by Barry Reese
“I came here tonight because my two failed sons are even now engaged in battle. My anticipation is that they will kill one another. Your husband was the greatest of all my pupils… but he is weakened by this false sense of morality that infects so many in your culture. My Shinigami is driven by lusts that make him ill-suited for any role atop my organizations. My mistake was in thinking I could take grown men and shape them in my image. What I need—what I have always needed—was an infant. One who could be raised in the old ways, taught the dark arts of assassination and power brokering. If I cannot have Max Davies, I can have one of his blood. It is a fitting replacement.”
“If you harm my son, I’ll kill you. I swear it!”
“I imagine you mean those words… but you are not capable of fulfilling them. Even should your husband survive his battle with my new pupil, there will be no returning your son to you. He will be marked as mine, body and soul.”
“You’re insane,” she hissed, struggling with renewed ferocity but unable to break his grip.
“Your friends are alive but injured. When you awaken, call for help immediately. I shall give you my word that your son will be raised to be strong and intelligent.”
“You’re the devil. Leave my son and my family alone!”
“From this moment forward, he is mine.”
Evelyn felt his free hand come down on the base of her neck. The blow was so sudden that she had no chance to avoid it and she fell forward, her face smacking against the floor with a loud thump.
From elsewhere in the house, little baby William began to cry.
CHAPTER XI
To the Death
January 30, 1940
3:30 PM
Copenhagen, Denmark
“Head out back and come around,” the Peregrine whispered, receiving a nod of approval from Kaslov.
As the Russian crept towards the rear of the store, the Peregrine rose to his feet, aware that his enemy could shoot him just as easily as the man had killed the Warlike Manchu’s daughter. He reached out with is mental abilities, trying to sense the man’s intentions. What he got was a jumble of strong emotions: hatred, excitement, desire for combat. He wants to fight me hand-to>-hand, Max realized, relaxing a bit.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Shinigami said, speaking again as the Peregrine moved outside the store. There were a few people further down the street, watching in fear. They had heard the gunshots but none of them appeared brave or curious enough to intervene further. “The Warlike Manchu claims you’re the best fighter he’s ever seen.”
“That doesn’t say good things about this fight you’re spoiling for,” the Peregrine pointed out. “Unless you’re looking to get your head handed to you…”
Shinigami and the Peregrine stood facing one another, each taking in the full appearance of the other. Shinigami wore his black bodysuit and skull mask, a curved dagger in his right hand and a smoking pistol in the left. The Peregrine drew forth the Knife of Elohim, preferring to have the magical weapon in hand as opposed to one of his modified pistols.
“I’m not looking to play games with you,” the German said, moving a few steps closer. The two men began circling one another, like tigers preparing for battle. “That woman in there… who was she? What did she tell you?”
“I’m surprised your master keeps those kinds of secrets from you,” Max teased, sensing that he was getting through to the other man. “He never bothered telling you about his daughter?”
Shinigami stiffened in surprise, remembering all the talk that the Warlike Manchu had made with regards to wanting an heir… if he had a daughter, why not train her in the ways of business and assassination? True, she was just a woman but if that was all you had… “I thought you were here looking for a way to kill the Manchu,” he finally said.
“His daughter gave it to me… the way to kill him. Turns out that he wasn’t the best father in the world. But that’s his way—there was a time he told me I could be his son. But now he’s sent you here to kill me. You think he won’t turn on you when you’re no longer useful to him? That’s the way he works, Shinigami… people are just tools to him, things to be discarded when they’re not needed any longer.”
“You were too weak to be his rightful heir,” Shinigami countered, striking first. He swept his blade towards Max’s side but the Peregrine countered with his glowing knife and knocked aside the blow. “And if his daughter is helping you, it only makes sense that she’s just as weak.”
The Peregrine noted that Kaslov had come around the side of the building, ready to intervene if necessary. The Russian was, however, seemingly content to allow Max the opportunity to defeat Shinigami fairly. For that, Max was grateful.
