by Barry Reese
"Chief, what the hell?" Samantha whispered.
Lazarus raised his pistol and fired as the creature rushed toward him. Two bullets sank deep in the mighty beast’s chest but it continued on, leaping upon him. His weight sent Gray to his back and only Gray’s tremendous strength managed to hold the snapping jaws away from his face. Gray let his gun drop so he’d have all his fingers free for the herculean task.
Samantha was momentarily taken aback but she quickly realized the deadly predicament her employer was in. She took a step toward the lion and directed her gun at the side of the beast’s head. It whirled toward her but this only meant that her shot hit home directly between its eyes. The lion let out a roar of surprised pain and fell forward onto Gray. A lion’s dead weight would be enough to leave most men unable to move, but Gray was wriggling free before Samantha even realized he was doing it.
Pemberley slammed into the girl, knocking her hard into the door. A cry of pain erupted from her lips and Pemberley drove a fist into her pretty face, knocking her out. Samantha was a wildcat in battle, with the ability to deal with men three and four times her size… but when taken by surprise, she was helpless as anyone else would be.
Gray saw Samantha fall and though his face did not show it, a burning ember of rage flared into an inferno in his heart. He gripped Pemberley by the collar and drew him toward him. One powerful punch later and the vile scientist was lying on the ground, blood and mucus streaming from his shattered nose.
A cry of pain drew Gray’s attention back to Lunt, who was holding a struggling Wilma by her hair. The girl’s eyes were glowing blue, indicating that the aquaas was feeling threatened.
"Seeing you here, like this, is a revelation," Lunt said.
"Who are you? How do you know me?" Gray’s voice was filled with emotion, which would have shocked his employees. He normally kept a tight lid on his private concerns but he was unable to do so now. This man before him might know the truth about who he really was, or at least know how Gray could find out more.
"You’re a hero to these people, aren’t you?" Lunt said. "I wonder if any of them know how much blood is on your hands? And the audacity of calling yourself Lazarus Gray!" Lunt shook his head. "The others will think me mad when I tell them that you’re alive… and that this is what you’ve become."
"Please help me," Wilma whined, straining her head so she could see Gray. "Please help me… or kill me." Her eyes flashed brighter with every painful word.
Lazarus realized that while he desperately wanted answers, he had to free Wilma. That was his first priority and everything else would have to take a backseat. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a small dagger. "Let her go."
"No." Lunt cackled and the scarring on his face reddened, making it look like the veins between were about to burst out into the light. "If you want the bitch so badly, then take her!" Lunt yanked her back so her neck was stretched taut. With his free hand, he pulled out a knife of his own, one that gleamed in the warehouse lighting. "But if I were you, Mr. Lazarus Gray, I would drop your weapon and step away from the door. Otherwise, I’ll slit her throat from ear-to-ear."
Gray was calculating the odds of throwing his dagger and hitting the German. He was a crack shot with both throwing knives and handguns but it was still an awful risk. The girl had begged for her death but Gray wasn’t about to take that route. He would protect her until his own dying breath. She was an innocent victim in all of this, despite the crimes of her father.
Before Gray could make his move, Lunt began to cry out. The skin of his face and hands began to wither, as if something was sucking the moisture right out of him. He dropped his hold on Wilma but it was too late. The aquaas had sensed the threat to its host and was now responding, using all of its power to remove this dangerous creature. Lunt opened his mouth and he tried to scream something at Lazarus but Gray couldn’t make it out. The man’s mouth was too dry and his tongue was beginning to break apart, turning to dust that ran down Lunt’s chin. He fell to the floor, a horrible hitching sound coming from his chest. He ended up posed just above the floor, looking like a strange sculpture made of leather and bone.
Wilma fainted again, her will no longer enough to keep her going. Gray hurried toward her and had just knelt beside her when he heard the door to the warehouse slam shut. He looked up in alarm, his eyes scanning over the still form of Samantha. It was Pemberley, making a break for it.
