22. A Journal, of Sorts

Next up in the box I found several pages from a journal that left me with more questions than answers. At first, I thought they were random pages. Then, I realized they weren't random at all, but taken in order as they were written. I feel certain they were written by Dr. Gloriosky, on a pocket size moleskine journal.

Subj May 7, 2014

I'm not sure about all this at all, but I know I must help him with this no matter what the outcome. John has been a stalwart friend for decades, and the idea of losing him is not acceptable to any of us. Especially if he just vanished without a trace. So, he's hatched a plot that is daring at best. I only hope we will be able to do all this in the requisite time.

Subj August 16, 1915

I've come up with an idea that may solve several problems for us all. It is quite a risk, but with any luck we'll be able to get into the library and out without incident. I hope the beetles will be able to move all we need through the sliptube without any trouble.

Subj January 1, 1881

The collections have been raided now. Some of the books we've looted will not be missed at all, but some, at the suggestion of Her Majesty, had to be taken today. It will be assumed they never arrived from the printing house, and will be re-ordered to ensure they are here for the start of the fall term. Miskatonic does pride itself on the completeness of their library.

Subj May 11, 2014

The deed is done. The switch was difficult, but nearly anything is possible with a bit of planning. Now we can only wait and hope John's grandson will have the fortitude to do what must be done.

I had that sinking feeling that the world was about to get a little less predictable again. I looked over at Constantine as he looked up at the ceiling, exposing his winder. I wound him up again, and he began his strange purr. I placed my hand on his head as he slowly blinked his left eye.

The world became a whirl, and just as quickly as it began, we stopped. The last time I'd been here was on May 11, the day they'd closed the family crypt after placing my grandfather's casket on the platform that was before me now. I wasn't sure I was ready for this. The idea of disturbing the dead bothered me, especially my grandfather. What books could they have wanted to conceal with his body? And, if they were in need of hiding with his remains, why would they want them disturbed by anyone, especially me?

Constantine tilted his head a moment, and was suddenly gone. I knew he would return, because I had the key. Perhaps this was something even a clockwork cat wanted no part of. "Oh grandad, what did you get yourself into?" My voice seemed loud in the crypt, even though I whispered. I steeled myself for what I obviously needed to do as I stepped up to the casket. Slipping a knife blade under the lid, I popped the latch and slowly eased it open, my eyes averted, prepared for the odor of decay I expected from what lay within. I was greeted only with a scent I knew only too well. A scent that reminded me that I had certainly crossed over into a world of much greater possibilities.

I looked down into a coffin filled with nothing but books as Constantine returned. And he wasn't alone.