“I didn’t appreciate you striking at me through my friends and family,” Max hissed, slashing with his own blade. He managed to embed a part of the knife into Shinigami’s shoulder but it was not enough to slow the other man down. In fact, Shinigami caught him in the midsection with an up-thrust knee and Max staggered under a follow-up backhand.
Before the Peregrine could recover, Shinigami grabbed hold of his wrist and slammed it back against the outer wall of the bookstore. Max lost his grip on the magic dagger he wielded and cried out in pain.
“I would have cut your heart out long ago,” Shinigami whispered, bringing his face in close, “but the Warlike Manchu wanted you to suffer first. He wanted you to taste fear.”
“He was just hoping he could break me… make me come begging to take my place at his side. You were just a weapon to use against me. If he’d really believed in you, he wouldn’t have kept you from coming after me.”
“Maybe I was just so valuable he didn’t want to risk losing me,” Shinigami responded, slamming his forehead against Max’s nose. It didn’t quite break under the impact, but blood spurted from the injured area of Max’s face and his vision swam.
Kaslov tensed, readying himself to enter the fray but something stopped him. He caught a mental projection from the Peregrine, holding him at bay: I can handle this. Just make sure the authorities don’t show up and give him the opportunity to get away.
As Leonid spotted several German soldiers hurrying to the scene, he made the decision to follow his friend’s desire. He moved towards the Germans, ready to stall them for as long as necessary.
The Peregrine saw his friend leaving the scene and threw up an arm to block another blow from Shinigami. The man was very fast and Max could feel him subtly trying to influence him by using a telepathic probe to lower his defenses. Max fought back tooth and nail, finally driving Shinigami away from him with a well-placed shove.
The Peregrine moved to take advantage of the situation but he was confused when Shinigami stared past him in surprise. “What are you doing here?” the German demanded.
The Peregrine started to turn around but something stopped him. A ghostly voice echoed loudly in his head: Strike! Now! The voice said in thickly accented German.
Going with the flow, Max plucked up his fallen knife and ran forward. Shinigami’s gaze returned to him but it was too late and the Peregrine drove the point of his blade through the other man’s chest until it protruded from his back.
The Peregrine let his opponent fall to the ground, sliding off the blade with a wet, sucking sound. He turned to see a man with a stern expression floating nearby. The stranger wore a thick overcoat and heavy boots, as if he were embarking on a trip through snow-covered mountains. That he was a ghost was undeniable for he possessed the same aura that Max’s own father did.
Under his breath, too low for anyone to hear, Lars Merkel spoke in German. “I shall see you in hell, my son. I shall see you in hell.”
“Who are you?” the Peregrine demanded, wiping at his bloodied nose with the back of a gloved hand. His dagger glowed more fiercely in the presence of the supernatural.
Lars looked up at him. “Your son is in danger, Mr. Davies. I would advise you to return home as soon as possible.”
Before Max could ask him
for further details, Lars Merkel left the mortal plane for the last time.
Finally, he could be at peace, content in the knowledge that the hellspawn he’d helped birth would trouble the world no longer.
CHAPTER XII
Family Matters
January 30, 1940
12:30 PM
Atlanta, Georgia
McKenzie had been around a lot of heartache in his time as a police officer. He’d been forced to tell men and women, even children, that their loved ones were injured or dead… he’d often thought it never got any worse than looking into the terror-stricken eyes of an innocent and seeing their world crash down around them.
That was exactly the kind of emotion he saw in the eyes of Evelyn Davies right now. She sat on the couch in the family’s living room, gently rocking back and forth with her hands gripping her arms. Police officers were scouring the property for any clues as to where the Warlike Manchu might have gone but so far their attempts had been in vain. Flynn and Libby were in another room, both wracked with guilt over their own failures, while Nettie and Josh were pacing about wildly in the kitchen. Both of them loved little William with all their hearts… and even McKenzie had to reign in his emotions lest he snap entirely. The baby boy had been named after him, after all, an acknowledgment to the bond he’d forged with Max and Evelyn.
