by Barry Reese
Max lunged for the taller man, narrowly missing him when Tony jumped aside and delivered a strong chop to the back of Max’s neck.
“I can’t believe this,” Carol whispered. The gorgeous blonde was chewing on a nail, her toes tapping in their high-heeled shoes. “The whole world hangs on the precipice and they’re showing off.”
“I bet you’re thinking that Tony’s not usually like this,” Evelyn said with a smirk.
“Well… yes. He’s normally so erudite that it’s hard to imagine him doing… well, this.”
“Max is the same way. But I’ve found that men’s collective IQ tends to drop when they get into large groups. Or even small ones.”
Carol laughed gently, wincing as Tony took a hard punch to his midsection. “That’s funny.” She looked at Evelyn, who still wore her adventuring gear and her tone suddenly became serious. “Do you think that going out with Max on these missions helps the two of you stay close? I sometimes think that Tony doesn’t completely confide in me because he thinks I won’t understand or that the details of the Black Bat’s exploits will upset me.”
Evelyn hesitated before answering, allowing herself to watch as Max’s lip was split by a well-placed kick from Tony’s left foot. “I used to think so. Now, I’m not so sure. There are still things that Max doesn’t share with me. Awhile back, he destroyed the human host for a demon of some kind—it was called Nyrlathotep. Before he died, ‘hotep showed him something, something awful. I think it was the future.”
“And he won’t tell you what it was?”
“Not even a hint. But I can see it in his eyes sometimes, when he thinks I’m not looking.” Evelyn shook herself, as if wrestling free of something unpleasant. “But it is sometimes fun to be with him, to know what it’s like for him when the guns are blazing. And I’ve even saved his life a time or two!”
Carol smiled at that, knowing that she’d used her wits to do the same for the Black Bat on occasion.
Evelyn’s next words froze the smile on Carol’s lips, however. “So… are you going to marry him?”
Carol blushed furiously. “It’s never come up.”
“Really? With the way he adores you, I’m surprised.”
“Well… I’m not sure adores is the right word. We’re… close. In love, I guess. But we both know how dangerous his work is. Would it be right to risk marriage and a child when he could be killed at any moment?”
Evelyn laughed, which brought a scowl to Carol’s face. Evelyn quickly put a hand on her new friend’s arm and apologized. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s just… well, Max and I have a child. William’s his name. And he’s the most precious thing in the world to both of us. The best reason in the world to get married is exactly what you just said: he could die at any time. Why waste the moments you have together worrying about what might happen? Embrace life! Besides, it’s not like you couldn’t be hit by a bus tomorrow… we could all die at any time, Carol.”
Carol regarded that advice in silence, while the man of her dreams tried and failed to drive a fist into the back of Max’s head. It had been eerie at first, knowing that Tony had her father’s eyes, but it was reassuring as well. Her father’s death while on the job had troubled her greatly but his eyes lived on in someone else, someone who hunted down the sort of men who had killed her father… there was a wonderful symmetry to it all and Carol sometimes thought she saw her father’s love for her when Tony gazed at her across the table.
“Tony Quinn,” she whispered to herself, “it’s time you and I had a long talk about our future.”
* * *
“The eldritch barrier should hold,” Doctor Satan muttered, pulling his scarlet cloak about his shoulders. He and Ascott Keane had sequestered themselves away from the others, bringing together their respective mystical powers. Satan paid close attention to every action that Keane undertook, knowing that he was gaining valuable knowledge about his opponent—knowledge that could eventually be used to bring about Keane’s demise.
Ascott was all too aware of Doctor Satan’s motives but he saw no alternative but to work with the villain. To hold anything back was to risk total victory for Arias. “We need to find out what they have planned,” Keane said. The two mystics were both seated on the floor of Quinn’s study, the room lit only by three flickering candles.
“Beyond the obvious?” Satan asked with a sneer. “They plan to tear open the Bleeding Hells, remember?”
