The Peregrine Omnibus, Volume Two Read online

  Krupp paused and seemed to consider her words. “I think, fraulein, that you are right. We had the opportunity in our gasp just a few years ago, but the Fuehrer made some poor decisions. And now there are only men like me, clutching at straws in hopes of a miracle.”

  “If you kill me,” Sally said, “there’s nothing that will stop the Peregrine from finding you… and taking revenge.”

  “I suspect he will hunt me down regardless.”

  Sally smiled wanly. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll have to waste his time chasing after you.”

  Krupp studied her face, seeing the light of triumph in her features. “Why do you say that?” he asked, afraid to know the answer. The hair was beginning to stand up on the nape of his neck.

  “Because you’re about to die,” she said.

  Krupp started to turn around when the Peregrine’s bullets ripped through him. Max knew about Krupp’s augmented body and aimed for every vital organ that wasn’t covered by metal shielding. The German danced for a moment as the bullet’s tore through him and then he was falling to the cold earth, another dead body in a cemetery filled with them.

  Sally felt her strength finally fading away, but as the Peregrine approached her, she saw his silhouette and for a moment she could have sworn it was her father, coming to check on her, to tell her that she had done all she could… and that he loved her.

  Epilogue

  Just a month after the Golden Goblin’s slaying, new reports began to filter through the various villages in Bordia. The Revenant had returned, but with a difference. Somehow, some way, the ghostly spirit that protected the jungles had become a woman. While at first this prompted speculation that perhaps she was not the true Revenant at all, those who saw her professed that she moved just as the Revenant always had and that she possessed the same strength of spirit.

  “It is not our task to question the actions of the jungle’s protector,” the wise men and women declared and soon, all questioning of the Revenant’s gender ceased.

  The Revenant’s legacy was intact… and Sally Pence frequently thanked her friend Max Davies for allowing it to be so.

  THE END

  THE FOUR PEREGRINES

  The 20th Adventure in the Peregrine Series

  Written by Barry Reese

  CHAPTER I

  Behind the Barrier

  June 2012—London, England

  “I’m a lot older than I look.” Nathaniel Caine sat on the floor of the abandoned warehouse, his back resting against a tin wall. His clothing was odd, to put it mildly. He wore a form-fitting bodysuit that was differing shades of green: a dark forest color on the trim with a lighter shade dominating the bulk of the suit. A cloak hung around his shoulders. His long brown hair was streaked with white, but he visibly retained a youthful air, as if he were a man in his mid-forties. “I discovered my role as the Catalyst in 1942,” he continued, staring at the figure before him, who was shrouded in shadows. The man’s silhouette showed a powerful physique, like that of a well-trained athlete. “And since then I’ve operated as Britain’s secret defender.”

  “Where were you when the Black Mass Barrier went up?” the shadowy figure asked.

  Catalyst pursed his lips, thinking back to the year 2006, when everything had gone so insane. Nathaniel’s role as the Catalyst was a sacred task, a reflection of the tremendous magical power he possessed. Back in ’42, he’d learned that he was the High Mage of his era, the most powerful natural magician in the world. He’d used his powers alongside the American hero known as the Peregrine to defeat a Nazi plot to unleash something called the Un-Earth… and his life had changed forever. Sometime soon he would relinquish his role as the Catalyst, but not yet. He still had duties to perform.

  “I asked you a question,” the man prodded.

  Catalyst smiled. “Sorry. My mind tends to get away from me these days. In 2006, I was doing what I usually do: investigating supernatural events and trying to defuse them before they got out of hand. I sensed something in the ether, though—a premonition of things to come. I saw a woman battling dark forces, with the safety of the entire world at stake. The evil beings were ones I recognized, for they came from the World of Shadows, another sphere where all the most powerful magical creatures had once been imprisoned. The elves, the fairies, the minotaur… things we consider myths lived on there, forever hungering to return to this world. And only Fiona Grace could stop them. Only she failed.”

  “Why didn’t you help her?”

