The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (68 page)

Rachel ran a hand through her fiery red mane and stared at Bell, who suddenly went rigid. “I’ve got him under telepathic control,” she said. “You look after Sally.”

Her husband nodded, moving to join Vincent and the now-unconscious Sally. The look on Frankenstein’s monster’s face was ample proof of how much he cared for Revenant.

“I’ll make her better,” Nathaniel promised, reaching out to touch her face. Muttering under his breath, he began to recite an ancient spell, one that cleansed the blood. It was a strange process for him, as he never memorized these eldritch words. They simply came to him as needed, as his mind tapped into an ancient reservoir of mystical knowledge that all Catalysts throughout history shared.

Within seconds, Sally’s clenched expression began to soften and her eyelids began to flutter. She came to with a soft gasp, her gaze fixing on Vincent’s face. The man was considered a monster by most, but there was a gentle nobility to him that Sally had come to know well.

“I’ve got you,” Vincent whispered.

Sally smiled softly and nodded. “Help me up, please.”

Nathaniel took one of her arms and assisted, though the big man could have easily done it by himself. “Rachel’s got Bell taken care of,” he informed Sally, who was agreed to be the team’s leader.

“Thanks. The bastard poisoned me.” She felt for her shoulder wound and was pleased to see that the bleeding had ceased. There was still a nasty hole, but Nathaniel’s spell had removed the worst of it.

Rachel approached the others, Bell stumbling along behind her with a vacant expression on his face. “All the guards downstairs are either out cold or unable to get away,” she said to Sally, watching her with concern. “Are you okay to fly the plane back to Atlanta, or should one of us give it a go?”

“I’ll be fine,” Revenant answered. When she’d first met Rachel, she’d disliked the woman intensely, mainly because she herself fancied Nathaniel and she felt jealous over his relationship with Rachel. But she’d gotten over that in time and now considered Rachel a friend.

A small chirping sound from one of the pouches on Sally’s belt made her jump in alarm. She smiled sheepishly at her friends and retrieved the small communications device that kept them all in contact with their founder, Max Davies. “We’re almost done here, Max. Do you need us?”

The Peregrine wasted no time in telling them the pertinent details: he’d learned that Adolf Hitler was still alive and in an alliance with no less than Count Dracula. Furthermore, he needed the entire Claws team to meet him in Paris to stop the deadly duo from unleashing a horrible plague upon humanity.

“We’ll head straight there, Max. I’ll call when we reach Paris.” Revenant ended the conversation and looked at her companions, who all appeared to be as weary as she was. “Looks like there’s no rest for the wicked.”

“You should go back to Atlanta,” Vincent warned, still holding on to her arm to help steady her. “Even after Nathaniel’s spell, you’re obviously weak.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sally responded, touched by his concern but also proud enough that she’d grow angry if he kept it up. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What about this piece of trash?” Rachel asked, looking at Bell with obvious disdain. She couldn’t imagine the horrors all the girls he’d sold into slavery had been forced to endure.

Sally seemed equally as disgusted. “Take every scrap of information from his head that you can about the slavery business. Contacts, addresses, girls he sold—and then give him one hell of a guilt trip. Then we’ll turn him over to the authorities.”

Rachel smiled. “Oh, he’s going to feel sorry. You can rest easy about that.”

* * *

As the team’s experimental aircraft soared through the sky, headed towards Paris, Nathaniel Caine sat quietly in the rear of the plane, his eyes fixed on the clouds outside his window. He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed his wife sliding into a seat next to his.

“I don’t need to be a telepath to tell that you’re upset about something.”

Nathaniel blinked in surprise. He reached over and took his wife’s hand in his. “I just can’t believe Hitler’s still alive.”

“Well, he’s not. He’s dead and back as a vampire.”

“You know what I mean,” Catalyst said testily. “All those people who died because of him and he’s still out there—and now he’s immortal!”

“This just means we have the chance to bring him to justice. If he’d really died back in Berlin, we’d have been cheated of that.” Rachel squeezed her husband’s hand. “I’m glad he’s still out there, Nat. Just for that reason. I want to kick his teeth in.”

Nathaniel laughed. “I wonder how he’ll do as a vampire anyway. I’d heard he’d had major dental work done. Do your teeth grow back when you become a vampire?”