“We need to know when and how they plan to do it.” Keane closed his eyes, hoping that Satan wouldn’t choose that moment to strike. He tried to relax, planning to send forth an astral image of himself in hopes of locating Arias. “If the Hells were open, both you and I would sense it… but why are they waiting?”
Satan’s amusement seemed to grow by a palpable degree, forcing Keane to open his eyes once more. He found the villain staring at him with grand mirth. “You truly are a fool, Ascott Keane. It’s embarrassing to think that you’ve bested me from time to time.”
“Do you have a point or are you simply trying to antagonize me?”
“First, there is no ‘they’ to this case. Not any longer, I’d wager. The only way to open the Bleeding Hells is to do it with a sacrifice and I’d wager that our friend Arias is planning to divest himself of Mr. Woodson.” Satan’s eyes glittered with an evil humor. “And the Hells have been opened. You wouldn’t sense it because you’re not as attuned to the spirits of the night as I am… it was only a small rift, not enough to bring forth the denizens of that realm—not many of them, at least.”
Keane felt a flush rise to his handsome features but he forced the shame away. This was precisely why Satan was so important to their plans: his connection to the dark side of magic was much stronger than Keane’s and he was able to sense things that the criminologist could not. “But what’s prevented him from opening the rift further?” Keane asked, ignoring the way that Satan was staring at him.
“That’s what we should be finding out,” the criminal mastermind said with a dismissive gesture. “I’ll visit the astral plane and attempt to find out. You should focus your attentions on the Jewel of the Seraphim. Make sure you know how to use it when the time comes.”
Keane started to protest, not wanting to trust Satan with the important task of tracking Arias. But the villain was right: there were two important tasks to be done and it as foolish to waste both men on the same job.
The investigator rose from his seating position and moved a short distance away, towards the glowing gem which rested on a countertop. The angelic being within fluttered wildly at his approach and Keane reached out a hand to lightly touch the gem’s surface. “Can you tell me what to do?” he asked the entity within.
You must bring me close to the prime demon, the one to whom all the others shall bow down before. The angelic entity pressed its small body against the gem’s surface, his eyes shining straight into the soul of Ascott Keane. Contact must be made between this gem and that creature’s body. It shall not stand before the light of Heaven. It will crumble before me and with its death shall the Bleeding Hells be sealed once more!
“What happens after that? Any demons on this side must still be dealt with, yes?”
They will die as their master dies, Ascott Keane.
Keane nodded, resisting the urge to continue stroking the surface of the gem. Something about it was comforting and pure… it seemed to strip away all the grime of reality and leave in its place only a brightly shining ray of happiness. It was a feeling that Keane had felt all too rarely in his adult life, which had been filled with horrific confrontations again and again.
Such thoughts made him think of Doctor Satan and Keane looked back at him, seeing that the villain was lost in his astral projections. An evil thought passed through Keane’s mind at that moment: that he had an opportunity to rid of the world of a great evil. Striking while Satan was helpless would potentially save thousands of lives down the road… but it was also a cowardly act. Satan was working with th
em and Keane had given the villain his word.
For better of worse, they were in this together.
* * *
Doctor Satan strode through the misty areas of the Astral Plane, his every move made like a returning champion. Here was his true comfort level, living full-blown in the mystic. He regarded the world of the material as a playground for his ambitions but it was here that his intellect was freed from mortal concerns and allowed to fully bloom.
He took delight in the pain of other mortals in the same way that a child might laugh gleefully as the wings of a fly are ripped away, one by one. Other human beings were beneath Doctor Satan and he saw them as trifles to be abused and destroyed.
Satan’s ongoing relationship with Ascott Keane was a source of continued frustration, however. Here was a man who was nearly Satan’s equal in terms of intellect and will. But there would come a day when Satan stood proudly over the corpse of his enemy, for it was Satan’s destiny to rule over all men.
