The Other Realm Read online

  Table of Contents

  BOOKS BY JOAB STIEGLITZ

  Copyright © 2017 Joab Stieglitz

  In memory of Steve Russell, without whose expertise, assistance, and encouragement this book would never have been published.

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BOOKS BY JOAB STIEGLITZ

  The Old Man’s Request: Book One of the Utgarda Series

  The Missing Medium: Book Two of the Utgarda Series

  The Other Realm: Book Three of the Utgarda Series

  The Utgarda Trilogy Omnibus

  The Hunter in the Shadows: Book Four of the Utgarda Series

  Copyright © 2018 Joab Stieglitz

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Published in the United States by Rantings of a Wandering Mind

  In memory of Steve Russell, without whose expertise, assistance, and encouragement this book would never have been published.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my wife, without whose continual support and relentless encouragement it may never have been finished.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to acknowledge all the people who inspired, encouraged, assisted, and supported me through this effort.

  Many thanks to Steph, Greg, Jenna, and Josiah for wading

  through my drafts and proposing, or demanding, edits, changes, and other suggestions.

  Thanks to the Springfield Writers group for listening, critiquing, and suggesting things that made the story all the better, especially Carol, David, Fred, and Duane.

  Chapter 1

  July 16, 1929

  Father Sean O’Malley looked pensively out the window of the train compartment. The weather was bleak. The sky was gray, and raindrops struck the glass and slipped horizontally across its surface as the train sped past the hills and farms. He shared the compartment with anthropologist Anna Rykov, and Dr. Harold Lamb. Rykov was asleep on the bench across from the priest, while Lamb reading the newspaper.

  “Still no bodies found in the wreckage of the Church of Cosmic Understanding,” the doctor said, pulling O’Malley from his musings. “You think they would have found someone by now.”

  “Perhaps it’s for the better,” O’Malley said. The Church of Cosmic Understanding had been the cover organization for a cult of worshippers of Utgarda, a malevolent entity that Rykov, Lamb, and O’Malley had been charged with banishing by their late benefactor, Jason Longborough. “The discovery of Utgarda’s minions would certainly have caused a stir.”

  With the help of some gangsters, the three had interrupted a ritual that had attempted to bring Utgarda to Manhattan from its home dimension. In the subsequent battle, some of the cultists had been transformed into winged monsters will tentacled faces and claws.

  “Never mind the cultists,” Lamb said in exasperation, “what about Ganon?” Anna and Lamb had been accosted by a vagrant in the Subway who knew them by other names. Lamb later discovered that the man was, in fact, Preston Carver, his company commander during the Great War, who had lost his memory. The man believed that he was Ganon, a transplanted cavalry officer from the same place as Utgarda.

  “Yes,” Anna said wearily, stretching as she slowly rose into a sitting position. “Ganon was our only tangible connection between Brian Teplow’s stories and Utgarda. How do we follow the trail without him?”

  “Our first priority is to collect Brian from Oak Valley Sanitarium,” O’Malley replied, “and return him to his mother.”

  Brian Teplow was a celebrity spirit medium who had disappeared mysteriously. Jason Longborough had met with Teplow shortly before the trustee’s death. In searching for Teplow to learn the contents of that conversation, Anna and Lamb had uncovered Brian’s childhood sketchbook. In it, were photographic-quality drawings of Anna, Lamb, Ganon, and a woman named Liv Lee on an expedition in an exotic land that Teplow had drawn ten years earlier. Subsequent investigation revealed that the realm in the drawings was the home dimension of Utgarda, and the depicted expedition was to rescue Brian from Gho-Bazh, Utgarda’s rival.

  “Once we have Brian,” Lamb added, “he may be able to fill in some gaps as to how all of this fits together. After all, he is the common thread to this whole affair.”

  “How long until we reach Chatham?” Anna asked. Lamb glanced at his watch.

  “Another hour-and-a-half,” he replied. “Assuming we can find transportation, we should have him in our custody by five or so.”

  The three had left Penn Station in Manhattan on the 10:30 AM express train, which was scheduled to deposit them in the small town of Chatham, New York, around 3:45. From there, they would need to hire a car to take them to the Oak Valley Sanitarium a few miles outside of the town.

  “If not,” Anna said, “we will need to find accommodations for the night and catch the first train back in the morning.”

  ◆

  The storm had passed by the time the train arrived in Chatham. A thick fog rose as the wet surfaces quickly dried in the hot July sun.

  “There seems to be quite a crowd on the platform,” Lamb noted as the train pulled into the station. In addition to obvious travelers, the doctor noticed spectators, entertainers, and vendors among the crowd, giving their arrival an almost carnival-like atmosphere.

  As the train lurched to a halt, a brass band started playing Stars and Stripes Forever and a cheer erupted from the crowd, which rose anew when the people emerged from the carriages. Lamb held out a hand for Anna while creating a space at the foot of the steps for her to step onto the platform. The crowd had closed in around the debarking passengers.

