The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One

by Barry Reese

  “Most assuredly. And a partnership on this matter might have long-term implications,” Rasputin said. “I command an army of several hundred men.”

  Charlie perked up at that and he leaned forward with a glint in his eyes. “What about the Peregrine? He’s been causing trouble for years now. Can you off him, too?”

  Rasputin seemed to stare past Big Charlie, looking into the darkness that lurked beyond today and into tomorrow. “I’m certain that my path will cross that of the Peregrine. And when it does, there is only one outcome that is possible—his demise.”

  Charlie grinned, liking the man’s confidence. He rose from his chair, which creaked in audible relief, and moved around the desk. “My boys have been looking all over the city for this Reaper but he pops up wherever they aren’t. I’ve been trying to come up with some way to lure him into a trap and I think I’ve hit on it.”

  The Russian studied the fat man. “Go on.”

  “If this Reaper’s who I think he is, he’s mad at me not just ’cause I had him killed… but because I took his girl. My wife used to be involved with him.” Charlie chuckled at the memory of Hank’s face as he was thrown into the grave. “I put out the word on the street that she’s going to be at the old Hulsey Warehouse. It’s abandoned now and will be the perfect place for us to stage our little ambush. You can take him out and everybody’s going to be happy.”

  Rasputin paused, digesting the thoughts. “You mean to use your woman as bait.”

  “It’s the least she can do for me after all the bills she runs up.”

  “And if she refuses?”

  Charlie snapped his fingers, summoning Mikey into he room. The gunman held a struggling Sally in his arms. “I’m not askin’,” Charlie said.

  Sally’s eyes opened wide at the sight of Rasputin and she whirled towards her husband. “What’s going on, Charlie? Tell me, please!”

  “Baby doll,” the fat man said, walking towards her. “It’s time to settle old debts. Your boyfriend’s back in town and he wants to see you.”

  “Boyfriend?” she stammered, confused.

  “Hank,” Charlie answered with a laugh. “Old Hank didn’t know enough to stay dead. So’s it’s time to put him back six feet under.”

  “You told me he ran off…”

  Charlie shrugged. “I told you lots of things, cutie. Take her to the car, boys.”

  As Sally was led kicking and screaming from the room, Rasputin folded his arms in front of his chest and nodded. Soon. Soon I shall have all the power I will ever crave.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Clash of the Titans

  Flynn let out a long whistle as he slunk alongside the Atlanta-based plantation house, the full moon hanging high overhead. “This place is a beaut… you really think Rasputin could be holed up here?”

  Leonid Kaslov motioned for his partner to be silent. Libby was bringing up the rear of their little party as they descended upon the area that they believed might house their enemy. A small silver box that fit in the palm of Kaslov’s hand continued to chirp softly, growing more intense as they neared a storm cellar. “The only thing I know for certain is that there is energy here that matches that of the Black Flame radiation left behind in Loggieville. It’s faint and I’m picking up multiple traces throughout the city… but it is here nonetheless.”

  “Are we going to break in?” Libby asked. She had changed into something more sensible during the long ride south, dispatching her eye-catching garments for slacks, a white button up shirt and a belt lined with pouches. Flynn couldn’t help but notice that she’d unconsciously mimicked Kaslov’s manner of dress rather than his own, which consisted of denim jeans and an open necked shirt. “What if we’re wrong about all of this?” Libby continued. “I’d hate to upset whoever lived here.”

  “I don’t plan for us to do any damage,” Kaslov responded, kneeling next to the storm cellar door. He could hear movement from within and deftly removed a small lock picking kit, setting to work on the lock that barred their entrance. “Someone here has had dealings—recently—with the Black Flame. If it’s an innocent, then I’ll offer a fair sum for their troubles. But if Rasputin is within, we can’t take that chance in alerting him.”

  Flynn withdrew a small pistol and checked to make sure it was ready to be fired. He saw alarm flash in Libby’s pretty eyes and he leaned closer to her. “Just stay behind me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Libby smiled gratefully but her eyes flickered back to Leonid as the lock snapped open. Flynn knew he was nothing more than a tool to her at present, something to hopefully inspire jealousy in Kaslov. But he liked her—as a person and especially as a woman who was easy on the eyes—so he wanted to make her feel safe.