Let him go, Gray decided. Justice will find him soon enough.
***
Wilma Nero smiled gratefully. "Thank you so much, Mr. Gray. I don’t know how I can repay you."
The girl looked so bright and cheerful, it was almost impossible to think that until a few days ago she’d been the host to an alien parasite. She sat with Peter Scanlon in the meeting room of Assistance Unlimited, facing Lazarus and his aides. She was holding Peter’s hand and the man looked ecstatic. Once Gray had told her that it had been Scanlon’s chivalric desire to help her that had led Gray on to the case, she’d warmed to the man considerably.
"No payment is necessary," Gray replied. "Your case has given me more than you know and monetary recompense would only taint that."
Wilma looked confused but she nodded. After she and Scanlon had been shown out, Gray turned to face his staff, all of which were looking at him with interest.
A faint smile touched Gray’s lips and vanished just as rapidly. "Ask away."
The three of them exchanged glances and it was Morgan who spoke up first. "The moisture-eating worm?"
"I removed it myself and threw it into the fireplace. I also disposed of the others that were in the warehouse."
"Pemberley?" Eun asked.
"Still on the loose. We’ll have to keep an eye out for him. He’s dangerous and growing more unstable by the day."
It was now Samantha’s turn and she realized that the boys had left it to her to broach the most difficult subject. "What did you mean about this case giving you so much?"
"Is that really what you want to ask?"
Samantha swallowed hard. "When I was on the floor, I heard some of what was going on. Between you and that German. It didn’t make much sense."
Gray sighed, looking quickly at Eun and then back to Samantha. "My name isn’t Lazarus Gray. I don’t know what my name is. I woke up in the harbor during the summer of 1933. All I know about myself are a few scattered memories… and this." He pulled out the medallion from his pocket, holding it up for the others to see. "A lion-headed man and the words Lazarus Gray scrawled on the back."
"You’ve checked your face and prints against the FBI files?" Morgan asked.
"Of course. No one recognizes me and I have no record that can be traced. But that man knew me. He’s a piece from my past."
"And the lion?" Samantha asked. "How did that man do that? Was he a magician?"
"A literal one, perhaps. There are strange things in this world, things that defy rational explanations. Some of my memories are related to human sacrifice and occult gatherings." Gray clasped his hands behind his back and looked at each of them, his eyes slowly shifting from one to the other. "I have a feeling that things will never be the same for us. I cannot promise you that we will continue to face gangsters and rapists. If any of you want to walk away now, I will understand."
Morgan grunted. "Are you kidding, Chief? We all owe you our lives. Whatever happens from here on out, you’ve got Assistance Unlimited at your side."
Gray saw the determination in their eyes and nodded grimly. Though he would never say it aloud, he loved his aides. That was why he was both pleased to hear that they would stay with him and also more than a bit frightened. In the nocturnal war that was looming ever larger in Sovereign City, one that was threatening to involve forces beyond explanation, there was no guarantee that any of them would live to see the dawn.
THE END
THE DEVIL’S BIBLE
An Adventure of Lazarus Gray
Written by Barry Reese
Chap
ter I
The Eight Pages
Harry Nance held the envelope to his lips with trembling fingers. His tongue dragged heavily across the strip of glue that would seal away the eight parchment leaves. When he was done, he checked the addressed he’d hurriedly scrawled, verifying that it was correct: 6196 Robeson Avenue, Sovereign City. Satisfied that it would reach its intended audience, Harry dropped the envelope into the mailbox and pulled his long overcoat tighter around his body. A harsh wind was blowing, carrying with it the salty scent of the harbor and the acrid odor of a heavily polluted city. Sovereign was a harsh place to grow up and Harry liked to think that if he’d been born in another place and time, he could have been something great.
The truth was that Harry was like so many men in the world: he was willing to trade his soul for easy money. He was a lazy soul, one who wanted the trappings of success but who wasn’t willing to put in the hard work required to achieve it honestly.
