Olmstead stood on the shore and removed his clothes. He’d only been back there once in the past two years, after he’d salvaged Joe Sargent from the degrading pit that the upper-earth men were rotting him in. Olmstead was proud of liberating so many of his kin while avenging the unnatural deaths of those who’d fallen.
Innsmouth had been thoroughly razed by the bastard authorities, and their precious torpedoes had done for Devil Reef. It’d be a fair swim but Olmstead knew his great-great-grandmother would guide him home, as she’d done so many times in his dreams.
Olmstead knocked with some authority on the hotel room door.
“Lieutenant Commander William J. Butler, former Captain of the USS S-19 that raided the coastal town of Innsmouth, Massachusetts in 1928?” asked Olmstead.
“Yes. And who might you be?” replied Butler.
With expert thrusts, Olmstead simultaneously entered Butler’s heart and throat with two ceremonial daggers, courtesy of the Esoteric Order of Dagon. Butler fell backwards into his room, dead and bleeding heavily.
“I am vengeance, Captain.” croaked Olmstead bitterly before wiping his sleek wet blades on the murdered man’s face. Closing the door, the assassin headed for the stairs.