The Adventures of Lazarus Gray

by Barry Reese

  Lunt looked away and for one of the few times in their relationship, Miya realized that he was genuinely afraid. "I think I may have made a terrible mistake."

  ***

  Lazarus Gray was looking out the window when his aides entered the meeting room. All of them had met up again after their various adventures, exchanging information as they did so. They had warned the authorities to increase security around the water stations for fear of Mr. Skull making good on his earlier schemes.

  "Chief?" Samantha asked. "We were waiting outside by the car but you were taking so long that we got worried. Who was it on the phone?"

  Gray’s face remained impassive but there was a flicker of emotion in his mismatched eyes. Samantha noticed it but wasn’t sure if it was sadness, anger or excitement, or some combination of all three. When Gray looked at her, all traces of emotion had vanished, leaving his eyes looking as placid as usual. "It was no one important," he said at last. "We shouldn’t waste any more time on that. Let’s go. We have a criminal to catch."

  Chapter IV

  Death from the Skies!

  Sovereign City was home to a fairly large airport but it also had a number of private airfields that catered to those rich enough to afford them. Mr. Skull was one of those lucky few and he owned two small planes, both little more than crop dusters but he treasured them both. He’d gotten a pilot’s license before coming to Sovereign and enjoyed the opportunity to take to the skies, where all those below him looked like nothing more than ants.

  As he strode into the private hangar where his two planes were housed, the guard who was paid to be on duty stood up quickly. He held a trash pulp magazine in his left hand and cup of coffee in the other. The expression on his face was so sheepish that Mr. Skull was reminded of a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  "Mr. Skull! I didn’t expect you!"

  "Obviously." He peeled off the coat he wore and tossed it to the guard. The act of catching the garment caused him to spill his coffee all over his pants and shoes. "I’m taking her up," Skull said, gesturing to the closer of the two identical planes.

  The guard peered outside and noticed that Skull was alone. He had no way of knowing that his employer had dropped off his injured lackey at the hospital, leaving the other man to keep an eye on him. The guard did realize that it was strange to see Mr. Skull out and about without anyone with him.

  Skull was already strapping himself in and beginning his pre-flight routine when the guard took a few steps forward. "Sir?" he asked, yelling over the sound of the engines roaring to life.

  Skull glanced down at him. He didn’t wear any goggles when flying, since they were rather pointless in his current state. The flickering flame that surrounded his skull usually vaporized any particles or insects that flew too close to his head. "What do you need?" he asked.

  "Should I be expecting anyone else? Should I tell them where you’ve gone or when you’ll be back?"

  "If anyone comes looking for me, tell them nothing."

  The guard backed away quickly as Skull began driving the plane toward the open hatch. He watched as the bizarre figure vanished into the sky, wondering not for the first time how Mr. Skull pulled it off. That was the most realistic mask he’d ever seen. If the guard hadn’t known better, he’d have almost believed that was the man’s actual face….

  ***

  THREE YEARS BEFORE

  Borys had sat in the darkest corner of the Vatican Library that he could find, pouring over the ancient records. He loved books, the feel of the ancient pages against his fingertips lulling him into a sense of security that he found nowhere else. Since the age of 13, when he'd made the decision to pledge his love only to God, he'd found an almost sensual pleasure in the written word. It was his little flirtation on the side, so to speak, giving him something to think about during the long, difficult years of celibacy.

  And it was not as if women would have scorned his attentions, had he chosen to pursue them. He was handsome, with classic Polish features and dark hair. It was his eyes, though, that had drawn the most attention from others. Even as a little boy, they could captivate men and women alike. They were so dark that they were almost black, with an intelligence that seemed to be projected from far within.

  He’d fled Russia over a decade ago, settling in Canada. He’d made his dream of becoming a priest into reality and it was after one of his services that he’d met a young man with a stout body and a desperate need for acceptance. The young man, along with a few other young ones, had moved under the wing of Borys, believing him when he’d told them of visions he’d had: of a world on the brink of destruction, with ethnic cleansing and the rise of an evil axis of power. The three of them had even followed him here on this trip to Rome, where Borys was convinced that he’d learn the secrets to averting disaster.

