Tales of the Shadowmen 4: Lords of Terror

by Jean-Marc Lofficier

  Relieved beyond measure, I closed my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Did you find out what you needed to know?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “I was able to see things through your eyes which were very telling.” He turned his head and pointed to the side of his face. It was red and inflamed as if he had been struck. “I felt things, too.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “You have nothing to apologize for. I made you relive those memories. It is right that I should share your pain.” He stood up and brushed off his pants. “Now, my lad,” he said, “I have to see about some things. I have a very good idea what is happening here, and who is responsible for it. But I need to confirm my suspicions.”

  I stood up too. “What about Miss Nolan?” I asked, and I could barely keep myself from clutching at his coat like some desperate beggar. “Can you help her? I mean, can you make her…be like she used to be?”

  “I do not know, Nick,” he said, and my heart fell. “However,” he added, “I give you my word that I shall do my best, and the Sâr Dubnotal always keeps his word.” He held out his hand, and I shook it. “We will see each other again,” he said, and he went down the stairs.

  I waited until I could no longer hear his footfalls, then sank back to the floor. I was still sitting there, exhausted and consumed with an inexpressible sadness, when I became aware of an object in my right pocket. I reached into it, and when my hand emerged, it was holding the Sâr Dubnotal’s golden coin. In spite of all I had endured that afternoon, I found myself smiling.

  Many hours later, after Da had gone out for his nightly prowls, I sat alone in the apartment listening to the warm wind rattle our single windowpane. There was an occasional flash of lightning, and the rumble of approaching thunder held the promise of a summer storm that, hopefully, would break the suffering heat.

  I was staring with listless disinterest at a copy of Tom Swift and the Land of Wonders. Ordinarily, I could always count on good old Tom to take me away from my troubles, but that night I couldn’t think of anything but Miss Nolan and the Sâr Dubnotal. Every few minutes I found myself reaching for the gold dollar in my pocket, holding it up to the light, reminding myself that it was real. In fact, I was doing that very thing when I heard a tapping at the door. I opened it a crack, and saw Miss Nolan smiling at me.

  “I owe you an apology, boy,” she said sweetly. “I’m afraid I’ve been quite hard on you lately. Why don’t you come over and allow me to make amends?”

  I wanted to run to her, but the devastating memories dredged up by the Doctor were still fresh in my mind. I hesitated, remembering the sting of her hand against my cheek.

  Miss Nolan kneeled, making her eyes level with my own. “Afraid?” she whispered. “There’s no need. Come with me, and all of your pain will end. I promise.”

  Even at that age I knew that was a vow no one could keep, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was the kindness I thought I could hear in her voice. For a smile and some kindness, I would have forgiven her of a thousand false promises. I opened the door and rushed into her arms. I could have cheerfully stayed in her embrace forever, but she quickly pulled away from me and led me to her apartment. We stepped inside and, to my surprise, I saw that the room was illuminated solely by an arrangement of candles spread out over the floor.

  “I’m going to show you a new game tonight, boy,” she said as she closed the door.

  “Is it as hard as chess?” I asked, filled with a sudden foreboding.

  “Oh, no,” she said with a laugh. “You’ll find these rules to be very simple.” I gave a sigh of relief, which turned to a gasp as my eyes adjusted to the gloom.

  Drawn on the floor were a series of large, interlocking circles, each containing a mad jumble of letters and symbols, which, with horror, I immediately recognized. They were the same ones I had seen painted on Miss Nolan’s body.

  I turned in time to see her bolting the door. She was still wore a smile, but now it was little more than a thin, red slash across her pallid face. In her right hand she was holding a knife. She walked toward me, and I stepped back until I was in the center of the pattern of circles.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, frightened and confused.

  “She intends to kill you,” said a voice behind me, and the smile disappeared from Miss Nolan’s face.

  I turned, and saw a patch of darkness shaped like a man detach itself from the shadows. It wore a slouch hat pulled low over its face, and a long black cloak, which, as it moved, revealed a flash of crimson lining.

