The Grim Spectre (13 page)

The Grim Spectre walked through the wall of Joey DeLuca’s apartment and instantly realized something was amiss.

‘The apartment is a shambles. There was a fight here and there’s dried blood on the floor, a lot of dried blood.’

The Grim Spectre hovered around the room, slowly going from spot to spot looking, searching for anything that would give him a clue to Joey DeLuca’s whereabouts.

But he found nothing.

‘Dammit! DeLuca’s gone and I have no idea where he was taken, or even who did it. It could be the Mayor, it could be Zeus, hell it could be Hitler and his damned Nazi’s for all I know.’

‘Time to start making the rounds of places I already searched when I was looking for this low level thug the first time. Only then I wasn’t looking to save his life; I was considering ending it myself. Someone’s got to know where he is and what happened to him.’

The Grim Spectre walked out the wall and turned invisible. He floated away from the building and headed skyward, then he turned and streaked away toward the docks.

He landed invisibly outside a bar where several gangsters and thugs were leaning against walls smoking cigarettes and drinking from flasks, mere feet from the first watering hole on his list. They all wore long overcoats and fedoras over suits.

Stepping invisibly between them all he thought,
‘Turn me visible with blinding light.’

Instantly he appeared, glowing like some horrific god or demon! The assembled men fell over each other scrambling to get out of his way.

“Wh-who, what are you?” the nearest thug to him asked. He was wide eyed with pure terror as he reached for his gun. The other six professional tough guys pushed each other out of the way to stay clear of The Grim Spectre.

“Where is Joey DeLuca?” The Grim Spectre roared his voice so loud the gangsters all covered their ears and cringed.

“W-we don’t know, I swear it,” the closest thug to him practically cried.

The Grim Spectre grabbed him by his long jacket and hauled him to his feet until they were practically nose to nose. The man’s eyes were wide it terror!

“You lie!” The Spectre shouted.

“N-no, no I don’t, please,” the thug begged.

“Tell me where he is and tell me now. If you do not my vengeance will be swift and horrible,” the Spectre bellowed.

Three of the thugs turned and ran, of the four that remained three immediately pulled their guns and began to fire at The Grim Spectre with no regard at all for their comrade’s life.

The Spectre tossed the man away and he landed with an uncomfortable thump some feet distant.

Now a hail of bullets ripped through his immaterial form, but he simply ignored them all. He walked forward and grabbed another thug by the front of his suit and shook him so hard his fedora fell off.

The man tried to punch at him, but his fist went right through The Grim Spectre instead.

“Fool,” was The Grim Spectre’s only reply. Instantly his hands lit up glowing horrifically, throwing off sparks as he sent a withering jolt of energy through his foe with his shocking touch.

The man fell to the ground unconscious at his feet.

Now The Grim Spectre turned toward the five remaining thugs and floated toward them, his feet almost a foot above the ground.

“Run, run! This thing ain’t human!” a thug shouted as he turned and tried to sprint away into the darkness.

“There is no escape for you, evil one,” The Grim Spectre answered. Moving like lightning, he snapped the whip off of his side and lashed out with it, ensnaring the gangster’s ankles and quickly dragging him to the floor.

The remaining thugs all turned and ran off in terror. Tough men all driven away by their fear of the monstrous creature before them.

The Grim Spectre hauled the thug before him to his feet and growled, “Where is DeLuca? You know who he is; do not lie to me.”

“I-I do know the punk, yeah. B-but I also know he was rattin’ our operation out, and it was prolly to you. But he disappeared last night. He never showed up to shoot the breeze like he always does. No one knows where he is, but…well some of us suspect at least.”

“What do you suspect, Little Man? Tell me, now!” The Grim Spectre hauled the frightened gangster closer to him so his glowing eyes were lighting up his enemies face.

The thug gulped hard in fear and tried to turn away, but his own terror riveted him to The Grim Spectre’s frightening countenance.

“W-we think the Boss put a hit on him, or at least wanted him dragged in ta answer some questions.”

“Well? Who is this ‘Boss’ of yours? I would know his name, mortal.”

The thug gulped again and replied, “It’s Zeus. It’s Phylo Zeus who’s got him. An’ I wouldn’t be surprised if your pal DeLuca was dead already.”

The Grim Spectre landed in the driveway of Phylo Zeus’ home, near the Olympus room. Immediately a small army of goons ran out from the bushes and from around the house and began to attack him. Guns were drawn and bullets were fired with wild abandon.