And now the devil was coming to collect his due.
Harry looked up at the nighttime sky, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d made a terrible mistake and wished desperately that he could undo it… but it was too late for apologies. Besides, what was on those eight pages was so terrible that not even a man like Harry could leave them in the wrong hands. That’s why he’d packaged them up and sent them on their way, intending for them to end up someplace safe.
Two men stepped around a corner up ahead, blocking Harry’s path. Both of them wore dark clothing, the sort that had once been associated with those Oriental assassins dubbed Ninja. Each of the men held a three-pronged blade that Harry knew was called a sai.
Harry whirled around, intending to retreat in the opposite direction but he came to an abrupt stop. There were three more men standing behind him, two of them ninja. The third was all the more frightening: for he was leader of these men, who collectively were known as Black Heart. Black Heart served Malcolm Goodwill, one of the most ironically named human beings on the planet. Goodwill had no love for any person other than himself. Standing six feet, six inches tall, he looked down on virtually everyone. Goodwill had silver blond hair and arched eyebrows. He dressed like a European aristocrat and had cultivated a pseudo-British accent, despite the fact that he had been born in Philadelphia.
"Harry," Goodwill said with a shake of his head. "I’ve treated you well, have I not? Didn’t I give you a bonus last Christmas? And when your mother needed eye surgery, who paid for it?"
"It’s wrong what you’re doing," Harry stated but his words lacked conviction. The fear made his voice shake too much to carry moral authority.
Goodwill gestured for his ninja to move closer to Harry. They encircled him but held off from making any attacks. "That’s not really for you to decide, now is it?"
Harry looked around but the streets were deathly silent. No cars could be seen and if there were any beat cops about, they were staying to the shadows. A few drops of rain began to fall and Harry was glad of it. They would help hide the tears that were threatening to come. "I don’t have the pages anymore. They’re gone."
"Where are they?"
Harry swallowed hard and summoned every bit of courage he possessed. He tried to pretend he was a movie star, someone like William Powell. "I’m not gonna talk. You might as well kill me, Malcolm. Sometimes a man has to do what’s right and for the first time in my life, I’m gonna do that."
Goodwill stared hard at him and then slowly reached into his jacket and retrieved a cigar. He took his time in lighting a match and touching it to the tip of the cigar. After puffing on it several times, he smiled at Harry. "Good for you, Harry. I admire you for this." He looked at his men, who stood at the ready. "Well? You heard the man? Let’s not ruin the moment by giving him the chance to beg. Kill him."
Harry’s eyes opened wide and he immediately regretted his earlier bravado. He started to beg for another chance but the men surrounding him struck too quickly. Their blades fell upon him, carving him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Goodwill puffed away on his cigar, anger blazing in his evil heart. He couldn’t believe that a petty numbers runner like Harry Nance was undoing all of his carefully laid plans. He tried to think of where a man like Harry would have hidden the papers and finally came to the conclusion that Harry had never been the sharpest tool in the shed. The papers were probably hidden away somewhere in his apartment.
The dark-clad members of Black Heart returned to their master, leaving Harry’s corpse in the middle of the sidewalk. "Let’s go, gentlemen. We have places to be."
***
The headquarters of Assistance Unlimited was located at 6196 Robeson Avenue. Lazarus Gray had purchased all three of the buildings that lay on this city block, transforming what had once been an unassuming neighborhood into the beating heart of his enterprise. The centerpiece of his holdings was a three-story structure that had once been a hotel. Gray’s three associates used the first floor, while the second had been gutted and converted into one large room that was used for meetings, briefings and research. The third floor was off-limits to everyone but Gray himself and was his private domicile.
Across the street were several storefronts owned by Lazarus, all of which had closed down at the dawn of the Great Depression.
Samantha Grace, the pretty blonde who was the only distaff member of Assistance Unlimited, was sorting through the mail while gazing out the window. A typical drizzly morning had greeted her upon waking and the distant rumble of thunder suggested that the worst was yet to come.