  “Hello, murderess,” it said to Miss Nolan, and its voice was like a whisper of wind between forgotten graves.

  “Who are you?” Miss Nolan asked in a fearful whisper.

  There was a thoughtful silence, followed by a low chuckle. “My enemies once called me Der Schwarze Adler,” said the living shadow, “The Black Eagle.”

  Miss Nolan visibly struggled to gather her nerve. She crossed her arms, hiding the wicked gleam of her knife. “Boy,” she said, never taking her eyes from the Eagle, “come here to me.”

  I didn’t move.

  “Do as I say, boy! This man is dangerous! Get over here, now!”

  I looked at the dangerous man. Beneath the brim of his hat burned a pair of black eyes that seemed to smolder like coals. He was the living personification of every night terror I had ever known, but somehow I did not fear him. “Why did you say she was going to kill me?” I asked.

  “She has killed many children,” he replied, “most of them even younger than you.”

  “You lie!” Miss Nolan shouted.

  The room filled with a hollow, mocking laugh. “Do not waste your breath,” the Black Eagle snarled. “I have been to your little bookshop, and I have stood in the charnel house you have hidden behind the walls of the cellar.”

  There was a flash of lightning outside the window, and Miss Nolan looked as if it had struck her between the eyes.

  “Oh, yes,” hissed the menacing man in black. “I have seen their bones. In life they were poor, homeless, forgotten. You looked at them and saw the perfect victims for your perverse rituals. You thought you could pluck them from the streets and no one would notice. No one would care. But you were wrong.”

  The cloak rustled, and a pair of automatic pistols appeared in the Black Eagle’s hands.

  “I noticed,” he said. “I cared. And tonight I have come for a reckoning.”

  “No!” I cried out. I stepped in front of Miss Nolan and held up my arms in an attempt to shield her. “You’re wrong! She’d never do anything like that! It must have been the old lady, Mrs. Bishop! She told Miss Nolan not to listen to the sounds in the cellar! She said it was ghosts! She was...”

  I was interrupted by Miss Nolan, who suddenly lifted me in her arms–and pressed the edge of her knife to my throat.

  “Leave us!” she commanded the Shadow.

  The Black Eagle laughed. His guns were steady, unwavering. Outside the window, there was a tremendous crack of thunder and the rain began to fall.

  I could feel Miss Nolan trembling. “If you shoot, you will hit the boy!”

  “No, I won’t,” the Shadow said, and I closed my eyes.

  There was a deafening crash…but not of gunfire. I opened my eyes and there, standing over the shattered remains of Miss Nolan’s door, was the Sâr Dubnotal.

  “Stay your hand, my friend,” he said to the Black Eagle, “lest you take the life of an innocent woman.”

  If the Eagle was surprised by this interruption, he did not let it show. “Hello, El Tebib,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be having dinner with Judge Pursuivant?”

  “I informed him that I might be late. Please lower your guns.”

  “Yes!” Miss Nolan said through clenched teeth. “Listen to him! Or this boy’s blood is on your hands!”

  The Doctor slowly turned until his eyes met mine. “Have courage, Nick,” he said. “This nightmare is almost over.” Then he looked at Miss Nolan, and a darkness came
into his expression that I had not seen before. “I demand that you release Mary Nolan,” he said.

  Miss Nolan’s arms tightened around me. “What are talking about, you fool?” she said. “I am Mary Nolan.”

  “No, you are not,” the Doctor said. “Nor are you Emily Bishop, though you called yourself that for many years while you occupied her body.”

  Miss Nolan gasped. “How can you possibly know that?”

  “It is not for nothing that I am called the Conqueror of the Invisible.”

  There was a giggling in my ear, and I knew that Miss Nolan was on the brink of hysteria. “You arrogant poseur,” she said. “Do you think you impress me? I have conquered death itself, many times over, with only the power of my own indomitable will!”

  “Indeed,” the Doctor said. “The will to do unspeakable deeds in the service of abominable gods. The will to destroy innocent lives in order to unnaturally extend your own.” His lip curled into a sneer. “I stand in awe of your will… Lady Ligeia.”

