by Barry Reese
***
Around back, Samantha heard the noise as well. She froze in place, expecting to hear a scream or shout but when none came, she slowly slid up against the rear door. To her pleasure, she found that it opened easily at her touch and she stepped into the kitchen area. The place was filthy and completely lacking a woman’s touch. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes and flies buzzed about, landing repeatedly on a couple of half-eaten sandwiches left on the counter.
Samantha was made of stern stuff but she had to shove a hand over her mouth when she found the dead body in the foyer. The man was lying face down with a rapidly spreading pool of blood beneath him. He was quite obviously dead but she still bent down to check for a pulse. Finding none, she looked up and saw no signs of anyone else. Had he fallen by accident? She tilted his head to the side and saw that wasn’t the case. His throat had been slashed.
It was then that Coley entered the room, a large carpet under one arm. He’d meant to roll up his friend’s body and dump it into the trunk of his car but he forgot all about that when he came face-to-face with the pretty girl kneeling on the floor.
Samantha stood up quickly, forcing a pleasant smile on her face. "Hello. The back door was open."
Coley grimaced. He didn’t like hurting dames but he knew that Pemberley wouldn’t be pleased if he let the girl go. "You shouldn’t be here," he said as he dropped the carpet to the floor and took a heavy step toward her. "I don’t know who you are but today’s a very unlucky day, girlie."
The big man towered over the pretty young blonde but there was no fear in her eyes as he approached. He lunged for her with two meaty hands extended but she calmly grabbed hold of his wrist and twisted, using his momentum to send him flying head over heels. He landed on his back, the air momentarily knocked from his lungs.
Samantha pushed her advantage, jumping into the air and landing hard on the side of his head, the heel of her shoe connecting with his skull. He cried out and swatted a hand toward her, making contact with the back of her leg. His strength was enough to knock her off-balance and she had just regained her footing when he scrambled to his feet. The spot where she’d kicked his head was a bright crimson in color, matching the fury that was rising in his eyes.
He snarled out a few colorful insults but Samantha had heard worse. When he came at her again, she noted that he was a bit more careful this time. He threw a ham-sized fist at her head but she ducked under the blow and threw a karate chop into his neck. She’d aimed it directly at his windpipe and the sudden wheezing of his breath told her she’d accomplished her goal. She then straightened and drove her knee directly into his genitalia. The blow made him whimper and as he doubled over, she grabbed him by the hair and shoved him toward a marble countertop nearby. The cracking sound of skull meeting marble was sickening and he slid to the ground, not moving.
Samantha smoothed out her skirt and adjusted her hair before looking up the stairs. She knew she should check out the rest of the house but given the fact that there was now two dead men in the foyer, it seemed prudent to allow Morgan to accompany her. She opened the front door and was surprised to see that her friend was absent. With a concerned look on her face, she shut the door and contemplated what she should do next. The sensible thing would be to exit the building and look for Morgan.
But sensibility wasn’t really what defined Samantha Grace.
After closing the door again, but leaving it unlocked in case Morgan returned, she spun about and began treading carefully up the stairs.
***
Wilma Nero sat on the edge of her bed, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and shame. There was a dead girl on the floor, a streetwalker that Pemberley had procured for the purpose of feeding the creature lurking behind Wilma’s eyes. As always, Wilma had tried to stop it from happening but it was impossible. Her eyes had begun to glow and the girl’s moisture had been drained right out of her. She now lay on the floor, as leathery as an Egyptian mummy. Wilma felt a deep sense of wholeness within her, as the monster began to slumber with its full belly, but she also felt revulsion at what she had become.
Pemberley had entered her room, though she hadn’t noticed at first. When she finally looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes, he was standing at the foot of her bed, looking at her expectantly.
"How do you feel, my dear?"
"Like a monster. How else should I feel?"
"You’re not a monster. You’re part of something beautiful and wonderful. Utterly unique in all the world."