He ignored them all, but he did not ignore the men shooting at him. He drew his own twin .45’s and returned fire, dropping several of the men with one shot each.

For the first time since he began his crusade, he was silent, like death itself. Within seconds the entire front yard of Phylo Zeus’ palatial estate, mockingly referred to as ‘Mt Olympus,’ was littered with the bodies of Zeus’ army of gangsters.

The Grim Spectre walked up to the front door and kicked it in, shattering the wooden door and knocking it off its hinges.

“Do you know how expensive that door is? Don’t worry, I’ll just add it to your bill,” a mocking voice said.

The Grim Spectre turned toward the sound just in time to see two huge Rottweilers leaping toward him, mouths open and barking with teeth gnashing, trying to tear into his flesh.

But The Grim Spectre was a ghost, and the two savage beasts merely sailed through his immaterial form to slam into the wall behind him with a dull thud.

Enraged, the two dogs turned toward him, growling savagely. They leapt at him again. But this time his hands quickly glowed with sparking energy and he grabbed each of the killer dogs by the snout, sending enough coruscating energy through them to drop them both to the ground, twitching and insensate.

“Are they dead?” Phylo Zeus asked calmly. He stood in the darkness where the dogs had come from, his massive frame outlined in shadow.

“Come and see for yourself, killer,” replied The Grim Spectre.

“I think I’ll pass, for now. So tell me, spirit or whatever you really are, why are you here tonight?”

Zeus turned on a light switch and the room he stood in illuminated slowly behind him. It was a study with a fully stocked bar which he stood behind.

“May I offer you a drink?” Zeus asked politely.

“Do not act the fool, Phylo Zeus, we both know why I am here.”

“Oh what? That little snitch DeLuca? Is that what this is about?”

“I do not know what you are speaking of, Zeus. I came here this night to end your depravity with finality.”

Zeus’ was stunned. Never in a million years did he expect The Grim Spectre to just outright come after him.

“Wait,” Zeus stalled, “You’re not here to rescue DeLuca? The man you were hunting only recently?”

“Dog! I know not what you are speaking of. I sought a mortal by that name because of his past sins. I would have sent him to his final resting place for them. But he evaded me. So instead I directed my efforts toward finding you to end your evil with the same finality I had planned for DeLuca. Now I have found you at last, Zeus, and now I will end your threat.”

The Grim Spectre began to charge toward Phylo Zeus when an unfamiliar voice said, “No, Spirit you shall not.”

The Grim Spectre whirled in that direction and beheld a creature out of nightmare! A tall, thin black man stood there in a tattered all-black suit and tie with a strange headdress upon his bald skull. His face was painted in different designs that sent a chill down The Grim Spectre’s spine.

But The Grim Spectre held his composure and met his enemies gaze unerringly. He said, “Who are you, mortal?

The man laughed a hearty belly laugh then looked at The Grim Spectre once again and said, “I am Baron Popadoo. I am here to kill you.”

Phylo Zeus swirled the drink in his hand around, mixing the contents of the glass.

“I’ll leave you two alone then. Remember Baron, to collect your fee, you have to show me proof that this pest is gone.”

Popadoo locked eyes with The Grim Spectre and said, “If you want proof, Phylo Zeus, you shall have it.”

Zeus nodded his head while he swallowed more liquor and said “Very good, Popadoo, do not fail me. If you do, you’ll wish our spirit friend had gotten a hold of you.”

“Do not be concerned, Master Zeus. I will make short work of this pretender.”

With a growl, The Grim Spectre leaped at Baron Popadoo. Simultaneously, Zeus turned his back and ascended a staircase into the upper section of the house.

Faster than the eye could follow, Baron Popadoo extended his hand and grabbed the Grim Spectre by the throat in mid-leap.

In wide-eyed surprise, The Grim Spectre batted Popadoo’s arm away and grasped him with his own hand.

“How did you do that?” The Grim Spectre asked.

“What touch you? I am not bound by man’s silly laws, Grim Spectre. I am a houngan, a voodoo master, and I have come to claim the bounty upon your head.”

The Grim Spectre did not hesitate; he stepped forward and punched Baron Popadoo in the jaw, snapping his head back.

But almost instantly the houngan turned around and blew a handful of sparkling dust into The Grim Spectre’s face.

The Spectre stumbled backward, trying to rub the stuff out of his eyes.

But instantly, like a snake Baron Popadoo struck! He spit a venomous liquid at The Grim Spectre which seemed to paralyze him.

