by Barry Reese
“You’re having visions again?” the Russian asked, having caught Max’s slip of the tongue.
Max resisted the urge to deny it and simply shrugged his shoulders. “Yes. But I don’t want Evelyn to know.”
“You shouldn’t keep things from her.”
“I know that,” Max said tersely. “But she hated the way those visions hurt me, and I just don’t want her worrying.”
“Have you seen your father?”
“No… he used to sometimes appear in conjunction with the visions, but I haven’t heard or seen him this time. The only thing I can figure is that the spell that Doctor Satan used to cut off my powers has begun to fade—but there hasn’t been any sign of the other mental abilities I had developed before I lost them all. No telekinesis or limited telepathy. Just the visions.”
“You should ask someone with knowledge of mysticism to examine you. Since your mental powers were induced by magic, and it was magic that took them away, it only makes sense to look into it.” Kaslov stood up and stroked his chin. “There’s no need to handle this investigation in a linear fashion, either.”
“What do you mean?”
Kaslov smiled coolly. “The message you received said that you should go to Manhattan and, failing there, go on to Easter Island. Why follow their advice? One of us could go to Manhattan while the other went straight to Easter Island and conducted an investigation there.”
The Peregrine laughed. “Okay. I take it you’re looking for an excuse to get out and do something?”
“I would enjoy having something to occupy my time, lest my thoughts turn back to my separation from Libby.” Kaslov reached out and placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. “But I am also your friend. If you need help, I want to give you aid. That’s why I’m here.”
Max smiled with gratitude. “It’s a deal. I’ll take Manhattan, and you go to Easter Island. If I do strike out in New York, I’ll come and join you. Fair enough?”
Kaslov stepped out after a quick exchange of good wishes, leaving Max alone for a moment. He would need to say goodbye to both Evelyn and Josh before taking off on his adventure, and he was going to swear to Josh that his cousin would be avenged.
Abraham Klee had a growing list of crimes he needed to be punished for.
CHAPTER VI
Learned Men
Reed Barrows smelled of formaldehyde and cheap beer. He was a rail-thin man with a bald, liver-spotted head and sunken eyes. One of his ears was misshapen, the result of nearly losing it in Atlanta several years ago. His hands had a tendency to shake now and again, but he was still able to handle delicate tasks if he had a stiff drink before beginning work.
Barrows’s home was more like a museum than a house. Medieval works of art were everywhere, and expensive rugs covered the wood floors. The collection that was housed in his home was worth a fortune, and anyone who knew Barrows would have immediately wondered how he could have afforded these things. Barrows worked these days in a lawyer’s office, filing papers and generally keeping to himself, and his earnings were far from extravagant.
Eleven years ago, Reed Barrows had revived a dead woman. Camilla had returned to life beautiful and alluring. She had slain Reed’s shrewish wife for him and then taken Reed to her bed. The experience had been intoxicating, and Reed had gleefully joined her in her bid to establish the Kingdom of Blood. Humankind would have become cattle for the Noble Dead, the great old vampires who began to wake up when Camilla sent out the call.
But then the Peregrine, along with his wife and the Atlanta police chief, had foiled everything. Along the way, Reed had discovered that Camilla didn’t truly love him, that he was merely a tool for her to use and discard. Reed had turned against her in the end, aiding the Peregrine in slaying his beloved. He’d then slunk away into obscurity.
Returning to Manhattan, he’d found employment for himself and swore that he would live out the rest of his life in obscurity, trying to forget the brief moments of heaven he’d experienced in Camilla’s arms.
And then one dark moonlit evening, a rapping had come to his door. A man had been standing there, wearing a long opera cape and a top hat. He looked like someone from another era, a member of European royalty suddenly shunted forward into the modern day.
Which was exactly what he was.