  O’Malley followed behind Anna, and at the sight of the priest, the onlookers in the front stepped back as far as those pressed behind them would allow. O’Malley took the lead, and the assembly parted to allow them through. The other passengers quickly followed suit, and soon there was a line leading from the car the priest had emerged from to the station house.

  Once inside Union Station, the crowd was greatly reduced, though still significant. Only people having business with one of the three railroads were permitted inside. The New York and Harlem Railroad, the Boston and Albany Railroad, and the Rutland Railroad to Vermont all converged in Chatham, and customers mobbed the ticket windows.

  Lamb took the lead and forged a path through the throng to the street-side exits. Once on the street, he looked around for a taxi, but there were no vehicles of any kind in sight.

  “I wonder where we can catch a cab,” the doctor said loud enough to be heard by Anna and O’Malley over the noise of the crowd.

  “You won’t find any cars or carriages in the center of town,” a smiling man in a straw hat said. “They close off the squar
e on convergence days.”

  “How’s that?” Lamb asked.

  “Convergence days,” the man said, as if it was obvious. Then he explained, “When trains from all three lines arrive around the same time.” He paused, waiting for comprehension. “The station can only handle one train in each direction, so there’s a big delay while the folks get off their trains and wait for the train they want. The trains all have to offload their passengers, and then come back to receive the new ones. Since there’s a captive audience, the town sets up a little celebration. It’s good for business and the folks don’t have to just sit around waiting.”

  “There seems to be a lot of people here today,” Anna said. “More people than can comfortably appreciate the festivities.”

  “Yours was the last of the three trains,” the man said. “People will clear out in an hour or so now that the trains are reboarding.”

  “Do you know where we might find a taxi?” O’Malley asked.

  “There isn’t much call for taxis around here,” the man replied, “but you might be able to hire a car over at the lunch counter in Woolworth’s.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Anna said with a smile. “You have been very helpful.” At the sound of Anna’s Russian accent, the man’s demeanor soured momentarily, but he recovered quickly and tipped his hat before disappearing into the crowd.

  ◆

  Half an hour later, Anna, Lamb, and O’Malley were seated in an Ajax Nash sedan, Anna and Lamb sat in the back. A large, black, barrel-chested mutt with a white stripe down his eyes and around his muzzle sat between them eyeing Anna suspiciously.

  “Don’t mind Cletus,” Shane said. “He’s all show. So what brings you folks out here to the sanitarium? Visiting someone?”

  “We’re here to bring someone home,” Lamb replied. “If you don’t mind, we would appreciate it if you could wait while we collect his things, and then bring us back to the station.”

  “We’ll make it worth your while,” O’Malley added. The driver glanced at the priest.

  “I suppose we could wait,” Shane said after a moment. “We’ve got no place to be this afternoon.”

  “How soon until we arrive?” Anna asked. As with the man at the station, the driver was taken aback by her accent. Cletus sat up straight and turned his head to watch Anna. She did not react.

  “Um,” the driver started, then glanced sidelong at O’Malley with concern. O’Malley gave him a quizzical look back. “It’s about five miles,” the driver continued. “We should be there in about twenty minutes.”

  “What can you tell us about the sanitarium?” Lamb asked.

  “Never been inside the place,” Shane replied. “Got a good reputation.”

  “Do you know anyone who has been a patient there?” Anna asked. The driver was still distracted by her accent. Sensing Shane’s continued discomfort, Cletus growled quietly. Anna ignored it.

  “Folks from around here can’t afford that place,” Shane replied. “Mostly people from the city from what I’ve heard.”

  “Do you know anyone who works at Oak Valley Sanitarium?” O’Malley asked.

  “I knew a girl who was a maid there,” the driver replied. “Don’t know if she’s still there, though. Her name’s Delores Bulch.” At the mention of the name, Cletus wagged his tail. “Maybe she can tell you something useful.” He glanced back at Anna in the rear-view mirror. “Tell me why you’re really here.”

  “We are here to collect one of the patients,” Lamb replied. “He was brought here against his will.”

  “His mother asked us to bring him home,” O’Malley added.

  ◆

  Anna and O’Malley were at the open glass doors when a matronly woman in a nurse’s uniform intercepted them and blocked their way.

  “I’m sorry,” the woman said with authority, “but this is a private facility.” Lamb joined them.

  “We are here to collect Brian Teplow,” O’Malley said

  “He has been confined here unwillingly,” Lamb stated as he presented Mrs. Teplow’s letter. “He was registered under the name Daniel Meldon.” The nurse took the paper from Lamb and read it.

  “We have been tasked with bringing him home,” Anna added. The nurse looked up from the paper and eyed Anna suspiciously.

  “Wait over there,” the nurse said, pointing to a comfortable sitting area as she led the three into the building. As an afterthought, she added, “Help yourself to some lemonade,” and smiled ingenuously.

