The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (53 page)

Rachel reached out with her telepathy but quickly drew back in disgust. “They’re not human,” she warned, though her words were unnecessary as the beasts came into view.

They were upright, bipedal things, but in place of arms they had wildly waving plant-like stalks. And where their heads should have been was another stalk, topped by a gaping mouth that rhythmically opened and closed. The monsters scuttled forward quickly, their head stalks lowered so that their mouths could snap at the heroes’ flesh.

The Peregrine opened fire with his guns, but found that his specially-modified bullets had little effect on them. Though they packed the power of an elephant gun, the guns didn’t slow the Peregrine’s attackers in the least. Max holstered the guns and drew the Knife of Elohim, slashing with the mystic blade as the first of the monsters reached him. This, he found, worked far better, as the blade sliced easily through the trunk-like body, causing a thick sap-like substance to ooze from the wounds.

Vincent was already deep in battle by this time. His torso had been bound up by two of the creatures’ flailing stalks, but this had turned out to be an advantage for the oversized brute. He grabbed hold of the stalks and yanked the plant creatures towards him. Drawing his fists back, he drove them forward again and again, until he reduced the monsters to nothing more than shattered pieces of dead vegetation.

Esper was faring just as well. Though her telekinesis was at first only mildly effective, Rachel felt a growing sense of rage within her and gave in to it. She unleashed a powerful psychic wave that incinerated the remaining creatures. Though from a distance it looked as if she had somehow gained pyrokinesis—the ability to spontaneously burst objects into flame—she had actually achieved the effect by agitating the molecules of air to the extent that they literally cooked the attacking horrors.

In the aftermath, the Peregrine pointed towards the monolith-topped dome in the center of the city. “I’d say that’s where we should be heading. Rachel, do you sense Nathaniel or the others?”

The beautiful red-haired girl was still staring at the incinerated remains of her enemies. She was sometimes in awe of her own abilities. Forcing herself to look away, she extended out her powers, finding it to be more difficult than usual. There was so much chaos in the air here that it made her powers hard to control. Still, she thought she felt the familiar and comforting presence of her husband. “They’re alive—I can see the domed building in his mind. They’re headed there, too.”

A jagged bolt of lightning cut across the sky and briefly illuminated the city below. Vincent could see many more inhuman beasts in surrounding streets, with many of them shambling towards the same building that the Claws team wanted to reach.

The Peregrine began to move, the others falling in behind him. “Stay together,” he warned. “And remember, we can’t lose tonight. The risks are too great.”

CHAPTER X

At the Altar of Cthulhu

Inside the tomb of Cthulhu, four men were gathered. Before them, laid in precise positions, were the tokens of mystic power with which they had raised R’leyh: the Mask of Nyarlathotep, the Necklace of Idh-yya, the Demon Egg, and the small carved tribute to Father Dagon and Mother Hydra.

Jimmy Imada stood behind the three criminal masterminds who had put the world at the brink of disaster. He had been surprised when the Warlike Manchu had invited him off the boat and into the city, but soon realized that he was going to serve the role of pack mule, hefting the four mystic treasures and carrying them for the others, who were too important to be bothered. The naked girl that Satan had toyed with en route had been sacrificed on the yacht, part of the elaborate ritual that had led to the sunken city’s rising.

Jimmy stared with mute horror at the sight before them. He thought he saw fear—or at least healthy respect—on the faces of both the Warlike Manchu and Professor Moriarty. Only Doctor Satan looked unfazed by his surroundings, and that was probably attributable to the man’s insanity.

A slumbering beast lay against the far wall, its body a dull green in color. Its oversized flabby claws and awful squid-like head would have been enough to induce terror in any sane reasoning individual, but there was yet more to unnerve Jimmy. The thing smelled like nothing Jimmy had ever encountered: it was fetid and vaguely like moist earth or rotting vegetation. But there was the underlying coppery scent of blood, as well. It was, in short, the smell of hell on Earth.

The Warlike Manchu took a step forward, his robes rustling against his legs. He was the oldest one here, even older than decrepit Moriarty, but his own age paled before Cthulhu’s, who was older than humanity itself. “O Great Cthulhu,” he said, raising his voice so that it echoed throughout the great chamber, “the time has come! We stand before you, acolytes in your dark ways! We ask that you give us your dark blessings and allow us to help pave the way for your kind!”

