by Barry Reese
Gray stopped outside Harry Nance’s apartment, a strange look on his face. He held up a hand, indicating that he wanted silence from Morgan. He pointed to the dusty floor, where nearly a dozen footprints could be seen. One set, the most recent from the looks of them, belonged to a woman in heels.
Lazarus knelt in front of the keyhole and placed his eye up close. At first all he could see was a room in ruins, with papers and cushions overturned. But then he saw a red pool on the floor, along with the legs belonging to Doris. He stood up quickly and took a step back. He then threw his shoulder against the door, which popped open with a crash. Morgan had drawn his pistol as soon as he’d sensed Gray’s intentions and he followed his employer into the apartment, scanning for any signs of threat. He was the first to lay eyes upon Sazar. The demon was stepping toward him from his left, her arms outstretched. Her nude body immediately caught his gaze and held it but his eyes inevitably traveled up and his breath seized in his chest.
"Chief? We’ve got trouble," Morgan wheezed.
Gray, who had been moving to check on Doris, whirled about. His eyes widened at the sight before him and he immediately sprang into action. Sazar was hissing like a cat, one that was hungry for blood. Gray slammed into her, the impact crashing them both into the wall, shattering the plaster. Sazar craned her neck, trying to bury her fangs in his throat but he was able to hold her at bay with his mighty strength.
Morgan raised his gun but was too afraid of hitting Gray to pull the trigger. He moved closer, ready to take any opening that presented itself.
Sazar strained against Gray, her arms wrapping tightly around his torso. She squeezed with inhuman strength and even Gray, whose tolerance for pain bordered on the uncanny, was forced to grunt. "Let me taste you," she whispered. "It will only hurt for the first moment or two. And then you will shiver in pleasure. You will beg me to continue."
"I doubt that," Gray retorted, gritting his teeth as his ribs began to grind together. He brought his head back and then slammed his forehead into her face. Blood spurted from her nose and she howled in pain, clutching all the tighter. Gray was unaffected by the horrors of her face – though he remembered virtually nothing of his past before arriving in Sovereign, he was somehow sure that he’d seen worse than this in the past.
"I’m going to tear your heart out and rip it into chunks," the demon screamed.
Gray realized that she was unused to pain, having grown accustomed to inflicting it and not receiving. He took a chance by releasing his hold on her shoulders and instead grabbing her by the head. He drove his thumbs into her eyes and she howled like a banshee, tossing him away.
That gave Morgan his opportunity. He raised his gun and fired, sending all of his available shells into the demon’s body. She jerked repeatedly, thrashing about as blood flowed from her wounds. She raked the air with her claws and vanished, screaming inhuman obscenities at them both.
Morgan blinked. "Is she dead?"
"No. Something like her can’t be killed, only driven from this plane. She’ll slink away to heal her wounds." Gray examined Doris and frowned. "Dead."
Morgan knew there were few things in the world that his employer hated more than failing to save an innocent life. It didn’t matter that he’d had no inkling that this girl was in danger. Gray would still beat himself up over her demise.
Gray looked about them, his expression returning to its neutral state. "It looks like someone was hoping to find those papers here. That’s a good sign. Means they’re unaware that we have them."
"So now what?"
"We notify the authorities and have them pick up this poor girl’s remains. Then we head back to headquarters and plan our next move. With luck, Samantha and Eun will be returning at the same time."
Morgan placed his gun back into its holster and lowered his voice. "Chief, what was that thing?"
"A blood demon. They exist just outside our range of vision. There are only a dozen or so in existence but they’re old, far older than Man." Gray’s expression darkened. Morgan was certain he was mulling over the fact that he would be able to recall such information while simultaneously being unable to remember things about his own life.
"Life just gets stranger, doesn’t it?" Morgan whispered. Gray’s lips twisted in an almost-grin but it vanished so quickly that Morgan wasn’t sure if he had imagined seeing it.