“We’re going to find him,” McKenzie said, standing in front of Evelyn, hat held tightly in his hands.
Evelyn’s face had a washed-out look to it and she ran her fingers through her hair, shaking her head. “No. You’re not. There’s only way this is going to end and that’s with my husband facing this madman. You know it and I know it.”
McKenzie shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “If you want,” he began, lowering his voice so that the other officers in the house wouldn’t hear, “We can always go off on our own. Maybe take Flynn and Libby with us… if we can find the guy, we can get William back ourselves.”
“That last time Max faced him, the Warlike Manchu could have killed him. He let Max live.” Evelyn stared into McKenzie’s eyes, the intensity of her hatred shocking the police officer. “That bastard wants Max to come to him. That’s what this is all about. That malarkey about taking William as his son was just that—malarkey! He wants Max. And nothing’s going to stop… we’re never going to be safe… until Max has killed him.”
* * *
January 31, 1940
2:45 PM
Atlanta, Georgia
The Warlike Manchu studied the crying child dispassionately. William Davies had done nothing but complain since being brought to the criminal mastermind’s lair, refusing all attempts from the Manchu’s female servants at consoling him. At last, the Warlike Manchu had set the child in the center of his private chambers, allowing the boy to cry himself to exhaustion.
“My father viewed me as the continuation of a great and noble line,” the Oriental said, kneeling before the child. “There was no room for sentimentality with him, however. I was trained to be the dutiful soldier from birth. My own daughter failed miserably to be the heir that I needed, but much of that blame must be attributed to her sex. But you… you have much of your father about you. In the eyes, the mouth, the spirit. You shall be strong and deadly.”
William stared at the Warlike Manchu, his wetly shining eyes glistening. Something about the man made him uncomfortable and he desperately wanted his mother or father, or even Aunt Nettie, to come and save him.
And then something peculiar seemed to appear behind the Warlike Manchu and William found his attention seized by this new arrival. It was a man who looked much like William’s father, but with several noticeable differences: a slightly different stance when standing, an older cut of clothing and a jaw that was slightly less impressive than the jutting chin of Max Davies.
The Warlike Manchu rose and turned away from the boy, pondering how best to begin the youth’s training. Despite the fact that he was less than a year old, there were still things that could be done to prepare William for the arduous path that lay ahead for him.
The spectral figure moved closer to little William, speaking directly into the boy’s mind. I’m your grandfather, the man said and William found himself beaming in reply. And I’m going to make sure you’re okay. Daddy’s going to be coming for you soon… in the meantime, just do what the bad man asks you to. Okay?
William nodded dutifully, understanding everything perfectly.
The Warlike Manchu caught the movement and turned to stare at the child, wondering what had brought about such a sudden change in his demeanor. It was almost as if the infant was staring at something that the Oriental could not see.
“Kyoko,” he said, summoning a slim young brunette. The girl moved forward, head bowed. “Take the boy into the Chamber of Elders.”
Kyoko looked up in surprise. The so-called Chamber of Elders was actually a small work room in which the Warlike Manchu had set up a large brazier, with burning coals and several varieties of drugs that would expand his consciousness. To expose a baby to those drugged gases…
Seeing her hesitation, the Warlike Manchu backhanded her quickly across the face, splitting her lip. “I have given you orders!” he barked.
Kyoko hurried towards the baby, plucking him up against her breast. She bowed in apology and left the room, fearful of the retribution that might await her if she hesitated any further. The man she served was a great and terrible creature, one whose fury left her in both awe and fear.
The ghostly spirit of Warren Davies vanished back into the void, knowing that his son had to be told.
CHAPTER XIII
To Face the Demon!
