The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One

by Barry Reese

  Max pursed his lips thoughtfully. He’d come here looking for answers, thinking that his visions had meant more than his friend’s mere death. He felt strongly that there had been foul play involved. Those clues that Evelyn had mentioned just now seemed to confirm his suspicions. There had been multiple individuals present when this fire occurred but none of those people had reported the accident, if it had been one. This was murder.

  “I’m going to try sensing what happened,” Max said, dipping his fingertips back into the ash.

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “If I concentrate, I’m betting that my telepathy will be able to pick up on any mental energy that might be lingering in this area.”

  Evelyn nodded with understanding. “You’re operating on the theory that painful or emotional events can cause a resonance with their surroundings… basically leaving behind a psychic ‘imprint’ that can be read later on by sensitives?”

  Max stared at her with an open mouth, making Evelyn laugh out loud.

  “You know, that was the entire basis for Haunted Bridesmaid, don’t you?”

  The Peregrine smiled, grateful that she was able to make him laugh even at a time like this. He closed his eyes and relaxed, losing himself in the moment.

  For a moment there was nothing save darkness but then brief images began to filter through his mind. He saw men in suits, their faces hidden by masks. A woman was with them, wearing armor. And McKenzie… but not in the house: inside the house lay another man entirely, one who had been planted there for the express purpose of making everyone believe it had been McKenzie who had died.

  The images suddenly came with further speed, causing the Peregrine’s body to jerk in terrifying spasms. Evelyn started to reach out and grab hold of her husband but a torrent of strange words began to spill from his mouth, giving her pause:

  “Sword of Hel, given life through blood and sacrifice. Unleash the old goddess and Hel shall be unleashed! The end of days shall come! On a pale horse she rides!”

  The Peregrine screamed then, a long wail of primal emotion. He then sagged forward onto the ground, his face buried in the soot. Evelyn pulled him onto his back and gradually he seemed to recover from whatever awful fever had held him.

  “Max! What the hell happened to you?”

  “I saw… a little bit about what happened here. A woman in armor did this. She staged it so that it would look like McKenzie was dead.” The Peregrine made it to his feet and took his wife by the hand, leading her towards the car. “They believe he knows something about a box… but I couldn’t see more than that.”

  “What about those things you were saying?” Evelyn asked, gasping from the speed with which her husband was moving.

  Max slowed his walk, setting his jaw as his demeanor grew grimmer. “That wasn’t me talking. It was something speaking through me. I felt something invade my mind, something incredibly old and powerful. It wanted to warn me about a sword… and the strangest thing is, I already have that thing.”

  Evelyn got into the car as Max held the passenger side door for her. “That thing you got from the Eel?”

  “Yes. I don’t know by what providence it’s come into my possession but I’m not going to waste this. If McKenzie is still alive, his kidnappers want that sword… and we’re going to use it to draw them out.”

  CHAPTER V

  Slithering Away

  The Eel stepped into the darkened apartment, blood oozing down the side of his face. He moved with a woozy gait, a leftover effect from the blow to his head. The Peregrine had nearly captured him but once again the crime lord had proven a bit too slippery to be caught.

  Unfortunately, he’d been forced to abandon not only his beloved yacht but also his trained female assassins, the Three Minnows. He loved those girls in his own way so somehow freeing the ones still living from the authorities would take high priority.

  The worst thing of all was the loss of the sword, however. Without it, he felt antsy and confused… possessing the Sword of Hel made one feel invincible. I should have carried it out onto the deck with me, he mused, and stabbed the Peregrine dead right then and there.

  Realizing that there was no time for recriminations, the Eel turned on a lamp and cast a wary gaze about his apartment. It was a well-furnished place in downtown Atlanta, only a few blocks from the opulent Fox Theatre. The Eel used it only rarely, mainly when he wanted some time alone with one of the Minnows, so it was not well stocked with provisions, but it was secure from all appearances. The Peregrine had managed to trace him to the yacht but had yet to find all his hideouts.