This new houseguest had been awakened by Camilla’s call, and he had followed her scent to Reed Barrows, who still stank of vampire love and always would. The stranger had made himself at home, learning of the modern world while allowing Barrows to spend the money he’d brought with him. Barrows had renewed his interest in the occult, acquiring objects that had not only appealed to him, but also to his new patron.
One of those items was a large scroll that had been prepared by a Catholic priest. It contained a detailed translation of rongorongo into English, French, and Latin. As far as Reed knew, it was the only such codex in the world. The Vatican had desired it, for the secrets of the cursed language were such that they wanted no one else to share in it. It had been the church that had destroyed numerous examples of the ancient writing, enough so that they hoped that a full translation would now be impossible.
Reed sat down in his living room. The nearby radio was blaring out the number-one song in the country—“Symphony” by Freddy Martin. The sounds of the saxophone were intoxicating and were almost enough to make Reed’s nervousness vanish.
The sounds of soft footsteps in the hall alerted him to the fact that his expected guests had finally arrived. His eyes went to the rongorongo codex that lay on the table before him and he took a deep breath. “I’m in here,” he said aloud.
His words had the intended effect, bringing a smile to his lips. The little thief hadn’t expected him to be aware of their presence.
Belladonna stepped into view, and then it was Reed’s turn to be surprised. With her was the infamous Stickman, with whom Reed had often squared off when it came to bidding on occult relics. Of course, Stickman tended to acquire most of his through illegal means… such as this.
“I thought you would be coming by yourself,” Reed said to Bella, who glanced from Stickman to the seated man in front of her.
“How did you know I was coming at all?”
“Because my master told me.” Reed stood up and gestured towards the codex. “It’s right here. Take it and leave.”
Bella started to reach for it, but the Stickman placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back, allowing him to move past her. The bark-covered features of his face betrayed his suspicion. “Who is your master?”
“A vampire. The Lord of Vampires, in fact. He earned that title by right of combat.” Reed did not back down from Stickman’s harsh gaze. He had seen so many awful things that one more did not disturb him enough for him to quaver visibly. “He told me that a woman would come and take this from me. He said that there was nothing to be done to prevent it, and that I would only survive if I chose not to resist.”
Stickman sneered. “And why isn’t your master here now? Why would he put you in harm’s way if he’s as fearsome as you say?”
“Because he has business elsewhere, and ultimately my life has little meaning to him. That’s the way it is with all humans. We live, we die… he carries on.” Reed looked back at Bella. “This codex is what you want. It will allow you to translate the writing on Easter Island. But I hope you know what you’re doing. From what little I know about this, I know that it’s nothing to play around with.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Bella said, and Reed actually thought she meant it.
Stickman poked Reed’s chest with a twig-like finger and brought his face close enough to the old man’s that Reed caught the scent of the monster. He smelled like pine and sap. “I don’t trust this,” Stickman said. “I think it’s a trap. From everything I know about you, you wouldn’t just give up a relic like this.”
“I can always get other relics,” Reed responded. “My master said that to resist you would only bring about my death.”
Stickman gestured for Bella to take the codex and she did so, quickly stuffing it in a duffel bag she was carrying on her hip. Stickman started to turn away from Reed, but whipped back around quickly, startling Reed into losing a little of his composure. “Your master obviously doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does.”
“What do you mean?” Reed asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Because I’m going to kill you anyway.” Stickman ran his hand straight through Reed’s stomach, yanking it back with a length of the dying man’s entrails.
Reed Barrows tried to cry out, but his mouth was suddenly filled with blood, and he began to sway on his feet. He fell backwards, allowing more of his intestines to come free in Stickman’s grip. As Reed fell to the floor, his vision began to swim, and he thought, for just a moment, that he saw his beloved Camilla smiling down at him, one hand extended. In his dying vision, he reached out and took her fingers in his.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Bella said tersely. She was looking at Stickman with undisguised hatred.
“I think that I did. He outbid me on an Aleister Crowley manuscript last fall.”
“That’s why you killed him?” Bella couldn’t hide her shock.