  As Kaslov opened the door, he heard the voices from down below cease. He could make out no light whatsoever, which was odd… for there had been one on when they had approached, its rays peeking out from under the door. He has about to warn his companions that their attempts at stealth had failed when a shadowy form lunged from the darkness, striking him full in the chest.

  The Russian went down hard but recovered quickly. In the moonlight it was hard to make out fine details but Kaslov caught a glimpse of an odd mask on his attacker’s face: a small domino-style thing with a bird-like beak over the nose. The man wore a long overcoat and a suit beneath. In his left hand he held a pistol that looked like none Kaslov had ever seen before while in his right was brandished a glowing dagger.

  Flynn and Libby were too shocked to have made any response but they soon found themselves under attacks of their own. A woman, slightly older than Libby but in far better athletic shape, was up and out of the basement in a blur, driving the heel of a foot up under Libby’s chin and knocking her to the ground.

  Flynn, meanwhile, saw an officer of the law climbing out of the storm cellar, a pistol pointed directly in Flynn’s direction.

  “Stay where you are,” the lawman warned. “And drop the gun.”

  Flynn glanced over to see that Kaslov was ducking a swipe of the masked man’s knife and shook his head. “Sorry, my friend. I can’t do that.”

  “I’ve got you covered,” the police officer reminded him.

  Flynn chuckled in response. “You did have me covered, you mean.” Before his opponent could respond, Flynn pointed his own gun and fired. The shot was incredibly accurate, knocking the policeman’s gun from his hand. Then Flynn was upon him, using the butt of his pistol as a bludgeoning weapon.

  Libby squawked out in alarm as the woman drove a fist into the earth just left of Libby’s head. “Wait!” she said. “I can explain everything!”

  “Like how you and your boyfriends tried to break into my house—armed with guns?”

  “A gun! Singular!” Libby corrected. “We’re tracking a man named Rasputin—he’s evil!”

  The woman hesitated, staring into her eyes. After a long moment, she asked “And what makes you think I’m not evil, too?”

  “You’ve got a burp cloth tucked into the collar of your shirt,” Libby answered, gesturing to the garment. “I’m taking a chance that means you’re not a villain hell-bent on world domination.”

  Libby felt relief wash over her as the woman offered her a hand up. “My name’s Evelyn,” she said. “And you—?”

  “Libby.”

  Evelyn looked over at her husband and sighed. “I told him we should wait before attacking.”

  “I told Leonid we shouldn’t go breaking and entering,” Libby whispered in annoyance.

  The two women exchanged a look. “Men,” they said in unison.

  While the females of the group were coming to an accord, the Peregrine was finding himself engaged in battle with a man who was almost his equal in fighting skill and his superior in pure strength. Kaslov drove a foot into Max’s stomach, following that up with a massive blow to the side of the Peregrine’s head. Max fell into an acrobatic roll, springing up on the other side of the Russian. He threw the dagger at his foe, embedding
the blade deep in Kaslov’s right shoulder. He then reached out with his mental powers, clouding the big man’s vision for a moment so that he could knock his feet out from under him.

  Kaslov went down again but his keen hearing placed his foe’s position enough for him to swipe out with his hands and grab hold of the Peregrine’s ankles. He yanked the masked man to the ground and threw himself upon him.

  They were locked in fierce battle when a staccato of gunshots filled the air. Max looked up, grateful that he’d sent both Josh and Nettie off into town for the night. Whatever was going down was too dangerous for them to be around.

  The Reaper stood nearby, his massive form quivering with rage. The horrific nature of his face made Libby cry out in alarm. “What are you doing?” he asked, staring at the scene in fury.

  Evelyn moved towards her husband and managed to separate the two men. “We were just getting introduced,” she said to the Reaper. More experienced than Libby in dealing with the unusual, she hid her disgust well.

