The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One

by Barry Reese

  “Do you know about Dr. Klempt?” Max asked.

  “No.”

  “He’s a sadistic madman. He’ll be looking to find Camilla and Reed—I’ve managed to find out that he’s got a room at the Manzini Hotel downtown. I was going to check it out… but if you are willing to help, I’d love to pass that on to you so I can drop in on Mr. Barrows during the day tomorrow.”

  McKenzie smiled eagerly and Max was suddenly seized by the image of the police chief as an eager puppy, ready to please. “Hell, I can be there tonight if you want.”

  “No. He’s too smart to go after Camilla at night. He’ll wait for daylight, just like I want to. Make your move at dawn and you’ll catch him unawares.” Max sighed, rubbing his temples. “So… how much do you know?”

  “Mr. Benson helped me through a bad time in my life, Mr. Davies. He says you’re aces with him and that’s more than good enough for me. So I don’t know if you’re the Peregrine, but it wouldn’t take a genius to figure maybe you were. He’s the only mystery man operating in these parts, after all.”

  Max studied him, finding no trace of deception in his eyes. “Camilla Barrows is a vampire,” he said, amused to see a brief flare of disbelief from McKenzie. The police officer shoved away his doubts, however, and merely nodded for Davies to continue. “Klempt is equally dangerous. He’s an occultist and will very likely have some nasty surprises waiting for you. In fact, it might be too dangerous to have you go after him at all…”

  “I can handle it,” McKenzie assured him.

  “I don’t doubt that you’re capable enough. I want my partner to go with you, though—just in case.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “He’s a she, actually. And she hasn’t taken an adventuring name yet. I’ve trained her well, however. She can help you.”

  McKenzie thought it over and nodded. “Can she meet me at the hotel around 5 o’clock?”

  “She’ll be there,” Max answered, though he knew that Evelyn would despise rising so early. “And thank you, Mr. McKenzie… it’ll be nice to have someone in law enforcement on my side for once.”

  * * *

  “Goodness, you certainly don’t give a girl much time to rest, do you?”

  Max patted his wife’s knee as he sat on the edge of their bed. Her silken nightgown fit her enticingly, but he was too tired to pursue anything physical at the moment. “I think it’s better for you to handle Klempt.”

  “You don’t think I can stand up to the vampire?”

  “The vampire’s going to be asleep, hopefully. Even if she is awake, she’ll be weakened. We both know how horrible Klempt can be… I wouldn’t be sending you if I didn’t think you were capable of stopping him.”

  Evelyn drew her knees up and smiled. “It’s the first time I’ll be going out on my own…”

  “Nervous?”

  “Excited, actually. Like the first day on a new movie set.”

  Max leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Break a leg.”

  CHAPTER XIV

  The Infernal Doctor

  Klempt rose at four, washed himself in a basin of cold water, and began to dress. He wore a dark suit, each of the pockets containing the items he thought he would need to destroy Camilla and her servant. A pistol loaded with silver bullets, several crucifixes, a vial of holy water and a knife soaked in a virgin’s blood… these things would do the trick, he suspected. Just in case, a sturdy wooden stake and mallet completed his arsenal.

  He took a long time fixing his hair, smoothing it back just so… before moving on to wax his moustache. Klempt was vain enough to acknowledge his attractiveness, so he enjoyed the primping that was part of his morning routine. Regret still lingered in his heart, however, making him long for his home in Milledgeville. He had grown comfortable there, believing that he was finally closing in on the end of his long trek towards absolute power. Now, he was on the run, seeking to claim what had been stolen from him. No doubt, his machinations back at the hospital would come to light soon enough… assuming the worms didn’t devour their way out of their host first.

  As the first rays of sunlight streamed in through his window, he stepped out into the hall—and came face-to-face with a dark-clad beauty whom he recognized immediately as the girl who had invaded his home. At her side was a police officer who brandished a service revolver, its muzzle pointed directly at Klempt’s face.

  “Raise your hands, doctor,” the officer commanded.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I repeat: raise your hands or I will shoot.”

