by Barry Reese
The Peregrine slowed his vehicle to a halt a few feet from the side of the ship. A man was moving on the deck, a large behemoth who wore a hooded jacket. The hood was pulled tight about his face, which was kept at an angle, preventing Max from seeing his features.
“He lied to me!” the stranger bellowed. “And you’ve come to find him, haven’t you?”
The Peregrine hesitated—he hadn’t really been expecting to find anyone waiting for him and wasn’t sure that this fellow wasn’t working with Satan. “If you’re talking about Doctor Satan, then yes, I am.”
The hulking figure moved to the edge of the deck’s railing. He jumped over the side, landing deep in the snow without any warning. He rose up to his full height, towering over the Peregrine. “He said he was fixing my face. I helped him in return for that favor, but he was a liar and a cheat. I don’t know what I expected… he does run around calling himself Satan, after all.”
The Peregrine felt a smile spreading over his face. The man before him was so large that he’d expected to find a near-mindless brute, but the man’s words and voice suggested he was highly intelligent. “I’m called the Peregrine. I’d appreciate any help you could give me in finding Doctor Satan. He’s wanted for a long list of crimes, and I’m here to bring him to justice.”
“You plan to turn him over to the authorities?”
The Peregrine paused before finally shaking his head. “Honestly? No, I don’t. He’s escaped from them too many times. I’m here to end it. Forever.”
The tall man nodded. “Then I’ll help you. I don’t suffer betrayal well. I want him to die.”
“You mentioned that he was supposed to fix your face. I’m a wealthy man. I might be able to pay for you to get some medical help, Mister…”
“Call me Vincent,” the stranger said. He reached up with a yellowish hand and pushed back his hood, revealing a face that was twisted and inhuman. The man’s long black hair whipped about in the icy winds. “And I don’t think there’s any surgery that your doctors could do to make me look any better, do you?”
Max recovered from his shock very quickly. “You’d be surprised. I have friends who are a bit more talented than the run-of-the-mill doctors you might have encountered before.”
Vincent studied him closely, and Max was struck again by how deeply intelligent the creature before him was. When the disfigured man spoke again, Max found himself nodding in agreement without even thinking about it. “I want to go with you. This place where Satan has gone is far more dangerous than he suspects. And I want to personally wrap my hands about his throat.”
CHAPTER VII
The Unholy
Doctor Satan’s arrival in Vorium had not gone unnoticed. He had scarcely set foot within the city proper before a small congregation of men and women had moved forward to greet him. The leader of the group was a thin, white-haired man in his early sixties. The man introduced himself as Lex.
“We’ve been anticipating your arrival for quite some time,” Lex said, leading Satan on a tour of the city. He had already shown the villain a power plant that ran on electromagnetism and several breeding facilities for the creatures who served as beasts of burden.
“You have?” Satan asked suspiciously, his eyes studying Lex’s face. “How could you have known I was coming?”
“We know a great many things, Doctor. As you know, we are the heirs of Atlantis. When that great continent sank beneath the seas, joining R’leyh in its aquatic slumber, the few survivors took their writings and belongings and made for a new home. They found it here, in Vorium.”
Satan glanced over at a pretty young girl who was walking past. She flattered him with an admiring smile and Satan noted that not one of them had seemed the least bit perturbed by his garb. Even for a man who was used to the strange, this was all a bit odd.
“You haven’t told me how you knew I would be coming,” Satan reminded.
“Because the prophecies said so, and all signs pointed to this as being the period when the avatar would arrive.” Lex stopped the procession just outside a massive temple, in front of which stood a fifteen-foot tall statue depicting a horrible creature. Its face was vaguely octopoid, with long dangling tentacles. Its body was misshapen and smooth, with two large wings jutting from its back. “And now here you are: A man whose mind and body have been shaped to become the vessel for the Star-Spawn.”
Satan’s eyes narrowed. “You want to use me as a host for an elder god?”
