The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two

by Barry Reese

  The Black Terror swayed on his feet, aware that smoke was curling up from the ruined bomb in his hands. He let it fall to the floor and leaned against the cracked wall, his head throbbing. He thought he heard Tim calling his name but everything sounded muffled and strange. And then an angel dressed in red appeared before him, wrapping him up in her soft arms.

  Bob Benton drifted into unconsciousness, his face buried in the golden curls of Miss Masque.

  CHAPTER X

  A Fine Frenzy

  It was near midnight when Jonathan Cairncross and Samuel Garibaldi stepped into the strange oval chamber where Marie lounged about, clad in nothing more than loincloth and gossamer-thin blouse. The smell of incense was heavy in the air and made Garibaldi’s sinuses burn, but he ignored the pain, focusing instead on Marie’s lithe form. She was an exotic beauty, with the kind of petulant resolve to her gaze that made him yearn to break her.

  It had been nearly twenty-four hours since the Claws of the Peregrine had managed to foil the attempted bombing of the Peachtree Hotel. During that time, the Peregrine’s attempts to locate both Garibaldi and Cairncross had borne little fruit, with even Catalyst’s sorcery falling short of locating their prey. For their part, the criminals had been mostly on the move, shuttling between various safe houses belonging to each. Garibaldi wasn’t sure what game Cairncross was playing at: Cairncross had spent most of the time in silence, studying both the Ivory Machine and several other bizarre pieces of equipment. He’d made it clear that Garibaldi was to remain silent unless otherwise directed, and so Garibaldi had focused on keeping in contact with his various men. It was while attempting to do just that he’d learned about Hochmuller’s murder. According to his sources, the same woman who’d stolen the Ivory Machine had killed the German. Garibaldi had been furious at the news; in just a few days, every aspect of his grand plan had been ruined.

  And now he stood sweating in a sewer tunnel, his eyes roving over a nearly-nude woman’s glistening body, while her Negro servant stood nearby like a worrisome father watching his daughter get ready for a date.

  “What can I do for you?” Marie asked, her lashes fluttering as she looked from Cairncross to Garibaldi and back again.

  Cairncross looked as impassive as ever. He was now wearing a gray suit, with a black turtleneck. It accentuated his lean form and slender neck. “Let’s not play games. I sent you here over a year ago, and I’m hoping that you’re now going to tell me that my plans have borne fruit.”

  Marie nodded slowly. She stepped towards Cairncross, licking her lips in anticipation. A bead of sweat ran down the curve of her neck and Garibaldi found himself yearning to reach out and lick it up. “I bound the demon to him, just as you asked.”

  “Was it difficult for you to betray him? I know that you once held strong feelings for him.”

  Marie shrugged, as if it mattered little to her—but Cairncross saw a brief flicker in her eyes that suggested it had not been easy. “After I approached him all those months ago, I’d heard nothing from him since. When his wife brought him, I was beyond shocked. How did you know he’d actually take me up on my offer?”

  “I wasn’t certain,” Cairncross admitted. “But I knew that Mr. Garibaldi was mounting an efficient campaign against the Peregrine, and I was prepared to take action of my own if his plans failed to produce the results I wanted. Given that the Peregrine is fiercely dedicated to life, I wagered that he’d use any means necessary to remain in this world. Even if it meant turning to an old lover for help.”

  Garibaldi stirred. “Wait… what are you talking about?”

  “The Peregrine eventually died from the wounds he received in your apartment. I knew of his connection to Marie and convinced her to aid me. When his corpse was brought here, she revived him, binding his spirit to a loa that she can control.”

  Garibaldi didn’t know what a loa was and he didn’t really care. He’d focused on two things: the Peregrine had died and was now alive again. “You… brought him back?” he asked, staring at Cairncross in shock. “Why?”

  “Actually, Marie brought him back,” Cairncross corrected. “The Peregrine and she had already made plans for her to help with his possible death, whenever that might occur. All I asked was that she do it in a specific manner.”

