by Barry Reese
“Poor baby. You lost your weapon,” Mr. Death said.
Without missing a beat, Gravedigger pointed her wrist-mounted crossbow and activated its controls. The bolt flew straight and true, lodging in Mr. Death’s right eye socket.
He staggered, gripping the sides of his head and wailing in agony. Abruptly, he stopped and asked, “How much longer are we going to do this? You. Can’t. Hurt. Me. Understand? I’m immune to physical pain!”
“Then it’s a good thing that I can hurt you in more ways than just that,” Gravedigger replied. She reached into one of the pouches on her belt and pulled forth an unusual looking polished stone. Mr. Death paused in his rantings, obviously concerned by the sudden change in his opponent’s tactics. “This,” she said, raising the stone in front of her. “Is called the Devil’s Eyeball, a powerful relic dating back to the 1300s. It can only be used once but it contains enough demonic energy to banish you to the deepest pit of Hell.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s normally part of your repertoire.”
“It’s not. But Lazarus Gray has lots of these little toys lying around and if you know anything about him, you’ll know that’s the truth. So are you willing to test it?”
Mr. Death reached up and yanked the crossbow bolt from his eye socket. He tossed it aside and asked, “Is this where we finally get down to bargaining?”
“This is when you turn tail and run. Stay and I’m going to destroy you.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Then call me on it and we’ll see what happens.”
With a mad laugh, Mr. Death lunged towards her. He spread his arms and for a moment he seemed to hang in the air like some ghoulish gargoyle. Then Gravedigger pushed The Devil’s Eyeball in his direction and squeezed it with all her might.
A beam of emerald energy shot forth, enveloping Mr. Death. The mad villain gave a surprised squawk and vanished. She had no idea if he had really been sent to Hell. The placard on the display had been more than a little obscure on that point. Still, as she tossed the now useless relic to the floor, she felt a small twinge of satisfaction. Gray had thought she’d pillage his headquarters while he was away… and he’d been absolutely correct.
And it had saved the day.
“Take that, Lazarus,” she whispered.
Cedric’s voice came through the building’s PA system. “What the hell did you just do?” he asked.
“I’ll explain later. Did The Dark Gentleman return?”
“He just did, and he’s got the cowboy with him. Some idiot named Nimrod.”
“Good. Maybe this whole thing is going to blow over. I mean, if everyone else is doing as well as we are, what could go wrong?”
CHAPTER XI
Lazarus Gray Goes to Washington
Mitchell pulled the curtains aside and looked out onto the streets of Washington. It hadn’t been all that long ago that Gravedigger had led her forces to this great city in order to protect the world from the evils of Pandora and now he and Li were back again.
It wasn’t lost on him that the color of his skin made him a second-class citizen in this country. Hell, the same could be said of both Li and Eun. The two of them were seated together, whispering in quiet tones and obviously enjoying each other’s company.
Mitchell thought that if the rest of the world could get along as well as this most unusual group, everything would eventually turn out fine. A black Englishman, a Chinese-American, a Korean-American and a white man, all acting for the common good.
Mitchell looked back and saw that Lazarus was staring at the phone. “Expecting a call?” he asked, letting the curtains fell shut.
“Yes, actually. A friend by the name of Ascott Keane agreed to offer some assistance. He’s going to help us try and locate Darhoth.”
Eun hopped up, obviously eager to get on to some sort of action. “She’s some sort of demon, right?”
“Something like that,” Lazarus said. “Based upon the things that Nyarlathotep said and the various visions our friends have had, I think she’s the key to the entire thing. If we can bring her up short, we might be able to stop this affair from snowballing out of control.”
The phone’s ringing cut off whatever response that Eun might have had.
Lazarus snatched up the receiver and asked, “Hello?”
Mitchell was certain that the man on the other end of the line was Keane. The intent way that Lazarus listened to whatever was being said made it clear that this was the call he’d been waiting for.
“I understand,” Lazarus said. “Thank you.” He hung up and looked at the others with a grim expression.
“What did he say?” Mitchell asked, afraid that the answer would not be a pleasant one.
It wasn’t.
“According to Keane, he and a lot of other mystics detected something massive earlier this evening emanating from Washington, D.C. It was a spell of ancient origin and design, one that was so powerful that its effects won’t be fully felt for hours, possibly even days.”
“So, you’re saying we were too late?” Li asked. Her pretty features were full of dismay and Eun couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze.
Lazarus held up a hand, indicating that she should remain calm. “Given the reports that we’ve received from Max and Charity, we have to be pleased with how things have gone to this point. But I now wonder if Darhoth didn’t plan all of this as a stalling tactic. It’s possible that not even her other agents were aware of this. By splitting our forces, she’s kept us from putting all of our efforts into stopping her alone.”
Mitchell shook his head. “I don’t know if I’d say we ‘have to be pleased’ with anything, Lazarus. Catalyst is dead, remember?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Lazarus tersely replied. “He was my friend.” Moving towards the door, Lazarus began barking orders over his shoulder. “Eun! I want you to get the rental car ready. Li and Mitchell, please carry down the weapons.”
