by Barry Reese
One of the natives extended a hand, as if to caress her pale skin, but one of the older men slapped his hand away. This elder withdrew a small bag sealed with leather straps, which he pulled undone with quick, practiced movements. Silvery powder spilled out and this was blown with pursed lips into Charity’s face. A moment later, the act was repeated with both Lazarus and Max. All three of the heroes twitched in their sleep as they inhaled the powder but none opened their eyes, instead falling into an even deeper slumber.
With their prey now properly drugged, the men gripped them by their arms and feet. Soon, the campsite was abandoned, leaving behind few signs that anyone had ever been there at all.
* * *
Charity Grace woke up in another world.
She recognized it at once, for she had been here before. The soft white glow that permeated everything made her wince but the soft burbling of an oversized fountain set her at ease. She was in a large, circular room with windows on all sides, revealing a peaceful, green-grassed field.
This was the domain of The Voice, the strange entity that had resurrected her.
Your time grows short, The Voice said. It came from everywhere and nowhere, sounding both male and female.
“I’m working on it,” she replied. Looking down at herself, she was surprised to find that she was naked. Was this supposed to symbolize that her period as The Gravedigger would be coming to an end? That she was standing nude and vulnerable before her judgment?
Whatever the reason for it, Charity didn’t like it. Still, she got the feeling that trying to cover her body was pointless—besides, it wasn’t like The Voice was looking at her in a prurient manner.
I speak not of your trials as Gravedigger. I come to warn you that your enemies are in pursuit… They will seek to stop the plan upon which you and your companions have embarked.
Charity paused, blinking in surprise. “Thank you for the warning. You… don’t usually do that.”
The world is in peril. The souls of all humanity are at risk. The Gravedigger’s role is meant to be a small one, bringing justice and light to the dark places, one person at a time. But this situation is beyond that. This could well mark the end of humanity.
Charity took a deep breath. She knew all of this but hearing it spoken in that weirdly unemotional voice still made it all the more powerful. “I’ll fight until my dying breath,” she said. “Not because I’m trying to redeem my own soul and not for vengeance for my fallen friends. I’m going to do this because there’s right and there’s wrong, and what’s going on right now is all kinds of wrong.”
Then do what must be done.
“Are we on the right path? Can you tell me that much?”
You must undo what has been done. You must help slay the Beast. This evil has been slumbering for many long years and even a victory today will not prevent its eventual return. There are some battles that must be fought again and again.
“Wait—so you’re saying that Darhoth will just come back? Even if we win?”
It may not be her. Evil wears many faces, many guises. The Elder Gods have many adherents who will try to revive them. Fear not for the future. Fear for today.
Charity frowned, many questions still dancing through her head. Before she could give them voice, she felt her body begin to sway as her mind was cast out of this place and returned to the mortal world.
* * *
Much to her chagrin, she was still naked when she woke up for real.
She sat up quickly, seeing that she was in a thatched hut of some kind, laid out on a blanket of animal fur. Glancing about for her clothing and weapons, she saw that they were not nearby.
Her brain was fuzzy, as if she had been drugged. But how? And by whom? Just as importantly, where were Lazarus and Max?
Ignoring her nakedness, she crept to the closed door, which was forged of rope and bamboo. She peered out, taking in the village full of natives. Some of them were as naked as she was but most were dressed in loincloths or wrap skirts, their upper bodies left bare. Many of the men’s bodies were dusted in white or black powder.
The village was at the base of a massive wall that spread out to the west and the east, disappearing into the jungles. It was easily thirty feet high, built of bamboo and thick ropes.
From her vantage point, she estimated at least several hundred people lived here and many of those she saw were armed warriors. Though she was an expert in unarmed combat, she was not anxious to test her mettle against these men with no weapons of her own.
A quick self-examination showed no sign of physical assault, which made her feel a bit better about her situation. Still, her clothes were gone which implied some sort of sexual bent to her capture.
As she was finishing her inspection, a rear entrance to her hut unexpectedly opened and a young black woman stepped inside. Charity immediately turned to face the newcomer, dropping into a fighting stance as she did so.
The native woman smiled broadly and Charity found herself instinctively relaxing. There was intelligence and warmth in the woman’s gaze but nothing that appeared threatening.
“There’s no need for that,” the woman said in perfectly unaccented English. “You’re an honored guest.” The woman held up a small bundle of clothing, which Charity immediately recognized as her underclothes and her Gravedigger uniform. The woman set the clothing on a small wooden chair and added, “My name is Minerva.”
Charity moved quickly to pick up her clothing. While getting dressed she asked, “Where are my friends, Minerva? And my weapons.”
“Both are fine, I assure you. Lazarus and Max haven’t woken up yet but they will soon. The Morpheus Powder should leave you feeling quite refreshed.”
Charity paused, realizing that she did feel good… really, really good. In fact, she felt stronger than she had in many months. “Why did you kidnap us?”
“Because you wouldn’t have taken the Powder willingly. You would have rightfully distrusted us and that would have delayed things. This way, you’ll be fully recovered before you make your trip.”
