The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One

by Barry Reese

  When the man did turn to face her, he seemed oddly composed for one whose death was so imminent. “You’ve lived a long time,” the Peregrine said, staring up into her eyes. “Do you really want your existence to end down here? Is this tunnel where you want to have your remains scattered for all eternity?”

  Camilla paused, holding her prey down with a strong grip on his shoulders. She leaned close to him, smelling his aroma and allowing her pink-tinged lips to part in a grin. “How is it that you can remain so… confident… when I’m seconds away from ripping your throat open?”

  “Because you don’t know anything about me. You’re assuming that all I am is a nut who wears a bird mask and carries a gun.”

  Camilla laughed softly. “And you’re more than that? Tell me, Mr. Peregrine… what are you really?”

  “I’m someone who’s capable of this.” Max reached out with his mind, performing the same type of telepathic assault that he’d done before… during those frightening days in Germany, when Jacob Trench had come so close to unleashing ultimate evil upon the world. Camilla let out a surprised sigh as Max’s mind sliced into hers, tearing and ripping like a weapon. It was painful to Max, as well, and disturbing on even deeper levels… for it felt like a particularly nasty form of rape.

  The vampire queen screamed, pulling her hands away from Max and using her nails to scratch at the sides of her head. When that failed to stop the pain inside her skull, she began beating at it, using such force that blood began to ooze from the inside of her nose and eyes.

  Max shoved her away from him, dusting himself off. He pulled his mental attack back a bit, slowly easing his consciousness out of hers. She whimpered on the ground, curling up into a fetal position and Max felt a twinge of sympathy for her. He’d seen many awful things when he’d visited her mind, though, and the depths of her actions made him feel secure that he’d done the right thing.

  The Peregrine moved to stand over her, planning to end her threat once and for all… but was stopped by the sound of Reed’s voice.

  “Don’t,” the other man said, moving into view. He was bleeding badly and one of his ears had been torn away, leaving only red meat in its place.

  “You should be helping Evelyn and McKenzie,” Max said, kneeling so that he could place the barrel of his gun against Camilla’s head. “And you don’t need to see this.”

  “Let me take care of her. Please.” Reed moved forward, gun in hand.

  The Peregrine pointed his gun at Reed, halting him in mid-step. “I know you loved her… and I know a part of you wants to save her, even now. But I can’t let you do it. She’s evil.”

  Reed looked away, his body shaking. “Don’t kill her… she’s so old… so beautiful. Can’t we just let her leave?”

  Max sighed. “She’ll kill more innocents. She’ll try to restore the Kingdom. You know that.”

  Reed turned away, staggering back up the hallway, back to the sounds of violence. “Be quick about it,” was all he said, but the emotion behind the words was heartbreaking. He’d coveted something far lovelier than he’d ever had a right to have… and in the end, he’d found himself all the worse for having possessed it, ever so briefly.

  The Peregrine looked down, into the face of a murderer. Once again placing his pistol against her temple, he ended her threat once and for all. Max then staked her through the heart and used his golden dagger to behead her. The final act was the most important, as he doused her with a flammable fluid and set the remains aflame.

  Confident that Camilla no longer posed a threat, he began moving again, eventually stepping out into a larger chamber that contained a number of dead bodies… prey for the refueling vampires, he realized. The faint odor of sex hung in the air, mixing with death, but it was the man who stood in the center of the room, Necronomicon in hand, that chilled the Peregrine’s blood.

  “Hello, Max,” the dark-skinned man said, reaching down with one hand to smooth the fabric of his finely cut suit. He wore a red signet ring on the little finger of his left hand. “Welcome to Hell.”

  CHAPTER XX

  A Mind Held By No Head

  The Peregrine stared at the man in disbelief, for there was something eerily inhuman about him. It wasn’t obvious in the man’s form, for he appeared normal enough in that regard… but rather it was in his presence and bearing. “Are you the messenger?” he asked, remembering what Reed had said about an elder entity that would be summoned by the Kingdom’s arrival.