Mitchell snapped to it, snatching up a briefcase filled with deadly implements, both occult and mundane.
Li waited until Eun was gone, having hurried after his employer. She lowered her voice and asked, “Why are we acting like he’s the boss? I haven’t seen him do anything that you couldn’t have done.”
“Thanks. I think.” Mitchell gave her a serious look and added, “Look, I wish we’d been paired up with Charity, too, but that wasn’t how it played out. She asked us to work with Lazarus and his friends so that’s what we have to do.”
With a weary shrug, Li followed him out of the room. She really didn’t mind Lazarus all that much. It was more the fact that he and his friends represented all that she and Charity had never been given. Whereas Assistance Unlimited were respected by the everyday man and woman, Gravedigger’s crew were regarded as little better than the criminals they hunted. And the way that Charity’s half-sister had been raised in the lap of luxury while Charity had scraped by, hand to mouth… It was enough to raise the bile in Li’s throat.
Downstairs, Eun and Lazarus were having a similar conversation after the young Korean had brought the car around to the front of the hotel. As Lazarus slid into the passenger seat, he asked, “Something troubling you, Eun?”
“You mean besides the fact that Darhoth might have doomed humanity already?”
“Yes.”
Eun frowned. “I like looking at Li but I don’t trust her. She’s only pretending to be working with us and I don’t think we should have let Gravedigger into our base.”
“She’s Samantha’s sister.”
“Half-sister.”
Lazarus fixed his steely gaze upon his friend. “It’s important to her that we try to repair our relations with Charity. I don’t like their methods but I feel we owe that to her.”
Eun grinned. “And to think that people say you’re an unfeeling beast.”
“Who says that?” Lazarus asked, arching one eyebrow.
“Just kidding,” Eun hastily replied.
He was about to quickly change the subject when a bright glow illuminated the entire street, causing a passing car to veer off the road as its driver was suddenly blinded. The vehicle slammed into a cigar stand, sending several passing innocents flying to the ground in bloody heaps.
Eun and Lazarus both raised their arms, trying to protect their eyes from the glare. They saw a female shape in the midst of the glow emanating from just a few feet in front of their parked car.
The doorman of the hotel approached, muttering under his breath, and Lazarus cried out as the woman raised her right hand and let loose some sort of powerful magical blast that eradicated all trace of the poor man.
“It’s over for you,” Darhoth mumbled, the light beginning to fade. “I kept my true plans away from everyone, even my closest advisors.” She looked lovely and terrible, all at once. A crooked smile touched her full lips, as if she were still learning how to manipulate human expressions. “People revere you as if you were gods but this is your twilight, Lazarus Gray. This is the day that you bow down before your betters.”
Lazarus drew his pistol. “Never.”
Darhoth gave a shrug. “You’re not paying attention. Your friends did their part but it was all a ruse, a way for me to keep you from uniting against me. I’ve done it. I’ve woken them all and now you’re going to face the one, true force that governs this universe: Chaos.”
Lazarus frowned, knowing that the itch that had been bothering him in the back of his brain now made sense. It had all seemed too pat, the way the villains of the piece were splitting up, allowing his friends to scatter to do battle with them. Now he knew why: Darhoth had planned it along, spreading them apart so that they would not be able to stand together against her.
Darhoth let loose with another burst of energy, this one barely missing Lazarus and Eun. They were thrown to the ground and the back of Eun’s skull struck hard, leaving a small patch of blood beneath his head. His vision swam for a moment and he felt nauseous but with tremendous effort, he crawled to his knees and steadied himself. When he looked back up, however, he saw an image that chilled him to his core.
“Oh my god,” he whispered.
Lazarus looked up as well, seeing something massive dropping from the skies above. It was so large that it blocked out a huge expanse of stars. Vaguely humanoid in form, its face was dark and full of dark portent.
The newly arrived creature laughed maniacally and Lazarus uttered a soft prayer, finding solace in a higher power that he didn’t even think he’d believed in until this very moment.
And then everything really and truly went to hell.
CHAPTER XII
The Thousand Year Reich
1939
Sovereign City
The hurried footsteps set off warning bells in Gravedigger’s head. She wheeled about to see a black-booted figure lunging at her from beneath a black arch, the crimson armband of the SS clearly on view. It was dark in Sovereign but Charity could make out a fierce, squat face and the gleam of steel in his right hand—a wickedly curved dagger that had obviously seen a lot of use over the years.
Avoiding the thrust of the soldier’s blade with a skillful twist of her lithe form, Gravedigger grunted as the edge of the weapon tore through her uniform and scratched against the heavy padding she wore beneath.
Before the Nazi could recover his balance, Gravedigger seized his arm and brought a fist down into the man’s face. His nose shattered, the fellow slid to the ground without a sound.
Gravedigger stood over her fallen foe, her senses on full alert. A few moments before, she’d seen a winged sentry fly overhead but if it kept to its usual path, it wouldn’t return to this area of the city for another half hour. One sentry, however, usually meant that there would be more in the area.
