by Barry Reese
Unfortunately for her, she came face-to-face with a guard who had been positioned there. The man smiled at her, revealing his fangs, and in that moment Gustav picked her up, wrapping his strong arms around her and lifting her off the ground. He pressed his bleeding arm against her mouth and though she fought to keep her mouth clamped closed, the blood nevertheless seeped past her lips and onto her tongue.
The blood made her head spin, as if she was suddenly drunk, and images began to cascade through her mind.
* * *
Justine had been a lovely but ill-tempered girl. In the seventeenth century, women were supposed to be seen and not heard in many cases, but Justine had never managed to grasp that particular skill. Instead, she told anyone who would listen what her opinions were, to the effect that when she was in her mid-twenties she was already considered an old maid. No man would have her, despite her beauty.
Until the secretive Baron Gustav had moved near her village, erecting a stone fortress from which he surveyed his new dominion. Justine had heard all the rumors—that he ventured forth only at night, that he sometimes invited women back to his home, only for them to never be seen again—but when she first spied him creeping through the moonlight streets, she fell instantly in love with him. The way he moved, the light in his eyes… it was all so intoxicating! Here was a man who could quench her passions, who would be strong enough to have a powerful woman at his side… she was sure of it.
And so she had followed him, though her attempts at stealth had been laughable to the powerful vampire. He’d finally confronted her in an alleyway and was pleased to find that not only did she not back down from him, but she found him attractive. They had made love that very evening, exploring each other’s bodies without inhibition. In the weeks that followed, Justine had come to regard the daytime as her enemy, for it was only at night that she felt whole. But of course the people in the town had eventually come to fear the baron and had risen up against him. Justine had died trying to protect him, his name on her bloodied lips as she lay dying.
All those memories came pouring into Evelyn’s mind, leaving with the life memories of two people…
* * *
Gustav watched her face as she opened her eyes, blinking in confusion. He had carried her back to bed, silently praying that he was right—that his blood would somehow awaken Justine within her.
“How do you feel?” he asked, gently holding her hands in his.
She stared at him with an odd expression for what seemed like a very long time… and then she spoke with an accent that was not Evelyn’s. “My beloved… I remember it all.”
Their mouths crashed together in a ravenous kiss.
CHAPTER XI
Falling to Earth
Silently, the Peregrine’s plane came into a steady trajectory above the zeppelin. Max had designed his plane for stealth, though the means by which this accomplished used up a tremendous amount of fuel, meaning that he ran in “silent” mode only when needed.
The front windows of the cockpit were heavily taped up, but wind still whistled past the tape, blowing Max’s hair wildly about. He glanced over at the Warlike Manchu, who stood nearby. “I’m going in. I need you to stay here and fly the plane… the autopilot isn’t sensitive enough to handle this.”
The Manchu narrowed his eyes. “I am impressed that you were able to catch up to them, but it is pure folly to go in there by yourself. Not only would you have to contend with Gustav, but he has his full squad of VSS soldiers, as well.”
“Yes, but I need you up here. We can’t have nobody flying the plane, can we? Especially not if I end up needing an aerial rescue.”
“I do not approve of this plan.”
The Peregrine vacated the pilot’s seat, indicating that the Manchu should take it. The Asian man did so, but not without hesitation. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t asking for permission,” Max said.
* * *
The Peregrine stared down at the zeppelin below, the wind ripping against him. He was standing in the doorway of the plane, holding on with fingers that were turning white from pressure. They had managed to reattach the door before leaving Bordia but now it clanged noisily against the side of the plane.
Max checked his parachute and found that it was attached properly. He didn’t plan to need it but if he overshot his mark or something went wrong, it would be nice to have it with him.
Taking a deep breath, the Peregrine jumped from the plane, spreading out his arms and legs. He fell remarkably fast, landing hard atop the zeppelin where he immediately began to fall, slipping across the smooth surface. Max allowed himself to slide, slowing himself down by dragging his fingertips across the zeppelin’s cloth top.