  “I was busy elsewhere. By the time I could have made a difference, it was too late. The Black Mass Barrier rose up, turning the skies a pink color and unleashing a whole horde of bizarre creatures. The dead now sometimes rise from their graves, creatures from Faerie are demanding voting rights, and you can buy purified Pixie Dust on the streets to get high with. It’s been an odd few years, hasn’t it?”

  The silhouetted figure moved into view, revealing a man in a yellow and black set of ultra-lightweight body armor. The man’s face was hidden behind a bird-like helmet that hid his features, revealing only the lower part of his face. “That’s putting it mildly. You know who I am?”

  “Yes. You’re Ian Morris, the fourth person to bear the name of the Peregrine.” Catalyst rose to his feet, his boots knocking against a can of Vienna sausages. The remnants of his meal spilled out on the concrete floor.

  Outside, a werewolf howled in the distance and the shadows of the night seemed to grow even longer.

  Catalyst stared past the Peregrine, into the mists of ages past. It was happening again: the current day was slipping away from him. He was hearing voices and seeing faces of people who were long dead. “Max Davies was the first and the best,” he whispered. “No offense, of course. His children both wore the mask for awhile, too… William and Emma. Both good people.”

  The Peregrine tapped the helmet he wore. “Well, if you know all that, then you probably know about the Looking Glass, too. The lenses of this helmet are mystical. Max gave them to me before he died. They show me glimpses of the future.”

  Catalyst said nothing but his face registered a sadness that made Ian pause. “I know what it showed you,” Nathaniel finally confirmed. “We’re all going to die. December 21, 2012, isn’t it? The end of the Mayan Calendar… and they were right, all those years ago. That’s when the world ends.”

  “The Looking Glass showed me that there may be a way around that. A way to save us all… is it true?”

  “It’s not hopeless, no. There may be a way of averting the crisis.” Catalyst knelt, running his fingertips through the dust. “Most people think of time as a straight line, running from one end to the other. But that’s not the case at all. Time is like a pond, spreading out in multiple directions all at once. Toss a stone in the right manner and it will cause ripples throughout the pond, growing larger as they go. It’s possible that if the right stone were overturned in the right place, the ripples could actually spread out from that point and totally change our present.”

  The Peregrine took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his burden threatening to overwhelm him. “So we’d cease to exist?”

  “Well, we’d be different people, in a different reality. None of us would even be aware of the change—our histories would have been rewritten.”

  Ian shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But how do we know that the new reality will be any better? That it will alter the end of the world?”

  Catalyst looked up at the man who had been given control of a heroic legacy dating back over seventy years. “There was a Catalyst amongst the Mayans. He scryed the future and saw what was to come, and we’re right now in the middle of what he foretold. Change it, and his vision becomes one in error. The date changes, you see? I’m sure of it. Change the past, and save the future.”

  “You’re asking me to trust you.”

  “I’m asking you to trust yourself. You wouldn’t be here now unless you believed that the Looking Glass was right, that you could change what is to co
me. Besides, if you do nothing, we’re all doomed anyway.”

  “I don’t even know how we’re all going to die—I just know that we are. How can I change history if I don’t know where the threat comes from?”

  Catalyst looked up as the entire building began to rattle. A roll of thunder tore through the sky and the sound of heavy rain and hail began to echo throughout the warehouse. “Come with me and I’ll show you. In order to understand what we need to do, we must first understand what’s come before. It all ties in to your own legacy, Ian.”

  The Peregrine followed Catalyst into another room, a smaller space with two chairs and a small table. Catalyst sat down and gestured for Ian to do the same. The Peregrine did so, feeling a little more hopeful about this affair. He’d grown up obsessed with the heroes of the past, none more so than the original Peregrine. When Max Davies had visited him in the waning months of 2009, it had been like a dream come true. In the three years since, Ian had battled the forces of darkness using every trick he could manage, always hoping to someday become the equal of those who came before him. He was the first Peregrine not to be a member of the Davies clan and that made his task seem all the more important.

