The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One

by Barry Reese

  Up ahead sat Horst, looking none the worse for his death a few hours earlier. The German wore the same black suit that he’d been in on the train and he was smiling at some shared joke, his straight white teeth shining. Seated with him was a brunette female who wore a shockingly revealing dress, the curves of her breasts on plain display. A man sat with his arm around her shoulders, nodding at Horst. He was handsome, Ellen noticed, but in that dangerous way that sometimes made women weak in the knees. He was thin but not overly so, with dark eyes and tousled hair. His shirt was white and open at the neck, unbuttoned in a manner of casual indifference.

  “I’d say that’s Jakob,” McKenzie said, using Diego’s speech patterns. “Should we try and avoid them or take the bull by the proverbial horns?”

  “We’re not hiding from him,” Max answered, moving straight towards the table. He suddenly came to a stop, looking over at Ellen. “I’m sorry… I keep forgetting we’re here for your friend. How do you want to play this? It should be your call, not mine.”

  “I think we should approach them,” she answered. “You’re right—putting it off isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

  “It’s a moot point anyway,” McKenzie muttered. “Horst just spotted us.”

  The German had stood up and was waving in their direction, his smarmy manner not reflecting anything other than a perverse interest in seeing Ellen’s evening attire. “Hello, my friends,” Horst said as they came closer. “My apologies for having left you so quickly at the train station. I have been telling Jakob that I have high hopes for your stay with us.”

  He’s acting like he doesn’t remember, Max projected to his friends.

  As Max shook hands with Horst, Ellen answered Max through the telepathic link he’d opened up between the three of them. Can you read his mind? See what’s going on?

  Not without him sensing it. I’m not that skilled in this kind of thing. It’s still new to me.

  Horst bent forward and kissed Ellen’s hand, his eyes shining. “You look simply ravishing, my dear.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, batting her eyelashes invitingly. Inside, she was sickened by his touch but she had trained herself to avoid such public displays. “And who is your handsome friend?” she added, ignoring the daggers thrown her way by the woman seated in the booth.

  “Ah,” Horst said, moving to introduce his friend, who rose to his feet in response. “He is our host. This is Jakob.”

  “I’m thrilled to make your acquaintance,” Ellen purred, leaning forward as she took his offered hand. She made sure to press her breasts together subtly, receiving a burst of pleasure when she saw Jakob’s eyes linger on her ample cleavage. She’d always found it easy to manipulate men because of her beauty and playing the part of the not-so-smart but extremely easy to bed socialite almost always worked.

  “The pleasure is all mine,” Jakob assured her, bending low to bring his lips close to, but not quite brushing, the top of her hand. “This is my companion, Eva.”

  Eva nodded coldly at Ellen, obviously not pleased with the description given to her.

  Jakob turned to Max and McKenzie, greeting each in turn. When the introductions had been made, Jakob gestured for everyone to take a seat.

  “When does our fun begin?” McKenzie asked, his voice tinged with fake accent.

  “Soon,” Jakob assured him. “Victims have been selected according to your individual profiles and you’ll be individually escorted to rooms located beneath the club where you can enjoy yourself at length.”

  Max forced himself not to stare at Horst, though he kept wondering what in the world was going on. Max looked debonair in his suit and tie, the very vision of American masculinity. “Do you mind if I ask how you got into this… field of work?”

  Jakob smiled, his handsome face looking as calm as if he were about to discuss the weather or some sporting event. “It’s sort of my life’s work, Mr. Davies. I’ve always had an interest in the macabre… and eventually I found myself in the position to satisfy the lusts of others. Lusts such as these are inherent in the human race but they are mostly kept under wraps, so that the more civilized members of our society aren’t offended.”

  “I salute you for having the foresight to start this kind of business,” McKenzie said, playing the role of Diego to the hilt now. He was sitting back in his seat, legs crossed, a lit cigarette dangling between two fingers. “I for one have been dreaming of such a thing for years.”