As Charity pulled her mask on, completely her transformation into Gravedigger, she asked, “Are you telling me that you know why we’re here?”
“Of course we do. We are, like yourself, servants of The Voice.”
“You’re kidding me…”
“No. This island, with its ability to allow travel between all eras and places, also connects to the realm of The Voice.”
“And what do you do for him? I’m the only female Gravedigger so you couldn’t have done what I do.”
“We guard the portals and welcome newcomers, mostly. Some of us were born here but others arrived from other times and places. I come from the year 1994.”
“Do they walk around topless in the future?”
“In some places,” Minerva replied with a laugh. “But not generally. I’ve gone native, I guess you could say. The original inhabitants of the island dressed this way and had their own traditions. Most of us who have joined them later on have adapted to them. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can put on a blouse.”
Charity shrugged her shoulders. Ultimately, all she cared about was getting her weapons and her friends back. The other woman’s nudity was hardly her primary concern. “We thought this island was going to be dangerous.”
“It is. Most people who do what you did—approach the island seeking to use its power—end up in the belly of a dinosaur. Or worse. Often, we just watch them, staying out of sight until they’re dead or gone. But you… We recognized your garb.”
“Can’t say I appreciate your methods of introduction but I guess I understand your reasoning. You probably would have been okay if you’d just announced yourselves and stepped out of the jungle, though. We’re not that bloodthirsty.”
“From what I understand, not all Gravediggers are as quick to give strangers the benefit of the doubt.” Minerva gestured towards the door. “Come with me and we’ll awaken your friends. We don’t have much time.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Voice has spoken to one of the village elders, warning them that your enemies are en route. We will attempt to slow them down so that you may do what you came here for.” She lowered her voice and asked, “Is it really that terrible out there? We drift in and out of this reality so we only get bits and pieces of what’s going on in the rest of the world.”
“Whatever you’ve heard, it’s not nearly terrible enough.”
“Then I pray that you’ll be successful.”
* * *
Darhoth, now existing as a living shadow-wraith, hovered over the deck of the Nazi U-Boat as it approached Hy-Brasil. She was accompanied by both German soldiers and Deep Ones, all of whom regarded each other with suspicion and disdain.
Darhoth had been unable to locate Mr. Death and with Vulthar dead, she would have to save her masters’ plans on her own, with only this cannon fodder to help.
She waved a wispy hand through the air and she felt a pang of regret for the loss of her human shell. She’d gotten used to the sensual pleasures of the flesh and quite missed them. Perhaps when all was said and done, she’d find some ripe young female and take her body….
Something akin to a mystical “scent” reached her senses, drawing a close to her reverie. They were here—all three of her enemies. Strangely, she sensed something more as well, the kind of magic that she would have associated with The Catalyst. He was dead, however, killed by Vulthar. Surely a new Catalyst could not have been chosen so quickly?
Turning to her troops, she commanded them to make haste. Even with her stern order, it still took time to navigate the rocky waters. By the time they had made landfall, it was mid-afternoon and Darhoth was growing increasingly concerned that she might fail to reach them in time to stop their plan.
She had no sooner sniffed out her prey’s general direction—up into the depths of the jungle—than a barrage of arrows and rocks began to rain down upon the villains. Darhoth hissed, knowing that this could slow her down even more. These were not her enemies, their scent was too far away for that, and she had no time to spare.
“Deal with them,” she said to a nearby soldier. The man nodded briskly and began shouting orders to his men. The Deep Ones operated under their own command, lumbering into the jungles with great haste and a dark hunger.
While this was going on, Darhoth allowed her form to dissipate into mist. She floated nearly unseen into the trees, bypassing the natives. She would have liked to have remained there for a bit and make them suffer but time was of the essence.
I’m coming for you, she silently swore. And this will all end today.
CHAPTER XVI
All My Yesterdays
“This is weird, even for me.” The Peregrine looked around at the natives, who sat and stood in a circle around the three heroes. Max held Catalyst’s glove in his hand, trying to ignore the mystic energy that swirled around it. “All of these people serve The Voice?”
Gravedigger nodded. “That’s what they tell me.”
Max looked at her, his eyes narrowed behind his bird-like mask. “Do you think The Voice is God?”
“The one from the Bible? I don’t know. The Old Testament version, maybe. I was never very religious growing up but after seeing things like Darhoth and being brought back from the dead, I’ve revised my feelings about the supernatural.” Gravedigger glanced over at Minerva, who was approaching with a grim look on her face. “But if you’re asking me if I think The Voice created the world in seven days, no. Not really. I think The Voice is ancient, powerful and not very much like us. But I don’t think it created humanity.”
“I’m just glad we had time to do a bit of planning and preparation,” Lazarus said.
