The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One

by Barry Reese

  No matter, he decided. As attractive as she was, she was obviously crazy as a loon and twice as dangerous. The sooner he was free, the sooner he could contact Max and let the Peregrine handle the situation from here.

  McKenzie had listened intently, making sure he knew exactly how many men were outside his door. He’d also stretched his muscles as much as possible, trying to work out the kinks put into them by the Iron Maiden’s beatings.

  When he felt like he was loosened enough for what was to come, he began beating wildly on the door, coughing and screaming. “Please! Help me! I’m bleeding again!”

  There was a sudden silence from outside, during which McKenzie kept up his noisemaking. He was gambling that the Iron Maiden had left instructions for him to be protected; otherwise he would have been surely assaulted by now. Within seconds, McKenzie heard heavy footsteps approach the door and a gruff voice shouting to him:

  “What is wrong with you?” the man asked in broken English.

  McKenzie made another series of dramatic coughs before answering. “I think something’s broken inside me. I’m spitting up blood…”

  There was a muffled discussion outside and then McKenzie heard the door being unlocked. He took a step back and girded himself for action. The men would probably be armed, which meant there was a good chance that he would be shot during the conflict. Still, he had to take the chance. To stay here as a prisoner was not in his nature; he was a man who preferred to die with his fists clenched.

  As soon as the door was cracked open enough for McKenzie to see the German’s face, the police chief threw himself forward. The impact knocked the door back into the face of his captor, shattering his nose. A stream of bright red blood began to pour from the wound and the German went down quickly, covering his face with his hands.

  The remaining two men stood momentarily stunned. One of them wore a dark green jacket over a turtleneck sweater and he brandished a pistol in his right hand. The other fellow was shorter and stockier, with straw-colored hair and beady eyes. He had brass knuckles on his hand and looked like he’d had a lot of practice with them.

  McKenzie lunged for the gun-wielding fellow first. He drove a fist into the man’s chin but missed a direct hit as his opponent recovered enough to dodge out of the way. As the stocky man approached McKenzie from the rear, the police chief swung around and caught the man with a powerful backhanded blow.

  The gunman was now fully recovered and busily training his weapon on McKenzie. William let out a cry as a bullet whistled past his ear. He dove to the ground for the next one, which managed to strike the stocky German in the shoulder.

  With the chaos that was now ensuing, McKenzie had the definite advantage. Years of fighting crime both on his own and alongside the Peregrine had given him the ability to narrow his concentration down to a pinpoint level, avoiding all unnecessary distractions. While the gunman was concerned about his fallen friend, McKenzie grabbed hold of his ankle and yanked.

  The German toppled down and McKenzie sprang upon him, driving blow after blow into the man’s face until he stopped resisting. McKenzie then turned to see that the other two men were still writhing about in pain.

  Flushed with victory, he bolted from the corridor, heading down a long hallway until he saw sunlight flooding in through a set of windows. The building didn’t appear to be extremely large and there were few comforts. The furniture was Spartan and most of the group’s belongings were packed in crates, ready to be moved.

  McKenzie pulled open the front door and stepped out onto green grass and a gravel driveway. A dark sedan was parked, it’s driver’s side door standing open. The seats were dark with blood.

  McKenzie stumbled to a halt, staring at the sight. He looked around, trying to place how far he was from the city, when he heard a rush of movement from behind him. He started to turn but was too slow as something heavy slammed into his back and drove him to his knees. Stars flashed before his eyes and he swayed, trying to stay conscious. Something was dropped in front of him and McKenzie raised his head to look at it, disgust rising up hot and wet in his throat as he did so.

  It was a human head, the expression on the face permanently locked into one of dread horror. But it was a familiar one, as well… for McKenzie knew this man. It was Jimmy “the Eel” Springle, a hood who had gunned down both McKenzie’s brother and father.

  “What the hell—?”

  The Iron Maiden stepped around into McKenzie’s view. The armored beauty was holding an ancient sword that was dripping with blood. “I bring you back a gift,” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “And this is what I find?”

