The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (87 page)

Vincent uttered a curse under his breath. Eva van der Vaart had escaped and made the Claws team look like fools in the process.

* * *

Miss Masque stepped out from the backseat of the Peregrine’s modified roadster and let out a low whistle. “Max, you must be a genius. Even sitting inside this thing, you could barely hear the engine. It’s no louder than a cat’s purr!”

The Peregrine smiled at his new teammate, already taking a liking to her. The hunger that was flaming up in his belly made him seem a little tense, but he tried to project an aura of welcoming to the others. “Thanks. I’m pretty proud of her. She gets incredible gas mileage, too.”

“How fast can she go?” Tim asked, running a hand along the hood of the ebony vehicle.

The Peregrine was about to answer when the Flame pointed to the top floor of the Peachtree Hotel. “Look at that,” Gary Preston said. Smoke was billowing out from the upper rooms and several red-and-orange flames were poking through the open windows.

“Fire’s your specialty, isn’t it?” the Black Terror asked.

The Flame nodded. “It sure is. You guys get inside and make sure the buildings evacuated. I’ll handle the blaze.”

“By yourself? That’s suicide,” the Black Terror warned.

Tim touched his mentor’s arm, a broad grin on his youthful face. “Let the man work, Bob. He’s been doing this awhile now.”

The Flame stared at the rapidly spreading fire above and then he was gone, vanished in the blink of an eye.

“That’s amazing!” Bob whispered.

The Peregrine was already bounding up the stairs into the hotel, Miss Masque quick on his heels. The two Terrors brought up the rear and the foursome attracted quite a bit of attention from the men and women in the lobby. The Peregrine took charge, barking out orders like he’d been born to lead: “Everyone needs to get outside! There’s a fire on the top floor! Evacuate everyone! Now!”

The desk clerk paused for only a second but as the Terrors began running up the stairs, he looked into the Peregrine’s eyes and nodded. He activated the building’s PA system and quickly alerted everyone to the danger.

Miss Masque propped open the front doors, helping maintain some sense of order as the hotel guests began streaming out in large numbers. The Peregrine followed the Terrors upstairs, grateful that he was in peak physical condition. The stairs were long and winding, being more than enough to leave most men gasping for breath. But the Peregrine and the Terrors made it just fine, bursting onto the top floor, where they saw something truly amazing: the Flame was standing in the midst of the fires, which were dancing about as if under his complete control. One by one, he pointed at them with his scarlet gloves and the flames died out.

The Black Terror stared openmouthed for a moment before his own research came back to him. Before Tim had disappeared, he’d been compiling lists of mystery men and women, cataloging their powers and origins. Gary Preston was not only able to teleport into open flame, but he could control it as well, bending it to his will.

When the situation was contained, the Flame turned to his friends and gave them a sheepish grin. He seemed to be almost embarrassed by his abilities. “I think I’ve contained the fire itself, but we still have a problem.”

The Peregrine moved through the still-smoking room, fanning the air in front of his face. He thought about retrieving the ultra-thin air filtration mask he kept in his jacket but elected not to. It stank to high heaven but Max didn’t think he was at any risk from the smoke inhalation, not with all the windows thrown open already by Gary. “What’s the other problem?” he asked.

The Flame gestured into one of the rooms. This one had been mostly untouched by the fire, which was the only reason the hotel was still standing. Four stacks of explosives were lying against the walls, wired together. The Peregrine took one quick examination of them and realized the cruel and calculating nature of the design: the only way to disarm the explosives was to disconnect the wires on each one in turn. A mistake on one would detonate all. A small timer attached to the explosives showed slightly less than three minutes remaining.

“Why set a fire if he just planned to blow up the building?” Tim asked.

“The flames were supposed to destroy evidence that had been left behind,” Gary replied. “And it did its job very well. The explosives… I don’t know.”

“He’s playing with us,” Max whispered, still staring at the wiring. “That’s the only explanation. He left this here so that we could try to figure it out.”

The Black Terror knelt at the Peregrine’s side. “And can we?”

Max sighed. He thought over the skill sets of each of his teammates. If Esper or Catalyst were here, he might have them physically transport the explosives to another site… but of the people who were here, he was probably best equipped to deal with this. “I think so. But I want everyone besides me out of the building. That includes the rest of you.”

“No.”

It was Tim who spoke, and Max craned his head to look at the youth, who stood with arms folded over his chest. “There’s no need to risk more than one person,” Max said.

“If we’re teammates, that means we’re in this together. Besides, if there is an explosion, both Bob and I are tough enough to be able to withstand it. And Gary can contain any fireballs that spring up.”

The Black Terror smiled, enjoying the fact that his ward was speaking up for solidarity. “Don’t waste any more time, Max. Get to work.”

The Peregrine nodded, seeing no point in prolonging things. His eyes took in the multi-colored wires, noting that there were three wires on each charge: one green, one red, and one yellow. These had to be removed in the correct order and Max forced himself to go slow, not wanting to make a mistake. He ignored the timer, which continued steadily counting down to their mutual destruction.

Max figured out the pattern on the first charge, plucking out first the yellow, then the green, and finally the red. The second unit was identical to the first and was thus quick work. But the third had a different arrangement and precious time was lost while the Peregrine figured it out. By the time he’d moved on to the final charge, there were less than fifteen seconds remaining.

“We’re in trouble,” Max said, standing up.

“Let me take care of it,” the Black Terror shouted, knocking the Peregrine aside in his haste. He grabbed hold of the explosive and held it tight against his body, sprinting from the room. He made it down the corridor and nearly into the stairwell before the counter hit zero. The explosive force slammed into his superhumanly dense body, knocking the air from his lungs and reducing his uniform to tatters. His flesh sizzled and he cried out in pain but he held on tight, muffling the bomb’s effects with his own body.

