"The Render of the Veils"

by Ramsey Campbell

Originally published The Inhabitant of the Lake and Less Welcome Tenants, Arkham House, 1964 

Kevin Gillson is catching a cab to Brichester on a dark and stormy night when another passenger shows up, and Gillson offers to share his ride.

Gillson pulls out a paperback he just picked up about witchcraft, so the extra passenger, who turns out to be Henry Fisher, and it seems Mssr Fisher has some experience witch witchcraft.  Real witchcraft, not these silly kids running around naked in pentagrams.  Oh yeah, sez Gillson?  It turns out he's looked through The Necronomicon, but Fisher sez fuck that shit, The Revelations of Glaaki is the Real Deal.  And y'know, he's gonna do a ritual tonight that will reveal the True Nature of Reality, something they've also been discussing, and would Gillson like to accompany him?

Well, like a proper practical, clear-headed modern guy, Gillson sez Hell Yeah!  and the next thing they're off to Fisher's place.

One wonders what the cab driver made of that whole conversation...

Back at Fisher's place he's got a weird-ass sculpture in the middle of the room that Gillman can't quite wrap his head around; it seems to even change shape and size at random.  Fisher explains that it's an image of Daoloth, The Render of the Veils, who they'll be inviting over this very night to show them the True Nature of Reality.  Should be a fun evening!

So they do the ritual (recorded on an audio tape for good measure).  And it works - perhaps too well - after becoming aware of presences in the room (one of them draws blood from Gillson's mouth - blech!), things get truly weird.  And when the lights go out, things get weird.  And apparently weirder when they go back on.  The coppers find Gillson murdered and Fisher having tossed himself out a window to his death.

 This isn't any great work but it does have some areas of interest, particularly in that it's Campbell's fisrt published attempt to stop imitating Lovecraft and find his own voice.  It's written in clear, straightforward unadorned prose with some hints of Campbell's later style sprinkled in.  It also pushes a more metaphysical slant than your typical Lovecraft pastiche - the seeking of mystical knowledge verus the usual Lovecraftian motivations.  Even if the end circles back to standard pulp horror.