The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (49 page)

Without saying goodbye, the Revenant turned and sprinted off back into the jungle. She’d flown one of the Claws team’s planes to Africa and landed in a large clearing approximately three miles from here. Unfortunately for her, she never made it more than a few hundred feet away from the riverbank.

A tiny pinprick sensation on the left side of her neck caused Sally to stumble to a halt. Bugs were a persistent problem in the Congo, but the Revenant had a horrible feeling that this was no ordinary bug bite. She reached up and felt something against her skin. Yanking it free, she held up a small dart, dripping with some foul-smelling liquid.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. In desperation, she began fumbling for the small radio transceiver that would contact the rest of the Claws team, but her vision blurred, and she quickly saw the ground rushing up to meet her.

As she lay on the ground, her breathing quick and shallow, a man stepped up beside her. He reached down and grabbed the necklace with long thin fingers, adorned by sharp nails. His flowing Oriental robes stood in stark contrast to the jungle setting.

The Warlike Manchu had not entrusted his Ten Fingers to such an important task. He had watched from the shadows as they had first succumbed to temptation and then as Idh-yya had fallen in battle.

The Manchu studied Sally Pence for a moment before moving away from her. The drug would leave her helpless for quite some time, and in the fierce jungles of the Congo, that was as good a death sentence as any.

CHAPTER V

The Mask of Nyarlathotep

New Orleans, Louisiana

“A shame about Mardi Gras,” the Peregrine said as he accompanied Professor Stone through the darkened city streets. “I always wanted to come but never managed to do it.”

Stone nodded sagely, a ghostly smile on his lips. He was a good bit taller than Max Davies, but the two men moved in easy step with one another. “It’s been cancelled before—during the Civil War and again during the first World War. You’ll have your opportunities to see it once this whole affair with the Axis is over.”

“Hopefully that will be sooner rather than later.”

“Given how badly you’ve damaged their Occult Forces Project, I’d say that Nazis are on their last legs.” Stone came to a halt outside a small establishment which bore a colorful sign on its door. The sign showed a crescent moon surrounded by a number of brightly lit stars. A dark-haired woman wearing a gypsy headdress was depicted in profile next to the moon, with the words
Sister Lydia, Fortune Teller
scrawled underneath. “This is it.”

The Peregrine looked around, verifying that the streets were empty. A group of Fifth Columnists had been arrested a few days before, after a failed attempt at blowing up city hall. As a result, there was a curfew in effect, and thus far Max had seen no signs that anyone was daring to break it.

As Stone began knocking on the door, Max found himself worrying over the return of Nyarlathotep to his life. He’d encountered human avatars of the dark messenger of the gods several times before—indeed, the Peregrine had destroyed the most recent incarnation of Nyarlathotep just two months ago in Germany. Though Max was certain that Nyarlathotep had not been revived again—at least, not so soon—it was still disconcerting to hear his name invoked once more. Most of the Peregrine’s enemies didn’t live long enough to earn a rematch with the hero, but Nyarlathotep was one of a select few—the others being the Warlike Manchu and Doctor Satan—who had bedeviled Max on numerous occasions.

The door opened a crack, revealing the face of a woman who resembled the gypsy on the sign. This woman, however, was a good fifteen years older and much of the suppleness of her face had given way to age lines.

She regarded both men with wary eyes, taking in Stone’s well-chiseled physique and the Max’s domino-style mask, its bird-like beak resting almost imperceptibly on the bridge of his nose. “You are here about the Mask,” she said matter-of-factly.

Stone couldn’t hide his astonishment. “You were expecting us?”

“Not the two of you specifically, but I knew that someone would come calling this night. Enter, please, and of your own free will.” This last comment was followed by a brief cackle.

The men stepped inside, taking in the eclectic furnishings. The house smelled of musty papers and burning incense. She led them into a nearby sitting room where a round table covered by a red and gold cloth lay in the center of the floor. A crystal ball rested atop the cloth and there were three chairs set around the table, as if she knew the number of visitors she would receive.