  “I’m ready,” he said to Catalyst, who nodded.

  The mage waved his hands over the table, where smoke began to form. In the haze came images of people, in another place and time. Ian realized with a start that he was viewing the past, a time when Max Davies was still the Peregrine.

  “Look closely,” Catalyst whispered, “for knowledge is our only weapon against the encroaching darkness.”

  CHAPTER II

  A Hero in Chains

  September, 1943—Miami, Florida. 8:35 P.M.

  The Peregrine moved cautiously along the edge of the roof, trying to keep his approach as quiet as possible. The young Illuminati agent stood on the deck below, a rifle in his hands. The man was of Turkish descent and wore a dark suit and white shirt, his upper lip gleaming with sweat.

  Max jumped over the gunman, landing on the balls of his feet. He flexed his knees to absorb the impact and quickly dropped into a crouch, dodging the man’s gunfire. The Peregrine stood up quickly, driving a powerful punch into the man’s jaw.

  As the gunman fell to the deck, the Peregrine quickly scanned the rest of the scene. Flames raged across the yacht’s deck, quickly turning the expensive boat into so much tinder. A thick cloud of smoke obscured the Peregrine’s ability to see the other side of the deck but a woman’s scream broke out at that moment, spurring him into action.

  The Peregrine jumped up onto the port side handrail, using his incredible sense of balance to walk the railing as smoothly as a circus acrobat. He drew his pistols as he jumped back down to the deck, spotting another gunman holding a young swimwear-clad beauty by the hair. A pistol was pointed at her skull and the terror she felt was obvious from her expression. Max thought she looked a bit familiar and suddenly recognized her as Marlena Oliveri, an actress who had recently become the toast of Hollywood for her ingénue role in The Dame Wore Black.

  The Peregrine took quick aim before the gunman could spot him. Max fired, the bullet striking the man’s gun and causing it to spin out of his grasp. The woman screamed again and the gunman gaped, giving the Peregrine time to rush forward. He grabbed the man’s arm and yanked it away from the girl, unfortunately taking a small handful of her dark hair with it. Better to lose a few hairs than her life, Max mused.

  The Peregrine slammed an elbow into the man’s jaw, grabbing hold of his arm as the man fell to the deck. Max held it at a painful angle, twisting it to make his point known. “Where’s your boss?” he demanded, fury lacing his words.

  “He’s already gone,” the man replied, moaning around the pain. “He left nearly ten minutes ago.”

  “Then why are you still here?”

  The man looked up into the Peregrine’s eyes and managed to smile. “Because we had to make sure the bombs were in place.”

  The Peregrine recognized the suicidal gleam in the fellow’s expression and he hauled the Illuminati agent to his feet, dragging him to the side of the ship. One mighty heave later and the man was screaming on his way down into the chilly waters of Miami.

  “Who are you?” Marlena asked, shivering nearby. The smoke was getting thick enough now that she was began coughing and Max took her by the elbow and steered her towards the motorboat he’d used to board the yacht.

  “They call me the Peregrine. I’m sorry for this, but we don’t have time to chat. This entire boat is going to blow and it could be any second.”

  Marlena allowed herself to be lowered down into the Peregrine’s vessel, but she looked increasingly forlorn. “They killed Roddy. Shot him in the head.”

  Max said nothing. Roderick Flynn was the yacht’s owner and Marlena’s agent—and lover, if the rumors Max had heard were true.

  “Why would they do this? Roddy never hurt anyone.”

  “They wanted something of his. Did you see what they took?”

  “It was just an old notebook. He used to write his ideas down in it or something.”

  Max started up the motor and the boat began skipping over the waves. He opened it up as far as he could, knowing that the explosion would send a deadly rain of shrapnel down upon them. “It wasn’t an idea book, Miss Oliveri. Your friend was an amateur occultist. He’d recently made some deadly bargains with the wrong kind of people, and then he made the tragic mistake of thinking he could backstab them and keep the rewards for himself.”