“Doesn’t matter if they’re real or fake. I’m kicking them in.” Rachel kissed Nathaniel and then put her head on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” she said soothingly and she felt Nathaniel move his arm around her shoulders.

They stayed like that for the rest of the trip.

CHAPTER XIV

The Souls of the Damned

Amongst the piled bodies of the dead, Adolf Hitler paced back and forth like a caged lion, while Dracula sat nearby, his eyes fixed on the Spear of Destiny that lay across his lap. They had come here, to Paris, and taken refuge in the underground city of the dead, though Dracula had refused to discuss his plans fully with the Fuehrer.

“We should strike at our enemies,” Hitler was saying. “Before they find out about our alliance. I have seen too many of my plans foiled—I know that we must act with haste.”

Dracula looked up at his compatriot, thinking about hurling the Spear so that it would impale the German. Hitler was grating on his nerves, and he was beginning to think that he no longer needed the strutting fool. “We will strike when I say we shall strike.”

Hitler paused and stared at the Spear. “When I was eighteen years old, I saw that lance in Vienna. I heard a voice in my head say that I would someday hold it in my hands. I knew then that I had a mission in this world, and that nothing would stand in my way.”

“And yet when you finally claimed the Spear, you still lost everything.” Dracula’s eyes continued to blaze into Hitler’s. “The Spear considered you nothing more than a mule, Adolf. A means for it to eventually end up in my hands.”

Hitler bristled but chose to avoid a direct reply. “You say you can summon the souls of the damned with that?”

“Yes. Those in hell are the easiest to claim because they wish to be brought back—they want to be freed of their torments. I can summon others, as well, but it is harder.”

“I have someone I wish you to bring back to me.”

Dracula found himself growing curious. “Who?”

Hitler fell to his knees in a ridiculous pose, beseeching Dracula to do as he asked. “My lovely niece, Geli… You can bring her back. You can make her love me!”

“Surely you would prefer to have your Eva?”

“Eva was a good woman… but my Geli. She died too soon.”

Dracula’s lips pulled back, revealing his sharpened teeth. He detested weakness, and at the moment Hitler seemed like a sniveling little worm. Worse yet, he was a lying one, the vampire sensed. “How did she die?”

Hitler’s expression became guarded, though he kept the pleading tone in his words. “She died when she was twenty-three, in 1931. We’d had words about her voice lessons before that, and she was so distraught that she shot herself.”

“How odd,” Dracula noted. “Women do not usually choose firearms as their implements of suicide.”

“My Geli was brave enough to be a man in many regards.”

“And you want me to revive her… and make her love you?”

Hitler nodded. “She loved me, adored me! But not as much as I did her! She was my princess!”

Dracula rose, bearing the Spear of Destiny in his left hand. “I can do this thing, but it will only put you further into my debt.”

“Anything! I will do anything you ask!”

Dracula nodded and moved further away, down a passageway lined with the skulls of the dead. “I shall summon her and bind her will. Wait for me here.”

Hitler nodded gratefully, but as soon as Dracula was out of sight, his expression changed. The vampire lord may be his master at present, but when the time was right, Hitler would claim what was rightfully his. He would have his Geli… and he would have the Holy Lance.

* * *

Dracula found a secluded area of the catacombs, confident that he was safely away from the prying eyes of the Fuehrer. He was well aware that Hitler was not to be trusted, and he was quite sure that Hitler’s love for his niece was anything but pure. Having sexual relations with relatives was not unknown to the count, and he was certainly in no position to act as a moral judge over anyone’s sins, but Hitler’s lustful expression when he spoke of “his” Geli was enough to make even the master vampire shift uncomfortably.

Dracula raised the Spear and began to open his soul to the weapon’s arcane energies. The power surged through him and allowed him to gaze into the realms beyond this one. There was a misty field that served as a gateway between the bowels of fiery hell and the gentle peace of heaven. Dracula searched for Geli’s soul, finding it loose in the field of fog and mist. That meant that while she was not sinful enough to warrant hell, there were enough skeletons in her closet to make her unwanted in heaven.

