The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One (7 page)

Max waited until the thing was so close he thought he could smell its fetid breath. Then he fired a bullet straight between her eyes.

With a quick yank of his own chord, the Peregrine felt salvation at hand. He tried to angle his landing towards Evelyn, who had come down in a heap of parachute and limbs in a tangle of trees. Behind him, the plane came crashing down with a thunderous roar. The heat of the flames burned at Max’s back as he reached the ground. He rolled with the impact, stopping at Evelyn’s side. She was lying on her back, eyes closed, and for a moment Max felt an overwhelming rush of fear. Had she damaged something in her landing? Had one of his stray bullets struck her?

And then she began laughing, her eyes opening to find his.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, unable to keep from laughing himself.

“I can’t believe you saw
Perils of Gwendolyn
. That film was awful.”

“It was,” he admitted. “But you looked very nice in it.”

Evelyn reached behind his head and pulled him to her. They kissed briefly but a second explosion from the plane sent fiery debris high into the air and made them both scramble to their feet.

The Peregrine stumbled further into the countryside, holding Evelyn’s hand in his own. “From the looks of the land, we’re in northern Germany. We need to head south. Kassel is close to the center of the country.”

“How are we going to get there without your plane? And where in the world did those… things… come from?”

Max grinned, stopping where he was and stripping off his Peregrine attire. “Trench is getting stronger. He’s near his goal… I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a few more tricks up his sleeve.” Max shoved his clothes into a small knapsack he’d brought along and strapped it to his back. Now he looked like a wealthy American on vacation, though there were fewer and fewer of those in Germany these days. War was in the air, despite the fact that many liked to believe otherwise. “Trust me,” was all he said in reply to her question.

Evelyn sighed, but she knew that was enough. If there was one thing she’d learned about Max thus far, it was that he was never at a loss for a plan.

CHAPTER XIV

Ghostly Visitations

Nettie looked past the sheriff’s burly form, holding Josh’s gaze. “Mr. Davies isn’t here. Can’t you come back later?”

The sheriff sighed, pushing his hat back so that it perched atop his balding head at an awkward angle. There were large patches of sweat visible under his arms and around his midsection, soaking right through the shirt he wore. His belly hung over the front of his pants, giving him the look of a pregnant walrus. “Now you know I can’t do that. If your master ain’t home, then I’ll just give myself a look around and wait.”

“You can’t be doin’ that,” Josh warned. He stepped up next to the sheriff, who regarded him coolly. “This is Mr. Davies’ property.”

“I’m an agent of the law, boy,” the sheriff warned and the look in his eyes was one that Josh and Nettie recognized all too well. It was the look they got from men and women who regarded them as something less than human… like the same property of which Josh had spoken. “Now if you don’t want your behind thrown in jail, you’re gonna back away from me.”

Josh did as the sheriff said but there was no fear evident on his face as he did so. He was twice as tall as the lawman and could break him in half easily enough… but Josh also knew how Southern justice would view such a thing. “Mr. Davies ain’t gonna be happy if you mess with his things,” was all Josh said.

“Yeah, well that’ll be too damned bad, ’cause I don’t work for Mr. Davies.” The sheriff ambled down the hallway, looking into various rooms in the house, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his overloaded pants.

“Hello, Sheriff,” someone said from the doorway to the last room. “Something I can assist you with?”

The sheriff came up short, looking into the face of a man who resembled Max Davies in more than a few ways… but who was obviously not the same man. He wore a tweed coat and a smart suit, his features those of the cultured elite. “Who are you?” the sheriff asked, intimidated by the upper class air that the man carried with him.

Behind the sheriff, both Nettie and Josh exchanged confused looks. From their vantage point, it looked like the sheriff was talking to thin air.

“My name is Warren Davies. I’m Max’s father.”

“Oh. Well, I have a few questions for your son. Do you know where I can find him?”

The elder Mr. Davies smiled in a slightly condescending manner. It brought a flush to the sheriff’s face and he slipped into the natural way that he handled all rich people—by completely and totally caving in. “He’s away on business, Sheriff. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Well… there are questions about a murder…”

“Surely you don’t suspect my son of being implicated…?”

