by Barry Reese
As Akemi watched Käthe approach the throne, she thought back to all that Käthe had told her. She hoped it was all true… if it was, then this was the man who could ensure the Axis powers’ victory!
Sun Koh was an Atlantean prince, sent from the past to salvage the Aryan race. He had arrived in 1932, dropping from the skies over London. The ideal Aryan specimen, Sun Koh was a genuine Übermensch. He possessed unusual strength and reflexes, along with an eidetic memory and a “danger sense” that warned him of imminent attacks. He had been sent from the past to prepare the Aryan peoples for the return of Lost Continent before the arrival of a new Ice Age. He had embarked upon numerous adventures, claiming a cadre of allies, all of whom had become legends to the German people. Most of them were dead, killed in the course of their exploits alongside Sun Koh, but Käthe could recite their names with ease: Alaska-Jim, Jan Mayen, Rudolph Rauhaar, Rolf Karsten and Ludwig Minx. There were others, too, but those were Sun Koh’s primary allies as he had battled agents of Zionism throughout Europe. Sun Koh had become a Nazi party member and an agent of German Military Intelligence, becoming a favorite of Adolf Hitler himself during the early days of Hitler’s rise to power. Sun Koh shared Hitler’s belief in eugenics and had been a steadfast advocate of destroying or enslaving the lesser races.
But then everything had come to an end in 1938. The stories that had come back to Germany had said impossible things: that Atlantis had risen from beneath the waves; that Sun Koh had managed to make Greenland lush and beautiful again; and had conquered the world inside the Hollow Earth. The Aryan race had been made secure, according to those outlandish tales… but Greenland looked unchanged and there were still plenty of enemies out there, looking to destroy the Third Reich.
And, of course, the new Ice Age had yet to come.
So where was Sun Koh? What had happened to him? And if he could be found, could he help end the war?
“It’s here,” Käthe said. She was kneeling next to the throne, reaching underneath. A section of gold at the base had hidden a small drawer. Käthe’s hands soon held up a kingly crown, wrought of pure iron.
Akemi moved closer, gazing at the iron crown in mounting pleasure. Käthe had learned of the crown’s existence while poring through all the reports of Sun Koh’s final mission. A Jewish sailor had been quoted in the papers as claiming that his vessel had washed up on a mysterious island in the South Pacific. He claimed that a man named Sun Koh had been on the island, ranting and raving that something had gone horribly wrong. This island, he claimed, was actually Atlantis, newly raised from the sea. But it was all wrong… and Sun Koh had no idea why. According to the Jew, Sun Koh had led his allies into a dark cave, planning to take revenge on the peoples of the Hollow Earth. Sun Koh and his friends had vanished after Koh had performed some sort of strange ritual involving an iron crown and a throne that had once belonged to Sun Koh’s father.
The Jew was believed mad by many, the victim of too long spent on an island with no clean water to drink.
But Käthe believed otherwise. And now she was being proven correct.
Together, the two women returned to Imelda. The Italian beauty’s eyes widened at the sight of the crown and Akemi felt anger blossom in her heart. The third Fury hadn’t believed in the crown, either.
“Is the circle prepared?” Käthe asked, her eyes searching for any signs of imperfections in the sigils.
“Everything’s perfect.” Imelda glanced back at the drawings on the wall. “Hard to believe this is Atlantis. Where are the signs of the grand Aryan civilization that was once here?”
The way she said that made it clear that she was being disdainful of all the Sun Koh claims. Akemi sprang forward, her katana whistling through the air. Imelda was just as quick, ducking under the blade and drawing the handgun that had been holstered at her hip.
“Stop it!” Käthe shouted and both of the warring Furies slowly relaxed. “We stand on the precipice of a tremendous event… and the two of you are acting like two catty girls at a dance. I don’t know what happened here, Imelda. But you see the hieroglyphs and you see the iron crown. This is where Sun Koh vanished. And we’re going to bring him back.”
