The Missing Medium 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

  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, Blake, Viv, Sam, Liz, Mike, Greg, Jenna, Dave 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 Susan, John, Fred, Duane, and Carol.

  Chapter 1

  July 9, 1929

  Doctor Harold Lamb was exhausted. In the three weeks since the incident at the farm in Stuckley where he, the anthropologist Anna Rykov, and Father Sean O’Malley had banished the malevolent entity Utgarda, he had been interrogated by the police and hounded by reporters almost constantly.

  “It looks like you have been exonerated,” Eliezer Feldman said, looking at the morning edition of the Sullivan Observer. “The inquest has ruled Wilson’s death as a suicide.”

  The apparent suicide of Wilson Longborough, only son of the late Reister University trustee and philanthropist Jason Longborough, was big news in the sleepy, college town of Wellersburg. In reality, Wilson Longborough had been an embodiment of Utgarda and had disappeared when the ritual was completed.

  “Is there any mention of Cophen?” Lamb asked. The detective hired to help them had been possessed by Utgarda some time before the whole series of events had begun. Cophen’s existence was not widely known, so the doctor, the anthropologist, and the priest had put the corpse in Wilson’s car and used it to start the conflagration that reduced the farmhouse to ash.

  “Nothing is mentioned here,” Feldman said, scanning the article again.

  “That is a relief,” Anna Rykov sighed. “It will be good to get into my own bed again.” Like Lamb, the Russian-born anthropologist had been the guest of Feldman, the director of the Reister University library since the news first came out.

  “Then that should put an end to the Cabal’s experimentation with the occult,” Lamb said with finality. Jason Longborough and his friends had innocently set the chain of events in motion fifty years ago. By June 1929, Longborough had been the last survivor of the group that had called itself the Cabal.

  “There are still a lot of unanswered questions,” Feldman said. The Director of the Reister University Library had been given the responsibility of dealing with the strange happenings that had occurred in and around Reister University almost since its founding, and a trust fund to finance the response to such activities.

  “How did Jason know that he would need your assistance?” Feldman queried. Longborough had assembled Rykov, Lamb, and O’Malley; an expert in early Russian culture, a scientist, and a clergyman, who Longborough had assessed as all being willing to participate in the quest.

  “He also went to great lengths to provide what you would need,” Feldman added. Longborough had ensured that the ancient tomes required for the ritual had been maintained and preserved as part of the university library’s collection. He had brought the Exotic Spice and Tea Shop, an Oriental sorcerer’s workshop, to Wellersburg so that the unique materials that they would require were available. And he had retained ownership of the lonely farm in Stuckley where the original ritual had taken place.

  “For that matter, how and when did Utgarda possess Wilson?” Lamb said.

  “And what about Arthur Cophen?” Anna added.

  “Cophen was apparently under Utgarda’s power before he came to Wellersburg,” Feldman conceded. The librarian had hired Cophen to assist Longborough’s team in completing the ritual. “And even though he ultimately turned on you, his death seems to have been the final, critical component in banishing Utgarda.”

  “Perhaps things can return to normal again,” Lamb said, but his tone belied his doubt. Like Rykov, the doctor had been virtually imprisoned in Feldman’s house outside Wellersburg to avoid the relentless hounding by the press. The doctor and the anthropologist had both been suspended from their posts at the University pending the outcome of the investigation. Their own homes had been staked out by reporters night and day since the news broke. Only Father O’Malley had seemed to escape the spectacle. He had been summoned to meet with his superiors and had left Wellersburg the day after the events in Stuckley had taken place.

  “I don’t think that is possible,” Anna said gravely, absently running her fingers over the scabs where she had been attacked by an extradimensional monster. “Cophen warned us that we could not stop once we went down this path.” Feldman agreed.

  “Like it or not,” the librarian added, “you have been exposed to things beyond the knowledge or reason of most. And they have been exposed to you.” He put a supportive hand on Lamb’s shoulder. “I have seen many a good man changed by these phenomena. Sometimes, they were not even aware of it.”

  “Like Cophen,” Lamb said. Feldman nodded.

  “And even if you can return to your normal life,” Feldman said grimly, “the experience will stay with you.”

  “I received a postcard from Sean,” Anna said, breaking the awkward silence. “It is from Rome.” Her eyebrows peaked conspiratorially. “It says that the SS Conte Grande from Naples will arrive in New York at Pier 39 on 13th of July.”

  “So he was summoned to Rome,” the librarian said with interest. Then his expression changed. “I don’t think much will happen over the next few days. Why don’t you and Dr. Lamb meet his ship when it arrives?”