  Klempt did as he was told, but a smirk played upon his lips. “I’m surprised to see you again, Miss Peregrine. Does the absence of your usual companion mean that he died in Milledgeville?”

  “He’s hale and hearty,” the woman replied icily. She moved forward and began to search Klempt’s pockets, pulling forth his weapons and dropping them to the floor. “It would take more than you to kill him.”

  “You smell like him,” Klempt hissed in her ear. “Does he rut with you? Is that the key to your success, my dear? Sleeping your way into his good graces?”

  “Pig,” Evelyn replied. She stepped back and glanced over at McKenzie. “You heard him admit to attempted murder—and he’s got enough weapons here that you should be able to put him away for quite awhile.”

  The chief nodded, gesturing towards the stairs with his pistol. “Get walking, doctor. We’re going down to the station. And don’t make any funny moves. Two more officers are downstairs, just waiting for you to make a break for it.”

  Klempt, hands still raised, began to walk ahead of them. “Miss Peregrine… do you have any idea about the forces I serve? They are older than humanity and their power is so great that the stars themselves bow down before them.”

  Evelyn tried to ignore him as they began to descend the stairs. There was something in his tone that made her shiver… madness, yes, but also… certainty.

  “Anyone who tells you that the universe is not a cold, chaotic place is a liar. There is no purpose… no rhyme nor reason… when we die, our bodies rot and turn to dust. Worms burrow in through our flesh and live in the empty sockets of…”

  “That’s enough,” McKenzie warned.

  Down below, Klempt could see two more uniformed men waiting. The frightened hotel clerk peeked out from behind a closed door, eager to have the whole sordid affair over with. Klempt imagined the clerk’s one positive impression was that this occurred early enough that most of the guests were still asleep. “No. It’s not enough. You’re going to arrest me. You’re going to put me on trial… and in the end, I’m going to fail my masters. I’ll never know their perverse touch… smell their putrefying flesh… or receive the gifts of power over others. That’s. Not. Right.” Klempt turned around when he reached the bottom of the stairs, dropping his arms. “Look at me, Miss Peregrine. This is not a game. This is my existence… and yours.”

  Behind the doctor, the other officers were drawing their weapons. Klempt smiled cruelly, his lips parting.

  “Doctor, put your hands up and move towards the exit.” McKenzie swallowed hard, sensing that something awful was about to occur.

  Klempt, his eyes still locked on Evelyn’s, threw himself towards McKenzie. He howled like a banshee and at the last moment Evelyn could have sworn that he deliberately placed his own mouth over the barrel of the gun. When the police chief pulled the trigger, flecks of bone and red-gray matter exploded from the back of the doctor’s head. Klempt’s body whirled around, jerking like a marionette whose strings had been unexpectedly cut. His eyes stared out above a bloody hole where his mouth had once been, and those eyes—full of madness and hate—seemed to somehow follow Evelyn as the body slammed to the floor.

  Evelyn’s screams were matched by the horrified clerk, bringing the guests bursting from their rooms. The sight they received when the first of them arrived in the lobby was one of sheer chaos.

  It was a fitting testimony to Klempt’s view of the universe.


  CHAPTER XV

  Father’s Lament

  “Cursed the ground where dead thoughts live new and oddly bodied, and evil the mind that is held by no head.”

  Max Davies let the words drift through his mind, continually replayed in his father’s strong voice. He was seated behind the wheel of his car, driving down the bumpy dirt road towards the Barrows’ second home. His car’s motor had been specially modified to be almost perfectly silent, making his approach a stealthy one. The quiet also gave him ample opportunity to think about his current situation.

  Now that Benson had come into play, the Peregrine’s mission was shaping up quite differently than before. He now had a police officer who would run interference for him and give him ready access to evidence… but it also meant that more people than ever before knew about his dual identity. Should he eventually abandon the mask entirely? The nation’s papers were full of stories about men like Benson, fighting the good fight openly. But there were plenty of others who still lurked in the shadows… and given the caliber of foes that Max usually faced, perhaps it would be best to remain hidden lest his friends and family be at continual risk.