  The Peregrine realized what she was saying and the look in her eyes. He’d made a mistake. Turning to Kaslov, he nodded in greeting. “I’m known as the Peregrine.”

  Kaslov’s eyes widened. “Я огорченн,” he muttered. In English, he translated “I’m sorry. I was in such a rush that I didn’t even have time to check the ownership of this home. I know of you. We’re both members of the Nova Alliance Adventurer’s Club.”

  The Peregrine let out a groan of acknowledgement. “And in the dark, I didn’t recognize you. Leonid Kaslov! You’re one of the most brilliant men on Earth!”

  “If the mutual admiration society is over,” Evelyn muttered. “I think it’s time we turned out attention to the Reaper.”

  Kaslov noticed that his sensor was chirping more insistently with the Reaper around. “The Black Flame,” he said. “You’re empowered by it?”

  The Reaper nodded. “It brought me back from the dead.”

  “Then I think I know why my own enemy has led me here. A man named Rasputin…” he nodded at the Peregrine’s look of interest. “The famous one, yes. He still lives. Rasputin has part of the Flame in his possession. He wants the rest of it, which means that he may come looking for you. We’re here to stop him.”

  The Reaper shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t care anything about this Rasputin. All I care about is killing Big Charlie… and he’s done something new to warrant his murder.”

  The Peregrine moved past Kaslov, stepping closer to the undead vigilante. “What’s happened?”

  “Sally’s in danger. He’s going to kill her.”

  “It’s a trap. Must be,” McKenzie muttered, rubbing his chin where Flynn had smacked him.

  “I agree,” Max said. “We all need to—”

  “I’m going alone,” the Reaper stated. “I was going to let you help but… all this shows me that you can’t be trusted to be quiet.”

  “No! It’s too dangerous—” The Peregrine’s words trailed off as the Reaper began to disappear into a cloud of mist. When the undead figure was gone, Max cursed under his breath.

  “We can use this to track the Reaper and Rasputin.” Kaslov showed off his sensor device. “Assuming you don’t mind us teaming up with you on this.”

  The Peregrine smiled. “I’d be honored, Mr. Kaslov.”

  “Please—call me Leo.”

  CHAPTER XVII

  The Reaper’s Final Battle

  Oakland Cemetery was the oldest repository for the dead in the city of Atlanta. City fathers had originally purchased six acres, thinking it sufficient for a town that in 1850 was just over 2,500 in population. Designed as a Victorian garden cemetery, it was meant to be an aesthetically pleasing place for one to bury their loved ones. The Civil War had brought increasing numbers of the dead, however, and the grounds were continually expanded until they reached their present size in 1867. In 1872, the cemetery—which had previously been known as Atlanta Graveyard—changed its name to Oakland. By 1884, the last plots were sold and the cemetery reached capacity as the twentieth century unfolded. As Atlanta rose from the ashes of the war, Oakland became hemmed in on all sides by residential homes. The final resting place of so many became an afterthought, its graves becoming untended and overgrown.

  It was the perfect place for the Reaper to die, Rasputin mused. The Russian stood atop the highest peak in the graveyard, his thick beard blowing wildly in the stiff wind that blew, sending leaves and sticks swirling about his feet. The area upon which he stood was called Bell Tower Ridge and it was the tallest naturally occurring spot in all of Atlanta, rising some 1070 feet above sea level. Numerous mausoleums dotted the Ridge and Rasputin could feel the motions of the dead all around him. Ghostly shapes that were beyond the ability of normal men and women to see moved in wispy, time-lost motions. Here it was that Confederate Commander John B. Hood had stood as he watched the Battle of Atlanta raging to the east. Here it was that an empire had been lost and another saved.

  “Please,” Sally whispered, looking up at the Mad Monk from her spot on the ground. She was tied to a heavy metal stake that had been driven down into the moist red earth, her fine dressed ripped from the fight she had put up. Her left shoulder and the upper swell of her breast were bare and Rasputin allowed himself the briefest of passions as he examined her. “I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered, eyes wet with tears. “Just let me go. Please.”