  "Find anything useful?"

  Borys didn't bother looking up from the yellowed papers. "There was a Christian seer in the 14th Century who recounts a vision he had with the Virgin Mary. She allegedly told him that there would come a time of great tribulation, prior to the Second Coming." He cleared his throat before continuing. He adopted the mock professorial style that so greatly annoyed his companion. "The creatures of the pit will rise up and walk alongside the Holy; Men and women of little faith will follow the quick and easy paths, while the true son will face an uphill struggle."

  "Typical religious double-talk."

  Borys sighed. "Garrison... Why are you here if you don't want to learn?"

  Garrison Montreux sat down beside his Borys, looking him square in the eye. Garrison was a much harsher figure than Borys, with a deep scar that lined his left cheek and the weathered appearance of a life-long fighter. It was obvious to everyone who met him that Garrison had to struggle for everything he’d ever gotten and this had hardened him.

  "Because you asked me to come."

  Borys didn't answer that one. It was true enough, though he would have gladly visited these sacred halls even without a mission at hand. "Where are the others?"

  "Valerie and Michael are at the hotel, waiting for us. They're anxious to be gone from here and I don't blame them. This place is an anachronism. It doesn’t have any place in the modern world."

  That was too much for Borys to ignore. "Damn you, Garrison! Are you trying to provoke me? I know that you're an atheist but this is the holiest of places! It is home to God's chosen representative and in these books is the wisdom of the ages! There are dark days coming and it is here that we might find the source of inspiration!"

  "You really believe that?" Garrison asked. "That the secret to avoiding another world war lies in one of these old books? That's a bit much, don't you think?"

  "We've run out of other options, haven't we? Besides, my powers are derived from God himself... if he chooses to reveal the truth to us, this is as likely a place as any."

  "Derived from God," Garrison snorted. "What makes you think that? Do you think Doc Daye gets his abilities from the King of the Jews, too?"

  "That’s not for me to judge." Borys looked down at his hands. He wore thick cloths tied around each palm, leaving the fingers free. Dark spots in the center of his palm were beginning to spread again. "The stigmata is proof that--"

  A book flew off a shelf nearby, landing with a loud thud. Both men were on their feet at once, with Garrison's hand creeping down to the gun he kept holstered beneath his heavy coat.

  "What the hell?" Garrison whispered. He looked about the library. "I thought we were alone here."

  "We are," Borys replied. He walked over to where the book had fallen and picked it up, staring at its leather-bound cover. Stamped on the front were the words Chaldean Magic. "This is one of the forbidden books... What is it doing here, in the open?"

  "Perhaps your God wanted us to find it." Garrison’s voice, though full of sarcasm, also held a note of concern. Borys realized that he felt it too -- the sense that something momentous was occurring.

  Borys felt along the edge o
f the book, finding one page that seemed to have been marked somehow with a tiny notch in the top of the vellum. With trembling hands, he opened the tome and began to read....

  "Well?" Garrison prompted.

  "It's here," Borys whispered, in a voice full of holy reverence. "God has shown us the way." He held the page up for Garrison to read.

  There on the page, amongst various occult diagrams, was a spell entitled The Bonding of Man and Demon. Beneath the spell was a drawing of a demon rising out of the abyss... and the demon’s skull was aflame.

  The image shook Garrison to his core and in a moment of supernatural clarity he realized that in these words lay the power he’d always wanted. He’d built his body into something strong and deadly but he’d needed more, which had led him to follow Borys on this wild goose chase.

  "Give me the book," Garrison whispered. He reached for it and tried to wrest it free from his mentor’s grasp but Borys held it tight. There was a look of fear in the older man’s eyes.