  “It would be good to get away from here,” Lamb said. “No offense, sir, but your home has become rather confining.”

  “I understand fully,” the librarian replied with a sm
ile. “And while you are in the city,” he added, “you could run an errand for me.”

  “What kind of errand?” Anna asked with suspicion.

  “You mentioned that Jason Longborough had spoken to Brian Teplow, the spirit medium, and that, as a consequence of that meeting, Longborough’s mind had been put at ease.”

  “What about it?” Lamb asked with irritation.

  “Well,” the librarian continued, “in spite of that visit, Jason suffered a relapse of his anxieties that caused him to be hospitalized again and precipitated his calling on you to perform that ritual.”

  “And you wish to know what was said,” Anna said matter-of-factly.

  “Exactly. As you now know, his fears were not unfounded. But something the medium told him calmed his nerves.” He shrugged. “It’s a loose end in the story, and the official account needs to be as complete as possible.” Anna and Lamb looked at each other skeptically. “It’s no bother. I’ve been calling his agent, a Woody Frank, in order to speak to Teplow myself, but this Frank fellow is avoiding my calls.” Feldman’s guests still did not appear to be swayed. “The trust fund will cover all your travel and expenses, and you’ll be out of the limelight for a few days. What do you say?”

  “You should have been direct,” Anna said with a shake of her head. “I sense there is more to the story.”

  “All right,” the librarian said with resignation. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I asked Janice Longborough if she knew where Jason had met with Teplow. She gave me an address in Brooklyn. I sent a telegram to Brian at that address and I received this reply.” He handed the slip to Anna. She read it aloud.

  “Brian missing. Stop,” she read. “Police have no leads. Stop. Fear the worst. Stop. Can you help? Stop. Maureen Teplow.”

  “Well that changes the complexion of things,” Lamb said in an irritated tone. “More mystery surrounding our recent adventure.” He looked to Anna. “Why would we even consider getting involved now that things are finally getting back to normal?”

  “This is the missing piece of the puzzle,” Anna replied. She seemed to consider things for a moment and tapped her lip with her index finger. “Utgarda is a trickster god. Banishing with a ritual does not destroy a god. It just makes it go away temporarily.

  “Utgarda went to great lengths for its plan.” She counted her points on her fingers. “It provided the gold box containing the amber. It inspired Brett Hanke to perform the ritual. It haunted Jason Longborough enough for him to spend his life preparing for a counter ritual. And yet, his conversation with this medium somehow threatens Utgarda’s plan. Which is why he had to possess Cophen to spy on us.” She paused. “There must be more to this plan.”

  “And things are hardly back to normal,” Feldman added. “It will take time for this to blow over. You may have avoided legal complications, but the public will still view you with suspicion for a while until there is something else to occupy their attention.”

  “Getting away might be good for us,” Anna said with an encouraging smile. “There is nothing for us here right now. A trip to Brooklyn might be just what doctor ordered!”

  ◆

  July 11, 1929

  Lamb and Rykov sat alone in a first class compartment. Under the cover of darkness, Feldman had driven the two to Albany, where they caught the overnight train to Penn Station in New York. The platform had been sparsely populated, but two suspicious characters who might have been reporters were waiting there, and Anna was afraid that they might have been recognized.

  “If we were seen,” Anna said, “there could be a mob of reporters waiting on the platform when we arrive.”

  “I don’t think they saw us,” Lamb replied with a confident smile. “We stayed out of sight until people got off and mixed with the crowd before boarding.” Anna did not seem convinced. “Well there’s nothing we can do about it. We’ll just have to improvise when we get there.”

  “In the meantime,” Anna said warily, “we should stay in the compartment until the train arrives. There are three stops before Penn Station. We do not know who might board the train between here and there.”

  “Very well,” Lamb said with a shrug. “Unless we need the privies.”

  ◆

  The rhythm of the train through the darkness eventually lulled Lamb to sleep. Anna, however, was on edge. In spite of the late hour, there were still people moving up and down the aisle outside their compartment. A couple of times people looked in through the window in the doorway, but Anna’s scowl quickly sent them on their way. Eventually, Lamb closed the blind. She could still see silhouettes as they passed by.

  Anna had brought a copy of the new issue of Science magazine to read on the trip. Dr. Feldman maintained subscriptions to all manner of esoteric publications for the university. She had found Immunological Prophecy from Ancient Hieroglyphics by a Dr. W. H. Manwaring of Stanford interesting, but the other articles failed to keep her interest. She had nodded off somewhere in the middle of A Mechanical Parallel to the Conditioned Reflex by Professor Clark L. Hull and H. D. Baernsten.

