The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One
Page 26
Max stared at the tip of the blade, noting that it protruded slightly from its place in the pile. Though his own mental abilities were still weakened, he reached out now, calling upon whatever higher powers had enchanted the weapon. I need your assistance, he thought. If ever I needed you, now is the time.
To his surprise, he thought he heard a reply—and it was far from a heavenly voice that spoke to him. Instead, it sounded very, very old and its words were unknown to him. They were spoken with a wet kind of lisp and the melodious quality of the speaking sounded almost like a chant: Quilos angelus c’thughu, Quilos angelus c’thughu amonna chi. The nonsense words repeated again and again and Max suddenly knew, with dire certainty, that they were words of entreaty from a dark power. Fearing that it had something to do with the horrible curse put upon him by Nyarlathotep, Max tried to silence the voice but found himself unable. In clear English, the voice suddenly spat out: Cursed you are, cursed to wander the earth ‘til all you love is dead, cursed never to know peace, cursed to combat the Great Work in all its forms!
Max screamed out then and the terror in his voice made Li draw back in surprise. The Asian had been about to pierce Max’s belly with his dagger but it was an attack that would never come… for the golden dagger suddenly flew through the air of its own accord, slicing deep into the back of the torturer’s neck. Before Max’s eyes, the blade pushed through the bone and skin until it carved its way through to the other side of Li’s throat. The man gurgled something in alarm, reaching up to touch the blade in sudden realization of impending death… and then he fell forward, his body twitching madly.
The Peregrine swallowed hard, his body suddenly his own to control again. The bonds that held him fell away easily and he dropped to his knees for a moment, regaining his breath. Then he was on his feet, stepping over the dying Asian and gathering up his weapons. His wounds were ignored in the face of sudden freedom but several thoughts kept nagging at him: was his fate as doomed as it seemed to be? And where was the Warlike Manchu?
Slipping his birdlike mask in place, the Peregrine hurried from the room, golden dagger in hand.
CHAPTER X
Rise of the Monster
Ibis stood with his honor guard of undead, watching as the Manchu’s men finished placing the body parts in their assigned places on the laboratory table. At the Egyptian’s side was his new “bride,” her once beautiful skin now a dead-looking blue and pock-marked by a spiders-web network of raised veins. “Do you feel the anticipation in the air, my beloved?” he asked.
The undead girl smiled, her lips stretching wide in a mockery of happiness.
The Warlike Manchu moved past the lovers, his delicate sense of smell recognizing the tell-tale traces of lovemaking in the air. Ibis had already worked out his vile sexual fantasies, which only lowered him further in the Manchu’s eyes. Lust was one of the primary distractions that all men faced. The truly strong were able to put their physical desires to the side and focus on something much purer: the accumulation of power. “I think it is time to begin,” the Manchu said, his voice tightly controlled. Though the majority of his concentration was on the Abomination and the dangers thereof, a part of his mind was in another room, with Max Davies. Seeing his former pupil again had incited a strong flurry of emotions within him. He held no love for the man but he knew that the Peregrine—for all his faults—was as close to the perfect as he would likely ever face. A part of the Warlike Manchu craved the challenge, the pitting of wits and physical strengths that would result from any prolonged confrontation with the Peregrine. I wonder how long it will be before he escapes from Mr. Li?
Ibis moved to stand at the side of the Abomination’s table, gesturing for everyone to leave the room save for himself and the Warlike Manchu. The Egyptian pulled out a small corked vial and opened it swiftly, dumping it contents—sand from the steps of great Cheops—onto the Abomination’s body parts. “C’thul poi noni makop,” he whispered, the words spoken so softly that only someone with hearing as enhanced as the Manchu’s could have heard them. Ibis closed his eyes as he spoke, letting his fingers run over the table, subtly tracing the outline of a monstrous body, one that would house these organs within its confines. With lips pulling back from yellowed teeth, Ibis allowed his voice to rise in volume and tone. “Uxal ti awanni! Iztabin arkis voltoom!” With this last pronouncement, Ibis threw his hands up high and the air seemed to become charged with electrical energy. The lights in the room dimmed and then went out completely, leaving them in absolute darkness.