  The master criminal staggered into the bathroom and stared at his wound in the mirror. The flow of blood was slowing to a trickle but it was going to leave a nasty bruise. He took out a wash cloth and soap, slowly cleaning the area, occasionally wincing at the pain. When he was done, a fresh bandage was applied and the Eel began to feel like himself again.

  He moved into the kitchen, found some moldy bread and a jar of peanut butter. After scraping off the mold, he made himself a sandwich and turned on the radio, expecting to hear details about the Peregrine’s nocturnal activities. The vigilante was quite the sensation around town, especially after a B-movie series was made about some of his more lurid adventures.

  When the Eel heard the major news story of the day, a chill seemed to go down his spine and he forgot all about the Peregrine: “Authorities continue to search for clues in the death of Atlanta police Chief William McKenzie. Chief McKenzie’s remains were found in the burned out husk of a vacation retreat near Lake Lincoln early this morning. Investigators believe that an overturned lantern might be the culprit behind the blaze but a full inquiry is still ongoing.”

  The Eel reached out and turned off the radio, his face darkening with rage. Years ago, he’d killed McKenzie’s brother, gunned him down in the streets… and then he’d eluded all the efforts of the McKenzie boys’ father to hunt him down. When the elder McKenzie had gotten too close, he’d been dealt with… and when circumstance had led both the Eel and McKenzie to Atlanta, it had seemed like only a matter of time before their feud would come to its end.

  But not now.

  He thought about the day that he’d planned to leave Alabama for good, the way he’d snuck to the home of William McKenzie. The idea had been to plug the young cop with a bullet to the back of his head, thus ensuring that the Eel’s escape across state lines would go unhindered. But what he’d found when he’d arrived at McKenzie’s home was the man staring into a box of the strangest artifacts the Eel had ever seen: a sword, some bits of broken pottery, several scrolls with ancient runes written on crumbling paper.

  McKenzie had seemed entranced, totally oblivious to the Eel’s presence as the villain crept in through an open window, revolver in hand. But then the Eel had heard it, too… an odd whispering in the back of his head, the soft tones of a woman. Her voice had been alluring, yet oddly cold and frightening.

  The Eel had struck quickly, slamming the butt of his gun down upon McKenzie’s head and then sprinting away, the box of items in tow. To this day, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t killed the young lawman… but when weeks and then months went by with no sign of retaliation from McKenzie, the Eel had done some digging of his own. He’d found that the police officer had suffered a terrible concussion in the incident, one that had robbed him of several months’ worth of memory.

  The Eel moved to his bed, kneeling at its side. From beneath it he pulled out a battered box sealed with tape. It tore easily under his pressure, revealing its aged contents. The scent of history filled the Eel’s nostrils and he coughed slightly, images of dark, terrible things filling his mind. He saw a river of blood, filled with screaming victims, forever unable to reach the shore.

  The image of a woman, her face half hidden behind a drawn hood, rose up before his mind’s eye. What the Eel could see was lovely, with full red lips, smooth skin and eyes that twinkled with forbidden knowledge. But in the shadows of that hood lurke
d the other side of her face and the Eel somehow knew that gazing upon that would not nearly be as pleasant.

  “Mortal man,” the woman’s voice whispered in his skull. “It has been so long since you have come to me.”

  “I… have been busy,” he lied, and the woman in his head knew it.

  “You’re afraid of me,” she purred, amusement lacing every syllable. “You feel the cold caress of death when you speak to me and it terrifies you.”

  The Eel said nothing, knowing the truth in her statement. He knew that McKenzie had been listening to this voice when the Eel had come upon him… and in the years since, the Eel had listened to it himself dozens of times. After each experience, he’d vowed to destroy the box and never handle the sword again… but every time he came back, hungry to stare into the abyss.

  “You are concerned. I can sense it.”

  The Eel swallowed fearfully. “The sword. It’s gone.”

