by Barry Reese
“That seems like a stretch to me,” Domino Lady said under her breath. She kept her words low, however, sensing that the boys’ club surrounding her didn’t take her very seriously. To them, she was just the beautiful blonde with a penchant for losing her clothing in battle. No, she mused, scratch that. Max never treated me that way. He always saw me as an equal, maybe because he has such a strong woman as his wife and partner.
The Peregrine tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Gustav. That name doesn’t ring any bells with me. I’ll have to see what I can dig up on him.”
“No need,” the Black Bat said with a grim smile. Anthony Quinn pretended to be a blind lawyer in his daily life, but at night, he donned a dark mask and turned his fiery gaze on the underworld. “Not that long ago, I prosecuted a man who had ties to the Nazi regime. He mentioned that name to me… I remember it because his story was so outlandish that it made me wonder if he was really insane.”
“Let’s hear it,” the Peregrine pressed, leaning forward.
“Gustav is supposed to a real secretive type. His division of the SS never interacts with the others, and they usually only operate at night. My client claimed that none of those men were quite human any longer—that they were living dead men, immune to normal pain. In short, he said they were vampires.”
“Vampire Nazis?” Kaslov asked. “It sounds absurd, but it’s no stranger than some of the other tricks Hitler has had up his sleeve in recent years.”
The Domino Lady, really socialite Ellen Patrick, couldn’t resist slinking back into the conversation. “Max, have you had time to find out what the Warlike Manchu had been doing in Atlanta while you were hunting the Six-Fingered Demonness? Was he visiting his old bases, contacting old lieutenants? What was it?”
The Peregrine smiled at Ellen, knowing that he’d made the right decision in asking her to sit in on the meeting. Most often, he turned to Kaslov or Keane for assistance, but both the Black Bat and the Domino Lady were smart, capable people. In some ways, he respected them even more than Kaslov and Keane. They had no super-attributes or mystical abilities, but they put their lives on the line day after day, battling against often overwhelming odds. They succeeded by being smarter and more attentive than their enemies. “I personally went to every one of his lairs that I know of and found that very little had been touched. But when I started rounding up his former associates, I did make a small break in the case. A man named Nick Cheung told me that he had stored a small library belonging to the Manchu. Last week the storage shed was broken into and all of the books were removed. He said that he’d never touched the books himself but from what he knew of them they were mostly listings of various legends, mystic sites, and magic spells.”
“So,” Keane observed, “it appears that the Warlike Manchu needs his books to proceed with whatever his next plan is. Given that you’ve found no clues that he’s resuming his position atop the crime cartels, I would think that means he might be plotting revenge against you—or perhaps some means of curing himself of his recent afflictions, assuming they still apply.”
The Peregrine nodded, feeling better about having shared his problems but disappointed that no one had anything concrete for him. “I’ll be back in touch, everyone. In the meantime, please keep your eyes and ears open for any sign of the Manchu. And I’ll try to see if I find out anything else about these vampire Nazis.”
One by one everyone signed off until only the Peregrine and the Domino Lady remained. Ellen smiled gratefully at her friend. “Thanks for including me in this, Max.”
“Thanks for agreeing to join us. You always have interesting insight.”
“I don’t think the others agree.”
“They do… they’re just distant sometimes. And Keane is still busy helping with the prosecution of Doctor Satan. That’s making him a bit of a grouch.”
The Domino Lady laughed at that, though she didn’t think it was quite the full truth of it. “Take care, Max. If it looks like you need some help, please don’t hesitate to give me a call.”
The Peregrine watched her face disappear from the screen and he sighed. He loved Evelyn and though that her entrance into his life had been one of the truly high points… but he couldn’t deny that Ellen Patrick was a remarkably desirable woman. Had things gone differently, he might have ended up pursuing her.
“Keep your mind on the target at hand,” he reminded himself. He was happily married, and idle daydreams about other women had no place in his heart.
Thoughts of the Warlike Manchu caused any lustful notions to evaporate immediately. That killer was out there, somewhere… but what was he up to?
