The Last Holidays

by Grover Young

  He had no qualms about putting a half-foot of silver through the old bastard's chest. Even the Bureau had a deadly force authorized stamp on the Golem Master's wanted poster. Too many heroes and villains alike had been tortured to death at the madman's hands, and that wasn't taking into account all the civilians he'd murdered.

  On a more practical level, it was perhaps the only way to free Craig Elder and all the others who'd been enslaved. Grey's research turned up inconclusive as to whether the 'shells' that held those spirits for so long would simply disintegrate or would live on. Given their bodies were used to create those golem things, their spirits were all that remained. The final death would be a kindness.

  On the other hand, they weren't true golems or even undead, even if those shells did have bits of their old bodies in them. They were a mix of things that were unique in and of themselves. Whatever else you wanted to call the evil old bastard, he was still a genius.

  Wood smoke?

  His keen senses identified the smell, although a search of the skyline revealed nothing. Taking note of the wind direction, Grey nodded to himself as he saw the odor came from the same area as his objective. Perhaps some spell kept him from seeing the smoke, but the nose knew.

  On full alert, he very carefully approached the not so small house. He well remembered how easily he'd been spotted at the Hawkmoon museum. This was not the time to leave anything to chance.

  The abode was more along the lines of an in town mansion from the early nineteen hundreds. Like the rest of Arkham, it had suspiciously withstood the Massachusetts' brutal weather astonishingly well all of these years.

  Sitting hidden in the shadows, he considered how to deal with this problem. The smart thing would be to go for help from the big guns. However, that might be a problem unless he had proof the Golem Master was here. At the minimum, he needed a snapshot of one of the golems or better yet, one of the old bastard himself.

  Grey couldn't discount his increasingly uneasiness as the exact moment of the Equinox ticked closer either. His gut and wolf were telling him in no non-sense terms, something bad was coming.

  What he knew of magic said the experts were right. The spring equinox was not the right time to be casting powerful black magic. Then again, his quarry was in a league by himself. Geniuses knew when the rules could be broken. Grey had a feeling this was going to be one of those times, and worse, it was going to be bad.

  The decision was taken from his hands. The door opened. One by one the golems walked down the stairs. Unfortunately, there weren't just the Six the Golem Master was usually seen with, but almost two dozen. They were in just about every metal and material you could think of and then some: bright copper to even one that looked to be made of an enormous crystal. Each seemed to embrace the feminine ideal, even if it differed from living statue to statue.

  They were carrying a variety of boxes and other gear, but what grabbed his attention was the bound and struggling figure of a young woman. Dressed in only a cheer-leading uniform, the girl was hopelessly outmatched. Following her was the Golem Master. Dressed for the cold out of some 1930's movie, he ignored the panicked woman's doomed efforts to free herself.

  Grey didn't dare to even curse under his breath as he took pictures of it all. As carefully as possible, he retreated. Putting a building between him and the procession, he sent the pictures over a nearly impossible to detect frequency back to his van. From there, it would be relayed by the van's more powerful transmitter to the Bureau and the Mystic's Guild.

  Stowing his surveillance equipment, he readied his combat gear. His stomach felt like an icy stone. There was just no way in hell he could rescue that girl. If he saw the opportunity, he would of course take it, but Grey knew for dead certain that at least half of those golems could kick his ass all by their lonesome without a problem. As long as even one golem kept the girl under watch, both she and he were out of luck.

  About the only thing he could do was to kill her before the ritual called for it. Feeling sick, and hoping that someone, anyone could get here in time, he knew it would be a kindness since he would be quick. Given that the sacrifice's soul was often devoured or destroyed in the process, it might be the best thing he could do. It would, however, haunt him for the rest of his life. He knew which of the two possible targets he would prefer.

  Carefully, he shadowed the procession as it moved west down Crane Street. Keeping his distance, he saw them dogleg north and then back south. His 'bad' feelings were vibrating like a tuning fork as the villain, golems and sacrifice entered an old iron gate that a historic plaque named Hangman's Hill.

