The Peregrine Omnibus Volume One (3 page)

“Jacob! Welcome,” Beauregard said, moving forward to shake Trench’s good hand. “I’m so glad you could make it. You’ll notice a few new faces in the crowd, so I’ll introduce you.”

Beauregard took to his task with great relish, introducing Trench as a collector of curiosities and the owner of a downtown Atlanta establishment called Jacob’s Ladder. Max noticed that many of the men who already knew Trench seemed to regard him coolly, so he made his way towards Gilbert, who had moved to stand near the window.

“You know Mr. Trench, I presume?” Max asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Interesting fellow,” Gilbert replied, in a voice that definitely implied that he found Trench anything but interesting.

“He looks familiar to me, though I can’t quite place him.”

“Some of the newspapers ran stories on him a few years back. Feared lost on an expedition, turned up hale and hearty, only survivor, heroic case of human will overcoming nature. All that sort of thing.”

“Sounds like it, doesn’t it? And he never lets you forget that it is.” Gilbert surprised Max by reaching and touching his arm. “He’s a dangerous man, Mr. Davies. Be wary of him.”

Max nodded, feeling a bit unnerved by the fear that he’d seen in Gilbert’s eyes. Before he could question the man further, he heard Beauregard clear his throat from behind him. Turning, Max came face-to-face with the man who had haunted his mind earlier today.

“Mr. Davies, may I introduce you to…”

Beauregard’s words were lost in a sudden scream that made everyone in the room jump. Max shoved his way past Trench and his host, running full speed towards the door. He recognized the woman who had emitted the sound, which had been full of agonizing terror.

It was Evelyn.

CHAPTER V

Bodies in the Mist

Max burst into the parlor room, barely able to stop himself from retrieving the pistol he wore strapped under his coat. He found the women staring outside the windows, into the thickest fog Max had ever seen outside of London. It tumbled about like small clouds of mist, borne along by mystic winds.

Evelyn stood closest to the window, a hand raised over her open mouth. The poor woman looked as pale as a ghost and she jumped when Max touched her shoulder.

“What’s happened?” Max asked, feeling the way she shivered beneath his hand.

“Out there… Can’t you see them?”

Max followed her gaze, aware that the other men had entered the room and were asking their own wives and girlfriends for information. Outside, in the mist, were men… shambling mockeries of men, stooped over and somewhat misshapen. “Stay here,” he whispered. He turned and found himself face-to-face with Trench.

“Going somewhere, Mr. Davies?”

“There are people out there. I’m fairly certain that Beauregard didn’t invite them.”

“I’ll come with you, if I may.”

Max hesitated, remembering the dark terror of his earlier visions. Despite them, there was no way he could avoid the offered help without seeming rude to the other guests. “If you’d like. Just stay behind me.” Max reached under his coat and drew out his pistol, careful to keep it hidden from the women.

“Do you always come so well prepared to parties?” Trench asked.

“Only ones where unnatural mists spring up out of nowhere.” Max hurried out the front door, stumbling a bit as he reached the stairs. The fog was so thick that he could not see more than a few feet in front of him. He thought he saw two of the mysterious figures ahead of him, but he could not be sure. “You there!” he yelled. “Identify yourself!”

Trench’s voice came from just over his left shoulder. “Look to your right.”

Max did so and felt the blood in his veins chilling at the sight before him. A man with bluish-tinted skin had come into view, his clothing soiled by dirt and blood. His eyes were rolled up in his head, leaving only white showing. There was an awful nature to his gait that made Max feel sick and confused. “God in heaven,” he whispered.

“I don’t think God had anything to do with these things,” Trench whispered.

The undead creature shifted at the sound of Trench’s voice, seeming to zero in on the two men. It picked up speed, raising its arms and forming the hands into fists.

Max shot it twice in the chest, but the bullets only seemed to stagger the creature. It continued on, closing the gap quickly. Just as its fingers began to close around Max’s collar, he unloaded a bullet directly between its eyes. Blood sprayed backwards, along with white fragments of bone and gray matter.

The monster fell to the ground, twitching. A noxious odor rose from it and Max recognized it from the numerous scenes of horror he’d witnessed. It was the smell of death and decay.