  Anna was awakened by a sudden lurch of another train that passed by in the opposite direction at speed. She glanced out the window and noticed that the passengers on the other train all had their faces pressed against the windows. Their features were distorted in expressions of anguish and they appeared to be screaming in horror, though Anna could not hear them over the noise of the trains. She nudged Lamb to wake him, but by the time the doctor opened his eyes, the other train had passed. He gave Anna a bleary-eyed look and was asleep again almost immediately. When Anna next awoke, the sun was shining between the buildings as the train passed through suburban New Jersey heading for the North River Tunnels.

  Chapter 2

  July 11, 1929

  Shortly after 8:00 a.m., Anna and the doctor were negotiating the crowds on the main concourse. The hall was packed with hurried commuters and luggage-laden travelers. Here and there children ran through the crowds hawking newspapers. “Rome throng greets American Fliers,” cried one boy over the din of the crowd, “Yancey and Williams meet with Mussolini.”

  “Here you go, son,” Lamb said, handing the boy a coin. The child pocketed it, handed the doctor a copy of the New York Herald, and disappeared into the throng before Lamb had unfolded it. Glancing at the headlines, Lamb turned to Anna, who walked beside him. “It’s quite the accomplishment,” he said, turning the paper to show her the cover. “Roger Williams and Lewis Yancey broke the over-water flying record flying from Old Orchard Beach, Maine, to Santander, Spain,” he read aloud. “The 3,400 mile flight took 31 hours and 30 minutes.”

  But Anna was not listening. She was wary of the crowds. Having grown up in Brooklyn as a woman of means, she had been approached by would-be thieves on more than one occasion. The first time, the young immigrant surrendered the money she had on her person. But she never let anyone take advantage of her again. The few occasions when she was taken by surprise, Anna was more than able to resist, yelling, screaming, and even fighting back. She had left more than one assailant with a bloody nose or black eye.

  Anna knew that this mass of distracted humanity was a prime target for pickpockets, and she eyed the passersby closely. The doctor seemed heedless of the potential dangers of their surroundings, so she took it upon herself to be diligent.

  “We need to take the IRT subway to get to Brooklyn,” she said as she handed him his suitcase, took hold of Lamb’s arm, and guided him through the crowd toward the tunnel to the Interborough Rapid Transit platforms. “It will take a couple of hours to get to the Teplow house in Bushwick. We will need to change trains at Canal Street.”

  “How do you know so much about the subway?” Lamb asked, looking up from his newspaper when the light dimmed as they entered the tunnel.

  “I lived in Brighton Beach when I first came to America,” she replied. “I took the subway to Manhattan several times before I moved to Wellersburg.” The tunnel was choked with passengers from a
train that had debarked on the platform before them. The commuters were as rude as she remembered, shouldering their way past the pair and complaining about their luggage. Anna gave as good as she got, and with some effort, they traversed the tunnel to an alcove containing a stairway that went over two pairs of tracks to the downtown platform. As they crossed the bridge over the tracks, Anna heard the growing rumbling of approaching trains. When they descended onto the platform, there was a crowd of people there. Anna and Lamb put their bags down.

  The uptown train appeared first, rumbling through the station at a rapid pace. Anna glanced at the passengers. Most were just looking forward. Some were reading. Anna made eye contact with a child who waved at her. She smiled as she watched the last car disappear through the next tunnel.

  When she looked back, the opposite platform was gone. Instead, she saw a flat, barren, rocky plain. In the distance was a line of tall mountains beneath a pink sky with an enormous full moon hovering over them. Anna was mesmerized by the scene. The landscape was completely empty, save for two massive, rough, brownish-green pillars perhaps fifty feet past the tracks.

  As she took in the strange scenery, a shadow passed over her. Looking up, she realized that the two pillars were in fact scaly legs. Directing her gaze higher, she saw a giant, humanoid torso sitting atop of them. Two lanky arms stretched out to the sides ending in clawed hands. One of them turned its palm toward her revealing a large, malevolent eye in its center. The shadow passed over again and Anna followed the torso up to a hairless head bearing an enormous, red, elephantine trunk that whipped around in the air chaotically.

  Suddenly, the downtown train emerged from its tunnel with a deafening toot of its horn and sped by, capturing Anna’s attention. A few seconds later, it disappeared into the downtown express tunnel, and Anna was again looking at the uptown platform. A handful of people stood about waiting for the next train.