  Jakob seemed lost in Ellen’s cleavage as he spoke. “You will enjoy yourself, I am sure.”

  “Horst mentioned that we might be able to become repeat customers, like he has.” Max noticed that Jakob flashed Horst a warning stare and the German seemed to whiten in response.

  “Did he, now?”

  Horst seemed to find his voice again, rising from the booth and saying “Perhaps it’s time to show them to their rooms. I’m sure their toys have been prepared by now.”

  Jakob nodded, aware that Horst was desperately seeking to change the subject and allowing him to do so—for now. “You may take Mr. Davies, since the two of you speak so much. I will have Miss Patrick and Mr. Diego escorted to their respective playpens.”

  Max caught Ellen’s eyes and flashed her a mental message: I’ll try to keep us all linked up like this—if you run into trouble, ‘scream’ it out to me and I’ll do my damndest to get to you.

  Ellen looked amused by his concern, replying. And if you need rescuing, I’ll be sure to do the same for you.

  Max felt a sudden rush of embarrassment. After having his own life saved by his wife Evelyn on numerous occasions, he should have known better than to let his natural chauvinism creep into play.

  The Peregrine stepped out with Horst at his side and the German led him through the back of the club, into a dimly lit hallway lined with heavy wooden doors.

  “I wish you hadn’t said that,” Horst said harshly. “I’ll be punished later.”

  “Do you remember bringing it up?” Max asked.

  Horst’s face twitched slightly. From down the hall, Max thought he heard a muffled scream. He turned his head towards the sound and Horst chuckled. “Someone’s making an awful lot of noise. These walls are specially made to prevent outsiders from hearing those sorts of things. As for remembering… of course I do.”

  The way he said it made it quite clear that he did not.

  Max allowed himself to be led towards the third room from the left. The scent of cleansing agents was almost overpowering here and Max noticed the ghostly trails of blood on the floor and some of the walls. He’d been in only one place that filled him with the same sensations he was experiencing now: a slaughterhouse.

  Horst pushed the door open and Max found his sickening feeling increasing. The room was lit only by a powerful surgical light that was shining directly into the face of a young woman who looked like she was in her late teens. She wore a flower-print skirt and a peasant blouse, her dark hair hanging loosely behind her back. She was beautiful but her attractiveness was marred by the terror in her face and by the blood that ran from a bad cut above her left eye. She let out muffled cries from behind a damp cloth shoved hard into her mouth.

  “Do you like her?” Horst asked breathlessly.

  Max’s mouth became a thin line. He grabbed hold of the German’s collar and threw him into the room. Horst slammed into the surgical light and knocked it to the floor, casting the room into bizarre half-shadow. Max shut the door behind him, ignoring the terrified sounds coming from the girl. “It’s time for some answers,” the Peregrine whispered.

  CHAPTER V

  The Horror Grows

  Ellen’s escort was a thin shifty-eyed man named Hermann. Hermann didn’t bother to engage her in small talk as he led her down the same hallway that Max had traveled past only moments before. He did ask her once if she had any special requirements, which momentarily confused her.

  “Implements,” he explained. “Like certain kinds of knives or rope… and costumes. Do you wan
t to have special clothing set out for you to wear?”

  Ellen found herself wondering who this fellow was and how he’d come to be here. He looked like he should have been at home, playing with a dog while his wife fixed dinner in the kitchen. “What do you like to do with them? I’m new at this,” she said with a soft giggle, the kind that usually made men melt in her presence.

  The question seemed to disturb him. “I don’t take part in those kinds of things. I… serve a different function. We all play our parts.” He gestured towards one of the doors and began backing away. “She’s inside there. Enjoy yourself.”

  Ellen stared at his retreating form for a moment. This entire affair was far more confusing than she’d ever anticipated. From what little they’d learned about Bloodwerks, Ellen had expected nothing more than a group of spoiled sadists looking for victims to play with. Instead, they had dead men walking about with no memory of having died… and servants who seemed anything but pleased with their work.

