The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two (59 page)

Kirsten sat nearby, holding Emma on her lap. The little girl was playing with a doll, carefully brushing the toy’s golden hair. Kirsten looked like a living representation of the doll herself, with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a svelte figure. She and Will had been trying for a child of their own, though without success so far. “Not really. I’ve had a few opportunities to help Max, so it’s not like I haven’t put it on since I left Germany.”

“Yes, but it’s hardly the same, is it? You’ve gone from being a commander of men to someone who, at best, is treated like a sidekick.”

Kirsten looked up Evelyn and smiled knowingly. “It’s kind of like going from being a star actress to being a sideline player.”

Evleyn flushed and looked away from the armor. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Nor did I.”

Evelyn stepped over and sat down near her daughter and friend. “I just feel like I’m getting old.”

“Having someone close to you die always makes you think about your own mortality.” Kirsten shook her head and ran a hand over Emma’s back. “But I know what you mean. A few years ago, I felt like I could have conquered the world. But it seems like so much has changed… the war is over, I have a family, there are parts of me that ache after a long day that I didn’t know I had a few years ago.”

Evelyn laughed. “You’re right. I’m just feeling out of sorts because of poor Nettie. But there is something else… have you noticed that Max doesn’t seem to have aged a day since you’ve known him? I’ve been with him for over ten years now, and he might look like he’s a year older than when I first met him.”

“He’s been exposed to a lot of magic,” Kirsten said, knowing where this was going.

“Yes… but I’ve certainly aged. What if that continues? What if twenty years from now, I’m an old hag, and he’s still looking fit and trim?”

“Max loves you,” Kirsten said sharply. “And if you’re worried about losing your husband, nothing will drive him away faster than you whining about getting old.”

Evelyn frowned, and for a moment she was prepared to respond in a tart manner. But then she remembered who it was she was talking to. Kirsten was not known for her warm and embracing manner. She was a tough woman, forged into tempered steel by a hostile childhood environment. When in doubt, Kirsten would use tough love rather than sympathetic words.

Besides, she mused, Kirsten was one hundred percent correct.

“Point taken,” Evelyn said. “I’ll try to just enjoy having such a handsome and youthful-looking husband.”

* * *

Will McKenzie took a long sip from his bottle of beer, leaning over the front porch rail as he did so. Max was at his side, while little William played noisily with a toy fire truck behind them.

“You gonna ask the Claws team to help you with this Stickman?” Will asked, referring to the “strike force” that Max had put together in the waning days of 1944. The group was known as the Claws of the Peregrine and was led by a particularly deadly woman, codenamed Revenant.

“They’re out of the country—and this is my case, anyway. For whatever reason, Benson thought I could handle it, so I will. Besides, I need something to take my mind off poor Nettie.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Not really. There’s one address that was in that book that’s actually here in Atlanta. I’ll check that one first and then start moving on from there. Evelyn’s planning to help me with the legwork on this one.”

Will nodded and took another drink. “Sure I can’t get you one of these?”

“I appreciate it, but no. I…” Max’s words trailed off, and he suddenly leaned forward, gripping the railing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“Jesus,” Will whispered, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t startle William. “It’s happening again, isn’t it?”

Max nodded, his eyes tightly closed. When they’d first met, Max had been a haunted man—literally. His father had died with the spirit of vengeance raging within him, and it had somehow allowed him to send painful visions of future crimes into his son’s head. Max would be tormented by these nightmarish visions, and they had been one of the primary reasons he’d become the Peregrine. Max had never quite forgiven his father for turning him into his personal instrument of justice, but Max had finally been freed from his torment, ironically through the actions of one of his worst enemies, the infamous Doctor Satan. Satan had magically blocked Max’s mental abilities, preventing him from using his ghostly precognition. Satan had thought this would impair Max’s ability to pursue him, but in fact it had liberated Max and allowed him to operate as the Peregrine with free will for the first time.

