Götterdämmerung (22 page)

Darhoth screamed as she fought like a wild woman, eager to be freed. Her eyes opened wide as Gravedigger’s sword swept through the air, separating neck from shoulders. Blood sprayed over Lazarus but he held on tight. His lips began moving, forming arcane words from long dead languages. The spell he was recounting was similar to the one that Catalyst had used to bind The Three Sisters
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but Lazarus had come across others in his adventuring career.

As the Mother of Pus began to exit her physical form, the black mist that comprised her soul was suddenly drawn towards Lazarus. The gaseous form was sucked into the hero through his nostrils and open mouth as the human shell that had once housed the spirit dissolved into dust.

Gravedigger took a step back in shock, suddenly realizing what he was doing. “Lazarus! You can’t hold her!”

When he spoke, his voice was an odd mix of male and female, a merging of his and The Mother of Pus. “I won’t have to for very long.” His mismatched eyes—one a dull brown, the other a glittering emerald—turned towards The Peregrine. “Use The Knife of Elohim.”

“All that will do is kill you and free her,” Gravedigger protested. In this moment, it seemed like the rest of the world had paused, leaving only these three—along with the spirit of Darhoth—to decide the fate of the future. Charity reached up and pulled back her mask, revealing her lovely face, darkened by far too much loss and pain that she had accumulated over the past few months. “Don’t do this.”

“I can hold her,” Lazarus replied through gritted teeth. “I can hold her all the way down to hell. I won’t let her escape.” He shuddered from the strain of controlling the demon within. “We don’t have time to wait.”

Gravedigger glanced at Peregrine. “We need another plan.”

Max Davies looked surprisingly calm as he said, “I figured someone would have to die. I’d just planned on it being me.”

He raised his weapon and drove it with all his might into the heart of Lazarus Gray. The enchanted weapon normally did extra damage against those of evil origin and in this case it sizzled so hotly that Max almost lost his grip on the hilt. He held on, even as his palm burned, and gave it a final twist.

Lazarus staggered back, his eyes looking skyward. He uttered one word, the name of his wife, and then he fell to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Though neither of them could see it, Peregrine and Gravedigger knew that one final battle was still being waged. On the ethereal plane, Darhoth was roaring with anger and despair, her soul being yanked away to some dark nether realm where she would suffer eternal punishment for her failure. No matter how hard she tried to resist that pull, that tugging on her invisible leash, she could not, for the soul of Lazarus Gray was right there with her, holding her tight… all the way down into the fiery pits.

* * *

All around the globe, the harbingers of evil fell. Suddenly bereft of hope that their ultimate victory was at hand, many of them dissipated, while others were quickly slain by those champions who fought against them.

The dark veil that had recently clung to the world, draping it in increasing amounts of sorrow and evil… had just been lifted away.

CHAPTER XVII

Endings and Beginnings

Two weeks had gone by since the death of Lazarus Gray and the pain seemed only to grow with each passing day. Kelly had hoped it would be the opposite but her father had told her that after the death of her mom, it had taken him years to feel like a whole human being again. She wasn’t sure she could handle that.

The funeral had been a small affair and since then Kelly had locked herself in her room at 6196 Robeson Avenue, taking her meals in private and only speaking to her father and Samantha. Both had tried to take her mind off the fact that she’d become a widow so soon after marriage, but they’d failed, of course.

She sat in bed, hair a mess and without makeup, flipping through the journals that Lazarus had kept. Most of them were written in some sort of pseudo code that meant little to her but she liked seeing the flowing script of his handwriting and knowing that these had meant so much to him.

She’d been engrossed in one of the books that purported to deal with certain voodoo rituals of Haiti when she recognized Samantha’s familiar knock at her door. Trying to project a bit of lightness into her voice, she yelled for Samantha to come in.

The pretty blonde was dressed in slacks and a buttoned shirt. Kelly thought that Samantha always managed to look glamorous, no matter what the situation.

“How are you feeling?”

Kelly gave a half smile. “Not much better, to be honest.”

