The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One (16 page)

Reed knelt before the door, hurriedly working to pick the lock. He’d made good progress when the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that a shadowy figure was emerging from the nearby woods. Fearful of being seen, Reed moved to the side of the house, peering out from behind a set of bushes. The figure wore a dark suit that seemed to absorb the moonlight, devouring it like a ravenous beast. A small bird-like mask hid his features and sent another surge of concern through Reed’s spine. “The Peregrine,” he whispered.

The nocturnal avenger paused in mid-step and for a moment Reed worried that he had been overheard. But then the Peregrine resumed his silent march, stopping only to attach a small device on the front door’s lock. Reed heard the tumblers slipping into place and a moment later, the door opened with a small creak.

Reed glanced around, making sure that no one was traveling with the vigilante. Satisfied that they were alone, he made to follow the Peregrine, his pistol held at the ready.

He never made it very far. Just a few steps into the foyer, he was suddenly wrapped up tightly in a viselike grip. The Peregrine’s words hissed in his ear. “Mr. Barrows. This is a surprise.”

Reed moaned aloud as the pressure on his neck increased. He dropped his pistol to the floor, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of his attacker. The foyer was wide and led to a set of stairs and two doors, one on the right and one to the left.

“You’re not going anywhere, Mr. Barrows. So don’t waste your time looking for escape routes.” The Peregrine pulled Reed roughly to the room on the right, which was a small den lined by bookcases. A fireplace, cold and unlit, dominated the far corner. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Reed answered. “Let me go… please!”

“Don’t lie to me. I know that you’ve been helping her. I know why she wants the book. What
is
the Kingdom of Blood, Mr. Barrows? Do you even know?”

Reed began to twist and fight, though he made no headway against the much stronger man. Finally, he sagged limply in the man’s embrace, knowing that he had failed his beloved. “There’s a spell,” he said between great gasps of air. “It will awaken all the slumbering dead… the ones she calls The Noble Dead.”

“What are they?”

“Vampires, like her. But there are different types… Nosferatu are basically nothing more than animals, feeding indiscriminately. The Noble Dead are beautiful and powerful, lording over humanity throughout the ages. When they’re all awake again, they’ll unite the lesser vampires under their control and establish the Kingdom of Blood. It’s one of their myths: a form of heaven on Earth.”

“Or Hell,” the Peregrine replied. He tossed Reed onto the couch, staring at him with barely veiled disgust. “And you’re selling out humanity to help her?”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” The Peregrine drew one of his pistols and aimed it directly at Reed’s chest. “Do you know where the book is hidden?”

Reed stared at the barrel of the gun, fearful of dying. “No. I was… going to look for it.”

A tickle in the back of the Peregrine’s brain made him pause for a moment. He’d felt it when he’d first approached the house, as well: a sense of grave foreboding that made him long for sunlight. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t do the world a favor and end your life right now.”

“Because… right now we both want the same thing. We both want the book. Let’s look for it together and then we can sort it out afterwards.” Reed spoke quickly, the words spilling from his mouth. “Two could search much more quickly than one.”

“Not good enough.” The Peregrine pulled the trigger.

Reed fell back, arms flying out from his body. The Peregrine moved towards him, checking for a pulse. It was there, strong but fast. The shot had gone intentionally awry, missing him by more than a foot and leaving a nasty looking hole in the fabric of the couch. But it had been enough to cause the terrified man to pass out.

Confident that Barrows wasn’t going to interfere anytime soon, the Peregrine began searching the lower floor of the house. He knew that Evelyn was waiting in the car not far away, probably growing more concerned by the minute. Though her fright had allowed him to convince her to stay behind after all, her curious nature meant that she could come after him at any moment.

Spurred on by that thought, he sprang up the stairs and felt another burst of fear rush through him. Something in this house was causing his latent mental powers to send out an alarm. Instead of fighting it this time, he allowed the pulsing in his skull to serve as a tracking device, leading down the long corridor at the top of the stairs. He ignored all rooms save for one—for that was where the sensations seemed to be concentrated.