“More,” Trench hissed.

Max whirled about as two more of the things ambled towards him from the other side of the porch. He leaped towards them, aware that his ammunition was limited. The first of the things was met with a hard chop to the throat. It didn’t harm the undead monster the way it would have a normal man but it gave the thing pause, allowing Max to fire his pistol at point-blank range into its temple. As before, damage to the cadaver’s brain seemed to bring its rampage to a halt.

Armed with knowledge of how to stop the things, Max made quick work of the thing’s companion and stared out into the mist, wondering how many more might be waiting.

Trench appeared again at his side, staring down at the twitching monsters. “Fascinating. Reminds me of the zombies I’ve heard about in Haiti.”

Max fought the urge to put the last of his bullets into Trench’s head. The visions had seemed to make it clear that he was a villain of the worst sort… but something stayed Max’s hand. He had never killed anyone who hadn’t forced the action and he held on to that last vestige of morality like a crutch.

“The fog is lifting,” Max said, noticing that the mist was beginning to part as quickly as it had arrived.

“And the bodies are going away,” Trench remarked. “Look.”

The two zombies at Max’s feet faded into nothingness, becoming as immaterial as the mist itself.

“What do you think could do such a thing?” Trench wondered aloud. “And why?”

“They were a distraction.”

“I don’t understand.”

Max frowned, wondering if that was true. It was certainly possible that whatever threat Trench posed was unrelated to his plague of undead… but Max had a feeling that Trench was anything but innocent here. “The men didn’t do anything other than wander around, attracting our attention.”

“They did attack you…”

“Yes, but rather ineffectually. There’s something more at work here.” Max looked over as Beauregard and several of the men hurried over, some of them brandishing their own gentlemen’s pistols. “Mr. Ellis, might I recommend that you have the servants search the house and make sure that nothing is missing?”

“You think some of those men the ladies saw might have gotten inside?” Beauregard asked, looking alarmed.

“It’s possible.”

“Where are they now?” Gilbert wondered. “I don’t see a damned thing.”

“They fled,” Trench replied, drawing a glance from Max. The two men seemed to share an understanding that discussions of walking undead would not go over well with men who hadn’t seen them firsthand.

Max spotted Evelyn slipping quietly out of the house and he excused himself quickly, moving to catch up to her. “Evelyn! Are you alright?”

She turned to face him with fear in her eyes. “No! Those men… they weren’t right! I saw one of them! He… It was awful!”

Max brought her into his arms, comforting her. “I believe you. I saw them myself.”

Evelyn drew back quickly. “You did? Thank heavens! I thought I had gone mad!”

“No, you mustn’t think that. There are things in this world that are beyond the rational. The sooner you accept that, the better. Can I take you home? I have a feeling you aren’t going to want to stay for tea and dancing.”

“Please. I would very much like the company,” she said, looking profoundly grateful.

Poor girl
, Max mused.
She’s not used to such terrors. I almost envy her.

Walking towards his parked car, Max cast another glance back at the house. Trench was there, talking quietly with Beauregard. He looked up and gave Max a perfunctory nod.
I think I’ll pay Mr. Ellis a visit tonight and find out what went missing. Because something most certainly did… and it’s looking more and more like a case for the Peregrine.

CHAPTER VI

Questions at Midnight

The Peregrine arrived at the Ellis home just before twelve, a full moon giving him ample light to work by. He was cloaked in his dark garb, allowing him to blend in to every shadow. On his face was a small domino mask affixed with a birdlike beak over the nose. It was a bit of melodrama, he’d always reasoned, but it helped hide his identity amongst those frightened few who saw him and lived.

Though he was definitely in business mode, he couldn’t help but think about Evelyn. The young woman had recovered from her fright quickly, which had impressed him greatly, but it was clear that she didn’t want to be alone. She’d asked him to stay for a while longer and the implications of her offer were all too clear, but Max had been forced to excuse himself as politely as possible. There had been neither more visions nor their accompanying headaches, but he knew they were coming. Best to deal with the mystery head on rather than wait for him to be drawn into it against his will. Besides, he reasoned, whoever had done all of this had upset Evelyn… and the very notion of her being hurt roused in him a sense of chivalrous honor. He would find out whom had done these things, be it Trench or someone else… and he would make them pay.