Back on the trail, he thought to himself. In moments, he was back in his roadster, ready to continue his pursuit of the Manchu.
CHAPTER IV
A Love Reborn
The Warlike Manchu stared at himself in the mirror, at a face that was so much younger than it should have been. Thanks to a special serum of his own creation, he had lived several lifetimes, always avoiding the heavy specter of old age. Indeed, he’d come to consider himself immortal… until the Peregrine had ended his existence twice in the past few years. But always he was restored, and eventually his former pupil would learn the harsh lessons about what happened to those who betrayed the Warlike Manchu.
The Manchu dressed in an elaborate set of red robes, a rampant dragon emblazed upon them in gold. His long moustache dropped downwards and his hair was tied in back. His eyes had a feline quality to them and his fingernails were just long enough to pose a threat to others in combat. An air of pure evil clung to him like incense.
A change in the air in the room alerted him that he was no longer alone. “Baron Gustav… What can I do for you?” he asked, turning around to face his host and benefactor.
The vampire wore his SS uniform but his face belied his inhuman nature. Vampires were able to mimic humanity well enough when they chose to do so, with only their elongated canines to give them away. But when they relaxed, as the baron was doing right now, their features took on a more sinister cast. His ears now ended in points at their tips, and the bones of his face seemed more prominent. “The last of your belongings have been brought onboard,” Gustav said. He moved over to one of the windows in the Manchu’s room and gazed out into the clouds. “What do you think of our vehicle? The pride of the Reich’s aeronautics division.”
The Warlike Manchu inclined his head. They were flying onboard a massive zeppelin, the fastest in the world. It was armed with powerful bombs and mounted machine guns, making it more than capable of defending itself if needed. “A most impressive creation,” the Manchu admitted. “Now that the final pieces of my library are onboard, I can begin formulating the specifics of our plan.”
Gustav watched him through narrowed eyes. “Still no sign of your alchemical abilities?”
“None. They appear to have been voided during the period I was inanimate. Thankfully, my hunger for human flesh has been cured as well. That was the only side-effect of my first resurrection that I found distasteful.”
“A pity. If you still considered humans to be food, we would have something in common.”
The Warlike Manchu made a face that revealed how little he wanted to have in common with the baron. “I care nothing for your politics, or for your Fuehrer, Baron. I would just as soon repay my debt to you and be allowed my freedom, with your cure for my condition in hand.”
“Actually,” the baron said with a chuckle, “I’m not longer loyal to the Fuehrer. Our friendship seems a thing of the past. I require your assistance for personal reasons. I want enough power to assume control of the Reich when Hitler is gone, whether it is through his own folly or by my hand.”
“Interesting. So in addition to being an inhuman beast, you are also treacherous.”
Gustav crossed the room in the blink of an eye, his vampiric speed too fast for a normal man to follow. He held his hand around the Warlike Manchu’s throat and squeezed, but found that the master villain refused to flin
ch or show any sign of fear. “You are alive now because of my goodwill. Do not squander it.” He shoved the Manchu away and the villain staggered but retained his dignity. “Now,” the baron demanded, “before we reach our destination, I want you to tell me about the Peregrine. Who is he? How has he managed to bedevil you and the Fuehrer?”
The Warlike Manchu strode towards a table upon which some of his files had been set. So far it seemed that none of the vampire SS had rifled through his things, but he wasn’t sure of that. It bothered him to think of his belongings being handled by fools like these. He picked up a folder and opened it, holding up a photograph of the Peregrine. It had been taken as the vigilante was perched on an Atlanta rooftop. “This is Max Davies, a.k.a the Peregrine. After witnessing the brutal murder of his philanthropist father, he pledged that he would protect the innocent. Shortly thereafter, he began experiencing painful visions of future crimes. Though useful, he loathed these potential clues. Realizing that he needed to be more than an angry youth to truly make a difference, he traveled the world and learned all that he could about philosophy, the sciences, and various martial arts. During this period, he became my pupil, not realizing that I was working atop a massive criminal empire. I thought I could twist him to my own ends… but I failed.”