Wilma stood up and the sudden motion made the thing behind her eyes begin to stir. It felt like a troublesome tickle, she thought, and shivered at the realization that she was getting used to its presence. "Would you think it so wonderful if I let it feed on you, I wonder?"
"You couldn’t stop it if you wanted to," Pemberley answered with a sneer. "It’s the one in control, not you. You’re nothing more than a very pretty traveling case. That thing in your head knows that I’m the one who gave you to it and I’m the one who can help it and its children flourish."
Wilma looked down at her feet. "How is my father?"
"Dead most likely."
The callous way he said those words hurt Wilma more than anything. It reminded her of how he’d dealt with the death of his son. He’d been more upset at the loss of his experiment than anything. "I’m going to kill myself," she whispered. "I’m going to throw myself out that open window."
"You and I both know that’s not true. You can’t. It won’t let you."
"What is this thing?" she asked, reaching up to gently touch the corner of her eye.
"I’ve explained it to you before," Pemberley said, reaching out to take her by the shoulders. He steered her back toward the bed and gently pushed her down until she was seated on the mattress. "It’s a creature called an aquaas. It’s actually a very ancient life form that was birthed out amongst the stars. A few dozen of them fell to earth during the 19th century, scattering all across North America. They were encased in hard shells that resembled meteorites but it was really just another stage of their development. They encase themselves in those rocky exteriors to survive the rigors of space. I first learned of them a few years ago when a man sold me several of the creatures, still in their capsules. I cracked one open and imagine my surprise at what I found: a tiny little monster with an insatiable desire for the kind of moisture found only in living things. After I witnessed its habit of burrowing behind the eyes of its still-living victims, I came up with the idea of surgically implanting them, making them far stronger."
"And to what purpose? Just to show how sick human beings can be?"
Pemberley knelt in front of her, holding her hands in his. "You’re the prototype to not only a new form of life – a melding of human and aquaas – but also the first of an entirely new type of soldier. Imagine a whole army of men and women who can kill without guns or knives. All they’ll need is their eyes."
"I think I’ve heard enough."
Pemberley stood up quickly and whirled about. Morgan Watts was pulling himself in through the window, a pistol clutched tightly in his right hand. "Morgan Watts?" Pemberley asked in shock.
"I’m flattered you remember me, Doc."
"I remember everyone. I’m a genius."
"And a modest one, to boot." Morgan waved the gun at Pemberley, indicating he should step away from Wilma. He did so and the girl looked at Morgan in confusion. "Don’t worry, doll, I’m getting you out of here. I work for Lazarus Gray and if there’s any man alive who can get that thing out of your head, he’s the one."
"It seems like you have the upper hand," Pemberley admitted. "I should warn you that I have an armed guard outside who is twice your size and three times as deadly."
Morgan was about to reply when he heard a series of thumps from downstairs, followed by a gasp that sounded disturbingly familiar. In a split-second he realized what was happening: Samantha had managed to find her way inside and come toe-to-toe with the guard that Pemberley had just descri
bed.
In that moment when Morgan’s attention was divided, Pemberley sprang toward him. The crazed doctor batted aside the hand holding the pistol and he then proceeded to throw a haymaker punch that caused Morgan’s entire body to snap around. Pemberley then slammed Morgan’s head into the wall hard enough to chip the paint.
As Morgan fell to the floor, groaning in pain, Pemberley snatched up Wilma by the wrist, holding it so tightly that the girl whimpered in pain. "We have to get out of here," he hissed. "I have plans for you and I can’t afford any of Gray’s minions getting in the way."
"Please," Wilma cried, "just kill me! I can’t go on like this!"
Pemberley laughed then, a maniacal sound that so frightened the girl that she fainted in his arms. "No death for you," he hissed through grinning lips. "You won’t be so lucky, my dear."
***
Morgan Watts felt something cool and wet press against his forehead and he winced in pain. He opened his eyes to find himself on a couch, Samantha perched beside him, looking concerned. "Where’s Pemberley?" he asked, trying to sit up but quickly laying back down when his head throbbed in agony.