“Did the spell succeed?” the Warlike Manchu asked, a hand coming up to stroke his long moustache. He felt no fear at the sudden turn of events but a peculiar sense of unease was beginning to build within him. “Has the Abomination been reborn?”
The sounds of heavy footfalls coming closer made the Warlike Manchu take a step back. Harsh, labored breathing reached his ears and a voice that seemed to echo from the depths of some stygian hell answered his query. “I am here,” the Abomination rumbled, his breath smelling like burning brimstone. “Who dares summon me?”
“I dare,” Ibis answered. As the Warlike Manchu’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he made out the Egyptian scrambling forward in the darkness, a look of almost orgasmic joy on his face. Ibis had tried and failed to contain the monster’s power once before and the Warlike Manchu knew that Ibis had too much pride to allow an opportunity like this to slip away again. “You should remember me… I am your once and future master!”
The lights abruptly returned to life again, sparking as they did so. The Abomination was now revealed in all his unholy glory and even the Warlike Manchu had to admit that he was a daunting creature to behold. Over eight feet tall and covered in reddish-gold scales, the monster’s head bore a dark visage and a wide mouth, one brimming with sharp teeth. Atop his skull were two small but dangerous looking horns and at the base of his back stretched out a long reptilian tail. The Abomination was completely nude and of formidable musculature.
While the Manchu was admiring the creature, the Abomination was turning the full weight of his gaze upon Ibis. “I remember you well, sorcerer. The little fool whose reach exceeds his grasp.”
Ibis stopped in place, fury glowing in his ancient eyes. “How dare you! I brought you forth! I command you!”
The Abomination sneered in mocking disbelief. “I am weakened in spirit, sorcerer, but it will take more than the likes of you to rule over me. I come forth to serve the one whose will is the strongest. And in this room, I fail to see how that could possibly be you!”
Ibis raised a bony finger and pointed it at the Abomination, his voice rising as he began to recite more of his spells. The Warlike Manchu moved forward, gliding across the floor like a silent wraith. He understood the Abomination’s words very well—the creature was announcing that he would serve the only true being of power in this room. Given that Ibis was never anything more than a useful tool to be discarded when necessary, the Warlike Manchu realized that the time had come to rid himself of the troublesome Egyptian.
Ibis whirled about just in time to find the Warlike Manchu descending upon him. The Oriental mastermind delivered a powerful backhanded chop to the Egyptian’s neck, sending the older man to the floor. Before the sorcerer could respond, the Manchu drove the heel of his foot against the man’s neck, pinning him to the floor.
“No,” Ibis wheezed, struggling in vain to push the Manchu’s foot off his windpipe. “I… we… were partners!”
“We were never partners,” the Warlike Manchu responded. “In the end, there can only be one who bears the title of Master!” The Manchu stomped downwards, crushing the man’s windpipe beneath his heel. Blood swelled up and out of the Egyptian’s lips as his eyes bugged outwards. After a moment of frenzied thrashing, the sorcerer lay still and quiet.
In the hallway outside, the sounds of reanimated corpses suddenly collapsing to the floor could be heard. Without their dread creator to empower them, they were nothing more than fodder for worms.
“You will have to rest later,” the Warlike Manchu answered. “You have power enough to deal with my enemies and begin the process of consolidating my rule.”
The Abomination stirred but nodded, bound by the will of his new master. “As you command,” he replied, sealing a relationship that could doom the world.
CHAPTER XI
Hero vs. the Beast!