As he began to drop over the edge, Max drew out the Knife of Elohim and dug it into the zeppelin’s surface. When the blade caught on part of the interior structure, he came to an abrupt stop. Panting from the exertion, Max began the slow process of widening the rip enough for him to enter the vessel but not tearing it open so wide that it would impair the zeppelin’s flight.
* * *
Ten minutes later, the Peregrine had managed to make his way to the passenger level. He had not encountered any resistance to this point, though he had been forced to sneak past two of the VSS. Dawn was almost here, though, and the ship was now as quiet as a tomb, with the soldiers preparing for their daily slumber. He’d timed things so that he would hopefully avoid the full force of the VSS.
The Peregrine was taking a chance being here—he had no idea where Evelyn was being held on board, and no matter how skilled the Warlike Manchu might be as a pilot, there would come a time when they would no longer be able to keep pace with the zeppelin. That would mean that Max would be trapped onboard.
As luck would have it, however, the Peregrine heard Evelyn’s voice as he moved stealthily down the hallway. There was an odd quality to it, however… she seemed to have picked up an accent that wasn’t there normally.
Following the trail of her voice, Max found himself just down the hall from an open doorway. A vampire guard stood outside, obviously listening but pretending not to. The words were quite clear now:
“Once in Berlin, I’ll arrange a meeting with the Fuehrer,” Gustav was saying. “He won’t refuse me, not even now. And once I’ve confronted him, I’ll kill with the Rod of Aaron and take control of the Reich.”
“Will it be that easy? Would people really follow you?” Max found something else curious—not only did Evelyn sound different, but she sounded interested. Not at all like someone being held against their will.
“I’ve considered keeping Hitler alive, as a pawn, just for that reason, but his desire for power would eventually prove a problem. Perhaps I could reach out to someone else in his inner circle, have them serve as the public face of the Reich while I ruled from the shadows.”
The Peregrine took this moment to strike. He drew the Knife of Elohim and sprinted towards the vampire guard. The man turned towards him just as Max tackled him, placing a gloved hand over the man’s mouth. He then drove the Knife straight into the fellow’s heart, the magical qualities of the blade causing the vampire to immediately begin crumbling to dust. In seconds, it was over, with barely a sound having been made.
The Peregrine then stood up, brushing off the sandy remains of the vampire that clung to the front of his clothing. He’d discarded his parachute earlier, allowing him better ease of movement. He unholstered one of his pistols and held it in his free hand.
Inside the room, the conversation had ceased, though quieter sounds reached Max’s ears. With the blood pounding in his veins, he stepped into the doorway, weapons in hand. What he saw hit him like a ton of bricks.
Evelyn was in Gustav’s arms, holding him tight as their mouths met. She opened her eyes to see Max staring at her and pulled away, swearing.
Gustav followed her gaze and blinked in surprise. In that moment Max lost all attempts at stealth. He discharged his pistol, unloading nearly a dozen shots from his special
ly modified gun. The bullets, all soaked in holy water, slammed into Gustav, knocking him backwards and causing him to trip over a chair, striking the ground.
Evelyn screamed and backed away from Max.
“Evelyn! Come with me!” Max held out a hand to her. He was confused about what he’d seen, but that could be explained later. His gunshots were bound to bring reinforcements and he wanted to be on his way before that.
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I recognize you, Max, but I’m not Evelyn anymore. I’m Justine now. I’m in control. And I won’t leave the baron again. Not ever!”
The Peregrine could barely believe what he was hearing. “Evelyn… he’s done something to you. But come with me and I’ll make it all better. I promise.”
Max heard the sounds of booted feet in the hallway outside. They were coming. And, perhaps even worse, Gustav was rising back to his feet. The bullets were in his right hand and the Rod of Aaron in the left.