  The wooded rise really wasn't much of a hill, but his wolf wasn't happy at all. Tail between the legs and putting as much distance as he could between this place and him, kind of unhappy, his wolf whimpered at him.

  As they disappeared into the trees, his task got both harder and easier. Thanks to his wolf, his woodcraft was exceptional, but he would also be forced to get closer to keep them in sight. Grey had no doubts that, if caught, the Golem Master would make certain he was dead this time.

  His bad feeling turned into a reality as he spotted the stone altar atop the hill. By the time he'd worked his way stealthy up through the trees, the assembled golems had marked out a pentagram about said altar, as well as putting candles and other supernatural paraphernalia into place.

  Grey had no idea of what they were up to, but he was determined to throw a wrench into the works. His eye for the terrain picked out a very nice place that would give him a great shot at the master of ceremonies. A glance at the time confirmed that they were timing this for the exact moment of the equinox where day and night were precisely balanced.

  “Come my dears!” The madman's voice carried clearly across the hilltop, “Time is growing short.”

  Grey couldn't see where the golems changed their steady working pace. What he didn't miss was the six sculptured statues which didn't take part of the perpetration: Lapis Lazuli, Ebony, Kaspit, Emerald, Ruby and Topaz. The Mad Scholar tended to name his creations after their hair colors rather than their body compositions.

  Not that it mattered. As powerful as those six were, he could call them whatever the hell he wanted. They were as powerful as any Class A Team from the Protection Bureau and were completely devoted to that old bastard.

  With them on guard duty, that meant there was no way in hell for Grey to rescue that girl. Even if the entire New York City branch of the Bureau showed up, he doubted if the acknowledged most powerful superhero outfit in the western hemisphere could save the girl.

  That was without factoring in the other eighteen golems. He still kept hoping the heroes, someone, anyone would show up. Setting up his crossbow's bi-pod, Grey carefully shielded the scope so there would be no reflection to give him away. It seemed there was only him to save the day.

  He took note of the swaying trees judging the wind. Perhaps he wasn't a sniper, but he was a good shot, plus his wolf gave him a preternatural awareness of the world and his surroundings. Grey would only have the one shot. If he missed, it was doubtful he would get another.

  The woman was bound to the altar even as she cried, begged for mercy. The golems gave her none. Unsurprisingly, the madman didn't even spare her cries a glance. The old bastard was too busy setting up his books and scrolls as if preparing for a lecture.

  If only Grey had a decent shot, but with the Six along that was not to be. Like the Secret Service with the President, they protected him with their bodies.

  “Hear me!” the Mad Scholar shouted to the heavens, “today neither the Light nor the Darkness rule. Both are equal which means both are weak.

  “I despise them!” Despite his age, his voice boomed, “Everyone I loved died at the hands of those who embraced the Dark, but it was the Light that let them die. I reject them both!

  “Before I die, I will see all who bear the blood of my family on their hands dead!” Golem Master broke an old stone tablet with a thunderous crack and threw the pieces into the
pentagram. The candles flared as they ignited, the wards burning with power. Five of the Six each walked to a point of the five pointed star, leaving Lapis Lazuli standing there with her master.

  Grey took deep breaths to oxygenate himself preparing for the shot. He guessed that was the tablet that'd been stolen from the Hawkmoon. However, the thing hidden within it appeared to be a spot of pure darkness. It ate the light, leaving nothing behind, not a reflection nor a shadow.

  His alarm and dread spiked, but he just didn't have a decent shot yet. The Golden woman that'd saved his life blocked his view. Like every hunter he knew the value of patience, but this was something else again. For this to work, it would have to be an instant death. A head shot was complicated by the skull which was designed by evolution to protect the brain. The chest wasn't much better with the rib cage, but he would take what he could get.