  “You should be honored,” the Mad Monk declared, kneeling beside her. He squeezed her chin, tilting her head up until she stared into his yellowed eyes. “Tonight I receive the last part of the Flame. Tonight I change from a man with great power… to a man with insurmountable power.”

  “But why?” she asked him, frightened but curious. “You could have anything you wanted already. Why threaten me? Why threaten… Hank?” She had to fight to get that name out, still struggling to believe he could be back once more.

  “Because it is my destiny. I was not born onto this Earth to wander it as a hermit and a servant to others. I was meant for greatness!”

  Sally winced as he hardened his grip on her face. He abruptly let her chin fall away and stood up, turning to face the Black Flame, which flickered madly near the entrance to one of the mausoleums.

  “Where is he?” Rasputin demanded of the Flame. “Where is this Reaper?”

  He is within the cemetery, the Flame replied. He comes for you.

  Rasputin felt a shift in the air and heard Sally’s gasp of horror and surprise. Without turning around, he said “Mr. Wilbon. Welcome to the end of your miserable existence.”

  The Reaper, guns held at the ready, emerged from the shadows. His terrifying visage turned briefly towards Sally and then was quickly averted. Hank did not wish her to remember him this way. “Step away from the girl,” the Reaper rumbled. “Or I swear that you will die.”

  “Like you, I have experienced death first hand. It holds no horrors for me.” Rasputin whirled about, unleashing a torrent of flame from his gnarled hands.

  The Reaper jumped to the side, barely escaping the attack by falling behind a tombstone. He recognized the Black Flame and could sense that Rasputin shared its power. But the Russian seemed to possess it in greater amounts than Hank, or at least was better adept at using it. Hank could hear Sally’s screams and they tore away at was left of his soul. When the Flame had come to him, bringing him back from the void of the grave, it had been Sally, beautiful Sally, that had filled his heart and mind. But now he was a monster and she was married to the scum of the earth.

  Life, he decided, was an endless succession of pain and misery.

  With a roar of angry defiance, the Reaper stood up from the safety of the tombstone and opened fire. Again and again his mystically empowered bullets tore through the Russian’s clothing and flesh, spewing blood and meat backwards from the man’s body. Rasputin staggered about like a marionette whose strings had suddenly been cut and then he flopped over onto his back.

  The Reaper hesitated, looking towards Sally. In
a low voice, he whispered “Do you see what kind of man you married? He set you up so you’d die tonight. How could you do it?”

  Sally couldn’t repress a shiver as the Reaper knelt next to her and began undoing her bonds. His face was so unlike the one she remembered. Hank had always been a tough guy but he’d had real soft eyes, the kind that could make a girl melt every time she looked into them. “After you ran off—or after he said you did—I was real lonely. And Charlie was there for me. I didn’t love him, still don’t. But he took good care of me, Hank. Until now.”

  “I would have treated you better.”

  “I know you would have.” When she was free, Sally looked up into that terrible visage and smiled weakly. “We can still be together, Hank. I don’t care what you look like. Really.”

  The Reaper stirred, unable to believe her words. He’d long ago given up on any hope of finding love again, having accepted the fact that he was to be a killer—and then he would no doubt die again himself, his soul cast into the burning fury of the Flame. “You mean that?” he asked, wanting to be certain.

  “Of course I am, baby. I’ve loved you with all my heart and always will!”

  Hank Wilbon paused before pulling her into his arms. Sally felt like she’d come home after a long time spent away. And then she sensed movement behind her lover and her eyes opened to see a sight straight out of a grade-b horror movie. Rasputin, his body riddled with holes, was advancing upon the Reaper, his hands glowing with blue-black fire.

  “Hank!” Sally screamed, but it was too late.

  Rasputin gripped the Reaper by his head, flooding the undead vigilante with energy. At first, Sally thought that Hank was being burned by the same flame but then she realized that something worse was occurring: the flames were drawing energy out of Hank, withering his form even more. That energy then danced back up Rasputin’s arms, returning to its true master.