As the vampire centered his thoughts upon her spirit, he felt a peculiar sensation: he was being watched. Dracula looked about mentally, finding locating the man who was studying his actions. It was a handsome man in a well-tailored suit, and Dracula could sense the disapproval that this stranger held for him. The man began to pull away, hiding from Dracula in the shadowy mists, but Dracula caught just enough of his mental presence to pluck a name from him: Warren Davies.

Dracula hesitated, for a moment growing so confused that he almost lost sight of Geli. Davies—that was the same last name as the Peregrine’s true identity. Was there a connection?

Deciding that this was something to be studied at a later date, Dracula refocused his attentions on Geli’s spirit. He used the amplified power of the Spear to yank her towards him, tearing her free of the void of the spirit. The Spear was able to encase her soul in a new body, one that perfectly mirrored the one she had held in life. Furthermore, Dracula was able to insert several commands into her psyche: she would obey Adolf Hitler above all others, save one: should the need ever arise, she would take the commands of Dracula as total law.

The girl who now stood before Dracula was lovely, though there was something so childlike in her features that it prevented her from being truly beautiful. Angelika Maria “Geli” Raubal had been born in 1908 and she had died in 1931, but the fire that burned in her eyes now seemed far older than that. She had suffered much in her brief existence on Earth, and the torment of wandering in a void had aged her spirit even more. But she remained nymph-like in her sexuality, with a trim figure, slightly over-sized eyes, and breasts that, while small, were perfectly aligned.

Geli stared at Dracula, a momentary look of disgust passing over her doll-like features before her programming kicked in. When she spoke, there was no trace of doubt in her voice. She was here on this Earth for two reasons only: to serve her uncle and, in secret, to serve Dracula. “Where is Uncle Alf?” she asked.

Dracula raised his voice and shouted for the Fuehrer. He repeated the call twice more until he heard Hitler’s footsteps in the passage. When the Fuehrer emerged, his eyes were riveted on the female form before him. Geli smiled happily and rushed to him, embracing him with all the fervor of a young lover. Hitler was stiff for a moment, his shock holding his emotions in check, and then he pulled her to him so roughly that Geli’s breath was knocked from her.

Quietly, Hitler whispered soothing words in her ear, and Geli returned the ardor by stroking her uncle’s hair.

Dracula watched the scene with amusement before stepping past them. The happy couple barely seemed to take notice of him, and the vampire left them to their happy reunion.

Past the rows of the dead, the vampire strode. The Spear was glowing softly now and Dracula felt elated by the power he now wielded. He could resurrect anyone—past lovers, loyal followers, brilliant tacticians who could advise him…

“Or you could revive someone who could not only deal with the Peregrine for you, but who could make sure that none of his friends would rise up to avenge him.”

Dracula whirled about to see a ghostlike figure standing before a wall of skulls. The wraith was obviously a spirit who had followed Geli back to this realm, but he was nothing more than a ghost, with no physical shell to hold him. He was tall and thin, with dark hair and sunken eyes.

“Who are you?” Dracula demanded in imperious tones.

“My name is Jacob Trench. About ten years ago, I ended up in possession of a little relic called Lucifer’s Cage. I made a few mistakes along the way and ended up running afoul of the Peregrine. I ended up dead, but I’d like to make a comeback. And I know everything there is to know about the Peregrine… and his daddy, who was the one watching you back in the void.”

Dracula pointed the Spear of Destiny at Trench’s chest. The ghost backed away somewhat, confirming what the vampire already suspected: the power of the lance not only allowed him to summon forth wraiths and bind them, it also gave him the ability to wound them. “I could twist you to my will, making you my slave for the rest of your existence—there is no bargaining to be done here. I am in command. You are a servant.”

Trench nodded, obviously accepting his role. “All I want is a chance for revenge. After that, what you want is fine.”

Dracula lowered the point of the lance. “You have a plan?”

“I do. The Peregrine has several weaknesses, most revolving around his family and friends. Quite a few people have tried to strike at them, and so he’s gotten used to protecting them. But there’s one avenue where he’s unable to offer any defense at all: his father.”

“His father is dead.”

Trench grinned. “That’s right. And with that lance, you can control him. You can bind him to your will… and make him into a weapon against the Peregrine. Our boy Max is used to following his dad’s advice. All we have to do is twist Warren Davies into being your slave and then we lead the Peregrine into a trap, easy as can be.”