The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One (14 page)

Before the second attacking werewolf could react, the Peregrine threw the dagger with unerring accuracy. It bit deep into the beast’s throat, sending a spray of blood into the air. The creature fell to the ground, writing in agony. He attempted to pluck the dagger out, but he howled in pain whenever he tried to touch it.

The Peregrine felt something slam into him and he fell to the ground with Guthrie atop him, snapping and biting. Max threw his hands up, locking them around Guthrie’s throat. He barely held the werewolf in check, keeping his mouth from locking down around his own face.

“Those were my brothers, ya damned murderer!” the werewolf howled, spraying spittle with every word.

The Peregrine grunted, feeling the thick muscles beneath the monster’s flesh. He wouldn’t be able to hold him off for long…

Max forced himself to calm as much as possible. When he’d fought Trench’s demon in Germany, he’d learned to make contact with minds around him. It wasn’t something he was very well practiced at, but he tried it now. At first there was nothing, not even a trace of Guthrie’s consciousness. But then, feral and wild, it emerged into the Peregrine’s mental vision.

The Peregrine had no time for anything fancy, so he projected a single thought with all his might.

Guthrie backed away, looking around in confusion. He’d been positive that his brother Luscious—the first to be killed this night—had called his name in desperate need. But there lay the corpse of his brother…

In that moment of distraction, Guthrie fell prey to the Peregrine. Max jumped from his back, smacking the werewolf on the back of the head with the butt of his pistol. He did it repeatedly, until his weapon was bloodied and Guthrie had fallen to the ground, silent forevermore.

Panting, the Peregrine fell to his knees, heart hammering. After a moment, he noticed that the three men had begun to revert to their human forms, leaving behind no trace of their lycanthrope natures. The Peregrine staggered over to the remains of Guthrie’s clothing, rummaging through until he came upon a white slip of paper with a name and address written on it.

Gerhard Klempt was in Milledgeville, Georgia.

CHAPTER VII

The Mad Doctor

“Milledgeville? Where is
that
?”

“You’re showing your Yankee upbringing again, Evelyn.” Max sat in the basement beneath his house, surrounded by the weapons and inventions that aided him as the Peregrine. He was clad only in slacks, having removed his shirt so that Evelyn could doctor a few bruises and scratches he’d received. Luckily, none of them seemed likely to carry the werewolf plague. “Milledgeville,” he continued, using that lecturing tone that so annoyed his wife, “is the former capital of Georgia. It wasn’t moved to Atlanta until after the War Between the States. It’s a quaint little town, renowned these days because of the insane asylum located there.”

“Sounds simply divine,” Evelyn murmured. She was in her bedclothes, having rushed downstairs when she’d heard her husband returning from his scouting mission. “And why are you going there again?”

“Because a man named Klempt has a dark book that Camilla covets. He’s making copies of it… everything I’ve read about this text says that it bears evil imprinted into every single word. Even viewing it drives some people mad. If it were readily available to hundreds or thousands… I can’t imagine the horrors we’d face.”

“And do you know where we’d find this Klempt person?” she asked, putting away the rest of the spare bandages.

“So you are going with me, then?”

“I don’t like you leaving without me,” Evelyn commented.

“I thought you had that script to
Perils of Gwendolyn II: The Lost City
to read over.”

“It can wait. And you’re avoiding my question about Klempt.”

Max sighed, though he was smiling as he did so. He was hoping she’d come with him. “He’s a doctor. A psychiatrist.”

Evelyn turned to stare at him, hands on hips. “He’s not.”

“What?”

“He works at that asylum, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“It gets worse all the time,” she said with a shake of her head.

“He specializes in electro-shock therapy as a means to combat mental illness.”

“Sounds to me like he’s the mad one,” she whispered. “Or maybe it’s us for going after him.”

Max moved behind her, kissing the back of her neck. “Just think of all the history to be found there. The city’s a mix of the old south and the new… with the old greatly outweighing the new. It’ll be like stepping back in time!”

“They probably have a five and dime as the center of town life,” she responded, though she was beginning to warm to the idea. “I’ll go pack.”

“Can’t we relax a bit first?” he teased, pulling her against him.