  Ellen turned back to the door and reached out with a trembling hand. She obviously wasn’t planning to actually hurt whoever had been selected for her to torture but she wasn’t sure how she was going to manage to hide that fact on her way out. She considered asking Max for advice but didn’t want to use the mental link in that fashion. It seemed taxing for the Peregrine and Ellen wanted to hold it in reserve for as long as possible.

  She moved into the dim interior of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but what she received as her eyes adjusted to the gloom was the absolute unexpected. There, tied up and whimpering before her, was her missing friend Sally Wingforth.

  * * *

  Max held the struggling German tightly with one hand, reaching into an interior pocket of his own coat with the other. He pulled forth a dagger that shone a brilliant yellow in the dim light. The Knife of Elohim was a mystical weapon that had once been bathed in the blood of Christ and the Peregrine considered it one of the most potent weapons in his arsenal.

  “Talk to me, Horst. Or I’ll kill you again… You really don’t remember what happened the last time?”

  Horst suddenly realized that he was in deep trouble. His eyes widened noticeably and he began to stammer. “Pl-please, Mr. Davies! I can explain.”

  “I killed you on the train. You turned to dust.”

  “Let me show you something,” Horst begged. “Please.”

  “Don’t try anything, Horst… or I’ll see how you like dying a second time.”

  The German let out a sigh as the Peregrine relaxed his hold enough for the slender man to fumble around in his pockets. He drew forth a small black stone painted with a red circle on the very top. “This is a Soul Blade.” He flicked it from side to side as he spoke, causing something to ‘snap’ inside it. The rock was suddenly transformed into a shimmering purple knife that shimmered and crackled in the air.

  Max narrowed his eyes, staring at the odd device. It seemed to send off an air of foreboding that chilled the blood in Max’s veins. “That thing’s straight out of hell,” the Peregrine whispered.

  “Most people come in and kill their victims, Mr. Davies. That what they’ve paid for… but some people can agree to become more than that. They can offer their souls to a higher power—the Old Ones who serve as the backing forces behind Bloodwerks. I did that. My soul was taken from me and split into six pieces, each occupy a ceramic body mystically shaped to look human. That’s what this shell is… and what it was you killed earlier.”

  “And the blade does… what does it do exactly?”

  “We use it to scrape out a person’s soul—it does it magically, without harming the body. Once the soul is separated, it can be bent to the will of the club and split into its new shells. The body that’s left behind—the human form—can then be inhabited by one of the Old Ones. They were banished from the human plane but by taking over a body of flesh and blood, they can avoid the curse that sent them into the void.”

  “So you’re telling me that not only are there six of you in ceramic shells… but there’s a demon running around in your original body?”

  “There are only five of my ceramic forms now,” Horst reminded him with a trace of bitterness. “Once all six are destroyed, my soul goes straight to hell.”

  “Sally Wingforth,” the Peregrine said, giving the man another good shake. “Do you remember her?”

  “I recognize her name. She was originally going to die for my pleasure but one of the Old Ones coveted her body—and I could understand why. So young and firm…! So I scraped out her soul and she became one of us. Like me.”

  The Peregrine hefted the Knife of Elohim. “Horst… two down. Four to go.”

  Before the German could respond, the Peregrine plunged the dagger into the villain’s chest. Within seconds, the sadist was gone, leaving behind only the stench of death and a pile of ceramic ash.

  Looking back to the still terrified girl who was bound to the room’s only piece of furniture, the Peregrine managed a smile. “I’m going to get you out of here… and I’m going to take down the bastards who did this to you.”

  The girl’s eyes shone with sudden relief.

  CHAPTER VI

  The Old Ones

  McKenzie ignored the whining that came from the bound young man in the corner. The victim that had been selected for the Georgia lawman looked to be in his early thirties, with reddish-brown hair and penetrating green eyes. He was naked save for a small loin cloth that hid his genitals.