“A nice attempt,” the baron conceded. “If I hadn’t been carrying the Rod on my belt, I think you might have actually wounded me too badly for me to fight back. A pity for you that you’re now outclassed.” Gustav waved a hand to dismiss the men who were now standing behind the Peregrine. They backed away but remained close enough to aid their leader should he need it. “I see that you’ve met my Justine,” he continued.
“Whatever you’ve done to her won’t stick. She’s my wife and the mother of my children.”
The baron held the Rod of Aaron before him. “Not anymore, she’s not.” White light surrounded the Rod and Max braced himself, not knowing how he was going to get out of this one alive. “Mr. Peregrine,” the Baron said with a laugh, “how about you go for a little flight?”
A wave of energy suddenly struck the Peregrine, blinding him momentarily. He felt like he was being lifted off the ground and thrown backwards, but there was no impact from the inevitable collision with the zeppelin’s walls. Instead, he felt himself continue backwards, far past the point at which he should have stopped. Wind rushed back his ears, roaring like an oncoming freight train. As his vision cleared, Max realized that he was hurtling through the air, having been tossed free of the zeppelin. As he began to fall, he automatically reached for his parachute cord, but found nothing. He cursed himself for having left it behind on the zeppelin, and as he flipped in the air, he stared downward at the rapidly approaching earth.
The Peregrine tried to let his body go as limp as possible, though from this height death was assured. He had to hope for a miracle of some sort, something that would allow him to live another day so that he could rescue Evelyn.
And then he heard it—the roar of a familiar plane. He glanced to his right and saw his own aircraft flying beside him, arcing so that it would quickly be beneath him. Max slammed onto the upper portion of one of the wings. He cried out in pain as something that felt like electricity ran up along his arm and into his shoulder, but he retained his consciousness and managed to slowly begin pulling himself towards the door of the aircraft.
The Warlike Manchu flung the door open, standing there with an arm extended. When the Peregrine was within reach, the Manchu grabbed hold of him and pulled him inside.
Max lay on the floor of the plane, gasping for breath while the Manchu closed the hatch. The plane’s autopilot kept them on a steady course but they had lost all sight of the zeppelin.
“Your bravado nearly cost you your life,” the Manchu said with distaste.
“Thank God you’re too much of a gentleman to say ‘I told you so,’” Max said under his breath. He staggered to his feet, testing the range of motion in all his limbs. Nothing appeared to be broken, though his entire body ached.
“Now perhaps you will allow me to aid in the planning of our next move.” The Warlike Manchu folded his arms in front of him, his hands disappeared into the oversized sleeves of his robes.
“You sound like you have something in mind,” Max muttered.
“I do.” The Manchu studied him for a moment before speaking again. “You saw your woman?”
“I… did. But it wasn’t what I was expecting. She talked with an accent and claimed that she wasn’t Evelyn anymore, that she was a woman named Justine. And… she seemed to be just as much in love with Gustav as he was with her.”
The Manchu turned away, arms still crossed before him. “I have no answers for questions of the heart, my pupil. But I know this: we must make haste.”
Max nodded, not even noticing at first that the Manchu had called him “pupil,” just as he had years before. Don’t fool yourself, Manchu, things aren’t back the way they used to be. When we don’t need each other anymore, I’m taking you down—for the final time.
CHAPTER XII
The Vampire and the Fuehrer
Twenty-four hours later, Randolph Gustav and his beloved Justine stood in Hitler’s private study in Berlin. The two of them had slept together in Gustav’s coffin during the day and had made love upon waking. Gustav had yet to drink from her, however—he wanted to savor that moment when they would renew that sort of union. She had said little since watching Max Davies go hurtling out of the zeppelin to his death, and this pleased Gustav immensely. Somewhere inside of the girl’s head still lurked Evelyn Davies, but she was obviously buried deep, being quieted by the strength of Justine’s will. They were one soul but two minds, and Gustav hoped that Justine’s would prove to be the stronger over time.
“Why is he making us wait like this?” Justine asked, fidgeting a bit as she looked at the powerful portrait of Hitler hanging above the room’s fireplace.