Unfortunately, Max had begun to suffer visions once more—four within the last three months. He hadn’t told Evelyn or anyone besides Will. The fact they were returning frightened him, and he’d been seeking ways to deal with them. The Onyx Goddess had been one such possibility…

A deep drumming sound filled his ears, and Max felt the real world beginning to fall away from him. He was lost in a world of future danger, and the images began to assault him with the full force of a runaway train.

The Stickman was wandering through a number of statues, each of them depicting an oversized human head. Max recognized them as the ones found on Easter Island, and he noted that the villain was not alone: with him was an attractive young woman wearing a dark blouse and skirt. In the woman’s hands was held what appeared to be a piece of driftwood, though every inch was covered by strange pictograms. Max saw Stickman stop before one of the statues and begin to read from the driftwood, somehow translating the pictures into a language that Max had never heard before.

From the statues came a high-pitched sound that made the girl and Stickman draw back. But the villain continued reading and the sound continued to grow louder.

And then the images shifted, showing Stickman sitting upon a throne composed of human thrones. At his feet knelt the girl that had accompanied Stickman to Easter Island, but she was now nude, a collar fastened around her neck. A leash dangled from the collar, with the other end of it resting in Stickman’s hand. The scene seemed to pull back from its tight focus on those two, showing that Stickman’s throne was located on the front lawn of the White House and that all around them lay the dead and dying of the city.

A roar seemed to fill Max’s ears, like the growling of a jungle cat, and the Peregrine suddenly swayed on his feet, his mind returning to the real world. He felt Will’s hands on his shoulders, keeping him upright.

“You okay, buddy?” Will asked, his voice laced with concern.

Max swallowed hard and regained his composure. “I need to go round up Evelyn. I have to get started on finding Stickman.”

“What did you see?”

“A whole lot of death.”

* * *

Hayward Haley sat down at the bar, a weary expression on his face. He was in the Palomino, a Negro bar in downtown Atlanta. Once upon a time, he’d frequented the nightspot with regularity, but no one seemed to recognize him now. Maybe it was like Josh had said: something had changed about him, making him almost a different person. It was true enough that Hayward would never feel the same—no man could experience the things he had and come out unaltered.

He ordered a whiskey and glanced around furtively, always afraid that the devil’s foot soldiers would be lurking in the shadows. He had no idea how he was going to live out the rest of his life with this kind of fear in his heart, but he was going to try. If he kept on the move, he felt certain that he could remain free—maybe he’d even find a church that would take him in. If he embraced Jesus, maybe the devil wouldn’t be able to touch him.

“Hello, Hayward.”

Hayward froze in place, his fingers lightly touching the shot of whiskey that was set out in front of him. The voice wasn’t familiar to him, but the tone it had taken was unmistakable. This was a denizen of hell. He slowly glanced over his shoulder to see that someone had taken a seat on the stool next to his, a bearded black man who was so thin that he looked malnourished. He wore a striped suit that was a deep purple in color, and atop his head sat a small hat that matched the suit. He had a gold ring he wore on his right hand, sculpted to look like a lion’s head.

“Do I know you?” Hayward asked, playing out the game despite his certainty that this man was no friend.

“We have some of the same friends,” the man said with a laugh. He waved away the bartender, having not ordered a thing, and instead fixed Hayward with an appraising stare. “I’m very impressed. Not many people have the balls to try and escape hell. But you pulled it off.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be there,” Hayward stammered, not caring that his words carried a whine to them. “The guy I was working for sold me out…”

“You knew he was an evil man, Hayward. You deserve what you get when you play with fire.”

“I’ll die before I let you take me back,” Hayward said, summoning as much bravery as he could. He tried to look intimidating, but he could feel his lower lip begin to tremble.

The man laughed and slapped Hayward on the back. “Calm down, my man. And call me Scratch, okay? We’re going to make a little deal.”

“I know how deals with the devil turn out,” Hayward said, shaking his head. “I ain’t interested.”

“The alternative is that I grab you by your scruffy neck and drag you kicking and screaming back down to hell. Your old playmates will have all sorts of things planned for you—they’ve really missed you, Hayward.”

