Chapter 2 Part 4
The alleviating atmosphere did little to settle my mind. Cat looked at me inconspicuously, as if she didn't view me as alien. Cindy could be in either reality. The line that divides the past from the present borders my tired countenance, trivializing the motif of the setting sun. Here, I was in a form of stasis. Minutes mattered now, as the sleeper drew closer to his awakening. Disgruntled, I rose from my seat, prompting my companion to follow faithlessly behind. My soul was fodder to my task. I must, and I will, leave all my doubts behind.
The clocktower above the quartermaster's read 12:30. I knew not where to go, but I must venture on. I had only one area I wished to search more. The cemetery. There was a hole in what I've been told. The records of life and death itself would make any suspicions legitimate or decrepit. It was just a short walk, and the gates to the graveyard had been left widely open. If this town had not been so insignificant I would be more cautious. The dead that lied here no more than the total 153. I must check the Cartwright mausoleum, which is due southwestern on the corner lot. Her great grandmother's tomb inside said it all. Her name was the same, Cynthia. Cat gazed at me, as I swept off the inscription. She knew what I intended to do, and did not plan to stop me. As I pulled at the heavy coffin lid, I discovered there was no corpse there. What does this mean? Is she the same? How could she have survived this long, and why did my contractor leave out such an obscure detail? Had it been that flesh? Did it really possess the ability to make men Gods? This cannot be, no. Surly this is a mistake. This cannot be the same person, can it? Cat offered her thoughts, musing, "If she was the same person, it would not make a bit of sense." Yes, yes, I thought. If she is, though, that would explain her importance in the ritual. Cthulhu, the name in which should not be spoken, was a scourge upon the sane. This revelation told me that his summoning would cause great chaos upon the Earth. Either Cindy was to die, or perhaps someone as a substitute? What would this ritual entail? How could even a being like that awaken above ground?
Cat broke the silence once more, showing considerate emotion despite her personality. She ushered me to leave this tomb, and "Finish what has been initiated." She wanted me to kill her personally. If Cindy was slain before the ritual, would it prevent the great beast's revival? Must I really do that? I don't like going back upon my word. I promised the old man who may actually be Cindy's son that I would return her, unscathed. This is what I would proceed to do, if only unwittingly.
Stumbling now from my inebriation, Cat helped me back to the streets, which had drawn barren. We were alone now, with only the demons of our shortcomings to taunt us. Whether my mate was Jezebel's daughter did not concern me. Whatever petty crime she planned on committing was baseless now. Ben had long since left me behind, and would only prove a further hindrance. The mystery of Innsmouth had taken on a deep personal mystery to myself, as I'm sure my restless nights could be attributed to my nightmares. The beast that taunts me is luring me in, playing with both hearts and fates to determine his chosen.
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