“What? How is this possible?” The Spectre asked.

“I am a voodoo priest, foolish spirit, and whatever juju you have, it shall not prove to be enough against me.”

‘What did he do to me?’
The Grim Spectre asked,
‘I can’t turn immaterial for some reason. He blocked my magic belt. I’m in trouble, for real.’

Baron Popadoo advanced on The Grim Spectre, smiling like a lunatic, sweat stained his shaven head from concentration as he reached forward to grab the spectral avenger.

The Spectre stumbled over something behind him and fell backward to the floor as Popadoo reached above his head and brandished a wickedly shaped blade he had produced from within his suit jacket. He raised the knife upward as far as he could and then drove it down to deliver the killing blow.

Baron Popadoo plunged his cruel blade down and only The Grim Spectre’s last second monumental effort to roll to the side saved his life, as the blade plunged into his shoulder and not his heart. Immediately the ghostly avenger screamed in agony.

“Aagghhh!”
‘If I hadn’t turned he would have stabbed me through the heart. As it is I can barely move. Good Lord, the pain!
’

Struggling beneath the big houngan, The Grim Spectre finally managed to dislodge himself from his opponent.

“You fool!” he roared at Baron Popadoo, “You cannot kill the un-killable. Nor can you defeat a grim avenging spirit sent to this terrible place.”

With a grimace beneath his mask, he reached over and ripped the knife free of his shoulder. The effort and the agony drove him to his knees. Immediately Popadoo was upon him, seeking a killing blow. He withdrew a second blade from within his jacket-the twin of the first-and screamed as he stormed over to where The Grim Spectre knelt, prepared to once again drive the blade through the spot where the Spectre’s heart would have been.

Again the knife descended toward its prey, but this time The Grim Spectre threw both his arms up in front of his face and above his head in an ‘X’ pattern that immediately caught Popadoo’s descending fists and knife.

“What?” the voodoo priest exclaimed in surprise.

The Grim Spectre did not hesitate, he grasped Popadoo’s wrists and pulled him forward, at the same time he slammed his right knee forward into the houngan’s stomach.

“Waaauugghh!” exclaimed the stunned voodoo priest in pain and surprise.

With a twist of his hands, The Grim Spectre snapped the wicked looking blade free of Baron Popadoo’s hands. The blade clattered noisily to the floor. Now The Grim Spectre snapped both his hands up between Popadoo’s knocking his enemies arms upward, then he slammed down on the mystic’s neck and collarbones with the edges of each hand.

The Baron reached for his neck in surprise, and The Grim Spectre grabbed Popadoo about the back of the neck with both hands and slammed the Baron’s head into his own upraised knee.

Popadoo crumpled to the floor.

“So, you are not so powerful in a direct and physical confrontation,” The Grim Spectre observed.

“I am Baron Popadoo,” the houngan shouted. He was crawling across the floor with blood streaming from his shattered nose, “and I will
yet
destroy you, spirit.”

“Not today, houngan,” The Grim Spectre replied.

With a snap, The Grim Spectre’s whip lashed out from his right hand and wrapped itself around Baron Popadoo’s neck. The Baron turned in wide eyed surprise an instant before The Spectre dragged the startled voodoo master into a strong right fist.

“Ugggh!” shouted Popadoo. He crumpled to the floor in a heap, and lay still.

Then it hit The Grim Spectre, the loss of blood from his shoulder wound and the general exhaustion associated with a prolonged battle all seemed to strike him at once. He dropped to his knees, his head swimming dizzily.

‘I-I have to get up, get out of here before I get caught. I don’t think I could fight off another attack,’
he thought.

Wearily fighting his way to his feet, he swooned from side to side, unable to steady himself. Blood ran down his side from the shoulder wound. He grasped his shoulder with his right hand and blood streamed over it.

Stumbling, he made his way to the wall of the house, along the way he kicked the downed Baron Popadoo in the side, hard, as he wobbled past. The big voodoo priest grunted in unconscious pain.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Phylo Zeus’ voice called from across the room.

The Grim Spectre turned toward his enemy and saw the big man standing at the foot of his staircase holding a tommy gun.

“You’re not going anywhere, Spectre, except right back to whatever hell you crawled out of, an’ when you get there, tell ‘em all that Phylo Zeus sent ya.”

Then Zeus pulled the trigger, unleashing a torrent of death, all aimed at The Grim Spectre!