"He’s gone," Lazarus Gray answered, stepping into view. Eun was right behind him, the young man looking troubled and more than a little angry. "We arrived a few moments ago and Samantha filled us in as much as she could. You ran into the doctor himself, I presume?"
"I did. He had the girl with him, too. The one with the Phantom Eyes. I heard him talking to her. She’s got some sort of monster in her head and--"
"We know all about that," Eun said, smirking a bit. He always liked knowing more than Morgan – it was a competition between the two. "Do you know where he’s taken her?"
"No. I know he said he had some kind of plans but that’s all I could hear before I blacked out."
Lazarus turned away, having already examined Morgan. He knew that the man was going to be hurting and unsteady for a bit more but there wouldn’t be any permanent damage. "I may have an idea where he’s gone," Gray murmured and instantly his three aides grew quiet, giving him their full attention. Gray reached out and picked up a small writing tablet from a nearby table. The top sheet had been ripped away but his keen eyes detected the imprint of pencil marks on the next page. He used the pencil that had been sitting next to the tablet to gently reveal what those imprints had been, rubbing the side of the graphite over the writing. An address came into view and Gray’s keen memory told him that 1935 Monk Avenue was an old warehouse, abandoned when the owning company went belly-up a few years before he’d arrived in Sovereign. There was also a time listed next to it, one that was less than an hour away. "Eun, please take Morgan back to base. He needs time to recover. Samantha, you’re to come with me."
"Chief!" both Eun and Morgan exclaimed in unison. The two men looked at one another and it was Morgan who continued on. "Chief, I’ll be fine. And you can’t go into a showdown with Pemberley with just Samantha! You need Eun and I!"
Samantha crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Morgan, obviously not liking his implications. "Are you saying I’m dead weight?"
"No!" Morgan answered. "I just mean… C’mon, Chief. You know we want to be in on this one."
Gray looked at them with steady eyes, the mismatched pair narrowing. His emerald eye seemed to shine just as brightly as the brown one darkened. "I appreciate your desire to help but you’re in no condition for a fight, nor can you drive at the present. Eun will take you back and he’ll make sure you stay there."
Eun nodded, his respect for Gray overriding his own desire to argue. Morgan, too, slumped in defeat.
"Don’t worry, boys," Samantha said with a triumphant grin. "I’ll give Pemberley a swift kick in your honor."
Chapter V
The Man From Berlin
The German was dressed like an undertaker and he leaned heavily on a walking stick that was topped by a roaring lion’s head. His eyes were narrow slits that radiated such anger that Pemberley was surprised they weren’t smoking. Walther Lunt had once been a handsome man but a beaker of acid thrown in his face had ruined his good looks. Now one half of his face was twisted into a horrific visage that frightened even the prostitutes who were paid to spend their nights in his bed.
"I expected better accommodations than this, Herr Pemberley," Lunt said with obvious disdain. His eyes raked across the rat-infested warehouse. There were boxes stacked here and there but for the most part the cavernous facility was empty. The squeaks of its current inhabitants sometimes filled the air, as if the rodents were protesting the intrusion of the humans into their domicile.
"We make do with what we have," Pemberley said. His iron grip on Wilma’s arm never wavered. "I brought her here so you could see first hand what I’ve done. And you can tell your leader that I can do this for his army, if he funds my research."
"I work with Hitler, not for him."
Pemberley inclined his head. They’d been over this before. "I apologize. But soon enough, everyone will answer to him, won’t they?" Pemberley laughed. "I do admire the man, not only for his ability to resurrect the slumbering giant that is Germany but also for his private views on race and science. I’ve heard much about his desires to--"
"Enough." Lunt stepped forward and removed Pemberley’s hand from Wilma’s arm. "I would like to look at her myself."
"Be careful. The aquaas recognizes me as its master but it may strike you."
"I do not think it will," Lunt responded. He was looking at Wilma’s eyes intently, ignoring the revulsion that was marring her beauty. The girl was unable to tear her gaze away from his ruined face.