The door opened easily to his touch, though the doorknob was so cold that he winced from the contact. Once he’d stepped inside, the tickle became a loud buzzing in his brain, making him stumble slightly. It was hard to keep focus and his surroundings seemed to fade in and out of existence. He was in some kind of study and the book of the damned lay open atop a desk. He reached for it, hand shaking as he fought through the pain that made him grit his teeth.

Something powerful slammed into the back of his head and he tumbled forward, striking the side of the desk with his temple. Blood gushed from the wound and the buzzing began to fade, though what was left in its place was just as awful. He looked up into the beautiful features of Camilla, who looked at him with cold fury.

“You harmed my pet,” she said simply. She then raised a fist high above her head and brought it crashing down on the Peregrine’s skull.

CHAPTER XII

Captured!

Klempt had been furious as he strode out of Oden’s office. The entire meeting had been a waste of time, with Oden saying nothing of real interest. The whole affair seemed to smell wrong to Klempt, as well, and the negative feelings had only intensified when he’d returned home to find his front door standing wide open. There were signs of a struggle in the den, where a bullet hole in his couch caught his eye. He’d fled up the stairs, fearful that something might have happened to his book, only to have his most dire concerns proven true. In his study, a gorgeous young woman had been tending to a man wearing a mask. Klempt had virtually ignored them at first, however, instead focusing on the blank surface of his desktop.

A fury had seized him then and he’d burst into the room, possessed of an almost preternatural strength. His unexpected entrance had startled the girl and he’d grabbed her by the throat, throttling her until she’d passed out from the strain. Still seething, Klempt had then dragged both man and woman down the stairs, being none too gentle with them. He’d locked them in the spare bedroom, being careful to search each of them first and then binding them to chairs. The man had been sporting a wide variety of weapons, including a dagger that caught Klempt’s eye. Those objects were now strewn across the kitchen table, where Klempt studied each in turn. His guests were bound to be waking any moment now and he was still uncertain what he wanted to do with them. It was apparent that they’d been in a struggle—and lost—with some unknown beings. But that did little to convince Klempt that they could be trusted.

Finally calming himself somewhat, he smoothed down his jacket and re-entered the bedroom. They were both conscious, though the girl looked somewhat dazed. “You broke into my home,” Klempt began. “And there are items belonging to me that are missing. Where are they? And who are you?”

“Tourists,” the Peregrine replied. “And your items were stolen to begin with, so they never truly belonged to you.”

Klempt backhanded him, causing a fresh trickle of blood to begin oozing down. The man’s head wound had only recently ceased bleeding. “Do you always dress like a bird?” Klempt asked. “Or did you just come from a masquerade?”

“It’s part of my uniform,” the Peregrine spat. “Let the girl go and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“You’ll tell me who took the book?” Klempt pressed.

“Yes.”

Evelyn glanced at her husband, shaking her head. “Don’t,” she whispered.

“I know what I’m doing,” the Peregrine replied without looking at her. He kept his eyes on the sadistic doctor. “Do we have a deal?”

Klempt sneered at him. “No. A deal is only required when we are on equal footing. I hold all the cards here… so I have no need of deals. You will tell me what I want to know… or I will cut her ear off.” The harsh words were spoken in a matter-of-fact manner, which made them all the more terrifying. Klempt reached up to smooth down his pencil-thin moustache. “Do you understand?”

The Peregrine nodded, having no doubts that the doctor would do exactly as he said. “A vampire named Camilla has taken your book.”

“A vampire?” Klempt momentarily lost some of his menace and instead seemed honestly confused. “You’re certain?”

“Very. She’s the one who clocked me from behind.” The Peregrine quietly worked at his bonds, becoming aware that the doctor’s skill at knot tying left a lot to be desired. Given enough time, the Peregrine would be free…

“And who do you work for, if not her?” Klempt was watching them both with suspicion. “How did all of you find out that I even had the cursed tome?”

“I’d feel more comfortable talking with you if you’d let the girl go.”

“Again with the concern for her. She is quite pretty, isn’t she?” Klempt moved closer, leaning forward to stare into the Peregrine’s eyes. “It would be a terrible shame to mark her face… but I will do it if necessary. Tell me more about the vampire, please.”