“But even assuming that Jew was telling the truth about everything… how do you know which spell Sun Koh used when he left? And how do you know he’ll be happy to be brought back?”
“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see,” Käthe answered and for the first time since this whole affair began, Akemi sensed there was some hesitation on her friend’s part. “There’s no point in waiting any longer. Let’s go ahead and get started.”
Akemi and Imelda both knelt on opposite sides of the circle, careful not to disturb the sigils. Käthe moved to the exact center, the iron crown in her hands. She lifted it high and began chanting, speaking in an ancient tongue that only the most powerful of mystics remembered. It was last spoken regularly when gleaming Atlantis stood proud and tall as the center of the civilized world. She ended her litany of words by placing the crown on the floor beneath her feet and then bowing her head, an action that was mimicked by her fellow Furies.
The storm outside seemed to pause and for a moment there was no sound at all. It was like some shroud of silence had fallen over the world and the Furies found themselves holding their breath, lest they disturb the perfect balance of the scene.
And then a powerful wind began to blow within the cave, nearly knocking Käthe off her feet. Dust began to rise up in response and all three women found themselves lifting up hands to ward off the tearing effect that the sand had on their faces. A golden light began to form in the center of the circle and Käthe squinted to see what was happening. The lights swirled around, slowly coalescing into the form of a man.
And what a man he was! Standing over six feet tall and possessed of a compact muscled frame, he was the perfect Aryan ideal. Sun Koh’s bronzed skin, blond hair and blue eyes all combined with his well-chiseled features to make him worthy of female adoration.
When the lights faded and he stood once more in this place and time, Sun Koh looked slowly around himself, his eyes lingering on each of the women. Imelda and Akemi he regarded with open suspicion but he relaxed slightly when he saw Käthe, recognizing someone who shared his bloodline.
“When am I?” he asked Käthe, speaking in modern German. His words carried an unusual accent but it was not enough to impair his ability to communicate. Käthe noted the way he’d phrased his question and responded in kind.
“The year is 1942. Your people still need you.”
Sun Koh straightened his back, causing his broad shoulders to ripple. His beautiful blue eyes held Käthe’s in an unbreakable spell. “I’m afraid our people have more need of me than they know.”
“What do you mean?”
Sun Koh gestured for Akemi and Imelda to rise from their kneeling positions. His words chilled the very blood in Käthe’s veins. “The Third Reich is doomed.”
CHAPTER II
Dead Men Tell No Lies
The steam ship cut a swath through the choppy seas and The Peregrine knew he had only moments to regain control of the vessel before it smashed into the docks. In his true identity of philanthropist Max Davies, The Peregrine had taken this cruise in an attempt to spend some quality time with his wife. They’d left their son William in the care of their housekeeper Nettie and taken off for the tranquility of the ocean.
For the first week or so, things had been quite perfect, with good food, good company and even better lovemaking. But then Max had noticed that there were several coffin-like crates in the hold and that various passengers on the ship were vanishing. The captain of the ship had not wanted to reveal these things but Max had pressed him on it and he had finally confessed that some of the crew was beginning to believe that spirits of the dead were haunting the ship.
Evelyn had known it was a lost cost at this point, so she’d given permission to her husband to don his ‘working clothes’—the well-tailored suit, long trench coat and domino-
style facemask. The mask was peculiar in that there was a bird-like beak that rested against the bridge of Max’s nose, giving him a slightly sinister demeanor.
As The Peregrine had suspected, mayhem had soon ensued. One of the passengers, a dark-skinned man named Roberto, was traveling with four vampires, each of whom were sleeping in the ship’s hold during the day. At night, the creatures were coming out to feed on the innocent.
Roberto had proven to be not much of a threat and he was now being held under armed guard in the ship’s brig. But that still left the four vampires to be dealt with. Choosing when to strike against them was easy enough and The Peregrine was now hurrying into the hold in an attempt to beat the transition from daytime to the twilight of early evening. He held four wooden stakes under an arm, a heavy mallet clutched in his right hand.