"That it does," was all Lazarus said in reply.
Chapter III
Houses of Death
Eun crouched on a tree limb overlooking Goodwill’s fenced property and he didn’t like what he saw. He climbed down to where Samantha was waiting for him and she could tell from the look on his face that something wasn’t right.
"Is Goodwill at home?" she asked.
"Didn’t see him. But there are men walking around in the yard, guarding the estate. And I saw several that were dressed as ninja."
"I don’t have the foggiest idea what that means," Samantha admitted.
"No reason why you should. Ninja were mercenaries back in feudal Japan. They specialized in assassination, espionage and sabotage. I didn’t know anyone still practiced their dark arts but with how strange Sovereign’s becoming, nothing should surprise me."
Samantha put her hands on her hips and thought things over. They were in an expensive neighborhood but in Sovereign that just meant the trash wore more expensive clothing. Even so, it was a heavily patrolled area by the police and despite the fact that all members of Assistance Unlimited held special privileges with law enforcement, she was in no hurry to attract any attention. "These ninja are deadly, I take it?"
"Assuming they’ve really undergone ninja training? Yes. Quite."
Samantha looked back at the fence. It was about ten feet high and cobblestone, which actually made climbing a bit easier. There were plenty of places for hands and feet to find purchase. "I say we go inside," she said at length.
Eun grinned, admiring her spirit. They were the two youngest members of Assistance Unlimited but they rarely spent much time together. Eun was a private man with a lot of anger in his heart. As such, he actually found it easier to work along Lazarus, who rarely pushed or prodded him on an emotional level. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t love Samantha and Morgan. They were all part of the Assistance Unlimited family, despite their differences in methods. "Last one over is a rotten egg."
Samantha arched an eyebrow. "Are you challenging me?"
"Are you afraid of losing?"
"Oh!" Samantha stifled a laugh. "You’re on." The slender girl kicked off her high heels and stuffed them into the small handbag she was carrying. She slipped the leather bag straps over her left arm and threw herself against the fence. She scrambled up like a monkey and threw herself over with abandon. She landed in a crouch, her skirt billowing about. She looked up triumphantly to see that Eun was already there, leaning against the fence.
"Sorry," he said with a shrug and a cocky grin. "I do believe you’re the rotten egg."
Samantha stood up and quickly put her shoes back on. "Scoundrel," she said teasingly.
The two of them grew quiet as one of the ninja rounded the corner. The black-garbed man didn’t see them and he stopped so that he was standing with his back to the house. He pulled away the cloth covering his face and Eun saw clearly that he was Japanese. As they watched in silence, they saw him take out a cigarette and light it. He had just begun to smoke it in earnest when Eun crept up next to him and put the barrel of his gun against the ninja’s head.
"Make a sound and I’ll kill you," Eun promised. It was something of a hollow threat since none of Assistance Unlimited killed unless it was absolutely necessary to save either his or her own life or someone else’s.
The ninja’s eyes widened as Samantha came into view. "The two of you are making a mistake," the ninja said with only the faintest hint of an accent. "Turn and leave now and you might get out of here alive."
Eun tapped a symbol on the black cloth. There was a circle surrounding a heart, with bloo
d dripping below. "What does this mean?"
"We are Black Heart," the ninja said, obviously thinking that would be explanation enough.
"I’ve heard of them," Samantha said. "I didn’t know they were… ninjas or whatever you called them. They’re killers for the mob."
"We perform a needed function," the ninja retorted. He flicked his cigarette to the ground. "We do jobs for the mob but that doesn’t mean we work for them."
"Then whom do you work for?" Eun asked, pressing the gun harder against the man’s head. "Mr. Goodwill?"
The ninja struck quickly, driving an elbow up against Eun’s arm, knocking his gun hand toward the sky. The ninja kicked Eun in the stomach before turning on Samantha. From the look in his eyes, he obviously expected to make quick work of the girl.