  "No. I don’t like the way your expression changed when you read that page. It’s not healthy for you. Let me keep it."

  Garrison snarled like a caged tiger and before he’d even realized what he was doing, he’d drawn back a fist and then slammed it hard into his friend’s face. He repeated the attack several more times until Borys lay quietly on the floor, drops of his blood splattered on the pages of the book.

  Garrison had stood there panting for a long minute before grabbing hold of the text and shoving it into his jacket. He had turned to flee, leaving the priest to slowly bleed out. In the book lay power… power that would be his and his alone.

  ***

  Mr. Skull knew that the reservoir was off-limits now but there had to be some way he could bring death to the citizens of Sovereign. He had finally decided to drop Bone Dust right over downtown. The wind would carry the dust far and wide, spreading it so thin that it might not kill all it touched.

  But it would burn and it would scar.

  After bonding with the demon that now resided inside him, Garrison had realized what a curse he’d accepted. He was terrifying to behold, which both pleased and repulsed him. He was also driven half-mad by the creature’s voice in his head: it gave him great power and a long leash but it craved death and destruction, both of which Garrison found himself giving it in spades. That was the secret of it all: though he masqueraded as a mobster, Mr. Skull was as much a true killer as he was a criminal. Money was secondary in the end, a distant concern compared to the opportunity to sow terror amongst the innocent.

  His plane banked to the west and down below lay the gambling ship known as The Heart of Fortune. It was a little over three miles off the Sovereign coast and the ship’s lights showed that a large crowd of revelers were enjoying themselves. Mr. Skull thought about dropping the Bone Dust here, just a few handfuls, to see what effect it would have on the gamblers. He held off, however, preferring to save it all for the more heavily populated areas. He spurred his plane to greater speeds and within moments land was once more beneath him. He saw the courthouse and city hall up ahead, recognizing them by their distinctive shapes.

  To his great surprise, however, something rose up from below, rocketing toward him with tremendous speed. It took him a moment to realize that it was a small rocket fired from a bazooka – Mr. Skull had read up on the devices and knew that they’d first appeared on the scene back in the Great War. Originally known as Rocket-Powered Recoilless Weapons, they were quite deadly – sometimes as much so for the one firing it as the one on the receiving end.

  Mr. Skull tried to avoid the missile but it came at him too quickly, shearing off the plane’s left wing and sending him hurtling toward the ground with smoke and fire trailing after him.

  Skull unbuckled his seat restraint and began to crawl from his seat even as his plane hurtled to its destruction. He was going to come down on a large hill overlooking downtown, part of a district that mixed various small businesses with homes. Whether by divine providence or simple luck, the plane was on a direct course with a large playground and park that was currently empty.

  Skull threw himself away from the plane, landing in a roll that carried him in the opposite direction from the crash. He felt the impact through the ground and felt the rush of heat as the gas tank exploded, but he was unharmed, aside from a few rips in his clothing. He patted his pockets and found that the vials of Bone Dust had not been shattered.

  Standing up, he quickly looked around for the source of the attack. He didn’t have to look far. The members of Assistance Unlimited were less than a hundred feet away and the man known as Lazarus Gray was dropping a bazooka to the ground. Morgan and Samantha both had handguns drawn, while Eun was standing relaxed but obviously ready for combat.

  "Garrison Montreux," Lazarus said. "Surrender now or I cannot promise that your life will be spared."

  Mr. Skull gestured around at the houses and businesses. "You’re really going to do this here? What about all the people who might get hurt?"

  "All evacuated." Gray’s mismatched eyes glittered with cold humor. "Once Miss Grace had surmised who you really were and informed us of your plans to commit mass murder, I began to look into your business holdings. It didn’t take much digging to find out that you owned two planes, housed at a private airfield."

  "And you just happened to have a weapon like that?" Skull laughed hoarsely. "Gray, you’re a real piece of work."

  "Can’t I shoot him, Chief?" Morgan grinned like a wolf. "He’s not going to surrender, you can tell."