The mighty Cthulhu stirred, but his eyes remained tightly shut.

“Perhaps you should let me try,” Satan muttered. He ignored the look of disdain that the Manchu gave him, instead keeping his own gaze upon that of the Great Old One. “I am the one who has worshipped you for many long years, making sacrifices in your name and in the name of your brethren.”

“Do not overstate yourself,” the Manchu warned, sensing that Doctor Satan might be setting himself up for the majority of the “reward” to come.

Satan did not respond. He thought he detected movement from Cthulhu’s eyelids, and a second later, this was confirmed. There
was
a fluttering there!

Jimmy noticed that Moriarty was reaching for something inside his well-tailored coat, and he knew he had to spring into action. He hadn’t heard from Max and the weird energies around the place made him doubt his radio would work regardless, but he knew he had to do something before that monster woke up.

Again his eyes darted to the Mask of Nyarlathotep. Despite its name, he couldn’t fathom that it was a weapon of evil… it felt too
good
for that. Girding himself for what was to come, he started to creep forward, intending on grabbing the Mask. He wasn’t sure what he would do then—would simply putting it on his face give him some sort of powers? At the very least, maybe stealing the mask would somehow disrupt the awakening of Cthulhu…

And at that very moment, Professor Moriarty did something that Jimmy never would have expected: he drew forth a pistol and pointed it directly at the Warlike Manchu’s head. “I think that’s quite enough, gentleman,” Moriarty said, only this time his voice sounded somewhat different. It was almost like he was speaking with someone else’s voice.

Both the Manchu and Satan turned to face their erstwhile ally. They had both anticipated an act of betrayal at some point, but Moriarty being the first one to do so was a bit of a surprise, as each of them had considered the other to be their chief concern.

“What are you trying to do, Professor?” the Manchu asked, showing no fear whatsoever. “Of the three of us, you have by far the least knowledge of the occult. Killing us now would only doom yourself when the Great Old Ones awaken. You would have no idea how to interact with them.”

“I don’t plan to interact with them. I plan to stop this madness from reaching completion. The only reason I haven’t acted before now was that I planned to destroy R’leyh and needed to be as close to Cthulhu as possible in order to do it.”

Doctor Satan stared at him like Moriarty had suddenly sprouted a second head. “You plan to…
stop
us? First of all, why? And second,”—this last bit was added with a cruel laugh—“
how
do you plan to do that?”

“Let me answer part of the second concern first, shall I?” Moriarty said in his very proper British accent. He pulled the trigger, firing a bullet straight at the Manchu’s skull. The Oriental mastermind started, hoping to jump out of the way, but the close range made such a move impossible. The bullet tore through the Manchu’s skull, opening a hole between his eyes that passed all the way through. Bone and brain splattered the walls behind him, and the Manchu swayed for a moment, spinning about somewhat comically before crashing to the floor.

“There,” Moriarty stated calmly. “I have stopped one of you already.”

“Bullets won’t do much against me,” Satan warned. He reached into his crimson cloak and withdrew one of the Knives of Elohim, a sister blade to the one carried by the Peregrine. During an affair that had been dubbed “The Bleeding Hells” by those who took part in it, Satan had ended up in possession of two of the four Elohim blades. While normally the blades caused great harm to those of evil inclination, Satan’s knives had been tainted by their association with him, and he could handle them without fear of harming himself.

Moriarty responded with astonishing speed for one of his advanced age. As Satan struck with his blade, Moriarty brought up his walking stick, catching the attack with the hardened wood. The Knife of Elohim still sliced through it easily, but Moriarty had avoided taking the wound himself. It was now clear that Moriarty’s earlier limp had been faked, for he now moved with the grace of a dancer, nimbly avoiding further swipes of the blade.

The professor swept out a foot, catching Satan behind the heel and knocking him off-balance. Moriarty then raised his pistol again and fired, the bullet passing harmlessly through the villain’s shoulder.

“I told you,” Satan sneered, “bullets won’t stop me.”