  “I think that would be for the best.”

  Max jumped, barely able to keep from swerving off the road. He cast a furious glance at the figure who had materialized in the passenger seat: his father, still wearing the same suit and tie that he’d worn on the day he’d died. “You nearly frightened me to death!” he hissed.

  “Sorry, son. I suppose I should clear my throat before speaking?”

  “What do you want?” Max asked, returning his attention to the road before him. The farmhouse was now visible in the distance.

  “I’ve been listening in to your thoughts and…”

  “I have no privacy at all, do I?” Max shook his head. “Go on.”

  “Benson is safe enough, but be aware that Evelyn and McKenzie will be in danger every time you bring them into our affairs.”

  “Our affairs, is it?” Max snorted. “You used me, turned me into a killing machine so you could get some sort of cosmic retribution. And now you make it sound like we’re partners.”

  The elder Davies looked away, his voice lowering slightly. “Max, I loved you. I did what I thought was best—for you and for the entire world. I’m sorry for all the pain it’s caused you.”

  Max lifted his foot off the accelerator, letting the vehicle slow somewhat. He’d rarely ever heard such emotion in his father’s voice and it touched him. “I… missed you after you died. Very much.”

  “I would have come to you… but the barriers between the world of the living and the dead were too strong. I could only send you messages via dreams. I had to wait until your mental abilities were more pronounced.”

  Max rode in silence with his father for a moment, feeling oddly at ease with the ghostly presence of the man who had shaped his life. “I’ll be careful, father. I won’t put anyone at risk if I can help it.”

  “I trust you to do the right thing,” his father replied. “You’ve been giving that warning I gave you some thought, eh?”

  “The terribly vague one?” Max responded with a smile. “Yes. Care to give me anymore details on it?”

  “No,” his father answered. “I can’t. Things are still unclear to me… but I know this: dark things are looming in your future. The Kingdom must be stopped.”

  Max pulled off the road, reaching under his seat to retrieve his coat and mask. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Hopefully, I’ll catch Mr. Barrows unawares and Camilla sleeping. Thanks for the talk, by the way. I…”

  Max let his words come to a stop. His father was gone, as if he had never been there at all.

  “To work I go,” Max whispered. He placed his mask over his eyes and nose, allowing himself the briefest of moments to treasure the first real man-to-man talk he’d ever had with his father.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Dead Thoughts Live New

  The house was eerily quiet, though the bright sunlight robbed the place of any terror it might have otherwise induced. The Peregrine crept about the outside of the house, but heard no sounds of habitation within—nothing save for the slow, steady rocking of a chair in the main parlor. The ground outside was well trampled and by many feet—Max counted at least twelve distinct sets of prints.

  When he finally steeled himself to enter the home, the Peregrine made sure that he held a pistol in both hands. He burst in through the unlocked front door, bellowing “Barrows! Stand down or I swear to Heaven, I’ll blow your head off!”

  “You’re a bit late,” Barrows said, his voice echoing into the central hallway from the parlor. Max noted that there was a peculiar quality to Reed’s words… like someone whose spirit had been battered repeatedly and finally broken had voiced them.

  The Peregrine strode into the parlor, guns at the ready. “Where’s your mistress?” he demanded, though he came up short upon seeing the figure seated in the center of the room. Barrows was there, looking pale and wan… his neck was heavily bandaged and he held a small ring box in his lap. He turned sunken eyes upon the Peregrine, displaying red-tinged gums as he smiled.

  “She’s gone away,” Barrows said, his words taking on the sing-song quality of madness. “But she left me behind, to give you words of warning.”

  The Peregrine lowered his weapons and knelt beside Barrows, reaching up to examine the man’s wounds. His neck had been torn asunder by multiple bites… and his shirt was stained red with his own blood. “Tell me where she is, Reed.”

  “Don’t bother dressing my wounds. They drained me dry.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Max whispered, though he was concerned by how much blood had been lost. Against Reed’s objections, he removed the bandage around the man’s neck and began applying some ointment that he carried in his pocket. “Tell me what she said,” he prompted.

