The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two

by Barry Reese

  * * *

  The Peregrine ran down the hall, shooting and killing as he went. He’d already downed nearly a dozen men and more were soon to fall. Once he’d finally allowed the Warlike Manchu to handle the planning of this operation, things had gone surprisingly smoothly. The Manchu had contacts in Berlin, whose sole purpose seemed to be to watch the movements of the Fuehrer. When they informed Max and the Manchu that a man and woman were to meet with Hitler in his private office, the course had seemed clear.

  Max had urged for the current action, however: a fast, lightning fast strike that the Nazis would not be expecting. The Manchu, to his credit, was more than holding up his side of the bargain. The villain was at Max’s heels, dealing with whatever guards managed to avoid the Peregrine’s bullets.

  Thanks to the Manchu’s spies, the Peregrine knew exactly where he was going, the location of Hitler’s study having been seared into his mind. He found the room he needed, lowered his shoulder, and barreled inside.

  He found Hitler seated behind his desk, his hand slowing as he finished composing some sort of letter. The villain’s mouth was shut but it seemed as if he was straining to say something.

  Standing in front of Hitler was Gustav, the Rod of Aaron held in his grasp. And near the fireplace was Evelyn, who smiled at him as he entered. Seeing that expression of joy lifted much of the darkness that had clouded Max’s mood over the last day.

  The vampire smiled coldly. “Mr. Davies. You are a wonder, aren’t you? Originally, I had planned to dine on your blood… but once I found Justine, I discarded that. Why worry about you when I could have her? But you seem set on offering me your life, so why not enjoy both?” Gustav started to channel energy through the Rod but a series of shuriken ripped into his arm, causing him to drop the legendary piece of wood.

  The Warlike Manchu stepped up behind the Peregrine, more of the deadly throwing stars in his hand. “The VSS is on their way,” he warned Max. “I shall slow them down but not even I can hold them all off.”

  “Understood.” The Peregrine looked at Evelyn. “Are you back in your right mind?”

  She ran to him, laughing. “As sane as I’ll ever be. That cow who was in possession of my body is back locked up—hearing that you were here gave me the strength to take control.”

  “That cow,” the Warlike Manchu reminded her, “is most likely a manifestation of your past memories. But she is not a separate entity—rather she is simply your memories given new form. You should be able to master them with the appropriate training.”

  “Can we talk about this some other time?” the Peregrine asked. “Evelyn, go with the Manchu—get out of the building.” He handed her a pistol. “Use this if he tries anything.”

  “Justine!” Gustav said, moving closer to them. He made no move to grab the fallen Rod and he didn’t notice that Hitler was now freed of its control. The Fuehrer was slowing rising from his seat, watching the strange scene play out before him. “You can’t leave me—not after we found each other again.

  Evelyn’s expression softened and for a moment Gustav thought he saw his Justine come to the fore. “I’m sorry, Rudolph. I loved you… a part of me always will. But this is a new day. And I’m not Justine anymore. My name is Evelyn. And I’m very happily married.”

  Without another word, she turned and gripped the Manchu by the sleeve, pulling him out into the hallway.

  The Nazi vampire hissed like an injured cat when his beloved disappeared from sight. “You stole her from me! I finally got her back and you stole her!” he roared, his words coming out in gasps of anger.

  “Looked to me like she chose where she wanted to be,” Max responded. He holstered his pistol and drew the Knife of Elohim. Without the Rod in hand, the Knife was quite capable of reducing Gustav to dust… but Max knew he would have to strike quickly and accurately.

  Gustav moved with incredible speed, slamming into the Peregrine and lifting him off the floor. He threw the Peregrine across the room, letting him bounce off the wall. Max winced in pain but had no time to try and recover, for the vampire was upon him again, lifting him up and yanking his head to the side, baring his neck. Gustav leaned in to rip open his foe’s throat but Max struck out blindly with the Knife of Elohim, catching Gustav in the side. The blow didn’t go very deep but it was enough to make Gustav cry out and drop his opponent.

