The Letter

Honoring Edgar's wishes, I opened the letter when I arrived at Tumbledown. The paper was yellowed with age, as if he had written it many years ago before sealing it and remanding it to the executor. I could smell the stale, lingering odor of his apple Cavendish pipe tobacco on the papers as I read the contents.

I suppose I could bore you with all the minutiae of the letter, or retype the contents, but the truth is that many of the things it contained are personal and some few could be dangerous.

However, the gist of the letter was clear. Make friends with Lurk, the house familiar by leaving a bowl of milk and honey by the fireplace. Wait for the full moon and renew the wards that protect the house. Visit his grave on the new moon and place a ward around it with salt.

My opinion of Edgar was always high, but my head shook with disbelief as I read the letter over and over. His... eccentricity... was often remarked upon, but I had no idea as to the depths that it went. The only thing that kept me from burning the letter and shutting the place up until I could sell it was his post script "Nephew, I know you will find the contents of this letter hard to believe, so I must offer you proof of my sanity. Feed Lurk and call his true name, Elemanzer. Oh, he will answer to Lurk readily enough, but only once you befriend him with the ritual offering and make him yours. You will have no doubts when you have befriended Lurk."

With a self conscious grin I found the milk and a jar of local honey. The milk was a few days past expiration, but smelled good to my nose. I envisioned Lurk as a cat of some sort, so in a shallow dish I mixed the milk and honey and set it upon the hearth.

"Lurk!" I called. "Here Lurk! Kitty, kitty, kitty!"

When no cat immediately appeared, I settled in the large rocking chair across from the fireplace and reread the letter.

Feed Lurk and call his true name, Elemanzer.

What the hell.

"Elemanzar!" I called. "Here Kitty..." and my words died in my throat. Elemanzar was not a cat. Elemanzar was the least cat-like thing I had ever laid my eyes upon. I watched in frozen terror as the small, black creature slunk around the firewood, leapt upon the hearth and with a wary eye upon me, lapped at the milk and honey with a bright red tongue.

Pausing in its lapping for a moment, a sibilant whisper came to my ear "I am not a cat."