  There was a distinct air of warning when the hooded woman spoke again. She had raised her face slightly, giving the Eel the briefest glimpse of white bone peeking out from the shadows. “You have lost it?”

  “It was taken from me.”

  “You must retrieve it.”

  The Eel tried to look away but he couldn’t tear himself away from the hooded woman’s gaze. “I’ll do my best.”

  “You need to do better than that,” she warned. “I have told you what must be done… and yet you have not performed the duties I asked of you. My patience grows thin. I have waited for so very long… I yearn to be free. I yearn to touch the skin of mortal men.”

  The Eel felt his mouth growing dry. The hooded woman had instructed him to take the shatters pieces within the box and have them restored. They would form a small pot, something she called The Bowl of Forever Night. Blood would need to be shed with the sword and collected in the Bowl. And from the scrolls were to be read a series of phrases, ones that would allow the hooded woman to stride from her hellish realm and into ours.

  “Who has the sword?” she asked, bringing the Eel back from his reverie.

  “A man called the Peregrine. He fancies himself a vigilante and…” the Eel paused, remembering the way that the Peregrine had managed to snatch him down, despite being several feet away. “I think he might not be quite human.”

  The hooded woman laughed then and the Eel felt certain that whatever this woman was, she was not human either. “There are others who seek the sword and the relics. Find the woman named Kirsten Bauer. Together, the two of you will be able to reclaim the sword and free me.”

  “Kirsten Bauer,” the Eel repeated, committing it to memory. “I’ll do as you ask.”

  “Good. Because if you do not… if you let your petty little fears overwhelm your intelligence, I will not speak to you again. I will wait until I am freed by another… and then I will seek you out. And I will make you suffer in ways your little mind cannot comprehend!”

  The Eel grunted as a mental shove knocked him back. The hooded woman was gone from his vision and a quick glance at his watch told him that he’d lost over an hour. Rising, he forced himself to calm. Again the urge to flee the box came to him: destroy it or leave it, either way he should be free of the woman. But something always stopped him—the man who always slipped free from others seemed bound by an unbreakable force this time.

  “Kirsten Bauer,” he said aloud. “Whoever you are, the Eel is coming for you.”

  CHAPTER VI

  Prisoner of the Iron Maiden

  McKenzie hurt in places that he didn’t even know he had. He groaned as he sat in the tub, barely conscious of the cloth being drug across his back or the soothing bath salts that dissolved around him.

  Normally, being nude in the presence of a woman would have at the very least elicited a bit of embarrassment from the young man, but in his current state McKenzie could have cared less. His punishments had been so severe that he’d blacked out several times and more than once he’d found himself wishing silently for death.

  Kirsten Bauer sat on a chair behind him, carefully cleaning the wounds that she herself had caused. She was not in her armor, having discarded it after helping McKenzie into the tub. Now she wore only her undergarments, accompanied by a garter belt and hose. The steam from the warm bath would have made the armor seem like a furnace around her, so she had elected for comfort rather than modesty.

  It was rare for her to be dressed as such around a man but she knew that the policeman was in no condition to try to escape, let alone force himself upon her sexually.

  “I have looked into your background, Mr. McKenzie,” she said, leaning so close that her lips brushed against McKenzie’s ear. “And I think I believe you when you say that you cannot remember what you did with the box.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, turning his head to look at her. His eyes dropped slightly to steal a quick glance at her cleavage but there were no stirrings in his loin; at least, not yet.

  “You were hospitalized after an attack on your person. The assailant remains unknown but the assault took place at your home. I think it’s possible that this person stole the items from you and left you for dead. Your concussion could have easily led to amnesia.”

  “I remember being sick… but every time I’ve tried to remember what happened during that time, it just comes up a blank.”

  Kirsten moistened her lips, the tip of her tongue darting out quickly, betraying her excitement. “I am willing to forgive what happened earlier if you agree to help us.”