  Mr. Skull’s head was now fully ablaze and it was so bright that it nearly equaled that of the burning plane. "Bullets won’t hurt me. The girl knows that." He cracked his knuckles and began moving toward them. "I’m going to enjoy this."

  Eun rushed forward, moving with the speed of a panther. He caught Mr. Skull in the midsection with a flurry of punches, followed by a hard kick to the villain’s knee. In an ordinary man, such an attack would have left him writhing in agony. But Mr. Skull was not like other men. He struck back quickly, backhanding Eun so hard that the young Korean was lifted off his feet. Eun cried out as he landed right atop Samantha, knocking them both on their backs.

  Morgan knelt quickly at their sides, checking to make sure they weren’t badly wounded. Eun was groggy and suffering from a mild concussion but Samantha looked merely stunned.

  Gray had taken in all of that with a mere glance. He turned away from them, focusing all of his attention on Mr. Skull. The villain was laughing again, an eerie sound that combined with the horrific nature of his appearance, making the entire scene appear quite surreal.

  Skull threw a powerful left-handed punch but Gray caught it, knocking it aside with the back of his hand. Before Skull could attack again, Gray had pushed both hands under the man’s armpits and pushed, momentarily knocking the fiery killer off-balance. Gray danced around his foe, wrapping his powerful arms around Mr. Skull’s midsection. He held on with all his strength as Skull began trying to free himself.

  Keeping his head just out of the range of the villain’s flickering flames, Gray lowered his voice and whispered, "You don’t strike me as an occultist, Mr. Montreux. If I had the time, I’d love to know how you managed to turn yourself into this monstrosity… but in the end, it doesn’t matter. You’re a threat to everyone you come into contact with."

  "I’m going to pour the Bone Dust right down your throat!" Mr. Skull bellowed.

  "No. You’re not. Enigha m’luktu omnarium. Varily’u fedda b’eginas!"

  The strange words that Lazarus Gray said were delivered almost under his breath and yet all of his aides, even battle wounded Eun, reacted to them. They saw their employer’s emerald colored eye glow brightly as he said those awful phrases. These were words that were part of a lost tongue, ancient even when Atlantis sank beneath the waves. They were a litany of power, spoken by men who had bartered their souls for the dark gifts. It terrified them to know that Lazarus Gray knew them.

  The flames aro
und Garrison’s head began to die out and the light in his empty sockets dimmed. He began to cry out in alarm and pain but his words were gibberish, bundled up in shock and horror. When the final flame died out, he slumped in Gray’s grasp, his soul having been driven from its mortal shell. To the nether realms the demon had been banished once more and to the dark, stygian depths of Hell went the soul of Garrison Montreux.

  It was Morgan who found the courage to ask what they were all thinking. "Chief… What the heck were those things you were saying?"

  Gray set down Mr. Skull’s body with far more dignity than Eun thought it deserved. "It was a spell from a book entitled Chaldean Magic. There are only a handful of copies in existence so I’m not quite sure where he would have found one. When I saw his physical appearance, I recognized what spell had been used." Gray noticed that his friends were watching him with shocked expressions and his normally emotionless face relaxed a bit, soothing their concerns. "I used to be a specialist in spells relating to the binding and summoning of demons. I’d forgotten that until earlier this evening. That phone call I received back at HQ sparked something in me."

  Samantha, leaning against Morgan for support, asked, "So do you remember anything else?"

  "Several things."

  "Do you know your real name?"

  Gray paused, his gaze shifting away from Samantha’s. He appeared to be considering something quite important and when he spoke, his words carried great conviction. "Yes. I do. It’s Lazarus Gray."

  Epilogue

  Miya was furious as she hurried down the stairs to the waiting taxi. The driver had been given instructions to take her directly to the airport, where she had plans to fly back to Europe. She was going to inform the rest of The Cabal that Walther had ruined her plans and betrayed valuable information to the man once known as Richard Winthrop.