“It’s his way of showing power over me,” Gustav explained. “When I left, I did so after stealing the Manchu’s body from storage. I have refused to make contact with him since… in effect, I became rogue. He has done a good job keeping it quiet but those closest to him know it. Now he must decide: does he accept me back, does he try to punish me, or does he try to kill me?”
“And what do you think I have chosen to do, my old friend?”
Both Gustav and Justine turned to see Hitler entering the room. He looked bright-eyed despite the hour, but this didn’t surprise Gustav at all. The man was notorious for keeping late hours, sometimes not having his dinner until two or three o’clock in the morning.
The baron offered the infamous stiff-armed salute. “My Fuehrer! I apologize for my unexpected absence.”
“I do hope you have a good excuse for it,” Hitler said, gripping his belt as he approached. He studied Justine with glittering eyes. “Or was it all for this fraulein? Men have done stupid things in the name of love before.”
“This is Justine… years ago, she was my lover and partner. Then she died, but she has been reborn.”
Hitler accepted this with a smile. The man’s obsession with the occult was not the only thing that was driving the Reich into the ground—simple poor decision-making was doing that just fine—but it certainly wasn’t helping. “Astonishing! Another sign that we live in wondrous times.” Hitler’s smile faded as he moved around his desk and sat down. He did not offer Gustav or Justine a chair. “Now… why did you steal from me? And why did you not answer my attempts at contact?”
Gustav lifted the Rod of Aaron from its position on his belt. “I needed the Manchu so that he might help me find an artifact of great power. He led me to this: the Rod of Aaron. As depicted in the Bible, it contains tremendous eldritch energies.”
“And a vampire can wield it?” Hitler asked, licking his lips in anticipation of holding such a weapon.
“Yes. I was a bit surprised myself. But I have mastered it.”
Hitler’s eyes narrowed again. “And you have brought it to me?”
“In a sense, I have.”
“What do you mean?”
Gustav pointed the Rod at the leader of the German people. “The peoples of the new German empire have lost a brave and courageous leader. Adolf Hitler, who rose from obscurity to dominate Europe, suffered a powerful heart attack that kil
led him within minutes. Thankfully, even in his last seconds of life, he was thinking of the German people. He signed an order turning over all power in the Reich to Baron Randolph Gustav.”
Hitler glanced down to see a sheet of paper and a pen, waiting for him. “You are mad!” he snapped, starting to rise. To his chagrin, he found an invisible force holding him in place—and soon, despite his physical protests, his hand began to rise, moving to grasp the pen. He began to write, though he strained not to. “Stop this!” he tried to shout, but the words died in his throat.
“I can’t have you calling for help,” Gustav explained, using the Rod’s power to ensure his victory. “Adolf, I must tell you… you were very kind to me at times. I had high hopes for you. It’s just a pity that your reach exceeds your grasp in the end. Still, you put the pieces in place for a German victory… it just requires a steadier hand—one like mine—to seal the deal.”
Hitler’s hand continued writing but his eyes never left those of his vampire advisor. “You will not get away with this. The German people will never follow you! They will realize that this was a fraud!”
Gustav’s face shifted, revealing his true features. “Prepare to die, Mein Fuehrer. You had a good life.”
The sounds of gunfire in the hallway caused Gustav to hold off. He turned towards the door, confusion in his eyes.
Justine moved closer to the fireplace, suddenly feeling very cold inside. “It’s him,” she said quietly.
Her vampire lover glanced at her. “Who?” he demanded.
“You know… Him. The Peregrine. He didn’t die.”
“Impossible! I threw him out of a moving zeppelin! He had no parachute!”
Justine’s face seemed to shift every slightly and she threw her hands up to the side of her head. Her entire body seemed to shake as an unseen war was suddenly being waged. In Evelyn’s voice, she said triumphantly. “Better men than you have tried to kill my Max.” She looked up at Gustav and laughed, her eyes shining. “Get ready to go back in your box, baron. He’s going to kill you.”