  McKenzie stared at her for a moment before bursting out laughing. The sudden change in his expression startled Kristen so much that she stood up and backed away. “You’re forgiving me?” He asked. “I believe it was you that was working me over. I don’t have anything to apologize for. I can’t believe you… you’re telling me that you faked my death and then tortured me… all for nothing. And now that you’ve realized your mistake, you’re going to forgive me? Sister, that’s rich!”

  Kirsten’s face took on a furious cast and she marched over to begin strapping back on her armor. McKenzie rose unsteadily from the tub, not caring that his body was fully displayed to her. He had kept himself in excellent shape, which was fully noticed by Kirsten, but the patchwork of scars she’d given him were standing out in bright shades of pink and red, marring his handsomeness. “You don’t understand,” she whispered, though some of the anger was slipping from her manner, replaced by something akin to disappointment.

  “Then explain it to me,” McKenzie said, staring into her eyes.

  Kirsten snatched up a towel and tossed it to him, averting her gaze. “My nation is going to lead this world into a new era. Those who have helped build that empire through their sweat and blood and tears will be rewarded.”

  “That Third Reich nonsense?” McKenzie asked, drying himself off before tying the towel around his waist. “I’ve heard about the way your Fuehrer talks about other people, like they were half as good as the Germans.”

  Kirsten ignored his words, still staring off into space. “I love my homeland. I think that this war… it will bring some horrible things at first. There will be much bloodshed and suffering. But when peace has been restored, the Fuehrer will make things right again. And I want to help with that. I can use the items you lost to help the Fuehrer do that, quickly… so that as few have to die as possible.” She finally glanced back at him, her sincerity shining through. Despite her cruelty to him, McKenzie found himself drowning in those big blue eyes of hers. “I am not a cruel woman but I am one who will do what is necessary. I… don’t want you to suffer. I want you to stand with me. In the end, you can become a loyalist and—”

  “I’d never back that maniac running your country. And I’d never turn my back on the US of A.”

  Kirsten let out a long sigh, shaking her head as if to confirm that she’d made a stupid miscalculation. “I should never have thought you’d understand. Like all Americans, you’re too bullheaded to listen to reason.”

  M
cKenzie took several steps towards her but Kirsten didn’t flinch away, not even when he put his hands on her shoulders. “Look… I don’t know anything about you, but I can sense that you’re not a bad person. Not even after all you did to me. Now’s my chance to make a pitch to you—let me go and I’ll do everything I can to get you out of this mess. You can stay here in the States.” McKenzie paused and then said a few words that surprised even him. “With me.”

  “I…” Kirsten hesitated, warmth beginning to flood through her limbs. She felt herself leaning in close, lips parting, and a section of her brain wondered what was happening to her. How could she go from torturing this man to suddenly growing weak in the knees for him?

  Before their lips met, a pounding at the door made them both jump. The Iron Maiden pulled free and quickly pulled the last of her armor into place, both figuratively and literally.

  The Iron Maiden opened the door, revealing one of her metal-masked henchmen. He pointedly looked over the Iron Maiden’s shoulder, where McKenzie was now getting dressed.

  Kirsten cleared her throat, summoning her servant’s attention once more. “Yes?” she demanded.

  The fellow handed his mistress a section of newspaper, speaking to her in German.

  McKenzie knew only a few words of that language but he could sense the tension suddenly rise in the room. He moved close enough so that he could glimpse the headlines. At the top of the page was an article detailing the ongoing investigation into his own “death” but the bottom of the page seemed to be what had caught his captors’ attention:

  LOCAL VIGILANTE CLAIMS MAGICAL SWORD

  Exclusive article by Phillip Gallagher

  Nocturnal lawman the Peregrine has told this reporter that he has recently toppled notorious criminal The Eel from his perch atop Atlanta’s underworld. One of the spoils of war was an ancient Viking sword adorned with enigmatic symbols.

  The Peregrine donated the priceless relic to the High Museum where it will be put on public display beginning tomorrow.