The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (45 page)

Esper fell backwards, her eyes rolling up into her head and a white foam rising from her lips. Catalyst caught her, helping her down as she began to thrash about.

“Sally!” he yelled, and Revenant knew what he was asking.

Stifling a sigh, she gave a nod to both Nathaniel and to Vincent. She’d wanted to find out Max’s location, but she’d known it was a long shot that Nyarlathotep would tell them. She opened fire on Nyarlathotep, her bullets ripping through him. He jerked back and forth but no blood rose from the wounds and he only laughed maniacally.

Dee, meanwhile, was recovering quickly. With Rachel no longer attacking his mind, he was ready and willing to enter the fray. He chose Vincent as his first target, for the big man was about to charge into Nyarlathotep. Dee channeled his disintegration beams into the creature’s body and Vincent was knocked backwards, his face contorting in pain. He felt his body breaking apart from the inside out and for a moment he feared that this was the end… and he found himself uncharacteristically clinging to life. For so long, he’d dreamed of the cold dark embrace of death, but now that it presented itself, he could only think of Sally and his new friends.

Vincent roared and lashed out in the direction of Dee. One of his flailing fists caught the Nazi under the chin and shattered the man’s jaw, knocking him so hard that Dee’s feet left the ground and he flew over a nearby couch. The bottom half of Dee’s metal face covering was crumpled now, revealing a bit of the features beneath. Dee’s skin was a burned mess, a horrid display that mirrored his soul.

Catalyst focused his attention on Nyarlathotep, calling upon the most powerful spells he knew. He tried to banish the demon but watched in mute horror as the spell dissipated harmlessly before the man’s own protective wards. Nathaniel then began trying to drain Nyarlathotep’s shields and experienced mild success. Though Nathaniel was still a novice, he had had the basic skills to become the greatest mage of his era, and that power was enough to daunt even Nyarlathotep.

Esper suddenly felt her body begin to recover as Nyarlathotep’s hold over her was shattered. She took a brief second to collect herself before looking over at Dee, who was beginning to rise. The man’s mouth was dripping blood and he was in obvious pain from Vincent’s blow, but he was eyeing Vincent with malice as the big man moved towards him again.

“Die,” Rachel hissed between clenched teeth. “Die.” Esper focused her fury on the Nazi, sending as powerful a mental blast as she had ever done before. She did not dread killing the way that Sally did, but neither did she enjoy it. But she was convinced that death was the best thing that could be done for men like Dee and Nyarlathotep.

Dee staggered as he felt the mental assault once more. He turned his burning gaze upon Rachel. Though most of his face was still hidden behind the mangled iron mask, Rachel could see his burned lips twisting into an expression of grim vengeance. It was at this moment that Rachel projected her killing beam into Dee’s mind.

Though most considered Rachel to be the weaker of the married duo, her power was quite considerable. As the Catalyst’s mate, she had to be strong enough to stand at his side and deal with the horrors that were a daily fact of life to a high mage. It was that strength of will that made her mental powers so deadly, and when they were used with deadly intent, they were breathtaking to behold.

The diabolical Mr. Dee froze in place as the attack struck him and his entire head vibrated with power. In a split second, he realized that his dreams of servitude to the Reich had gained him nothing. Nyarlathotep had warned him that nothing lasted forever, and Dee knew that was true, for his schemes would now be forgotten and his name would be one of a long list of fallen agents of the OFP.

Mr. Dee’s skull exploded in a thousand shards of metal and bone.

Vincent jerked as the gore splashed against his skin. He looked quickly at Esper, who seemed shocked by her own actions. The big man laughed heartily and turned back towards Nyarlathotep, glad to see that Rachel had the toughness to do what needed to be done.

Nyarlathotep, meanwhile, was beginning to wilt under Catalyst’s assault. Revenant was continuing to fill him with bullets and the last few had actually drawn blood and caused him great pain. As his ability to heal himself was compromised, his physical body came into real danger of being killed… again. It had been humiliating enough when the Peregrine had destroyed him… to die again, at the hands of these children… that would reduce him in the eyes of those whom he served.

Nyarlathotep roared in anger, summoning most of his remaining power to teleport himself to safety. One second, he was backed up against the fireplace, groaning pain, the next he was standing in a mountain clearing. Nyarlathotep leaned over, hands on his knees, and vomited, blood mixing with his bile.

“I take it you haven’t gotten back your full power yet?”

Nyarlathotep froze in place, slowly raising his head to see a familiar figure watching him. “How did you get back from the World of Shadows?”

The Peregrine smiled coldly. “I called in a favor from an old friend.”

Nyarlathotep stood up tall, trying to intimidate the vigilante. The attempt failed. Max Davies had seen his own father gunned down before him, he’d wandered into the deepest pits of hell and come back alive… and he’d personally brought down Nyarlathotep once before. He felt no terror when confronted with this servant of the dark gods.

The Peregrine drew out the Knife of Elohim, a weapon once soaked in the blood of Christ. It was the same blade that had once ended Nyarlathotep’s before. “It must be awful to come back from the dead just so you can get put back down again.”

Nyarlathotep hissed like a cat and his face changed dramatically. As he opened his mouth, his teeth seemed sharper and longer than before and his eyes narrowed to black slits. “You are nothing special, Max Davies, though you like to think you are. You’re going to end up cold and alone, with all you love dead around you…”

“Shut up,” the Peregrine snapped. “We’ve been through this once before, you and I. Let’s just get this thing done.”

* * *

Adolf Hitler walked silently through the halls of his home, his attendants following at his heels, looking nervous.

Outside the Berghof, they had found the guards, all of them unconscious—some appeared to have had their heads bashed in, others looked like they were merely sleeping. In the kitchen, the staff had been felled where they stood. A pot of boiling water had been left unattended, its contents spilling out over the stove and onto the floor.