“Oh, yes. Many years ago, another came through our portal. He was strong and powerful, but he proved to be an improper host—but now here you are here. And you will help us restore the dark gods to their proper glory!”
Doctor Satan reached out and grabbed Lex by the throat. The rest of the group gasped but made no move to help their leader. “Let’s get one thing straight,” Satan hissed. “I am not here to be anyone’s pawn. I have plans of my own and they don’t include giving up my body to some demon who wasn’t powerful enough to keep himself from getting banished in the first place. So if you really know anything about me, then you should believe me when I tell you this: Give me what I want or I’m going to bring this city down around your ears!”
Lex blinked as Satan shoved him away. He smoothed down his clothing and sneered. “Of course, Doctor. I just assumed that you would want to—”
“I don’t.”
“Then perhaps you are not the one we sought.” Lex gestured to one of the others with him. “Marvyn, it looks like we’re going to have to enact our backup plan.”
Satan cursed as the one called Marvyn threw himself against him, seeking to wrap his arms about the villain in a bear hug. Satan managed to dislodge him, but not before one of the women raised both hands and uttered a series of spell-casting phrases. A bolt of eldritch energy slammed into Doctor Satan and nearly knocked him off his feet. He replied in kind, throwing a hex spell that literally ripped the woman in half. As her internal organs splattered to the ground, the rest of Lex’s group began their own assault on the evil Doctor, using both physical and mystical means. Satan slew three more of them before he was finally battered to his knees.
He knelt there, panting and trying to blink away the pain, when Lex nudged him with a foot, drawing his attention up to the man’s eyes. “You really should have accepted your destiny willingly, Doctor Satan. It’s going to be ever so much more painful this way.”
* * *
The journey to Vorium’s entrance was a strange one. Vincent was far too large to share the Peregrine’s vehicle, but he had proven to be quite capable of keeping up on foot, sprinting and jumping over mounds of snow and ice. The two of them didn’t talk much on the way, as the roar of the engine would have made it difficult, but Max did learn that the man with him was, indeed, the inspiration for the book that had nearly scared him to death as a kid.
He had also learned the horrible secret of Vorium: That the men and women there were slaves to an awful Elder God, one who needed a powerful body to animate. If they used a normal man or woman, the body burned out within hours. They had attempted to use Vincent but his dead flesh had proven impossible for the demon to inhabit.
While Max could think of no one who deserved such a fate better than Doctor Satan, there was always the chance that Satan would somehow turn the situation to his advantage, and the Peregrine didn’t want to take that chance.
After arriving at the ice cave, Max had left his ice speeder parked just outside, setting up a remote device that would send a distress signal to Ascott Keane if Max didn’t disarm it within six hours.
“Are you ready, Vincent?” he asked.
The behemoth nodded. His face was once more hidden beneath his hood.
Together, they set off, the monster taking the front. He walked the passage like its every step was burned into his memory—which in some ways, it was. He’d felt such a feeling of warmth upon entering the hidden city. The people had rejoiced in his arrival and hadn’t blinked an eye at his appearance. But then he’d un
covered the truth: He was an object to them, not a real human being. His flight to escape had been painful, not just physically but emotionally as well.
After the long trek through darkness, Max noticed that gradually his surroundings were coming into sharper focus. He could also hear the chanting of many voices up ahead, their words sounding strange and disconcerting:
“Eng natta atu! Atrius sliggum chthulhu! Acka natta atu eng!”
Vincent stepped into the world of Vorium, looking down into the city. He motioned for the Peregrine to approach at his side, gesturing towards an area where the sounds of chanting seemed loudest. “The temple. That’s where Doctor Satan would—”
Vincent ducked suddenly as something large whipped past his head, momentarily covering him in its shadow. He whirled about to see that a pterodactyl had snatched up the Peregrine and was carrying him away in its powerful talons.
