The Job

Three

Dominic paused for a moment in front of the door. The smoke dissipated before his eyes vanishing into the wind that continued to blow from the east.

The Esoteric Order of Dagon.

"Oh Paul here don't talk much. He's an Innsmouth man, they never were really much for talking I'm afraid."
Before the costal town of Innsmouth fell into ruin it had at one time been the hub for the Order. Nothing that concerned the Order and it's thousands of members was decided without first arriving at the palatial estate of one Conrad Marsh.

Conrad lorded over the town of Innsmouth for two decades before his wife took it upon herself to slit Conrad's throat one evening while he slept. A messy affair this killing served no purpose in the town other then to satisfy his wife's insatiable need for petty revenge.

Conrad, being one of the highest ranking priests of order had been given allowances that his wife simply could no longer abide by. Conrad was not only sleeping with some of the wives and daughters of the town. Oh no, Conrad was also indulging in relations with the aquatic denizens of the ocean. The fish like humanoids that resided deep beneath the surface.

And by his wife's standards, that would simply not do.

Paul was a by product of that breeding between the townspeople of Innsmouth, and the deep ones below. When first born they appeared normal enough, but as the years progressed it wasn't long before their features would start to radically change.

A bizarre amalgamation of bulbous heads, unblinking eyes, and a color to the skin that was just slightly irregular. It wasn't the eyes or exaggerated features that were hard to look at as when it came to these hybrids.

It was the sound their gills made on their necks as their lungs drew in air.

They were hard to spot sometimes, and Dominic cursed himself for not recognizing that Paul had indeed had the Innsmouth look.
But if there were glyphs of the Order scrawled across the sidewalk, and they were in possession of the book why hadn't the priest used Paul to gain access into the home?

Why send him?
This wasn't a coincidence.

Something was wrong.

His blood oath of servitude required him to help further Azathoth's influence and eliminate anyone that attempted to prevent this. While Dominic wasn't completely on board for the destruction and reshaping of this world, choice wasn't a luxury he had, he was bound.
Dominic often found himself dealing with threats by individuals that didn't quite understand the meaning of what Azathoth was trying to accomplish.

When this happened, force was key and also readily encouraged by the cult. Whatever bodies that were left could be scavenged and disposed of properly. Often the corpses of his target or the bodies of collateral damage could even be reanimated for the cults own purposes.
But sometimes, he would find himself in situations that required a more delicate approach.

Shattering the door in front of him by whispering a single word and going in with the intention of peeling the flesh off something seemed, well it seemed like something whomever was inside wanted him to do.

Paul could just knock.
Paul could just walk inside.

And before the suit with the smile could've finished running his fingers through his oily slicked back hair Paul would've acquired the book.

But this?

This seemed off.
He looked again at the window with the Halloween clings. A white skeleton looked back with his hand waving while he danced on top of a tombstone. He nonchalantly knocked on the door.