As he approached the first of the coffins, The Peregrine couldn’t help but think how strange his life had become. Slaying the undead was really not all that unusual an activity for him these days. Ever since he’d watched his father die for his beliefs, gunned down by criminals while Max was just eight years old, life had become a crucible in which Max Davies was forged into The Peregrine. He’d traveled the world as a young man, transforming his mind and body into weapons against evil. And aided by visions of the future, sent by his father from beyond the grave, The Peregrine was usually one step in front of his enemies.
But Warren Davies had sent nothing to help his son on this day. Max was on his own as he gripped the lid of the coffin and slid it aside. The stench of the grave filled his nostrils, making him draw back in disgust. The interior of the casket was filled with several inches of earth, upon which a pale man laid, hands folded on chest. The man was not breathing but there was something about him that suggested animation, as if he might sit up at any moment. The vampire wore a white shirt and dark slacks. His receding hairline and slightly pudgy gut gave The Peregrine pause. This was hardly the typical killing machine he was used to when facing vampires. That didn’t make him any less dangerous, however.
The Peregrine lined the stake up against the vampire’s heart and brought the mallet down against it. The second strike was enough to pierce the flesh and crimson blood oozed up from the wound. The vampire’s eyes shot open and he opened his mouth, releasing a gasp that stank so badly that it brought tears to The Peregrine’s eyes.
The Peregrine slammed home the mallet once more and finished off the vampire, who expired with a small cry of frustration. The creature’s body began to break apart, returning to the dust from whence it came. Max relaxed somewhat, thinking that all of this was going much better than he’d feared.
It was at that exact moment that he heard the lids to the other three coffins sliding to the floor.
The Peregrine whirled about to see the other three vampires clambering from their crates. They looked tired and somewhat bleary-eyed because their slumber had been interrupted but they had somehow sensed the destruction of their brethren and that was enough provide strength to their undead limbs.
The Peregrine briefly considered how he should proceed. In addition to the wooden stakes, he had two modified pistols on his person and one mystic blade. The guns were capable of firing nearly a hundred rounds each, meaning he rarely needed to reload. The bullets in the gun chambers were tipped in silver and had each been soaked in holy water, making them quite painful to creatures such as these. But his greatest weapon when facing the supernatural was The Knife of Elohim, a dagger that had once been soaked in the blood of Christ. The blade was capable of tearing through vampires, zombies and other evil creatures with incredible ease. Seeing the looks of vengeance on the faces of the vampires he was now faced with, Max decided to discard the wooden stakes. He drew both the Knife of Elohim and one of the pistols, brandishing one in each hand.
Two of the vampires were men and both were slender to the point of being gaunt. One had long straggly hair that was caked with dirt and blood, the other had short cropped hair that looked very modern in style. Max suspected that the longhaired man was from another era entirely. The third member of the group was a woman and she was so lovely that Max felt an ache in his bones. She wore a black dress with a plunging neckline. Her blonde hair was pinned back, emphasizing her slender neck.
It was the woman who addressed him, the two men staring at him with a mixture of hunger and anger. “I know you,” she said, her eyes drinking him in. “You’re the one who halted the rise of The Kingdom of Blood.”
The Peregrine’s mind turned back to the events of 1936, when he and a small group of allies had foiled a vampire plot to fulfill a prophecy concerning the enslavement of the human race. “I would ask for your name,” The Peregrine said with a cold smile. “But there’s not really any point. You’re going to be dust in a few minutes anyway.”
The woman hissed like a cat, baring her fangs and her male companions took that as their cue to attack. The nearest of the two, the longhaired man, lunged for Max’s throat with outstretched hands. The Peregrine swung his blade, cutting off several of the vampire’s fingers. The mystic weapon causing burning pain in its victim and the vampire howled, staring at his smoking stumps in shock.