The living room was the worst, though. The remains of Mr. Dee were found there, the walls and furniture spotted with gore. It looked like a bomb had detonated inside his skull. The walls of the room were riddled with bullet holes.

Of Nyarlathotep, there was no sign.

Adolf Hitler made little clucking sounds and shook his head as he moved around Dee’s body. He’d had such high hopes that Dee could salvage the remains of the Occult Forces Project… but like everyone else around the Fuehrer, he had proven to be a failure.

The men and women who watched the Fuehrer expected him to launch into angry tirade at this point. He had traveled from Berlin to meet this servant of the gods, the one who would win the war for the Axis Powers. Faced with such disappointment, Hitler’s rage was frequently terrifying to behold.

But most disturbingly, the leader of the German people merely sat down wearily in a chair… and said nothing.

CHAPTER XVIII

Endings and Beginnings

“You killed him again?” Evelyn asked, rubbing salve into a nasty wound on her husband’s shoulder. They were alone in their bedroom, the kids having been put to bed. Nettie was still up, cleaning downstairs, but otherwise the house was quiet.

Max grimaced as Evelyn continued applying the medicine. “Yes. But it wasn’t easy.”

“It never is, is it?”

Max laughed a little too loudly and Evelyn shushed him. Max turned to face her. “It’s going to be nice having them around.”

“Who?”

“Sally and the rest. Should give you and me more time to be a family.”

“Really?” Evelyn asked doubtfully. She arched an eyebrow as she leaned in to kiss her husband. “You sure you won’t be accompanying them on every mission, like you did this time?”

“I’m going to let them sink or swim on their own merits. I promise.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” she laughed.

* * *

Rachel pulled on one of her husband’s button up shirts and did just enough of the snaps in front to protect her modesty if someone entered unexpectedly. Wearing nothing else, she padded down the hallway and peered into the team’s meeting room. The Aerie was empty save for her and Nathaniel, and a good thing, too, as their lovemaking had been more frenzied than usual.

Nathaniel sat at the meeting room table, dressed in his Catalyst uniform. He looked pensive and more than a little sad.

“I woke up and you were gone,” Rachel said, inviting her husband to explain what he was up to.

“I had a dream.”

“A nightmare?” Rachel moved over and sat down beside him.

“I had a vision of the future. I saw a huge explosion, a cloud of death that looked like a mushroom, spreading up into the sky. I saw men, women, and children eradicated in the blink of an eye.”

“Did you see how we could stop it?”

Nathaniel looked at her and there was something odd in his eyes. “Stop it? No. I don’t think so. I think we were the ones who did it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was the good guys who did it. The Allies.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Nathaniel shrugged. “For now? Nothing. It’s best that most people don’t know. I didn’t see the circumstances under which the bomb was used. I can’t make assumptions… not until I know more.”

Rachel reached out and took her husband’s hand. “Did you see anything else?”

Nathaniel smiled playfully. “I saw you bent over this table, your backside facing me.”

“Well now… that’s one vision that I think we’d both enjoy coming true.” Rachel slid over into her husband’s lap, a wicked laugh escaping her lips.

* * *

Vincent shifted uncomfortably. He reached up for the umpteenth time to adjust his tie. “Everyone is staring.”

Sally sipped her wine and smiled. She wore a long black dress that left her shoulders bare and a pearl necklace that she’d borrowed from Evelyn. Vincent thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “So what if they are? They’re just amazed by how broad your shoulders are.”

Vincent grunted. His suit had been personally tailored for him by a friend of Max’s and his hair was combed back from his face, but no suit or tie could hide the sallow complexion of his skin or the girth of his body.

Together, they were having dinner in Atlanta’s finest restaurant. Their conversation had been stilted at first but had gradually loosened up, with several shared laughs.

“I wonder what Nathaniel and Rachel are up to,” Vincent said, cutting off another bite of steak and shoveling it into his mouth. He glared over at a white-haired woman who was watching him. She shuddered and looked away.

“I wouldn’t want to guess,” Sally answered, though she was pretty sure what was going on back at the Aerie. The two of them could barely keep their hands off each other when they were surrounded by other people… left to their own devices, they were probably rutting like animals.

“Do you think this is going to work?” Vincent asked.

For a moment, Sally wasn’t sure if he was referring to the Claws team… or to their relationship as friends and possibly more. She thought it over and then decided that the answer was the same on both counts. “Yes, Vincent, I think it’s going to work. I really do.”

THE END

A PLAGUE OF WICKED MEN

Written by Barry Reese

(with plot assistance from Wayne Skiver, Ron Hanna, and Don Lee)

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”

—
H.P. Lovecraft

CHAPTER I

Die, Hazzard, Die!

October 1944

Captain Hazzard pressed his back flat against the damp, decaying brick of the shadow shrouded alleyway. Even for a man who had faced death countless times, the backstreets of Atlanta’s Chinatown district were no place for a “Gwai Lo,” or “Round Eye,” to be at night.

The adventurer listened acutely both to the footfalls of his prey padding quietly along the fog-gripped sidewalk and to the whispered voice that came to him in his mind, the voice of his associate, tabloid reporter William Crawley. Hazzard shared the uncanny ability to communicate with his select group of associates via telepathy, a mental skill he honed during a youth spent in blindness. In those dark years of his childhood, Hazzard had trained his remaining senses to near-superhuman sharpness in order to compensate for his lack of vision. Seeking to further improve himself, he had then devoted himself to expanding his mental faculties, eventually tapping into the hidden realm of telepathy.

After a miraculous operation restored his sight, Hazzard furthered his studies and incorporated the time-lost disciplines of the mysterious Orient as well. He had carefully screened and selected his crew based on tests which showed that they too could develop similar powers of the mind.