Sure enough, she heard the sounds of muffled footsteps around the next corner. Nighttime was never safe in Sovereign but on this night, it was even more dangerous than usual. This was the anniversary of The Füehrer’s Triumph, that terrible day one year before when Hitler and his alliance with the occult forces of Darhoth had triumphed, plunging the entire world into his dark embrace.
Drawing her sword, Gravedigger hurried away from the arches and allowed the shadows of a nearby alleyway to swallow her up. She quickly turned onto a wide street, just a few blocks away from where the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited had once stood. The once-proud structure had been razed to the ground and the Nazis were currently building a government building on the site. The monolithic structure was going to be drab and gray, though adorned with horrible sculptures perched on its sides like gargoyles. The statues would depict the awful entities that ruled the world now, using Hitler as their human puppet: hideous, slithering things with tentacles and repulsive features. They were the demons of humanity’s worse nightmares, given new life and freedom, all because the heroes of the world had failed.
Gravedigger frowned beneath her mask, thinking of all that had been lost. Her friends, one by one, had been hunted down and slaughtered. Cedric had been the last of her former compatriots, surviving on one good leg until a Deep One had devoured him last month.
She could still hear his screams.
A few moments later, she rapped upon an unmarked door. The manner in which she knocked—two quick strikes, followed by four harder blows—was a code that told the person within that she was safe. A half-second later, the door opened and she pushed her way in without preamble, barking, “Lock the door!”
The man who slammed the barricade shut behind her had once been considered quite handsome. His dimpled chin had adorned the covers of magazines from coast to coast, usually accompanied by rather lurid descriptions of his adventures and the mysteries surrounding his origins.
Born Richard Winthrop, he had washed up on the shores of Sovereign City after being left for dead by his former allies in The Illuminati. Christening himself Lazarus Gray, he had embarked on a new life for himself, one dedicated to righting the wrongs of the world.
But one year ago, he’d failed to see the truth that lay right in front of him: that he was being played for a fool. As such, the jagged scar that stretched from his left eye all the way down to his chin was a constant reminder of his defeat.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice sounding hoarse and dry. He’d inhaled steaming hot vapor during the night of Darhoth’s victory and ever since, he’d barely been able to speak above a whisper.
“The rumors are true. They captured Max.” Gravedigger shoved back her hood and yanked off her mask. She was still lovely but she’d aged considerably over the past few months. Worry lines around her mouth and on her forehead made her look ten years older than she really was. “According to the radio broadcasts, he’s going to be publicly executed at midnight tonight.”
“City Hall?”
“Yes.”
Lazarus moved over to a map of the city. Photographs of their dead friends were tacked up all over its surface, showing where they’d perished. He’d returned to Sovereign, as had all the others, after the horrors of the Old Ones had been unleashed upon the world. Somehow, even without someone like Catalyst around to confirm it, they all knew that Sovereign was going to be the site of their last stand.
He tapped the City Hall area of the map, his mind momentarily going back to the night that he and his friends had gone in search of The Unnervum. That horrific device was now in the hands of the enemy, both drawing on the madness of the city’s populace and amplifying their fears. “Is Hitler still in town? If he is, he’s going to be there for the execution.”
“He is but I don’t think we should risk ourselves going after him.”
“We’re the only three heroes left,” Lazarus said in disbelief, turning to face her. “And we could certainly use his gift of prescience.”
“It didn’t help keep him from getting captured,” she pointed out.
Lazarus moved towards her and cupped her face in his hands. “We owe it to him. You know that.”
“We don’t owe
him anything,” she said harshly. “If we get ourselves captured or killed, nobody benefits. We have to protect ourselves. He’d understand that.”
These two people, who just one year before had been almost enemies, were now bound together. Both had lost their loved ones and their freedom. They sometimes shared a bed now, though neither of them would ever claim that their affection was anything more than a product of their situation. Still, they were intimate and that gave Lazarus’ words extra meaning. “You and I both came back from the dead to make the world a better place. If we don’t expend every last breath we have fighting for that, we’ve wasted everything. All of our friends’ lives, all of our hard work, all that we’ve suffered through… none of it will matter. We have to rescue The Peregrine.”
Charity frowned but after staring into his mismatched eyes, she finally relented. “On one condition.”
“What?”
“If I get a chance, I’m killing The Füehrer”
“I’ll try to make sure you get that chance,” he whispered.
They kissed and then parted quickly, each preparing for the night’s work in their own way.
* * *
The Peregrine pushed away the tray of food and barely stifled a groan of disgust. The “soup” was full of sawdust, which could end up leading to dysentery. Even with death seemingly staring him in the face, Max wasn’t ready to go out with his guts in turmoil.
He sat back on the small cot that was the only furniture in his cell and closed his eyes. When he did this, it was easy to remember the way things used to be back when he could find solace in the arms of Evelyn, or smell Nettie’s pancake’s cooking on a Sunday morning.
All of that was gone now, of course. He had lost track of Evelyn months ago. He hoped she was still with Benson, the enigmatic avenger who had offered to keep her safe, but he had no way of knowing if that were true.