  The Peregrine slashed out again, catching Gustav in the leg, but this time the leader of the VSS was ready to respond. He slammed his fist down on the top of Max’s head, causing his ears to ring. He followed this with two more blows that were almost strong enough to break the vigilante’s neck.

  Max sagged to the floor, blood dripping from mouth and nose. He felt confused, and he wasn’t sure how long he could stay conscious. He was just thankful that Evelyn had gotten away… the Manchu was a monster, but he would take her out of this place. Of that, Max felt certain.

  The baron lifted the Peregrine to his feet. He stared into Max’s glassy eyes and smiled, his fangs shining wetly. “You are a fascinating man… you accomplish so much with your fragile little body. When I drink from you, I’ll savor every drop and you’ll make me stronger.” He leaned closer, whispering to his foe, “And then I’ll go and find your Evelyn, and I’ll wake Justine again. And she’ll make love to me just as passionately as she did just a few hours ago.”

  Max felt his heart skip a beat but he tried to tell himself that his wife had been under a spell, she hadn’t been herself. But the pain was still powerful—because he knew that Gustav wasn’t making this up. The look of triumph in the vampire’s eyes made that quite clear.

  Gustav’s fangs brushed against Max’s throat, his tongue darting out to first taste the flesh. Max girded himself for the piercing of his skin, and suddenly Gustav had flung him away and was screaming.

  The Peregrine landed on his rear, barely keeping himself from toppling over. He rose unsteadily to his feet as he tried to figure out what had saved him. And then he saw it: Hitler had retrieved the Rod of Aaron and was now facing the vampire, brandishing the mystic weapon like a sword. Energy flashed from the Rod, striking the vampire again and again. The powerful force was stripping away Gustav’s skin with every strike, exposing red meat and bone.

  Gustav fell to his knees, reaching out beseech his former ally for mercy.

  Hitler laughed hoarsely. “Disgusting beast! Germany will never bow down before the likes of you!” He pointed the Rod again and a final burst of energy exploded from its tip, enveloping the vampire. Gustav’s final scream echoed throughout the room as he was completely disintegrated, no trace of him left behind.

  The Fuehrer stood for a moment, as if fully digesting the power he now possessed. Gunshots, sirens, and loud shouts were beginning to filter in now, as word of a possible assassination attempt on Hitler had begun to reach the proper authorities.

  Hitler looked at the Peregrine, who stood bleeding nearby. Max had followed the entire conversation, even though the various participants had slipped back and forth from English to German and back again. With Hitler, though, all words spoken were in German. “I know who you are. Max Davies, they said.”

  The Peregrine exhaled slowly. Even if he managed to somehow escape with his life, the Nazis now knew his secret identity… he’d never be safe.

  Hitler, meanwhile, was continuing his rant. “You have cost me many of my finest agents. You have foiled plan after plan after plan!” The Fuehrer stamped his booted foot. “But now you are mine. And you will tell me everything you can that might help me win this war!”

  The Peregrine moved his fingers and realized that he was still clutching the Knife of Elohim. With his last bit of energy, he hurled the dagger, which struck Hitler’s right hand, the one in which he had been holding the Rod. Hitler dropped the staff in fright and backed away, howling in pain as his hand began to bleed.

  Max felt the room begin to spin, and his battle to remain awake came to an unfortunate end.

  CHAPTER XIII

  Endings


  When the Peregrine woke up after a long and fitful slumber, he was onboard his airplane, strapped into the passenger seat of the cockpit. Evelyn was at his side, obviously trying to remember everything he had taught her about piloting.

  “What… happened?” he asked, reaching up to touch his head, which was throbbing.

  “The Warlike Manchu went back to get you. He said he found you passed out, Hitler bleeding, and a horde of Nazi soldiers about to burst in. He barely got out of there with you.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Gone. He brought you to me and said that we should go our separate ways. He says he’s now free of the vampire’s control and that both of you had repaid any kind of debts you owed one another.”