  “I am indeed,” the stranger replied, taking a step towards the vigilante. “But I have many names, though the one I favor the most is Nyarlathotep.”

  Max frowned, suddenly feeling that he had finally delved too far on his own… and that he now faced a being quite capable of destroying him utterly. Rather than turn and flee, the Peregrine merely drew forth his golden dagger and held it at the ready. “Camilla’s dead. The plan has failed.”

  “As I knew it would… though you’re far too hasty in assuming that everything is completely resolved. The summons was sent out and the Noble Dead now walk the earth in numbers that haven’t been seen in centuries. Chaos will reign for quite some time, Mr. Davies.”

  “Is that what you’re after? Chaos?”

  “It’s the master that I serve,” Nyarlathotep replied. “What master do you serve, Mr. Davies? Do you even know?”

  “Hand over the book,” the Peregrine answered, not wishing to be drawn into any kind of conversation with an entity like this. Though it wore the flesh of a man, this was something else… something older and far more deadly.

  Nyarlathotep glanced down at the knife and sneered. “You took that from one of my pets, didn’t you? Mr. Darkholme. His loss pained me greatly.”

  “I’ve noticed that beings like you don’t like its touch,” the Peregrine warned, slashing at the air for emphasis. Somewhat to his surprise, Nyarlathotep took a step away, avoiding the weapon.

  “Darkholme was going to destroy it,” Nyarlathotep hissed. “It’s a vile thing and has no place in this world!”

  The Peregrine wondered at the being’s words… he knew so little about the weapon, but if Nyarlathotep feared it and Darkholme had wanted to destroy it, the weapon must be of supreme importance. Once again, he promised himself that he’d delve into the mysteries of the blade if he survived this affair.

  Returning his thoughts to the present, the Peregrine pressed the issue again. “Are you going to turn over the book or do I have to take it?”

  “Foolish mortal,” Nyarlathotep whispered. “Do you think I would sully my hands by touching you in combat? Never! I merely wanted to inform you that from this moment forth you are marked.”

  Before Max could ponder what that meant, a searing pain developed in the palm of his left hand. He howled, almost dropping the dagger in his haste to remove the leather glove that covered the inflamed area. There in the center of his palm was a blasphemous looking black circle, one that twisted occasionally and oozed a small trickle of some vile tar-like substance. “God above,” he whispered, staring at the bizarre wound. He looked up when Nyarlathotep began laughing and in his sudden fury he launched the dagger at his foe, sending it whistling through the air. The blade embedded itself in Nyarlathotep’s throat, driving him to the ground with a thump.

  The Peregrine pounced upon the man, only to find that his skin was as loose and empty as a discarded set of clothing. Inside were no bones, nor any trace of the entity that had inhabited the form. The Necronomicon was lying there, however, and the Peregrine pulled it into his grip hastily, still reeling from the pain in his palm.

  “No longer will you be able to sneak up on my pets,” a bodiless voice intoned. It was Nyarlathotep, no longer bound by a physical form. He was now a mind held by no head, an astral wraith. “From now on, you will stand out like a beacon to them… they will sense an enemy is present… and they may strike first, rather than allow you to pursue them. This is your punishment, Peregrine… and it will prove a most foul one, for no one who is near you
will be safe from the wrath of those you’d hunt!”

  The Peregrine pulled his glove back into place, rising from his kneeling position atop the skin of Nyarlathotep. He had to leave this place… check on Evelyn and the others… and think about the price he would have to pay for his actions.

  CHAPTER XXI

  Back in the Nest

  “I’ve had an alert out on Barrows for the past two days and nobody’s spotted him,” McKenzie said, sitting in a comfortable chair in the Peregrine’s Nest and nursing a cold beer. He had a number of scratches and bruises from the battle beneath the city, but the worst of his wounds was a horrid looking scar on his neck that had required a fair number of stitches to close up. “With the way he was bleeding from that ear of his, I can’t imagine he got very far.”

  Evelyn fingered one of the buttons on her silky overcoat and looked thoughtful. A script for a new play was set out in front of her, but she’d barely paid any attention to it. “I can’t help but feel sorry for him.”