  McKenzie walked over the length of the room, checking to make sure there were no hidden listening or recording devices. Once he was certain he was safe, he finally turned his attentions to the imprisoned figure. He knelt at the boy’s side, disgusted at the way the boy flinched from his touch. He wasn’t angry at the youth but rather at the group of people who had instilled such fear into him.

  “Listen,” he said, beginning to untie the fellow’s bonds. “Don’t scream, okay? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m with people who are trying to shut this place down.”

  The man stared at him with confused eyes but he stood up quickly as soon as his limbs were free and began screaming for help at the top of his lungs.

  “Wait!” McKenzie exclaimed. “What are you doing? I told you to be quiet!”

  The man answered in a rash of gibberish that McKenzie vaguely recognized as something akin to Swedish. Realizing the fellow couldn’t speak English and his screams might jeopardize everything, McKenzie had no choice but to deck the man with one punch.

  “Sorry about that, pal,” McKenzie whispered under his breath. In the aftermath, he realized that he might have been a bit hasty—after all, surely the people who worked at Bloodwerks were more than used to hearing screams coming from their rooms. Nevertheless, the silence now gave McKenzie the freedom to think coherently.

  I think I know what’s going on, Max projected into McKenzie’s head. The police officer blinked in surprise, still not totally used to having someone speaking directly into his brain.

  How bad is it? McKenzie thought back.

  The whole thing is a front for demons who were banished from the Earth centuries ago. They’re carving out hollow spots inside human bodies that they can then inhabit. And some of the souls they’ve carved out are then put into ceramic bodies made to look like normal humans.

  McKenzie felt a smile dance upon his lips. Do you have any idea how absolutely insane that sounds? God, I love having met you, Max.

  Ellen Patrick interrupted the two, her mental ‘voice’ joining the conversation. I just ran into Sally.

  The surprise that came from McKenzie was almost palpable but it was met by an equal amount of pity from Max.

  She’s one of them, isn’t she? Max asked. One of the ceramics…

  Yes, Ellen confirmed. But it gets worse than that. She was here waiting on me. The second she got a good look at me, it was like a light flipped on in her head. She tried to kill me, Max, the second I freed her.

&
nbsp; McKenzie felt confusion beginning to reign inside his head. Waitaminute. She was waiting for you in the room? But that must mean—

  “That we know who you are,” a voice confirmed from behind him. “And we can read your thoughts.”

  Abruptly, McKenzie felt the mental link he shared with the others forcibly cut. He reached for the pistol hidden under his coat but the strong grip of a man’s hand stopped him in place.

  “Please don’t make this any worse than it has to be, Mr. McKenzie. You and your friends are caught like flies in our web.”

  McKenzie turned to face a broad-shouldered man with dark hair and eyes. He would have been handsome if not for the somewhat sickly complexion he wore. “Guess we must seem pretty stupid for trying this, huh?” the police chief asked, speaking his natural Southern drawl for the first time since arriving at the club.

  “Yes,” the man answered with a chuckle. “You do.”

  “So you’re one of the demons?”

  “Yes. I am an Old One. I walked this world long before your species had crawled from the mud and learned how to stand upright.”

  “Well… if you’re half as smart as you seem to think you are,” McKenzie said with a smile. “Then you better turn tail and run. Because I’ve seen my buddy Max fight with things twice as deadly as you and win. Your little operation here is going down the tubes.”

  “Your faith in the Peregrine is admirable. But he is known to us… and today is the day that he dies!”

  McKenzie spotted the attack just milliseconds before it came. The man clenched a fist and made to drive it straight into McKenzie’s face but the policeman ducked under the blow and responded with his own punch into his opponent’s midsection. The fellow staggered back in surprise and McKenzie dug out his pistol, pointing it at the other man’s head. “If you like living in that new body of yours, my little demon, then I’d suggest you watch your next step very carefully. Got it?”