With a laugh, she turned to kiss him. “Forget the werewolves, Max.
You’re
the ravenous beast!”

* * *

“Please restrain the patient,” Gerhard Klempt said. He was tall and handsome, with more than a passing resemblance to Errol Flynn. But there was none of the goodhearted kindness that the great actor displayed to be found in Klempt. His was a face not meant for smiling, for it was deeply etched into an expression of serious disapproval. His eyes were like cold fortresses, refusing to reveal anything of the soul within.

The orderlies held the thrashing woman down on the table, showing no mercy as they strapped her into place. She was in her thirties and suffering from a number of mental ailments, most of which were the result of the things Klempt had done to her over the past few months. Having a hospital full of the deranged gave him great freedom to include them in his personal experiments. If they went mad or managed to tell their tales of horror to someone, they were dismissed readily enough. They
were
in an asylum, after all.

“That will be all,” Klempt said. “Leave us.”

The orderlies stepped out, having grown familiar with the fact that the German doctor liked to work alone. There were many stories about his unusual techniques but no one inquired more than was necessary. Some things it was simply best not to know.

Klempt put on a pair of rubber gloves before smoothing down the crisp white medical gown he wore. He moved to stand next to the woman, whose eyes were wide with fright. “Miss Thomas, please. Calm down.” He patted her leg, slowly letting his fingers trace upwards until he reached her inner thigh. “It will all be over in just a few moments. And then you can return to your room and take your medication.”

Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She wailed against the cloth that muffled her cries.

Klempt pushed her gown up, revealing her female parts. She wore nothing beneath the gown, which wasn’t unusual. Many of the patients soiled themselves so frequently that Klempt had begun dispensing with undergarments as an unnecessary expense. A small amount of dried blood showed around the entrance to her vagina. “Have you been keeping our little friends warm and healthy?” he asked, eliciting more cries from her. “Nurse Whitley tells me you tried to stab yourself down here. Said you seemed to want to tear out your own womb. We simply can’t have that.” He smiled coldly at her. “Not yet anyway. When the deed is done, your womb will be worthless enough that you can do with it whatever you please… but for now… no.”

Without the use of lubrication, he began working his fingers into her. She screamed, which only made him work all the harder. He felt about inside her until he felt one of his prizes, grown fat and slippery. He tugged on it and it dug into her inner flesh, tearing at it in a futile attempt to remain nestled in its hiding place. Klempt yanked hard until it came free.

A yellowish-red worm about three inches long and so fat it looked fit to burst was revealed. Klempt held it up to the light, marveling at its segmented body and the sharp sucker at its head, with its rows upon rows of sharp needlelike teeth. “Oh they’re coming along just fine, Miss Thomas. All our little babies are growing up, right on schedule. In another week or two your stomach will begin to bloat a bit… at that point, questions will be asked. I’ll examine you and say that you must have been a bit loose with the guards or another patient. Given that you’re not fit to be a mother, I’ll deal with the pregnancy in the usual fashion… though you and I will know that’s not quite true. Nothing about this is usual, is it?” For the first time, he laughed. It made his patient close her eyes and pray for death. Inside, she felt things wiggling about madly, hoping to avoid whatever had happened to its sibling. She sometimes thought she could hear them, singing to each other in some buzzing tongue, making her belly vibrate.

Klempt caressed her face with his bloodied glove, making her look at him. “This one can’t go back in. It’s a shame to sacrifice one just to check on their progress. It will die… it’s not strong enough to survive for long like this, not in its immature form. But I won’t deny you at least one mother-child moment.”

The woman began to scream as she saw Klempt begin to attach the worm to one of her nipples. It chewed in hungrily, suckling and swelling before her eyes.

Klempt turned away, ignoring her sounds, which were almost matched by the wet sucking sounds of the worm. He opened up a small satchel, gazing down at the leather-bound book that had been coveted by so many. He had some of the other patients, the brighter ones—for now—working on translating it into other languages. They worked until their fingers bled and their eyes bulged, or their brains began to slowly turn inwards from the sheer force of the knowledge being given them.

Klempt raised the book to his face, inhaling its scent. So much blood. So much death. All locked away in these pages.