February 1, 1940
9:10 PM
Atlanta, Georgia
“You have to remain calm,” Kaslov warned. The Russian superman knelt on the rooftop of the Stellar Night Theatre, located across the street from the hotel in which the Warlike Manchu had taken refuge. Leonid wore a dark suit, his smooth white skin and silver hair standing out in stark contrast. A full moon illuminated the scene perfectly, allowing Kaslov and the Peregrine to study their opponents at their leisure. The two men had been at their perch for over three hours now, hours in which Max Davies had been chomping at the bit for action.
“Every second we wait is another second that my son is in that madman’s clutches,” the Peregrine pointed out. Max was leaning over the side of the rooftop, binoculars held tightly against his eyes. His long coat whipped in the stiff breeze that was blowing, a harbinger of winter’s last gasp—a storm that promised chilling winds and the rare possibility of snow. “Who knows what he’s been doing to him?”
Leonid said nothing in reply, knowing the truth behind his friend’s words. The serum given to them by the Warlike Manchu’s daughter rested in a specially modified weapon now—a knife-like device that would immediately send the fluid into the enemy’s body upon impact. The Russian had the weapon strapped to his waist at present, ready to be accessed at a moment’s notice. “Even so, we’re doing this the right way… so far, we’ve counted half a dozen women through the windows. In addition to them, he might have as many as a dozen men on that floor, all armed and dangerous. If we’re going to stage a rescue, we have to be very precise in our actions.”
The Peregrine nodded, knowing the wisdom in Kaslov’s words. They’d elected to eschew aid from McKenzie’s men, instead choosing to have Flynn stationed below in the alleyway, ready to follow anyone fleeing the building with the aid of the Peregrine’s roadster. Evelyn and Libby were in the backseat of the roadster, helping keep an eye out for danger.
Upon returning from overseas, the Peregrine had received messages from both his father’s spirit and his wife. William was gone, they reported, but the site of his imprisonment was known.
“I’m ready to do this,” Max whispered.
Leonid sighed but did not disagree. He took the serum-filled dagger and passed it to the Peregrine, who stood up and faced him. “I will rescue your son and get hi
m to safety. That leaves the Manchu for you to deal with… I assume that’s the way you’d prefer it?”
“I trust you to take care of William.” Max sighed, shaking his head. “I’m feeling old, Leo. Did you know I’ll turn 40 this year? Forty years old and I’m running around in the dark, wearing a bird beak on my face.”
Leo rested a hand on Max’s shoulder, sensing how close to the breaking point Max really was. “When the Warlike Manchu is defeated, things will take a turn for the better. You have a lovely wife and a bright young son… I envy you.”
Max found himself smiling at the sincerity in the Russian’s eyes. “Sometimes it’s good to hear that from someone I respect, Leo. Reminds me to stop feeling sorry for myself and enjoy what I have.”
“That’s something that your enemies will never understand.”
The Peregrine moved to the edge of the rooftop, coat billowing out behind him. For a moment, it looked like he would jump into the air and take flight. “I’m coming for you,” he whispered, both to his son and to the man who had stolen him. “I’m coming for you.”
* * *
The Warlike Manchu was growingly increasingly vexed. The young child continued to prove resistant to the gases emitted by the Chamber of Elders, adopting none of the glassy eyed stare so associated with the drugged air. The Manchu had hoped that it would make the child more pliant, as well as possibly opening the boy’s soul to a visitation by an elder entity. Such a thing had happened on several occasions with men and women forced into the room by the Warlike Manchu but here it did not seem to be possible. With an Elder inside the boy, he would grow faster than normal and take on supernatural power. Without him, the Warlike Manchu would have to undertake a prolonged period of intensive training with the boy as he grew.
At his side, unseen by the Manchu, was the source of William’s strange immunity to the gases. Warren Davies had used every bit of his spectral power to shield the boy from the potentially mind-altering effects of the drugs, hoping that his own son would arrive soon enough to do what had to be done: that the Warlike Manchu would be struck down in a spreading pool of blood.