The Peregrine still felt awful but he was much more secure now that he was back in his long cloak and mask. The golden dagger was sheathed at his waist while one of his specially modified pistols was clutched tightly in one gloved hand. The Warlike Manchu’s lair was alive with activity as the man’s Oriental followers scurried about to check on the lights, which had flickered off and then returned moments before. The Peregrine noticed that many rotting corpses—like those which had confronted him on the train—were now lying still on the floor, where some of the Warlike Manchu’s servants were making ready to remove them.
Stealthily, Max crept down the clean white halls, keeping his back to the wall. Several times he was forced to duck hurriedly into empty rooms to avoid detection by the staff members who were patrolling the base. At length, he began to hear the voice of the Warlike Manchu. Though he could not yet fully make out the words, it sounded as if the Manchu was speaking to a subordinate, detailing various names and locations.
A low, rumbling voice answered him and this time the Peregrine could make out the specifics very easily. “You wish me to kill all these men for you?”
The Warlike Manchu seemed to answer in the affirmative and the Peregrine felt a painful burning sensation emanate from the ring of power that he wore. The Abomination was here… and the evil stench of the beast now reached Max’s nostrils, making him wince.
The heroic vigilante burst into the room, gun barrels blazing out hot death. The bullets struck home on the Abomination, sending the demon staggering back in surprise. Max took only a second to digest the awful visage of the creature before continuing his attack. The Warlike Manchu sprang into action, dodging another volley of bullets and fleeing towards the door. Max made a move to stop him but felt strong arms suddenly grip him. The Abomination had recovered quickly and Max realized that his guns would do him no good against a beast such as this.
The monster began to squeeze, using inhuman strength to immediately break Max’s arm. He fought to avoid black out, aware that the Manchu was escaping but having no alternative but to focus his attentions on the Abomination. Max called upon the mental powers he possessed, knowing they were still dulled from the drugs. He projected outwards with as much psychically charged energy as he could and the Abomination let out a howl of surprised pain, loosening his hold on the Peregrine. As Max fell free, he reached into his cloak with his good hand, retrieving the golden dagger. It glowed brightly in the presence of the Abomination and the beast stared at it with undisguised hatred.
“Agent of Order, are you?” the Abomination sneered. “But one tainted by Chaos. Such an odd little man you are.”
The Peregrine’s broken arm was cradled against his body and Max knew that he was one more injury away from being helpless. Acting with as much speed as he could, the Peregrine ignored the monster’s taunts and instead feinted to his left. The Abomination lunged in that direction, leaving the Peregrine’s true target undefended. Max kicked the monster hard on the right side and as the creature fell back he jumped high and brought the golden dagger down hard atop the Abomination’s skull. At first the blade embedded itself in skin and bone and Max found himself dangling in the air, holding on for dear life to the handle of his dagger.
As the Abomination bared his teeth, a cloud of smoke began to emerge from the monster’s mouth. The Peregrine realized with unearthly clarity that the creature was about to breathe flame on him, burning him to a crisp. With strength born of desperation, he began twisting the dagger, its magical energies ripping chunks of flesh from the demon. The combination of a weapon bathed in the blood of Christ and a demon born of Hell was astonishing to behold. As the Peregrine pulled the dagger free and landed hard on his back, red and black energy began to pour from the wound, making the lights dim once more and the ground begin to shake. Max heard the Abomination’s wail of frustration just before the creature exploded, chunks of his flesh splattering on the walls. The building began to crash in upon them, pieces of the roof tumbling to the floor. Max barely avoided being crushed by one as he scrambled to safety.
In the hallways, men and women ran about in confused horror. Without the Manchu to direct them, no one seemed certain about what steps to take.
The Peregrine ran forward, not stopping to look back. His mystic senses strained to their fullest, he followed his hunch about the quickest way out and eventually burst out into the morning air. Behind him, the lair of the Warlike Manchu finished its awful cave-in, destroying all those left inside and burying for all time the remains of the Abomination.
Max fell to his knees, coughing. His entire body ached and he was close to passing out… but the realization that someone was watching him made him look up in alarm.