  “And you planned all this… for over a year?” Garibaldi ran a hand over the scar on his forehead. “So you hate him, too? The Peregrine, I mean?”

  “I do not hate anything or anyone. He is a rival, however. And I have reasons for wanting to make it clear who is the superior.”

  Marie had walked past the two men during their exchange, her eyes lingering on the Ivory Machine. The device sat on the floor just inside the oval chamber. “Is this the thing that causes that deadly rain?” she asked.

  “It is.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  “The short answer is kill people. The longer one would involve the turnover of our current political system, replacing it with one in which a clear-minded individual such as myself thought for the greater good, without fear of electoral reprisals.”

  Marie laughed. “So… what should I do now? Is it time for the Peregrine to be summoned back here?”

  Cairncross looked at Garibaldi. “Samuel, are you ready to face the man who destroyed you?”

  Without hesitation, Garibaldi nodded.

  “In that case, Marie, I think you’re right: now is the time. Please summon the Peregrine. We’ll destroy him here and now… and then I can begin the next phase of my plan.”

  * * *

  Max Davies woke up in a cold sweat, the blood hunger running hot in his veins. He could feel Evelyn pressed against his back, her breasts flattened against him. Ever since his death and resurrection, she’d clung to him at night like a woman drowning at sea. He knew that he’d put her through hell too many times to count and the guilt gnawed at him, but not nearly as much as the hunger did.

  He slid from her embrace, getting dressed in darkness. He felt an overpowering urge to see Marie, to talk to her… and perhaps more. There was a familiar stirring in his groin and he had to force himself to relax and consider what was happening to him. He had loved Marie once, but that had been ages ago, and there had been no recurrence of the feelings after they had been reunited last year.

  So why now…? He didn’t recall any kind of dream that would have prompted this rush of lust that he felt for her.

  Max looked at Evelyn, her face barely discernible in the gloom. She was still lovely, but he could see age beginning to take its toll on her. While he seemed mostly unaffected by the passage of time, his friends and his lover were not so lucky. But Marie still looked as young and fresh as ever. Perhaps she was a better choice of mate for him?

  “What am I thinking?” Max whispered aloud. He shook his head, trying to clear it. But despite his doubts, he found himself slipping on his shoes and heading downstairs. He pulled on his Peregrine mask before leaving the house. The domino-style mask featured a small bird-like beak that rested on the bridge of Max’s nose. In the right lighting, it was almost impossible to see, but up close it reinforced the bird imagery that Max so adored.

  Max was opening the door to his car when he heard a rustling from behind him, followed by a cawing sound that froze him in place. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Flock was present once more. The birds were spread out on his lawn, watching him with their beady eyes.

  The hunger tried to compel Max into the car but he held his ground. “I know about Cairncross. I’m going to deal with him.”

  As one, the birds began to speak. A low, ankle-high fog rolled in around the Peregrine’s ankles, giving the Flock a dreamlike quality. “Betrayal! Enemies wear the skin of those whom you once trusted. A trap awaits.”

  The demon inside Max urged him onwards and he nearly succumbed to the mental tug-of-war. He suddenly knew that he’d made an awful mistake, asking Evelyn to take him to Marie. “The loa inside me… it’s made me a pawn, hasn’t it?”

&
nbsp; “They seek to kill you. A servant of a greater evil, they are.”

  Max didn’t understand everything the Flock was saying, but he was getting used to that. “Why are you helping me?” he asked, unable to avoid the question that kept eating at him. “What are you?”

  “Your father is gone, his soul destroyed. But we are the voices of the unquiet dead, those spirits who cannot move on. We have seen you acting as a champion for the innocent, avenging the lost. We will take your father’s place and give you fair warning, when the fates allow.”

  Max wanted to respond but the pressure in his body was suddenly overwhelming. He distinctly heard Marie’s voice, begging him to come to her. She wanted him, the voice said, and all would be well.

  “I need help,” Max whispered.

  The Flock responded to his need, several of their number taking flight. The rest remained where they were, their voices offering encouragement in unison. “Be strong, Max Davies. Remember the face of your father.”