Max crept through the quiet house, not making a sound. A light in the study was on and the fireplace was burning brightly as Beauregard sat in a large chair, smoking a cigar and staring into the dancing flames.

“Mr. Ellis?” Max hissed, making sure to keep his voice low and deep.

Beauregard glanced around in mounting terror, his eyes wide. “Who’s there? God knows you’ve taken everything you could have wanted! Why come back again?”

“I’m not the one who ruined your party, Mr. Ellis.” Max stepped partially into view, staying to the far side of the room so that Beauregard only saw what Max wanted him to see: a dark-clad figure with bird-like features, wielding a pistol. “But I want to know about them. What did they take from you?”

Beauregard hesitated, swallowing hard before speaking. “You’re the Peregrine, aren’t you?”

“What did they take from you?”

“A book…”

“All that over a collection of writings, Mr. Ellis? Seems unlikely. What kind of book was it?”

“A 17th century copy of
Axiomata
,” Beauregard said, looking back into the flames. He looked like a broken man, with none of the confidence he’d shown earlier in the evening. “Are you familiar with it?”

“No. Tell me.”

Beauregard sighed. “It was an important work in the collection of the Fraternity of the Rosy Cross.”

“The Rosicrucians,” Max whispered, remembering the name from his studies into the occult. He didn’t know much about them, but was sure that the Nova Alliance would know more. “Are you involved in witchcraft, Mr. Ellis?”

“No! I acquired it by accident, I assure you, knowing nothing of its origins. I was hoping to sell it to Trench but he claimed the price was far too high. And now it’s gone forever… and my hopes of getting my family out of debt is gone as well.”

“Why is it so important?”

Beauregard shifted in his seat, looking more forlorn by the minute. “The Fraternity was founded by a man named Christian Rosenkreuz. He was born in 1378 and lived until the age of 106. He was buried in a seven-sided vault and it’s said that he would return 120 years after his death.”

“Did he?”

“I don’t know!” Beauregard wailed. “But the
Axiomata
is said to contain references to where the vault can be found. The tomb is reputed to contain all the order’s books, plus magical mirrors, lanterns and more.” Beauregard sat forward in his seat, warming to the subject. Max thought he looked a bit mad, recounting these strange legends. “I’ve heard rumors that the Germans are looking for the true location of the tomb. Hitler’s a fanatic when it comes to occultism. Do you think the Nazis might have done this?”

“I think the thief might be a bit closer to home than that,” Max replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” Max began to turn away but Beauregard rose from his chair, sounding desperate.

“Wait!”

Max glanced over his shoulder, noting the way Beauregard’s hands shook with impotent rage. “Yes, Mr. Ellis?”

“I don’t care if you are a madman, like the papers say. I want you to find the men who did this unspeakable thing, who violated my home and my honor. I want you to kill them!”

Astonishing how quickly a man becomes murderous when it’s his own property being threatened
, Max thought. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Ellis. In the meantime, I wouldn’t throw any more parties.”

Beauregard remained where he was, scarcely believing his eyes. It seemed that the Peregrine vanished into thin air, melding into the very shadows that blanketed the room. “Kill them,” he whispered again. “If what the ladies said about those men is true, they are abominations…”

CHAPTER VII

Jacob’s Ladder

“So, tell me again why you’ve brought me to this dreadful place?” Evelyn looked out of place, in her cosmopolitan fur-lined coat and small hat. Atlanta was fast returning to its glory of the pre-War days, but it still retained a lot of its country heritage. Evelyn, on the hand, reeked of 20th century sophistication. It was a dichotomy that attracted Max to her, for she certainly stood out amongst the women of the South. Someday that would change, he knew, and Atlanta would take its place amongst the leading cities of America… but that day was not today.

Max was standing in the dimly lit shop of curiosities, staring intently at an authentic sarcophagus. Trench’s place of business was full of interesting odds and ends, many of which were no more than elaborate forgeries. But several of them were the real deal and Max wondered why Trench didn’t ply his wares in New York or London, where the prices for such items could be much higher. “I thought you might appreciate a shopping excursion,” Max said to Evelyn. “To take your mind off the events of last evening.”