  Lapis Lazuli still mostly blocked the shot, but when that sacrificial knife began to descend Grey would take the shot anyway and damn the odds. He'd breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he had no view at all of the victim. Plan 'B' was by far his preference.

  It was harder to stick to that plan when the baddie began speaking a tongue that had never come from the throat of a human. The sound actually caused pain, a knife that tore at the senses.

  Timing was of the utmost importance in these things, he schooled himself. That was what he had to disrupt. Even if he failed to kill that lunatic, he had a good chance of screwing up whatever this elaborate ceremony was supposed to accomplish. That did not keep him from looking skyward, praying for assistance.

  His wolf whimpered as that spot of darkness grew to the size of a not so small truck. Or a gate, Grey swallowed. Oh this was so not good. He forced himself to relax. The moment was coming.

  “I summon the Hunger!” The old man shouted at the growing circle of darkness, “I summon the Void. I summon the Nothingness that devours all!”

  “The whole world is guilty,” declared the mad scholar, “Let it pay!”

  “Bring forth the ravaging horde from the darkest stars,” the Golem Master spat in hate, “Let their cursed hunger devour all!”

  “By the life blood of this innocent, I open the door so that justice may be done!” Raising the blade high above his head, the former scholar took no notice of the lunacy of the context of his statement.

  Grey slowly breathed out. The shot had to be made in that magic moment between breaths when the body was still. He was only barely aware that the bolt had left his weapon, but he knew it would hit true.

  Feverishly, he ratcheted the lever re-cocking his weapon while he watched what the assembled golems would do.

  Like striking lightning, Lapis Lazuli moved snatching the bolt out of the air. Her movement crossed the boundaries breaking the pentagram. The magical barrier dropped, but the blackness of the summoned gate remained.

  Designed to split apart on impact so at least one of the penetrators could have an opportunity to strike past whatever mystical or mundane defenses the target might have, the bolt had separated. All the golden skinned golem held was the rear half of the bolt.

  “Oh dear,” Golem Master looked at the ruined pentagram and then at the spreading red stain on his wool and tweed coat over his heart.

  The mad alchemist held onto the golden statue as he slumped to the frozen ground. However, it was the other five of the Six that gathered about the madman that had Grey's attention. They weren't swarming after him like he expected, but they were obviously in a defensive formation about their fallen master just the same.

  The question was what the hell to do now?

  Not being attacked was good, but that damn black gate was there. From what little he knew, the frakking thing should've gone away after summoning had been interrupted and the pentagram had been broken. However, it was still there, and yes, his wolf was still whining that running far away from it was a very good idea.

  But Grey was a hero, damn it.

  There was a girl over there surrounded by inhuman creations, while an old insane maniac bled out in front of her. Even as he put his gear aside, he knew this was a bad idea, but it was also the right thing to do. Anything that could be thought of as a weapon was left behind. It also helped he was not attired as Grey Wolf the hero. His clothing and gear were the same featureless black fatigues used by military and SWAT teams all over the world.

  Slowly he rose, as nonthreatening as possible. Twenty-four pairs of gemstone eyes locked onto him. If he'd really been a wolf instead of just hosting the spirit of one, his tail would've been firmly between his legs. Then, possibly the bravest thing he'd ever done, Grey walked up that snow covered hill.

  The closer Grey got to that looming, dark disk up on the hilltop, the more he wished that the Mystics Guild would get their heads out of their posteriors and get their asses here right now. After all, this was their stated purpose to prevent things like this, and here the bastard had been, right under their damn noses. As little respect he had for the Guild at the moment, Grey was fully aware of how under qualified he was to handle this.

  Reaching the top, he took the most round about path he could to avoid the fallen scholar and that gate. Grey was relieved that none of that son of a bitch's blood had made it into that blackness.

  “You think you've won?” The madman rasped weakly, blood upon his lips, but still alive. “Justice will prevail. The guilty will be punished.”