“I hope it’s enough.” Gravedigger took a deep breath. “If we fail…”
“We won’t,” Peregrine replied. “All three of us have done the impossible again and again. The biggest mistake Darhoth and her ilk made was in not killing us when they had the chance. The Mother of Pus should have slain Lazarus that day it all went to hell. They should have dealt with me when I was captured. Separately, we’re all capable of doing damage to them but together…”
“We’re something special,” Gravedigger finished for him. “I’d agree with that. I don’t always agree with the methods you two use or the ideals you espouse but I want you both to know that the one good thing to come out of all this is the amount of respect I’ve gained for you. If we win and we remember all of this, I’m going to be there for you, whenever and wherever you need me.”
Peregrine held out a hand and Lazarus placed his atop it. Gravedigger completed the symbolic act.
“I think the same goes for us, too.” The Peregrine smiled. “Too bad I live way down in Atlanta. We could make this team a permanent gig.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Lazarus said and Gravedigger laughed. It felt like the first time in a very long time that she’d laughed in anything other than gallows’ humor.
Minerva interrupted their conversation, having approached as they clasped hands. She looked apologetic but determined. “Forgive me, but your enemies have arrived. Tribesmen are trying to delay them but I don’t know how long you have.”
Lazarus said, “You told us to wait for the right moment to use the glove’s magic. If we do it now, will it work?”
The dark-skinned woman raised the delicate fingers of her right hand and traced them through the air. To Lazarus’ amazement, he saw ripples follow in her hand’s wake, as if she were disturbing the surface of water. “The walls have grown very thin. You should be able to manipulate the time stream, perhaps not as much as you’d like but we don’t have time to wait.”
The Peregrine slipped the gauntlet into his hand and reached out to clasp Gravedigger’s. She, in turn, took hold of Lazarus’.
As soon as all three of them were in contact, something seemed to change in the atmosphere of the island. The ripples that they had seen around Minerva’s hand were now large waves that reminded Max of the way heat would ripple above the asphalt on a hot summer day. A rift appeared before them, showing confusing scenes that flickered quickly, moving from one scenario to the next. One by one, they all realized that they were seeing elements of each other’s past: Charity’s rough-and-tumble life on the streets, the night she died and was reborn, the first tentative steps in her romance with Mitchell; Max’s witnessing of his father’s murder and the slowing awareness that he was changed by the event, followed by his first meeting with Evelyn; Lazarus saw his graduation and subsequent recruitment into The Illuminati, the betrayal that led to the end of his life as Richard Winthrop and his rebirth as Lazarus Gray, finally seeing himself standing alongside the rest of Assistance Unlimited.
Then the images shifted, centering on one particular moment in time: when Darhoth had confronted Lazarus and told him that it was too late. They saw her completing the last components of the spell that fully released her brethren back into the world.
“That’s it,” The Peregrine said. He held Catalyst’s glove aloft. “Everyone focus on that single moment in time!”
Just as the heroes began to put their combined mental energy into that goal, Darhoth emerged from the jungle. Her smoky form saw what was happening and immediately converged upon them. She howled like a banshee, her acidic touch burning the natives who rose to stand like a barricade around the trio of vigilantes.
Gravedigger turned her head and saw Darhoth rushing towards them but the image faded. The heroes were gone, thrust back through time to the one moment when history could be altered.
In their wake, Darhoth howled in defeat. There was nothing left for her to do except hope that her past self could once again triumph. If that happened, then this world would still be left unchanged. But if the heroes somehow vanquished the Darhoth of one year ago, then this glorious world, full of so many delicious torments for humanity…
Would be gone forever.
* * *
One Year Ago
Eun frowned. “I like looking at Li but I don’t trust her. She’s only pretending to be working with us and I don’t think we should have let Gravedigger into our base.”
“She’s Samantha’s sister.”
“Half-sister.”
Lazarus fixed his steely gaze upon his friend. “It’s important to her that we try to repair our relations with Charity. I don’t like their methods but I feel we owe that to her.”
Eun grinned. “And to think that people say you’re an unfeeling beast.”
“Who says that?” Lazarus asked, arching one eyebrow.
“Just kidding,” Eun hastily replied. He was about to quickly change the subject when a bright glow illuminated the entire street, causing a passing car to veer off the road as its driver was suddenly blinded. The vehicle slammed into a cigar stand, sending several passing innocents flying to the ground in bloody heaps.
Eun and Lazarus both raised their arms, trying to protect their eyes from the glare. They saw a female shape in the midst of the glow emanating from just a few feet in front of their parked car.
The doorman of the hotel approached, muttering under his breath, and Lazarus cried out as the woman raised her right hand and let loose some sort of powerful magical blast that eradicated all trace of the poor man.
Eun turned towards Lazarus, giving his leader a moment to tell him what he should do but what he saw was almost more shocking than the sudden attack. Lazarus was shaking his head, as if to free of it from cobwebs and standing at his side were two people who shouldn’t have been there at all. Gravedigger and The Peregrine both stared up at Darhoth, the so-called Mother of Pus, and they drew their weapons with obvious relish.
Eun saw The Peregrine toss something to the ground—was it Catalyst’s glove? “What’s happening?” he asked.
“Focus on making sure that passersby are safe,” Lazarus ordered. “We’ll deal with Darhoth.”
Eun did as he was told, pulling the nearest people aside and shoving them towards the inside of the hotel.
