The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One (33 page)

Ibis whirled about just in time to find the Warlike Manchu descending upon him. The Oriental mastermind delivered a powerful backhanded chop to the Egyptian’s neck, sending the older man to the floor. Before the sorcerer could respond, the Manchu drove the heel of his foot against the man’s neck, pinning him to the floor.

“No,” Ibis wheezed, struggling in vain to push the Manchu’s foot off his windpipe. “I… we… were partners!”

“We were never partners,” the Warlike Manchu responded. “In the end, there can only be one who bears the title of Master!” The Manchu stomped downwards, crushing the man’s windpipe beneath his heel. Blood swelled up and out of the Egyptian’s lips as his eyes bugged outwards. After a moment of frenzied thrashing, the sorcerer lay still and quiet.

In the hallway outside, the sounds of reanimated corpses suddenly collapsing to the floor could be heard. Without their dread creator to empower them, they were nothing more than fodder for worms.

“It pleases me to see him brought low,” the Abomination said, a mirthless smile on his horrid face. He towered over the Warlike Manchu, studying him. “I must rest. It will be many days before my power is at its peak.”

“You will have to rest later,” the Warlike Manchu answered. “You have power enough to deal with my enemies and begin the process of consolidating my rule.”

The Abomination stirred but nodded, bound by the will of his new master. “As you command,” he replied, sealing a relationship that could doom the world.

CHAPTER XI

Hero vs. the Beast!

The Peregrine still felt awful but he was much more secure now that he was back in his long cloak and mask. The golden dagger was sheathed at his waist while one of his specially modified pistols was clutched tightly in one gloved hand. The Warlike Manchu’s lair was alive with activity as the man’s Oriental followers scurried about to check on the lights, which had flickered off and then returned moments before. The Peregrine noticed that many rotting corpses—like those which had confronted him on the train—were now lying still on the floor, where some of the Warlike Manchu’s servants were making ready to remove them.

Stealthily, Max crept down the clean white halls, keeping his back to the wall. Several times he was forced to duck hurriedly into empty rooms to avoid detection by the staff members who were patrolling the base. At length, he began to hear the voice of the Warlike Manchu. Though he could not yet fully make out the words, it sounded as if the Manchu was speaking to a subordinate, detailing various names and locations.

A low, rumbling voice answered him and this time the Peregrine could make out the specifics very easily. “You wish me to kill all these men for you?”

The Warlike Manchu seemed to answer in the affirmative and the Peregrine felt a painful burning sensation emanate from the ring of power that he wore. The Abomination was here… and the evil stench of the beast now reached Max’s nostrils, making him wince.

The heroic vigilante burst into the room, gun barrels blazing out hot death. The bullets struck home on the Abomination, sending the demon staggering back in surprise. Max took only a second to digest the awful visage of the creature before continuing his attack. The Warlike Manchu sprang into action, dodging another volley of bullets and fleeing towards the door. Max made a move to stop him but felt strong arms suddenly grip him. The Abomination had recovered quickly and Max realized that his guns would do him no good against a beast such as this.

The monster began to squeeze, using inhuman strength to immediately break Max’s arm. He fought to avoid black out, aware that the Manchu was escaping but having no alternative but to focus his attentions on the Abomination. Max called upon the mental powers he possessed, knowing they were still dulled from the drugs. He projected outwards with as much psychically charged energy as he could and the Abomination let out a howl of surprised pain, loosening his hold on the Peregrine. As Max fell free, he reached into his cloak with his good hand, retrieving the golden dagger. It glowed brightly in the presence of the Abomination and the beast stared at it with undisguised hatred.

“Agent of Order, are you?” the Abomination sneered. “But one tainted by Chaos. Such an odd little man you are.”

The Peregrine’s broken arm was cradled against his body and Max knew that he was one more injury away from being helpless. Acting with as much speed as he could, the Peregrine ignored the monster’s taunts and instead feinted to his left. The Abomination lunged in that direction, leaving the Peregrine’s true target undefended. Max kicked the monster hard on the right side and as the creature fell back he jumped high and brought the golden dagger down hard atop the Abomination’s skull. At first the blade embedded itself in skin and bone and Max found himself dangling in the air, holding on for dear life to the handle of his dagger.