Gustav nodded, knowing the basics of this but not the specific details. More and more, the Peregrine intrigued him.
The Warlike Manchu set down the photograph and searched through the papers, his long fingers moving quickly through them. “He eventually returned to America, fashioning the identity of the Peregrine to protect his friends and family. First in Boston and later in Atlanta, he overthrew gangsters and protected the sheep of humanity from threats that they could never conceive of. He is aided by several allies, but his wife Evelyn is the most frequent of them.” The Warlike Manchu held up a photograph of Evelyn, showing her in a seductive pose. It was a promotional picture from one of her B-grade films.
The effect on Gustav was immediate and obvious. His eyes widened and he snatched the photograph away from the Manchu, staring at it. “What did you say her name was?”
“She was born Evelyn Gould. Do you know her?”
“I… no. She just looks like someone that I once knew. In another life.” Gustav handed the photograph back to the Warlike Manchu but it was obvious that his attention was now elsewhere. “I must go and feed. We will talk more once we have arrived.”
The vampire left without another word, leaving the Warlike Manchu to wonder what it was about that photograph that had so disturbed his benefactor. “Something that could be used against you, perhaps?” he wondered aloud. A dangerous smile touched his lips then. He would not be long a prisoner of anyone. He would eventually turn on this vampire and his heathen followers, and then the power that was soon to be gained would belong to the Warlike Manchu
* * *
Gustav cursed himself for showing his weakness so clearly. He stood in the hallway, the whine of the zeppelin’s engines echoing all around him.
That woman… the Peregrine’s woman… she looked just like Justine, the only woman he had truly loved. She had died in 1652, the victim of an angry mob. Justine had died trying to protect the grave of her lover, the vampire who would one day lead his own unit of the SS. Since then, he had looked at humanity as cattle, as toys to be used for his amusement and hungers. But Justine… she had been different. Lovely skin, auburn hair, and full pink lips… she looked just like this Evelyn, down to the last detail.
Was it coincidence? Or had she somehow been reborn? Was that why fate had linked Gustav and the Peregrine together? The vigilante had been involved in the event that had brought Gustav back to the world, and his actions had slowly led them both on a collision course. And now Justine—or Evelyn, as she was known in this time—could be his once more. It was almost too wonderful to be believed. Would she remember him? Would the sight of him bring back the old memories? Or was all of this just a cruel trick being played upon him by the gods?
“I will find out, my love,” he whispered. “After the Warlike Manchu and I have secured what we need, I will come back for you.”
Through the skies they soared, their jet-black zeppelin carrying them out of the United States and over the sea.
CHAPTER V
Death on the Menu
Jimmy Cho had been in Atlanta for over five years. He was a middle-aged man with a slight paunch and a receding hairline, but he had a ready smile and a sharp handle on the English language, which made him popular with his neighbors in the heart of Atlanta. Jimmy ran a small restaurant which mixed American-style dishes with foods from his native country. He was unmarried, though he had two young girls who sometimes spent the night with him in exchange for free food and board.
All in all, he thought he had a good life.
But there was a side to Jimmy Cho’s life that very few people knew about. Before moving to the United States, he had been associated with the Ten Fingers, a violent arm of the Warlike Manchu’s criminal cartel. Jimmy had helped with information gathering and the occasional bit of smuggling. In America, he’d hoped to go completely straight, but the Warlike Manchu had recently contacted him and directed Jimmy to hire some men to help break into a storage building and transport the objects contained there to another site. He had done so, and thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any fall-out from his actions. Living in Atlanta, home to the fearsome Peregrine, had a way of making criminals jumpy.
Jimmy locked up for the night, turning off the last of the lights in his small business. He was tired and was actually glad that neither of the girls was there tonight. He wanted to crawl into his bed upstairs, listen to a little bit of radio, and drift off to sleep.