The Black Terror swayed on his feet, aware that smoke was curling up from the ruined bomb in his hands. He let it fall to the floor and leaned against the cracked wall, his head throbbing. He thought he heard Tim calling his name but everything sounded muffled and strange. And then an angel dressed in red appeared before him, wrapping him up in her soft arms.

Bob Benton drifted into unconsciousness, his face buried in the golden curls of Miss Masque.

CHAPTER X

A Fine Frenzy

It was near midnight when Jonathan Cairncross and Samuel Garibaldi stepped into the strange oval chamber where Marie lounged about, clad in nothing more than loincloth and gossamer-thin blouse. The smell of incense was heavy in the air and made Garibaldi’s sinuses burn, but he ignored the pain, focusing instead on Marie’s lithe form. She was an exotic beauty, with the kind of petulant resolve to her gaze that made him yearn to break her.

It had been nearly twenty-four hours since the Claws of the Peregrine had managed to foil the attempted bombing of the Peachtree Hotel. During that time, the Peregrine’s attempts to locate both Garibaldi and Cairncross had borne little fruit, with even Catalyst’s sorcery falling short of locating their prey. For their part, the criminals had been mostly on the move, shuttling between various safe houses belonging to each. Garibaldi wasn’t sure what game Cairncross was playing at: Cairncross had spent most of the time in silence, studying both the Ivory Machine and several other bizarre pieces of equipment. He’d made it clear that Garibaldi was to remain silent unless otherwise directed, and so Garibaldi had focused on keeping in contact with his various men. It was while attempting to do just that he’d learned about Hochmuller’s murder. According to his sources, the same woman who’d stolen the Ivory Machine had killed the German. Garibaldi had been furious at the news; in just a few days, every aspect of his grand plan had been ruined.

And now he stood sweating in a sewer tunnel, his eyes roving over a nearly-nude woman’s glistening body, while her Negro servant stood nearby like a worrisome father watching his daughter get ready for a date.

“What can I do for you?” Marie asked, her lashes fluttering as she looked from Cairncross to Garibaldi and back again.

Cairncross looked as impassive as ever. He was now wearing a gray suit, with a black turtleneck. It accentuated his lean form and slender neck. “Let’s not play games. I sent you here over a year ago, and I’m hoping that you’re now going to tell me that my plans have borne fruit.”

Marie nodded slowly. She stepped towards Cairncross, licking her lips in anticipation. A bead of sweat ran down the curve of her neck and Garibaldi found himself yearning to reach out and lick it up. “I bound the demon to him, just as you asked.”

“Was it difficult for you to betray him? I know that you once held strong feelings for him.”

Marie shrugged, as if it mattered little to her—but Cairncross saw a brief flicker in her eyes that suggested it had not been easy. “After I approached him all those months ago, I’d heard nothing from him since. When his wife brought him, I was beyond shocked. How did you know he’d actually take me up on my offer?”

“I wasn’t certain,” Cairncross admitted. “But I knew that Mr. Garibaldi was mounting an efficient campaign against the Peregrine, and I was prepared to take action of my own if his plans failed to produce the results I wanted. Given that the Peregrine is fiercely dedicated to life, I wagered that he’d use any means necessary to remain in this world. Even if it meant turning to an old lover for help.”

Garibaldi stirred. “Wait… what are you talking about?”

“The Peregrine eventually died from the wounds he received in your apartment. I knew of his connection to Marie and convinced her to aid me. When his corpse was brought here, she revived him, binding his spirit to a loa that she can control.”

Garibaldi didn’t know what a loa was and he didn’t really care. He’d focused on two things: the Peregrine had died and was now alive again. “You… brought him back?” he asked, staring at Cairncross in shock. “Why?”

“Actually, Marie brought him back,” Cairncross corrected. “The Peregrine and she had already made plans for her to help with his possible death, whenever that might occur. All I asked was that she do it in a specific manner.”

“And you planned all this… for over a year?” Garibaldi ran a hand over the scar on his forehead. “So you hate him, too? The Peregrine, I mean?”

“I do not hate anything or anyone. He is a rival, however. And I have reasons for wanting to make it clear who is the superior.”

Marie had walked past the two men during their exchange, her eyes lingering on the Ivory Machine. The device sat on the floor just inside the oval chamber. “Is this the thing that causes that deadly rain?” she asked.

“It is.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“The short answer is kill people. The longer one would involve the turnover of our current political system, replacing it with one in which a clear-minded individual such as myself thought for the greater good, without fear of electoral reprisals.”

Marie laughed. “So… what should I do now? Is it time for the Peregrine to be summoned back here?”

Cairncross looked at Garibaldi. “Samuel, are you ready to face the man who destroyed you?”

Without hesitation, Garibaldi nodded.

“In that case, Marie, I think you’re right: now is the time. Please summon the Peregrine. We’ll destroy him here and now… and then I can begin the next phase of my plan.”

* * *

Max Davies woke up in a cold sweat, the blood hunger running hot in his veins. He could feel Evelyn pressed against his back, her breasts flattened against him. Ever since his death and resurrection, she’d clung to him at night like a woman drowning at sea. He knew that he’d put her through hell too many times to count and the guilt gnawed at him, but not nearly as much as the hunger did.

He slid from her embrace, getting dressed in darkness. He felt an overpowering urge to see Marie, to talk to her… and perhaps more. There was a familiar stirring in his groin and he had to force himself to relax and consider what was happening to him. He had loved Marie once, but that had been ages ago, and there had been no recurrence of the feelings after they had been reunited last year.

So why now…? He didn’t recall any kind of dream that would have prompted this rush of lust that he felt for her.