  “He had that vampire kill his wife, remember?” McKenzie pointed out. “Maybe he did love this Camilla… but it doesn’t excuse all the actions he took in her name.”

  Evelyn nodded, though her sense of regret remained intact. She looked over at the entrance to the lair, where her husband was descending the stairs. He looked older somehow, as if he’d aged several years down in the tunnels. A thick bandage was wrapped around his left palm and a dark stain was beginning to seep through. “Did you speak to Mr. Oden?” she asked.

  “Yes. The worst of the cases was a woman named Margaret Thomas. Klempt had done… terrible things to her. She’s going to survive, they think… but it’s going to be touch and go for awhile. I’m paying to have her transferred to some friends of mine at Miskatonic University. They’re experts in these sorts of things.”

  “What about the Noble Dead?”

  Max shrugged. “Still out there… but they’ll have sensed what happened. I imagine they’ll go into hiding, spread out over the world… try to reassert their old dominance from the shadows.”

  “And that wound of yours?” McKenzie prompted. He’d been the first to see Max’s hand and the memory of it had kept him awake for over an hour last night. It looked… demonic, in every sense of the word.

  Max glanced down at it, choosing his words carefully. “It’s stopped hurting… but I suspect it’s going to cause me trouble for some time to come.” Forcing a smile on his face, Max looked back at McKenzie. “Thank you for helping us.”

  “Thank Mr. Benson. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have known you from Adam.” McKenzie stood up, setting his now empty bottle of beer on a table. “I better be heading back home, folks. Anything looming on the horizon, adventure-wise?”

  Evelyn stifled a grin. McKenzie seemed particularly gung-ho about his role in their little party… which she didn’t mind all that much, actually. She and Max needed all the help they could get and it might mean that the Peregrine wouldn’t be flying solo while she was away filming her next movie.

  Max pursed his lips. “Nothing yet… but I’ll call you. And you keep an eye out for anything that seems beyond normal police work. I think I’m going to enjoy having you around to offer me ‘official’ lines of information.”

  McKenzie smiled at the compliment and gave a gallant tip of his head to Evelyn. “Don’t stay up too late, you two.”

  After he was gone, Max moved to take his seat next to Evelyn. He held up his bandaged hand, saying, “This might cause some problems. Nyarlathotep said that some of my enemies might strike at us… at those close to me.”

  “Then they’ll be making quite a mistake, won’t they?” Evelyn leaned close and kissed his cheek. She’d fared quite well in the battle with the vampires, escaping with only one long scratch on her stomach. It was healing nicely, which meant she’d be back to wearing her skimpy outfits onscreen soon. “I know that you’re worried about me… and Nellie and Josh, too. But we’ll be fine.”

  “I wish I could be so sure.”

  “You know… that honeymoon of ours ended a little abruptly.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Maybe we could pretend we were still on it.”

  Max studied her face, a heat growing in his cheeks. “I was so lucky to have found you… for so long I thought I was cursed, but I was wrong. I’m blessed.”

  Their lips came together, slowly and softly at first but with growing intensity as the seconds passed.

  Warren Davies watched from beyond the veil of death, turning away only when it seemed improper to watch his son and daughter-in-law any further. He was glad that his son had found some measure of peace, but he also knew it would be short-lived… for the Peregrine would have to fly again, and soon. For him, there would be only a lifetime of adventure… it was the road to which his father had tied him and there could be no escaping his destiny.

  Warren felt the pangs of regret but he ignored them. He had done the right thing, no matter how awful it might have seemed. He had helped transform his son into a killing machine, a weapon against the evil that plagued the world. The recent battles against Trench and Camilla had helped harden the Peregrine, but there were more tests to come…

  Warren stared hard into the future, straining to see past the haze of time. War was coming, a war that would plunge the entire world into a nightmare that would consume millions. Warren wasn’t sure who the true threat was, though he suspected it had something to do with the madman who had risen to power in Germany.