The Astral Plane was a shadowy realm where other men and women could be seen only as spectral ghosts. There was no solidity here, only wisps of thought and inspiration. Everyone came here from time to time, but for most it was in dream or in the rare out-of-body experience. It was only a chosen few, like Satan, who could actively project their mind from their mortal form and walk amongst the Astrals. But from here, the entire world could be viewed, through the misty clouds that blanketed this Plane.
Doctor Satan focused his attentions on a clearly pictured image of Arias, one drawn from photographs given him by Keane. At first, he wandered aimlessly, finding no trace of the man… and then he began to wonder if perhaps Arias no longer looked as he did in the images he’d been shown.
Satan allowed the image he held in his mind to shift, becoming more fluid. He retained the overriding desire to find Arias but gave himself more leeway in terms of identifying the man.
What he finally saw through the mists ahead was enough to give him pause. It was no longer the somewhat foppish long-haired Arias but rather a monstrous brute with a metal rod of some kind embedded in its skull and barbed wire wrapped tightly about its torso. The figure was exiting a parked car and was slowly moving towards a structure that Satan recognized immediately: the Empire State Building.
Doctor Satan found himself horribly fascinated by the creature, which retained enough qualities of Arias to be somewhat recognizable in the face. There was an air of power surrounding this transformed Arias that even Satan had to be impressed.
And then the creature turned and looked directly at him.
Satan took an immediate step back, for it was rare for anyone to sense those in astral form. But there was no doubt that the creature had come to a halt and was now watching him.
“Doctor Satan,” it purred in an inhuman voice. “I would have thought you smarter than this. Turn back now and you might live a little longer. Try to block my path and you will know suffering like you cannot imagine!”
Satan felt his traditional hubris begin to return and he responded by flinging back his cloak and raising a fist in promise of violent retribution. “You do not frighten me, Arias! I shall see you destroyed!”
The demon opened its mouth to reveal a set of jagged teeth, looking as if each had been shattered several times. “Call me Ba’al, Satan… so that the name of your slayer shall be correct!”
Satan felt a rush of eldritch energy from Ba’al and he threw himself back through the Astral Planes, landing hard inside his mortal form once more. If he’d remained even a few seconds longer, the energy would have eradicated his astral form, leaving his body a soulless husk forever.
Ascott Keane saw his old foe convulse on the floor and he rushed to the man’s aid. He helped steady Satan, who quickly composed himself and pulled free of Keane’s grip. “What happened?” Keane demanded.
Satan seemed to shake himself out of a dream. “The Empire State Building… that’s where he’s going. I don’t know why, but it can’t be good. He has to be stopped. Quickly.” Satan locked eyes with his longtime nemesis. “And he’s not longer Arias. He’s calling himself Ba’al.”
“Ba’al…” Keane whispered, recognizing the name. A powerful entity from the Bleeding Hells, possibly the greatest of them all. “We don’t have much time,” he said.
Satan agreed wholeheartedly.
CHAPTER XII
Deathmate
Standing on the corner of Fifth Avenue and West 34th Street, the Empire State Building was completed in 1931, becoming the largest structure in the city of New York. It was a remarkable piece of architecture but there were many who had taken to calling the structure the “Empty State Building” for its difficulties in recruiting tenants. Even with the observation deck bringing in millions of dollars, the building had yet to turn a profit in its ten years of existence.
The distinctive art deco spire atop the building had been placed there to be a mooring mast and depot for dirigibles but such things had proven far too dangerous and the idea had been abandoned.
The observation deck located on the 86th floor offered a full 360 degree view of the city and had drawn visitors from around the world. It was to this location that Ba’al now strode, ripping the front doors of the structure off their hinges and striding within.
The first person to bar his path was named Norman Ferris and he was just sixty days away from retirement. Ferris was a big man with a shock of white hair, his ample stomach testing the limits of his security guard uniform. Norman had stared at Ba’al for several seconds before rising from his chair, setting down the sports paper he’d been reading.