Unfortunately for him, Samantha Grace was far more than she appeared. Raised by philanthropic parents who were willing to pay for any tutelage she desired, Samantha was a mistress of several forms of martial arts. She nimbly stepped aside when the ninja lunged for her, delivering a powerful chop to the back of his neck as he passed. She then finished him off, kicking him hard in the rump, knocking him headfirst into the tree where Eun had been perched only moments before.
Samantha held out a hand and helped Eun get back to his feet. "Hope you don’t mind that you were saved by a rotten egg."
Eun brushed himself off. "Not at all. Thank you."
The two of them peered around the corner and saw that they were momentarily in the clear. They sprinted across the yard and ducked inside a side door on the house. Once inside, they paused in a hallway, keeping their voices barely above a whisper.
"Now what?" Eun asked.
Samantha shrugged. Originally, they were supposed to nose around and look for clues about how Goodwill tied in to those papers. But given the number of Black Heart ninjas running around, it seemed that the man was involved in something dirty no matter what. She was about to say as much when they heard voices from a nearby room. She crept over and placed her ear against the door, confusion making her eyes widen. She recognized one of those voices but the impossibility made her doubt what she was hearing. She looked over at Eun and saw that he was watching her closely.
The first of the voices, which was unfamiliar to both of them, was speaking in hurried tones. "He’ll be back soon. If you’d just wait, I’m certain he’d want to speak to you."
"I don’t have time for that," the other man responded. It was this person that had evoked the frightened response in Samantha. He spoke with a German accent but he was quite fluent nonetheless. "Tell Mr. Goodwill that I want those papers and am willing to pay for them. This is not open to negotiation. If he tries to withhold them from me, I’ll kill him and everyone who stands at his side. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I’m quite clear on that."
"Good. Tell him I look forward to hearing from him soon."
Eun and Samantha flattened themselves against the wall, hiding as the door opened and the German emerged. He was dressed like an undertaker and he leaned heavily on a walking stick that was topped by a roaring lion’s head. His progress carried him away from the Assistance Unlimited agents but Samantha was certain that this was Walther Lunt, the cultist who had tried to work with the vile Doc Pemberley during the group’s most recent case. The right side of Lunt’s face was a ruined mass of flesh, scarred by an acid attack years before.
"That’s him," Samantha whispered when he’d vanished down the hall. "That’s the man who turned his cane into a lion. He tried to kill me!"
Eun frowned. "That doesn’t make sense. That cane’s back at headquarters. Besides, you said he was dead."
Samantha swallowed hard. "He is. I saw him die. Heck, I went with the Chief to drop his body off at the morgue. That’s how we found out his name. He’s a big muckity-muck in Berlin." Eun started to suggest that maybe the man had a twin but he fell into silence when Samantha grabbed him by the sleeve. "C’mon," she said, "Let’s follow him."
"What about Goodwill?"
"Forget him. This is far more important!" She locked eyes with Eun and leaned in close. "Remember, Lunt said he knew who the Chief was. If there’s any way we can help Lazarus find out about his past, we have to do it."
Eun considered it briefly and then nodded, following her in pursuit of Lunt. He’d been the first of the group to find out the truth about Gray’s amnesia and he knew how much it ate away at their employer. She was right: nothing was more important than finding out the truth.
***
Malcolm Goodwill stood outside 6196 Robeson Avenue and stared at the imposing black doors, adorned with only a single metal placard. The words "Assistance Unlimited" were embossed on its surface. A small buzzer was located beneath the sign and Goodwill considered it for only a second before he pressed it with one gloved hand.
A mechanical-sounding voice responded at once. "I’m sorry but all agents of Assistance Unlimited are currently away on missions. If you would like to leave a card with your name and number, you may slip it beneath the door and someone will get back to you as soon as possible. If this is a matter of life and death, please press the buzzer twice more: one long and one short."