When the Old Ones returned, they would reward him.

CHAPTER VIII

A Gathering of Shadows

Reed Barrows wiped the sweat from his brow, panting from exertion. “They’re buried, Camilla.”

The vampire watched him without comment for a long time. She hated being out in the daylight, but with great effort she could abide the sun’s rays for a time. There were many falsehoods about her kind, most of which had been spread by the vampires themselves. They afforded them some protection from the occasional vampire hunter, who would come in armed with knowledge that was faulty at best and ridiculous at worst.

Camilla stood under the shade of a tall tree, beside which the werewolves’ car remained. She held an umbrella over her head, further shielding her from the sun. “Who did this, beloved? Who knows of our plans?”

Reed shrugged. He was exhausted and his hands bore blisters from the shoveling he’d done. Hiding bodies was a new experience to him and not one he cared to repeat. But he knew that he’d probably grow used to the task… being caretaker to a vampire virtually required that he occasionally assist in the hiding of her victims. “I’m not sure. I’ve heard rumors about a vigilante in the area. Calls himself the Peregrine. They say he killed both Trench and Felix Darkholme.” Reed noticed a small piece of paper on the ground and plucked it up. It was a calling card of some kind—a white background upon which rested the silhouette of a bird.

“Why would he involve himself in our affairs?”

Reed struggled to find an answer. “Maybe he collects mystical artifacts, just like I do. He killed Darkholme and stole something from him. Maybe he did the same to Trench.”

“The werewolves didn’t have anything for him to collect,” she pointed out.

“Ah, but they did.” Reed stuck the point of the shovel back in the earth and leaned his weight against it. “They had a name and an address on them.”

That made Camilla’s eyes flash with anger. Her bosom rose and fell in a mockery of human breathing. “The Necronomicon. This Peregrine wants it, too.”

“That’s my guess. If he were interested in you or I, he would have struck at us. He had the opportunity to do so. But he didn’t.”

Camilla moved towards him, the umbrella casting her features in shadow. She smiled at him, the redness of her lips standing out in stark contrast to the pale white alabaster of her skin. “You are such a clever man, my love. Destiny truly rewarded me the day you came to awaken me.”

Reed puffed up in response to the compliment. “So now we just have to decide what to do about it.”

“I would have thought that would have been obvious,” Camilla responded, reaching out to caress his face while she spoke.

“What do you mean?”

“We have to stop him ourselves. We go to Milledgeville and we kill this Peregrine. Then we tell Dr. Klempt that he either gives us the book or he dies, as well.”

Reed swallowed. “Klempt’s dangerous. You might be hurt.” He clasped her hand in his own. “Let me go by myself.”

“I would never let you do that,” she responded. “We do this together, you and I.”

“When you’ve used that spell from the book,” he whispered, his voice quavering just a little. “Will you still need me? Or will one of those other vampires become your lover?”

Camilla parted her lips, revealing her sharp teeth and the pink of her tongue, which darted along the tips of her canines. She was all too familiar with her mate’s concerns, for he knew of the stories… the stories of one who lorded over all vampires, appearing as a man of unspeakable, hideous beauty. Reed feared this figure, for he was sure that Camilla desired this Lord of Vampires. “When the Kingdom of Blood has risen… you will live as my King.”

Reed groaned as she leaned in, sinking her teeth into the flesh of his neck. The pain faded quickly, replaced by a pleasure so intense that he dropped the shovel from his grip and clung to her. She could have finished him if she’d wanted, drained him dry… and he would never have resisted. But she always pulled away, avoiding taking too much, avoiding taking the steps necessary to make him one of her own, one of the undead.

“I love you,” he said, holding her close. “Forever.”

CHAPTER IX

A Place of Old Glories

“You have to admit, it’s a beautiful theatre.”

Evelyn pursed her lips before speaking. She and her husband were standing outside the Campus Theatre, a wonderful bit of culture that had been opened to the citizens of Milledgeville in 1935. So far, her impressions of the former state capital had been uniformly negative, from the poor state of the roads to the dingy houses they’d passed on the way into town. But the Campus… that changed her mind a bit. “It is nice, Max. I wonder if we’ll have time to see the interior.”