“Oh, no! But I have to ask…”

“I’ve never understood why you have to waste your time with such nonsense. You should be able to focus on truly important matters… like finding the true killer behind Mr. Beauregard’s death.”

“How did you know—?”

The elder Mr. Davies leaned in close to him and the sheriff found himself unable to look away from the man’s eyes. They seemed to hold such power… such knowledge… as if their owner had been to Hell and back, returning with truths that the sheriff could never comprehend. “There is nothing to be learned here. You will return to your car, speaking politely to Josh and Nettie as you go… and then you will refuse to follow up any more leads related to my son. Do you understand?”

“Sheriff?”

The sheriff jumped, whirling about to see Josh and Nettie watching him with fearful expressions. The sheriff looked around for Max’s father but there was no sign of him. Hitching up his belt and trying to calm the pounding of his heart, the lawman answered “Just getting’ ready to head back to the station. Tell Mr. Davies and his father that I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Josh watched the man’s back as he hurried out the door, a dumbfounded look upon his face. “Mr. Davies… and his father? What the heck was that about?”

“Don’t ask me,” Nettie answered. “Mr. Davies’ daddy died a long, long time ago.”

“Maybe it was a ghost.”

“Don’t you be startin’ on about ghosts,” Nettie warned. “Plenty of strangeness in this world without bringin’ in ghosts. They need to stay where they be and let the livin’ do the livin’.”

CHAPTER XV

Tomb of Horrors

Jacob Trench wiped the sweat from his brow. He had grown used to pain and discomfort over the past few years, but even he felt the stifling air settling into his lungs, making him long for fresh air. The German workers he’d been given were laboring hard, most of them having dispatched their shirts to keep cool.

When he’d first entered the area beneath the Druselturm, Trench had enjoyed the cool air and the moist smell of earth… but as soon as the work began, the setting became more and more oppressive. The only thing that gave him any solace was the knowledge that Max Davies was probably suffering through even worse times. Even if he managed to evade the police back in Atlanta, there were creatures given the singular task of preventing him from reaching Germany.

“How goes it, Mr. Trench?”

Jacob turned to see his agent in the Reich, Schmidt, approaching. Much to Jacob’s chagrin, Schmidt looked fresh as a daisy. “They’ve moved away a lot of earth with their shovels and revealed a sealed doorway of some kind. One of them is lining the area with dynamite now. As soon as it’s blown open, we’re inside.”

Schmidt smiled, showing perfectly straight teeth. “You make it sound so easy. That is something I have noticed about you Americans—no matter how incredible the task, it is always something that can be overcome by your… ingenuity.”

“Our work ethic is second to none,” Trench replied, all too aware that he was standing to the side, sweating, while the Germans did the backbreaking labor. “I’m sure you’ll get a medal for your role in this. Hitler loves anything related to the occult, doesn’t he?”

“He does not view this as some sort of hobby, Mr. Trench. He values things that might help him and the German people.”

“Right.” Trench relaxed a bit as one of the foremen stepped up to him. Trench had forgotten the man’s name but he had been in charge of setting the explosives. “Are we ready?”

The other man nodded, answering in fractured English. “Ready to go boom. Back away.”

Trench did so, aware of Schmidt at his side. K’ntu had disappeared, which wasn’t unusual. The Asian had a tendency to vanish for weeks at a time, reappearing just when it was most inconvenient for Jacob.

Kneeling in the dirt, Trench heard the men counting slowly in German. He glanced up at the ceiling, hoping they knew their explosives as well as they thought they did. The last thing he wanted was to join Rosenkreuz in a tomb beneath the Druselturm.

The explosion made his ears ring and sent dust flying. Jacob coughed, burying his face in his hands until the cloud began to fade. He moved forward, even before he could see the gaping hole the dynamite had left behind. A new odor was drifting into the room, one that carried the weight of ages.

He paused in the newly-revealed doorway, staring into a complicated series of passageways, all adorned with runes that carried tremendous occult power. “We’ve found it,” he whispered.

“Yes. You have.”

The voice came from the depths of the tomb and made the workers at Jacob’s back jump in alarm. How could there be someone inside there? Someone alive? It was impossible!