  “You killed him for me?” McKenzie asked, staring at the severed head.

  “He was trying to force me into an alliance. I thought it would please you to know that he’s been punished. Justice has been served at last.”

  McKenzie let out a hoarse laugh. “Justice? Nothing you do is related to justice. You’re a killer, just like him. And I’m going to stop you,” he said, his head still reeling from pain and shock.

  “From what? From going back to my homeland and giving this sword to the leader of my people?”

  “If it’s as powerful as you say, I don’t want Hitler to have it.” McKenzie’s eyes roamed about, coming to a rest on the box that had once been in his possession. He remembered now… remembered the hooded woman and her words of power. She’d nearly convinced him to do her awful ritual… when something had happened. Pain had come crashing down upon him and then… darkness.

  The Iron Maiden knelt in front of him her eyes shining wetly from behind her helmet. “William… I hate that fate has done this to us. That you and I were born in different places, with different beliefs. I… I admire your bravery. And I find you very, very handsome. But you are wrong about so many things. The mongrels of this world will weaken the purity of our people. The Jews will—”

  McKenzie shoved her away, knocking her onto her rump. The sword fell to the ground beside her. “Stop parroting back those lies you grew up with! You’re smarter than that,” he hissed. “Everything you said about me is the same for you. You’re gorgeous and you’re smart and… you’re too good to waste your life fighting for that hate monger.”

  The Iron Maiden stood up, allowing McKenzie to do the same. “Get away from here,” she muttered, picking up the sword.

  McKenzie hesitated before finally turning away and heading towards the road. He wasn’t sure how long it would take, but he’d walk until he found a phone and then call for help.

  He wasn’t sure if he heard the sounds of crying from behind him or not, as the wind had suddenly begun to harshly blow. Regardless, he did not turn around.

  CHAPTER IX

  The Peregrine Arrives

  Much to Evelyn’s chagrin, she had been forced to admit that it was best for her to return home. Their child, named after William McKenzie, had been left in the care of their housekeeper but it had been several hours since either Max or Evelyn had been able to check in on them.

  At Evelyn’s insistence, she had taken a cab so that Max could speed off in pursuit of the Iron Maiden. He had caught sight of her vehicle shortly after the murder of the Eel, though Max had no idea that the car ahead of him had been home to violence. The Peregrine’s car had been modified so that it was nearly silent and its dark surface had a tendency to recede into the background, making it nearly invisible. Despite this, the Peregrine took all precautions, keeping a good distance behind his quarry and pulling off the road before the Iron Maiden came to a stop at her hideout.

  After leaving his car behind, the Peregrine had crept alongside the road until he’d come to a set of trees near the house. Taking up a position within the limbs, he kept an eye on the scene, watching as McKenzie burst from the house and came into confrontation with the Iron Maiden. Not knowing what had transpired between the two of them, Max found the entire scene perplexing but he was glad to see that his friend still lived.

  When McKenzie began to leave, Max decided
to not catch his attention. William looked spent, both emotionally and physically, and was in no condition to give aid to the Peregrine. A part of Max wanted to just take McKenzie and leave… but then he remembered that the Iron Maiden was responsible for the death of the Eel and the violence at the museum, not to mention whoever the poor soul whose body had burned at McKenzie’s vacation house. She was a criminal and had to be brought to justice.

  The Iron Maiden returned to the interior of her lair after McKenzie’s departure, allowing the Peregrine to drop from his perch and move closer. He could hear her strident voice from within, berating someone in German. At least one, possibly two, men were responding, though both sounded chagrined and possibly in pain.

  Max left his mystic blade sheathed but he did take one of his pistols in hand as he flattened his back against the house, just to the side of the front door. Footsteps indicated that the Iron Maiden was returning to the front yard.

  Just as he’d suspected, the armored beauty appeared in his line of sight, stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind her. The Peregrine saw wet tears around her eyes, which were narrowed in feminine fury.