The Peregrine meanwhile had spun towards the short-cropped vampire. He fired three times, each bullet piercing the monster’s head and face. The vampire staggered with each impact, blood gushing from his wounds. It fell to the floor, twitching like a fish out of water.
The other male vampire had recovered by this time and he crashed into The Peregrine, slamming the vigilante against the side of one of the coffins. Max felt a sharp pain in his hip and he gritted his teeth, striking back with the Knife of Elohim. The blade caught in the vampire’s belly and The Peregrine gave it a cruel twist before sawing up and down quickly. The vampire’s open mouth, only inches away from The Peregrine’s neck, opened and closed, the lips twisting in agony. The Peregrine had the monster pinned on the blade now and Max finished him off by raising his gun, placing the barrel between the vampire’s eyes, and pulling the trigger.
The Peregrine shoved away the corpse, which lay unmoving next to his fallen companion. Both would need to be finished off with stakes, their bodies subsequently burned. The Peregrine had learned the hard way that even bullets to the brain weren’t enough to prevent resurrections in the future.
The female vampire stood in the shadows, barely visible in the darkness of the hold. Outside, Max knew that late afternoon had begun to give way to early evening, making her strength all the greater. “Why do you hunt us, Max Davies?”
“Because you kill innocent people.”
“We do what comes naturally to us. Do you hate the lion for taking down the gazelle? We thin the herd of humanity. We do you a favor as a species, removing the weak and the sick.”
“Let’s not play games. You aren’t going around putting the infirm out of their misery. You’re hunting and killing people who are in the prime of life, stealing away parents and children from those who love them.”
The woman took a step out into the light, her beauty fading quickly as her face twisted, becoming more animalistic and bloodthirsty. “They day you die will be a happy one in Hell, Max Davies. There are so many like me who will be waiting to greet you with open arms.”
“What makes you think I’ll be in Hell?”
“We both know that’s where you’ll be. You think God wants you to dress up in a mask and act as judge, jury and executioner? You elevate yourself into His position, ruling on what is moral and just. He will condemn you to an eternity of suffering!”
The vampire’s head suddenly exploded in a mass of bone and red tissue. The sound of a gun firing from the direction of the stairs caused The Peregrine to drop into a crouch, spinning around to point his pistol at the source.
Evelyn was standing there in khaki slacks and a white button-up shirt. Her auburn hair fell in ringlets around her shoulders and there was a mischievous smirk on her face. “Did I give you a fright?” she asked.
“I thought
you were staying out of this,” he said, standing up and holstering his gun. The Knife of Elohim he slid into a protective leather casing, strapped to his left hip.
“I’m sorry, Max. Did I ruin your fun?” Evelyn sauntered over, ignoring the ruined vampire bodies on the floor. Before she’d met Max, she never would have thought herself capable of blowing someone’s head off with a gun… but in the seven years they’d known one another, she’d been at his side for more weirdness than she could ever hope to catalog.
The Peregrine placed an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. They kissed there in the hold, the smell of rotting flesh and spent bullet shells hanging in the air. They’d been in worse smelling places. “Thanks for the assist, honey.”
“No problem. Some of the crew heard the gunfire but they all did just as the Captain asked: not a one of them came down here to help.”
“They would have been in the way.”
“Right-o. But I assumed I’d be able to help out if needed… or I’d stay in the shadows and never make a peep.”
“How long have you been down here?”
“I stepped in around the time you were stabbing that one in the gut.”
“I bet that was a lovely scene.”
“Very charming.” Evelyn pulled away and cast a glance around their surroundings. “So what now?”
“We stake them and then we dump their ashes overboard.”
“I’m not usually very domestic but I can help you clean up if you want.”
“I’d love the company,” Max said and he meant it. Evelyn was far more than his lover or even the mother of his son. She was his partner and his confidante, as essential to the success of The Peregrine’s mission as Max himself.