Goodwill paused, both amused and perplexed. He’d spent a good twenty minutes wandering around the building and had no obvious means of entry. All the windows were barred and shuttered and the doors had a strange kind of lock on them that he’d never encountered before. The somewhat strange method of breaking in by ringing the doorbell had finally presented itself as the only possible thing to do. Now a mechanized voice was walking him through the process of getting inside? It was bizarre, indeed.
After pressing the buzzer twice, with one long and one short, Goodwill took a step back. The twin obsidian doors slid open quickly and the voice returned. Was it his imagination that it now contained a note of urgency?
"Please enter immediately. The doors will close behind you so make sure you have all companions and belongings with you."
Goodwill hesitated a moment, uncertain what he should do. Would he be trapped inside? In the end, he jumped inside, hoping that he’d be able to find his way back out when the time came.
He found himself in the large foyer that greeted all guests of Assistance Unlimited. As the doors hissed shut behind him, the locking mechanisms sliding into place with a loud clang, Goodwill approached the small receptionist desk that lay straight ahead. The building had once been a hotel and there were still a set of boxes behind what had once been the front clerk’s area, though there were no longer keys for each room. The mechanized voice returned, startling Goodwill. The man jumped and then immediately felt stupid for having done so.
"To your right you will find a small sitting area. Please wait there for someone to assist you. If you need medical assistance, please pick up the courtesy phone on the counter. It will dial a doctor who is on call 24 hours a day and they will be here within fifteen minutes."
Goodwill glanced about but was unable to pinpoint where the voice was emanating from. He tapped his fingers on the desk and frowned. This whole thing seemed absurd. What kind of security system allowed anyone inside, when all they had to do was lie about it being an emergency? And now he was being asked to sit still, when he had the freedom to wander through the entire complex? It certainly seemed that Lazarus Gray wasn’t the genius the papers made him out to be.
Goodwill spotted an elevator as well as a set of stairs. He took several steps toward them but came to a halt when he bumped into something hard and unyielding. He rubbed his nose while reaching out carefully, tracing it with his fingers. There appeared to be nothing there but upon close examination he found there were virtually invisible barriers all around, blocking access to anywhere but the foyer and the sitting room. Evidently, they had slid down from the ceiling when he’d entered the building.
Cursing, Goodwill reconsidered his earlier impression about Gray and his security. He drew out his handgun and pointed it toward one of the barriers. He pulled the trigg
er and immediately regretted the decision. The bullet ricocheted off of the barrier and narrowly missed embedding itself in Goodwill’s shoulder. It struck the wall behind him and flew back again and Goodwill fell to the floor, covering his head with his hands. The bullet continued whizzing back and forth for what seemed like an eternity before the room finally fell into silence.
Slowly rising back to his feet, Goodwill forced himself to take several deep breaths. He strode toward the front doors and pushed on them, only to find that his worst fears were confirmed: the doors were locked and no matter how hard he pushed, they refused to budge. The building was in sort of lock-down mode, triggered by his foolhardy decision to claim he was in the middle of an emergency.
For a moment, Goodwill gave over to his rising anger. He kicked and screamed like a petulant child, so caught up in the moment that he dropped the false British accent he usually used. In those moments, he spoke once again like the Pennsylvania boy that he truly was.
When he was done venting, Goodwill found himself thinking back to how this affair got started. The infamous Doc Pemberley had fearfully come calling at Goodwill’s front door a few weeks back, claiming that he’d narrowly escaped capture. He needed quick money, he’d said, and had offered Goodwill a number of interesting items in exchange for enough cash to get him into a new safe house. Goodwill had grown bored with the entire affair until Pemberley had brought out several ancient pieces of paper, claiming that they had been written by the devil himself. How Pemberley had acquired them had never been explained but Goodwill had felt something rush through him when he’d held those papers. He only had the barest familiarity with Latin but he could understand enough to know that these pages were priceless. Even if he wasn’t able to make them do the things that Pemberley claimed, he could sell them to collectors and make a fortune.