Trench stumbled away from the door, hearing footsteps within. They were coming closer…

“Trench!” Schmidt shouted. “What is going on here?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

Suddenly several creatures burst forth from within the tomb. They looked like desiccated corpses, but they moved with astonishing swiftness. Each was naked, with sunken cheeks and flesh that outlined the bones underneath. One or two had been female in life, but most were obviously male. They attacked the workers with glee, making sounds that reminded Trench of dogs at play. Amidst the yips of the attackers and the cries of the dying, Trench realized that he alone was untouched.

Trench turned towards Schmidt, seeing that one of the female monsters had the German gripped about the head. Her hands were pulling his face towards her open mouth, as if to give him a gory sort of kiss. When he was within range, the female leaned forward and bit down hard, tearing away at Schmidt’s handsome face.

“She is ravenous,” a voice said from behind Trench. It was the same man who had spoken before and Trench turned slowly to face him, wondering what he would see.

The figure looked old, like a dried-up husk… but he retained much more vitality than the monsters did. He had long dark hair that hung in a braid down his back and his clothing was that of an ancient Egyptian priest. A ceremonial dagger hung on one sunken hip. A cobra wrapped itself lovingly around one of the man’s ankles.

“They… belong to you?” Trench asked when he’d found his voice.

“They are my spiritual children. Men and women who chose the life eternal…”

Trench felt the urge to retch as the man reached out and touched his shoulder. The odor of him was like that of spoiled fish. “Are you…?” He started, but found his throat seizing up, rendering him unable to finish the question.

The man nodded sagely. “I am Christian Rosenkreuz. And I possess the key to Lucifer’s Cage.”

Trench’s eyes flew open wide. He felt like he had years ago, when he’d finally found the temple in Tibet. “Give it to me,” he hissed, startling himself with the forcefulness of his desire.

Rosenkreuz laughed softly. “Patience. Since gaining the Secret Knowledge of the East, I have found that a man must always exercise patience as his highest virtue. There is something I expect from you before I share the key.”

“What?”

Rosenkreuz’s lips parted in a leer. “A bride.”

CHAPTER XVI

Arrival of the Peregrine

Evelyn fidgeted a bit, trying to ignore the smell of the pigs that grunted all around her. “This was your plan?” she asked, for seemingly the thousandth time. “Max Davies, I will never trust you again!”

Max smiled, jostled a bit by the bumpy road. The two of them were in the back of a truck, one loaded with pigs and slop. The latter was thankfully sturdily contained, but the former were too plentiful to ignore. “It’s gotten us here, hasn’t it?”

“Not very quickly, I’m afraid! Trench is likely to have opened the tomb and taken off by now.” Evelyn tried to ignore the stains that dotted her trousers. Whatever that was, she bet it would never come out in the wash.

“I don’t think so,” Max answered, reaching over to remove a small twig from the curls of her hair. “I haven’t had a single vision since we arrived in Germany and I’m positive that if Trench had opened the cage, I’d know.”

“Isn’t it a silly thing to even try?”

“What?”

“Opening this Lucifer’s Cage thing. If it is the embodiment of evil inside there, what makes Trench think that the thing won’t just betray him? I mean, it
is
evil.”

“That’s a good question… and it’s one that’s plagued me many times, in similar circumstances. There’s something inside some people that make them susceptible to foolish risks, I believe.”

The truck came rumbling to a stop, just a mile or two away from the Druselturm. Max had paid the driver handsomely to take them there as quickly as possible and the poor farmer had readily agreed, particularly after seeing that Max was offering American money.

“We’re here,” Max said, jumping off the truck and offering a hand to help Evelyn down. Despite the smudges on her cheeks and the slight disarray to her hair, she looked lovely in the moonlight and Max told her so.

Evelyn gave him a secret sort of smile, her eyes shining. “If you think I look good now, wait until later. I clean up much better, I promise.”

“I can’t wait,” Max answered, giving her hand a quick squeeze before walking around to the driver’s side door. He thanked the man in German, slipping him an extra five dollars if the driver would disavow any knowledge of them.

When the truck had continued on its way, Max turned back to Evelyn, his expression grown cold and serious. “I still wish you would wait for me.”