“Then I shall have to use other methods,” Moriarty said. He deftly reached into his coat and pulled forth a small silver cross. It gleamed in the dim lighting, and Satan screamed at the sight of the thing. “I present to you a cross specially treated by a friend of mine, Friar Gabriele Maria Berardi. He is an expert in exorcisms, and has assured me that the wards on this holy symbol will do you quite a bit of pain.”

Satan screamed as Moriarty slammed the cross against his face. It sizzled and hissed upon contact, and the villain backed away in a panic, a cross-shaped imprint burned onto his skin.

As Doctor Satan clutched his wounded face, he glared at Moriarty. “Who
are
you?” he demanded.

“You are correct in surmising that I am not the so-called Napoleon of Crime. Professor Moriarty met his end four years ago in Manchester, the victim of a heart attack. I was present at the time and elected to fake my own death, taking his identity for my own purposes.”

Satan blinked, suddenly realizing that he and the Warlike Manchu had been thoroughly duped—duped by a man whose skill as an actor was exceeded only by his prodigious talents as a detective. “You’re Holmes, aren’t you?”

“A brilliant deduction—and though I am normally loath to take a human life, I feel it is expedient to remove dangerous scoundrels like you and the Warlike Manchu from the scene as rapidly as possible.” Holmes sprang forward with astonishing quickness, holding the cross like a dagger, the sharpened bottom edge catching the light and shining. Holmes slammed the cross down in Satan’s neck, blood spraying across the detective’s face. While Satan’s magic protected him from most natural weaponry, this particular cross had been specially treated to strike him down, and it did its job very well.

Sherlock Holmes stood over the fallen forms of both the Warlike Manchu and Doctor Satan. He was panting a bit, having overexerted his aged frame. A bit of motion from his right caused him to turn his head in Jimmy’s direction. The young Asian man was holding the Mask of Nyarlathotep in his hands.

“Are you… really Mr. Holmes?” Jimmy asked.

“I am. And I commend you for taking action. I presume you were planning to use that artifact in an attempt to stop this travesty?”

“…Yes.”

“Then may I suggest that you go ahead and don the mask.”

“But… why? They’re both dead.” Jimmy motioned towards the fallen men. “And you said you had a way to destroy the city…”

“I do. I have in my possession an experimental prototype of an explosive device capable of sinking R’leyh once more. Both sides in the great war are working on much larger models, ones that they think can bring victory to themselves. But the one I hold in my pocket right now is more than enough to splinter this foul city back beneath the waves.”

“Then… why not set it up and let us flee?”

Holmes gestured once more for Jimmy to don the mask. “Because we have greater concerns at the present.”

Jimmy felt the floor shift beneath his feet, and he looked up to see that great Cthulhu was unfolding his massive limbs and opening his eyes.

CHAPTER XI

The Final Battle

The two groups of heroes converged upon the tomb of Cthulhu. When they came together, it was immediately obvious that neither had come to this site easily. All were weary and covered with blood, much of it an inhuman color. Rachel and Nathaniel rushed into each other’s arms while the remaining friends exchanged nods and brief words of greeting.

The Peregrine felt the ground rumbling first and glanced at Professor Stone. “Seaquake?”

“No… something more localized, I think.” Stone reached out and pushed the stone door that blocked their path. “I think we just felt the movement of something very large.”

“We might have some help,” Esper said, moving to join the two men. The others looked at her in surprise, but she kept talking before they could ask her any questions. “Back on Unknown Island, I ran into Professor Moriarty. I felt his mind when I was scanning for any sign of others on the island.” She glanced at Nathaniel and shrugged her shoulders. “What I saw there convinced me to keep his secret. He’s not who he seems to be. He’s really Sherlock Holmes—he felt me touch his mind and asked me to help him. He wanted one of the Demon’s Eggs so they could raise R’lyeh, and then he could destroy it.”

“You should have told us,” the Peregrine said. “I was wondering how they managed to raise the city without the egg.”

Revenant spoke up in Rachel’s defense, which surprised almost everyone, since their relationship had always been frosty. “Esper did what she thought was best. We have to trust her. If she says this was the way it had to be, then it was.”