Pemberley stood nearby, his heart hammering in his chest as Wilma’s eyes began to glow. The blue light seemed to shimmer before becoming an almost blinding glare. Pemberley wanted to warn Lunt again about the danger but the German would have simply ignored him again. The man had the air about him of someone who considered all others to be inferior. He was an occultist, one whose knowledge of the hidden worlds dwarfed even Pemberley’s. The group he headed had no name, or at least it was one that hadn’t been shared with Pemberley, but it was pervasive, with members spread throughout the world.
"You’re quite potent, aren’t you? And always so hungry." Lunt was speaking not to Wilma but to the aquaas that lurked behind her eyes. He pushed her away so hard that she tripped over her own feet and fell to the dusty floor. She screamed as she landed in the pervasive rat droppings. "You have more of these things? Or are you waiting for this one to lay eggs so you can harvest them?"
Pemberley gestured to one of the boxes nearby. "I’ve collected nearly ten of them. Three were damaged when I got them and one of the aquaas died when my son perished. But that stills five in addition to the one that Wilma is carrying."
"May I see them?"
"Of course." Pemberley moved away from Lunt, grabbing the lid of the box. He yanked on it, pulling it loose. "I’m hoping you’ll let me accompany you back to Germany. Things are getting far too tense around here. A local meddler sent some of his men to my house today. They’re on to me again."
"You’re saying the police know you’re back in Sovereign?"
"Not the police." Pemberley tossed the box lid to the floor, where it landed and sent up a cloud of polluted dust. "There’s a group in town called Assistance Unlimited. They make a living out of sticking their noses where they don’t belong. Their leader’s some mystery man named Lazarus Gray."
Lunt gripped Pemberley hard about the shoulders and spun him about. "What did you say?"
"His name’s Lazarus Gray. What’s wrong? Haven’t you heard of him before? The guy’s famous!"
"Why would I keep up with your local politics?" Lunt said with annoyance. He looked past Pemberley into the box, where the rest of the alien creatures lay in their immobile states. "Lazarus Gray," he repeated. "How long has he been active in this city?"
"Less than two years. But they’ve been busy ones. He’s responsible for the troubles that got me banished from the city
for awhile."
"Intriguing." Lunt smiled then but it was cold and reptilian. "I’m impressed with you. You’ve kept your word to the letter. You’ve successfully grafted one of these creatures to a human being and kept them both alive. And you have more to spare."
"Then I’ll get my funding?"
"You’re going to be a very important man in the days to come, Melvin." Lunt turned back to Wilma, who was back on her feet now, her eyes downcast. She looked broken and tired. "Did the aquaas make her like that? Or was she always so weak-willed?"
"A little of both," Pemberley said.
The door to the warehouse opened suddenly and two figures stepped in, pistols held in hand. Pemberley growled, recognizing Lazarus Gray immediately. The stoic-faced man was virtually impossible to forget, even if Pemberley hadn’t possessed a mind like a steel trap. Lunt also reacted with recognition, his eyes widening in shock.
Gray noted both men’s reactions but it was the man with the scarred face who most disturbed him. Not only did he seem strangely familiar but the lion’s head on his walking stick looked eerily like the half-man’s head on the back of Gray’s medallion.
Samantha noticed Gray’s hesitation and stepped up. "Both of you need to back away from the girl and put your hands up."
Lunt noticed that Pemberley did so, though he was muttering under his breath. The German, however, did something far more surprising. He slammed the butt of his walking stick down hard on the floor and then tossed the stick away from him, throwing it with all his might toward Samantha and Lazarus.
Gray somehow sensed what was about to occur. He shoved Samantha behind him and moved to protect her. The stick seemed to shimmer in midair and when it landed, it was not a piece of wood at all… it was a fully grown African lion, its mouth open in a roar that shook the walls. The beast’s jaws were slavering and it looked like it was half-starved and mad with hunger.