  Be strong, Max. The world is about to need you—and men like you—more than ever before. I just pray you’re ready for what’s about to come.

  THE END

  THE GASPING DEATH

  An adventure starring the Peregrine

  and the Moon Man

  By Barry Reese

  The Heroes

  MOON MAN: Modern Robin Hood of crime, the Moon Man is actually police detective Stephen Thatcher. Donning a midnight black cloak and a domed helmet of Argus (“one-way”) glass, the Moon Man steals from underworld kingpins and high society alike, passing on the spoils of his victories to the needy citizens of Great City. Aided only by his loyal assistants Sue McEwen and Ned “Angel” Dargan, the Moon Man is hunted by police and underworld alike!

  PEREGRINE: Wealthy socialite Max Davies inherited the family fortune after his father was brutally gunned down by criminals. Afflicted with painful visions of future crimes, Max traveled the world, learning every fighting art known to man while simultaneously mastering the sciences. Wearing a dark cloak and a strange birdlike mask, the Peregrine began slaying criminals throughout the United States and Europe, leaving behind only a playing card to show his presence. Eventually moving his operations to Atlanta, the Peregrine married actress Evelyn Gould and became embroiled in an ongoing feud with the messenger of the gods of chaos, the dark wanderer known as Nyarlathotep!

  CHAPTER I

  Theft!

  Merv Sanford had worked at the Great City First National Bank for almost twenty years. When he’d started out, he’d been a fresh-faced veteran of the Great War, one who was stuck with a permanent limp after a German bullet had pierced his left leg. Merv’s uncle had worked for the local police force and had helped his nephew get a job as a security guard at the bank. It was good, steady work and Merv enjoyed it.

  He tipped his cap to Mrs. McGreavy as she entered the bank, carrying a small paper bag filled with coins. She came in every Wednesday at 4:30, creeping along at a snail’s pace. She smiled at him, her wrinkled face brightening when she saw him. She took a spot in line just behind another regular, Larry Thompson. Mr. Thompson was a stock broker, one who’d nearly lost his shirt during the Big Crash of a few years back, but he was slowly crawling out of the hole he’d found himself in—just like the rest of the country was doing.

  Merv chuckled a bit as he leaned back against the wall. Life was good, he had to admit—the ache he used to get in his leg was almost gone and he’d become enough of a fixture at the bank that he didn’t worry from
month to month about keeping his job. He reached out and picked up a newspaper from a nearby table, scanning an article about the notorious Moon Man and the police force’s ongoing attempts to capture the criminal. Merv’s uncle knew the man in charge of the investigation—tough as nails Detective Gill McEwen—and it was common knowledge around the Sanford household that the Moon man’s days were numbered.

  Merv coughed as he turned the pages, eager to see whether or not the Great City baseball team had righted themselves after their last three-game losing skid. Before he’d even reached the sports pages, another cough had wracked his body… and this one hurt. Merv looked around and noticed that others in the bank were beginning to double over, hacking like a bunch of sick cats. Mrs. McGreavy fell to the floor, clutching at her throat and wheezing.

  Merv’s vision began to cloud and a terrible heaviness settled in his chest. It felt a bag of lead weights had settled into his lungs, weighing him down.

  As the war veteran turned bank guard slid down the wall to the floor, his head beginning to throb painfully, the doors to the bank flew open. Several men wearing gas masks ran in, dancing amidst the fallen bank tellers and customers. Each man wore all-black uniforms and carried small sacks in one hand, while the other brandished dangerous looking rifles.

  Merv struggled to reach his gun, despite the fact that he never kept the revolver loaded. It was used mainly to give little boys a thrill when Merv would show it off to them… but as he felt his life ebbing away, Merv had only one thought in his mind: stop these thieves from looting the bank.

  A final figure emerged into the guard’s fading vision, a figure draped in a form-fitting black suit and a long cloak that swirled about glossy leather boots. This figure, too, wore a gas mask, which looked all the more bizarre with the wide-brimmed hat he wore above it. “Excellent work,” the man said, surveying the grim scene.