Stickman looked at her with curiosity. “That, and the fact that I didn’t like his attitude. Why is it a concern of yours?”
“I just don’t usually kill, that’s all.”
“You killed Osh easily enough.”
“He wasn’t human.” Bella patted the bag containing the codex. “We’ve got what we need. Let’s go.”
Stickman nodded. “To Easter Island, then?”
Bella hesitated and then stood her ground in front of Stickman. “I’m offering you the keys to heaven, and you’re going around pulling out people’s guts.”
“You knew who I was when you started working for me. You’re the one who brought up rongorongo, so don’t go growing a conscience now, little girl.”
Bella’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got a point, Abraham.” Stickman stiffened at the use of his name, and Bella pushed on quickly. “But let’s get one thing straight: we’re in this together. Both of us are going to benefit from this. I don’t work for you anymore. We’re partners.”
Stickman resisted the urge to laugh in her face. He could rip her apart and take the codex for himself, but he also knew that Belladonna was a crafty woman. She could prove useful yet… and he could always kill her later on. “Fine,” he said. “Partners.”
* * *
The Peregrine discovered Reed Barrows’s body, knowing that once again Stickman had managed to stay one step ahead of him. He examined the house before calling the authorities, looking for any signs of what Klee might have taken, but found nothing of substance. He did find a small business-card sized slip of paper on the floor in the study, however, not far from where Barrows’s corpse had been felled. It contained only two words, but they were enough to confirm that his mysterious benefactor was still at work: Easter Island.
A gasp alerted the Peregrine to the fact that he was no longer alone. He spun around to find a tall, thin man standing in the study’s doorway, his eyes riveted to the grisly remains of Reed Barrows.
“Friend of yours?” the Peregrine asked, his hand snaking closer to his holstered gun.
The man seemed to notice the Peregrine for the first time, taking in Max’s suit, jacket and—most importantly—his mask. “I’m Zadak Aldritch. I work at the university. I met Mr. Barrows several times, mostly to give him my professional opinion on some of his collection. I’m a professor of religious studies, with a specialization in the occult.”
The Peregrine found the professor’s demeanor somewhat refreshing. He was obviously disturbed by the scene before him, but he’d apparently already determined that the Peregrine wasn’t behind the murder. “Mr. Aldritch, I’m known as the Peregrine.”
“I know. I’ve seen some of those movies they made about you.”
Max flinched. There were several B-movie serials that had been produced about his exploits, some of them even starring Evelyn. They’d mostly gotten the facts wrong, but they’d certainly helped make the Peregrine a household name.
Realizing that Professor Aldritch wasn’t about to go screaming into the night, Max regarded him with more scrutiny. Though not handsome in the classical sense, the thirty-seven-year-old Aldritch was attractive enough, with wisps of gray in his thick brown hair. He had piercing green eyes and a deep voice. His clothing was well-to-do casual, with khaki slacks, a button-up shirt, and leather shoes. He wore glasses with rounded lenses and generally gave the air of a man who was quite at ease with his own body and place in the world.
“Mind if I ask what you’re doing here?” The Peregrine found a small throw blanket lying across the back of a chair and used it to cover Reed’s body.
“Mr. Barrows came by my office a few days ago, but I was out of town at a conference. He left a note saying that he wanted to talk to me about something called Heaven’s Key, specifically on how dangerous it would be to actually use this thing. I was coming by tonight to tell him what I’d researched.”
“Heaven’s Key… that wouldn’t be related to rongorongo in any way, would it?”
Zadak nodded, obviously impressed. “It is, actually. A man named Randall Donovan wrote a few papers in the twenties talking about how he believed that the pictogram language of rongorongo was actually not used for mundane discussions at all. It was a religious language, one with very precise purposes. He claimed to have found natives on Easter Island who told him that the words were used for multiple things: as summoning spells, as bindings for demons, and as a holy key for opening the gates of heaven itself, allowing the powers of the almighty to flow forth into the arms of the one who stood before the gates. His work was met with scorn and derided as being fanciful imaginings.”