As the Abomination bared his teeth, a cloud of smoke began to emerge from the monster’s mouth. The Peregrine realized with unearthly clarity that the creature was about to breathe flame on him, burning him to a crisp. With strength born of desperation, he began twisting the dagger, its magical energies ripping chunks of flesh from the demon. The combination of a weapon bathed in the blood of Christ and a demon born of Hell was astonishing to behold. As the Peregrine pulled the dagger free and landed hard on his back, red and black energy began to pour from the wound, making the lights dim once more and the ground begin to shake. Max heard the Abomination’s wail of frustration just before the creature exploded, chunks of his flesh splattering on the walls. The building began to crash in upon them, pieces of the roof tumbling to the floor. Max barely avoided being crushed by one as he scrambled to safety.

In the hallways, men and women ran about in confused horror. Without the Manchu to direct them, no one seemed certain about what steps to take.

The Peregrine ran forward, not stopping to look back. His mystic senses strained to their fullest, he followed his hunch about the quickest way out and eventually burst out into the morning air. Behind him, the lair of the Warlike Manchu finished its awful cave-in, destroying all those left inside and burying for all time the remains of the Abomination.

Max fell to his knees, coughing. His entire body ached and he was close to passing out… but the realization that someone was watching him made him look up in alarm.

The Warlike Manchu, the man who had once tutored Max in the ways of violence, stepped into view. Now that Max was outside he recognized the wooded area as being on the outskirts of Atlanta, far from the prying eyes of the city folk. There was no one nearby who could help Max now… and he knew that there was little chance that he would be able to defend himself in his current state. Even at full strength, it would be a difficult battle but now…

“You impress me,” the Warlike Manchu whispered. “You managed to disrupt years of planning in just a few moments… it’s astonishing just how deadly you could be if you truly applied yourself.” He held out a hand. “Will you join with me? Become my true heir in all things.”

“Go to Hell,” the Peregrine wheezed, blackness beginning to creep in around the edges of his vision.

The Manchu studied him for a moment and then shook his head. “I was wrong, Mr. Davies. You are too weak to ever become a true heir to me. You place too great an emphasis on others when you should be concerned with your own acquisition of power.” The villain leaned close. “But you, amongst all those I have trained, are still the best. I give your life to you… but when next we meet, you shall receive no mercy.”

The Peregrine fell forward into the grass, the Manchu’s words echoing in his head. He managed to project one final thought straight into his former master’s brain, however:

Come back to Atlanta and threaten me or my wife or my baby—and I’ll kill you.

The Warlike Manchu blinked at the vehemence of the telepathic wording and then laughed aloud. “Good luck with your child, Mr. Davies. I can only hope that they will not be as much of a disappointment to you as you were to me.”

With a quick turn, the Warlike Manchu disappeared into the woods, leaving behind the unconscious form of the Peregrine.

CHAPTER XII

Heirs to the Power

Max held his baby boy in his arms, marveling at how small the hands and nose were. He was perched on the side of his wife’s hospital bed, letting her get some much needed sleep. Jamison Davies was only twenty-four hours old but he’d already won his parents’ hearts.

“Figured I’d find you here.”

Max looked up, surprised that he hadn’t heard McKenzie enter. He smiled softly at his friend, gesturing for him to be quiet.

McKenzie lowered his voice, coming over to brush his fingertips over the baby’s cheek. The police chief was handsome and crisp in his uniform but Max could see worry lines around his eyes. “Hate to interrupt at a time like this,” he began, whispering so as to not disturb Evelyn. “But there’s been another murder.”

Max sighed, leaning forward to kiss Jamison on the forehead. The baby let out a little grunt and twisted in the blanket. “I’m taking time off. I told you that.”

McKenzie nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I’ve been keeping my eyes out for any sign of the Manchu but he hasn’t popped up in months… until now.”

Max blinked in surprise. He set the baby down in its crib and turned back to his friend. “Neither of the previous murders seemed to have any link to the Manchu.”