The Warlike Manchu, the man who had once tutored Max in the ways of violence, stepped into view. Now that Max was outside he recognized the wooded area as being on the outskirts of Atlanta, far from the prying eyes of the city folk. There was no one nearby who could help Max now… and he knew that there was little chance that he would be able to defend himself in his current state. Even at full strength, it would be a difficult battle but now…
“You impress me,” the Warlike Manchu whispered. “You managed to disrupt years of planning in just a few moments… it’s astonishing just how deadly you could be if you truly applied yourself.” He held out a hand. “Will you join with me? Become my true heir in all things.”
“Go to Hell,” the Peregrine wheezed, blackness beginning to creep in around the edges of his vision.
The Manchu studied him for a moment and then shook his head. “I was wrong, Mr. Davies. You are too weak to ever become a true heir to me. You place too great an emphasis on others when you should be concerned with your own acquisition of power.” The villain leaned close. “But you, amongst all those I have trained, are still the best. I give your life to you… but when next we meet, you shall receive no mercy.”
The Peregrine fell forward into the grass, the Manchu’s words echoing in his head. He managed to project one final thought straight into his former master’s brain, however:
Come back to Atlanta and threaten me or my wife or my baby—and I’ll kill you.
The Warlike Manchu blinked at the vehemence of the telepathic wording and then laughed aloud. “Good luck with your child, Mr. Davies. I can only hope that they will not be as much of a disappointment to you as you were to me.”
With a quick turn, the Warlike Manchu disappeared into the woods, leaving behind the unconscious form of the Peregrine.
CHAPTER XII
Heirs to the Power
Max held his baby boy in his arms, marveling at how small the hands and nose were. He was perched on the side of his wife’s hospital bed, letting her get some much needed sleep. Jamison Davies was only twenty-four hours old but he’d already won his parents’ hearts.
“Figured I’d find you here.”
Max looked up, surprised that he hadn’t heard McKenzie enter. He smiled softly at his friend, gesturing for him to be quiet.
McKenzie lowered his voice, coming over to brush his fingertips over the baby’s cheek. The police chief was handsome and crisp in his uniform but Max could see worry lines around his eyes. “Hate to interrupt at a time like this,” he began, whispering so as to not disturb Evelyn. “But there’s been another murder.”
Max sighed, leaning forward to kiss Jamison on the forehead. The baby let out a little
grunt and twisted in the blanket. “I’m taking time off. I told you that.”
McKenzie nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I’ve been keeping my eyes out for any sign of the Manchu but he hasn’t popped up in months… until now.”
Max blinked in surprise. He set the baby down in its crib and turned back to his friend. “Neither of the previous murders seemed to have any link to the Manchu.”
“Both of ’em were athletic types,” McKenzie said. “Both died in strange ways, with bruises and cuts all over ’em. Some of them looked pretty old, like they’d been abused over the course of weeks or months.”
Max pursed his lips, a cold place forming in his heart. “And the new one?”
“Same deal. We found him in a gym down on the west side of town. But there was a note on him.” McKenzie reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded piece of yellow-colored paper.
The Peregrine took it, already slipping into the mode of thought that usually accompanied the donning of his mask. The clear, precise script was definitely that of the Warlike Manchu. It read:
I hope that this note reaches you, my former pupil. The past few months have been frustrating ones for me. Your interference in my plans led me to the decision to rededicate myself to finding a true heir. Three men auditioned and failed, each never passing their increasingly more difficult tests. But now I have found one for whom I have very high hopes… I think I shall have his final test be the slaughtering of you and your entire family.
The Peregrine was reading over the note for a second time when Evelyn asked, “Something wrong?”
Max looked at his beautiful wife, who looked pale and tired in her hospital gown. “Not at all,” he lied. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” Moving over to squeeze her hand, he said “McKenzie and I have to step out for a minute.”