For his part, Max was even more stunned than his powerful companion. His ribs were being squeezed painfully and he didn’t dare look down, knowing he was far enough up to ensure a painful death if he was to be dropped. The leathery underside of the pterodactyl was right in front of him, and Max tried to convince himself that this was no nightmare; it was all too real.
The Peregrine had no idea where the creature was taking him, but he doubted it was anyplace nice. Most likely, it would be to a nest of some sort, where the beast intended to feed. The Peregrine fumbled in his jacket, unable to reach his pistols, but his gloved hands came back with the Knife of Elohim.
The mystic weapon did only normal damage against those who weren’t evil, and animals usually fell into the realm of those who weren’t harmed by its supernatural properties. Still, he had nothing else to try and strike out with, and he had quickly decided it was better to risk death by falling than it was to wait for the beast to land.
The Peregrine raised his arm as high as he could and drove the knife’s blade into the creature’s claw. The first blow didn’t seem to elicit much of a reaction, but the second one certainly did. The pterodactyl squawked in pain and nipped at Max’s shoulder, ripping his heavy jacket but missing the flesh. The Peregrine then jabbed upwards, successfully catching the monster’s underside and ripping open a jagged gash. Blood dripped onto the Peregrine’s face and chest, but he was far more concerned by the fact that the pterodactyl released its grip on him, letting him hurtle towards the city below.
The Peregrine flipped his body, noting that his current angle of descent would leave him impaled on a rooftop spire. Max swore under his breath, trying to think fast. He shrugged off his heavy coat and held it over his head like a parachute, hoping it would slow his fall somewhat. The difference was imperceptible at first but gradually Max believed he could sense a change in his rate of falling. He then prepared himself for impact, having successfully altered his fall enough to avoid the spire. He slammed down hard on the rooftop, his ankles and knees sparking with pain.
Max forced himself up immediately, checking to see if anything was broken. To his surprise, he seemed relatively unharmed, though his legs cried out for rest.
It was in this moment that the Peregrine realized that the chanting had ceased and all was quiet. He looked about, just as an invisible wave of force grabbed hold of him and threw him from the rooftop. He landed on his side on a cobblestone road, crying out in pain.
Max blinked, trying to get his bearings again. He was surrounded by citizens of the city, and a huge statue of some monstrous entity rose high above him. But worst of all was the fact that Doctor Satan was standing before him, his eyes glowing with an orange light.
When Satan spoke, his voice was different than before. He sounded like a man speaking underwater, but his slurred words chilled Max to the core: “Eng natta atu! Atrius sliggum chthulhu! Acka natta atu eng!”
CHAPTER VIII
The Devil’s Mouthpiece
The Peregrine slowly rose to his feet, glancing around at the faces of the people surrounding him. They were all smiling in beatific fashion, obviously pleased beyond words that their god had returned in the form of Doctor Satan.
“The first of the infidels is before us,” a white-haired man yelled from the crowd. “The first to fall beneath the boots of our god!”
A roar went up from the assembled throng and the Peregrine tried to ignore them, keeping his full focus on Satan. “Are you still in there?” he asked, addressing his old foe. “Or is that beastie inside you too much to handle?”
Satan’s body seemed to shiver for a moment and the villain cocked his head to the side before speaking. When he spoke, it sounded like he was straining a great deal. “Well, well… you found me. I honestly wasn’t sure if it would be your or Keane who did it first. As you can… see… things haven’t gone as I planned. They implanted… a… thing in me.”
The Peregrine knew that everyone around him was listening intently to this exchange, each of them waiting with bated breath for their lord to strike down the Peregrine. “If you can fight it,” he replied, trying to keep his voice low, “then I’ll try and help you get out of here.”
Satan shook his head quickly, as if scaring away gnats. “Why? So you can try and kill me on the outside? No… if I fight… it’s only so I can control its power.” Satan suddenly opened his mouth, spewing flame that engulfed the Peregrine and set his clothing on fire.