  Max uttered a curse. “Wait a minute. Did he take off with the Rod of Aaron?” He couldn’t quite keep the accusation out of his voice.

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised, but I was more concerned with getting out of there with you than I was about trying to stop him. He’d just saved your life! Not to mention that I’d never have gotten past those vampire SS without him.”

  “I’m not criticizing.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Max sighed. “I’m sorry. I just hate to think about him being out there. But maybe it’s better he has the Rod than Hitler. At least with the Manchu, he’s not waging a war with America. Not a public one, at least…”

  “Is Gustav…?”

  “Dead.” Max glanced at her and saw that she was nodding. “He… I…”

  “It’s okay, Max.” Evelyn smiled at him. “I do remember things… things that happened to me in another life. But that’s all they are now. Memories. The part of me that was Justine has been very quiet, and I don’t think she’s going to reemerge. She only came to the fore because of the shock of being reunited with him.”

  “He said the two of you made love.”

  Evelyn’s expression took on a sharper quality. “No, we did not. That’s wasn’t me, Max. I was inside my own head, trapped, caught up in her emotion. But it wasn’t me. If it had been, I wouldn’t have done anything like that.”

  Max said nothing at first, staring out of the repaired front window. Evelyn was keeping to his usual flight path when coming into Germany, keeping his full stealth mode on the plane in full activation. It wasn’t foolproof, but so far he hadn’t been forced into any aerial dogfights, either.

  Evelyn reached out and took her husband’s hand. “I’m glad you’re okay. Looks like you took quite a beating.”

  Max squeezed her fingers with his own. “Let’s take a vacation. Me, you, the kids. Go someplace nice and quiet for awhile.”

  “That sounds nice,” she responded. She could see that something was gnawing away at Max, making him pensive. “Are you really that concerned about what happened between me and Gustav?”

  “No,” he said, looking into her eyes. “It’s not that. Hitler overheard my name. My full name. That means we’re not safe. We’ll never be safe.”

  Evelyn pursed her lips, realizing what he was saying. The Germans held Max personally responsible for a lot of their losses. “Max… Hitler’s not the only dangerous person who knows who you are. There’s the Warlike Manchu, for one—and just because they know who you are, doesn’t mean we should run and hide or change our names. If they come after us, it’ll end the same way it always ends.”

  Max leaned close to his wife, who smiled. “And how is that?”

  “With you beating up the bad guys, and with you and me flying off into the sunset.”

  The Peregrine took a glance out the window, where the sun could be seen dropping behind the clouds. “Is this where we kiss and the words ‘the end’ flash up on the screen, Mrs. Davies?”

  “Indeed it is,” she answered, kissing him gently on the lips.

  THE END

  SATAN’S TRIAL

  An Adventure Starring the Peregrine

  Written by Barry Reese

  CHAPTER I

  Caging the Beast

  December 1943—Manhattan

  “His fingertips are completely smooth, not even a hint of a print. And his face is so ordinary that even I can’t remember what he looks like when I walk out of the room. We’ve had him for months, fast-tracking this trial, and we still don’t have a clue as to who he really is.” Martin Goode sat back in his chair, which creaked a bit under his not-insubstantial weight. As the city’s district attorney, he’d been tasked with what on the surface looked to be an open-and-shut case: the conviction of the notorious Doctor Satan, wanted for a string of felonies a mile long. Unfortunately, things weren’t going as planned. Goode fumbled for a cigar and lit it, puffing steadily as he continued. “Hell, we can’t even prove he’s the same guy who’s done all these crimes… could have been anybody under that hood of his.”

  Ascott Keane, looking dapper and slim in his well-tailored suit, sat across the desk in Goode’s office, fingers steepled before him with chin resting on the tips of his fingers. When he looked up, his placid blue eyes shone with an unfamiliar passion. He had spent far too much of his life chasing after Doctor Satan, and the realization that he and the Peregrine had finally captured the villain back in September had filled him with joy… but now he felt that the situation was slipping rapidly out of control.