“She works with a man named Reed Barrows. They’ve recently moved to Atlanta. She wants to bring about something called the Kingdom of Blood. It’s supposed to be a golden age in which the Noble Dead rule over humanity.”

Klempt tapped his chin with one slender finger. “Intriguing. And you?”

“I want it so I can make sure it’s not misused… by people like her. And you.”

“Ah. A hero, then.” Klempt laughed softly and contemptuously. “I’ve heard about you so-called ‘mystery men,’ with your costumes and gadgets. Are you a killer like the one who calls himself the Spider? Or a more merciful sort, like Mr. Savage?”

“I’m my own sort, Doctor. I’ve killed often enough to know that sometimes it’s the only way to end things properly. But I’ll avoid it as much as possible.”

Klempt studied him for a moment and then nodded. “I believe you. Tell me one thing more—do you know where I can find Camilla and her servant?”

“Yes. But I’ll only tell you if you promise to let her go.”

“Again you pretend to have some sort of bargaining ground. You’ve told me they’re in Atlanta. What makes you think I cannot find them on my own if I have to?”

“If you thought you could, you wouldn’t be wasting time by asking me for directions.”

“Touché.” Klempt spun on his heels and left the room, returning a moment later with the Peregrine’s weapons in his hands. He threw them at Max’s feet, the dagger clattering loudly on the wooden floor. “You have told me enough, I think. Time grows short—and I am on a schedule of sorts. I wish you and your lovely companion a quick and painless death, though I suspect that it will be anything but. I’m going to set this house afire, you see… I hate to leave my home but I simply must have that book. Oden’s deception of earlier this evening makes perfect sense now—he was stalling me while you ransacked my home, eh? So that means he is on to me.”

“You’ll never get away with this,” Evelyn murmured, her strength returning quickly. “Even if you kill us, someone else will stop you.”

“Perhaps. I am willing to take that chance.” Klempt withdrew a small canister from his pocket, along with a set of matches. The canister’s contents were sprinkled liberally around the room, giving the area the distinct scent of brimstone. “This is deadly stuff, my friends. Forged by occultists long ago and put to good use by more modern men such as myself. It burns hot and fast.”

The Peregrine waited until Klempt was finished before speaking again. “If I do die here, Doctor, I promise you this: I’ll be waiting for you in Hell.”

Klempt shook his head. “I think not. There’s a special type of Hell reserved for idealists like yourself. I wouldn’t fit in there. Goodbye, my friends.” As he stepped from the room, Klempt tossed a lit match onto the floor. The effect was startling in its abruptness. Great plumes of flame suddenly rose up, casting the room into an inferno of heat and smoke.

The Peregrine slipped one hand free of his bonds, using it to untie the remainder of the ropes holding him to the chair. He moved to Evelyn next, who stared at him in surprise. She obviously had no clue that he’d been working to free himself the entire time. As she rose to her feet, Max knelt and retrieved his weapons, shoving them into his pockets. “The window, Evelyn—it’s our only hope!”

To her credit, Max’s wife remained outwardly calm. She covered her mouth and nose with one hand, jumping over flames until she stood next to the window. Evelyn cried out when she touched the sill, however, for it was red-hot.

The Peregrine pulled her aside, aware that Klempt was probably already out of the house and fleeing into the woods. For the doctor to lose all the items and books in this house… his obsession with the Necronomicon must have made everything else seem replaceable. Max pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around his gloves. Then he gave a mighty yank on the window, pulling it open. The fresh Georgia air that rushed in was an amazing thing and he immediately felt revitalized. Gripping his wife’s hand in his own, he led her out the window, standing perilously on the second-floor ledge. “Wrap your arms tightly around me and don’t let go!”

Evelyn nodded quickly, squeezing hard as her husband threw himself from the ledge. He landed first, rolling to soften the blow. Somehow he managed to angle his movements so that Evelyn was cushioned on top of his own body.

Behind them, the house was going up in flames, dark shapes writhing about in the smoke-filled shadows.

“Are you okay?” Evelyn asked, pushing herself to her feet. Her uniform was smudged with dirt and grime, along with no small amount of her husband’s blood.