Kultus Read Online Free PDF Page A

perpetually churning and writhing within itself. But there were places – secret and cloistered places – that were a world apart from the filthy streets and slime encrusted alleyways of the city. Walled off from the bustle and rancour of the Manufactory were sanctuaries of green, lined with bright blooms and home to fauna other than the usual scurrying vermin.
    It was within one of these cloistral retreats that Thaddeus Blaklok would find his answers.
    Obviously the grounds had security. Lean hounds patrolled the gardens, snuffling at the foliage, docile until they sighted an intruder. But Thaddeus had always had a way with animals. At first ferocious, the guard hounds had soon been licking his chin and rolling on the ground, whimpering for their bellies to be scratched.
    When their play had ended, Thaddeus stole away from his new found canine friends, clinging to the shadows as he approached the great manor. He was all in black, neck to foot. A thigh length greatcoat covered his torso, while the black trousers and boots that he always wore finished his attire. Despite his size, Blaklok moved with the grace of a skulking cat. He had never considered housebreaking as a career, but as he made his way silently towards the well-lit estate, he suddenly considered that he would make a quite excellent second-storey man.
    The porch light shone brightly, and Thaddeus moved round to the side where the light was dimmest. There was a door to the cellar, sealed with a simple latch and it took no effort to prise it apart. As he entered the building, Blaklok could only wonder at the naivety of the rich. Did they really think that hounds and reputation alone would keep out a determined intruder? It was true, that for most ordinary footpads, the repercussions of encroaching on the domains of the rich were dire indeed, but Blaklok feared none of that. Let them try and take him if they could. Besides, this Lord Julius was of no named House. He had few friends in high places. His reputation, and consequent deterrent to intruders, was built from what he knew of the dark arts and the occult. For many, that would be reason enough to give him a wide berth, but not for Thaddeus Blaklok. That was the whole reason for him being here.
    He crept from the cellar as silent as death, stealing through the house like the reaper himself stalking a centenarian. The floors were carpeted with a lush shag, something Thaddeus was thankful for with his big boots and the heavy feet within them. He had no time to admire the décor; he was here on business. There was little time to stop and marvel at the portraits and stuffed, glassy-eyed animal heads that stared down from the gaudily papered walls. They certainly wouldn’t help him find his quarry. But then, that didn’t take long in the end.
    Lord Julius sat reclining in a paisley patterned armchair. Through the crack in the door Thaddeus could see him, nursing a copy of some doubtlessly tedious book, whilst puffing away on some doubtlessly expensive cigarillo. To his credit, Julius did not seem surprised as Thaddeus walked in, the door creaking as he pushed it open. Most men at least showed a flash of fear as Blaklok loomed over them, but no such indignity from Lord Julius.
    ‘And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’ crooned Julius, taking a slow pull of his thin, brown cigar. The air was fusty with thick smoke and Blaklok found his eyes were beginning to well. Nevertheless, he kept Lord Julius locked in his algid stare. Even Julius could not hold it for long.
    ‘Care for a cigarillo?’ asked Julius, reaching for a silver cigarette case that sat on a nearby chess table.
    ‘Cut the shit,’ said Blaklok. ‘You know I don’t smoke.’
    ‘Indeed,’ Julius replied, a languid smile crossing his face. ‘Pure as the driven, Thaddeus. That’s you all over. Well, let’s get down to business then. And by the way, you really should have knocked.’
    ‘Balls to that. It’s better when you don’t know