“I want you to come downstairs with me.”

Kelly hesitated. She didn’t want to be seen like this and she wasn’t ready to venture out into the real world just yet. She was about to say so when Samantha pressed on.

“Lazarus is dead, Kelly. He wouldn’t want you to waste away in here. That’s not who you are. You’re an explorer, a scientist, and the heir to all this.”

“I don’t care about his money,” Kelly whispered. She had inherited the vast majority of what Lazarus had left behind, though his aides had received ample amounts of cash and gifts, as well.

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about Assistance Unlimited. We’ve kept things together to this point but we need to decide where we go from here. Do we throw in the towel and say we did a good job for a few years? Is that what he would want? Is that want you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then make yourself presentable and meet me downstairs. If you won’t do it for you… do it for him.”

* * *

They were all there, the people that Lazarus had considered as close as family. Samantha sat behind her former mentor’s desk, red nails clicking on the top of the writing area. Morgan looked dapper but serious as he set aside a copy of
The Sovereign Gazette
. Kelly thought it sweet that concern was so obvious in his features as he saw her. Eun, the outspoken young firebrand of the group, stood near the window, ever vigilant.

Kelly crossed her arms over her chest, feeling self-conscious. She’d put on clean clothes and brushed her hair but still felt like she looked horrible. She’d never been obsessed with her appearance but she didn’t want to look weak, either.

“I’m here,” she said. “Now what?”

Morgan gave her a warm smile. “We want to continue Assistance Unlimited. We all think Sovereign needs us. And we want to honor Lazarus.” He extended a hand towards her. “We want you to join us. Give us permission to continue using this as our headquarters.”

“Join you?”

“It doesn’t have to be on every mission,” Eun pointed out. “Just when it fits with your schedule and interests. But we think it would be good for you.”

Kelly looked down. She did enjoy the excitement and she certainly wasn’t ready to go into permanent mourning, no matter how much she ached inside. With sudden inspiration, she replied, “Of course Assistance Unlimited should continue. That only makes sense. And I’ll help out in any way that I can, but I want something from all of you.”

“Just name it,” Samantha said.

“I was reading about voodoo upstairs and we’ve all faced people like Femi, who keep coming back from the dead. If there’s any way to revive Lazarus, I want you to help me find it.”

The others looked at each other before Morgan gave a quick nod to Samantha, who answered for them. “We’ve already started looking.”

Kelly laughed quickly, a nervous sort of bark that embarrassed her but made everyone else relax. “Then let’s do this
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.”

* * *

Charity Grace had to admit to herself that she enjoyed this. Even as the goon’s nose crunched between her right fist, she was feeling more at peace than she had in weeks. After the initial weirdness of being reunited with friends that she’d mourned for and moved on from, she’d plunged headlong into her work, brutally removing pimps, drug dealers and occultists from the streets of Sovereign.

This particular foursome worked for a would-be witch named Cassandra, who had recently staked her claim to several small mobs up and down the East Coast.

She spun about, well aware that this battle was in confined quarters, making it all the more important that she stay focused. She had busted the men as they had just finished exchanging cash for opium, attacking without even a word of warning. They knew who she was. Her garb and sword were well known in the underworld.

Two of them had guns out but they hesitated, fearful about firing in such a small hotel room. This cost them as she killed one with a crossbow bolt through the eye and finished the other by ramming her sword through his belly and giving a nice, satisfying yank.

With the one with the broken nose rolling about on the ground, unable to focus, that left just one man. He held up both hands in surrender and she quickly wrestled him to the ground, tying both hands with a strong rope she carried in a pouch on her belt.

Less than five minutes after she’d arrived, she was gone, having called for the police. Normally, she would have killed them all, but she now often thought of Lazarus, who preferred non-lethal means whenever possible.

Mitchell was waiting for her down the street, the car engine still running. She slipped inside, trying to keep the blood off his seats but failing.

“How did it go?”

“About as expected. Two of them will be there for the cops to pick up, the other two are dead.”