  Before she could notice his presence, the Peregrine moved behind her and gripped her around the neck. He pressed the gun against her temple and hissed into her ear. “It’s over. Your precious Fuehrer isn’t getting that sword.”

  “How…?” She wondered aloud, reaching up to grab at his arm.

  “I followed you and overheard your conversation with the police chief. The only thing keeping you alive is the fact that he’s able to walk out of here on his own.”

  The Iron Maiden stiffened at the mention of McKenzie. The sword she’d spent so much effort to find was still held in her right hand and she drove the hilt backwards into Max’s stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. She then slammed her helmeted head into Max’s face, chipping one of his teeth and cracking a lip.

  As the Peregrine let go of her and staggered back, the Iron Maiden whirled on him, sword in hand. Something inside her was broken now, having cracked as McKenzie rejected her. She thought of the dark goddess who lurked within the box, waiting to be freed. Perhaps, she mused, she would do just that.

  But for now… now there would be blood.

  The Iron Maiden rushed on the Peregrine, sword raised. She screamed out of rage and pain, slashing the blade down in what she hoped would be a killing blow. The Peregrine threw himself to the side, just missing losing an arm in the process. He brought up his gun and fired but the bullet bounced harmlessly off her body armor, ricocheting wildly.

  The Peregrine knew that it would be a matter of moments before the men inside the house came to assist their mistress so he hurried to finish the combat.

  When the Iron Maiden sought to close with him, hoping to use the ancient blade to her advantage, the Peregrine tossed aside his gun and caught her wrist with both hands. This brought the two of them into a wrestling contest for the blade.

  “I won’t let you stop me,” the Iron Maiden hissed. “I’ve worked so hard to put myself into the Fuehrer’s good graces… I won’t be stopped now!”

  The Peregrine strained, surprised at how strong the young woman was. She was actually pushing him backwards, driving the blade ever closer to making contact with his skin. “I heard… what you were saying to McKenzie,” he gasped, breathing hard around each word. “I know that you love him. I know… that there’s something good inside you. Just… trust me. Drop your sword and I’ll try to get you some help. I have connections… that can help you start your life over.”

  The Iron Maiden stared into Max’s eyes and something within her gave pause: she loved the Fuehrer and believed in the supremacy of the Aryan race and yet… she knew that she would eventually reach a limit in how high she could go in the Reich. Here in America there would be a similar glass ceiling but McKenzie was here… McKenzie with his dark hair, rugged handsomeness and earnest bravery.

  Max sensed his opponent’s hesitation and struck suddenly, twisting his grip in such a way that Kirsten’s wrist was bent painfully. She lost her hold on the sword and the Peregrine came away with it.

  There was a sudden cracking sound within Max’s mind and the world went dark. His mental powers had somehow connected with the sword’s mystic nature and he found himself kneeling on a rocky surface, the harsh stone biting into his legs. Above him stood a dark goddess, a regal woman whose face was partially hidden beneath a hanging hood.

  “Max Davies, you are known to me.” Her voice sounded cold but seductive. “You have thwarted the schemes of entities both greater and lesser than me. And now you seek to keep me locked away?”

  The Peregrine struggled to rise but it felt like a one-ton weight was resting on his shoulders. “I’m trying to destroy a weapon that brings death wherever it goes.”

  “That weapon was once wielded by a brave and powerful man.” The goddess looked away, into a dark and shadowy void. “Since the fall of the old gods, I have been trapped here, with no new souls to join me. I hunger to be free.”

  The Peregrine looked at her but felt no pity. She was a dark thing, one that lurked in the pit of despair. For her, he felt nothing but loathing. “Let me go,” he demanded.

  Hel looked down at him and for a second Max saw her full face—half beautiful and smooth, the other a bare skull. Where her missing eye should have been was a dark void that seemed to beckon to an endless abyss. “Your fate was decided long ago, Max Davies. You will live longer than most men… you will remain vital and strong, when others would grow weak. But you will watch all your loved ones die one by one and nothing you do will stop that.” A ghost of a smile played across the portion of her face that still retained skin. “In the end, you will suffer far more from that than anything I could ever do to you.”