  Cold shocks ran through him. The madman yet lived.

  “That war ended more than a half century ago,” Grey replied, with exaggerated evenness. It wouldn't do to aggravate the lunatic, “Nazi Germany is long gone. The guilty have mostly all died because of one reason or the other. The few that are left are more interested in hiding than in taking over the world.”

  “Everyone is guilty.” Blood ran down his mouth, “There are no innocents.”

  “Shh,” Grey calmed the terrified girl as he reached her side, “I'm here to help.”

  “Don't blame your sins on everyone else.” He knew his advice to her was their only chance at walking out of here alive. Two words from the madman would be all it would take. “You were a professor here before the war. If you tried, you could've gotten your family out ahead of the war, but you were estranged from them. Your metal-smith father saw your craftsmanship talent and disagreed with your desire of becoming an archeologist.

  “On the other hand, nobody at that point really knew how bad the Nazis truly were.” Grey worked at the knots, not daring to use a knife and risk the golems taking action, “Even those who did know wanted to deny that anyone would do such evil to other people. It was only in the liberation of the concentration camps that the truth really became known.”

  “No,” rattled out of the dying man's throat, “what happened can never be excused or forgotten. All must pay.”

  “Nothing excuses what you've done, and it certainly was not justice.” Grey's anger crept forward, “You've caused so much heartache and pain. Sure, some of your victims deserved their deaths, but more than a few others did not.”

  His eyes were on the golden woman who'd saved him as he released the girl. The old murderer was still in her metal arms. More blood had seeped onto her, running down her metallic skin onto the snow, turning it red.

  “What's your name?” Grey asked the girl, helping her up off the stone slab.

  “Claire,” she whispered, shaking like a leaf.

  “Okay Claire,” he told her gently, “this is what's going to happen. We're going stroll down the hill nice and slow so as not to startle all these ladies. Alright?”

  She nodded jerkily.

  “You haven't won.” It was more wheeze than threatening.

  “One step at a time,” he told the girl, holding her up.

  “From hell's heart I stab at thee,” blood bubbled from the dying man's lips as he quoted from 'Moby Dick', “for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee.”

  His hair standing on end, Grey turned at the hacking cough. The old madm
an had spat a mouthful of blood at the gate. It had fallen short, but was slowly running down the altar's blood groove.

  Shivers ran through him as the bloody spittle instead of freezing on the cold rock channel like it should, it flowed down the carved slot as if drawn by that ominous Gate. He jerked forward to stop it, but halted when every golem snapped to attention staring at him like missiles with lock-ons.

  Knowing he couldn't fight them, he tried moving more slowly, but they still reacted aggressively taking a step toward him. That was not a good thing.

  As the lunatic began a gurgling laugh, they had only one option. As fast as he dared, they went down the hill.

  “What's wrong?” She asked, not daring to even think about turning her head.

  “He managed to get some of his blood close to that thing,” Grey spoke as he marked out where he left his gear. He'd mapped out an escape route from there and had a sinking feeling they were going to need it.

  “When we get out of sight,” he instructed, “we're going to pick up my gear, and then run like hell is at our heels to my van. Unfortunately, it is a few blocks away. I didn't know I would have company on the way out of here.”

  “I don't know if his blood will work or not,” Grey spoke his thoughts, “He damn sure isn't an innocent, and that is what he promised whatever he summoned. However, let's not stick around to find out.”

  Clinging to him, she nodded her agreement again.

  Picking up his pack and crossbow on the run, he started to explain to Claire about their escape route when the scream interrupted him.

  Back on the hilltop, one of the golems was shrieking while two others had fallen to their knees. Another looked to be crying, while the one who'd saved his life looked skyward as if she hadn't seen it before. The rest simply stood there, immobile as they had been before. It didn't take a genius to figure that the Golem Master had finally died, breaking his hold on his creations.