“The two you left alive will be back on the street by tomorrow,” Mitchell pointed out. His tone carried more amusement than accusation.

“We have to give the system a chance to work.”

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

Mitchell pulled away from the curb, heading towards home. “Everybody’s noticed that you’ve been acting differently lately. Want to talk about it?”

Gravedigger paused before speaking. She’d thought long and hard about this, wondering if she should share with the others what had really happened. As far as they knew, all the weirdness and the suicides had simply stopped. In the end, though, she didn’t want to burden anyone else with the knowledge of what a world ruled by Hitler and his cronies had been like. “It’s lady things,” she said.

“What?”

“Lady things. You know… delicate stuff?” She turned to face him. “But I can tell you all about it if you want. If you’re really interested, I mean.”

Mitchell shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I don’t want to embarrass you. If you think I need to know, then…”

“No, it’s really nothing that won’t pass. I’ll keep your offer in mind, though.” Beneath her mask, Charity smiled ruefully, fully aware that Mitchell wouldn’t broach the subject again anytime soon. For a man who had seen so much death, he was terribly shy about “lady things.”

They passed by Robeson Avenue and Charity looked away.
You gave us a second chance, Lazarus. I’ll make sure we don’t waste it
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.

She reached out and took Mitchell’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

* * *

Mr. Death couldn’t help but find the humor in all things.

Even now, as he drove a steel pipe through the soldier’s throat, he found himself giggling with laughter. Just a few weeks before, this man was technically “on the same side.” But after Darhoth’s demise, Mr. Death had bolted and gone freelance, returning to Germany with relative ease. It was a shame what passed for security these days.

He hadn’t been banished to Hell after his poor showing in Sovereign. Well, he had ended up in one of the nether-realms but the effect hadn’t lasted long. He’d been returned to, of all places, the rooftop of 6196 Robeson Avenue. Wisely deciding that he shouldn’t remain there, he’d quickly absconded.

He’d considered freeing Nimrod from jail but decided against it. The cowboy was fun to annoy but they weren’t suited for a long-term partnership.

And so now he was living in the German countryside, killing every now and again. He had no long-term plan but at some point he thought he’d return to America and take revenge on Gravedigger. Her victory over him was embarrassing.

The OFP had been in pursuit, of course. They saw him as a weapon they could use for their own purposes but he would never be shackled to anyone else, not ever again.

He’d found this shack and thought it fairly safe but the soldier had come tromping around about ten minutes ago and when he didn’t leave, Mr. Death had struck at him, dragging him inside and killing him.

More noise from outside suddenly made the villain freeze in place. Was the soldier part of a larger force that was now closing in on him? He crept to the door and peered out, a gasp escaping his skeletal mouth.

The thing that stood there was not quite a man, though its general shape was the same. Its body was a strange mixture of vegetation and flesh, the scent being like that of freshly mown lawn. It staggered towards the shed, a strange intelligence in its eyes.

Mr. Death recognized it instantly. He’d heard the stories about the creature and its escape from captivity. “Baron Eric Von Emmelmann?”

The monster paused, as if recognizing the name. It resumed its slow march towards Mr. Death, who emerged to greet him.

“It is you, isn’t it?” Mr. Death laughed merrily. “At this point, I think you’re less of a man and more of a Heap. I think that’s what we should call you, yes? The Heap.”

The Heap said nothing, though it watched Mr. Death closely. Something had led it here, to this odd little man and, though his slow-moving thoughts could not form the words necessary to describe it, he knew that this day would be one that would alter his unique existence forever
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.

* * *

Max Davies opened the storm door and descended the wooden stairs into the room he and his wife had dubbed “The Peregrine’s Nest.” It contained his laboratory and spare equipment but even more importantly, it gave him a measure of privacy.

He’d just finished a nice meal with Evelyn, who had listened to all of his stories about the altered world with wide but believing eyes. She had learned to trust Max, no matter how crazy his stories sometimes got. In fact, she’d accompanied him on nocturnal excursions often enough that she’d seen many strange things firsthand.