  “An occultist? You mean he worshipped Satan or something?”

  “Or something,” Max answered. “Did you see the man in charge of the attack?”

  “Yes,” Marlena answered. She shivered again, prompting Max to remove his coat and wrap it around her shoulders. She accepted it without mention, lost in the horror of her memories. “He wore all red, and had on a long cloak and hood. And… I didn’t get a clear view of him, but it looked like he had… horns.” She glanced at the Peregrine, her eyes widening. “Was he the Devil? That’s impossible, isn’t it?”

  “His name is Doctor Satan and he’s a notorious criminal. He’s not the actual Lucifer from the Bible, but he’s as close as a mortal man can be.”

  From behind them came a series of deafening booms. Max bent over the actress, shielding her with his body as flaming wreckage began to fall around them. The force of the explosion churned up the waters so badly that it felt as if the motorboat might capsize. The vessel managed to ride it out, however.

  “I think we’re okay,” Max said, leaning back.

  Marlena swallowed hard, staring at the flaming wreckage that lay behind them. “My God. Roddy was working with criminals… I almost can’t believe it.”

  “It’s true. Much of his success came from their assistance, and he’d sold his soul long ago in order to achieve his wealth.” The Peregrine spotted the shoreline in the distance and angled the boat’s progress towards it. “That book you saw Doctor Satan take contains the address of a bank, where an ancient artifact is stored in a safe deposit box. Doctor Satan is working hand-in-glove with a group called the Illuminati. If I don’t find a way to stop them, a lot more people than just your Roddy’s going to end up dead.”

  Marlena looked away, feeling like she’d just stumbled into another world, one filled with dangerous men and tremendous evil. She felt extremely grateful that her excursion into this awful reality would be short-lived.

  For the Peregrine, however, it was a way of life.

  CHAPTER III

  Satan’s Tablet

  Miami, 9:40 P.M.

  The First National Bank of Miami was locked up tight, but that did little to stop the crimson-cloaked Doctor Satan from entering the building. His diabolical henchmen had dispatched the lone security guard with vicious ease and were now loitering about in the public area of the bank, delighting themselves in smashing various items and equipment.

  Satan himself strode towards the locked safety deposit boxes. The information in R
oderick Flynn’s notebook had led him here, where an ancient Mayan tablet was safely stored away. This particular tablet contained information on how to bring about the end of the world… and more specifically, how to restart the world, with the user controlling the way the new reality unfolded. In other worlds, it allowed the user to become God.

  Doctor Satan located the proper box and slid it free of its holding cell. He then dropped acid in the lock mechanism, causing it to open at his touch. Inside lay the tablet, a circular stone with etchings upon it. A small note was attached to the stone, written in Flynn’s own hand. It read: PLEASE DON’T USE THIS. IT’S WRONG.

  Satan shook his head, amazed at the way men lost their thirst for power once they’d found love. Women had a way of making even the strongest of men stumble about like an idiot. Had Satan been capable of love, he would have scorned it regardless.

  Doctor Satan’s past and true name were unknown even to the most in-depth intelligence agencies. The two men who most frequently fought him—the psychic detective Ascott Keane and the masked vigilante the Peregrine—had tried in vain to uncover the origins of Doctor Satan. It seemed as if he’d stepped full-blown into the world, a figure of remarkable cruelty and intelligence.

  The sound of clapping hands froze Satan in place as he lifted the tablet from the box. He looked over his shoulder to see a familiar face: Jon Lindsley III, one of the primary movers and shakers inside the Illuminati organization. He was a handsome man in his early forties who always dressed to the nines. “Bravo, Doctor Satan. Bravo.”

  Satan slipped the tablet into the folds of his cloak and turned to face the new arrival. “Lindsley. What a surprise.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Lindsley walked towards the masked villain, his smile showing nothing but disgust. “I dealt with your men outside. Freaks and mental aberrations, the both of them. How can you stand surrounding yourself with people like that?”