  Reed closed his eyes, looking forlorn. “She activated the spell as soon as we got back. I could feel the air around us changing as she spoke the words… and then they started coming. I couldn’t believe there could be so many, not so close… she said they were waking up all over the world, but there were over a dozen right here in Atlanta. They came and they talked about the heaven that was to come… and then she offered them a feast. She offered them me.” This last word was forced out amongst a sudden onslaught of sobs that wrenched at Max’s heart. “I loved her. She said she loved me… but it was a lie. All a lie.”

  Max removed a needle and thread, working to stitch the man’s neck. It was difficult work, made all the more so by the fact that Reed kept turning his head away from the help he needed. “You mentioned words of warning,” he reminded, hoping that keeping Reed focused on something specific would soothe the man and allow Max to finish his work.

  “The Noble Dead. That’s what they call themselves,” Reed continued. “She said they were going into town, to wait for more to arrive. When there’s enough of them, they’ll begin a blood orgy. They’ll slaughter everyone they can find, using their victims’ souls to power the final phase of the Kingdom’s spell. Then the air will change and night will rule over day forever… and science will wither and die, leaving only magic in its place.” Reed leaned forward, grabbing Max by the collar. “She said that He comes tonight. She said that Dead Thoughts live new and oddly bodied. She said…” Reed pulled away suddenly, rising from the chair so quickly that it fell on its side. “She said that if you oppose her, you will die in the most painful way imaginable!”

  “Where in the city is she?” Max asked, reaching out to keep Reed from tossing himself to the floor. “Help me. I know she’s hurt you… but you can help me and redeem yourself!”

  “She lied to me. She said I would rule as her King…”

  “Who is coming tonight? Who is this ‘He’ that she spoke of?”

  “The speaker of the dead. The messenger of madness. The black stranger!”

  Max paused, for something in his words was now making sense to him. In his studies of
the Necronomicon, he’d been forced to read much about the Old Ones, the entities whose mad designs for power had forged the universe. At the center of it all spun the mad god Azathoth. But most recurring of all was the sinister black stranger who ferried messages from the Old Ones to their human servants. An entity of tremendous power and trickery, one who wore the skin of humanity but had been birthed by no mother. He had been the inspiration for a wealth of human myths, but the one that he clung to most was that of Loki, the Norse God of Mischief. “Are you telling me that Nyarlathotep is coming to Atlanta?” Max whispered in disbelief.

  “Yes! Yes, he comes! He is the one who spawned the Noble Dead by lying in vile forms with humanity. He comes to welcome his children to their just reward! He comes to witness the evolution of humanity… as we become cattle to those who lord over us!”

  Max saw madness reign in Reed’s eyes and he delivered a powerful slap to the man’s face. It startled Reed for a moment, but then lucidity returned, ever so tenuously. “Help me, Reed. Help me stop her from succeeding.”

  Reed licked dry lips and nodded. “I can sense her,” he said, touching the side of his head. “All the times she suckled me… I can sense her.”

  The Peregrine smiled beneath his mask. “Then we have an advantage that they might not be unaware of.” He held on to Reed’s shoulder, leading him towards the door. “Is there anything else here that might help us?”

  “No… there’s nothing here worth keeping. Not any more.” He looked down at the ring box he still clutched in one hand. Within lay the gold band he’d once removed from his dead wife’s finger… the same band he’d once slid onto Camilla’s hand with all the attentiveness of a passionate lover. He tossed the ring box into the ashes of the fireplace. “Nothing at all.”

  CHAPTER XVII

  The Messenger of Madness

  Camilla watched her fellow Noble Dead, writhing naked atop one another. They were beautiful to behold, but it seemed needlessly decadent… they should be planning for the Kingdom to come, not losing themselves in the release of pent-up passions. The tall vampire queen kept to herself, hiding in the shadows of the underground tunnels. This place had once served as a means of transporting people and supplies, but now it served as a lair to the undead… but despite the presence of her fellows, this area seemed dank and oppressive to Camilla. It was unseemly for them to debase themselves amongst filth.