Sister Lydia took a seat and gestured for the men to do the same. As soon as Stone was in his chair, he started to speak. “My name is Professor—”

“I know who you are,” Lydia snapped. “I read the papers.” She pointed a bony finger at the Peregrine. “And I recognize you, as well. The hunter of dark things, cursed to spend his life in a war with the devil.”

Max said nothing, but he felt his heart skip a beat at her words. Nyarlathotep had once given him a vision of his future and it matched up with what Lydia was saying: he would live and die in his tireless war on evil, and he would outlive all that he loved.

Lydia turned her attention back to Stone, and the heroic professor felt a momentary sense of embarrassment as she openly admired him. He was used to being the center of female attention, but he had never taken advantage of that situation—indeed, most of his life was spent in such devotion to his craft that it left little time for romance. “The Mask of Nyarlathotep is not what you think it is,” the fortune teller stated.

“What do you mean?” Stone asked.

“Despite the name, it is not an artifact of evil, nor do its origins lie with Nyarlathotep himself. The Mask was something that the dark messenger coveted, and he spent many long years chasing after it, but he was always rebuffed in the end. My grandmother and my mother both helped safeguard the Mask from his vile clutches. In time, he became associated with the Mask, but he has never once held it in his own hands.”

“Then what is it?” Max asked.

Lydia rose and moved towards a small wooden box that lay on the floor. She unlocked it with a key she removed from inside her blouse and pulled forth a carved wooden mask that was painted a garish shade of blue. The mask had been carved into the likeness of a man’s face with small holes cut for the eyes and nostrils with a thin slit for the mouth.

“It was fashioned in the 1600s, in Romania,” Lydia said, holding the mask in an almost loving fashion. “The wearer gains increased strength and speed, but only during nighttime… and it comes with a price: An almost manic desire to wear it again and again, to run through the shadows of the night, warring against those who would punish the innocent.”

“If it’s a weapon for good, why would Nyarlathotep want it?” Stone wondered aloud. He was studying the mask as closely as possible without actually touching it. In his long years of adventuring, he’d come across numerous objects of occult power, but few had affected him the way this one did. He could
feel
its presence in his bones, and he had the sudden, almost absurd, urge to snatch the mask away from Lydia and try it on.

The Peregrine made a noise indicating his disgust. “He’d want to either pervert it for his own uses or just simply destroy it. That’s the way he works.”

Stone gestured towards the Mask, his penetrating gaze locking onto Lydia’s. “There are dangerous men in search of this Mask. We don’t know what their ultimate goals are, but a man named Captain Hazzard has already died because of them. It’s essential that you allow us to take the Mask and safeguard it.”

Lydia closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened her mouth to speak, her voice sounded very different than before. It had a deeper quality to it, and the way she enunciated her words made it sound like she was almost a different person entirely. “Beneath the waves, He slumbers. Soon, it will rise… the dreaming city, the waiting beast. Prepare yourself for the final battles… don’t waste your time on these silly games of pursuit, brothers!”

Stone rose from his seat, hands clenching into fists. “Hazzard? Is that you?”

Lydia’s eyes opened, but it was the mind of Captain Hazzard who now seemed to inhabit them. “I can’t stay for long, Stone. The other side is calling to me… but you have to warn the others! There are greater events at work here than you know! There is a prophecy and it cannot be stopped! Be prepared to halt the aftermath!”

“Give us more details!” Stone exclaimed. “Who is behind all of this? What do they want? What is the dreaming city?”

Lydia/Hazzard seemed to shake all over, and the Mask of Nyarlathotep slipped from their fingers. Max dove for it and caught it in his hands inches before it smashed against the floor. “The monster in red, the Oriental mastermind, and the Napoleon of Crime… the terrible trio!”

As quickly as he had come, Hazzard was gone. It was immediately obvious that Lydia was once more in possession of her own body, for she looked about her in confusion. “I… I was in contact with someone from beyond,” she stammered.

The Peregrine stood up once more, the Mask held against his side. “You were channeling Captain Hazzard.”

Lydia started to say that she had never felt anything like that—channeling was generally a conscious effort on her part. To be taken over like that, with no warning, was frightening and indicated that the spirit in question must have been very powerful.

Her words were lost in a hail of gunfire, however, as the front door to her home shattered beneath a storm of bullets.