  Miss Nolan–Ligeia–said nothing. The edge of the blade bit into my neck, and I could feel a warm trickle of blood run down my skin.

  “You told Nick that you couldn’t live without him,” the Doctor said, “and you were correct. Your…sacrifices…were sufficient to give you the power to invade Mary Nolan’s body, but your possession could not be complete until you spilled the blood of a child who loved her.”

  Incredibly, despite the dire peril I was in, I felt an enormous weight lift from my heart. It really wasn’t Miss Nolan who had been so cruel these last weeks! It was some evil imposter!

  “It is over, Ligeia,” said the Sâr Dubnotal. “You cannot complete the final ritual.”

  “I can!” Ligeia shouted. “I will!”

  “I think not,” said the Black Eagle. “These vile ceremonies take time, do they not, El Tebib?”

  “Indeed, they do, old friend, time that we will not allow.”

  Ligeia growled like an animal.

  “The game has ended, sorceress,” the Doctor said. “Put down the boy. Release the woman. Go to your final judgment. Who knows? Perhaps there is mercy even for the likes of you.”

  “You know that isn’t true,” Ligeia snapped. “Even now I can feel Hell’s hot arms, opening to embrace me. But I tell you this! If I must go to the flames, I’ll go knowing that I defeated you!”

  She was going to kill me then, of that I am certain, but she was interrupted by an explosion of gunfire. Screaming, she dropped me to the floor and tumbled against the wall, clutching at her head.

  I looked up at the Black Eagle, his eyes blazing behind a plume of gun smoke. “The bullet only grazed her temple,” he said. “She will be fine.”

  I heard Ligeia cry out in rage. I turned to see her holding the knife to her own neck. “You may have saved the pup,” she screamed, “but I still claim the bitch!”

  I have often wondered if there was anything the Doctor or the Eagle could have done to stop her. They were men of incredible abilities, and it is certainly possible that they could have somehow prevented Ligeia from slashing Miss Nolan’s throat, ending both of their lives in a final act of cruelty and spite. But, as fate would have it, I was the one closest to her, and I was the one who acted first.

  I leapt forward and closed one of my hands around Ligeia’s wrist, and the other around the blade. I felt it cut deep into my fingers, but I ignored the pain and held the knife with all the strength I could muster. Her eyes locked with mine, and I stared into those bottomless black pools of hate.

  “You’re…not…strong…enough,” she hissed. “My will–”

  “Has been thwarted once and for all,” the Doctor interrupted. He grabbed Ligeia’s arm and pulled, adding his strength to my own. By now, the blood was flowing freely from my lacerated hand.

  “Blood!” Ligeia cried in a voice choked with panic. “No! Not without the proper–”

  Some of the drops landed on her chest, and she cried out as if they were acid.

  “No,” she whimpered. “It can’t end like this…it can’t…it…”

  “Behold, Nick,” said the Doctor. “The storm clouds fade.”

  The blackness in Ligeia’s eyes dissipated and lightened…and turned to a crystal blue. The pressure on the knife eased, and I was easily able to wrest it away from her.

  “Nick?” Miss Nolan said. “What’s happening? What on Earth...?”

  “Sleep,” said the Sâr Dubnotal. He pressed his forefinger against Miss Nolan’s brow and she immediately fell into a swoon. “It’s over,” he said. “The evil that lurked in her heart is gone.”

  “I know,” said the Shadow. He swept his cloak through the air and the candles went out, plunging the room into darkness.

  I could hear voices in the hall, and I realized that some of the neighbors were probably coming to investigate the noise. Then there was the distinct click of chain being pulled on a light, and a policeman was standing in the apartment. He was tall, with a prominent nose and a pair of piercing eyes set deep in a pale, mask-like face.

  “Tend to them,” the patrolman said to the Doctor, and then he stepped over to the door. “This is the police!” he shouted down the hall. “Some thieves broke into this apartment and attacked a woman and a child, but they fled when I arrived. Everything is under control! Please go back to your rooms and remain there!”