Max tumbled to the ground, rolling back and forth. Satan was now gibbering in his nonsense language again, speaking in tongues. The Peregrine managed to douse most of the flames, but before he could respond, Satan kicked him hard in the stomach. The blow was amazingly strong, and Max immediately began coughing up blood, a sure sign that something inside of him had been badly damaged.
The Peregrine still held the Knife of Elohim in one hand and he struck back, slicing deep into Satan’s leg. The attack resulted in a scream of pure agony from the villain, and the light in his eyes momentarily dimmed. The Peregrine threw himself upwards, charging his enemy and driving him back into the rapidly parting crowd. The two men tumbled into the temple, which was lit by a brightly burning brazier. On the walls were carvings of men and women in servitude to monstrous creatures, in some cases even coupling with the horrors.
Satan shoved the Peregrine away, the fire in his eyes beginning to flare again. In a voice that sounded like an eerie mixture of his normal tone and the newer, more inhuman one, Satan said “There’s no reason for us to continue this fight, Max Davies. There is much we could offer one another.”
Max brandished the bloodied dagger in front of him. “What could you possibly have to offer me?”
“In the coming new world order, I will have need of men and women who can stare into the abyss without losing their will. You have confronted much in your time on this Earth. Like Doctor Satan, you are a magnet for the bizarre, and yet you are able to maintain your equilibrium. If you serve me, I will make sure that your woman and your spawn are kept safe.”
The Peregrine scoffed at the very notion. “The best way I can keep my wife and children safe is to make sure that things like you aren’t allowed to continue existing.” Max hurled the Knife of Elohim, and even though Satan tried to dodge, he was far too late. The mystic weapon landed straight in the villain’s throat, causing a fountain of blood to begin bubbling out from the wound. Satan staggered back, the flesh around the blade beginning to sizzle as the weapon did its work.
The Peregrine moved towards Doctor Satan, who had begun to thrash about on the ground, his life beginning to ebb. The fiery light in his eyes was dimming and the Peregrine could almost see the alien entity fleeing its dying host, escaping back into the ether.
“I could save your life right now,” the Peregrine said, catching a flicker of surprise and relief in Satan’s eyes. “But I’m not going to.” Max reached out, grabbed the knife, and began sawing it back and forth until Satan’s head tumbled free of the rest of his body.
The Peregrine then wiped off his blade and drew his pistols. The people outside were not going to be pleas
ed about this turn of events, and he expected to have a difficult time getting out of here alive.
He moved to the doorway and peered out, seeing Vincent striding through the crowd, which had begun to drift away in obvious disappointment.
Frankenstein’s creation glanced about at the townspeople in disgust before spotting the Peregrine. “We need to go,” he said. “Unless you’ve left Satan alive for me to finish off…”
“No, I’m afraid not. He’s inside—decapitated.”
Vincent peered past the Peregrine and spotted the corpse. He nodded. “I wish I could have done it.”
“Sorry. Why aren’t these people trying to tear me limb from limb?”
“I think they’re too depressed to work up the anger they’d need,” Vincent explained. “The few people who spoke to me on the way here just seemed resigned to the fact that they were wrong again—the true avatar hasn’t come here yet. So they have to keep waiting.”
Max shook his head, surprised but pleased. He felt awful, and the pain in his stomach had only increased. He retched, spitting up another mouthful of blood.
Vincent helped steady Max. “There might be some here who will blame you for what happened. Just because of them are walking away doesn’t mean we’re safe. Let me carry you.”
“No… I’m fine, really.” The Peregrine leaned against Vincent, despite his protestations, and the two men hurried as fast as they could from the hidden city. Most of the men and women around them turned their heads, preferring not to even look at them, and Max got the feeling that they all felt he’d committed some horrible crime against them, but it was one that was met with sadness rather than anger.
“I want you to come back to Atlanta with me,” Max said. “Let me try and help you. And if you want to work, I could always use another strong hand around the property.”