“Both of ’em were athletic types,” McKenzie said. “Both died in strange ways, with bruises and cuts all over ’em. Some of them looked pretty old, like they’d been abused over the course of weeks or months.”

Max pursed his lips, a cold place forming in his heart. “And the new one?”

“Same deal. We found him in a gym down on the west side of town. But there was a note on him.” McKenzie reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded piece of yellow-colored paper.

The Peregrine took it, already slipping into the mode of thought that usually accompanied the donning of his mask. The clear, precise script was definitely that of the Warlike Manchu. It read:

I hope that this note reaches you, my former pupil. The past few months have been frustrating ones for me. Your interference in my plans led me to the decision to rededicate myself to finding a true heir. Three men auditioned and failed, each never passing their increasingly more difficult tests. But now I have found one for whom I have very high hopes… I think I shall have his final test be the slaughtering of you and your entire family.

The Peregrine was reading over the note for a second time when Evelyn asked, “Something wrong?”

Max looked at his beautiful wife, who looked pale and tired in her hospital gown. “Not at all,” he lied. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Moving over to squeeze her hand, he said “McKenzie and I have to step out for a minute.”

“It’s not Peregrine business is it?” she asked, eyes staring into his.

Max kept a straight face, wondering if she should just tell her the truth: that his career as the Peregrine was going to put her and their children at continual risk. Choosing the path that would eventually come to haunt him, he said “Nothing like that, honey. You sleep for awhile, okay?”

Evelyn watched Max step out with McKenzie, noting the way that the police officer kept his eyes averted from hers. “Be careful, Max. Please.”

Moments later, a familiar figure appeared on the rooftops of the city. Clad in black, his features hidden beneath a domino mask, the Peregrine took flight.

THE END

KASLOV’S FLAME

An adventure starring the Peregrine

By Barry Reese

CHAPTER I

Grim Tidings

October 31, 1937

Hank Wilbon chewed on the end of his cigar, standing in the middle of the largest cemetery in Atlanta. The man at his side was enormously fat, his suit bulging at the seams in a vain attempt to hold his body within its confines. Hank had worked for “Big Charlie” for over five bloody years now, five years in which Big Charlie had managed to gain a foothold in virtually every vice the city had to offer: prostitution, illegal drugs and a protection racket being amongst the least of his crimes.

“You put me in a difficult position,” Charlie said, puffing away on his own smoke. They were expensive ones from Cuba and the fact that he’d offered one to Hank was either a sign of extreme good will or that very bad news would be forthcoming. “You know almost everything there is to know about my business.”

Hank cleared his throat, glancing over at Tony and Mikey, the two goons who went everywhere with Charlie. They were leaning against the roadster that Charlie favored, both staring about with feigned disinterest. “You can trust me, Charlie. You know that.”

“Is that about a dame? Is that why you want out?”

Hank forced himself to stay calm. He’d knew it would come to this. “Sally and I… we wanna get married. I’m gonna propose to her tonight.”

Charlie looked at Hank with surprise, as if seeing him for the very first time. Sally was one of the star performers at a nightclub that Charlie owned, a songbird with a dazzling smile and terrific legs. It was rumored that Charlie himself fancied her but she and Hank had hit it off from the first. They had romanced each other in secret for quite some time, afraid of what might happen if others in the mob found out.

“You got a ring picked out?” Charlie asked, blowing out a long plume of smoke.

Hank found himself relaxing a bit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold ring with a medium-sized diamond perched on top. “Sure do.”

“Nice rock,” Charlie replied, taking it from the other man and examining it. “You know, I have two concerns here, Hank. One: like I said, you know a lot. People don’t normally retire from my employ. You know this.”

“But Charlie—”

“Two: I’ve had my eye on Sally for some time now. She’s got the kind of gams a man can’t help noticing, you know?”

Hank noticed that Tony and Mikey had moved closer now, each with their hands deep in their pockets. They walked past Hank and Charlie, coming to stop a short distance away, where an open grave lay. Hank felt a trickle of sweat run down the base of his spine. “We can leave the area, Charlie. Go someplace where nobody would even think about asking about you.”