  Chapter 2

  July 16, 1929

  Anna walked over to the pitcher and poured herself a glass, gesturing to the others as she did. O’Malley nodded, and she handed him the glass before pouring another for herself.

  Lamb watched the nurse walk over to the reception desk and pick up a candlestick telephone. She glanced toward the visitors several times while speaking in a low voice. When she hung up, she strode purposefully back to the three.

  “Mr. Wilkinson will be here in a moment,” the nurse said to Lamb with cold civility before returning to the desk.

  “Thank you,” Lamb replied in a similar tone, and then took a seat next to Anna.

  “Something does not seem right,” Anna said with suspicion.

  “Indeed,” O’Malley agreed. “She didn’t even ask us who we were.”

  A moment later, a nervous-looking man in a mourning suit and pince-nez approached quickly from a side hall. He noted the three and walked to the desk. The nurse handed him Mrs. Teplow’s letter. He read it, adjusted his tie, and then stepped toward Lamb with his hand out.

  “Good afternoon,” the man said with practiced composure, “I’m Mr. Wilkinson, the facility administrator.” Lamb took his hand and shook firmly. Wilkinson blanched slightly at the grip.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” Lamb replied. “We’re here to collect Brian Teplow, who was admitted to this hospital under false pretenses.”

  “And you are,” Wilkinson glanced at the paper, “Dr. Harold Lamb, I take it.”

  “I am,” Lamb replied. “And my colleagues are Dr. Anna Rykov, and Father Sean O’Malley, as mentioned in the letter.” He gazed squarely at the administrator. “I trust there will be no difficulty preparing Mr. Teplow for travel.”

  Wilkinson smiled sheepishly, blotted some sweat from his balding head, and said, “I’m afraid Mr. Meldon, uh, Teplow, is no longer a guest of Oak Valley.”

  ‘Where is he?” Lamb asked with irritation.

  “He was released into Dr. Langford’s care over a week ago,” Wilkinson replied. I don’t know where Mr. Teplow is now,” Wilkinson stammered nervously. “He didn’t leave a forwarding address.” An idea bloomed in his eyes. “Perhaps his guardian, Mr. Frank, knows where to find him.”

  “Woody Frank is dead,” O’Malley said flatly. “He was murdered.” Wilkinson’s mouth gaped in horror.

  “He had no authority to commit Brian Teplow to a sanitarium in the first place,” Anna added.

  “Your former patient might be in danger,” Lamb said, “so it’s best that we get him to the safety of his own home.”

  “But I already told you, I don’t know where he is.”

  “Where might we find this Dr. Langford,” Anna asked, emphasizing her accent to intimidate the administrator. Wilkinson glanced from Lamb to Anna, and then noticed O’Malley behind them peering with his most judgmental, priestly gaze.

  “Dr. Martin Langford,” Wilkinson said. “He has an office in town.”

  “Let’s give him a call,” Lamb said.

  ◆

  A few minutes later, the four were seated in Wilkinson’s office. The administrator put the receiver to his ear and held the base before his face.

  “Hello, Agnes?” he said into the mouthpiece, “put me- yes, hello-Put- yes, it’s lovely out now that the rain has passed.” He arched his eyebrows at Anna, but her expression remained neutral.

  “Agnes,” Wilkinson said forcefully, then he added more calmly, “put me through to Dr. Langford’s office in town, please.” He frow
ned as he listened to the voice on the other end of the connection. “Oh, I see. You’re sure?” He shook his head. “Very well. Yes, put me through to his house, please.” He placed his hand over the mouthpiece.

  “Agnes says that Dr. Langford closed his office for a couple of weeks and may be out of town,” the administrator. “She’s patching me through to his home now.”

  “Yes?” Wilkinson said at the return of the voice on the telephone. “What?” He signed heavily. “Thank you, Agnes.” He put the base back on the desk, hung up the receiver, and rested his head in his hands.

  “What has happened?” Anna asked with urgency.

  “Dr. Langford’s home phone has been disconnected,” Wilkinson replied. “Agnes said that she was not aware of a suspension of service. Probably a tree fell in the storm and pulled down the wires.”

  “I see,” Anna said. “Where does Dr. Langford live?”

  “Not far from here,” the administrator replied.

  “I surmised that much from him having an office in town,” she said curtly.

  “We need to find Brian Teplow and return him to New York,” Lamb glared at Wilkinson. O’Malley noted the tension in the room.

  “Perhaps you could provide us with his address,” the father said, “and we can pursue our inquiries with Dr. Langford.” Seeing the out, the administrator relaxed slightly.

  “Of course,” Wilkinson said, grabbing a pencil and paper to write down the address.

  “Both home and office, please,” Anna said.

  “With the telephone numbers,” Lamb added. “And while you’re at it,” he added with equal abruptness, “have your staff see if they have any records of Teplow’s departure. Did he call a taxi, or get a ride from someone?”