  Max fell to his knees, torn between his desire for free will and the need to respond to Marie’s call. The loa was screaming for not only blood but also for obedience. But the Flock’s words rang true: he visualized the face of Warren Davies, who died rather than aid the criminals who threatened his city. Even death could not stop the elder Davies from carrying on his crusade of justice, forging his own son into a weapon against evil.

  Max was unaware of the passage of time, he only knew that he was clenching his teeth together so hard that his entire jaw began to ache. He thought of his mother, who wasted away after her husband’s demise; he thought of his own travels around the world, learning from one master after another until he was an authority on every known fighting style and nearly every scientific discipline; he saw the litany of evil he’d fought and defeated: The Warlike Manchu, Doctor Satan, Professor Lycos, Dracula, and even the forces of the Devil himself.

  And suddenly his spirit lightened, as if a tremendous weight had been removed from it. His vision cleared and his mind was once more his own. He looked up into the concerned faces of the Claws of the Peregrine. Catalyst and Esper were closest to him, each with a hand on his shoulders.

  “Max? How do you feel?” Nathaniel asked.

  “Better. What happened?”

  Rachel’s smile was like the morning sun. “We were woken up by a group of birds, screeching like nobody’s business. When they started talking, you better believe we listened. And so we came here as fast as we could.”

  Max spotted something over Rachel’s shoulder that made his jaw drop. “Tell me about that,” he demanded, rising to his feet.

  A fiery entity was hovering in the air in front Miss Masque. The creature had the general form of a man, but it was distorted as well, looking like some strange caricature of humanity.

  It was the Black Terror who spoke. The dark-garbed hero was standing at Tim’s side, just behind Miss Masque. “That’s the thing that was inside you. Rachel helped you fight off its influence while Nathaniel pulled it loose.”

  “Now what do we do?” Miss Masque wondered aloud. She had her arms wrapped tightly about herself, shivering in the night air. Her miniskirt obviously afforded little protection from the elements, and she smiled graciously when the Black Terror removed his own cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “I was being called to a trap,” the Peregrine said. “I say we turn the tables on them and spring one of our own. They won’t be expecting me to come with all of you.”

  “And this thing?” Tim asked, gesturing towards the loa.

  Max’s eyes narrowed. He felt revulsion for the thing that went beyond anything rational. “Destroy it.”

  * * *

  “Where is he?” Garibaldi demanded, stopping his pacing long enough to check—for the fourth time—that his gun was loaded and ready for action.

  “He’ll be here,” Marie answered. She was leaning against Sebastian and looking unconcerned, though privately she was sharing Garibaldi’s questions. She’d sent out the call and it was impossible for him to have ignored it, so where was the Peregrine?

  Cairncross was busily setting up the Ivory Machine, pointing its directional beam at a small opening in the ceiling. Sebastian had removed the ceiling tiles at Cairncross’s direction, allowing him to project the killing rays upwards when needed. “Max Davies has an incredibly strong will. He may be resisting.”

  Garibaldi blinked. “The Peregrine is Max Davies?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus. I was in his house. I went to his party.”

  “You are adept at many things, Mr. Garibaldi, but detective work is not one of them.”

  Garibaldi stewed on this for a moment. If he’d known, his plans might have been somewhat different. Davies was a popular figure around town and his public schedule was usually easy to track. He could have had the man assassinated at any point…

  Sebastian pulled away from Marie, his entire body tensing. “Quelqu’un est ici.”

  “What’s that mean?” Garibaldi demanded.

  “Someone’s here,” Marie answered. “No doubt it’s Max.”

  “Any regrets about selling out your former lover?” Garibaldi wondered.

  “He made the wrong decision, years ago. If he’d stayed with me, it would never have come to this.”

  “Hell hath no fury,” Garibaldi chuckled.

  Cairncross turned on the Ivory Machine, sending forth the beam that would eventually ionize the upper atmosphere and unleash the deadly flesh-dissolving rain. At this hour of the night, there would be few people on the streets, but Cairncross planned for this to be a long, hard storm.