The Peregrine and Stone both whirled about as a half-dozen men dressed in dark clothing entered the building. The men held their guns on the heroes as their leader moved around them, coming to stand between the gunmen and the vigilantes. It was Doctor Satan, looking appropriately threatening in his crimson cloak and horned hood.

“I thought you were dead,” the Peregrine said, staring daggers at Satan.

“The reports of my demise… well, you know the rest.” Satan gestured towards the Mask. “Hand it over and we can all part with no one getting hurt. Resist and you’re going to die. Truth be told, I’m hoping you’ll resist.”

Stone concentrated, calling upon the Granite Discipline. It would make him nearly invincible for a few brief moments, moments in which he would have to defeat all his enemies and help the Peregrine escape with the Mask.

“I can sense what you’re doing, Stone, and I consider it worthy of reprisal. Show him what happens to people who defy me, boys.”

The gunmen opened fire in the confined space, their bullets ripping through furniture and wallpaper. Several of the bullets found homes in Lydia’s body, riddling her with holes. Both the Peregrine and Stone jumped to the sides, away from each other, and Max managed to knock over the table, using it as a makeshift shield.

Stone, meanwhile, rolled against the wall and then sprang upwards with a mighty roar, slamming against two of the men. Though he despised killing, Stone had no time to pull his blows under these circumstances. Powerful granite-like fists punched through cartilage and bone, rendering the two men quite unconscious.

The Peregrine jumped up at that moment, having secreted the Mask inside his jacket. Max unleashed his own attack, firing both of his pistols with unerring accuracy. He gritted his teeth as a bullet tore through his own shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to knock his aim askew. Three of the men were felled, blood flowing freely from their wounds. The final gunman was brought down by Stone, who charged into him with the full impact of an elephant, shattering the man’s arm.

Doctor Satan had not stood idly by, however. He had drawn a small knife that quickly grew with magical power. It became a curved sword, looking much like an Arabian scimitar.

Satan slashed at Stone’s back, the blade slicing through the professor’s shirt and leaving a wicked-looking trail of blood down the man’s back. Despite the Granite Discipline, Stone’s body was not impervious to magical attacks.

Stone gasped and turned around, using his martial arts training to block aside another stab of Satan’s blade. The Peregrine took careful aim at Satan’s head, planning to once more send the villain back to the grave. As he pulled the trigger, Satan turned his head towards him, and a flash of light emanated from the scarlet-clad killer’s eye. Max felt his body lose its equilibrium and he staggered back, losing his grip on his guns. They fell to the floor as he collided with the wall. The impact knocked the Mask out of his coat, and it landed right next to the dropped guns.

Doctor Satan spun around, sweeping his blade in a deadly arc. It whistled past the top of Stone’s head, lopping off several strands of his hair in the process.

Stone managed to catch the villain with a knee shoved into Satan’s stomach. The attack was powerful enough to knock the air from Satan’s lungs, but the killer recovered quickly enough. He opened his mouth, calling upon one of the many spells he kept prepared at all times. A plume of flame shot forth from Satan’s mouth, enveloping the professor.

Stone managed to remain calm, divesting himself of that tattered and flaming remains of his shirt and then dropping to the ground, rolling around until he no longer on fire.

As he rose, he saw that the Peregrine was once more on his feet, as well, guns in hand. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Satan.

“Where could he have gone?” Stone asked, moving quickly over to check on Lydia. She was dead, making him utter a few words of regret under his breath.

“There’s no telling. If he had a teleportation spell primed and ready, he could be halfway across town by now.” The Peregrine moved to the doorway and looked out. The sounds of sirens were growing louder, and Max knew that the neighbors had called the police, worried by the gunfire. “Maybe Hazzard was right… we can’t stop this from happening. We just have to be prepared for whatever comes next.”

“We can’t just give up,” Stone answered with a stern shake of his head. “Maybe the others are having better luck than we are.”

The Peregrine put away his guns and grimaced. He didn’t feel like arguing with Professor Stone, but he had meant what he said: Hazzard’s spirit had told them to stop wasting time with this and start focusing on stopping what would come first. The question was, what did the obscure warning mean? What was the dreaming city? Who or what was the waiting beast?