Hayward looked back at his beer and took a drink with trembling hands. He knew the bartender was watching him from his position at the end of the bar, but the man had too much sense to stay close to Scratch, who projected an air of danger about him. “What do you want me to do?”

“Someone you might be familiar with—Abraham Klee—is about to unleash some potent forces into this world. I don’t want him to be distracted while he’s doing this. But there’s a man out there who’s going to try and stop him. That’s where you come in. You’re going to keep that man so busy that he’s not going to be able to stop Klee from succeeding.”

Heyward’s eyes had grown wide as Klee’s name was mentioned. “That bastard who put me in hell—you want me to help him now?”

“Not quite. You’re not so much helping him… as you are helping
me
. And yourself, of course… because if you do a good enough job, I’ll let your soul go free.”

“Who’s this guy you want me to mess up?”

Scratch reached up to tug at his beard. “The Peregrine.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Heyward laughed out loud and shook his head. “There’s no way I’ll be able to slow him down. I’ll end up lying in a jail cell somewhere with that crazy bird symbol of his tattooed on my forehead!”

“It could be worse,” Scratch warned, and as he spoke, his eyes flashed with an inner flame that chilled Hayward’s blood.

“Are you… the devil?” Hayward asked, not caring if the bartender overheard him.

“No,” Scratch said, turning away. He seemed pleased by the comparison. “I’m just another servant. A particularly old one, it’s true, but not the fallen angel himself. He rarely comes out these days. He has so many dukes and princes amongst his followers that he can wage war against the almighty from a dozen different directions all at once. Makes more sense for him to play general than foot soldier, don’t you think?”

Hayward didn’t respond to that. He was desperate for any small shred of hope that he might avoid going back to hell… but he was smart enough to realize that any deal with the devil—or an agent of his—was fraught with the possibility of betrayal.

“So, are you willing to become something greater than you are right now?” Scratch’s lips were held in a thin smile that seemed vaguely reptilian.

Hayward finished his beer and turned in his stool so that his body was turned towards Scratch’s. “How are we going to do this?”

“It won’t take but a second.” Scratch reached out and touched Hayward’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. Almost immediately, Hayward felt a tremor pass through him, and his heart suddenly felt like it had been dipped in fire. He screamed, and every man and woman in the bar whirled to stare at him.

Hayward’s eyes went dark, and his body began to twist and alter. His flesh toughened, taking on the quality of snakeskin, and his forehead began to itch terribly as small black horns suddenly burst up through his skin. The back of his pants ripped as a long and thick tail suddenly pushed through. It swept back and forth through the air with powerful strokes. When Hayward finally fell to his knees, panting with pain, his body had been transformed into that of a human-snake hybrid.

Scratch watched as Hayward lifted his head and glanced around. A forked tongue shot forth from between his lips, tasting the air. “Welcome to the new phase of your existence, Mr. Haley. Or perhaps I should call you Draco? A more fitting name for you at present, I would think.”

Draco felt exhilarated by the strength he now possessed, but his thrills were muted by the overpowering hunger that filled his body. He caught sight of the bartender, who was now quivering in fear behind the bar. With a roar of animalistic rage, Draco threw himself over the bar, sending several bottles and glasses crashing to the floor. Draco grabbed hold of the terrified bartender and the two disappeared out of sight, the sounds of rending flesh and growls echoing in the air.

The rest of the tavern’s customers were suddenly spurred from their shock, and they began to move en masse towards the exits. When they found the doors strangely locked and resistant to being forced open, Scratch began to laugh merrily. He grabbed an unbroken bottle of brandy and poured himself a glass.

Draco rose up from behind the bar around this time, his mouth and chin covered in crimson. Scratch sat back and watched as the altered human jumped over the bar and began tearing into the other patrons of the bar. Their screams eventually faded away, as Draco ripped them to pieces and devoured much of their bodies.

When the beast was finally sated, he turned back to Scratch and found himself once more able to vocalize. “What have you done to me?” he hissed.

“I’ve given you the opportunity to win your freedom. And all you have to do is kill the Peregrine.”