  “What are you doing?” Garibaldi asked. “I thought we were gonna use that to overturn the government or something?”

  “We are. But first, they must feel fear. Fear is the great equalizer of men. This time, there shall be no notes calling out our names or insisting on demands. Let them suffer and die… and then we shall step forward. Your Rainman scheme is over.”

  “And so is all the rest of this!” a strong voice declared. Cairncross and Garibaldi turned to see that the Peregrine had entered the room. But he was neither the broken spirit they’d expected nor was he alone. With him was a colorful array of heroes: Revenant; Frankenstein’s monster; the Black Terror; the Flame; Miss Masque; the Black Terror, Junior; Catalyst; and Esper. The entire Claws of the Peregrine stood ready and willing to lay down their lives in the face of evil.

  “I’d advise all of you to surrender right now,” Revenant said. She brandished a pistol in each hand and looked eager to use them.

  “Cairncross?” Garibaldi whispered. “What the hell are we gonna do now?”

  “I suggest you commence to shooting.”

  Garibaldi cursed like a sailor. He had no intention of going back to jail. He was more than willing to die first. He took quick aim and squeezed off a shot, the bullet narrowly missing Revenant’s head.

  The gunfire started off a chain of events: several members of the Claws team rushed forward, attacking both Marie and her manservant; Esper used her telekinesis to pick up the Ivory Machine and bring it crashing back down to the ground, shattering the deadly thing into a thousand small pieces; and Cairncross chose that moment to step back into the shadows, planning to make good on his escape.

  The Peregrine drew the Knife of Elohim, the golden dagger glowing brightly. He sprinted after Cairncross, knowing that his teammates would deal with Garibaldi and his associates. He had a brief glimpse of Vincent picking up Garibaldi and slamming him hard against the wall before he was down a side tunnel, pursuing Cairncross like a bloodhound.

  * * *

  Garibaldi coughed up blood, feeling like something was definitely broken inside him. Vincent was saying something but his words were lost in the haze of pain Garibaldi was experiencing. Garibaldi knew that things were going south in a hurry—hell, he’d just seen Cairncross bolt like a deer down one of the tunnels.

  Garibaldi brought up his pistol, pointing it straight in
to Vincent’s face. He pulled the trigger and Victor Frankenstein’s creation barely avoided dying for a second time, dropping Garibaldi as soon as he saw the gun. The bullet still hit home, but it wasn’t a fatal shot anymore, instead embedding itself in Vincent’s right shoulder.

  Knowing that this might be his only chance at freedom, Garibaldi launched himself towards the tunnel leading to the rear of Marie’s house. He made it, a grin suddenly breaking out on his face. He was actually going to escape… and if he could escape, he could rebuild everything he’d lost. It would take time, but he could be very patient if he had to be.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Skidding to a stop, Garibaldi realized that someone was standing in front of him, blocking his way to the outside. It was the lovely blonde in the red dress: Miss Masque. Garibaldi pointed his gun at her. “Step aside,” he warned. “I don’t want to add another murder to my list, but I’ll do it if I have to.”

  Miss Masque narrowed her eyes. It was men like this who had led her to don a mask and take to the streets: coldblooded bastards who thought that they could run roughshod over others. It turned her stomach. She sprang forward, catching Garibaldi in the chest with one of her high heels. The blow knocked the breath from his lungs and sent him toppling over.

  “You’re going back to jail,” she said. “Even if you got lucky and got past me, you’d always have the Claws of the Peregrine chasing after you. You’d get caught eventually. I guarantee it.”

  Something in her words hit home with him and he knew that it was true. There was no escape from this. He’d failed.

  Seeing no alternative, Garibaldi placed the barrel of the gun in his mouth and closed his eyes. He started to pull the trigger but Miss Masque was too fast for him. She kicked his hand, knocking the gun from his grip. The barrel chipped a tooth on the way out and Garibaldi cried out in pain. Miss Masque then finished him with another solid blow to the side of his head. He was out of cold—and by the time he woke up, he’d be back in the one place he didn’t want to be: jail.