  “The fact that he is so hard to visualize after meeting with him is because of a powerful spell he’s placed on himself. He makes him utterly nondescript, and none of my own attempts have been able to dislodge it. The same for his other physical characteristics—they all defy conventional means of identifying him.”

  “Yes, but a jury won’t be willing to listen all of that rot,” Goode muttered testily. “I’m sorry, Ascott… you know I believe in you, but the common man will think we’re all insane if we start jabbering about magic in the courtroom.”

  “Unfortunately, many of his worst crimes are tied very tightly to magic and magical events,” Keane pointed out.

  “Which is why we’re not going after him for everything he’s ever done.” Goode retrieved a folder from one of his desk drawers and opened it to reveal several photographs of Doctor Satan being processed at the police station. His red cloak and bodysuit were made all the more bizarre by the horns on his mask and the madness in his eyes. “We’re going to focus on just a few things that we think the jury will buy into. One of them is the murder of Roderick Flynn. He’d just masterminded that when the Peregrine ended up catching him. I don’t really like basing any of our case on the testimony of a masked vigilante, but at least the Peregrine has something of a working relationship with the police in Atlanta, and we have other witnesses to the crime, as well.”

  Keane frowned slightly. “You’re going to leave open the possibility that he’s not the same Doctor Satan who’s been committing crimes for years on end, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Goode admitted. “Because you and I both know he is, and the most important thing is getting his butt sent to the electric chair. Who the hell cares if we’re able to prove he’s the real Doctor Satan? All that matters is he was using the name when he killed Flynn. That’s enough to cook his goose.”

  Keane stood up, smoothing down the front of his suit. He was always impeccable in his appearance, and normally he exuded a sense of calm quiet that was reassuring to others. But in cases involving Satan, his placid demeanor was often shattered. “I don’t like this, Martin. Satan hasn’t tried to escape even once since we’ve had him in custody. He just sits in his cell, refusing to talk to us. It’s not like him… he’s usually so boastful. He didn’t even complain when you took his cloak and mask from him.”

  “Maybe he knows he’s up against the wall and there’s no point in fighting anymore.” Goode laughed softly. “Hell, that’s probably wishful thinking, eh?”

  Keane stared out at the window, which gave him a fine view of the city. Snow was falling and Christmas shoppers were flooding the streets, flush in the good news that the “Great Depression” was officially over. P
resident Roosevelt had closed the Works Progress Administration just a week or so before, citing the falling unemployment figures in the country. The war had been a boon to the American economy, but Keane knew it had certainly cost the lives of numerous enlisted men.

  “I want to see him,” Keane stated, keeping his voice neutral.

  “Absolutely not,” Goode said, shaking his head. “You’ve had your chance to interview him. The trial starts tomorrow, and I won’t run the risk of you doing or saying something that might come back to haunt us. I know you hate the man—all good-natured men and women should—but you need to step back and let the legal system handle it from here.”

  Keane opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again after a moment. He nodded and left without speaking further, trying to tamp down the anger that was rising in him. He felt certain that Satan was up to something, and it seemed that no one else could see it.

  * * *

  The conditions under which Satan was being kept would, under normal circumstances, been deemed by any reasonable man as both cruel and unusual. Powerful shackles bound his ankles and wrists at all times, and a gag was kept in his mouth, with the exception of at mealtimes and when Satan was speaking with his lawyer. Even then, guards were always present to make sure that the vile prisoner didn’t utter anything that sounded even remotely like a spell. Most of the guards thought the entire thing was balderdash, but they were loyal to their job and considered Satan very dangerous. If the warden wanted to take absurd precautions, who were they to argue?

  That was the thinking that Carl Smith held, anyway. He stood in the corner of a small room, rifle in hand, trying to stay awake. He’d been out playing cards until far too late the night before, and the monotonous drone of conversation between Satan and his lawyer was lulling him into near unconsciousness.