The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One (41 page)

“Because it is my destiny. I was not born onto this Earth to wander it as a hermit and a servant to others. I was meant for greatness!”

Sally winced as he hardened his grip on her face. He abruptly let her chin fall away and stood up, turning to face the Black Flame, which flickered madly near the entrance to one of the mausoleums.

“Where is he?” Rasputin demanded of the Flame. “Where is this Reaper?”

He is within the cemetery
, the Flame replied.
He comes for you.

Rasputin felt a shift in the air and heard Sally’s gasp of horror and surprise. Without turning around, he said “Mr. Wilbon. Welcome to the end of your miserable existence.”

The Reaper, guns held at the ready, emerged from the shadows. His terrifying visage turned briefly towards Sally and then was quickly averted. Hank did not wish her to remember him this way. “Step away from the girl,” the Reaper rumbled. “Or I swear that you will die.”

“Like you, I have experienced death first hand. It holds no horrors for me.” Rasputin whirled about, unleashing a torrent of flame from his gnarled hands.

The Reaper jumped to the side, barely escaping the attack by falling behind a tombstone. He recognized the Black Flame and could sense that Rasputin shared its power. But the Russian seemed to possess it in greater amounts than Hank, or at least was better adept at using it. Hank could hear Sally’s screams and they tore away at was left of his soul. When the Flame had come to him, bringing him back from the void of the grave, it had been Sally, beautiful Sally, that had filled his heart and mind. But now he was a monster and she was married to the scum of the earth.

Life, he decided, was an endless succession of pain and misery.

With a roar of angry defiance, the Reaper stood up from the safety of the tombstone and opened fire. Again and again his mystically empowered bullets tore through the Russian’s clothing and flesh, spewing blood and meat backwards from the man’s body. Rasputin staggered about like a marionette whose strings had suddenly been cut and then he flopped over onto his back.

The Reaper hesitated, looking towards Sally. In a low voice, he whispered “Do you see what kind of man you married? He set you up so you’d die tonight. How could you do it?”

Sally couldn’t repress a shiver as the Reaper knelt next to her and began undoing her bonds. His face was so unlike the one she remembered. Hank had always been a tough guy but he’d had real soft eyes, the kind that could make a girl melt every time she looked into them. “After you ran off—or after he said you did—I was real lonely. And Charlie was there for me. I didn’t love him, still don’t. But he took good care of me, Hank. Until now.”

“I would have treated you better.”

“I know you would have.” When she was free, Sally looked up into that terrible visage and smiled weakly. “We can still be together, Hank. I don’t care what you look like. Really.”

The Reaper stirred, unable to believe her words. He’d long ago given up on any hope of finding love again, having accepted the fact that he was to be a killer—and then he would no doubt die again himself, his soul cast into the burning fury of the Flame. “You mean that?” he asked, wanting to be certain.

“Of course I am, baby. I’ve loved you with all my heart and always will!”

Hank Wilbon paused before pulling her into his arms. Sally felt like she’d come home after a long time spent away. And then she sensed movement behind her lover and her eyes opened to see a sight straight out of a grade-b horror movie. Rasputin, his body riddled with holes, was advancing upon the Reaper, his hands glowing with blue-black fire.

“Hank!” Sally screamed, but it was too late.

Rasputin gripped the Reaper by his head, flooding the undead vigilante with energy. At first, Sally thought that Hank was being burned by the same flame but then she realized that something worse was occurring: the flames were drawing energy
out
of Hank, withering his form even more. That energy then danced back up Rasputin’s arms, returning to its true master.

Hank’s mouth opened once, then twice, before he managed to croak out “Sally… I looooooove you…”

And then Rasputin crushed the shriveled skull in upon itself and Sally screamed long and loud.

The Mad Monk tossed the body of his enemy to the side and turned to face the Flame. “Come to me!” he commanded. The Black Flame seemed to flicker in resistance but finally gave in to the power of the man who compelled it. The Flame jumped through the air in a straight line, pouring down the Mad Monk’s throat and filling him with unimaginable power.

“Behold!” Rasputin shouted, his voice echoing through the cemetery. “A new god is born!”