“And where’s Mr. Donovan now?”
“He was found hacked to pieces in his office in ’28. His key for translating the language was stolen.” Zadak put his hands on his hips and looked around the room. “I suppose it doesn’t take a genius to assume that Mr. Barrows was killed for the same reason? Did he have Donovan’s translation key?”
“I think so… I’m following a trail, and it seems to be leading me straight to Easter Island.” The Peregrine reached out and took Zadak by the elbow. “Mr. Aldritch, would you mind calling the police for me? If I didn’t have to wait for them, it would let me get after the killers all the faster. If they give you any trouble, please tell them to call this gentleman.” Max pressed a business card containing Benson’s phone number into Zadak’s hand.
Zadak glanced down at the card and released a tense smile. “Actually, I’d like to come with you.”
“This isn’t some field trip, Professor. I’m chasing after an inhuman monster that killed Reed Barrows. Did you get a good look at his body?”
Zadak didn’t back down. His eyes flashed with an inner strength that Max recognized. He saw it every day, when he looked at his reflection in the mirror. “I wasn’t close to Mr. Barrows, but I have read up on this Heaven’s Key business. It’s very dangerous, and I’m the closest thing you’re going to have to an expert on rongorongo. I found snippets of the key in Donovan’s writings. I think I might able to translate bits of it—that could be useful.”
The Peregrine stepped away from him, gesturing back to the corpse. “If you want to help, you’ll do as I asked, I can’t afford to have someone with me who’s going to slow me down.”
Zadak Aldritch hesitated, and for a moment Max thought he was going to finally see reason and back down on his request to go. But to Max’s surprise, Aldritch shook his head firmly. “No. I need to go with you. There are things you’re going to need to know, and I’m not going to tell you unless you let me come. Besides, I know who’s been trying to help you. The notes… the magic spell… I know all about it.”
“How?”
“Because there’s a woman traveling with Abraham Klee. She and I shared an interest in the
occult from an early age, but for her, it was different. She was kidnapped when she was little. Afterwards, she had these strange abilities, but she was tormented, too, by what had happened to her. One of the reasons I went into my line of work was to find a way to help her. A few years ago, she left home and started doing things that she knew I wouldn’t approve of, and not long ago, she told me she was working for a man named Abraham Klee. She mentioned Heaven’s Key in one of her letters and asked me to research it. When Mr. Barrows did the same thing, I knew that something awful was going on. That’s why I came here personally. I have to find my sister and warn her.”
“And what’s your sister’s name?”
“Harriet. But these days she goes by Belladonna.”
CHAPTER VII
Kaslov in Peril
Leonid Kaslov had long wanted to visit Easter Island. The Russian superman stepped from the small personal airplane he’d piloted to this Pacific island and felt a chill go through him. It was a windy day, and the air was laced with an almost-painful bite to it that tore at his exposed skin.
Kaslov had set his craft down not far from the famed moai statues, near a former quarry known as Rano Raraku. The quarry was actually a volcanic crater formed of consolidated volcanic ash, or tuff. Rano Raraku had been a quarry for about five hundred years, until the early 1700s, and it was the source of the stone from which almost ninety-five percent of the moai were carved.
Leonid passed by a number of moai, marveling at the monolithic structures as he did so. They were truly marvelous things, and were capable of fueling an intense curiosity in all who saw them. They spoke of ages past and mysteries still unknown.
It was sights like this that kept Kaslov on the move. He had achieved so much in his life that it would be understandable for him to be a jaded figure, immune to the beauty of life. But he was far from unfeeling, despite his often reserved nature. As he stood before one of the intact moai, he wished desperately that Libby were here with him, so she could have shared this moment. He decided then and there that he was going to work out their problems and win her back—she was a part of him that had been away for far too long.