“Sir? Excuse me, sir? But you can’t come in here! The building’s closed at this hour and there’s no costumes allowed even when it’s opened!”
That last bit wasn’t exactly true as no one had ever told Norman to block the entrance of costumed individuals but given how frightful this fella’s attire was, Norman felt sure that something should be said.
Ba’al regarded the fat man with an insolent stare. He had not time to waste, not given the fact that his enemies now knew where he could be found. Ba’al drove a fist straight through Norman’s skull, splintering bone and muscle as he did so.
Continuing towards the stairs, Ba’al dispatched one more security guard along his way, snapping the man’s spine before this fellow could even shout a warning.
To the 86th Floor Ba’al hurried, eager to unleash his fellows upon the world.
* * *
It was Ascott Keane who performed the difficult spell that transported himself, the Peregrine, Doctor Satan and the Black Bat from Tony Quinn’s mansion to the 86th floor of the Empire State Building. It was a taxing affair and one that pushed his abilities to the limit. Given the number of people he was transporting, it was decided that Evelyn and the others would remain behind.
The choice for where they would emerge had been suggested by the Peregrine. The most notable thing about the Empire State Building was its height, suggesting that whatever Ba’al had planned, the higher the distance from the ground, the better. There was a second observation deck, located on the 102nd floor, but it was smaller and more enclosed. Keane had thought he’d detected more than that in the Peregrine’s manner, as if the vigilante’s psychic powers had spurred him on to make such a suggestion but if so, Max had not offered it.
The Black Bat looked around, pistols held at the ready. “Should we split up? Someone head up, others head down?”
“Spoken like a true idiot,” Doctor Satan warned. “The only hope we have of defeating Ba’al is to pool our resources. Encountering him on our own, none of us would stand a chance, not even me.”
The Peregrine held up a gloved hand, cutting off the Black Bat’s terse response. None of them liked having Satan with them, but they realized his power and knowledge could come in useful. Even Max was willing to put aside his fury over Leopold’s death for the moment… “I sense something,” he said aloud, bringing silence from his three companions.
Both Sata
n and Keane nodded, their own unique senses picking up the arrival of something, as well. Keane reached into a pocket and lightly touched the Jewel of the Seraphim, ready to bring it forth when needed.
From within the building stepped Ba’al, the four daggers of Elohim tied about his waist. He stopped when he saw the men before him and laughed, inwardly pleased at the coming battle. He had sought to avoid it but now that it was inevitable, he would glory in their deaths.
“I gave Doctor Satan fair warning but I see he refused to take heed,” Ba’al said, his voice rumbling through the night air. The stars twinkled overhead and the smell of coming rain loomed over all. “Who would like to die first?”
Keane cast one glance at the Peregrine and nodded, giving the man Keane’s blessing to start the plan in earnest. The four of them had decided that the best course of action should combat begin would be for Satan, the Peregrine and the Black Bat to directly engage Ba’al, allowing Keane to sneak close enough to use the Jewel.
It was the Peregrine who struck first. He danced close enough to fire one of his modified pistols at point-blank range, the bullet lodging in the bulky flesh of Ba’al. The demon howled in pain but never slowed down as it lunged for the Peregrine, catching him with one oversized fist on the side of the face. Max tumbled down, his skin burning from the hellion’s touch.
The Black Bat, meanwhile, retrieved a small boomerang shaped weapon from his utility belt and flung it with unerring accuracy. It struck one of the daggers about Ba’al’s waist and knocked it free. The weapon clattered to the ground near the Peregrine’s left hand. The vigilante seized it and rolled away. Without all four of the knives, the spell to open the Bleeding Hells could not be completed.
“Give it to me!” Ba’al screamed. He raised his right hand and unleashed a torrent of Hellfire which engulfed the Peregrine. Max silently prayed for help, thinking that he was about to die at last.