CHAPTER XVIII

Whisperings of the Future

Whisper slowly flipped over the tarot cards before her, taking a reading for her own future. It was filled with danger and strange temptations but in the end there would be an opportunity for redemption that she simply couldn’t pass up. In her past were lies, cheats and even a murder or two. Things that a girl simply couldn’t wash away without help.

“He’s almost here,” a male voice said from over her left shoulder and Whisper nodded slowly. The ghostly presence of Warren Davies had arrived several hours ago, eager to be connected once more with his son. Once upon a time, he had been able to manipulate his flesh and blood through painful visions of future crimes. When the doorways between the worlds of the living and the dead began to close, their relationship had been cut off.

The door to Whisper’s home opened without preamble and the Peregrine strode inside, his long coat whipping about his ankles. “I don’t have much time,” he began, not even noticing the hazy and somewhat indistinct figure who stood behind the seated Whisper. “Make it quick.”

“I’m glad you decided to stop in,” the medium said with a soft smile. “I know that you’re busy but I think this will be worth the extra trip.”

“Men and women might be dying,” the Peregrine answered. “I don’t have time for small talk.”

“Hello, son.” Warren Davies emerged from the shadows, his face still looking the same as it had all those years ago, when he’d been gunned down in front of his little boy’s eyes.

The Peregrine hesitated, surprised to see his father once more. “What’s been going on? I thought you weren’t going to be able to visit me anymore.”

“The pathways are still open but they’re much more difficult to navigate than before. It took a tremendous force of will for me to reach you before but with Whisper’s help I’m able to materialize more fully.”

“You… you’re a grandfather.” Max felt awkward saying it but the words tumbled out before he could stop them.

“I know,” Warren answered with a sad grin. “He’s a real showstopper.”

Whisper cleared her throat, urging Warren not to forget the true business at hand.

The Peregrine caught the implied exchange and re-adopted the stoic demeanor he often used while in “uniform.”

“Son,” Warren began. “There’s something you need to know. The future is always a hazy thing at best but I’ve seen something just over the horizon. An old enemy coming back, but not alone this time. He has someone with him. Someone who’s going to do great harm to you and yours.”

“Can’t you be more specific?”

“I’m sorry… but no.”

“Has to be the Warlike Manchu. I’ve been wondering when he’d stick his head back into my business.”

Warren said nothing, though something in his expression made Max somehow feel that there was more to be said. “I’ll be back when I can,” he whispered, beginning to fade from view.

“Wait!” the Peregrine said, reaching out to grasp at his father’s arm. His fingers swept through empty air and Max had to restrain himself from crying out in frustration. “I miss you,” he finally said, lowering his head and sighing.

He became aware that Whisper was watching him and he turned towards her, trying to keep the emotion from his voice. “Do you have anything useful to tell me about the Black Flame or what we’re about to face?”

“Rasputin has gained the full power of the Black Flame,” the attractive woman said.

“Does that mean the Reaper’s dead?”

“His soul has been added to the fires of the Black Flame.”

“Damn,” Max whispered. He raised his left arm, pushing aside the black glove that he wore. The watch he wore was specially made from a material that was extremely resistant to heat and damage, much needed attributes for all of the Peregrine’s equipment. “It’s getting late. Thanks for the information, Whisper. I’d better get to the cemetery with the others to make sure Rasputin doesn’t get away.”

“He’s releasing the 68 demons,” she added. “All the ones he’s studied in the past are going to be coming through the rift. What your father sensed in the future is related to the events of this very night.”

“What do you mean?”

“The old enemy of yours… I think you’d best be prepared for their return.”

The Peregrine’s mind filled with the faces of a hundred old foes, all of whom were deserving of death for a multitude of crimes. “It’s kind of hard to prepare for them when I don’t know who they are. Can’t you give me anything more to go on?”

Whisper smiled teasingly. “Do you really expect me to give you a straight answer?”

“Not really.”

“I won’t disappoint you.”

Without another word, the Peregrine turned on his heels and stepped out into the night.