  The Peregrine felt a sharp stab in his heart, for he had seen these things. He had slain a demon who had ‘cursed’ him with knowledge of the future. He had seen Evelyn and their children, all dead and gone, while Max himself remained. For a time, that knowledge had weighed heavily upon him but now he considered it nothing more than a possibility. He refused to admit that the future could not be changed.

  Before he could voice this opinion, Hel raised her hands and thrust them towards him. Max felt like he’d been shoved from one place to another and his consciousness slammed back into his physical body, causing him to drop the sword. It landed in the grass between himself and the Iron Maiden, who was watching him warily. From the doorway, her servants stood at attention, awaiting her orders.

  “Are you unwell?” she asked Max, seeming to be genuinely concerned.

  “I… had a vision… when I held the sword.”

  Kirsten seemed to accept that and nodded. “You plan to have me locked away? You want to send me to prison?”

  Max thought suddenly of the dark goddess, locked in her own peculiar prison. “I can get you a lot of leniency,” he answered. “I have friends who are like you… and like me. We have special skills that can be used to help humanity. Not long ago, I crossed paths with two gentlemen… one was named Ascott Keane. The other was known by the identity of the Black Bat. The three of us agreed to come together and accomplish things that we couldn’t otherwise. I’m sure they’d be willing to meet with you and let you serve alongside us. But you’d have to renounce your Aryan beliefs. And you’d have to do some kind of penance for your crimes.”

  Kirsten looked down, her eyes clenched shut. “Do you think McKenzie could forgive me?”

  “I’m pretty sure I could.”

  Kirsten’s head jerked up in response to the familiar voice. William McKenzie stood nearby, having doubled back upon hearing the sounds of combat. While the Peregrine kept an eye on the German gunmen to make sure they didn’t try to escape, McKenzie stepped towards Kirsten and held out his hands. She reached for him and they came together, desperate and lost.

  “It’s okay,” McKenzie whispered in her ear. “I’m here for you.”

  The Peregrine watched i
n silence, surprised to see that in the midst of so much turmoil true love could be found. It’s just further proof that my future isn’t set in stone. From despair can come great happiness, if one is strong enough to pursue it. I have to believe that… because if I seriously thought I was going to lose my wife and son, I don’t know how I’d carry on.

  While the vigilante carried on his grim musings, the armored woman and the police chief found new hope blooming in their hearts.

  THE END

  THE THREE SKULLS

  An Adventure Starring The Peregrine

  by Barry Reese

  CHAPTER I

  The Bloody Scythe

  January 10, 1942—Atlanta, Georgia

  Tommy Sanchez was chain smoking again. He’d gone through four smokes and was working on a fifth when he heard the sound of booted footsteps from the cobblestone behind him. He turned around but saw nothing in the dim gloom. It was near midnight on this January night and the streets of Exeter were nearly empty.

  Tommy shoved his hands into the depths of his pockets and shivered as a cold wind began to blow, kicking up leaves and debris from the gutters. He was standing outside a brownstone belonging to Prof. Stephen Gaines, an expert in antiquities at the nearby University of Georgia. Tommy and his friends knew that Gaines was out of town on a speaking engagement, meaning that tonight was the night if they wanted to stage a break-in. Lou and Wally were inside, filling up burlap sacks with everything they could find of value. If half the stories about Gaines and his collections were true, the trio would be set for life after selling off the statues and scrolls on the black market.

  But something wasn’t right.

  There was an odd chill in the air, not natural to just the wintry weather. This was a coldness that went straight to the bones, meaning that not even three of four layers of clothing could seem to help. And the streets weren’t just empty… they were empty. No dogs or cats, no sounds of insects… just the rustle of the leaves and the occasional sound of invisible footfalls.