  The Doctor chuckled. For the next few minutes, he ministered to the wounds suffered by me and Miss Nolan. “I am very sorry for what you have been through, Nick,” he said as he finished applying my bandages. “Miss Nolan will not remember any of these events. I think perhaps it would be best if you didn’t either. Look into my eyes and I will–”

  “No,” said the policeman. “The boy was brave tonight. He deserves to remember that.”

  The Doctor considered this, then nodded. “My friend is very wise, as usual.”

  “But I wasn’t brave,” I protested. “I was scared to death!”

  The policeman looked at me. “You stepped in front of two loaded guns to protect someone’s life,” he said. “That is not the act of a coward.”

  “He is right, Nick,” the Doctor said, gently placing his hands on my shoulders. “There are many evils against which we strive. No man’s life is ever completely free of them. As you contend with them in the years to come, remember your courage on this night.”

  He stood up and went to the door. “I believe our work here is done,” he said to the policeman. The officer gave him a curt nod, then disappeared into the night.

  The Doctor hesitated in the door for a moment, then looked back at me, “You have the heart of a lion, my son,” he said, “and you have earned the respect of the Sâr Dubnotal.”

  And then he, too, was gone.

  This tale takes place eight months after André Caroff’s first Madame Atomos novel and three months before the second. The deadly Japanese mastermind has tasted defeat for the first time, but she nevertheless has succeeded in inflicting unprecedented damage upon the United States. Now, she is relaxing, waiting for her next doomsday scheme to mature. And, in the meantime, she decides to have a little fun, as only Madame Atomos can...

  Jean-Marc Lofficier: Madame Atomos’ Christmas

  Dallas, November 1963

  Winter had come early that year and, with the approach of Thanksgiving, consumers’ thoughts had already turned towards Christmas.

  Dallas had hung its traditional season’s decorations across its boulevards and avenues, and the department stores on Market Street had begun to decorate their windows accordingly.

  There was enough of a chill in the air to easily conjure up images of turkey and roasted chestnuts.

  Madame Atomos was dejectedly watching the efforts of a clumsy department store employee, promoted to decorator for the occasion, to hang a red plastic Santa Claus above an impressive pile of newly-arrived color televisions.

  It was the hour of the local news broadcast.

  Only a few months before, her first attack aga
inst the country she hated so much had failed miserably. However, she had succeeded in inflicting thousands of deaths upon her sworn enemy: the United States of America. Still, all that had happened on the East Coast and the few Texans who knew the truth, despite the news blackout arranged by the FBI, were used to their Eastern colleagues’ exaggerations. In fact, the good citizens of the Lone Star State took the whole thing with a hefty grain of salt. Wasn’t New York where a giant ape had allegedly once climbed the Empire State Building? Hadn’t they been told about a flying saucer and a giant silver robot paralyzing Washington DC? And what about that bronze fella and all his gimmicks? No, really, a good Texan couldn’t very well believe in all the tall tales that one read in Eastern papers.

  The store employee had just failed to hook the Santa Claus for the third time. Madame Atomos sighed. She had stopped there to look at the local news to see if they reported any suspicious troop movements or special security measures being taken locally. Her next plan would start with the destruction of Texas and her latest discovery, a virtually indestructible plasmoid substance, was slowly maturing at her secret base, located not far away, near the property of a trusting rancher named Calvin Pooley.

  Despite her scientific knowledge, Madame Atomos had a poor understanding of American society, much of which left her perplexed. Yet, she realized that, in order to destroy America, she had to gain a better understanding of it. That’s why she forced herself, whenever she could, to watch the news–she favored CBS–and, especially, the local news which was often full of revealing details.

  But today, this stupid, clumsy man was disturbing her concentration.

  Madame Atomos turned the stone of her ring, which looked like a large ruby in a gold setting. It emitted a thin red beam, no thicker than a human hair, which went through the glass and pierced the employee’s skull. The man’s brain, suddenly subjected to incredibly high temperatures, exploded. He dropped to the floor, where he remained still. A few rivulets of bloodied brain matter began to seep from his nose and ears.