CHAPTER XIX

To Battle the Mad Monk

Libby chewed on her fingernails as the roadster pulled to a stop just outside the cemetery. The two groups of adventurers had paused briefly enough for the Peregrine to speak with Whisper and then made haste to the area of town where Kaslov’s machine had led them. In truth, the sensor had not been needed, as the lightshow going on overhead had been a beacon for the men and women pledged to stopping Rasputin. The Peregrine’s allies—his wife Evelyn and the town’s police chief, William McKenzie, were in a car that moved so silently that Libby could scarcely believe it. Leonid, meanwhile, was driving a rented vehicle that purred like a kitten.

“You sure you want to be in on this?” Flynn asked from her side. The girl was wedged in the front seat between her two male companions. “Nobody’ll think less of you for staying outside with the car.”

Libby smiled gratefully but shook her head, sending her blonde curls into a tizzy. “I’m seeing this one through, thank you.”

“Suit yourself, but stick close to me, okay?” Flynn stepped out of the passenger side of the car and held the door for the lovely young woman. She waved him away, turning towards Kaslov. With a sigh, Flynn shut the door and moved to join McKenzie.

“Leo… can we talk for a moment?”

The stoic Russian nodded briskly. “Of course.” He kept his eyes locked on the skies above, where jets of flame occasionally shot high into the air and wraith-like wisps of smoke could be seen, darting about madly. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry for the immature way I acted on the trip to Canada. I suppose I’ve been carrying a schoolgirl crush for you for some time now and when you rebuffed me… I shouldn’t have been so silly, that’s all.”

Kaslov turned to face her, his eyes burning into hers. “It’s me who should be apologizing, Libby. You’re an amazingly beautiful woman and there’s a part of me that would like nothing better than to pull you into my arms and make love to you.”

Libby’s eyes widened quickly and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks. “Leo! I’ve never heard you speak like that before!”

“I try to keep those kinds of emotions at bay. But I want you to know that I… just can’t give in to those feelings. Perhaps I will be able to someday. Perhaps I’ll be able to set aside my chosen mission, just a little. But for now… I can’t. And so if you want to be with someone like Flynn, I certainly won’t try to stop you.”

Libby laughed softly, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “I was only trying to make you jealous.”

Kaslov seemed to relax somewhat. “Oh. Well. I suppose you succeeded in that. I—”

A knock at the driver’s side window broke off their conversation. The Peregrine was standing there, looking somber in his mask and heavy coat. Kaslov stepped out as Libby dabbed at her eyes and did the same.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Max said, casting a quick glance at Kaslov’s female companion. He could sense a good bit of emotional tension between all three of his new friends but had elected not to pry. “But if Whisper’s right, every second we wait just makes it worse.”

The Russian began moving towards the heavy wrought-iron gates. Beyond them, he could hear a peculiar wailing that reminded him of a particularly perilous adventure involving a banshee in Scotland. “Do you truly feel comfortable having your wife go into battle with us?”

The Peregrine looked over at him, surprised by the sudden question. “She can take care of herself.”

“Libby told me that Evelyn’s been left behind before, out of concern for her safety.”

Max sighed as they pulled open the gates and prepared to enter the cemetery. He glanced back to make sure that Evelyn couldn’t overhear him. “I’m terrified of something happening to her, if you have to know.”

“Then why do you allow her to come with you? Why do you allow someone to get close to you when you know that the life you lead will only lead to her being placed in danger?”

The Peregrine considered his answer as the group moved deeper into the fog covered graveyard. The weight of history clung to the place like a tangible shroud. “I used to push people away from me. But I finally came to realize that my war is not one that I can win on my own. I need friends. I need support. I’m not made weaker by having her in my life. I’m made stronger.”

Kaslov made no reply but the man’s words sank into his brain like a warm knife through butter. Was he wrong to think he couldn’t balance both his mission and his romantic life? Perhaps there would be time after this affair to consider such things. He could only hope that Libby would be patient with him.

“There,” McKenzie said, rushing up to stand next to the two men in the front of their party. The police chief was pointing up the hill, where the shape of the Mad Monk could be seen. His silhouette was framed against the backdrop of the moon, several inhuman shapes dancing about his heels.