The majority of letters the group received consisted of interview requests. The press, it seemed, could not get enough of the mysterious Lazarus Gray. All of these were dropped into the trash. Lazarus wasn’t in this racket for publicity and neither were his aides. All of them had suffered because of the criminal elements and each had sworn the same oath as their leader: to stop at nothing until the innocent people of Sovereign City were able to walk their streets without fear for their safety.
An unmarked envelope caught Samantha’s attention and she slid a stainless steel letter opener under its side. The envelope opened easily, spilling a handful of papers onto the floor. Samantha knelt to retrieve them, muttering a bit under her breath. Her scarlet colored skirt rustled about long legs as she rose to her feet and she became aware that someone was watching her. Looking over her shoulders she saw Morgan Watts gazing with admiration. "Something I can help you with, Morgan?" she asked.
"Not at all. You’re just a welcome ray of sunshine, that’s all."
Samantha rolled her eyes but silently welcomed the attention. Morgan was a handsome man but he was a good bit older than her and had a checkered background. A former gangster himself, Morgan was the Chief’s eyes and ears on the street. Samantha, who came from a high-class background, found Morgan’s past exploits somewhat exotic but she would never think to ruin their friendship by pursuing romantic interests. She believed Morgan felt the same but he was a man, after all. He was bound to look upon occasion. "Look at these," she said, flipping through the pages. "Strangest things I’ve ever seen."
Morgan took one of the pages from her and studied it. That it was quite old was undeniable. It felt like calfskin and the page was crammed with writing, all in Latin. Each sheet was extremely long, measuring nearly three feet in length. "Who sent these?"
"There’s no return address."
"Too bad my Latin’s so rusty."
Samantha smirked, knowing that Morgan knew as much about Latin as he did about ladies’ fashion. In other words, virtually nothing. "I’ll take them to the Chief."
"Sounds like a plan." Morgan handed over the sheet he’d been holding and cleared his throat. "Listen, doll, you doing anything Saturday night?"
Samantha blinked, wondering if she’d heard correctly. "Just the usual: hanging around headquarters and waiting for something to happen."
"Well, I have these tickets for the movie house. It’s nothing fancy, mind you – one of those Evelyn Gould adventure flicks –
but I was thinking that since I have two tickets and there’s only one of me that I should take somebody with me."
"Are you asking me on a date?"
"No!" Morgan guffawed and Samantha wasn’t certain if she should feel relieved or insulted. "It’s just two friends, doll. Nothing more than that. Believe me!"
Samantha fought to keep a frown off her face. "That’s fine. We can do that, Morgan. But I can’t promise anything, really. I mean, anything might come up between now and then."
"Of course. Same here."
"Good." Samantha turned away and headed toward the stairs. She didn’t look back at Morgan but if she had, she would have seen him wincing. Their conversation hadn’t gone anywhere along the lines of what he’d intended and he was beginning to wonder if there was something about Miss Grace that would always leave him tripping over his feet.
***
Lazarus Gray was not a particularly large man but there was something about him that made men pause when they saw him. It might have been the mismatched eyes, one a sparkling emerald and the other a brooding brown. Or it might have been the stern, almost emotionless cast of his features. But most likely it was the way he moved, with the elegant grace of a dancer and the dangerous tread of a panther.
Eun Jiwon normally considered himself a very dangerous individual. Quick and athletic, the young Korean had proven himself capable of dealing with two or three grown men in combat but against Gray, he found himself simply outclassed. The two men were sparring now, throwing punches and kicks so quickly that they were little more than blurs to the naked eye. But Eun knew that Gray was holding back, a supposition that proved correct when Samantha entered the training area, an envelope in hand. Gray ducked another one of Eun’s fists and delivered two quick chops to the younger man’s midsection, knocking the breath from his lungs. Gray then finished him with a kick to the knee that left Eun temporarily hobbled.