might be alive. She was taken aback, but immediately mentioned this wasn't the place to speak about him and invited us to a party she was hosting at her manor in West Egg a week from now. There, she'd be more than happy to explain what she knew.
The big day came, and we were dressed to the nines for it. The masquerade theme was simple and formal, and the preparation for it was minimal, but Hemlock wasn't feeling up to it and decided not to attend. I don't think I've ever seen Dr. Baker look so ravishing in her little black dress, her hair pinned up elegantly in curls. Most of us were used to seeing her serious, not like... well, a cleaned-up, gorgeous dame. It was similarly shocking to see Brad's pretty boy face in a tux and domino mask, or gritty Ted clean-shaven and prepared for formalities. Don't ask me how we afforded the cost, just know the price was steep for what we had to do.
Arrival there was by car, and took a bit, but when we got inside the Carlyle manor... such opulence. It was a hell of a great party, and we took the time to relax and have some of the finger foods - we were invited to participate, you know, and the food was excellent. Wheeling through it all, through the sea of the rich and the beautiful people, was the lady of the hour, Erica herself, who noticed us immediately and waved us over.
"Follow me, we'll go to the library," she said, lowering her voice. "It's more private in there."
You ever been in a private library of someone like the Carlyles? It's huge! It was like a lounge and library in one, big oak doors easily locked from the inside for privacy, with the kind of comfy chairs you couldn't help but want to read in and an attached office where Erica ran the business her brother left behind. Now, I know what you're thinking - a woman as a businessman? But trust me, Erica was a smart lady, and her stock holdings only proved it. In fact, she did an even better job running the place than her brother, a real shrewd bird if ever there was one.
Behind closed doors, she quickly asked for the info we'd found on her brother, and her face bore a look of shock as soon as she realized the truth of the matter. She quickly explained that, in the months leading up to his 1919 expedition, Roger had met a black lady, someone he called Anastasia and who she blamed for his ensuing mental downfal. Shortly thereafter, he began having some bizarre dreams, which troubled Erica since he would often wake up screaming and then disappear into Harlem for days at a time, coming back wild-eyed and frantic. Concerned for her brother, she set him up with a Dr. Huston, a trusted psychologist she knew, but rather than help her brother he almost made the dreams worse. Dr. Huston and Erica both suggested a vacation, and Huston, along with Roger and a few friends of his - Jack Brady, Hypatia Masters, and Aubrey Penhew - embarked on a globe-hopping trip. Erica followed the papers for a while, but when she heard that the entire group had been slaughtered, she arranged to go to Mombasa to see for herself. She learned that the killers had been found... but always had some doubts her brother really did die, and the evidence we gave her only confirmed this.
Her concern was palpable as she mentioned the safe her brother had in his office - apparently containing several books she managed to get a peek at. What she read in one of them was absolutely insane, and horrified her to no end. Now more than ever, she was convinced sending Roger to take a vacation was absolutely the wrong thing to do, and moreover was her fault. We inquired about the books, and she gladly showed them to us - she certainly didn't want them. Also in the safe were Dr. Huston's case notes on Roger, which Erica had confiscated after Roger didn't get better; it was shameful to her to know Roger had gone off the deep end and besmirched the good Carlyle name. The dreams Carlyle had were visions of ascending to godhood, pretty narcissistic stuff and disturbing to boot.
As for the books, there were three - Selections de Livre d'Ivon, Africa's Dark Sects, and a third book entitled Life as a God. All three of them, upon reading, proved insane and bizarre. The French tome, which only Clayton could read, spoke of magic and a sorcerer named Eibon, who learned from a strange toad-like god and learned much of real magic... all a bunch of hooey according to Clayton. The stolen Africa's Dark Sects spoke of the Bloody Tongue cult we'd come to learn about, and explained more about their hideous, tongue-headed god and their heinous practices. The most disturbing, however, which poor Brad even went pale over, was Life as a God, connecting the earlier dreams Roger had with a Pharaoh of Shadows, a distressing account of a lunatic who began hideous practices and cult affiliation concerning this being. He'd even met this being apparently, and the visions he was shown were so vivid in writing that all of us who read it were distressed. Even Erica was convinced the books were bad news, and they were our problem now...
We tried to protest, but a knock at the library door called her away. She spoke to a servant through the door, and what we heard of the conversation was disturbing.
"Wait, a sketchy looking man? Who is he, how'd he get in? What do you mean he's asking for...? By name? Get the guards on this immediately!"
We heard yelling. Then we heard screaming and great commotion, and shortly thereafter Erica slammed the doors shut and locked them, pushing a heavy chair in front of them for good measure. Her voice was lowered as she spoke to us, shocking our very core.
"There was a man out there, someone I didn't invite, looking for you - and he was asking for you four by name." Her tone was serious as the grave, and she continued on through our shocked silence. "Apparently he pulled out some sort of huge knife, as big as his arm... and the guards have taken over from there. We need to get you out of here, now."
We wasted no time, realizing the seriousness of the situation - someone unknown and very unfriendly had discovered our questioning about Elias. Someone related to Elias' killers had tracked our every move down to this very party. Someone with ill intentions had crashed Erica's party to get to us, but who? Who told the cult that murdered Elias where we were and what we were doing? How could they have known we were here? How were we getting out of this one?
Erica, for her part, happened to have a panic room that lead down to an emergency escape route, and she quickly secreted us down it just in the nick of time. There, she instructed a servant to drive us to her safe-house outside of Manhattan, somewhere in the woods. She would follow suit with Kensington and Hemlock, whom she rightly believed were both in real danger, and get them to the safe-house as well. We were all to lie low for a few days, stay under the radar... and plan our next move while she got Lt. Poole involved in what happened earlier that evening. With little more fanfare, we got in the car, a gorgeous black Oldsmobile, and headed out to the safe-house.
We're here now, and shocked more than ever. Erica's with us. Hemlock is safe. Kensington's been kind enough to write up this response for us, and Lt. Poole is on his way soon. This has gotten out of hand - way out of hand.
We're gonna try like all hell to get some sleep, but after what happened tonight? None of us are sure we're going to be able to, not now that the darkness itself seems to be against us, and the cold wind of January in the city is undercut by the heat of being hunted.