“I thought you were going to keep your nose clean, Jimmy.”
Cho froze. The words had come from behind him… but he’d checked the place before locking up. He should have been alone. He looked over his shoulder, peering into the darkness. “Who is there?” he asked, trying to keep his fear from leaking into his voice. He failed.
A bright light suddenly shone in his eyes and Jimmy raised a hand to ward off the glare.
A man moved into view, holding a powerful flashlight. He turned it off as he got close enough for Cho to see him in the gloom. “I’m called the Peregrine,” the stranger declared.
Cho let out a cry and sprang into action. Over the years, he’d learned to fight from the Ten Fingers, and though his bulk didn’t show it, he was a dangerous man. He threw a short punch that caught the Peregrine in the chest and followed it with a kick to the man’s hip.
The Peregrine’s surprise faded quickly—too quickly for Jimmy’s good. The Peregrine caught the man’s foot and held it in place. He then drove his elbow down in Jimmy’s knee, breaking the leg.
As Cho fell to the floor, sobbing in pain, he began to babble in his native tongue. The Peregrine placed a foot on the criminal’s chest, holding him in place.
“That wasn’t very smart,” the Peregrine hissed. “Haven’t you heard? If you’re lucky, all I’m going to do is push this against your forehead.” The Peregrine held up his right hand, showing off a blood-red signet ring on his ring finger. “It’ll burn my symbol onto your forehead. You’ll be scarred for life. That’s if you’re lucky. If you act like a fool, then I’ll just have to kill you.”
“No!” Jimmy begged. “Just let me go, please. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know… Just don’t hurt me. I need a doctor!”
“Are you still working for the Warlike Manchu, Jimmy? Tell me the truth.”
Jimmy whined, knowing that no matter what he did next he was doomed. The Manchu did not suffer traitors, but at least he could live another day by telling the truth. “All I did for him was find some men to move his things. That’s all! I don’t know where he is.”
The Peregrine drove his foot harder into Cho’s chest, eliciting another squeal. He’d have to thank McKenzie for the information he’d given him. The police chief was Max’s best friend and a
definite advantage in his war on crime. “What is he after? I bet you know. You’re a smart guy.”
Jimmy looked up at the Peregrine and chewed his bottom lip. When he began speaking, the words flowed out in a rush. “He is going to Africa… the books he had stored were all dealing with various objects of power. He seemed very pleased with one of the books we found specifically. It dealt with the original magician’s wand. I didn’t get to look at much of the book before turning it over to him but I couldn’t help but flip through all of them… and the one he seemed to covet the most was that one.”
“The original magician’s wand…? Tell me what that is.”
“It is known by different names, but the Rod of Aaron will do as well as any. It belonged to the brother of Moses and was carved out of almond-colored wood, with Aaron’s name written in Hebrew along its shaft. With it, Aaron summoned the plagues to Egypt and parted the Red Sea. It is believed that there are many other powers it possesses, as well.”
“What part of Africa were they going to? Where is the Rod hidden?”
“It was once buried with the Ark of the Covenant, but it was stolen during the Middle Ages. But about ten years ago it showed up in the hands of a man named Esteban. He has an estate just outside the nation of Bordia.”
That almost brought a smile to the Peregrine’s face. Bordia was protected by the Revenant, a supposedly immortal jungle champion. Only a few months ago, Max had helped his former assistant Sally Pence become the latest person to wear the mask of the Revenant.
The Peregrine took his foot off of Jimmy’s chest and knelt at the man’s side. “You did really well,” he whispered. “Because you were such a good boy, I’m going to call a doctor to fix that leg of yours.”
Jimmy smiled hopefully. Was he really going to get away with his life? He silently said a prayer.
The Peregrine’s next action wiped the smile from Jimmy’s face. Max slammed his ring against the criminal’s forehead, causing the flesh to sizzle. The image of a bird in flight was etched there forevermore. “It’s your lucky day,” the Peregrine said, holding his prey down on the floor.