The Book of Azathoth

"The Book of Azathoth? What the hell is that? Sounds like a religious text." Sylvia scoffed, and looked at him with eyes upturned.

"I will have you know that it is invaluable to my research. The only one in print! I simply must have it!" He threw his hands up and shouted aloud, as if there was an audience of millions to witness the historical event of his discovery.

"Heehee, It makes me so happy to see you so energetic! You must really believe what you're saying."

"Of course, I do! I have done my research, and all the great minds seem to point to this book at one point or another. From legend it always seems to find its way into the hands of the men able to scry its deepest secrets. Can't you see? The very fact that it's here, now, is proof that I must be able to complete the entirety of its understanding. It's destiny!"

"Oh, yeah? If it's so rare, then how in the world did you find a copy?"

"Foolish girl," he smirked. "Don't underestimate the resources at my beckoning! I'm sure you've seen all the charts and the volumes that litter my bedroom. Hell, you helped me print out many of them! Used to be, there were a whole host of books that shared the title, but after some zealous ingrate died under supernatural circumstances in 1933, a world-wide consensus deemed them a danger to public safety, and had ordered every single volume destroyed."

She angled her head. "How can they have been destroyed, if you're on your way to find one now?"

"All, except for one." he tutted, pitying the clueless credulity with which she trusted the functions of governing bodies. "Don't be fooled by the lies of a nation's so-called interest in 'civic duty.' Men will always be swayed by their own personal self-interest. One copy escaped the carnage unscathed, in the hands of his supposed executor."

"How in the world does someone manage to sneak out a book that important under the supervision of our potent council of elders?" She tittered at the thought of the hooded figures who presided over the blood harvest—who judged the populace over the quality of the year's livestock by tearing into the flesh of a live hog on a pedestal erected in the center of the town's cathedral, with emaciated spear-like fingertips.

"It's not too difficult, if the council itself is the one who defied the order!"

Sylvia gasped, in disbelief. They were taught from a very young age, to never doubt the counsel of the council. The rhyme itself was a daily utterance among the schoolyard. Those five men, (or women, no one could ever be entirely sure) were purported to be completely infallible, immortal, and ill-affected by their constituency. It was the height of objectivity on the face of planet earth.

It was said that the council were older than the ground they stood upon, and gifted with strange, arcane powers that put the fear of god into the hundreds of nations across the world. That is why people journeyed from all over into the sanctuary of the Everglades; because it was the one place where neither law, nor nature, nor nuclear bomb could touch you. Due to the presence of these five figures, once you entered the forest, you were effectively dead to the world.

Derek nodded, and smirked to avail this secret perversion of the natural order to someone else, at long last. "There used to be six members, once. The head of our village's punitive council had squirreled it away within his own personal collection. The allure of power was too great to have cast it into the flames of obscurity for all time.

He mysteriously disappeared soon after, and it was written in his will to have his effects donated to the public. The book fell into the library's dusty shelves, where we will be going to collect it. I have followed the trail of history, and all roads seem to wind up here, in this town!"

What he was saying was a terrible scale, which she couldn't even begin to comprehend. If there was a power great enough to rival even one of the council—and furthermore, what appeared to be the most powerful member of them all—then surely this book was capable of some truly malevolent actions. "W-w-well, if it's truly as dangerous as you claim it to be, don't you think it might be better off served in the fires like those government officials said it should be?"

"Oh, please. I've already gone far beyond the point of fearing for my own life. Is that what this is about? Are you worried about the fate of some little boy next door?"

She scowled, her face turning red with indignity. "As if! You'd disappear from the face of this world, and not even a single soul would notice!"

He swallowed hard, clutching his chest, as the sound of her rebuke drew painful memories surging to the surface of his mind. It was happening more and more often, of late. The hope burned in his chest that some day she might return... but no, it was impossible. He buried it in the depths of his soul.

They arrived at the event with a pluck and bluster that accompanied any teenager daring enough to play hooky on a school day. There was a man on a podium, waving a book overhead, as a young woman frantically gestured to the assembled sum of dimes and pennies in her left hand.

There were several tables out in the the open air of the bazaar, only sheltered from the bleaching rays of the sun's light by a simple blue and white striped activity tent. The library was obviously short on funds, so it wouldn't make much sense to splurge on the presentation of the event. That would defeat the purpose of the fundraiser, after all.

The books were stacked by the dozen, and the score, in rows as neatly as possible for an event where passersby often picked up one or two to leaf through, before placing them back in place, bored, and strolling away. He started at the closest table, eyes burning with a zeal that frightened his brainwashed companion, and excited her in equal measure.

Slowly, and meticulously, he worked his way down the row of books on the table. He had no clue of the color, size, or even the shape of the book that he was looking for. It was a once-in-a-lifetime find, after all!

It was clear that they had no idea of the treasure they housed, or else the prices would reflect the rarity of the samples they had. Classics like John C. Wright, and Ari Bach were being doled out with stickers as low as ten, or even five dollars. Derek scoffed at the waste, as he had read many of these authors. The only reason it wasn't being auctioned off on the world stage was simply because he seemed to be the only person on earth who knew of its existence.

Lifting one book, reading its title, and carefully replacing it within the stack as neatly as he could physically manage, he worked his way across the array of texts they had collected for him. He finished one table, and ran on to the next, until the entire tent was drained of its wares. Then, he jumped over to the next spire of eggshell and cobalt, and the one to follow.

Eventually, there was not a single book left that had not been perused by his meticulous hands. He began to panic. There was no way—It wasn't here! Had he missed it? Had someone already come to purchase it before he had even arrived?

He looked around, and doubled back again. No, no, no! This couldn't be happening! How could someone have come in between he and his destiny?! His victory over the fate of the world had immediately vanished from his grasp.

It appeared that the book had chosen someone else.—But he wasn't finished—Whomever it was, they hadn't the powers to resist its wiles the way that he had! Yes, in fact, it was his duty to protect them! He closed his eyes, and focused.

He imagined a red, leathery book about the size of an encyclopedia, with a circular sigil on the front cover, in arresting golden leafing. Emblazoned on the front were the words "Book of Azathoth," as plain as can be. It was as clear as day, in the figment of his mind's eye, and it slowly bobbed towards him. He reached, and grabbed it out of the air.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn't believe the sight. The heavy tome had appeared exactly as he had pictured it only moments before. "What..?! but, how?" Only then, did he notice the pink nail polished fingertips, extending to him the remaining half of the book.

"Uh... surprise?" Sylvia said.